#Astarion Ancunín X Reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pinkberrytea · 5 months ago

Text

He is the king, you are his crown; he is the tree, you are its blooms.

Requiem—A ceremony for the dead. The Vampire Ascendant once made her his bride; now he weds her before the gods. Eternal rest grant unto them, and let perpetual light shine upon them. Amen.

The pleasure of your company is requested at the marriage of Lord Astarion Ancunín to his darling consort, Lady Ancunín. Reception to follow.

Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav (F!Reader)

w/c: 7k words . ao3 . spotify playlist . 18+ only . nsfw . dividers

a/n: thank you for reading! this one was inspired by information released by ed greenwood about wedding rites in the forgotten realms. i thought the blood pact in particular would fit aa and consort perfectly! hopefully it is an enjoyable read. i’d like to thank @bardic-inspo and @starryjuicebox for their support and help with this piece. i appreciate you lovelies!

( part 1 here ) ( part 2 here )

tags: blood drinking; cunnilingus; orgasm edging; overstimulation; fluff & smut; body worship; light dom/sub; vaginal fingering; creampie; dry humping; frottage; multiple orgasms; possessive behavior; mirror sex; wedding night; piv sex

“Art desirous of union with the man who comes for thee?”

As the Galerian priestess’ words reverberate around the otherwise solemnly quiet venue, you are escorted to the snow-covered aisle by your dapperly dressed handmaidens, clad in beautiful scarlet silks with gemstones sown on the sleeves, and all eyes present turn to gaze upon your quivering form—yet none are more piercing than the pair of crimson irises taking in your image from their place by the altar, ruby red flecks swimming in pools of blood whose glistening surface is now disturbed by the waves of emotion breaking on their sanguine shores. Astarion had not been prepared for this; for how his heart would beat faster, how his stomach would twist and turn at the sight of you in your wedding gown, holding the bouquet of dahlias and asphodels he’d endeavored to choose for you himself close to your chest, pale cheeks glowing a faint pink and snowflakes falling leisurely on the veil covering your hair. Suddenly, the shallow reasons for why he had even come up with the idea of hosting the ceremony are all but forgotten, and his frenzied thoughts reduced to a single word: perfect. You look perfect. A vision in white, a bloodied rose, his darling consort, his sinful bride.

His eternal lover.

The moment you start walking towards him, the attendees all rise from their seats and the processional begins, your timid gait almost in rhythm with each pluck of the harp’s strings. He looks hauntingly beautiful in his elegant white doublet, intrinsically embellished with golden and carmine embroidery, silver curls pristinely arranged and marble skin shining ethereally, reflecting the gentle light of the winter moon. The fresh wound on his hand stands in stark contrast against the otherwise smooth blancheness of his palm, blood trickling down onto the soft snow below, and the enticing scent of it wafts through the air almost like an invitation, a temptation too great for your starved self, as all the endless preparations have left you no time to quench the everlasting thirst he bequeathed to you. How long has it been since you last fed? Days? Weeks? Try as you might, you cannot remember. Yet it matters so little now, as he waits for you with almost jovial expectation, ready to once again seal your undying bond, renew the vows made on the fateful eve of your turning.

“Seven thousand souls have given me the power to carve out my own future, and I want you to be part of it.”

The more you approach him, the thicker the air around him becomes, the louder the buzzing in his ears sounds. Your lashes look so long, your rouged lips so full—and gods, how sweetly you gaze upon him, how bashfully, naught behind the bright gleam in your lachrymose eyes but pure, unconditional adoration. Through all the pain, all the hurt, your devotion to him never once faltered, and though the perpetual guilt haunts you both still, it is not in spite of your shared burden that you are brought closer together, but because of it. As you finally make your way to the altar and take your place by his side, time seems to come to a standstill, and in the minutes that follow, you can see nothing but his face, smell nothing but his blood, hear nothing but his heartbeat. No one else matters, nothing else matters—just you, him, and your immortal love.

“My sole endeavor now is to make this world yours and mine alone.”

The priestess takes your hand in hers, and using an ornamental dagger, cuts a gash across its surface, as she did with Astarion’s before your arrival—yet unlike his, the blood takes a while to bloom from the broken skin, so little of it remaining within your veins. You bite down on your bottom lip to stifle a yelp, her treatment of you clearly rougher than would be otherwise necessary; the eldest heiress of an influential patriar, her father had sponsored the construction of the first Galerian temple of Baldur’s Gate, a venture Astarion had enthusiastically supported to gain his favor, and with it, access to the growing following of the God of Ambition. A young acolyte at the time, her infatuation for your darling was undeniable—it was almost wicked then when he arranged for her to be the one to wed you, a political ploy to cement the bond between the two families. You knew his motives, and his cruelty brought you no joy, yet his darkness was something you had long decided to embrace rather than deny, the weight of your choices a penance you’d not ever dare renounce.

Once the deed is done, she lets go of you and backs away, a hint of contempt muddying her lowered gaze. Neither of you pay it heed—rather, you remain focused on each other, the guests but faceless figures looming in the background, blurred and meaningless. He holds his hand up, eyes locked with yours all the while, pupils blown out and raw emotion blazing like a firestorm in their depths. You do the same, your movements small and uncertain, yet as the tips of your fingers touch, he is the one to close the distance between your bloodstained palms, wound against wound, your crimson flowing into his and his flowing into yours. The connection assails you with almost overwhelming fierceness, your minds blended together and a thread of blood binding your souls to one another, as if you were but a single being. You can feel his heart pounding in your chest, his red coursing through your body, his thoughts seeping inside your head and reassuring you of that which needs not be professed; he loves you, oh, how dearly he loves you, like the moon loves the stars, like the dusk loves the dawn. Yours is the light keeping him from being consumed by the shadows, a flickering flame he is willing to protect, no matter the cost.

“I ask for thy hand as my equal, that our lives run as one, from this day forth,” he says, voice soft like velvet, laced with undeniable warmth despite its measured cadence. You may not truly be his equal, not really, but that is a fact you were always willing to accept. He is the king, you are his crown; he is the tree, you are its blooms. You could not hope to compare to his greatness, he could not hope to live up to yours—yet even if those around you may not understand, even if they may challenge it, your love is no less real, no less precious.

“I accept, before the gods, and before all these good people,” you answer, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as the words slip from your trembling lips. His feelings become entangled with your own while the blood link lasts, and hidden beneath the yearning, beneath the sheer intensity of his longing for you, you sense anguish, you sense remorse. How many times have you danced to this same tune, played this same game? What a hopeless fool he is—manipulating your affections and toying with them, only to then realize the upper hand was hardly his, not in that pretty clearing during your first night together, not now, as you stand before him so beautifully, so earnestly, laying bare your heart and handing it to him on a silver platter. Your unwavering trust in him is something he was never quite able to come to terms with—why? Why is it that you want him, even after everything? Why give yourself to a selfish villain such as he while asking for nothing in return, nothing but for him to love you back? He knows not the answer to this, but still he would take it; your body, your mind, your soul, he would take it all and make them his, and his alone.

“I shall protect thee and succor thee, until my breath fails and the gods claim me, putting thy needs and comfort before mine own, and keeping no secret from thee, until the end of my days, or until the gods set us apart, though I hereby pray they shall never do so.” The gods have no say in this—you are forever his, and he is forever yours. Astarion is your god, and he shall be the one to claim you; such is the fate you have chosen for yourself. Once he finishes voicing the pledge, your hands come apart and the connection is severed, leaving you empty and vulnerable. Still, you carry on with the rites, bringing your bloodied fingers to his parted lips, and his to yours, staining them with your combined essence; while mimicking your movements, he purposefully refuses to pry his eyes from yours, looking upon you and through you, so fiercely yet so gently, so ardently yet so lovingly. You lose yourself in the urgency of his gaze, giving into its passionate allure, feeling your body lean forward almost as if you were but a flesh puppet, and him the performer pulling your strings.

“You’ve never tasted so sweet, darling.”

He lowers his head to meet you halfway, and the instant your mouth crashes into his, all your thoughts crumble down and dissolve into nothing. The coppery taste of your crimson mixed with his spreads through your tongue, reaching the back of your throat, and the pain of hunger tugs violently at your stomach; yet even in death, as he breathes into you, you feel alive, through him, for him, enraptured by the softness of his lips and the warmth of his skin, protected from the bloodlust, from its all-consuming fury. He cups your cheeks with both of his hands and pulls your face even closer to his, almost as if trying to assimilate you, become one with you, to which you respond just as desperately, standing on your tiptoes and wrapping your arms around his neck. The tears that had been threatening to fall spill from your closed eyes, the surge of emotions bursting your frozen heart open; he dries them with his thumbs, delicately tucking the few hair strands that have slipped from underneath your headdress behind your ear. Blood is his ink, and with it, he shall again carve his name on your soul and claim that which belongs to him—requiem aeternam dona eis, so that tomorrow, you may rise anew.

“We have a beautiful, bloody future to look forward to, my love.”

It’s useless. No matter for how long or how hard you peer into the grand cheval mirror standing before you, it refuses to show you your reflection. Rather, all you see is an empty room, illuminated by naught but the moonshine creeping in from the open balcony, its velvet drapers swaying with the evening breeze. The snowfall has ceased, but the air remains mercilessly gelid; with your veins painfully wanting for blood to keep them warm, you wrap your arms around yourself, which unsurprisingly brings you no comfort. The guests are all gone, the ceremony is over—now you are left alone with the wandering voices echoing in the recesses of your mind, which grow ever so loud as the aftermath dawns upon you and dissipates the dreamy fog that had been cast over your still veiled head up until this very moment.

Alone—yet not for long.

“Stunning.” You hear his voice before you see him approach you from behind, elegant fingers brushing against your bare shoulders and squeezing them gently, the soothing heat emanating from his hands sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. “You look stunning, darling,” Astarion whispers in your ear, his pretty lips grazing the ruby-carved earring hanging off it, which in turn dangles ever so softly, catching the moon beams on its shiny surface; breathing hot air onto your sensitive flesh, he then slides them down your neck and plants a loving kiss at its base, half-lidded eyes staring back at his own lonesome figure on the other side of the glass.

“Do I?” you ask, the hint of disdain in your tone taking even you by surprise. He, however, seems unphased; on the contrary, his handsome face creases into a subtle, cheeky smile, and his hands glide down your arms to then join them around your waist, his chiseled chest pressed flat against your back. As if under a spell, you promptly let down your walls and lean into his embrace, closing your eyes and cocking your head to the side to grant him better access. His smile widens in response, and he kisses your neck again, letting his fangs ghost over the set of bite marks disrupting your otherwise immaculate skin for a moment before pulling back slightly and resting his chin on that same spot.

“Why, shall I be your mirror, my sweet?” Astarion purrs, the silky smoothness of his voice covering your now limp body in goosebumps. “Would that please you? Knowing what the world sees when it looks at you.” He articulates each word with a guttural growl, scarlet irises darkening as his grip on you tightens, yet swirling in their murky depths, you glimpse ruddy hues of worship and desire, fondness and hunger; while it may sound like he is being unserious or trying to egg you on, there is sincerity underlying his offer, an honest wish to make good on it. “What I see.”

No sooner than the question leaves his lips, he spins you around and presses one of his hands to the small of your back, the other brushing your veil away from your face and caressing your cold cheek—once you lock eyes with him, his cheerfulness vanishes and he gazes upon your graceful figure in pensive silence, scanning every inch of your frame, from the opulent headpiece around your forehead to the sequined pumps hugging your tired feet. After what seems like an eternity, he brings his hand on your cheek down to clasp one of your own, fingers intertwined with yours; lifting it up gently, he then gives it a tender kiss, an impish smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“May I have this dance, dearest?” As he waits for your answer, it occurs to you that the chance to waltz with him never really presented itself, noblemen and underground overlords alike having kept him plenty busy throughout the night. You nod timidly, and immediately he takes the lead, stepping to the side and bringing you with him. You tumble awkwardly as if about to fall, but his palm splayed across your back holds you firmly, and instead you lean onto his torso, resting your head right above his heart. The instant you do, its loud pounding reverberates against your ear, lulling you, cradling you, and your tangled bodies sway gently to its soothing rhythm. In the mirror, the image reflected is that of a groom dancing with his ghost bride; no music, no ballroom, no elegant footwork, and yet the intensity of his lovestruck stare paints such a vivid picture that one might see shadows of your presence reflected in his eyes.

“Let’s see then—a slender neck, deliciously bare as if inviting me to feast on it, thanks to that lovely hairdo of yours,” Astarion suddenly says, voice quiet but hoarse, tinged with undeniable specks of lust. He guides your hand to his own waist and lets go of it, only to then slide his newly freed digits along the curve of your throat, carefully tracing the bite marks with their soft pads. “Though I must say, beautiful as your gown may be, I would very much like to undo that pesky knot keeping some of it concealed. May I, darling?” he asks, fingers quickly moving to the satin ribbon holding your bodice in place, wrapped fast around your neckline and flowing down your naked back. You nod again, cheek still pressed to his chest, and with a smug simper, he expertly unlaces it with unparalleled adroitness, letting the pure white fabric slip down your now completely nude bosom. You shudder and snuggle closer to him, in response to which he affectionately folds an arm over your shoulder and buries his fingers in your hair, partially unweaving the elaborate braids that had been tugging at your scalp all day, only those held by the crystal flower barrettes on your temples remaining.

“Flawless, supple skin, which flushes so handsomely with my essence blooming under it,” he continues, digits sinking deeper into your ribs before he twirls you around, dipping forward as if going in for a kiss, though instead, he reaches for the hemline of your dress, hiking it up your long legs and in so doing, exposing the sinuous contours of your hips and thighs. Almost absentmindedly, the wandering fingers knead their way to the plushness of your round behind, still hidden beneath your underpants; giving it a firm squeeze, he then brings his other hand down from your head to unbutton the tulle corset attached to your petticoat, and just like that, the sumptuous wedding gown falls to your feet, leaving you covered in nothing but your veil and smallclothes.

“Bright crimson eyes that always stare so very coyly, so very docilely.” With a provocative growl, Astarion pulls you taut against him, and once your navel clashes with his crotch, the obvious erection forming under his pants becomes nested right between your bodies. Holding onto your waist with both of his hands, he then presses his mouth to an artery pulsating slightly above your collarbone, letting his warm tongue graze it teasingly as he speaks. “And oh, those precious little fangs, peeking from under lips most luscious… shall we put them to good use, pretty vampling?” he asks, pitch lowering dangerously, and his meaning is made instantly clear—positioned as he is, his own neck is conveniently exposed to you, too tantalizing an offer to ever be refused, so you accept it graciously, biting down on his ivory flesh just as he bites down on yours. The piercing pain of his teeth puncturing your skin is entirely numbed as the thick blood cascades down your throat, and you lose yourself in the bliss of life being returned to your undead veins, gripping both of his arms in an almost delirious haze; while drinking from each other, you rock back and forth, dancing still, a dark waltz under the fading stars.

“I can’t wait to taste your lips after you’ve tasted me.”

Never unlatching from your bruising artery, Astarion wraps his arms around your rear and picks you up, taking you with him to the canopy bed on the other side of the room. Upon reaching it, he sits down on the edge of the mattress, you in his lap, knees bent on each side of him. He takes a few more swigs of your crimson before pulling away, though you remain feeding—while letting you drink, he carefully removes your headdress and veil, laying them aside to then cradle the back of your scalp with one of his hands and gently run his fingers down your spine with the other. You both moan and groan quietly in each other’s ears, and you can feel him leisurely grinding his hardness against your core; due to the friction, slick starts building between your now puffed-up folds, most of his red going straight to your aching sex rather than swimming around in your stomach.

“That’s enough, pet,” he coos after some time, lightly tapping your shoulder, and you reluctantly obey, prying yourself off him with a needy whimper. He smirks and plants a kiss on your forehead, sliding his hands under your thighs to lift you up slightly and rotate your body so that your back is turned to his chest. Once your buttocks are pushed flush against the swell between his legs, you help him peel off your soaked underpants—pressing his knees to the back of yours, he then spreads you both wide, exposing your pretty cunt to the chilly winter air. You mewl pathetically, casting down your gaze in shame and hiding behind your palms; with an amused snicker, he grabs your wrists and lowers them, holding both together with one hand and using the other to grasp your chin. “Look, darling,” he whispers, tilting up your jaw and brushing his fangs against your earlobe, “see how exquisite you are.”

Raising your head almost hesitantly, you do as told, and it takes you a moment to register what now fills your field of vision: the mirror, albeit more distant, is angled perfectly to reflect your naked form, no longer a ghostly apparition, but flesh and bone, your image returned to you thanks to Astarion’s ascended essence sizzling within your veins. Still holding your wrists, he slides the hand on your chin down your neck, gliding it across the hollows of your sternum and then up the soft curve of your breasts, where he stops to pinch a pebbling nipple, earning a high-pitched yelp from you; looking straight into your eyes through the glass, he lovingly kisses the back of your shoulder and smiles against your skin, obviously pleased with himself. After playing with the puckered nub for a moment, his fingers continue descending, through your navel and crotch—finally reaching their intended destination, they circle the twitching bundle of nerves crowning your mound, and you arch your back in turn, shock waves shooting up your limbs.

“Asta—ah!” you moan, rolling your hips into his hand, but he immobilizes you by tensioning his arm muscles, without ever stopping stroking the engorged knot. You whine impatiently, the tautness in your lower belly growing more agonizing by the second; Astarion, however, is clearly in no rush, his movements mercilessly languid. Pressing down on your clit with a deft digit, he buries two others in the sticky warmth of your folds, parting them gently and hungrily gazing upon your wetness, or rather, its reflection—in the mirror, your slickened entrance glistens wantonly, a honied flower waiting to be pollinated, given a healthy flush by the heat of his crimson. One finger rims it tentatively, coating itself in your juices; with no prior warning, he then plunges it in you up to the knuckle, venturing within the tightness of your walls. You try to stifle a shriek, in vain—emboldened by this, he plunges another, watching mischievously as you writhe and squirm.

