#Summer Gate

[mermianar]

coming back to dragon age after being obsessed with baldur's gate 3 for nine months

[geopsych]

At the gate early this morning. It looked a little more celestial than usual.

[elissastillstands]

Never even in death will you lose your fame, but you will be in men’s thoughts, your name ever immortal... (Theognis 245-246, trans. Gerber 1999).

Sometimes, the niche crossover urge takes over. This is based on Greek red-figure vase paintings of kithara players (specifically the ones here and here). If you want to hear a little about how the kithara is played and a little sample of improvisation on the instrument, check out the video here!

[bloodiedrogue]

BLEED YOU DRY (1)

SUMMARY: When you awake to find Astarion attempting to drink your blood, you find yourself making a interesting decision.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader (reads as Gender Neutral but future chapters will be femme focused, just a heads up!)

WORD COUNT: 3,273

WARNINGS: Bloodsucking, that's about it?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so I'm aware I'm way ahead of schedule for this Haunted Hoedown thing but I'm going to be gone for a few days in the middle of it so I figured I'd get a headstart now to make sure I get every day done but also to build the hype? Maybe?

Basically this is going to be a little twelve part miniseries based on prompts from this writing challenge. I'll make a masterpost either tonight or tomorrow with all the ones I chose, plus some other stuff, so you guys know what's going on!

The prompt for this particular day was "I want to watch you bleed."

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

The squirming tadpole behind your eye is what wakes you up. Its constant movement, wriggling from edge to edge quickly prompts you to groan and palm your eye, attempting to suppress the feeling as you blink through the darkness. It takes a moment to adjust —to feel that twitch of the creature die down— and when it does there’s a sigh of satisfaction that leaves your lips.

Despite how long it’s been, you’re not sure you’ll ever get used to the fact that you have a parasite living inside your mind. Even after experiencing the insertion firsthand, you often forget it’s there, looming behind your retinas, awaiting use every time you run into another. Normally it’s so still, barely inching out of place; sitting there, incubating within your thoughts. Tonight though, something’s urging its presence. Keeping it awake as you close your eyes again, scrunching up your face once it moves a second time.

Angrily, you sit up and turn your head, suddenly catching Astarion’s gaze, noticing the open-mouthed grin he offers in response. 

“Shit.”

You narrow your eyes, focusing on his teeth. How bared they are; ready to strike at a moment's notice despite the only food lying around being you. “Were you just about to bite me?” you ask and almost immediately he attempts to play it off as if it were nothing, scoffing and rolling his eyes. 

“I wasn’t going to hurt you if that’s what you’re insinuating. I was only going for a nibble.” 

You can feel your tadpole squirm. He’s telling the truth, albeit for reasons that are more selfish than he lets on. Despite seeming otherwise, he only wants to drink from you for strength —for energy. His desire to kill you is minuscule, lingering in the shadows of his mind for a potentially later day but surprisingly such notions don’t scare you. Astarion may be a bloodthirsty creature but for now, he’s an ally.

“And you didn’t think to just ask first?” You raise a brow at him, watching his expression twist into something bordering between confusion and interest. 

“I’m sorry, just ask?” he parrots, exploring your features and how they remain calm despite the context.  

He was expecting you to be angry. To throw some kind of fit and deny. It’s what any normal person would do, but considering the circumstances, offering up a little blood to build up the strength of someone on the same side is worth more than the annoyance that forms across your face. 

“Yes, like a normal person,” you chastise, taking in the scowl he offers in response. 

His brows furrow at the sound of your words, angling upwards to appear as sinister as possible, and you can’t help but snort. Something about his constant disapproval is almost humorous at this point.

“Normal? Darling, I’m a creature of the night. A blood sucking fiend. A—“

“Vampire, yes, we’re all well aware given the teeth.” You poke at your own canine, tapping the enamel with open lips just as he swallows hard and narrows his eyes. 

“Yes, well, obviously considering such details I thought it inappropriate to ask. People don’t typically agree to such perilous sounding terms,” he says, voice light and airy. Casual, you might say, despite the context. 

“So instead you were just going to go for it?” You raise your brow, a smirk playing across your lips as he rolls his eyes. 

“Seemed like the best possible option… at the time.” 

You offer him a quiet ah, nodding your head as the two of you remain still, watching each other. Trying to gauge how the other is feeling without the use of your tadpoles. 

Based on what you know about Astarion you assume he’s too stubborn to ask. Now that he’s caught, regardless of whether or not he needs the blood, he’ll never find himself in a position to be desperate enough to say those simple little words. Being a man of persuasion, he’ll most likely just talk his way into it —make it seem like the whole thing was your idea in the first place before diving right in. 

It’d be respectable if you weren’t the victim. If it were Wyll or Gale and you were to bear witness to his deceptions, you’d fully support it. Encourage it even if he were to ask your opinion.

Since it’s you though, you can’t help but feel a bit frustrated. Astarion and you have never been particularly friendly. Having only been around each other for a few weeks, all you’ve talked about is the Illithid and how you plan to get rid of it —what you’ll do after it’s gone. But even the latter conversations hardly spark specific details. Mostly they’re just brief mentions of wanting to run away. To become hidden after the war is over. 

You assume someone’s looking for him based on the way he speaks and carries himself. When you’re on the move he hides within the pack, using you all as a shield while he looks around. Always on high alert, his ears twitch at any foreign sound, his eyes dart to meet the faces of anyone you may come across. At night, he’s always the one to keep watch and over time you’ve come to realize it isn’t just because he doesn’t sleep. It’s because he’s looking for someone. 

Even now, as he stands above you, you can see his eyes looking past you to focus on the underbrush. The way they narrow with focus, pushing past your face. He can sense something that you can’t —feel the eyes of some foreign presence staring at the two of you. 

You’re tempted to use the tadpole to find out what exactly it is but quickly refrain once you hear the shuffling of branches behind you followed by Astarion’s breath of relief. 

“You alright?”

