#cazador fic

[vampiric-hunger]

⊱─ 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ─⊰

➺ 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Cazador Szarr x f!reader the vampire bride

➺ 𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕤: no y/n is used, rating - e, smut, consensual somnophilia, anal sex, choking, vaginal fingering, hair-pulling, degradation (mild), spanking, creampies (many of them), blowjob, praise kink, cock worship, begging, facials, cum swallowing, PiV, masturbation, cunnilingus, nipple play, overstimulation, forced orgasm, blood drinking, biting, exhibitionism, throne sex, reverse voyeurism, somehow a loving relationship, vampires being vampires, there's so much porn just accept it

➺ 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Cazador Szarr loves having power over people, especially over you, his wife. and he won't relent until you know well and truly - you are his.

➺ 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 11,938

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: listen, don't ask me what happened here, just blame the influence of my friends and well, Cazador himself. this is extremely long, messy in the best possible way and very very horny. enjoy <3

You’re unaware and asleep when he wakes with a flinch. Although he’s not really waking but rather snapping out of his meditations that took him to mind-planes he didn’t want. In the darkness of the bedroom Cazador is laying still while his eyes focus on the canopy of the bed. But then you move in your sleep, brushing against his arm and vampire finally snaps out of his thoughts, turning his head to look at your form lying next to him. His bride that he was promised in marriage and one he turned into his vampiric bride on the night of your wedding. He didn’t even try to convince you, he just pinned you down and killed you, then helped you rise again, different but immortally beautiful.

You fought a lot in the beginning. You blamed him for attacking you and he wanted you to just shut up, but as decades began to wear down, you, somehow, unbelievably, learned to love each other. For better or for worse, and maybe because you two were stuck with each other, but your marriage turned from constant shouting matches, destroyed furniture and killing sprees to utter and blinding obsession. He couldn’t even lock you up in a cage and toss you into the dungeons because your very powerful family could show up at the palace any day.

You both hated each other. And now you can barely spend a moment apart.

As he lies in bed, Cazador remembers the lessons of Vellioth the Martinet and his lips pull into a sneer at the spite of his own weakness, but then he sees your naked back turned to him, a blanket only covering your body up to your waist and his spite vanishes like a whisp of perfume from a passing Lady. His hand reaches out and his palm caresses your hip under the cover. You stir at his touch but don’t wake, exhausted from last day. There were preparations for an elaborate meeting that will happen tonight and while Chamberlain usually takes care of that, you yourself insisted on supervising everything this time. So you stayed up way too late, until you had to keep yourself pressed to the wall just to avoid the rising sun seeping through the gaps in heavy curtains while on your way to the bedroom.

Cazador was asleep, slumbering in his vampiric rest when you came in, so he didn’t have a chance to have you all for himself. Addicted to making a mess out of you, he always tries to find time in your busy schedules just for that. And now that you’re in the bed, resting in your own healing sleep, so vulnerable while your body is inviting him to take it, he’s not sure if he should even try resisting the temptation. After all, he’s not going to let more than a day pass without reminding you that he’s your Lord and husband in every way possible.

He narrows his eyes, lustful gaze now traveling down your back and his caresses on your rear become more demanding, more eager and Cazador smirks to himself, knowing that he has ownership of your body even when you’re unaware. After a moment longer he pulls his hand from your skin and gives his already throbbing cock couple strokes, red eyes scanning your sleeping form as if deciding how best to take you, urged by his need to remind you that you belong to him.

With a grin he pushes his body closer to your back, not touching you just yet but positioning himself. He gently rests his already weeping from need cock between the mounds of your rear and moves one hand over you, his long fingers finding your throat and feeling no pulse. He’s meticulous in his preparation, making sure that his arm will prevent you from trying to reach him when you wake. With the other hand Cazador grips the base of his cock and watches himself position the tip of his length against your back entrance, rubbing it with his dick and smearing his precum there to make his invasion smoother. His eyes drift to you for a second and he raises his head, to check if you’re still deep in your slumber and after confirming that you are he grins again, squeezing your neck increasingly harder and beginning to push his dick into your tight hole. You stir for a moment, murmuring in your unconscious and grip the pillow your head rests on tighter, quickly waking now because Cazador is not going slow. It takes him a second to push half his length into your ass and you snap out of your sleep, confused and dazed, with a loud gasp.

“What’s-“ you begin but your husband’s squeeze on your throat cuts you off. You take a moment to look around and moan softly when Cazador buries himself to the root within you. At the same time you feel his arm at the bottom move between you and then knit in your hair, pulling backwards. He looks at you with a cruel smirk.

“Good evening, pet.” Cazador whispers and you part your lips to speak, still feeling confused but then he begins thrusting, slow only for two strokes, and you finally realize what’s going on, letting out a sigh. “Now, now.” he whispers against your ear with a low voice that resembles a growl. “ No need to struggle, you’re mine to play with.”

You smile in response and his grip on your throat relents, allowing you to moan with his pumps and you grip the pillow tighter. You don’t see Cazador’s eyes watching you coldly but intensively, a predatory smile pulling at his lips as he listens to the noises you make. He moves his leg and increases the power of his thrusts, taking you harder, clearly not caring if you’re hurting and making sure you’re aware that he’s in control here.

“That’s it, submit to me.” he grunts against your ear, watching your face as if he’s looking for signs of your disobedience.

In response you arch your back, keeping your hips in place and you grin, your face flushed now and your eyes heavy lidded, obviously enjoying him fuck your ass because you don’t make a single sound of protest, melting into his grip on your throat. You like it when he uses you like this, makes you his, reminds you that there’s nobody else for you except him. He didn’t even bother waking you, this is perfect, and you moan every time he plunges his cock deeply into you. Your cunt is drenched from your desire and you feel pleasant throbbing of lust between your legs increasing with each stroke into your ass.

Cazador’s hips snap against you in fast, powerful rhythm, pushing his cock into you with force that amuses even him but eventually you feel his grip on your throat tighten almost involuntarily as he begins to lose himself in the sensation. You bite your lower lip and throw your leg back, draping it over his to allow your husband even better access to your hole and you grope the sheets, trying to find his other hand, forgetting that it’s tangled in your hair. But Cazador sees what you’re doing and he releases your hair although not your throat, now pushing his arm under your waist and letting you grasp his wrist, letting you lead his fingers to your clit, showing him what exactly you want from him.

“So needy.” Cazador comments with a breathy voice, but he doesn’t pull back his hand.

Instead he begins massaging and teasing your clit, making you moan even louder now while he resumes his thrusts into your ass, his fingers gripping your throat in almost punishing manner but making sure that you can still make your sweet noises for him.

“Fuck… Fuck… Harder!” you cry out, completely awake now and enjoying every second of this. Your fingers grip the sheets but you don’t even hear that your nails rip through them even though Cazador sees it and he grins, satisfied with the power he has over you in this moment.

“Harder?” vampire’s voice is a low, lustful growl as he complies, slowing his pace but increasing the power behind his thrusts, slamming into your ass with force that makes you feel like your back is about to break, but you can sense that your lover is fighting to maintain control over himself while he plunges himself in and almost fully out of your tight ass in controlled pace.

You cry out in response to his forceful pounding, sensing that his fingers stopped circling your clit. You want to protest and beg him to continue but you can’t even form words, let alone speak. But then you feel Cazador’s hand leave your throat and his thrusts stop just before there’s an arm around your waist and he flips you onto your stomach, tangling a hand into your hair once more and pushing your face into the pillow to the point you can barely breathe, not that you need to actually do that but right now you forget even this as you gasp against the fabric.

“Take it, obediently.” Cazador demands, his voice rough from lust and then your face gets pulled out the pillow by your hair, making you let out a sensual sigh.

You open your eyes and try to say something but you don’t get the chance because his hips snap forward once more, slamming into you with force that leaves you dizzy. You moan when he continues pounding into your tight hole and you smile, your face showing pure ecstasy as you do, completely dick-drunk already.

“You feel so good.” you gasp and Cazador pulls your hair back even more, forcing your spine make a bend that’s almost unbearable while you grip onto the pillow again, and yet you buck your hips against him, wanting even more of him. “Deeper…” you whine like a whore while you use fingers of your hand that’s under you to find your clit and begin rubbing it.

Cazador smirks to himself when he hears you begging. He’s satisfied that you’re so willing, but you are always willing for him. In a moment you feel his hand find a better position by your side and his thrusts pick up pace again becoming supernaturally strong. You never experienced sex like this when you were alive and you wouldn’t exchange this for anything.

“You like it rough, don’t you.” he taunts coldly even though his voice is laced with tones of pleasure and you know he’s enjoying this.

“You know it, love.” you gasp out your response with a smile and hear him chuckle breathily behind you while he continues his assault on your body.

“You’re such a compliant slut.” Cazador growls between his harsh breaths and lets go of your hair only to smack your ass in a painful manner. You gasp against the pillow but smile when the sting only makes your pleasure in this moment bigger.

“Is that so?” you reply with a smirk, taking his cock with satisfaction, just like you always do, even when he’s rough with you. Actually, you prefer it this way.

“You’ve always been such a whore for me.” your husband is audibly struggling to speak, his voice is rough and he’s panting heavily now, you only wish you could see his face in this moment. At the end of his words he slaps your ass again, harder this time, another painful sting only elevating your sensations. You’re close to your orgasm and Cazador has fucked you enough times to know this.

Sensing your approaching climax Cazador keeps his controlled attack on your ass, his hips snapping forward with force that leaves no doubt that your enjoyment is only a secondary thing in this situation. The hand that he used to slap your rear is in your hair again and he pushes your head back into the pillow, using your skull as support, letting it bear the weight with no concern if it’s hurting you.

“You’re such a worthless wretch.” vampire growls a snarl and that’s all you need.

With a shout you cum at his words, your body now trembling and shuddering while your hole squeezes his cock so hard it urges Cazador to his own release. And he begins spilling his seed deep into your ass, letting your body milk him of every last drop while he pants loudly, managing only couple more labored thrusts before he stops, out of breath. He takes a moment, bent over you and when you begin to come back to the room you feel sweat drops fall from his face and onto your back. He must be a beautiful sight right now.

You try to catch your breath, resting and enjoying the fullness that he’s providing you with, completely incapable of forming thoughts or words. After all, being filled by Cazador is your favorite thing and in this moment you are completely content.

But then you feel Cazador roughly pull his dick out of your ass and you’re tugged by your hair now, moved from lying like a doll before you can even gather your bearings, and get brough to his kneeling form, scrambling on all fours for him. You lift your eyes and finally see his face, drenched in sweat, his hair messy and a cruel smile on his lips. With another tug he brings your face to his cock, pressing your nose and mouth against it, his cum still covering his shaft and you know immediately what he wants you to do even if you’re still dazed.

You open your mouth and hang out your tongue, letting him move your head and drag your tongue along his length, your eyes never leaving his. When he brings your face back down you take initiative and begin licking his cock, putting your best effort to clean it thoroughly while you still try to collect yourself after the orgasm.

Cazador groans softly while you work your tongue and leans his head back, closing his eyes with a satisfied sigh and a smirk.

“Such a good little slut.” he praises and you feel his cock twitch, getting roused once more at your ministrations and beginning to harden. Vampiric stamina, of course he’s nearly ready to go again but so are you.

With a small grin you use the chance when his grip in your hair loosens just a bit and wrap your mouth around his dick, forcing him to remain kneeling as you begin to suck on his length exactly how he taught you, keeping your eyes on his face, but this time wanting to see pleasure etched in his features. Cazador moves his head and his blazing gaze meets yours while he watches you suck him off.

“You enjoy being used so much.” vampire comments in a low tone and finally releases your hair, stroking your cheek that’s still lightly smeared with his cum. This touch is gentle and possessive at the same time.

In response you hum positively and swirl your tongue against the tip of his cock then go down the length, using your tongue to trail against the veins and then back up, around the head of his dick. Cazador’s breathing increases again as he watches you, his thumb still softly rubbing your cheek, yet his eyes become glazed with satisfaction and you see a glint of genuine affection in his eyes as you worship his cock. And after all, he’s not wrong, you love being used by him, but only by him. You don’t want any other man in a way you want him, with something deeply primal that’s feral. You want to be his forever and you want him to be yours for eternity.

“You’re always so eager to please.” your husband comments almost as if he’s talking to himself, watching you with hooded eyes. “I like that. Never have I thought that I will like fucking you this much.” Cazador says and just as his cock twitches with a promise once more, he pulls you off of him by your hair.

You gasp and sit on your heels, your face upturned to him and deep craving in your eyes. He cannot tell if that hunger is for blood or him, maybe both. He just grins and releases your hair again, now grasping the base of his length and strokes it across your lips, leaving a trail of his seeping cum in its wake. His eyes study your face, seeing the hunger clearly expressed there and the grin he offers carries a degree of sharpness in it.

“Tell me you want it.” he commands and you nod quickly.

“Yes, my love.” you beg and lick your lips, tasting his seed and having to resist your desire to move for his length while he teases you. It’s just your eyes that move from his face to his shaft, being held still by his fingers.

Cazador chuckles and it would sound menacing to everyone else but you. His thumb traces the line of your lips.

“You’re such a pathetic little whore. So hungry for my cock, are you not?” he taunts, there’s no softness in his tone and it sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. It sounds almost like hatred and you know that what he hates is how much he needs you, so you just smile to him.

“Please.” you whisper earnestly and try to lick the weeping tip that’s so close to your mouth but he does not let you. With a cruel grin he stops touching your lips and gives his cock couple strokes.

“Open.” Cazador demands and you part your lips widely, expecting him to thrust his dick deep into your throat and finish there, craving for it even, but instead of that you watch him pump his length couple more times and you only have time to lift your eyes to his burning gaze before he starts spilling himself once more but this time right across your face.

You gasp in surprise and close your eyes, feeling streaks of his cool cum covering your skin and dripping down your face, towards your mouth. You hear his groan and finally open your eyes, Cazador gratefully avoided them while making a mess out of the rest of your face, and you greedily lick your lips then press your tongue against the tip of his cock, gathering last pearly drops that are leaking out. Cazador watches you for a moment with dark and hungry eyes then again he grabs a handful of your hair and jerks your head back, forcing your face upwards so that he can watch his seed slowly drip down your face.

“You’re such a filthy little slut.” he says in another lustful growl and you smile happily at him, licking your lips and tasting more of his seed. He truly taught you how to love his control over you, how to crave it and this alone leaves you dripping with wetness. You’re not satisfied, not yet.

Cazador smirks when he sees devotion in your eyes, then lets go of your hair and steps out of the bed, walking to the side and snatching a napkin from the desk. While you wait for him to return you run your fingertips across your face, painting them with his seed and licking at them eagerly, hungry for everything he has to offer you.

When the vampire returns to the bedside he tosses the napkin in your direction and you swiftly catch it with a smile.

“All done then?” you ask as you begin to wipe your face clean and Cazador remains silent for a moment, thinking, then smirks at you.

“I think you’re ready for another round.” he says arrogantly and when you look in his direction you see that he has his cock in his hand again, stroking it, getting harder by the second. Your cunt aches at the sight and you realize he’s right – you are more than ready for him again. For just a moment you wonder what got him so in the mood but you’re not going to complain. “Lie down, legs open, pup.”

Cazador’s command is clear and you wouldn’t dream of disobeying it. You quickly finish wiping your face and toss the napkin on the floor, then crawl to the center of the bed and lie on your back, spreading your legs and your folds for him. He observes you for a long moment, watching your glistening juices leaking out of your core, beckoning him to take yet another plunge into your body and his smirk widens when he sees your eager expression.

“I never tire of seeing you like this.” he hums more to himself than to you and gets into bed, crawling on top of you while clearly enjoying the sight of you so eager to please him. “Higher, pet.” Cazador demands and you lift your legs and when he leans in closer they end up against his chest, your ankles against his shoulders for a moment before he grins and leans in deeper, bending you nearly in half. “Good.”

You whine under the pressure of his body but smile to him, ready to be claimed once more. You love being his toy, his plaything, his to use, there’s something about your husband that you discovered absolutely loving – his power over people, yourself included.

“Just one more time, dear.” Cazador hums and you feel his shaft press against your soaking cunt, pause and then plunge into you with force, burying himself in you completely.

In response you cry out, watching his eyes study your flushed face and you grip the sheets under your head. The angle is almost painful with how he takes you, but you enjoy the sensation nonetheless.

“I love you.” you gasp when he begins thrusting into you, his skin slapping against yours, your mind feeling clouded from renewed pleasure once more. Cazador’s eyes flash with amusement at your words and he smirks.

“You love the pain.” he responds because he knows you’re becoming sore from getting your body used like this and you blush harder.

He hates saying the words even if you know that he loves you, in his own way. You don’t mind, he shows his care in different ways, such as this, making sure that you’re satisfied even if he’s pushing you to your limit. And you know there’s something on his mind but you don’t dare ask, he’ll tell you if he wants to.

“I love it when you give me pain.” you counter between your mewls with a smile and close your eyes, leaning into sensations washing over your body again.

“Is that so?” Cazador mocks and his thrusts pick up the pace now despite his cold words. His hips snap against you in controlled fervor, relentless and unforgiving, while he moves one hand between you and pinches your nipple, twisting it cruelly, making you hiss at the pain, but you still smile.

“I’ve been your wife for decades, you know exactly what I like.” you reply with a moan, your body stiffens as he releases your nipple and leans into you even more, now truly folding your body in half and you open your eyes just to meet his gaze.

“And yet you still surprise me.” vampire responds and he truly tries to sound collected, in control, but his own pants are now loud and labored and his face is sweaty once more. His lips part for air, showing his fangs and you want to kiss him but can’t reach him, not in this position.

“I’m… I’m so close…” you whine, shivering underneath him because his thrusts now make him hit your clit with his pelvis and Cazador knows it.

“So impatient.” he says with a sneer and increases the power behind his pumps one last time, giving you his all. He’s close too and yet he’s not going to let you claim your climax easily. “Beg for your release.”

You don’t pause, you don’t know if you can hold on for longer than you already have and arch your neck with a whine.

“Please, my love, let me cum! Ah!” you gasp when he delivers an especially punishing thrust. “Cazador! Please!” your nails rip at the sheets again and you open your heavy eyelids, meeting his burning gaze. So many times he has fucked you like this and yet it seems he never gets enough of how you look during it. You’re all his, after all.

“Not yet.” he scolds almost coldly despite his own strain. “I said beg, you whore. Beg for me!”

“Fuck!” you cry out, your muscles tense at your effort to comply with his command, but you’re almost losing the battle. “Please, my love, please! I beg you! I can’t- I can’t!” you only have a moment or two to get his permission and you both know it, that’s why he’s doing this.

Yet it seems Cazador is done tormenting you.

“Very well.” he finally relents and closes his eyes, letting himself go too. “But remember – you are mine.”

You can’t respond, your orgasm washes over you with force and your body tightens and spasms, making you moan so loudly half the palace probably hears you. Your pussy grips his cock like a vice and with a satisfied smirk Cazador lets go of himself, releasing himself into you with a nearly animalistic growl, filling your cunt now and not slowing down until he’s milked from every last drop.

When Cazador finally stops you both remain as you are for a long moment. Utterly out of breath and trembling, you can feel his muscles shaking now and you smile, then look at him, adoring the expression on his face that tells you of satisfaction and content.

“Woke up needy?” you tease him lovingly and his eyes snap open at you in an instant, amused at your tone of voice, then he lets out an exhausted chuckle.

“I’ll never grow tired of you.” your lover says and slowly pulls out of you, leaning back and releasing your body from position he put you in.

“Ow, fuck…” you moan when his cock leaves you and your legs drop to the bed. You look at him, still shaking and feeling sore all over. “Well I hope not, we have forever together.” you smile as you speak and take a moment to play lazily with your overflowing pussy, feeling his seed begin to seep out of your entrance. Cazador truly went out of his way to fill every hole available.

He grins wickedly at you before getting closer and leaning down, then places a tender kiss on your forehead.

“We do have eternity, dear. And I plan on making the most of it with you.” he whispers, surprising you, but it looks like he’s finally satisfied and fulfilled.

“Oh you do love me.” you tease him, knowing he hates the very word ‘love’ but you see that he’s in much better mood now. Why wouldn’t he be.

At the same time his tenderness still leaves you in a playful mood. With him watching, you push two fingers into your overflowing cunt and gasp softly because you’re so sore it’s wonderfully painful. Cazador was right, you do love the pain he leaves you with afterwards.

He pauses for a moment as he observes what you’re doing, then he looks back at you and remembers your words, now rolling his eyes.

“Of course I do.” he says reluctantly, still not mentioning the word itself but then raises an eyebrow. “Now stop talking and let me take care of you.” he mutters and begins to move lower.

With a chuckle you spread your legs wide once more and watch him while pumping your fingers slowly, lazily even. You observe Cazador’s eyes flick to your moving digits and then he positions himself between your thighs, his hands now massaging inside of them and you remove your fingers out of your core, bringing them to your lips and licking them clean.

“You’re always so impatient.” your husband murmurs and runs his tongue along the seam of your pussy, tracing the damp, wet skin and causing shivers up and down your spine. You gasp in response.

“I’m addicted to you.” you smile but moan when you feel his tongue giving your pulsating folds another greedy lick. Your hands fly to your breasts and you begin to play with your nipples while you watch him down there, pleasing you, tasting himself mixed with your arousal, you will never tire of this sight.

Cazador doesn’t reply, he just chuckles at your words and lifts his head, giving you an arrogant smirk then his head dips lower again and his tongue slides as deep as it can into your soaked folds. One arm comes around your thigh and with two fingers he begins to stimulate your clit, rubbing it in circles. It’s almost painful and you’re near overstimulated but what he does works, you’re somehow close to your orgasm once more, except this time it’s more mixed with pain than before.

You work your breasts, plucking at your nipples and rolling them between your fingers, moaning as you watch him enjoy the taste of you for a little while longer before he switches what he’s doing. Vampire’s fingers leave you only for a moment, then they replace his tongue, sinking deep into your cunt. You cry out because it’s almost too much, too painful, but then his lips find your clit, envelop it, and Cazador begins to suck, flicking his tongue on your sensitive nub, drawing louder and louder moans out of you.

And then your world shatters around you. You cry out and squeeze your breasts with your fingers, your thighs lock Cazador’s head in place and your body convulses with pleasure once again while his fingers and his mouth move in tandem, drawing most out of your orgasm, helping you ride every last bit of it. When he finally feels you starting to lose the aftershocks, he pulls away and sits up, wolfish grin on his lips as he looks down on you.

You collapse, spent and exhausted, breathing heavily and look at him from under your heavy eyelids, your arms drop by your sides now too.

“That’s one way to start our night.” you chuckle breathily and Cazador laughs, then leans closer and brushes his lips against your neck.

“I just needed to remind you that you’re mine, dear. And the night has just begun.” he nips at your pointy ear and you mewl.

“My love, we have business.” you embrace him lovingly, feeling so small under his imposing frame. “Nobles to talk to, remember?” you whisper, finally feeling like you’re back to yourself at last, even though you’re still mildly dazed. Yet you have a suspicion Cazador is not done. You have no idea where he gets his stamina from, maybe he fed really well last night while you were preparing.

“Oh, we’ll get to that, pet.” he promises and you know that he means it, this meeting is important and he wouldn’t risk scorning some important people that he plans to use. And yet his voice is a low rumble against your ear as he lowers his body on top of yours and you feel his once more hard erection press against your stomach. “But first…”

You’re shocked, you don’t remember last time he wanted you, no, needed you this badly and once more you wonder what’s on his mind.

“Again? Cazador, I don’t-“ you begin, now reluctant to be fucked, to be taken when you’re already so sore and spent, not sure if pain is what you want right now, but Cazador only grins against your cheek.

“Always.” he whispers and pushes your leg out of the way, positioning himself once more. “Just need to see you writhe under me one more time.”

When he lifts his head you look him in the eyes, slightly worried but at the same time delighted. You can barely match his stamina and you’re his vampire bride. Yet, who are you to oppose your Lord husband?

“I’m not going to be able to leave the bedroom after you’re done with me.” you joke softly.

“That’s the idea, dear.” Vampire smirks at you and spreads your legs as widely as possible. One hand he slides to the small of your back while he kneels, lining up his cock to your sensitive and swollen core. “I don’t want you to forget that you are mine.” he whispers with seriousness and you smile, gripping the pillow, watching him slide his cock into you.

You whine, it’s more pain than pleasure at this point, but you find your pleasure in pain and observe Cazador savoring the feeling of his cock getting enveloped by your cunt. He begins to move, rocking his hips gently this time, aware that he has done to you more than he usually does and being careful.

“Do I still feel good?” you tease him with a smile and lock your ankles behind his back, enjoying this slow, gentle pace.

“Yes.” Cazador responds, his eyes flashing with amusement at your lighthearted words but at the same time he moves his hands and grips your hips, increasing his pace. Once he feels like you have adjusted to him fucking you again, he begins thrusting harder and somewhat hurriedly. He must be thinking of the grand meeting at the same time, thinking of time.

You don’t respond and just smile, closing your eyes with a moan, even now him fucking you feels like home, so familiar and safe, despite the pain and overstimulation or maybe exactly because of it. No matter how sore you get, how painful it becomes, you will never tell him to stop. Your back arches as you mewl sweetly.

“That’s it.” Cazador now croons and you feel him lean over you, sensing his fangs scrape against your neck while his hips slam against you harder and harder, he’s hurrying to finish this seemingly last lesson that is meant for you.

He nips at your neck with his teeth, not drawing blood but still making a point of getting you pay attention and you moan louder, moving your arms now and holding onto him, enjoying the sensation of his body moving against yours so closely. Simple missionary, sometimes there’s nothing better. But your pleasure builds, even with your physical limits being pushed and you whine.

“Oh fuck, Cazador…” you gasp while he takes your body, as is his right.

“Come for me.” your husband whispers against your neck while his thrusts become increasingly erratic and his hips slam against you with more force. Then, as if he got a new idea, Cazador slides one hand between you two and teases your clit again, making you gasp because it’s still so sensitive.

“I don’t know if I can.” you look at him with a choked whine, becoming more and more overstimulated already to the point tears gather in your eyes which are begging for him to grant you mercy, but you know he won’t. Tonight it’s about him, like most nights are.

“You will.” Cazador says firmly, his eyes now burning with determination and he continues to drive into you, taking you with rough, hard strokes as he watches your expression intently.

And he’s right, after all. He’s always right. With his rough fucking and similarly rough ministrations to your clit you begin feeling your orgasm build again, quicker than before.

“Cazador please…” you mewl again, writhing under him just as he wished, your back arching and bending, your body shaking.

“Cum for me.” Vampire Lord commands, his voice becoming low and threatening. You have to do as he says or else.

You can’t stop it anyway, his fingers rubbing your clit and his cock driving into your painfully sore cunt truly gives you the most satisfaction and you cum. Hard. Cazador grins as he feels you unravel around him but keeps moving, holding his pace as steady while you clench around him and cry out louder because that gives you more pain. Your nails dig into his skin as you moan again and again, all while under the studying gaze of your lover. Then he leans to your ear with a satisfied smirk.

“You’re mine, dear.” he whispers bit his words are choked and when you start coming down from your bliss you realize he’s close once more as well.

“Yours.” you whine from pain and exhaustion because he’s still not stopping and you realize that he wants to fill you one last time before you two start preparing for the meeting. Not the first time he wants to mark you as his in this way before he starts his night and you say nothing, just moan softly while you hold him, letting him fuck you until he reaches his own climax this time.

With a strained grunt Cazador spills himself within you for one more time and wraps his arms around you, nearly crushing you in his embrace. You don’t know when he removed his hand from your clit but it doesn’t matter, you can barely breathe but still hold him tightly, hearing his choked moans against your ear, feeling his body shuddering with another release.

The moment his orgasm is ridden out completely Cazador collapses on top of you, nearly pushing air out of your lungs but you smile and hold him, just first you unlock your ankles and relax into the bed. You gently begin stroking his tangled hair, listening to your lover’s pants as if it’s the most wonderful song in the world. You are too out of breath and you remain still for a long moment before you speak again.

“Happy now?” you whisper and Cazador chuckles while still trying to catch his breath.

“Always.” he whispers back with his face against your neck. “Always.”

“I’ll need to wash up.” you complain with a pout, thinking about the meeting now and sigh softly when you feel your husband pull out of you slowly and carefully, obviously now attempting not to hurt you. His head raises and his expression is serious once again, the moment of tenderness has already passed.

“Take your time. I’ll wash up in one of the bedrooms. And I have something prepared for our guests.” Cazador sits up and eyes your exhausted body, but you already begin feeling yourself recovering. If not for your vampiric powers you’d be a sobbing mess right now instead of just pleasantly spent.

Yet you give him a curious look, remaining on your back, resting while you can.

“You sound like you are going to kill them all. Don’t.”

Cazador grins and you see his fangs glinting in the dim light of the room.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, dear.” he promises and finally gets out of bed, standing tall and proud. “I’m just eager to share… my good fortune with them.” he adds, making you chuckle.

You sit up and feel yourself too full of his seed to move comfortably.

“Send in a servant to prepare a bath for me and change the sheets.” you look at Cazador now, watching as he puts on a robe and ties it around his waist. He gives you a glance over his shoulder, his eyes sweeping down your body and he smirks.

“As you wish.” suddenly he looks amused and walks to the door, opening it then snaps his fingers. Two human servants appear not long after, rushing to serve their Lord and stand at the ready before he speaks again. “Make sure my companion here is prepared for the event.” Cazador says and you know he’s trying to get on your nerves. He succeeds of course.

You frown, half annoyed and half amused.

“Companion?!” you raise your voice so that everyone can hear you clearly. “I am your wife!” you assert but then laugh, you can’t help it. Most would not understand that Cazador is actually joking with you, but you know him well enough and find it in a way endearing that he actually does joke around with you, even if it’s a little dry in delivery.

“Of course, my dear wife.” Vampire says as he glances back at you, his tone mockingly sweet but he turns back to the servants. “Just attend to her.” he commands and leaves the room.

For the next hour you take care to wash yourself while servants keep busy around the bedroom, tidying it up per your instructions. When you return to the chamber you find it clean and prepared once again. On the neatly made bed you see a dress and approach it, eyeing it curiously. Of course Cazador picked the dress for you. Usually he does not care what you wear as long as you are presentable and reflect the values of Szarr family but tonight he truly seems to have been having something on his mind to go through lengths as this.

After you dress up and brush your hair, you head down to the ballroom. You hear chatter and laughter even before you enter the hallway that leads to your destination and gentle music echoes off the walls. Calm and content you enter the room and most people fall silent, making way for you when you head for the throne of the palace where Cazador is seated. Smaller chair is to his right, waiting for you to occupy it. Before he sees you his eyes are scanning the crowd but the moment he notices your arrival he smirks and unashamedly eyes your form, clad in the dress he himself picked, obviously pleased you didn’t choose other garment.

With a smile of your own you approach him and lean closer, giving him a short kiss before you step to his left and place a hand on his shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze. Cazador’s eyes return to scan the room.

“I trust you had a pleasant evening so far, my dear wife?” he asks while his eyes rake over the crowd, taking in every reaction to your arrival but there’s also a playful taunt in his words and tone, making you glance at him with amusement.

“Yes, my Lord.” you respond and give his shoulder a squeeze again, signaling that you’re onto him, onto his near beaming pride from making such a mess out of you just earlier.

Cazador chuckles to himself and looks up at you for a moment.

“I’m pleased to hear this.” his voice is dripping with sarcasm and you raise an eyebrow at him, trying not to laugh now. “But perhaps you could entertain our guests while I tend to some urgent matters first, hm?”

You know what this means. Your husband is ready to feed and he’s going to pick one fine noble in this crowd to satiate his hunger with a premise of discussing business. So you just nod to him, more than familiar with the routine, and you lean to his cheek, giving it a kiss.

“Just don’t take too long.” you whisper while eyeing the crowd and wandering who he will pick tonight.

Cazador’s fingers brush against your cheek almost affectionately and he smirks.

“I won’t.” he promises and stands up, towering over you for a moment, his gaze meeting yours, you see a reflection of emotion, something akin to tenderness as he reaches and caresses your face, then his gaze sweeps away from you and hardens in a bat of an eye.

When Cazador descends the stairs everyone steps aside for him and you watch your beloved Vampire Lord make way, stopping to chat with people and then move to approach a man you can already see he picked as his meal for tonight. He doesn’t need attention right now, so you look around and see one of your own spawn lingering not far. You call her over and instruct her to bring more wine.

With an obedient nod she rushes away and you proceed to draw attention to yourself by talking to guests, directing bards to play just a little louder, the works. At some point you notice your husband gone from the room and you just hope he will return soon. Despite growing up with such soirees being a constant thing, you still don’t like them much because of all the pretending and the bravado from men who don’t seem to be even slightly self-aware.

As the night wears on and Cazador doesn’t return, you have to resist the urge to go looking for him. Left alone with bunch of irritating mortals is something you’ve come to despise early on in your marriage and tonight even more so you feel the lack of energy to pretend that you care about their frivolous affairs. Despite your body already feeling as if Cazador’s ministrations didn’t happen just hours ago, you still feel fatigued and hungry. You wish he returned sooner.

But some more hours pass and when the event seems to be winding down with guests beginning to leave, only then you see your Vampire Lord return. He doesn’t look any different than any other given moment when he’s among people, but he does give you a telling look before he walks back to his throne chair and sits in it. You walk to him, seeing last guests finish their conversations and head out. Now that you two are alone except for servants and spawn bustling around you slip into his lap with ease, tracing a finger across his lips.

“Did you kill your meal tonight?” you coo in his ear, feeling one of Cazador’s arms wrap around your waist while with other he grips your ankle and begins his ascend to your knee, then your thigh. After a moment you feel his lips brush against your neck as he smirks.

“Always so curious.” he hums. “And yes, I did find my sustenance for the night.” Cazador confirms and you shiver when you feel him softly dragging his nails against your skin.

“You took so long, I just wondered why.” you admit before you begin placing kisses on his neck, your intention to him is clear. After all, he only lets you feed from him and at this point your hunger is near palpable.

“You are so needy, dear, aren’t you?” Cazador teases but he still cranes his neck giving you access for a bite.