“Oh, little love, I do quite like those pretty noises you’re making, I like them very much,” he says, kissing your shoulder again and curling his fingers inside your slit, which flutters desperately in its urge to be stuffed full. Overwhelmed by the lewdness of the scene unfolding before you, not quite used to witnessing yourself in such a vulnerable position, you try turning your head to the side, only for him to quickly let go of your wrists, capturing your face in his now freed hand and pulling it back into its previous position, intent on having you be his audience as he brings about your ruin. “Tut tut, cheeky pup.” Despite clicking his tongue, Astarion’s voice carries a playful lilt, accompanied by the roguish glint in his lust-ridden irises. Bucking his hips forward, he wedges his still clothed bulge deeper within the valley of your ass, and even through the fabric, you can feel it twitching and jerking. “You will be a good girl for me, won’t you?”

You nod vigorously, hot tears of yearning prickling your eyelids and escaping through your long lashes. He dries them with his thumb, the smirk still gracing his lips, yet his gaze softens a little; moving his hand from your jaw to your chest, he then cups one of your breasts, squeezing and kneading it gently before resuming his attentions between your legs, now pumping his elegant digits in and out of your center. Feeling your body edging closer to the precipice of desire, you hold onto both of his arms, clenched abdomen covered in a glossy sheen of salty sweat and cheeks burning bright red—however, just as you are about to climax, he suddenly snatches you up and throws you on the bed, stradling you right after so that you become entrapped beneath him.

“Good girls must earn their spurs, darling,” he growls, grabbing both of your knees and pushing them apart, licking his lips at the sight of your cunt spasming madly in protest, hopelessly slickened and swollen. “So needy… have you no patience, my dear?” Smoldering you with a lascivious stare, he ignores your avid pleas and lowers his head, pressing his mouth to the plushness of one of your thighs. Ever so delicately, he kisses it and lingers for a short while, only to then unceremoniously sink his fangs into the squishy flesh, coaxing a soft cry out of you. Moving his hands to your hips, he holds you in place while voraciously sucking on the throbbing artery, some of the blood leaking and trickling down onto the silk sheets. Your arousal makes your crimson taste delectably sweet, an ambrosial aphrodisiac—with each gulp, his neglected cock jolts angrily, translucent drops of precome running down its length, so hard now that the pink tip peeks out from the hem of his pants.

“It will only hurt a bit—the pleasure will be far greater than the pain.”

“Hnng—Astarion, please…!” you beg, attempting to bring a hand to the tumid bud convulsing atop your dripping core, but Astarion seizes it with one of his own and pins it to the mattress while drinking still. Finally unlatching from your thigh, he laps at the red beads that remain oozing out of the small wounds inflicted on your skin by his teeth, following the trail down to your groin; once there, he lets his tongue wander and graze your folds, tauntingly flicking it as if by accident. You bury the fingers of your other hand in his silvery curls, half expecting him to stop you, but he doesn’t—instead, he brushes the wet appendage against your clit, swirling it around for a moment before making his way downwards, leaving a glistening string of his saliva mixed with your lifeblood in his wake. Upon arriving at your entrance, he traces its outer edges, savoring you with lengthy strokes to then delve inside at last.

“Oh, gods… hah…” No longer capable of keeping the breathy whimpers and erratic pants contained within the confines of your mouth, you throw your head back and let them fall freely from your parted lips, grabbing a fistful of his hair, though carefully so as not to pull at it. Pleased with your reaction, he rewards you by nuzzling his face against your mound, reaching as deeply within you as possible while massaging and tasting your tender walls, the bridge of his nose auspiciously pressed against the hood of your pearl. Heat starts again pooling in your stomach, your every nerve set ablaze, and it doesn’t take long before the tension snaps and you finally come undone on his tongue, creaming and clenching around it. He enthusiastically partakes of your tangy nectar, eating you up still even as you bask in the afterglow, only stopping once you let go of him. With one last lick, he propels his torso back up, drool dribbling down his chin.

“Ah, but that won’t do,” Astarion says, releasing your wrist to wipe his lips, their corners still quirked upwards into a haughty, devilish smile. “No, my sweet… I’m not nearly done with you yet.” Lowering both hands to his pants, he swiftly drags them down, freeing his erection and wrapping his fingers around its base. Your eyes are irresistibly drawn to it, and from under heavy lids you gape at the bulging veins and enlarged crown, his foreskin tautly pulled back to reveal the weeping slit. Leaning on one of your knees and slipping his free hand under the other to keep you spread open, he then guides the swollen cockhead to your fluttering folds, dipping it between them and glazing himself in your essence. With a quiet whine, you wiggle your hips, your sex still sensitive as you recover from your orgasm, but instead of backing out, he doubles down and presses the velvety tip harder against your raw knot, chuckling as your protests grow in volume and you try to slither away from him, straining your thigh muscles in an unsuccessful effort to close your legs.

“Gods, you are too cute.” Staring smugly at your flailing body while rubbing himself up and down your wetness, Astarion fastens his grip on your calf using just about enough force not to hurt you, but simply restrain your movements. “Where’s my good girl? Again. I know you can come again,” he purrs, voice deceptively gentle, although the warmth in his eyes is genuine. You shake your head, unable to muster up an intelligible sentence, your mind wiped clean of coherent thought; bending down to brush his lips against your temple, he kisses away the tears beading your lashes, affectionately pressing his forehead to yours. “You can do it. Come, my love. For me.” The whisper caresses your ears with such tenderness that as if by magic, you feel yourself relax, the pain slowly giving way to rekindled arousal. You try your best to focus on the budding sensation, reveling in the smoothness of his cockhead as it grinds against your sore clit, indulging in the intimacy of having your center of pleasure almost merged with his. Gradually, the waves of lust and hunger rippling through you gain momentum, spreading from your gut to your extremities, every inch of your skin tingling and prickling with primal yearning—taking notice of your rapid ascent to rapture, he hastily aligns his cock with your entrance, stretching its tight borders open, though not yet shafting himself inside.

“That’s it, my darling little bride. Come for your sire.” You can barely hear his words as white noise overtakes all your senses, the world around you reduced to a blurry, chaotic maelstrom. The moment he finally slides his length between your walls, filling you to the brim in a single thrust, your toes curl and your hands ball into fists, your body going limp as you are at last pushed over the edge of ecstasy. Letting go of your knee to take off his doublet, he carelessly tosses it on the floor to then gently cradle both of your cheeks, pulling you into a sensual, passionate kiss. Muffled groans form in the back of his throat with every twitch of his cock, which pulsates longingly as you vibrate and flutter around it; he nips at your bottom lip as if asking for passage, sucking on the bloody droplets drawn from the nicked flesh, and once you comply, without delay his tongue starts massaging your own, eagerly rolling over it while he patiently waits for you to adjust to his size. Wrapping both of your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, you roll your hips upwards, wanting to feel all of him, each bead of sweat, each drop of blood, until it’s impossible to tell where you end and he begins.

“Mhnf—Astarion…” you mewl into his mouth, encouraging him to start moving, his rhythm slow and gentle at first. Despite how wet you are, he works your slit open with a bit of difficulty, his girth abnormally enlarged due to the drawn-out neglect, although even through the discomfort you find yourself relishing the chance to have him so snugly nested within you. Astarion, too, seems to be thoroughly enjoying having you gripping him so deliciously tautly, his usually husky grunts growing louder with every push. His hands leave your face to roam the sides of your body, gliding down your ribs, tracing the curve of your waist and slipping underneath you to grope and fondle your ass, slightly tilting you upwards so he can sink deeper within your cunt. Finally breaking the kiss, lips bruised and plumped, he lovingly gazes upon your just as disheveled self for a moment before leaning back down to give you a chaste, tender peck; pulling away again, he then lowers his head to have his tongue ghost over the skin of your throat, your clavicle, and then up the swell of one of your breasts, stopping to hover above its reddened peak.

“Say it, pet. Tell me who you belong to.” His breath tickles the sensitive nub as he speaks, voice dripping with honey and eyes searching for yours from under thick lashes, darkened with desire. To anyone else the question may sound like just another racy quip, provocative banter to spice up the mood, but you know better—you know him better. Following the Black Mass, on that very eve Astarion would first test his unholy gifts as the Ascendant, not by calling upon the dark forces now at his mercy nor by turning into mist, but by making you his for all eternity. That was always the plan—to become your warden, your guardian, your sire and master. Never before you had he ever felt as wanted, as needed, and he cherished that power; for once in his life he was the protector, not the protectee, not the weak vermin wriggling about to find shelter. You gave him a reason to be, a reason to live, and he would not lose that, not for as long as his thawed heart beats.

“I’m yours, Astarion. All yours,” you say, giving him the reassurance he seeks while at the same time soothing yourself. Yes, you are his, entirely his, and that is of solace to you as much as it is to him. Satisfied with your answer, Astarion smiles softly; refusing to avert his gaze from your face, he then wraps his perfectly-shaped lips around your nipple, circling it with a pointed tongue. His teeth graze the supple surrounding flesh for a moment before unexpectedly sinking into it, and your mouth pops open to let out a soundless gasp in surprise. You propel your torso up slightly by resting your arms on each side of your body and leaning on your bent elbows, firmly gripping the sheets beneath you with both of your hands, panting and whining as he suddenly speeds up the pace, undulating his hips more energetically with every thrust. Through his cock and fangs alike, his presence inside of you is absolute, imperious, overwhelming—yet also comforting and fulfilling, like a crushing, constricting embrace.

“You complete me.”

“Mnhg—ah!” While still latched onto your breast, avidly drinking from it, Astarion moves one hand to your lower back so he may gently raise you with him into a seated position, and you let go of the sheets to hold onto his broad shoulders for support. His other hand continues fondling your ass, fingers widely splayed across one of your cheeks, applying just enough pressure to push your crotch flat against his, securely settling you in his lap as you had been before, except you are now both facing each other. Prying himself off you, he then pulls back to admire his handiwork—the blood seeping from the freshly made puncture marks on your chest trails lazily down your abdomen, the bright crimson accentuated so beautifully by your pale skin, a perfect match with the rubies encrusted in the jewelry that you remain wearing despite being otherwise completely nude. You make for a breathtaking vision, one belonging perpetually and irrevocably to him.

“My darling,” Astarion croons, voice uncharacteristically tender, bringing his hand on your back up to lovingly cup your chin. “My pretty darling,” he whispers before capturing your lips with his bloodstained ones, hips snapping upwards to resume massaging your walls. You bob your body in rhythm with his thrusts, buttocks slapping against his thighs every time you sink down to the base of his length, and his fingers dig deeper into the soft swell of your rear, surely to leave bruises in the morning. Eyes fluttering close, you lean fully against him, the contours of your frame hugging his own almost perfectly, save for your breasts, which are now squished between your rib cage and his pectorals. Releasing your face, he instead grabs your throat, his grip strong, but not binding; giving it a gentle squeeze, he then pulls away, tongue absentmindedly lapping at the strand of saliva connecting you still even as your mouths unweave.

“Astarion…” The way you utter his name sounds almost like a plea, a supplication, yet you can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. “I love you”—is what you mean to say, but you bite back the words instead. They are empty, meaningless; the depth of your bond is such that “love” is a sentiment which needs not be voiced. You know he can feel it, for you can feel it too—way past just affection, the pure devotion carved on the core of your very being, so raw and so visceral that it may as well be an open wound, never to heal, bleeding thick, warm emotion. As tempting as it may be to proclaim it, the world is not owed any measure of access to your relationship; this is something meant just for the two of you, a silent understanding between an eternal bride and her husband-to-be, sacred and precious. Thus, rather than speaking any further, you look into his eyes with as much earnestness as you can possibly manage, and he looks back at you just as intensely, pupils so dilated that his irises are but thin red discs, barely even visible. He knows; of course he does. He always did.

“Shh. Hush.” He lets go of your throat before softly pressing a finger to your lips, only to then comb all five digits of that same hand through your hair and cradle your head, gently nudging you forward. Following his lead, you rest your chin in the crook of his neck, flushed cheek brushing against his; upon raising your gaze, you notice that you can see the mirror behind him, reflecting his strong back and shapely waist, still encircled by your entangled legs. More than that, you can see him moving—his hips going up and down every time he disappears inside you, balls swinging whenever he lifts up his ass from the mattress. Watching him fuck you might as well be the most erotic thing you have ever laid eyes on, and for a third time arousal coils low in your belly.

“Oh… Astarion…” you whimper in his ear, feeling him bump against the spongy skin of your cervix just as his cock is fully swallowed by your needy cunt in the mirror. Your blunt nails rake down his spine, gliding across the valleys and ridges of his scars, once a reason for shame and pain, now a proud symbol of his victory—and of the ghastly consequences it entailed. The fingers buried in your hair pull at it firmly as he pounds into you, and those on your rear continue their ministrations, wandering to the space between your buttocks to lightly graze the puckered entrance. As he peppers kisses over your nape and shoulders, his own moans grow more desperate and less dignified; sweat drips down his curls, now tousled and sticking to his forehead and temples. You feel so tight, so wet, so warm, so good—always such an obedient little thing, so eager to please, letting yourself be thoroughly ravaged and catering to his every whim, his every desire. There is nothing Astarion values more than his dominance over you; his most beloved treasure, the source of his life, the source of his light, however dim. How terribly he adores you, and how frightfully he yearns for you, to be drunk on you, an addiction so great that the very thought of you leaving his side for even a minute fills him with pure dread. To love you is bliss, but also torturous, for you are at once his greatest strength and his most alarming weakness.

“That’s it, gods, that’s it… you’re taking me so well, darling,” he groans, breath hitching as you push against his thrusts, the lewd sound of smacking flesh reverberating across the room. He is close, so close, and so are you—beyond the glass, his reflection plunges into yours with reckless abandon, and you can’t bring yourself to look away. As you ride him, you can feel the entirety of his length, the velvety skin, the throbbing veins, the tumid girth stretching and rubbing against your slickened walls; and with one last powerful jerk of his hips, you can also feel his thick spend painting them in spurts, flooding you like a broken dam.

“Oh, my love…” Astarion continues rutting into you even through his orgasm, pumping his seed out of your slit. Before long, you too clench violently around him, thighs trembling and gut convulsing, coating his twitching cock in your release. Shoving you back onto the mattress, he keeps leisurely sliding in and out of your sex as you both pant quietly, reveling in the high of your respective climaxes; with his face nuzzled into your cleavage, he affectionately laps at the bite marks on your breast, occasionally intercalating each lick with tender little pecks. You bring one of your hands to his scalp and run your fingers through the silky locks, closing your eyes and emptying your mind, intent on enjoying the moment for what it is, safe and sound in the arms of your lover; he who took you into his sanguineous embrace and imparted on you the gift of absolution, he who set the world on fire while shielding you from the dancing flames, he who placed a crown of roses upon your head after ripping off every thorn. Lux aeterna luceat eis—let perpetual light shine, and from the dark, the two shall reign, betrothed in immortality, wedded in undeath, now and forevermore.

May they rest in peace.

#personal #astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 fic #bg3 #ascended astarion #lord astarion #astarion smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x you #astarion x reader #ascended astarion x reader #tavstarion #fic: death and his maiden #my fics

406 notes · View notes

deadly-diminuendo · 6 months ago

Text

The Ascendant Takes a Bride

an ascended astarion x fem!reader oneshot / nsfw / ~4.4k words

Summary: Just as you and your family are about to fall into ruin, you agree to marry the mysterious Astarion Ancunín in exchange for his promise to pay off all your debts. Attractive and charming though he is, you cannot help but to feel nervous about your arrangement. Some say he is a vampire. You have seen evidence that both supports and counters that claim. You are not sure what to believe. Finally you find yourself alone with him on your wedding night—and Astarion has some unexpected surprises in store for you.

CW/Tags: breeding kink, wedding night, loss of virginity, vampire bites/blood drinking, piv sex, fingering, post-game

Read on AO3

Or read below...

Your husband lifts you across the threshold, tearing you from the comfortable life you knew and thrusting you into a fate unknown, a fate you hope will be kind but fear will be grim.

You did what you had to do. Your family would either flourish or it would fall, and you knew your willingness to marry Astarion Ancunín would make all the difference. Why accept utter ruination when you could instead ensure the prosperity of everyone you love?

Ill fortune plagued your clan for decades—dwindling wealth, diminishing influence, a decaying estate—there was almost nothing left. Poverty was no longer a distant nightmare but an imminent reality. Your parents prayed you might escape its chokehold with a prudent match, but without a single gold coin for your dowry, your prospects for marriage were dire.

When almost all hope was lost the unlikely offer came—the affluent and prestigious owner of the castle on the hill would be willing to pay off all debts and restore your household to its former glory—if only you would agree to become his bride.

The proposal shocked you. You had been introduced to the enigmatic pale elf, but he was far from a man you knew well. Your acquaintanceship amounted to no more than a few polite but empty conversations and the occasional twirl about a dance floor. Then again you did notice how his gaze tended to follow you about the room, and you could never help but to regard him with an equally curious eye.

You were both attracted to and intimidated by him. The gods themselves could not have crafted a more beautiful man, and yet… something about him unsettled you. His grip a little too tight, his smile not quite sincere. He gave you the distinct impression of a scoundrel only pretending to be a gentleman.

And you had heard whisperings about him. They say he is a vampire. A devious, ruthless, heartless man who subsists on the blood of his enemies.

