#fuck you i can now hear it in astarion's voice

[avernusfuries]

I’m all pointy ears, sweet cheeks. ( redneckstarion )

What is happening. "Uh, you feelin' alright there Fangs? Come down a little..." Leans in. "Yellowbellied?"

[dark-tides-in-faerun]

I have poor blood circulation and on cold nights look like a stereotypical vampire. Could you write a humorous, SFW fic of someone seeing Tav's bite marks and pale complexion and telling Astarion to keep his bloodsucking friend on a tight leash? (Tav can be GN or female, either work for me).

Thank you so much for requesting ilysm! So I realized that I’ve never written anyone in a fit of laughter before (possibly for a reason LOL) but here’s my best attempt 🧡

The Vampire in the Tavern

sfw Astarion x you story!

Astarion is angry.

He’d finally managed to get you to himself, a night at last without the others vying for your attention, and some peasant woman keeps looking over at you from the bar, dark eyes sliding up your body in a way that he knows all too well.

It’s possessive. It’s proprietary. And it’s pissing him off. 

It had started as just mildly irritating, a glance here and there. But she’d been at it for at least an hour now, and not only does that wretch have no right to eye up his partner, but the implication that she finds you more appealing than she does him is vexing. Extremely vexing. And it doesn’t seem to matter how many times Astarion touches you. How many times his fingers lightly graze the line of your jaw or brush against your hand, that godsforsaken woman won’t stop staring.

And you’ve not noticed, of course. For a formidable warrior and your party’s fearless leader, your lack of awareness of your surroundings is astounding, especially where Astarion is concerned. It’s a trait that exasperates and exhilarates him in equal measure. He could do without it on the battlefield, but in a social setting, he delights in it. The way that just catching your eye can cause words to die on your lips, whatever conversation you’d been in briefly forgotten with just a little glance from him. He slips his hand a little higher up your thigh just to prove it to himself, and when your breath catches in response, he smiles.

If only that bloody woman would stop staring, this had the beginnings of a very promising night indeed.

You clear your throat, cheeks flushed and put both hands on the table, pushing yourself to your feet. Astarion frowns but you shoot him an apologetic smile that’s meant to reassure and it does, sinking through his skin and warming his unbeating heart. It’s adorable.

“I’ll be right back. Nature calls.” You say, by way of explanation, and though you’re trying to keep your voice steady, he can hear your desire, thick and sweet as it sticks in your throat. Delicious.

“I’ll be waiting, my sweet.” He lets the words fall from his lips in a way that’s sultry and intentional, staring up at you from beneath dark eyelashes, and you actually shiver. Astarion grins, delighted with himself, as you flush and turn away. His eyes dart back to the woman, and his grin dies on his lips, mood immediately souring again as her beady little eyes fix on you as you make your way to the bathroom.

The absolute fucking audacity.

You see the cords in her throat working as she swallows, biting her lip, and the she does something even more audacious than simply looking at you. As soon as the latrine door swings shut behind you, she rises to her feet and starts to walk over to the table.

Astarion glares up at her, not bothering to hide his irritation, as she comes to a halt at the edge of the booth. She looks uneasy, calloused fingers pulling at the threads of her road worn shirt, and Astarion swears that if she so much as asks for your name he’s going to rip her throat out where she stands, witnesses be damned.

She hovers for a moment, not speaking, and that serves to only annoy him more.

“Yes?” his voice is tight and cold, and she flinches at the harshness. Good.

“I-I’m sorry to interrupt you sir, but…” She trails off into silence and he grinds his teeth.

“Yes, well how sorry can you truly be, given that you have interrupted me.” He snaps and Astarion frowns as he realises that she’s actually shivering. What in the nine hells. He knows that you’re good looking, but this is a bit much. “Come on then, spit it out. I haven’t got all night.”

“I… I’m sorry, but I couldn’t just – I couldn’t in good conscience sit by.” She says and he raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of his drink. A strange way to approach the topic of wanting to snatch his date from him, but at least it was a start. “Sir, you’re in grave danger.”

He splutters, spitting wine over the table in a most undignified way as she stares back at him, wide eyed and fearful.

“I’m sorry, what?” He manages, when he stops choking long enough to speak. His voice is too loud, and the people at the next table look over, but it’s like he’s lost control of his faculties. This is not how this conversation was meant to go.

“It’s true, sir, and there’s not much time. You must leave, now.”

“And might I ask why?” he asks, incredulously, and then immediately recoils in disgust as the woman shoots a fearful glance in the direction of the latrines and slips into the booth beside him.

“That… thing that you’re with.” She whispers, and he has to fight the physical urge to push her away as she grabs his hand between hers. “It’s not a person. It’s a vampire.”

His mouth drops open, but he doesn’t respond. He can’t. The ridiculousness of this situation has actually rendered him speechless. She wasn’t staring at because she fancied you, she was staring because, because-

An uncontrollable feeling rises in his chest.

“You’re not serious.” He gasps, and his voice doesn’t even sound like him.

“Please sir, I’ve seen their kind before and it’s unmistakable. The pallor of the skin, the coldness of the touch.” She’s actually shaking now and it’s too much. He can smell the fear on her, the dampness of her palms as they press against his, the pounding of her blood as it courses through her veins. “They stalk these taverns looking for people to drain dry in alleyways, and that one has its sights set on you, I know it. You have to leave, now!”

He tries not to, he really does.

But he can’t help it.

He fucking cackles in her face.

“Fnnff.” He gasps, grabbing his hand away and covering his mouth, to try and stop the uncontrollable passage of the hysteria that’s flooding from his lips. “Excuse – snnf- e-excuse me.”

“This ain’t no laughing matter, that’s a vampire, in there, I’m sure of it.” The woman cries, wringing her hands, and she looks so earnest that he simply can’t.

“Hah!” He chokes, barely able to draw breath before the next giggle explodes out of him and the woman, for her part, looks appalled.

“I mean it, sir, you’re in danger.” She says, the first hint of annoyance seeping into her voice, and that just sets him off again. He crumples over on the table, hands digging into the wood so hard it buckles beneath his fingers. He almost feels sorry for every time he’s every used Tasha’s hideous laughter on someone, because this is bloody awful. His stomach hurts, tears are leaking from his eyes, but he still can’t stop. Of all the fucking accusations.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the door to the latrines swing open and you step back into the tavern. He turns to get a good look at you. To see the fearsome night stalker in the flesh, the unholy fiend that has this poor woman so terrified, and when he meets your eyes the expression in them is equal parts bemused and concerned and he fucking wheezes.

You, a vampire.

The woman spots you too, and she stumbles to her feet eyes wide and bright with fear. Astarion throws his head back and lets out a guffaw of laughter so loud and embarrassing that it’s almost enough to sober him, but unfortunately, it’s made you, the object of this woman’s abject terror, jump.

He can’t cope.

“Is everything okay?” Your voice is amused, but a little concerned and Astarion can barely nod as he clutches his stomach. He sees the woman’s eyes slide to your throat and the marks of his bite shine accusatorily back at her in the tavern light.

“Vampire.” She breathes, pointing at you, almost falling over herself as she backs away from them and Astarion collapses onto his side, tears streaming down his face as the woman shoots him one final, terrified look and then turns on her heels and flees into the night.

You stare after her, thoroughly confused now and Astarion is barely able to contain himself enough to move over to let you sit down.

“What in the hells was that about?” You ask, as you slip into the recently vacated spot and Astarion swallows down a giggle, barely able to breathe as he grins at you. It would appear his laughter is somewhat infectious, as you let out a little laugh of your own and touch his face with a bemused frown. And it’s only then that Astarion realizes just how much attention his little display has brought to you both. The people of the tavern are all staring at them and it’s not a friendly look. No doubt they heard the word ‘vampire’ and that, finally, is sobering enough for him to get himself under some semblance of self-control.

“That is a story not for here, my blood sucking friend.” He gasps, stifling another giggle as the look on your face is almost enough to set him off again. He nudges you gently out of the booth and grabs your hand, pulling you towards the tavern doors. “But don’t worry, if I manage to survive the journey in your company, I’ll tell you all about it when we get back to camp.”

[pursuitseternal]

“Virgin Blood:” Spawn Astarion x F!Reader, nsfw Loss of Innocence Spice for you, darlings…

Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3.6K Loss of virginity

Summary: You’re eager to meet your rogue in the woods, and you can think of no better person to take your innocence than your Vampire Rogue… And doesn’t he just cherish the idea… eager to taste your virgin blood.

Act 1 Romance Retold…

CW: loss of virginity, first time, Praise kink, Astarion takes his time, virginity kink, gentle sex, Astarion more than happy to make you feel all the more beholding to him…

For you, Anonymous sweet thing in my ask box 💞

Ao3 link | Astarion fic Master List

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“I just hope we don’t have to wait too long…”

Gods, you hope so too. Your body is on fire, and not just from the battlelust of saving lives.

