#bg3 fanfic

[alliskit]

.... as Frog sat down yet again to stare blankly before his computer screen begging all the gods for inspiration.

[cjowoart]

Offerings pt.11

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Gale traced the fresh punctures on his neck with an unsteady hand, fingers ghosting over the delicate, already-closing wounds. The skin was warm beneath his touch, but no blood welled up, not even the slightest bead. Astarion had been meticulous, as always. Still, as he inspected his fingertips, his vision wavered, a subtle haze creeping into the edges of his sight.

He let himself feel it for a moment, the heady weight of blood loss pulling at him. The world swayed, just enough to make his limbs feel languid, his breath slower. There was something almost intoxicating about the sensation, the way it dulled everything else. But then—

A soft kiss pressed against his shoulder. Astarion.

The gentle brush of lips against his bare skin drew him back from the edge, grounding him in the present. It was a stark contrast to the sharpness of fangs that had been there moments before. The warmth of it lingered, more intimate than anything else the vampire had done tonight.

“Are you okay?” Astarion murmured, his voice low, his breath fanning over the sensitive skin he had just kissed.

Gale exhaled, rolling his shoulders as if testing his own body’s limits. “Of course,” he assured, and with a flick of his fingers, he whispered the familiar incantation. A soft bluish glow pulsed over his skin, and the dizziness lifted like fog dissipating in the morning sun.

“Good.”

The word had barely left Astarion’s lips before he struck again. No warning. A sharp pain, immediate and electric, then the deep pull of fangs sinking into his neck once more. Astarion moaned against his skin, a quiet, indulgent sound, and Gale felt it vibrate through him.

He gasped, hands clenching at the sheets as his body fought between tension and surrender. When Astarion pulled back, his breath was hot against the fresh wound, lips brushing against it as he whispered, “Heal yourself again.”

It wasn’t a request.

Gale obeyed, murmuring the spell again through a shudder, the magic rushing through his veins as he felt his body knit itself back together. He barely had time to adjust before Astarion moved.

This time, the vampire slinked lower, predatory intent gleaming in his crimson eyes. That smirk, sharp and playful, sent a different kind of shiver through Gale.

They had stripped away their clothes hours ago, but even clothed, Gale would have felt exposed under Astarion’s hungry gaze. He propped himself up on his forearms, watching warily as the vampire took his time, like a cat toying with a mouse before the pounce.

Astarion started at his ankle, pressing feather-light kisses against the thin skin before nipping, his sharp teeth barely scraping. The sensation was maddening—playful, teasing.

Gale’s breath hitched as those kisses and bites trailed upward, slow and measured. Every touch of Astarion’s lips, every faint graze of his teeth, sent warmth pooling in his stomach. When he reached his knee, Astarion pressed his mouth there longer, letting his tongue flick out in a brief, tantalizing taste before moving on.

By the time he reached Gale’s inner thigh, the wizard was trembling, his body reacting on instinct. His head tipped back, a moan spilling free before he could stop it.

The kisses were fewer now, replaced by something sharper. The soft bites turned firmer, more insistent, until they weren’t soft at all.

Then—the sharp sting of fangs sinking in.

Gale’s moans melted into a groan, deep and raw, as the pleasure laced with pain sent fire racing through his veins.

When his bite had released, his tongue swept over the punctured holes, soothing the sting with a practiced flick. Astarion’s voice followed in a heavy, commanding breath.

“Heal.”

Gale exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to his thigh where the bite still throbbed. “I don’t have the energy to do this too many more times,” he groaned, but still, he repeated the incantation. The soft blue glow pulsed once more, warmth rushing through his veins as the dizziness ebbed.

Astarion shifted over him, fluid and graceful, straddling his lap with ease. The way he moved, so sure of himself, so effortless in his control, made Gale’s pulse stutter. He leaned in, his breath tickling the shell of Gale’s ear.

“Let me know,” Astarion whispered, his voice all silk and sin, “and I’ll stop.”

Gale shuddered at the way the words curled around him, how they felt like a promise and a challenge all at once.

Then Astarion pulled back, just enough to look into Gale’s eyes, his body still resting against him, all lean muscle and cool skin. One hand lifted, fingers trailing through Gale’s hair before brushing it back behind his ear. The gesture was unexpectedly tender.

Gale found himself utterly captivated, his breath caught in his throat. Astarion was beautiful in a way that was almost unreal. The sharp cut of his jawline, high cheekbones that could have been sculpted from marble, the delicate yet predatory curve of his lips. His skin, pale as moonlight, bore a faint, unnatural glow in the dimness, untouched by age, unmarred by time. His hair, silvery-white, curled just so, wild yet perfect in its disarray. And then there were his eyes…

“You’re just so beautiful,” Gale whispered, his voice barely more than breath, as if speaking any louder would shatter the moment between them.

Astarion chuckled softly. He tilted his head, lips ghosting over Gale’s cheek before pressing a fleeting kiss there. “I kn—”

He never finished. Gale pulled him in, hands curling around the back of his neck, fingers threading through his silken hair. The kiss was urgent, desperate, as if he were trying to drown in Astarion, to pull him closer, to keep him there. Astarion let out a surprised hum against his lips but quickly melted into it, parting his mouth just enough to tease Gale’s lower lip between his teeth.

When they finally parted, Gale’s lips were tingling, his breath uneven. Astarion didn’t pull away entirely, letting his forehead rest against Gale’s, their noses brushing as the wizard exhaled a ragged breath.

“Beautiful,” Gale whispered again, as if it were the only word he had left in his lungs.

Astarion smirked, but there was something different in his eyes now—sadness. He sat back slightly, shifting against Gale’s lap, his body moving with that same effortless grace. The shift sent another wave of heat rolling through the wizard, but he barely noticed, too focused on the flicker of something deeper in Astarion’s gaze.

“You really would have been so easy to lure back to Cazador…” Astarion purred, tilting his head as though studying him, lips quirking in amusement. His voice was playful, but there was a shadow of something else beneath it.

Gale reached up, fingers ghosting over Astarion’s jaw, feeling the coolness of his skin beneath his touch.

“I’ll help you.”

Astarion blinked, momentarily thrown from whatever teasing remark he had been about to make.

“What?”

“I’ll help you kill Cazador.” The words left Gale’s lips before he could second-guess them. He closed his eyes briefly, as if bracing for what he had just committed himself to. When he opened them again, Astarion was still watching him, eerily still.

“Even if that means helping you take his place in the ritual.”

Astarion’s smirk faltered, just for a second. The mask slipped—just a crack. And in that moment, Gale swore he saw something raw flicker in his crimson eyes. Hunger, power, longing, doubt.

Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

FSBE 21 - Spooky Scary Skeletons

You have a chat.

(There's gonna be typos in this thing, because I am on a time constraint posting this today, and I'm typing on a laptop keyboard and ain't used to the damned thing at all.)

On AO3.

So you tell them the basics, the outline of everything. A couple details, but nothing deep. Nobody interrupts you. Just as well, cause you don’t look up from your clasped hands. Can’t make no eye contact as you talk; you’ll trip over your own words and hide away inside yourself.

Mother taking you. The farmstead. Daily bible lessons instead of school. The Aunts watching as y’all did youns’ chores. The discipline. Church. The dorms and the chow hall and all the work and work and work and how you ain’t never clean enough, pure enough. How you began to doubt. How you didn’t even know what that was. Mother bringing you the good news of finding a husband for you and what that meant, and you fleeing through the fields into the night a few days later.

You say nothing of the basement. Can almost feel Astarion’s gaze on you.

Everybody’s mostly quiet once you’re done. When you do manage to lift your head, Karlach gives you her “fuck yeah” nod.

It seems to settle affairs. Nobody brings up altering plans no more. Shadowheart quietly gathers her things, and y’all head out.

Astarion falls in beside you. As y’all tromp outta the half-collapsed building, he leans in and says, “Good for you, darling.”

You give him a small smile. It’s the best you can do right now.

The town looks like some rotten, spookfest village in a zombie video game. All decrepit buildings. Rubble cluttering the streets—some of it piled into obvious barricades, and some of those lined in spikes with skeletons draped over them. Fun. What a fun fucking place.

Even with Sailor Moon’s jesus hands, the shadows follow y’all. Like a nasty dog just aching to sink stinking needle teeth into your ankles. It curls around your face. Spectral talons claw at what must be some kinda magic forcefield hovering a couple inches from your skin. It’s close enough you can see how the hateful fuck wants to pluck out your eyes.

Fucking curses. Fucking gods.

Speaking of, there’s some kinda monolith in the center of town. It’s half-buried under thorny vines that smell like a two-week dead possum corpse. Them vines twitch as y’all get close, too. And in that movement, you spot white bone sticking out.

Carnivorous stink vines.

Neat.

“I hate this fucking place,” you say.

“It leaves a lot to be desired,” Astarion says. “Not so much as a rabbit since we entered. And no sunlight.”

Nothing living. No blood for him. Y’all are fine on crackers and barley grits, but him?

“I think I’m better enough from the concussion you can, uh, drink from me,” you say. “Once we get back and all.”

“Oh, you’d rather I not sweep you off your feet and take you right here?”

Your face burns. He means blood. You know it, he knows it, but he’s Astarion, so he’s fucking obliged to frame it like that.

And he’s smirking about it, the shithead.

“I think Shadowheart’d object,” you say.

Astarion waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about our cleric, darling. That one hasn’t the fangs for it. Not really.”

You twist to look at him. “She’s pretty damn good at breaking bones with that mace of hers.”

“Yes, but those were goblins. It’s entirely different. She likes you.”

As much as anyone with her mindset can, once her leash gets tugged. Which it has so she doesn’t.

Shadowheart herself is busy peering at a tablet embedded on the side of the monolith. Gale stands beside her. Frowns when she sneers, and for a second, you think her magic hearing caught you out. But she says, “It seems like this Ketheric Thorm is double the traitor, even after the Dark Lady blessed him with this curse.”

You edge away from a crumbling skeleton nearby. Blessing is an odd word for this. She don’t seem all that affected, though, while that shit longs to chew everybody apart from the inside out.

“And yet he still abandoned her,” she says. Catches you watching and drops her delicate sneer faster than a water moccasin she mistook for a stick in the river.

“So then who granted him the invulnerability our friend Jaheira described?” Gale says.

Jesus lord, y’all are caught up in a divine dick-waving contest.

***

The waypoint stone is, in fact, intact. And Gale can and does, in fact, turn it back on.

“If one of you lot gets killed, don’t come crying to me,” Karlach says.

Turns out that lightning wasn’t the only spell Gale’s been working on. And the trader at the inn had a set of what he calls “sending stones.” Which is a form of, what, magic voice mail? But super limited, down to twenty-five words.

If either of your groups get into a pickle, y’all let the other know. The waypoint stone is the Alamo.

Then you wish you didn’t make that comparison; didn’t all them Texans get slaughtered at the Alamo?

You watch Wyll, Lae’zel, and Karlach head off to poke around and see what they can turn up. Karlach gives you a worried look over your shoulder. You give her a thumbs up.

You are fucking lying.

Not-Sasha chooses that moment to start yapping in your head. Something about “yes, yes, feel the power of your anger something seat of the Absolute something dark side this and that.” You focus on the tower rising outta the gloom. Bitch is a hundred feet tall, at least, and thick as shit. Ain’t none of them bitches inside cleaned up and of the moldering bodies littered over the bridge connecting the tower to the town, neither. You remember Astarion saying something about monsters not doing that.

You catch Gale’s eye. He gives you a reassuring nod.

Infiltrate a psychic brainworm cult. You’re already doing your best to batten down the mental hatches. Still your thoughts. Dig into the deep recesses of you, hunting for that old way of thinking like digging through a closet for an ugly, itching shirt you thought you threw away. But now you gotta put it on, and worse, you can’t fidget or indicate in any way that you hate the damn thing.

It has to be you. Your best. That teenage girl, that twenty-year-old fanatic sobbing face down on the concrete of the barn-turned-church, muttering devotionals over the wet spot of cleansing tears.

Your hands is shaking again.

And the soft scent of flowers washes over you. Shadowheart comes up on your right.

“I wasn’t directing my earlier remark at you,” she says, careful not to direct her gaze at you, neither.

“You’re good,m” you say. Try not to side-eye her, even if only to try to catch a read on what this is.

“I never…” Her lips press tight. Brown furrows. She finally glances to you, the tiniest flicker. “You know of my devotion to Lady Shar, yet you don’t seem to judge, even after your own…past.”

Huh.

This…huh.

Is this what Sasha felt all them years ago when you finally got beyond her saying “hi” and you responding with panicked avoidance in town? Talking to outsiders let the devil in. And you told her that to her face about the third time she saw you. But she stayed calm and friendly, and said she hoped the good weather held during your walk home.

It must have antagonized her, though. Being accused of marrying Satan tends to piss people off. But she ain’t never showed it.

So you only shrug. “I ain’t your boss.”

Shadowheart looks at you fully, then, ignoring the skeptical tilt of Astarion’s eyebrows to your side (you flap a low hand at him in the hopes he’ll get the message to back the fuck off, please). It’s a cool assessing thing. Reminds you of the way she studied you on that butthole ship, and again on the beach when she tucked away that weird puzzle box and you didn’t ask about it. (Which you now know apparently contains Not-Sasha and is the reason y’all didn’t erupt into calamari-face.)

“Not everyone is accepting as that,” she says. Takes a few steps. Then, “Thank you. For respecting it. Me.”

Gale leads the way, and you ain’t sure he can hear this. Astarion sure as shit can, but he ain’t sending you brainworm murder offers this time, so…progress?

“Like I said, I got no idea how this place works,” you say. “It’d be real stupid to go stepping into shit I don’t know. All that stuff can be real good for some people.”

Which is true. And still raises your hackles. Ten years out and you still a kicked dog looking to bite somebody religious. But one who also knows not every hand lifted at you is a fist. Much as part of you want to to on a screaming, mauling rampage.

This, your therapists have assured you, is progress.

Then Shadowheart relaxes just a hair, and that’s probably worth you biting your tongue. “It is. We…my lady commands secrecy above all. It’s one of our holiest tenets.”

But. There’s a “but” in there, caught on the tip of her tongue. She visibly wrestles with herself (it’s in the eyes) and then continues,” We’re one, in the darkness. All of us naked and equal in her blessed void.”

Y’all wore white on church days, kneeling and choking on sin before the Pastor on his lesser throne.

“That sounds comforting,” you say. If everybody is a sinner, everybody is in equal need of grace.

Until the lord passed judgment through his right hand, and a congregant was singled out for cleansing wrath. “Some more equal than others,” as that animal book said or something.

Shadowheart stops. Gale don’t notice, keeps on heading towards the fog-shine of lanterns ahead. She looks up at you. “I. I’m sorry. For making my own judgment about you. It was in error.”

“I get that a lot.”

She frowns, a hint of worry tightening her brown.

“That was a joke,” you say.

And that earns you the world’s tiniest smile. A grasshopper’s sigh of a smile, that feels like a glitter bomb exploding into the word “victory” in your head.

“You aren’t what I expected,” she says.

“I get that a lot, too.”

God, that smile of hers is trying real hard to find itself some roots. But she manages to swat it down with a nod. “That’s settled, then.”

With the small uptick at the end to make is a question. She ain’t staring or giving off that unearthly chill of disapproval. She reminds you of the woman who found you blubbering out in the woods after Astarion left you there. Who then threatened to smite the man on your behalf.