Your breath hitches in your throat and you drag your tongue across his skin, picking a spot where to sink your fangs in, your eyes becoming heavy-lidded at the promise of blood. You don’t even care to respond to his teasing and after just a moment longer you bite him without gentleness, beginning to gulp down his blood with relief. In response Cazador groans when your fangs pierce his skin, his head falling back against the backrest of the throne. Although he feigns discomfort, you know the truth beneath his act – he’s aroused and pleased by your desperation for him and the power he holds over you.

After few more mouthfuls of blood you feel his fingers under your dress move again, trailing between your legs and when he finds the hem of your underwear his fingers push underneath, brushing against your seam. You moan against his neck but don’t pull back, still needing to feed, preoccupied with his blood so you don’t mind when Cazador’s other hand dips into the neckline of your dress and frees your right breast. You’re aware there’s still servants and spawn in the room but you don’t care, you let him do anything to you. Anything at all.

Suddenly you hear the vampire chuckle and his fingers pluck at your nipple, making it perk up.

“Always so eager to please, hm?” he taunts as if you’re a common street whore yet his fingers work to please you, expertly circling your clit with a lazy pace. He’s in no hurry and you aren’t either, but your body shivers in response. Instinctively you part your legs wider, welcoming his touch while your feeding slows. At this point you are near satisfied and instead you are savoring the taste of his blood.

Cazador sighs in response, smirking, moving his head to allow you even better access to his blood and you clutch at him when you feel a finger press into your cunt, slipping in with ease while his thumb resumes to rub your clit. Your underwear restricts his movements but you still shiver once more. It makes you pull your lips from his neck.

“Another.” you whisper with need laced in your voice and push his head towards your chest, guiding him this time. Without protest his lips find your nipple as he takes your breast into his mouth, moving his tongue against sensitive flesh. After a moment he pulls away, giving your nipple a greedy lick.

“You’re so needy tonight.” he murmurs but to you it sounds like Cazador means himself more than you because he obediently pushes another finger into your wetness, making you gasp.

“Less talking, my love.” you smile to him although you’re already breathing heavier and you make him press his mouth around your wet nipple again.

He smirks against your skin but his tongue begins to flick at your hardened peak while his fingers start to move within you in slow, sensual rhythm as he continues to suckle hungrily, making you close your eyes and moan softly, enjoying the tenderness of the moment after roughness at the beginning of the night. But the gentleness doesn’t last and you cry out when you feel Cazador’s fangs sink into your supple breast. Yet you don’t say anything, just grip his hair in your fingers tighter, keeping his head steady while he laps at the blood he’s drawn, his fingers not stopping for a moment. You begin to feel your pleasure arise within you, building slowly but steadily.

“My Lord, there has been an emergency.” you both hear a voice and Cazador growls with frustration, releasing your breast from his mouth with a wet pop, making the blood trickle down your skin from the puncture wounds.

“You dare to interrupt us?” he snarls at the servant and you open your eyes, trying to collect yourself and calm your breathing for a moment as you look at the young boy, still mortal, but so scared as he stands before you two.

“One of the guests, my Lord, he fell down the stairs.” his voice trembles and he casts down his eyes, not daring to look at his angry Lord or you in his lap, partially exposed and obviously interrupted amidst your pleasure.

“So? Offer him compensation.” you say with annoyance but Cazador looks at you.

“I better go see it myself.” he tells you in a way that leaves no room to argue and you sigh, releasing his hair from your grip and with disappointment feeling his fingers leave your needy cunt. “Stay here.” the vampire commands and lifts you with ease, turning now and setting you onto his throne.

You look up at him, eager and begging with your eyes but he just caresses your cheek briefly while giving your exposed and bloody breast a look, then he turns on his heel and walks out with the boy.

Frustrated and still very much in a mood you pout, wondering what to do. You scan the ballroom with your eyes, noticing only one spawn tidying up the glasses and you decide to ignore them. Cazador left you dripping with desire and you’re not going to let that go to waste.

With ease you slip off your underwear, letting it drop by your feet and you part your legs, draping them over the armrests of the throne while with one hand finding your way to your throbbing pussy and you gasp softly once you begin to tease your clit gently, slowly, drawing your pleasure out. With other hand you cup your breast that still bears the mark of Cazador’s bite, playing with it carefully, smearing bits of his saliva that didn’t dry off yet over your nipple and making yourself moan louder.

You close your eyes and enjoy the slow buildup of pleasure, unaware that your lover has returned and is standing still, observing you with a smirk. He enjoys seeing you so needy and so easily turned on by him and him alone. You couldn’t even wait for him to come back. With one glance he sends the spawn away and slowly approaches you, finally making you aware of his presence and you open your clouded from pleasure eyes.

He doesn’t speak, neither do you. You just lift the skirts of your dress for him and watch him work his pants until he pulls out his fully hard cock. With a grin he leans over you, becoming your whole world and you see a mix of desire and ownership reflected in his gaze that’s cast upon you. Without further hesitation he positions himself at your entrance, one hand gripping the backrest and the other - left armrest, before slamming into you with one swift thrust, making you moan at the sensation of being filled again. Yet you smile, he does love to fuck you on his throne and does it often, all you have to do is grip the backrest with both hands and let him take you, which you do with pride.

Cazador grits his teeth as he begins to pound into you, watching himself take you with each pump, his hair slipping from behind his ears as he’s hunched over you, taking what’s rightfully his.

“What-“ you begin among your gasps. “What happened?” you finally manage as you too watch his cock plunge into you repeatedly. Cazador looks up at you, enjoying the visage of pleasure on your face for a moment before responding.

“Some idiot fell. Broke a leg.” your husband pants while he grinds against you, speaking between his labored panting. “Doesn’t matter.”

His words make you smile as you gasp for air loudly with each snap of his hips and your heart swells with feeling as you watch his face above you.

“I love you.” you tell him but this time Cazador smirks at you, satisfied with your words. He decides to grant you this one treat tonight, you performed well so far.

“And I love you, my dear, loyal pet.” he says, making your eyes widen from surprise at hearing something you so rarely hear, if ever.

But then he increases the pace of his thrusts and you shudder, reminded of your pleasure and distracted from what he just said. You moan louder and your legs tremble.

“I’m so close…” you gasp with each pump with your eyes locked on his.

“Cum for me, my pretty little whore.” Cazador grunts, enjoying watching you come undone and he does know exactly what to say.

It takes only a thrust or two and you unravel, gripping the backrest of the throne and moaning loudly, shouting his name as you shiver and clench all around his cock. With a restrained moan of his own, Vampire Lord follows you in pleasure, his strokes become erratic as he begins to spill his seed into your pussy with the help of your muscles spasming so deliciously. It might be seconds or minutes before you begin to feel any semblance of self and you open your eyes, seeing Cazador trying to catch his breath while completely still now, with his eyelids heavy from lust and his face sweaty just as yours.

But then you notice another servant to your right who’s obviously standing there for a while, waiting for you two to finish and you roll your eyes.

“Fuck’s sake, what now?” you manage through your gasps for air and Cazador glances into the direction of the servant, finally made aware of them.

“What is it now?!” he snaps with a voice that’s cold and dangerous, making the servant flinch and shrink. Cazador doesn’t even bother to pull out of your quivering body just yet, maybe he’s hoping it’s nothing urgent this time.

“One of the scouts you sent out returned, Master.” they explain briefly while you move your hands and begin to play with Cazador’s hair, caressing the side of his face with a smile. You love it when he gets angry with others and in return you give his softening cock a squeeze with your cunt, making his expression soften a little bit at your touch and a reminder of your presence. However, he still shoots servant a glare.

“This can wait until tomorrow.” he orders and finally pulls out of you with a wet sound, making you gasp and then chuckle. You glance at the servant and raise an eyebrow, surprised they are still lingering here.

“You heard your master, shoo.” you laugh and sit up in the throne, pushing the skirts of your dress down but not passing the chance to lean forward and capture your husband’s softening cock in your mouth to catch last drops of his seed while you hear the servant scurry away in a rush.

Cazador smirks down on you but grips at your hair with gentle firmness, pulling your mouth off his dick.

“Not yet.”

You look up at him and smile, licking your lips while tucking him back into his pants with care.

“I just don’t like wasting even a drop of you.” you tease gently, making Cazador smile almost softly at you as he pulls you to your feet and embraces you, holding you, cradling your head with his palm and he nuzzles his face in your hair.

“Don’t test me, pup. You know I cannot resist you for long.” he confesses while you embrace him in return and close your eyes, just enjoying the moment.

“Good. I can’t risk you picking another consort.” you tease again with a smile and that makes Cazador chuckle with a low rumbling sound.

“You think I could ever let another possess my body the way you do?”

His reply makes you actually, truly happy and you hug him tighter, smiling widely.

“You’re mine.” you whisper against his shirt.

“And you belong to me.” he responds before pulling back slightly to look down at you with a softer look in his eyes for now, one that speaks of gentle feelings and possession. His expression alone urges you to reach up, cup his face and bring it closer so that you can kiss him.

It’s a simple kiss at first and then it deepens when you push your tongue past his lips and into his mouth, tasting him just as he tastes you. You feel his grip on your lower back and the back of your skull tighten, holding you firmly before he pulls from the kiss and his lips trail down your face onto your neck.

“Is everything done for tonight?” you ask, hearing how breathy your voice sounds. Cazador’s teeth nip at your neck without breaking the skin before he replies.

“For tonight, yes.” he confirms, muttering against your skin. “We can retire to our chambers once again.” the implication is heavy in his voice and you realize it’s time to address his unusual possessiveness and need.

“You’re insatiable.” you comment with a chuckle but then lean back and look into his eyes more seriously now. “I’m lucky I’m an immortal but even I have a hard time keeping up with you tonight. Usually you don’t spend your time relentlessly bedding me.” you pause, waiting for him to reply but when Cazador doesn’t, you cup his face and kiss his cheek. “Did you have a bad dream before you woke me with your cock, hm?” you ask softly and carefully.

The question makes him stiffen and he straightens his back, looking down on you with anger and contempt.

“I do not need to explain myself to you!” Vampire’s tone is icy when he snaps at you. “You are mine and I will take what I want, when I want it.”

“So it was a bad dream.” you smile, unimpressed by the sudden change of his mood and you pull his face close to you again, without much struggle from Cazador. “Not to worry, I’m here and I am indeed yours.” you whisper softly as you look into his eyes.

Despite his anger Vampire Lord can’t help but somewhat soften at your words and touch.

“You are one annoying pet, my dear.” he complains but you see possessive desire once more stir behind his eyes and you smile.

“Was the dream that bad?” you ask as you tuck his hair behind his ears but you know that for Cazador to be this needy, well needy in his own peculiar way, it must’ve been something really upsetting.

He pauses as he thinks of how to respond to you.

“The dream was… intriguing.” he finally admits with reluctance and then hesitates again before continuing. “In it, I saw you pleasuring another man… behaving as you were not satisfied by me.”

You sigh slightly, you already suspected it was something like this. A vampire’s jealousy is truly a force of nature when invoked but with Cazador it stems from fear of losing you, because he has nobody else except you and even then it took you two years to start tolerating each other before it grew into something deeper. Vulnerability that neither of you want to speak of in words. So you press yourself against his chest firmly in response.

“I will never need anyone else but you.” you promise softly, not seeing how his eyes widen in surprise at your words and he once more buries his face in your hair, taking a deep breath as if to calm himself.

“You are truly mine. Only mine.” he pauses, hesitating, then adds. “And I’m yours.”

You don’t respond, just hold him and let yourself be held in a moment of genuine affection, a bond shared. But at least you now know why he’s so restless tonight. One of his own ways to control you is through sex and he surely made an effort to show you that you are his to possess and keep. And most likely, although he would rather kill you than admit it, Cazador felt an unfamiliar fear of not satisfying you enough. But you think you have one more round in you tonight.

“How about we go back to our chambers and spend rest of the night in bed? Just you, me and the bedsheets.” you tilt your head to look at him and Cazador gives you a satisfied smirk.

“And you call me insatiable, pet?” he teases and you want to respond but he quickly swoops you off your feet and begins carrying you outside the ballroom.

As he carries you, you cling to his neck and remain silent for a moment, thinking. You are curious to know more about his dream.

“Was the man I pleasured in your dream someone we know?”

Cazador remains silent, either not wanting to reply right away or trying to remember the dream.

“No, it was not.” he finally responds. “In fact, dear, I don’t remember what he looked like at all. It’s just that I couldn’t stop thinking about you with someone else.”

“Ah it matters not.” you smile and begin to nibble on his pointy ear, using your tongue to gently prod at the tip of it. “Still, fear not, I’m yours.”

“Good, you know your place.” Cazador hums, pleased by your response and once you both arrive at the bedroom he nudges the door closed and settles you on the floor, hunger once more in his eyes.

“No, you’re not ripping my dress again.” you laugh and push at him, surprising your husband but then he grins at you with mischief.

“Very well, strip then.” he commands and you walk past him towards the chair and begin to undress, pretending to ignore his look sweeping over you again and again.

“Undress too.” you tell him and Cazador pauses, then sighs with annoyance, giving you a glare that you ignore too and then comes closer, also beginning to disrobe and tossing his clothes with yours on the chair.

“You’ll have to beg for your release.” vampire says with irritation that you’re making him do this and you glance at him at last.

“Promise you’ll be rough?” you tease and Cazador lifts an eyebrow at you as he sheds last bits of his own attire.

“Absolutely, dear.” his grin shows his fangs and you think you just have fallen in love with him a little bit more. “You always taste sweetest when I take you roughly.”

You chuckle at his words, getting aroused already and the moment he’s nude, he steps to you, gripping your throat and pushing you backwards with intense look on his face. You recognize the telltale sign of him having one more idea for you tonight.

You let him lead you and then he turns you around, pressing you chest-first to the window, the glass feeling like an icy embrace. Cazador pushes your face by your throat against the window so firmly it almost cracks. You smile and sigh dreamily, letting yourself be adjusted for his preference when he tugs at your hips, putting your body at an angle.

“What’s taking you so long. Should I find someone else to fuck me faster?” you tease quite dangerously and feel Cazador’s grip on your throat tighten with an angry huff before his hand leaves you entirely only for both of them to grip your hips.

“Don’t move.” he commands and plunges into you swiftly, making you moan in response.

Cazador doesn’t give you a moment to adjust or even to speak before he begins snapping his hips against you in a powerful rhythm meant to make you sore before you even cum and you chuckle breathlessly already. Your eyes finally focus and you realize that bellow the window there’s some people already gathered, watching you getting fucked, and you grin. It takes only a moment for Cazador to notice this too and he scoffs, amused but smirking.

“I always knew you’d put on quite a show, dear.”

“You just enjoy letting them know that it’s you who fucks me, and only you.” you respond, trying to stifle your moans albeit unsuccessfully. You’re quickly getting lost in the feeling of being fitted on his cock once more, your wetness dripping down your thighs and running over his balls too. In this moment you feel truly loved.

“They may watch but they will never even get close to you.” Cazador says in a firm but barely controlled tone as he too loses himself in pleasure that your body provides him with.

And then he increases the force behind his thrusts even more, making you grab onto the wall at both sides of the window in fear that it might break with your breasts and face being pushed so relentlessly against it. The display of intense fucking that you two are putting on in this moment is drawing even more people now, despite the late hour. Mostly it’s drunks and partying peasants but you don’t care, you know that the word about this will spread far and wide and it makes you grin.

Cazador watches you get drunk with pleasure and his own eyes get clouded from satisfaction at your response to him. He pulls out of you only to thrust back in harder, pushing you harder against the window and only your grip on the walls prevents it from shattering. You feel his body tense, you hear his breathing becoming labored but before you can submit yourself to the pleasure completely, you feel your husband’s hand on your throat again, pulling your head to his chest and bending your spine in a painful angle, yet you don’t care, you’re enjoying this and enjoy watching the crowd beneath the window.

“You like being watched, you slut?” Cazador growls against your ear, his voice thick with lust and his grip on your throat tightens possessively, letting you know how much control he has over your body while he keeps driving himself deep into your cunt repeatedly.

You manage a simple nod before you remember how to speak.

“And you like to be watched when you fuck me.” you respond among your moans and Cazador sneers against your ear, you know he’s watching the crowd too, just as you are.

“Such a degenerate.” Cazador huffs but his hips snap against you in reckless abandon, both of you are close to your bliss now, somehow being watched only makes you both more aroused, that is very much clear.

You choke your mewls out, listening to your lover’s groans against your ear.

“Fuck!” Cazador swears and his head dips to your shoulder before he sinks his fangs into your flesh with no care for your pain, making you whine at the sensation, but you don’t mind, you just smile.

“Fill me, love, claim me for everyone to see.” your words barely sound any different from your moans but Cazador understands.

With one more thrust he begins to spill himself into you, his moan muffled by your skin and that alone is enough to send you over the edge with him. You orgasm, shuddering and gripping the walls tightly with your fingers as your Lord uses your spasming body to empty himself completely, just like he always does. You forget that you are watched, you forget everything. As you relish the experience of your orgasm you don’t hear how loudly you are crying out or what words, if any, you are saying. You just feel Cazador stop after few more lazy thrusts and release your shoulder from his teeth, panting heavily.

After final wave of your pleasure washes over you and retreats, you open your eyes, completely out of breath and see the people below, grinning at the sight.

“Mmm… that was exquisite.” Cazador hums against your ear and you smile, bucking your hips at him, signaling him to release you.

When his grasp on your throat is gone you swallow dryly yet still with a smile.

“I think they’ve had enough of a show.” you chuckle and Cazador pauses, but pulls out of you, letting you step back from the window and pull the curtain closed.

When you turn to him you notice his calm, satiated and content look examining your nude body. You let him, saying nothing for a moment, before he reaches out to you, wanting you to take his hand. When you do, he pulls you against his chest and leans to your face.

“You will never leave me.” he says it as more of a fact than a promise but you smile, knowing what he means even if he’s not saying it, his intense tone and words not phasing you one bit.

“No, I won’t. You won’t get rid of me this easily.” you tease, seeing surprise on his face, then you kiss him, not wanting to hear his reply.

Cazador stiffens when your lips meet his but soon he relaxes and holds you firmly.

Words are not needed, you know exactly what he feels, because you feel the same. And maybe in a hundred years or so you won’t need to play word games with him just to hear him say that he needs you even if you already know that he does. Of course he does. And you need him. That will never change. Ever.

[kawareo]

You ever noticed that Cazador apparently visits Flymm's Cobblers?

Little promo for new chapter for my prequel fic Unsaved :)

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Kidnapped Astarion

I have a very specific thing I can't stop thinking about. That involves Astarion getting kidnapped by Cazador for the ritual and him taunting him over the lie that Tav gave him away. Sold him even.

Tw: Lies, manipulation, mentions of torture, bad times had all around, it's long as fuck, betrayal (or at least the lie of it). Like Cazador is involved so all bad. Very bad. This also has VIOLENCE. Like canon game violence but it is BLOODY. You've been warned. Also happy ending :)

So now let's get to that angst:

It had all happened so fast.

One moment Astarion was laid back in the tent you share, reading a mediocre book as he impatiently waited for your return. He loathed when you went out without him, even if it was for good reason. He wasn't exactly welcome company when it came to solving Gale's problems, especially when it came to the bomb nestled in chest. You both knew his inability to keep his sarcastic quips to himself would not be an asset while exploring a sacred library. Besides, he didn't have much room to complain, not when he accompanied you on ninety-nine percent of your outings.

But that didn't mean he had to like it. Even if it was shaping up to be a nice, uneventful evening. He had set your tent a little farther away from the others, considering the complaints that some....well most had made about the volume of your nightly activities. It was quiet, peaceful even. The atmosphere tranquil enough for him to fully relax.

What a mistake that had been.

When the flap of the tent opened he didn't even look up, fully expecting it to be Shadowheart or Lae'zel coming round to dig about in his darling's things. It made sense, considering how it was one of the few times they wouldn't be risking walking in on something. You had such a bad habit with that "open door" policy of yours. One that had exposed nearly every party member to quite the show. Though in Astarion's view, they were just unreasonable. When you were both loud they complained. When you were quiet and they walked in on it they would whine even more. How could you win with people like that?

Perhaps a sign on the door would have done the trick, but Astarion would be lying if he didn't enjoy the others being fully aware of who could make you cry and moan. The risk was just more thrilling, if not the slightest bit annoying.

But the intruder was staying still at the opening, quiet as could be. It was odd enough to have Astarion glancing upward, his heart stopping in his chest at what he saw.

It was a man, frantically muttering something under his breath. A man that he recognized. The idiotic Petras, trying to cast some kind of incantation. It had Astarion scrambling upward, reaching for his dagger. But it was already too late. The spell was finished and Astarion could feel his senses start to fade away, one by one.

He had gotten sloppy, relying on the safety of camp that had never existed. And now he was paying the price, and what a price to pay. Even as he fell to the magic, one feeling managed to stay in place until the bitter end.

Terror.

And then, he felt nothing at all.

The next thing Astarion knew he was being awakened by a slap of cold water to his face, blinking up into horrifyingly familiar light. He immediately recognized where he was. The torture room, his arms hanging from the ceiling, his toes barely scraping the floor. It hurt to be suspended like this, a pain he was still so familiar with despite going months without. And in front of him was the cause of it all, sneering at him like the maniac he was.

Cazador.

"You're finally awake," He grinned, dropping the bucket that was in his hands, "You've been a very bad boy Astarion. Just what am I to do with you?"

Astarion wanted to answer, to curse at him, maybe even beg to just be left alone, but nothing came out. He was too stunned, too stupefied that he ended up here after everything he'd gone through. Everything you'd gone through. How could it end like this?

"I don't fully know what you were up to with all that time away from your family," Cazador continued, stepping close enough for Astarion to feel his disgusting breath on his skin, "But I think I may have the gist. Galivanting around with your merry-band of degenerates. Seems fitting."

Astarion gave a full-bodied flinch when Cazador started to graze along his collarbones with a gentle finger, his touch freezing and revolting. The gentleness wouldn't last, Astarion was surprised it was even there to begin with.

He should have realized there was a reason for it.

He trailed up his neck, stopping to trace a bruise you had left the night before. If only he had known that it was almost certainly the last time he would get to touch you. The realization was nearly enough to bring tears to Astarion's eyes, but he refused to cry in front of this creature, not if he could help it.

"Seems like you may have even found yourself a favorite amongst them. Tell me pet, who was it?"

"Fuck you." Astarion spat out, his fury managing to shine through his despair.

Astarion expected a hard slap for the insolence, but instead Cazador just laughed, loud and full-bellied, "You've gotten quite the temper since you've been away, haven't you? I wonder where that came about?"

It was a false question, Astarion could tell from the way his eyes were crinkled. Like a child excited to reveal a surprise. Cazador answered it for himself, "Is it that lovely little thing that you've been following around. Gods, what's their name again...Tav, is it?"

"Don't you dare say her name," Astarion growled, his righteous fury overcoming the ever-growing terror and dread, "They have nothing to do with this!"

"Oh but they do," Cazador grinned, stepping back to do one of his famous gloating sessions, "Just how do you think I found you? Luck? No my dear, you were given."

Astarion's answer was as immediate as it was hateful, "You're lying! You know nothing of them. Nothing of us."

He won't believe it, he has no reason to. You...you loved him. And you were probably looking for him as they spoke. You would never betray anyone like this, least of all him.

But Cazador remained unphased. If anything he was looking at him with pity, "Oh you poor thing. You think she cares? You think she loves you? I'm disappointed Astarion, it seems you've learned nothing from our time together. What is there to love, hm? Nothing that I can see. Though...they sure did seem to love the gold. You fetch quite the high price my dear. But it will be worth it."

Lies. It was all lies. It had to be. Astarion shoved his uncertainty back down, bellowing out, "Liar!"

It was forceful enough to even make Cazador falter for the briefest of moments, a split second that anyone else would have missed. But he pressed on, shaking his head, "Darling, don't you find it strange that you were all alone that day? That no one came to your aid? Where do you think you're love was, hm? Wait, don't tell me. I can remember...ah yes! With Gale, correct?"

Astarion swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. How...how did he know that?

"It was a fabulous excuse, was it not?" Cazador continued with a laugh, "We came up with that one together. After a little fun that is. I can see why you fell for their treachery Astarion, they are quite lovely, aren't they?"

No. No, no, no.

"Stop it," Astarion hissed, "Shut your mouth. I-It's not true."

"Oh but it is. I'm not sure if you're aware but you're quite the headache darling, not many can handle it. Not including myself. She even told me of that hilarious speech you gave. About wanting something real. It was just as funny to her as it was to me."

Astarion stared at him, at a complete loss for words. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. But...how else would he know that? In a camp full of people why did no one come to his aid? But the cruelty of it all...it was exactly the type of thing Cazador was versed in.

Setting up the same type of trap that he'd trained Astarion for, that he had used on others countless times. And he fell for it, he lost the game he thought he'd mastered.

His faith was slipping, hard and fast when he asked the horrible question, "How do you know that?"

"Because I sent them to you," He said with that disgusting grin, "It was no coincidence that you met. You were kidnapped, I needed you back, so I hired some help. It's a pity that they were captured as well. The pause to our plans was quite inconvenient. Our Tav just can't help but get distracted, can she?"

"No..." The word slipped out of Astarion without his consent, his mind racing. That couldn't be true. It didn't make sense. T-There had to be another explanation. If he could just think he'd find it. But...what point was there? He was already captured, taken. If anything, all of this being a grand scheme from Cazador was more logical than someone loving him.

He had gone through many, many tortures during his time here. Unspeakable, horrible things that he would never wish on anyone, excluding the man in front of him. But this...this was the worst thing he'd ever done to him. He had tricked him, you had tricked him, and he whole-heartedly fell for it, like the fool he was. The fool he would die as.

He didn't know it was possible, but this would be the greatest pain he ever knew. He was sure of that. Cazador had managed to do it. He had broken him, finally.

His tears were falling on their own accord, plentiful and pathetic. Cazador cooed at him, tracing his cheek with his horrid hand, "It hurts, doesn't it? I missed that expression on you my boy. You were always at you're prettiest when you had given up."

He wiped Astarion's tears away, gently holding his face as he spoke, "If only this was enough. The things I want to do to you for running away... I want to make you scream, make you beg for death. Just like how things used to be. If only we had the time."

Cazador let go, stepping back with a sigh, "How I wish that they had gotten you to me earlier. Though it's too late to pout about it now, the preparations are almost complete. But don't fret my boy, your end will have the meaning that your life failed to posses. Come along now."

Astarion hung there, limp as Cazador unhooked him from above. This was it. He was going to die here, as nothing but a pawn. He didn't even try to fight it when he was led down, deep into the palace to a place he'd never known existed. He kept his eyes closed for most of the journey, simply for the fact that he didn't have the strength to keep them open.

It was...a horrendous feeling to be incased in that red energy, floating in the air with all of his brothers and sisters as Cazador finished his preparations. It forced his eyes open against his will, making him see the hell that had been hiding beneath his feet all these years. He had been wrong about the sacrifice it seemed, it wasn't just them. There were thousands of bodies, barely alive in hanging cages, strewn throughout the place.

It was horrible, but fitting. Where else would something like him die? All he wished was that Cazador would hurry, so he could be done with it all. He has to much time to think in these last moments, too much time to examine your betrayal.

He...hates you. For it all. He hates you more than anything, enough for that same fury to come bubbling back to the surface. How dare you do this to him, after everything you'd been through. He should have killed you while you slept, while you let him drink from your throat. He should have killed them all, the vile sacks of shit.

If his soul ever found it's way back from the hell it was about to be damned too, he'd find you. His revenge was no longer reserved for Cazador, but for the wretched bitch hat tortured him in ways he didn't even think were possible. He'd do worse to you than anyone could imagine.

You were the cruelest thing to ever exist, as heartless and horrid as the monster before him.

So why was he still crying over it?

It didn't matter anyway. Not now. Now, all he could do was wait for the bitter end.

But then...he felt something. A familiar presence tickling the back of his mind. A barely there whisper, no words that he could make out. But it was getting stronger. Clearer.

It...it was you. Calling out to him with your illithid connection, begging for an answer.

My love, where are you? Astarion please, please tell me your there. Help me find you.

He can scarcely believe it. But he wasn't going to wait for his emotions to catch up to what could be an escape. He was screaming in his brain, trying to send out any signal that he could.

I'm here. I'm here. Don't let him take me. Please.

He could hear you in his head, the sheer relief from your mind nearly overwhelming, I'm coming. Hold on, I'm coming.

Astarion didn't even have the time to doubt. Because the next moment you were bursting through the ornate doors, nearly your entire team in tow.

Astarion had never seen you look the way you did then. He was so used to your kindness, the warmth and light that you tried to spread everywhere you went. You were always smiling, always laughing, always trying to share the same with others.

But now you were breathing hard, near feral in your posture as your eyes darted around, landing straight to the shocked Cazador. You looked murderous, vicious enough to send a shiver down Astarion's spine. Your teeth were bared, your whole body trembling with rage as you started to advance, weapons already drawn.

And in that moment Astarion was sure that you were the most gorgeous, perfect thing he had ever seen. Or ever would.

It was brutal, bloody battle. One that ended with you slitting Cazador's throat as Astarion watched in awe. You let the body fall to the ground, blasé before you finally ran to him, releasing him from his prison.

Then he was being pulled into the most crushing hug of his entire life. One that he was helpless to return. He clung to you, uncaring for their rather large audience.

He was too busy burying his face into your hair, breathing you in as you whispered into his shoulder, "Thank the Gods that you're still here."

The pain in your voice was so raw, so real. Astarion needed no other evidence to be sure that every word from the dead man's lips had been a lie. He was also positive that he had never cried this much in his life, but now it was a different kind of sob he was trying to choke back. The flood of relief was crushing, the truth that your love was real was nearly enough to destroy him all over again. Not for cruelties sake, but to make something new. To kill every last doubt he had that he was nothing, worthless. How could he be when you were here? When you came for him?

He pulled back reluctantly, smiling down at you with tear tracks on his face. He kissed your forehead, covered in sweat and blood, and gods knows what else.

It was all finally over. You both turned to the rest of the group, your hands clasped together as you made your way to where Cazador lay dead. It was satisfying to see, but such a shame that Astation wasn't the one to do the deed. A regret he'd have for the rest of his days.

Or so he thought.

But then you were turning to Shadowheart, your sweet face curling back into the disgust from earlier when you ordered, "Revive him."

Astarion watched, wide-eyed as she did what she was told. Cazador came back into consciousness, in what looked to be an extremely unpleasant experience. He was coughing blood, the spell doing just enough to mend his mortal wounds, but not nearly powerful enough to give him a fraction of his strength back. He stared upwards, his eyes wide at the sight of you lording over him.

And for the first time in two hundred years, Astarion saw fear in the other man's eyes. Wonderfully delicious fear.

He felt you squeeze his hand as he stared at him, speaking quietly, "He's yours. To do with what you please. Do...do you want us here for this?"

He could hear the hidden meaning in your words. This wasn't just a choice of what to do with him. It was a choice of what to do with them all. He had taken notice that he was the only one that you had freed, his brethren still suspended in air.

He turned to you, his voice strong for the first time since he'd come back to this pit, "I want you here for this."

You nodded before looking back to the others to tell them to wait outside. They did so reluctantly, obviously without confidence in his decision making abilities. He ignored the especially worried look Karlach sent his way, too focused on the piece of vampiric trash in front of him.

Cazador was still coughing, his mouth forming more vile words, "Y-You don't have to do this. I can-"

"Silence," Astation seethed, partly surprised when it worked to shut him up. But then again, he had never been placed in a position to see his master be the one without an escape, "Your life is in my hands now. Tell me the truth. How did you find me?"

Astarion could see the fury behind his eyes, the humiliation of being ordered around by his own spawn. But his desire for life won out in the end.

"Luck," he spat out, "Sheer luck. Yomen saw you in the city, at Shar's Caress with this one. He followed you, found your camp and reported back. I sent Dalyria and Petras to fetch you, gave them a powerful sleeping scroll to knock out your allies. And then you were mine again."

Astarion shouldn't have been surprised that he had the audacity to glare at Tav, seething, "Or at least you would have been."

"And my memories?" Astarion pressed, "How did you know of us?"

"The tadpole squirming behind your eyes doesn't change the fact that I am your master," Cazador said, "Your mind is mine to shape, to understand. It was more difficult than before, yes. But I had enough to know what to say."

Of course. He should have known, "So that was your last torture then?"

"Yes," Cazador said simply, a sneer managing to appear on his bloodied face, "And you have to admit, it worked wonderfully."

"You can kill him now if you'd like," You piped up from his side, staring down at the vampire like the trash he was, "Or...you can take his place."

You hesitated for a brief moment before steeling yourself, looking Astarion in the eye, "Whatever you choose, I'll be here for you. I promise."

Astarion nodded, weighing his options. It was so very difficult to not just kill him where he laid, like the pathetic dog he was. But then again...the ritual would mean endless power. Power that he could use to protect himself, to protect you. So nothing like this could ever happen again.

Astarion looked up, his eyes searching every last one of his brothers and sisters faces. They looked scared, perhaps even resigned to their fate. Just at the hands of another. Astarion hadn't expected the image to make him feel ill, yet it did.

Could he do it? Sacrifice them all, along with everyone else trapped in the bowels of their personal hell? He could. He knows he could. Yet...

He looked back at you, the only thing he had ever loved. The one person to show him a different way to live, who was giving him the freedom to be his own person. But... he wanted that person to be someone worthy of you. Someone who would make you proud.

And there was only one way to do that. Astarion let go of your hand, reaching for the dagger you kept at your belt before striding over to Cazador. He stabbed him with little fanfare, no warning, no chances to beg. And then he did it again, and again, and again. Until he lost count, until the body of his former master was mutilated, his chest nothing but unrecognizable gore.

He wasn't quite sure when he started crying again. He only realized it when he could barely breath through his own screams, every bit of rage, hurt, and humiliation that had been beaten into him coming straight to the surface. He sunk to his knees as he sobbed, tossing the knife to the side.

The whirlwind inside of him was too much, so overwhelming that he was afraid he'd be lost to it. But then he could feel it, you wrapping your arms around him, kneeling next to him as he broke down.

He clung to you, burying his face into your neck as he cried, desperate for your comfort, your touch. You were crying too he realized, your voice breaking as you gently spoke to him, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I should have been there to protect you. I love you, you did the right thing. I'm sorry."

