#I need durge to do this to my back: part 2

[vounoura]

> [Swipe to crush the butler.]

[fangsandfeels]

The vagueness of Astarion sleeping mechanics drives me mad sometimes

So, the game says that elves don't sleep - to the point where it's ironically stated that the only way for them to experience sleeping is to either drink a potion of Angelic Slumber or "get hit really hard with a chair".

Instead, they enter a semi-aware meditative state (Revery) where they experience memories from their past lives (usually most positive and emotional parts). Or they just sorting through their current memories.

Now, we've seen Astarion meditating if his way of lying on a bedroll is anything to go by. He is also immune to sleeping spells. We could also see him sleeping (in a Durge run). I know that devs technically recycle the same sleeping pose for all romanced companions, but still. Also, Astarion has nightmares, which is not typical for elves.

Of course, when I was going through the lore, I scratched the surface, but from what I understood, Revery is supposed to be a controlled state, and nightmares aren't exactly controlled.

But, I've found a very interesting bit that (so far) is still considered part of the official canon:

Elves can sleep and dream just like any human, but almost all surface elves avoid doing so. Dreams, as humans know them, are strange and confusing to elves. Unlike the actual memories of one’s primal soul, present life, or past lives, dreams are uncontrolled products of the subconscious, and perhaps the subconscious minds of those past lives or primal souls as well. An elf who dreams must always wonder whose mind these thoughts first arose from, and why. Priests of Sehanine Moonbow are an exception: they sleep and dream to receive signs from their god, and elves consult such priests to interpret their own dreams."

From: Mordenkainrn's Tome Of Foes, Chapter 2: Elves

And not only does this little bit explain a lot, but it also provides some food for your fic writing purposes.

Now, I'm entering the headcanon territory, so be warned.

Astarion's access to Revery got horribly fucked up after he had been Turned. Not only does he no longer have access to his previous lives since he is technically dead and plucked from the cycle, but he also can't even have his happy or good memories before he became a spawn. Even if they are still there, somewhere in the memory palace, getting to them requires going through the catalog of traumatic and painful memories he acquired after being enslaved by Cazador. It's like running through a burning house trying to rescue your family photo - and the hall gets longer each time. So, entering a trance means confronting the worst memories of his life over and over because there is nothing else there.

Due to this Astarion may resort to sleeping, which elves don't usually do. Elves don't like dreams because dreams are subconscious, and they can't be controlled, which scares them. For Astarion, however, it means there is a chance of him subconsciously dreaming of something nice or just being blissfully empty. However, it doesn't safeguard him from nightmares which (because they are the product of his unconsciousness) get even more twisted than simple memories.

Additionally, there can be a possibility that after becoming a spawn he got cut off from meditation and trances completely, relying on sleeping only: at least, the cut spawn epilogue by Withers mentions how while Astarion needs to sleep again, he doesn't sleep alone. While we don't know what that means exactly (and whether it will ever be implemented in the game), I assume that the tadpole gave him the ability to meditate back, but it was a small improvement because his memory headspace no longer holds happy memories capable of offering solace or refuge.

So, my personal headcanon is that he switches between meditating and sleeping depending on how aware he needs to be, and whatever option feels less torturous at the moment.

For instance, in his Origin run, when he remembers the moment of Cazador carving scars into him, he is in a trance. Which is why the memory is so horribly vivid, as if he is reliving it anew.

However, when he has a nightmare where Cazador finds him, he is sleeping and experiencing a memory affected by his subconsciousness. Which is why he jolts himself awake and desperate to know the limits of his freedom.

So, yes, the man literally can't catch a break.

On a happier note (and for your hurt/comfort fanfiction purposes), once Astarion starts traveling with Tav and the group, his memory bank gets updated with memories that are actually fun and nice, so he has something to linger upon when he is meditating. Sleeping gradually becomes a bit more pleasant experience because his subconsciousness got more material to work with, so the quality of his non-controlled dreams has to gradually improve.

[cozykali]

Heartbeats (Astarion’s POV)

I downloaded Baldur’s gate 3 and immediately feel for this sexy vampire the moment he tackled me to the ground and held a knife to my neck. I’m in act 2 right now (no spoilers!) and the brainrot is BAD. I’ve read some amazing period sex fics involving Astarion but I wanted to craft one from his perspective. Let me know your thoughts!

Master list can be found here!

Pairing: Astarion x fem Tav/reader

Rating: SMUT! NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI

Words: 4700

TW: (this fic is FLITHY), mentions of death and dying, biting (duh), drinking blood, period sex, blood kink, oral (fem receiving), unprotected P in V, kissing, fingers, stalking, multiple Os, passing out, blood-loss, mentions of past torture/trauma, tension, begging, fluffy ending, ‘who did this to you?’,

Notes: Tav and Astarion have been travelling together for a few weeks. No romance scenes have happened yet, but she allows him to feed on her nearly every night. She hasn’t seen his scars yet. Tav is on her period and it’s making her vampire friend go crazy. Tav has feelings for Astarion but hasn’t acted upon them. This story is told from Astarion’s perspective. Tav can be any race or class you want (probably not durge though).

Bonus: Check out this massive playlist I made inspired by Astarion!

The fading fire crackled softly; its once licking flames now reduced to gentle, glowing embers. A thin line of smoke ascends into the damp air that coats the earth in a delicate layer of cool dew.

Astarion lies beside the fire on his bedroll, flat on his back, with his arms slightly splayed at his sides. Most nights, he is grateful that he doesn’t need sleep like his companions do. He can immerse himself in the peaceful sounds of the night, meditate, slow his breath, and calm his mind without slipping into unconsciousness. This ability had saved his life on more than one occasion.

However, tonight is different. Tonight, he wishes for sleep to claim him. He longs to drift away and escape the torment of the spell unknowingly cast upon him by Tav. He turns his head to gaze through the soft light of the fire in her direction.

Tav is laying on her side facing the fire, her mouth slightly open as she emits soft snores barely audible over the crackling flames. But what troubles Astarion tonight is her scent. It wafts through the acrid smoke of the fire like a gentle breeze through a sail, sweet as usual, but it’s currently mixed with blood and musk.

Astarion has been avoiding Tav for the better part of two days now. Whenever she drew near, he held his breath and averted his gaze. He knew he must keep his distance from her, because the alternative would be ripping her apart, which would not win any favors with the rest of the party.

Tav has also been careful around him. She must know that he can sense her menses. Despite inviting him to feed on her each night for nearly two weeks, tonight she did not proposition him, nor the night before. Last night, his attempt to catch a deer had been futile, leaving Tav as his last meal.

Lying on his bedroll, Astarion stares up at the stars, after a seemingly endless eternity for an immortal being, he hears Tav stir slightly. He glances over at her curiously, hoping she doesn’t notice his gaze. She lets out a quiet groan, clutching her lower stomach before curling into a fetal position, her face contorted in pain. Moments later, she slowly starts to rise.

Tav stumbles to fetch a flask of water, guzzling it down greedily. Astarion envies her ease in quenching her thirst while his own thirst rages inside him. Before long, he senses her absence, her scent growing fainter. He debates whether to leave her to sort herself out, but the primal urge to hunt and stalk his prey cannot be ignored.

Rising slowly, Astarion follows her scent through the trees to a nearby stream. His movements are fluid and silent as he approaches her. Tav is kneeling in front of the water, wringing out a blood-soaked cloth.

"Seems such a waste to wash that delicious blood away, darling," Astarion's voice, silky and smooth as velvet, slices through the night like a dagger. Tav lets out a startled squeal, spinning to face him.

"Astarion!" Her voice cracks with surprise as she stumbles back, but his hand shoots out to steady her, his touch cool against the small of her back as he prevents her from falling into the rocky stream.

His gaze is locked onto Tav's eyes, wide with astonishment, her pupils are dilated so only faint rings of color remain around dark voids. With his keen elven senses, he can hear the rapid thrum of her heart beneath her chest. Releasing her gently, Astarion steps back, his posture graceful and poised.

"Sorry, my dear," he says, softening his tone to one less intimidating. "I was merely ensuring no creatures were stalking you in the night as you wandered off. There are far worse dangers in these woods than bears, you know?"

"You mean like you?" Tav's words are sharp, but Astarion detects the faint quiver of her bottom lip.

"I just prevented you from bashing your skull on those wet rocks, and this is the gratitude I receive?" Astarion scoffs.

"I wouldn't have nearly slipped if you hadn't snuck up on me, asshole," Tav retorts, pushing him in the chest, though his feet remain firmly planted.

"Oh, my, you look adorable when you're angry," Astarion can’t help but smirk at her.

Tav lets out a frustrated grunt, attempting to stomp away, but Astarion catches her arm before she can pass him. Confusion clouds her face as she searches for an explanation for his unusual behavior. The facade of his usual sassy indifference had vanished, replaced by a tumult of desire and longing.

"Are you here to bite me?" Tav's voice trembles, strained as if she’s fighting back a scream. "I thought you were better than that. You promised me you wouldn’t feed on me unless I asked you to."

Astarion reaches out and takes the wet cloth from her hand, the hunger gnawing at him like a demon. Shamelessly, he presses it to his face, inhaling deeply. His vision is blurred, his head swimming in the intoxicating scent of her body that lingers on the fabric.

"Astarion, knock it off! You’re freaking me out," Tav snaps, snatching the cloth back and tossing it into the dirt.

"Tav," he whimpers, hating the desperation in his voice. Slowly, he releases her wrist, turning away to pinch his brows in an attempt to ease the splitting headache caused by her overwhelming scent.

"What in the hells is wrong with you?" Tav's voice remains cold, but concern flickers in her eyes as she speaks. She feels sorry for him.

Astarion straightens his stance, clearing his throat. "I apologize that I disturbed you. I’m not thinking straight," he announces before turning to walk back to camp.

"Wait," Tav said, and he freezes.

"I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you. That I haven’t asked you to bite me the past few nights. I know you must know I’m on my period," she admits, her gaze fixed on the ground. "I didn’t know how you felt about it. I can see now that it’s driving you to madness, but I thought ignoring it was the best course of action. It’s embarrassing, really, and I’m having terrible pains in my stomach."

Astarion closes the distance between them in two swift strides.

"It’s hard to see you like this, so crazed with hunger, and I…" Tav's words falter as Astarion gently places his hand under her chin, lifting her face to meet his.

"Shh, Tav, my sweet. You’re going to put me in a second grave," he murmurs.

To his surprise, Tav presses her face into his with a gentle kiss, and Astarion's eyes close as a deep growl rumbles from his chest.

Tav removes her lips, "I’m sorry that was stupid of me to…" but Astarion wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer, pressing her body against his. He kisses her ravenously. His sharp fangs scrape softly on her bottom lip. A sensation of an unraveling overwhelms Astarion as he kisses Tav. It's a mixture of desire, longing, and perhaps even a hint of vulnerability. This feeling is unfamiliar to him, stirring emotions he's long kept buried beneath his cool exterior.

She relaxes in his arms, sinking deeper into his kiss. Her hand reaches up to ruffle his soft white curls while the other slips under his linen shirt, exploring the ridges and lines of his abdomen.

As they momentarily break their kiss, Astarion feels a rush of dizziness. He gently brushes her hair away from her neck and nuzzles into the curve of her shoulder. His tongue traces the faint marks on her skin, remnants of the nightly feedings he's had days prior. Despite the hunger clawing at him, he restrains himself from indulging further.

His hands, trembling with desire, slide down to the hem of Tav's shirt. He breathes against her ear, his voice a husky whisper, "May I?" Without a word, she responds by lifting her arms, granting him permission. In one smooth motion, he pulls the shirt over her head, revealing her skin. Astarion’s hands cup her breasts. The soft sound she emits as his mouth finds her nipple is music to his ears.

"Please, I need to taste you." He pleas between nibbles and licks on her chest. He no longer feels ashamed by his desperation.

"Oh, Astarion." Tav smiles, "You look so pretty when you beg."

“Gods," he groans, then steps back to remove his shirt before kneeling to the ground in front of her, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight. "Tav," his voice is deep and soft, "I beg you." His hands reach out to grab her waist. "Let me taste you." He rests his forehead softly on her bare stomach. She places her hands on his and slides them down, encouraging him to remove her pants. Astarion is nearly trembling with anticipation as he helps her step out of her garments.

"Hold on," she stops him before he rips off her underwear. The bloodied rag that was freshly changed before he found her, was now soiled again with arousal and blood. "Should we find somewhere more comfortable?" She offers him her hand to help him rise back up.

Astarion feels lightheaded for a moment as he returns to his feet. However, as soon as he regains his balance, he scoops Tav up and carries her with remarkable speed to a clearing near the stream, where the ground is more sand than rocks. He lays Tav down on her back. He crawls towards her slowly, until his thigh is pressed firmly against her sex. As he lowers himself to kiss her once more, he gently hooks his other leg under hers and slides it up slowly, allowing her legs to part for him.

"Astarion?" She whispers to him when their kiss breaks, "You can feed on me tonight if you like."

He doesn’t even recognize the deep, feral growl that escapes his throat in response. "I was so hoping you would say that darling."

Astarion kisses his way down Tav’s stomach. She squirms at the feeling of his fangs brushing lightly on her ribs. He catches the waistband of her undergarments between his teeth and slides them down her legs to remove them.

He stops to hover over Tav for a moment now that she’s fully undressed. He savors the look she’s giving him through hooded eyes. Pausing, he appreciates the beauty of her bare skin splayed before him, relishing her scent before he consumes her.

"You’re too good to me, my pretty thing. I don’t deserve this, and I don’t deserve you." Astarion remarks before his head dips between her legs.

Astarion flattens his tongue and licks her once slowly, bottom to top. Tav tastes unbelievable. It still tastes like her blood, metallic and rich, but it’s enhanced with the flavor of her slick arousal, the must of her sweat, the flesh of her womb. If the blood in her veins is his water, his life source, the blood between her legs is like the finest of wines.

The hums and moans that leave Astarion's throat as he devours her are so animalistic, he can hardly hear Tav’s whines. He licks up every drop until she is clean then sticks his tongue deep inside her searching for more. His nose rubs in a side-to-side motion, pressed firmly against her apex, as his tongue explores.

"Oh gods, Astarion!" Tav gasps. He feels a slight sting on his scalp as she grabs a fistful of his silver curls while rocking her hips to match the speed of his tongue.