His eyes shut for a split second. His chest heaves a single breath and in that moment you’re struck with an odd sense of sympathy. The feeling of pity laces throughout your thoughts as you imagine Astarion’s life before all of this. You imagine it isn’t great. Considering he’s a vampire, there’s probably at least an inkling of trauma there after living, dying and coming back as something other than yourself. No sane person would be the same after that, especially when taking into account all the symptoms. Before his transition, he could do mundane things. Enjoy the pleasantries of life like the sun and sleeping and food. 

Nowadays, all it seems he craves is blood and power. Flesh of whatever he can get his greedy little hands on. The upper hand in any possible argument. Both make what Astarion is on the surface, but looking at him now, wondering what else lies behind that thick, defensive coat of first impressions, you know there are other things. Nicer ones he refuses to showcase. 

They’re the details of his life before everything. Traits reserved only for himself, and for some uncharacteristic reason, you’re tempted to find out what they are. 

“If you need to…” Trailing off, you feel your stomach twist at the realization of what you’re about to offer. The consequences are high, maybe even too high, but perhaps the benefits could be deemed higher. At this point, you’re certain no one else will give him what he needs. They’re all too noble or guarded to allow Astarion, regardless of his current allegiance, to drink. 

They don’t trust him. And even though you find yourself in the same boat, feeling the skepticism of your words start to echo in the back of your mind, you know it’s the most logical thing to do. Sure, it may not be the right one. By a long shot, it’s probably one of the worst ideas you’ve ever had, but you know deep down that it’s necessary for your survival. To ensure that, when all this blows over and the potential of you going your separate ways occurs, Astarion doesn’t view you as an enemy.

“If you need to drink, you can.” 

His eyes widen only a bit. Just enough for you to notice the slight shock that spreads across his features. “I can?” 

There’s a reluctance you feel begin to bubble up but instead of acting on it you merely shut it down, nodding your head. “Yes, but only a little. Don’t want you bleeding me dry before this whole thing is all over.” 

Somehow that makes him laugh. “Oh, darling, I wouldn’t dream of such a thing.” 

You force yourself not to smirk as he lies through his teeth. Knowing him, he’d suck you dry if it weren’t for the fact that there’s safety in numbers. “Unfortunately for me this isn’t a dream.” 

“Fair point,” he replies, taking a short step forward. After that he slowly begins to crouch towards the ground, watching you closely —focusing on the rise and fall of your chest as his face falls mere inches from yours. “For now though, I promise to do no such thing.”

“And you’re certain you’ll keep it?”  

He hums, a grin pulling at his cheeks. “For now,” he muses. “In the future though…”

He’s so close you can feel his breath. Hot and heavy puffs pushed through a low, far too sultry tone of voice that has you pressing your lips together in a thin line. 

Out of everyone, Astarion’s always been the most intriguing. The one you’ve had this constant back and forth with, debating whether or not to approach or run. Aside from the obvious vampirism, it’s quite obvious that he isn’t like the others. From what you’ve been able to piece together, he doesn’t have a cause. A God or some sort of leader he’s willing to lay down the law for. He’s not noble like Wyll or faithful like Shadowheart. He’s just Astarion. A bloodied wolf all by his lonesome, following the rest of the pack. 

You’re sure he has desires like the rest of them. Wants and needs that’ll inevitably be gifted to him at the end of this —so long as you all survive. Like everyone else, he has a purpose in mind, but what that purpose is is unbeknownst to you thanks to the charm he offers in replacement of the truth. Because of this, he feels almost like a treasure chest. A trove of untold riches kneeling before you, tempting you to open. 

“I’m sure the future will have us far enough away from each other where that doesn’t happen, so I won’t worry.” 

Almost immediately, he can tell you’re fishing for information. The way his brow slightly upturns and the flirtatious grin across his face transitions into more of a smirk. It makes you internally curse, knowing that no matter how hard you try you’ll never beat him at his own game. His way with words is too precise. Too calculated, even for someone like you who grew up convincing people of your lies. 

“You never know. Perhaps after this is all over I’ll follow you. Linger amongst the shadows until the time is right.” 

You can’t tell if he’s kidding. His voice is too convincing to be completely certain, so you merely roll your eyes. “Yes, well, if you do decide to drink me to death, be sure to make it quick.” 

He clicks his tongue, leaning slightly further in. “What would be the fun in that though?”

There’s an unfamiliar ache inside your chest. A rupture of pain that wreaks havoc against your ribcage, pounding. Now that he’s close to you, you can assume it’s always been there but because he’s so good at posing a distraction you weren’t fully aware of it until now. 

“Fair point,” you repeat his words back to him, deeply inhaling just as the tadpole suddenly shifts in tandem with your chest. Ebbing and flowing across your inner eye in time with your shaky breath, you notice Astarion pick up on it, humming knowingly. 

“You fear me, don’t you?” 

Despite the answer being blatantly obvious, your lips remained sealed. Closed off, regardless of the truths the rest of your body spills. 

“It’s quite alright, darling. It’s normal. Creatures of the night are hardly meant to be trifled with.” 

He’s in your face now, a mere hair’s length away, once again baring his teeth. Against your lips, you can feel the movement of his words pushing through the air, coating you in further reluctance as the withheld breath inside you finally releases. As it hits his face, he blinks and pulls away. Ever so slightly giving you the space you need to recollect your thoughts and swallow back the fear. 

He’s terrifying. Even you have to admit that. Unlike Lae’zel he’s more calculated in his intimidation, opting to pull you in —to make you feel comfortable— before he ultimately strikes. Because of this, his threats feel more authentic. Less like simple tactics used to get you to back off. They aren’t words of warning —they’re promises. Declarations of a moment he’s more than willing to make a reality if given the chance.

“Do you want my blood or not, Astarion?”

Your patience is thin. Your chest is in pain and while the tadpole inside unwittingly reaches out to his, driving you both closer as he instructs you to lie back down and get comfortable, all you can feel is temptation. Desire. 