It is because of him.

His little flirtations that have eroded you, his sweet words and greetings that fill your ear each day. The way his crimson eyes already devour you, as if he can’t get his full of your looks.

And then he bit you.

So intimate and foreign.

And new.

Each time now, your body sings when he feeds, and not just because you can feel your blood dripping down his throat and making him stronger.

You feel seen. Desired. Wanted. He hungers for you and seeks you out. Gods, as if you hadn’t been looking for one to do that for you since you came of age.

Something stirs in your body when you are near him, something wild and untamed. Waiting to be released. Your kind never told you what it was between two lovers, only the lessons you found in nature, the rutting seasons of the earth. That was all you knew of… sex.

But to hear him beckoning you, offering you passion like none other, somewhere quiet for just you and him.

Your body aches… burning. Singing. The blood in your veins pumping wildly. You want so badly to be touched and tasted. But mostly, wanting to be seen.

Wanting him to see more of you. All of you.

So, as the party begins to quiet, you watch your Rogue snatch up some blankets and wine, throwing you a knowing glance that makes your stomach twist and leap.

Gods, he thinks of everything doesn’t he?

Others begin to make their way to sleep, but you step into the woods. Your mind firmly set to give him another gift, and this time, you’re humming in your veins, your nerves crying to be touched. Because you want him to receive this, knowing just how much you will undoubtedly receive in return.

Your footsteps rustle softly in the leaves along the path. You follow that pull in your belly, knowing this is the way he wandered. Knowing that he is close…

That Astarion waits for you.

You pass through the trees, drawing to a stop the moment you see him. Gods, already his pale chest on display. Your mouth waters, your skin grows hot, even though you don’t completely know why.

“There you are,” he purrs, striding to close the distance between you. That handsome face is bright with his own intention. “I’ve been waiting…”

He draws still, a breath away from your body, “…waiting since the moment I saw you, waiting to have you…”

You look into that face, the way he just wants you, pouring his desire out over you, and you are ready to drown in it. “And I want you to have me,” you murmur, a coy, nervous smile dancing on your lips. Hells, you probably look like some innocent little thing. “I want you to have me as no one else has; Astarion…”

“Oh, you sweet little pet,” he croons, his face broadening into a smirk so soft, your stomach quivers. “Do you mean…”

“Yes,” you feel your cheeks hot under that lurid, crimson gaze. “I have never been…”

“Taken?” He offers. “Deflowered?” he adds, a deepening to his grin. “Fucked?”

Oh, it’s not that he’s a vampire spawn that makes him gaze at you with a voracious look in his eyes. It only makes you blush bright red and hot in reply.

“I am… touched to be offered such a gift,” he continues in that thick, honeyed voice, clasping your hands both in his. As he raises them to his lips, you are pulled even closer. Your body tingling to feel his frame, his magnificent form, just barely brushing you. “I am a bit surprised, given how forward you are… how wayward…”

“Perhaps it’s just a good fit, you and I…” you force your voice to lilt, keeping your eyes soft as you meet that insatiable stare. Your heart leaps as he licks his lips, making your hand reach to trace over his chest.

“Mmm, I will make certain it is. This gift, to be the first to know your body… it is one I will cherish… and I’ll make absolute certain you will cherish it too, darling,” his smile is breathtaking, almost as much as the way his own fingers wrap tenderly around your cheek, drawing your face into his so closely, his breath becomes your own.

Slowly he bears his teeth, his gaze raking down your neck into the v cut of your tunic. “Tell me, darling, how long have you been dreaming of this with me, fantasizing our time together as you pleasure yourself…”

Your brow quirks as you struggle to find the meaning of such a sensuous phrase.

“Oh…” he croons, the caressing touch of his hands cresting over your shoulders and drawing down your back. Your confusion ignites a new level of anticipation in him, you can see it twisting over those immaculate, pale features. Then he pulls you flush against him. “You will enjoy tonight, I am sure of it. I will too, there is nothing sweeter, I’m sure, than your first blood, your virgin blood…”

You melt at his words, trembling even before his kiss falls to consume your lips. His fingers are so deft, dexterous and featherlight as they tug the rough linen of your shirt up your body. Bunching it. Letting the night air kiss your skin little by little.

And all the while, his lips work smoothly on yours. Nothing so fast and quick as his bites. No, this is deliberate, controlled. A rhythmic dance that traps you against him and draws you closer.

Before you know it, he breaks from that caress to pull your shirt off completely. You gasp, cheeks hot as he looks you over, the gleam in his eye predacious as he scans your breasts, your skin, drawing his gaze to the band of your breeches.

Those eager lips begin to stray from your mouth, allowing you to finally gasp in the free air. But it’s still a fight, the way your body trembles as he kisses the lingering bite marks on your neck from the other night… drifting even lower to the edge of your collarbone, his breath so cool on your hot and flushed skin.

A moan escapes you, a noise you had never made before. And it makes the vampire chuckle, his lips creeping even lower as he cranes his head. His hands catching your breasts, one in each persistent palm. He massages them, fingertips sweeping over your straining nipples.

Those lips and that tongue replace one set of dexterous fingers, making the same sounds issue from your throat again. Louder. Your body wriggling as it catches on fire, like magma seeping from the earth, it boils in your veins and pools between your thighs.

He’s suckling on you, your hands shaking as you long for them to touch him too, running them into his hair. With a sharp breath, he releases one breast only to rub his tongue through the valley of your chest to trap the other one. Worshiping it with equal zeal.

Gods, you feel strange beneath your navel. Full and hot and swollen. And then, another sensation hits you as you shift on your toes.

You’re… wet. Your breeches are soaked. And it makes you shift again, more uncertain.

“You feel it, can’t you?” he raps as he lifts his head, raising to his full height to look down at you. “The way your body has awoken. You stir, and crave something.” The corner of his mouth quirks just once. “Poor little sweet thing, I promise you, you’ll like what’s coming. It’ll make it all feel better.”

Those fingers, so quick and light, pull the laces of your breeches apart before you even know what’s happening. “May I?” he whispers, running two fingers up the inside of your thigh. “You’ll need these removed, you know…”

You nod vigorously, a giggle in your throat as he grins, that glint of his teeth just peeking from his lips. But he doesn’t pull the fabric from your skin. No, he slides those fingers harder into the soft buckskin over your thighs. Then, he steals their pressure between your legs. His brows canting to feel you where you’re soaked. “My, my…” he purrs, “this will be most enjoyable. Your body already knows just what to do,” his lips twitch as he presses them against your lips again, “and so do I.”

Boldness sweeps through you, assured that you have chosen well. He will make this blissful. Make you feel like the sweet treasure you are to him.

Agonizingly slow, he strokes you there, those fingers so eager for action in the field turn all their talents now to teasing your body. You turn away, unsure as he caresses where you’re wet.

“Don’t be shy with me, darling,” he whispers, “you’re doing so wonderfully, you know.” Those hands pull your breeches down, letting them settle at your ankles. “Here,” he breathes as he grabs your hand where it still presses on the smooth coolness of his chest. “You’ll let me show you, won’t you?”

With how silken, how assured and pleased he sounds, you can’t manage a breath in reply. Only a nod and a moan as those damp fingers take your hand. He molds you to his grasp, guiding your fingers into your own arousal. It’s slippery, hot… and then your hands now slip between your folds…

You moan so loudly, your thighs shaking as he presses your fingers deeper into you.

“There now,” he purrs, lips caressing against the curve of your ear. “So wet and slick, you’re a wonder, my sweet little virgin. Your body’s already eager for me, and you don’t even know it yet.”

“Please,” you raps, pulling your hands back towards the apex of your thighs. “Show me.”

“I’ll do so much more than that, darling…”

It’s so quick, the way he’s picked you up in his arms to lay you down in the soft grass. In an instant, he’s shuffled off your breeches, the air wafting over your body, completely bared and entirely hot despite the little breezes of night.

Astarion draws his body to cover yours, so slowly, controlled, as if he plans every little graze of his skin across yours. “Sweet little thing,” he croons as he traps your lips in a quick, gentle kiss. “You’re all mine aren’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum, the feeling of his body lowering all its weight on you, sending shivers down your spine and sparks over your vision. “All yours…” you moan between his full and twitching lips.