"I need more," Astarion rasps. His lips close around her bud He slides two slender fingers inside of her and starts pumping them in and out, coaxing out more blood. Her moans fill his ears like a siren’s song, adding to his pleasure. He can feel her insides tightening around his digits.

"Astarion. I…" Tav’s sentence is cut off by a wail of pleasure. He can smell the ecstasy flooding her blood, hear her heart pounding in her chest, and feel her body spasm and quake where he touches her. He doesn’t change the pace of his tongue or hand, dragging out her orgasm until she is panting and spent. He removes his fingers from her to lick them clean like a cat and notices a small trickle of blood leaking out of her.

"You may have just finished, darling, but I am not done yet. Nothing compares to the sound of my name cried from your lips, and I intend to hear it again." Astarion’s face dips back down to clean her folds. The amount of blood he can get from her body is not nearly enough to fill him. He needs to feed soon, a real meal, a pint of blood or more, not just a taste. But it can wait; the taste is too divine to stop.

Astarion hooks his arms under her thighs and flips onto his back, pulling her with him in one smooth motion. He grabs her hips as he forces her to a sitting position on his face, drinking her in. She shrieks and tries to pull away.

"Astarion, I need a minute. It’s too much." He releases his hands and stares up at her face with mid concern while she hovers over him. He tries to imagine how he looks to her right now.

"Can I ask you to be my mirror again, love?" He recalls the evening Tav found him looking at his empty reflection.

She studies him. "Your pretty face is absolutely covered with blood," she states. "Your lips are puffy and swollen. Your skin is thin and pale, paler than usual. Then there are your eyes…" she pauses, "they’re so red right now that they nearly glow in the light of the stars. There is nothing human, or even elf, left in them. They are the eyes of a monster."

Astarion grins wide, displaying his sharp fangs to her, "I am a monster, dear. Now can you please let me get back to consuming my prey?" His tongue extends from his mouth to lap against her swollen sensitive skin.

Tav tilts her head back and moans, exposing the full length of her gorgeous neck. Her back arches as she lowers herself onto his lips. Astarion grumbles in satisfaction when the taste of her dances on his tongue again. He grabs her thighs, in case she decides to pull away again, but instead she lowers onto him more, smothering him. She rocks against him, rubbing herself against his mouth and nose.

His lungs burn slightly, but he doesn’t need to breathe air to survive; it’s just a matter of an unconscious habit from before he turned into a vampire spawn. He needs air in his lungs to be able to speak, and it’s slightly uncomfortable if his lungs go without air for extended periods of time. He represses the memories of torture he had to endure over the centuries, where Cazador would deprive him of air for days just to watch him struggle. Astarion silently scolds himself for focusing on his lungs when his attention should be on the woman on top of him.

Tav bends her back further and places her hand on his waste to steady herself. Her hand brushes against the swollen bulge in his leather pants. His other primal urge is nothing more than an annoyance compared to his crazed lust to feed. But Astarion doesn’t protest when she starts to pet him through his pants as she continues to use his face like a toy. His pants suddenly feel uncomfortably tight.

"Astarion!" His name sounds like a symphony when it exits her body. She collapses forward, cradling his head with her arms. He drinks her in, savoring all his senses. His hands run up and down her bare thighs that seem to burn with heat. She rolls off him and lands in the sandy dirt of the bank, lying flat on her back beside him. They breathe in sync, shallow and hard.

"Tav, I…" Astarion pants, still laying on his back. "I need to feed."

"I know, I told you that you could. It’s not enough, right? Down there I mean. I figured as much. Why didn’t you just go for my neck in the first place? Why starve yourself on tiny mouthfuls when you can just bite me?"

"The taste," he whispers, "It’s addictive. I can’t stop." He swipes a finger between her legs and places the pad of it against his tongue and groans.

"Astarion?" Tav rolls onto her side to gaze into his eyes. She places her hand against the puncture marks on her neck from his fangs. "Bite me."

Astarion rises to his feet. Stars briefly dance across his vision, then fade. He is again reminded of the throbbing of his groin and decides to remove his confining leather pants and exposes himself to her. It seems only fair to be as naked as she is.

Tav’s eyes bulge and her jaw slacks as she stares at him. She props herself up on her elbows and slowly opens her legs to him. The wanting look she gives him is the closest thing he’ll get to a reflection of his own eyes. He waits, tension coiling in his muscles in anticipation as he searches her expression for the words he longs to hear.

"Darling, I am supposed to be the one looking at you like a feast laid before me, but here you are, looking at me like I’m a fresh baked pie. I could practically wipe away your drool." He smirks down at her. His hand lazily strokes his length to tease her.

Tav's lips form the word "Please," her voiceless plea echoing in the quiet night.

"Please what, my pet?" Astarion teases, his voice low and filled with anticipation, as he listens to the rapid rhythm of her heart, quickening like a drumbeat.

"Please. I want you to bite me while you fuck me." Her voice deepens, her eyelids are heavy with lust. Astarion’s stomach flips, and he pounces onto her like a fox catching a mouse.

"Such a filthy little mouth you have." He tuts. While he arranges himself over Tav. It's a familiar position that they have practiced nearly every night since she invited him to feed on her, only this time they are skin to skin. His face lingers over her neck, his breath cools her blazing skin. The tip of his shaft is posed at her entrance. She bucks her hips in response, and he sinks into her partially, then withdrawals.

"You are mine." Astarion whispers into her neck. Pressing his lips to the partially healed wound from his last bite as he enters her again, sinking his entire length into her. Tav cries out in response, but he doesn’t move.

"Astarion, please," She whines. He raises himself onto the palms of his hands to look at her. Her eyes are glossy, tears are forming in the corners.

"Tav, Darling, you look so pretty when you beg." He echoes her earlier words. He wishes he could hold out a little longer to see how far he could tease her until she breaks, but his need to feed is too intense. He starts slowly pumping in and out. Her eyes close and her mouth opens wide in pleasure. She feels amazing, so tight, so soft, so wet with blood and arousal.

Tav places her hands on Astarion’s back and digs her nails in, only to pull away quickly when she feels the bumps of the scars she hasn’t yet seen. She opens her mouth to mention it but he quickly covers it with his blood stained lips. His tongue slips past her lips and moves with the same rhythm of his thrusts. She moans into his mouth as his pace quickens. Then he breaks her kiss to purr into her ear, ‘Do you taste yourself on my lips, beautiful? It’s delicious, isn’t it? You taste divine.’

Tav shivers beneath him and lets out a sob. His lips brush down her neck. Astarion snarls to expose his sharp, elongated canines then grazes them against her throat, ready to strike. His thrusts never stop, slamming into her repeatedly, as he finally sinks his teeth into her neck and sucks her blood.

"Oh fuck, Astarion!" Tav releases a scream and falls apart under him. Shaking and panting while grinding against him. He can taste the electricity of her climax surge through her blood as her heart beats with a steady rhythm, allowing the blood to flow through her veins until it reaches his mouth. Astarion feels a rush stronger than any drug, more enchanting than any spell or potion. Her walls spasm around him, while he slurps against her neck. He sucks her blood with intense force. Pinning her under him. He can’t stop.

After several moments of bliss, he notices she has gone completely still beneath him. It takes all his willpower to unlatch his fangs before he sits up quickly.

"Shit’." A wave of panic washes over Astarion as he inspects Tav. Her skin appears paler, almost gray. Her breaths come slow and shallow, and her heartbeat is faint and stuttering. Without hesitation, he scoops up her limp body and wades into the waist-deep waters of the nearby stream, gently lowering her in. The water feels warm against his skin, though he himself is generally cooler than most creatures. He hopes the temperature doesn’t send her body further into shock.

As he holds her in the water, Astarion's mind races with worst-case scenarios. He imagines having to speak with Withers to revive her, dreading the thought of explaining his actions to the rest of the camp. Tav won’t easily forgive him this time, he fears. He might be cast out or even killed. He curses himself for following her out here in the first place. She was right to avoid him these past few days.

Just as he begins to entertain thoughts of escape, Tav’s soft voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts. "Star?"

Relief floods through him. "Oh, thank the gods, Tav. I’m truly sorry. I got a little carried away." He holds her tighter against his chest, feeling her shiver against him.

"Cold," Tav manages to say, her voice barely above a whisper. Astarion carries her out of the water and gently sets her down in a patch of soft grass. He hurries to gather their scattered clothes, helping her dress into her pants and shirt. He wraps his own rumpled white shirt around her for extra warmth, then puts on his pants before rinsing the remaining blood from his face in the stream.

Returning to her side, Astarion finds her hugging her legs, the color slowly returning to her face. "Let’s get you back to camp near the fire. I’ll wake Shadowheart to see if she can heal you," he suggests, wrapping his arm around her.

Tav turns to him, her voice airy and soft. "No, I think I'll manage until morning." Astarion kisses her forehead as she embraces him, her hands rubbing slow circles on his back.

"Turn around," Tav demands, and he complies, allowing her to view the intricate scars covering his entire back. She traces them with her fingers. "What happened to you?" Her voice carries a tone of pity, and Astarion swallows a lump in his throat.

"It’s a poem," He explains calmly. "Cazador did it to me. He took his time. I don’t know what it says."

"Oh, Astarion, I’m so sorry," Tav responds with compassion that almost irritates him.

"You’re sorry?" Astarion snaps, turning to face her. "I nearly killed you tonight, and you’re sorry?" He immediately regrets the sharpness of his words. "No, Tav, I’m sorry." Pulling her into him, he collapses to the ground, and she lays her head on his bare chest.

‘Astarion, I…’ Tav starts to speak.

"Hush," he interrupts, holding a finger to her lips. "Listen." He tunes into the sounds of the environment around them—the rustling of tree branches in the breeze, the chirping of insects in the reeds, the rushing of water in the nearby stream. But the sound he wants her to hear isn’t external; it’s coming from within him. After several seconds, she jerks her head up from his chest to meet his eyes.

"Did… did I just hear your heart?" Her voice is filled with astonishment. "You have a heartbeat?" Her brows furrow in confusion as she searches his face for answers. "Is that another side effect of the tadpole? Like how you can walk in the sun?"

Astarion smiles at her. "Yes, you heard my heart beating. No, it’s not from the worm in my head. It’s from you, darling."

"What? How?" Tav’s confusion deepens.

‘Well, when I feed, especially if it’s a big meal, my body must circulate the fresh blood throughout it somehow. And in case you weren’t aware, I’ll give you a little anatomy lesson. I need blood in a certain area of the body to give you a performance like I did back there."

She stares at him in shock "So your heart will kickstart when you're full, or horny?"

"In simple terms, yes dear, and I do feel both of those right now. However, it only beats a couple times a minute, not like a living creature. Have you noticed the color return to my skin, and that my temperature is at least five degrees warmer than usual?"

Tav smiles softly as she lays her head back on his chest in silence, waiting to hear a soft thump again. "I can make your heartbeat," she whispers.

"Well Tav, it seems my heart belongs to you now," Astarion sighs. "I’ve never felt anything like that before. I’m practically drunk on you right now. When I told you were my first bite, I meant it and now I can’t imagine drinking the blood of anyone else. Not like I have many options anyways, no one else is exactly offering me their neck." She smacks him softly, and he lets out a chuckle before his face softens with worry.

"I don’t think it’s safe to do that again, though," He grumbles. "I nearly lost you." Tav looks up at him with sadness in her eyes. "I mean I would happily bed you again," Astarion continues, "and I still wish to feed on you if you allow it, once you're replenished, but I think we should keep dinner and sex separate from now on."

Tav scoots up to kiss his neck. Then rises to her knees and straddles him. Her hair forms a halo around her face as she looks down at him.

"What is Withers there for if we don’t use him once and a while. Plus, we have at least ten revival scrolls in the chest at the camp."

His heart beats again, slightly harder than the last time. "Are you giving me permission to suck you dry? You filthy little pup." His hands grab her rear, and he squeezes. "How did I get so lucky? Getting abducted by mind flayers seems to have been the best thing that has ever happened to me."

"I mean, I've never felt anything like that either. When you were draining me of blood, I let it happen, I didn’t want it to stop. I was in a daze as I slipped away. To be clear, I don’t think the others will approve of paying 200 gold coins to Withers, or wasting revival scrolls that could be used during a fight, every time I come to your bed, but if it happens… I trust you to bring me back. I guess my heart belongs to you now too. Since it pumps the blood through me that keeps you alive and thriving."

Astarion inhales deeply. "Well in that case, darling," his hand reaches up to grab her neck and he pulls her head down so her ear touches his lips "I think you're beating me three-nil in climaxes this evening. And I intend to double your score at the very least, and maybe get a point on the board myself before the sun rises." He glances down and notices a blood stain seeping through her pants onto his. He realizes didn't put her underwear back on nor replace her blood rag when he dressed her earlier. "Also, it looks like you might need a little cleaning up again, my love."

END

[thehistoriccemetery]

hiii ... idk if you do requests exactly but if u wanted id love to hear about the companions w/ a werewolf reader ? maybe its a full moon and reader has kept it a secret until now . but instead of being in a mindless violent rampage they are just kinda ... dog brained

thank u in advance ... take ur time or dont bother if u dont wanna :)

BG3 Ladies x Werewolf!Reader

I finally got a day off yesterday and I used it to write for like 8 hours so enjoy your second day of content in a row.

A lot of people have asked for companions react to Bhaal smiting the dark urge and I’m working on it, but unfortunately I’m only on act 2 of my durge run. So that one will be a while.

In better news my Minthara folks can expect a very spicy piece at some point this week!

Shadowheart

As soon as Shadowheart sees you in your wolf form, she is terrified and runs away from you as fast as she can.

It’s only when you cautiously approach camp that her mother actually points out you’re a lycanthrope. She picks up on it pretty easily given her husband shares the same affliction.

“They don’t seem to be aggressive, though” she observes, slightly confused. She tentatively taps her legs, beckoning you to come.

When you happily pad over to her, she scratches you behind the ears and you give a satisfied smile.

She sits down on the ground and continues to pet your head.

Shadowheart is still curled up on the bed, unwilling to take part in any of this.

“Oh come on Shads, you must admit, it’s kinda cute.” Her mom says as your tongue lulls from your mouth.

The closest she gets to comfortable with you that first night is a brief game of fetch. She’ll throw the ball as long as she doesn’t have to wrestle it from your maw.