Y’all reach the edge of the bridge. Gale has turned, clearly waiting for y’all, a bit puzzled and a bit consternated (you ain’t sure that’s actually a word, but that sure is what his face is doing).

Guards stand around up there, in actual, metal armor. Stone steps lead up and up, to a set of double doors you’re willing to bet bar from the inside. Teenage you shudders in the back of your mind.

“Impressive,” Gale says as y’all catch up. “I can see why both the harpers and the druids failed to capture this place.”

Shadowheart looks to you again, solemn and serious. “Do try not tog et us all killed.”

It hits and ricochets about in you—she’s still pissed—you got her to smile—not friends?

Then the corners of her eyes crinkle. Barely. “That was a joke.”

Jesus fuck. You ain’t never wanted to muss somebody’s hair in proud affection and slap them upside the head for the what the fuck was that. But you’ll take an olive branch when you get handed one, so you give her an actual smile.

“I’m about to vomit,” Astarion says. “Can we get on with this, or do you two need a bit of privacy to indulge each other?”

Shadowheart beats you to the glare. Meets him with ice cold calm and a raised eyebrow. “Is that jealousy I hear?”

“Of you?” He scoffs. “I’m merely concerned about the looming fortress of tadpoled cultists. That and your githyanki paramour discovering she has competition.”

It’s…hard to tell what his tone is. He’s a grade-A bitch on normal days. And you told him about you, well, lack of experience.

Then again, he came onto you last night and you wanted to read a book about a plague. That tends to put people off.

But Shadowheart stays on him. Tilts her head and her shoulders in offended Mean Girl and lays into him about “the gith and I, I’d rather drink bleach.” Or something to that effect. Cause you ain’t really paying attention to what she’s saying. You’re focused on the flash of his gaze to you. The subtle tilt of his chin, the hint of something behind his eyes.

He’s doing it on purpose. Drawing her away from you. Cause he knows about you. More’n what you told the others. He felt parts of it. Enough, unless you’re wildly off base, to give you a second of breathing room at the base of the steps. Before the guards stomp over to ask who the hell y’all are. An inch of space to suck in a lungful, lock down, and look up that tower full of an immortality secret and at least one kidnapped tiefling kid.

You turn to face the guards. Fold your hands in front of you. Smile at Gale.

[altacctforastarion]

Hey! Love your Astarion works! I was wondering if I could request a nsfw fic of Astarion and the reader 69ing? I was reading through your recent headcanons and it made me realize I’ve never seen an Astarion fic including that before. Thanks for considering my request! :)

Hey anon! Thanks for requesting, I’d actually thought about writing a fic including it so thank you for the excuse! I set this post-game, I think it’d be neat if Astarion could be a magistrate again (I know nothing about magistrates/dnd legal systems tho so it’s vague as HELL), so like y’all have a cute lil house in the city and Astarion is a late night magistrate. Just for fun. Also:

I think 69 only happens when he’s not the dominant one tbh, any other time I think he wants to see you while he goes down, so he just won’t let you, but if you’re in charge he lets you decide. And if you decide you want him whimpering while he pleases you, he whimpers while he pleases you 🤷🏻 so here is Sub!Astarion 69ing!

Warnings: 18+ obvi, mdni, oral sex (both receiving), Sub!Astarion, 69ing, blood drinking during sex, slight praise kink (he receives), you’re a super soft dom, AFAB reader, no pronouns for you and no use of y/n. Not edited at all, please tell me if there are any awful typos

Edit: forgot about tag list:

@lotus-ignis @astari0nsju1ceb0x

If you want to join the list dm/reply/or leave a note in my inbox!

Astarion was quiet, sitting up in your shared bed with a book on his lap and a scowl on his face, he’d barely spoken since he’d returned to your home from work, giving you a tired, half-hearted smile and a “Hello, darling” and then having a long bath with a glass of wine. You’d given him space, waiting in the bedroom for him to come to bed.

When he’d joined you, wearing only underwear and a silk black robe, he’d kissed you, a simple peck on your lips, and then picked up his book, reading in his unusual silence. He doesn’t like to talk much when he’s had a bad day, both because of a need for decompression, and because he doesn’t want to give himself an opportunity to lash out at you.

It had only happened once, and he’d only given a snarky reply to a question you’d asked when he got home, an apology on his lips as soon as he realized what he’d done, but since then he’s been careful, calming himself before he tells you all the details, relaxing at least a little before he allows himself to interact with you how he usually does.

You keep yourself busy with your own book, until you hear him close his book and speak, agitation coloring his tone, “Someone lost all of my paperwork before I got there, and it was a pain to find them. Everyone I dealt with today was an idiot, and there I was, in charge of all of the idiots with my lost paperwork. And now I’m home, with you, and I still feel that weight instead of relaxing. Come here, would you?”

You put your book on your nightstand and move over to him, going in for a cuddle but he pulls you to him and kisses you, gentle at first but then there’s hunger, his tongue pushing into your mouth. He pulls you until you’re on top of him, his hands on your hips, and the kiss breaks as you adjust, your legs on either side of him. An idea hits you, as you look down at him, at his tired eyes and the tension that lingers on his face, “Would you want to change how we do this? You could just lay back and let me take care of you?”

He looks surprised at first, and then it’s masked by flirtatious confidence, “How sweet of you, darling. How would you “take care of me”, exactly?”

Your skin flushes, and he eyes your neck, watching the blood go to your cheeks, “We don’t have to, I just… when I was leading back then, right before we fought the brain it was nice when you made the decisions in bed, I just did what you wanted and let you have your way with me. I thought maybe I could do that for you? If you want to. If not I’m perfectly happy with-“

“You avoided my question. How would you take care of me, if I allowed it?” You catch the word allowed, and realize he’s not teasing you, not trying to pull dirty talk from your lips, he’s being cautious. He’d been used and abused for years, all while retreating into his mind and he won’t have that happening again. No, if you have control over him it’s because he let you, not because you took it, and no matter how much he loves and trusts you he needs details.

“I’d use my hands, or my mouth, or maybe both on you, and when you fucked me we’d do it like this, with me on top and you can just lay there and let me. I’d tell you beautiful you look under me,” You move down, his face in your neck and your lips to his ear, “I’d let you drink from me like this, while I’m on top of you, and maybe you’d be inside of me. I’ll do whatever you want, Star, you can just ask and I’ll give you anything. You can relax and let me please you, the only work you’d have to do is drinking from me.”

His hands grip your hips tightly, and when you move again, so you can look at him, and he looks significantly more interested in your offer. “You’ll stop if it’s too much? If I don’t like it?”

“Of course, same as always. If you aren’t enjoying something let me know and it stops right away.” You reach for his face, cupping his jaw, “We don’t have to do this either, it’s all for you, what do you want?”

“I..I want you that, it would be nice to stop thinking for a bit. Have your way with me, love.” He says the first part tentatively, but he’s smiling flirtatiously when he finishes speaking, and you smile back at him, eager to start.

You climb off of him and remove your clothes, urging him to do the same, and he teases you about your eagerness, telling you if you wanted a taste of him so bad you could have simply asked, laughing when you throw your shirt at him in response.

—

Astarion’s gasps are constant, in time with every time you let him into your throat, his hips bucking against your hands that are keeping him mostly still. He’s deep in your throat when his hands bury themselves in your hair, your name coming out in a low moan before he speaks, voice hoarse, “D-darling,” He cuts himself off with another moan, followed by a curse as you swirl your tongue around the sensitive head of his cock and look up at him, “Darling- oh, gods do that again.”

You’d hollowed your cheeks, sucking him into your throat on a slow descent, your tongue licking at the underside of his cock, and when you repeat it he whines, high in his throat, and his hands pulls your hair lightly. He lets out a shaky breath when you pull back, letting his cock slip free from your mouth, and looking down at you with a vaguely scandalized look on his face.

“You were trying to say something, I didn’t want to distract you. What were you about to say, Astarion?” You smile, and he glared down at you.

“I was going to say I wanted to return the favor, but then you decided to be a devil.” Dramatics aside, he still looks down at you with want.

Your hand ghosts over his cock, fingers trailing up and down with light touches, just to watch him squirm, enjoying the redness on his face afterwards, and you continue with your teasing touches while you speak, “You want me to stop doing this? Or were you asking for that after this?”

“I- gods I don’t know. Don’t make me choose, you’re in control tonight.” His eyes flick away from yours, and you can sense giving up that control is difficult, he’s making an active choice to leave things to you.

Not wanting to give him time to linger, you lick a stripe up his cock and take him into your hand as you feel his thighs shake just slightly. You stroke him slowly, your grip firm as you contemplate, feeling the ache of your untouched cunt. “I saw a painting at a brothel once- don’t ask, I won’t tell you. A woman was on top of a man, using her mouth on him while he used his on her. Would you want to try that? It’s completely fine if not, but if you don’t you’ll have to wait to return the favor, I’m not done with you yet.” You finish your sentence with your thumb circling the head of his cock, and he lets out another low moan, whispering your name like a curse afterwards, like it’s the only thing in his mind. His head has fallen back on the pillow, and you can see as his eyes close, his lashes fluttering against his reddened skin.

You continue to stroke him as you wait for a reply, and you speed up when his hips buck up, a little high-pitched sound leaving his throat before he speaks, “You’re in charge.” He says it like he can barely force out the words, lost in the pleasure you’re providing. He makes a needy sound when you let go of his cock despite giving you the okay to change things up, and you can’t help but to lean down and lick up his cock again before you move to get into the position you’d described. He gasps, and his hips chase your lips but you’ve already moved away with a smile at him, at the desperate look in his eyes as he looks at you.

—

You breathe out a little laugh as you attempt to get into the foreign position, feeling a little silly at how you’re moving while you arrange yourself. And you hear him sigh, amused, “Can’t you take anything seriously?”

He helps you get your legs on either side of his head and when his breath ghosts over your core, you lose your humor, a little gasp leaving your lips. “Is this ok? Are you comfortable?”

He doesn’t respond verbally, instead you feel his hands on your hips, and then he pulls you down, his tongue delving into your folds immediately, none of the normal teasing as he licks you with fervor, his moan matching yours as he tastes your wetness on his tongue.

You let yourself drop to your elbows, a hand coming up to move his cock before taking him into your mouth, feeling him moan against you, the vibrations stimulating your clit wonderfully, you begin to move your head, and you feel him move his head before his tongue pushes into your entrance, and your hips move on their own accord, grinding down on his face before you catch yourself. His cock leaves your mouth with a wet pop as you lift your body up. “I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful!”

He sounds starved when he answers, pleading, “Please do that again.”

You flush again, and hesitantly lower your hips to his face, listening to him moan when he returns to his task, his tongue entering you, and you slowly, carefully, grind down on his tongue, a moan ripping from your throat at the feeling of it inside you. You do it again, just as slow before he pulls your hips down and rocks your cunt against his mouth with force, before letting you go, a clear indication of what he wants from you.

You take the suggestion as you take his cock back into your mouth, letting your hips roll against him with a little less fear of hurting him, and you feel his cock twitch in your mouth. You fuck your own throat with his cock, rocking forward to take it in deeper and rocking backwards onto his face after, and you feel the little sounds he’s making against your cunt even though you can’t hear them.

You hear the loud whimper he lets out when you focus on the head of his cock, feel how his tongue falters in its movements for just a second when yours laps at him. He won’t last long like this, and you fight the urge to ask him if this is how he’d like to cum, reminding yourself that you’re in charge. You decide you want him to cum inside you instead, and you pull off of his cock, a loud whimper coming from him, “Will you make me cum, love? Then I’ll ride you while you drink?” You lift your hips up slightly, to give him the option to refuse or voice his approval, half expecting him to just pull you down again.

“Please let me?” He pleads, his hands gripping your hips.

“Let you do what love?” You ask, confused, your hips lifting up a bit more, and his grip gets tighter as you hear him whine.

“I want you to cum like this, please. Use- use my mouth.” He sounds desperate for it, like he wants nothing more, not even bothering to acknowledge the rest of your proposition.

You let out a little moan, loving every little bit of his desperation for you, and lower your hips again. He sucks at your clit greedily, tongue flicking against you and you moan and you lean down to lick at his dripping cock, little tongue flicks that match his, and you feel his whimpers as you let him back into your mouth.

You get close quickly, moaning around his cock and rocking back on his face, feeling and hearing the desperate sounds he makes against your pussy. You feel his tongue enter you again and that’s all it takes, crying out as you cum on his face, letting his cock fall out of your mouth, licking at it while you recover.

He doesn’t stop immediately after he’s worked you through it, and you gasp and twitch from sensitivity, lifting your hips up and feeling his tongue chase you.

You move off of him, your wobbly knees making it difficult but he helps you, until you’re on the bed next to him. Your hand cups his jaw, the other going to his curls, playing with them, “Are you alright, love? How are you feeling?”

“Like you should have shared your brothel knowledge sooner. Kiss me, please?” He asks, already reaching for you. You give him what he wants, of course, laying down next to him and letting him pull you in for a kiss. His tongue briefly dipping into your mouth, your taste on his tongue, before he breaks the kiss. “I’d like to be in you now, if that’s ok?”

“Of course, Star.” You kiss him again, for just a second before straddling him, his cock wedged in between his stomach and your pussy, “You’re doing great for me, my love. So fucking good, just for me.“

Astarion’s face flushes again, “Yes, yes. Now get to it.” After a delay, and the twitch of his cock giving away how much he enjoys the praise, he amends, “Please, darling?”

You lean down to kiss him as you line his cock up with your entrance, and your tongue enters his mouth as you sink down on him, swallowing his groan. His hands go back to your hips, and you have a new idea, “Would you like for me to hold you down? I could hold your hands?”

“If you’re gentle, we can try it.” He looks a little anxious, but excited, and you’re slow as you go for his hands, your fingers sliding in between his when you’ve moved them to the bed on either side of his head. You apply light pressure, and rock down on his cock, before riding him slowly, just a few thrusts to see how he feels about your new position. He attempts to move his hands, you barely let them raise an inch before they’re back against the bed, he groans, “Gods, yes, that’s good. I like that.”

“So good, Star, letting me try new things on you. So pretty.” You praise, before you start riding him, and the angle has his cock hitting that spot inside you on every thrust. You gasp as you start to speed up, and he lets out a little whine. You watch his eyes close, lost in his pleasure, and his hips buck against you occasionally, his cock pushing into you just right.

You wait until you’re both getting close before you let go of his hands, and his eyes open in surprise, but you just smile at him and cup his jaw again, “Would you like to drink from me?”

“Please.” His voice comes out in another whine, and you lean down, pulling his head and upper body up towards you as you continue to grind on his lap.

You’re so close, and when his fangs pierce your neck, you cum, gasping from the sensitivity as you continue to move on his cock, and you feel him moan against your neck as you clench around him.

He hips thrust up into you while he drinks, before he shudders and cums, and you feel him lapping up the blood that spills freely while he’s distracted. You stay on his cock, petting his hair while he finishes drinking from you, his cock slowly softening inside you.

When he’s done you start to move off of him, to get clean and help him do the same, but his arms wrap around you, his face still buried in your neck, “Stay, please?”

“Of course, my love. Are you alright?”

“Just you, like this.” He breathes in your scent deeply, his lips on your lightly bleeding pulse, “Thank you for this, love. I..I really needed it.”

“Thank you for trusting me, beautiful. I’m glad it helped.”

[bonechillen]

Hi! I have one kiss prompt for you, I'd like to see number "50. …out of love.", please 😊 -Shadowfallen

Thank you for the prompt!!!

This one was a ton of fun!

Story under read more, and here is the AO3 link!

