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senualothbrok · 27 days ago

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A Tight Fit

Summary: You and Gale are trapped in a locked room, with no space to move. Inspired by @daisyofwaterdeep 's juicy post which I just couldn't resist writing about.

Set early in Act 1, before the tiefling party. Featuring matchmaker Karlach and chaos gremlin Astarion.

Disclaimers: 18+. Mildly smutty. Gale x female Tav/reader.

Word count: 1k

AO3 link

*****

“Well, this is a tight fit, isn't it.”

Crushed between the wall and Gale's heaving frame, you cannot avoid his warm breath on your cheek. You speak into his beard, desperate for space.

“Serves me right, for wandering straight through every door I see.”

Gale's chest is flush against yours. His arms flinch in an awkward attempt to avoid your waist and rear. Your own hands are fatefully sandwiched between your bodies. You curl them into yourself, trying frantically to ignore the groove of his groin.

It is not that you have not imagined how it would feel. In the darkness, you have wondered about the taste of Gale's touch, the lilt of those lithe fingers. But only for fleeting moments, sheepish and stolen. You are almost strangers, after all, fledgling friends. And never beyond your wildest dreams would you have imagined this, much less wished for it.

“Your curiosity is one of your most a-door-able traits.” You can feel his smirk on your skin. “One might even say it's the key to your success.

Your groan is muffled amongst his hair. “I'm glad to see being trapped in a coffin with me brings out your comedic genius.”

“Just getting a handle on the situation.”

Despite the levity, each word of his seems more choked. His ribs jostle against yours. You are surprised by the lean edges of his frame, the force of muscle beneath his robe. As if he senses your attention, he swallows, his eyes darting around you in a frenzy.

You grunt as you manage to wrench one hand free, only to realise in horror that it is cupping the curve of his ass. You cannot help but notice how firm it is. How full. When he jerks at the contact, his leg wedges between yours. Your hand dangles ominously below his hipbone.

“Sorry!” He fumbles, his features twisting. “Sorry. Gods, I'm sorry–”

“Karlach?” you cry. “Astarion? Are you out there?”

The responding thump on the door rocks the entire room. Gale's thigh spasms into yours. He winces sharply.

“Can you get us out please?” Gale blurts. “Now?”

“Hang on, soldiers.” Karlach sounds annoyingly relaxed, even chipper. “The door locked behind you, and we don't have the key. We can't break it down either, tough bastard.”

“Oh look.” The glee in Astarion’s voice is undeniable. “We've run out of lockpicks. Best go hunt for some more.”

You try and fail to punch the door. A flush has spread from Gale's neck to his cheeks. His blushed earlobe hovers just before your mouth. You can feel his heat on your skin, the rasp of his stubble.

“Hurry up,” he pleads. “Please.”

Gale clears his throat. As he shifts and fidgets, the taut muscles of his chest rub against your breasts. His juddering breaths are hot against your ear, and you are mortified by the ripple through your core, the peaking of your nipples. He wriggles his leg, trying in vain to move it out of the range of danger. But his knee grinds into you instead. You chew your lip.

“This is simply” – he stammers, his throat bobbing – “This is most– I'm terribly sorry–”

He trails off, burbling incoherently. You have never seen Gale so out of sorts. As you writhe clumsily against each other, sweat beads on his brow. You can smell the bittersweet tang of it, layered within the fog of sandalwood and leather, book dust and soap. You wonder if he feels as dizzy as you do. You no longer think it is from the lack of air in the room.

“I should be sorry,” you manage. “I haven't bathed for a week.”

You were hoping for a chuckle, a break in the stiffness between you. But instead, there is a glimmer on Gale's chest. A faint stain of indigo flashes and then deepens. He is glowing. You stare at his blazing orb scar in alarm.

“Gale…”

Gale is coughing. Sputtering. As he twists, pointlessly seeking escape, you feel an unmistakable hardness against your hand. Your eyes widen. Clasped between your hips and his, jerking your hand away only nestles it further in. Your fingers bear down against his bulge.

Gale's eyelids flutter. He bites his lip.

“Stop moving,” he chokes, pained. “Please stop moving.”

For a moment, you do. Your chests rise and fall against each other’s. Strands of his hair drift over your face as you meet his gaze. His lips are swollen red, parted as he pants.

You are acutely aware of the point of his knee. It surges, ever so slightly, against your cleft. His eyes are dark and desperate, like you have never seen before. You are drunk on the rhythm of his leg, trembling against the pulse of your desire. You stifle a gasp, your nerves unravelling, his breaths catching as you quiver into him. Your fingers move of their own accord, following the thrumming of his need, flickering along his throbbing length.

He moans. You feel it like a wet hot flare through you, his searching mouth lingering over yours.

“Please,” he whispers.

His hardness twitches towards your touch as you grind against each other. He is groaning, grunting, and you can taste the salt and sweetness of his breath as his nose grazes yours and your lips open to his…

You tumble backwards as the door swings open, crashing hard against the ground. You lie there for a while, swollen, dazed. Karlach and Astarion loom above you with triumphant grins.

“Look at you, all flushed and breathless.” Astarion’s fangs flash.

Karlach pulls you up with a flourish. “It's a good job you didn't pass out.” She beams.

Stumbling, burning, you look back into the room. You have a brief glimpse of a tented robe, a guttering purple glow, before Gale lurches away, shutting the door behind him.

“I think he needs a minute,” Astarion chortles.

*******

Read the sequel, A Generous Portion

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littlejuicebox · 11 months ago

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My Sun, My Moon

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x GN!Reader/Tav Summary/Setting: 6 months post BG3 / Part 2 to my other fic Astarion talks in his sleep. Rating/Warnings: PG-13 / In game spoilers / Alludes to sexual encounters / Mentions of past trauma etc / Pretty much all fluff / It’s so sweet it’s going to rot your teeth Word Count: 2.3K Notes: This is 5/5 Days of "Star-mas!"

*takes a bow* Happy Holidays! Hope you all enjoyed!

I'm also entering this into the #BG3HolidayFluffle23 challenge under the prompt "twinkling lights."

Click here to see my master list.

-----

After Astarion’s sleep-talking gave away his little secret, you’d spent nearly every waking moment anticipating the rogue’s proposal. You were horribly, terribly wrong every time, of course. You began to think that perhaps your original assumptions were right, and that an engagement would come much later on. Maybe he wasn’t quite ready. Maybe he was just planning and thinking about the future… the frustratingly distant future. He’d ask the question when he was ready, you reasoned; in his own time and on his own terms. You could respect that.

But then, on the eve of the Netherbrain Battle’s six month anniversary, you came home to a dinner that Astarion had cooked (almost) entirely himself. Candles were lit, table settings were placed, and your lover chose an expensive wine pairing for the meal. His steak was, of course, entirely raw while yours was seasoned and cooked to perfection. You were certain you had Shadowheart to thank for your half of the meal, but you’d complimented your lover and all his efforts, nonetheless. At the end of dinner, you were quite confident that this would be the moment you’d been waiting weeks for.

“I have something to say.” Astarion murmured, lithe fingers rubbing circles on the back of your hand as he clasped it in his own.

You practically felt your soul leave your body in that moment. Oh gods, you knew what your answer would be, you knew this was coming, and yet here it was, and you were still wholly unprepared. You barely fumbled out a, “Y-yes, my love? What is it?”

“I read your mail.” Astarion responded, his eyes flooding full of guilt at the confession. He expelled a small sigh, flicking his gaze up at the ceiling and then back down to you. “Darling, I know we have been discussing this for months, but I really don’t think we should go to the Underdark. You’re getting so many outstanding offers that require you to remain in the city. You’re the hero of Baldur’s Gate, for god’s sakes. I know you want me to be safe from the sun… but I can’t, in good conscience, do that to you and rip you away from so many wonderful opportunities.”

“O-oh…” Your chest deflates and you catch yourself frowning for just a moment. Astarion’s brow furrows as he incorrectly interprets the cause of your sudden mood shift to be the current conversation and not the crushing disappointment you were trying to shove aside. You quickly try to move into a more neutral expression, but the rogue is already jumping into another worried explanation.

“Darling... Please hear me. I love you more than anything, and I know you better than anyone. You will not be truly happy there, of that much I am absolutely certain. These offers you’re receiving will give you multiple avenues to build the life you want…. the life we want. Imagine the good you could do with that level of influence, my love! Let me help you; I can review contracts, negotiate deals… whatever you need to ensure your success. Do not throw away so much potential on my account. I simply couldn’t live with myself if you did.”

He was right, of course. The only thing you wanted almost as much as you wanted Astarion was to continue the good work you two had been doing for Baldur’s Gate.

You sigh and nod your head, squeezing his hand gently. “You’re right, my love. I suppose it would be silly for both of us to throw away so much opportunity.”

Astarion beamed at your response before leaning over the table to plant a kiss on your lips. You smiled at the rogue when he pulled away to look at you with adoring crimson eyes. Perhaps it hadn’t been the conversation you were hoping for, but it had been a good and much needed one, nonetheless.

-----

Tonight, you and Astarion decided to take a stroll around the city. You were following the vampire’s lead, ambling around the streets as he pointed out more than a few of his old haunts. He revealed some of the difficult moments in his past as you two meandered about… more than one of the tales nearly made you cry with an overwhelm of sympathy for your lover. But you held back, knowing the elf hated eyes full of pity almost as much as he’d hated Cazador.

You noted that Astarion seemed to look back on his experience with more acceptance now. You knew, of course, that there were likely an infinite number of stories he had not yet revealed to you and perhaps never would. But you were still happy to see a bit of lightness in him as he spoke his truth. He hadn’t appeared to have one of his episodes on the entire walk, and as you pondered this, you also realized his night terrors had only occurred a handful of times this month. Such an improvement to what had been an almost daily incidence when you two originally moved in together.