Still you were intrigued. You spent more time than you care to admit constructing and revising his biography in your mind, attempting to, but never succeeding in unravelling all his mysteries. The red irises and the sharp canines certainly supported the local gossip. Yet you’d seen him in broad daylight. You’d seen him eat real food. You’d felt the heat of his skin every time you’d danced together.

Surely the rumours could not be true.

You had a choice to make. Suddenly you possessed the power to save your whole family. Everything—everyone—depended on you and you alone.

So of course you said yes.

Determined as you were, you could never fully exorcise your doubts. Instead you chose to ignore them, to focus on all the good that could come from this arrangement. Your troubles would be over. Your family would live well. You would want for nothing.

Not to mention it was surprisingly easy to picture yourself in his bed.

But those doubts you buried did not lie dormant. Oh, no. They crept and crawled beneath your skin, festering and mutating into a dread that now threatens to consume you whole.

You cannot help but wonder: are you a saviour or a sacrificial lamb?

Either way it is far too late for second thoughts. Today you vowed yourself to Astarion. You promised him your body, your heart, your soul.

You are his wife.

Every part of you tingles with nervous energy—the expected wedding night jitters greatly exacerbated by the misgivings you feel concerning your new husband—and yet you cannot deny the thrill underlying it all.

The way he kissed you at the altar was downright sinful. The way he whispered his desire in your ear made you shiver. The way he held your hips tight against his as you danced left you weak in the knees.

He frightens you, and excites you, and—gods help you—you want him to fuck you.

You thought he might throw you on the bed and make you well and truly his the very second you were alone together. Instead he sets you down with care, ensuring you find your footing despite the bulk of your billowing skirts.

You manage a brief survey of the room—a canopy bed draped in scarlet silk, a plush loveseat in front of the fireplace, high-vaulted windows welcoming in the starlight—and as excessive as it all is in its extravagance, you find it cozy. Romantic, even. A place that might yet become your personal paradise.

Or your gilded cage. You shudder.

Your gaze falls upon the object nearest you: an ornate full-length mirror. You almost fail to recognize the woman you see staring back at you. You are the very picture of fairytale whimsy in your intricate ivory lace and your crown of white roses. You smile. To hells with your unwelcome anxiety. This is your wedding night, and you will enjoy every minute of it.

Or at least you will try.

Astarion’s reflection closes in behind yours, and you find yourself rather relieved to see that he has one. Another strike against the rumours.

You admire him in the looking glass. High cheekbones, enticing lips, bewitching eyes. Even his so-called flaws, all his wrinkles and his laugh lines, suit him to perfection.

And he admires you right back—more shamelessly than you do him—hungry eyes mentally peeling off your dress as they rake you over.

“My beautiful bride.” You melt under his simple yet sultry praise, your imagination running wild with fantasies of what bliss the coming hours might bring. You know little of carnal pleasure but your own touch. By the end of this night you are sure to know much, much more.

His hands sweep across your shoulders, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your little capped sleeves. In the mirror you catch a flash of that devious smirk, the one that hints at the rogue you think he truly is.

“Almost a shame that I have to undress you.”

Your mouth runs dry, any words you might have said forever lost in the silence.

You do want this. You want to make love to your husband. You want to learn to love him in every sense of the word.

You want to trust him.

But can you?

“May I?” he asks, one hand travelling down to the laces at your back, the other hand enclosing yours in his. Feigning chivalry all while his firm grip screams out his barely suppressed urge to tear your gown from your flesh and pin you hard against the wall.

This is it. There is no going back now. You passed the point of no return hours before, your fate sealed with two little words: “I do.”

He wants you.

And so you will let him have you.

“Yes.”

With that, his fingers thread through your laces, pulling them loose with alarmingly efficient speed. Quite the expert he must be. You have, after all, heard talk of his rakish ways. Those rumours are much easier for you to believe.

You feel your bodice loosening, though your struggle to breathe persists, the weight of this moment somehow heavier than the mass of your dress. You gather your courage to do your part, tugging off your sleeves and letting the fabric fall away from your skin, pushing what remains down over your hips. Astarion takes your hand as you step out and away from your unwieldy gown, kicking it unceremoniously into a corner. The second it is out of the way, he pulls you back in front of the mirror with a force that makes you gasp.

“Look at you,” he says, and you glance at your reflection. You are bare before him save for what hides beneath your lacy smallclothes. “You are exquisite, darling.”

His fingers dig into your skin, seeking all your soft and sensitive places, your body beautifully pliable under his exploratory touch. He gives ample attention to the delicate curve from your waist to your hips, and to the lovely heft of your breasts, squeezing and kneading and molding you to his liking. You watch, mesmerized, the self-consciousness that might have held you back fading away. His thumbs repeatedly ghost across your nipples, soft lips nuzzling your neck as he grows hard against your backside—and, gods, your cunt aches for him. Not even the graze of his sharp teeth, suspect as it is, could dissuade you now.

Lust obliterates what was left of your modesty as sweet sounds spill forth from your parted lips. Already you are falling apart in his arms and he has not yet once stroked you between your legs. “Please…” you hear yourself beg.

He laughs. It’s a hearty, almost mocking sound, but you are too far gone to mind. “You will have to be more specific, I’m afraid.” As if he could not guess. Both of you know exactly what you want. “Use your words, pet.”

“Please touch me.”

Insufficient.

“Make love to me.”

Much better.

And there is one other little thing you should tell him.

“Like no one before you ever has.”

There it is, that devilish, devastatingly sexy grin. He is pleased. Maybe a little too pleased. You again note the pointed tips of his canines, and you expect, one way or another, you will soon be devoured.

“Oh, my sweet little virgin,” he purrs, hands slipping off your smallclothes, a finger dipping inside your slick heat. Hells. A relief sublime and yet nowhere near enough. “You have been so, so patient for me, haven’t you?” Patient is the last thing you feel right now as you arch into his touch, desperate for more friction, more pleasure, more Astarion. “Rest assured, my little love. I will reward you well. Grant you your every desire. Of course, I expect all I want in return.”

“Anything,” you cry, and you mean it. You waste no time contemplating the meaning of his words, nor your own. You just want to be fucked.

“Anything?” You nod and he smirks, increasing the pressure and pace as he inserts a second finger, holding you steady as you squirm. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you? All these years you saved yourself for my bed, and you didn’t even know it, did you?”

Should you be answering with a nod or a shake of the head now? You are no longer sure, your mind incapable of thought beyond imagining how glorious your orgasm will feel when he grants it to you. You eventually decide upon nodding, and you hear him chuckle.

“Adorable. The way you look, the way you sound—�� He nibbles at your neck, then breathes into your ear. “And I bet you taste just as sweet.”

Your blood chills at the thought of him tasting it. A shiver runs down your spine.

No… Surely he speaks of something pleasurable. Something you have heard other young women gush and giggle about. Something you would like to experience for yourself. You let passion burn your needless worry away, writhing about as you refocus on release, your eyelids fluttering closed.

The next thing you know his hand is clutching your neck. “Watch.” You immediately obey his growled command, your eyes locking upon your own reflection, all flushed and disheveled. Gods, you look positively ravaged and you have yet to even take his cock. You glimpse his smile, a sure sign he is thoroughly enjoying the utter mess he is making of you.

“This pretty body of yours was meant to be mine, wasn’t it, pet?”

This time you know just what your answer should be. You nod furiously and he moves deliciously faster. It won’t be long now.

“Oh, and I assure you I will put it to excellent use.”

You nod again. You are certain he will. You keen as his fingers curl into you.

He grins. He knows he has you now.

“My, what an eager thing. You will be the perfect little vessel for me, won’t you?”

You agree. You would give him anything. As long as he takes care of you, too.

And he will take care of you, won’t he?

“A vessel to take my pleasure in whenever, wherever, however I want?”

You will. Gods, you will. You moan out your assent and punctuate it with his name. You will spend your life parting your mouth, spreading your legs, offering your body to fill and to fuck as he pleases. As long as he makes you come, too.

And he is about to make you…

“And to carry my children?”

You surrender to ecstasy as it wracks you senseless, clenching violently around his fingers and singing out your instinctive answer with ardour. “Yes!”

Only as the pleasure subsides do you begin to think things through.

What did he just say? What did you just say?

You knew this topic would come up eventually. It is an inescapable expectation among the nobility—sometimes unspoken, sometimes spoken very loudly—but always present either way. And yet the last thing you expected was for Astarion to speak of children right on the cusp of your consummation. You thought you would at least first get to know each other as lovers and partners before ever considering becoming parents.

Your state of shock does not discourage him. Instead he smiles wickedly as he gives your hardened nipple a pinch, sending another jolt of desire straight to your cunt. He begins rubbing your clit again, making you mewl, only to leave you whining when he withdraws. He leaves a trail of your own slick along your skin as his hand slides up to rest at your lower abdomen.

“Oh, my sweet love. I can already imagine how gorgeous you will look swollen with my child. You do want to give me a child, don’t you?”

You stare in silence though you have to admit it is not an unwelcome idea.

“You will let me come inside you, won’t you?”

Gods. Now that is an idea you welcome gladly. Something innate, something deeply ingrained within your core cries out your need. You crave it, crave to let him spill his seed inside you. You wriggle about in his arms as you picture it.

Motherhood just might suit you.

Astarion spins you around and you gaze into those stunningly hypnotic eyes. You press a hand to his chest and discover that his heart beats just like yours, its steady, strong tempo dismantling your lingering doubt. A mortal. Like you.

“I can tell you want this, darling,” he says. Perhaps you do. “Your heart races at the thought. Give yourself to destiny. Give yourself to me.”

Only one answer comes to your mind.

“Yes.”

He captures your lips in a kiss that ignites your lust and kindles your affection. His arms feel like home. Like you have always belonged to him and you always will.

You need him now.

You only manage to undo a single button of his overcoat before he lifts you off the floor and lays you atop the silk and softness of his bed. Your bed, you realize. You imagine spending many endless nights together here in a tangle of limbs.

He stands there stripping himself as you lie and watch with rapt attention, and yet you hardly know where to look—his beautiful eyes bore into you with intense hunger, his deft hands work effortlessly through his every layer, his newly bared skin tempts and tantalizes you—every part of him competes for your admiration. When he finally pulls off his smallclothes your eyes are instantly drawn to his cock, thick and flaunting his desire. On instinct you part your legs.

The sight of you splayed in invitation lures Astarion onto the bed and over you, arms and legs caging you in, lips colliding with yours, cock ready at your entrance. You roll up your hips to tease him, your lack of patience testing what little remains of his.

Your little nudge is all it takes to make the last of it crumble and he crashes into you.

You wince at the initial tinge of pain. It passes in seconds, dulled by your arousal, and you are thankful for the mercy. You succumb to the pleasure of him stretching and sinking into you, your body eager to accept the whole of him as he slides deeper inside.

“Easy, darling. I promise a little pain is worth all the pleasure.” He gives you the soothing coos and slow movements of a gentle and cautious lover—a part he plays well, you would think, if not for the tension you detect coiled in his muscles. You recognize he is a man struggling to hold back, and that epiphany has your cunt clenching around him.

Emboldened by your obvious want, he starts to fuck into you in earnest, pushing in and pulling back in a rhythm you already know will be your new addiction. At first you try to match every intoxicating motion, pushing your hips upwards to meet him thrust for thrust, but instead you find yourself squirming wildly, only able to pet him as he works. You relish the sound of his grunts and groans, how they signal his enjoyment of you, though you know you are drowning them out with your wanton moans. He does look far too in command of himself for your liking, and in your mind you set yourself a goal: you will learn how to make him relinquish that tight control.

Of course, if Astarion wants to focus on your pleasure—well, you certainly will not complain about that. If nothing else, your husband is proving to be a generous lover.

You reach up for a kiss, eliciting from him a growl that rumbles down your throat as you taste his tongue. Never have you felt this close to another person, and you long to get even closer. You touch his face, his chest, his shoulders, wanting to explore every inch of his skin as you take every inch of his cock. When you throw your arms around his back, the scars your fingertips find there briefly distract you, but you quickly decide that is a story for another time.

Experimenting a little, you pull your legs back and angle your hips, the slight adjustment to your position an even better fit than you thought possible. You squeal when he presses into a delightfully sensitive spot—and so he does it again, and again, and again, repeatedly, rigorously, relentlessly. You concentrate hard on your impending climax, your mind conjuring up an image of him filling you to the brim with come night after night.

“You are mine. Mine to treasure. Mine to fuck. Mine to breed.”

That delicious thought sends your walls spasming, your mind shattering, your entire body pulsing with incomprehensible bliss. His name bursts from your lips as you ride out the sensation, and it pleases you to know you will be calling it out the rest of your life. You have never felt better.

Still you wanted him to join you in your freefall over the edge and you cannot help the twinge of disappointment you feel when you realize he did not finish with you.

Not that you mind continuing to indulge in your favourite new activity.

He stills a moment and you stare up at him, confused, concerned, even. “I would like to try… a little something else. Take a little more from you. That is if my dearest little love would be so good as to oblige me.” You cannot imagine what he means. You must look utterly baffled because he then chuckles and asks, “Do you trust me?”

“I would trust you with anything.” The words slip out automatically and yet they come as a surprise to you. He is your husband, yes. But you barely know him. You thought you were done questioning this, but a shadow of doubt creeps back in. Something in his tone you do not like. Honey laced with poison.

Is one night of passionate sex really enough to found your trust on?

You decide it is a good start at least, and brush off the invasive thought.

He grins and turns you around, his hands all over you again, his lips planting kisses along your back, your shoulders, your neck. You let out a contented sigh.

A sharp, searing pain rips through you. You grimace. In your hysteria you imagine daggers embedded in your neck. And then it hits you.

Fangs.

You married a vampire. You let him fuck you. You let him bite you.

The first shock subsides, leaving a throbbing numbness in its wake, blood rushing out of your veins and into his greedy mouth. You should be screaming in horror, planning your escape, forsaking your vows in hopes of a return to a normal life. Instead you lean back, pliant and willing, nestling yourself against him as he holds you in his fierce embrace.

You have never known such peril and yet in the cradle of his arms you feel… safe.

You should not feel safe.

“Sweet hells,” he rasps when he stops, lapping at your wound one last time. “I have not tasted something so delectable in decades.”

This is madness. And yet a surge of pride swells in your heart at his praise. You do feel a little dizzy, a little weak—but still very much alive.

He pushes you to your knees and plunges back into you, a hand pressing you down as he fucks you into the mattress. You steal a little glance at him over your shoulder, meeting his eyes for only a second—but you will never forget their eerie, unnatural glow. You bury your face in your pillow and shut your eyes. Perhaps it is better that you don’t look. That you don’t know.

So this is Astarion out of control.

You tremble in ecstasy and in fear, still shaken by the frightful revelation, and yet still yearning to merge and meld with him endlessly. Your body begs you to bend to his will, an echo of his voice reverberating in your mind. Succumb. Surrender. Submit. So you do. You could not deny him now even if you wanted to.

You let yourself moan with abandon as his length slams in and out of you. You revel in the divine new depth this position allows him to explore and the feral sounds he makes as he drives into you faster. Bucking against him, you find yourself shaking as you reach the precipice of your pleasure.

With every pump, each more erratic than the one before, you can sense Astarion losing more and more of himself in his frantic search for euphoria. When at last he finds it, cock twitching and pulsing against your walls as he spends himself inside you, you break apart again with a delighted cry. Your final thought as he fully empties into you is a question of how long it will be before you begin to grow round with his child.

When it is done, you lie panting beneath him, logic and reason beginning to clear your clouded mind. You become all too aware of his seed seeping out of you, and the dull pangs of pain in your punctured neck. How can you just accept all of this?

Astarion settles in beside you, and taking a tentative turn, you face him, eyes catching sight of the red trail trickling down from the corner of his mouth. Blood. Your blood. He casually wipes it away as if it were no more unusual than a little spilled wine. You shiver.

You know your shock must be written all over your face. “Come,” he says, and you listen, shifting your body closer to his and giving in to his gentle caresses. When he speaks again, his expression is soft, his voice smooth. You feel a touch more at ease.

“You were so, so brave for me tonight. You need not fear what I am, love. Besides—I need you mortal. Fertile.”

A deluge of questions and concerns flood your mind, and yet that last word sends a thrill through you that shakes you to your core, pushing your worries away. Already you want more of Astarion—you want him to cherish you, to worship your being, to bring you heaven again and again. You snuggle up against him, communicating your desire with a burning kiss.

You will ask for answers someday.

But not tonight.

+++

Astarion likes to watch you.

Never has he seen a lovelier creature. You sit smiling down at the sweet baby bundled in your arms, the swell of a second child already beginning to show even through the layers of your dress. You have done your duty so beautifully well. Like he always knew you would.

He decided he would have you the moment he saw you. So like a love he lost ages ago and yet her superior in every way. The defiance he recalled and resented had long been bred out of your line, replaced with a demurity and a domesticity that made you ideally suited to your purpose. You could not be any more perfect for him.

And so he made it his mission to make you his. No doubt he could simply charm you into bed, but it was not enough to make you want him. He had to make you need him. The fools in your family had already made much progress in that regard without his interference, but the pull of a string here and there ensured your desperation.

And of course he made every claim on you he could. He wedded you. He was the first and the only to bed you. And he impregnated you so very easily. It was like you were made to be bred. What better way to declare to the world that you are his and his alone?

Your beautiful brood of children will strengthen his reign, infiltrate and influence every powerful organization, spread the Ancunín name throughout the city and the whole world. And the nobility does like a lord to have his heirs—even if an immortal will never need a replacement.

He watches as you look up. You notice him and give him that pretty smile.