Upon resting your head, you feel the connection between you grow stronger. Inside, your head flashes with icy sensations that trickle down towards your neck. Small tremors of what’s to come as Astarion positions himself around you. 

When he leans down, there’s a moment where you think of retracting. This is all too sudden, you think. A mistake made in hopes of gaining the upper hand. Just moments ago you were made unaware of the full potential of Astarion’s charms, but now that you’re lying beneath him, awaiting the moment he sinks his teeth into your flesh, you can feel the regret begin to build.

“It won’t last.”

Pulling yourself from your thoughts, you look to see him staring over top of you. Both of his arms are planted on either side of your head, bending at the elbow so that he’s low and close. “I’m sorry?”

“The pain. It won’t last long, I promise.”

Strangely enough, he sounds sincere. Not that that means much when a good portion of the words that exit his lips are lies. Still though, instead of returning to that previous headspace you merely breathe and nod, waiting for the moment the tadpole’s connection vibrates with confirmation and Astarion begins to lean in. 

It’s a slow process. Above you, his shoulders shift, pushing his arm to cup the back of your head and expose your neck. Against your skull, Astarion tightens his grip to steady the endless thoughts that race through your mind as you share a glance. It’s small but important. A moment of recognition that tonight is not the night you die at his hand, but merely a preview of what might come if your paths wrongfully cross. 

At the last second, you give him a curt nod and feel him dip, running the tip of his tongue along your jugular before the presence of teeth poke holes through your flesh. At first, it's painful. The blood that’s sucked through your veins pulsates through the open wound in stinging waves as you feign a soft groan. Then Astarion’s grip around your head tightens at the sound, pushing you further into his mouth. Further into the euphoria he takes as the feeling transcends into something numbingly cold. 

Your eyes flutter shut at his continued feed. The feeling in your hands begins to fade even as you somehow find them moving to Astarion’s back, one of them pressing against his shoulder, the other finding purchase in his locks. At that point, you can feel Astarion moan against you, desperation filling his every cell as his teeth shift further into your neck, prompting your eyes to shoot open. 

He’s going to kill you at this rate. To drink you drier than an insect's husk, so, through half-conscious pushes, you tell him to stop. To let go and to keep his promise as you grip the roots of his hair and pull. 

As it happens you see his eyes shift to yours. They’re blown out completely, the whites of his eyes stained red to match his ruby pupils. For a moment, they remain locked to your half-lidded ones, honing in on the way they start to flutter again before you see them tightly close. Then he finds himself ripping away and gasping for air. Coughing through the thick blood that coats his tongue as he stares down at your neck.

The wound is only slightly gaping. Two well-defined puncture wounds sit side by side, but at the moment you can’t feel them. Instead, there’s still only numbness. A space of nothing that lingers between your head and chest, making you shift to sit up and place your hand there, finding more blood. 

“See? Over before you know it, right?” He laughs but all you do is glare. 

“You almost killed me.”

“Ah, yes, but notice the key word being almost.” 

If you weren’t so heavy-headed you’d punch him in the throat. Maybe strangle him if you could get the right angle. “Yes, fine, you’ve had your fun. Now, do you need anything else or am I fine to pass out now?” 

You expect him to say something else. To make some quip about the safety measures of post-bloodsucking, but he doesn’t. Instead, he merely inches closer, staring at you as he reaches for your bloodied hand and pulls it close. 

Once again, your tadpole wriggles against your will. Throughout your skull, it practically dances as Astarion glances down, taking two of your fingers into his mouth with careful precision. If anyone were to see they’d most likely faint at the mere lewdness of it. Frozen in time, your body refuses to move as he laps the blood off your skin, staring at you through hooded eyes that make you want to scream.

You’ve never been in this kind of position before. Sure, you’ve experienced many kinds of intimacy, both sexual and not, but somehow this feels different. Forbidden, in a sense. As if sharing this moment is not only wrong but also against some sort of ethical code. 

At first, you wonder if it’s because blood isn’t necessarily something that’s given. Always taken. In battle, it’s ripped from your skin through the means of injury. Punctured or sliced out of you at the hands of a sword. No bond goes along with it. No mutual agreement that any life will remain once the deed is over. 

But then you begin to think of Astarion. The elven vampire now infected with the Illithid. Like you, he’s been changed. Subtly shifted into something new. Overall, your transformation isn’t nearly as different as his. Before the infection, you could still enjoy the pleasantries of being human, but still, there’s this connection that draws you towards him. It makes its presence known within the tadpole. Throughout the movements that echo in your minds as Astarion cleans the last of the blood away, looking at you with soft eyes.

“I consider this a gift, you know,” he says, dropping your hand, and moving away to stand without so much as a thought. 

You blink back your confusion, trying your best to focus on the genuine-looking smile that appears as he takes a few steps backwards, never breaking eye contact until he telepathically adds I won’t forget it then stalks away. 

[destructive-poet]

tav sitting on astarion’s lap, intently focused on tousling and curling his hair with their fingers, weaving a little white flower behind his ear. he rolls his eyes at this finishing touch but secretly likes it. tav kissing him on the forehead, all smiles, basking in the feel of the sunlight pouring over the couple.

[oriixxc]

heatstroke

[lets-go-hurt-someone]

Durge (sighing dramatically like a besotted Victorian debutante): Do you remember our first date? Why don’t you do anything romantic like that for me anymore?

Astarion: Our first date? What, when we had sex in a forest?

Durge: No, our first date, not the first time we had sex. Gods. What do you think of me? I’m not a beast.

Astarion: Darling, we have been trudging through the wilderness since the moment we met. We have literally never been on a date.

Durge: Yes we have! It was on the beach, remember? It was perfect. You were perfect!

Astarion: Do you mean when I held a knife to your throat outside the smouldering ruins of a ship full of eldritch horrors and threatened to kill you?!

Durge (all dreamy smiles and googley-eyed): Yes, it was wonderful. Almost as good as our second date, when you bit me and finally made good on your promise!