Before long, you and your love arrived at the docks, where just over six months ago you’d felt as if you’d been stabbed in the gut as you watched the rays of sunlight scorch the vampire until he was forced to run for cover. But now, you two stood there hand in hand, resting in a pocket of comfortable silence. Both of you were admiring the twinkling starlight, full moon, and dark, mysterious expanse of the sea.

“The stars were so much more beautiful in the wilds… don’t you think, my sweet?” Astarion asks, his eyes filled with wistfulness as he ponders the sky.

You utter a little hum of agreement as your mind flashes to the first night in camp, when you caught Astarion reclined on his bedroll, stargazing. You turned your head to look at the rogue and remind him of the memory, but found he disappeared from your line of sight. Your vision wanders down and there he is, bent on one knee.

Oh this had to be the moment. Just when you were about to shout yes before the rogue even had a moment to say anything, Astarion looks up and smiles, a small pouch of gold coins in his hand. “Look! I suppose it’s our lucky day, darling. Their loss is our gain, would— are you alright, Tav? You’ve got this strange look on your face.”

Gods, not again. You feel your face flush with embarrassment. In your excitement and overwhelm, you’d almost ruined everything and let Astarion know that you knew his little secret. You made the decision then and there that this would be the last time you anticipated his proposal; let it happen when it’s meant to happen. You were done playing the guessing game. You couldn’t ruin everything with your big fat mouth.

You nod your head slightly before turning to look back at the stars once more, taking a deep breath and hoping to settle yourself.

“Yes, my love. I suppose I’m just thrilled by the beauty of the stars and the full moon, tonight. And by your beauty, of course.”

The rogue stands up, tucking the small sachet in his pocket. He smiles and places a soft, loving peck on the apple of your cheek before wrapping his arm around your waist. The two of you look up at the stars once more, and you spend a few moments pointing out some constellations in the sky. Stargazing had been one of the first things you two bonded over in camp.

Astarion is watching you with devoted interest as you ramble on about the planets and the mythological creatures represented by the patterns in the stars. Finally, there is a small lapse in conversation, and you want to take the opportunity to kiss him, but when you turn, the vampire is once again out of your sight line.

When you look down this time, Astarion is looking up at you, holding a velvet box in shaking hands.

“Tav—" He manages to choke out, but then his eyes fill with tears, and he stops to blink them away, chuckling softly at himself. You immediately come to kneel in front of your love, hands pressed to either side of his face, silently urging him to continue.

The vampire inhales shakily, suddenly quite overwhelmed by the extreme vulnerability he knows he’s about to lay before you. But the softness of your hands on his face grounds him in the moment and he smiles, admiring the look of utter adoration in your eyes.

A couple of tears fall over the edge of his lash line, and you immediately swipe them away with your shaking thumb. Another chuckle escapes the silver-haired elf, and he shakes his head in disbelief.

“My love… I’ve rehearsed this for weeks. I’ve said it all out loud more than a thousand times, I’m sure. I’ve spent almost every opportunity in your absence practicing this. One time I even had Shadowheart pretend to be you while I rehearsed my grand speech. But now that we are here… I’ve nearly forgotten everything I wanted to say.”

You move forward to press a kiss to Astarion’s lips, your hands still shaking as you run your thumb over his cheekbone. “It’s okay, my Star. Please continue, when you’re ready… rehearsed or from the heart… I want to hear it all the same.”

Astarion nods just a fraction and inhales. The shaking hand that is not holding the ring box comes to lay atop your own hand resting on his face. Your love slowly, absently runs his thumb along the back of your palm as he gathers his thoughts. He stares into your eyes with so much love that you almost kiss him again but hold yourself back to allow him to continue.

Astarion exhales a shuddering breath and then continues in a reverent tone, as if he’s whispering a prayer, “My darling. I have lived long life. Much of it was a sad and hopeless one. When we were walking through the city, I pointed out several places where I’d encountered horrible things. Many of those things are still hard to talk about… some of it, I don’t know that I will ever be able to.”

You are crying now, from the overwhelming blend of sympathy for your little Star and palpable feeling of love in this beautiful moment. Tears begin coursing thin streams down your cheeks. Astarion wipes away the tears as they fall, though his lips start trembling from your display of emotion.

“B-but what I do know is that… in many of the places I pointed out, there are also memories of us. Of our friends. Of the time we spent together before saving the city and of the six months we’ve spent here after that. Little by little, we are taking places that only held horrible memories for me and turning them into places that hold feelings of hope and happiness.

I guess what I’m saying is that… these past six months have been the counterweight to two hundred years of misery. And I do not think I deserve you, but I cannot imagine my life without you. You are everywhere I go, everywhere I look, and every happy memory I hold in my heart. If you’ll have me… I would like to spend the rest of our lives, however long they may be, turning this city into a place of hope for us and for the people we hold dear.”

Astarion opens the box, and you gasp in true awe as he reveals possibly the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen. At the center is a beautiful moonstone, emitting an ethereal glow that shines brilliantly in the darkness of the pier. The setting is gold, and an intricate sunburst pattern made in smaller gems surrounds the center stone.

“Standing on the dock that day, after that long battle… I had the thought that my life was ruined when I realized I could no longer stand in the sun. I thought I might never know true happiness again. But it turns out, that was the moment my new life with you began… and you’ve opened the door to more happiness than I could’ve ever imagined for myself.

Even if I never see the sun again, I have made my peace. I would make the choices I made to be here with you, on this dock, in this moment, again and again in every lifetime. You are my sun and my moon. And my darling, it would be my honor to be your Star for the rest of time. Tav… will you marry me?”

As soon as the question comes out of your lover’s lips, you instantly push forward to crash into Astarion, enveloping the elf in an emotional kiss. You both topple over from the sheer force of your ardor, and as you do, the vampire deftly snaps the ring box closed to protect it from spilling out onto the dock.

When you finally break away, panting heavily, both your faces are thoroughly flushed with excitement. The vampire looks up at you, scarlet eyes filled with absolute devotion. You giggle and press one more soft kiss to the rouge before taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to his knuckle. “Yes, Astarion. Nothing in this life would make me happier than to share it with you.”

-----

Later that evening, the two of you are naked in bed after several rounds of vigorous celebration. You’re admiring your ring, which is still faintly glowing in the semi-darkness of your bedchambers. Astarion takes your hand and presses his lips to the ring with a small smile; his scarlet eyes closely examine the gem.

“I don’t know how it works… you would have to ask Gale. But the center stone glows when I think of you, you know.”

You blink, moving to touch the gemstone in the middle of the ring with curiosity. “But it hasn’t stopped glowing since we’ve been on the docks.”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we’ve been on the docks.” Astarion replies simply, moving his hand to stroke your cheek as a gentle, good-natured laugh escapes his mouth, “Perhaps now you’ll have some insight into how often my thoughts revolve around you, my sweet.”

You feel your eyes welling with tears again. Damn this man and his beautiful heart… he truly never misses a detail when it comes to you. You move forward to pull his lips into another loving kiss, and when you break away this time, a thought crosses your mind.

“Astarion… did you really find that bag of coins on the dock?”

Your lover grins mischievously, his crimson eyes crinkling at the corners as he grabs your ring-clad hand and kisses it once more.

“No, my sweet. But I had to throw you off. Shadowheart told me about my mishap. I wanted to surprise you… but you know me far too well and you’ve never been easily fooled… and the sleepy confession didn’t help things at all. I just figured that you would never anticipate that I’d drop down on one knee twice in a row.”

Astarion knew you just as well as you knew him… and he had been right. He’d fooled you. You roll your eyes and chuckle as the rogue moves closer to you, nuzzling into the side of your neck where fresh fang marks throbbed.

“Now what do you say, darling? One more round of celebration before we go to bed?”

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brain-rot-central · 11 months ago

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The Cellar

A/N: I feel like I hit my quota in the smut mines, for this weekend. I left this open so I could eventually make a part two, if it so suits me, heh.

Words: 3.1k CW: 18+, dry humping, Virgin!Tav, masturbation, fingering, dubcon (?? not really sure but I'm gonna put it), sexual themes, pining, Astarion being a little shit Pairing: Astarion x Female!Tav (the reader is Tav) Summary: You and Astarion were looting a particular cellar within the Blighted Village when you happened to brush hands. As brief as the exchange was, it quickly escalated to something more. You can't stop thinking about it, and neither can Astarion. What portal into the Hells have you opened for yourself?

“Hello, my sweet.”

Astarion sought you out from the opposite side of camp, the flap of your tent closing behind him as he entered.

“Oh, Astarion! Hello,” you greet him. You're sitting on the floor of your abode, wiping various kinds of blood and grime from your armor. Thank the Gods you wear a metal breastplate; you couldn't imagine how tough it must be to remove blood once it's soaked into leather.

“You do know that Gale called everyone for dinner not long ago, right?” He tilts his head slightly back toward the direction of the campfire, a clenched fist raising above his shoulders. The thumb of his hand echoes his head, also pointed toward the middle of camp.

You place the armor and handkerchief off to your side, standing up. “Oh, yes, I did happen to hear him.” You cast your eyes to the floor and let out a brief chuckle, patting your hands over your lap to brush off some dirt. “I guess I just got carried away!” Your eyes move from the floor and up to Astarion's face, and you can see it immediately spelled out on his expression.

You're bullshiting him, and he knows it.

With his head still tilted to the side, he furrows his brows together. His eyes draw into narrow slits, and the corner of his mouth turns upward into a smile.

Truth be told, you were thinking about him.

You'd removed most of the blood on your breastplate hours ago. Though, your mind drifted to thoughts about your vampiric companion.