“I do so love the sound of that, darling…” With one last little peck on your lips, he begins caressing your body, kissing and sucking your breasts once more before trailing down over your belly. It rises and falls with every heaving, nervous breath you take. “Don’t you worry,” he whispers, “the more you give in to how I’ll make you feel, the more delicious this will be.” He catches your hand again in his to slink it back where you are on absolute fire. That slick between your legs. “Now, close your eyes, and just touch…”

He brings your hands to your folds, dipping your fingertips within. So wet and soft and hot, swollen you can tell, as he draws your fingers at the crest of your folds. “There,” he presses, the little nub beneath your touch so hard, the contact instantly making your muscles clench and burn. “Should the need arise as you think of me, as you remember tonight, as you wait eagerly for the next time you come to my bed… you can touch yourself here for your own pleasure, darling…”

Your body takes over, the rhythmic tracing of his fingers guiding yours… it’s sorcery. Magic. Like fire and ice in your veins as he circles your fingers and his over that little hard bud. You flutter your eyes open, watching as he stares at you, his gaze catching yours with all the hunger and pride and desire you could wish to see. Then, those perfect lips twitch in a mischievous smirk. Already crouching between your legs, he’s licking his lips, lowering his head towards your body as his fingers still tug at you unrelentingly.

So cool and wet, you feel his tongue lapping along with your fingers. Your hips buck out of your control, muscles clenching as one possessed, but it is not in pain. It is flame and ruin and ecstasy that flood along your muscles. Spurred on by his kissing and sucking and lapping between your thighs.

That feeling crashes through you, blinding you as your back arches, your scream tearing from your throat as you writhe and spasm. Your hand goes limp between your legs as you pant.

With a laugh, he places a kiss on your soaking palm before resting it tenderly on your panting belly. His tongue laps up your seam, you can feel the flush of that slick cooling in the breeze and drying on your skin. “Oh my sweet,” he rasps, glancing from between your thighs. “You are doing so well, such pleasure for your first time,” he giggles, “don’t let it go to your head. The best is yet to come…”

You mewl, his two dexterous fingers finding their way inside you now, playing in and out. Instantly, that need reignites, consuming your flesh. Your hands reach for him… for any part of him. You find his arm, his own muscles bunched and bulging as you feel him working inside you. You feel him shifting lower, kissing the sticky skin of your inner thigh, his hand slipping another long finger inside your walls, making your muscles burn as they stretch. “Shhh,” he soothes as you groan and pant and squirm at the pressure. “You’re such a good girl, so wet and eager, this will be delicious. I doubt you will even bleed once I’m inside you…”

He chuckles, watching your body, your eyes wide and wild as that wave begins to wash over you again… the heat, the throes of pleasure you now realize come from his touch. And then he slips his thumb back over that aching little nub again.

“Gods, Astarion,” you keen, your voice rough as you tear apart. Those fingers inside you… your whole body clenches on them, the pressure, the fullness sending you careening into your climax even harder this time. Breathless, you can only make little incoherent sounds, a little louder as he insists on still pumping his touch inside you even as you come.

“Breathe, my sweet,” he smiles, “you’re going to do wonderfully.”

The chill of his touch, his whole body leaves you for a moment. But you can’t look, can’t even open your eyes as you still drift down from your pleasure.

You feel stretched and limp and warm… the gentle embrace of bliss and pleasure you had heard ballads about. You rise up on your arms, and for a moment, that warm comfort runs cold in your veins.

You see him. Naked. Breeches removed as he strokes his cock in his hand. Looking down at you where he stands. Those crimson eyes almost glow in the moonlight. But you barely glance into his face, knowing it’s hungry and needy and salacious.

No, your eyes are mesmerized by his length, so much longer than you had thought, erect and pale. You watch it twitch as he rubs himself slowly. “Shhh,” he soothes from above you, “come here, my darling. I promise you it will only hurt a bit…”

You sweep your legs beneath you, kneeling before him. His fingers caress your face. He takes a deep breath, his belly filling as his cock twitches to see you so close. “Touch me,” he whispers the instruction, your hands joining his as you feel him. So hard, smooth skin stretched over something so unyielding. Etched with pale veins that darken slightly beneath his already pale skin… you run your fingers over it as his own hand stills near its base.

Sweeping your thumb over that thick, blunted head, you make him groan. “Good girl,” he praises, his voice thick with lust in his throat. “Soon, my pet, I’ll teach you to pleasure me in return, but tonight…” he breathes heavily, dropping to his knees with you, “tonight is about your pleasure, your deflowering as I claim your innocence my sweet.” His lips twitch, “which I am most eager to do… a gift I am forever thankful for…”

His eyes glint with intent, possession and pride, his mouth descending to capture yours again. Those powerful arms hug you tightly to his chest, that hardened cock prodding into your belly, twitching each time your mouth moves with the rhythm of his kiss.

Slowly, he lays you back into the grass, those arms that have snapped your enemies in half cradling you gently against his body. One hand slides between you, ghosting that chilling touch between your thighs, the other presses your cheek in his palm, keeping your lips trapped against his.

Then, you feel it, something thicker and harder pressing into that still molten slick between your legs. Inch by inch, he enters you, the roll of his hips against yours almost imperceptible. “Shh,” he hushes you, another caress of those full lips against yours. “You’re so good, darling…”

A bit more, your muscles burn as he slides, that slick coating him, letting his cock inside you little by little. You groan, your muscles clenching at the thickness. And he only laughs and shushes you again. “Easy now, darling, I promise. Those stories of virgins bleeding are only with bad lovers, but I will only ever make you bleed in other ways, other… more delicious ways….” He catches your lower lip in his fangs and bites down, a little nip as pain shoots through you. You groan… hardly noticing that in that moment, he’s sheathed himself between your thighs completely.

Buried deep in your throbbing channel.

“Hells below…” you groan, a wriggle of your hips as you feel the pressure easing. Burning and not in pain. That same sort that consumed you already, only now… all the stronger. “Astarion,” you look into his eyes, how they smile at you, narrowed and delighting.

“I told you darling,” he purrs, a slight movement of his hips, dragging that cock a bit out, a bit in as your mouth hangs open, “I told you I would make certain we are a good fit…”

You groan, not at his words, at the way he begins to thrust into you. Slowly, consistently, letting your body open to accept him. His mouth still hovers over yours, his breath filling your mouth, the taste of your blood still on your tongue and his as he catches it in his kiss.

“Gods,” he groans as your body begins that journey higher, driven by every thrust inside you, the heat multiplying, the clenching of your every muscle catching all the more on him inside you. “You tight, little, innocent thing…” he pants, “you’re going to be the ruin of me.” You feel his lips twisting, smirking against you, his breath coming heavily now too. His arms on either side of you shake, those hips, his body, driving into you faster. You wrap your legs around his waist, your own instincts taking hold, wanting him deeper, wanting more of him thrusting inside.

He groans as he slides to fill you completely, “Good girl,” he purrs his praises again into your mouth. Groans and thrusts consume you, the slide of his body on yours transports you… until you feel nothing that is not him.

It takes you, that press of his hips, that drag of his cock between your walls, you spill into that climax, the oblivion of twitching heat. Your mouth hanging open to keen. His cock pulls all the harder as your body clenches. Hitching, fucking, slamming with everything he’s got inside you, until he’s groaning too, gasping and whsipering in silken tones just how good you are… how tight and perfect….

You feel him inside you, gripped so hard, pulsing as that slick drips from inside. His hands cradle your cheek again, the full weight of his body lowering, blanketing you, pressing you into the earth. “See… wonderful…” he pants, another kiss against your lips, longer, tender. “Something to cherish between us forever…”

He slips from inside you, making you arch and groan at the release. Your thighs shake, even as he lowers to lay beside you, rolling you to lay in his arms. To rest your head in the crook of his shoulder.

A single finger traces your neck, his head lifting to look down your body beside him. “You see, sweet thing, not a drop of blood… well,” he chuckles, “not yet anyway.” Those smirking lips caress over the throbbing vein in your neck. “I would so love a drink of your not-so-virgin blood now…”

“Yes,” you tilt your head, your voice is sultry, heavy in your throat as you keep your eyes meeting his heavy-lidded gaze. “And then, can we… again?”

His brows raise, delighted, genuine surprise lifting those sharp features of his handsome face. “I would love nothing more,” he croons. “So addicted to me already are you?” A single laugh punctuates his words. “Perhaps this worked out better than I could have imagined,” he speaks, almost to himself, that devious, desirous smirk on his lips for a moment before his fangs bite into your skin.

Drawing that first, no-longer- virgin blood.

[dark-and-kawaii]

‎‧₊˚✧[ Bred So Nicely ]✧˚₊‧

Summary: Giving his cock a few lazy strokes, Zevlor pressed the head back against your entrance, your pussy greedily swallowing it up. He could feel how his cock was pushing his seed he had just released inside your pussy even deeper into you... It was like he was a young hellrider again having sex for the first time!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡ — Pairing: Zevlor x F!Tav/Reader

‎⋆౨ৎ˚⟡ — Content: ‎NSFW - Breeding - Multiple Creampies - Stuffed To The Brim With Cum - Overflowing - Stretched So Good - Cervix Pounding - Your Body Gets Bullied Beautifully - Zevlor Saves A Horse Amd Rides You - Impregnation - Touch Of Angst Towards The End - Comfort - Age Gap

‎⋆౨ৎ˚⟡ — Notes: Are you horny and need a good lewd read? Look no further ♡ ♡ ♡

His cock thrust violently into you, his hips slamming down unlike anything you had ever experienced. His hands, once so soft, were now rough and calloused, gripping your own arms with bruising strength, as though he would never let go.