You have given him so much. Even love. In him you have awakened an affection he thought he might never feel again. That he did not even know he needed.

You complete him.

He smiles back at you.

There is only one claim left on you to make, one that will come years from now, when the time of child-bearing is behind you.

To make you his bride for all eternity.

Thank you for reading!

My AO3 | My Masterlist

#astarion smut #ascended astarion #astarion x reader #astarion fic #astarion x female reader #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #bg3 fic #bg3 smut #astarion bg3 #bg3 #my writing #my fics

347 notes · View notes

daughter-lilith · 5 months ago

Text

BG3 Male Companions x Fem!Reader

And Then There Were Four...

Explicit ❕❗❕❗18+

Summary: You're the Queen of a great nation in Faerûn. You have no problem ruling alone, but lately, you've found your desires aching for a partner, a husband, a king. Once word spread of a famed competition to win your affection, hundreds of thousands answered the call. And finally, at last, the final four remain: Halsin, Wyll, Gale, & Astarion.

The end of the challenge is here, and with the help of your ladies, only one shall win your hand. And you cannot wait to get started...

Word Count: 11.2k

Idk where this idea came from, but I hope you have fun!😘 ao3 if you prefer.

“Ah, the final four at last.” The sound of your sultry, regal voice drifted down the many steps from your throne, echoing sweetly off the high ceilings of the throne room’s walls. Your mouth slid into a half smile, eyes sweeping across the focused gazes of the men who stared forward, waiting to be granted permission to gaze upon you directly.

On each side of the room, large, golden pillars separated the massive windows adorned with sparkling jewels and glittering magic. The day’s light peered through one side of the windows, casting a warm golden glow across the room. Dozens of knights stood on guard at the foot of the throne, the aisle leading up to it, and a few at each of your sides. To your immediate right, a flowery aroma wafted around you as Shadowheart, your Hand, leaned down, whispering near your ear.

“Nearing the end already it seems. Such fun this has been.” Her breath smelled like rich wine, and you just barely caught sight of her silver hair slipping over her shoulders.

With a closed grin, you simply nodded and kept your attention focused on your waiting suitors. At the end of the steps, Minthara, one of the prestigious members of your honor guard glanced over her shoulder; her vibrant, crimson eyes meeting yours in a silent question.

You nodded once, feeling the fine jewels on your ears dangling softly. Settling into the comfort of your throne, your heart rate picked up in anticipation as you watched.

After Minthara returned a subtle nod, she turned to face the four men, putting her arms behind her back as she stepped forward and began to speak.

“Two tendays ago, the court sent out a message across Faerûn, ordered by our Queen. She has opened her heart to finding a satisfactory husband. A partner. A valiant equal. Thousands answered the call, including you…” She sauntered towards the start of the line, to the first waiting gentleman, and leisurely made her way down the lineup. “Halsin Silverbough, The Archdruid… Wyll Ravenguard, The Grand Duke… Gale Dekarios, The Archmage… Astarion Ancunín, The Vampire Magistrate.”

You watched Minthara analyzing them, tilting her head from time to time, and could only imagine the scrutinizing gaze she pierced into them. Then she returned to her starting place, the light reflecting over the red and silver jewels adorning her sides. Each of the men stood still, hands folded at their back, chests slowly rising and falling.

A soft sigh flowed from your lips as you crossed one leg over the other, eyes sweeping past them. They were all so different, all hailing from different regions and lifestyles. The vampire’s eyes reminded you of Minthara’s, but they were brighter, and you craved to see how they looked up close, with the light shining down on them.

The Duke was most intriguing. You had heard of a man once human then half turned into a tiefling. But you didn’t expect that very man to ever be standing before you, pursuing you, with horns adorned in fine jewels and one red eye that could tell so many stories.

The Archdruid’s appearance enchanted you, never had you laid eyes on such an elf before. You heard whispers from time to time, and the gossip had never been more correct. And so far, he seemed as strong in mind as he was in body.

And the Archmage was brimming with fascinating power. Even now, as he stood, silent and at the ready, you could almost feel the magic dancing just beneath his fingertips, ready to please you.

The sound of Minthara’s voice stirred you from your thoughts, and you reverted your attention to the task. Her voice filled the massive chamber, echoing down the room.

“You were among the many who answered the call. You traveled far, out of your own free will, and you have freely given your consent to earn the affection of our queen. You have succeeded in the challenges thus far. You have performed your personal artistry for the Queen. You have fought your challengers for the queen. You have bled for the queen. And now, you will do one last task for the queen…”

When she finished speaking, she took two steps to the side, allowing Lae’zel, the captain of your guard, to step forward.

Lae'zel coolly carried her great silver sword diagonally across her front, her hands gripping the hilt. She rolled her arms back, lean muscle flexing lightly.

“But before we proceed further,” she began, “like all times before, we will remind you that you may walk away before we begin. You are free to march out of those doors, leave the palace, and on orders of the queen, no harm will come to you for your early departure. So, for the last time, if you remain here for the final challenge, you will do whatever your queen asks of your mind and your body. You will oblige. You will obey. You will fulfill. And should you be chosen, you may take your place by our Majesty’s side. Or…you may leave. Do you accept?”

You leaned forward a little, heart thundering. Oh please accept. You would honor your orders and ensure no harm came to them if they chose to leave, but you eagerly hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. And as though the gods themselves felt your desires, in unison, the men bowed their heads. “I accept.”

An almost shuddering breath flowed from your lips, the excitement threatening to be too much to bear, but you quickly calmed yourself. You were a Queen after all, and one of such status should display some decorum.

Lae’zel and Minthara each walked off to the side, opposite of each other to give you a full, uninterrupted view of the final four.

“You may gaze upon me,” you said, the regality of your tone filling the chamber.

The four men roved their eyes up at you, lifting their chins slightly. A readiness reflected deeply in their eyes, a silent desire to follow your every command, to earn the highest favor. You hummed slowly, the sultry sound smooth and calming.

Taking a deep breath, you curved your lips into a tender smile. “My final four, it brings me great pleasure to see you make it this far. You have impressed me with your magic, your strength, and your words, but there is one more assessment you must partake in first. One more test of compatibility before committing myself to you... One of you will be my chosen, but the remaining three will leave here with memories that will live on until your last breath.”

As you closed your speech, the men hung on your every word, their gazes never leaving you. When you next spoke, your commands were for the selected guards, handmaidens, and servants waiting for their instructions. “Prepare them for the final challenge. Bring them to me when they are ready.”

After a few bows and a chorus of ‘yes, my queen’ and ‘Your Majesty’, the men were rounded up and led towards a side door that left the throne room.

As they exited, you felt yourself shiver in anticipation, your mind visualizing all sorts of wonderful, delectable images. Oh how quickly this challenge was coming to an end. And by the end of the night, you’d have your king. But first…

To your left, Karlach, your personal guard spoke up, her energy lively. “Ready to head to your chambers?”

You glanced up at her, a knowing smile on your face. “I am.” Then you rose, and the entire room stood at attention.

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

The cool breeze caressed your cheeks as you stood on your balcony, one hand on the stone railing. Golden hour had approached as you took an admiring glance over the marvelous, thriving acropolis of your palace. You took another sip of your dark wine, the rich taste with a hint of sweetness warming your throat. Another gentle breeze tickled your skin, fluttering right through the thin fabric of your robe.

You closed your eyes, inhaling a deep breath of the fresh air. You had prepared for this day, mentally and physically, eagerly watching the challengers' numbers dwindle as you got closer to it. And now, at last…

A single knock from behind had you turning towards the sound.

“My Queen,” Karlach said. “Minthara says they’re ready for you.”

Your lips curved into a lustrous smirk. Taking one last sip of your wine, you set the golden goblet on the table and slipped past Karlach, sauntering back into your large room.

Bare feet touched marble floors as you moved across the lavish room. Tall, floor-to-ceiling curtains from the balcony lazily fluttered inward on the breeze, brushing past stone pillars. The smell of various incense and lavender touched your nose as you strolled towards the large bed at the center, the back against the wall. White, sheer curtains hung half-folded along the sides of the bed, dripping over lush black and purple sheets.

Off to the side of the room, you shared glances with Shadowheart and Lae’zel, sending them a quick nod.

You reached the end of your bed, then walked up the three steps leading to it and turned around. On the far end of the room, tall, double doors remained shut. And at their side, Karlach stood, tall and at the ready.

Slowly, you rolled your neck around before sighing contentedly. The fluttering in your stomach began, your heart hastened and your skin prickled.

Taking a seat at the end of your bed, one leg resting atop the other, you idly played with your long nails. And before you spoke, your lips curved into a desirous smile. “Send them in.”

Immediately, Karlach turned and pulled one of the large doors open. It groaned lightly as it moved, and you could see Minthara ushering the final four inside before she retreated, closing the door behind her.

You inhaled a deep breath, fighting the urge to bite your lips as you took them in. Stripped to nothing but their underwear, they each strolled in with sure steps, chins high, and with eyes only for you.

Shadowheart guided them on where to stand, while Karlach remained guarding the door. Once the men were aligned, side by side, some dozen or so feet away from you, you once again graced them with your voice.

“Ah, how lovely to see you again, my final four.”

You paused, taking a moment to rove your gaze over their bodies: every line, dip, and curve. Your gaze was shameless, smiling as you swept your eyes over their underwear and the teasing bulge tucked just beneath. You wondered for a moment, just how thick those bulges could become – but you were getting ahead of yourself, there was plenty of time this evening…

“Archdruid Halsin,” you sang, meeting the imposing elf’s eyes. “Take a step forth.”

Halsin did as he was told, taking a single step out of the line, slightly rolling his shoulders as he came to a stop. What a sight he was, his large frame such an anomaly, but one that you more than appreciated. A crimson tattoo swirled in lazy patterns down the right side of his face. You could see it slithering down his neck, and halfway down his right arm. Very thick arms complemented by thick thighs, and bulging veins made this large elf. Dark hair streaked across his chest and abdomen, also touching his arms and thighs. A pleasant sight.

“I’ve heard many tales, rumors, and the like about you,” you began, keeping your gaze locked onto the attentive druid. “One in particular that baffles me, is your apparent drive to roam freely, that your…nature never settles. So tell me, Archdruid, why did you answer the call? Why do you seek my hand?”

The Archdruid cleared his throat, and when he spoke, the deep timbre of his voice rolled throughout the chamber. “That was my life, my queen, for a time at least. But I have lived a long time, and my nature has called for me to plant its roots. It longs for the kind of connection it cannot find while roaming.” He paused for a moment, and the faintest hint of a smile touched his lips, confident. “And now nature has led me to you. You are all I want, my queen, and should your path also lead you to me, well, my dedication to you will know no limits. The Oakfather himself could not break it.” His irises flickered gold as he finished, and you couldn’t help the light chuckle of both pleasure and flattering amusement that hummed from your throat.

You glanced at Lae’zel, giving her a graceful wave and terse nod. In response, she stepped towards Halsin and silently guided him back in line. He bowed slowly before retaking his place.

You looked towards Wyll. “Come, Grand Duke,” you said, and the partial human, partial tiefling stepped forward, confidence oozing down his shoulders as the sunlight reflected over the gems and jewels decorating his curved horns.

The golden light also blanketed part of his warm, deep brown skin, accentuating all the ridges, scars, and lines of lean muscle. It bathed him in the most beautiful glow. Part of you wondered what he looked like before the change, but you loved the wide curve of his horns and the unique dips in his skin due to the ridges. You were sure this form was meant to be a curse, and yet your eyes took great pleasure in what stood before you.

“Wyll, you are no stranger to courtly duties and status. I am sure you have had many suitors yourselves, many hoping to be noticed by you. To take your place at my side would mean to move on from Baldur’s Gate, a city you grew up in and fought so hard for. Are you truly prepared to leave it all behind, to pass on your title?”

With no hesitation, the Grand Duke nodded his head twice. “I am. The Gate has been my home for as long as I can remember, and I have done much for that city. But now my heart answers to a greater calling; to find my home in something far superior, a home that is at your side. I know our achievements will reach far beyond the Gate. I know our bond will thrive, standing the test of time.”

You grinned, swaying your legs lightly. “Mmm, we shall see if it will…Wyll.”

He belted into a soft laugh, grinning. “And I happen to know my way around the ballroom, should you ever wish to twirl beneath the chandeliers.”

With a light but welcoming laugh, you signaled Lae’zel once again. As Wyll returned to his place, you met eyes with the famed wizard.

“Gale of Waterdeep, a master wizard.” You curved your index finger, curling it towards you, and the Archmage came forth.

A dark marking, like an orb or a fireball falling from the sky, traced from the top of his left collarbone to the top of his chest. It looked faded, washing into his smooth skin. Like the Archdruid, faint strands of hair decorated his chest. You made a soft hum in surprise, roving your eyes down his torso. His abdomen was surprisingly taut for a non-warrior, and when you met his gaze, there was a smirk dipped into his cheek at your wandering eyes.

You tapped your nails along your knee. “You were once involved with Mystra, on a more… intimate level, correct?”

Gale nodded once. “Correct, my queen.”

“Hmm, then I can only imagine why you seek my affection – my heart. Surely after embracing the arms of a goddess, one cannot outmatch that, no?”

The smirk in his mouth smoothed out, and the confident glint in his eyes became serious. “I worked under Mystra, then I shared her bed, her heart, but never as her equal but as a plaything she took interest in. After our parting, my only goal was to turn my heart back to its first love: magic.” He glanced away for a mere second, before looking at you again, eyes softening. “But my heart was missing something, the chance for true love, deserved love. You are my queen, but as your husband, you will be my goddess.”

A warm flush spread across your skin at his words, and your eyes narrowed in appreciation. Another signal at the captain of your honor guard, and Gale reclaimed his place in line. Then last, but so far from least, you finally eyed the vampire.

“The Vampire Magistrate, let us speak,” you softly commanded.

With an almost sultry saunter, Astarion ambled forward just as the gentle breeze brushed through his bright, silver hair, shaking a few curls. His pale skin seemed even paler with the light illuminating the side of his body. Completely hairless, it came as no surprise that his physique was fitting of an elf-turned-vampire, lean and tight, sculpted in all the right ways. Vibrant, red eyes gazed at you, and your breath nearly hitched at the tantalizing sight.

“Astarion,” you began, tilting your head slightly. “The vampire who is neither spawn nor ascendant, and yet basks in the glory of the sun. When I was told a vampire would be seeking my hand, I almost didn’t believe it. Is it just my heart you seek, or is it what my heart pumps throughout this body, every second, every moment?”

He let out a rhythmic chuckle, giving you a peek of the fangs within, sharp and pure white. “Well, my dear mesmerizing queen,” a charming finesse dripped from his tongue. “While I have no doubt what flows within your body is…quite delectable, I have admired you for quite some time. Your grace, your wisdom, your ability to lead and unite the realms, it is fascinating. Most admirable. And there is no other person I would trust, nor want, to warm this chilled heart.”

Quite unexpecting words from the charming vampire, but your smile was hard to conceal. With a wave, you had him ushered back in the line with the other three.

Taking a deep breath, you rose to your feet, the silk of your robe moving with you. “Your words touch me, and I am more than pleased that you succeeded your competitors. But before I allow one of you to forever have me, the four of you must first share… Consider it a gift for making it so far.”

You reached for the strap around your waist and pulled it, unraveling it with ease. Bringing your hands to the middle of your robe, you pulled it apart, letting the slippery silk fall to your feet. Completely naked before them, you arched your back to accentuate your chest, already feeling your nipples becoming taut.

The men remained silent as they watched you, save for the quiet gasps and shudders of breath.

Halsin’s eyes flashed a brief light of gold, his mighty stance shifting. Wyll’s gaze seemed to struggle to stay on your eyes, his parted lips and thickening bulge betraying him. The tiniest sparks of electric blue fluttered at Gale’s fingertips, and he clenched his fists, tracing you with his eyes. The red in Astarion’s eyes seemed darker, pooling with brazen lust. You caught him giving a brief lick to one fang.

Pleased, you sat down on the soft bed, resting your feet on the step just below. “My final four, I adore the pretty words that leave your tongue, but now you must show me just how skilled that tongue is by itself.” Slowly, you leaned back on one elbow, spreading your legs apart, gracing them with a view of your most intimate place. “But no fingers here.” You tapped your nails lightly down your moist center.

“Archdruid, you may come to me.” Your voice was breathy, sensual, as you locked eyes with the large elf.

Behind him, you noticed Lae’zel and Shadowheart pulling the other men off to the side but keeping them in the room.

Large, slow yet purposeful strides closed in on you as Halsin made his way to you. He stopped at the bottom of the two steps, towering over you. Your heart quickened at the sight, how large and imposing he was this close, hazel eyes glistening with desire; a dim gold that threatened to burn again. He wasn’t touching you, but you could already feel the warmth that exuded from the old druid, aching to wrap you into it. Then, he lowered onto his knees, eyes on you the entire time, and tentatively reached to touch your thigh.

Halsin leaned near the side of your thigh, and you could feel his warm breath brushing against you. He moved closer, then paused, eyeing you in a silent question.

“Go on, Archdruid,” you whispered, encouraging.

He grinned, a few fine lines dipping into his cheeks. “As you wish, my queen.”

Large hands gripped your thighs, spreading you even wider. It was such a simple touch and yet the warmth, the strength, already had you biting your lips. A warm mouth kissed your inner thigh lightly, testing and learning. A shiver rushed down your back as warm breath brushed past the area you ached most, and another soft kiss pressed into your thigh. A long, satisfying hum flowed from your lips as a large, flat tongue pressed against your waiting vulva, starting from the space between your two holes, and languidly sliding up to your waiting clit. His entire tongue covered you, immediately coating you with his warm saliva.