His fingers have brushed up against yours a few times on your adventure, mostly when you were both looting an old residence you'd come upon. You'd place your hand on a particular item, only to feel Astarion's hand covering your own from the opposite side of the shelf. You mindlessly began scrubbing every nook and cranny on your armor as you imagined his long, lithe fingers ghosting over your own.

~~~

A chill shoots down your spine at the sensation and you instinctively pull your hand back, a small startled yelp leaving your mouth.

“My apologies, darling. Didn't see you there!” Astarion calls from behind the shelf. He steps around the corner of the shelf, quickly enough to see you shaking off your hand.

“I-It’s quite alright, Astarion,” you stammer. An unsettling warmth radiates over your body, and you realize that his eyes are fixated on you.

But, something is different about this look.

He looks… hungry.

His eyelids have dropped and he's stepping closer, closer, until his cologne tickles the underside of your nose.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice dripping with honey. “You look rather distressed.”

You briefly scan the room around you, only to realize that yourself and Astarion are the only occupants. Your breath catches in your throat as he clasps a hand over one of yours, bringing your hand to his mouth.

His eyes drift closed and he kisses the inside of your hand, interlocking his fingers between your own. He begins trailing kisses down your palm and to the inside of your wrist.

“Astarion, wha-” you manage to choke out before he cuts you off.

“I know you think of me, Tavaria.” Astarion's voice is a growl, low and throaty. He steps before you, his chest mere centimeters from yours.

“I see it in the way you stare.” He takes both of your arms, fingers skating gently over your forearms before sinking into the skin, and guides them to wrap around his neck. “Oh, so eagerly.”

~~~

“Of course, I'm sure you did,” Astarion says, his voice cutting you free from your thoughts. He's still smiling, as if he knew exactly where your mind had just been.

“Anyhow,” he continues, “I'll be out there mingling amongst the others. Do be sure to eat while it's still warm, hmm?”

With a wave of a hand, Astarion turns on his heels and walks out of your tent.

You release a sigh you didn't know you were holding as the flap to your dwelling draws closed again.

You haven’t yet told him you were a virgin. The chance hasn't come up naturally yet, though it almost did that night in the cellar.

Again, your mind drifts.

~~~

You gasp as his hands come to hold each side of your waist. He grinds his pelvis into yours, and you feel it through the layers of your clothing, nudging against your mound.

That's him.

The pressure of the lewd contact against your front sends a delicious wave of electricity down to your core. Your cunt throbs with each rut of his hips into yours and your mouth falls open in a silent cry. Your hands fall to grasp his biceps, needing something, anything, to help ground you in this moment.

Astarion drops his head to your ear, nipping softly at your earlobe. “Does our ‘illustrious leader’ touch herself while alone in her tent, as she thinks of me?”

You groan and collapse slightly into his grasp, wetness gathering at the apex of your thighs. This fucking bastard. How did he know? Did he overhear you at night?

…Did he stay up just to listen?

~~~

The thought sends your mind reeling all over again. You shake your head vigorously, hoping to rid yourself of the memory and the newly-formed blush across your cheeks.

He would have fucked you, right then and there. Would have happily taken you on the dirt floor of some musty old cellar. Probably would have shoved your face down into the dirt as he mercilessly plowed into you from behind, stuffing your cunt to the brim with his seed as he roared through his climax.

He would have never known that was your first time.

The thought excites you more than you'd ever care to admit.

Whatever you lacked in experience, you made up for in knowledge. You knew what you liked, and what lines you were hard pressed to cross. You were learned in the topic sex, knew of erogenous zones for humans and elves alike. You weren't quite sure if your hand felt as good as Astarion's cock would, but you made due. It was a worthy substitute, for now.

Your mind did indeed travel often to visions of the pale elf. You dreamed of your lips interlocked in a slow, tender kiss. You envisioned his hands traveling up and down the expanse of your back, coming to settle on the swell of your ass.

But mostly… you think of the cellar.

~~~

You groan through clenched teeth as his fingers pump languidly into your core. You can hear how wet you are, how much of a mess he has made of your body. You've never been touched like this before; it's better than anything you could have imagined.

Astarion's fingers curl into a “come hither” motion within you and you careen, back arching and your mouth falling open in a ragged scream. The palm of his hand grinds against your clit, and you swear you're going to die.

You swear he's trying to kill you, swear he's doing this so he can drink every last drop of your blood without consequence.

He begins to move his fingers in earnest and it's too much, too much too soon, your body has never known pleasure like this.

“Astarion-!” you call his name, your voice a panicked whisper. Suddenly, you shatter. Your vision bleeds into solid white as tremors overtake your body. Your hands seek purchase on his forearms, your nails digging deep enough to pierce his skin.

“That's it, little girl,” he coos into your ear. “You’re doing so well for me.” His fingers continue their assault against that particular spot inside you and you whine, dropping your head onto his shoulder. It's too much, you're too sensitive.

Your chest heaves, sucking in deep breaths as Astarion finally removes his fingers from your aching hole. A pitiful sob escapes you at the lost sensation of being filled. He chuckles darkly and takes his hand, the one that had just brought you to the peak of pleasure, and shoves it down the front of his trousers to adjust and squeeze his straining cock into a better position. Astarion lets out a soft groan as his length rests up against his abdomen, pulling his hand free from his leathers.

You finally find strength enough to lift yourself straight into a standing position, bracing your hands on his shoulders for leverage. You look up and do your best to focus on his face, watching as he sucks the two fingers he just had in your cunt, and on his cock, into his mouth. They're sure to have tasted of you and him, at this point.

“Absolutely exquisite, my darling. Truly the nectar of the most forbidden fruit,” he states with a sultry tone.

Half-lidded eyes were transfixed on yours and you suck in a shaky breath. You follow his tongue as it weaves around and between each of his digits, cleaning them diligently.

~~~

You raise both hands to your face, digging the heels of your palms into your eyeballs.

This fucking bastard.

He knew what he was doing. And by the Gods, did he do it well.

“It's all a bit of fun, my dear,” he told you after your encounter. Just two, beautiful people staring down the end of their lives together. Why not go out with a bang?

Your nose catches a faint waft of Astarion’s signature cologne, reminding you he had been in your tent mere moments ago.

“Probably best I go and grab supper,” you say to yourself. Not that you'd mind Astarion returning to your tent again, but you weren't necessarily prepared for the possibility of things… escalating.

You draw in a deep breath and cross the threshold of your tent. You're greeted by sounds of laughter coming from around the campfire. Wyll seems to be telling an entertaining story, based on Karlach wiping tears of joy from her eyes. Shadowheart watches as she sips from her goblet, Gale looking attentively at Wyll as he speaks.

Lae’zel has taken her dinner back to her tent, taking small bites in between the sharpening of her blade on the grindstone. Some might call it unsettling, but you feel a sense of calm and safety knowing she is always prepared to strike within a moment's notice.

Astarion is seated on the end of the wooden bench, a tome in hand as he laughs in response to Wyll’s story. You see a purple aura emanating from Astarion's lap, and you recognize the book he's holding to be the very one you found that same day in the cellar.

The Necromancy of Thay.

You'd taken down a Spider Queen and her clutch in order to obtain the purple oval gemstone placed in mouth on the book’s cover. It pulsed a brilliant violet light in Astarion's lap, his fingers slowly tracing each line of text within the pages of the tome.

You weren't quite sure why Astarion was interested in this book, but you let him have it. “That looks awfully heavy,” he had told you. “Why don't you let me carry it for you?”

You didn't know much about Astarion yet, but you knew that he was never quite pleased with the hand life had dealt him. Perhaps he was seeking answers to cure his vampirism, or hoping to find a weakness to exploit against his old master, Cazador. Whatever his motivation was, his eyes were glued to each page of the book, making sure to absorb each shred of information it had to offer.

“Good evening, everyone,” you say, picking up a bowl from around the edge of the campfire. You ladle some stew into your bowl, pleased to see that it's boar meat this time as opposed to rabbit.

Your companions nod and wave in your direction in acknowledgement of your presence. You hear slight murmurs as they resume their prior conversation.

“I figured I'd bring back a fresh kill for you all to enjoy,” Astarion spoke up, lifting his eyes momentarily from his book. “Why waste perfectly good meat?”

Gale clears his throat. “An excellent contribution to our feast, Astarion. We're most pleased by your generosity,” Gale says as he shovels his last spoonful of stew into his mouth.

“I’ll admit, it was the most flavorful boar I've had in a while,” Shadowheart adds, taking another small sip of wine, “though I'm unsure if it's due to hunger, or the meat being fully exsanguinated prior to butchering.”

Astarion rolls his eyes in response, settling them back onto the pages in his lap. “Remind me never to be nice again,” he retorts.

Wyll chuckles. “Oh come now, Astarion. We truly appreciate you sharing with us. You could have left the carcass to rot, but no! You were thoughtful enough to consider your fellow companions.” Wyll clenches a fist and brings it over his heart, dipping his head to the floor. “We thank you for your generosity.”

Astarion scoffs audibly as he turns a page, his face scrunching up in disgust.

“It was merely a matter of convenience that Astarion brought the boar back to camp,” Lae’zel suggests, coming to drop her bowl in the wash bin next to the fire. “Had Astarion not required blood, we'd be feasting once more on the lean, pathetic meat of a field rabbit.”

Astarion’s head lifts up from the book in his lap, his arm extending toward Lae’zel’s direction. “Finally, someone who truly understands!” he exclaims, voice jovial. “Thank you, Lae’zel. I always knew you were smarter than you looked.”

Lae’zel groans in response and returns to her tent, grabbing a cloth to polish her armor. A brief moment of silence spreads over the camp, the firewood crackling and hissing into the night air.

Karlach places her bowl on the floor between her feet and looks toward Astarion. “Hey, Fangs,” she says, “what's the book you got there?”

Astarion softly closes the book on his lap and holds it up with both hands, as if displaying it for the others to view. “Oh, this old thing? Just something Tav and I found while looting a residence in the Blighted Village.”

You watch as his eyes dip low, settling on you. “It was located in a cellar, along with some other most delightful trinkets.”