His mouth was open in a wordless moan, his teeth bared and clenched together, and his fiery orange eyes were half lidded.

An unbelievable amount of sperm spilled inside your womb, filling you to the point of bursting, before gushing out of your vagina and running down his still thrusting cock… Something he had only seen in his dreams, something he thought he could never have. But by the gods, you were real. Your body was underneath him, your womb accepting his seed, his love. Your voice crying out to him. You were here.

“Mmns’Zwevlor~ Y-you’re let-ting out s’much inside me~♡”

Of course he was, he had been so pent up for so long, his mind was a mess. It felt so good, the way your gummy walls clamped down on him, sucking him in deeper, and the way your cervix fluttered as if kissing the head of his cock, asking for more. He just couldn’t stop cumming, his balls emptying out his thick white cream inside of you over and over, your belly feeling full.

“Zeeeevlor~♡ I c-can feel you in my tummy~ ♡ It feels s-so good inside~~!♡ S-so full~ ♡ Mmn-! ♡ F-fill me even more, I want it all~!”

He couldn’t believe it, how his cock was still raring to go after dumping that much inside you. How his cock was still so needy…

Zevlor pulled himself free of you, watching as your walls clung to him, desperate for him to stay inside- watching how your body shuddered, your arms above you as if he was still pinning you down, your breasts heaving as you panted.

His tail kept you spread for him, giving him a good view of his cum dribbling freely from your well fucked cunt, his eyes drawn to the way your belly bulged slightly, your womb stuffed to the brim…

Giving his cock a few lazy strokes, Zevlor pressed the head back against your entrance, your pussy greedily swallowing it up. He could feel how his cock was pushing his seed he had just released inside your pussy even deeper into you... It was like he was a young hellrider again having sex for the first time!

He leaned over you, his hands gripping yours tightly as he buried his face into your shoulder, breathing heavily as his hips snapped forward, his balls slapping against your ass.

“P-please~ don’t n’ stop ~! Y-your cock!~ I-it makes my head spin~ ♡ Zevlor!”

You couldn't tell where your legs and arms were, nor could you see anything besides the man on top of you. It felt like the world was spinning and you were lost in the haze of pleasure this old man was giving you. The only feeling you could register was the cock inside you~

There was a voice- his voice yelling at him in the back of his head, about how he was a middle aged man in his fifties making a baby with a young thing like you. One he had just met days ago.

Hearing your cute cries, his erection wouldn’t let him stop. Not when you were moaning his name so sweetly, not when your arms were wrapping around his neck, holding him close, not when your legs were wrapping around his hips… The man Astarion had teased you about- the old wet rag of a hellrider, continued to pour his seed inside of you countless times.

And each time he could feel his cum slosh around inside you- his veiny ridged cock pushing his seed deeper and deeper into your fertile womb, doing that obsessively over and over again until he was sure one of his little swimmers found their mark.

He wanted to impregnate you, to become a father and leave behind descendants. Your young, far less aged body ripe and ready for conception… And your body seemed eager enough, hungry to swallow up his seed.

“Nghn~ Th-thrusting sh’ow deeeep~ ♡” your tongue lolled out as you felt him squish your legs against your chest, his cock threatening to push past the entrance to your womb- his whole body weight pressed to you.

His hand reached up, grabbing your jaw with a gentle touch, his eyes locked on yours. You couldn't look away, those orange orbs staring at you as if trying to devour you whole, “Ha’ah’ ha- Tell me, please- hha“ Zevlor panted, his hot breath seen due to the coolair within the groves cave, “before my courage ups and flees, tell me that you’re min-“

“I’m n’ mn’yours~♡!! Zev~ Zevlor~!!! I belong s’to yo-u~ ♡♡!!! ♡♡♡!!♡!!~!! I-ah~I'm c-cumming-!!! ♡ I-I'm cummmmmmmiiiing~!!!!!!!!!~ ♡♡ ♡♡ ♡♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡♡ ♡♡ ♡♡ Ahhhh~~~ ♡♡ ♡♡♡ ♡♡♡!!! I’m going t-to hav-e a hell-sp-awns baby~♡Nnn’!!!”

You screamed as your mind blanked out, a violent orgasm ripping through your body, your toes curling, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Zevlor could feel your walls spasm and tighten, milking him dry as he filled your womb with another load. He bit into the crook of your neck as he came, a deep, primal growl vibrating through his body, his hand digging into your thigh as his other grabbed the back of your head and kept him pinned to you- emptying his balls deep inside your belly.

He could feel how his balls pulsed as he sent shot after shot of his hellish seed into you one final time… He watched as you gasped- as if you could clearly feel each hot gush of his seed entering your womb.

Zevlor was sure that was the last of it… His cock had already begun to soften, but his mind was still lost in a fog of lust.

Neither of you attempted to move, instead you both just stayed in the position, panting, covered in sweat and each others fluids. His hand stroked your head as your own hand rubbed the base of his horns- both of you exhausted and in bliss.

Your body was still a trembling mess, the aftershocks of pleasure making you see stars, unable to form a coherent thought. You couldn't see a thing, the world nothing but a blur as you gasped for air- the feel of his body the only thing that kept you grounded.

He was heavy and warm, enveloping you in a comforting warmth that made your body feel relaxed. And with his weight resting against you, you felt so safe and cozy. It was a wonderful feeling, but gradually his warmth began to fade, as he began to shift away from you.

Instinctively, you pulled him close, a needy whine coming from you as you wrapped your arms around him tighter, refusing to let him go… Your body holding onto him desperately. You didn’t want him to leave, didn’t want to go your separate ways come morning…

And neither did he.

You could feel how tears formed at the corners of your eyes, a sense of panic gripping you, “I- I don’t want to leaveyou…” you sobbed, burying your face into his chest, the salty liquid staining his skin, the words he was about to say stuck in his throat.

Afraid that any movement would only upset you more, he stayed where he was, his hands stroking the sides of your head. His soft cock still inside of you- and with each sob you took, you could feel his cum squelch around inside you…

Zevlor could smell his own scent clinging to you, a pleasant warmth filling his chest… He wanted to stay with you, wanted to settle down with a family, to be with you forever. And judging from the way you were clinging onto him, you wanted him just as badly…

He couldn’t tell you how his heart had almost broken when you sobbed out those words… How he wished he could join you in your travels, but he had his people to worry about… He needed to get them to Baldurs Gate… “My dear,-”

A sharp gasp left your lips as his soft cock slid out of you, a rush of cum spilling from your sore cunt, a deep blush staining your cheeks as you realized he could see-

Zevlor watched as his cum dripped out of you, his mouth open as he breathed heavily- a strange mixture of emotions running through him, “I will meet you in Baldurs Gate.” His fiery orbs met with your glossed ones, his hands wiping the tears away as he brought his face close to yours, his lips hovering over yours, the tips of his fangs brushing against the softness of your lips, “I’ll wait for you there- that’s if you’ll still have this old soul as yours when we meet again?” His tail was coiled around your leg, “But I need to see my people there safely. Please, don't cry, I can't bear seeing such a sad expression on you. Not after what we've done.”

The promise to be with him again was enough to quell the fear that had been building up in you, And you nodded, a shy smile on your lips, “Zevlor…”

The way you said his name, the way you were looking up at him- he couldn't help but think you looked beautiful. Your eyes, bright and hopeful, staring back at him.

With the promise that the two of you would meet again, his lips met yours, the kiss gentle and chaste, the tip of his tongue licking at the seam of your lips, silently asking permission, and which was granted- your lips parting, allowing him access.

You two had only just met days ago, but the feelings were there- strong and deep…

He was no longer an old, tired Hellrider, he was no longer some washed up man… Here in your embrace he felt young, like he had a second chance at love- a chance he thought he would never have.

[herdarkestnightelegance]

Get up!

Pairing: Astarion/ g/n You

Tags: something fun and a bit fluffy

Length: 277 words

A/N: Based on this hilarious voice clip of Neil as Astarion

::::::::::::::::::::::

Some mornings living with Astarion can be … challenging. 

Sure, there are tender mornings, when he will pull you close, cuddling up to you with his eyes still shut, small grunts of protest coming from his mouth until you stop moving and gladly stay where you are. Some mornings, you will wake up and find him looking at you with a tender look on his face. This used to unsettle you when you began your relationship - but now, when you think about him watching over you, you feel safe, cherished.