In the days before the reunion with her friends, Shadowheart had practically buzzed with excitement. Her mother had helped her pack, sending plenty of rations - and then some. Her father, not to be outdone, had supplied her with arguably sage advice on courtship of all things. Well-meaning advice, and packed dinners were luxuries Shadowheart never thought would be afforded to her. It almost seemed too good to be true, how things had turned out for her.

It wasn’t until Shadowheart stood before the roaring campfire, feeling its warmth upon her now-freckled skin, that she could truly reflect on how much she gained on her journey. Something about being back where it all started made the stark differences in her circumstance clear as the night’s sky alight with the moon’s glow.

The last time she’d camped along this stretch of the River Chionthar had been the night they’d saved the tieflings from Minthara’s attack of the grove. Now the Drow stood in quiet contempt as she no doubt waited for the other Drow from their merry group to arrive. Shadowheart couldn’t help but feel her stomach churn in contempt as she pictured Minthara of all people vying for Tav’s attention. And Tav would give it, because she was good, loyal and faithful to her friends. And…Not Shadowheart’s any longer.

That last night along the River Chionthar, near the grove, with their entire journey ahead of them, weighed heavily in Shadowheart’s mind. She’d stood where she stood now, watching the shadows for Tav to clamber from them, hoping she’d find her way to Shadowheart’s side. Inhaling sharply, Shadowheart couldn’t help but hope that the night’s events would unfold the same way.

It was a foolish notion - Tav had ended things between them.

While it stung still, Shadowheart could hardly blame her. A friend, perhaps the dearest of her friends, had needed Tav more than Shadowheart did. Tav - being Tav - insisted it would be wrong to expect ‘A woman who just got her life back, to wait for the impossible.’.

A fair, even merciful choice in a way, yet not one Shadowheart would have picked for herself. It had infuriated her at first that Tav had discarded her so quickly, but with time, the spite faded. Her logic was sound, and her heart’s intentions, as good as ever. Perhaps that was why it still hurt so much. Shadowheart painstakingly knew what she lost when Tav went to Avernus, and what Karlach gained. A chance.

If anyone deserved the steadfast comradery of Tav, it was Karlach. The bitterness of their parting was amended by the refreshing notion that Tav was doing it for a beloved friend. Despite all the sensible reasons for their parting, some part of Shadowheart still dreamed of a day when Tav appeared back in her life - to stay. That image crossed her mind each time ‘moving on’ crossed her mind. How could she, when her heart burned amid the Hells?

No amount of preparation would have sufficed in bracing herself to see Tav again. When she strolled into camp, closely behind the hulking tiefling, looking like a rugged adventurer of legend, Shadowheart had to fight the blush that came to her cheeks.

Tav looked vastly different from the well-kempt Drow that had left the day they defeated the Netherbrain. Gone was the long, silken hair that flowed effortlessly down Tav’s back. Now, the Drow sported a rough chop of ivory hair, still befitted with the soot and brimstone of the Hells.

Karlach ran ahead of Tav, eagerly racing to Wyll, to wrap him in a swooping hug, followed by Astarion, who’d been right at Wyll’s side. Along came Gale, then the astral projection of Lae’zel, all greeting the returned warriors from Avernus with gleeful cheer.

The others watched on with delight, waiting for their turn to greet the women. Shadowheart smiled to herself, unable to bring herself to take the steps forward herself, but happy all the same to see Karlach and Tav again. There was a slight sting when Tav’s gaze traveled through the small crowd around her, weaving through the bodies of their friends, searching. Shadowheart’s nails dug deeply into her palms while she held her breath, realizing Tav was looking for her. A moment later, their eyes met across the camp.

Tav’s smile faded as her eyebrows rose to scrunch above her wide eyes. Lips drawing into a thin line, it looked as though the Drow had seen a ghost amid their camp. Shadowheart must have bore a similar expression, she was sure of it. Turning her gaze to the moon above, Shadowheart let out the breath she’d been holding. Did Tav have to become hotter after spending six months in the Hells?

Shadowheart laughed softly at the unconscious pun - her father was getting to her. As she cast her gaze from the moon to its reflection in the River Chionthar, Shadowheart wondered how differently she would look to Tav. It didn’t seem likely to change anything, yet, there was something satisfying to the thought of Tav holding the image of Shadowheart on this night close to the chest along those nights amongst the Hells.

Huffing, Shadowheart crossed her arms and turned her gaze to the ground beneath her. Shadowheart kicked the loose dirt as though it would absolve her of her foolishness when it came to Tav - the Drow was doing just fine without her, why couldn’t she do the same?

“Are you picturing the dirt to be my face?” came the gentle Drowic accent that fluttered through Shadowheart’s daydreams. At the sound of her voice alone, Shadowheart knew her father’s bequeathed witty words wouldn’t be enough to navigate the stormy waters of her relationship with Tav.

Lilac eyes, ringed with dark circles that spoke of sleepless nights, met Shadowheart's widened gaze as she looked up from the dirt. Shadowheart couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of anguish at the sight of her pitiful form - had Tav come with her, they’d spend each night in each other’s embrace. Rest would come easy to Tav, safe in their warm bed, and Shadowheart’s persistence embrace.

“Come here -” Shadowheart ushered tenderly, pulling Tav into a tight embrace. Pulling the Drow’s form against her own revealed a much different sensation than Shadowheart had come to expect from the other woman. Her musculature had grown, no doubt from days upon days of tearing through whatever nasty creatures the Hells had to throw at the pair of doomed women. Shadowheart squeezed a little tighter at the thought - some part of her yearned to be by Tav’s side. There, she would keep her safe as she had amid the many battles that had come before.

Shadowheart closed her eyes, pressing her face against the warm, dusky skin along Tav’s neck. She couldn’t bring herself to let go just yet. In that moment, she’d never missed the tadpole more. There was little she wouldn’t give to peer into Tav’s mind, to know how she measured up in her former lover’s eyes. As the embrace lingered, Tav’s fingers dug deep into the fabric of Shadowheart’s tunic, expelling a sigh of contentment from Tav’s lips.

Tav’s breath danced across the bare skin of Shadowheart’s neck, as if to kiss the sensitive skin. Shadowheart got the feeling the pair were pushing the boundaries of harmless intimacy between friends, to lovers, to friends again. Still, she couldn’t help but ache for the sensation of Tav’s lips against her neck rather than just her breath. It was what was between Tav’s lungs that Shadowheart yearned for above all, not the breath within them.

Hooting and hollering from across the camp brought the women from their intimacy. Pulling away from Tav, Shadowheart looked on to find Karlach and Wyll engaged in some sort of drinking game, cheered on by others.

“It’s good to see Karlach so cheerful. A rare sight these days.” Tav said wearily, turning to Shadowheart with a soft smile on her lips. No - she couldn’t look at Tav’s lips. She would have to cast her gaze elsewhere. Settling on Tav’s eyes, Shadowheart chased away the urge to get lost in them, scraping up her wits.

“It’s not all fun and games in the Hells, then?” Shadowheart lightly teased, nudging Tav gently. Tav grinned, casting her gaze downward as she chuckled softly to herself.

“It’s quite hellish, actually. Perhaps I should have read the reviews.” Tav relented, gaze rising to meet Shadowheart’s again.

“Quite the comic these days. Should you ever leave Avernus behind permanently, a life in the circus would suit you.” Shadowheart jested, swaying toward Tav. For being so afraid to be near her again, it was nearly as easy as breathing now to be in her company again.

“As long as you come to see me. I’d make a fool of myself for you, a smile on my face.” Tav crooned with a devastating smile that made Shadowheart’s chest wrench as if it were filled with twisting vines. Suddenly, it was hard to breathe around Tav!

“I’ll take you up on that - should you leave the Hells behind, that is.” Shadowheart relented, fighting the wanting - the needing - for Tav that her body implored upon. “How are your parents faring?” Tav asked innocently. Shadowheart offered a thanks to the Moonmaiden for the change in subject. She wasn’t ready to think about what the future might hold for Tav. There was a vivid fantasy in her mind she would cling to of Tav returning to her, in every way - she needed that vision like she needed air while Tav frolicked through Avernus, every horrible thing the Hells could conjure posing a threat.

The pair fell into idle chatter of their lives, letting the burning desire between them simmer all the while. When Tav finished regaling a tale of disemboweling two cambions simultaneously, Shadowheart couldn’t help but feel a tad jealous of the Drow’s exciting life. Though, she felt immensely jealous of Karlach, by Tav’s side through all of it while Shadowheart was planes away from the woman who held her heart in her hands.

It was then Shadowheart noticed the gazes of their companions landing on them. They too seemed jealous, each of them wanting a piece of Tav before she fell back into the snapping jaws of Avernus.

“I’d better go. I’m sure Minthara is eager to relay tales of matricide.” Tav said with a chuckle, arms crossing tightly across her chest.

“Very well. I…” Shadowheart began, stepping closer to Tav, to reach forward and tidy the messy locks that had fallen into her face. “It was good to see you.” She finished, clearing her throat as she stepped away from the other woman, and her widened gaze.

“Keep well. Give your many, many animals and your parents my regards.” Tav replied stiffly, offering a curt nod as she left to mingle with the others.

The moon hung high in the sky, most of the party-goers had found their way into their bedrolls. Sleep evaded Shadowheart; instead, she sat beneath the waterfall where she’d first tasted Tav. A finer vintage than she’d ever tasted - impossible to source and scare as could be, Tav was sweeter than the best of wines.

Tears pricked at Shadowheart’s eyes as she thought of the night she’d shared with Tav under the coursing rage of the waterfall. The memory burned bright in her mind, like a lone candle on an altar of devotion. Tav was the only lover she could recall, yet something told Shadowheart that even if she held hundreds of suitors, Tav would stand paramount.

The scuffle of steps behind her altered Shadowheart to the approach of the Drow. Wiping her eyes quickly, Shadowheart craned her neck to see Tav’s approach. Tav offered a somber smile as she approached slowly.

“I thought I’d find you here. I came to say goodbye.” Tav offered, not daring to come closer.

Shadowheart tore her gaze from Tav, back to the coursing waterfall. Frustrated, Shadowheart got to her feet, and marched toward Tav, then right past her. “Goodbye, Tav.” Shadowheart offered, keeping her voice even.

A gentle hand tugged at Shadowheart’s shirt sleeve, begging her to stay in place. Looking to the lavender colored hand that held her in place, Shadowheart froze. She couldn’t bring herself to spurn Tav’s touch.

“I…Do you remember the night we spent here?” Tav asked gently, letting her hand fall from Shadowheart’s sleeve.

“Of course. There’s nothing that could wrest the memories I share with you away from me. Nothing.” Shadowheart affirmed, fighting the raw emotion that begged to seep into her voice.

Tav smiled, letting her hand coil into Shadowheart’s, as she spoke again, softly. “I replay them in every moment of peace - and even in strife. I need to remember.” Tav admitted, eyes burning like the flames of faerie fire.

“Remember what? You aren’t the one who had your memories scattered to the wind.” Shadowheart mocked, her ire with Tav boiling over.

“I need to remember what I need to get back to. Even if…If I return, and you’ve moved on, I won’t-” Tav began, stuttering nervously as a violet flush found her cheeks.

“There’s no moving on from ‘The Hero of Baldur’s Gate.’” Shadowheart replied with a bitter laugh.

“And there’s no forgetting the woman who defied Shar.” Tav affirmed, grasping Shadowheart’s other hand in her own. “Not even for a moment.” Tav added, shaking her head. “And thank the Gods - I don’t think I’d make it a day if I closed my eyes and couldn’t picture you beside me again.” Tav finished with a grimace upon her fair drowic features.

“Then why-” Shadowheart began, failing to keep the torrent of swelling emotion from her voice, “Did you reject me? Did you think me incapable of loving you from afar? Do you think me so shallow that I wouldn’t understand?” Shadowheart accused, squeezing Tav’s calloused hands in her own.

“No, love, it’s not that.” Tav implored, her own eyes swelling with unshed tears as Shadowheart felt her stomach lurch at the term used - love. “It just isn’t right to ask you to-” Tav began, before Shadowheart cut her off abruptly.

“My entire life people have been deciding what’s best for me. You don’t get to decide what’s best for me.” Shadowheart bit, the sour taste of her words settling in her mouth. It hurt to lash out on Tav in such a way, but it hurt so much more to be shirked by the woman she loved ‘for her own good’.

Tav’s face fell, as a look of shame darkened her features. Dropping Shadowheart’s hands, Tav pulled Shadowheart into a deep embrace, letting honeyed words drip from her lips into Shadowheart’s ears. “You’re right.” Tav admitted, squeezing Shadowheart with a strength she’d never known from the slight Drow.

“It’s been known to happen.” Shadowheart replied, a wistful sigh escaping her lips. Parting from their embrace, Shadowheart reached for Tav’s face to run a thumb along Tav’s high cheekbones, smiling to herself as the Drow’s eyes fluttered shut at the contact.

“You’ll return to me when Karlach can leave the Hells. No where else - to me, straight away. Do you understand?” Shadowheart instructed, to which Tav offered a firm nod, still holding on to every moment of touch shared between them. Shadowheart couldn’t contain the love that poured from her heart, taking shape in a kiss to affirm the love she felt for Tav. Much had changed since Tav left, but the love they shared stayed evergreen. The kiss was almost as rushed, and unsure as the first one they'd shared several paces from where they stood now.

Breaking apart for air, Shadowheart could only admire the stupefied expression on Tav’s face, before the Drow began to speak again.

“But, you needn’t wait for-” Tav began, to which Shadowheart interrupted her with a soft kiss upon Tav’s lips.

“Stop talking, love.” Shadowheart added, earning another nod from Tav, before the pair descended into a myriad of needy kisses. Each one whispered of the indomitable love shared between the women.

Shadowheart took her time with her lover, claimed again, enjoying each fleeting intimate moment. The Hells could wait; in that moment, Tav only belonged to her.

Thank you again for the ask!

Check the awesome collection of these stories on AO3 here!

[astarionmylife]

18+

When you and Astarion first have sex, it's all an act. It's a carefully precise performance he is putting on. Perfectly timed grunts and groans, pretty seductive language. He puts up a domineering front, disassociates like he always used to. It's second nature to him now, sex is not a tender act of affection anymore. It's a deal, the only thing he can offer in a trade. He's in control, simply exists to make you feel good.

As the two of you get closer, when you start experiencing feelings for each other, he doesn't know what to do. He feels lost, and the sex is much gentler. He's starting to feel comfortable with you, sometimes allows you to top and take control as he surrenders. His mask of pretense is dropping, his perfectly manicured act falling apart. He finds little whiny moans escaping him as he finishes. He finds himself clinging to you more and more, trusting you with more parts of his past.

After awhile, the two of you are open with each other, very much in love. You take care of him when necessary, and while the sex is never the same ideal as it was, it's so much more satisfying. And sometimes he can cry during sex, sobs falling down his cheeks as he sloppily thrusts into you, head buried in the crock of your neck as you stroke your fingers through his hair and whisper affirmations into his ears. And on the less emotional but just as horny days, you can spend days in bed, alternating between just holding each other, and pounding into each other. Life is good.

[frantic-fiction]

Tease 18+

(Pic: cheekylittlepupp)

Astarion x f!reader, Astarion x Tav

Summary: The party is taking the night off. You're convinced to wear a dress, and Astarion just can't control himself.

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, Semi-public sex, caught in the act?