You had nothing to apologize for, but that didn't stop your words from acting like a soothing balm to all of his internal wounds. But he would get through this. Because for the first time Astarion knew, without a shadow of a doubt he wouldn't have to get through it alone. With you by his side, he would never be alone again.

He wasn't sure how long you both spent there, kneeling in a pool of his tormentors blood. But he knew he felt different when he pulled away, changed.

Free.

He cupped your face, wiping away your tears while only managing to smear the mess about. But it didn't matter that you were both covered in blood and viscera, not when he had you.

"I love you too," Astarion whispered, finally allowing himself to unload the burden of hiding away from you. No more of that. He was yours, fully and completely, "I love you so much. I-I thought that this was it. That I'd never see you again. That you betrayed me-"

"Never," You interrupted, your voice fierce despite how it was breaking, "I never will. You're all I want, all I need. I should have been there, I'm so sorry-"

"No more apologies," Astarion murmered, pressing a quick kiss to your bloody mouth, "No more. We're here. That's all that matters."

You nodded, kissing him again, so sweet despite everything that should have made it sour. Despite his own words, Astarion couldn't help the white hot shame that passed through him. How could he have doubted you, even for a moment? Doubted this, the most beautiful that ever happened to him. Never again would he question what you had together, to let his mind be poisoned by others.

But there would be more time for the two of you later. The rest of your lives if he had anything to say about it. But for now...you freed him. And it was his turn to do the same.

Astarion pulled back, sighing as he looked around the room at his brethren. They were still hanging in the air, all privy to quite the show. He freed them, forgave them even, despite every horrid thing they'd done to eachother over the years.

But that didn't stop him from clocking Petras squarely in the face the second his feet touched the floor. The other man took it well enough, fully knowing that Astarion was capable of much, much worse. Though he was well aware that Petras had been compelled to kidnap him, it didn't change the fact that the punch was very satisfying.

As for the rest of the spawn, the thousands trapped here, he let them go as well. Down to the Underdark, where they could at least have a chance of controlling their feral nature before associating with mortals again.

Then it was time to leave this wretched place, forever. He would never be hurt here again, never controlled. He was free, finally. And with you by his side, what else could he ever ask for?

[vampiresfromxenon]

I Wanted To

Astarion x gn! Reader/Tav

Almost 3.5k words 

Tags: Fluff, kisses, cuddling, angst, biting mention, no use of y/n, words of affection (so much sappiness), soft! Astarion, they’re in love your honor!! 

CW: Slight mentions of SA and trauma (extremely minor, incredibly light piece)

Summary: You and Astarion decide to start your relationship over once you both confess your feelings. It's a mutual decision to take things extremely slow, celebrating little victories of intimacy here and there. Tonight, you can't hide your words of affection as he becomes more comfortable and vulnerable around you.

~

It’s been a few months traveling with this rowdy crew, and you can’t help but smile thinking about how much you love them all. Granted, they all piss you off on the daily, what from Shadowheart and Lae’zel attempting to kill each other, to Gale eating your favorite pair of enchanted gloves, but you can’t help yourself from smiling every time you think about how close you’ve all grown. One particular member in the party you have become very close with stands out a bit more than the rest, and thoughts about him are enough to make you unsettlingly giddy. 

For the longest time, you and the pale elf fought your feelings, too cold to warm up to each other. You both had a wicked past, something that tainted your current perceptions of love and romance. His may have been far more extreme than yours, but regardless of that fact, your feelings and emotions were still valid. For a short few weeks, you found yourselves being extra intimate, dismissing it all as stress relief and nothing more. Those little excursions were merely there as a form of self protection: He gained your trust and protection, and you felt less alone and vulnerable at night. Or, so you thought, until you noticed how distant he was, his eyes never meeting yours every time he sought to pleasure you. 

It wasn’t until recently that these barriers slowly began to be chipped away for the both of you, your infatuation not only becoming more real, but unfortunately, more terrifying. One night, you approached him, being brave and understanding if he had other thoughts about what you two could be. It was late, most of the camp either asleep or preparing for bed. You approached him, a soft hand on his shoulder, even though he was well aware you were there. What you were there for though, remained a mystery to him. He turned, smiling at you, taking your hand and kissing it affectionately. As your heart raced, you began a discussion with him, asking his thoughts and feelings about your ‘connection’ rather than just bombarding him with an overwhelming confession of love. 

He seemed stunned to say the least, unsure of what to say or how to feel. It was strange for him, his cold heart beating a little faster, feeling a little warmer at the sight of you in front of him, actually seeing him for him and not just another plaything. All these feelings were bubbling up inside him because, for the first time in a long time, someone not only asked him what he wanted in a romantic relationship, but they respected anything he said on that subject matter. In all his nervousness, he felt that he could be honest in his reciprocation to see how far you two could go, this time with real feelings. That was a few weeks ago, and all this time since has been magical. 

You haven’t intimately slept together since just before that night, instead establishing boundaries and focusing more on the non-sexual ways to be intimate, loving, and kind. He loves the way your hand brushes his, the way your fingers interlace with his as he moves in to hold your hand. You love the way his hand lands on your back, stretching to your hip to pull you closer to him, especially when meeting new people from town to town. While you still struggle with eye-contact in general, it feels easier around him, especially now since he has found himself to be more comfortable actually looking at you, taking in your appearance and being more present in your conversations. 

For many nights now, you’ve been cuddled up nicely in one or the other’s tent, fingers interlaced, hands gently wrapped around hips, legs occasionally intertwined. He still continues to feed on you, though he makes sure to gain your permission before bed each night. On the nights where you felt too tired, too drained mentally even, he would leave you be, hoping to keep you as comfortable as possible. Those nights were just as romantic, as you could feel his breath against your neck as he cuddles you tightly, his lips on your shoulder as he falls into the soft rhythm of sleep. 

Tonight didn’t start off any differently from any other night; you both gathered in his tent, doing your nightly routines as per usual (always before promptly passing out until the next morning hit you like a boulder). Most nights he would wear a nice, silky pajama set, one he purchased from an unreasonably expensive fashion designer in a small village. You didn’t have as luxurious of pajamas, but yours still covered most of your body, keeping you feeling safe and snuggled up each night.

Neither of you expected that this night would change everything.

He’s standing off to the side of your shared bedroll, changing into his pajamas while your back is turned to him, fiddling with the blanket you both share. You notice just how used this blanket is, and you realize that it might have been the only thing giving him comfort, the feeling of security over the past 200 or so years. Astarion was far from one to share, whether it was his feelings or his belongings, and it isn’t long before you have a second realization: you are possibly the only person to have ever slept with that blanket besides him. Your fingers gently roll the decaying fabric between your fingers, taking in all of his memories that have been exhausted on the threads. 

You hear him walking over and you drop your thoughts about the blanket, not wanting to pry into more of his distressing past. He kneels, picking up the blanket and sliding next to you, your bodies touching in an instant. Turning your attention away from the blanket, you look up to see your love is shirtless, moving around in the bedroll, trying to be more comfortable at your side. 

You know just how insecure he is about his scars from Cazador, that disgusting, vile, treacherous bitch, but it was so lovely to see him stepping out of his comfort zone. While you’re quick to notice this new change, he’s even quicker to notice your reaction. Diving back into his comfort charm, he smirks at you, loading a phrase to protect his vulnerable side.

“Like what you see, darling?” His eyes flutter to the side a bit, and you immediately notice his withdrawal from the conversation. With a calm and gentle hand, you caress his cheek, turning his attention back to you. 

“I always love what I see…” You smile, your eyes looking at him in such a way that your face beams with pride, though you try to find a balance between that and neutral so as to not overwhelm him. To see just how much he trusts you, is willing to open up to you and be vulnerable… Your heart can barely take it. In a quiet voice you’re sure to check in on him, wanting to make sure he feels secure in his choice. “Don’t feel you have to do this for me though, okay?” 

His hand reaches up to hold yours against his cold cheek, his stare suddenly becoming more present. “I wanted to.” His voice is low, his hand taking yours off his face as he leans in gently to kiss your palm. He kisses your forehead before moving to lie down, making himself comfortable in your small space. 

You sit there for a moment, considering your options. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable, but you want him to be aware that you feel the same sense of shared comfort. As he turns to the side, looking at a book he left on the ground earlier, you move to remove your shirt, tossing it off to the side. He moves the book away from you both so you don’t roll into it in the night. Turning back to face you, he pauses, taking in the sight of your bare chest. He looks up at you, tilting his head, nearly asking you the same question you just asked him.

Before he can say anything, you lean slightly closer to him, your voice a loud whisper. “I wanted to.” His eyes soften, and you can tell he’s flattered by this display of intimacy. You begin to crawl under the old blanket with him, and he pulls you close, his hand around your waist. The feel of his cold, soft skin against your bare back is enough to send shivers down your spine, and you realize that this must be so close to what heaven feels like. His free hand reaches up and caresses your jaw before tangling in your hair, gently playing with it as he knows it helps you fall asleep. 

Your hand rests on his bare chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat slowing down as he continues to relax in your care. You lie there for a while, trying to sleep, but something is keeping you awake. Perhaps it’s the looming threat that you could all die soon in brutally vicious ways, or the fact that you don’t want to waste a single second enjoying this time with your new lover. Suppose you’ll never truly know. 

Regardless of what is keeping you up on this night, you begin to feel a little restless, unable to lie there in that position for too much longer without your arms going numb. You sit up a little, leaning on the arm you’ve been lying on, trying to not wake your companion. However, his body shifts with you, and it appears that he is still just as awake as you are.

 “I didn't wake you, did I?” You whisper in a worried voice. 

“Not in the slightest, my dear. Unable to sleep tonight, as I am sure you understand.”

You sigh, still leaning over him slightly, his hand that was once on your waist now drawing circles on your shoulder blade, the hand in your hair now resting on your hip. You want to speak, but you find yourself getting lost in the way his face looks in the moonlight peeking through his tent flap. It frames his face so perfectly, almost as if this scene was sculpted by the Gods. He notices your sudden distance, and he is quick to check in on you. 

“Are you alright, love?” He asks, a tinge of concern in his voice, once again tilting his head like a confused puppy. 

“Sorry… Yes, yes. More than alright.” You reassure him, not breaking your focus. A beat; he attempts to determine what’s on your mind. Thinking he’s found it, he smirks. 

“Admiring how beautiful I am?”

“Yeah… Just looking at creases around your eyes…” You say in a loving tone, not even remotely aware of how backhanded the comment you just made sounds. 

He begins to shuffle, pushing you away, offended by your lack of sincerity. “Alright, there’s no need-” 

“No! Not like that.” You chuckle, snapping back into reality. You grab him, pulling him back to you, his head pressing back into the pillow below you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just-” You can’t stop yourself from laughing a little at the sight of your pouting partner underneath you. 

You notice just how unamused he is, and you abruptly stop laughing, clearing your throat and composing yourself in a more serious manner. Your hand reaches up and the pad of your thumb brushes against his crows feet, your mind falling back into your feelings of love and adoration for him. 

“The way your eyes crinkle when you laugh… The way your eyes sharpen when you’re glaring at me, like you are right now… The way they soften every time I walk in the room… I love those wrinkles, they’re such a beautiful part of you.” He relaxes again, taking in your words, though still unhappy at your mention of his wrinkles, making him feel old. Though, no matter how much he hates his aging characteristics being brought up, he will never turn away any form of flattery. 

“Well, augh. You really are sweet, aren’t you? But I’m sure you like more of me than just my dreaded wrinkles.” He was definitely fishing for compliments, that much was obvious, but he wasn’t aware of just how much you wanted to smother him in loving words. You lean forward and kiss his crows feet on both sides, surprising him. Smiling, your thumb traces over his eyebrows, taking in their shape and feel. 

“My eyebrows, really? Nothing else catching your eye?” He whines, his hands going back to resting on your shoulder blade and hip. He can feel your body shake as you laugh, your head falling forward towards his chest as you continue to giggle from his pouting. You bring your head back up, focusing on his face once more. 

“One thing at a time, dearest.” You pause, analyzing the shape of his eyebrows. Just how sharp they are, how often he uses them to his advantage when he is charming people. As you continue to gaze at them, he raises one of them, making your heart go crazy. 

“You’re so expressive. Your eyebrows are so perfectly shaped, the way you use them like a weapon… I know it’s silly, I know they’re just eyebrows, but they’re your eyebrows, and they mean so much to me.” You trail off, your face flushed with embarrassment as you realize just how overly sentimental your words are. He smiles at you, knowing just how hard you’re trying, and appreciating every second of it. You kiss his eyebrows before quickly moving on.

Your fingers trace along his face, noticing his mole. By now he’s exhausted, you’re three for three with things he’s sensitive about. “Darling, if this is your way of making me feel less upset about not being able to look in mirrors, I must say it’s starting to work.” His words deceive his face and body language, but you still try to abide by his wishes. 

Wanting to show your love, without spending too much time on it, you mention how much the mole under his eye suits him, how he would almost seem incomplete without a beauty spot. The usage of ‘beauty’ in ‘beauty spot’ convinced him to let it slide, but the ice you were dreamily skating on was wearing thin. Kissing his mole, you move on once again. 

The skin of his nose was soft as you trace the pad of your finger down the bridge of his nose. “Your nose… it’s so sharp. Don’t laugh, but one of my favorite feelings is when I wake up and your nose is either on my back or my neck. I can feel your breathing on my skin, your nose pressed against me while you sleep. It’s so calming, having any little part of you so close to me.” He looks at you a little confused, mostly due to the fact that you’re still here appreciating him. The things you’re saying, they’re so small and insignificant, yet you enunciate each word like it’s the most important thing you’ll ever say. Each word has a purpose, a meaning, and they fall out of your mouth effortlessly; something he still has yet to learn how to do. 

You kiss the tip of his nose, your fingers tracing down his face to his smile lines. Oh his smile lines. You just can’t help but adore his smile lines, no matter how much he absolutely hates them. He hates them because they age him, but you love them for all the same reason. To know he laughs, smiles, has any semblance of being happy is enough for you to be overjoyed at the sight of these lines that prove the existence that he has been able to enjoy life enough to have physical proof on his face.

“Don’t you dare.” He teases, though you wish he could bear with you for just a moment to explain your thoughts. Figuring you could do it another time, as tonight has already had enough excitement, you kiss his smile lines and spare him from your honeyed words. 

Last, but certainly not least: his lips. Your thumb traces over his lips which are closed together, gently pushing up just enough to where you wonder if he was trying to secretly kiss your thumb. As you continue to run your thumb over his lips, reminiscing on all the times your own experienced his, he takes you by surprise. 

Removing the hand from your hip, his thumb graces your lips, and you find yourself trying to inconspicuously kiss at it like he did to you just moments ago. You open your mouth to speak, but he uses his finger to silence you, gently shushing you. 

“My turn.” His voice is smooth and tender as his thumb continues to trace over your slightly parted lips. “Your lips… They have always been so soft and inviting.” He pauses, still staring at them.

“I must admit, I despised them at first.” A confused expression crosses your face just before he continues. “They would taunt me on a daily basis, the one thing I couldn’t have no matter how much charm I threw at you. When I was eventually graced with them, I loathed the way my name would be cried out from them, almost as if you were saying it like a prayer. It tore me apart, wanting something I wasn’t sure I actually wanted, or even felt like I deserved…” He trails off, though his gaze remains constant on you.

“How do they make you feel now?” You softly ask, just barely loud enough for even yourself to hear.

He thinks on this for a moment, searching for the proper word.

“Safe.” 

He leans up to you, cupping your cheek as he kisses you, the most delicate and loving kiss you two have ever shared. You both pull from the kiss, exercising restraint and respect for your pre-established boundaries. A hand resting on his chest, you encourage him to lie back on the pillow once more, which he does. You lean forward, kissing every part of his face that you mentioned, as well as a few spots just because you wanted to. Kissing his lips again, you pull apart just enough to whisper against his lips. 

“I admire everything about you. Every aspect of you is just so lovely… Thank you for being here, with me. I don’t ever want to leave your side.”

He smiles, his fangs poking out this time. His hand moves a strand of hair out of your face as he clears his throat. 

“And thank you for all the kisses.” He says, resuming his usual charm. You try to hide your slight disappointment, but you know he is trying his best and you can’t expect him to always meet you halfway, especially in this time of healing. 

“Always.” You whisper, lying down next to him as he wraps his arms around you, holding you closely. It’s late, and now that you have this feeling lifted off your chest, you find it easier to sleep. Your heart rate begins to slow, your breathing finding its usual pattern, your lover wrapped up tightly with you. 

When you’re on the edge of falling asleep, you feel his head tilting down towards yours, which is resting on his chest. His lips kiss the top of your head, his chin then resting on that same spot. A quiet voice breaks the air, unaware that it still has an audience.

“I love you.”

You freeze, unsure of whether or not you have actually fallen into a dream state, or if you just heard him correctly. In this state of grogginess, your body shifts as you attempt to determine the truth.

“Shit. Did you hear that?”

“Mhm.” You sleepily groan. He lets out a sigh of relief, thinking he’s talking to you in your sleep like he has before. Settling further into the bedroll, making himself more comfortable, he pulls you tighter, finally deciding to rest. 

“I love you too.” You break the silence, your voice more awake this time. His eyes flash open, his red irises laser focused on you. You can feel his heart pounding as you rest on his chest, and you lean over and kiss just above his heart.

“Safe.” Is all you can say before promptly passing out, your warm skin slowly heating up his own. He sits there for another moment, taking in the events of today. It was a lot, to say the least, but he felt comfortable and confident in his decisions, and that was almost truly a first for him. His hand finds its way back into your hair, stroking it as he begins to drift off to sleep, for the first time in a long time feeling comfortable, guarded, protected, safe. 

~

Author’s Note:

He’s extremely OOC, I’m 95% sure lmao but I love making characters total softies, even if we don’t see that side of them in the media they’re from. (I'm still in the very beginning of Act 2 so I'm learning a lot about him through this site too)

I’ve never experienced love, I’m also sure that’s obvious- I’ve always wanted to do something like this with someone though (look at their face and kiss all my favorite spots). While I was writing this, I felt so awkward writing such sappy dialogue, but I realized that moments like these aren’t smooth and rehearsed; feelings get mushy and oftentimes people say dumb and dorky things because they’re just so in love. I hope it gets translated that way at least hahaha

My Spotify is fucked because I listen to specific songs on repeat whenever I write. I have probably about 4-5 hours of “Blue Moon” by Billie Holiday logged on there now because of all the time planning, writing, and thinking about this fic- I got this song from Neil’s Astarion playlist, it’s so sweet and loving :) 

Edit: So many people are saying he’s actually pretty in character so thank you for the validation because I was nervous 😭

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

hey! i just had a request (if you like it!) - cazador taking astarion’s partner (reader/tav) when all the siblings try to kidnap astarion, and turning them, intending for them to take astarion’s place - ofc astarion and crew arrive in time and scene progresses as normal, but now reader/tav is a vampire spawn. just fluff and hurt/comfort

Oh wow this became far darker than intended, I hope you don't mind. I do feel a little bad for reader in this one, honestly. Part 2 can be found here!

Spoilers for act 3!! If anyone still needs this.

Astarion’s shout stirs you from your peaceful slumber and you sit up with a start, eyes wide. Your hand automatically shoots to your weapon, fingers curling around it when you see two figures slowly approaching your lover who back away, hackles raised.

“Peace, brother. We’re here to take you home.” One says and you frown, ready to step in if needed. The other one urges Astarion to return with them, to ‘be reborn’ and you quickly make your way to Astarion’s side, ready to fight if need be. You didn’t care that those two were vampire spawn, you would defend Astarion with everything you had. You weren’t going to lose him now, not after coming all this way.

Astarion’s hand gently brushes against yours, a silent thank you for your show of support as you size your potential opponents up. With a gentle squeeze of your hand, Astarion moves to step slightly in front of you and begins to tell his siblings of his plan to take Cazador’s place in the ritual, to ascend and his siblings are none the wiser about the lies he’s weaving.

You know how desperately he wants the ritual, how he yearns for the power it will give him and yet you’re torn between convincing him otherwise and letting him take it. You don’t want to see him drown in the pursuit of this power but you know how much it means to him, the idea of being able to walk in the sun again, the idea of no longer being under someone else’s control, so you keep silent, your mind in turmoil.

Either way, the encounter ends with Cazador taking control of the spawns and it delves into a fight as Astarion does all he can to protect himself and you do all you can to ensure neither spawn manage to lay a hand on him. By the end of it, you’re panting from exhaustion, scratches lacing your skin but the two spawns have been backed into a corner and you have emerged victorious alongside Astarion.

Or so you think.

Suddenly, a chill runs down your spine and mist turns into a humanoid figure with glowing red eyes. Astarion’s eyes widen and he takes an instinctive step back. The two spawn cower as a sneer forms on the humanoid’s face, a clawed hand reaching out towards you.

“Y/N I presume? I have heard much about you, it is an honour to finally meet you.”

Cazador.

You swallow hard, refusing to show the vampire lord a hint of fear and meet his burning gaze that stares into your very soul.

“Cazador,” you say, tone measured. “If only I could say the same.”

Why was he here? Was he going to forcefully take Astarion away? If he was, you were pretty much powerless to stop him by yourself and he would be able to start the ritual. You keep your eyes fixed on the vampire lord who is smiling unnervingly, standing your ground as he takes a step towards you.

“Thank you for taking care of my precious lost son,” he places a hand on your shoulder which you brush off, glowering at him. He remains unfazed despite your rude gesture, the smile still fixed on his face.

“You’re very welcome,” you say stiffly, still uncertain about what Cazador was here for. He hadn’t spared a glance at Astarion at all, which was odd and the other two spawn hadn’t made a single move to kidnap Astarion, even though now was the best time to do so.

“In return, I would like him back so that he may return home.”

“No.” You immediately growl without a second thought. “I will not let you lay a hand on Astarion again.”

“How courageous of you,” the vampire lord chuckles. “To think that my son has found someone like you…to guide him back. I really am extremely grateful to you.”

Astarion makes a noise, ignoring the shaking in his hands and moves to stand next to you. He can’t leave you to face Cazador alone, not after he’s promised to always be by your side and so despite the nauseating fear that is rising in his throat, he forces himself to face his tormentor.

“Now then, my boy” Cazador continues, gaze finally turning towards him. “I will give you a choice. You, or your precious Y/N.”

“What?” Astarion narrows his eyes.

“Choose. You, or Y/N.” Cazador repeats.

“What do you intend to do?” Astarion snarls. Cazador doesn’t answer his question and simply raises three fingers, slowly counting down. Confused, Astarion opens and closes his mouth, unsure of the consequence each choice will spell and a wide grin forms on the vampire lord’s face once the last finger is down.

“Time’s up, my boy. I suppose, I will have to make the choice for you since you cannot make up your mind.” Cazador places a hand on your shoulder. “Say goodbye to your precious Y/N.”

Astarion takes a step towards you, your name on the tip of his tongue but he is too late, slowed by the tadpole and Cazador whisks you away along with the other two spawns, back to his palace.

“No, no, no!” Astarion roars, hand grasping thin air. “Cazador!”

The others come running over at the commotion, confused when they see Astarion on his knees, sobbing and cursing.

“What happened?” Halsin asks, kneeling next to the wailing vampire.

“Cazador!” Astarion snarls through the tears. “He took Y/N!”

“He took Y/N? Aren’t you the one he’s after? Why did he take them?” Wyll asks.

“Didn’t you say you’d protect them? Why didn’t you?” Lae’zel snaps. Astarion whirls around, ready to tear Lae’zel apart but Halsin holds him back, the vampire thrashing in his grip.

“Calm down, Astarion. We won’t get anywhere fighting amongst ourselves. Do you have an idea of where Cazador might have taken Y/N?” Halsin’s low voice gently rumbles.

“His damned palace, probably,” Astarion mutters, guilt tearing away at him. He should have given Cazador an answer, he should have been stronger and pressed Cazador for answers, he should have pulled you away from Cazador the moment the vampire lord had placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Then we will head there immediately,” Jaheria smoothly takes command and the other nod in agreement. The longer you were with Cazador, the dimmer your prospects, for who knew what Cazador wanted with you? Time was of the essence.

“We will get Y/N back,” Gale said firmly. “We will rescue them.”

At Cazador’s palace, you were held in place by blood red glyphs as Cazador circled you, ruby eyes glowing in the darkness.

“You are a fascinating creature, Y/N. Time and time again, I’ve taught my imperfect son not to form a relationship, that such bonds are a weakness he cannot afford, and yet he still chooses to form a bond with you. He knew of the consequences that would follow, and still decided to proceed. I wonder what about you makes him decide to risk it all.”

You remain silent, glaring as hard as you can at him. He leans in closer, a cold finger traces along your jawline and stop at your chin.

“Is it because of how much you make him think you care for him?”

“I genuinely care for him, unlike you!” You spit, jerking away from his touch.

“Or maybe your looks.” He pretends to contemplate before tightly grabbing you by the chin and pulling you towards him.

“No…that can’t be it.” He smirks. “Oh, I know. It’s the delectable taste of your blood, isn’t it? I can see the bite marks, he clearly loves drinking from you.”

“Piss off!” You snarl despite the fear creeping into your chest. “Whatever goes on between Astarion and I is none of your concern!”

“Oh, but it is. He is, after all, my son.” Cazador leans even closer, pressing his lips against the bite marks on your neck. “And you too, will become my child.”

His fangs sink into the soft supple flesh of your neck, painful and harsh unlike Astarion’s bite and you hiss, struggling to get away but the glyphs hold you tight. Your heart thunders, blood rushing in your ears as you snarl, spit and thrash as hard as you can but his fangs remain firmly lodged in your neck, your precious lifeblood gushing down his throat. Spots start to form in your vision and you feel yourself weakening, life fading away.

“Oh, don’t worry.,” you barely hear him as the world starts to turn black. “I don’t kill my own children.”

When you wake, everything is dark, but something feels different. Your sense of smell is sharper, you can see the lines of wood in the dark and…

“Welcome back, my child.” The sound of wood scraping rakes your ears and you quickly cover them, hissing.

“How are you feeling?” Cazador smiles, setting something down before turning to you, holding out a hand.

“Get lost!” You slap his hand away, trying to take in your surroundings. You’re in some sort of underground area, judging from the leaking ceiling and the musty smell in the air. The tiny squeaks of rats fill your ears and you notice chains hanging from the wall in front of you, covered in dried blood.

“How rude. It seems the first thing I must teach you is manners,” Cazador tuts. “Repeat after me, ‘I am fine, thank you for asking, master.’”

“Go —” A presence dominates your mind, sending your tadpole squirming as it tries to take back your mind. You scream, the tadpole’s fight tearing your mind apart and you hear Cazador snarl in frustration.

“That blasted thing!”

He looks back up at you, a smile slowly reforming itself upon his face. “Still, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to have complete control over you for my plan to work. All I need is you.”

“What do you intend to do?” You pant, head throbbing.

“Why, have you take that boy’s place in the ritual of course. He chose to sacrifice you instead of himself. Now come along, I would rather not have to drag you out in front of your new siblings.”

You quietly follow him, mind still struggling to wrap around recent events. One moment you were trying to find Gortash and Orin to prevent The Absolute from taking over Baldur’s Gate, and then next you were Cazador’s latest vampire spawn, a sacrifice for his ascension. Cazador didn’t seem to mind your silence, tightly holding onto your hand to ensure you couldn’t just run away, not that he would have much of a problem catching you anyways.

He leads you to a grand hall where a pentagram has already been drawn with blood in the center of the floor and seven pedestals surround it. His other vampire spawn each stand on one, waiting for further instructions and you glance around nervously. Would the others be able to find this place before it was too late?

Cazador unsheathes a dagger, snapping his fingers and glyphs appear around your wrists and ankles once more, forcing you to kneel on the ground in front of him. He slices your clothes open, tossing them away until you’re half naked and bends down next to you.

“I believe you know what comes next.”

Bile rises in your throat, your clawed fingertips digging into your palm as you prepare yourself.

“Go rot in the hells.”

He laughs, knowing that all you can do is spit words at him and raises the dagger with a sadistic grin.

Then plunges it straight into your back.

The pain tears you apart from the inside, gnawing at every fibre of your being as you keenly feel each and every sinew being split open by the dagger, warm blood coating your back. You can hear screaming, was it coming from you? You couldn’t tell, your mind was far too hazy to make anything out.

Everything hurts, everything hurts, everything hurts.

You scream until your voice turns hoarse, but Cazador doesn’t stop. He continues with his work of art, twisting the dagger whilst its blade is embedded in your flesh whenever you collapse, shocking you back into reality. Over and over again he marks your flesh with Infernal script and you wonder how Astarion pulled through this.

Suddenly, the dagger stops. Cazador shouts something but your ringing ears can’t make out anything. Something red slams into the vampire lord and sends him crashing into the floor with a war cry, followed by an axe.

The glyphs holding you up disappear and you feel yourself falling, but not an inch of your body obeys your command to break your fall. Before the floor can meet you, a pair of warm arms wraps around you, holding you steady.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

You stare blankly at the floor beneath, wishing it had ended your suffering but then you remember that you’re a vampire spawn now and simply smacking into the floor wouldn’t kill you.

“Y/N? Talk to me,” the voice speaks again. Your swimming vision barely manages to scrape together an image and through the haze your mind recalls a name. Wyll.

A small noise escapes your lips and the Blade of Frontiers lets out a sigh of relief.

“You’re alive, that’s good.”

“No,” you whisper. “Not. Alive.”

“Not in that sense,” someone else speaks. Halsin.

Something new warms your back, blue light shimmering around you, “don’t you dare fall asleep.” Shadowheart.

“As…”

An angry cry pierces through the air. More shouting. Then. Silence. A figure rushes to your side, silvery curls stained with blood.

“Y/N!” There’s panic in the voice. “Darling?”

“As…ta…rion.”

“You’re safe now,” he pulls you into a hug. “You’re safe now.”

“Hurt…”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Astarion chokes. “I’m sorry I let that monster take you, I’m sorry I let you get hurt, I’m sorry I was late.”

His apologies are met with silence, your body limp in his arms as you struggle to stay awake. You want to reassure him, you want to say something but your body refuses to cooperate.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “It’s my fault that you were taken, I promised to protect you and yet, and yet I —”

“It…s…ok.”

“It’s not!” He snaps. “It’s not ok! Nothing is! I let Cazador take you! I let him turn you! Now…now you can’t walk in the sun anymore! Not once that damned tadpole is removed! You’ll constantly feel the hunger! Others will call you a monster!”

Astarion stops when he sees the fresh tear streaks on your face, biting his lip hard. You come first, you need him right now. He pushes his self-hatred away and focuses on you, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you tightly, ignoring the blood that seeps between his fingers. He presses his lips against the top of your head as your shoulders shake.

“I’m right here, my love. I’m right here. I promise, you’re never alone. You will never be alone. I will be right here, by your side to help you shoulder your burdens as you’ve helped me. I promise.”

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Love Bites

Love Bites, Chapter 6 // Love Bites {Masterlist}

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x fem!vampire spawn!elf!Tav/reader

Summary: Astarion remembers you, but it's already too late. He's bedded you and remembered the love and life you had together, two hundred years ago, and now he has to make a choice. Does he sacrifice himself, or does he sacrifice you?

Word Count: 9,455

Warnings: 18+, last night alive vibes, Astarion's memory gaps, being gentle with each other, Astarion anticipates being used but is not, vampire bite, mentions of Astarion's sexual abuse (non-con oral), therapeutic talking, reader is protective of Astarion, Astarion's bad at vocalizing his emotions, love confessions, anxiety, putting each other in danger

18+ Warnings: consensual sex, explicit smut, touching, easing into intimacy, oral (m & f receiving), masturbation (m), vaginal sex, consent & check-ins, loving sex, clit stimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie, cum eating, aftercare

Note: Astarion does talk at length about the sexual abuse he's been through (not a lot of it is detailed), so please take care of yourselves as usual and don't read if you're not comfortable!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Astarion clung to your arm the entire walk back to your house. You leaned into him, at first surprised by the lack of body heat but seeming to enjoy his grip on you nonetheless. Instinctively, you put your arm through his and rested your head against his shoulder. He hesitantly placed a soft kiss on the top of your head and you hummed happily. 

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered to him. 

Astarion hesitated, wanting to return the sentiment but unsure if he should; he had spent the past two hundred years—or most of them, at least—not remembering you. But when you looked up at him with a soft smile, the words tumbled out, an absolute necessity to say, “I missed you, too. Even if I didn’t know it, I…I did.”

You smiled at him, soft and gentle, like you knew exactly what he was referring to, like you knew he had felt a hollow absence for all these years he hadn’t realized was there until you filled it again. 

There was a glint in your eye that Astarion was pleased to recognize. He bent just enough to let you kiss his cheek. The two of you both smiled the minute your lips touched his skin. 

You gave directions as the two of you walked, telling him when to turn and which way, until you came to a stop at a door. It was illuminated by a golden lamp, spilling over its lovely emerald green paint. The color was like a burst of life against Astarion’s eyes, vibrant against the blacks and greys of his Darkvision. 

The door did not hold the same familiarity as you did. He glanced at you as you unlooped your arms and slid a key into the lock. “Is this…where we lived?”

“No,” you said, glancing back at him. “Your parents still live in that house. Our bedroom’s untouched, though. The bed still unmade, curtains still closed… It’s as it was when you left for work that morning.”

Pain split through his heart. “My parents are still alive?” You stopped, almost shocked, and turned to him with your mouth slightly open. Before you could speak, he barreled on, “They still live in the same house?”

You glanced up at the sky, likely trying to gauge how much time you had left. You pushed the door open and gently guided him inside as you answered, “Yes. They found it too painful to leave. Your… Your mother said leaving it would feel like selling all that was left of you to a stranger.” You were quiet for a moment. You began lighting the wicks of candles, revealing a kitchen. “I still go back sometimes. To sit in our room. Every so often I sit on the roof like we used to. And, uh…your parents don’t know this, but I’ve been slowly sneaking away pieces of your clothes. It’s…comforting to have them near me, even if I’m terrified that by wearing them too long I’ll lose your scent.”