The game is over though when the ball gets too slimy for her liking.

It’ll take a little while, but perhaps it’ll grow on her eventually.

Lae’zel

Lae’zel doesn’t really know much about wolves or dogs, but she’s not particularly fond of the one that’s following her around camp.

She tries to pawn you off to Karlach, but you want her so she has very little luck with that.

When it starts to get really late, she starts to worry. Where have you gone? You’ve never been out this late.

She eventually puts two and two together and realizes you are the dog that keeps pestering her.

Once she figures it out, she just tries to treat you like your normal self, which is immensely confusing to your little dog brain.

Lae’zel gets very frustrated very quickly. It takes Halsin to calm her down and teach her how to interact with you appropriately.

Every time you do something new she looks at Halsin to tell her how to react.

You flip onto your back. “Can I just keep petting them here?” Halsin nods.

In the morning, she requires quite a hefty apology and explanation as to why you wouldn’t tell her about this.

Karlach

Karlach is almost too welcoming to stray wolf that wants to wander into camp. But it’s certainly not the oddest thing that’s come into camp.

She treats you like a normal dog at first, but after persistent whining and leading her to your bed multiple times, she finally catches on.

“You didn’t tell me you were a werewolf! That’s so cool!” She exclaims, but then her faces starts to grow concerned. “Wait, you’re not gonna flip out on anyone tonight, are you? Do I need to lock you in a cage or something?”

You whine and lay down on the floor.

“Aww, you’re not gonna hurt nobody are you, sweet puppy?” She sits on the floor next to you and rubs your shoulders.

She spends the rest of the night playing with you like she would any other dog, chasing you around camp, wrestling, and petting you.

That night she snuggles up next to you, cuddling you in her arms as you lay on your side.

You wake up just as you do any other morning, in her arms, fully humanoid again.

Minthara

Minthara is unsure what to do with this dog that keeps following her around.

You do your best to actually follow her commands to keep from pissing her off, but you’re really trying to get her to understand it’s you.

You wind up going to your tent and picking up something of yours. One of your shoes should work.

When you approach Minthara with the shoe hanging from your mouth, she grows increasingly agitated with you. “Put that down! That’s not yours!”

You whine and set the shoe down, putting your paw in the shoe to indicate it’s yours.

“Are you… a werewolf?” She asked, confused. You bark in affirmation.

She spends the night allowing you to follow her around, and, as long as you follow instructions, she’s actually quite fond of your dog form.

Most of the night she spends reading a book while occasionally throwing a ball for you to go fetch.

She doesn’t see the point of the game, but you seem to enjoying yourself and it’s only mildly inconveniencing her.

At the end of the night, you move to climb up onto her bed, but she stops you with an “absolutely not” and motions for you to lay on the floor beside her.

Jaheira

As a Druid, Jaheira can speak with you even in dog form.

Once you explain the situation to her, she rolls her eyes but smiles. She should’ve known you were a werewolf.

She doesn’t worry too much about you going fully into beast mode, as you show no signs of aggression or agitation.

But you do stink. And she tells you as much. She’s gonna give you a bath.

Your dog mind causes you to protest. You don’t want a bath. There’s no way she’s getting you in a tub.

It takes a little deception and some meat from the camp supplies to get you in the bath in under 5 minutes.

She cleans you off despite your constant whining and by the end you’re actually surprised you feel better. Less itchy.

She dries you off with a towel and you give yourself a couple good shakes.

Once you’re all clean and dried, she wild shapes into a wolf so you two can spend the night curled up around each other.

[faerievampling]

Homecoming

Part 2 of A Vampire's Courage. Can be read as a stand alone!

Summary: The Dark Urge and Spawn!Astarion, after having decided to remain friends, have been traveling together after the defeat of the Netherbrain. After finally sleeping together, Durge and Astarion have unfinished business. Smut and feelings ensue.

Word count: 4.2k

Link to Ao3!

Pairing: Spawn!Astarion x Female Durge

Warning: 18+, explicit. Violence. Blood. PiV. Vaginal Fingering. Cunnilingus. Blow Jobs. Inexperienced reader. Sixty Nine ;). Durge x Astarion being deeply in love.

A/N: This Durge also goes by Tav! happy valentines day :) im foaming at the mouth for patch 6. I hope y'all enjoy.

Astarion holds you for a while, only leaving to lie in his own bed after you’ve drifted off. 

“That was the first time in ages you’ve slept through the night,” Astarion remarks once you wake. “We’ll have to do that more often, darling,” his tone was teasing. 

The two of you traveled in silence for a while. It was peaceful, under the stars and the full moon. You didn’t know what you wanted to say to him, so you said nothing. 

He had told you that you were special to him. But he could mean a million different things by that - couldn’t he? And of course you were special to him: you were the first person he ever trusted. 

And to be fair, he hadn’t said anything either. You can’t help but wonder if he regrets it, if your eyes and ears deceived you and he really had just been up to his old ways. 

Besides, you both had a job to do. You needed to focus.

“So, are you willing to sign?” The squat human asked; the contract lie in front of Astarion, who was still reading it over. “We are just quite ready for this little problem to be taken care of.”

Astarion did used to be a magistrate, but he hardly remembered his life before his undeath, so he was just pretending to read the contract. You both knew that if this man didn’t pay up, you would intimidate or charm him until he did. 

Astarion had just wanted him to beg a little. With a sloppy mark, Astarion signed his name before handing the pen over to you. You scribble something resembling ‘The Dark Urge’. 

“What an odd name,” the human remarks, giving you an awkward smile.

“A family name.” You smile back. 

“Well, let’s get on with it then, my dear,” Astarion says to you before turning to the human. “We never return empty handed. We’ll see you when the job is done,” The two of you leave the man’s office; he was an assistant to the Mayor, who you could tell he was rather eager to please.

You clear your throat, trying to make sure you sound as normal as you could after last night. “So, any ideas on how to kill a Chimera?” You ask Astarion, hoping that maybe he will surprise you. 

Astarion laughs. “Oh, Gods no, dear. Surely we should just cut off its heads, right?”

“As quickly as we can, I imagine.” You think you sound pretty normal. You sure hoped so, anyways. He sure did.

“So, you don’t really have a plan, is what I’m gathering.” 

You sigh. “Not in the slightest.”

The battle with the Chimera went about as good as could be expected: you and Astarion kicked ass, as usual, but not without injury. You had quite the gash on your shoulder, which Astarion was insistent on lapping up once you got to a decent spot to camp. 

Astarion had several protective camp items he could use to shield himself from the sun during the day: an enchanted tent and a music box that could hold constant concentration for casting a veil of Darkness. These were just some of your boons from adventuring as you searched for a permanent solution.

You felt the chill of his lips on your skin as he licked the wound clean. You wanted to tangle your fingers in his silver curls as he attended to you. The longer you two were in contact, the greater your heat was building up, and you could feel the slickness of your folds as the blood in your body rushed to your labia.

You could tell he was taking his time. The two of you had done this so many times before, but you couldn't help but feel how the pressure of his lips against your skin was softer, lighter, and he was moving his lips more than he usually did, like he was planting kisses on you.

This time, it undeniably felt more intimate, more erotic. Your heart was already racing from the contact, but gods was it fast now. You needed to say something.

“Alright, hurry up,” You say roughly, cursing at yourself for your choice of words; he relents, sticking a bandage on you and handing you a healing potion. You pop the cork of the bottle, drinking down the red liquid and instantly feeling warm all over. You would be fully healed by morning, thankfully; plus, the pain was already starting to subside, leaving you feeling greatly relieved.

But before Astarion says anything to you, he’s pulling you to your feet, his hand gripping yours with such strength it startles you.

“Someone’s coming,” Astarion whispers to you. “It’s several people. Smells like the villagers.” The two of you exchange looks of confusion before the picture comes into view.

There is a group of armored men approaching you; you and Astarion immediately go into a defensive stance. Typically, you would be in front and Astarion would be in the shadows, but this time he stands in front of you.

You realize you are only in your bra, since Astarion had been tending your wound. 

“Trying to protect my modesty?” You ask with a huff, but Astarion only growls at the men in response.

“One step closer, and I won’t hesitate to kill you,” Astarion sneers at the men, who stop in their tracks. You kind of wanted to see it, secretly.

“You’d really protect that monster? That Bhaalspawn,” A man spat the word from his mouth, and you knew why they were here. “I could never forget your face. I doubt you even remember mine. You killed so many at the Slaughter of East End, my family along with it.”

‘East End’. Didn’t ring a bell.

”I was able to run but you got to them!” The man was screaming at you now, but you can only blink at him over Astarion’s shoulder. 

“Maybe they should have run faster,” Astarion barks. He can’t see the mist in your eyes. 

“They are both monsters. Kill the elf and then the Bhaalspawn,” Someone bellowed from the crowd, causing the men to chant in agreement.

A mocking voice rang through the night air. ”Burn her!“

That’s all the group of men could say before Astarion tore the throat out of one in the faceless crowd. You had intended just to defend yourself if need be and knock them out, but when Astarion pounced first, the men were destined to die.

You’re plunging a sword through the chest of a man when you hear another start to beg. Astarion’s laugher rings out against the last few cries of battle before quiet settles amongst the camp. 

It takes a short while for the two of you to calm down. The blood of nearly a dozen men soaked the grounds of your campsite. The smell of copper overwhelmed an untapdoled (and thus less controlled) Astarion, and he had to get away from you for a while; he made sure you had your sending stone and your warding bond ring on, just in case. 

You felt numb for a while, and when you finally felt Astarion’s hand on your shoulder, you weren’t sure how long you had been sitting on your shins in the blood soaked earth. 

“He was right, you know. Even if I had seen his face, I wouldn’t have remembered it,” You say as Astarion helps you to your feet. He looks you over, scanning your body for injuries.

But your only injury is of the heart. Invisible, but maybe not to Astarion. 

“You’re not being fair to yourself,” Astarion says, “Maybe you caused ruin in your past. But you aren’t the same person you were.”

“But do I not still deserve punishment?” You say, exasperated. “I feel like I do. Like I should pay for what I’ve done. There are some days where I can’t stop thinking about Alfira -“ Your voice cracks, and Astarion grabs your forearms as if he’s trying to hold you together, to steady you from your wavering fortitude. 

“You’ve paid already, darling. You’ve saved the damn world! Isn’t that enough?” His eyes are pleading, because you know this isn’t just about you: Astarion’s own past was shrouded with victims. 

“I don’t know,” is all you can say.

“Those men deserved to die, Tav.” His eyes were narrowed, his face shrouded with convicted vengeance. And despite your anguish, your guilt, those feelings subside a bit when you look into Astarion’s ruby eyes. 

He’s nodding at you, further trying to affirm his words. You take a deep breath, nodding along with him. 

“Let’s set up elsewhere. If we hurry, we’ll have time to set up at least one of the tents,” Astarion squeezes your forearms before bringing you into an embrace.

It was a welcome surprise, and you melt into him, a warmth from within you starting to spread throughout your body. 

The two of you work hard to move the camp, setting up his sun-proof tent. You both make time to wash and put on fresh clothes; your wound from earlier is already healed, so you dress in fresh underclothes and camp wear. 

As you see the sun peak over the horizon, you look to Astarion, realizing neither your tent, nor the enchanted music box, was anywhere to be found. 

“I can’t find it, my tent or the music box,” You say, your tone more pleading than you would have liked. “You’re sure you grabbed them?”

“Yes, well, I think so, at least,”Astarion has a curious look on his face. “We don’t really need it though, do we?”

Oh. You knew what this meant; surely, surely, he is referencing his recent bedding of you.

“You want to share a tent?” 

“We already do share a lot of things: resources, often a room, and last night, a bed.” Astarion has turned on the charm a bit, but his smile his warm, his eyes open and rounded, wet with anticipation.

You feel the blood rise to your cheeks.

“You can cast Darkness yourself, can’t you? That would be enough for you to freely come and go from my tent so you can tend to your…living needs.” Astarion flirted. 

 “But you wouldn’t be able to leave the tent. I can only cast darkness for about thirty seconds at a time, and I have limited energy.” You were babbling now.

“I know how your magic works, darling. But I won’t be needing to leave the tent,” Astarion steps closer to you, putting his hand on your waist. 

You pause, getting lost in his ruby eyes. “So…you want me to keep you company?”

Astarion’s smirk softens, his eyes round and open to you. “Yes,” 

You swallow. “The sun will be up for a while,” 

Astarion chuckles lightly, so much softer than the last time you heard it. He brings a hand to cup your face, and now you finally understand what he may be asking of you. Astarion must see the realization in your eyes, and he brings his head down; you feel the sensation of his cool, soft lips as they press against your own.

His touch is so tender, you can’t help but melt into his palm. You feel like he’s holding you up now, carrying your weight. 

“Worried you’ll get bored, darling? I promise you won’t be,” Astarion’s salacious voice is low and raw in your ear; it sends an urgent shiver through your body. 

Astarion pulls you into his tent, and you are enveloped in him. His very presence lingered in the air, and you recognized the familiar smell of bergamot hanging in the romantic darkness. 

The tent was spacious and had been enchanted to look like the night sky. You had seen it before, of course, but not with Astarion’s urgent hands on you.

His lips are on you, his tongue easing between your parted lips as he drinks you in. Astarion was an excellent kisser, likely much better than you, and you did your best to follow his lead. But his tongue dominated yours, and he gradually deepened the kiss as his dexterous fingers began to unlace your shirt.  

You could sense Astarion’s desperation to see your breasts as he unhooked your brassiere. 

You don’t know if you’ve ever seen him like this before, so ravenous for you. His lips trailed over your neck, to your chest, where he focused on your sensitive nipples. 

You’re surprised when Astarion gets on his knees, his tongue circling the tip of your breasts while his pretty lips wrap around the swollen bud. 

You see the light of the enchanted full moon reflect off of Astarion’s eyelashes as he bats them at you, causing you to gasp at the sight. 

One of his hands is squeezing your other nipple, and the other is gripping the curve of your ass; Astarion groans against you, his fangs grazing your skin. You feel the pressure of the prick as they bite down, just enough to avoid breaking your skin. 

You’re focused on Astarion’s rapid breathing and whimpers as his arms snake around you, pulling you down to your knees to meet him at level. 

“Tav, I-“ Astarion begins, but he can’t seem to keep his lips off of you. 