But then … there are other mornings. 

“Get up!” His voice is so close to your ear you almost jump. "I said get up," he repeats as you feel him shake your shoulder impatiently. Astarion’s probably been up for hours at this point - you smell the tea he has brought to your bedside. “My Gods, you’re so lazy, just like Gale,” he huffs. You roll your closed eyes and remind yourself he’s just bored when you feel a tuck on your blanket. Oh, absolutely not! You hold on to it for dear life. “Get out of bed and get up. It’s the morning!” He sighs in indignation, you hear him tapping his foot on the floor. “Listen, I might be a vampire who’s been away from the sun for 200 years … but even I don’t rest in!” which is absolutely not true, by the way. Your pillow is yanked out from under your head, and you let out a surprised yelp. “Get the fuck up.” he adds breathlessly as he smacks you with your own pillow. 

Yeah. Some mornings living with Astarion can be very challenging.  

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Pillow Talk

Astarion x F! Tav

18+ complicated/developing feelings, intimacy, heavy petting, urgent sex, dry humping, public sex (kinda), dirty talk, coming in pants (m!), implied trauma, miscommunication, tenderness, porn w/o plot

Tav innocently offered to help Astarion with his morning routine. But things get very close, and Astarion is shocked how her sweet face belies the sinful mouth she has...

-

"So you fill in your eyeline, right?"

He looked up from his book.

"Pardon?"

She was wiping the stray blood off of her neck with her fingers. Startling him when they slid into her mouth.

They had struck up a routine, he drank and she stayed to chat or just lay in quiet in his tent for a while.

This platonic exchange was new to him, but he found it surprisingly comfortable. Even looking forward to seeing her. Big doe eyes peeking under the flap of his tent, asking for entry.

She pointed good naturedly at him, licking her fingers clean. His eyes locked on her mouth.

"Your eyes. Your lashes are naturally white, yeah?"

They were, but he was a mite distracted.

Tav was... deceptive in nature. All eyes and lips. Her voice a bright chirp. Freckles and dimples. A beauty that was fit to the innocence of summer.

But as he got to know her found that she was more debauched. Always willing to cause chaos, down for anything.

Even shocking him sometimes with the things that would come out of her pouty flushed lips.

The contrast was... interesting.

"Why do you ask?" He intoned, looking back to his book in feigned disinterest.

"Well, I could help. It must be hard without a mirror."

"Interesting. And what would you gain from this exchange?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not trying to fuck you Astarion."

He blinked.

She had brushed off his advances by turning the tables before. He came at her with honeyed words and she called his bluff, upping the ante with crude huffed words in his ear until he walked away flustered.

It vexed him to no end. To not only be bested but also how her words shot straight to his groin.

"You sure about that?" He smirked, unable to help himself.

She smiled Cheshire at him. Started pulling her shirt open. "You want me to make you scream, Astarion?" The last of her words coming out a loud moan. A dare.

"Would you pipe down?" He admonished, voice coming out a harsh whisper.

She giggled, closing her shirt again. The sliver of the curve of her breast hidden again.

His ears were flushed, closing his book.

She sat back, legs tucked under her. All innocent again.

"So...?" She sing-songed.

"Okay, fine." He huffed, acting terribly put upon.

"Yay!" She chirped.

He bit back the smile forming on his lips.

"If you so insist, you can assist me in the morning. Now begone from me, demon."

She giggled again, high rising bells. Waving her fingers at him as she retreated from his tent.

Gods, what a nuisance.

Completely ignoring the tightness in his leathers he blew out the candle.

The sounds of morning accosted him, groaning in his tent.

He lifted the flap to get some air but laid back down with a dramatic flop.

From the window of his tent, he watched his campmates mill around.

Only Karlach excitedly preparing for her day, greeting with big smiles and hands clasped on shoulders. Everyone else a smeared facsimile of alertness.

Tav was still in her long sleep shirt, but mostly put together. Hair in a long plait down her back, face washed. Talking to Halsin, though he couldn't hear their conversation. Halsin's eyes gazing down at her in clear desire.

She had to crane her neck to look up at him, basically standing on tiptoes.

At one point, she lifted her arms to stretch above her head.

He saw the druids eyes dip to her arched chest hungrily then back up to her eyes, carrying on the conversation.

Astarion felt a heat in his chest. Then shook his head.

This was none of his concern. She was beautiful, of course their campmates wanted her.

She looked over, seeing his tent open. Her eyes brightening. Opening her mouth to say something to Halsin then bouncing away towards him.

He saw how the druids face slightly fell and felt a petty thrill in his chest.

"Good morning~" She sung. "May I come in?"

It felt good, if not foreign, to be asked permission.

"Of course, darling."

She climbed inside with a little wiggle.

He turned to his chest, pulling the small washbasin out.

As he began his morning routine, she laid on the floor of his tent, snuggling down into his newly freed blankets with a happy sigh.

She had to know how adorable she was.

He reveled these moments, where it was just them in a comfortable silence. It was intimate, but in a way that didn't make him feel like he was drowning.

He rubbed his face clear, his unmade hair falling down into his forehead. Sighing.

"What I wouldn't give for a working mirror." He grumbled.

"Well, let me see. I'll paint you a picture." She smiled, looking up at him from his bedroll.

Though he couldn't see himself, he suddenly felt exposed. Knowing his face was bare, his curly hair free of pomade and unruly from sleep.

He turned and looked down at her with a slight frown.

She sat up and took him in.

Of course she looked radiant. Her bare face giving her an even more entrancing layer of beauty.

He tried to not squirm under her gaze.

"Well, your eyes are very beautiful like this, the contrast of red and white suits you. Your lips are full and arched. Jaw sharp."

Her eyes drifting up to his hair. Tilting her head and smiling wide, her dimples on display.

"And your hair is so cute like this. Like a big sheep." She giggled.

"I am not a big sheep." He huffed. "How dare you."

She bit her lip, still smiling at him. "Altogether very handsome. It's a good look on you."

He suddenly wanted to kiss her and blinked away the thought in shock.

"So are you going to let me do your eyeliner now?" She asked, clearly excited.

"You know what you're doing?" He asked, handing her the smudging pencil.

"Just because I don't usually wear makeup while trudging through the woods doesn't mean I don't know how to use it." She teased.

"Well some of us can afford to take less effort it seems."

"Careful, that was dangerously close to a compliment." She laughed. "Here, lay back."

He laid against some propped pillows and she straddled over him.

Her face coming over his, gently holding his head still.

He knew she meant nothing by the position or the closeness. But his heart still phantom pounded.

"Look up." She hushed, lining the bottom of his eye with sure hands.

"You know, I get why you feel strange about your appearance." She spoke softly, face stern in concentration.

"People are weird about me too. Most people only give me the time of the day if they want to fuck me."

His eyes had drifted up to the roof of his tent but came back to hers at that.

"Fuck me then forget me. Thought that was how things were going to be for me for a long time."

She sighed. "Maybe it still is. If we didn't have tadpoles to keep us together I think half the camp would be culpable."

She had taken the air out of his lungs. Unknowingly mirroring his own thoughts to him.

"Sorry, that's not your problem." She murmured, switching to his other eye. Her tongue sticking slighty out of her mouth in concentration.

It wasn't, and yet he felt guilty. After all, he still was planning to seduce her. It hadn't been working, but still.

"And what if someone wanted to be with you and stick around?" He hushed.

She looked at him, pausing. Then smiling sadly.

"I don't know. I've never gotten that far." She shrugged. "Could be nice. Or a nuisance, depending on the person."

He laughed low in his throat.

"Okay, done." She leaned back, admiring her work.

"Oh, wait." She hushed, leaning forward again, lips so close to his he could feel their heat. Fingers smudging gently along the outer corner of his eye.

He leaned up thoughtlessly and slid his lips against hers.

She froze in shock, then slowly leaned into him. Moaning softly.

He cupped the nape of her neck, pulling her into him. Suddenly hungry and needful.

Aware of the tent flap still open, he turned his body over hers, shielding her from view.

Didn't need all of their companions spying on them, did they?

They pulsed into each other, all heat and slick. Tongues twisting, desperate pulls of hands. Panting.

His mind was full of nothing but spinning desire. A heady miasma of need.

He couldn't maintain decorum anymore.

With an impatient huff he kicked the tent wall, the flap falling closed.

Pulling his shirt off of his head he dove back into her. Lost in her velvet mouth, the lamb's ear skin of her thighs. All the soft little sounds she was making, sweet bird cries.

His hands pushed under her sleep shirt, gripping onto her plush hips. Pulling her into him with a low moan. Grinding his hard length into her soaked underclothes.

Her head fell back, gasping out choppy breaths.

He could tell she was trying to be quiet and it ignited more flames in his pelvis.