Astarion felt like he’d been struck by lightning. His family was alive. His family was alive, had been these past two hundred years, and they still loved him. “My mother…” he whispered, tears gathering in his eyes.

You paused in your lighting. “Asty? Are you alright?”

His lower lip trembled. “I… I don’t know. I didn’t know they were still… Do they miss me?”

You came over to him and wrapped your arms around him. “They miss you very much, darling. There hasn’t been a day when your mother has not spoken of you, or a day that your father has not stared at your painting.” You looked up at him. “There has not been a day where any of us do not wish to change what happened that day. To prevent you from going to work. To get you home faster. To convince you to take a different route home. Anything to keep you alive and with us.”

I’m still loved. They love me.

He bit his lower lip. “I wish I could see them again.”

“Perhaps one day you will,” you said. “Perhaps we’ll find a way out.”

Astarion smiled bitterly. “Cazador will take that optimism from you.”

You studied him for a moment, clearly wanting to argue. But instead you just gave him your hand and whispered to him, “Come with me, love.”

A nervousness filled his chest. “I don’t want to do this to you… I don’t want to lose you.”

You cupped his cheeks and pressed your forehead together. Your thumbs smoothing over his cheeks comforted him in a way he never remembered feeling before—but surely you must have done this a thousand times, with the practiced way you touched him. “You aren’t losing me. And you aren’t the one hurting me, darling. It’s your master who has done this to us both.”

Astarion shuddered. “Don’t speak of him. Not here. Not when we’re about to…” He bit his lip. “Not when I can have you again.”

You nodded and kissed his forehead. He leaned into it, some of the tension in his shoulders draining away. “I won’t.” You began walking him out of the kitchen, leading him up a set of stairs. “This way, love.”

Nervous in a way he didn’t ever remember being, Astarion followed you up the stairs. He glanced around the humble dwelling you had made your home—covered in paintings and tapestries and knickknacks that made it homey and welcoming—safe. It felt lived in, contrary to many of the homes of nobility he had found himself in time and time again. It wasn’t something he would have ever designed himself, at least not as he was now, but he liked it anyway. 

The door to your bedroom was open. It was a cozy, open room that felt familiar enough for him to pause at the threshold.

You noticed. “I may have designed it to be similar to our old bedroom. It was comforting.”

Astarion’s eyes scanned the room: a large bed in the middle, covered in soft blankets and piled with pillows, a circular rug underneath it, a mirror on the wall next to your wardrobe. Your desk was covered with paints and powders and pieces of jewelry similar to what you wore now. 

“I like it,” he said quietly. “I… We lived in a place like this?”

You nodded, sitting in the chair at your desk. He watched you take off your jewelry and take your hair down. “Our bedroom had a different color scheme and it was a little bit bigger. We had a washroom connected to it and two wardrobes—yours was bigger than mine. And we had a balcony we used to sit on late at night. But we shared a desk and I wore your clothes more often than I wore mine.” You smiled at him. “You used to tease me that if you couldn’t find one of your shirts, it was either in my wardrobe or on my body.”

You stood and closed the curtains of the two windows that let moonlight stream into the room. Darkness fell for a moment and Astarion watched your dim figure move to one side of the bed. You struck a match and an oil lamp flared to life. 

“Simpler than magic,” you explained. Then the two of you stared at each other. 

Astarion didn’t know where to start. He knew how to manipulate his victims into bed with him nearly every night. He knew what to say, how to move, when to smile, when to make the approach. But with you in front of him, suddenly all his best tricks seemed useless. 

You cocked your head to the side, noticing his hesitation. “Astarion?”

“I don’t know where to start,” he whispered. 

“Then let me?” you suggested. He nodded. 

You removed your apron and draped it over the back of the chair. You reached around behind you and loosened the strings of your corset, slipping it off after a moment. It wasn’t exactly graceful, but the movement still made Astarion’s throat tighten. Somehow, your movements—unpracticed for two hundred years—were more alluring than the nobles Cazador made him bed or the unfortunate virgins tripping over themselves to have him. 

It’s because it’s you, he knew. You weren’t just alluring—you were comforting. His body was strangely present, strangely here, as you undressed for him. 

You pulled off your skirt and left yourself in a poet shirt similar to the one Astarion himself had worn until it fell apart and then sewn back together time and time again. You glanced up at him for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. Astarion nodded eagerly, taking a step closer to you. So you pulled the shirt up over your head and stood before him.

Your undergarments were made of delicate lace. Automatically, Astarion reached out to touch them—touch you—then hesitated, looking into your eyes, suddenly afraid his instinct had been wrong.

But you only stepped forward and guided his hand to the fabric covering your chest. His touch seemed to arrest you for a moment before you stuttered out, “You gave them to me. The set was an anniversary gift. Somehow I knew when I dressed this morning I wanted this piece of you close to me.”

Warmth bloomed in the pit of his stomach—arousal, actual arousal, not the response he had forced himself to have when his victims got naked. He felt himself stir in his leathers.

Astarion let his fingers trail over the edge of the lace. Your eyes fluttered closed, your breaths coming in heaves. “Well, I…had good taste.”

You touched his chest, fingers trailing over the gold embroidery of his doublet. “You still do, darling.” You let out a heavy, pleased sigh. “Oh, gods, Astarion, please. Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” he breathed desperately, leaning into you. “Yes.”

You stood on your tiptoes; he bent down. As your lips touched, his arms looped around your waist and settled there, holding you against him. Your lips were soft, gentle, welcoming. You let him take the next step instead of forcing it. It was a kindness he wasn’t sure you knew was a kindness. 

He sucked your lower lip between his. You whined softly and then tried to pull away, clearly embarrassed by your need for him, but it brought a smile to his face. He chased your lips and brought one hand to rest between your shoulder blades, guiding you back to him. He kissed you again, softly at first, then licked your lip, asking for more. You obliged him with a slight smile of your own. 

Your tongues slid together, both of you careful of his fangs. After all these years, Astarion had gotten good at hiding them, even during a kiss—but he didn’t feel the need to hide them from you, only keep your tongue away from them.

One of your hands slid into his hair. He tensed momentarily, bracing for an unrelenting tug, but you only scratched his scalp with your nails. He relaxed against you, falling deeper into the kiss. 

When you parted, it was slow, both of you reluctant to part from each other. Your chest was heaving, your breasts straining pleasantly against the delicate lace. Astarion’s eyes dropped to the sight, mesmerized for several moments. Then he looked back up at you with a smile on your face. 

“I missed you,” you breathed. “I’ve missed that.” You toyed with his collar absentmindedly. But your eyes were fixed on his, clear and resolute, some concern clouding your blown pupils. “Are you alright?”

He nodded. “More than alright. You… You’re so gentle with me.”

“Is that what you want?” 

Quickly, he nodded again, almost desperate this time. He didn’t really want to explain the sudden tears that rushed to his eyes, but judging from the heartbreak he saw in yours, you had guessed his reasoning. 

“Then gentle we will be,” you promised. “Soft. Sweet. Slow. Like our old mornings.” Your fingers found the clasps of his doublet. “May I…?”

“You may,” he said, unbearably happy that you had asked. The feeling grew stronger as you carefully undid each clasp, rather than ripping them apart so fast and so hard that he had to fix them when the night was over. He reached up to help you undress him. 

You took the time to ask him before you removed any clothes. You took the time to admire him as skin was revealed. You took the time to kiss him when he hesitantly asked for it. You took the time to wait when you saw his uncertainty, holding him and stroking his hair. 

Is this what it feels like to be loved? 

When Astarion was left standing in only his boxers, you gently led him to the bed. You hooked your fingers into his waistband and met his eyes. Before you could even ask, he whispered, “Pull them off.”

You smiled at him and did so, your touch still light. You spared his half-hard cock only a glance as you stood back up and met his gaze. Astarion could still see the want in your eyes. But instead of doing what you wanted with him, you turned and said over your shoulder, “Would you like to take mine off?”

“Yes,” he whispered, lifting his hands to undo the clasps of your bra. He slipped the straps off your shoulders after you turned back around to him. He let himself admire your breasts as they were exposed before he dropped his hands to your hips and removed your panties in one graceful move that seemed to surprise you. 

“You were always good, but you’re better at this than I remembered,” you said by way of explanation, your cheeks turning pink. “You were always so shy when you undressed me, no matter how many times you had been inside me.”

For some reason, he felt guilty. “I’m sorry I changed.”

You shook your head, cupping his cheek. “Don’t apologize. Not for that. We’ve all changed. We would have changed whether you had died or not.” Your gaze drifted back down his body appreciatively, then to his cock. 

Skin crawling with self-consciousness, familiar from times having to improvise to explain away the struggle to get hard (especially without being able to explain how little blood he actually had in his body), but stronger now that it was you looking at the weakness that took away from the one thing he was good for, Astarion explained, truthfully for the first time, “I can’t get hard right away, not without blood and…and he starves us. Once we actually start, I can do more, but—”

You put your finger to his lips and lay on the bed. “Will it hurt?”

Astarion blinked at you. “What?”

“Your bite. Will it hurt?”

For a moment, it didn’t process what you meant. Then— “You want me to feed from you?”

You nodded. “I’m more than willing to work you up myself if you’d prefer, but…I’ll admit I’m curious. Besides…you finally have someone who knows what you are and loves you anyway. Bite me. Feed the only time you can.”

Astarion stepped closer to the bed, his hunger rearing its head. “Are you sure you want me to?”

You nodded and gestured him closer to you and, after a single moment’s deliberation that ended with the sole thought of, Fuck it!, Astarion crawled over you. You smiled up at him with a fond amazement. He grinned. “You’ve seen this view before, haven’t you?”

“Often,” you said. “I dreamt of this nearly every night. It’s almost hard to believe you’re right here… I half-suspect I’ll wake up in the morning and none of this will have happened.”

Astarion bent and began peppering your neck with soft kisses. Your blood smelled sweet, pumping through your veins with strength. “Believe me, darling, this is very, very real…”

You craned your neck, exposing the column of your throat to him. Astarion pressed his nose to your pulse point and breathed in deeply. He moaned, his whole body shuddering. You put your hand back in his hair, scratching softly. “Please…” you whispered, and all of Astarion’s restraint snapped.

He drew back enough to bare his fangs and sink them into your throat. You gasped sharply. He would have asked if you were alright if your blood did not suddenly fill his mouth, sweet and tangy and heavy all at once. He swallowed and instantly felt the difference. Bugs and rats were enough to keep him functional, surviving—this was enough to let him live. 

The next few pulls of blood had you whimpering pleasantly and warmth filling his body. Strength returned to his muscles with every mouthful and his chest began to move with the illusion of breathing. He became aware of the throbbing need in his cock and began grinding on your thigh. Your responding gasp quickly became a moan and your arms tightened around him.

Somehow, Astarion knew the exact moment that you had become equals again; he had taken half your blood and any more would kill you. In fact, any more and he would be too drunk on it to stop himself from killing you. 

Drain her. Drink her dry and go back to Cazador with enough strength to escape him.

The thought terrified him. He pulled away from you quickly, your blood dripping down his chin and onto your chest. He licked the open wounds of your neck clean of blood before he sat back and stared down at you.

You were paler than you had been when he started, but your eyes fluttered open and you reached up weakly to wipe the thin trail of blood away from the corner of his mouth. You offered him your thumb and he sucked it into his mouth without thinking, licking the blood from your skin. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, brushing a hand through your hair.

You nodded. “A little woozy, but I’ll live.”

Astarion decided not to tell you how close you had come to not living. “What did it feel like?”

You paused, thinking. Eventually, you said, “Like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It was…intimate. Magical. It was ecstasy in a form I’ve never felt before. Pain that turned into pleasure. I felt…connected with you more wholly than ever before. We always said we were one when we had sex, but that…that was being one.” You met his gaze again and breathed out one word: “Wonderful.”

Astarion couldn’t help it; he kissed you needily, pressing his entire body to yours. You responded willingly, even when the kiss turned into a tight hug that allowed him to hide his face in your shoulder so you wouldn’t see his tears. 

Eventually, you tapped his shoulder. “Sit on the edge of the bed, darling.”

A tingle of anticipation raced up Astarion’s spine—clearly his body remembered what you were going to do, even if he did not. You slid to your knees and spread his legs apart far enough to get between them. He tried to hide his shock; you wanted to pleasure him? Time and time he had been forced onto his knees and made to take a cock in his mouth, but he couldn’t remember the last time someone had done it for him… In fact, you were probably the last person to have done it, years and years ago.

“Darling, you don’t have to—”

You looked up at him. “Do you want me to?”

His chest tightened. “Yes,” he whispered.

You smiled slightly. “Then let me pleasure you, Asty.”

“Okay,” he breathed, his chest heaving with phantom breaths as he watched you lean in. You kissed the base of his cock and a quiet whine escaped him. You dragged your tongue up his length and kissed his tip before you took him into your mouth. He threw his head back, groaning. His eyes fluttered as you sucked gently, licking the underside of his cock every so often. Occasionally you popped off of him to kiss up and down his length and the sensitive area around it.

“Look at me,” you breathed. He did as you asked and you went back down on him, holding eye contact with him. He whimpered and bit his lower lip, muffling the sound. You made a face. “Let me hear you, Astarion.”

His answer was a whine as you licked a stripe along the underside of him. He brought his hand to your head and held you as you licked and kissed him. It didn’t take long for him to give into the pleasure; he began to mumble in Elvish to you until the words couldn’t roll off his tongue anymore and began coming out as moans, both low- and high-pitched. Some part of Astarion was deeply embarrassed by his sounds—but he knew now if he tried to hide them, you’d stop, and, gods above, that was the last thing he wanted. But you didn’t let up again and before he could stop himself or even warn you, he was cumming down your throat. 

And you let him. You pulled off of him only when you were sure he was spent. He flopped onto his back, panting heavily. A thrill went up his spine as he watched you swallow his spend, crawling up on his body to join him on the bed.

“That was… Hells, that was good,” he groaned as you laid next to him, getting perfectly cozy against his blood-warmed body. “How did you…?”

“You taught me,” you reminded him with a laugh. “How else did you think I knew exactly what you liked?”

“You could just have really good instincts,” he said, rolling onto his side to kiss you. He cradled you in his arms, holding you as tightly against his body as he could. You melted into his hug readily.

You pulled away for a moment and just stared at him, your eyes peering into his like you could see his soul. A little nervous, Astarion just watched you, taking in the way your eyes roamed over his face and how your lips easily came up into a happy, satisfied smile.

“What?” he whispered when the love on your face was almost too much to bear.

“Nothing,” you said. Then you shook your head. “Well, it’s not nothing. I…never thought I’d see your face again. Not really, not outside of my dreams. So I’m just… I’m glad to have you back.” You reached up and trailed your fingers across his cheekbone. He leaned into your touch. 

Slowly, Astarion began to return the favor, running his fingers across your body. He watched the way you shuddered beneath his touch, paid attention to when you giggled, noticed when your eyes fluttered shut and your body relaxed. He felt like he was learning how you ticked, but there was something about every movement you made that was almost painfully familiar. He had done this to you before, likely thousands of times, and had enjoyed squeezing your hips in his hands and groping your breasts and kissing every available inch of your skin.

“How many times?” he breathed against your sternum, pausing as he kissed down your body. You hummed and he clarified: “How many times did we do this?”

Your eyes were closed, your face the picture of contentment. “You mean the sex or the touching?”

“Touching.”

“Every night,” you answered. “Every night before we went to bed, whether we were naked or not, whether we had sex or not, we would do this. We’d cuddle and kiss and caress each other until one of us fell into trance or sleep, whatever we decided to do that night.”

“Gods,” he whispered. “I… I didn’t realize it, but I missed it. I think.”

You hesitated for a moment. Then you whispered, “I thought you did this every night.”

“Almost every night,” he corrected. “And…never like this. Never soft. Never gentle. Never…loving. It’s always rough and demanding, brutal.” He glanced at you, expecting criticism, but your face was open. There wasn’t a hint of jealousy that he slept with other people, nor anger that he was complaining about getting laid nightly when you had spent the years alone. So he continued. “I wake up sore and sometimes bleeding in places I didn’t know I could bleed from.”

You curled your arms around him protectively. “Oh, Asty… Love, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said quickly.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t feel bad for you,” you insisted. 

Disagreement coiled in Astarion’s belly, but he didn’t voice it, instead laying his head against your chest. He sighed happily when you began to scratch your fingers through his scalp. He remained like that for a few minutes before the words began to tumble out of him, slowly at first, then gaining momentum and—to his surprise—anger.

“It’s not always…random people from taverns. Sometimes he’ll…assign me victims. I’ll be sent to them. Nobles, mostly, who he wants for his thralls. Sometimes he sends them back out into the world to do his bidding, not keeping them the way he keeps me or my siblings, or draining them into dry, mummified corpses like most of the people I bring back for him. But if I don’t bring them back in the single night he gives me— Well. I’d be scarred horribly if vampires didn’t heal quickly, and even then, I don’t heal as quickly as I should so sometimes I go out the next night still wrapped in dirty cloth for bandages, bleeding through them, expected to bring home yet another meal.” 

Astarion paused long enough for you to have a quick interjection. “You have siblings?” 

“Of a sort. There are six others. Six spawn he made to do his bidding.”

“And are you all expected to…fetch your victims the same way?”

Astarion shook his head. “No. Yousen’s a gnome, for gods’ sake, who’s going to sleep with a gnome and not a handsome creature such as myself?”

You rolled your eyes. “There are plenty of people who find gnomes attractive, even if you don’t,” you chastised. 

He sighed. “But you get my point. He made his spawn from people with…different talents, so to speak, to bring in his meals. But if we fail, we all get treated the same way. Beaten. Bitten. Used. He…he does it to me more than the others. I’m his favorite to torture.”

“You mentioned that,” you murmured, touching his ear gently. His cock twitched with pleasure and he gasped. You froze. “Do you want me to stop?”

Hesitantly, he nodded. “Just— Just for a moment…please.”

Immediately, before he had even finished speaking, you removed your hand from his ear. “Alright.”

Surprise flooded his body. No one had ever listened to him before. No one had ever taken his ‘no’ to be a no. They always kept doing what hurt him, what he hated, what made his skin crawl with disgust and hate and fear. 

But you…listened. You more than listened, you stopped.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “It’s just— I…I’m not quite ready to do anything else yet. There’s so much I want to say because I’ve never been able to before and I don’t… I don’t want to ruin the moment, but…”

“But trying to push through will ruin it anyway for you,” you said, understanding him immediately. “That’s alright. Just keep talking, my love, and I will listen to everything.”

Oh, gods above, you understood him. Astarion felt the strong urge to cry until he had no tears left, all out of relief. Instead, he kept talking.

“He hosts grand, lavish parties from time to time. On those nights, we spawn are forced to pose as his…servants. It’s almost a relief to have a break, but then…then there’s the afterparties. And I’m his entertainment at the afterparties. They’re more…orgies than parties by then and I’m at the center of it all, dressed however he wants me for the night, which is sometimes nothing. He lets the partygoers use me however they wish. He orders them to, in fact. It hurts and hurts and hurts until it suddenly doesn’t because I can’t feel anything anymore.” His tears dripped onto your skin. You cooed softly, trying to comfort him, but you said nothing to stop him, so he kept going. “It’s not just the parties, either. It’s… Well, it’s like this. I’m his favorite to torture, and I’m his favorite to…to use.” 

You made a sound of both sympathy and rage. “Asty…”

Your whisper was lost in his continued tirade. “Whenever he wants, I’m there and I’m meant to do whatever he wants me to do and let him do everything he can to me. The others all know. They know I’m Cazador’s plaything and they think I get…special treatment for it. They don’t see how much it hurts, they don’t see that I suffer every night, because I don’t suffer like they do. No, no, I get to have sex! I get one of life’s simple pleasures while he beats them! So how is it fair that I complain?” Astarion looked up at you, his eyes shining with tears. “How is it fair that I complain?”

“It’s not your fault,” you said firmly. “It’s not. Darling, none of this is on you. Your master is…a leech. Yes, he’s a leech, taking what does not belong to him, forcing misery upon you. Astarion, please listen to me, honey. I mean it. This is not your fault. He is sowing dissent amongst all of you on purpose because it is the only way he can control you. If you all were to band together—”

“We’re his thralls, he can control us anyway,” Astarion snapped. “Anything he wants us to do, we do. It’s why I haven’t been able to stop him from—” He fell silent and buried his face in your chest, an unreasonable shame burrowing in his chest. He knew it was unreasonable; he knew you were at least somewhat right. He had no control over his life, and yet… The shame was there anyway. “Poetry. That’s what he said he carved into me. That’s the scar on my back.”

Automatically, your hand drifted from his hair to his shoulder. Before touching the scar you asked, “Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes. It hurt then, when he had to correct his mistakes because I couldn’t keep still enough.”

“Can I touch it?”

He nodded slowly and braced himself. But your touch was gentle and soothing. Your fingers ghosted across the raised marks and you peeked over his shoulder at it.

“It’s written in Infernal,” you murmured. “Last I checked, that’s not exactly the language of poets.”

Astarion raised his head. “Really? I…I didn’t know. What does it say?”

You shrugged. “I can recognize it, but I can’t read it.”

Astarion sighed and fell back against your chest. 

“What do you want to do?” you whispered to him.

“Hold me,” he breathed.

So you wrapped your arms around him and held him tightly to your body, his head against your chest, his own arms coming around your waist. You held each other in silence for quite a while. Your hand began to scratch his scalp and a gentle sound that was close to a purr escaped him. After a few moments, your hand went back to his ear. When he didn’t protest, you began rubbing his ear lightly.

A soft moan escaped Astarion’s lips. He looked up at you, his hips already beginning to grind into the mattress. 

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” you reminded him. “You are more than just sex.”

“I want to,” he whispered, the statement true for the first time in nearly two centuries. “It’s… It’s you, of course I want to.”

You whimpered quietly at the words and pressed a tiny kiss to his forehead. “Only if you’re sure, honey.”

“I’m sure,” he promised. 

It didn’t take long for the heat in his body to rebuild. You caressed every sensitive spot on his body with care and intimate knowledge of who he was: his ears, the nape of his neck, his Adonis belt, his nipples. You touched him with a reverence that felt almost like worship and made his entire body tremble with need. You suckled on his nipples until he moaned loudly and ripped himself away from you to do the same to you. 

Very quickly you learned to give him control. He hovered above you, sucking hickies into your neck and chest, happily leaving little bites on your tits as he went.

“You can draw blood,” you whispered to him in the middle of a bite and he moaned delightedly, letting his fangs scratch your skin until you bled and licking up the crimson droplets. He met your gaze as he let his tongue linger on a deeper cut and found you looking down at him fondly, toying with one of his curls between your fingers. 

Astarion adjusted to slip a hand between your bodies. He cupped your exposed cunt and grinned at the sight of your head going back, exposing the column of your throat to him.

“I’ve barely touched you, darling,” he teased. 

“And I’ve waited two hundred years for this,” you reminded him. “Any touch is enough, but, hells, please put your fingers inside of me.”

“Needy,” he joked, but did as you asked, spreading your pussy to drag his fingers up your slit. He placed his slick fingers on your clit and began to rub gentle circles. You gasped, your body arching up into his. He chuckled and moved up to kiss you sweetly. His tongue against yours was a balm to the both of you; you calmed down enough to wrap your arms around his shoulders and he felt any lingering doubts slip away. 

You were his. You had always been his. You were not just another victim, you were the woman he loved, the woman he had been so devoted to that he was going to marry you. You were not using him like the others.

You seemed to read his thoughts and filled in the last possibility, murmuring against his soft lips, “I love you, Astarion.”

He moaned into your mouth. A single tear slipped past his closed eyelid and fell on your cheek. 

“I love you,” you whispered again. “You don’t have to say it back. I just want you to know.”

Astarion slipped two fingers into you, curling them deep inside you. You arched into him again, moaning obscenely. He giggled again; if just two fingers could make you this happy, what would you do when you felt his cock inside you again?

He pumped his fingers slowly until your hips bucked into his hand, wordlessly asking for more. He picked up the pace until you began panting. He watched you grow closer and closer to the edge, your body writhing, your eyebrows pinching together, your mouth falling open to let out delicious moans. He was almost tempted to just let you finish on his fingers, but… 

Gods, he wanted to taste you.

He pulled his fingers out of you. You whined his name, pitifully, already begging, already asking, “Why did you stop?”

Astarion’s answer was not verbal. Grinning, he dropped to his knees quickly and shuffled closer to the edge of the bed. He yanked you to the edge, letting your legs dangle over his shoulders, and leaned in. You held eye contact as he pressed a kiss to your clit. Then a second. Then a third. By the time he got to the fourth kiss and latched his lips around your sensitive nub, your eyes were rolling into the back of your head.

“Astarion,” you moaned, your hand twisting into his hair but not pulling.

He began to suck gently, letting the pressure drive you wild. He licked your clit slowly, lavishing attention on it with his tongue, feeling you grow very, very wet against his chin. He dropped a little lower to tongue at your entrance, the taste of your arousal pulling a moan from deep in his chest. You gasped at the vibration, your hips rutting against his face. He chuckled into you and slid his tongue inside you, lapping at your cunt. You were delicious in ways he hadn’t thought possible. He knew that his heightened senses meant that he could smell every bit of your arousal, every emotion inside of you, every liquid in your body—but he had not expected your lust to be infused with your love for him. 

It was a new feeling, a new taste. He liked it. 

Astarion reached up and coated his hand in your dripping arousal. Then he wrapped his hand around his cock and began stroking slowly, allowing himself to enjoy it, feeling the heady rush of blood to completely harden his cock. His hips rocked gently, the pace increasing when he glanced up at you and found you smiling as you panted, your breasts heaving. 

He released himself to bring his hand back up to your cunt. He sunk his fingers into your wet entrance and returned to sucking on your clit. You cried out, your hips bucking, and he grinned against your slick skin. 

“Cum for me,” he whispered against you, loud enough for you to hear his command. “Let me taste you. Cum on my face, darling.”

You clenched around his fingers, moaning the loudest you had all night. There was a fresh rush of wetness and the lewd sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you grew louder. Astarion slipped his fingers out of you and his tongue back into your cunt to taste you as your orgasm ripped through you. He put his thumb on your clit and started rubbing.

Astarion’s eyes fluttered shut as he tasted your cum. You were sweet, absolutely divine, your ecstasy meant entirely for him. He groaned into your pussy and your legs wrapped around his head, helping to bury him in your slick entrance. He giggled, more than happy to stay there longer and keep licking your cum out of you.

He tapped your thigh when he was done and you put your shaking legs back to the floor. He got to his feet and crawled over you, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss. You moaned into his mouth, then made a sound of surprise.

“Do you taste yourself on my tongue?” he whispered, looking at you with hooded eyes.

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Good.” He kissed you again, grinding on your thigh to ease the throbbing in his cock. You groaned at the feeling, your arms tightening around his neck. You broke away from his mouth to pepper his face in tiny, loving kisses.

An overwhelming fondness filled him and he pulled away from you enough to meet your gaze. You trailed your fingertips over his cheekbone and then to his ear, rubbing gently again. He hummed happily and opened his eyes to see your face as he whispered, “I love you, too.”

You stopped, your eyes widening, your lips parting. Gods, you were beautiful. “Do you really mean—?”

“Yes,” he breathed quickly and bent down to kiss you again. You hummed into his mouth, pulling his body down onto yours. He paused in his grinding, wanting to be against you more than he wanted the friction.

“I love you,” both of you said at the same time, then burst into little giggles. You nuzzled into each other, Astarion’s cheeks hurting from the smile he couldn’t seem to drop. Then you kissed him and pulled his lower lip between your teeth. You tugged slightly.

Astarion pulled back and then glanced down your body to where his cock rested on your stomach. “Are you ready for me, darling?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

He grinned. “Spread your legs a little wider for me, sweet girl.”

You did as he asked without a second thought and he settled between your legs. He guided himself against your entrance, notching the head of his cock there. He looked up at you again and you nodded. He smiled softly, kissed you once, and then looked back down to watch himself sink into you.

Astarion moved slowly, careful not to hurt you, well aware that you hadn’t been fucked in two hundred years. You sucked in a deep breath, keeping your eyes on him as he pushed into you. Astarion let out a low groan as you squeezed around him, already a tight fit, your warmth and wetness enveloping him. When he bottomed out, you released your breath, your head falling back against the pillows. 

“Are you alright?” he whispered. 

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes, I’m alright. Gods… You feel…right. It’s…it’s almost as if it were yesterday you made love to me for the last time.”

He bent down enough to kiss your forehead. “Is that what you want? Do you want me to make love to you?”

“Please,” you whispered. 

Astarion began to move. He started with shallow thrusts, trying to allow you time to adjust and get used to the feeling, watching the pleasure on your face as he did. He held himself up with one hand and let the other slide up and down your side comfortingly.

Eventually, you turned your head to kiss his wrist. “More,” you said quietly. When he raised his eyebrow, prompting you, your already flushed cheeks turned scarlet and you amended, “Deeper.”

“Good girl,” he said and let his next thrust bring his pelvis to yours. Both of you moaned into each other. Your breaths came faster as he began to hit that spot deep inside of you over and over again, sure to never go too hard. Then you whispered, “Harder, Asty,” and all restraint left his limbs. 

Astarion lifted your leg to get a better angle and began pounding into you relentlessly, grunting with every thrust. Your moans became punctuated and he slowed down briefly to let you get some air.

Your response was to throw both legs around his hips, tug him down to you, and breathe into his ear, “Don’t stop. Don’t stop doing what you’re doing, darling.”

Astarion moaned happily and hurried back into his fast pace. You pulled him into a bruising kiss and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“Can I touch your back?” you whispered and he nodded quickly. 

“Scratch at me all you want, sweetness,” he replied and your blush darkened.

You settled your hands on his upper back, your nails digging in just slightly as you held onto him. You crossed your ankles at the small of his back and let him drill into you.

Lips, teeth, and tongues clashed into each other as you made out messily, the sound of your spit-slicked kisses drowned out by the rhythmic smacking of your hips into each other. You felt a soreness begin to build, pleasant and familiar and distinctly Astarion.

For his part, Astarion was pleasantly surprised at how present he was. He found himself electing to keep his eyes open to see the ecstasy wash over your face when he wasn’t kissing you and he smiled at every moan, every “Oh gods” you let out, every cry of his name that left your lips. His whole body buzzed with pleasure and his cock throbbed inside of you. He nuzzled into your neck, kissing softly and nipping gently, not taking blood from you this time. He tongued over the bite he left earlier, licking the dried residue of your blood, but the wound had since closed. 

“I love you,” he murmured against your skin. “And I am so sorry that I have been gone.”

You kissed his cheek briefly. “I love you, too.”

Astarion groaned into your neck, then pushed himself back up, fucking into your pussy wildly. “You feel so godsdamn good,” he panted, grinning down at you. “I haven’t felt this way in…a very long time.”

You gently squeezed his hips with your legs and reached up to cup his face. “I’ve missed how perfect you feel,” you said. “How you always hit the right spots.” You moaned as he did exactly that, your entire body tensing, preparing for your orgasm.

“Are you close?” he asked.

“Very,” you breathed. 

He brushed your hair from your face. “Cum whenever you’re ready, darling. I want to feel you spasm around me.”

You whimpered. “Oh, Asty,” you moaned. You relaxed into the mattress. “Go a little harder and I’ll be there.”

He did as you asked, pounding into you fast and hard and just a little bit rough. He reached down to put his fingers on your clit and you let out a shriek, clenching tightly around him. He gasped, his cock twitching at the stimulation. You threw your head back, nearly screaming as you came around him, his name lost somewhere in your shrieks of pleasure. The fresh slickness of your cum surrounded him and he glanced down to find a ring of white on his cock, getting thicker and brighter by the second.

The grunts that fell from Astarion’s mouth were rougher, louder. He squeezed his eyes shut and then forced them open again.

“Darling—” he gasped, his entire body trembling with exertion as he tried to stave off his impending orgasm. “I’m— I’m gonna cum, oh gods, where do you— Where do you want it?”

There was a soft look on your face as you whispered, “Inside. Inside like the last time you ever fucked me.”

Astarion groaned, the reveal bringing tears to his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the tear drop from his lashes. Your thumb came up to his face and wiped gently at his eye. He whimpered, leaning into your touch.

“Cum for me, honey,” you whispered, softly cupping his cheek.

Astarion whined and kissed your palm, burying himself to the hilt. He moaned loudly, tilting his head back, and it quickly became a series of high-pitched whimpers as ecstasy washed through his body. He trembled, holding himself up until he was spent. Then he collapsed on top of you, panting harshly.

You held him close, soothing him with quiet hushes and soft whispers of how wonderful he had done for you. You kissed the top of his head, running your hand through his curls, murmuring your love to him with a smile on your face. 

Eventually, Astarion pulled out of you. You whimpered and he whispered a soft apology. He sat back to watch his seed drip out of you. Fascinated, he gently swiped his fingers through your mixed releases. You shuddered. He held his fingers up to your mouth. You quirked an eyebrow at him at first, then opened your mouth and let him slide his fingers between your lips. Dutifully, you licked them clean.

“I guess we’ve never done that before, huh?” he joked, laying back down on you. He kissed you sweetly, enjoying the taste of you and him together on his tongue. 

You shook your head. “Nope. You only came inside me for one night.” He raised an eyebrow and you explained carefully, “I’d been tracking my cycle so I knew you could cum inside me without us getting pregnant too early. We wanted to wait until after our wedding to start trying for a baby.”

Astarion’s heart nearly broke. “We…we wanted a family.”

You nodded, smiling in a way that made Astarion feel like you knew the pain twisting in his chest at the moment. “We’d told your parents we wanted one the night before you died. They were…ecstatic. You know, I’m almost surprised they didn’t push us to move the wedding up so we could start faster.”

He laughed, more a huff than anything with how exhausted he was. “I take it they didn’t know about us taking the risk of finishing inside you?”

You grinned. “Well… We didn’t tell them, exactly, but I’m guessing they figured it out with how loud you made me scream that night.”

Astarion smirked. “Was it louder than you just were?”

“Oh, much louder,” you said, somehow teasing and serious at the same time. “I thought the entire neighborhood could hear you making me scream.”

“So I’ve always been good at sex, then?”

You shrugged. “Not…exactly. The first few times were a little…subpar in comparison to what our sex life became, the sex we just had. But because it was you, because it was so new…we still enjoyed it.”