Word Count: 3.2k

Mastarlist

Standing in front of the mirror, you pull at the dark green fabric, tugging it down this way and that. You try again to tie the corset but give up quickly. You swing your hips, and the flowy skirt swishes, tickling the skin above your knees. Looking yourself up and down, you zone in on your hips, squirming at the fabric extenuating your curves. So much skin on display makes you want to steal someone's spare cloak to hide in. You weren't one to be self-conscious, but you're used to donning armor and leather, not this scrap of fabric Karlach had convinced you to buy. 

You should just change. Grab some leggings and one of Astarion's shirts, and call it a night. You didn't need a dress to catch his eye; you know how Astarion feels about you; wearing a dress won't change that. Backing away from the mirror, you're just about to rip the dress off when Karlach bursts into the room, Shadowheart following behind her at a much tamer pace. 

"Soldier!" Karlach squeals, stopping suddenly in the middle of the room. She slaps her hands on either side of her face. "You. Are. Gorgeous!" Your face burns as Karlach pounces on you, spinning you around to give her the best view from every angle. Heat creeps up your chest and you giggle awkwardly.

"She's right, you look stunning," Shadowheart smirked and added, "Ten gold Astarion won't be able to keep it in his pants."

"20, he won't make it to a room," Karlach shouts.

"Gods! You both are ridiculous." You squeal, swatting Karlach's hands away and stepping back from her excitement. You huff and fix your skirt. Crossing your hands over your chests, you glare at the girls before timidly looking off to the side. "So, I don't look silly?" The hesitation is evident.

"All joking aside, I assure you, soldier, you are beautiful. And I know for a fact Fangs won't be able to keep his eyes off of you."

You beam under Karlach's compliment, doing a few excited calf raises because you have no idea how else to handle her words. Shadowheart moves towards you and fixes a fallen strand of hair. She gives you a soft smile and moves to finish lacing your corset, patting your arm when she’s done.

"Now we should go. The others are waiting downstairs," Shadowheart motions everyone to the door, letting you take a moment to slip your shoes on. 

After months of endless travels and brutal battles, the party decided to take the evening to drink, relax, and enjoy each other's company. A night to forget the tadpoles and the Absolute. All except Lae'zel, who scoffed at the idea, were joining in on the fun.

Descending the stairs, you slammed with the melody of lively tunes played by a band of minstrels, competing with the animated conversations of patrons. The music, infused with the spirit of celebration, is so loud that it vibrates through the wooden beams of the tavern. The dance floor is alive with energetic movements as couples twirl and spin to the rhythm and the joyous laughter of those lost in the moment.

The bar is surrounded by a sea of drunk patrons clamoring for attention. Tankards slammed onto the worn surface as the bartender poured frothy ale and mead expertly. The dim light of flickering candles and oil lamps casts a warm glow on the diverse crowd. The unmistakable odors of stale ale, greasy food, and the tang of sweat intermingle in the air, creating a distinctive nostalgic and pungent aroma. You're lost in the crowd's movement, overwhelmed with the sounds. You grab onto Shadowheart's elbow like a lifeline.

"Karlach!" Wyll calls and you all snap your head to the side. The party had claimed a booth, and Gale and Wyll were standing up, waving their arms over their heads. They looked like they started early on the drinking; both men's faces were flush, and they each held an easy, dopey grin.

"Wyll!" Karlach linked her arms with yours and Shadowheart's and approached the table. You let her pull you, too busy searching for him. Astarion is slow to stand, but you know the moment he sets his eyes on you. You watch the subtle change in his body language. His hand tightened around the goblet; the exaggerated inhale of air as if someone had kicked him, watching the hunger grow in his eyes.

Now, you feel the confidence bloom in your chest. The dress no longer makes you squirm in discomfort; no, it gives you power and makes you feel desired and sexy. The flame ignites low in your abdomen. Suddenly, you were playing with fire and excited to get burned. A smug smile stretches your lips the closer you get. Pulling away from Karlach, you move and hook your arms around Astarion's neck. You pull him down and place a kiss on his cheek.

"Hi, handsome," you smile up at him, feeling his hand caress the small of your back. Cold fingers playing at the edge of the corset.

"Hello darling, you look breathtaking." He pushes you back gently, giving him space to take in your attire. "Turn for me, my love. Let me look upon the goddess before me."

You roll your eyes at his cheesiness but oblige his request, spinning slowly to allow Astarion to take in every angle. When you come full circle, Astarion captures your lips, and you fall against his chest. His lips meld against yours in a sensual kiss that was entirely inappropriate for the amount of people around, but neither of you seemed to care. Humming against his mouth, you cup his jaw and pull his face away. Astarion chases your lips and lets out a low groan when you deny him what he wants.  

You give Astarion a mischievous grin, patting his chest when you ask. "Do you mind getting me a drink?" 

He gives you a pointed look, visibly dissatisfied with his kiss. With one look and your hand running up his chest and over his shoulder, Astarion caves with a huff. "Yes, of course. Would you like your usual?"

"Yes, please." You say pecking his lips a final time before joining your friends in the booth. 

Wyll was regaling the table with a tale of his early days as the Blade of Frontiers when Astarion slides in beside you. He sets your drink down, and you whisper your thanks before taking a sip and focusing back on Wyll. Gale is quick to call out Wyll's bullshit, Shadowheart pointing out the exaggeration the warlock had blended into his story. It soon devolved into a bickering match as Wyll tried to defend himself. You chuckle between sips of wine, leaning into Astarion, setting your head gently against his shoulder. His hand had found your bare thigh, fingers kneading the supple flesh. 

Suddenly, your friends become background noise as your senses hone in on Astarion. The cheeky smirk that stretches his lips tells you he knows exactly what he's doing as Astarion inches his smooth hand further under your dress—never crossing the line but far enough to make you clench your legs together in need. You bite your lip, cheeks burning from more than the alcohol, and reach down to take his hand in yours. 

"I know what you're doing,"

"Oh, and what is that, my dear?" Astarion grins, bringing your hand to his lips and gently kissing your knuckles. He leans to your ear, "Do you not want me to touch you?" His breath cascades over your neck, and a shiver runs up your spine.

"Not when you're trying to tease me in public."

"My sweet girl, I'm not the one being a tease."

"Soldier! Stop making goo-goo eyes at Fangs, and come dance with me!" Karlach yells across the table, breaking whatever spell Astarion had you under. Pulling away, you look up to see Karlach jumping up and down, hand outstretched for you to take. 

"You know I won't say no to dancing." Astarion reluctantly moves to let you out of the booth. Karlach is quick to grab your hand and pull you towards the stage. 

The time is lost in the beat of the drums and the flow of your hips. Karlach twirls you around, and you can't stop giggling. Wyll joins in the fun, and suddenly, the crowd has formed a unified line dance. It's messy, and you don't know the steps, but you watch Wyll and poke fun at Karlach's improvised moves. You dance until your breath is ragged and your feet start hurting. Moving your body until the sea of people starts to drown you. Maybe it's the alcohol coursing through your veins or the excitement of the dancing. Still, the fun quickly turns to overstimulation that blankets you in thick sheets. In an instant, the room is too hot and too loud, and if you don't get out now, you just might scream.

You leave Karlach and move towards the door outside to the back alley. Pushing it open, you stumble over the threshold and inhale the cold night air. It instantly sobers, clearing your mind and easing your panic. You stare up at the starry sky, soaking in the bright moon. Goosebumps spread over your exposed arms and legs, and you shiver. It doesn't stop you from stepping further into the alleyway as you breathe and allow your heart to settle its pounding. You can still hear the muffled music and thumping feet. 

You hear the door open again but pay it no mind until Astarion speaks, "There you are, my sweet."

You turn on your heel and give him a soft smile. He glowed under the moonlight, an ethereal being standing before you, his face partially cast in shadow, staring at you with hunger. "I needed some air."

"I'm sure you did," Astarion smirks, stepping closer toward you. A predator stalks up to its prey. "All that dancing you were doing must have been exhausting."

"It was, but it was so fun." You reach out instinctually, wrapping your arms around his neck. Astarion smoothes his hands down your spine to the swell of your butt, moving to squeeze the soft, plump flesh. "You should join me next time." You squeak at his grip, pressing yourself closer to him.

Then his lips are on yours, and your back is digging into the rough brick of the alleyway. Astarion's tongue is in your mouth, and you're moaning, gripping his shoulders to find purchase. One of his fangs nipped your bottom lip, and your knees practically buckled under you. You would have fallen if Astarion hadn't pressed you against the wall. 

"I think I just might take you dancing tomorrow." His cold hands caress your thigh, pulling it up and over his hip, pushing up the fabric of your dress with it. "I'll buy you a pretty new dress to add to your growing collection, and I'll have you move your body for me like you've been doing all night." 

He rolls his hips into yours, and you cry into his neck, kissing his skin to muffle your noises. "Swaying those hips in this tight little thing. Gods darling, I've been hard all night, and it's entirely your fault, you naughty little minx."

"Astarion," You sigh, relishing the friction of his hard cock against your clothed core. 

"Such a cruel woman, dangling a feast over a starving man. I'll have to punish you for that." Astarion purrs, running his nose along the line of your jaw, stopping to bite at his favorite spot; his fangs puncture the surface just enough to have droplets of your blood trickle out.

His tongue lavishes over your skin, making sure not a drop escapes. The moan that rumbles through his chest is purely animalistic, and a rush of heat gushes between your legs. "But right now, my naughty girl, I'm going to fuck you here against this wall." 

You let out a whimper, hips bucking instinctually, heat coiling in your lower stomach. "Please.." 

Astarion takes no time to push your underwear aside and push two of his fingers into your folds with a lewd, wet sound. Astarion begins to pump his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt, with each stroke curling up just slightly. The rough pad of his thumb finds your swollen clit, and applying pressure, he circles the nub in time with his fingers. 

"You're already so drenched, always so ready for me." You pull his face in and sigh into his mouth, niping his lip playfully. Threading your hand through his soft curls, you give a soft tug, relishing in the grunt Astarion gives you. 

You're painfully aware of your surroundings and know that someone could step out and catch the two of you any moment. The thought gives you a jolt of excitement you'll have to think about later. There is no room to take your time, so you tug harder on Astarion's hair loss, pulling his lips from the flesh of your neck he was playing with.

"Star," You roll your hips against his hand impatiently. "I need you to fuck me already,"

"So impatient, but you are right. This is not the time to play." Astarion tsk before unceremoniously ripping your underwear off and stuffing them in his pocket. 

"I liked those."

"I'll buy you a new pair, maybe one to match your new dress." Astarion peppers kiss down your neck. Your hands move to pull his pants down, freeing his cock. It's red and looks painfully swollen. Astarion hisses through his teeth when you give the base of his cock a tight squeeze. 

"I want one that matches the new dress and the same ones you just ripped." You countered, giving him a few languid strokes using his precum as a lubricant. 

"Whatever you want, my love." He says mindlessly, taking you into another breathtaking kiss.

Astarion hands leave your cunt, and a whine leaves your lips. He kisses your pout and quickly grabs his cock. Astarion pumps himself a few more times before lining up at your entrance. When Astarion sheaths himself fully in your heat, the wind is knocked out of you. A collective groan of ecstasy escapes from both of your mouths. There is no build-up, no room to catch your breath. Astarion quickly pulls out and slams back into you—your back scraps against the bricks, and your foot slips on the cobblestone.

You yelp scrambling to hold on and not fall pathetically onto the dirty alley floor. Astarion, without skipping a beat, scoops you up fully in his arms. All you can do is wrap your legs around his hips and hold on as he pounds into your dripping cunt. 

"Gods, you're perfect," Astarion signs into your neck. He pulls at your dress, moving the corset just enough to expose one of your breasts. He bends his head and sucks your nipple into his mouth. You choke on a gasp; cupping the back of his head, you press him further against you. 

"Astarion," you moan, carding your fingers into his curls. Rolling your hips, you match his thrusts. Your lower stomach tightens, and you will not last much longer. Not with him pulling you apart in the way only he can. You tried to say as much, but you choke on a sob when Astarion's fingers find your clit. 

He grinds your hips into the brick wall and brutalizes your clit with tight circles. His voice is raspy in your ears. "I'm close, love…ngh - gods, you feel so good."

"A-astarion, please!" Tears bead down your cheeks, pleasure overwhelming your senses. Your muscles are tightening. Your legs quake, and you clench tightly around him. 

"That’s it, come for me, beautiful." And that is all you need to see stars, opening your mouth in a silent cry. Ecstasy courses through your veins, and you bite down on his collarbone to ground yourself in your pleasure. His hips stutter, pace faltering as he loses himself in your body, spilling his seed deep into you. 

Neither of you moves; the brick is now uncomfortably digging into your back, but you can't find the energy to care. Astarion peppers kiss up and down your neck. You scratch his scalp softly and catch your breath. It’s nice.

"I guess I should wear more dresses."

"My dear, you could wear a burlap sack, and I would have still taken you against this wall."

"Horny bastard." 

The two of you were too caught up in each other to notice the tavern door opening again. Nor did either of you notice two figures stepping out. At least not until Karlach's loud cackle echoed down the alleyway. You whip your head in her direction, Astarion following suit. Karlach is hunched over and on her knees, shoulders shaking with laughter. Shadowheart stands beside her, arms crossed with disgust and annoyance plastered on her face.

Astarion is quick to turn you away, shielding you with his body. He let’s you go and you scramble to cover yourself. He helps you fix your dress. Great. 

"What did I tell you? Fangs couldn't keep it in his pants long enough to find a room!" Karlach booms, slapping Shadowheart on the arm. "Hand it over," her palm extended in wait. You hide your face in Astarion's neck, face burning in embarrassment. 

Shadowheart mumbled something under her breath, digging in her pocket for her gold pouch. "Here," the gold is slapped into the tieflings palm. She turns to the two of you. "Find a different cleric to cure whatever disease you've contracted in this filthy alley." Shadowheart quickly turns back into the tavern, the door slamming behind her. 

"Well, thanks for the gold," The tiefling beams and skips after Shadowheart, leaving you and Astarion alone once more. 

You refuse to leave the space between Astarion's jaw and collarbone. Thoughts of packing your stuff and running to Candlekeep are crossing your mind. Karlach and Shadowheart are already telling Wyll and Gale about your exploits, and you don't want to handle the smug looks. 

Astarion's chest rumbles with silent laughter, and you're pulled from your escape plans. You emerge from your safe space and glare up at the man. "What's so funny?!" 

He laughs harder, and runs his thumb over your pout, cupping your jaw. You hold firm in your annoyance and turn your head. "Karlach is telling all of our friends that we just fucked in a dirty back alley, why would you be laughing?" You snap.

"You would think at this point Shadowheart would stop betting on our love life. Tsk, all the gold she's lost." You narrow your eyes at him. His playful smirk widens. "She and the other weirdos should know how shamelessly I want you. They were lucky I didn't fuck you on the table." 

Rolling your eyes, you shove him hard, forcing Astarion to stumble back. Moving past you storm towards the door; he's laughing and calling your name. Astarion, only get your middle finger before the tavern door closes behind you.

Astarion is a cheeky shit. I love him.... Let me know what ya thought, i love your feedback.

Taglist: heartfully10, ayselluna

[brabblesblog]

A kiss, stolen in a moment away from the crowd.

Read up on what these two idiots are on about here:

Whither is thy beloved gone?

Remember ye not the former things.

Art by @pickled0ctopus

[obsessedwhyyes]

The Fool

Summary: As you lie, nestled into Astarion’s chest, he considers his feelings - his damned, complicated feelings.