"Do keep your voice down, darling." He teased in her ear. Pushing her sleep shirt up more, cupping her breast.

She leaned forward and ran her tongue up the point of his ear, panting hot.

His eyes hitched back, groaning.

"I thought we were being quiet." She teased.

Evil. Evil woman.

"Oh, you're being nasty again?" He chided, hips rolling of their own accord now.

He was trying to maintain the upper hand here but he was flushed and panting. His purpose narrowed down to getting more, more, more.

"Oh you want nasty?" She purred.

She pulled on the waistband of his leathers, pulling him into her harder. Hips meeting his in time.

"How would you want me if we fucked? Hmm maybe you would bury your cock in my throat and let my sweet tongue lap at your underside till I was gasping."

Oh Gods.

His eyes squeezed shut, hips pistoning into her.

"Mmm, or maybe you'd want me on all fours, my slick greedy cunt taking your cock. Slamming your hips into my ass, seeing it jiggle with your thrusts."

She pulled his hand to her ass to make her point, suckling down on his ear.

He bit back a moan, hand gripping into the round plush flesh of her ass. Panting into her neck, bending her leg out with his. Pulling her open for him.

"Hmm, maybe not those." She hushed into the shell of his ear. "Maybe you want me to lick your nipple, suckling it in my hot tongue. Lave my tongue over your chest until your arching your back so pretty for me."

His breath caught in his throat, cock unbearably hard. Hips stuttering into her.

"Ohh," She smiled, looping a leg around his hip. "That's it."

She pulled down with her leg, his hips melded with hers now.

Grabbing a fistful of his hair she pulled taut, bending his neck open.

He was dangerously close, the hair pull nearly sending him over. Stifling the moan caught in the back of his throat.

"How hard would you shake for me when I fucked my fingers into you? Milking the agonizing pleasure from you. Spilling your spend in gushes on my bouncing tits."

He whimpered, gripping down into her hips and began spilling in thick ropes. Biting down into her shoulder to not cry out. Hard pulsing strikes of near tortuous pleasure. Ripping up through his body with merciless talons.

She held him steady as he shattered over her. Hushing encouragement into his ear.

His eyes had started to water, a lump suddenly in his throat. Startling himself.

He allowed himself one more moment of her warmth before pulling away. Sitting up and facing away from her. Forcing his breath slow and even.

"Hey," Her voice soft, pulling close to him but not touching. "Was that too much? I'm sorry."

"No, you were devine darling. Just needed to catch my breath. You wore me out, you wicked thing."

He held his hand hard to his chest, steadying himself. You're safe. You're here. You're safe.

She was quiet behind him, then planted a soft kiss on the curve of his shoulder, rising up.

"I've overstayed my welcome." She said knowingly. "Sorry. I'll be out of your hair in a second."

He wanted to tell her that wasn't it. That wasn't it at all. He actually wanted her to stay, lay in that quiet again. But his body was all sharp edges, bristling.

She slid his shirt back to him and left his tent. "I'll keep my distance from now on, don't worry."

The way she said it, with a certainty of wrongdoing, like accepting a punishment. His heart ached for a moment.

Like she had wronged him.

The sweet thing.

No. No, he would find a way to fix this.

~

Part 2

[mutualcombat]

oh my god why am i awake? why did i write this?

rating: explicit

pairing: astarion/afab!tav (adriannu :3 )

cw: 18+, parallel masturbation, astarion thinking hes being a dom but is mostly just being a creachurrr. worlds smallest reference to his trauma. also this is unedited if you see mistakes no you fuckin didnt (sorry) (set during act 2 btw)

preview:

The only thing he's laid on her tonight are his eyes, and still she yields. Obliges his whims like it's gospel.

What a wonder it is to desire again. Or to be desired.

"Will you, darling?" His ask his soft. Gentle. Demure. His voice melts into a whisper. Breathy. As if speaking the very words bring him overwhelming ecstasy. "Pleasure yourself for me?"

Even in the dark space of his tent, Astarion can see Adriannu's fingers move down her belly in a torturous crawl. He inhales sharply, and licks his lips as her hand sneaks through her pressed thighs. Splitting her fingers into a 'v', she draws them up her folds, then down and up again. Her little sigh of relief makes his ears fidget.

He can smell her arousal now. Taste it in the thick of the air. Hear it in the rushing of her blood. A cornucopia of sensual delight, spread out just for him and only on her offer.

"My, just look at you." Astarion leans back on his palms from where he sits at the edge of the leather trunk. He uncrosses his legs and unlaces his trousers to take his cock in hand, kneading the rosy, wet tip between his thumb and forefinger. He exhales; a reverent sigh. "Let me see what other talents those fingers have. "

Adriannu is panting. She's watching him in that strange, half lidded way, like he's an adversary she's sizing up for a fight.

Even so, she does as he instructs. Nude, on her back with her knees drawn up and pressing flush together -- Astarion nearly preens just watching her gingerly push a finger inside. She makes a strangled noise that sounds a lot like relief.

The only thing he's laid on her tonight are his eyes, and still she yields. Obliges his whims like it's gospel.

What a wonder it is to desire again. Or to be desired.

He couldn't stand the hands on him. The grabbing, the pushing. Fabric tearing. Skin bruising. Symptoms of twenty long decades of playing the object.

To actually want for someone that wants him in return... it excites him. Terrifies him. He's elated. Perplexed. Absolutely fucking clueless. He wants to pin Adriannu down and drag his cockhead over her clit until tears of raw pleasure bead at the corners of those strange, canid-like eyes.

The slick sounds of her cunt make his fingers flex, his cock twitch. His shallow breaths are a reflex, not a need. A habit from a time when he was just a man.

He bites the inside of his cheek as she pushes another finger in. Grinds her palm against clit while her fingers pump a slow, agonizing rhythm. Something delicious burns in his gut as he watches her drip over the linens of his bedroll. He knows he'll be burying his nose in it later, whimpering as he desperately knuckles the spot under his sack and rids himself of all the pent up release from this evening and the last.

"Just what are you thinking about over there?" It's Adriannu's amused voice that brings him to. Astarion blinks.

An intrusive, downright salacious thought worms it's way into his head -- tells him how good that smile of hers might look with a set of pristine fangs. A set to match his own.

His mouth goes dry. The hunger in him suddenly burns, and the fire threatens to smoke the beast in him right out into the open.

Across the tent, Adriannu's smile widens as she works herself. She's practically breathless. "I see that face--ah," something she does causes her hips to twitch. "Nasty, desperate creature you are..."

He's on her before she can react. Crawling up her body, cock in hand and practically dripping. His claws catch in the fibers of the bedding before he even realizes they're out.

Planting his knees on either side of her shoulders, Astarion straightens up and, tilting his head back, he gives his shaft a luxuriously slow pump from base to tip. "Maybe I'll show you just how nasty I can really be."

[dhampling]

Headcanons/short cute thing of Astarion being a lil shit and causing more kicks talking to and touching Tav's baby bump as Tav tries to rest? You know he does it on purpose lol.

i loved this. it's so silly. enjoy astarion being actually awful, and thank you anon!

He’s insufferable.

Poking your belly with nauseating laughter, each kick causing him to sprawl on the bedlinen with his head thrown back in cascading triumph and limbs flailing. 

Astarion finds this absolutely hilarious.

It’s the kind of heat that sits on skin like thick eiderdown; sweat broiling you near-nude as you wince. His skin is a burn salve in the still midsun air and yet you want nothing more than for him to sincerely fuck off.

A sing-song voice as he continues; your groan overshadowed;- 

“Come on! Come oooonnnn! It’s me, darling. Give us another one!’

A heavy snort as he waits in silence, broken by another flutter and his foul chortle. He kicks his legs in sheer jubilance.

‘She can hear us, love!” 

The pillow hits his face with an unexpected force as you turn on your side, yet he doesn’t stop - simply crawling over your heavy form and throwing the discarded pillow aside. His head settles just atop the burning skin.

“If I’m your favourite, give us a kick.”

A gentle jerk just below his ear sends him reeling again.

“Daddy’s girl! Hah!”

You’re tempted to unleash the bile brewing with each vertiginous swirl he prompts. Spew all over his perfect hair and unruddied face. Send him off as fuming as you feel.

“Oh, love. Don’t be sour.”

He’s looking to you now; those big round eyes somehow combined with the most sly smile you’ve ever had the misfortune of witnessing. 

“If you don’t stop, then I’m revoking belly privileges for a whole tenday.” 

“You wouldn’t.”

He brings his hand to his chest in mock horror. Your own face remains stony.

“I’m serious. Not even in bed.”

Astarion shuffles back over you to lie behind you in a churlish silence, settling behind you in a soft hug; hand nowhere near the bump any longer. It’s too soft. You know he isn’t done being silly yet.