You swallow thickly around the innuendo, somewhat startled, nearly choking on a chunk of boar. You audibly clear your throat, casting your eyes downward at the bowl resting on your thighs. You feel your cheeks begin to burn and you dare not return Astarion's gaze. You mindlessly begin spooning your stew.

You'd read of vampires having the ability to charm their victims, particularly those who are of the young, innocent, female variety. Astarion had told you he was simply a spawn, lacking the powers and abilities of a vampire lord. Though, you didn't believe it. How else could he have lured so many people back to Cazador? They'd surely fallen under his thrall… to some degree.

Astarion is a portrait frozen in time, turned at the peak of his physical maturity. He has hard, chiseled muscle covering the entire expanse of his body. His face is cut sharply, as if carved out of diamonds. His cheekbones sit high and his nose is strong and prominent, the slightest bump seen right below the bridge. His jawline is well defined, drawing together into the soft cleft of his chin. Soft silver curls envelope his face in a halo, and he truly looks god-like when the evening sun shines over him just right.

A forever young, devastatingly handsome vampire, destined to walk Faerûn for all of eternity.

“Huh,” Karlach spoke up, breaking your mind free from the confines of your latest rabbit hole. “Well, what's it about?” Her questions were innocent enough, bless her Hellfire engine of a heart.

“It's a book of the dead,” Astarion explains. “I'm hoping to gain some particular knowledge from it.”

Both Gale and Wyll chime in together, almost in unison. “I don't think that's a good idea,” they say in near synchronicity.

Astarion's face scrunches into a scowl as he rises from his seat on the log. “Well, good thing it isn't either of you reading this tome.” He gestures toward you as you spoon another mouthful of stew past your lips. “Tav was gracious enough to share it with me. I think you all should have a bit more faith in our exalted leader.” His voice is positively saturated in sarcasm.

Shadowheart scoffs, crossing her legs. “You always somehow manage to deflect everything onto another, don't you, Astarion?”

With a wave of his hand, Astarion begins to turn on his heels and walk back toward the direction of his tent. “This conversation has outgrown its purpose,” he replies. “And for that reason, I shall retire for the evening.”

He suddenly turns back around, eyes again meeting your own. “But before I go,” he states, raising his free arm above his side. He dips his head in a gentle bow, crossing that same arm over his chest. “Please, let me know if you'd care for a detailed report of all I've learned, thus far.”

Your eyes widen and heat creeps up your neck once more. The bastard is really doing this in the middle of camp? In front of everyone?

“Goodnight, my dear,” he says in a hushed tone. You catch his mouth turning upward into a devious smile, and he once again turns his back to you and continues his path toward his tent.

“Go-goodnight, Astarion,” you manage to choke out. “Thank you a-again for the boar.” He waves a hand in acknowledgement before retreating into the safety of his tent.

“So, Astarion is trying to teach himself the secrets of Necromancy, is he?” Gale says, hand rubbing over the tip of his chin. “Out of all the magicks of the Weave, Necromancy is one that is strictly forbidden.”

The conversation drifts into Gale giving an explanation of Mystra rejecting the practice of Necromancy for her followers. The rest of camp seems drawn to his story, though your eyes are fixated on the red fabric of Astarion's tent across camp.

Was he giving you an invitation to join him later tonight?

A shiver passes over you at the thought, and you deposit your bowl into the wash bin near the edge of the campfire. You stand and nod gently toward your companions, ushering well wishes of good sleep and pleasant dreams to each. They return the favor, and you begin to walk back toward the direction of your own tent.

Perhaps you'd pay Astarion a visit later, after everyone has settled in for the night. It seems as though he’s awfully eager to show you something.

Yes, you think you will pay him a visit. You just have to wait until the camp quells for the night… which you hope doesn't take much longer.

#astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion smut #astarion ancunin #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #fanfiction #bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x you #astarion fanfic

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darcydarlingdabbles · 6 months ago

Text

You are Safe - Deepest Desires

//One shot of Deepest Desires - Astarion Drabble. Very fluffy/comforting smut with many feelings. Not edited... Song Rec: Light by Sleeping at Last//

Explicit, Astarion x f!Tav, post cannon, 2.2k

cw: coping with sex/intimacy issues & allusions to Astarion's past

Astarion Ancunin was a sight to behold in any light.

The moon might make him look like some ethereally wicked beauty, but Tav much preferred the golden glow they were bathed in now.

She sank into the plush leather sofa near the crackling hearth, cradling a cup of mulled wine. The spiced aroma chased away the chill of the night fallen outside the inn as her eyes drew lazily over the trophies adoring the walls—swords, shields, mounted heads of beasts. Theirs was just another story to add to the collection.

Tav might be warmer still, without the vampire stretched out languidly beside her, but she would not give up the comfort of his closeness for the world.

“You know, I still don’t like being the hero. It is beyond tedium. ”

Astarion mused over the rim of his cup, as if he could detect her thoughts and had to refute them.

“That so? You play the part so well.” Tav quipped back lovingly.

“Well, I suppose I do enjoy all of the fawning adulation.” Astarion mused. “And the gold, of course.”

Tav shook her head fondly. She’d let him maintain the charade as long as he liked; she had already seen under the mask. He sent a smirk her way, his ruby eyes glinting with the firelight. Distracting her from the way he was balancing his goblet on its very edge, one of his dexterous fingers on lip of the drink, tilting further and further as if he dared the wine inside to spill.

Or he was simply teasing Tav with the threat of it.

“Beggin’ your pardon,” The inn keeper, a matronly half-orc with a smile around her tusks approached them. “Finest room we have is ready for ya, token of our gratitude for dealin’ with our Worg problem.”

“Thank you, Gerda, that’s too kind of you.” Tav said graciously. “We’re happy we could help.”

She shot her companion a glance, but he was intently finishing his wine with only a raise of his eyebrows.

She felt Astarion’s eyes on her as she conversed cordially with the inn keeper, his gaze as tangible as a caress along her cheek. Tav knew the warmth of that look. Little flickering moments of unguarded affection more sincere than any pretty picture his words could paint.

The only recognition Tav gave was the smile at the corner of her lips. Because that was the game they played. Sparing his pride until the rest of the world faded away.

This. This was everything she fought for. These quiet nights brighter than any flames.

…

Soon they retreated to the comfort of their room after a long day. Astarion led her up the stairs, silently twining their fingers together. Tav knew it was another gesture she wasn’t supposed to linger on, but if he kept this up, the dam would burst sooner rather than later.

He pushed the door to their chambers open with an overly theatrical flourish. “Not quite fit for a king…but I suppose it will do.”

Tav rolled her eyes, stepping past him to take in a very comfortable room that was downright luxurious in its details. Plush carpet, dark wood walls, and a canopied bed piled with silken sheets and pillows.

“After sleeping in bedrools on the hard ground,” Tav put her hands on her hips, a smile on her lips with her tone placating him. “I think it will suffice.”

Astarion came up behind her then, his cool breath ghosting over her ear as he murmured. “Then it is a shame you will not have the time to admire the finer details.”

In the second of warning he gave, Tav knew well he could hear every uptick of her heart.

Astarion had her spun around, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss. Tav’s back hit the wall with a soft thud, her lover’s lithe body pinning her in place as he lifted their still entwined hands above her head.

Those clever fingers hand already snuck under the hem of her tunic, drawing lines over the swell of her hip.

“I have all that I need to admire.” Tav arched to the touch with a sigh as she finally exhaled.

“Such flattery.” Astarion’s smirk was downright sinful, sending heat and want curling through her. Those ruby eyes glinted bright in the soft firelight of the room.

Soon, their packs were dropped to the side, shedding the last trappings of battle with the armor and gore already tucked away. Leaving no more barriors between them as passion sparked in the scant space between them. His nibble fingers made quick work of the laces of her tunic, the fabric falling away to expose her collarbones, and her chest.

Tav lifted her chin, playfully offering her neck, knowing how it thrilled him though he would not bite—not just yet. But Astarion would duck his head to draw his teeth teasingly along the colomn of her throat.

She peered over his white curls. “My love, the door is still—” A sharp kick shut the door, and its lever lock clicked into place. “Thank you.”

Astarion’s scoff tingled against her pulse point. He was far more preoccupied with mapping out the newly exposed skin, like it hadn’t been under his lips a thousand times. As if he wasn’t intimately familiar and once again confident with his ability to drive her mad. As if she didn’t know him just as well.

When he pulled back to rid her of her pesky tunic, she used her chance. Tav’s fingers slid into his silky curls, just brushing her thumbs over the tips of his pointed ears.

That got his attention.

Astarion made a low, pleased sound in the back of his throat, finding her mouth again.

The kisses grew more urgent as Astarion pressed Tav back against the wood-paneled wall, her arms around his shoulders as he used his thigh to part hers.

Easy as could be, like they were dancing together again. Tav took his lead, her leg hooked around his waist before he had to reach for her. Their bodies were brought flush together--letting her feel the hard press of his arousal.

“It would be a shame,” Tav murmured against the vampire’s lips. “Not to make use of the bed, don’t you think? I know how much you do enjoy fine linens.”

Astarion laughed, the sound decadent yet playful. “My darling, the only thing more appealing than being wrapped up in silk, is being wrapped up in you.”

Heat flooded into her cheeks, just like he knew it would. Even now, his lines always worked on her.

Tav reached for the hem of Astarion’s shirt, ridding him of it and letting it join her tunic on the floor. He was already walking her back towards the bed—but it just wasn’t enough to map out the planes of his chest with her fingers, hooking into the waist of his breaches.

“Can I?” Tav lifted her eyes, her mouth already watering.

“You hardly have to ask.” He purred, pecking her lips just once more. “But…I’m glad that you did.”