A deep, pleasurable groan rumbled from the druid’s throat, reverberating up your body. Keeping his hands firmly on your thighs, his tongue wasted no time dipping between the tender folds of your labia, before the point of his tongue poked and pressed over your now swollen clit. A soft moan sang from your lips at the throbbing sensation, and Halsin responded by sucking purposefully, exploring the different pitches and sounds he could pull from you. You gasped as the tip of his tongue suddenly dipped inside you, worming its way as far as it could go.

“Mmm.” Your moans were a rising chorus now, bouncing off the gold and alabaster-painted walls. One hand reached for Halsin, slipping through the soft tresses of his hair where you dug your nails in.

Another groan, almost growl vibrated against you, and he gripped your thighs harder, exploring you deeper, drinking all of you he could. Toes curling, your lips were left parted, sighing unabashedly at the tingling sensations firing through you while the Archdruid continued to tongue-fuck you. Higher and higher were your pitches, until a flood of the most familiar, most pleasurable sensations washed down your core, spraying the druid who happily welcomed your fountain. Panting heavily, you trembled slightly as Halsin lapped you up, leisurely cleaning you with his tongue the way a cat would.

With the bottom of your foot, you gently but intentionally nudged his back. Halsin looked up at you, and your breath caught at the shining, golden eyes caught in a web of lust, staring up at you. It was a most alluring sight, stoking new fires within you.

It reminded you that you weren’t finished yet, for the day was long. With an aroused breath, you tried your best not to speak too shakily. “Thank you, Archdruid.”

Almost reluctantly, Halsin rose to his full height, his lips glistening as he stared down and bowed at you. Stealing a glance at his underwear, a wet stain had collected against a large, stiff shape. You smiled, tilting your head to the side as a signal to join the others.

“Bring me the Duke,” you instructed.

A light shuffle of feet sounded before you noticed Shadowheart politely guiding the Grand Duke to the bottom of your bed. She glanced at you from behind him, bowing lightly with a knowing smile.

Wyll’s horns seemed even larger from this short distance, and you couldn’t help but wander your eyes down his chest, steadily rising and falling as old scars were illuminated by the light. Your gaze unabashedly dropped to the hard mound hidden beneath red underwear.

Swaying your knee slightly, you readjusted your weight on your elbows. “The Archdruid cleansed me before your arrival, but can you sully me up again, Grand Duke?”

Wyll smirked, his one, almost glowing red eye holding your gaze. Then, he dipped into a formal bow like he was offering you a dance. “It would be my utmost pleasure.” Rising, he took one step up, then another before gracefully lowering down on one knee. The bracelets and jewels adorning his horns jangled a little, sparkling in the golden light filling half the room.

As he lowered towards you, you’re able to better see the ridges and scars along each side of his neck, and you can’t help but reach out, gently running a hand down the lines. Wyll closed his eyes at your touch, his mouth partly open. His scarring was rough against your fingers, something of an incredible story behind those markings. Pulling away, you leaned back on your elbow.

Wyll peered at you just as you nodded towards your moist flesh. “You may feast, Grand Duke.”

Wyll dipped his head towards your navel first. Warm lips kissed your soft skin, gentle and polite. Your skin prickled behind his touch, and pleasurable flutters filled your belly. A soft sigh radiated from your lips as you closed your eyes and settled into this sense of calm and gentleness, wondering if his tongue would be just as gentle.

It was not.

Once his lips closed over your clit, the pressure from his tongue and inside of his mouth was immediate. Your eyes shot open at the sudden sensation, the Grand Duke giving you no time to lull into the gradually rising pleasure. Instantly, your toes clamped as he tasted you ruthlessly, hungrily, like you were the first source of nourishment he had in days. Wyll’s head tilted side to side, sloppily tasting and sucking your already so tender flesh. His hands gripped the sheets next to your thighs, and you could tell he so desperately wanted to add his fingers to feel you, dip inside you, but you were more than pleased that he abided by your one rule.

Your loud whimper echoed across the chambers as his tongue continued to absolutely suck you swollen. You reached forward, grabbing both of his horns, and pushed his face deeper onto your flesh, so wet and dripping, slathering yourself over him. Wyll groaned quietly, never giving your clit a moment’s reprieve. Before long, a familiar feeling buzzed down your navel, making your legs tremble as you were brought to another peak.

Catching your breath, you released your grip on his horns as Wyll’s tenacious tongue finally relaxed against you. Like the Archdruid before him, he quietly ran his tongue over you, catching your fluids. You took him by one horn again and gently nudged him back. “Much appreciated, Grand Duke.”

With a lazy wave from you, Lae’zel came forward this time, guiding Wyll to his feet. He bowed deeply, then returned to his place.

Before your next contender, you rotated your neck and then inhaled deeply, calming your heart. With a whisper, you spoke a short incantation and pressed two fingers over your lower abdomen. A cool sensation spread through you instantly, reawakening your senses as it sped up the resolution phase. Already, your once swollen clit calmed, and your heart did not pace as fast. But this stage, to your hope, wouldn’t last for long.

“The Wizard, please,” you said, feeling recharged.

It took no time to watch silver hair pass by the sheer curtains on the side of your bed, emerging into view alongside the famed Archmage. Shadowheart waved lightly, leaving you with the wizard. As he sauntered over you, a very knowing smirk seemed permanently curved into his face. For a man who once laid with a goddess, you could practically touch the confidence oozing from the powerful wizard.

You spread your legs wider, drawing his eyes towards your slick center. “Tell me, Archmage, will you worship me?”

Gale roved his eyes back to yours, the desire and determination in his eyes ever present. “There’s nothing that would give me greater pleasure.”

The wizard kept his gaze on you, sauntering forward before sinking to his knees. He dipped forward, the day’s light shining over his dark brown tresses with faint hints of silver swirling into his mane. A soft hand slid under your knee, lifting your leg to rest over his shoulder. The rate of your heart began to pick up again and you could already feel your feet twitching to curl at the promised sensations to come.

Gale hovered towards your waiting sex, looking up at you. “If I may for a moment…”

You quirked your brow as you watched him keenly. He closed his eyes and a stream of subtle whispers flowed from his lips. Blue-white mist wafted from his mouth in a beautiful cloud. He exhaled and a sudden gasp escaped your throat. A cool, near-icy sensation spread over you, and you nearly lost the footing of your other leg resting on the top step. Gale chuckled lightly, picking up your other leg to rest on his shoulder as well. You threw your head back as his mouth kissed your chilled lips, but it was strangely pleasant, electric even as his icy tongue slithered between your lips. His head moved back and forth, tongue lathering you sweetly.

You bit your lips, panting at the dozens of sensations bubbling through you. And when he dipped his tongue inside, you yelped, the contrast of his cool tongue and your hot walls overwhelming. His tongue swirled inside of you before tracing up and in between your labia, leaving all sorts of tingles and prickles over your wet flesh as your clit throbbed in his mouth. You gazed up at the high ceilings, fingers clenching as you approached the top of an icy mountain. Belly tightening, toes curling, a shattering moan escaped your lungs. The coolness of Gale’s tongue shifted into a soothing warmth. He swiped tender, lazy licks over your sensitive, wet lips before sealing his work with a kiss.

“My queen,” Gale smiled, cheek and chin glistening with your juices.

Like clockwork, Lae’zel came behind him. “Chk,” she sounded, waiting for him to rise. He gently lowered your legs off him before standing.

Coming down, you focused on leveling your breathing before speaking. “Many thanks, Archmage.”

With a respectful bow, he was escorted off to the side.

You locked eyes with vibrant, crimson gems and curled your finger towards you in a silent calling. With smooth finesse, light footsteps almost glided across the floor as the vampire made his way to the steps leading to your bed. Your heart leaped as his glimmering; red eyes drank you in. You had never been intimate with a vampire before, and your body couldn’t quell its excitement. The day’s light shined over his pale skin, piquing your curiosity as to how he managed to walk in the daylight. Perhaps a spell, maybe something to do with the silver ring he wore. But such questions were less important at present.

You noticed his chest wasn’t moving as you looked down at him with a desirous mien wrapped in a box of pure confidence. Dripping, you slid your finger down between your folds then leisurely back up again, feeling how moist you were, your body’s warmth fully returned. “Will you show me your teeth, vampire?”

Astarion’s smile dipped further into his cheek, and he quickly teased you with a show of his fang as his tongue flicked over it. “With pleasure,” he near-whispered, never dropping his gaze.

But instead of moving towards you, he remained still as a statue, eyes still locked on you as you waited. You quirked a brow, wondering what ruminated in this vampire’s mind as he left you waiting. But before you could settle into confusion, before you could call him to you – a cold rush of air whipped over you, stealing your breath. With supernatural speed, Astarion blinked toward you, stopping over your belly. You gasped as he winked at you, grinning with a flash of his fangs.

You returned an amusing smile as he descended toward your center. A shiver coursed through you as the tip of his fangs grazed your now plump, tender flesh, careful not to pierce skin. Like the Archmage, the vampire’s breath was cold, but in a way that felt more natural, like a relieving dip in the river on a hot summer’s day.

A rhythmic, rumbling purr vibrated up his throat, immediately overwhelming you as you let your head fall back. A sudden sigh left your mouth as his cold hands grasped your thighs, keeping your legs wide apart. His tongue was cold but not icy, slithering over your folds like a snake winding down a tree. And when he closed his mouth over your clit, a shiver charged down your legs, your fingers gripping the lush sheets. Between the electric point of his fangs and the purring noises the vampire made, a torrent of sensations was already firing through you, heart racing in your chest.

The volume of your quiet moans elevated as Astarion feasted below you – as much as a vampire could without a drop of blood. His expert tongue was calling for your orgasm, pulling it through your body at devastating speeds. Another flick of his tongue on your clit and you were erupting once again, your entire body trembling from yet another climax reached. Panting, you looked back down to find him grinning at you. His tongue ran a long swipe over his lips, purposefully flashing his fangs at you in the process.

You smiled in silent appreciation as your breathing slowly began to level. You nodded your head and Astarion gave your swollen labia one last kiss before rising. By now, he knew the routine and rolled his shoulders back before returning to his place in line.

With all the men lined back up, side by side, you remained in bed completely lust-filled, and skin flushed. You throbbed in all the best ways, your wetness still lightly dripping out of you. Instead of repeating the former incantation, you decided to revel in the belly of this high, allowing it to calm on its own. As graceful as possible, you dragged yourself further back on the large bed, made easier by the velvety silk cover, and rested at the center. You turned to lean on your left side, pulling the sheer drapes back.

“My girls,” you called, looking at Lae’zel and Shadowheart, “will you do me the honors, and tell me how they taste? Tell me how they feel in your hands. Bring them just to the edge.”

“Of course, my queen,” Lae’zel answered.

“I would love to.” Shadowheart bit her lip, and you could easily imagine the excitement in her heart, the blood rushing to her core in arousal.

Then your gaze passed over each of the men. “And you, lovely gentlemen, don’t touch, just stand and experience.” A simple order, but one that would be watched closely, by both you and your personal tiefling guard who still stood by the doors.

The two women walked before the men and carefully yet deliberately dragged their underwear down, freeing them immediately. You bit your lips as you watched each cock spring forth, various shades and sizes and angles. Whether it stood high and erect like the vampire’s, or hung thick and heavy like the Archdruid’s, your core tingled, saliva gathering in your mouth. But for now, patience.

Once the men were fully naked and bare, your ladies strolled to each end of the line with Shadowheart stopping in front of Halsin, and Lae’zel before Astarion. In perfect sync, they sank to their knees and your heart drummed in anticipation as you observed eagerly. You found yourself biting your lips as their tongues licked languidly up Halsin and Astarion’s cocks, feeling a rush of heat to your already so tender center. While their mouths began to work, one of their hands stroked the length of Wyll and Gale’s shafts.

Astarion’s hands were twitching and Halsin’s jaw looked clenched before he let his head fall backwards. Shadowheart seemed to be struggling with the Archdruid’s cock at first, and the sight made you sigh in pleasure. She only needed to taste, not try to take it all in, but you were feeling generous and allowed her to proceed.

As they fell into a steady motion, you watched the men's eyes closing in bliss, faces pooling in pleasure as the two women found a steady motion. Eventually, they alternated; mouths and hands on new cocks, tasting and testing. You were absolutely exhilarated by the sight, feeling hot as you watched their abdomens tighten and flex, knowing they so desperately wanted something to grip, to hold, but could only clench their fists.

The men were a moaning, whimpering mess. Various tone levels overlapped and echoed against the walls. From the deep, near-growling Archdruid; to the softer sighs of the Wizard, a throaty groan from the Duke, and hissing sighs from the Vampire. Sweat dripped down their skin, shimmering in the warm glow of the golden light outside that began to dip but still shined into the room.

Despite the needy sounds of pleasure, they never touched the two ladies who still licked, sucked, and fondled them. Each time you sensed one of them getting close, your ladies would pull away and leave them promptly until the very last one was denied their orgasm. And this pleased you greatly.

Shadowheart rose to her feet, strolling over to you with a happy smile, while Lae’zel’s lips were glistening from her saliva, face flushed. The women shared a look with each other first, some quiet recognition passing between them. Once they reached the side of your bed, they lowered their voices, just out of earshot.

Lae’zel spoke first. “Forgive us, my queen, but this may prove more difficult than we anticipated.”

“They each have their unique taste,” Shadowheart added, “and truthfully… I enjoyed all of it.”

The githyanki licked her lips, her yellow eyes brightening. “And their musk is most divine. I still smell it, can taste it on my lips. Even now I grow moist within.”

A shiver rushed through you at her words, and you tapped your fingers along your bare hip, pondering.

“What do you suggest, my queen?” asked Shadowheart.

You looked past them, glancing at the four men who stood patiently, cocks stiff and waiting. You knew there was a chance it would come to this, in fact, you hoped. And here it was… “Hmm, I suppose my body may be in need of your healing after this is all done,” you stated, eyeing Shadowheart who nodded knowingly. “And do we have enough sponges?”

Lae’zel nodded once. “We do. I checked earlier, just in case.”

A light chuckle left your lips, and you rose into a side-sitting position. “Then it shall be done. But first, a sample.” Your gaze bounced between both of their lips and they wasted no time climbing on the bed, crawling towards you.

Lae’zel found your lips first, her tongue sliding into your mouth almost immediately. Her mouth was warm, wet, lips as plump as you remember as your tongue danced with hers. But she wasn’t too greedy, pulling away to allow Shadowheart access to your mouth, which she happily obliged. You smirked in amusement as a soft moan flowed from her mouth, one she seemingly couldn’t resist. Her warm tongue slithered over and under yours, and not a moment later, you felt a new tongue worming its way in.

The three of you shared a wet, tongue-dancing, open-mouthed kiss – swapping saliva and biting lips. Various tastes of sweat and skin collected on your tongue, all strangely unique, mingling with the taste of the two women. Your heart thundered, stomach fluttering, and there was a temptation to run your fingers through their hair and have them shed the comfortable, delicate garments they wore. But as you opened your eyes, you caught a glance at the final four who stood some paces away, silent, watching intently. With a smile, you hummed in delight as you pulled away.

“Thank you, my dears.” You eyed them both sweetly. They smiled, bowing lightly before gracefully ambling off the bed.

“We shall be close,” said Lae’zel, before making her way to the waiting gentleman.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, your body rippled with excitement. Your stomach quivered and you were oh too aware of the beat of your heart. Leaning on your arm, your eyes swam over the patient men who seemed ready to hang onto your every word.

“My final four,” the passionate, resplendent tone of your voice flowed through the chamber, “seek your pleasure with me as if I was already your wife. Guide me to many peaks, and seek your own.”

You ran a nail along your bottom lip as you took in their expressions, before trailing your gaze down their excited cocks. You could’ve sworn you noticed Gale’s twitch just a tad and it made you chuckle, flattered. With a delectable hum, you called two forth. “Wyll, Gale, come to me.”

Lae’zel extended her arm in your direction, leading the pair towards you. As they made their way, you cast a glance at the other two and could’ve sworn you noticed a hint of dejection dragging across the vampire’s face, while the Archdruid appeared stoic, but you saw right through his eyes.

Wyll and Gale approached your bedside, their erections bouncing with each step.

Shadowheart’s voice filled the grand room. “You may touch her, kiss her, taste her, bite her…”

Lae’zel tacked on. “…Fill her, then fill her again, and again…”

The Archmage and the Grand Duke almost looked nervous as they came to your bed, like they knew they were nearing the end. But now was not the time to have them waning under pressure.

You slowly traced your gaze over their naked bodies, biting your lips as you watched them practically throbbing for you. But after they climbed the two steps to your bed, neither of them moved, waiting for your direction. Your stomach fluttered. It filled you with such bliss to still see them so obedient for you, such wonderful traits. So it was only right to give them one more command.

“Don’t be shy. Take the lead now, and don’t make me wait too long…”

Your words seemed to ignite a fire behind their eyes, and you caught a faint flash of blue sparks dancing across Gale’s fingers. The men shared a glance with one another, then nodded, some personal understanding. You watched Wyll stroll to the other side of the bed, then looked at Gale one last time before the two of them crawled up and onto the plush mattress and silky sheets.

You closed your eyes and exhaled a breath of pleasure as their lips touched each side of your neck. Gale licked his way up to your ear while Wyll trailed his tongue down your neck before sucking lightly. One calloused hand began massaging your breast, kneading gently, while another smoother palm caressed the other one. Shivers trickled down your neck, surging down your back from the dual sensations. You were still dripping, still so moist from having them taste you earlier. Still so wet from watching your ladies taste their veiny cocks.