Alternatively, Astarion experiences all 5 stages of grief in 10 minutes.

Rating: T Word Count: 816 Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Content: First person Astarion POV, fluff and angst, rather a lot of angst actually, feelings denial, Astarion needs a hug, cuddling, Astarion's simple plan beginning to fall apart.

Want to hear this fic read aloud with absolutely pristine acting by the incredibly talented CurlyChops on AO3? Have a listen here!

A/N: You know when you’re lying in bed, unable to sleep until you write down that idea that’s managed to worm its way into your brain at unspeakable hours of the night? Here we have a slightly angsty drabble that decided to do just that! After the reception to the Gale first person POV, I wanted to try my hand at an Astarion POV. Hopefully you enjoy!

A fool lies in this tent.

Look at you, nestled into my side, sleeping peacefully against my chest as if a vampire’s embrace is the safest place in all the realms. Utterly ridiculous. So trusting, so… pliant. All according to plan, really. I set the trap - a few choice words here, a few lingering touches there - and you walked right into it. Just like I knew you would.

Just like all the others do.

Well, not quite like all the others. You actually believe there's something redeemable in me, don't you? How deliciously naïve.

Do you even realise what you've fallen for? What I am? A monster, a liar, a parasite. Oh, my dear, the fool you are.

Though I suppose your particular brand of foolishness has its… uses. Your blind faith in my redemption is almost charming.

No. Not charming. It’s pathetic. Pathetically predictable. It can’t be charming. Because, if it is, I’m no better than the fool I mock.

You shift slightly in your sleep, and I resist the urge to recoil. This charade - this playing at romance, at desire - it shouldn’t affect me so. I’m above this. I’ve spent centuries perfecting the art of manipulation, of taking what I need. It was supposed to be easy: charm you, bed you, and secure my safety. A means to an end. But as I lay here, with your warmth pressed against me, my chest begins to tighten. Not in fear or hunger, but in something… complicated.

Anger begins to burn at the back of my throat. Good. Anger is familiar. It’s safer, easier to control.

This is your fault, you know. No, worse - it’s mine. My fault that I have been reduced to this - a creature desperate enough to sell the only scraps of autonomy I have left. You think this closeness is love, don’t you? But it’s not. It’s survival. It has always been survival.

But then again… 

You’re not like the others at all, are you? Those who took without asking, without care. Your touch is… gentle. Always so damnably gentle. You’ve never grabbed, never demanded, never treated me like a thing to be used. With you, it hasn’t all been… bad. No, that’s not right - it’s been tolerable. Almost pleasant at times, really. Your touch doesn’t make my skin crawl; your voice doesn’t grate on my nerves. I tell myself it’s because you’re useful. That’s all this is. 

That’s all it can ever be.

If I were to tell you the truth, what would you do? If I were to push you away, would you stay? If I were to let you in, would you hurt me? These questions gnaw at me, demanding answers I don't have. 

Answers I don't want.

Even now, as you sleep, your fingers rest light as feathers on my chest. It’s maddening. Infuriating. How dare you? How dare you make this difficult? This was supposed to be simple. You were supposed to be simple. 

I could kill you right now, you know. One quick movement, and all these feelings would disappear with you. Never again would you look at me like I'm something precious, something worth saving, like I’m–

“... Astarion,” you mumble drearily in your sleep.

Hells.

I should leave. I should push you away, remind you that I am not something to hold on to.

But I don’t move. 

Instead, I stay. Because the truth, the awful, unbearable truth, is that I don’t want to lose this. The selfish man I am.

A sigh escapes me. 

It’s exhausting. I’m exhausted. 

Gods, what an absolute mess you’ve made of my carefully laid plans. I find myself watching you sleep, counting your breaths, fighting the urge to brush that strand of hair from your face.

When did this happen? When did I start to care whether you lived or died beyond your usefulness to me?

I hate this. I hate that you’ve made me feel anything at all, but more than that, I hate myself for not hating it more. The way you defend me, the way you’ve never once looked at me with disgust or fear… it’s terrifying.

You’re terrifying.

Yet I can't bear to give it away.

Your fingers curl into my shirt in your sleep, and I find myself pulling you closer despite every screaming instinct to push you away. Protecting you, as if I have any right to do so. As if I deserve the way you lean into my touch, trust in my words, believe in my capacity for - dare I say it - goodness. As if I deserve any of this.

The moonlight filtering through the tent catches on your sleeping face, and something inside me breaks. Or perhaps it's finally mending. I'm not sure I know the difference anymore.

A bitter laugh escapes my lips, so soft I’m certain it won’t wake you. How poetic. How utterly absurd.

You, the fool, who dared to fall for me. 

And I, the greater fool for letting you.

Masterlist can be found here!

No Pressure Tags: @roguishcat, @davenswitcher, @silverfangmarks, @sparrowbard, @chonkercatto, @stokzr , @trafalgarussy , @asterordinary , @bite-me-tonight , @transparentkittenheart , @bg3-fanfic-reblogs

[reverieblondie]

Could I request headcanons for Gale, Halsin, Wyll, and Astarion with touch starved gn s/o?

I ended up rewriting these a few times but I hope you enjoy reading it! Last Bullet point is NSFW!

Haarlep and Raphael with thouch starved S/O HERE

Halsin 

Halsin would never say you were obvious, but figuring out you were touched starved was relatively easy to tell. Especially with the game you were playing, it was clear after the nth time you asked for healing from him from a mere paper cut on your finger. Though, could anyone really blame you? After spending so much time on the road, with no friendly touch for weeks, then when Halsin came to your aid to heal you from a particularly nasty hit from a goblin, That was the start of it, the aching for him; you had been healed by others before but…nobody did healing like Halsin. Most healers hover their hands over you, but Halisn would hold you, pressing his large but tender hands to your skin, letting his healing magic flow through from him to you; the touch would send tingling shivers through you; some would argue that it was from the magic…But you knew it was from his touch. Halsin was more than willing to help heal you every time; in fact, the consent wanting his touch helped you two connect. Halsin hoped you would confess you wanted him to hold you one day. But you never did. So when you came for healing from your “terribly painful stomach ache,” he knew he would have to make the first move. “I think I know the perfect solution to your problem,” he whispered before he wrapped you in a tight hug; every ache and pain melted away from his touch. It is truly the perfect medicine anytime you feel touch starved.

Every party of Halsin is perfection in your eyes. Oak father really did a fantastic job when it came to making him. However, the one place you’re always grabbing onto the most is his arms. It’s not hard to see why; it’s nearly impossible to keep from clinging to his massive limbs, snuggling into them, running your hands over his thick forearms. Halsin, the sweetheart, doesn’t seem to mind your clinging, even if he is busy carving away. Now that Halsin has noticed your fondness for his arms, he may or may not start to flex them subtly when gesturing or wearing shirts that expose them so you can see every slight rippling of his muscles. Halsin will let you cling to him as long as he can nuzzle into his favorite part of you later tonight…

Now usually you’re the needy one in the relationship, pleading for hugs and beaming every time you get wrapped up in Halsins arms. Today has been different, however. It started when you woke up with Halsins hands creasing your sides and snuggling into your neck, of course you melted at the touch, thoroughly relishing in the attention, but it didn’t end there. Usually, Halsin would walk through the woods for some meditation and to gather herbs and materials for you two, but today, he didn’t leave your side. Of course, you loved it, but a part of you was starting to get worried. When you brought it up, he grabbed your hands and held them to his chest, “I just find myself wanting to be near you, my heart.” You squeeze his large hands back, “Well, let me help you, my love.” rising to your tiptoes, you begin to pepper kisses all over Halsins face. He grabs your waist and lifts you to meet his lips with yours quickly; the kiss only makes him needier. 

He loves every part of you, from your hair to your adorable toes. But his hands consistently linger on your curves. On those days when you are feeling extra needy. Halsin is more than willing to help…In some inventive ways. The contrast is maddening… The smooth honey slips on top of your heated skin, and then Halsins rough tongue licks up the sticky liquid off your stomach. His hands guide your back to an arch as he keeps his hazel eyes on your moaning face. Sucking and licking as his hands continue to run over your squirming body. Halsin doesn’t know what is sweeter, the honey or you; he will spend all night trying to figure it out. 

Zevlor

Zevlor has been around for a while but was never too familiar with the term ‘Touched starved.’ Sure, he had heard it back in his commander days from soldiers whispering about needing attention of the flesh but never truly gave it too much thought…until. The idea came to him when he noticed a particular trait of yours. You had no special awareness when it came to him. Consistently, you were leaning into him quite closely, and when you two walked around during perimeter checks, you would often bump into him or brush your hand against his. Of course, you would apologize for your clumsiness, but deep down, you knew what was happening…Your body was burning for him, his warmth, his touch, and it was seeking it out in any way possible. It didn’t click so quickly for Zevlor until he saw you sparing, and there was no inclination of any clumsiness in your movements; even with others, he never saw you bump or run into anything; your movements were precise and calculated…and that’s when he figured it out you were touching him purposely. Zevlors first thought was, why? Then his second was how can he tell you to only ask him for his touch. Finally, one day, as you two were doing your usual perimeter check, you slowly inched closer and closer to him, seeking the slight relief of his touch. Still, as you went to bump into him for only a moment, you found the ex-hellrider wrapped his arms quickly around you keeping you to his warm chest. Eyes wide, you go to apologize, but Zevlor is quick to quiet your worries, “If you need my warmth…please don’t hesitate to ask me…” After that day, you got a hug from him every chance you could…

Zevlor enjoys the sweet intimacy of your relationship. At first, he was not used to someone wanting to hold him so closely and shower him with affection, but slowly, he is getting used to it and enjoying it immensely. Though, you still find ways to surprise him…For example, when you start paying particular attention to his cheeks and horns, you can’t stop wanting to hold his face so tenderly and whisper soft praises to him. “I’ve never seen beauty like yours, Zevy…” he feels his heart melt at every whisper and every gentle touch to his skin. Then, if you happen to caress the base of his horns? Well…you have never heard such a deep pur.  

 It had been the first day in a long while that you and Zevlor spent most of the day apart. He had promised to speak to some recruits in the city, sharing his wisdom, and you had opted to stay at home. You were expecting him to come home at any minute, so you were working hard to prepare a surprise dinner for him. You missed him being home; usually, you would spend the day working in your small garden together and setting out laundry on the line together. It was lonely without him, so you planned to show him how much you missed him. As you were finishing your stew, you felt arms snaking around your waist. You gasped before his familiar voice eased you, “Be still, my dear, it’s only me…” Your body immediately relaxes as you turn to hug him back. “How was your trip?” Zevlor only hums as he buries his head into your neck. “I missed you…the road was lonely without you by my side…” you rub your hands up and down his arms as they hug you. Then you feel one of his arms part from you and hear the stove turn off; before you can ask anything else, you’re lifted and carried away toward your shared room. “Zev! What- What about Dinner?” “It can wait…I need to be close to you, just for a while…” The stew wasn’t eaten until much later… 

“So beautiful…” his breath is warm as he whispers the complement into your neck. Zevlor’s lips caress your tender skin as he moves to your ear. You cling to his broad shoulders tighten, and your legs squeeze his textured hips. “You’re taking me so well. I’m proud of you.” The moan is involuntary as you feel him push deeper, his lips catching and nipping on your ear, his sharp teeth threatening to pierce, but his tongue soothing you so softly. Moving from your ear, you almost let out a whine before he blows a teasing breath on your neck, causing you to squirm and keen at the tickleing sensation. Zevlor’s fiery eyes look down at you, and that soft smile never fails to melt your core. He leans in, lips hovering over yours, his hands softly gliding down your waist, “I love you…” The vow is then sealed with a kiss. 

Wyll

Wyll hadn’t thought of you as touched starved until you had to tell him flat-out. To his credit, you didn’t make it easy for him to figure out. When Wyll thinks of the term touched starved, he thinks of someone like him. Someone always willing to give out a hug or a friendly pat on the back; if you’re touched starved and in the proximity of Wyll, you were not touched starved for long. Hells, Wyll would risk the burns of hugging Karlach if she so requested. You, on the other hand, would never seem to be receptive to his friendly gestures, having grown up in a home with little affection and living on the brutal road for a while with a pleasant touch would always be a shock to your system. Especially from Wyll, it was like lightning shooting through your body with a new surge of energy you didn’t know what to do with, so you would tense up. After feeling you clamp up, Wyll simply thought you didn’t like to be touched, so ever the gentleman, he stopped. But that only made you begin to grave him…Finally, after days of seeing him touch and hug your other friends, you felt yourself going to pop. In a spur of the moment, you walked into his tent, staring at his confused features; timidness threatened to take you over, so with shaking limbs, you held your arms open with a shaky beg of “Please…” Wyll’s smile would grow so wide as he embraced you. “I thought you didn’t like to be touched?” “I…I like it when you do it…I crave your embrace…” Wyll will never make you ask please for a hug again…but other things, he might…    

You couldn’t explain exactly why you love it so much, but you find you’re running your hands up and down Wylls strong back every time you get the chance. Maybe it was from seeing all its glory when he returned from the river or in the early mornings when he woke up for training. There’s just something about his broad shoulders that lean down to his narrow waist that makes your hands twitch to touch him. Wyll, of course, isn’t oblivious to how you take him in; that might be why he walks around without a shirt more often. His favorite part about liking his back is when you rest your head between his shoulder blades and hold onto him tightly. It never fails to put a smile on both your faces.  

Between the two of you, you’re the one who is always slow to wake. On a typical day, you usually wake up to an empty left side of the bed, but this morning is different. You wake up to your body being held by what looks like a sleeping Wyll. Your first instinct is to worry and check him for a fever, but you find that he feels normal, and when he wakes, he greets you with a lazy smirk. “Are you okay, Wyll? You’re usually up by now?” Wyll hums softly as his eyes lazily roam over your form, “I woke up earlier but found that I couldn’t part from you…” His sweet words always make you blush, and you go to say you're sorry out of habit, but you’re silenced by him gently stroking your cheek. “Well, How about I make breakfast for us? We could eat together.” As you rise, you are quickly grabbed and trapped within his arms, his lips attacking your neck in a plethora of kisses, making you giggle. “You’re not going anywhere…I am not done with you yet…”   

It’s always so slow, his hands sliding up and down your spread legs while your sex grows more and more aroused. One part of you wants to beg him to stop teasing you, but you both know that the loving pass of his hands on your skin is what you crave. Wyll keeps his eyes on yours as his lips press against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. The attention he gives you makes your mind hazy and your sex quiver in a way that only he causes. A moment of weakness causes you to moan his name. He will look down at your flushed face and smile against your skin before finally sliding his tongue on the spot you need him the most. 

Rolan

Rolan is very familiar with the term being touched starved, and from being accused of it by Cal and Lia relentlessly, he was aware of the traits. Not that he thought he ever showed these. Then came you, and it was the end of him being touched starved. Rolan, at first, didn’t understand why every time you were near, your hand would absentmindedly rub in between his shoulder blades or how when you would go out to the tavern, you would sit so close to him, and it wasn’t as if you were unaware of this. No, from how you would look at his curious gaze with a smirk and a sparkle in your eyes, he knew you were messing with him. Though despite this…you two kept hanging out. If anyone would ask you if you longed for touch, you would say you only wanted Rolans and you had no shame about it; you just wished one day he would indicate the touch for once. Finally, one night, Rolan invited you to the tower to do some reading, something you could do at home, but you wouldn’t dream of passing up a moment to be around him. You two had found yourselves on the chaste, sitting very closely, exchanging blushing looks over the edges of your books, and with every passing page, you two would find yourselves inching closer and closer. Then, as your thighs are pressed together, you feel a warmth wrapping around your ankle. Looking down, you see his tail wrapped around you loosely, unsurely. Rolan had finally taken the initiative, and you were beaming. “If it bothers you, I can-” But before he could finish his sentence, you wrapped his arm around you as you curled into him more. You could hear the rapid rushing of his heart, and you could feel how it matched your own. “It doesn’t bother me; I’ve just been wondering what’s been taking you so long…” The teasing only rewards you with a tighter hold. 