She always would. Sometimes to his annoyance, but the vampire seemed more than in the mood to humor her sweetness tonight. Astarion freed his cock from his breeches as he sat back on the bed, stroking himself languidly, watching her with bright ruby eyes as she eagerly sank to her knees.

He was so damn gorgeous like this, confident in seeking his pleasure, knowing Tav was more than willing to give.

Her hand curled around his, before she was drawing the tip of him between her lips. She adored the sweet, strangled sound he gave as he relenquished his hold to her, those deft fingers threading into her hair as she swallowed him down.

Tav loved him like this. Loved that she was the one who got to see Astarion this way—wanting and vulnerable and utterly hers.

She poured every ounce of devotion into the slide of her mouth, wanting him to shatter from it. For all pretense to fall away like the filthy praise faltering from his lips, and let her catch him when he fell.

Astarion tensed under her, the muscles in his thighs and the hand in her hair gone ridgid.

Tav pulled back, her eyes seeking his, looking for the glassy sheen to cover his red irises or the distance in his gaze. “You can let go, love.” lacing the reassurance his ego sometimes spurned in a seductive purr. “I want you to.”

Astarion’s scoff was breathier than he intended, she could see it on his face, but the hand in her hair curled around her chin, capturing her jaw as he bent to claim her lips.

“As tempting as that mouth of yours may be…I’d much rather be inside you.”

Her pulse quickened under his hold.

Tav was on her feet, ridding herself of any thing that could get between them. Before straddling Astarion’s lap. Reveling in his groan as he tasted himself on her tongue.

Those damned fingers of his were already delving between her soaked folds, thumbing her clit so perfectly it was maddening in an instant.

“Astarion, please…” Tav breathed against his mouth.

“I know darling.” His grin nipped at her lower lip, fingers sliding into her and curling just so. “No one knows you as I do.”

He was distracting her, and he was so very, very good at it. Tav rocked needily into him, pleasure sparking up her spine. Her fingers clutched into the fine curls at the back of his neck. Trying to ground herself to meet his burning gaze.

“No one loves you as I do.”

Something beautifully yearning moved across his face. The ghost of a longing to be known—and to still be loved. It was all he could never bring himself to ask for, and yet she gave it, freely, whenever she thought he may need it.

The next meeting of their lips was filled with nothing but tenderness, even as he pulled her closer still, breaking only as he filled her completely.

Astarion’s grip tightened on her hips, and Tav understood.

She let him bear her back onto the plush bed, surrendering to his need for control. Her hands fell back to either side of the pillow, as she searched the ethereal beauty of his face above her, assuring herself that he wasn’t lost to the old shadows.

Clear crimson eyes gazed back at her, their only darkness that of desire.

Satisfied, Tav wrapped her legs around Astarion’s waist, urging him deeper inside her. He obliged her with a precise roll of his hips that nearly had stars bursting behind her eyelids.

“That’s it, my love.” Astarion purred, his breath played over her lips as his body moved with hers, sweet and aching, their fingers wound together even as he kept her wrists pinned.

Tav could feel the edge of her bliss tugging at her, the way she clenched desperately around his cock, it was so damn close—

Astarion shuddered above her, tensing on instinct, resisting that final surrender, even now. His old wounds would never go fully away, but she could soothe them when they surfaced. Because she knew him.

“Let go, my love, I have you.”

He did, spilling into her with a choked cry, his hips snapping hard and fast into hers, sending pleasure that arched up her spine until it overwhelmed her.

Spent, still tangled together, collapsed together.

Astarion’s cool skin was a balm against her heated body, when he finally released her hands. Tav’s arms wrapped around him, feeling the faintest of trembling in the raw moments after. He hid his face crook of her shoulder, letting her fingers slide through his curls.

Tav shifted only enough to bare her throat to him, remembering how he teased that she tasted better shortly after their coupling.

Far from a distraction, it was a gesture of the intimate trsut they shared. Astarion only hesitated a moment, before sharp fangs pierced her skin, and Tav relaxed into the familiar heat and sting.

He drank from her, lost in the bliss of her blood. Comforted by the familiarity of it.

When the vampire pulled back, a trickle of red dripped from his grin, and Tav swiped it away with her thumb.

Astarion turned his face into her touch, a kiss pressed into her palm. Before he gathered her into his arms for the rest of the night.

…

Golden sunlight crept across the room as dark became day.

Astarion stayed with his head tucked under Tav’s chin, her heart beat a comforting rhythm against his ear. He stirred only as the warm glow softened his sharp features, and she finally gave in to the urge to trace the contours of his face.

Astarion’s eyes fluttered open, immediately seeking hers. A lazy smirk tugged at his lips as he lifted a hand to caress her cheek in turn, the warmth of the Ring of Daylight around his fourth finger a delicious contrast to his cool skin.

“Looking for a cuddle?” he asked, his tone playful yet tender, echoing their first morning together.

Tav laughed softly, leaning into his touch. “Always,” she replied, her heart swelling with love for this man who had come so far, who had learned to trust and to love despite everything he’d endured.

Their fingers intertwined with the comforting sound of his ring meeting hers. Warmed by the golden light forevermore.

#astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #Astarion smut #Astarion fluf #tav #astarion x reader #bg3 fic #astarion ancunin #astarion x female tav #astarion x reader fluff #astarion x female reader

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fatale-distraction · 10 months ago

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This idea distracted me all day at work so now I graciously share with you

Barcus is sad after breaking his friendship with Wulbren off, so Lithe tries to cheer him up by reminding him of all the friends he still has, like Wyll and Karlach and Halsin. "Those are your friends," he reminds her. It's not the same.

Lithe goes back to camp and gathers everyone together and insists that they make sure Barcus knows they're his friend. Wyll and Karlach are so enthusiastic and on board. Halsin already considers Barcus a friend, but vows to double his efforts. Gale's response is a tad more reserved but no less game. Astarion is pretending to be asleep. Lae'zel just says "chk."

Shadowheart, however, thinks she's fucking funny.

"I'm going to be Barcus' BEST friend," she insists. "I'm going to be a better friend to Barcus than anyone ever. Even better than Karlach. NOBODY is going to be bester friends with Barcus than me."

Lae'zel is suddenly OUTRAGED.

“And what am I, chopped spleen? (here, Shadowheart tries to explain the phrase is "chopped liver", but Lae'zel steamrolls right over her) No, I will not stand for this. I will be Barcus' best friend. I will be such a BEST FRIEND that he won't NEED any other friends. He will be so best friended his head will explode." Shadowheart just winks at Lithe. Out of everyone, Lae'zel is the one Barcus is most afraid of, so when Lithe comes to bring him the great news that Lae'zel intends to be his new best friend forever, all he can say is "why?" in a squeaky little voice. Lae'zel isn't entirely sure what being a best friend in Fay Roon entails. In her culture, she would put him through excruciating training regimens and perhaps compliment his sharp teeth and terrifying visage, but he has neither of those, and would likely expire from the first five minutes of a Githyanki training routine. So she asks Gale what "FRIENDS" do on Faerun, since he is “the most well-educated.” She shows up at Barcus' house half an hour later with a pie to give him advice on his love life, or else. "I have brought you this “PIE,” as I am told it is customary to present one's friends with baked goods as tribute when visiting their homes. I will now give you advice regarding your intimate sexual relationship with Lithe."

“But—“

“Please sit down, this will be extensive.”

#bg3 #lae'zel #bg3 headcanons #barcus wroot #bg3 barcus #Lithe Tav #writing down fatalities #baldur's gate 3 #shadowheart #Shadowheart trolling Lae’zel is my favorite thing to think about

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fatale-distraction · 10 months ago

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Oh my goooooooood I love it! Thank you so much, she looks amazing~~~ 🥺🥹

Lithe for @fatale-distraction

Marco for @astarionstrousers

#bg3 fanart #bg3 tav #bg3 #lithe tav #sheeeeeeeee #Marco is a cutie too 👀👀👀

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vixstarria · 11 months ago

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What do you want to do with it?

My headcanon is that over the course of the in-game romance with Astarion, when you stop having sex in Act 2, he still pleasures Tav, but draws the line at himself being touched below the waist directly, gradually exploring and expanding his limits.

Up to you to decide how far in the game this might be appropriate.

18+, smut, Astarion x GN!Reader, Astarion x Tav, explicit, porn no plot, dirty talk, 'use your words', oral sex (male receiving) (kinda?)

Approx 900 words

AO3

Tags: @thisisew - I'm not sure this is what you signed up for, but this is what you're getting today.

All under the cut.

Astarion had just brought you to another climax, using his lithe, skilled hands.

“I love doing that to you... Your moans, the way you arch against me...” He continued to kiss your neck and stroke your body, clearly not content to be finished with you yet. “I can’t get enough of you,” he whispered. You turned in his arms to face him and drew him into a deep kiss. Once he pulled away from you, he gave you an intense and sultry look. He looked like he wanted to say something but was hesitant.

“Can we try something?” he said, finally.

“Anything, if you think you’re up for it.” You tried not to sound too eager, your heart suddenly picking up pace again.

“I thought we could put that tongue of yours to good use,” he grinned.

Oh? Just like that? Now? There had to be a catch, you thought.

He took your hand and ran it down along his shirtless torso until it rested over the bulge beneath his pants. This was the first time you’d felt it with your hand in what felt like eternity.

“Feel how hard I am for you? How bad I want you?” he breathed, hoarsely, maintaining eye contact. He held your hand there, letting you squeeze and lightly stroke his erection through the fabric. The material wasn’t nearly thin enough for your liking.

"Gods, I miss your cock,” you found yourself saying. Astarion just chuckled in response, his lips curling into a playful smirk.

“What do you want to do with it?” he drawled.

“Mmm, everything.” You were caught very much off guard, albeit pleasantly so.

“Be specific.”

He guided your hand, controlling the pressure with which you groped him.

Hmm, where should I start...

“I want it in my mouth again.”