Astarion: Absolutely none of that was a—oh gods. Was leaving me behind when the crèche blew up your idea of a proposal?!

Durge: Of course dear, I didn’t want you to think I don’t return your feelings!

[by-izz]

I just couldn't stop adding stuff and here we are.

[chocodile]

Baldur's Gate 3 x Animal Crossing (kinda)

Which villager will you befriend?

[galedekarios]

🤍🏵️🤍

[jiaxxnscribbles]

Baldur's Gate 3 🤝 Don't Starve Together:

the shadows hate you

meat products are a valid weapon

(Feat. my tav Avallir)

[janpesart]

Happy anniversary Baldur's Gate 3!

Here's my tiefling druid Mycelia and some curious fairies! 🌞🌻

[geopsych]

Another morning under the heat dome. I heard wood thrushes, an indigo bunting and a scarlet tanager when I got near the woods. But it’s very dry now and grass is turning brown in spots. The sky, though, just keeps being amazing.

[partially-controlled-chaos]

Summer Spice: Day 28 Sleepy Sex

Pairing: Halsin x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit NSFW

Warnings: Kissing, mild biting, nipple teasing, dry humping, vaginal fingering, mutual orgasm, sleepy sex, semi public sex if you squint really hard.

Summary: Prompt for Summer Spice 2024. A quiet night in the Elfsong Tavern rooms leads to a few stolen kisses and a quick moment of passion while avoiding rousing your sleeping companions in the room.

Word Count: 3.1K

a/n: I stumbled across the Summer Spice 2024 prompt list from @alpaca-clouds (thank you for creating this list, by the way, the prompts are fantastic) and it immediately brought me out of my writers block. I’m a little late to this party, but that absolutely won’t stop me from writing for some of these prompts. They won’t be in order and I’ll post as I get them written, but I’m hoping to write for at least two others before the beginning of fall. They’ll all be BG3 related, maybe not all Halsin related, but considering he’s the primary one I write for I can say he’ll be a majority. 

I know I typically write for a gender neutral reader and prefer to do it that way so more people can either self insert or insert their own characters into the story more easily, for the sake of ease I decided to go with a female reader. You could read it as AFAB as well, but I did try to make it work for gender neutral. 

Read on AO3 here!

Slow, languid kisses to your shoulder gently roused you from your slumber. You stirred gently, lazily smiling at the feeling of your lovers soft lips peppering tired pecks against your skin. With a soft hum, you turned from your side, partially rolling onto your back to greet Halsin with half lidded, tired eyes. He greeted you with a kiss to your cheek, his own eyes were still heavy with sleep as he pulled you closer against his chest, your back nestling perfectly against his bare skin. You enjoyed the quiet moment, a rare event in recent times, and simply lay in Halsin’s warm embrace. You felt an arm slide beneath your head as a makeshift pillow as his free hand lazily ran along your side. 

“Good morning, my heart.” He whispered softly against your ear, keeping his voice low to avoid disturbing your companions. 

The rooms above the Elfsong Tavern were much more comfortable than the open road and a dusty bedroll, but admittedly offered much less privacy without everyone having their own tent. Thankfully, you had managed to secure a room mostly to yourself, minus one cleric and an assimar for a few nights, and could unwind each day with the relative quietness of your own room. The room was open, however, not offering much seclusion, but at least you didn’t have to worry about a bunk mate disturbing your alone time with Halsin. Although the druid had his own bunk across the room from you, you greatly preferred it when he joined you in bed for the evenings, always feeling a fluttering in your chest when you felt him slip into your bed late at night and wrap an arm around you.

“Good morning,” you replied sleepily, “are the others awake yet?” You peered over Halsin’s broad shoulder and looked around the room, finding it dark filled with various snores and other sounds of slumber. The sun had not yet crested the horizon and the room was dimly illuminated by a sliver of moonlight filtering through the stained glass of the window beside you. Your head came back down to rest along his bicep, somehow finding it much more comfortable than the feather pillow that was being quickly forgotten above your head. You intertwined your fingers with his, both hands resting against the soft sheets of your shared bed. You were both quiet, precariously balancing on the thin line that separated sleep from consciousness.

“I don’t believe so.” Halsin said after a pause, his voice thick with exhaustion, “It appears we’ve a moment all to ourselves.” A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the thought, your eyes feeling heavy at the gentle caress of his hands continuing their exploration of your body.

“I wish we had more.” You said quietly, your eyes closing as the final words fell from your mouth in nothing much more than a mumble. You felt his fingers slide up towards your shoulder, his finger hooking in the neckline of your tunic before tugging it down slowly. Halsin pressed another kiss to the freshly exposed skin of your shoulder while the hand that was interlocked with yours came up to rest against your chest.

“As do I,” he said as his fingers lightly tugged at the laces of your shirt, “but we can savor the ones we do find.” Despite his exhaustion and partially closed eyes, Halsin managed to unlace the front of your shirt, the neckline falling slack before he gently slipped his hand inside. You moaned ever so softly at the feeling of his hand cupping your breast, not wanting to rouse your sleeping companions and ruin the moment you’d suddenly found yourself in. Halsin stroked the delicate skin on the underside of your breast with his thumb, giving his own hum of approval as he felt your nipple begin to tighten and harden at his feather light touch.

Halsin’s opposing hand continued to travel along the expanse of your side, pulling from your shoulder to slowly trace your curves with the tips of his fingers. You felt a pleasant tingle run across your skin underneath your tunic, his gentle ministrations causing a soft warmth to begin forming in the depths of your core. You felt the whole of Halsin’s hand softly grip your hip, giving a few light squeezes to the fleshy parts of your posterior, wrinkling the cloth of your trousers with each grasp. His lips lingered against your tingling skin, pressing unhurried kisses against you as he explored your neck and jaw with his tongue. He kissed from your shoulder up to the back of your ear, lightly gazing your prickled skin with his teeth every so often.