“Astarion,” You say, but you trail off as his lips are on yours, tongue plunging into your mouth as he brings his hands to cup the sides of your jaw. 

I love you. It was on the tip of your tongue. You think it may have been on his, too. You didn’t even know if you really understood the meaning, but you knew how innately the words came to mind when you thought about Astarion.

Astarion eases you on your back, his lips never leaving yours. He makes quick work of unlacing your trousers. But before he can pull them off of you, his desperation overwhelms him and he moves to unlace his own pants, releasing his swollen cock.

“Take yours off, your panties too,” His words are firm, yearning, and Astarion watches you intently as you lift your hips to pull off the rest of your clothes, leaving you entirely naked in front of him.

Astarion groans, breaking your kisses as he moves to grab your shins, spreading your legs wide. His eyes sweep over you, pausing at your exposed core. You realize it’s rather bright in the tent with the light of the full moon, and surely he doesn’t sleep under this light.

You wonder if he adjusted the magic so that he could see you better. And the little smile on Astarion’s face as he drinks in the sight of you, naked and spread for him, confirms your theory.

“I thought about you like this all day,” He says to you in a raw voice. His hands roam your body, a hand tugging at a nipple while the other caresses your curves. 

He shifts closer to you now, bringing you pelvis to pelvis, and his cock rests along your mound, the tip of which reaching just below your belly button. 

“You have?” You whisper, your eyes wetting against your own protests. He begins to rub his cock between your folds, and you squirm at the pressure on your clit. 

He dips down to press his lips to yours again, hand moving between your legs to your slick folds as he begins teasing you. “You’re all I’ve thought about, Tav.”

“Tell me what you want, my sweet. I want to give it to you.” Astarion whispers eagerly, and you realize just how undone he’s come: his curls are disheveled, brows furrowed with pleasure, full lips parted. 

Astarion’s fingers explore you, his thumb circling your sensitive bundle of nerves as he eases a finger inside your entrance.

“I want to taste you,” You say, your eyes glued to his swollen cock. Astarion hums with approval, eager to please as he readjusts you both.

Astarion lies on his back, prompting you to get on your knees between his legs, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock.

You wanted to taste it, because you never have before; as you place your lips on his tip, gently kissing it, flickering your tongue as you do, you realize you don’t actually know what you’re doing.

Surely you’ve done this before. It seems familiar enough. Astarion looks through his lashes at you, watching as you tentatively handle his cock. 

He tastes amazing: clean, cool, and you take him in your mouth as deep as you can, causing him to gasp. 

“Sorry,” you murmur between your darling kisses. “I don’t really know what I’m doing,” 

“Oh,” Astarion breathes, pondering this just for a moment before his focus is back on you. “Start by putting your lips around me. Go on, lover.”

Astarion watches as you follow his command, putting your lips around the girth of his cock. You start to move your tongue, swirling it on his skin as you’re already sucking just a bit.

“Yes, my sweet, oh-“ Astarion moans, his hand moving to your chin just to caress you, to touch you, to know you are there and that it is you that engulfs him. 

Astarion starts to buck his hips into your mouth, his hand moving from your chin to the root of your hair, holding you firmly in place as he starts to fuck your mouth. After a moment, he’s breathing heavily, and he releases you, ruby eyes boring into you, clear as day under the light of the enchanted moon.

“I need to taste you,” Astarion speaks, his voice low. “You trust me to make you feel good, Tav?”

You’re confused about why he’s asking you this: his precum was still on your chin, the taste of his salty seed still lingering on your tongue. He was delicious, of course, and you only wanted more. 

“Yes,” you say as he brings himself up to kiss you again. 

“I want you to bring your legs over my face, so that I can fuck you with my tongue while I stuff that sweet mouth of yours.” Astarion’s words are sultry, low and sexy, as usual, but his voice is firm, his words chosen in such a way so that you know exactly what he means to do with you. 

Your eyes go wide at this. You’ve never heard of anything like that before, and you think it sounds complicated. But, you hadn’t lied when you told him you trusted him: so you nod.

“You’ll have to tell me what to do,” Your words are heavy on your throat, thick with anticipation. 

“I certainly have no problem telling you what to do, my darling,” Astarion purrs, causing you to quiver with anticipation. 

Your cunt, so slick and desperate for more, throbs with desire as Astarion puts his hands on you, guiding you to position his head between your thighs, exposing the heat of your core to him as you face his cock.

Astarion let’s out an audible sigh of relief as he wraps his arms around your waist, bringing your cunt straight to his mouth; the sensation is heavenly, the angle of the position has your clit and folds fully exposed, resting in his mouth as he takes worship in you. 

His tongue teases your folds before dipping between them, hungrily lapping at your entrance; you feel used as your juices begin to drip down your thigh.

The vibration of Astarion’s little moans tease you, causing you to settle into him further.

You bring him in your mouth, trying to bob your head to give him pleasure, but you’re overwhelmed by the feeling of his tongue spearing between your folds, your walls, tasting your depths before sweeping over your swollen clit. 

You can’t focus on your movements any longer, as Astarion’s motions send shockwaves of pleasure through your body. As his expert tongue focused solely on your swollen nub, you go totally lax.

Before you know it, you’re moaning with Astarion’s cock still in your mouth, despite your orgasmic paralysis. You feel your rumble of ecstasy rise up within you, and you’re hoping you aren’t gushing too much as you spasm around his tongue. 

Suddenly, Astarion grabs the back of your head, pushing you down on his cock, stroking your mouth. You’re still writhing in utter euphoria and creaming in his mouth as he takes you. 

Once you’ve come back down from your high, your body is still lax. You’re thankful Astarion is so strong and doesn’t have to breathe, because you’re dead weight atop him. 

You muster the strength to roll off of him, and he works to place himself on top of you, between your legs. Facing him now, you see the evidence of your orgasm in his eyes and on his face.

His nose, lips, chin, were soaked in your come, his pupils blown with lust at your scent. 

You feel your walls stretch as Astarion inserts two fingers inside you, prepping you for the girth of his cock. His intrusion only makes your cunt salivate more. 

When he’s satisfied with your stretch, he starts to sink into you.The pressure of his cock makes you gasp, and Astarion cups your jaw, guiding your eyes to him. 

He’s saying your name like a prayer. “Oh, Tav, Tav, my sweetest girl, my love.”

Once his mouth finds yours, his kisses are fervent, passionate, matching the slow pace of his strokes. His tongue is so soft, and he tastes so good with your come on his lips that you’re already primed to give him more. 

He pumps in and out of you, stretching your walls to his girth until you are perfect for him before his thrusts start to quicken. 

You feel him putting more strength behind his thrusts, inserting himself deeper within you until he’s bottomed out.

“Gods, Tav, you’re unbelievable,” Astarion purrs in your ear. Finally, he’s fully inside you, and he can’t help it anymore: he strokes you, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix, so deep you’re brought into a delirium of pleasure. 

You heave in his mouth as he eases his tongue between your parted lips. Your stretched walls start to contract around his cock, and you’re coming on him again before you even realize.

Your hands grab at his curls, trail lightly over his back: you’re careful not to be harsh with that sensitive part of him. But you needed to caress him, to feel his body beneath your palm.

As your body spasms beneath him, you feel entirely fucked out, your body going lax again in his hands. Astarion made you so…pliant. You wanted him to be yours so desperately. Your hazy brain is ready to do anything for him. 

Astarion’s thrusts become less calculated as he comes undone, and before you even realize, Astarion is moaning your name as his balls contract, spurting thick ropes of come deep inside you. 

It takes a moment for you both to come back to reality. Astarion rolls onto his side, gathering you in his arms as he adjusts to ensure your shared comfort. 

The coolness of him feels amazing against your skin, still hot from lovemaking. 

“I love the way you feel against me,” You hum into his chest. After just a few beats, Astarion pulls away, easing himself up on his elbow to look down at you.

“I want to kiss you,” Astarion says with a swallow. “And I want to do it whenever I’d like.” 

You pause, getting lost in his crimson eyes. “Y-yes, you may.” You stumble, but Astarion is smooth enough for the both of you.

He brings a finger to your chin, holding you in place as he presses a tender kiss to your lips. When he breaks away, he rests his forehead on yours, and you feel your heart thumping away in your chest. 

“I don’t want anything to change between us. I just want to be able to do this with you. To kiss you when I like, to touch you when I like,” Astarion pauses, trying to ensure he gets all of his thoughts out. “And I don’t want you to do these things with anyone else.” 

“I let you get away because I knew I wasn’t ready. I want to give you something real, but I couldn’t at the time,” Astarion kisses you again, so tenderly you feel a pang in your heart. And between your legs.

“But now, Tav,” He caresses your cheek, causing you to gasp a little. Astarion smiles a little before his face continues its serious, sincere expression. His eyes were wide, and he was bearing his soul to you.

His hand clasped yours. 

“I want you. I’ve wanted you to be mine since the clearing.” 

You’re speechless, heart fluttering at his words. You can only say what’s on your tender mind: “I think I love you, Astarion.” 

A hand smooths your hair back, delicately, as if you are a precious thing.

“I love you too. But I know that I do. I want every part of you.” Astarion’s voice rumbles through you.

Your chest swells, and you feel like you’re bursting from within: it’s something you’ve never really felt before, but it felt distinctly like home.

Masterlist

Link to Part 1

[dracobrooklyn]

Durge x Reader Part 2

When you really like the design of the Cannon DragonBorn and his voice is like butter making you melt. I was sad you can't romance him and your the playable character instead. So Here I am going to write Headcannons of what if he was a romanceable NPC that was in your party.These are my thoughts taking bits and pieces from the Cannon and putting my thoughts and ideas into Durge.

|| MDNI || 18+ this will contain Themes of Language, Violence, and of course Sexual Content. DO NOT READ!!

Cannon!Durge x Tav!Fem!Reader

This will be in a Fem!Reader POV!!

Word count: 1,237

Part 2: Getting Closer.

TW: Death, the Mention of killing, fantasizing murder, nudity, Smut, and Oral sex.

Durge being in a party after slaying the Goblins and saving the Teifling folk and saving them from the Druids grove (He honestly wish he would have burn their tree down, cause fuck those guys). Everyone seem to be having a good time... well he really didn't have a good time. Shall we list those reasons? Well for one thing, he tried so hard to distract himself trying to block out those images of his nightmare. But the wine wasn't doing anything for him, guess Durge would have to drink at least 6 barrels of wine... but that wasn't happening, the other thing he wasn't a huge fan of being with so many people. People cheering him as a hero! It was nice for at least 2 seconds... but then it got more annoying that each drunk teifling came up to him "You are a hero mate, cheers!". He was trying to find you in all this madness. Some sort of familiarity and safety. But finding you, he saw you talking to Astarion. He was about to step up a little, but he noticed that he was flirting with you, and you seem to like it a lot. Kinda broke his little dark heart.

Deep down Durge wanted to grab Astarion. He wanted to choke him, he wanted to rip him apart, just to see his head fall of his shoulders, just to see him dead onto the ground and rip his intestines out feasting onto him... Durge felt sick all of a sudden, what was that? Why was he thinking that way? He had to get away, he needed air. He needed distraction. He then bumped into a teifling. Pretty little thing, Durge found out her name was Alfira, she talked with him, telling him how brave he was against the Goblins. Asking on what Lyrics she should use for her song... oh she was a bard. fantastic. Durge also noticed you were staring... he looked back at Alfira and even tried at his hand on flirting, just to maybe... maybe make you a little jealous? Even offered to have a one night stand with Alfira. Of course she took it. Leading her away from prying eyes into the forest.

Durge didn't take his time with stripping off his clothes, getting on top of Alfira kissing her, marking her with hickey's and bite marks from his teeth. Gods this was a perfect distraction. A good ol fuck to pass the night. Durge has a pretty good size for his cock and yes, Durge has a knot. He is pretty good in sex, so Alfira did sound like she was enjoying it. How he trailed his nips, and licking towards her breast, to her navel and finally to her core. Tasting her nectar that was glistening on her folds. She did taste divine... but he couldn't help but replace Alfira's face with yours. What would you sound like if he went down on you... what would you taste like? How soft and warm you would be in his claws, how he would made you came into his mouth, into his jaws to taste your sweet release. "jacida nhee kiabil". It was a blur though... he was so lost in the pleasure he became so feral... and once out of his haze he smelled... blood. He shook his head and looked down seeing was the once alive Alfira... dead, with her intestines ripped out all over the place. Durge standing back and even looked down at his hands... oh gods it's on him... did he do that? Panic coursed through his body. What has he done?!! He has to hide the body quick! He did so throwing her down the river watching it float away feeling sick... dirty... fucked up. He wash's himself in the river to get rid of the blood on his face and hands. God he felt sick, he needed to get back to camp, he needed sleep.

Durge of course not being able to sleep, he of course goes to walk out into the night, away from the party. The Nightmares were not helping either. He didn't want to wake you either. He was too busy trying to piece together the images from his images. He did write into the Journal you gave him but it still wasn't making any sense. Until he see's a random stranger appear-- oh god it's ugly! Was it a Goblin? The creature claimed to be your servant. A servant? Wait... was he a prince? Oh no the joke was biting him in the ass now. The creature called himself Sceleritas, a one hell of a butler he puts it. He must know you. He kept calling you by your name Durge. It was nice... he guessed? He had so many questions, he asked a few. Learning where he came from, and was made to guide him and help... murder people? Wait kill people? "That's how I found you, I could smell the Bards dead stench from across the sea!". Oh gods Durge felt sick. He wanted nothing to do with him. Sceleritas was a little sad to see his faithful master dismiss him so soon. But he wanted away... he needed you. You felt someone shaking you awake, looking up from your sleep gaze, you could see Durge's face that was filled with dredge and fear. You asked him what was wrong. He asked if you both could be in his tent to talk... just to help him fall asleep. You agreed of course. Anything for your friend Durge. You guys did talk almost all night, he seemed to calm down. That was good. "So are you and Alfira together?" you asked Durge "What? No we uh... we just uh... had a one night stand is all." Durge replied feeling nervous all of a sudden. "Oh... I was hoping to spend more time in the party but you were gone for me to find you." you said to him. "...I thought you wanted to be with Astarion?" Durge asked "didn't he... offer to give you a good time?" "Oh he did, but I declined him." you said to him "He's not my type." "Oh." Durge was relieved. Thought you didn't need to know that... no. Besides you wouldn't want to be with a... memory loss murderer. No he can't let you find out about what he did no... it would be awful. He lose you in an instant. "Did you want to try and get some sleep?' You asked Durge tilting your head to the side. Durge definitely did blush, the way you looked at him made him feel butterflies in his stomach. Boiling within his very core. He was smitten with you. You rejected the pale elf and you wanted to be with Durge instead. Pride was welling inside him. Maybe he did have a chance... maybe... praying to the gods. "Thank you for the talk." He says to you "I feel more... refreshed, please get some sleep itov." "itov?" you asked him "Was that draconic?" Oh shit "uh yes, it means friend." he lied of course... and you fell for it thank goodness. You left Durge to rest telling him goodnight as you walk back to your bed roll. And Durge watching you leave as he says softly "mel'thurkear." as he curls up to sleep... to try and hope no more nightmares would plague his mind tonight.