“Details, darling,” he whispered, rolling onto his back.

So that’s what it was going to be. Very well.

“You want details on everything I want to do with your cock?” You flashed Astarion a devilish grin as you hooked one of your legs around his and sank against him, to whisper in his ear.

“Every filthy little detail, love,” he breathed, pleased that you took the bait.

“Nothing filthy about making you feel good like you deserve,” you purred. “First, I'd want to take it in my hand and stroke it, while I licked it starting at the base of your balls, tracing that beautiful vein that runs along its length with my tongue.”

Astarion hummed approvingly.

“Then, once I worked my way up, I’d lick and suck lightly just around the head.” Astarion laid back and shut his eyes as you continued to whisper in his ear.

“Tease its underside with my wet tongue until you start leaking precum for me.“ You nibbled lightly on his earlobe as you said this, making him groan. “I'd lick it all up.”

You were starting to breathe harder, getting carried away by your own imagery.

“Gods, I want to taste you again,” you whispered, licking the inner shell of his ear. You were starting to grind against his leg. “Touch me,” you pleaded.

“And distract you while you’re doing such a good job..?” he smirked, his breathing hard too. “I think not. Keep going.”

You whimpered discontentedly but continued. He still held your hand on his erection, letting you stroke it lightly through the fabric.

“Then I'd put my whole mouth on it, working it deeper and deeper in, inch by inch, until it hit the back of my throat.”

“How fast?” he asked, starting to lightly roll his hips into your hand.

“Slowly at first, running my tongue all around the head each time I got to the tip.” The look on Astarion’s face was of agonised bliss. “Are you laying or standing in this little fantasy of mine?”

“Standing,” he whispered, without hesitation. You grinned at the certainty with which he said that.

“Oh? With me on my knees before you? Is that how you want me?” you teased.

“On your knees like the good, dirty little devil you are. Keep going.”

“I’d cup your balls in one hand as I sucked you, playing with them.”

“Like this?” he asked, guiding your hand lower on the bulge in his pants.

“Exactly like that. Then I’d pick up pace, sucking you wet and sloppy, humming and moaning around you, until I couldn't do it anymore.”

“Couldn't do it anymore? You’d give up after all that hard work?”

“You are a lot of hard work, love. I'd need you to grab my hair and fuck my mouth yourself, as fast and as long as you needed, until you came.”

“Came where?” his grip on your hand tightened.

“My mouth, of course. I want to swallow every last drop of you.” Your voice dropped lower as you murmured in his ear: “Do you want me to look you in the eyes while I do it..? I will.”

He groaned and pulled your hand away, pinning it over your head, as he rolled on top of you, trailing open-mouthed kisses up your neck, over your jaw and up the side of your face.

“Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?” he growled in your ear. “I’m going to be thinking about that ceaselessly. Until I finally let you do it.”

“Good,” you said, biting his lip. “Now touch me again. I think I've earned a reward.”

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed, check out my other work

AO3

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion romance #astarion smut #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 smut

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zorosdimples · 7 months ago

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DUSK, RESPLENDENT

pairing ⟢ astarion x gn!reader

warnings ⟢ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. not sexually explicit, but highly suggestive… smut-lite! descriptions of blood, blood sucking, bite marks, scars, etc. this occurs after astarion first feeds from tav. reader has breasts and a vagina and is called “beautiful” once (i swiped a line from the game).

word count ⟢ 1208

notes ⟢ this particular scenario has been rotting my brain since september. my first official bg3 fic—please enjoy!

It’s impossible to miss the heat of his crimson gaze scorching your flesh.

You’ve felt it ever since the night you discovered his secret: that quiet evening when the stars shined as silent sentinels, the embers of the campfire danced into ash, and the ghost of a breath roused you. You offered Astarion your neck—swanlike, untouched, vital—prey allowing predator a taste of divinity as he buried his glistening fangs into your skin. Agony bled into a hazy euphoria as the vampire fed on your lifeblood. You barely had enough stamina to push him off (lest he leave you drained and lifeless), rivulets of you the color of his irises running from his gums to his chin, dripping onto the forest floor.

Many moons have since passed, though your mind always revisits the feeling of his weight atop yours, the strength of his jaw, the vitality in his sated stare. The sun starts its golden descent as you bathe in a creek by camp. You scrub your skin with vigor, almost without care as you seek to shed layers of sweat, grime, and gore. The midsummer air is stifling and the cicadas play their shrill song, but the chilly caress of the water makes you giddy.

It takes no small effort, but once your hair and body are stripped bare (clean enough), you remain in the water and watch pinks and oranges and yellows bleed and bloom across the wide sky. Some may say that resting for even a moment in a situation like yours—with a mindflayer parasite in your brain—is to accept death. But if you were to die at this very moment, surrounded by beauty? You couldn’t dream of a more peaceful end.

You feel your visitor’s presence before you see or hear him. It starts as an itch at your nape, nagging and unsettling—insistent. “Enjoying the view?” The playful lilt of Astarion's smooth voice never fails to set your nerves alight.

As you turn to face him, the water laps at your collarbone. You spy the pale elf along the bank, donning only his breeches. Cheeky bastard. “I could ask you the same,” you quip.

“I am indeed.” Lithe fingers tease the waistband of his pants. “But I can't help but feel as though something is missing.”

Walking a few steps toward the shore, you reveal more flesh, water skimming the top of your breasts. “It wouldn’t happen to be a rogue vampire, would it?”

“And if it is?”

“He should join.”

You sink beneath the creek’s surface, allowing him some privacy and urging your face to cool down. When you plant your feet on the silty ground and stand up, you rub crystalline droplets from your eyes and blink a few times before your companion comes into focus.

“Hello, beautiful,” he greets with a smirk before approaching you, dexterous fingers grasping and pulling at the fat around your hips. “I can't help but feel as though you’ve been avoiding me.”

Without thinking, your fingers weave through Astarion's moonbeam hair, gently tugging on the curls. The elf pulls you closer with a pleased hum. “Whatever gave you that impression?” you ask.

“Don’t play coy; I haven't so much as gotten a breath alone with you.” His gaze softens; you see a flash of vulnerability, but all too soon, it disappears. “Do you…regret this?” A chilly thumb grazes the puckered scar on your neck. The featherlight touch plucks a shudder from you, your spine bowing—strung for him.

“Quite the opposite,” you admit. Your attention flits down to his lips. Maker, you know they would feel divine dancing with your own, slipping down to carry the tune across your flesh, skating lower and lower until—

“So,” he says, palms sweeping up your arms and the slope of your shoulders until they rest on either side of your neck. He strokes the delicate flesh, his touch unhurried yet charged; restless. “You wouldn’t begrudge me another taste, hm?”

Perhaps you should be embarrassed by how eagerly you want this to happen, how many times you’ve envisioned him tasting your blood again—and perhaps tasting something more (such thoughts have fueled many solitary searches for pleasure within the canvas walls of your tent). But living in the dusky shadows of near-certain death has made you hopelessly brazen.

You lean in, petal-soft lips grazing one of his pointed ears. “It’s yours for the taking.”

Astarion’s irises darken at your words, pools of congealed blood. He drops his head and presses a lingering, open-mouthed kiss to your scar, his molten breath warming your body, melding you to his touch.

He bares his fangs and bites you, piercing the puffy tissue, a satisfied groan rumbling his throat and resonating in your veins. The pain is dizzying but dulls quickly, the jarring sensation of knife-sharp incisors tearing your flesh carried away by the flow of the creek. Fuzzy pleasure soon clouds your mind. The sloppy lap of the elf’s tongue against your wound is all you can discern; you want to feel him everywhere.

The vampire’s moans shudder deep within his chest and reverberate through your body from where you’re connected, vibrating lower until they settle in your core. A delicious pressure rocks against your belly and seems to relish the softness. It feels like he gluts for an eternity—like this is all you know—housed within a single, precious breath.

When Astarion surfaces, fangs retracting, you stumble in his embrace, coming down from your high. The ache of want remains as you rest your forehead against his freckled shoulder, and morphs into need as your vision clears. His eyes are unfocused, crazed with bloodlust; you’ve never seen them so red, glowing like moonlit wine. His chin is slick with ichor, and—absentmindedly or not, it’s impossible to tell—his tongue darts out to mop up some of the remnants of your sweetness.

One, two, three heaves of your chests pass before you crash together with a swiftness that betrays desperation, errant waves succumbing to the tide.

You never liked the tang of your blood until you tasted it on Astarion’s silken lips. It’s…cloying. The syrupy copper overwhelms your senses as the elf smears a claret gash across your mouth. He drunkenly sucks on your tongue, fangs nicking the muscle, urging you to give him more. Your fingers twist and twirl the pearly down that covers his chest as he squeezes your ass, pulling you so close that not even a whisper could get between you. You’re engulfed in a heady fire, one that can’t be put out by the cool water around you—especially as the vampire’s cock nestles between your clenched thighs, bumping against your clit.

A crashing sound in the surrounding forest interrupts your shared bliss. The moon ascended and the stars awoke while you were wrapped up in one another. Lightning bugs glimmer and flit through the dark woods, and you know that you both need to leave. Supper will be soon; any absences will be noticed. But before he pulls away, Astarion places a prim kiss on your lips.

“Meet me by the campfire after everyone else has fallen asleep,” he whispers against your cheek.

Your heart trills as you watch him disappear into the night—excited for the adventure to come.