The two of you shuffled to lay on your sides, facing each other. You snuggled against his chest and Astarion held you tightly, pressing soft, lingering kisses to every inch of your face. 

“I love you,” he murmured. “And I see why I loved you then. You are…perfect. Considerate. Gentle. You don’t…push for things I don’t want to do. You just know what I like, even after all this time… I had thought I had changed, but…”

“You did change,” you said. “But not so much that I don’t recognize the man underneath all your disguises, all your layers. You are, deep down, still my Astarion.”

He curled more tightly around you. “I like being yours.”

You kissed his nose. “I like it, too.”

The pair of you lapsed into comfortable silence. Astarion listened to your breathing and your steady heartbeat, watching your chest rise and fall against his, moving as if he was also breathing. 

You were so comfortable with him… So vulnerable. You trusted him with your exposed neck, with your bare body, with your love. Hells, how he wished he could remember what he had done to earn that trust. How he wished he could keep your trust.

Some time later, you mumbled into his skin, “It’s two hours until dawn, my love.”

Fear crept back into Astarion’s mind. “I know.”

“We should get going soon.”

He held you just a little tighter. “Not— Not quite yet, darling. Let me hold you for a few minutes more.”

You smiled knowingly against his chest and Astarion wondered how many mornings he had refused to get up, electing instead for a few more minutes in bed with you, your limbs tangled and the sheets just barely covering your lower halves. “Alright.”

Astarion pressed a grateful kiss to the top of your head. His mind began to spin with the beginnings of half-baked plans. The two of you could run, leave now and get as far away as possible. He could simply not go back, he could hide here with you until night fell again and then the two of you could leave. He could bring you back to Cazador with a plan, with a way to kill him or escape him or both in mind.

Every plan fell short. Nothing would work. Cazador had too many eyes in the city to disappear this quickly. 

We’d never escape alive. And while Astarion was certain that death—true death—would be a relief in comparison to the past two hundred years, he wasn’t willing to force that on you.

He glanced at you, still tucked into his arm, a peaceful look on your face. He tried to capture the image in his mind for a few moments, then stirred and gently slipped out from underneath you. He stood and slowly put his clothes back on.

You watched him do so, sitting up on your arms to grin at him. “Now that’s a sight that never gets old.”

Astarion frowned. “Me putting clothes back on?”

You nodded, reaching for your dress. Astarion helped you get it over your head. “It reminds me of our early mornings when you’d get ready for work and I’d watch you primp and preen until you were perfect.” You adjusted your dress, then looked up at him. “Here—let me fix your hair, I messed it up when I put my hands in it.”

Astarion watched your face, your expression twisted into concentration, your tongue poking out just slightly, as you carded your fingers through his curls and arranged them. When you were satisfied, you stepped back.

“There, good as new,” you said and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

You wrapped your arms around him and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Are you ready?”

Astarion clenched his jaw. “Are you? Are you sure you want to do this? I…I really shouldn’t do this, darling, I should just take the punishment—”

“No,” you said firmly. “I will never forgive myself if I know you’re out there, getting hurt, because I wouldn’t go with you.”

“Darling—”

“Take me to him,” you insisted. “Don’t get yourself hurt for me.”

Still, Astarion bit his lip so hard he tasted his blood. “But isn’t that what we should do? I’d be protecting you—”

“I would be putting you in danger, Asty,” you insisted, cupping his cheek. “Please. Please do this and we will find a way out of this, alright? Even if it’s a last-ditch, desperate attempt to run—we’ll do something. I promise you, love.”

It won’t be enough. It will never be enough. But Astarion didn’t want to dash your hopes; naive as it was, it was relieving to see hope after two hundred years without it. It almost convinced him that you would be the lucky soul to escape Cazador’s bite, his eternal punishment. 

Astarion offered you his hand. “Are you ready, darling?”

You nodded, slipping your hand into his. “Ready.”

Before you left, you extinguished the lamps like normal and locked your door behind you like it was any other outing. You slipped the key into a hidden pocket in your dress Astarion hadn’t realized was even there. He admired the stitchwork as you walked hand-in-hand down the street. Despite the anxiety wriggling away in his stomach, Astarion let himself enjoy the feeling of walking with you, touching you, enjoying the last few moments of the night air with you. 

The Szarr residence loomed ahead far too quickly, the palace towers casting a horrible shadow across the road leading up to it. Astarion glanced at you as the pair of you passed into the shadows.

“Last chance to back out, darling,” he said quietly. “I can always circle back to an alleyway and drag some poor soul out—”

“No, Asty,” you said gently. “If that was a real option, you would have already done it.”

He sighed and nodded. “Alright. But—darling?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry for what might happen in there, what he’ll do to you.”

You smiled at him. “You don’t have to be sorry, honey, it’s not your fault. Nothing he does to me is your fault.”

“I brought you here,” he insisted. “I brought you here knowing what you’ll have to go through. I could just take the beating, but… I don’t want to, so I’m letting you suffer like I should.”

For the first time, Astarion saw a glimmer of doubt in your eyes. Your steps faltered and he felt the shudder that passed through your body. You licked your dry lips.

“What’s he going to do?”

A painful first bite. Drink you dry. Bury you. Make you dig your way out of your coffin. Trap you in chains the minute you’re free of the dirt. Whip you until you bleed and then lick your wounds. Astarion’s experience flashed through his head. But the fear on your face… He couldn’t tell you any of that, could he?

“Terrible things,” Astarion said gravely. It came out far darker than he intended and he knew what a terrifying sight he was: weak light in his hair, his red eyes glowing in the shadows, his fangs flashing in the dark with every word. You shrank away from him, stopping in your tracks, and inched out of the shadows. 

“Astarion, I—”

Fear gripped his undead heart, tainted his vision, thrummed in his veins. Astarion hissed and lunged, grabbing your arm with a vice-like grip. “Come on,” he insisted, just slightly aware of the growl in his voice. You resisted for just a moment, but Astarion was stronger than you were; it only took a tug to pull you back into the shadow of the tower. 

Servants of Cazador’s opened the doors for Astarion when they recognized him. They couldn’t hide their shock that he was dragging a victim in, his facade of the perfect lover dropped, and something clicked inside him.

It’s not Cazador who scares her; it’s me.

Astarion nearly let go of you. Then he felt the eyes of his siblings boring into him, all six waiting in a clustered group, and he knew Cazador was near. There was no escape for you now.

Astarion tightened his grip on you and dragged you into the palace’s shadows. He watched your feet cross the threshold, damning you eternally. The door slammed shut.

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel @cheeslyy @ofmyth-andmagicart @neetheslayer @whispering-depths @freesidexjunkie @lightsinmycity @the0ldmann @gobbodoggo @oooof-ifellforyou @beeblisss @fangboner @aquaarietes @fiercest-eigengrau-skies @niqhtfell @call-me-nyxx @lueji-m @ceres-xiv @tricksy-trinity @graynstairs @rosa-rubus @ynisthatyou @thegoodwitchs-blog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @kiyastrf94 @vincemachina @silverfangmarks @ravenswritingroom @hinata7346 @hellethil @caramel-hufflepuff @beemiilk @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @starwatch77 @julianmarie @sadexistentialism @supernaturallover15 @writinghound

[lucrezianoin]

Astarion-centric fics recs (49 fanfics)

I will divide them by ship. They are all complete unless specified. Also, if a fic is not here it does not mean that I did not like it, I could have forgotten it or just not seen it given that there is a lot of Astarion content!

Just make sure to read all the tags warnings when you open the AO3 page. I added the non-ship focused but Cazador focused ones at the end.

Also it feels weird to rec my own fics, but in case you want to read astarion h/c I am writing you can find me here at LadyRagnelle (for now all DarkUrge or Tav/Astarion).

Regarding if this reclist might be useful for you... there are a lot of Astarion fics, a lot of tags used and a lot of preferences! I have a very particular preference for a specific kind of fic (h/c, whump, softness, mainly) and in the case of Astarion I tend to not read nsfw, usually. So if you have been around my blog and you think we might share fics preferences... maybe these are the fics for you too! I will update this post with time.

I am trying to add a small description to all the fics, but I prioritized adding the links, so some of them do not have a description yet, but they were beloved in my bookmarks.

GEN (no ship)

Prying eyes (unsupermarket) - One of my absolute favorite. Karlach and Astarion share one of Astarion's nightmares (thanks to the tadpoles).

Reflecting endless down the hall (Asidian) - Each chapter is dedicated to one of the companions and the way they interact with Astarion, each chapter connected to a part of his past and trauma.

TAV (OR DARK URGE)/ASTARION

After all that I can do for them is done (votiveviscera)

To Aid and be aided (Beppoberry) - Post Cazador, taking care of each other.

Between the lines (Slothquisitor) - Amazing story about Tav gifting Astarion books.

Broken mechanism (laquearia) - Character study on Astarion's "Don't touch me".

Copper blood and silver hearts (netherprince)

The darkest corner of Baldur's Gate (Nebulad)

(Don't) lose your head (CL34R)

Don't you hear me praying? (ridgeline) - Short haunting story about Astarion's trauma.

And his pretty hand hold my leash (osiris_ryes) - one of the few nsfw fics in this rec list. This has some amazing Dark Urge writing and manages to use nsfw scene without ignoring the consent issues present in the game.

Hold me without hurting (fairbutnotsomaiden) - Astarion disassociates, Tav is kind.

I could feel my life begin (Flowercitti)

I have a good place to hide (Flowercitti)

I know how this will end (MyFandomCausesHanaji) - Amazing Dark Urge story about Durge trying to stop themselves from killing Astarion - and reliving the same day over and over.

A long dead pulse (enthugger) - Post-Cazador, Tav takes care of Astarion.

Made / Unmade (Adaphyl)

Mortal shortfall (titasylase) - Giving a gift to Astarion + act 1 angst, perfect combination.

Not something that I was but what I played (WitchyBee)

Out of wine and flowers (enthugger)

Porcelain (cweepa) - Astarion is sick, and he really cares about how he looks. Absolutely stunning story full of very delicate hurt/comfort and angst. I've reread this so many times.

Savages (cweepa) - Astarion finds a kitten.

Seducere (Tlon) - This is THE fanfic. I remember waiting every night for the new chapter. It narrates Astarion's past and his present in the game. Heartbreaking and haunting.

Specter (justfortune) - post game fanfic about Tav and Astarion's new life together, with some interesting concepts about personal space and sharing life.

Suck the rot right out of my bloodstream (Flowercitti) - I love Flowercitti's stories so so much. This one is specifically about consent. Please, read all their fics.

Vanity items (Flowyen) - Incomplete fic, but still amazing. Just Astarion receiving genuine compliments.

You only feel it when it’s lost (gettin’ through still has a cost) (Flowercitti) - Flowercitti's Tav takes care of Astarion after Cazador.

The way you are (imprinted on a page) (cryptidvaquero) - Tav draws Astarion as a gift.

Was it something you ate (Anoke)

Water down what I call being grateful (Flowercitti) - This fic was written for one of my prompts. I will be eternally grateful because I love stories that deal with looking right through Astarion's seductions.

HALSIN/ASTARION

Animal I have become (Ulfrsmal)

Free (Faetality)

Handmande (BerlinBelin) - One of my favourite, absolutely stunning series about touch starved Astarion trying to ask (with difficulty) fo non-sexual intimacy.

Known in its aching (BerlinBerlin) - sick fic with so much tenderness.

Never gonna fall for (modern love) (Dwinkle) - Halsin offers Astarion his blood.

Through sneers and words snide (BerlinBelin)

HALSIN/TAV/ASTARION

Working on it (casswathever) - Very well written series with multiple fics, I particularly loved the relationship discussions.

WYLL/ASTARION

To die with you (WaterSeraphim)

A dream of sweet things (Asidian) - delicious h/c, trust issues and some nightmares too.

Innocence died screaming (Flowercitti) - Wyllstarion fic that starts from Astarion's past with Cazador, from his turning into a spawn. Ongoing.

KARLACH/ASTARION

Repairs (Asidian) - Heartbreakingly angsty fic about Karlach finding her touch again and Astarion expecting their first night to go a certain way.

The Things you miss (Asidian) - A very sweet fic about Karlach and Astarion interacting.

ASTARION/SEBASTIAN

A lyric on your tongue (justfortune) - Sebastian and Astarion meet.

GALE/ASTARION

The heat is only skin deep (ThatKorka)

POLY

Sharing (Asidian) - a touch of angst, touch starved characters, act 1 spoilers so slightly present consent issues.

CAZADOR-FOCUSED (no secondary ship)

Fake it (deerna)

Lost and never found (arenathesia)

Thou art mine (sophos) - The story of Astarion learning how to keep Cazador happy.

your reflection can't offer a word (to the bliss of not knowing yourself) (undermounts)

[noisycroissant]

"It's you..."

Astarion x Reader

She was one of those marks that broke his chipped heart. The trusting ones, the doe-eyed ones who looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. It hurt every minute he spent with her knowing that he was simply leading her to a fate worse than death.

He remembered the look in her eyes when they took her away with the others at the party where they lured all their marks to once a month. He dreamed of that look for years only to wake up to find himself shaking, face wet with tears. He didn't want to keep doing this, but another year of being confined and tortured and starved with no hopes of escape, freedom or otherwise...no, he couldn't survive that. Not again.

But then, he saw her again. He was sure it was his fragile mind playing tricks on him. Constant torture can do that you, y'know. But then he saw her again. The same hair. Skin paler though. And then he heard her voice.

"Astarion?"

When he heard his name in that voice again, his heart dropped to the pits of his stomach. He'd do anything, beg at her feet, grovel for forgiveness, anything to not hear that tone in her voice.

"I am angry for what you did to me. To my life. But I also understand why... I've had to do it myself."

I've had to do it myself.

If he ever had thoughts of murdering Cazador in the darkest ways possible, those thoughts just became a million times darker.

"Where you here all these years? I never saw you. I thought I knew every turned spawn in the palace."

"I was locked up for "lack of respect" and "till I learnt what was good for me "."

He knew what that meant. Lashes, pliers, blood, pain, hunger, tears.

Desperate prayers falling on deaf ears.

"I'm.. I don't deserve to say sorry. You'd have been... anywhere but here..if it weren't for me."

"I know. But you did what you did to survive. I don't begrudge you for that. I had enough time in that cell to know that choice does not live in these walls."

*******

And that's how it began. That was how hope came back into two people's lives. How it grew and bloomed with each passing look, each time fingers brushed while walking across hallways, each time a secret letter was found under a pillow.

After 150 years, Astarion dared to dream.

He would always curse himself when he remembered that night. It had taken them almost a year to plan, another year to talk courage into themselves to go through with it.

He remembered how soft her hands were when he held them as they ran through shadows.

Freedom. It was so close. Just a breath away.

And in the blink of an eye, it was gone.

Of course. What had he been thinking? They'd never be free. Not as long as that monster had a leash on them.

"Don't let them see each other, Godey. But make sure they hear."

Astarion remembers the day his heart finally crumbled to ash.

*******

Decades later, when he was finally let out again, the very first night he goes to the highest roof he could find in Baldur's Gate. And he sat there. Waiting for the sun. The only way he could be free of this hellish life. The only way he could forget the sins.

His skin prickled and he cried as the sky turned pink.

The next thing he remembers is waking up on a beach with a unholy squirming in his eye. A crashed ship, fire and smoke bellowing. Intellect devourers running amok. But he was out in the sun and it didn't burn. It didn't hurt.

The confusion was enough to drive him mad. 200 years of rage and pain, and he finally had a chance to end it. But even that was taken from him.

He heard footsteps and chatter. Hand goes to his dagger naturally. But then he hears a voice.

Her voice.

This must be the tenth circle of hell, he tells himself. This is where depraved sinners like him go to. Where they're tortured for eternity with the things they'll never see again.

Like the sun.

Or her.

But hope survives in the darkest of hells.

And it had found him again.

"Astarion?"

[lucozadehulahoop]

A Question of Time (Astarion x f!reader/tav) part 2/?

Chapter Summary: Astarion gets caught by Cazador in his daughter's room. Tav attempts to get him out of the situation.

Read part 1 here! part 3 part 4

tags and TW: pre-bg3! Astarion, slave!Astarion, mentions of torture and abuse, demi-goddess!tav, Cazador being all sorts of creepy, eventual NSFW (minors stay away kindly, thank you darlings)

tag list for those who asked for part 2 (if you want to be added to the tag list, just let me know!): @d0nutkaky0in @i-just-want-to-sleep-97 @omggiannarosa @dead-giirl-walking @warbwarts @mrsfullbuster500 @uwomina @iyaesakura @cheeslyy @dragon-kazansky @bambamwolf87 @chibi-chi @orsomethingelseentirely @davenswitcher @adequate-superstar

Astarion dropped to his knees and bowed his head the second Cazador stepped into the room. He couldn't even look at his Master, choosing to stare at the ground, fixating on the space between the Vampire Lord's heavy boots to anticipate the blows that were no doubt coming to him.

It was over. Whatever hell awaited Astarion next, it was going to make the past two centuries seem like a dream in comparison. That much he was certain of.

He could feel Cazador's ice-cold stare on him, yet it was his daughter he spoke to. "Step aside, my dear. I have made the terrible mistake of being too gracious with this... servant. I will personally make sure he never strays again..."

Astarion began to shake violently. For all he knew, Cazador was already making a promise to break his legs.

What he did not expect was what happened next. The young woman stepped in front of him, putting herself between him and Cazador. "Father, there has been a misunderstanding... I sneaked out and met... Astarion in a local tavern." She faked an attempt at trying to remember his name correctly. "I believe he was deeply charmed by me and offered we spend the evening together. When he brought me back here, I had to confess who I truly was and immediately realized his mistake. He acted like a true gentleman and returned me to my chambers."

Astarion didn't move a muscle. He could not have come up with a better lie himself, considering that little story painted him as a dutiful spawn who'd merely been out seeking prey for his Master. But he doubted Cazador cared. A line had been crossed, and Cazador rarely needed an excuse to torture anyone, least of all Astarion.

"Is that so, dearest?" Cazador's tone turned sickly sweet, yet he was not fooled by the shared. He'd taken a good look at the dagger on the floor and the open window. He'd already come to his own conclusions. "In that case, such a valiant display of chivalry deserves a reward, wouldn't you say? Come along, Astarion, I wish to give you the recognition you deserve..."

Astarion had lost all feeling in his limbs, but he knew it wouldn't matter because Cazador's words would have been enough to make him stand and walk like his own personal puppet. Except... they weren't.

Cazador had given him a direct order yet he hadn't budged.

The Vampire Lord seemed to notice this too, his eyes widening at the realization his influence seemed to have no hold on Astarion's mind at that moment. Astarion looked back at his Master and it was all Cazador needed to make a stride toward them, no doubt intent on dragging his slave out of the room by force when his luck struck out for a second time.

"No!" His valiant protector protested in the face of Cazador's increasingly obvious rage. Her little outburst was followed by a loud crash as a heavy bookcase fell in the middle of the room, nearly missing Cazador by an inch.

And that was when Astarion realized why Cazador kept this girl pampered and at a considerable distance from him. He was afraid of her. Of his own daughter. Terror was all that was left on his Master's face now, and Astarion had never witnessed something so satisfying ever since he'd crawled out of his own grave on that faithful night.

"I mean..." She backtracked, looking quite abashed at the mess she'd just made, more so than the thought of having nearly buried her father underneath a small library. "I would like to request Astarion stay in this wing of the castle from now on. I... have no servants, and I never see anyone all day. I believe Astarion has proven himself to be an honorable man, and I trust him. That way... I won't be tempted to run away again, and you can trust him to keep an eye on me and...report back to you in case I get into trouble again." She reasoned in a sweet voice, almost as if she were asking Cazador for a new pony.

"The reasonings you make are quite sound, my dear. But-"

"Oh, wonderful!" She cheered and looked back at Astarion. "Only if that would be an agreeable arrangement for you, Astarion. It's your choice, of course..."

Astarion stared up at her blankly. His... choice?

The spawn hadn't made a decision for himself in two hundred years. Obviously going back to Cazador meant there was a world of pain to pay for the innumerable transgressions that he'd perpetrated that night. But what about this girl? She was clearly a force to be reckoned with, and he was more than familiar with the old saying: better the devil you know...

"Tav, dearest." Cazador attempted to interject. "It is unbecoming for a noble lady such as yourself to have such a bleeding heart for the lower class. Astarion knows his place, he does not need to be asked for permission..."

Tav. Astarion knew that word well from the scriptures he'd studied for so many nights on his path to becoming a magistrate all those centuries ago. The name meant 'sign' or 'omen', the symbol of truth, perfection, and completion.

Maybe he could let himself hope one last time.

"My lady, I accept your gracious request..." And put myself in your debt.

Cazador gave him an amused look, almost as if he knew whatever freedom Astarion thought he'd just obtained was going to be extremely short-lived. After all, Tav, as far as either of them was concerned, did not know about the true nature of any of the inhabitants of the castle. Her father had more means than necessary to hide his appetites and odd schedules, but Astarion? He'd soon have to make the choice between staying up in the tower and starving or crawling back to Cazador to beg for a measly rat to feed on.

Tav smiled at Astarion's decision and helped him up to his feet.

"Well, my dear. It seems as if I can't do anything but warn you... this one barely does anything during the day and I personally wouldn't let him near any one of your dear pets... When you tire of his incompetence, be sure to return him back to me."

...💫...

Astarion was shown to a private guest room and he had an inkling of what was to come next, now that Tav had finally got him alone. If there was one thing he'd learned in all of those years was that the only thing about him that was worth anything was his body.

Now that he could think things through with a clear head, there was no doubt in his mind that Tav had 'saved' him solely because she, like many others, had come to be infatuated with him. And as much as it pained him to acknowledge he'd merely swapped an old owner for a new one, he wasn't going to look this gift horse in the mouth. He needed her protection and the fact she was already harboring affection for him would only work in his favor in the future. Maybe, just maybe, he could convince her to let him escape someday, once he was sure the bond between him and Cazador had truly been severed. he had no way of knowing if it had been Tav's presence in the room that had counteracted Cazador's powers, nor could he be sure how long that blessing was going to last.

The first step for now would be seducing her, and at least that part he was an expert in. Another blessing he could count on was that she was gorgeous, and if he truly had met her in some tavern, she'd been right in thinking she would have been one of his marks.

"I'll be leaving you now..." Tav announced, snapping Astarion out of his reverie. He looked back at her as she returned his dagger and his climbing tools to him. The weight of the gear seemed heavier than, before and he heard the distinct sound of a heavy pouch of coins in the mix. "There is a small boat that leaves the harbor in a few hours. By dawn, you should be well away from the Sword Coast... although where you'll end up I don't know."

Being out at sea at the break of day was not a realistic option for Astarion unless he wanted to burn alive with nowhere to hide. But that certainly wasn't what he took away from her words. Tav was giving him a way out, just like that. Her plan could not work for him, but she couldn't have known.

"What is your angle?" Astarion snapped, baffled beyond reason. He could not wrap his head around what she was or what she wanted with him and it was driving him insane.

"My.. my angle? Forgive me, I don't-" Tav wrought her hands together nervously, fearing she'd somehow misunderstood. All this time, she'd been certain Astarion had been crying out for help, for someone to rescue him.

"You can cut the crap now, sweetheart. I'm not as easily spooked by a falling armoire as your dear old dad is..." Astarion grinned, a slight glint in his eyes as he spoke. "That little naive act of yours though... that's the real thing about you that's terrifying. And let me the first to say, it was quite something watching you put on that show. I'm not that easily impressed."

Tav looked completely lost at his words, and Astarion admired how good she was at keeping up the act. But he was tired of it now.

"So, what does it feel like to have me all to yourself now, hmm?" Astarion inquired, his voice turning sultry as he carelessly chucked the objects she'd handed him on the bed and took a step towards her. "Is it everything you dreamed of, precious? All couped up in here by yourself, day after day..." He stroked Tav's cheek with the back of his hand gently, and Astarion would have been lying to himself if he didn't recognize the warmth ghosting over his fingers from that brief touch.

"You-you misunderstand, I don't have you. I... I heard you calling-" Tav tried to explain, but it was difficult. Would Astarion have believed her if she told him who she truly was? All that mattered now was that he could leave, so why didn't he? She must have done something wrong. It was hard putting the right words together when Astarion was so close. Her mind was completely scrambled and her face felt like it was burning up.

Astarion smirked. Finally, he was getting somewhere with trying to understand what Tav wanted with him, and he'd been right. Watching her blood rise to her cheeks, however, almost made his mind go blank for a few seconds.

What on earth was he doing? Standing there trying to figure out the impossible woman in front of him, when he should have been getting out of dodge and putting as much ground between himself and Cazador as possible?

A faint voice inside him wondered what the consequences on Tav would be if he ended up going missing, and he hated himself right after for even having such a thought.

The way out was right in front of him, and he could still count on a few more hours of darkness to make his way underground.

All he had to do was turn and run.

---

AN: aaah thank you so much for the love! Comments are appreciated and keep me writing. I'm planning on adding more chapters soon!

[vampiric-hunger]

⊱─ 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕣𝕠𝕒𝕕𝕤 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕕 ─⊰

➺ 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Cazador Szarr x f!tiefling reader the Dark Urge

➺ 𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕤: no y/n is used, rating - E, POV second person, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, canon-typical violence (when it comes to Cazador that is), graphic depictions of violence, sadism, smut, inappropriate use of Mage Hand spell, non-con, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, asphyxiation, grinding on a boot (sort of), dubcon, painful injury, tongue wound, bleeding, hair pulling, humiliation, degradation kink, PiV, rough sex, vampire bites, blood drinking, creampie.

➺ 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: A former Bhaalspawn, now aimless, you wander Faerun until you get a letter from no other than Cazador Szarr, beckoning for you to visit him. You're not sure why, he's not the man to show gratitude even if you did give him Astarion and helped him Ascend, nor he is the one to suddenly feel grateful years later after the fact, but you feel a pull to learn why the Vampire Ascendant wants you back in Baldur's Gate. So you return, too arrogant to realize that you're walking into a dragon's den.

➺ 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 11,225

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: This was written for the wonderful, supportive and always amazing @velvolktra. Thank you for being just an incredible human being, and for matching my freak lol♡~

Baldur’s Gate.

Disgusting little city that you poured energy in saving. And what for? For these peasants to stroll the streets, smile and laugh with no gratitude? Hero of the City, ptui, maybe they would get some actual semblance of real gratitude if they built a temple for you instead of this meager statue.

You look at it with your face upturned, eyes squinting in the sun and the gentle late spring breeze in your hair. You see the visage of you, actually quite closely resembling your image, carved out of stone with precision. Your unblinking eyes gazing over the city and onto the sea, your hand victoriously raised in a fist, your expression made to be determined but still gentle, your other hand holds a banner of Baldur’s Gate. You nearly spit at the feet of the statue from annoyance, the pigeons lingering on your stone horns only irritate you further.

For a moment you wonder how often the city servants have to scrub the statue to make it look so clean even years after the big battle, but you don’t linger on this as you gaze down the statue’s form, despising even the armor they carved upon your body. You don’t remember much of your past, but you do remember everything since you woke up in that damn squid ship, and you know for a fact you never wore armor.

Maybe you should go and talk to the current Duke, demand that they change the statue if they want to have one displayed for you in the first place. Maybe, but not now. You’re here for a reason and that reason is not to bicker with people who are below you, who should be groveling at your feet, but instead barely recognize you as they pass you while you’re standing right in front of the idol erected in your honor.

When you finally peel your scrutinizing gaze away from the monument, you look around, doing your best to ignore the people that seem to be crawling the park like pests. You’re close now, to the Palace Szarr, but you’re in no rush. It’s enough already that you came at all after receiving the letter.

You have it with you, in your small travel bag hanging off your shoulder, and you pause digging through it. The paper stained and bent after being shoved among other items for weeks, but when you open the envelope and pull out the letter itself, the elegant yet sharp lettering is still as black as the day it was penned down, telling you to come for a visit. Telling you to witness the fruits of your subordinance.

At first you didn’t even consider coming back. You have no reason to visit Baldur’s Gate again, not after you saved the damned city only to save yourself, and especially not after you rejected your murderous daddy before he stripped you of your powers in retaliation. Withers, that dusty corpse, revived you when Bhaal took your life along with your abilities, spouting something about destinies and doing good.

Doing good. You smirk at the thought of the memory, because you don’t think you have done a single relatively good thing since you left the Sword Coast.

Still, the letter found you and so did your memories of Cazador Szarr, the man who seemed to be a better ally than most. At least he kept his end of the deal after you brought his sweet wayward son back and watched him explode into a cloud of blood mist and gore the moment Vampire Lord closed his fingers around his prize – the Ascension. You were only mildly angry with him for not showing up at the final battle, but the minions he sent to aid you were enough, obviously, otherwise you would not be standing here today, basking in the sun in the middle of a freshly rebuilt Gate.

You stuff the letter into the envelope and that you shove back into your bag, rising your eyes to the greenery around you and pushing a lose strand of hair out of your eyes that the soft wind blew there. You’re not quite sure why you decided to heed letter’s invitation and return, you left because there was nothing for you here, because you wanted to see what’s out there. Between the lost memories of being stuck in the Temple of Bhaal and present memories of fighting your way through enemies to get rid of the damn worm that was lodged in your brain – you realized you didn’t actually see anything in your life before, for however long you lived it. So you picked up what was left of your belongings after Orin’s reign in the Temple, and left.

For years you traveled all around Faerûn, trying to find something, that purpose that you can’t quite grasp even now. Some strange yearning is gripping your heart and you try to find something to alleviate the discomfort that’s firmly lodged in the middle of your chest, but so far you haven’t found what it is. The cure evades you, whatever it is.

With a deep sigh you begin walking, knowing full well where the palace is so you head there, navigating among people, making sure no idiot manages to snatch or step on your tail. You haven’t seen another tiefling since your arrival and while nobody is exactly staring at you, even despite your fame and legacy, you still doubt that these people are accustomed to avoiding sensitive limbs that they themselves never had to experience.

One thing you notice as you make your way towards the main entrance of Cazador’s home, is that the city seems to be full of life. Not only with spring bringing nature back to full bloom, but with people. You see races of all kinds, children running around and goods being sold by traveling vendors. There are bard songs in the air and laughter. There’s music and countless smiles. It looks like since the partial destruction of the city and your departure the population grew. You smile to yourself, imagining how the vampire coven must be thriving with so many veins to bleed.

You pass a stall and grab an apple from it with your tail when the man selling them doesn’t pay attention, then grip it with your fingers firmly and bite into it, chewing as you look around, noticing all the changes that have been made since you set your foot in these streets years ago. You have to admit, Baldur’s Gate is growing and becoming… well, maybe not nicer, it’s still a slum in your opinion, but cleaner. You can give the city at least this kind of compliment.

By the time you arrive at the main Szarr gate you get rid of the apple and now look upon the palace that you entered only couple of times before. First to negotiate with Cazador, then to bring wonderfully clueless Astarion back to his master and then once more, after the final battle was done, to finalize the deal you two have made. You parted ways quite cordially and the Vampire Lord did tell you that you can come visit, saying how he would not turn away one woman who actually knows how to get a job done. But disgruntled that he still saw you no more than his servant you never came back, instead leaving Baldur’s Gate entirely.

But now you are back.

Standing in front of the gate of Cazador’s home.

If not for your curiosity to know why he wants you here, and you doubt that he went through the trouble of finding you just to tell you to come by and witness his glory, you would not have bothered. Well, that’s at least what you tell yourself. Despite your pride and your ego, your heart did leap in your chest when you saw who exactly signed off the letter.

But he still better have a very good reason to make you drag yourself back. That’s what you tell yourself when you push open the gate and approach the door, knocking on it. It only takes a moment before it is opened and you see a spawn, her red glowing eyes studying your face for a moment before she lets you in, staying in the shadows as the sun threatens to touch her.

When you walk inside you look around. Before there were heavy curtains everywhere, covering the windows and preventing any chance of sunlight possibly sneaking inside like a silent assassin, but now the place is bright and full of light. Everything looks spotless and golden décor glints softly in the sun’s rays. For the first time you realize – it’s beautiful here.

“Please follow me.” The female spawn shuts the door behind you and scurries in front of you, avoiding to look at your face. It puzzles you, but only for a moment, because you have to start walking and keep up with the woman who seems to be in utter hurry to deliver you to her master.

You don’t mind, in fact you’re growing more impatient with every step, and while you do appreciate the paintings that adorn the walls depicting scenes of nightmares as you pass, enjoying the tasteful horror of them, it’s still no use in lying to yourself – you are dying to know why you’re here. And you can’t guess the answer even with the help of changes that you see. Just like Baldur’s Gate, the palace also changed. Maybe not in how it’s furbished, but in the number of servants you see. Some of them even wear same clothes, showing their status as official part of the Szarr family, however lowly that status may be.

When you’re led to the massive door that opens up to the ballroom, you are not surprised to see it filled with sunshine either. Neither you are surprised to see Cazador himself in his throne-like chair, listening to a man tell him something in hushed whispers. After you enter the room, the man stops and the woman that led you here bows deeply to her master and without another word walks off.

Briefly you glance in her direction, perplexed by such behavior, but you turn back to Cazador and see him wave the man away. When he passes you after bowing as well, you notice his glowing eyes. Another spawn. Looks like the Vampire Lord quickly grew his coven since sacrificing thousands of them for more power.

“So you have come.” He says, not exactly a greeting but you don’t mind.

“You wanted me to come. Care to explain why I’m here?” you ask with irritation clear in your voice as you approach the few stairs that elevate his seat above the ballroom floor. When you’re closer you see Cazador’s relaxed body language, his arrogant smirk and eyes, narrowed, as his gaze inspects you from head to toe.

“You haven’t changed much.” Every word coming out of his mouth sounds like mockery and your frown deepens at that.

“I’m not exactly out there looking to get my eyes plucked out.” You snap back, making vampire rise his eyebrows in feigned surprise.

“Really? And here I thought that without protection of your father you’d soon end up in a ditch somewhere.” He taunts and you ball your fingers into fists, trying to keep your temper in check, but your tail betrays you as it swishes behind you in couple clearly annoyed movements. “Now, now, no need for your attitude, Bhaalspawn.”