“Okay. I’m sorry. Let me cool you - you’re burning up.”

It’s not until his deft fingers move with ridiculous speed to your belly in a tickling advance that you know all sense of sincerity is long gone.

Your eyes land on the nearest pillow.

Bingo.

[undiscovered-horizon]

(tw for self-harm -> literally hitting a tree with a bare fist)

[Tav has to carry the world on their shoulders. But when they begin to question this responsibility and the unfairness of it, they need someone to make sure their grief doesn't destroy them.]

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

Astarion knows that something is very off when you drop your bag and disappear behind the tree line, never even acknowledging his existence. The certain skip in your step, a bravado of "There's no mountain I can't move" is completely gone, nowhere to be seen. Now, something more sinister has taken its place - a darkness looming over your shoulder that makes even him shudder. Like you've switched places with another creature.

He notices Shadowheart and Gale watching your departure, both of them fidgeting in their stillness. Their hesitancy is all too obvious. Then, they exchange a look of both concern and inquiry. In awkward silence, Gale and Shadowheart part ways, simultaneously deciding to let you have your space.

Be it his curiosity or worry for you that he so vehemently denies, Astarion marches off in the direction he has seen you go, only to disappear behind the trees. He passes by Gale, who grabs Astarion's arm. The bruises on the wizard's face look almost black in the twilight of the campsite.

"I wouldn't do that, Tav is a little..." he hangs his voice as his eyes glance towards the dense forest, "beside themself."

The vampire wears his scowl like a crown. He yanks his arm from Gale's grasp and makes a show of straightening the fabric of his decorative shirt. "Wonderful advice. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to happily ignore it."

Without awaiting a rebuttal, Astarion continues his march towards the dense, dark forest where he hopes to find you.

The warm, yellow hue of the campfire quickly disappears as the man ventures into the woods. Low shrubbery keeps nipping at his clothes, almost making him more worried about the state of his pants than your well-being. He is about to call out your name when he hears a loud, muffled thud.

What in Hells is that?

Following the sound, Astarion finally finds you - beaten, bruised. Your clothes look like you haven't washed them since crawling out of the Nautiloid. The blood covering your knuckles glistens in the moonlight as you take another swing at the tree trunk. Another thud resounds in the empty forest. A dent behind to show in the wood where the bark has already been broken off. Just how long have been doing this? More importantly: why are you doing this to yourself?

No matter his confusion and burning worry, Astarion manages to pull himself together. He knows that the last thing you need right now is him blowing up at you, masking his fear for your state of mind with irritation.

"And what did this poor tree ever do to you, darling?" he finally calls out in a light-hearted tone. Truthfully, he couldn't be farther from playful jokes and jabs.

"Just leave me alone," you answer in a harsh tone as you punch the tree trunk once more. A whine escapes your lips as your tender, wounded hand meets the hard wood again.

He's taken aback - you don't normally talk this way. This unforeseen and much unwelcome, sudden change makes him all the more concerned.

Astarion stops close behind you, his arms crossed across his chest. He's unsure what to do. "Not until you tell me what's gotten into you," he states in a firm tone.

You growl in response. "It's so," you hang your voice to hit the tree, "fucking" you punch the trunk again, "unfair!" you scream out.

Your bloodied, trembling hand is about to land another punch but something, someone, stops you. Astarion lunges forward, pressing his chest against your back and grabbing your arms. His firm grasp forces you to keep your hands close to your body.

"Why do I have to decide who lives or dies?!" you continue yelling as you try to ineffectively wiggle out of the man's iron grasp. "I never wanted to be the hero who saves the world! I never asked for any of this!" Suddenly, your defiance disappears. Tired, hopeless and sore, you let yourself lean against his chest. "So why does it have to be me?" you whisper in a weak voice. Then you shudder as tears begin flowing down your cheeks.

The great hero falls and it is only natural that their fall must be of equal grandeur.

Astarion feels your hands shake but he's not sure whether it's because you've scraped their skin down to raw muscle or because you're crying out all the pent-up anger, grief and anxiety. No matter what's the truth, his undead heart breaks all the same.

"My sweet, sweet love," he whispers into your ear. His cold lips brush against the conch before he softly pecks your neck. "Anyone else would do it wrong."

Part of him wants to add 'except for me, of course' but he knows, deep down in his viscera, that even he would falter. So he remains quiet until your sobbing silences and your trembling comes to a stop. Astarion's grip never eases down until you've collected yourself, holding you tight against him as though you're fine porcelain that even a mere gust of wind could shatter into pieces.

__ Guys when I tell you I almost tripped running to my laptop to write this

[im-am-not-a-weenie]

🍓period comfort

This is self indulgent 😃.

Reader is AFAB and I will be using she/her pronouns

shout out to all the girlies who don't like taking medicine and just power through it the cramps.

hinting at period sex with astarion, yknow how it is

spelling errors <3

see end for a/n

Gale, Astarion, halsin,

🍓Gale

you felt like shit. utter shit. if you didn't believe in the gods now you did because you've been praying for them to end your suffering hours ago. you were curled up in a ball in the corner of your tent

"Love, are you in here?'' your pity party was interrupted by your darling boyfriend Gale.

you let out a grunt to signal that you were in fact under the heap of blankets in the corner, you could hear a faint chuckle and footsteps nearing you

Gale crouched down and his knees gave a loud pop which made you smile a bit. "are you ok?" he asked gently. you shook your head under the blankets. "can I see you please?" his voice soft and words kind

with a huff you peaked out through the blankets. "there she is" Feeling his hand tuck a piece of your hair away you looked up. "what seems to be the matter?"

"I'm dying" you groaned. he immediately removed all your blankets and began scanning your body for injuries. "what's hurt, are you ok. you should tell me when you get hurt. or at least see Shadowheart or Halsin-." he rambles on

grabbing his worried hand and bringing it up for a kiss getting him to stop his ramble. " I'm fine gale, is just my period" That got him to stop, "oh" his face flushed, and just looked at you for a few seconds

"Why didn't you say that" he left the tent. before you could even get up to check on him he was back with a small basket filled with different plants food and canteens

you made a face of disbelief "Where did you get all of that on such short notice" The only answer you received was "I'm a wizard" he started to pile the blankets back on you but this time joining you in the pile

"eat this" he gave you a purple looking plant "it'll help your cramps " he said gently, you just shook your head. "cmon it'll make you feel better" he prompted." "I know," you said with a shrug and just snuggled into him

"Dont want icky medicine" he wrapped his arms around you pulling you close "Then what do you want" his hand started to play with your hair. "you" he let out a soft chuckle "That I can do"

you lay there in comfortable silence before Gale interrupted it. "you know I will make you eat that later right." you giggled "I'd like to see you try Wizard Boy."

spoiler alert, you ate the plant

🍓Astarion

let's be honest. he could care less (lies). astarion is one of those people who passively aggressively takes care of you

in a similar fashion you were in your tent curled up on the floor before astarion rudely barged in. "what are you still doing in bed." he asked dryly. you just groaned.

rolling his eyes he walked over and nudged you with his foot "Get up." looking up at him with a baffled expression you just stared at him "Did you just kick me?"

he scoffed "Darling I nudged you, you'll see kicking if you stay in bed any longer" he threatened with a smirk. "fuck off astarion i don't have to deal-" you cut yourself off with a groan as you doubled over and clutching your abdomen.

"stop being dramatic. it's not my fault you stayed up with Karlch and Wyll all night. you gave yourself the hangover now deal with it- why does it smell like blood in here." he looked confused and looked back down to you noticing how you clutching your lower stomach. it took a minute but finally, he connected the dots.

he sighed sitting on the ground and pulled you into his lap. "oh my poor dear." it was one of those rare occasions where his voice was soft and genuine

his hand trailed down and rested on your lower stomach. "does it hurt right here?" he asked softly as his other hand played with your hair. after answering with a simple nod he started to softly massage there trying to relieve some pressure.

"y'know," he said with a mischievous smile "you smell delicious right now. Gasping you hit him playfully "astarion." he giggled and held you tight against him. "come now dear we both know it wouldn't be the first time" he pressed a kiss on the top of your head

rolling your eyes fondly you giggled with him. "maybe later when I'm not feeling like I'm being stab." "of course darling, just think of it like an extra meal for me" that earned him another playful hit.

🍓Halsin

walking. sooooooooooo much walking, when will we stop walking. you think to yourself, you and your companions have been walking for almost the whole day, and for what. to look for a stupid necklace for a stupid-

"my heart are you alright" Internal monologue was interrupted by your mountain of a boyfriend Halsin. "No, I'm alright" quickly dismissing his worry. you didn't really want to do this quest but you knew the sooner you got it done the sooner you could make camp

he looked unsure but nodded making sure to slow his strides to walk with you. you felt his hand grasp yours. everything was fine until it wasn't, you felt a sharp pain in your uterus. you inhaled a deep breath and stopped moving, closing your eyes and trying to collect yourself

halsin stopped to observe you "Are....are you sure you're feeling well?" you felt a hand on your shoulder. your eyes met his, you gave him a reassuring smile "It's just cramps bear, I'll survive"

he looked at you worried "You started your cycle?" it made you laugh a tad. "no, not yet."