You find every part of Rolan to be utterly perfect, from his beautiful horns to his freckled cheeks to his toes. But the one part of him you constantly find yourself playing with is his tail, swaying and twitching like it has a mind of its own. You love to sneak behind him and run your fingers over the ridged base. The shiver and low growl he gives out every time makes you want to tease and touch him more, your hands becoming clammy for it. Today, you’re reading and mindlessly playing with the sharp tip till, finally, he’s curling the tail around your forearm and pulling you closer for a hungry kiss. He says he is being driven mad by your relentless teasing; you can only smile back before whispering, “Then you shouldn’t keep rewarding me…” 

Rolan tries not to let his neediness get the better of him…but some days, he can’t resist your pull on him. Every time he saw you today, his hands roamed over every curve, his nose in the crook of your neck, and he muttered things you couldn’t catch. The attention was well received as you loved his every touch, but when you parted from him to wash up for the night, the look on his face was utter devastation. “I will be quick, then all night I am yours.” Rolan tsked as he let you go, sitting down in his chair where he would wait for your return. You tried your best to hurry into the bath but were not quick enough. As you wet your hair to be ready for washing, you heard the door open and were greeted by the magnificent sight of Rolan in a small cloth wrapped around his waist. He motions for you to make room. He removes his towel and joins you in the bath. You are happy but utterly confused, and Rolan is quick to defend his actions as he gathers soap into his palm, “You took too long, so now I am here to help; now turn so I can wash your hair.” Without any protest, you turn and relish in the feeling of his clawed hands, washing and lathering the soap in your hair, taking the time to scratch your scalp as he cleans you gently. Maybe you should have him wash your hair every time? If you asked, Rolan would be happy, too.  

It started as a pleasant surprise; while you two were working at Sundries, his tail kept brushing against your butt, and when you two would be out of view from prying eyes, his hand would gently caress your ass. These are simple hints of his wants; you are always eager for his touch. Now here you are, pressed against the back wall with Rolan's needy hands grabbing tight handfuls of your butt. Pants are quickly discarded, and he gives you a quick slap to the soft exposed flesh for being such a naughty distraction. You keen and arch, grinding your ass against his burning erection. A deep moan when his nails dig into your flesh as he starts to rut into you deeply. Panting breaths, intertwined limbs, sweaty bodies desperately rocking against each other. It’s the night you learned that the Great Master Rolan is an ass man.  

Gale 

You never thought of yourself as touched starved; sure, you had points when you thought of being held or holding someone, but it was never something you would say you were starving for; well, that was until Gale. It was an accident when it happened; you two had offered to go to the morning market to gather supplies for dinner. The morning market was incredibly crowded, and you two kept getting separated. Gale, always the quick thinker, came up with the best solution. As he walked in front of you like a shield, he grabbed your hand and led you through. The gesture immediately stirred something within you, and as you walked hand in hand, looking at the back of him, you found yourself tightening your grip. During the rest of your time at the market, you two held each other’s hands. It wasn’t until you two returned to camp that you realized you held hands the whole way back. After that day, you reached out for his hand more often. Gale, of course, didn’t seem to mind. He liked the extra company, but getting you to let go so he could cut vegetables was challenging. After a while, you will find yourself craving more touches from Gale. So late one night, you crawled into his tent; when you woke him, he was initially surprised, asking you what you needed. “I…I think I’m touched starved…could…you hold me for a bit?” Gale’s heart nearly burst out of his chest, but he eagerly invites you into his arms, delighted to share in cuddles and maybe a few kisses.    

It should be no surprise your favorite place to touch Gale is his hands. They are perfectly soft and fit perfectly within yours. You find that your hands are interlocked together if you’re by him. Gale finds your need to hold him in some way lovely and ultimately endearing. Gale’s favorite times when you hold his hands is when you are fast asleep curled up with him in his bedroll, your hands interlaced with his. He doesn’t dare move them because he knows you will only start seeking them again in your sleep.   

You’re used to holding Gale’s hand, but on days he’s feeling needy, you find that his hands tend to roam. Today had been one of those days; his hands had started lazily, moving up and down your arms, gently grazing you all morning so tenderly. By the afternoon, his hands had found their way to run up and down your back, moving so slowly to send shivers through your body successfully. Then, in the Evening, they moved to trace your sides as his lips caressed the sensitive skin of your neck. Finally, you asked if he was well, his lips smiling against your skin. “Perfectly fine…just being needy for you…does it bother you?” you feel your skin flush, and your lips curl to an excited smile. “No, I like the attention from you…” Gale is always ready to shower you with attention; you just need to ask…   

The man didn’t lie when he told you he had a practiced tongue, and tonight, you are finding that out firsthand. You felt needy when you crawled into his tent; it was late, and he was surprisingly awake. At first, it was innocent, simple hand holding a kiss or two like other nights before to satisfy your need, but tonight, you’re finding your aching for more, and Gale knows this. All you need to do is ask…Your hands grip tightly to the blankets as his tongue works against you. Gales focuses as his hands grip your thighs, and he sucks and licks more. He’s desperate to taste your release all over his tongue, and with him always being so good to you, who are you to deny him? 

Astarion

With all he had been through, the feeling of being touched had become unstimulating. Astartion had felt every kind of touch possible. Well, at least that’s what he thought, until you. The energy between you two had been electric from the first moment; you were brilliant, and his usual charms didn’t make you bend like they did others. In fact, for all his teasing, you would give back your own. It was like a game between you two, and it only made you crave each other more. Then it hit its peak…You were admittedly getting lost in his words as he spoke to you, but it was different; it was genuine, and you had never felt so close to others. So when you gently brushed back his hair as he talked, you both found yourself looking at each other in surprise. Your weakness shocked you, and Astarion was surprised by someone touching him so gently, as if he were made of glass. Going to take back your hand, it’s quickly caught by his, and gentle lips pressing to your palm sets your skin ablaze. The kiss was as soft as your touch, but Astarion can never pass up an opportunity… “Couldn’t help yourself anymore, hm?” You would accept defeat this once…

Astarion has never been a fan of cuddling…well, not until he met you. And what did you do to make him change his mind on the slow and intimate activity? Astarion loves the way your fingers brush slowly and carefully through his hair. He finds he has gradually become needy for that soft, gentle touch. On the other hand, you love the feeling of his soft locks slipping through your fingers; actually, there are many things you can adore about Astarion; you find the soft touch of brushing through his hair always seems to relax you. You could spend all night with him in your arms like this…and you do. 

You didn’t know if it was your imagination, but Astarion seemed grumpy today. You had tried to joke around with him and even participate in some teasing and flirting, but he wasn’t receptive. Thinking it best to just drop it, you left him alone for the rest of the day, going about your usual task. Then Evening rolled around; you were getting ready for bed when you heard a throat clearing outside your tent. Poking your head out, you saw Astarion looking…bashful? “Do you mind…if I slept here…with you…I’ve…been feeling off…” One part of you wanted him to explain; he had ignored you, and now he wants to sleep in your tent with you? And wait, elves don’t sleep? But something about the look in his red eyes…he seemed…lonely…Gently, you reach your hand out to grab the sleeve of his shirt and pull him in softly. The rest of the night was spent with you sleeping with your head in his lap as he read to your sleeping form. Being around you made him feel so much better; it was as he thought…he was starting to rely on you, and for once, the thought of depending on another didn’t scare him. 

Sometimes, you can not decide who is needer between the two of you. Of course, you two tease each other about it, but Astarion is always the better tease. You’re rolling your eyes in both pleasure and annoyance as he moves his tongue across your chest, your nipples peaked and sensitive to every feathery touch. You try to keep your moans in, but it’s useless; “You make such pretty sounds, darling, keep it up.” His cold hands move between caressing your chest and your skin to find your sensitive nipples. Red eyes look up at you, filled with mischief. Is he satisfied with just a taste? Or will he bite…

[celestialowlbear]

🌿 ♡ Halsin NSFW Headcanon Drabble ♡ 🌿

Pairing: Halsin x Reader (GN)

WC: ~600

Warnings: 18+, NSFW. Smut. Mentions of marking, possessiveness, some fluffiness. Reader/Tav not described besides having soft skin.

A/N: I’ve been having major Halsin thots and had to get them on a page (hence the bulleted list). Enjoy, my fellow big Druid lovers. 😊

You are like nothing else he has ever experienced in his long life. 

He craves you, an insatiable hunger that burns his body from the inside out, and only you can tame that raging fire within him.

Your lips, your gentle touch, your sounds…

You are the rising sun, the soft glow of the moon, the peaceful breeze on a summer’s day, and life at the onset of spring.

Sometimes he wondered if he was a dead man walking, a specter of some sort, because being with you was heaven, or what he imagined it to be.

Halsin has to continuously control himself around you, at least while others are around.

When the camp was quiet and he had you all to himself, was when he could absolutely and utterly devour you, show you just how much he longs for you.

You let him lose control, wanting it, craving it yourself. 

You want to feel his fingers dig into your thighs, hear his louder and louder moans as you take more and more of him so, so willingly. 

When you are very much warmed up by his tongue and fingers, he finally fills you, sinking himself into you inch by inch, careful to never harm you and checking that it was never too much.

Halsin loves praising you, breathlessly comparing you to everything extraordinary and exquisite in nature and beyond.

His honeyed words spur you both on as his pace increases, the head of his cock caressing that spot so deep inside you it leaves you boneless and seeing galaxies.

You know he still holds back, the bear desperate to claw its way out, the primal urge raging under his skin as he pounds into you.

Halsin always wants your pleasure before his, making sure to get multiple orgasms out of you before he finishes. 

The way your body reacts, the way his name from your lips transforms from breathy whimpers to guttural moans of pure ecstasy is seared into his memories until the end of time, and that will still never be enough.

When you are finally spent, flushed and sweaty and thoroughly loved, is when Halsin takes what is his.

He loves flipping you on your stomach, gripping your thighs and pulling you up toward him, sinking into you with one thrust.

He mounts you, caging you in with his body, his bulging forearms on either side of your head, his lips at your ear, his broad chest pressing to your back.

You love it, feeling protected by him, encapsulated by everything that was Halsin.

The man, the bear, your lover, your mate. 

He is always able to get deeper in this angle, his fingers digging into the grass and dirt beneath you, his hot, growling breath on your neck as he finally loses his control.

Your soft body beneath him, the trust you have in him, the love in your eyes even as he fucks you relentlessly like a beast in heat, always brings him to his end, intense and blinding and all-consuming.

When you bask in the afterglow, Halsin carefully maneuvers you, checking you for any wounds he may have accidentally inflicted in the height of passion.

There’s usually a bruise or bite-mark or two, and you have to convince him it’s fine. 

You can tell he always feels bad after losing a bit of control, but part of him loves the fact that he’s able to see the marks on your body, reminding you and anyone else that you were his.

Then you lay in the grass, gazing up at the stars, your head on his chest.

He loves telling you stories about the constellations, and his deep timbre always lulls you into a peaceful sleep, with him following soon after, content in one another’s embrace.

-ˏˋ⋆ Thanks for reading, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! ⋆ˊˎ-

[vixstarria]

Seeing stars

Welp, I wrote more porn.

Astarion x F!Tav/F!Reader

18+, smut, porn with plot, porn with feelings, jealous Astarion, soft dom Astarion, dirty talk, fingering, PIV, elf ears and more! Humour, banter and fluff mixed in per usual. Tav failing several insight checks in the process.

I also poke fun at the in-game romance mechanics, and Wyll's Act 2 scene in particular.

This is the last time they have sex before the "I want us to be something real" conversation.

Approx. 2,900 words

AO3

“You won’t believe the ludicrous encounter I just had with Wyll.” 

You burst into Astarion’s tent. Well, it was ‘Astarion’s’ tent only notionally at this point. Yours still stood, but it now served solely as storage space for your assorted junk. You had effectively moved in with Astarion, having first coerced him into replacing the wooden plank and bloodstained rags he slept on with some sensible rugs and blankets. 

Astarion lounged half-naked on one of the bedrolls, reading something by candlelight. 

“Oh?” he looked up at you. “Do tell.” 

“First the massage you promised earlier,” you said sinking down onto the floor of the tent and stripping off most of your clothes. “My back is killing me after carrying everyone all day.” 

“Oh please...” he rolled his eyes. “I recall you nearly walked into your own cloud of daggers, again, and would have if I hadn’t pulled you away in time. And then you blasted Lae’zel off a cliff. It’s a wonder we haven’t kicked you out yet.” He shook his head. “And if you’re carrying anyone, I’m the one carrying you.” 

Still, he sat up as you laid down on your stomach.  

“Who do you think you’re fooling with this modesty, darling?” he murmured, noticing that you’d kept your underwear on. “Just lose it now,” he added, as he slid it off, leaving you completely naked, before he settled over you, his fingers commencing work on your shoulders. “So what happened with Wyll?” 

“I was making my way back here, and found him... performing some kind of jig by the campfire, pretending like he didn’t know I was there.” 

“The ‘Blade of Frontiers’, dancing alone in the middle of camp?” Astarion snickered. “Did you mock him? Please tell me you mocked him.”  

“Well... I was going to, but then he asked me to dance with him, very earnestly.” 

“That scoundrel...” he mused. “And let me guess - you agreed, didn’t you?” 

“Oh trust me, at that point it would have been more awkward not to dance with him, I had to play along.” 

Astarion scoffed, with a chuckle. 

“Do you always go along with whatever people want from you just because it would be too awkward to say no?” 

"I try not to – last time I did, I ended up with a vampire who won’t stop sucking me dry,” you deflected. “I figured there was no harm in indulging him. Besides, I don’t see you dancing with me. It was kind of nice,” you teased. 

“I hate dancing,” he said. 

“Right,” you said. “I’m sure you hate dancing just as much as you hate poetry, flowers, art, cats... What else?” 

“Children,” he answered. “I also can’t stand children.” 

“No, that one I could see being true,” you grinned. 

“So anyway, you two dolts pranced around the fire to the sound of crickets, then what?” 

“And then he tried to kiss me,” you admitted, with a sigh. 

Astarion’s hands paused for a moment before resuming their work, slightly harder than before. 

“Well look at you, receiving the Duke Ravengard’s heir’s attention. Moving up in the world, hmm?” 

“I didn’t let him.” 

He laughed. 

“Is there even a single person left in camp that hasn’t tried to get into your pants, darling?” 

You had to think for a moment.  

“Are we counting Volo?” 

“Sure.” 

“Then just Karlach and Withers.” 

“Gods, I fucking love Karlach,” he murmured. “Don’t tell her I said that.” 

“Why? Getting jealous all of a sudden?” 

Astarion was silent for a few moments. 

“I just don’t understand it,” he said. “You’re with me every night. I’m at your side every day. They see us. They hear us. Still, they don’t take me – or you and me – seriously. Tell me, is there something about me that screams: ‘Please, go ahead and take my lover for yourself. Come on in and snatch her right out from under me, I don’t mind’?”  