“I’m not a Bhaalspawn anymore.” You immediately shoot back and Cazador chuckles, rising from his chair and for a moment you are taken aback by his height and the imposing stature that could cast a shadow over you like your worst nightmare if he chose to become one.

“No? What are we if not children of our fathers?” Szarr asks and takes one step, then another, heading towards you. “You may be free of his urges, but you will never be free of his legacy.” He grins as he speaks and you’re not sure if he is trying to anger you on purpose or is this what he truly thinks. But you do remember his speeches about family, you remember how he insisted that those he had doomed from the moment of creation are his children.

Maybe he’s not wrong.

“I didn’t come all the way here to talk about Bhaal.” You cross arms on your chest and tap your foot impatiently. His eyes give you a dangerous look for a split second before he stops in front of you with an eyebrow raised and arrogance etched in every pore of his face.

“Then maybe we should talk about how deliciously treacherous you are even to those who consider you a friend?”

For a moment - memories of countless betrayals flood your mind as if you’re flipping through a book written in sin, but then it quickly dawns on you.

“Astarion?” you rise your eyebrows, forgetting your annoyance for the time being and Cazador’s head bobs in a taunting gesture.

“Have you forgotten about the boy so quickly?” he asks and you roll your eyes now.

“Why would I remember him?”

Cazador only laughs in response and begins walking again.

“Come.” Is the only thing he says and confused you follow him with your eyes only before your legs start moving.

“What about him?” you can help but wonder while you trail Cazador, but the vampire seems not to care to answer your questions, only irritating you more. “Did you want me here just to talk about Astarion?” you try again, growing impatient with each step, not really caring to notice where he is leading you – to his study, the door that Astarion himself told you no spawn were ever allowed to pass, except this time the door is ajar with cold invitation.

“Shut up for a moment, you idiot girl!” Cazador snaps back at you and you grit your teeth.

“I just want an answer.” You reply and that makes Szarr stop and spin to you, his eyes narrow this time not from amusement but from anger.

“Stop your yapping before you regret it.” He threatens like you’re one of his servants and stares straight into your eyes that are defiant and furious, but for reason unknown even to yourself – you remain silent. “Better.” Cazador doesn’t seem to be actually pleased, his temper was always easy to provoke, and it’s clear you nearly did just that so maybe that’s why you instinctively obeyed. After all, Cazador is the Vampire Ascendant, who knows what he can do besides walking in the sun’s rays, which you confirmed for yourself when you watched him pass the windows just moments ago.

Couple seconds tick by as he looks you in the eyes, waiting for you to defy him again, but when that doesn’t come - his lips twitch in an emerging snarl that he manages to control in time, then turns from you again and passes the doorway. Wordlessly he gestures for you to get onto the dais and you pause, your eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“What’s down there?” you ask, not putting even a single toe on the platform just yet, and you hear Cazador push air through his nose, then he turns to you with a dangerous smile on his lips.

“You’ve been there before, you know what’s down there.”

“What I’m going to see there?” you ask again and Cazador waves his hand at you dismissively.

“I don’t remember you being so scared before.” He mocks with that same grin and you frown.

“I’m not scared, I’m being cautious. I haven’t forgotten what you are.”

“No, of course not. Now stop acting like a child and come.” He instructs with his voice clearly strained in attempt to be patient and you hesitate for a moment longer, then step onto the platform, keeping your distance from Cazador.

The moment you’re on it, the dais begins to move, lowering you and Cazador down. You look at him in a moment of silence, eyeing his expensive looking clothes, the doublet he’s wearing, the embroidery on it. Rats, like the ones on the massive steel door in front of the ballroom.

With a couple of lurches the dais finally comes to a stop and you look down the corridor that hasn’t changed even a bit since the day you brought Astarion back to Cazador. Betrayal, he says, but you don’t see it that way, you never did. You just did what you needed to do to gain a powerful ally so that you could get rid of the damned tadpole. Sure, you gambled, maybe Cazador could’ve changed his mind and killed you with Astarion, but no, he kept his end of the bargain and not only let you go, but also helped you out. Maybe he was wary of Bhaal still in your veins, maybe letting you go after the battle was over and you no longer carried the corrupted divine within you, was done not out of mercy or good will, but because he simply didn’t want to bother. You wonder if the vampire would answer if you asked him. You doubt it.

With the dais nestled in its landing spot, Cazador begins walking, his hands clasp behind his back as he strolls with pride towards the stairs that you know lead to the ritual chamber. Your head swivels as you inspect the dungeon, but you don’t see any change whatsoever and the door that you know once led to Cazador’s private room, the one with Vellioth’s skull with which you had a pleasant chat, is closed with magic once again.

“Are you preparing for another ritual?” you can’t help but ask, feeling slightly awkward in silence that is only filled with yours and his footsteps, but as you now pass the empty cages scrubbed clean from blood, you realize that even if he is, it’s not the same one as the Rite of Profane Ascension.

Of course, why would it be.

“In a way.” Cazador’s reply is cryptic and his tone of voice drips with sarcasm. It puzzles you and you look at him for a moment before you have to watch your feet as you both begin to descend the steps.

The vampire doesn’t pause, just keeps leading you downwards. At one moment you have to duck as a swarm of bats fly right over your head but avoid the master himself, and when you are finally at the bottom of the stairs you see a familiar view – the ritual platform with his coffin still there. But Cazador doesn’t stop, he leads you forwards and you follow him, noticing the blood flowing beneath the golden grates, flowing towards direction of his coffin and giving it an eerie sanguine glow from below.

Your mouth opens, you want to ask another question, but finally the Vampire Lord stops right in the middle of the ritual circle. When you stop as well, you still see the infernal runes etched into the stone, now cold and still, unlike how they glowed when Cazador let you witness the birth of the Vampire Ascendant. It was a sight to behold, you have to give him that, the one you quite enjoyed as well. You always liked the smell of blood and that day the air was thick with it, as seven thousand and seven souls got sent straight to the hells.

All to make him a vampire unlike history has ever seen.

“Do you remember, Bhaalspawn, the moment of my Ascension?” Cazador asks and your eyes snap from the floor to his back. You see that his face is upturned and you glace upwards too, seeing the ceiling of the cavern. When your eyes land on the back his head, he spreads his arms as if reliving the greatest moment of his life. “Do you remember how he screamed before he died? How all of them screamed?”

You smile, of course you remember. You step closer to Cazador, sensing that he’s about to tell you the reason why you’re here.

“I do. It was beautiful. Magnificent.” You exhale at the memory, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment, your smile becoming wider. You remember clearly because you looked Astarion straight in the eyes as he screamed, as his body began to deform and as he eventually exploded, becoming nothing but a pile of guts on the ground by the end of it.

“You did me a favor then.” Cazador’s voice snaps you out of your memory and you open your eyes to find him now facing you, his look is curious because he most likely saw the ecstatic expression on your face and he most likely suspects what kind of memory brought that kind of expression about.

“It was beneficial for both of us. I got a powerful ally for the battle, you got to Ascend.” You give him a small shrug, trying to sound like it’s no big deal for you. And in truth – it wasn’t. You don’t have a single regret about giving Astarion away, because by the time you arrived to the city, the pale elf was beginning to get on your nerves, begging to be gutted somewhere on the side of the road.

“Maybe so, but not many would betray their allies, their friends.” Cazador tilts his head slightly to the side, a satisfied smirk on his lips and his hands by his sides – a perfect image of a non-threatening man, but you know better. Despite Astarion’s shortcomings you believe his stories about his master’s cruelty and short temper.

“He wasn’t a friend.” You correct Cazador and he raises an eyebrow at your words. “He was an ally of convenience. When that convenience came to an end – I made a new ally.” You now gesture to Cazador and he chuckles, a low, menacing sound that makes a shiver run down your spine and you’re not sure if out of caution or… something else.

“Delightful.” Szarr comments, his fangs looking as sharp as ever when he smiles or speaks, and you wonder how it would feel to be a vampire. You’ve been a Bhaalspawn already, surely being a vampire can’t be worse, but maybe under Cazador’s heavy boot – it can be. “Still, it’s rare to find… allies worth having, especially nowadays. And to find such ally in no other than a hero of Baldur’s Gate was a twist not even I have expected.”

“I’m a hero to peasants and idiots. I only did it to save myself.” You respond and surprisingly this makes Cazador laugh. It’s a slow, arrogant laugh, coming deep from his chest, and you find yourself blushing slightly because you don’t think you said anything funny.

“Isn’t that right.” He says and offers you his hand. You look at it, hesitating, not taking it. “Do you know how hard it is to find useful allies?” Cazador asks and the way he keeps using the word ‘allies’ makes you feel like he’s taunting you again for saying it earlier, but you ignore it. “And how much harder it is to find spawn who are worthy of serving?”

What?

Your eyes snap to Cazador’s face and the grin now looks less arrogant and more dangerous. Your mind begins to reel, putting the puzzle pieces together as he keeps talking, now making one careful step towards you, then another, a predator in action.

“One thing I overlooked the last time I saw you, was the influence you could have if I only had you at my disposal. Your word could sway even the Duke, I’m sure of it.”

Unknowingly you begin stepping backwards, your heart racing in your chest and your eyes widening the longer Cazador speaks.

“You want me to speak to the Duke?” you ask because you hope that it’s all he wants, but the unwavering grin on vampire’s face immediately tells you that’s not the whole truth.

“Yes. As my spawn.”

Immediately your eyes narrow. Fight or flight - you choose the former. You always do.

Your knees bend in preparation for a leap, your claws ready to slash and rip, and you jump towards Cazador, seeing his face, aiming for his throat. You denied Bhaal, you won’t be enslaved by another demi-god wannabe.

But the moment your feet leave the stone underneath as you vault yourself at your sudden enemy, he makes just one step forward and with a single strike with the side of his clenched fist he brings you down, your back slamming onto the ground with a thud that pushes air out of your lungs.

You attempt to scramble to your feet before you feel a kick to the side and you cry out from pain.

“I knew you would fight, that’s why I didn’t proceed to turn you up there. You can make such a mess from what I have heard.” Cazador ridicules you and with a huff you try to get up again but another kick to the same side takes your breath away once more, especially so because this time the kick is strong enough to make your body rise in the air and turn, landing you on your stomach.

You hear his laughter, cruel and cold, while you get to your hands and knees, trying to crawl away now. Fear, something you have long forgotten, begins to grip at your chest. Fear that you’re not leaving this dungeon alive.

But before you can get any further, your chest slams into the hard stone again as Cazador pushes you down with his boot on your back, sharp heel of it digging painfully into your spine and you wince.

“Let me go!” you shout, your voice disappearing into the air without even an echo, and the vampire just chuckles, the weight of his boot increasing as he leans down. You gasp when you feel him grab one horn and yank your head back so that he can look you in the face.

“Oh Bhaalspawn, you have no power to fight me.” Cazador jeers with sly boasting in his every word. “Although I don’t think you would be able to fight me even if you were still your father’s rabid lapdog.” He chuckles and pulls harder on your horn, making your spine bend in an arch that makes your muscles tremble from pain.

“Stop!” you cry out now, desperate to be released and your tail moves as if on its own, wrapping around his wrist that holds your horn, but with other hand he quickly grabs it and yanks on it so hard you hear an unpleasant crunch.

You yell at the sensation, tears gathering in your eyes and you wait for worse to come, maybe Cazador really breaking your tail, but he suddenly releases both and you collapse onto the floor panting and sweating, your body screaming at you with pain that radiates through every tendon.

“Stop.” You beg this time, your eyes heavy lidded as you try to recover and a trail of saliva leaks out of the corner of your mouth because you can’t seem to close it, still gasping for air.

“No, not yet. I need you to realize something.” Cazador’s boot lifts from your back but you can’t move, not yet, you need couple seconds more, maybe then you have another fighting chance against the monster that so easily lured you down here.

“What?” you ask, hoping that if you have him talking - he won’t be as vigilant about your possible attempt at escape.

“That I prefer my spawn obedient.”

Before you can truly realize what’s going on, you hear fabric rip and only a moment later you comprehend that it’s your dress that is being ripped. You rise your head, quickly lifting yourself on your hands and look back in horrified awe as you watch three mage hands tear your clothes away. Even your bag gets tossed aside and skids nearly off the edge of the platform.

“You bastard!” You shout and get to your knees, trying to stand up but one of the mage hands moves quickly and pushes your chest down to the floor just like Cazador’s boot did before.

Instead of words, an arrogant chuckle first reaches your ears as you make a sound of angry frustration, your claws scraping at the stone as you try to lift yourself and simply can’t. Your hips in the air provide an easy angle for the magical limbs to remove last of your clothing. Before Cazador speaks you feel even your shoes being dragged off your feet, leaving you completely and utterly naked in front of him.

“You will learn to address me appropriately, but I’ll ignore it this once.” He says like it’s a mercy he’s granting you and you clench your teeth for a moment. Your face is burning with shame at being exposed like this and your tail tries to swat the other two mage hands that are holding your hips in place and in the air.

Suddenly your tail gets caught and by the cold touch you can tell it’s Cazador himself that has snatched it again. Then he yanks it upwards, making the base of it bend painfully once more. You cry out from the sensation, trying to scramble away or at least alleviate the suffering in your vertebrae, but you can’t, the spectral hands are holding you better than chains would.

“Wet already? I suspected someone like you might enjoy pain.” Cazador mocks and you freeze, your eyes widening with horror. He can’t be right, can he?

And yet when you feel his finger a sharp point of his nail trace along your slit you know he didn’t lie, you feel your arousal being smeared on your skin and you blush heavily. Partially from anger and partially because you feel the unwelcome sensation of desire beginning to burn below your stomach.

“It means nothing!” You shoot back with your teeth clenching immediately after you finish your sentence, because Vampire Lord starts inserting one digit into your cunt. You whine because slow penetration of his sharp nail feels dangerous, too close to real damage for it to be comfortable and sensual, he would just need to curl his finger and you would bleed.

“Nothing? I think it means everything. Lost without your father, an aimless daughter, wandering the land with no purpose. I’ll give you that purpose.” Cazador’s tone loses the mocking undertones because they get replaced with strange possessiveness.

His finger proceeds to embed itself in your body to the knuckle and you grind your jaw with both fury and fear. Fury because he has you at his mercy, fear because you know he’s a master at inflicting pain, more pain than you know you could handle. “But first you need to be shown that you ought to serve.”

The finger moves in your cunt slowly, one thrust, two, three, then Cazador pulls it out and your body relaxes. You didn’t even notice until now how firmly you were clenching around his digit, as if in hopes to prevent him from harming you. But your tail gets released too and you move it down, to try and cover yourself at least in this small, insignificant way, wrapping the end of it around your own leg in a way to comfort yourself.

But then you hear footsteps as Cazador walks around you in just three of them. At first you only see his shoes and pants, then your horn gets gripped again, your head yanked backwards and your nails try to cling to slippery, polished stone to no avail. And then your eyes meet the crimson gaze of his, you see the ever-present smirk on his face and you grimace from pain when the vampire makes your neck arch uncomfortably.

“Open your mouth.” He commands and you pause for a second, your eyes widening again for a brief moment before you frown even more. You press your lips together and now see Cazador’s own frown spelling danger as he glares at you. “I said open. Don’t make this difficult.”

You don’t listen, you don’t want to listen, you don’t have to listen. Even if you are aroused that doesn’t mean you will obey his every command, that’s not who you are and he should know better. As you glare back at him, still with one magical hand pressing your chest painfully to the ground, you barely pay attention to other two such hands. One keeps your hips up, but second one moves without you noticing, and then it makes you cry out. You feel ghostly fingers, two of them, thrust themselves into your cunt and then another one – right into your other hole.

You cry out and thus you open your mouth. With a sly grin Cazador shoves a finger into your maw, rubbing it against your tongue and you immediately taste yourself. His eyes gleam with conceit the moment realization comes to you and you flush harder, you simply can’t help it. The spectral hand begins to thrust its fingers into your holes and you mewl because the vampire makes you suck on his own digit. Maybe instinctively, maybe because you really want this, you do as he wishes, wrapping your lips around his finger and swirling your forked tongue, cleaning his skin from remnants of yourself.

“Perhaps you will be a fast learner.” Cazador muses as if to himself, watching you suck on his finger like it’s your newfound religion. “We shall see.”

You turn your gaze away from him and try not to moan, your throat swallowing the saliva that’s quickly pooling in your mouth around his finger. It’s hard keep quiet and your tail wraps around your leg tighter in a reminder to not give in, but you can barely hold on as is. Something about how Cazador is treating you is making every muscle in your body uncoil and every nerve in your brain dull from desire. The ghostly fingers work your holes and you shiver, feeling moisture dripping down your inner thigh from your body submitting itself to the pleasure despite your mind commanding it not to.

Suddenly Cazador pulls his finger from between your lips and you gasp, instinctively following it with your mouth but how he’s gripping your horn prevents you from moving more than an inch. He scoffs, as if judging you for your eagerness, and releases your horn, letting your chin drop to the cold floor, then straightens his back. Vampire’s eyes flick to the side of you and you moan when the spectral fingers retreat, leaving your body with a sensation of emptiness. Realization of just how much you enjoyed this torment crashes on you like a wave and you blush like you haven’t in your life before.

“So this is your plan? To fuck me into submission?” you ask, still unable to look at him, and Cazador scoffs again, but this time louder and with surprise you feel the mage hands releasing you.

With shaky arms you begin to push yourself upwards, seeing Vampire Lord’s shoes still in front of you before you rise your eyes.

“That’s enough of a plan for a feral animal such as yourself.” His words cut you deeply and you grit your teeth, slowly getting on all fours because your strained muscles scream from tension even when you unwrap your tail from around your own thigh.

“How dare you-“ your words get stuck in your throat when a hand appears in front of you and grips your neck with such speed that you barely see it.

Your eyes widen and you gasp couple times for air, unable to inhale, feeling how the magical hand pulls you by your neck upwards, making you kneel. Your fingers shoot to your throat, trying to grasp at the ghostly hand that is utilized not unlike a collar in this moment, but then the other two grab your wrists and bend your arms with no regard for your pain. You grunt with frustration and effort to fight them, but to no avail, soon your hands are pinned to the small of your back and you snarl at Cazador, who’s smug expression is beginning to drive you crazy.

When you’re finally wrangled into position he obviously envisioned for you, the grip on your throat relents and you inhale deeply, nearly beginning to cough, greedily sucking air into your lungs because you don’t know if you will be forbidden it again.

“Down.” Cazador commands and you narrow your eyes at him, your lips parted and your teeth clenched so hard you can hear them near squeak from pressure.

“Caz-“

“DOWN, YOU DOG!” He suddenly bellows and you immediately sit, your naked rear pressing firmly to the stone, it sends a shiver through your body because of how cold it feels against your skin.

But the most terrifying thing is Cazador’s face. Full of fury, full of power. Your eyes widen because you sense something terrifying about him now, like a power that his body starts exuding because his emotions burst through. He waits for a moment longer, waiting for you to protest or talk back, but when you remain silent, with your heart beating fast in your chest and your entire body otherwise frozen in the moment, he lifts his arm and with a palm slicks back his hair. Couple of strands escaped his neat appearance when he shouted at you and he clearly will not allow this.

“If you act like a mongrel – I will treat you as such. Did Astarion tell you nothing?” he asks with irritation not disguised in his tone but he smirks again, composing himself once more and steps closer.

You keep watching his face with your breathing quick and shallow, your eyes trying to find any signs that might tell you if he’s about to show you rage again. You’re so focused on it that you don’t pay attention to how close Cazador is getting, his form towering over you and casting a shadow like an ominous sign. You want to tell him that you don’t understand why he’s doing it, but you do, you understand perfectly, because the chill that begins to seep into your bones from the stone floor make the realization abundantly clear to you.

Then the spectral hand around your throat tightens once again and you’re about to make a noise, to complain, maybe even bargain but before you can get one syllable out, you feel Cazador’s shoe between your legs, the nose of his boot pressing against your slit, smearing itself in your arousal and when you gasp in shock, the nose moves and rubs against your clit, pressing and rubbing against it too strong to be pure pleasure, but it’s pleasure nonetheless.

You press your lips into a thin line, embarrassed that this is enough to make you shiver with need and you look away from Cazador, turning your eyes to the side from his face and then flinch when he presses the boot against your sensitive nub harder, making you gasp.

“What do you want?” you ask, flicking you gaze back to your tormentor and Cazador grins widely, his eyes narrowing from genuineness of his expression.

“I want you to beg.”

The answer is simple but it takes a moment for you to process it. In your silence Cazador rubs his boot against your folds again and you cast your gaze down, shivering in response, watching black leather smear with your wetness. Cazador’s fingers grip your jaw, making you once again look up at him and he can see your heavy-lidded gaze. Despite your protests and defiance, your body and mind are succumbing to him, you know this too. With dread you realize that everything within screams to submit just as he wishes.

“You will beg, Bhaalspawn. And then I shall grant you one last mercy.” Vampire Lord speaks in half a whisper, his sharp nails digging into your skin.

“Mercy?” you ask because you can’t help yourself even though you suspect the answer already.

But Cazador doesn’t answer, he just grins at you.

“Open.” He commands like he did just earlier and you hesitate for a moment but slowly part your lips for him. Last time he shouted, this time he might not be as lenient in his displeasure. “Good, girl, good. You’re beginning to learn faster than I anticipated.” It’s not a compliment, not a praise, not really, more like small encouragement for you to keep obeying him or else.

While still holding your jaw, Cazador uses his other hand to raise it to your face, index finger extended, and then he puts it in your mouth. You wait, unsure what to expect when it presses your tongue down and you keep looking him in the eyes, seeing that sinister satisfaction spell danger. And then pain comes.

Vampire’s finger curls and you whine when his nail pierces your tongue, almost pinning it to the bottom of your mouth. You tremble but don’t move, frozen from sudden shock and agony that envelops your orifice in full. Blood quickly pools around your tongue and his finger, warm and coppery, and you feel it begin dripping down your chin, maybe it’s dripping down his hand too, you can’t see, your eyes now locked on the man in front of you.

Yet without a word he yanks his hand away like he’s suddenly disgusted by you, his grip leaving your jaw as well and you watch him straighten his back and look at his bloody hand just before you dip your head down and spit the blood on the floor with a painful shiver. Your tongue feels both throbbing from agony and numb at the same time, but when you glance at Cazador again, you watch him silently as he sticks out his own tongue and drags a bloody finger against it, satisfaction clouding his gaze for just a moment. Godsdamn vampire.

When his eyes flick to you they narrow, and you are not sure what to expect now, maybe more pain as you swallow the next mouthful of blood instead of spitting it out, but then his eyes sweep over your naked form and stop at the bottom. His shoe, still pressed between your legs, remain there for a second longer, then he pulls it back.

“Clean it.” He demands and with your head swimming from pain, you take another second to comprehend his words. In your confusion you don’t see his still bloody hand raise, you don’t register as he first swings it back, then towards you.

When his slick from crimson palm connects with your cheek you cry out, your head snapping to the side with force, your hair spilling over your face and more blood drip past your lips. Before you can gather your bearings, your hair is gripped, your head is pulled back, most of the hair falls away but some stick to bloody skin of your face and you gasp once, your swimming vision trying to anchor itself on something but before even that can happen, Cazador’s lips crash against yours.

You can barely understand what’s going on, but you feel him kiss you, the action more punishing than passionate, but you’re not sure of anything anymore. You whine at the back of your throat when his tongue enters through your parted lips and laps at the blood coating the inside of your mouth. The spectral hands tighten around you as if to make sure you don’t move even an inch without Cazador’s permission and you tremble, your body responding to the kiss on its own, your forked tongue caressing his and you hear him hum as if in approval or maybe it’s his own desire stirring at last.

Vampire Lord’s face then leans away from you, his eyes studying your face, the blood smeared on your cheek and chin and dripping down your neck. Your lips smeared in life’s ichor, just as his are, and he releases your jaw, his back straightening again.

“I said clean it.” Cazador repeats the command and your gaze follows his when it drops down, to the smeared leather of his shoe.

You glance up at him again, then down again, and feel the mage hand on your throat finally release you, bruised spots where the spectral fingers held throbbing with sore relief. You begin to bend down, the other two mage hands letting you do so even though they remain holding your wrists behind your back. You try to move your knees, position yourself so that you don’t drop face-first onto the marble the moment you get lower, and with the help of your tail you succeed.

The boot is right in front of your face now and you pause, swallowing heavily and still tasting blood when you do so, but you hang your wounded tongue out and begin using it, cleaning the shoe where you see moistness of your cunt dirtying his expensive footwear. Again you taste yourself, but this time leather too, and you make sure that everything is clean before you stop. When you do – you finally feel the remaining two mage hands disappear and you immediately move your hands, pressing your palms against the cold stone underneath you, as you feel your wrists throb in pain too.

“Good.” Cazador hums again, the boot disappears from your field of vision and you’re sure he’s inspecting your handiwork for a moment before he proceeds with a new way to make you submit. And while everything in you is telling you to do as he pleases, it will hurt less, it will be less degrading, but there’s still a part of you, the Bhaalspawn part that Cazador himself spoke to you about in a room just above, in the ballroom.

That part wants to put a fight, to try and escape, to run from him and to return later to kill him, if that’s even possible to someone like you, without dark powers of your father protecting you and making you a formidable enemy in battle. That matters none right now, details can be figured out later, first you just need to escape.

Slowly you rise yourself on your hands and look up at Cazador, watching him watch you, his gaze completely unreadable but the little smirk, as always tugging at his lips, tells you that he’s not done with you, not even close.

But then opportunity presents itself. The vampire turns his back to you, walking to his coffin for a brief moment and you quickly look around, seeing your discarded clothes tossed about the ritual platform, and you decide that you don’t care if you run naked. Silently and carefully you being to turn your body to the staircase that leads up to the dais, to your salvation. With a corner of your eye you keep watch on Cazador as he does something, you’re not sure what, his back covering whatever his hands are doing, but the moment comes when you have to focus on your plan and you look at the grand stair, wondering if you can be faster than a Vampire Ascendant or not.

You frown, ignoring the pain in your knees and wrists, ignoring the throbbing of your tongue and already swollen from the hit cheek, ignoring the humiliation that makes your insides clench from both anger and secret desire that you don’t want to acknowledge even to yourself, not yet at least, but you begin to rise from your hands and knees, preparing to sprint the moment your feet touch the ground, your tail taunt like an arrow.

The second you begin to rise, one knee still on the ground, you feel cold fingers wrap around your throat from behind, pulling your body backwards until your spine presses against Cazador’s chest. A small breath against your ear as your face becomes a mask of shock and fear, you didn’t even hear him get closer.

“Where do you think you’re going, disobedient pup?” he mocks and his nails dig into your skin, piercing it, making you wince.

Your hands fly to your throat, grasping at his fingers and wrist but failing to really get a grip, scratching his skin and leaving marks. You hear Cazador hiss with disapproval against your ear and then his fingers release you.

Immediately you scramble forwards but not for longer than a second before you feel your horns being gripped and pulled at. You have no choice but to clamber after the movement, trying to keep up, before you feel yourself being pulled off the ground. You yell in pain and terror, your fingers trying to make Cazador release his grasp on you, your tail swishing wildly, looking for something to hold onto when weight of your own body begins to pull you down, giving a feeling like your horns are being ripped out of your head. Tears gather in your eyes and spill down your face, leaving clean streaks on the blood-smeared skin. You see the promise of escape, the many steps that you took just to come here, for a moment longer, before your whole body is spun and flung.

You find yourself flying through the air for a split second before you crash to the ground with a painful thud and skid slightly, your talons wildly grasping at the floor until you come to a stop. Panting, you lift your head and see the looming shape of Cazador’s coffin facing you. You whine when you try to get up, your body now feeling bruised and sore all over, your skull throbbing around the horns, and you choke out a sob, finally and fully realizing that there’s no escape for you, not from him, not from Cazador Szarr.

This time you hear him walking closer, his boots sounding heavier than the weight of all the sins you have committed, and you look back at him, real terror reflected in your eyes as you see his smile that promises no salvation.

“Stop.” You beg this time, your lips tremble, your whole body is shaking and tears keep spilling down your face, running down your neck and to your chest. You’re unable to move even if you wish to, petrified when the weight of the situation finally catches up with you.

“You’ll have to do better than this.” Cazador taunts, he’s right behind you now and you expect more pain. A kick, a hit, maybe this time a broken bone, a ripped-out horn, mangled flesh.

But instead you see him kneel with one knee behind you, as if you’re a wounded dog he’s approaching with caution, but you remain frozen, still on all fours, not sure what he wants from you now.

“Come.” He offers you his hand and your eyes flick to it, then his eyes, trying to read vampire’s intentions, trying to understand what he wants to do to you now, but no answer comes. His expression looks almost kind, deceivingly so. “Come, I said.” Cazador’s tone grows harsher and you know by now that you have only a second to obey.

So you obey. You turn on all fours, not unlike the wounded dog he sees in you at this moment, and glance at his extended hand again, but before you can move closer and take it, Cazador moves and sits on the ground, splaying his legs, one hand behind him, palm pressed to the stone for support, and his other hand, now instead of being offered to you, waves at you, invitingly.

“Come.” A third command, empty of any tone indication and you get closer, crawling to him with fear in your heart and blood drumming in your ears. At least your tears stopped, for now.

You hesitate as you get close, but Cazador’s eyes remain unreadable while he pats his thigh as if you’re a pet. You obey again. By now you know that you have no choice.

“Turn around.” He mutters to you almost softly when you begin to search for a position to sit between his legs and you follow this command as well, turning around even though your sore body does not want to easily listen. Everything hurts but with resignation you sit.

The moment you do, you feel Cazador’s palms on your shoulders, pulling your back against his chest, then one arm wraps around your waist.

“Do you see it?” he asks and you look in front of you, seeing his stone coffin rise above you both, like a monument to vampire’s immortality.

“Yes.” You whisper after you swallow a lump in your throat. Talking hurts, your tongue is still radiating with pain, but you try your best as you sit on the ground, leaning against Cazador’s chest, your hands in your lap and your thighs pressed together for that last bit of dignity you pretend still having.

Sitting like this with him is not uncomfortable. You smell blood and a hint of decay, something you became familiar with when hanging around Astarion, but with Cazador this smell has become alluring. Despite your pain you grow aroused again, this time the fire in your abdomen is so hot it feels like it’s searing your skin from the inside. You press your thighs tighter but that doesn’t go unnoticed by the vampire. He doesn’t continue the thought he had, instead moving his head to look at your legs.

“Open them.” He says and you try not to obey, but your body listens even before your mind succumbs and you part your legs, smelling your arousal, seeing it glisten on your inner thighs and you hear Cazador scoff. “You’re easier than I thought, besides your rebellious streak that I will beat out of you sooner or later.”

He hums against your ear and his hand leaves your shoulder, his fingers now landing on your stomach, gently tracing down, and you almost squirm because you want him to touch you. Thoughts of danger swim in your head but you shove them away, not now, not again, and your own fingers grip the flesh of your thighs as Cazador’s hand slips lower, over your pubic bone and then-

The moment his fingers slip to your clit you exhale with pleasure, your eyelids drooping from the sensation that your body gets overwhelmed with.

“Do you like it?” the vampire suddenly asks against your ear the moment you lean your head back against his chest and you shiver.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

You don’t reply but his fingers compel you as they begin to massage and circle your clit. He plays with your folds for a moment, your wetness making his strokes easier, slicker. He traces your slit and then rubs your pleasantly throbbing nub again, making your legs quiver and your tail wrap around his shin. You don’t see how his eyebrows rise at this, but even if you did you wouldn’t care.

“Yes, master.” You finally succumb and you see the coffin in front of you, wondering for a briefest of moments if you will get one of your own.

“That’s a good girl. You learn fast. I knew you were a right choice, I just needed to break you.” Cazador chuckles against your cheek, the tone of his laugh menacing and arrogant, but even that you now find alluring, sensual in its own way.

Sweat begins to bead your skin, slipping down the ridges of your tiefling body and you tremble again. Cazador is better at this than you would’ve assumed, your pleasure is building fast, moving like a slippery snake inside of you as his fingers work you to your pleasure deliberately and precisely. Then you have an urge to see him, to see the man who so easily made you submit, and you move your head, your eyes finally finding vampire’s face and notice that his expression is calmer and less malicious, his eyelids heavy as he gives you a glance that washes over you like a sea of crimson.

No words get exchanged, no permission is given, but you move, twisting your body so that you can swiftly move one hand to the back of his neck and lean Cazador’s face to you only for you to capture his lips in a kiss. He doesn’t resist and doesn’t stop you, kissing you back in a slightly reserved manner at first, but then giving in. His tongue grazes over your sharp teeth the moment you part your lips, and you do the same, exploring his fangs, knowing that soon they will mark you as his forevermore.

Cazador’s fingers toy with your cunt, but then falter, you feel his own arousal, his hardness press between your back and him, and you can’t help but want it, need it even, to feel it, maybe you always wanted him, maybe you at last give in to the desire you carried within you from the moment you saw him. Maybe you hoped for this the moment you offered to give him his spawn back.

Maybe it’s finally coming true.

Unexpectedly now, Cazador moves his hand from your waist and pushes you forward, making you slip over the smooth stone from him. His fingers leave your drenched cunt and you whine with despair, trying to turn to him, to try to kiss him again, but when you glimpse at his hands, you see that the Vampire Lord is now fumbling with his clothes, his hard cock quickly emerging from the fabrics he’s wearing and you swallow at the sight like you’re an animal in heat. A promise of pleasure instead of pain, you want it, you need it.

Cazador’s hand tugs at your waist again, your back pressing to his chest once more, and you whine with no shame, expressing your temporary disappointment.

“Take it.” He commands, the words being the permission and a guarantee you are craving for.

It takes only a moment for you to plant your feet to the floor and your palms on Cazador’s thighs as you lift yourself. His arm around your waist helps you lift yourself even higher and when you look down you see his hard length ready to impale you. You bite your lower lip and watch vampire’s other hand grip the base of his cock, ready for you to take it in. So you do, lowering yourself upon it as if you were made for this moment and this moment alone.

When you feel his soft tip nudge at your entrance and then slip inside with ease - you moan, your body trembling in delightful response. You keep sinking upon his cock, letting it enter you, letting it stretch you, and you moan louder the deeper you insert him into yourself. Finally, when you take him in full, you sigh loudly.