Draconic Translation: jacida nhee kiabil- His Sweet Companion. itov-Love mel'thurkear- Goodnight.

[feyascorner]

NO BECAUSE I NEED TO TALK ABOUT ASCENDED ASTARION FOR A SECOND

I feel a lot of people think he just lost his soul when he went through with the ascension (myself included) but replaying for the third time (this time w/o rushing lol), it’s more obvious that he’s still him.

Of course, there’s a very obvious difference between spawn astarion and ascendant astarion in his dialogue, especially if you romance him. Ascendant astarion, in the state that he is immediately after ascension, is absolutely not a healthy representation of what a relationship should look like and should not be desired. Obviously some people think he’s hot but for the sake of the argument just go along w me here.

Regardless I don’t think the ascension changed him THAT much as a person. In fact I’d argue that NOT ascending changes him more (for the better). Ascending just made parts of him (the less forgiving traits) that much more prominent.

Looking back on Act 1 during the tiefling celebration (assuming you don’t side w the goblins), he clearly says he doesn’t revel in being a hero. And throughout the game he makes it very clear he’s willing to be selfish because he hasn’t been allowed to be selfish for the past 200 years.

And this selfishness manifests into him wanting power so he won’t face the same environment again. He’s always wanted power, and if he chooses not to ascend, he’s letting go of that part of himself. Not only does he go against what he’s believed for most of his life as a spawn, but accepts that being a spawn is okay with him. If he chooses to ascend, he’s amplifying that power hungry aspect of himself, putting act1/2 astarion’s personality in the basement, but he’s still there.

This applies to how possessive he is of Tav after the ascension too. He’s always been possessive, even if he doesn’t make it alarmingly obvious. Though rather than possessive I’d describe it more as a fear of being abandoned in act 1/2.

For example, when you drop the Githyanki Crèche on him he gets genuinely annoyed for a few seconds and then he thanks you for apologizing in a much softer tone, like he’s trying to repair any damage he might’ve done by getting mad at you. At the time, he still thinks of himself as weak, and therefore cannot bring himself to be possessive since he has no power to back it up. Instead, he manifests these feelings by doing everything in his power to please you even if it goes against his emotions. And while he doesn’t particularly love Tav going off with other people (as seen with the dialogue after you sleep with Mizora), he pretends that he’s okay with it just to keep you by his side. This tendency to please Tav in hopes they’ll stay is also seen in how he asks for your permission before he kills the Gur at the hag’s house.

Now, once he does ascend, he realizes he has the power to support all these darker emotions he feels. It turns twisted as a result, bringing us to the ascendant astarion we have today.

Spawn astarion, however, lets go of these emotions in a way, or displays them in a more healthy manner. It’s why his arc feels much more satisfying this way because ascendant astarion isn’t really changing, just adjusting. Spawn astarion goes through more raw character development which is also why I cannot bring myself to ascend him even in my evil durge play through!!

anyway yeah I made this account to do stuff like this hope you enjoyed my little rant🫶 this is just my personal opinion obviously but pls lmk if anyone thinks differently bg3 lore is so interesting

[shartzel]

Do you read fanfic? Any favorites of these 2 lovely messes?

YES!!!! i have so many personal favs for shartzel fics (im assuming thats what u meant and i am so sorry if not) BUT i will try to keep it to maybe like 5-10 favs bc my bookmarks folder for them has like 50+ fucking fics in there its a little insane..... - Truesilver by mylordshesacactus: i think everyone in the shadowzel part of the fandom has read this one honestly but it like. rewired my brain entirely when i first read it. shadowzel raising a kid was something ive never thought abt before, but then i read this fic and all i could think about was them having a domestic married life.......... - though i burn, how could i fall? by Jazzfordshire: THIS FIC GAVE ME THE ABSOLUTE WORST (BEST) BRAINROT EVER... the way the author writes their gradual relationship and their characters in general just AUGH. it itched my brain in the best way possible i love it - And I want to share it all with you. by Rosethornwolf: this fic is still in progress, but it makes me tear up so so so bad. i love soft shadowzel i love that shit so much and i love how the author writes them in general.... please give their other fics a read as well, theyre lovely - Fast Times At Baldur's Gate by Calchexxis: if you want like pure shadowzel fluff, this is THE fic for u. this fucking fic had made me giggling and kicking my legs while reading it cause of how tooth-rotting the fluff is!!!!! sometimes all you need in life is baby high school sweethearts shadowzel... - Truce by Looktotheedges: im sure everyone's read this one as well BUT FUCK ME I LOVE THIS FIC. the author does such a superb job at not only writing shadowzel but also their dynamic with the rest of the party members. i adoreee the found family moments so much and hold it so close to my heart... - sharpens like an image / sharpens like a knife by yeahitshowed: this one is a littleeee angsty. ive waited so very long for a "what did orin do to lae'zel?" fic that also mentions shadowzel and then this author wrote it and i instantly was in shambles. like when i was done reading this fic, all i could think abt were the ways lae’zel would see orin in shadowheart from now on. how that fear she held would always linger Somewhere in the back of her mind and it destroyed me :'D (this will make sense when after reading the fic i promise) - pressing a flower by Isolatedwriting: ending this with another also angsty one but like straight up hurt no comfort angst :) to quote the summary: "durge fails a saving throw" and i have never been the same since actually..................

[rosys-fans-fics]

Gortash x Redeemed! Durge Netherbrain fight

I cannot tell you how sad I was when the brain killed Gortash! I spent so long trying to redeem my boyfriend and get him to forsake Bane as I did Bhaal only to have the brain go “lol no! Player input be damned!” So here’s what should have happened instead!

Instead of Gortash just hip bumping you out of the way and getting blasted, it should have been a hand off of the stones for him to do the final attack. Gortash has done this before, he knows how to do it, he actually remembers how to unlike us! You have him try to do the final attack only for the brain to mock him and be like “lol I was using you the whole time and I never respected you mortal!” This is such a good character moment for gortash, his whole life he’s been trying to become more powerful so he’ll never be someone’s slave or puppet again only to find out he was still being controlled this whole time. That should be part of his redemption, realizing that he was never in control and now needs to destroy what he thought his source of power was.

When the brain attacks him, we as the player should have the choice to save him! A simple 1. Let gortash handle this or 2. Step in and help. Should we leave him to take care of the mess he made or stand with our ally and boyfriend to stop the brain? If you don’t step in, gortash dies. But if you do, the prism creates like a mental shield or bubble around you and gortash. The brain then says, “I saw potential in you, Bhaalspawn, but your love for this mortal was always a failing of yours. You have forsaken your father, your destiny, for this weak human.” After that, you grab Gortash’s hand and are like “together?” And he says “together” to deliver the final attack. This would lower the dc check cause you have help!

Then big fight ensues. Defeat the brain, celebrate, and have a conversation with Gortash where you decide to rebuild the city not as tyrants or gods but as heroes. Gortash will also apologize to Karlach and offers to fix her heart! Karlach deserves a good ending and while she’s not forgiven Gortash for selling her, she isn’t going to kill him. She says, “if you fall back to your old slaving tyrannical ways, I’ll find you and end you.” And gortash is just like, “I’ll hold you to that!”

For a little epilogue I’d love for Gortash and Durge talk about how Bane will be coming soon for Gortash’s soul and that durge will stand with him when they fight Bane off. Then Gortash hugs you and says “you’ve always seen the best in me, I thank you for that. I love you for that”

[lunarreverb]

Just finished the silliest BG3 run that was.... not really a speedrun, but a mess-around solo run to see what happens if you effectively skip Act 1 and 2 (to the extent possible) and recruit nobody. Here's Bunnie the gnome; she's quick like a bunny!

Some of the most interesting things I found under the cut!

If you immediately jog over from the Nautiloid to the mountain pass area, Shadowheart will catch up to you and try to party up.

You can reject her company, of course; if you do, the artefact just appears in your inventory later after this brief cutscene saying ''you got the plot device.' The Emperor never addresses this at all but I have to assume it just looked at the both of you liked your main character energy better.

(For her part, Shadowheart will hang out indefinitely in front of the path to the mountain pass, insisting that you need her to come with you. She never seems to realize that the artefact ditched her, but seems to have the 'shielded' effect on her for as long as you can still go back to that area to check on her, so idk. I assume she dies/ceremorphosizes at some point after you leave the shadow cursed lands.)

If you leave for the mountain pass without encountering Raphael, he just shows up in your camp, and you do NOT have a choice to go to bed without speaking to him, lol.

What happens to Lae'zel is SUPER interesting. If you don't encounter her in the cage outside of the grove, the game gives you a second chance by setting her outside of the monastery, wandering around.

If you don't join her there, either, you will find her at the entrance of the Shadow-Cursed lands, extremely dead. I imagine this is just the game's way of making sure you see she's dead, but I would have assumed for sure that without player intervention she would've died in the zaith'isk? I wonder what sequence of events is implied by this? Maybe she broke out of the zaith'isk on her own, escaped the creche, but had nobody to warn her that she needed a torch in the Shadow-Cursed lands? Maybe the gith sent her on an errand before they let her have a turn in the cleansing machine? Unclear!

Your dream guardian comments that it's impressed by your efficiency by skipping over the grove entirely:

This is different from what it says if you actively durge the grove, where it insinuates that you did what you did to infiltrate the cult and asks whether or not you have regrets about that.

If you don't go to Last Light Inn at all, you can meet Jaheira for the first time at the bridge to Moonrise tower. She does NOT react well if you answer her question by saying "I'm busy, get out of the way"; this will aggro the Harpers (understandably). I ultimately decided to sneak around the back and I didn't canonically meet her for the first time until after defeating Ketheric. She will automatically join your camp for the one night on the way to Baldur's Gate, but she will leave forever (leaving you a letter saying "bye") once you get to the Lower City if you tell her at Moonrise you don't want her in your party.

She does not survive the events of the game if you do not let her join your party, it seems. (I did not pursue the Minsc storyline and I do not know if it's possible to prevent this outcome that way.)

This next bit is REALLY wild; in all of my other playthroughs, I don't think I ever tried defeating Gortash before I disabled the Steel Watch. You can defeat Gortash at his inauguration, and the Absolute will immediately be your bestie about it and will helpfully murder any of the witnesses (including Ulder Ravengard, I think; I took care not to kill him but he vanished anyway.)

The next thing that happens doesn't actually make sense but is interesting nevertheless. Once Gortash is dead, the Steel Foundry is automatically blown up, and the Absolute speaks encouragingly to the player through the Steel Watchers:

I'm actually stumped about how the Absolute can control the Steel Watchers without the corresponding tadpoled brains in the Foundry (which I have to assume got crushed in the rubble?) Oh well. In any case, the Steel Watchers are friendly and will even be allied with you if you get into any scuffles with the Fist, until you kill Orin. After you kill Orin, every Steel Watcher is immediately hostile AND will sic the Fist on you, too.

(Funny story, I actually managed to down one of the Watchers next to the Steel Watch fan group on the north end of Wyrm's Crossing and uh. The Watcher blew up one of the fanboys. Oops. RIP Trinigan Gazotts.)

I kinda want to write a whole post about just this, but Shadowheart's parents are still put up on display in the House of Grief basement in spite of the fact that she is almost certainly (?!) dead and/or a mindflayer by this point:

You can talk to them but you cannot help them in any way. I'm aware that this is just a tease for Shadowheart's plot, but I want to nitpick this so bad. The Sharrans have regular prison cells in the building; what is the point of hanging up these two on the Spencer's Gifts lights indefinitely? Whatever bummer vibes Shar is getting off of them can not be enough to pay for their magical upkeep. Do the Sharrans have to take them down at mealtimes, or are they fed with sandwiches on sticks, or...?

The love test at the circus is NOT interesting; the dryad assumes that you are in love even if you are forever alone and gives her usual sales pitch about bringing the one you love to her.

If you didn't save Wulbren or Barcus, the entrance to the Ironhand Gnomes' cave is just blocked off.

Astarion's unfortunate end if you don't recruit him has been covered in great detail by other posts, but I will remark that it is funny to kill Cazador yourself as a gnome because you have to hop up to stab him. It's also very, very funny to see Cazador explain his whole evil plot to you, random gnome woman who just showed up, if Astarion isn't around. This man is desperate for somebody to think he's cool, so I guess he'll settle for attention from the cattle if he's gotta.

Volo still shows up tied to that trolley cart by the foundry, but there's no angry mob around him.

If you haven't encountered the inquisitor at the creche, or the avatar of Vlaakith in the shadow cursed land, they both show up in the Elfsong's basement

There is no hag plot if you did not encounter Ethel. The captain at the Blushing Mermaid is just as she seems, there's no hag lair, and Vanra and her mother want nothing to do with you. There's no hag support group; that house has a group of random hostile thugs in it instead (with a tenuous tie-in to Ninefinger's Guild).

In Act 3, Raphael will totally say "listen here you little shit" if you hassled him outside of the mausoleum in Act 2 by, oh, I don't know, casting Silence on him? (after which he does NOT give you the Yurgir quest, he just leaves).

Bluurg and Omeluum do not show up at the Society of Brilliance's lodge if you did not meet them in the underdark in Act One, but there is a letter indicating that they will show up later. I checked, and Omeluum is also not in the Iron Throne.

Nothing funny or new happened with Orin. I threw her in a pit. BUT worth mentioning? You can skip the entire Bhaalist powerword kill trial if you just send one invisible party member through the area and just find the warppoint near the temple afterward. You're welcome.