Perhaps you’d made a bad judgment call when you thought Astarion would find the absurdity of the situation humorous rather than offensive. Still, you had to bite your cheek to keep from laughing at the dramatics he added to the delivery of the last few lines that left his mouth. 

“Stop laughing,” he said.  

“I’m not laughing,” you laughed.  

“I can feel your back muscles twitching in your efforts.” 

“Well, they’re aware this all started as a joke. Perhaps they never realised that it’s long stopped being one?” you offered. 

Astarion’s hands had been moving lower and lower along your back. They had now reached your ass and continued to rub, stroke and squeeze, as you let out a soft groan. 

“That’s not my back, Astarion.” 

One of his hands kept squeezing an ass cheek, while the other dipped to stroke you between your legs. He gave a satisfied hum when two of his fingers entered you effortlessly. 

“Maybe if they could see how wet I can make you just by rubbing your back they’d reconsider how much of a joke this is,” he said, his voice low. He continued to pump his fingers in and out – you were almost embarrassed by the loud squelching sounds that came out of you. You moaned and tried to lift your hips higher, but your legs were encased between his thighs, pinned down on the bedroll. “Do you think you’d be reacting this way to young Ravengard, darling?” 

“Stop it,” you hissed. “You know I don’t want anyone but you.” 

“Stop?” he pulled his fingers out, to your dissatisfied whine. You looked back to see him studying your slick on his fingers. “I should go smear this on his face right now... The audacity to try to get his hands on what is not his.” He licked his fingers clean instead. He turned his attention back to you.  

“Maybe if you were more vocal about your devotion to me the others wouldn’t make these mistakes.” 

His hand returned between your legs, spreading your wetness and slipping lower to tease your clit.  

“I could be... encouraged... to be more vocal about it,” you breathed, trying to grind against his hand.  

“Yes... I should make you scream my name, so they all know who you belong to.” 

His fingers returned inside you, teasing you with shallow strokes.  

“You can try,” you taunted him. 

Astarion let out an indignant huff and shifted to spread your legs open with his knees, simultaneously placing a hand on your back to firmly hold you down. You expect to feel his cock enter you, but he continued to stroke you with his fingers, turning his hand to curl them downwards.  

“Is that a challenge, darling?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “You should know better by now than to bet against me,” he said, continuing to flex his fingers inside you. 

It started off pleasant enough, but rapidly grew into... more. And more. You weren’t sure what he was doing but whatever it was, it was just about making you see stars. 

You sputtered as the new sensation started to take hold of your whole being.  

“Ast… what..”  

You couldn't manage anything coherent, as his fingers continued to dig into you, gradually picking up speed and pressure. You started to squirm to try to get away despite yourself, but he simply put more weight against the hand on your back, securely pinning you to the bedroll. 

“Always getting yourself into situations you're not prepared for…" he murmured. "You're not talking your way out of this one.”

His fingers were relentless. You were worried you really would scream and wake everyone in camp. All you could do was bite down on the pillow, hoping that it would muffle your drawn-out moans. 

“Let go, darling... I know you want to.” 

It's not so much that you let go – rather, all your decorum was ripped from you, as your muscles convulsed, the orgasm rolling through your entire body. You panted and shuddered, trying to keep quiet, your hands clutching desperately at the covers beneath you, trying to hold on to anything like your life depended on it. 

Once the feeling subsided, you came back to your senses to find Astarion hovering over you, kissing the back of your neck and shoulders, grazing them with his fangs, almost but not quite hard enough to draw blood. You felt his erection rubbing against your hip. 

“Has anyone fucked you like this before?” he whispered hoarsely into your ear, his breath ragged from his own arousal. “Tell me.” 

“No,” you gasped, trying to catch your own breath.  

“I thought so,” he whispered with a smile, kissing your neck before he sat back up. 

You turned back to look at him over your shoulder. He watched you with a self-satisfied grin, his fingers returning to stroke you lightly between your legs once more. 

“Do you want me to do it again?” he purred. 

A part of you wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face after what he just put you through. Another, much larger part, wanted nothing more than to submit yourself to whatever he would do to you.  

“Yes,” you admitted sheepishly. 

“Turn around...” he narrowed his eyes mischievously. “I want to see your face this time.” 

You flipped around onto your back, under his watchful gaze. His eyes never left yours as he stroked your slit, teasing your engorged clit with his thumb, before his fingers slipped back inside you. 

You found yourself mewling in anticipation before he really even started doing anything.  

“So eager,” he smirked. “So wanton...” 

He curled his fingers again, moving his whole hand to mercilessly claw into a sweet spot you didn’t even know existed inside you.  

You tried to relax into and accept this sensation, now that you were familiar with it. A growing pressure kept building at the bottom of your stomach. It was too much. It was entirely too much. You couldn’t take more of it. You couldn’t- 

“Let go, I’ve got you...” His whisper sounded so tender in sharp contrast to the depraved way he was handling your body. 

You sobbed as what you hoped was cum gushed out of you, your legs quivering.  

“Good girl”, Astarion laughed with glee, bending down to place a kiss on your lips, continuing to stroke you lightly, “Your body reacts so perfectly to me... Do you want more?” 

“You... I want you...” you groaned, biting his lip. 

“If that’s what my good girl wants,” he purred, discarding what was left of his clothes.  

You groaned as his cock entered you, rocking your hips against his, trying to find that feeling again. 

“So wet and needy for me...” he goaded you. “I’ve completely ruined you for anyone else, haven’t I?” 

He held absolutely nothing back as he fucked you, lewd insistent sounds of skin slapping on skin combined with your shared grunts and moans disturbing what was likely otherwise a silent night. 

“Anyone awake knows exactly what I’m doing to you right now,” he rasped, voice thick.  

Your walls clenched at the thought, making him shudder and sigh as well. 

“You like that thought, don’t you..? I know you do,” he continued. “So shameless...” 

Despite yourself, you whimpered, clenching again as another orgasm started threatening to overtake you. 

“That’s it... Come for me again,” he groaned. “Come for me, my love.” 

‘My love’..? Just a figure of speech, you thought. You’d thrown that phrase around, jokingly, but it’s never sounded so... raw. You wanted to hear it again. You wanted to keep hearing it.  

“Your what?” you gasped.  

He didn’t answer. Instead he caught your lips in a deep, devouring kiss, pinning your arms over your head.  

Your body gave in and you trembled under him, caught up in waves of pleasure again.  

He released your arms and eased his movements once you rode out your high, but kept kissing you, hungrily, unwilling to release your lips from his.  

Clearly, no further words of love would follow, you thought to yourself with a tinge of both relief and disappointment, deciding to let it go. 

“You’re so good to me,” you managed, breaking your lips from his. 

“Aren’t I just?” he groaned, speeding up again to chase his own release.  

You kissed your way up his jaw to his ear, pausing to nibble on his earlobe.  

You couldn’t see it, but a ditsy, open-mouthed smile started to play on his face. 

Astarion gasped with a sharp intake of breath as you continued further, running your tongue over the inside of the shell of his ear. 

“Oh sweet hells,” he sighed with pleasure, immediately grinding into your harder. 

You smiled as he tilted his head, just about pressing his ear against your lips. 

“Do you like that?” you whispered in his ear, running your tongue over it again, lifting your hands to run your fingers through his hair. You knew he did. You just wanted to hear him say it.  

“Yes... Don’t stop...” His words sounded like a desperate plea. 

You continued to gently nibble on the edge of his ear, soft moans escaping you from his movements. 

“That’s it, take what’s yours” you groaned, as his hips crashed into yours harder. 

His breathing and movements were becoming more and more frantic.  

“Astarion...” you whispered, grazing the shell of his ear with your lips. 

He let out an uncharacteristic whimper, all his usual composure slipping from him, as he bucked his hips, fucking you with quick, shallow thrusts.  

“My sweet...” you breathed against his ear. 

He came completely undone, spilling into you with forceful, jagged thrusts, before finally stilling. His whole body seemed to melt into yours as he stayed on top of you, trying to regain his breath. 

You wrapped your legs around his hips, not wanting to let go of him yet, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to lift himself from you either. Instead he trailed light, tender kisses from your neck up to your lips.  

You delicately traced the contours of Astarion’s face with your fingertips, running them from his cheekbone down to his jaw, as he leaned into your caress, gazing into your eyes.  

Astarion parted his lips slightly, as though to say something, only to seal them again. He tilted his head to kiss your knuckles as your fingers gradually made their way back up, to run through his hair. Eventually he spoke. 

“You would really choose me over the more... blatantly obvious options you have at your disposal here?” he asked quietly.  

“Haven’t I made that abundantly clear already..?” 

“Well of course you have – no one else is this good,” he said with a tired smirk. 

“I’m not talking about the...” you blinked. “You know I’m not with you just for the sex, right..?” you frowned, looking into his eyes. 

He looked away, slipping out of you and moving to lie down next to you.  

“Is that so?” he said softly.  

You found yourself suddenly feeling rattled. Was he simply fishing for compliments again, or had you been utterly oblivious to just how deep his insecurities ran this whole time..? 

“You have a wealth of other qualities that I... enjoy and appreciate,” you said, somewhat lamely.  

Astarion propped his head up on his hand and raised an eyebrow at you quizzically. There was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes despite his outward nonchalance.  

Oh for fuck’s sake, you thought. I’m not ready for any serious conversations now, especially not with cum running down my thighs.  

You turned away to grab something to wipe yourself down with. 

“A gentleman would clean up his own mess, by the way. Not one of your strong points. But you do have some virtues that make up for it. For instance... I can leave cheese unattended around you, knowing you won’t eat it.” 

Astarion went to pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing.  

“You’re a treasure trove of useless information,” you continued. “But unlike some of our companions you usually keep it to yourself.” A hint of a smile played on his lips at that.  

“Your hand feels nice and cold on my forehead when I have a headache.” You laid back down next to him, mirroring the way he was lying. 

“You always smell nice, especially for a dead guy. You never hog the mirror.”   

“What about my hair, won’t you mention that?” he smiled. 

“No, fuck your hair, it makes mine look awful in comparison.”  

He chuckled at that. 

“I do rather adore the garnet puppy eyes though,” you murmured. “What else... You make me laugh, and, more importantly, I make you laugh – which is great for my ego,” you continued.  

“As long as you understand that I’m usually laughing at you,” he countered. 

“Prick... Then there’s the fact you’ve saved my life four times.”  

“Seven,” he said quietly, looking into your eyes.  

“Five.”  

“It’s seven, dear, I counted.” 

“Whatever. When it comes to battle, you’re silent but deadly,” you said. “Like a-” 

Astarion’s hand covered your mouth.  

“Do not finish that thought, darling.” 

You grinned from behind his palm.  

“I think we can be done with this conversation,” he said.  

“Wait, wait, one more...” you laughed. “You’re eccentric, unpredictable, often irrational. I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth.”  

You smiled as Astarion groaned dramatically, covering his face with one hand.  

“Knowing I’ll get to spend another day in your mad company gives me a reason to get up in the morning,” you added, softly. 

“Come here, you sweet fool,” he whispered, drawing you against him.  

You hugged him tightly. It took so long for him to start initiating these embraces that wouldn’t lead to sex... You relished each one.  