“Such a needy whore.” Cazador taunts but you don’t care, you begin to move.

It’s difficult to ride him like this but you try your best, making sure that your feet won’t slip and even put one of them on his thigh for better support. You gasp every time you are impaled again, but seems Cazador is impatient with your clumsy attempt to find a good position, because you hear him grunt, something between annoyance and pleasure of his own, and then his arm wrap under your other thigh, the one still on the ground, while his free hand grips over the inner thigh of your propped up leg.

“Incompetent, even in this.” Vampire grunts and begins to move you, making your body rise and fall so much faster and so much harder. You hurry to find purchase with your hands but the only thing you can do is twist them just enough so that you can weakly grab onto his shoulders behind you.

Your moans become louder and at first you look at the imposing coffin in front of you, but then lower your gaze to watch yourself getting fucked, his cock glistening with your arousal, leaking down his balls that swing every time you are brought down upon his length. You moan and shudder, your eyes locked on the sight, and your tail is still squeezing his thigh as he uses you to pleasure himself. Cazador’s grunts are like a most wonderful song against the side of your face, and you let your eyes close as you begin to feel your climax approaching.

Just as you begin to grasp at the strands of your bliss, your body beginning to tighten in Cazador’s grip, he suddenly pushes you off, making you fall chest first onto the ground. You gasp, confused and shocked, and your mind is bleary from pleasure still radiating through your body that’s begging for it to be prolonged. You only glance behind your shoulder to watch Cazador get up, hold his pants with one hand and with other he grabs your hair, yanking you upwards until you somehow manage to find your feet planted onto the floor.

“Cazador-“ you start, forgetting that he wants you to call different now, and you pay the price for your transgression as you are marched some steps forward and the side of your face gets slammed against the rough stone of his coffin. It feels like your bone cracks from the impact and you cry out, but then moan when Cazador plunges his cock into your cunt again.

“You will address me appropriately, girl.” He grunts right against your ear, his height so imposing that he needs to crane his head down to do that.

“Yes, master!” You cry out enthusiastically, your body shivering when he begins to plow into you with no concern for your pain.

His thrusts are rough, demanding and relentless as he fucks you against his coffin, your chest pressed painfully against the stone, your skin scraping against the sharp edges of it, making you bleed, but you feel none of this. Consumed by your lust, you grip onto the side of the coffin and hold on as if for dear life as he pounds into you. Cazador holds you down by your hair but his other hand comes into your view when he presses it palm-first onto the surface next to your face, his nails scratching at the rough texture of it.

You hear him pant and grunt as if he’s performing a task and not chasing his pleasure, maybe in his mind it’s both, but you don’t stop to think about it, in fact you don’t think at all, letting your body succumb to the pleasure while your tail once more wraps around his leg.

“Say it again.” Cazador demands and you have to wet your lips with your sore tongue before you are able to answer him.

“Yes, master!” you cry out again, your mind begins to swim as your climax approaches you and you cry out loudly with his every thrust, feeling your spine arch and bend as your body prepares you for pleasure.

“Never forget this.” Vampire Lord hisses and his grip in your hair tightens before you suddenly shout the moment his fangs pierce your neck.

In a moment you hear him swallow a mouthful of your blood and then he moans against your skin, his thrusts becoming erratic, but the coldness of his cock doesn’t stop you from realizing that he began to spill himself deep inside of you. You wail from both pleasure and pain, then feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as your climax takes you, making you shudder and spasm as Cazador’s slowing thrusts help you ride out your pleasure to the fullest.

When he finally stops, you are left trembling, with your knees weak, your body sore and your head dizzy. And then the pain returns, the one in your neck, so sharp and so overwhelming, that it nearly erases any traces of pleasure you just felt. Tears gather in your eyes once more and you whine as if begging for him to be gentler, and it’s like Cazador understands.

He leans his head back, releasing your throat from his bite, and then leans to the side to look at your face. You see his smug expression and blood painting his lips. Without a warning he releases you, pulling you back and roughly turning you around, harshly gripping your throat so that you don’t crumple to the floor at his feet. Cazador smirks as he watches your sweaty, bruised and bloody face, and you can feel the coldness of his seed beginning to leak down your inner thigh, a mark you haven’t expected from him but do not find it unwelcome.

“Maybe I’ll keep you alive for a little while longer.” Vampire’s gaze sweeps over your form, some sort of idea obviously just occurred to him, and you wonder what he means before he presses a palm to your lower stomach. “Maybe you can serve in a different way first, before I turn you into a spawn.” He muses and it takes you a moment or two until you realize what he means.

You try to speak but he finally releases your throat and you fall to the ground with a gasp. When you lift your head to him, your hair spilling around your face and your eyes still betraying your dazed state, he suddenly leans over you and caresses your cheek with a grin, his thumb smearing your tears over your swollen skin.

“Even cattle have their uses.”

With that his touch leaves you and you watch him button up his pants, then straighten out his shirt, not giving even a glance in your direction.

“I advise you don’t try to run, girl. There’s no escape for you anymore.” He chuckles and turns on his heel, then stops for a moment. “Get back upstairs when you can walk, ask someone to show you where you will be staying from this point on. I’ll call for you when I want to see your face again.” Cazador’s words are curt, cutting and insulting at the same time, and you flush as you watch him slick back his hair with one palm. He’s waiting for something.

“Thank you, master.” You whisper with your throat dry and your tongue painfully swollen, but you hear him exhale, satisfied with your response, then he walks off, climbing the stairs and leaving you behind, his footsteps not leaving even an echo in the vast cave surrounding you.

Exhausted, in pain and yet trembling from pleasure at the same time, you remain sitting on the floor, trying to understand what happened, how it happened and why. But before long, the chill of the stone begins to seep into your bones and you get up, gathering your scattered clothes and putting them on slowly, carefully, being mindful of your aching body.

And you smile.

You can’t help smiling widely, like you never smiled before. You better hurry up and find where you will be staying from this point on. Excitement clutches at your chest as you begin to climb the same stairs Cazador used just earlier.

Maybe this is the purpose you were looking for all along. To belong to someone. Maybe you don’t know any other life, but it’s not that you mind this. What happened was everything you ever wanted and more. And so much more still awaits in the future.

You feel excited.

[kawareo]

And in the end, you were nought but a blink.

I finished Unsaved!! :)

I had such a blast writing it, thank you so much for everyone who commented and gave support, I read every single comment and they mean so so much to me

Feel free to send me your thoughts on the fic as a whole or just anything in general! I know for a fact I wouldn't get this far without such an active feedback ^^

[spacebarbarianweird]

Burn, Butcher, Burn!

Synopsis: Before leaving Baldur's Gate for good, Tiriel and Astarion have one more thing to do.

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Tags: fluff, traumatized Astarion, things and places are burning

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Please! Let me out! Please!

Cold. Hunger. Pain.

How long has he been there?

Months? Years? Decades?

Astarion has bitten his wrists to get at least a few more drops of blood. But it only made him hungrier. He dreams of fleas and rats and worms because at least those vermin are alive.

He hasn’t moved for so long. He wishes only for death.

But he is already dead.

And it’s only getting worse.

The torture will never end. His skin will be flayed. His body will be raped. His bones will be broken.

Over and over again.

The reverie lets Astarion go. He stares into the darkness – full of shades of grey thanks to his elven darkvision. 

He isn't in the coffin.

Astarion licks his lips. Memories slowly crawl back dispelling the nightmares.

Could it be…

Something moves beside him. A body.

Is it another conquest? Another victim? Is it?

Astarion elbows up fearing he will see an unfamiliar face.

Tiriel nuzzles into his chest. Her breathing is steady and so is her heartbeat. She is as warm as a fireplace. She has a bandage on her neck, and Astarion catches a subtle scent of blood.

It is real. All of it.

Freedom. 

Love.

Satiation.

Warmth.

Astarion stares at Tiriel’s face.

A month ago, they both got rid of the parasites and Astarion had to return to the darkness. 

He expected Tiriel to abandon him once she saw him for what he really was.

She didn’t.

And she is still there, by his side.

He watches her, studying her facial features. Tiriel hugs him, sharing her body warmth with him, and he knows his cold touch would feel uncomfortable to her if it wasn’t for an extremely thick blanket covering them.

Suddenly Tiriel moves and opens her eyes.

“Hm? Are you awake?” she asks.

“Yes”

She turns on her back, tugs her blanket and falls asleep.

Of course, Astarion realizes she woke up because he was staring.

Astarion sits up, putting his legs on the floor.

He needs something to occupy himself – it’s still daylight outside, almost noon. And Tiriel needs to sleep.

Sleep. Such a strange concept. Elves need to get absolutely wasted or drugged to experience what others have to go through daily. Would he be happier if he could sleep? He remembers his siblings – Petras’ stupid smile, Leon’s peaceful face.

It seems like he and Daylria suffered the most – elves who couldn't escape from their misery to the dream world.

Astarion stands up and sits on the floor.

What to do?

Boredom was such a weird concept – he never experienced peace in the two centuries of misery.

And now he has all the peace in the world.

And Astarion doesn't know what to do with it.

He opens a book. Closes it.

So many books to read. And he can't choose any. He lacks concentration. Before, he could have only dreamt of indulging in all these simple luxuries, but now, he simply can't make himself.

He fears being punished.

Beaten. 

Astarion curls at Tiriel’s side. Plants a kiss on her back. Deep down, he wishes to wake her up, to hear her voice soothing his anxieties.

What if she were an elf like him and didn't need to sleep…

Nonsense. Astarion can wait a few hours before Tiriel returns to him. 

He lets Tiriel go and leaves the bed. He approaches a small window and hears voices from the outside. He doesn't dare to open the thick curtain for even the small amount of sun will leave him in pain and burns.

It's been a week since the netherbrain, and the city was being slowly re-constructed – whole streets were destroyed. Astarion knows the city will never be the same again.

He doesn’t feel sorry.

Astarion hates Baldur's Gate.

He hates these streets and these houses, these taverns and inns. The streets are full of homeless people and beggars. The whole city used to be his hunting ground. The whole place used to be a brothel. How many people of different races did he bed? How many times did he lie on his back or on his stomach while yet another ‘lover’ used his body to their liking? How many times did he use his mouth to go down on them? 

Didn’t any of them notice he was already dead?

And how many times did he wish to die?

It’s still hard to believe it is all over. 

He tugs the curtain just a bit to see the outside but not be burnt. They stay in the upper town, which was relatively untouched by the debris, but the place is too familiar for Astarion.

He can see the Cazador’s mansion.

It’s still there. Dark and empty. Even though many people lost their homes, no one dared to stay there, maybe, believing the lord and his invisible servants were still somewhere.

It looks like a menace, like a warning that nothing is over. Nothing will ever be over…

Nothing…

“Hello, love,” Tiriel mutters, elbowing up.

Astarion flinches and realizes it’s almost sunset outside. How long did he stay like that?

“You should have woken me up. Though I think I want to sleep for days,” she smiles. Her face is puffy, her hair is messy; she is the most beautiful person Astarion has met. “Can I kiss you?”

Astarion suspects he smiles like an idiot. 

“You know you don't have to ask?” he murmurs.

“But I like to.” 

Tiriel puts her palms on his cheeks and kisses him. For a brief moment, there is nothing but her warmth, her heartbeat, and her scent.

She breaks the embrace and Astarion adores her face. Freckles, deep wrinkles on her forehead when she smiles, her lips, her eyes (one blue, the other is green), half-elven ears – he still hesitates to tug them when she is in his arms, and, gods, her fire read hair that looks like a flame in the sunshine.

Pity he will never see her like that again.

Tiriel pulls away and looks out the window. Then, she frowns.

“Something on your mind, my love?” He touches her cheeks. She nods.

“Astarion, I need to go and do something. Will you be able to find me at sunset? You know… by…”

“Now that my vampiric abilities are back I can catch your scent even in that wretched crowd of a city. Don’t worry. I can always find you.”

“Great, because honestly, I am afraid to get lost.”

Tiriel pulls away, but Astarion grasps her arm. The very idea of staying in that room alone scares him.

He doesn’t want it.

“But can’t we do that together when it’s dark?” He pouts.

“Please, it’s almost sunset. You won’t regret it.”

Astarion feels torn apart. He is afraid Tiriel is going to leave him. What if she is scared of him? And wants to run away? What if there is a ship that will take her far away from him and she just has enough time to board it?

But if he keeps pushing…What if it makes her realize he is a lost cause? What if he is breaking something between them right now?

What if…

“Astarion look at me,” Tiriel asks and he realizes he’s been staring at the floor. “I am not going to leave you. I don’t want to break up. I’ve been telling you that every day since you returned to the shadows. I made a choice and I am not regretting it, at least, for now. I just want to do something – just find me at sunset, all right?”

“Good,” Astarion sits on the floor and takes a book. “I will try to occupy myself.”

Tiriel quickly puts on her clothes and leaves. Astarion feels her scent fading as she goes further away.

He must get used to it. He won’t be able to keep her all by himself the whole day long and she will have to go away from time to time. But it doesn’t mean he feels less lonely.

When it’s dark, he jumps on his feet and rushes outside. 

Strange.

Her scent is still very close, though he thought she would be waiting for him in the Lower Town.

He covers his head with a hood and follows the path. Then he realizes …

… that he follows a way too familiar path…

It's the road to Cazador’s mansion.

The same narrow streets he used to walk returning back with yet another victim. Or without anything, knowing he would be flayed and beaten.

He stops hoping he’s mistaken, but Tiriel's scent leads him directly to the mansion.

But why? Why?!

He is getting angrier with every step he has to make. How dare she force him to come back? How dare she?!

Then he feels tears pricking his eyes. He has only recently started grieving his past and everything that was taken from him.

He finds Tiriel at the wooden tower. Its enchanted guardians left the place when Cazador died and now it is as empty as everything else.

Tiriel sits at the table and there is a sack at her legs.

“Hi!” She waves at him. “I’ve been missing you!”

“Why did you bring me here?” He demands. His voice betrays his emotion, he knows he sounds like he is about to cry.

“Well, first, I found some good prospects for us – so we can leave the city tomorrow and never come back. And second – you can cast ignis, can’t you”

Astarion raises his hand feeling how magic fire prickles his fingers. Yes, this spell was always his. It was something natural for him, a fey magic, but Cazador forbade him from using it. Because otherwise, Astarion would be able to warm himself. And now he can use it freely.

Tiriel smiles again and raises her hand. She inherited the same skill from her elven ancestors. 

Create small balls of fire and throw them into enemies. The problem with Tiriel is the fact that when she is in her berserker state, she can’t concentrate on magic. So it’s more like a game to her rather than a weapon.

“So, I suggest,” she opens the sack showing a few dozen glass bottles. “We burn this place down! And if someone wants to punish us for arson, we are going to be far far away.”

“And what is that?”

“A gift from gnomes. Looks like water but burns like a spirit. This place will be set on fire with all its fancy stuff, beds, chambers, ugly paintings, dust, and whatever is left here.”

Tiriel laughs as if she is going to have the biggest fun in her life.

“I never noticed you were a pyromaniac!”

“Astarion, there are many things we need to learn about each other. And a new fact about me – I love burning things. I love setting places on fire. And I so much enjoy hearing you casting ignis. Makes me want you even more than I usually do. But”  She closes the sack. “If you don’t want to, just tell me, and I will sell the potions at the market.”

Astarion lets out a laugh. Gods. He has been dreaming of burning this place down for centuries. Cazador couldn’t prohibit his thinking and Astarion liked imagining this place on fire. He often would imagine himself burning too, because vampires can burn.

But he has never said it to Tiriel.

But she knew he would love it.

Astarion takes the heavy sack. 

“Yes. Let’s burn this fucking place down!”

Tiriel grabs his hand and makes him follow her into the dark halls.

One bottle for the room of the favorite spawns.

Two bottles for the chamber where Astarion had to sleep with his victims.

Three for the torture dungeon.

One by one they throw bottles in rooms and closets. Astarion rips the rugs and curtains, and Tiriel breaks the paintings and furniture. 

A bottle for the tower of Cazador’s niece.

A bottle in Cazador’s wardrobe.

Astarion curses. And laughs. He dominates his own past and Tiriel encourages him to keep going.

“Oh look! The bastard had so much whiskey and wine! What for?” She says opening the wine cellar.

“For parties,” Astarion finds the most expensive ones and throws them on the floor. “And sometimes he would try to drink himself to numbness.”

“Watch out!” Tiriel grabs yet another bottle but Astarion jumps to her and snatches it from her hands. “What?”

“It’s Berduskan Dark. The most expensive wine on the Swords Coast.”

“And?”

“It costs 1500 gold at least!”

“You wanna sell it?”

“I don’t,” Astarion opens the cork. “It is dark, like blood, and sweet.”

“Like blood?”

“Yes,” he chuckles. “It has a very high alcohol content. Can knock out an ork. I wonder where he took it from.”

Tiriel shrugs. “You know I don’t like wine.”

“You just never tasted a proper one,” Astarion smiles. “Open your mouth.”

Tiriel obeys and sticks her tongue a bit. Astarion gently takes her head and pours wine into her mouth. The Berduskan Dark streams down Tiriel’s throat and along her chin, staining the shirt.

“Oh fuck,” she mutters gulping the wine. “It burns my tongue!”

“Yes, like it's supposed to. Keep drinking..”

Tiriel takes the bottle and takes a few more gulps. Astarion thinks maybe he should have offered her a goblet, but it’s too late.

She finished almost the whole bottle off.

“Fuck!” She slurs and almost falls off the table. “I don’t remember ever getting wasted so fast.”

“Good.”

“Oh…That was your plan! You wanted to taste Berduskan Dark!” Tiriel puts the cork back. But I do it only for you because I don't really like it!”

Astarion tugs Tiriel and kisses her wine-stained lips.

Then, he imagines himself in the same room mere months ago. 

What would he think if he knew it was possible? To destroy that cellar, to kiss a person he wants, to get drunk together?

“What was the bastard's favorite place?” Tiriel asks.

“Come on,” Astarion takes her hand and leads her through the dark halls to the throne room. The black armchair made of dark wood looks ridiculous and pompous. “The bastard thought of himself as royalty!”

“But he was a moron. Neither the bhaalists considered him a target nor Gortash invited him to his coronation,” Tiriel falters. Now she is completely drunk.

Astarion pulls her to the throne and makes her sit on the soft pillows. Cazador’s pillows were made of some expensive fabrics – the ones that were supposed to always be clean.

“Can I bite you?” He asks.

“Of course.”

Astarion grazes her throat. He doesn’t care about the mess he is making. He wants to create a mess. 

Tiriel’s blood spills over the throne and pillows and Astarion tastes alcohol. Then he suddenly feels happy. Darkness fades away, replaced by intoxication and satiation. 

As for Tiriel's clothes, he will wash them. Or will get her new ones. Doesn’t really matter.

“Now we are both drunk,” she pouts.

Astarion almost falls when he takes the last bottle from the sack. Tiriel hugs him and starts murmuring drunkenly.

“You are so cute, you know that? And your ears stick so funny from your hair! You look like a dandelion!” She laughs as if it was the funniest joke she’s ever heard.

Asatrion smashes the last bottle and the fire and liquid mixes with blood. 

Tiriel raises her hand, trying to cast a fireball.

“No!” He shuts her mouth. “Are you stupid? The whole place is soaked in wine and this gnome shit!”

Tiriel bites his palm. And then starts laughing and snorting.

Astarion grabs her waist and lifts her on his shoulder. She keeps laughing and insulting Cazador, calling him a miserable dork with no imagination.

“Like, he was immortal and powerful… But he didn’t bother to go hunting himself! What was wrong with him? I mean, was he afraid of people? Astarion, you fed him dirty drunk homeless idiots who haven’t washed in decades! And he was all right with it? I mean, I know there are idiots! But this is some new level for me!”

Astarion approaches the main door. Turns back. Sees the mansion for the last time.

“Burn in hell,” he says. “Burn!”

Then he opens the door with his leg and gets outside.  They walk a few yards then he places Tiriel on the ground (she barely can walk by herself) and she immediately opens the cork of the wine bottle.

“You said you didn’t like it.”

“But you did.”

Astarion raises his hand and feels the fey fire prickling his fingers.

“IGNIS!”

A fire ball is thrown through the open door into the hall.

And the vampire mansion is set on fire. 

Astarion watches the fire consuming his past, destroying his misery.

And he cries.

He cries out loud like a lost child, clinging to Tiriel as his source of comfort and warmth. And Tiriel drunkenly starts singing him a lullaby.

“Tsk. It’s all right, my love,” she whispers. “It’s all right. We are starting anew tomorrow. We will see so many places together that you will forget that mansion. And I will touch you so many times it will make all the dirt you’ve been through fade away.”

Astarion keeps crying as they walk back to the inn. And Tiriel, drunk and dizzy, falls asleep in his arms in their bed.

**

The touches don’t burn his skin and he doesn't feel disgusting. It's something new. Astarion turns back to see naked Tiriel napping on the grass. She sleeps shamelessly, her legs half open and the fresh bite mark barely healed,

Astarion knows it’s a reverie. A weird memory he doesn’t know how to feel about. It's the first time Tiriel was his. He kissed her, he hugged her, he had sex with her. It was all a game for him but something else for her. 

The memories slowly set him free and he realizes Tiriel is still in his arms. She doesn’t sleep, that’s for sure, but she also doesn’t move, allowing him to relax in her embrace.

He reaches out for her ear and tugs it, forcing her to squirm.

“Half-elves do have sensitive ears!” he laughs. 

“That was weird,” she mutters. “Do it again.”

“You don’t need to ask twice,” he repeats the same motion. “Are we leaving today?”

“Yes,” she puts her arms on his back. “And we aren’t coming back, love.”

--

@tugoslovenka  

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@vixstarria 

@not-so-lost-after-all  

@marcynomercy  

@theearthsfinalconfession 

@starlight-ipomoea    

@micropoe10 

@astarion-imagine-archive  

@veillsar

@elora-the-slutty-songstress  

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[reinwinters]

@imagineitdearies

The final moment.

[seriiousgiirl]

𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝕴𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖂𝖎𝖓𝖊.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓭!𝓐𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 — 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝐼𝓥⊹ ₊ ݁.

❛ You lied to me! I did. You poisoned me! I did. You said you loved me! I do. ❜

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱. ⊹ ₊ ݁. regency!au, strangers to lovers, slow burn, tension, mutual pining, angst, smut will happen later, lewd themes, corruption, age difference, forced marriage, gothic setting, dark themes.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

➜ ┊ a/n: I'd like to thank everyone who has supported this story so far, I never thought anyone would be interested. It means a lot. ♡

The doorbell rang, its sound resonating through the quiet halls of your home. You paused, setting aside the book you had been reading, your heart fluttering with a mix of anticipation and curiosity. Moments later, your maid appeared at the door of your sitting room, cradling a magnificent bouquet of red roses in her arms. 

"These just arrived for you, miss," she said, her smile warm and knowing.

You reached for the bouquet, your fingers brushing against the delicate petals as you searched for the inevitable note nestled within. Unfolding the small piece of parchment, your heart skipped a beat as you recognized the elegant, flowing script. It was from Astarion.

My dearest Y/N,

Would you like to meet at the park later today?

Since the ball, your days have been filled with such enchanting surprises. Every morning, without fail, brought a new delight—a fresh bouquet of flowers, a beautifully bound book of poetry, or a heartfelt letter penned in Astarion's distinctive hand. Each gift is a demonstration of his thoughtfulness and growing affection.

Your mother, however, was less enthusiastic about this burgeoning romance. 

She watched with a critical eye, her disapproval evident in the tight lines of her mouth and the occasional sharp comment. Yet, despite her reservations, you found yourself eagerly anticipating each new message from Astarion, each new opportunity to see him.

You turned to your maid, who was watching you with an expression of gentle amusement. "Would you help me get ready for an outing to the park?"

She nodded, her eyes twinkling with a mixture of approval and fondness. "Of course, miss. Let's make sure you're ready to meet your charming gentleman."

As she helped you dress, you couldn't help but reflect on the past few days. In his company, you found a rare sense of freedom and joy. Your conversations ranged from the profound to the trivial, from dreams and aspirations to the simple pleasures of life. With Astarion, every moment felt infused with a sense of possibility.

You could still recall the way his eyes would light up when he saw you, the way his voice would soften as he spoke of his thoughts and feelings. Each encounter deepened your connection, making you yearn for the next—making you yearn for him.

As you smoothed the last wrinkle from your gown, your maid stepped back to admire her handiwork. 

She tilted her head slightly, a playful glint in her eye. "Do you think Lord Ancunin will match the colour of your dress today as well, miss?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

You couldn't help but smile at the thought. Astarion had an uncanny knack for matching his attire to yours, as if he knew exactly what you would be wearing each day. The lilac dress from the ball, the pale blue for your last meeting, and perhaps, the soft rose you had chosen for today. It had become a delightful, unspoken game between you. 

"I’m hopeful," you replied, a note of excitement creeping into your voice. "He hasn't missed a single time yet."

The maid chuckled softly. "It seems he's quite taken with you, miss. Such attention to detail is not common."

Your heart warmed at the thought. Each meticulously chosen outfit, every thoughtful gift, spoke of a man who was deeply invested in your happiness. Astarion's gestures, grand and small, had woven themselves into the fabric of your daily life, making each day brighter and more exciting than the last.

"He's certainly different," you admitted, feeling a flutter of anticipation as you thought of the afternoon ahead. "And I think that's what makes this all so... wonderful."

The maid nodded, her eyes kind and understanding. "Well, let's not keep him waiting, then. You look absolutely perfect."

With one last glance in the mirror, you took a deep breath, feeling a sense of calm wash over you. Today promised to be another chapter in the beautiful story that was unfolding between you and Astarion. 

As you descended the stairs, the bouquet of flowers still fresh in your mind, you couldn't help but wonder at how much your life had changed since you arrived in Baldur's Gate. The city, once so intimidating and foreign, had become a place of discovery and unexpected romance, and all thanks to Astarion.

You stepped out into the crisp air, the sun casting a warm glow over the bustling streets. The carriage was ready, and with a sense of excitement, you climbed in, eager to see what the day would bring.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

As your carriage rolled to a stop at the park's entrance, you could already see Astarion waiting for you. Even from a distance, his elegance was unmistakable. He wore a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, the fabric catching the sunlight in a way that accentuated his every movement. But it was the pale pink handkerchief tucked into his breast pocket that drew your eye—a detail that matched your dress flawlessly. 

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. The round sunglasses he wore were nearly opaque, casting an air of mystery over his crimson eyes, which you longed to see.

The coachman opened the door, and Astarion was at your side in an instant. He extended a gloved hand to help you down, his touch as gentle as always. "Good afternoon, my lady," he greeted, his voice smooth and rich with a hint of amusement. "Did you enjoy the roses this morning?"

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his thoughtful gesture. "They were beautiful, Astarion. Thank you. Each bloom was perfect."

He inclined his head, a pleased smile playing at his lips. "I'm delighted you liked them. They reminded me of you—elegant and captivating."

Your cheeks flushed at his compliment, and you were grateful for the momentary distraction of straightening your skirts. The park around you was serene, with pathways lined by tall, leafy trees and flower beds bursting with colour. It was a perfect setting for your rendezvous.

Astarion offered his arm, and you took it gladly, feeling the now-familiar thrill of being close to him and his muscles tensing beneath your palm. As you walked together, the hem of your dress brushing softly against the grass, you marvelled at how each of your meetings felt more special than the last.

"You seem to have a talent for always knowing what colour I will wear," you remarked, glancing at his handkerchief. "How do you manage it?"

He chuckled softly, the sound like a low, intimate melody. "Ah, a gentleman must have his secrets, my dear. But let us just say that I take great pleasure in paying attention to every detail about you."

As you continued your leisurely stroll, Astarion regaled you with stories of his recent exploits and observations of the city. His wit and charm were as captivating as ever, and you found yourself laughing and smiling more than you had in days.

"Your mother was quite displeased with me at the ball," he said after a pause, his tone shifting to something more serious. "I hope she has not made things difficult for you?"

You shook your head, squeezing his arm reassuringly. "She has her concerns, but nothing I cannot manage. Besides, she did say that I should most likely marry the one who will own our lands."

Astarion raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a sly smile. "Is that so? I need to win the lands, to win your hand? Well, I shall have to make a very compelling case then, shan't I?"

His words sent a thrill through you, the implications clear and yet wrapped in the playful banter that was so characteristic of him. The thought of Astarion owning your family's lands, of being tied to him in such a significant way, was both exciting and daunting.

As you reached a secluded bench nestled under a canopy of trees and flowers, Astarion guided you to sit beside him. The world around you seemed to fade and the serene atmosphere and his charming presence created a sense of ease and openness. However, the questions that had been gnawing at the back of your mind, particularly those raised by your mother, refused to stay silent.

"Astarion," you began tentatively, "can I ask you something personal?"

He turned to you, his smile reassuring and charming as ever. "Of course, my dear. You can ask me anything."

You hesitated for a moment, gathering your thoughts. "It's just... My mother has certain concerns about you. She thinks that if a man of your age and status isn't married yet, there must be a reason for it. She believes that no one wants you."

Astarion chuckled softly, the sound laced with a hint of sadness. "Ah, mothers and their concerns. I suppose I should have expected as much."

You felt a pang of guilt, regretting that you had to voice such a harsh sentiment. "I didn't mean to offend you. It's just... she's worried."

He turned to face you fully, his expression thoughtful. "Y/n, there's no need to apologise. It's a valid question, and one I should address." Astarion took a deep breath, his gaze drifting to the blooming flowers around you. "The truth is, my circumstances are... complicated. I have been focused on other pursuits, ones that have not left much room for marriage or family."

You watched him closely, sensing the weight behind his words. "What kind of pursuits?"

He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Business, mostly. And certain obligations that have demanded my attention."

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "Obligations to Duke Szarr?"

His eyes flickered with something unreadable before he nodded. "Yes. My association with Duke Szarr has shaped much of my life. It has been both a blessing and a curse."

You wanted to press further, to understand the full extent of his relationship with the Duke, but you sensed that now was not the time. Instead, you focused on the man before you, feeling a deep sense of compassion.

"And what about now?" you asked softly. "Do you still feel those obligations are more important than finding happiness for yourself?"

Astarion's gaze softened as he looked at you, his crimson eyes no longer hidden by his sunglasses. "Meeting you, Y/n, has made me reconsider many things. I find myself wanting something more, something genuine."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn't help but smile. "I feel the same way."

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "Then let us take this one step at a time. Ignore the gossip and the doubts of others. We can create our own path, just you and me."

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief and hope. "Yes, let's do that."

But, subtlety Astarion's usually confident demeanour faltered, replaced by a palpable sense of unease. His gaze, normally sharp and captivating, now held a hint of vulnerability as he spoke. "Y/n, there's something important I need to tell you," he began, his voice soft yet tinged with regret. "If... if you were to marry me, we would have to live at the Castle of Duke Szarr. He's been like family to me, and he insists that we all reside there together."

You felt a mix of emotions at his revelation. The idea of living at the Duke's castle alongside Astarion filled you with excitement, but the thought of being under the watchful eye of the Duke added a layer of complexity to the situation. Nevertheless, your affection for Astarion outweighed any concerns.

"It's alright, Astarion," you said softly, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand. "I understand. Living at the castle with you sounds wonderful, regardless of the circumstances."

Astarion's eyes softened at your words, a flicker of relief passing over his features. "Thank you, Y/n," he murmured, his voice filled with gratitude. "Your acceptance means more to me than you know."

As Astarion spoke, you could sense a palpable relief washing over him, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders. It puzzled you how he seemed to view the Duke as an obstacle— if he was family, when it was perfectly natural for him to reside in his own castle if they were to be married. 

Yet, you could guess there was a complexity to their relationship that you couldn't quite grasp.

Intrigued, you probed gently for more information. "Astarion, can you tell me more about your relationship with the Duke?" you asked, your voice soft with curiosity.

He hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to share such personal details. Eventually, he sighed, his gaze distant as he spoke. "The Duke... he saved me when I was at my lowest," he admitted, his voice tinged with emotion. "I was lost, alone, and broken. But he took me in, offered me sanctuary, and gave me purpose. I owe him a debt of gratitude that I can never repay."

Astarion turned towards you, his eyes softening as he reached out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The intimate gesture sent a shiver down your spine, his touch both comforting and electrifying. "You have no idea how much you mean to me," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "You've changed my life in ways I never thought possible. For the first time in so long, I feel... free."

The sincerity in his words was like a confession, a man shedding his armour to reveal his most vulnerable self. You felt the full weight of his emotions, as if they were your own, your heart racing in sync with his unspoken desires.

As Astarion leaned closer, the air between you thickened, charged with a magnetic pull. You could feel the heat emanating from his body, a warmth that seemed to seep through you and pool in your core. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you leaned forward to meet him, the world around you fading to nothing but the sensation of his breath upon your lips.

Just as your lips parted and his were about to brush against yours, the sweet anticipation of your first kiss shattered. The sound of footsteps and a cheerful voice echoed through the park, and you both pulled back. Reality crashed down, the spell broken. Your eyes snapped open, meeting Astarion's, where you saw the echo of longing, rapidly masked by polite interest.

"Ah, there you are, Lady Y/N! And Lord Ancunin, what a pleasant surprise!"

You both pulled back abruptly, the spell broken. Your eyes snapped open to see an acquaintance approaching with a wide smile. The disruption was jarring, pulling you back into reality with a harsh jolt.

Astarion's expression quickly shifted back to brief anger and then one of polite interest, though you could see the disappointment flicker in his eyes behind his sunglasses. He took a deep breath, composing himself. 

"Indeed," he replied smoothly, though his hand lingered on your cheeks, his thumb gently stroking the soft curve, for a moment longer before he let go. "We were just enjoying a lovely… conversation."

The acquaintance, oblivious to the tension they had interrupted, continued to chatter cheerfully. "It's wonderful to see you both here. Such a beautiful day, isn't it?"

You forced a smile, your heart still racing from the near kiss. "Yes, it is," you replied, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. You exchanged polite greetings with the acquaintance, though your mind was still lingering on Astarion's words and the kiss that had almost been.

As the conversation continued, Astarion subtly shifted closer to you, the tension between you was palpable, a charged undercurrent that neither of you could ignore.