If you get to the epilogue alone, Milil will comment that he expected more guests, but Withers will speak as if multiple people are there no matter what

Also, if you are a lonely little mindflayer, this has no effect on the refreshments offered at the epilogue party. Mindflayers can drink alcohol, apparently, but obviously nobody is here to eat all the food Withers put out. WTF, pee paw.

And I think that's mostly all the was interesting or different in this run. It was a fun challenge!

[adaptacy]

The General Drow's Celebration {1/2}

Pairing: General!Minthara x Durge!AFAB!Reader

{Part 2}

Warnings/Tags: !!NSFW!! MDNI. BG3 Act II Heavy Spoilers. Minthara is, uh, evil. Exhibitionism, minor foodplay, bloodplay sorta (but its not either of yours), straight-up murder (also not either of you), general cultish things. Mention of poison. Part 1 doesn't include the actual smut but it will happen in part 2! Which I'll finish writing... eventually. Some Drow/Undercommon terms are used, I'm not super familiar I just looked shit up, there's a glossary thingy at the end. :)

Word Count: 3.4k

“Pitiful display. Bold of you to slight me so poorly. Your loyal fleet has been charged on account of your mistakes. Each throat slit. Yours is next.”

“Please, Nightwarden, you do not–”

“Silence,” she cuts back, crossing one of her legs over the other, her stern gaze intimidating even if it wasn’t backed by a history of bloodshed. “Abysmal absence of respect. Treacherous.”

“Shall we admit them to the cells?”

The drow snickers, waving her hand in a quick snap. “A waste that would be. We need the space for more valuable criminals. Slaughter the underling,” she commands, and the executioner raises the blade, but her palm lifts, and the order is paused. “No. Throw them to the shadows. Let them fend against the forsaken.”

“As you command, General,” the man replies, dipping his head and gathering up the chains that bind the betrayer’s wrists, dragging the pleading goblin out of the hall. 

At last, it is empty. The line of criminals, cultists, and true souls sorted through. Another day comes to an end with the drow on the throne, another day bearing the late Ketheric’s title, wielding his power, and fate spins along as it should, weaving her pristine web of influence. 

“General,” you hum, taking the opportunity to sit on the stone arm of her claimed throne, and she turns her head to look at you, a proud, passionate fire behind her eyes.

“Glorious, isn’t it, my love?” Minthara raises her hand and her slender fingers dance on your chin, feigning a gentle touch before she grips it, her thumb pressing into your jaw as she yanks you closer, her fanged grin growing. “Do you wish to taste the power?”

You smile in return, holding her gaze until she eyes your lips, the pride in the red of her eye soon joined by a similarly hued lust. You stay quiet for a few extra moments before finally responding. “I would like nothing more.”

Her tongue runs over her bottom lip before she pulls you closer, the kiss teasingly tender, and she breaks it in an instant. “Drink it in. My power is yours, dark one. Together, we reign.”

 You inch forward, attempting to meet her lips again, but her grip grows more firm, and she forces you to remain stationary. “Nobody else is here,” you whisper, glancing between her lips and her eyes, and her gaze lifts to yours as she smirks.

“Precisely. How shall I lay claim to my property without an audience? You are too exquisite to be concealed,” she whispers, her words catching on your lips, her breath only serving to tease you further. You feel the faint sting of her poison, and it only drives you to deepen your yearning. “Tonight, we will feast. A new age of True Souls shall be celebrated. And I will claim you before our guests. You will be desired by all, but earned only by me. My slayer. My pet. My oloth.”

“He would be proud,” you praise, inching closer to her with your body, though your head remains still. 

“I’m inclined to agree. A shame his sacrifice was a necessity. As is the cycle of hierarchy,” she states, releasing your chin, but pulling her own head away before you have a chance to take advantage of the freedom of movement. “We will coddle a new generation of warriors. Not with affection, but dedication. Swaddle them in viscera and nurse them to victory.”

“We’ll raise a force of blood-bringers,” you agree, and Minthara smirks, huffing out an amused exhale.

“Blood-bringers. A marvelous title for a marvelous army.” The drow presses her palms to the stone arms and pushes herself up, standing before the empty room. “Sine Thelids, we will be.” You feel an uncanny itch in your palms, and you shift uncomfortably. Your tadpole squirms, and Minthara lowers her head, sensing your edge. “Control, my slayer. We will march soon. The world will be ours – all thralls along with it. You will have your vengeance, and I shall have mine. Havoc will come to Orin, but it is the blood-bringers she will fear.” 

“We will claim her life,” you second, standing up as well and joining her side, watching her as she looks over the empty throne room. Many times, she’s been seated off to the side. Only ever gazing at the throne that Ketheric so often sat in. With your help, however, her placement had changed. Rightfully, she had taken his power, his lead, just as you had helped her take his life. Ketheric was the first to fall, but he would not be the last. 

“They shall bow to us. Each and every one. Extinguish their lives, and ignite their influence. We will be almighty,” she purrs, her chin tilting up ever so slightly, red eyes scanning the room one final time before she turns back to you, and holds out her hand. “Come. We must prepare for the banquet.” 

It came as no surprise that Minthara had already planned an outfit for you; she had a plan for the banquet, and she intended to follow it through perfectly. That required your cooperation, even in the slightest of details. You weren’t complaining – it was a fine choice she’d made. Less surprising still was the nature of the clothing. 

A personally tailored leather clasp for a neck piece, attaching to a particularly revealing shirt, cut with a wide triangle down the middle of your torso, leaving little to the imagination. You didn’t mind. Chances are, nothing would be left to the imagination by the end of the gathering, so you were going to take what you could get. 

You clean yourself up of any lingering grime from the day, enjoying a short but relaxing bath before dressing yourself up in the clothes she had prescribed to you. Once you’re sure that you’re ready, you make your way downstairs to the audience hall, where Minthara waits at the bottom of the stairs, her hand offered to you as you approach. 

It would be an understatement to say that suppressing a smile was difficult – pitted against her appearance, your physical display of enjoyment was far out of your control. Minthara was the type to look good in anything, though she usually stuck to her usual dark drow armor and her black, rigid evening clothes. 

Tonight, however, was special. Her outfit reflected that in a way that almost took you by surprise. 

Both of you were well-aware of the possibility of an attack. Not an attack on Moonrise, not an attack on The Absolute, but an attack on Minthara – with Ketheric the unkillable now, against all odds, gone and dead, there was sure to be turmoil between the higher ranking members of the cult. Minthara had been the one to dethrone him, to rob him of his power and his breath, and thus she had claimed his authority. 

Not everyone was so willing to allow such an opportunity to slip out of their grasp. Z’rell had been taken care of even before Ketheric, as she posed the most significant threat. A few others, too – mostly those who had previously disrespected Minthara, made to pay their dues in the light of her new title. 

Tonight, she would feast with potential enemies. Betrayers. She may feast with attempted assassinations, and it was unlikely the night would sail without bloodshed. 

You did not expect a full suit of armor, but you had expected something more protective than the clothing she had decided upon. Her upper arms and shoulders were well-guarded with black leather shells, attaching to an equally thick leather that ran down her sides, though where defense mattered most – her abdomen, the simplest and most lethal place to strike – her purple skin was left revealed to the world. 

Her legs were wrapped comfortably in black pants, and you know immediately that this is not an oversight on her part. Hardly so. It is a test. An offering – an opportunity for her silent enemies, her weakest spot left vulnerable to their hunger for power, a surefire bait. Minthara had not forgotten about her endangerment. She embraced it. Welcomed it. Challenged it.

“It fits,” she states, smirking as you take her hand in your own and step carefully down the final few steps, allowing her to drink in your appearance just as you had soaked in hers. “A good thing. I wish no harm upon our tailor – I have already removed his tongue, but I suspect he may need his fingers to continue his work. A troublesome ordeal seeking out a new tailor would prove,” she chuckles. 

You turn to face her, and she takes your other hand as well, her red eyes judging your expression. “You look nice as well, General,” you praise, not bothering to hide your wandering gaze as you trail over her chest, the bra piece more than familiar to you. You dare to lift a finger, pulling your hand from hers, and snake it under the band over her sternum, pulling it down ever so slightly, your temptation getting the best of you. 

Her slender fingers trace up your wrist, wrapping around and pulling your hand up to her mouth, pressing her lips to the back of it. “We shall be objects of desire tonight. Some may see vulnerability. It is in that liability we find our strength. Neither harm nor pleasure shall be brought upon you unless it is by my hand. That is an assurance.”

“They worship our power. Soon, our bodies alongside it, yes?” You ask, and Minthara smirks again, giving your hand another kiss. 

“Our power. Our lethality. Our bodies. And we will worship one another.” At last, she releases your hand, and it returns to your side, though she still holds the other one. Gently – hardly afraid of losing you, or allowing you opportunity to slip away, for she knows you are hers, and she is yours. It is for that same reason that you don’t tighten your grip around her fingers. There is ample security and assurance without the need for a strong hold. Her gaze shifts to large wooden double doors, where light shines through the crack at the bottom. “Our squadron awaits. Ah,” – Minthara tilts her head – “Our blood-bringers.” 

Providing a controlled nod in response, she leads you into the banquet hall, the table already arranged with the offerings of a feast, and ‘True Souls’ line the longer sides of the table, and at the head there are two empty chairs. Empty, that is, until Minthara guides you towards them, and you take a seat at one while she stands in front of the one beside you, releasing your hand in order to address the group. 

You know everyone stationed at the table, though you aren’t quite familiar with all of them. You know each person’s name, but not everyone’s current rank, or how they served Ketheric during his reign. Those who you do immediately recognize consist of The Warden, who’s standing remains unchanged, the halfling Linsella, who has been granted an increase in authority, with Minthara permitting her reign over verified prisoners and hostages, allowing her to convert said captives as she pleases. Sitting two seats to your left is the skilled spy Marcus, who you recall once yearned to be the right-hand of the late general. As far as you’re aware, he has remained a mere spy, but high in the ranks nonetheless. 

“A waste of precious time it would be, were I to spare words of mourning for Thorm,” Minthara announces, all eyes pinned on her, save for yours. “He served well, but he serves no more. I plan no delegation over the loss. We move forward, as the Absolute commands,” she continues, and the True Souls each dip their heads, murmuring out quiet agreements; ‘In Her name.’

She does well to hide the truth. You have always admired her, both for her prevalence in battle and her combined willingness and capability to achieve further power where she sees possibility. Few manage to look past morals as she does, few are as earnestly eager as she is with their dreams. 

Her faith was crushed, the truth revealed in ways that would desecrate any other’s ambition, had they been in her shoes. Alas, she is Minthara of house Baenre, and she seizes opportunity the moment it presents itself. With one stone in her grasp, and an oblivious, willing army at her disposal, she poses a far larger threat to the other chosen than they may have ever thought possible. 

“You sit in his throne,” A man speaks up, two chairs to your left – Marcus, the spy, “You serve his meals, you command his troops, and yet you disrespect his name wholly.” He speaks with a growl, and dares to rise, making his intentions clear to the room, his target included. 

Minthara pulls her torso back, and she meets his eye, her palms resting flat on the table. No longer hidden beneath the table, a greatclub is grasped tightly in his right hand, his knuckles tinted white from the tension in his hold. “Ketheric disrespected his name to far greater lengths than I would ever have the words to manage. And so creatively, too,” she chuckles, her tone brimming with clear-cut confidence, and although you attempt to reassure yourself, you feel your heart skip a beat, momentarily silently fearing for her safety. You see no daggers, no means of defense on her person, and yet she smiles all the same. 

Marcus scoffs, grimacing, leaning towards the drow, the fire in his eyes fueled entirely by resentment. “Attempt no trickery by mouth – Our General wanted you disposed of, and I intend to carry out his orders as my final judgment by the Absolute.” 

“Pathetic. Loyalty to a dead man serves no greater purpose – only a grave.” Minthara sneers, her next words joined by a tone of stable, smooth mockery, “Do you expect him to rise again? Fulfill his wishes, and his head will roll back onto the neck I severed it from? The Absolute has already judged you well and true. I’m afraid your devotion is tardy. Had you served him so faithfully while his corpse was animate, perhaps he may have led a longer rule. Alas, I shall reward your allegiance, and reunite you with your Bossk.”

Marcus’ scowl pulls wrinkles in his forehead, his arm twitching – the split-second jerk being movement enough to warn Minthara of his next move. He charges, raising his greatclub, eyes pinning a target on her skull. You’re not granted a chance to so much as flinch before Minthara retrieves a dagger from its place in a sheath attached to the bottom of the table, raising her arm as the blade is precisely swiped across the man’s throat, spraying the immediate area in his blood. 

That immediate area being you, Minthara, the two True Souls sitting closest, and part of the prepared meal on the table. 

The spy’s body falls with a final gurgle, and Minthara spins her blade to capture it in a firmer grip, her blood-kin gaze serving a silent order to the stunned audience. “Rath’arg. Do any other false believers wish to challenge me? To take my head would be a grant of my authority. Do strike now, daring lambs, for tonight I am willing to grant mercy and bestow quick deaths upon traitors.”

Her breath is steady – she is not tense, but firm, and the True Souls exchange glances with one another, each and every one remaining silent and submissive. Though her fine attire is splattered with the blood of a betrayer, she remains unphased. True to her mission, allowing no room for distractions, nor for doubt. 

When she is assured, she sets her dagger on the table beside her, and she dips her head. “Very well. Feast, warriors, for we need our strength. In Her name,” she states, her eyes closing for only a moment. 

“In Her name,” the party recites, beginning to indulge themselves in the food less affected by the close death, but Minthara turns instead to you, her own personal repast, free from the intermingling of her underlings. The True souls speak, quietly, amongst one other – discussing the Absolute, the rise of their new General, and similar such topics. 

Her bloodied purple hand is offered to you, and you accept, rising from your seat at her physical request. Few eyes are drawn to you, for the time being – you don’t bother to take count, to truly decipher how many pay attention to your activities. Minthara pulls you closer, her free hand cradling your jaw and wiping Marcus’ blood from your lips, allowing her to kiss you without risking a taste of the coward. For a short moment, the contact is broken, and her nose brushes with yours, gaze intense with a roused lust from the bloodshed. “However intense our reign may become, however great our influence grows, know that at the center of my drive is where you lie. You are mine, as I am yours. We are bound as one – in body, in soul, in power.” There’s a pause in which you make an attempt to reconnect your lips, but she pulls back, her mouth instead moving towards your ear, her tone lowering to a whisper, ensuring only you may receive her message. “Bow as we may to the Absolute, pray as we may to their lies, you are my true quar'valsharess. My deity, and mine alone.”