#if this is messy i’m sorry i just had to let it go. it’s imperfect but it’s full of love (and lust)#banner is a detail of ‘sunset on the sea’ (1872) by john frederick kensett #astarion x reader #bg3 x reader #astarion <3 #༄ kae writes

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ninitenebrae · 7 months ago

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Niqesse & Raziel are rocking this outfit. 🖤😳 👉👈

#nini tenebrae art #full render #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 art #bg3 tav #bg3 fanart #niqesse aini nox #raziel abaddon lith

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viennacherries · 8 months ago

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LONGING

Dammon/Tav | NSFW | 4,318 words

"The second Dammon spots her for the first time in the Grove he knows he's monumentally and royally, without a shadow of a doubt (and pardon his language), fucked."

~~~

Dammon is completely enthralled with Tav. She's obsessed with him, too, but she makes him wait for it. He gets what he wants eventually.

Read it on AO3

~~~

The second Dammon spots her for the first time in the Grove he knows he's monumentally and royally, without a shadow of a doubt (and pardon his language), fucked.

She's absolutely gorgeous, all petite frame with strong muscles. Her skin is pale and covered in freckles, from her face to the backs of her hands as she shakes his in greeting. She has one of those smiles that tells him she's definitely going to cause problems on purpose. He knows as soon as he sees her that she's the one who saved the Archdruid and took out the goblin camp. She just has that aura about her that tells you she's absolutely deadly. Unfortunately, thats exactly his type.

It's even more unfortunate, because she certainly notices. She can absolutely tell that he's completely smitten with her the minute their eyes meet, and it's when he gets his first glimpse of that smile of hers. The one the says she's going to make his life hell and she's going to enjoy every minute of it. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to it.

Still, he's the absolute picture of cordiality and good manners. He thanks her for helping them, and even whacks a healthy discount onto his wares in the name of repaying her. He is completely polite and entirely appropriate.

She winks at him as she leaves.

He thinks about it for the next tenday.

~~~

When he sees her again at Last Light Inn, his immediate response is relief. The Shadow-Cursed Lands are cruel and brutal, and after what befell their caravan he was concerned her party wouldn't make it through in one piece. Especially taking into account her considerable affinity for finding herself in danger.

She's barely been at the inn a half hour before there's winged ghouls descending on them.

It's the first time Dammon has the pleasure of watching her fight, and it does nothing to ease the burgeoning flame he's been kindling for her in his chest. When he's done analysing her armour and has come to the conclusion she needs heavier plating, he just observes her.

She's lithe and muscular, and she spins around and through enemies as though she's dancing a pasodoble. Her every movement is precise, considered, calculated. She takes each step like she decided she would take it 5 steps prior, confident and assured. Her fighting style is just as elegant and brutal, all up close slashes and jabs that make quick work of her mark. And Hells, the way she wields her blade. It's a huge, hulking thing, just over half her height, but you wouldn't think it with the way she swings it around like it weighs nothing. The blade itself is simple, boring looking, and Dammon swears to himself in that moment he'll make her something better, something as brilliant and powerful as her. Something deserving of her finesse.

The fight's over almost as suddenly as it began, and he watches as she plants her sword into one of the floorboards, leaning on it with her forearms as she pants and tries to catch her breath. A long bead of sweat falls down over her brow, and she wipes it away with the back of her hand, smearing ghoul blood across her face in the process. Covered in viscera, and somehow she looks radiant. She catches his eye, smiles that awful smile of hers, and winks across the room at him.

She finds him later in his forge, while he's busy hammering out an old sword someone's donated to him. Dammon doesn't notice her til he turns to quench the metal and finds her leaning against the wall, watching him work.

"Tav, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He uses his scarf to dab some of the sweat off his brow.

She's got that grin on her face again as she trails her gaze over him, like she's appraising him. "Trust me, the pleasure's all mine."

He's covered in sweat, he can feel it dripping down his back and neck. It makes him think back to the fight earlier, when she was drenched in her own. He thinks about folding her in half, til they're both dripping with each other's exhaustion.

He clears his throat.

"You flatter me, truly," he's quite proud of how even his voice comes out. "What can I do for you?"

She smirks, "well, I was wondering if you had any suggestions? You seemed to be watching me earlier, so I assume you have a comment to make concerning my equipment."

He knows she's trying to tease him, but he nods anyway. He does have thoughts about her equipment, and now she's asked. That means it's not his fault if he rambles for entirely too long about the merits of different alloys.

"Yes, actually. I think you could do with some heavier plating. You favour fighting up close which is admirable, but it puts you directly in the path of your opponent's blade. You need something stronger to protect you."

Her smirk drops. She clearly wasn't expecting him to have actual advice. "I don't like heavy plating, it makes it harder to move around."

He nods enthusiastically, "yes, yes, you're constantly in motion while you fight. I believe your current armour is steel? It's strong, but some of it's integrity and strength has been compromised to keep it light, and even then you're only wearing half-plates. You need something just as strong, but far lighter. That way you can afford to wear more plating without losing your range of motion and speed."

Her eyebrow is quirked, and she looks somewhat impressed. "Interesting. What would you suggest?"

"Mithril, without a doubt. It's half the weight of steel but it's just as strong. You could wear a full set of plating and it'd feel identical in mass to the half-plates you have currently."

She nods thoughtfully, "I'll keep an eye out, then." The smirk finds its way back onto her face. "Was there anything else?"

There's a brief pause before Dammon speaks again.

"You need a new sword. That one's absolutely dreadful."

The laugh she lets out is musical, and it only serves to pour oil onto the flame in his chest. It roars up like an inferno

~~~

It's embarrassing, the amount of time he spends thinking about her. The image of her, pirouetting through the air as she sinks her blade through the skull of a monstrosity, haunts his every waking thought. Even sleep doesn't provide respite from her visage, and he finds himself waking up every morning achingly hard from another unconscious imagining of the ways he'd like to ruin her.

He wants to tear her apart beneath his hands. He wants to have her desperate and begging underneath him. Wants to tie her up and strap her down and use her until she's craving anything he'll give her, helpless and needful and falling apart at the seams. He wants to see the strong muscles in her arms bulge against her restraints as she writhes and pulls at her bindings, itching to touch him.

He wants her to do the same to him. Wants her to show him just how strong she is by pinning him down with one hand and taking what she wants from him.

It's getting really fucking inconvenient, to be honest. He thinks of her constantly while he works in the city, the bustle of Baldur's Gate around him not enough to distract him, the temperature of his forge only stirring the heat within him further. It makes him think of the way she'd looked at him that night at Last Light, like she was ready to devour him whole.

He lays in bed at night and fists his length desperately, smutty book held in one hand almost as tight as his cock in the other, imagining he's hovered over her, devouring her, filling her, anything and everything. It's depraved, the things he imagines, lewd and scandalous.

And then suddenly one morning she's at his door.

He doesn't hear her coming, so he's snuck up on once again as he turns to quench the commission he's working on.

She looks so different, wearing regular clothes instead of armour. It makes her look softer, but she's also wearing short sleeves which show off the muscles in her arms. It makes him a little weak in the knees.

"Tav? I'm glad to see you again! To what do I-"

"Owe the pleasure?" She doesn't let him finish. "To pleasure, I hope."