Your tired mind was clouded at his touches and kisses, each bit of attention given to different parts of your body sent your mind into deeper into the fog. Yours hands caressed his board arm, one of the few places you could actually reach, given your position. His skin was warm beneath your touch, heating up quickly from his own excitement as well as his natural body warmth. Your lips grazed his forearm as he continued to touch and feel his way almost blindly against your body. You felt the hand that had been resting at your hip for the past moments begin to move again, this time moving to feel the plushness of your thighs. 

Halsin adored the feel of your body against his. You always slotted into his embrace perfectly when he would join you in the evenings, allowing him to pull you tightly against his body before drifting off to sleep. Although he joined you most nights, having moments of pleasure during the night had come almost to a halt since entering the city. Tensions were high, given what was at stake, and between the heat of the city and the fights that always managed to find the party, you were both often too tired to do much more than share a few lingering kisses and curl into each other during the night. So, when you both found a brief moment of silence in the night for even a handful of dirtier touches, Halsin was more than eager to pleasure you back to sleep, despite his own exhaustion. 

Halsin’s second and third fingers slid effortlessly between your thighs, pressing against your gently throbbing mound as he touched you through your clothes. You let out a quiet, shaky breath at the feeling of his wonderfully thick fingers rubbing against your sensitive bud. You squirmed as best you could in his embrace, your limbs still heavy from your rest and unable to have full range of motion while you were still on the cusp of returning to your slumber. You felt Halsin smile against your kiss-covered neck, clearly pleased with your reactions. He tweaked your hardened nipple between his forefinger and thumb, causing your body to jolt from the mattress briefly. The aged wooden frame attached to the bed beneath you creaked as you moved, filling the quiet room with the first sounds of the day. 

“You’ll wake the others if you can’t sit still, my heart.” Halsin whispered against your ear. He released your nipple briefly to press the flat of his hand against your chest, pressing your back against him in an attempt to keep you from moving and causing more noise. He return his grasp to your breasts before you could respond, silencing your voice into another hastily exhaled breath. As Halsin’s two fingers ran down the length of your slit at a steady pace, you rolled your head to the side until your forehead bumped against Halsin’s chin. He pressed a firm kiss to the center of your forehead, inhaling the scent of your hair as he continued stroking your sex through the thick fabric. 

Soft moans meant only for Halsin’s ears left your lips, barely audible as you tried to keep as quiet as possible. Your eyes remained closed as you felt Halsin’s fingers swirl against your pulsing clit, feeling yourself becoming slicker with each passing of his touch. Your hips rolled slightly, desperate to feel more friction against your lower half. His touch was firm yet teasingly slow, wanting to savor each second he had with you like this. He could feel a slight dampness starting to form along the trail he’d been following, your own excitement beginning to seep through your camp clothes. You clamped your hand over his, urging him to focusing his touch on certain spots.

“You’re impatient.” Halsin said with a light chuckle, finding excitement in your eagerness. Your thighs squeezed against his hand in an attempt to make him still his movements along your throbbing clit after you’d decided that your sleep-heavy arms were too weak against his own strength.

“We’re short on time.” You muttered softly, your voice getting lost against his skin as you pressed a kiss to the center of his throat. 

“It’s not as early as you think, love.” Your eyes opened slightly, meeting his sleep-heavy, yet playful, gaze as you realized it was the middle of the night and not the approach of dawn. He kissed your lips for the first time since waking you, smiling against yours as he enjoyed your false annoyance. But, being the giving lover that he was, Halsin obliged with your desires. 

Halsin pulled his hand from between your thighs, making you whimper softly as the loss of his touch, but remedied it quickly by slipping his hand under the waistband of your trousers. You sighed heavily against his lips, your breath entering his mouth as he mirrored his ministrations along the outer side of your small clothes. His fingers were so close to touching your bare sex, the thin fabric of your small clothes not offering much interns of protection against his fingers. Your legs parted slightly, allowing him better access to your waiting core as his fingers toyed with the slickness of your camp clothes.

Halsin groaned softly as he felt the warmth of your slick against his digits, finding just how wet you had gotten  from just a few simple touches to be more than exciting than he had anticipated. The lining of your small clothes was positively soaked, the remaining wetness had dribbled from the sides and had started to coat your inner thighs, making yourself slick with excitement. Halsin firmly pressed against the apex of your mound, listening to the small whimpers you made as he continue stroking along your slit. He felt his own arousal beginning to grow at the ease with which his fingers slid across your clothing.

You could feel Halsin’s hardened length pressed firmly against your backside, undeniably weeping against the fabric of his trousers as a result of toying with your perky nipple and swollen clit. Occasionally, Halsin’s hips would grind against yours, pressing the whole of his impressive length against the small of your back or the curve of your ass. You could hear a low growl rumble in his chest with each brief contact of his hips with yours, a signal to you that Halsin was holding back his own desires for the sake of privacy.

With every feeling and touch you were experiencing, you were grateful for your current position in the room. With Halsin’s large frame behind you and your front facing the wall, you were well shielded from any potentially prying eyes, making you feel much more comfortable in being so vulnerable around your companions. Although it was no secret that you and Halsin would have late night trysts and were undoubtedly a pair, the last thing you wanted was to be caught in the act of lovemaking. Although you had no doubts that if someone were to look in your bed space in the current moment they would be able to deduce what was happening, you were just thankful you were mostly obscured from view. You were also thankful that Halsin was mindful of your feelings. Halsin of course wasn’t shy of his feelings towards you in public, but admittedly preferred when he could spare quiet moments alone with you.

Feeling his own resolve beginning to crumble, Halsin’s fingers finally slipped underneath the fabric of your small clothes, two of which finally parted your soaked folds. Sensing the moan that was about to erupt from your lips, Halsin quickly released your now sore nipple from his grasp and pulled it from the front of your shirt. The same hand quickly clamped over your mouth, pulling your head to face him as he tried his best to stifle the sound spilling from your mouth while sliding his fingers knuckle deep into you. You felt your cheeks burn with a radiant warmth that matched the heat coming from between your thighs, your heart fluttering in your chest at the feeling of Halsin’s fingers slipping in and out of you with ease.