Knowing how much she risks by admitting that in a room full of the Absolute’s followers, however quiet of an admission it was, is more than enough to make your heart flutter, stomach pleasantly uneased by a disturbance of butterflies. You pivot as a hand on your hip guides you to press your back against the edge of the table, and the dishes behind you are pushed aside, likely much to the dismay of the nearest True Souls. Minthara’s lips trail over your lightly bloodied neck, no longer caring whether or not the blood invades her taste, merely enjoying the flavor of her success on your skin. 

While she delivers no verbal commands or physical guidance, you understand her intentions well enough to assist her in carrying them out. So, you lift yourself onto your ankles and hop just enough to steady yourself on the table, immediately finding that she invades the space between your legs, bringing her hips closer to yours. Her kisses continue to trail down, littering every available space that her selected clothing allows her to access. Hands run along your sides, caressing over the full length twice before they linger on the sliver of skin between the top and bottom pieces of your outfit. When her mouth reaches that section as well, your leather pants are dragged downward, shedding her territory of protection, vulnerable to her touch – to her command. 

When they bunch at your knees, thighs against the wooden table, your only means of defense being your thin, weak layer of underwear, Minthara pauses, standing up straight once more. A hand presses to your chest, pushing you backwards, though your hips remain stationary – you lay back, displayed across the bloodied feast as if you were one with it. All eyes are on you, now, but Minthara’s attention is the only attention that matters to you. Even if you don’t threaten to disobey or refuse, her palm is firm on your chest, forcing you to keep position. 

“True Souls,” she addresses, instantly gaining the room’s undivided interest. “Speak my title.”

“General Minthara,” the audience replies, and her smirk grows, revealing flashes of her hungry teeth. 

Louder, she repeats; “Speak my title.”

“General Minthara!”

Her hand slides up your body, finding purchase around your throat, and she meets your gaze, her prideful smile meant entirely for you. “Tonight, we celebrate two deaths. The death of Late General Thorm, and the death of The Nightwarden. Indulge in the wine and feast as you deem fit – a rebirth occurs this evening. A rebirth of values. A rebirth of power. A rebirth of The Absolute.” Her gaze lifts, meeting the intrigued smiles of her soldiers. “Hear the testament of my reign – straight from the voice of darkness,” Minthara chuckles, eyes drawn once more to you. “Speak my title, dear oloth.” 

With a lustful smile, you oblige; “General Minthara.” 

“General Minthara,” she agrees, leaning over the table to meet your lips, hand tightening around your throat, robbing you of breath in the two ways she knows best. 

(1) Oloth – Darkness (Drow) (2) Sine Thelid – Great Conqueror (Undercommon) (3) Bossk – Lord (Undercommon) (4) Rath’arg – Coward (Drow) (5) Quar’valsharess – Goddess (Drow)

[dmagedgoods]

I just really like the idea of Durge having previously dealt with Raphael, running into him with Amnesia and assuming they're in a relationship given all of Raphael's flirting and pet names. Durge deciding to kiss a shocked Raphael who goes along with it because he's been looking to find some kind of hold over them.

Anon, I need you to know how much this inspired me. I made a little story out of it with my own Durge Cian because it fits him so incredibly well. He's nothing if not obsessive. And especially obsessed with that devil. 😁

A Devil You Know? A Devil You Do?

Rating: General but a touch spicy

Relationships: Raphael/Durge (male, Cian)

Tags: obsessive thoughts, kissing, spoilers for act 2

Summary: Dark Urge Cian misunderstands his own obsessive thoughts about the local devil following him and assumes a relationship they don't actually have. - Much to the delight of the devil in question. AO3 ~ The picture was lively, like a vision haunting his every waking moment: Eyes of molten heat reaching out for his soul, the soul he yearned to possess, his elegant hair combed back, curling invitingly in his neck, calling for his fingers to bury themselves in its softness to bend his head to his liking, his expressive dark eyebrows, giving him too many hints, opening his emotions to him too easily, his aristocratic, suave features with a prominent nose and thin wide lips, indicating a dominating and controlling nature and other irresistible traits he wanted to lay open and dissect. He followed him with every step, even now Cian felt his presence while he was tossing and turning, restless, wide awake in the middle of this stinking, irksome camp surrounded by the darkness striking fear in the hearts of those around him. If only they knew. It was nothing but a weak shadow compared to the black abyss he felt in his very own chest. And yet. When he closed his eyes, he saw fire striking through its depth. – Burning hot on his skin and like a raging inferno in his guts. His fire. His torrid ambition. His glowing gaze. His fierce desire. He could feel it all, he could feel him with every breath. It was a game, wasn’t it? He is toying with me. ‘The mouse smiled brightly: It outfoxed the cat! Then down came the claw, And that, love, was that.’ He licked his paper-dry lips. There wasn’t much he could recall about himself, his memories kept withdrawing just in time whenever he tried to sink his fangs into their silhouettes, mocking him at the edge of his consciousness. And so did he. But his adoration for poetry, the way it resonated within him, brought him a profound, endearing joy. No, this was not a new development but an old, a familiar part of him the devil must have been aware of. ‘And that, love, was that.’

“You know me.” He spoke the words into the darkness. None of his companions roused from their sleep. But his invisible observer stayed silent. “And I know you, isn’t that true, devil? Despite the farce of an ‘introduction’, he had not only told him with his gazes, with his demeanor and luring sensuality, but with an open statement even, his little hint: ‘It's not every day one meets such a cavalier sinner such as yourself! A true, bloody pleasure.’ His pulse quickened, his blood rushed through his veins so loudly that he feared its noise would alarm the vampire. The strong bond he was sensing, the delight he felt, the growing desire: That devil and him, they were connected far beyond fleeting first impressions. You have been at my side, have you not?, he continued in his thoughts, so loud and focused that if Raphael indeed was near, he probably could hear them as clearly as his words, And now you patiently wait for me to remember. But even if I still lack the pictures and specifics as of now, I do remember you; a part of me recognizes what still lies buried. It would be impossible to forget a devil like you. He closed his eyes, listening for an answer that did not come. With a little smile, he turned to his side. The silence did not matter. Soon the truth would be revealed. - The child left the table with a self-satisfied grin. For someone her age, she was, well, bearable. Although, her victory was his, not hers, and – either way – mostly the devil’s, despite his defeat. Raphael’s reactions, their conversation, his comment when she disappeared into another part of the inn, and out of hearing, nothing of it left any doubt that he was after her soul and the game only had brought him closer to his goal. Naïve little girl. “The Theskan move suggestion was inspired,” Raphael said to him and now he himself was the one who felt a hint of self-satisfaction. Of course, he hid the fact that the devil’s compliment affected him.

“There is plenty about me you have no idea about.” “Don’t I, indeed …” Raphael did not attempt to sound convincing. “Or maybe,” Cian stepped closer. “That’s only what you want me to believe.” One of those vivid eyebrows wandered higher. “How long do you think you can fool me?” “Fool you,” Raphael repeated slowly and with a shimmer of amusement in his eyes, “And how exactly do you believe I'm doing th…” With calm determination, Cian closed the last distance between them and cut off his words by pressing his lips to his. Raphael’s eyes widened in utter surprise. He refused to return the kiss, keeping his mouth taut and inaccessible. Have I been wrong? Fear and a hollow cold spread through his insides, despite the warmth of the skin he was still touching, hands buried in the expensive fabric of Raphael’s clothes. Cian readied himself to step back and apologize – with calm nonchalance, protecting his pride or as much of it as he could save. But suddenly Raphael’s grip tightened around his hip. He didn’t allow him to escape. Instead, he moved his lips against his mouth and used his consequent little sound as an opportunity to tease his tongue with the tip of his. It sent tingling pleasure through his body and fierce heat to the very bottom of his soul. Relief flooded every fiber of his being, and he grabbed the devil harder. Raphael was taller than him, stronger too, still, he wanted to claim him as his, to remind him that he was. Prying his lips open further, he slid his tongue behind those pearly teeth, invading his mouth and deepening the kiss with unrestrained passion that now was returned with the same demanding harshness. Their tongues pushed against the other insistently, hungry for sensation, hungry for dominance. For the duration of their kiss, nothing else existed but the devil in his arms and his eager touch. But when they finally parted, he could feel the shocked gazes of his companions. Astarion overcame his surprise first and let out a delighted little laugh. “No no no, please don’t stop now, I was enjoying the show!” “You can’t be serious.” Wyll spat those words out with undisguised disgust. “I’m sure you two could get a room if you asked,” Shadowheart commented drily. Cian cleared his throat, and Raphael allowed him to retreat. “Forgive the spontaneous assault,” he said without paying much attention to the others. “But I needed the confirmation.” “The confirmation of what, if I may ask?” Raphael asked, the curiosity in his voice seemed genuine. Now it was for him to raise a brow. “That we know each other intimately. When did you plan to tell me the truth about our past? – About our connection?” Raphael hesitated. – His gaze piercing as if he was searching for something in his eyes. Did he try to find out how much of it he already remembered? Cian knew he would need to be careful with what he believed him until his memories truly returned. His partner or not, he was a devil after all. And they loved their little games and secrets. Eventually, Raphael smiled a charming smile. “Well, as you proved just now, it won’t be necessary to tell you anything about your forlorn past. It’s much more intriguing to watch it return to your eager mind.”

[carooosa]

Bound by You: Love is Power, Love is Weakness

Part 3: Dissent

Part 2 Here

Word count: 1k Rating: Mature Pairing: Ascended Astarion x gn!AFAB Resist Durge/Reader Warnings: 18+ AO3 link: Dissent

Summary: Stressed from your duties, Astarion tries to help relieve your tension. It doesn't end well as he's forgotten something deeply important to you.

You pace back and forth in your bedroom, shifting between holding your arms and biting your nails. The anniversary celebration was in a little under two months and there was still so much left to get done. 

“My treasure, if you keep worrying about this you’ll burden your beautiful face with wrinkles,” Astarion said casually as he read a book while sprawled out on your bed.

You ignore him, choosing instead to find your journal that contains some of your notes. Quickly flipping through the pages, you try to see if there’s anything you could work on right now. Your head is so buried in the notebook that you don’t notice your lover get up from the bed. 

He snatches the book out of your hand and teases you, “My love, weren’t you the one who said ‘no work in the bedroom’?” You try to get the journal back, but it’s all in vain. As soon as you reach for it, Astarion grabs your hand and twirls you around yourself until your back is pressed against his body, his arms wrapped around you. “You need to relax, darling. Your shoulders are tensed and your jaw is clenched. And whether or not you meant it, I can feel your stress.”

You feel guilt for a second as you remember that after Astarion turned you into his consort, you were both able to speak silently to each other. You were also able to feel any strong emotion from the other, whether that be lust, despair, or in this case, stress. The guilt lasts only a second as Astarion is part of the reason you’re so stressed to begin with.

“Good,” you say with a bite, “it’s your fault I’m feeling this way.”

He releases his hold on you and spins you around to face him, and you look to the side to avoid his eyes. “What do you mean my fault.” He hooks a finger under your chin and moves your head to be facing his but you avert your gaze. “Love,” he says with a gentle sternness, “when I said that you would never need to worry or want for anything again, I meant it. Yet now you’re saying that I’m the one causing you despair?”

You sigh and pinch your brows, finally meeting his eyes as your hand falls to your side. To any other person, it would look like he’s looking at you with care, but you’ve been with him long enough to know that the concern he shows is due to his insecurity as an overlord. He gave you everything you’d ever want and anything you ever could want. He tended to your needs and would sometimes indulge you with domestic intimacy — handholding, caresses, and cuddles — anything to keep you happy. Although it’s not perfect, it’s his way of showing you love, and you appreciate it all the same.

“The planners don’t take me seriously and we’re a tenday behind schedule.” As you say this, a flicker of confusion crosses his eyes before it’s gone, replaced with a calculated smile. 

He leads you towards the bed, throwing the journal off to the side. “Little love, everything will fall into place,” he says while placing chaste kisses along your neck. “You don’t need to worry about this. Who cares—”

You push him off of you and stare at him incredulously. “Who cares? I care, Astarion. This anniversary banquet will be the first time all our friends will have the time to be together in a long time.”

He scoffs as he readjusts his night clothes. “We can always figure out another time to have your friends visit us. Besides, 17 years is a weird time to have any anniversary.” As soon as he finishes the sentence, his eyes snap up to yours as he feels the sadness from you, watching the tears start to form in your eyes.

“You’re unbelievable,” you choke out. He takes a step toward you only for you to take 3 steps back. Had he really forgotten?

“What? It’s true. Usually, anniversaries are every 50, 10, or 5 years. I’ve yet to see a celebration for a 17th anniversary, but since you were so insistent on it…” Astarion trails off as his eyes glaze over as if he’s lost in thought. His eyes are staring deep into your soul as you silently cry. It takes too long for him to remember, and as soon as he does, he looks genuinely fearful. “Our annivers-” he gasps.

You cut him off, making your way towards the notebook. “I need to be alone right now.” You push past him as he stands unmoving, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Don’t follow me,” you say as you slam the door behind you.

You quickly run through the hall, ignoring the questions from the servants. You make your way into the morning room that was recently turned into your own personal parlor. When you suggested holding the event planning meetings in the library, Astarion scoffed and brushed aside your idea. The next day, the room that received the most sunlight was bustling with servants moving furniture around. “What would everyone say if they saw my consort sequestered in that dreadfully musty library? Now, everyone will see your striking beauty as you command the room.”

You shake off the memory and make your way to your seat. Papers are strewn about the table, half of them containing illegible scribbles. You sit down and immerse yourself in the work until the dawn light starts to seep into the room. You decide to rest your head for a bit, your cheeks stained with tear marks and your eyes sore.

When you awake, there’s a blanket draped across your body and a glass of water on the table. You gulp down the water and shrug off the blanket before making your way to your changing room. You aren’t sure what time it is, but it’s surely almost time to meet with the caterers to finalize the menu. As you leave the room, you quietly thank the servant standing on guard for the blanket and the water.

He bows his head as he replies. “My apologies, Lady Ancunin, but it was not my doing. The Lord ordered me to keep watch after leaving the room.”