He's dousing the forge as soon as the words leave her mouth.

~~~

"Can I get you a drink? Tea? Coffee?"

She furrows her brow from her seat on his sofa, "anything stronger?"

"I've got a couple bottles of Arabellan Dry?"

"That'll do." She's smirking again.

He leaves the room to get the bottles and a couple of glasses, and when he comes back she's taken her shirt off.

"Here's what we're going to do." Her voice is firm but playful. "I've taken off a piece of clothing, so I get to ask you a question. You have to answer honestly. If you answer it, you take off a piece of your clothing and then you get to ask me something back. If you don't answer, I put all my clothes back on and I walk out of the door."

He gulps, "what if you don't answer?"

The smirk that graces her lips is absolutely diabolical, "oh, Dammon," the way she says his name is even worse, "I'll answer anything. I'm an open book."

He sits on the couch next to her, pours them both a glass of wine and hands her one. "Then by all means, ask away."

She looks delighted, and her gaze is predatory. "Do you prefer giving or recieving?"

Straight to the point then.

"I like both," he shrugs as he says it, "suppose it just depends on the day and the context. If I had to pick just one, though, I'd rather give."

She nods thoughtfully, but doesn't say anything, watching him expectantly. He downs half his glass of wine and then yanks his shirt over his head.

"What about you? Giving or recieving?"

"Hm. Repeating my question is a bit cheap, but I'll allow it this once. I like both, too. I don't have a preference, really, just depends on my partner." She's barely finished speaking when she stands to unbuckle her bottoms, pulling them off swiftly and sitting back down. The sight of her, dressed in only her underclothes on his furniture, makes his head spin and his other head throb.

"So you like being on top. You like being in charge? Dominating?"

He swallows around the lump in his throat and nods, "yeah. I like... I like making my partner beg." He can feel his skin flushing with the admission, but he keeps talking. "I like making them come undone underneath me until they can't take it anymore. I like making them squirm and give themselves to me entirely."

Tav's breath is caught in her throat, and he realises that she likes it. Wants it. Knowing that fills him with confidence, and he takes another swig of his wine before standing and slowly undoing his bottoms. He pulls them down slowly, teasingly, and he watches as her gaze follows the line of his body. He tenses the muscles in his arms as he lifts the discarded clothes and folds them, and he hears her breathing grow heavier. He places them to the side and sits down closer to her than he was before, lifting her wine glass to her lips and urging her to drink from it. She does, their eyes locked. A drop spills down the side of her mouth, and before she can wipe it away he leans in and licks it from her lips. Her eyes close as she groans in the back of her throat.

He feels high on it. Having her here, knowing she wants him, seeing how receptive she is to him. His next question comes easily.

"Do you like being tied up?"

Her eyes are hooded with lust when she finally makes eye contact with him again. "Yes." She fumbles with the clasp of her bra behind her but fails at undoing it, so he places their glasses back on the table and leans forward towards her, snaking his arms around her back and unclasping it for her. It falls away from her onto the floor, and he takes a breast in each hand. She hisses through her teeth.

"What do you want to do to me?" It's quiet. Sensual. Her voice is absolutely dripping with desire.

"What don't I want to do to you." He smooths his hands down her body, sliding one round to her lower back and slowly pushing her to lay down on the couch as he hovers over her. "I want to tie you to my headboard and taste you until your legs shake. I want to have you begging for my tongue and my hands and my cock. I want to fold you in half and bury myself so deep that you forget what it feels like not to be full of me. I want to absolutely ruin you, if you'll let me."

Their lips are so close now, a hair's width away, and the air is charged around them. When he speaks, it's a whisper against her skin.

"Will you let me?"

She groans out loud and surges up to lock their lips together. It's open mouthed and hungry, more tongue than lips, and they both moan into it as they finally taste each other. His hand is still at the base of her spine and he drags her upwards towards him, grinding against her as he does, and she lets out a beautiful little whimper that has him feeling hazy. He pulls away, just enough to speak.

"Use your words, sweetheart. You want me to ruin you?"

" Yes ."

He tuts. "Say please."

She moans, low and needy in the back of her throat. " Please. "

He stands quickly and lifts her into his arms, carrying her up the stairs to his bedroom. She wraps her arms around his neck and sucks and kisses around his collarbone, and the feeling of her skin against his, her mouth on him, has him absolutely feral.

He practically throws her down onto the bed, and she bounces a few times before settling and crawling her way backwards toward the headboard. The sight of her hair splayed out on his pillows and her naked torso against his sheets is going to haunt him for eternity, he's sure of it. He lets himself admire her.

"Stay there, gorgeous. Don't even think about moving."

She nods, reaching up to palm at her breasts, and she looks like a vision. Like a renaissance painting, a beautiful torment put there just for him. Her fingers brush her nipples, teasing and pinching them, and the subsequent hiss of pleasure she lets out shoots straight through him to his cock. It's almost painful how hard he is, but he's going to take his time with her. Going to take her apart and put her back together with his hands and mouth, smelt her down and reforge her into something new.

Dragging his eyes away from her feels like an impossible task, but he manages and turns to root through the drawer of his bedside table. He finally finds what he's searching for: a length of silky material that's meant to be a blindfold, but that he usually shoves between his teeth to bite down on when he's being particularly noisy. He hangs it over his shoulder and turns back to face her, crawling over her and wrenching her hands away from her tits. He pins them over her and she arches up against him.

"Your safeword," he starts "is 'forge'. You say it, everything stops. If you can't speak for any reason, you tap me three times. Doesn't matter how you tap me, can be your hands, can be your foot. Same deal, you do that and I stop completely no questions asked. Repeat it back to me."

She's panting, "safeword is forge. 3 taps. Stops everything."

"No questions asked."

She nods, "no questions asked."

He holds her wrists above her with one hand, trails his other hand down her arms, along her throat, and brings his hand under her chin. "Good girl."

She moans fully at that, arching and writhing against him at his words, and he feels drunk off it. Having her falling apart before he's even started, so helpless and ready for him. It's intoxicating. When he kisses her it's because he literally can't stop himself, he has to taste her. He nips and bites at her lips and she huffs and sighs with every touch, so responsive and so eager, and he could die right now a happy man knowing he's the one drawing these quiet noises from her.

He pulls away from the kiss, straddling her hips and sitting up on his knees over her. He keeps her hands pinned to the bed with one hand, and he pulls the silk length from his shoulder with his free one. She shudders as he drags it slowly along her torso, the soft fabric cool to the touch. He wraps it around her wrists to bind them together.

"Too tight?"

She tugs her wrists apart slightly and bites her lip, looking up at him through her lashes, shaking her head. He ingrains the image of her, below him and wanting, into his brain.

The free ends of the silk he wraps around the post of his headboard, tying them in a tight knot. Lacing his fingers with hers, he tugs at her hands to test it. The knot holds fast, and he hums in satisfaction. He sits back on his haunches to admire her, runs his hands down her arms to come to rest at her sides, squeezing the skin there. There's a little bit of give to her that lets him get a good grip of her, and she wriggles below him.

Her breasts spill towards her armpits and he can't resist, he brings his hands up to cup them both and teases both of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, rolling and pinching them into hardened peaks. She lets out more of her quiet little noises, needy and wanton and absolutely delectable. When he leans forward and latches his lips around one of the buds, she arches her back into him, making a choked noise of surprise and pleasure, and his cock aches with how badly he needs her. He teases it with his teeth, laves it with his tongue, sucks it into his mouth and tugs away from her gently until she's a puddle beneath him, and only then does he switch to the other nipple and give it the same treatment while he slowly drags her small-clothes down her legs and off of her.

Everything about her is soft and tender. He's never been with someone who wasn't a tiefling before, and her body feels so entirely different to his own. Her skin is smooth and pliant under his, far softer than he thought she'd be from watching her fight. Her skin is cooler than his, too. It makes him shudder as he positions himself between her legs, holding them wide open either side of his face, with his hands spread over the inside of her thighs.

"What do you do if you want me to stop?" He whispers it against her core, mouth just barely brushing against her skin, and she shudders.

"Safeword, or three taps."

"And the safeword is?"

"'Forge'."

"Good girl. I'm going to taste you, now."

He covers her with his mouth before she can respond, and they both moan in tandem. Her from the feeling of his tongue sliding against her clit, him from the musky taste of her arousal. She's like nothing he's ever had before, completely incomparable, but she tastes rich and delicious and he licks his way into her core to taste her deeper. He doesn't start slow or gentle, he's wanted her cunt in his mouth for months and he's going to enjoy it. He drags his tongue over her in firm, insistent lines, and uses the tip of his tongue to massage her inner walls. It has her keening, crying, shaking, and her legs wrench closed from the sensations. Obviously, that can't stand, so he curls his tail around one of her ankles and pulls , and now it's pulled out taunt and she can't move it any further than an inch in any direction. It also has the added benefit of freeing one of Dammon's hands, and he wastes no time in trailing it around her entrance and slipping two fingers inside her. He crooks them upwards towards her stomach, and she wails, canting her hips further into his mouth and his tongue where it devours her clit relentlessly.

He knows she close, because she can't stop her hips from stuttering, and there's a constant stream of breathy high pitched noises forcing their way out of her. He doesn't let up, increases his pace if anything, and then she's coming around his fingers. He pulls them out enough to fit his tongue underneath her, swallowing down every drop of her as she finds her release, licking her through it. He only stops when he feels three taps of her foot against leg.

He sits up instantly. "Are you okay? Do you want me to untie you?"

She laughs shakily, "no! Gods, no, don't. It was just getting too sensitive."

He smirks at that, "good. Now then," He comes up onto his knees between her thighs, trailing his hands along her stomach. She shivers. "I removed a piece of your clothing. If I'm remembering the rules of our little game right, that means you get to ask me a question."

She doesn't even hesitate, "Can you hurry up and fuck me?" A pause. "...Please?"

He chokes out a laugh, "goodness, Tav, how crass of you."

She groans, throwing her head back, "please, Dammon, I need you inside me like yesterday."

"Hm. Next time, you'll have to ask me nicer than that. But right now I'm so desperate to fuck you I'll allow it. I've waited far too long for this."

She smirks despite herself, "oh? You have? I had no idea , Dammon."

He growls a little in the back of his throat, and scoots himself forward on his knees, lifting her ass and resting it on his thighs. He pulls his small-clothes aside roughly to free himself, groaning at the cool air as it caresses his length, and uses one hand to guide it as he pushes himself to the hilt in one small movement. The smirk dissolves off her face as her lips part in a silent moan. He chuckles quietly.

"Don't play coy, Tav." He grabs both her legs under her knees, brings them together and hooks them both over one shoulder. "You know exactly what you do to me. You know exactly how long I've wanted you." He leans over her slowly, until her knees are pressed up against her own chest. She keens. "You know how long I've waited for this. Don't you?" He pulls out slowly, teases her with just the tip in and out of her. " Don't you."

She throws her head back, eyes screwed shut. "Yes, yes, Gods I knew! I wanted you too!"

He snorts into her ear, "well you have me, sweetheart. Or rather,"

He crashes his hips into her. She keens.

"I have you."

He wastes no time. He sets a brutal pace and it's everything he's needed since the moment he saw her. Her legs presses together makes her so tight he sees stars, folding her in half means his cock kisses that perfect spot within her with every thrust. It's everything he imagined. It's better than anything he could've dreamt of. She's slick and warm and beautiful below him as she cries out his name, hips bucking to meet his own every time he slams into her.

He can't stop himself from rambling, words spilling out of him on their own accord. "Hells, Tav, you have no idea how many nights I spent thinking of you like this. How much I've wanted to take you like this, pinned underneath me and begging for me. Gods, you feel incredible. So wet for me, sweetheart. Tell me how much you wanted me."

She tries and fails, just making noises and taking deep laboured breaths. It's completely obscene and it's perfect.

He groans, "where, Tav? Where do you want me to finish? Where do you want my cum?"

Her moan is downright pornographic, "on my stomach, Dammon, please. Want to see your cum all over me."

Her words have him moving frantically inside her, and when she clenches around him with her second orgasm he's lost to it. He pulls himself from inside her, tugs himself twice before spilling across her torso. He paints her pale, freckled body in his spend and he wishes he was an artist so he could immortalise the image on paper.

When he feels like he can breathe again, he tucks himself back into his small-clothes, crawls his way up the bed to untie her wrists and he rubs them soothingly. She sigh, sounding content and comfortable.

"Are you okay?"

She spits out a single laugh, before descending into hysterics, and it's so infectious. He laughs alongside her.

"Am I okay? Dammon, that was fucking incredible. I'm gonna stay in this bed for the next week in the hopes of a few repeat performances."

He can't help the grin that spreads across his face. "A few, hm? I quite like the sound of that."

~~~

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 smut #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 requests #bg3 dammon #dammon bg3 #dammon #bg3 tav #smut #fanfic #fanfiction

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