“Shhh, my heart,” he whispered in your ear with a certain level of husk to his voice, “quietly now.” 

With two of his digits buried in your wet folds, Halsin circled his thumb around your clit in small strokes, teasing the throbbing bud along nicely. He set a gentle pace, not wanting to make the moment end too quickly, but fast enough to stoke the fires settling within both of you. His lips continued to pepper your face with soft kisses, feeling the warmth of your cheeks beneath his lips as he kissed up towards your temple, moaning against your skin with each clench of your walls around his fingers. Once he was certain you would remain as quiet as possible for the time being, Halsin pulled his hand from your mouth and returned it inside your shirt, focusing his attention on the previously forgotten nipple. 

You bit your lip as you basked in the glow of your building orgasm, an all too familiar tingle beginning to tighten in your belly. Despite their girth, Halsin’s fingers were surprisingly nimble and agile. He knew your body well and knew just how to stroke the right spots in your heat to have you writhing and trembling beneath him. Halsin curled his fingers just each time his knuckles came into contact with your slicked lips, brushing against the well hidden spot within you that would have had your vision blur if your eyes weren’t already closed. He managed to time each thrust of his hips with each curl of his fingers, almost mimicking the feeling of his cock brushing against you.

Halsin emitted a gentle grunt with each movement of his hips, the tightness of his trousers and the contact of his throbbing length against you sent waves of pleasure through him, pushing himself closer to his peak as he worked to bring you to yours as well. You clenched tightly around Halsin’s fingers with each thrust into you, your breath becoming ragged and coming in quick pants as your orgasm approached quickly. From your position, you did your best to pleasure Halsin as well. You rolled your hips against his lap each time he trust them against you, earning you several strained and stifled moans into your neck. You could feel him throbbing against you, his cock aching for release with each connection of your bodies.

It wasn’t long before Halsin focused his attention on your throbbing, aching clit, increasing the speed in which he toyed with the bud, circling and flicking across in an attempt to bring you to release. You can’t say it didn’t work, for soon you were a writhing mess, your legs beginning to tremble as your orgasm neared, your limp limbs getting one quick burst of energy in the moments before your climax. Your hand fumbled to find Halsin’s, fingers scratching at his knuckles as you held it in place while you turned away, the pleasure coming over your body in waves as your orgasm finally hit your body forcefully. While still holding onto his hand, you rolled and buried your face into the softness of the sheets beneath you, hiding the moan that suddenly tore from your lips as you rode out your orgasm.

Missing the feeling of your backside pressed firmly against his cock, Halsin rolled with you, settling comfortably on top of you with his fingers still buried deep inside of your clenched core. With a few sporadic thrusts against your haunches, Halsin’s own orgasm hit just as yours was subsiding, the feeling of your clenching walls around his fingers and the friction against his throbbing cock had finally become too much for him to contain any longer. He pressed his body firmly against yours, his mouth finding purchase against your shoulder as he bit lightly into you, silencing his own moan from the rest of your companions. You could feel a harsh warmth followed by a slight wetness against your lower back, Halsin’s own release soaking through his trousers as the last thrashes of his orgasm finally ended. 

You both lay there quietly, pressed against each other while still trying to regain some sense of composure. Halsin left tired kisses along your shoulder where he had bitten, kissing away any harm he may have done in the process. You could feel the hot pants of his breath against your exposed shoulder along with a light layer of sweat that had formed on his forehead and he pressed it against the back of your neck. Halsin rolled himself from atop you, gently pulling his fingers from your depths and out from the inside of your trousers, fixing the waistband as he did so. 

He returned to his side as you returned to your previous position as well, straightening your clothes as best as possible before turning to face him entirely. Your nose settled in the crook of his neck, placing a few gentle kisses along his neck and collarbones as a way of thanking him for your pleasure. The hand that had serviced your nipples came to rest in your hair, slowly stroking the back of your head and sleep weighed heavily on your eyelids. Halsin kissed your lips tenderly, wrapping his arm around your hips and tugging you against him snugly. His eyes drooped as you lay there together, thoroughly pleased and seemingly undetected. 

“Thank you, my love.” You whispered groggily, suddenly overtaken by the need to rest again. Your arms and limbs became heavy once more, unable to move even if you wanted to. Halsin felt the same, the stroking from his hand coming much slower with each passing moment, his exhaustion from earlier only being intensified as he came down from the thrill of your shared orgasm. 

“Sleep well, my heart.” He said softly as your eyelids closed for the final time that night, sleep finding you quickly. Halsin nuzzled his nose against the crown of your head, your natural scent mixing with the scent of waning arousal being enough to send him into a peaceful slumber.

Tag List: @thoughts-of-bear @mothermoth92 @obuoliukai

[bloodiedrogue]

THE ROGUE TAX (2)

SUMMARY: Fed up with paying Astarion to pick all the locks, you force yourself to learn the hard way.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader (reads as Gender Neutral but future chapters will be femme focused, just a heads up!)

WORD COUNT: 2,635

WARNINGS: Short nightmare sequence, too much sexual tension, slight mentions of a handkink, inappropriate lock pick teaching.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I'm posting these super early but day two of the Haunted Hoedown! This time the prompt is "finders keepers!" I honestly had so much fun with this one, so hopefully all the new Astarion fans that've followed me in the last day enjoy? Love you guys. :))))

Also I was originally going to make all of these challenge fics separate but I've since decided to make it more of a connected fic so... that's a thing now? I'll link the last chapter below!

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

“I wasn’t aware you were so proficient at lock picking.” 

You smirk at Astarion’s false praise, busying your hands against the lock’s mechanism. You’ve only been at it for five or six, maybe seven tops but you can already tell it’ll be a while. The lock itself is tough; covered in a layer of thick rust. Plus, being that it’s a chest and not a door, it’s a bit more advanced than you’re used to.