You were so ready for them, so ready to feel what else they could do for you. If they could once again shatter you with more explosions of pleasure. And as if they were detecting your thoughts, your world shifted and your eyes flung open as four hands took hold of your waist and hips, lifting you momentarily to give Gale room to slide beneath you. Wyll shot you a smirk and winked before flipping you over on your knees. Gale had laid himself flat on his back, his head propped on a few pillows while your face hovered over him; your ass up for Wyll to gaze and admire.

Gale lifted his head, capturing your lips. You met him readily, kissing him slowly, learning and exploring. His tongue seemed to shift from cold to warm, the contrasting sensations making you moan and sigh into his mouth. You reveled in the light scratch of his beard against your chin as your heads tilted from one side to the other. A tremor ran up your back at the feeling of a warm tongue licking your other lips as Wyll lathered between your wet folds. The Duke’s tongue dragged from the top of your tailbone, all the way down to your tender clit as you moaned heavily into Gale’s mouth.

When Gale pulled back, you felt his hand sliding down your sides, the tip of his cock tapping against your folds. “My dearest queen. My future goddess, are you ready?” he muttered softly. He took one hand away from your waist and brought it under your chin, swiping a thumb across your bottom lip, his eyes warm with lust.

“Yes,” you whispered, and his mouth curved into a devious smirk.

Wyll gave the cheeks of your ass two soft kisses. And with the guidance of his hands on you, the two of them positioned your soaked entrance just over Gale’s tip, sinking you onto him. You sucked in a breath as the Archmage penetrated you, slipping so well through your soaked walls, opening you so nicely.

When you were fully sat onto him, a ripple of pleasure rushed over you, but you were given no time to revel in it for Gale was lifting you again as Wyll guided your hips back down. In perfect unison, like they had practiced this before, they moved your lower body up and down on the wizard’s cock in long, rhythmic motions.

Below you, Gale moaned deeply, whispering about how amazing you felt. “So warm.” He managed to breathe, his lips parted and eyes drunk with lust. Your moans rang through the room, unabashed, drowning in the feel of the Archmage rubbing against your tight walls, over and over again. You needn’t move at all, for they made sure to guide you, to set the pace and the depth. But your arms were starting to tremble, so you fell on your elbows, resting over Gale’s chest, pressing your breasts against him.

Gale folded his legs, digging the heel of his feet onto the bed. A loud moan erupted from your mouth as he pushed harder into you, all the while telling you how beautiful and incredible you were. You felt a presence hovering over your back and warm drops of fluid trickling over your cheeks, followed by something long sliding between. Wyll’s groans mingled with your moans as he rubbed himself between your ass, and you shuddered at the peculiar feeling. Were those ridges lining up and down his shaft?

The Duke lowered towards you, his breath kissing the back of your neck. “May I?” he asked, suggestively poking the head of his cock over your second hole as Gale continued moving in and out of you.

Your blood burned at the suggestion, and you moaned out a needy ‘yes’.

“But first,” you started to say, your words cut short as the wizard throbbed inside of you. “Sh—Shadow—” you breathed, trying to call for her.

Not a moment later, a gentle voice appeared near the right side of your bed. “Way ahead of you, my queen,” you heard Shadowheart say. You could hear her mutter a spell before clasping her hands together. “For you and the Grand Duke,” she said.

Instantly, a cool sensation dribbled between your cheeks, thick and oozing. You felt Wyll lift his cock from you, imagining him lathering himself with magical lubricant. Then he returned to you, something soft and moist rubbing over your tight hole.

“Just breathe, Your Grace,” Wyll encouraged quietly, his warm breath tickling your ear.

You let out a breathy chuckle, flattered by his gentleness as he nibbled on your ear, sending a tremor down your back, and making you sigh in delight. From the corner of your eyes, you could see the curve of his horns and the glint of the jewelry that adorned them. You longed to grab onto those horns, but the anticipation made your forearms feel weak, and from this angle with how they caged you, it would be difficult, but not impossible.

Wyll sank a finger inside your anus first, and you hummed against Gale, already so sensitive as Wyll’s finger explored you, tested you. Once pleased, he released his finger and leaned away from your neck. Then, you felt a new pressure against your anus, something larger, pressing into the waiting hole. A louder moan dripped from your lips at the incredibly new sensation. A feeling you hadn’t felt in quite some time. And you breathed deeply as fresh sparks of familiar pain ran through you as the half-tiefling stretched your sphincter while you tried to relax the muscle.

“Gods,” you breathed, trying to moan again but it was swallowed by the wizard’s sudden kiss.

Wyll’s hand firmly cupped the sides of your ass as he pushed deeper and deeper. “That’s it, you have it,” he droned behind you, making you moan at the praise.

You felt so incredibly full, both of your holes stuffed to the brim as Wyll began a slow and steady rhythm, letting you get used to him before his pace increased. The ridges of his shaft felt incredible, making your hands claw into the wizard’s chest as he moaned beneath you.

Soon, Wyll moved in perfect sync with Gale’s cock, thrusting and dragging out of you at the same time before sinking back in. Your heart thundered as you leaked endlessly, your wetness continuing to drench your walls, your arousal never waning, only climbing. You could feel them practically rubbing against each other from inside you, and before long, you were a screaming, whimpering mess as they used your holes to their hearts' content. As they pleased you in a way you gave command to while still taking pleasure for themselves.

Soon, their movements fell out of sync and you closed your eyes, drowning in the heightened sensations. Gale muttered something you could hardly hear, but you gasped at the feeling of his suddenly cold cock ramming through your walls. You would’ve lifted yourself for reprieve if you could, but Wyll had part of his weight on you, making a home deep within your ass.

“Remember to fill her.” You heard someone say, Lae’zel maybe, you weren’t sure.

You managed to lift yourself just enough from Gale’s chest and reached one arm behind you, finding a curved horn that you wasted no time gripping. A wave of pleasure came soaring in from the high tides, coming closer and closer as your song reached a higher pitch. It came until it crashed into you, shattering your entire body with its ecstasy. A heavy grunt filled your ear as Wyll’s movements stuttered inside your ass while Gale twitched within you. Warm, thick fluid filled both of your holes, and you sighed as they simultaneously withdrew, allowing some of them to seep out onto the covers or over Gale’s thighs.

Heavy breathing and panting surrounded the three of you. You felt so dazed, so open and tender.

Wyll shuffled back, and you used that moment to turn over, unceremoniously sliding off Gale in the process. Laying flat on your back, feeling their seed drip from you, your body buzzed, still burning for more. This time Wyll dipped down to kiss you, sweetly, passionately. You felt someone’s fingers swirl light patterns around your clit as the two men slowly guided you through this high.

Through the haze, you heard Shadowheart call for someone, instructing them. “Our queen’s nipples are looking rather lonely, maybe you can help with that.”

Through hooded eyes, you noticed the sheer curtains on your left side moving, and a large figure standing at the foot of your bed, looking down at you, eyes dark with a desperate want. Broad shoulders rolled slightly, and large pecs expanded from a deep breath. The sight invigorated you, stoking the fire that still burned. Your gaze traveled down the Archdruid’s heavily muscled frame, landing at his thick, leaking cock that barely hid the large sac hanging behind it. You were so entranced by the view that you gasped at the sudden flick of a tongue over your nipple, accompanied by a cold presence.

Bright, silver-white hair filled your vision as a long tongue swirled around your areola before teeth clamped onto your nipple. You hissed, flesh tingling, as the vampire gently bit down on your breast, tracing his fangs along your warm skin. You couldn’t help but reach forward and slip your fingers between his curls. Even his hair felt cold but soft as silk, his scalp smooth as you gripped gently.

Gale came to kiss you this time, and your eyes fluttered closed as you gave in to the passionate dance of his tongue. Occupied by the kiss, you felt the bed shift slightly as a blanket of warmth emanated from your left, like the sun itself had laid next to you. And the only thing that kept you from burning was the icy vampire who cooled your body, giving you a beautiful balance. The perfect temperature. You broke the kiss with the wizard just as tantalizing warmth took your other breast into their mouth. You looked down at the Archdruid who was already staring at you, one large hand resting over your belly. In the distraction, Gale slipped away from the side of your shoulder, giving the vampire more room to drag his tongue up along your collarbone.

“You taste divine,” Astarion murmured near your ear before pressing a kiss to your pulse point. The temptation to sink his fangs must’ve been so great while his dagger-like teeth grazed you, making you shiver.

“And you smell incredible,” the deep, husky voice of Halsin graced your ears next. His nose was up by the back of your ear now, and he inhaled deeply, purring a deep groan afterward that rumbled down your side.

You moaned in sweet bliss as they kissed and licked your hot skin, letting them feel and explore you.

“Shall we clean her for them?” The sound of the Duke hovered over your soft whines and sighs.

“It would be the polite thing to do,” Gale’s voice followed. And soon, your toes curled as a warm tongue started lapping up your vulva.

Flicking your gaze down at the new activity, you called onto your voice that felt so far, so lost in ecstasy. “Nn- no, at the…same time,” you ordered, hoping your command would reach them.

You heard Wyll chuckling, but in a way that sounded like he couldn’t wait to please you. Gale glanced up at you, lifting his face from your swollen cunt with a growing smirk. A moment later, two tongues were lapping at you, swirling over each other as they licked up and down your vulva and down to your anus. They licked you cleanly, drinking in your combined fluids with zero hesitation.

A large hand came around your neck, drawing your attention towards waiting lips. You let the Archdruid pull you into him, sealing his lips with yours. It was lightly scarred, and the feeling made you moan, wanting to bite and tug at his lip. But it was his groans that were sending you into oblivion, so deep and pleasurable in your ears, vibrating down your body.

“I would love a taste,” hummed the vampire, kissing your cheek. The Archdruid obliged, leaving your lips with a quick suck before a cool hand took your chin, guiding you towards them.

You whined as Astarion grazed his fangs over your lips, biting softly. His cold tongue slithered inside your eager mouth, falling into a hasty dance with your tongue. You shivered in pure delight as his cool breath mingled with yours, breathing it down your throat as Halsin continued to brush kisses down your neck, settling on your shoulder. You moaned lowly in Astarion’s mouth as a firm, tantalizing pressure pressed into your shoulder. The Archdruid growled as he bit down on you, not enough to bleed, but enough to leave a beautiful mark as his large hand massaged your supple breast.

“My dear queen,” the vampire murmured against your lips. You hummed in response, blinking your eyes open to meet his crimson, mischievous gaze. “I shall have you now, yes?”

You nodded quietly, desperately. You tried to reach for his lips again, but he drew back, chuckling lightly. Below you, a sudden suck made you squeal, your clit so raw by now. And for the second time tonight, the room spun, and you were promptly gripped, lifted, and placed right where they wanted you, where they craved you. This time the vampire was on his back, and your back was resting against his front. Unlike the wizard who gave you a brief warning, the vampire lifted you slightly and shoved his cold cock into your heat.

You bit your lips, trying and failing to stifle your endless moans, feeling so overwhelmed by the speed at which the vampire thrust into you. His arms linked around yours, locking you against his body. Your breast bounced as Astarion stroked into you which only seemed to draw in Gale and Wyll who couldn’t help but take your nipples in their mouth.

A gasp fell from your mouth as a thick finger slithered into your anus, followed by a warm mouth closing over your clit. Through a haze, you watched the broad shoulders of the Archdruid, sweaty and flexed, as his head moved up and down. Halsin dragged his tongue through your folds, swirling on the outside of your entrance as Astarion’s shaft continued to grind into you. The vampire was hissing in your ear, his icy breath making you tremble. You closed your eyes, seeing a formation of stars as you succumbed to the overwhelming surges of pleasure, your toes clenched so tight and your stomach fluttering, skin flush. A thick shot of fluid spilled into you as Astarion’s grip tightened around your arms and his cold breath coasted over your cheek. You chased his orgasm with your own, body trembling in his arms as Halsin still sucked and tasted you.

Finally, Astarion withdrew from you, and you whimpered at the feeling of sudden emptiness. He didn’t relieve the lock on your arms, but he did lessen the tension as you caught your breath, closing your eyes while the men fondled and caressed your body.

“You took me so well, my queen,” Astarion purred, his tone making you shiver. “And you felt heavenly.”

The sunlight felt warm on your skin, still peering through the large windows but continuing to make way for the moon, yet it was still just high enough to reach your chamber. Your body felt intoxicated, all sorts of sensations firing throughout your nerves. Then a shadow moved over you, but you were too drunk with the afterglow of lust to open your eyes.

“Will you honor me with this gift, my queen?” a voice asked you, so deep and warm, but you could hear the thick desire in their throat. “Just one more time, my heart to be.”

You lazily opened your eyes, peering at the towering figure before you. “Mm, yes,” you said, finding your legs opening to their own volition, still having just enough left in you.

Still constricted by the vampire, you wanted to reach upward, to place the palm of your hand against the thick chest of the Archdruid, squeezing the muscle. You knew he felt so incredibly warm, heart likely thundering behind that strong chest, and you bit your lips as you watched him position himself between your legs.

Gale and Astarion were busy kissing and licking along your earlobe, while Wyll tenderly kissed his way up your chest. He planted a kiss on your chin, smiling at you briefly before meeting his soft, full lips with yours. You closed your eyes, falling into the sweet kiss as you mentally prepared for the familiar sensation.

But your eyes shot open, and you whimpered into Wyll’s mouth. It was anything but familiar. Your holes had been so used already, so tender and raw. And yet, as the Archdruid entered you, a new sting of pain rippled through you, your walls being stretched anew.

You turned your head to look down at where you and Halsin met, watching his thick cock slowly disappear in you. “Mmm… fuck,” the curse fell from your lips as he expanded your walls inch by inch. It wasn’t like you didn’t know his girth was thick, but perhaps you were too lost in a daze to think about such things.

Or perhaps you assumed that you had plenty of prep from all the previous cocks and fingers thrusting in and out of you.

Your toes clenched as the Archdruid continued to sink. With Astarion still securing your arms, and Halsin’s grip on your thighs tight, you couldn’t wiggle away even if you wanted to. And you so, so badly wanted to stay, to sigh and gasp through the stretch.

“Ohh, my queen,” Halsin groaned deeply above you, focusing so intently on your leaking cunt.

Glancing at him, you shuddered as his irises started to glow again, a fierce gold charged with a primal desire. You hissed a little as he sunk deeper, almost reaching his limit and yours, and your stomach tightened, toes still clenched.

Shadowheart’s tender voice caught your ears. “Relax, my queen. Open for the Archdruid. Allow pleasure to carry you to its peak once more.”

Encouraged by your words, you exhaled and let your abdomen rest.

“Does he stretch you well, my queen?” Astarion whispered in your ear. You whimpered in response.

Finally reaching the base, Halsin held still for a moment and stared down at you, like he couldn’t believe the wondrous sight below him. But the moment of reprieve was short as he began to move, and you let your head fall back on Astarion’s left shoulder.

The vampire immediately came to the right side of your neck, leaving you love bites and more encouraging words. Your breathing increased as Halsin set a steady pace, the pain slipping away to endless bouts of pleasure around his thick cock.

The aroma of sex was hot and heavy in the air. Various noises of lust and pleasure were the chorus of sounds in the massive chamber. You’re almost sure everyone throughout the palace could hear you. Perhaps all throughout the city could hear the pleasurable cries of their queen being brought to the brink again and again.

Halsin was huge leaning over both you and Astarion, but he was careful not to rest his whole weight on you. His heat enveloped you, his torso sweating, irises glowing, as a stream of groans and growls erupted from his throat. You felt so full again as his cock hit the areas that made you whimper.

Gale found a chance to lick your clit again, while Wyll came around to leave love marks on the other side of your neck and shoulder after he was done marking your arms and thighs. Astarion was fondling your nipples while he kissed the back of your neck, his cock resting between your ass cheeks.

The Archdruid increased his pace by now, and your pleasurable cries only elevated in volume. He fucked you so well. They all fucked you so well, and yet so different.

Halsin leaned down to kiss you, sloppily, deeply. You could hardly keep up with his mouth as his thrusts reverberated through your body. His movements started to grow erratic, and you moaned loudly into his mouth, feeling a familiar shudder quaking its way down your stomach, over your throbbing core in another burst of ecstasy. Halsin left your lips and tossed his head back as a deep groan erupted from him. Hot fluid spilled into you, and you could feel some of it already leaking out your already stuffed hole as he buried all of himself inside you...

You don’t know how much time passed – a few minutes, an hour? Golden hour had dimmed, sinking past the horizon, but the waning hour of daylight still clung to the sky, gradually losing its battle with the moon. You could hear your heart in your head, steadily slowing down as your back lay atop Halsin now, with the other men huddled so close to you, limbs entangled over one another, slipping over the soft, silky velvet sheets. Your body felt flushed, elated, spent, and achy in all the best ways as you felt something warm still leaking out of your holes, gathering on the cover.

You were being kissed softly, massaged gently, and whispered to lovingly. Several lazy kisses were shared before you rested your head against the Archdruid and allowed them to soothe your body with more kisses.

But at the sight of your ladies making their way to the edge of your bed, you’re reminded of a very important task.

Finding your voice again, slightly breathy but steady, you speak. “My final four, that should be all. Karlach will lead you to the bathing room while my ladies attend to me. But the challenge is complete, and I shall see you again soon...”

Falling immediately back into your orders, the men rise, sweaty and half-dazed with softening cocks. Halsin gently but with ease, raised you from him and then settled you down to his side.

When they were all out of bed, they rolled their shoulders back, then turned to you, bowing. You called out to your personal guard and watched as the mighty barbarian marched toward the group of men. Karlach nodded at you once, ordering the men to follow her. As they ambled past, she looked back at you, shooting a quick wink of approval before following the group out of your chamber.