Finally, the acquaintance took their leave, offering a polite nod before disappearing down the path. The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken words. Astarion turned back to you, his eyes searching yours. "I'm sorry about that," he murmured, his voice low. "I didn't mean to..."

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "It's okay," you whispered, your heart swelling with affection. "We were bound to be interrupted, eventually."

Astarion's gaze softened, his hand finding yours once more. "Still, I want you to know how much I care about you, Y/N," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "You've brought light into my life, and I can't imagine going back to the way things were before."

Your heart ached with the depth of his words, and you squeezed his hand gently. "I feel the same way, Astarion," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "You've changed my life too."

He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that lit up his face. "Then let's make the most of the time we have," he said softly, his eyes shining with determination.

You nodded, your heart full as you leaned into him, ready to face whatever came next together.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Days had passed since your last meeting with Astarion at the park, but the memory of that near kiss lingered in your mind, making your heart flutter every time you thought about it. Today, you found yourself at an art exposition, admiring the beautiful paintings and sculptures displayed throughout the grand hall. The soft murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses created a sophisticated ambiance, perfect for such an event.

Beside you stood Wyll Ravengard, a charming and dependable friend you had met shortly after arriving in the city. His father was an old friend of your family, and your mother had made it abundantly clear that she viewed Wyll as the ideal future husband for you. 

Despite your mother’s wishes, your heart was elsewhere, tangled up in thoughts of Astarion.

You turned to Wyll, a smile playing on your lips as you recounted the events at the park. "You won't believe what happened the other day, Wyll," you began, your voice filled with excitement. "I was at the park with Lord Ancunin, and... he almost… kissed me."

Wyll's eyes widened with surprise, and he leaned in closer, his curiosity piqued. "Really? Tell me more," he urged, his tone a mix of intrigue and genuine interest.

You sighed, your cheeks flushing slightly as you recalled the moment. "We were talking, and he was being so sweet and sincere. Then, out of nowhere, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. It felt so... intimate. He told me how much I meant to him and how I had changed his life. And then, just as he was about to kiss me, we got interrupted."

Wyll chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Seems like you two can't catch a break. But it sounds like he really cares about you, Y/N."

Your heart swelled at Wyll's words, and you nodded. "He does. Every time I'm with him, it's like the world fades away, and it's just the two of us. My heart was beating so quickly, I thought it might burst."

Wyll’s expression turned more serious, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "I can see how much he means to you," he said quietly. "But you know your mother has other plans."

You sighed, glancing around the room filled with elegantly dressed patrons admiring the artwork. "I know. She wants me to marry someone like you, Wyll. But my heart... It belongs to Astarion. I can't help how I feel."

Wyll placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, offering you a kind smile. "Follow your heart, Y/N. It's your life, and you deserve to be with someone who makes you truly happy."

His words provided a comforting sense of validation, and you squeezed his hand in gratitude. "Thank you, Wyll. I appreciate your support more than you know."

As you and Wyll continued to stroll through the art exposition, admiring the intricate brushstrokes and masterful sculptures, Wyll couldn't resist teasing you about your burgeoning relationship with Astarion.

"Speaking of plans, Y/n," Wyll began, a playful glint in his eye, "do you think Lord Ancunin might be planning to ask for your hand in marriage soon?"

You felt your cheeks flush with warmth, a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. "Wyll, don't be ridiculous," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your true feelings.

Wyll chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Oh, come on. It's obvious how smitten he is with you. The flowers, the letters, the poetry books... not to mention that almost-kiss in the park. I'd say he's head over heels."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Maybe, but marriage? It's only been a few weeks since we met."

Wyll raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "And yet, in those few weeks, he's made more effort to win your heart than anyone else ever has, since you arrived. Besides, from what you've told me, he doesn't strike me as the kind of man who would waste time if he knew what he wanted."

You bit your lip, considering Wyll's words. "I suppose you're right. He does have a way of making me feel like the only person in the world when we're together."

Wyll nodded, his expression turning more serious. "Exactly. And if he makes you happy, that's what matters. Just don't be surprised if he gets down on one knee sooner rather than later."

The thought sent a thrill through you, and you couldn't help but smile at the possibility. "I suppose we'll see," you said, your voice soft with hope.

Wyll smiled, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Just promise me you'll invite me to the wedding. I'd hate to miss it."

You laughed, feeling a sense of lightness at Wyll's teasing. "Of course, Wyll. I wouldn't dream of getting married without my friend there."

As you and Wyll continued your leisurely stroll through the art exposition, your eyes were drawn to a striking painting hanging on the far wall. The artwork depicted a dark, gothic scene of a vampire feeding on a woman. The vampire's features were both mesmerising and terrifying, his eyes glowing with an unnatural light as he sank his fangs into the woman's delicate neck. The woman, in turn, seemed to be caught in a trance, a mix of fear and surrender in her eyes.

You stopped in front of the painting, studying the intricate details. "This is awfully realistic," you murmured, unable to tear your gaze away from the chilling scene.

Wyll nodded, his expression turning more serious. "It is. Vampires have always been a subject of fascination and fear. But this... it's almost like the artist has seen it firsthand."

A shiver ran down your spine. "Do you think it's possible? That someone could have actually witnessed this?"

Wyll sighed, folding his arms as he continued to gaze at the painting. "It's hard to say. Ever since vampires found a way to stand under the sunlight – despite the pain it causes them – it's become nearly impossible to catch them. They blend in, move among us, and strike when we least expect it."

You turned to Wyll, concern etched on your face. "How is that even possible? I thought sunlight was their greatest weakness."

He nodded, his expression grim. "It still is, to an extent. But there's a ritual – a blood ritual – that some vampires have used to build a tolerance to sunlight. It's dangerous and incredibly painful for them, but it gives them a significant advantage. The problem is, this ritual has fallen into the wrong hands."

You furrowed your brow, the weight of his words sinking in. "What do you mean?"

Wyll glanced around, lowering his voice. "There are groups out there, dark factions, that have been using the ritual to create more powerful vampires. Our security forces are struggling to keep up. Every time they think they have a lead, it slips through their fingers. The city is on edge, and people are scared."

The thought of vampires lurking in the shadows, almost indistinguishable from ordinary people, sent a chill down your spine. "That's terrifying. How do we protect ourselves?"

Wyll gave you a reassuring smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Stay vigilant, avoid dark alleys, and trust the people around you. And if you ever see anything suspicious, report it immediately. The authorities are doing their best, but they need our help too."

You nodded, feeling a mix of fear and determination. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Wyll."

He patted your shoulder gently. "Anytime, Y/n. Just be careful, alright? The world is a dangerous place, and we need to look out for each other." As you and Wyll continued your conversation about the unsettling topic of vampires, a familiar voice broke through your thoughts. 

"What are you two discussing so intently?" Astarion's smooth voice asked, a hint of curiosity lacing his words.

You turned to see him standing behind Wyll, looking... different. His usually impeccable appearance seemed a bit off. For the first time since you met him, his handkerchief did not match your outfit. The mint green fabric stood in stark contrast to your crimson red dress. More than that, he looked tired, almost weary, as if something was weighing heavily on him.

Wyll turned, smiling at Astarion. "We were just talking about the painting," he said, gesturing towards the eerie artwork depicting the vampire feeding on a woman. "And the recent concerns about vampires in the city."

Astarion's gaze flicked to the painting, and for a brief moment, an unreadable expression crossed his face. He nodded slowly, then turned his attention back to you. "Vampires, huh?" he said, attempting a lighthearted tone. "Always a fascinating, albeit morbid, topic."

You couldn't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes, the slight slump in his usually perfect posture. "Are you alright, Astarion? You seem... different today."

He offered a faint smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just a bit tired, my dear. It's been a long few days."

Wyll, always perceptive, raised an eyebrow. "Is everything alright, Lord Ancunin? You don't look like your usual self."

Astarion waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing to worry about. Just some business matters that needed attending to. But tell me more about these rumours. Have there been any actual sightings?"

You exchanged a worried glance with Wyll before replying. "Not that we've heard, but the authorities are struggling. It's the talk of the city apparently."

Astarion nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed. It's a troubling situation. But let's not let it ruin our evening. We came here to enjoy the art, after all."

Despite his attempt to change the subject, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply troubling Astarion. As you continued to explore the exhibition together, his usual charm seemed dimmed, his laughter more subdued. You found yourself glancing at him more often than usual, searching for any sign that he might open up about what was bothering him. 

After a moment, Astarion's voice broke the contemplative silence between the three of you. "Lord Ravengard, if you don't mind, I'd like to steal Y/N for a moment."

Wyll glanced at you and then back at Astarion, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "Of course, Lord Ancunin. I'll be fine on my own. Besides, I've got a few more paintings to admire."

As Wyll wandered off, Astarion extended his arm, and you linked yours with his. The two of you walked through the gallery, the hum of other visitors' conversations creating a low murmur around you. Once you were alone in a quieter section, Astarion turned to face you, his expression more serious than usual.

He turned to face you, his expression serious. "There's something I need to tell you," he began, his voice low. "The Duke Szarr will be coming to the city."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Why?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Astarion's jaw tightened slightly, and you felt the muscles under your palm tense as he continued. "It's mostly because of our relationship. The Duke wants to meet you."

His tone was neutral, but you could sense the underlying tension. "Is that... a good thing?" you asked cautiously.

Astarion's gaze flickered, a mix of frustration and protectiveness crossing his features. "He wants to see if you're... suitable. The Duke is very particular about those within his circle. Your presence in my life has attracted his attention, and he wishes to evaluate you personally."

The idea of being evaluated by the Duke was unsettling, and you couldn't ignore the way Astarion's usually composed demeanour was unravelling. "How do you feel about this?" you asked, your hand gently squeezing his arm in reassurance.

He exhaled slowly, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "In all honesty, I don't like it," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it's something we must face. The Duke has been a significant part of my life, and his approval carries a great deal of weight. I just... I worry about how this will affect us."

You reached up, cupping his pale cheek with your free hand. "We'll face it together," you said firmly. "Whatever happens, we'll deal with it."

Astarion's eyes held yours, a flicker of relief breaking through his tension. "Thank you," he murmured, leaning into your touch. "Having you by my side means more than you can imagine."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, but you couldn't ignore the unease that lingered. "What should I expect when meeting him?"

"He can be... intimidating," Astarion admitted. "He has a commanding presence and is used to getting his way."

The sincerity in his voice reassured you, but the thought of meeting the man who held such power over Astarion was daunting. "When is he arriving?"

"In a few days," Astarion replied. "I'll be there to introduce you. Just be yourself, and everything will be fine."

You nodded, though your mind was already racing with questions and concerns. "Astarion, is there anything else I should know about him?"

At your question, Astarion seemed to hesitate, his lips parting, but his voice got caught as he shook his head and offered you a small smile. "There's nothing important you should know about the Duke," he said, though the tension in his eyes suggested otherwise. 

"But the Duke is... very particular about loyalty. He values those who are unwaveringly loyal to him, and he expects the same in return. It's important to show him that you are... committed."

"Committed to what?" you asked, a frown creasing your brow.

"Committed to our relationship, of course darling," Astarion clarified, his voice softening. "To the future we are trying to build together. He needs to see that you are serious about us, about being a part of this life."

The weight of his words settled over you, and you realised just how significant this meeting with the Duke was. "I understand," you said quietly, squeezing his hand. "I'll do my best."

Astarion's expression softened, his eyes filling with gratitude. "I know you will, my darling."

As you and Astarion strolled through the gallery, your steps eventually led you to a secluded corner where a rather lewd painting hung on the wall. The artwork depicted a passionate embrace, the lovers entwined in an intimate moment that left little to the imagination. You felt a blush creeping up your neck, your cheeks warming as you took in the explicit details.

Astarion, however, seemed quite intrigued by the painting. He studied it with a keen interest, his head tilted slightly as he examined the brushstrokes and the expression on the subjects' faces.

"A fascinating piece, isn't it?" he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "The artist has captured such raw emotion and desire."

You swallowed, trying to maintain your composure despite the heat rising in your cheeks. "Yes, it's... quite bold," you managed to say, your voice slightly breathless.

Astarion turned his gaze towards you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Bold, indeed," he said, his tone playful. "It makes one wonder about the inspiration behind such a work. Do you think the artist was merely observing, or perhaps... participating?" He asked, clearly enjoying himself. 

The suggestion in his words made your blush deepen, and you glanced away, your heart racing. "I... I wouldn't know," you stammered, feeling flustered under his intense gaze.

Astarion chuckled softly, clearly enjoying your reaction. He took a step closer, his hand gently brushing against yours. "Art has a way of stirring the imagination, doesn't it?" he said, his voice low and velvety. "It can evoke such vivid feelings and thoughts."

You nodded, still avoiding his gaze, but the warmth of his hand against yours was both comforting and electrifying. "Yes, it does," you agreed quietly.

Astarion's fingers intertwined with yours, and he gently lifted your chin, urging you to meet his crimson eyes. "There's no need to be embarrassed, Y/N," he said softly. "Desire is a natural part of life, just as much as love and beauty. It's something to be embraced, not shied away from."

His words, combined with the sincerity in his gaze, helped to ease some of your embarrassment. You took a deep breath, feeling a bit more grounded. "I suppose you're right," you said, managing a small, shy, smile.

Astarion's hand left yours, only to gracefully trail up your back, hovering for a moment before settling firmly on your waist. With a gentle but insistent tug, he drew you closer, the warmth of his body brushing against yours in an intimate embrace. His other hand, bold and persistent, crept up to your neck, his fingers caressing the sensitive skin with feather-light strokes. 

The intimate contact left you breathless, your heart thudding against your chest.

His voice, low and sultry, tickled your ear as he whispered, "You know so little about the true pleasures of the world, Y/N. It’s endearing." His breath fanned over your ear, sending chills down your spine, while his hand on your neck continued its teasing exploration. Astarion's words, combined with his touch, created an inferno of desire within you, leaving you physically and emotionally vulnerable— just like the last time at the ball.

His hand on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against his chest as he whispered, "Let me show you, guide you through the uncharted territories, the realms you've yet to explore."

You could feel the heat from his body, the intoxicating nectar of his words coaxing you into a world you had never entered, promising to experience the realm of sensuality. The air between you thick with possibility, the world around you fading like a mirage, as you found yourself entwined in Astarion's spell, the alluring sensations overwhelming and intoxicating.

Astarion's hand on your waist squeezed, urging you to lean into him, a world of sensations and experiences waiting to be discovered, the true pleasure of the world laid out before you, guiding you through the carnal landscape you'd only dreamed of. His touch coupled with his words, stoked the fires of your curiosity, the veil of innocence slipping away, revealing the raw desire, the primal cravings that were waiting to be unleashed.

Your face flushed, the weight of his words and intimate proximity overwhelming. You managed to stammer a response, "B-But... but we shouldn't... not in public, Astarion." Your voice was thick with embarrassment and, despite your reservations, the thrill of being in such a situation with the Duke's right-hand man.

As if to punctuate his intentions, Astarion's mouth found its way to your neck, his lips brushing against the tender skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You felt the whisper of sharp teeth, like fangs that teased your flesh, sending shivers down your spine.

Astarion chuckled, the sound vibrating against your neck, the sensation both thrilling and nerve-wracking. "I'll admit, I find immense pleasure in watching you quiver under my touch, Y/N," he confessed, his voice sultry and seductive. As you and Astarion continued to stand before the provocative painting, he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing in contemplation. 

“Y/N, I have a question for you,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “What do you think is the difference between the woman's expression in this painting and the one we saw earlier, the one with the vampire?”

You glanced back at the lewd painting, then thought of the earlier, darker piece. “Well,” you began hesitantly, "The woman in the first painting... She is submitting to pure pleasure, her desire all-consuming. In the second, she is in pain, fear, and torment," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion nodded, but his eyes remained fixed on you, just like his lips, a curious intensity in them. “Pleasure and pain,” he repeated softly. “Do you really believe that’s true? That these emotions are so distinct and separate?”

The question made you pause. 

You turned to look at him, your brows knitting together in confusion. “What do you mean?” you asked.

Astarion's lips curled into a wicked smile, the intensity in his eyes piercing your soul. "Y/n," he murmured, leaning in, his voice a seductive growl, “Pain and pleasure can be intertwined, can’t they? Sometimes, what causes us pain can also be what we desire. And what we desire can be painful. Don’t you think?”

You thought about his words, the strange, dark truth in them. “I suppose... in certain situations, they can be connected,” you admitted, feeling a shiver run down your spine. “But they still feel very different, don’t they?”

Astarion’s eyes seemed to soften, yet there was a lingering intensity in them. He chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine, “For some,” he said quietly, “the line between them is very thin. Pain can heighten pleasure, and pleasure can make pain more bearable. It’s a delicate balance.”

You nodded slowly, understanding the nuance he was describing but still feeling a bit unsettled. “I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way before,” you said.

Astarion smiled faintly, his hand reaching up to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You have an open mind, Y/N,” he said. “That’s one of the many things I admire about you and make me weak for you.”

His touch was warm, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “Thank you,” you murmured, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks again.

As he let his hand fall back to his side after leaving a final kiss on your neck, he stepped back, giving you space. “Shall we move on?” he suggested, his voice returning to its usual lightness. “There are still many more pieces to see.”

You nodded, grateful for the shift in the conversation. “Yes, let’s,” you agreed, and together you continued your exploration of the gallery, the earlier conversation lingering in your mind like a whisper of something deeper and more profound.

As the evening drew to a close, you and Astarion made your way through the final rooms of the art exposition. The lingering warmth of his presence and the intensity of your earlier conversation hung in the air. Eventually, you found yourselves back at the entrance of the gallery, where Wyll was waiting by your carriage, ready to escort you home.

Astarion spotted him first and raised a hand in greeting. "Lord ravengard," he called out smoothly, his usual charm in full effect once again. "I hope you didn't wait too long."

Wyll smiled and shook his head. "Not at all, Lord Ancunin. I trust you both enjoyed the exhibition?"

You nodded, but your mind was already drifting to the inevitable parting that awaited. "It was wonderful," you said, your voice tinged with melancholy.

Astarion’s gaze met yours with a softness that made your heart ache even more. “I’ll contact you soon, Y/n,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “We’ll arrange a time for you to meet the Duke.”

You nodded, trying to mask the sadness that welled up inside you at the thought of parting ways. “I look forward to it,” you replied, forcing a small smile. “Thank you for tonight, Astarion. It was... enlightening.”

He chuckled softly, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “The pleasure was all mine, I assure you.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he turned to Wyll. “Take good care of her, Lord Ravengard. She’s quite precious.”

Wyll nodded, his expression friendly yet protective. “Always do, Lord Ancunin.”

With a final, lingering glance, Astarion bowed slightly, taking your hand to place a lingering kiss at the back. 

“Until next time, my lady,” he murmured, his voice like velvet.

You watched him walk away, the elegant lines of his black tuxedo as he seemed to blend into the shadows of the evening, disappearing from view.

Wyll offered his arm, and you took it, feeling the weight of your longing settle heavily in your chest. “He certainly has a way with words,” Wyll commented as he helped you into the carriage.

“Yes, he does,” you replied, your thoughts still on Astarion. “But there’s more to him than just words.”

Wyll looked at you with a knowing smile. “I can see that. Just be careful, Y/N. Men like him are often surrounded by mystery and... complications.”

You sighed, knowing Wyll was right but unwilling to let go of the connection you felt with Astarion. “I will,” you promised, settling into your seat. Leaving Astarion always felt like leaving a part of yourself behind, but you had no other choice. 

For now, you had to be patient and wait for the next time you could see him, hoping it wouldn’t be too long.

❛ masterlist ⋅ ao3 ❜

➜ ┊tags : @kiimiikii ⋅ @fizzypeachhh ⋅ if you want to be tag, or removed, please notify me!

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

On My Knees

Love Bites, Chapter 8 // Love Bites {Masterlist}

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x fem!vampire spawn!elf!Tav/reader

Summary: A betrayal so severe even centuries of love threaten to break beneath its weight. Yet you offer forgiveness, even if Astarion has not felt its kindness in two hundred years.

Word Count: 2,360 words

Warnings: return to chp. 1 timeline, in-game timeline, reader becomes a vampire spawn, brief flashback, captured by Mindflayers, Astarion is vulnerable but also honest, confessions, Sebastian's back

Note: My apologies, I'm a day late! I had some technical difficulties yesterday but now we're back and almost done with Love Bites.

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

“You screamed well into the morning. None of us slept. My siblings, they…offered me their blankets. It was the first time they had been kind to me in…a very long time.” Astarion fidgeted with his fingers, his voice thick with tears as he wrapped up his story. The spawn in the cage stayed quiet, listening intently, some wearing wicked, wicked smiles. “And we planned. They helped me sneak out when night fell so I could— So I could go to my grave.” He looked up at you for the first time in a very long time. “He buried you there. In my coffin.”

Bits and pieces of your memory came back to you. “Yes… Yes, he did, I remember— I remember so much. It was… Dark. Cold. Dirty. But I smelled…you.”

~❊~

The air was musty. It reeked of death, more strongly than the sickhouses during a plague. Your eyes burned when you opened them. You tried not to breathe, then realized after several moments of holding your breath, you didn’t need to. There was no pain in your lungs. You weren’t lightheaded from trying to hold your breath.

“What?” you whispered to yourself. Your lips tugged around two identical objects in your mouth, teeth that you knew had not been there all your life. 

Your eyes adjusted to the space slowly, but you knew from just a few experimental wiggles the place was cramped and tiny. It didn’t take long for you to recognize the smell of your lover or the appearance of your surroundings, lined in soft red velvet; you’d help pick the coffin yourself, all those years ago. It was Astarion’s.

You whimpered, the panic starting to set in. “Asty? Where are you?” You could smell him, all around you, even under the terrible scent of earth and bodily fluids and death and embalming fluids. 

You had no heartbeat, but you were sure you could hear it pounding in your ears, screaming, Out, out, out! You began scratching at the coffin lid and realized there were already claw marks there, ripping the velvet and gouging the wood beneath. You were not the first to have crawled out of here.

If Asty could do it, so can I, you told yourself and began kicking the lid. It didn’t take long for it to crack open, the latch already broken. You wedged it open slowly, clawing handfuls of dirt out of the way until you could make way for yourself. 

It was slow going, digging your way out of grave dirt. It was fresh and not packed down yet, which was your only advantage to get yourself out. It clung to you like summer heat, worming its way into your clothes, your ears, your mouth. You worked through the panic that built up inside you, getting worse the longer it took.

After what felt like hours—what probably was hours—your hand broke the surface. You nearly cried with relief and forced the hole to widen until you could pull yourself out, grappling with more loose dirt and very little for leverage. 

Your head came up through the hole and you took your first deep breath in ages, only to start coughing. You hacked up blood and dirt, your entire body heaving with the effort. You trembled more terribly than you had on the day you’d learned Astarion had died as you finally freed yourself from the grave. You turned to face the stone as you dry-heaved. Sure enough, Astarion’s name was carved into it. 

“You got out faster than he did,” a nasty voice said and you surged your feet, whirling and reaching for your knife. It wasn’t there. You stumbled forward, your body catching up to your exhaustion before your mind did. A black-haired elf stood before you and smiled sardonically. Cazador. “The only weapons you have now are in your mouth, dear child.”

Instinctively, you ran your tongue across your teeth and hissed as your new fangs sliced your tongue open. The tang of your own blood did nothing but make you aware of the pulsing, needy hunger curling in your gut. 

Memories came flooding back. Astarion, in your tavern, a vampire. Sleeping with him. Going back to Cazador with him. The pain of the bite that turned you. Attempting to run—being snatched up by Cazador and brought into the pit of the palace. Thousands upon thousands of spawn kept inside cages, jeering at you, watching you, giving you enough strength to try to fight back. Smiling defiantly at the vampire who promised you pain, even as you cried at the sound of Astarion’s sobs from so far above you. Darkness finally overtaking you as your body gave into the bite, the blood drained from your veins, your bones rearranging themselves, knitting together your new vampiric body.

“Get away from me,” you spat, stumbling away from him.

Cazador laughed. “Where will you go, little one? No one can save you now. Not now that you are this. You are mine.”

You heard a shout. Cazador stopped, turning to search for its origin. Another shout, this time your name, this time clearly Astarion’s voice.

“Do not meddle, boy,” Cazador warned, raising his voice in the direction of the shout.

A hand touched your shoulder. You looked, knowing you would see Astarion the moment you felt his touch. Cazador remained blissfully unaware that his spawn had already reached you. 

Astarion offered you his hand. You glanced back at your maker once, then slipped your hand into his. The two of you took off running. 

Cazador let out a shout, but neither of you heeded. You left the cemetery behind and began running through the streets of Baldur’s Gate.

“Where do we go?” you demanded, impressed by how much faster you were now, even without blood. 

“Anywhere,” Astarion said, glancing at you. “You wanted to run? Now we are. Just don’t stop until the city’s behind us.”

“How did you find me?” you asked.

He flashed you a fangy grin. “Dalyria. She helped me sneak past Godey.”

“She helped? Why?”

He shrugged. “She didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.”

The sky above you opened up. You both stopped short, staring up at the massive ship that had come through the rip in the world. 

“Come back here!” Cazador’s shout rang through the street. He was still some distance away, but he was gaining on you.

You tugged on Astarion’s arm. “Honey, we have to go.”

Astarion was staring at something just ahead of you. “What in the gods’ names is that?”

You turned and something with tentacles for a face grabbed your head. You screamed as, once again, the world went dark.

~❊~

The rest was a blank, until you woke up on the beach with Astarion leaning over you, but the rest of your companions had filled you in. After you’d blacked out, you’d been put in a pod and a tadpole was forced into your head. Some part of you had always been glad you’d had no memory of that—but if you had remembered it, would you have also remembered everything else?

You looked up at Astarion, who was nervously chewing his lower lip, his fang peeking out. You felt your own fang with your tongue. He did this to me.

You took a step backward, putting distance between him and yourself. You saw his heart break in the way his eyes began to water. 

“It was you? You brought me to Cazador? You’re why I’m like this?” You felt short of breath, your chest tight, your head spinning: the beginnings of a panic attack your body remembered from its time alive—which was much more recent than Astarion had been telling you.

“Darling, I had to,” he whispered. “You told me to. You begged me to bring you to him so I wouldn’t get hurt!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you hissed. “You didn’t have to tell the others, you could have fed them the same story you told me about keeping me safe from Cazador for two hundred years. But why me? Why did you lie to me about how I was turned?”

Hurt flashed in his eyes. But there was more to it than that. He was afraid, afraid because he was vulnerable in front of too many people, afraid because you were slowly backing away from him. 

“I couldn’t tell you, darling, you wouldn’t have believed me—”

“No more lies, Astarion,” you snapped. “Tell me the truth! Why did you lie?”

His lower lip trembled. “Because I was scared, alright? I saw the fear on your face on the beach and it—it looked like the fear in your eyes when I brought you to Cazador. You were already afraid. Of me! I… I didn’t want to make it worse. I didn’t want you to hate me when you were all I had. I was—” His eyes dropped briefly to the floor. Then he looked back up at you, tears rolling down his cheeks. You knew they were real. “I was scared you’d stake me for what I did to you the first chance you got. Worse, I was scared you’d leave me.”

You studied his face. As you looked at him, your anger began to fade. Death scares him less than losing me. “Astarion…”

He dropped to his knees, clearly expecting more rage. He trembled as he kept explaining, “I had already been without you for long enough. I didn’t want to do it again, I was scared that you’d forget me the way I—the way I forgot you. I was selfish, darling, I was so selfish because I didn’t want to do what you had to do for two hundred years and remember and love and ache when it wasn’t returned. So I lied. And I lied well. I made up story after story and you believed them so much they were becoming your memories. Anything else was just a bad dream to you and I let you believe that! It was easier to dismiss your real memories as nightmares than confess what really happened. That’s why I did it. Because it was easy.” He sniffled and roughly wiped away his tears with his wrist. “You can hate me all you want, but I am going to be selfish even more and I am going to beg you to stay. Hate me for the next two hundred years but please, please don’t leave me.”

And Astarion remained kneeling on the ground, shaking, waiting for you to speak. No one—not the other spawn or your companions—dared speak or move.

Then you knelt in front of him and gently cupped his cheek in your hand, coaxing his head up. “Astarion… I don’t hate you, honey. I don’t. I…I understand. I’m not upset that you did what I asked you to do, I just…I wish you had told me the truth about it. I don’t like it, but I understand it. And I forgive you.”

The tension in the room shifted. Astarion stared at you with those wide, wet eyes of his, clearly caught off guard as much as, if not more than, your companions.

“Why?” he asked at last. “I let him turn you into a spawn! I let him make you the same abomination as me, as my siblings, as all these poor souls that had the misfortune of meeting me!”

You kissed the top of his head. “Meeting you was never misfortune,” you said to him. “Not in our lives. Not in your undeath. Not in mine.”

Astarion gripped your hand desperately. “Why?” he pleaded.

“Two hundred years are not easily shaken in six months,” you said softly, reminding him of a conversation you had already had about his instinctive need to seduce and manipulate you when he already had you. “I cannot blame you for any of your lies when I know why you have said them. You told me yourself, it’s instinctive. That you wanted protection. You couldn’t have known how I would have reacted if you told me the truth when I woke up, I’m not even sure of that. There was no promise that I would protect you then.” I squeezed his hand gently. “But I’m going to protect you now. I swear it.”

He shook his head, but he held your hand tightly as if he was still afraid of you leaving him, the bones in your fingers grinding from the pressure. “I’m… I’m not sure I’m worth protecting—”

“You are,” you said, cutting him off without a second thought. 

“Why protect me after what I did to you?”

Your heart broke. “Can’t you see? Oh, honey, it’s because I love you! I knew what I was getting myself into then, even if I didn’t remember it for so long. It’s not your fault I insisted, you even gave me several ways out.” You stood and pulled him up with you. “Come on, up you get. We’ve still got work to do, remember?”

Astarion dusted himself off as he got off the ground. He looked at you tenderly, his eyes soft. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

From the cage, Sebastian cleared his throat petulantly. The bubble that had kept your focus on Astarion popped. 

“Tender,” he drawled, “but foolish, trusting him again.”

“Speak for yourself,” you said, shrugging. “You’ll see, when we free you all.”

Astarion pulled a face. “Are you sure we can?”

You glanced back at Sebastian. “You said I fought back, right? And that was without a tadpole, when I was still a thrall.” You turned back to Astarion. “He can’t control either of us anymore. If anyone can kill him, it’s us.”

Slowly, Astarion nodded. “I… Yes. We can. Together.”

Sebastian drew closer to the cage’s bars. He held them as he murmured, “Maybe you will do it. Gods help us if you don’t, though.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Haven’t you learned the gods don’t listen to the likes of us?”

“Boys,” you chided, before Sebastian could snap back. You glanced at your other companions. “Is everybody ready?” They nodded and, at last, Astarion nodded, too.

You offered him your hand. “Now, let’s go kill our maker, shall we?”

☞ ❊ ☜

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Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

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[ozthedm]

Vampire Ascendant Ramblings!

I love Baldur’s Gate 3. I love the vampire genre. I am particularly fascinated with the concept of the Vampire Ascendant for a number of reasons that mainly boil down to “what does it mean to be the Vampire Ascendant and what is the true cost of this power?”

This post is essentially a collection of my observations, thoughts, and headcanons regarding the ascension ritual. Think of this as fanfic inspiration material. Get ready folks, because we’re about to dip a toe into 5e lore and get existential.

What does the Rite of Profane Ascension actually do?

Raphael explains the ritual as thus:

“If he completes the rite, he will become a new kind of being - the Vampire Ascendant. All the strengths of his vampiric form will be amplified, and alongside them he will enjoy the luxuries of the living. The arousals and appetites of man will return to him, and unlike Astarion, he will have no need of a parasite to protect him from the sun. But the ritual has a price, as all worthwhile things do. Lord Cazador will need to sacrifice a number of souls including all of his vampiric spawn if he is to ascend… Your soul will set off a very wave of death, bringing Cazador his twisted life.” 

TLDR: If Cazador offers up the souls of 7000 vampire spawn, then maybe he’ll feel less like shit.

Other specific perks include:

The hunger for blood that plagues all vampires will no longer affect him.

His heart will beat again (Could he even be considered undead at that point?)

He still gets to remain immortal in the sense that he will never age

He can choose to extend his protection from the sun to his spawn, but this protection can be revoked

He can be reflected in mirrors.

There are some details that remain unclear, so here’s where we step into headcanon territory:

Running water will no longer harm him

A normal wooden stake won’t be enough to paralyze him. You’d be better off with a magical weapon

Although he will still need an invitation to enter homes, His enhanced vampiric charm practically makes it a nonissue

And now a couple of notes on Mephistopheles and the contract itself:

“Devils bargain with mortals to upend the divine order. They stake claims on souls that would otherwise go to the gods or be cast adrift somewhere other than the Nine Hells. If you are already a creature of Law and Evil devoted to no other entity, your damned spirit is of meager value.”

  - Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes

Mephistopheles is an arcane innovator. His realm, Cania, is essentially a giant laboratory where he conducts extensive experiments. 

When it comes to souls, Mephistopheles prefers quality over quantity. He mostly acquires the souls of highly accomplished wizards and sages to help him with his research. To demand the souls of 7000 vampire spawn seems uncharacteristically beneath him (especially for the power he’s offering) 

My thinking is that Mephistopheles is working on something that specifically requires vampiric energy and lots of it. The 7000 spawns are nothing more than fodder.

A devil’s deal never ends well. This is repeatedly stated throughout the game. Considering what we know of Mephistopheles and how little Cazador cares for his spawn, this whole contract sounds far too good to be true. So what’s the catch?

A few possible ideas as to the downsides:

Mephistopheles is always watching. After all, this is a completely new kind of being that warrants study. 

The Ascendant’s hunger for blood is replaced with a different hunger. A hunger that is indescribable and insatiable. He will always yearn for more. More power, more control, more anything. He may even return to Mephistopheles in an attempt to fill the void. 

The Ascendant’s own soul is included in the price, albeit differently. Where the other souls were simply consumed by the ritual, his will serve another purpose. (Not gonna lie, this one sent me on a whole existential journey trying to figure out what is means to have/lack a soul)

I might post more thoughts later, but this is enough for now