“Yes, well, not all of us are vampires that can woo their way through a padlock.” 

In response, Astarion laughs, throwing his head back so dramatically that from the corner of your eye, it looks as if he’s lost his head for a moment. “You do realize who you’re talking to, correct?”

You hum out a response and push the short hook further in, feeling the pressure of a loose pin hit the end. When that happens, you grin to yourself and slide closer to the chest, biting your bottom lip in excitement. 

Over the last few weeks, you and the rest of the group had come upon some interesting findings. A cave inside a well, a few hidden cellars around the surrounding the goblin camp, a hidden chest or two. At first, it was exciting, getting to experience the joys of a good treasure hunt but quickly such feelings fell once you discovered how difficult it was to break into said things without the help of Astarion and his seemingly magic hands.

“I know you’re excited to prove yourself, darling, but why don’t you let me finish things off, hm? It’ll go a lot quicker.” 

You shake your head and continue your ministrations, carefully pushing the hook further in, feeling that alleviated pressure of another pin. “I’m tired of relying on you and your bloody rogue tax.” 

After agreeing that Astarion would just pick every lock your party found for a price, it was evident he was more than willing to take more than he was owed. Saying things like I did all the work or you wouldn’t be here if not for me, it was obvious he was exploiting you. Using his roguish charms to earn himself a bigger cut despite doing next to nothing else. 

It was frustrating, to say the least. Another minor annoyance to add to his long list of negative personality traits, and lately you were determined to combat it. To learn the trade for yourself so that every piece of treasure found could remain solely yours. 

“I’m sure everyone is but that’s the price you pay for a professional.” 

You roll your eyes and continue to fiddle, feeling his gaze glued to the positioning of your hands —how your fingers tighten and twist around the metal instrument. 

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you at least a little bit nervous —having his eyes on you. Across your palms, you can feel the slick of sweat collecting with each new movement, while behind you, you can practically feel Astarion’s judgement throughout, silently picking apart all of your mistakes. 

“You’re doing—“

You shush him angrily before he can continue, knowing he’s trying to break your concentration. Knowing that he thinks that if he can prove to be enough of a distraction you’ll end up slipping up and giving in. 

“I was just going to tell you about the wonderful job you’re doing.” His tone is laced with sarcasm. Drenched in a thick layer of impatience that has you groaning under your breath. 

“Isn’t there someone else you can bother?”

“No.”

You know there is. In the other room of the abandoned building you currently find yourselves in, at least four other people are rooting through the rubble. Most likely they’re stationed in their usual areas. Gale’s probably next to the stack of bookshelves with Karlach, telling her all about his collection back at the camp while Wyll and Shadowheart are searching through the cellar in hopes of more wine. 

“You sure?”

For a moment you debate telling him to go keep watch with Lae’zel just so that he’ll shut up but the thought dissipates once you feel him flop onto the floor beside you with a groan. 

“Everyone else is so dull,” he complains. His line of slight flickers between your face and hands, watching the way they remain almost too still as he speaks. “They’re all do this do that, and for what?”

You shrug your shoulders ever so slightly, unsure of what he means.

“They’re all living for other people, darling. Other causes. Everything they do serves a higher purpose and for that reason alone, they’re boring.”

Despite your previous determination your hands release themselves from the padlock before you find yourself readjusting —moving to plop down next to him. “You think everyone’s boring because they’re selfless?”

“Predictable,” he corrects, pointing a loose finger in your direction. “All of them talk too much about a future that may not even come considering we’re infected and have little idea on how to remedy the situation.” 

You’re not sure where this rant is coming from but you welcome it considering it’s been weeks since you’ve had a normal conversation that didn’t revolve around mapping or looting or combat. Weeks since you’ve taken a moment to learn about the people you find yourself in constant contact with. 

“Some people just don’t like looking back.” 

There’s a hint of surprise in his eyes when you respond as if he wasn’t expecting such an answer. Or really, maybe an answer at all. All at once his face seems to rise in thought, taking a moment to absorb the words before he hums in response, pursing his lips. “Yes, well, I suppose some people don’t have a past worth running from.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

The tadpole behind your eye wriggles for his attention before you can even think to suppress it. Working to pull him in as you stare at one another, narrowing your eyes at the sudden cerebral contact. At first, he’s reluctant. You can feel the pushing sensation suggesting that you stop. That you should stick to the confines of your own mind rather than pestering him, but quicker than you can move away to agree, it’s as if you’re sucked back in again. Pulled by the very thread of your own brain matter to see flashes of a life you assume to be his.

The first thing you see is candlelight. A flickering of warm hues that dance across wooden interiors. It’s almost dizzying the way the light shifts across your vision, forcing you to close your eyes. Next to you, you can hear Astarion breathing heavily. Deep inhales followed by even deeper exhales that you swiftly use as a metronome to carry your focus. To aid your tadpole’s connection. 

Swallowing hard, you listen to the beats of his breath, feeling them take over your chest as the vision in front of you grows to reveal bits of cobblestone. In the background, you can hear the faint sounds of scuttling feet. The dripping of water. A hungry growl followed by an even hungrier gnaw of flesh that squelches on your tongue. 

You can taste the iron —feel the fur and bones of an unknown animal brush against your lips and gums. All of it swirls around your mouth like a tornado of overstimulating sensations, forcing the vision to pass as you reach for your throat, coughing up nothing but your own spit despite how real it feels. 

It’s apparent then what Astarion means. That some people aren’t always blessed with the privilege of running away. That people like him don’t have the means of calling upon allies to aid them through the awful shit that is reality. 

Even with such little context, you can sense through his tadpole that he’s alone in this life. Alone before the Illithid —alone now. And more than likely, he’ll be alone after it’s all over, in death or otherwise. 

Rubbing your throat —trying your best to get rid of the tainted feeling of skin and bone from your mouth, you feel empathy rather than sympathy. An understanding of his words as you look toward him, noticing the far-off look in his eye before he blinks and travels back.