[memo-blogs]

Here With Me (part I)

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x female (Durge*) Tav *not relevant in this segment/will come apparent later in the story

Tags: angst, fluff, foreplay

Summary: Months after the end of the game (SPOILERS, ye be warned) Tav gets bothered by Astarion's absent looks in bed and it results in NO SEX, heck >:( Just when things were getting amazing!

A/N: This is a three-parter series where things are oof before they get nice and spicy. I hope someone wants to read something so I feel like sharing the rest… Ps. waiting on my AO3 account, who knew you had to queue for one for like 2 weeks!? If and when I get one, there is spicier than Tumblr allows fanart inspired by this fic available, huhu. Hope you like! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They returned home, walking hand in hand down the now familiar forest path to the small opening in the woods that revealed their cozy two-story home in the woods. Tav glanced to her side to her partner Astarion, and smiled. He caught her looking, and smiled back. They were returning from an exhilarating night of trying to teach the vampire spawn in the Underdark to navigate their new normal. There had been peril, confusion, unpleasant surprises – all the things they had grown so accustomed to tackle and turn into success together. Tav recalled how, despite starting with snark and frustration at one of the spawn Gur kids losing control of her hunger and lunging at an innocent deep gnome as a result… Astarion had controlled himself. How gently he knelt to the Gur’s level, and let the child know he felt the same hunger, and gave her guidance. In the end, she had hugged Astarion, who enjoyed it more than he let on. It was remarkable how he managed to make controlling their impulses more into a fun game rather than an addiction they’d have to combat for the rest of their undead lives. As they opened the door to their abode, Tav thought back to the months spent with Astarion after defeating the Netherbrain – how little by little, he was less spiteful, less vengeful… and more relaxed and happy. Astarion had become forgiving. He had become kind and caring, in his own way. He was still vain and could not for the life of him stop that sarcastic little tongue of his – but his actions showed he cared about the new life he had built with Tav. He cared about, at the very least, not making things worse when he ventured out into the world. Which was saying a lot, for a vampire. Exhausted, they shed their armours. “Tsk”, Tav tutted as she lovingly tucked one of Astarion’s beautiful locks behind his ear. “Today’s escapades have left you absolutely filthy.” Astarion turned around and began to walk towards their washroom, stretching like a cat as he glanced over his shoulder back at Tav. “Well,” he said with a grin. “I suppose we’ll need to do something about that, darling.” They bathed together and Tav allowed herself to be lost in how much she had come to love this silly man before her. Every day, he seemed more beautiful than the last, and every which way she thought of the person he was, she grew fonder of him. Once clean and dried off, he led them down to their basement bedroom, knowing full well what Tav wanted. She kissed him hungrily and he answered expertly as always. Tav was quickly getting lost in Astarion and all they were sharing, and it was one of the best feelings in the world. Astarion gently pushed her to lie down, and she obliged. Panting, she felt Astarion gently parting her legs, and she opened her eyes to look at what was coming next – only to have her heart sink. There it was again. That thousand yard stare of his. She barely even noticed how masterfully he was caressing her legs and in between to bring her pleasure. She couldn’t really even feel it. Not anymore. The moment was ruined because he wasn’t… present. “Stop”, Tav whispered. 

Astarion looked up, almost as if in a daze. “What?” Tav pulled her legs close to herself, hugging her own knees. She shook her head. “I can’t do this anymore, Astarion.” She looked at him, her face full of sorrow.

“I – what happened? Did I do something wrong?” He looked so scared. Confused. Astarion didn’t understand – he knew he was good, he had done this so many times to her, and countless others. So why was Tav crying?

“I just...” Tav came to sit next to Astarion, and held his hand. Gave it an affirming squeeze. The look he gave her was bewildered. For a while, they sat there awkwardly in silence, holding hands. Finally, Tav let out a shaky sigh.

“Astarion. What am I to you?”

“I’ve told you – you’re the first person I truly care for.”

Tav turned to look at Astarion. “So why -” she took a calming breath of air before finishing her sentence, “why do you have sex with me as if I’m one of your victims?”

“What?”

Tav got up and walked around their room in circles. She waved her hands around as she spoke. “Every time, save maybe the one time by your grave, when you and I are intimate, you’re miles away. You’re not here. You shut down emotionally and just… put your heart and soul somewhere else.” Tav stopped pacing and faced Astarion. “Am I someone you need to forget?”

“Of course not!” Astarion looked like a deer in headlights.

Tav pressed on. “Then why do you perform like this is a duty where you try to be as little a part of it as you can?”

Astarion was beginning to panic, and he wasn’t sure why. “I don’t – you’ve been happy with it so far, haven’t you? What’s changed?” He found safety in being annoyed. “Why is this a problem now?” He spat out.

He was ready to fight. To argue. To even woo her over with his skills and give her what her body obviously craved to make this irritating conversation go away – but he was not ready for how he saw Tav deflate in front of him, and weep silently. With each tear she shed, the anger he was using to hide behind was fading. He was so lost, and afraid. They were silent for a while again, both too afraid to utter the next thing, in case it was the one thing that would sunder them.

“What’s changed?” Tav echoed silently. She quietly walked back to Astarion, and caressed his cheek. She let her hand wander through his white hair, down his neck and to his shoulder. She softly pulled him into a hug. “I love you more than I love myself” she whispered in his ear. She pulled away to look at him again. “And I cannot bear the thought of making you please me. I am not your maker. I am not your owner – I had hoped I was your equal. Your lover”, she finished with a sad smile.

Astarion stammered. “Y-you are!”

“Then where do you go, when we make love? Why do you go, and leave me here alone?”

He wanted to deny it. He wanted to never have this talk. It was too difficult – he just wanted to forget, and enjoy himself. Everything had been so wonderful, so why did she have to bring this up? Why couldn’t this stay buried, like so much of his past? He found himself breathing hard, like he was about to either take a swing at Tav, or run off. Yet she still stood in front of him, waiting. What could he say? What did she want to hear? While rare, Astarion found himself at a loss for words. He couldn’t make out what he felt, he felt too many things – anger, fear, he felt vulnerable, weak… exposed. He settled on making an irritated noise and to look away from Tav. It was all he could muster.

“I love you”, Tav repeated. “And I can’t do this when it feels like you’re still letting yourself be used.” She put on a robe and walked towards the door, stealing one last tearful glance at her vampire companion. “It hurts us both when you do.” And with that, she left.

[animentality]

Re Gortash’s parents: you ever think about the fact that in all the years since he’s been free of the hells- a couple of decades, likely- he hasn’t killed them? He hasn’t used his connections to ruin their business? Didn’t ask or let slip to Durge that no one would miss them, certainly not any children these poor cobblers might have had? I find it so interesting. For all we know, he’s had contact with them in the interim, maybe hoping against hope that they’d finally see him as worthy of love. And when they never did… well. That’s what the tadpoles were for.

I actually think that he didn't visit them until he had the tadpoles and the absolute plan.

They act as though he just showed up one day, after years of simply being gone, and tadpoled them, and that makes a lot of sense, actually.

Because consider this:

As a kid, your parents are your entire world. They shape literally everything about you, whether you become exactly like them or act out deliberately to be their total opposite.

They shape your world view and how you see men and women and relationships. They teach you how to react to pain, they teach you what pain is, and how to fix it, they teach you patience, they teach you understanding.

Or not.

So my theory is that Gortash never bothered his parents until he got the tadpoles for two reasons.

1) the pain he must've felt after being sold, and after years of being tortured by Raphael, was too great for him to bear revisiting. We know from how he talks to Karlach that he minimizes and condescends and pretends that being enslaved doesn't hurt, isn't a betrayal, isn't an awful thing.

Why do you call it awful? I was enslaved once. I didn't care.

His parents taught him early on, and it was reinforced by a devil who literally bargains with souls, that people are just bargaining chips.

They're tools, to be used and traded and discarded when they're no longer useful.

So why would he go back to his parents, even if it was to ruin their lives?

Because that would be admitting that they hurt him. That would be admitting he needed closure.

A strong man doesn't need to visit his parents and ask why they didn't want him.

And 2)

He is a fucking liar. We know he's a liar.

If he truly didn't care, he wouldn't have tadpoled his parents. He wouldn't be tormenting his mother, by forcing her to pretend that she'd never sell her son to a devil. He wouldn't have erased his father completely.

There is no reason at all to tadpole a couple of fucking cobblers.

But he's holding onto it, and like any megalomaniacal man child with parental issues, he's pushing it down and pretending he doesn't care, when it still hurts.

And that's why I don't think he visited them until he had tadpoles to use on them.

Part of him wouldn't want to re-live his past. Part of him would be terrified of being helpless again.

Of feeling powerless.

Abusive and neglectful parents often fill their children with terror.

Even as adults, abused children still remember that fear. It's settled deep within their guts, and they feel a flicker of it every time a partner raises their voice or a friend screams at them.

Gortash didn't visit his parents because he needed to feel powerful first.

He needed to know he could go back, and not become Enver, that sniveling little boy who used to cry every night in the hells for his mom and dad, who were the only reason he was ever there in the first place.

He needed to be Lord Gortash.

Chosen of Bane.

And...he needed the tadpoles.

He needed to make his parents helpless.

So that he wouldn't feel that way, ever again.

So they say empty platitudes. Truthfully, I don't know if he cares about impressing them anymore.

To me, it's more about...eliminating all traces of Enver Flymm from the world.

Letting that little boy die in the hells...

So in short, anon...no, I don't think he visited them ever.

Not until he had the means to keep them totally helpless.

I also doubt the dark urge ever knew about them, until they tadpoled them, maybe.

Because why would Enver want the dark urge to ever know that there was a time when he was not the Chosen of Bane, the mighty tyrant, the equal of the Child of Murder?

Enver wouldn't just be embarrassed. He'd despise the Dark Urge seeing him that way.

He refuses to look weak or tolerate weakness.

That includes his own.

[astarionslittlejuicebox]

A Little Confession (Part 1)

Author: @astarionslittlejuicebox

Imagine: Astarion has a confession for the reader, but is she ready for what he has to say? 

Pairing: Astarion x F!Durge!Reader

Trigger warnings: minor spoilers (Act 2), suggestive themes, language, mention of slavery, mention of manipulation 

Word Count: 932

Can we talk later? Astarion’s words echoed through (TAV’s name)’s head as she sat around the campfire with everyone that night at camp. Her heartbeat had increased slightly with increased anxiety as she wondered what the pale elf needed to talk about.

Had I done something wrong? She thought. Does he not want me anymore? Another voice said in the back of her mind. Shadowheart and Karlach kept sharing worried expressions as they took notice of (TAV’s name)’s unusual silence around the camp. Her usual chipper attitude was replaced with a much quieter version of their companion. The camp also noticed that a certain fanged companion of theirs was also absent from the campfire. No one decided to address the issue, and everyone went to their tents with a shared look of concern as they all said goodnight.

(TAV’s name) could feel her heart beating in her throat as she sat in her tent, and she tried to forcefully swallow it down as she stood up to walk to the pale elf’s tent. She focused on her breathing as she walked across camp to the familiar tent where the scent of rosemary and finely aged brandy lingered in the air. The (TAV’s race) tried to plant a small smile upon her lips as she reached Astarion’s tent. Upon hearing her soft footsteps approach, the pale elf himself swallowed and pulled back his tent flap. He noticed the fake smile on her face, and he felt his heartbreak a little. Astarion was just as nervous as she felt, if not more. 

“I’m glad you came.” He said softly. “Come in.” 

“Of course.” (TAV’s name) spoke softly then walked inside the elf’s tent. “Is something wrong?” She asked once Astarion let the tent flap fall back down. He bit his lip before he turned around to look at the (TAV’s eye color) eye that he had fallen in love with. He didn’t want to tell her this, but he knew that if they stood any chance at something real he needed to tell her this. Did that make this any easier on him? No, but the vampire spawn knew that (TAV’s name) was unlike anyone he’d ever known. Astarion looked down at the ground before he looked up at (TAV’s eye color) eyes. 

“I have a confession to make.” The look of concern in her eyes made Astarion feel even more awful about what he had to say.

“Oh, yes, I’m fine. I just…” The vampire spawn sighed. “…feel awful.” (TAV’s name)’s eyebrow raised on its own accord.

“Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan—seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. It was easy—instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was not fall for you.” (TAV’s name)’s eyes softened with a bit of hurt as Astarion spoke, but he had to continue his confession. “Which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart.”

“You—you’re incredible.” His voice was soft and full of emotion. “You deserve something real.” “(TAV’s name)’s (TAV’s eye color) eyes looked at the vampire spawn with so many emotions he couldn’t place a name to. “I want us to be something real.”

“So, the nights we spent together didn’t mean anything?” The hurt in (TAV’s race)’s voice broke the dead organ in the vampire spawn’s chest.

“Of course they did—that’s the problem! Or part of it.” He looked down before he looked back at (TAV’s name). “Being close to someone—any kind of intimacy—was something I performed to lure people back for that wretched vampire.” 

“Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels…tainted. It still brings up these feelings of disgust and self-loathing.” Astarion’s face twisted in sadness. “I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to.” (TAV’s name) looked at him with soft, caring eyes.

“I care about you deeply.” Her words were softly spoken, but Astarion’s keen elf ears heard her.

“Really?” He whispered in surprise. (TAV’s race) stepped close to him and wrapped her slender arms around him. Astarion’s face showed the shock he felt as his arms stayed in the air beside him. As (TAV’s name)‘a arms tightened around him and she snuggled into the vampire spawn’s chest, Astarion slowly wrapped his arms around her. He could smell the sweet vanilla scent that wafted from her, and he rested his head against hers.

This is nice. The vampire thought to himself. As (TAV’s name) pulled away, Astarion couldn’t help but smile at the (TAV’s race).

“You…you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” A smile graced his lips. “Honestly, I have no idea what we’re doing or what comes next,” Astarion held out his hand, and (TAV’s name) placed her small delicate hand in his hand. “But I know this? This is nice.” He placed his hand over hers, and she gave him the warmest smile.

“Just tell me whatever it is that we need to do, or not do, to make you more comfortable with this. I promise you that I’m not going anywhere, and I’m going to be right by your side through it all.” Astarion swore he could see the love in her eyes, and he could almost feel his heartbeat at her words.

“I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.” He said with a genuine smile. For the first time in forever, Astarion didn’t have to fake his words or actions—he could just be.