At your side, Shadowheart had already begun her recovery spells over you while Lae’zel prepared a warm bath in the tub that was set up near the balcony. While it heated, she returned with a sponge and began tapping it between your anus and along the opening of your vagina.

Shadowheart grinned, glancing at you. “You were incredible.”

Lae’zel nodded. “Agreed. You rode the waves in a most admirable way.”

You smirked, quietly thanking them as you closed your eyes, falling into their comforting touches.

“So, do you have a verdict?” Shadowheart inquired, tenderly soothing your muscles.

“Yes, I am most eager to learn who shall be our king.”

“Hmm…” You pondered for a long moment, still feeling so tingly and high off ecstasy. When you opened your eyes, they were both looking at you eagerly. “Would the realm have any qualms against four husbands?”

Pretty sure in all my years of writing, I've never written sex for more than a threesome, so this was a little leap! But I hope you enjoyed! 🥵

Who would you have personally chosen?🤔

259 notes · View notes

lady-ashfade · 2 years ago

Text

I add Astarion to Fictober! I love this man. (I’ll add more characters if you guys want!)

(Might be adding him to Kinktober- Go to @ms-fade if you guys want that)

Fictober 2023

Thought I’d make this more up to the readers and the followers to fill up the card.

So, again this is a bingo card of a map of what will come in October, this is like a marathon for Fics to come out daily. You, yes you, can suggest a prompt for a slot and what character or characters you want. I will give you some ideas and feel free to use them or not, but I only do the characters listed!

Prompts: Creature Au, Kidnapped by a Yandere, Trick or treating,Surprise decorations, Werewolf, Matching costumes, Halloween party, Shape shifter y/n, Demon Au, Ritual appears y/n, Cemetery Awaking, carving pumpkins, Halloween Candy, Cute ghost deku, Yan Corn field, Pumpkin Patch, Festive Carnival, Adapting A Neko, Stealing Hoodies, Baking Cookies, Vampire Au, Haunted House, S’mores, Ghost Y/n, Ghost meeting human y/n, Yandere purge, Making their costumes

Characters:

Mha:

Izuku Midoriya

Katsuki Bakugo

Bakusquad.

Dekusquad. (Froppy platonic only. Romantic froppy not included)

Ochaco Uraraka

Mina Ashido

Kiribaku

Yandere Poly class 1A

Shadow & Bone.

Kaz Brekker

Yandere!Six crows

Six of crows

Inej Ghafa

kanej × reader

House of the dragon

Yandere house of the dragon- Rhaenrya, Alicent, Viserys, Daemon, Aemond, jace, Otto, Luke, and others.

Lucerys Velaryon

Baldur’s gate 3

Astarion

Lockwood & co

Anthony Lockwood

Lucy Carlyle

Poly! Lockwood, lucy

Yandere!Poly!Team × reader

#yandere astarion #Astarion Ancunín #Astarion Ancunín x reader #astarion ancunin #Astarion Ancunin x reader #yandere astarion x reader #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #baldurs gate x reader #baldur’s gate 3 x reader

66 notes · View notes

dhampling · 1 year ago

Text

˗ˏˋ i'm dal - she/‎‎‎her. 24. ˎˊ˗ astarion x reader content • 18+ only, minors dni! ‎‏‏‎ ꙳⊹ ﾟ⋆ • about me • ko-fi • ao3 • my caps • © BLOODSOEUR. do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my works.

butter gn!reader, 2.5k you and the vampire spend a short gloaming sun discussing marriage

both free gn!reader, 2.1k you reject bhaal’s greatest gift - to this, your horrified love bears witness

one mine, both yours bard gn!reader, 1.6k astarion’s habit of visiting your tent leads him to your hidden pile of sonnets

the shepherd, the black sheep gn!reader, 2k a plummet into a chasm leaves you and your light-fingered friend stuck. together, you wonder if you’ll ever emerge again.

sylvan gn!reader, 2.8k a chance series of encounters in youth come together on one night, where everything just clicks for Astarion and his unicorn.

the sunwalker's gift gn!reader, 3.3k you find a ring - after a lot of searching - that allows astarion to walk in the sun, and propose with it.

gush fem!reader, 2.2k (NSFW) it rains. you swindle some wine and astarion cums in his breeches.

oh, mother fem!reader, 3.3k (NSFW) it’s the mummy fic.

lifeblood fem!reader, 2.5k (NSFW) astarion discovers an aphrodisiac during a trip to the night market, and only one thing is on his mind.

ivory tower fem!reader x ascended!astarion, 4.6k (NSFW) you're still mortal, and there's good reason for it.

warming fem!reader 1.2k (NSFW) early morning feeding and cockwarming because i said so.

swell fem!reader 1.9k (NSFW) feral pregnant sex with the elf. inspired by this NSFW piece by the ridiculously talented @mutualcombat.

leeches girl!dadstarion, <1k astarion and his daughter have a spat.

little love girl!dadstarion, <1k dadstarion watches dhampling sleep.

bramble jam girl!dadstarion, <1k “In what realm would we need this much jam?”

the gate girl!dadstarion, 1.5k astarion is a school-gate dilf on his first pick-up adventure with you.

sunburn girl!dadstarion, <1k dhampling gets sunburnt!

introducing the siblings girl!dadstarion (inbox prompt) "I had this image in my mind of him introducing the older girls to their new baby sister each time and just being sweet and cute"

breakfast girl!dadstarion (inbox prompt) astarion trying to make breakfast for the growing brood while tav/reader is like, "my love, you wanted this"

bump dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) astarion being a lil shit and causing more kicks talking to and touching tav's baby bump as tav tries to rest?

stretch marks dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) Imagine a tav who’s really insecure about these marks [...] and when they bring it up to astarion he decides the best course of action is to show them how much he loves them.

snuggles dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) when tav is pregnant astarion would love snuggling up to their baby bump - curling around them and listening for signs of their little one

shallow bites girl!dadstarion (inbox prompt) "I think it would be really funny if astarion and tav’s daughter was practicing her bites and pickpocketing on the two of them, respectively. [...] No ancunín is going to grow up being a half-rate pickpocket!"

hugs from behind dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) "hugging the other from behind" from this list of prompts with astarion hugging his very tall, very pregnant wife from behind because I think the image of it is so cute.

tiefling tav showing affection via their tail tief!reader (inbox prompt)

valentine's day with astarion gn!reader (inbox prompt)

earthbound astarion x earth!born reader (inbox prompt) "how do you think astarion would handle a tav who is actually from earth and is going to return home after defeating the netherbrain?"

reunited astarion x earth!born reader (inbox prompt) "a follow-up to earth tav somehow reuniting with astarion, via reincarnation or another divine intervention"

patience gn!reader (inbox prompt) "hmm, you're not very patient, are you?" from the one-liners list"

baking gn!reader (inbox prompt) "ASTARION GETTING INTO BAKING AND ASKING YOU TO SAMPLE ALL OF HIS BAKES"

thulsun fem!reader, not tav! 3.7k (NSFW) under rework! astarion appears at your parlour one evening in a cloud of smoked bergamot and the briefest hint of spunk, and it becomes oh-so difficult to watch him leave.

three, minimum fem!reader, 4.3k (NSFW) astarion has been planning, for the first time in his life. He wants babies.

nought point five fem!reader, 4.7k (NSFW) seven months along, he’s besotted with every pregnant piece of you.

one fem!reader, 2k astarion is a newly-minted girldad. that’s it. that’s the plot.

one more fem!reader, 2.9k (NSFW) your home is quaint. astarion continues to insist it isn’t busy enough.

(astarion x fem!reader au, NSFW) he's a potwasher. you want to fuck the potwasher. this started as a joke and now i'm obsessed. enjoy.

one two

#pinned post #blog intro #astarion x reader #bg3 #my writing #masterlist

417 notes · View notes

gatorbites-imagines · 2 years ago

Text

Astarion Ancunín x Bard Tiefling Male reader

Headcanons

I’ve been playing Baldurs Gate 3 little by little, and I’ve fallen for this vamps’ charms. I blame Twilight. Reader is a Tiefling Bard cuz that’s what my player character is. I also have only played DnD like twice, so I know nothing about races or canon. If you guys have any cool dnd facts, let me know, id love to hear them.

Heres just some light and overall headcanons, there’s no specific theme.

In the beginning like any relationship started with Astarion, it wouldn’t be romantic from his part in the start. You, being a bard, have met and experienced a lot of people, so you can read between the lines in his actions though.

You aren’t cruel when it comes to helping others, not one to fit the stereotype some people seem to have for Tieflings and bards. You are just perspective, and you’ll need a reason to do something, having been burned so many times in the past by trying to be good.

Early on, before you knew he was a vampire, the two of you could regularly be found sitting a bit away from the fire at night as the others slept. You would play your instrument at a low volume, as the sound helped your allies sleep, and Astarion would stay nearby since you guys were allies.

Overtime it would develop into something more, you two would flirt, and feelings would actually bloom. It even reaches a point where you might start writing poems or songs about Astarion and your feelings for him, though you’d never show them to anyone, especially not Astarion, his ego is already big enough.

Astarion would struggle with the feelings he is developing for you, as we all know he would. In the beginning he would deny it, and try to convince himself that it was just something going hand in hand with lust, or something about being free and in the sun.

As the story goes on though, we all know that Astarion becomes softer and finally accepts his feelings for you. The two of you being shunned in ways from society, him being a vampire, and you being a Tiefling, probably helps build some solidarity too.

After you guys officially get together, hed start making jokes about you writing ballads about him and his excellence, and you’d joke there’s no need for that. In the end he would figure out the songs you wrote about him before you guys even got together, and of course he preens like a peacock.

I don’t know if Tiefling blood tastes different or has different properties, but to Astarion, the first time you let him feed on you, he would never be able to feed on anyone else. You are perfect to him, from the top of your horns to the tip of your tail.

When you guys cuddle your tail curls around him, and it even seems to do it without you realizing during the day. It becomes a joke amongst your friends, much to your embarrassment.

You being a Bard and Tiefling also means higher charisma, you two are probably lethal when it comes to persuasion or anything involving your charms and lies, especially when you work together.

I don’t know if Astarion plays any instruments, since he wouldn’t have been able to do so for all the years, he’s been under Cazador, or I assume so. But even if he did, I could imagine him asking you to teach him how to play your instrument.

You being a Tiefling also means you are warmer to the touch, and Astarion being a vampire means he doesn’t have any body heat. So, he’s like a big lizard or cat when you guys’ cuddle, just curling up in your arms or melting against your chest.

652 notes · View notes

thatfreshi · 2 years ago

Note

Can you make an Angsty Astarion x mortal!reader fic where Astarion realizes that one day the reader will pass and he’ll be alone again🙏🙏🙏 I need more Angst of this man😭

TW - Talk of death, graveyards

Recommended Song: Halley's Comet - Billie Eilish

Astarion often visits graveyards. It's some form of therapy, a place where he can let it all out, a place where he can mourn what he never had, what he doesn't remember. You don't usually go with him, deciding it's best to give him something just for him. Occasionally he'll ask you to come with him, if it's been a particularly rough time or if it's a special day. At the very least he goes once a month, and it's never a question of where he's going, you just know. You worry about him sometimes, being alone in some graveyard. You are all each other have, all you cherish, all you love. It's not often you're apart, but it's not all that difficult to stick to someone like sap when you can't be in the sun.

It's the anniversary of the death of some family member he doesn't remember, who died centuries ago, but some part of him feels as though he should at least go. Not like anyone else goes to see his family anymore. You're in the living room, setting up the fireplace for when you return. Astarion comes downstairs, and you hear his shoes tap each step. You turn to find him in all black, you are as well.

"Are you ready to go?"

You ask, grabbing your trusty knife off the table by the front door, sheathing it under your jacket. It's been quite cold as of recent.

"Mhm."

He doesn't say much. He doesn't have to say much.

"Then let's go."

You smile warmly and wrap yourself around his arm. The graveyard you're visiting isn't too far from the house. It's where most of the Ancuníns were laid to rest, including Astarion's 'grave.' When you arrive, he knows right where to go, and you simply follow along. A while back he memorized all of these people, their death dates, who they were, trying to remember anything he could from a life he lost long ago. The two of you sit in front of an ornate grave, a second cousin of his, or something of the like. You feel guilty that you don't remember like he does.

"I appreciate you."

He'd been silent the entire walk here.

"You always come with me when I ask. I know it may not make sense, I just feel as though it's right, to at least try."

"Of course my love. Whatever you need."

You rest your head on his shoulder and read the inscription on the tombstone. Apparently this man got a terrible illness, died sometime in his 20s, extremely young for an elf. You wonder how much Astarion remembers, if he knew this man at all. You never pry though. He always shares when he's ready. Suddenly, he squeezes your hand.

"I'll miss you. I don't miss these people, but I'll miss you."

"That's hardly a fair comparison. You barely remember them."

"I'll remember you forever. Even if I were enslaved for two hundred more years after this, I couldn't ever forget you."

He kisses the top of your head, lingering for a moment to take in your scent, the feeling of your hair, every little thing he'll remember when you're gone.

"The truth is darling, I don't think I'll ever love again, once you're gone."

He begins to cry. You hadn't thought about him with future lovers, lying with another soul.

"That's not fair though."

"What makes you say that?"

"You deserve to love after me. You deserve to be loved after me."

He sadly chuckles to himself.

"As if anyone could ever compare. You're the sun, and I the moon. Without you, no light would ever reflect off me again. A dark husk of a man, that's what I will be when you're gone."

He sounds so sure of himself, as if beyond you there is nothing. Then again, you've made this entire life together. Who else would fall in love with a vampire spawn with no master, a monster who's never going to be quite right? You're not sure what to say.

"To be honest, I don't think I could fall in love with someone else, even if I tried my damnest. You've made me feel safe in a way that is so foreign, fabricated just for me. You can't replicate that. You can't find someone so willing to be this patient, this kind, to not only love me for my body."

"You have so much more to love though."

"I don't think anyone would see it the way you do my sweet."

You shift to turn and look at Astarion, taking his hands in yours.

"You know what I love most about you?"

He softly smiles.

"What?"

"That you can change. It's something many people forget to do, to change and evolve, to find more in life than their misery. You've changed, for the better. Very few can do that the way you have."

"It's you who changed me."

Sometimes it frustrates you, how little credit he gives himself. Then again, it's much better than it used to be.

"Just promise me something? Once I'm gone, find another way to be happy. Find something that makes your heart flutter, that causes those precious creases when you smile. Find something else, if not for yourself, for me."

He nestles into your neck, giving you a soft kiss.

"I promise to try my love, that's all I can do."

His eyes are still misty, the tears get onto your neck. You try hard not to cry yourself, but it's hard when your heart is breaking outside of your body. You pray in that moment, although you're not sure to what god or power, but you pray that he'll be okay when you die, that it's a long time away from someone driving a stake through his ribs, that he finds joy in the small things like he does now. After all, hope is all you have when the afterlife comes to get you so soon.

"I hope I get to watch over you, wherever I end up."

"Like some kind of angel or something?"

"I guess. Like your guardian."

"Do you think I'll know?"

"Yes, I think you'll know. Maybe I'll take on the body of stray cats, follow you on the streets, lead you down paths with less heartache."