“I only showed you that to save the explanation,” he says, and whether or not it’s true you merely just nod, welcoming the silence. The tranquil hush of two people attempting to navigate the other. 

It doesn’t last long. In between, there are a few moments of background noise. The sound of echoing footsteps and muffled voices. You know it’s the others looting just as you should be, but neither of you moves to join until Astarion eventually clears his throat, signalling change. 

“Anyway, they’re all in their own worlds, coasting on the wings of optimism.” He flicks his hand around the air while rolling his eyes. “It’s disgusting and partly why I choose your company above theirs.” 

Letting yourself fall back into your usual, somewhat antagonistic rhythm, you give him a curious look. “Partly, huh?”

“Don’t get too excited,” he quips, the edge of his lip twitching into that usual grin of his. “The other part is the potential of your blood, darling.”

“Ah yes. And here I was assuming you were just following me around so that you could steal my treasure.”

Both of your eyes move back to the unbroken padlock. It’s the only thing in this room that seems to be worth either of your time and Astarion knows it. It’s why he’s been so keen on your failure. 

“You know, I could help you if you like. Show you a thing or two so that the next time this happens you don’t have to rely on me.”

It’s tempting, even if you know that you’ll be taxed to all hell. Whatever spoils you find will ultimately be cut in half and, more than likely, he’ll sweeten the deal for himself by claiming first pick. 

“What’s the price?”

He shoots you a look of offence, clutching his chest. “My dear, I’d never dare put a price on the education of thievery.”

You hold back a grin, pressing your lips together, watching the way he quickly springs into action, motioning for you to hand him your tools. When you do he begins to explain the process, showcasing all the tips and tricks against the air with careful precision. Which would be helpful if you weren’t so focused on his hands rather than his words. On the way they curl around the handles of your tools, tightening with every gesture performed. 

Astarion’s got nicer hands than most. Long and thin and surprisingly well-manicured for someone who spends most of his time in the forest or drinking the blood of unsuspecting animals. And guiltily enough staring at them so intently just reminds you of that night he drained your neck. 

You can still feel the pressure of his fingers against your head. The way they roughly cupped you like a goblet of wine. Despite the fear in that moment, you’re now able to look back at that memory almost fondly. A moment of potential weakness for you somehow became a moment of trust for him and as a result, here you were now, acting almost friendly amid a terrible situation. 

It makes you grin, prompting Astarion to stop his explanation and narrow his eyes. 

“Are you even listening?”

“Hm?”

There’s a knowing glance that befalls his face then. A transition of clarity that has his mouth opening and closing before he hands you your tools. “Might be best if we take a more hands on approach.” 

You look at him confused, letting the hooks in your hand lazily rest in your palm as you watch him hop to his knees and begin to guide you. 

“I want you to do exactly what you were doing before, alright? Use the hook to push the pins.” 

Despite your continued confusion, you follow his position by kneeling in front of the chest and popping the hook into the hole, digging around the darkened space until you feel the shift of that first pin. 

“Got it?” You spare him a glance and a nod, watching him crawl towards you, positioning his chest firmly against your back before reaching out to hold your wrists. “Now, take that other hook of yours and situate it at the base of the barrel.”

Doing exactly that, you feel his fingers slowly slip over yours, navigating you through the trials of getting that second pin to shift as the barrel turns in your grasp. At first, it’s difficult. Mostly because all you can focus on is the breath that hits the side of your face. The heat of the air that travels down your spine in nervous waves you’re almost certain he can feel. But then you’re reminded that you’ve been here before; stuck within his heated grasp. 

“That’s it. Just like that.” 

You’re practically holding your breath as you find that third pin, feeling Astarion’s hand shift you in the right direction before you lose it at the last second. Ever so gently, his chest shifts upwards against your back so that he can rest his chin on your shoulder to get a better look. A newfound weight that makes you close your eyes and release a bit of air from your nose, realizing how intimate this is. 

Somehow it feels even more personal than letting him feed off of you. Perhaps because the bloodsucking was for his own benefit, knowing Astarion, moments like that where he’s able to take rather than give mean next to nothing to him. They’re just moments of manipulation. A series of tactical steps he takes to get whatever he wants whereas this is different. This is for you. 

You’re not sure how to describe it other than an offering of trust. Maybe it’s a token of appreciation for letting him consume. Maybe it’s nothing more than a game to make you squirm beneath his grasp. Either or, it’s an experience you know you’ll be thinking of for days to come, attempting to decipher its intent.

“Once you feel that final pin I want you to ease it in gently, alright? Be delicate.” 

You offer him no response as you listen to his words. If you did, you’re certain he’d make some offhand comment that would only further the lewdness of it all, grinning like the mischievous prick he is. 

“After that, you should feel a little shift and —voilà!” 

The chest clicks open. Your breath releases in a long, much-needed stream but Astarion makes no effort to move from your frame. Instead, he continues to cling to your hands, angling his chin so that when you eventually look at him you’re practically touching noses. 

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“It’s that easy?”

Slowly but surely he slips from your frame with a nod, his hands sliding across the expanse of your sleeves, coating your skin in a wave of goosebumps as he moves to stand. “Yes, but keep it hush, hush. Wouldn’t want the others to find out, would we?”

You shake your head, a small smile creeping across your lips as you then turn towards your reward, gripping both edges of the lid before pushing it up. Inside there are only a few items. A few spell scrolls and some fabric but it’s enough to get you excited regardless, realizing that it’s yours.

“Not bad for your first go.” Peeking over your shoulder, Astarion watches as you sift through everything carefully, unrolling each scroll to read the details before looking back up and raising a brow. 

“You sure there’s no tax?” you ask, but all he does is laugh and shake his head. 

“Finders keepers, darling. As I promised.” 

[octarinecat]

Last summer cambion. ☀️ Can't wait to put him in turtle neck sweater 👀🍁