Tomorrow, Astarion thought to himself, unbeknown to you. I have to tell her tomorrow.  

~~~~~

Follow up bonus scene

This work is part of a series - here is the master list

Next in series - Confession

AO3

Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89

@spacebarbarianweird @kittenintheden - hey, I heard you like elf ears

[dutifullylazybread]

I'm thinking about how insulted Gale gets when you refer to Tara as a cat.

Now I'm headcanoning that he wasn't referring to Tara in that moment--I'm starting to wonder if he has a cat AND a tressym familiar.

Give 👏 Gale 👏 cats. 👏

Sunning cats.

Lounging cats.

Cats that yell at him to wake up and feed them.

A cat that lays on the book he is reading and knocks over his inkwells.

It would be hilarious if Gale had a cat who did EVERYTHING that Tara told it to do.

Is Gale not getting up to eat? "Mittens, please inform Mr. Dekarios that it is time for your supper."

Gale hasn't cleaned the tower lately? "Patches, your litter box smells rank. Alert Mr. Dekarios to its squalor. Be a dear and also remind him to clean up those books piled up on his desk--yes, you may help him."

Does Gale just need a mental reset from research? "MR. DEKARIOS--Dotty looks pitiful. Throw her mouse. And her ringing ball. Immediately. No, it cannot wait another half hour. She is LANGUISHING."

Gale would do well with chaos kittens, I think.

[devnmon]

solace in succor

spawn astarion x reader

summary: Your hormones are making your body extra sensitive, but Astarion offers to help remedy that.

warnings: boob play, thigh riding, pre-menstruation pain mentioned

wc: 3.5k

a/n: was gonna post this earlier but i got caught up with my journal and getting dressed to go out but here have this fic that i put my whole writeussy into xo

Armor was never meant to be comfortable. But the way your chest presses against it in agony— it wasn’t meant to hurt, was it? 

My cycle… you thought. Has to be.

Every inhale and exhale pressed the plush of your chest to your armor plate. With each breath, the aching never seemed to cease. They continued to rub against the textured metal to no end. It was both painful and stimulating in more ways than one— but most of all, distracting. 

A tantalizingly long day only becomes longer whilst you remain uncomfortable in the metal coverings. But once it came to an end, you were quickest to head back to camp before anyone else. 

Everything became overstimulating- the sweat on your back, the tightened leathers you adorned, even the bottoms of your feet were inflamed. Acutely intensifying, you found yourself keeled over, grasping at your pelvis where a harsh cramping began. 

Before you could even catch a moment to relieve yourself of it, the scent of rosemary fluttered around your senses. 

“Darling, are you alright?” 

Astarion appeared behind you, closing the flap of his tent over, always keeping a keen eye for noticing when you weren’t alright. You’d run ahead of the others back to his tent, enough of a sign for him to be concerned. 

You groaned in pain, “Think I’m quite the opposite, actually.”

Turning to him with a pained smile, you grasped onto the nearby table to catch your balance. The exhaustion of your day out was crashing over you much like waves at high tide. 

His quick but quiet footsteps brought him right to your side, catching the small of your back and your waist with his hands. 

“Here, take a seat. I’m sure you’re exhausted. We’ve all had a long day.” 

“Wait. Could you— would you…. ugh. C-Can you help me out of these garments?” 

Tugging at the cloth around your neck, it became clear to your companion how highly unpleasant you seemed to be. What had caused it he wasn’t sure, but he’d do anything in his power to keep it from continuing. 

“Of course. Anything for you, my love. Especially if you’re not feeling the best.“

Astarion began with undoing the buckles on your leg plates, throwing them to the side with a clanking noise. Damn if the armor dented, he’d throw himself into the sun before letting you suffer a moment longer. Not before long, he’d done away with the rest of your protective gear. 

“Now, I hope you’re not wearing anything that fits too tight or not well enough…” he began to reprimand.

“No… no, it’s just— I think I’m about to go on my cycle. My breasts ache something awful… And the cramps- ugh, gods above. This always happens right before it starts and I’m left sensitive all over.” You complained. 

Astarion untied your corset quickly with his lithe fingers, noting the little sounds you made when he pressed into your skin. 

“About to? So you’re not on it yet?” Brows upturned and eyes soft, your cheeky vampire pouted at the knowledge that your monthly cycle hadn’t arrived. 

You scoffed, “Don’t look so sad, Astarion. I know exactly how you get about my menstruation. Like a cat in heat, and you’re not even the one who has to bleed for days.” 

Eyes rolling playfully, you recalled the times he’d indulged on your blood from a different source rather than your neck. 

“What can I say? You’re delicious.” His fingertips tip your chin upwards to meet his lips, pressing a quick peck to them. 

“Perverted vampire.” 

“That’s me, darling.” he jested, smirking. 

Soon as your chest plate had fallen from your shoulders, the undergarment propping your breasts up was quick to follow, dropping to the ground without even having to remove your shirt. 

To Astarion’s surprise, you were quite effective with tossing it to the side. Presented immediately to his eyes was the main reason your chest began aching. 

Now he knew the real reason you’d needed his help. 

Two hardened peaks announced themselves through the fabric of your shirt, standing prominent. It wasn’t his fault his eyes faltered downwards— well, maybe a little of it was. Though he’d been shocked at how hard they were, it must have been such a nuisance. 

A sigh of relief from your lips proved to him that he was right- your aching, sensitive body didn’t just pertain to your back and the bottoms of your feet. No, this was something else entirely.

“Oh, now I clearly see where the problem resides.” 

You whined, “I told you they ached. What else did you expect?” 

“Well, nothing surprises me anymore when it comes to you. Here, let’s get you off your feet. Come, sit.” 

Astarion aided you in lowering you to the ground to rest against his chest, his body a pillow behind you. Brows furrowing amongst your sharp breaths in and out as you sit. Your cheeks warmed from his soft gestures, the kind of doting vampire he was when comforting you. It came as easy as breathing to him. 

Finally being off your feet was glorious in itself, but resting against him calmed you a bit more. 

Hearing the groans of pain as you sat made Astarion’s heart swell, for how much more pain could you take on this journey? Who knows how many times you’ve been in this much discomfort without him by your side to aid you. 

“Can I do anything to help? Maybe a massage?” Your star inquired, pressing his lips to your cheek softly. 

A warmth in your chest began to spark, not only in your chest from his desire to rid you of this pain, but between your legs when reminded of how the sensitivity of your body tended to travel wherever it pleased. 

“O-Okay… just be gentle.” You replied, breath shuddering. 

“I wouldn’t touch you any other way.” He whispered in your ear, words warm against it. 

Another kiss pressed to your skin. 

The heat in your chest traveled to your cheeks, pinking them up much too hot for your liking. 

“I can’t imagine what this must do to you.” Astarion’s hands pressed into your waist, then ran up over the hardened buds. Each finger took an agonizingly slow time grazing over them through your shirt. An uncontrollable whimper escaped your lips, relishing in all he was doing to you. 

With every pass, your breath grew heavier, trying to relax under his touch.

“Astarion…” 

He chuckles in that low tone again, wasn’t he aware of what he was doing to you? 

You couldn’t tell if it was more mischief than anything else. But it was more than orgasmic. 

“Let’s get this off you.” He purrs, fingertips catching a sliver of your skin once his hands undo each button and push the cloth off your shoulders. The cool air does nothing but prick your skin with goosebumps, quite a delectable sight from Astarion’s point of view. 

He could hear every hitch of your breath, every time your heart’s pace picked up, all because of him. 

“Better, my love?” 

“Hmmh… still hurts a lot.” 

Your head’s thrown back on his shoulder right as his hands return to working their magic. But he doesn’t simply run his fingers over them this time, no. Astarion takes his palms and presses against the plush of your breasts in full. 

Not only does the weight of your chest throb in your sensitivity when they’re grabbed, but your nipples never cease their constant hardness. His grip on them is soft, filling out the largeness of his palms quite perfectly. 

With a steadiness, he simply holds your breasts, coolness spreading over them a considerable amount. Splayed out over the plush skin, he does nothing but keep them in place for a moment. 

Another mewl escapes you, chest rising and falling under his contact. Even just his touch held the most heart thumping pace in your chest. The heat covering your insides never faltered, especially not against the stark difference of his hands. 

Out of nowhere, he kneads them in one fluid motion, tempting your patience and his own to relax you. 

Astarion notices the shudder of pleasure that runs through you, smirking to himself. 

Not only does he continue with the softened touch he’s promised, his lips begin ghosting kisses over your neck. That same area his fangs frequented. Astarion consistently attempted to not leave bruising on your precious skin— he couldn’t bear it. But the peppering of his kisses was more than a spark to set your body aflame. It was a blazing bonfire with the way he did so. 

His kneading motions are as calculated as a baker’s with dough, a mild one given by his strong fingers. 

“Oh, I bet this feels nice, hm? To be free of the suffocating layers you adorn all day long. Our fearless leader…” You could hear the taunt in his voice, getting a bit too confident from the shudders in your breath and perfect little sounds you omitted. But he craved more, to hear how your body sang for him. Every moment went to his head, dizzying with desire. 

There were no words to accompany his questions with a response. Only another filthy sound inched from you he desired to take a mile from. 

Thus, his digits close around each of your nipples, selfishly boosting his ego with every morsel of pleasure he delivers.

Astarion’s fully aware of what he’s doing to you, the touches he’s applying to your oh so sensitive chest calculated to his liking. 

Your back arches against his chest, another shuddered breath escaping you while your head falls to his shoulder. His fingers move to pinch your hardened buds in such a way to make every inch of you throb. Not too hard, but enough pressure for your heat to throb overwhelmingly. 

“That feel good, hm?” 

His low purr in your ear only makes matters worse. 

“Yes, gods… Be gentle, Starion. Mmmmh…” 

“When I’m pulling such beautiful sounds from you? Oh, darling. I can’t help it.” 

His cold hands do nothing to help your hardened peaks calm, even with the raging fire building inside you. It’s debilitating, how much you want to rut against him. Though, your desperate palms just grip his thighs, grounding you back to your physical form. 

Astarion’s cold hands can sense how much heat emanates from you— especially when your skin is the hottest he’s ever known before. 

Eyes closed in bliss, he takes the opportunity to press the softest kisses into your exposed neck, attempting to keep cool when he attunes to how fast your heart is pumping. More like music to his ears, taking initiative to drag his cool lips over the areas to send you whining again. 

He’s perceptive enough to notice the shifting of your hips below him, eager to move against anything. One hand of his leaves your breast, sliding down your stomach into what are now a pair of very soiled undergarments. When his finger slips so easily through your folds to find how soaked you are, it’s the easiest cue of a smirk curling itself across his lips. 

“Does your cycle always leave you like this, darling?” 

One more swipe to collect your arousal on his fingers before he pulls them out of your pants, going nowhere near where you really need him. 

A whimper leaves your lips, “Never been this bad before, maybe it’s the stress.” 

Your chest heaves under his touch with every breath you take. Astarion has been continuously soft and constant with his kneading, the sound of his breathing while pressed against him only made your body crave more. 

“That could be the issue… far too much worrying for your pretty little head. What should we do about that, hm?” 

You whimper again under his touch, rutting against nothing between his legs. 

The laces of your pants come undone thanks to his agile fingers, the wisp of his skin against yours overwhelming compared to the heat of your body. He grips your waist, turning you to face him and sit on his thigh.

His cheeks flush upon your almost fully naked figure before him, beads of sweat visible down your torso in the lantern light. The vampire’s never gotten used to seeing his lover soaked in bliss because of him. 

Eyes finally catching on the wet patch of your underwear, his tongue darts out over his lips as the rubies dilate at the sight. 

“You’re quite the sight like this, poor baby.” 

Astarion’s cool palms run up and down your sides, earning him more of your little shakes and whimpers. Your vampire’s red eyes shimmer with adoration as he looks upon you, understanding the discomfort in your expression. 

Fingertips slink down your torso, right above the band of your underwear. He’s fully aware you’d rather have his hand in your pants than go a moment longer without. Instead of digging his slender fingers into your soaked heat, his thumb drops down to the wet spot and rubs lightly. Your hips stutter again, only this time atop his thigh to bring you the most rewarding friction against your throbbing clit. 

There were no words for the amount of pleasure coursing through your veins from one simple movement. Maybe it was the fact that you had Astarion as a partner that did it; he could bring you to your knees with a single look. Perhaps it was the surge of hormones whispering to put his cock in you— to fill you up until your satisfaction was reached. 

But the only thing you could get out was his name, pleadingly asking for more. It would have to wait until you had the energy and your cycle wasn’t on the brink of arrival. 

Although Astarion never has a problem with a messier kind of sex. Especially not one that can feed him as well as satisfy his desire to please you. 

“C-Can I… oh, gods. Please can I—“ 

“Ride my thigh? I’d love nothing more, my pretty girl. Let’s get these out of the way. hm?”

You’re expecting him to cut your remaining undergarment off with a knife for being in the way, especially when you were in this state. Instead, two of his fingers pull the soaked part of the cloth to the side, putting your swollen cunt on display for him. 

“There she is, so pretty. Of course you’ve soaked through these already.”

“Gonna ruin your pants, Star.“ you replied through another gasp, your sensitive clit getting exposed to the coolness surrounding your vampire. 

“Nothing a little spell can’t fix tomorrow morning.” He smiles, beaming at you with that sweet face. He’d always accept cleaning up after no matter what it was— whether that be a mess of blood after battle or the arousal he’d orchestrated from you. 

“But, you…” you pout, before grasping at the imprint of his length under said pants.

“Ah ah, this isn’t about me, darling.” he replies, moving your hand away, “Making sure you feel alright is more important.” 

Though his cock twitching under your grasp isn’t lost on either of you, it’s much more satisfactory to him seeing you like this. Your eyelids flutter with affection looking down upon him, a twinkle in his eyes as he gazes back. 

“Gods, I don’t deserve you.” Your desperate mouth collides with his, tasting sweetness across your tongue. 

Whilst doing so, his hands encourage you to move your hips above him once more. His hands guide you, beginning to slowly spread yourself open on his thigh. 

“You do, so I can do things like this for you. It’s what you deserve.” 

His lips leave one more chaste kiss on yours before tucking his bottom lip between his teeth to watch you rut against him. Half-lidded and glowing red, his eyes lock onto you from below. Once your rhythm steadies, that cold touch of his returns to your chest, still attentive and filled with arousal. 

Astarion’s fingers pinch your nipples a bit tighter than they had before, adoring how they hardened further when blessed by the temperature of his hands. 

His lips land in the valley between them, caressing the sensitive skin with his tongue before placing it over one of the hardened buds. 

“Hah… mmh—“ 

He chuckles, his sounds vibrating through you and heightening the sensitivity of your chest and your pleasure. 

From his seated position, it’s clear he’s enjoying the view, pressing his thigh upwards into your wetness while he sucks and nips at your breasts. He only relents to speak another praise. 

“That’s it, you’re doing so well, my sweet.” 

Each little sound you made upon his tongue swirling around your nipple or the sucking of his lips to leave a mark on your breast only intensified. 

“Please, need you inside me…” you attempt to grasp his erection again, but he’s quick to pull your hand away the same as before. 

“Tsk. No, darling, he taunts, “You’re going to come for me without having touched that pretty little clit.” 

You pout, an obvious remark you’ve picked up from your companion; lips jutted outwards, shoulders sunken, and big wet eyes. 

“Why must you torture me so?” 

“Because, my love… your pleasure is mine. Besides, I can smell it on you. The blood… it’s just aching to come out. I’d say around dawn tomorrow, if even that.” He purrs, playing with your tits in his hands again. 

Something about the coldness of his fingers pinching and massaging almost sends you over the edge. Your hips stutter, the friction of each time you move has you pulling him in by the nape of his neck. 

You want him close when you finally come, closer than ever. If he won’t grant you that by being inside you, then the proximity of your lips on his would have to do. Soon as you kiss him, he can taste the arousal on your tongue; it infects him quicker than light, and the increased beating of your heart fills his ears harmoniously. 

Astarion’s hands grip your waist again, even tighter than before to move you down onto him in a slower motion. 

“Agh, Ast..ahh-rion…” You attempt to speak with a gasp, but the sensations coursing through you are much too overwhelming to form actual words. 

The pitch of your voice and strung together sounds was the indication you were teetering on the edge of orgasm. Lips trailed upwards from your chest, his little groans of satisfaction with each press caused your eyes to close in bliss. 

“You’re so close, I know. I can hear your heart racing. Want to come for me, hm?”

You nod desperately, attempting to speed up your movements again. His grip loosens so you can rut freely, knowing the height of your orgasm is about to come crashing down. 

“My perfect darling. There, just let it all go. Mmm, so good. So perfect.” Astarion’s lips continue their assault on your neck, flicking his tongue over your pulse point as the sounds you make become more high pitched and breathless. 

It’s not a moment later before your orgasm washes over you, sending your hips uncontrollably moving against his thigh. Your clit throbs as you gush on top of him, losing all upper body strength you once had and falling into his arms. It’s as if you hadn’t been touched in centuries, the way your orgasm courses through every inch of your body. 

The goosebumps on your skin slick with sweat becomes more intense as the heat flooding you calms for the first time all day. It’s relief you’re filled with, that the pain has ceased, thanks to the quite literal handiwork of your companion. 

Your forehead rests on his shoulder, cold hands raking up and down your back for comfort. 

“Thank you,” you breathe, “I love you more than anything, Astarion.”

“You are my everything. I love you, too. Feeling any better?” His fingers sweep strands of hair out of your face, noticing how flushed they’ve become from your recent activities. 

Those words give you enough strength to raise your head and look at him. 

“Mhm. Much…” you glance downwards again, “Will you let me take care of you now?”

“How sweet. Perhaps I’d be wrong to not indulge you after our long day but… how does a warm bath sound? Before we get all sweaty again, I’d like to wash the day off us.”

“You had me at warm bath.” you chuckle, pecking him on the lips. 

“Let’s go then, before anyone else gets there first.” 

As much as you want the clothes you’ve torn off to stay on the ground where they lay, you throw them back on just to make it to the calming bath Astarion’s promised you. 

Safe to say your vampire doted on your body the same as before, once you both relaxed into the clean water. More kisses and soothing touches were shared as the sweat from the long day’s activities was shed. You found yourself tucked into his arms once again as the day concluded for good.

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[altacctforastarion]

I think Astarion gets too excited while kissing you, so happy to be with someone that cares for him, that he cares for in return, that he leans in too much, let’s passion overcome him, and accidentally grazes your lip with his fang. I think he pulls away immediately, awkward laughing and apologizing, eyes full of worry. I think if you tell him you’re fine, he worries anyways because you’re important and he hurt you and it doesn’t matter how much blood he takes from you, this blood wasn’t given with consent. I don’t think he licks the blood away, I think he wipes it away instead, and I think he’s resistant to kiss you again, making jokes about how he wouldn’t want to bleed you dry through kisses, deflecting.

I think when you tell him it’s fine he stares at you for too long, considering you. I think when you convince him you’re fine, that it’s just a little cut, nothing compared to the injuries you’ve sustained previously, he’ll agree, but internally this injury is worse because he did it.

I think when he kisses you again it’s gentle, and when he finally tell you how he feels, when he finally admits how guilty it’s made him, and you talk it through with him and comfort him, and then kiss him with passion, trying to prove you aren’t hurt, that you aren’t afraid, he pulls away and it’s not until later that night or the next day that he can handle kisses being more than a peck, or gentle with unopened mouths.

I think he poked at his fangs when no one is around, trying to see how much skin can handle before it breaks so he’s prepared for when it inevitably happens again, so that in the back of his mind he’ll know when to pull away to avoid hurting you again.

I read and write fics where he’s confident, where fang sustained injuries are hot and fun in bed, but I think if he hurt you unintentionally outside of bed, without all the kinks, it would matter, and he’d care a whole hell of a lot.