"I'd like that, very much."

~~~

Decades later, Astarion gets ready to leave the house, your knife on the table. When he steps out onto the cobblestone streets, there's a pure white cat standing a couple feet away. It meows, almost melodically, and turns to a nearby alleyway. He walks to where the animal was standing, and turns to look into the alleyway, but there is no sight of the stray. He smiles.

"Thank you, my love."

#comfort #angst #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav

660 notes · View notes

random-introverted-blog · 1 year ago

Text

Come Home To Me [Ascended!Astarion x F!Reader]

The 10MB limit will be the death of me

Intended Audience: Mature [May ratings never stop you]

Who be smoochin?: Astarion x F!Reader

The Bit: You leave Astarion, save the day and go back to your hometown to live happily ever after with your family. Good thing he's not your crazy jealous ex. Otherwise who knows what he'd do when he found you? Happily minding your own business? oh, perish the thought, darling. Oh, and some time later you accidentally die without permission. He is not a happy camper about any of this. He may or may not raze your town and kill your family in the process...

Warnings/Advisories: It's Ascended!Astarion, guys. Come on. Still need me to explain? Fine. *Unfurls the world's longest scroll* Expect yandere elements, forced vampirism [yes...], intentional manipulation to cause Stockholm Syndrome. Emotional abuse by proxy, possessive behavior *pauses to shimmy more of the scroll into view* "you have a sister and she kinda a thirsty ho but we don't judge you go queen". And violence. Of the graphic variety. "I would have given you a dog, but he'd have probably killed the dog". Everything is (literally) on fire. And death. Lots of it. ANGST. Bad ending? Depends on what you consider bad. If you like obsessive yandere vampire boys then it's probably a good ending for you.

Words, all the words (count) : 4,001 baebeee

And away, we... GO

ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The last thing you said to him about it was in reply to his hurtful comments.

"Well, that's fine with me. My home isn't with you, anyway."

It had been some time since you defeated the Absolute and your quiet little hamlet had remained such since your triumphant return. Hardly a thing had changed, not the Wilks farmstead, not the general store, not even that old and tipping wooden signpost. Few of your companions knew of the place you called home. He had never asked; you had never told, and it seems it was a blessing you hadn't. The last thing you wanted was for him to stroll into town and go out of his way to remind you how happy he was without you.

Which definitely seemed like a thing he would do.

As if he didn't have better things to do.

Thankfully, it sounds like he has. Such an opportunity to take Baldur's Gate by the throat was one only a fool would pass up. And Astarion Ancunín was certainly no fool. In no time, he had charmed and maneuvered himself to the top of the food-chain. By means of persuasion, intimidation... and a tactic of his you're intimately familiar with.

Seduction.

Oh, the rumors of who he has or hasn't slept with. Was it necessary to get where he was now? No. It was a display of power now. Dominance. He could have anything and anyone he wanted, anyone he deemed worth his whim, and there wasn't a damn thing anyone could do to stop it. And clearly, he didn't want you.

It stung a little. You had genuinely fallen in love with the man he used to be. But that was the keyword, wasn't it? He used to be. The man he had become now was a stranger. The warmth that once resided in his eyes had been replaced by a chilling, calculating gaze. Gods, why didn't he just listen to you? He didn't need the ritual. He was already more than enough...

With a shake of your head, you stepped out the front door of your small, two floor cottage and made the brief journey to your parents' house. A smile curled your lips when you saw your older sister waiting for you outside "Y/N, you're late!" She scolds with a laugh, throwing her arms around you.

A roll of your eyes and you returned her hug. "An adventurer is never late. They arrive always when they intend to."

"Sounds like a fancy way of admitting you're always late to me." Your brother remarks gruffly. Your mother not far behind. "You sure your time as a big hero didn't go to your head?" He adds with a raise of his eyebrow.

You move away from your sister and embrace your mother first, then your brother. "I kind of had other things in my head then, brother dearest," you remind them with a small laugh.

Your mother lightly smacked your brother's large arm and narrowed her eyes. "Don't drive her away with that attitude of yours, unless you want her to return to adventuring!" She scolds with a playful glint in her gaze.

A sigh escaped your lips. It had been five long years since you've taken up your old gear and hit the road. Part of you missed it. But you'd never admit that to her. She was just so glad to have you home, you couldn't bear to take that from her. Not after your father had passed while you were out saving the world.

"Come now, my starlings, I've got your sister's favorite on the stove for lunch," she cooed and herded the three of you inside. And like every time you come over, you spend your time regaling them of your journey and heroics. Of your friends' camaraderie around the campfire. From Wyll's many dances with Karlach, Shadowhearts' best snarky comebacks, Gale's incredible displays of powerful magic and Lae'zel's discipline, her culture and brutal efficiency.

And every time, you noticed the look your brother would give. Initially, you thought it was protectiveness. No matter how much you tried to downplay it, your family was acutely aware of the gravity of your situation back then. Perhaps your brother was merely thinking how many times they came so close to losing you, without them realizing it.

Maybe it was partly true, but it certainly was not the only reason. "Sister, I'm sorry but I must ask..." He began, gently clearing his throat as he leaned back in his chair, across the table from you. "I was in the Gate not too long ago and heard... things. That you never seem to mention yourself..."

Despite your efforts to wrack your brain, you come up blank and draw your brows together. You cast a glance at your sister beside you and your mother, beside your brother. They don't seem as confused as you... "Lord Ancunín, was he not a companion of yours? They say he is also a Hero of Baldur's Gate."

"Yes." You answer sharply, also leaning back in your chair. "And you heard he and I were involved, I take it? That's what this is about?" You were getting defensive. You knew it, but you couldn't stop it. Even now, the damned elf was a sore spot for you.

The man your brother was, he never backed down or cowed away from anything, hardly ever you and only consistently your mother. He dipped his chin and held your glare. "Did he hurt you?" He asked, his words blunt but his tone low.

You chuckle dryly, and your gaze immediately flicks towards the door. "What does it matter? It was five years ago. Astarion and I were in love, yes, love. And then he took a path I couldn't follow in good conscience. So we did what we had to, then went our separate ways."

He paused, considering your response. Your sister was practically biting her nails in an effort to silence all the questions she had for you about your evidently dramatic love life. Your mother gave you the worst look of them all.

Pity.

"If it is as you say, little sister. Then I can only commend you for remembering your worth. From what I gather, he is not a man worthy of your attention," he says with a stiff nod.

A weak smile tugs at the corner of your lips. "He was. Once..."

"So what was he like? Was he as charming and beautiful as they say he is in person?" Your sister gushes as soon as she deems there's an opening in the conversation.

You hold up a hand to stop your brother and mother from scolding her. Somehow she's older than you, if only by two years. "Yes, and yes. Even after we broke up, I found him painfully gorgeous. His voice was like velvet, he was smart and witty and knew just what to say..." now that the cat was out of the bag, so to speak, you decided to indulge your sister's silly fascination about your ex. If just for today.

Afterward, the three of you, as always, did the remaining housework for your mother. A gesture of gratitude for everything she had done for you all as children, and still into adulthood. Life without your father had noticeably taken its toll, hence why your siblings had moved back home. None of them had outside obligations, and you were still trying to settle down from your adventuring days and really needed the quiet.

On your way out the door, intent on your cottage for the evening, your mother touched your arm. "Before I forget, starling!" she says, reaching for the small table next to the door, "this came here, addressed to you."

She extends her hand, offering you a letter adorned with a peculiar and ornate wax seal. You turn it over once or twice in your hand before smiling and thanking her. Odd. The only ones who wrote to you were Shadowheart and Gale and not only did they know to send your letters to your home, but they didn't use wax seals either. Not even Gale.

No one else knew where your hometown was. Even fewer that you returned here after your party disbanded. So who else could have sent it? That is clearly your name above the seal. It was not a mistake on the courier's part. But then, that was the only way this made much sense. Who could have found, cared enough to write and send a letter to you after all this time? To the wrong house, to boot?

It was a persistent question that nagged at you, making the walk home feel longer than usual. Paying only mild attention to the eerie stillness in the cool night air.

You set it down on your kitchen table to turn on the lanterns around your cottage, illuminating the room with a soft, golden glow before you decide to open it at last. The letter revealed its contents - or lack thereof, as you unfolded it and saw only two lines in the center of the parchment.

Playtime is over, pet.

It's time for you to come home.

For a moment, and only a moment, your brows draw together. And when it clicks in your mind, you toss the letter on the table as if it's poisoned, or worse, Him and you paced restlessly in front of your table. Fixated on the parchment, as if it might attack you when you least expect it. What could he possibly want now? Half a decade later, you've moved on. Hadn't he? How many others had he taken to his bed since you went your separate ways? Couldn't he have busied himself with them instead? Out of all those partners, a plethora of variety, you were sure, not a one of them had held his attention for at least a decade? And why, by all the gods above and below, did he send it to your mother's house? Such a careless mistake was unlike him. If he had gone through all this effort to find you, surely he had to at least know where you actually lived in town.

Your heart sunk as the thought crossed your mind.

It wasn't a mistake. He doesn't just know where you live...

A scream rang out, snapping your eyes to the door. More shrieks followed, and you darted to the window. Faces ran frantically down and up the road, smoke billowed into night sky, dusted with stars, from closer to the village center. You clenched your teeth, giving yourself a moment to seethe with anger before rushing upstairs to the chest at the foot of your bed. Did you have time to equip your armor? Most likely, not. Best to take your weapons. The sooner you're outside, the better.

Prepared as you were ever going to be, you dashed down the stairs and shouldered your front door open. The raiders were already in front of your house. You recognized the hauntingly pale, lifeless face of Gregory, the barman, in the claws of a half elf. His sharp red eyes weredistant as he gorges on his meal, mouth latched tight to Gregory's neck.

"Another!" cheered a nasally voice behind you. Two spawn leaped down from the thatch roof of your home. Quickly closing in. The human woman continued, "Ohh, I can taste this one already! How delicious! Perhaps I should save some for Master—"

"Don't be foolish!" hissed the half elf, tossing the drained body aside. "Master said our reward was a feast, and I intend to feast!" He lunged, fangs glistening with fresh blood in the dim light. Experience traveling with at least one vampire had prepared you for the tactic, and you stepped out of the way with ease.

It was the halfling that seemed the only one not mad with bloodlust. "B-but Master said... there was one we couldn't..." she stammered, eyeing you almost with recognition.

But the other two ignored her and threw themselves at you again.

Despite the boredom that consumed your life over the past few years, you were unwavering in your commitment to staying in shape and proficient in combat. You sparred regularly with the local guards, who were more than happy to help. They learned a few things in turn, after all, from the Hero of Baldur's Gate. So staying almost two steps ahead of these stumbling corpses was a breeze, almost comically easy for you.

Until your eyes caught sight of a burning home, the heat of the flames could be felt from where you stand. Your mother's burning home... As everything else melted away, a numbness washed over your limbs and your heart settled into stillness. Just as you were about to cry out, a blade mercilessly penetrated your back, twisting with a force that seemed intent on separating your torso from your hip. The taste of blood coated your tongue, while an indescribable agony consumed your every nerve. Fangs as sharp as razors mercilessly sunk into your neck, accompanied by the loud, insatiable slurping sounds that invaded your ears.

Except for one last sound before your world began to fade. "No! You worthless wastes of flesh, what are you doing!?" roared from somewhere distant, rapidly getting closer.

The grip on your body relented, and you crumpled to the ground. Above you, a familiar, curly white-haired, fangs and all ascendant vampire lord. His face was almost feral. Hoisting the human by the throat with one hand, her feet kicking in the air. "I gave you an entire village of fools to feed on, a vivid description of the one woman who was off-fucking-limits...!"

A serene anger washed over his face, causing a shiver to run down your spine, as he sealed his lips and glared at her with an icy stare. "You will wait, on your knees, until I am ready to thoroughly enjoy goring your body with my bare hands."

Her voice strained, she barely managed to gasp out "Master...!" before he mercilessly flung her aside, treating her with the indifference one would show to a discarded toy. The moment her body hit the ground, it rigidly rolled and moved until it settled on its knees in place. Silent sobs wracked her body, and tears streamed down her face, leaving her cheeks damp.

In an instant, his eyes landed on your unfocused one, coughing blood. You knew you were dying. But it wasn't as sad, or even as painful as you expected. "You spiteful son of a bitch..." you hissed, spitting blood from your mouth. He opened his to reply, but you wouldn't let him. You were going to enjoy this... You panted, wheezing the last of your energy into your last twist into his heart. "I damn you, Astarion... I damn you to the Hells. I damn you to misery..." Quoting the man that you knew haunted him still.

You take the clenching of his jaw and his balled fists to your grave with delight as your eyes fall closed, and you breathe your last.

You finally find peace, a gentle presence that settles within your soul. It was a peace so pure, so profound, that it felt almost otherworldly. There was a weightlessness in the air, as if burdens had been lifted and freedom embraced. Your eyes are drawn to the path ahead, its surface adorned with pristine, pearly white stones. Your brother stood at the end, ready to greet you. There stood your father and mother, beckoning you with open arms. And your heart swells with an untameable warmth as you start down toward them.

A cold, deathly grip catches the back of your neck, sending a sudden jolt of fear through your body. Pain squeezed you with an intensity you had never felt before. Your mouth opens, but not even a whimper escapes you as you're forcefully dragged back, kicking and flailing.

With a heavy gasp, your heart pounds in your chest as you lurch forward. Or at least you start before cold, familiar hands grab hold of you, pulling you into his arms. "Now, now, darling, just relax..." Astarion sighs in your ear, his voice thick with... relief?

You died... you were free of this... of him. "I was... going home..." you whimper, unable to fully choke back the sob, not even sure how he managed to forcefully bring you back.

"You are already home, pet."

In your frantic attempt to escape, you notice that the sights, sounds, and smells are completely different - you're no longer in your village, but a large, opulent bedchamber. Lavish furniture and ornaments of gold, silver, so many you quickly lose count. The gentle, rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock provided a comforting background noise. A luxorious silk gown, likely worth a kings ransom, has replaced your weathered tunic and trousers you knew you were wearing before. The softest linens you've ever felt in your life gently caress your bare legs.

His hand petting your head snaps you back from your observations. "Why the face?" Astarion murmurs, "did you truly think death would keep you from me? Little love, I can take anything I want. Even from the jaws of death itself." He briefly looks away as he giggles that short, airy sound that used to melt your heart. "Or did you think your heroic brother would, what, break my nail before I ripped out his throat?"

It's enough you try to wrench yourself from his arms again, stopping short of beating your fists against his stupid, fancy white and blue doublet. "You spiteful bastard..." you repeat from your memory as he keeps you held against him with little effort. "I was there with them, my family—"

"Hush, darling, you're not being reasonable," Astarion mutters, his fingers on your back drawing shapes and patterns that you reluctantly admit still soothed you. "I let them have you long enough. I let you play house in that backwater, and now it is time for you to take your place at my side. You were fated to be mine, and mine, you will always be." He explained, as if he was making perfect sense and stating the obvious.

You scoffed, trying again to leverage your hands on the bed, or his lap to put any amount of distance between you and him. "So dying and forcing me back, all reasonable?"

The look in his eyes turned sharp, reminiscent of the way he eyed that spawn. "Well, if you had been where you belonged, none of that would have happened, would it?" He chastised, lulling his head to one side. "I've already cast the insignificant wretch into the kennels. You are welcome to watch her suffer. Perhaps I'll grant her a blessing and allow her to kiss your feet before I peel her lips off her face... Or maybe after..." Astarion trailed off thoughtfully, his eyes up and away a moment as he considered the grotesque torture, as if casually deciding what flavor tea he'll have in the morning. "How comfortable are you with blood between your toes, my dear?"

You were experiencing such emotional turbulence that you momentarily wondered if any of this was actually happening. If he was aware, he paid no mind to it, as another wild thought captivated his mind. "And why did you not tell me you had such a deliciously submissive sister? Honestly, my love, if she can watch me kill your brother, drain your mother and still stare so eagerly at me, why can't you?"

Your heart froze, and you swallowed hard. Unwanted images of what he could have, and probably had done to your family flashed through your mind. As you stilled in his arms, he moved a hand into the air and snapped his fingers. And like a well-trained puppy, in she waltzed, wearing a black simple dress. Expressionless and silent as she stood before you. Watching you with scarlet eyes. "You know I'd never hurt you, of course. But perhaps your sweet sister can model the obedience I expect from you..."

Infinite threats, insults and visions of violence cross your mind, and like he can read them, Astarion gives you a stern, scolding look. From the corner of your eye, you catch a tear rolling down her cheek and it takes everything from you to not jump to embrace her.

Not that Astarion would let you out of his arms to do so. Fear spreads through your body, numbing your limbs and clouding your thoughts. For every outburst, act of defiance, misbehavior, denial of compliance, Astarion will ensure your sister suffers in your place...

"There you are, my treasure..." He cooes, catching a loose lock of your hair and twirling it in his fingers, pleased with whatever he sees in your eyes, "learning already... you're going to be so wonderfully obedient for me, aren't you?"

You turn your head away, down at the bed, never feeling so... small in your life. He grabs your face, fingers pressing into your cheeks as he forces your attention back to him, denying your escape. "Aren't you?" He repeats, voice firm, commanding.

Without thinking, you scowl at Astarion, noticing the frosty disappointment in his eyes. He lets out an impatient sigh, as if handling a temperamental child, and then glances behind him. "On your knees, darling, it seems your little sister needs your example already..."

She stiffly collapses to the ground like an anchor to the seafloor and Astarion groans, as if he expected a more graceful motion from her. He starts to rise from the bed and a whimper from your sister has you catching his sleeve. "I'll do it." You force out, inwardly cringing at the implication.

But that's not enough for him. "You will do what, pet?" He says lowly, lazily turning to you.

"Behave..." The word hung in the air, its bitter taste lingering on your tongue, surpassing any foulness you had ever known. Again, you try to look anywhere else, any semblance of escape you can find from this, from him.

Astarion continues to press, his fingers brushing against your cheek, coaxing you to face him, locking eyes. There was a glimmer of anticipation in his eyes, like a flickering flame. "And...?"

"And... I'll be obedient..." Your chest tightens, your lip quivering and Astarion's face lights up with a tender smile.

He resumes his position on the bed in front of you. "Oh, my love, I know you will." Astarion smirks, his arm curling around you, pulling you back into him, his lips feathering yours, teasing before connecting them in a sweet... loving kiss. Just as you remember it, his lips are like a delicate caress, and you know better now than to pull away.

Your lips sync with his in a hypnotic rhythm, and his distinct taste lingers on your tongue - a blend of red wine with a faint metallic undertone. The scent of him surrounds you, a unique blend of rosemary, bergamot, and brandy, unmistakably his. His fangs only barely graze your bottom lip as he guides you down onto your back, maneuvering himself on top of you, "because I'll have eternity to teach you..." Astarion whispers against your mouth like a promise, and you can feel him smile at his own words.

Astarion's lips travel from the corner of your mouth, they leave a trail of soft kisses along your cheek, descending to the spot beneath your ear, until they eventually reach the pulsating artery, echoing the frantic pace of your heart. One last time... "My beloved consort..." He whispers, pressing a tender kiss to your skin, teasing his fangs against your neck, as if trying to be gentle in his own way. "Welcome home..." He purrs.

Then at last, he sinks his fangs deep. Drinking slow, steady gulps. One hand taking yours, interlocking his fingers with it, the other soothingly petting your hair. And at last, as your vision blurs and darkens, your body shivering under his, you start to believe it...

Maybe he does want you after all...

Maybe he's been your home all along...

ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

A/N: Honestly, I could probably write this one forever, it was so much fun. The perfectionist in me already spent more time than I should've on this. Two days of neglecting my main fic on ao3? Ugh, take me to the gallows. Apologies to my partner, friends, coworkers, family, dogs... I have a sacred duty to update that sucker at least every other week.

Also, I apologize for the quality of the gif. I make a lot of my own gifs and screenshots for these and tumblr's 10mb limit is going to throttle my sanity until it dies twice over.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate #bg3 #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #yandere male #tw yandere #baldurs gate #ascended astarion #yandere that kills your whole family because you love them more than him uh oh

356 notes · View notes