"then why-" "Halsin my love, I get cramps before during, and after. I'm fine" you explained calmly. another painful wave washed over you. this time Halsin picked you up and started walking in the opposite direction of anyone else

"Not that I'm complaining but what are you doing?" you giggled at the sudden lift. no matter how big you were Halsin made you feel small, but in a good way

"I'm taking you to camp," he said simply and left no room for arguments 'if you are suffering I'd rather you suffer in my arms in our bedroll' he kissed the top of your head.

you felt safe and loved, the rhythm of Halsin's steps made you drift to sleep. when you awoke you were wrapped up tightly in Halsin's arms, your bodies tangled together you smiled and kissed Halsin's cheek before falling asleep again

hey. i did it i posted on time. anyway, i hope yall liked this! it was purely self-indulgent. also thank you for all the love of my last post! I've never gotten that many notes before. my inbox is open for requests. and i also can write for other characters bg3. <3

[halsinsnaturepocket]

Yearning for a Taste

Summary: Halsin is in his tent minding his own business, trying to read a book, when he hears a couple of voices meeting up outside of his tent. It's Tav allowing Astarion to feed on her, but it becomes…more, as the two of them seem to be entangled in a passionate affair.

Halsin, obviously, hears the whole thing and is trying to be Normal about it.

CW: MDNI, explicit behavior, Voyeurism, finger-fucking, astarion feeding on Tav, teasing, edging

Wordcount: ~ 3k

Notes: I'm aware Halsin’s tent doesn't actually shut and it's like…an open-faced lean-to-style deal, but for the good of the smut, we're going to pretend his tent has flaps on it that he can pull down to give himself privacy.

As far as actual timing of the story, I'm picturing this early act 2, before finding Thaniel, and before going to moonrise.

an extra special thanks to @mothermoth92 for beta reading and letting me throw ideas around

read it on Ao3!

Halsin was lying in his tent, using a bedroll to prop himself up as he read one of the books Tav had managed to find during her travels. A book on mindflayer anatomy she had gotten from Omeluum – it was a fascinating read, and it gave him some further insights into the threat they were facing. His attention was so focused he almost didn’t hear the sounds of two people meeting up near his tent. Unfortunately for him, his hearing was rather keen, and the secluded clearing he had settled in at camp blocked out most of the noises from the adventurers he was traveling with, but not the sounds of anyone in the clearing.

“Gods you're such a little freak,” he heard one voice purr. “You're so good to me, sitting in my lap, letting me feed on you.” The praise was followed by the sound of lips smacking against skin followed by a soft moan – he would recognize those voices anywhere. 

“You taste like wine.”

“Is that a bad thing?” That was definitely Tav. Her soft melodic voice was unmistakable. 

“Not in the slightest.”

“Can you get drunk off of my blood?” She giggled.

“We can certainly find out together.”

Ah, a drunken meetup, Halsin mused. It reminded him of a more frivolous time in his youth. Hopefully Tav had the sense to drink plenty of water if she was drunk and being drunk from. 

“Did you want more, darling?” Astarion’s voice was silken, lined with hazy lust. “Or did you just want to be my little snack for the evening?”

“You’re sure you saw Halsin go towards the north of camp?” 

“Almost positive. There’s no light on in his tent either, he’s probably off meditating or whatever it is he gets up to.”

They were quiet for a moment. It was true, he had wandered to the north of camp earlier in the evening, but when he had seen Karlach sneaking Dammon into the abandoned house at the border of  their camp, he had returned to his tent to give them privacy. Besides, he had his research to attend to now that they were in the thick of the shadow curse, and quite honestly he was exhausted from trying to find a way through to Thaniel.

“I see you’re not wearing any underwear tonight…” Astarion murmured. 

Halsin squirmed against his bedroll, trying to ignore the sounds coming from just outside. Of all the people to have a liaison behind his tent…did it have to be these two? From the sounds of it, Astarion was drinking from her neck, his hands likely snaking beneath her clothes, pleasuring her…

“Nnnnf…Don't stop…” Her voice was barely a whisper, a near-silent plea. Not silent enough.

Halsin was desperately trying not to listen in. He had been pent up for so long, and the two of them had each tried a few times to bed him; it had taken everything in him not to give in. He feared indulging would make his mind wander far too much, and before he knew it, he would be seeking them out every night for further indulgences. He was more than glad they sought company with each other, but did it need to be right outside of his tent? 

There was a pause in their sounds, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully it wouldn’t last long. Hopefully he would just bite her and they would sneak off to one of their tents.

His hopes were futile as he heard a soft gasp escape from Tav. “Astarion—gods that feels so good.” 

“Breathe a bit deeper for me darling – that's it.” He heard Astarion coax. “Good girl, that's my good little treat. You're so nice and wet for me…” 

Halsin turned on his side, his back towards the sounds, trying to ignore the two of them, but it proved…difficult. Her stifled moans were stirring emotions he had been trying to suppress for far too long. Both Tav and Astarion had long since held his attention – maybe it was just the kindred feeling of being around two other elves, or maybe it was more. He didn't want to think about it. He had to stay focused on his goals. The shadow curse lurked right outside the edge of their camp. He couldn't entertain such frivolous thoughts of companionship—

A loud moan interrupted his thoughts. 

“Bite me again, Astarion.” 

“With pleasure.” He heard him murmur, followed by the sound of Tav hissing from the sting of being bit, only to be chased by another soft moan. 

“Gods, you taste so sweet when you're on the edge…come for me, darling. Come while I drain you dry.”

Halsin froze, recalling the sensation of Astarion’s fangs sinking into his own neck…it must feel amazing to be on the very edge of pure ecstasy and feel yourself shaking with the cold chill of life being drained—no. He shook his head as if to rattle the thoughts away. He turned his attention back to his book. 

Many curious scholars have noted the illithid's disdain for arcane magic— “aahh! Astarion!” —yet do not understand the reasons behind it. In traditional illithid circles— “right there!”

Yes, quite interesting, to find that illithids were weak to arcane magic. Many curious scholars— “fuck!” 

He had noted the tadpole he studied back in the grove had reacted to arcane magic when used on it— do not understand— He had read this same sentence at least four times now. 

He couldn’t avoid it any longer. His mind was wandering. The familiar sensation of arousal gripped at his senses as he felt his heartbeat quicken and his underwear grow tighter. If they kept this up for much longer he’d have to find a way to relieve the tension himself. It was difficult to control his wildshape when he was so…pent up. 

“Oh gods, fuck , Astarion!” He heard Tav cry. They weren't even trying to be quiet anymore. 

“Shhh… my love, you'll wake up the whole camp at this rate,” he said, a twinge of teasing laced with lust spilled from his voice. 

Halsin had always wondered what sounds Tav would make. He'd heard her laugh, cry…her sneeze, even. He savored the sound of her moving, of her humming to herself. Her battlecry, her happiness…they were all so beautiful. But the sounds of her ecstasy…he didn't realize they could sound so sweet. 

“Don't make me gag you, darling.” He heard her moans become muffled, as though a hand had come to cover her mouth…likely exactly what was happening. 

Halsin grit his teeth, picturing the image of Tav tied up his vines, a thin cloth gagging her. Then the idea of her entwined in the pale elf, one hand over her mouth while the other was plunging himself into her while a trickle of blood from his fangs ran down her neck…He couldn't help himself. A groan escaped from him like a growl from a hungry wolf. He quietly clapped a hand over his mouth, despite the sound coming from deep within his throat. Covering his mouth would do nothing. 

The sounds stopped. Utter silence. The silent eeriness from the shadow lands was not helping. 

“Shit—Astarion you said he wandered off to the north of camp, is Halsin IN HIS TENT?”  He heard Tav whisper angrily. They had heard him. Hopefully this would pass, and it would never be brought up again. 

“I—ugh, I don't know, Tav. I thought I saw him leave his tent. What does it matter anyway?…I'm sure he’s enjoying the show. If he was so inclined, he could join. Though, perhaps he’s deep in a trance.”

“Gods…damned it, Astarion—” 

“Should I stop?” 

“I–I’m so close…” she moaned. “Maybe he’s not…”

“Shall I invite the druid to join us?” He teased. “I’ve seen how you look at him. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t love to have him fucking you senseless.” 

“Astarion— hush… if he is in there I don’t…” she trailed off with another light groan. 

Halsin decided to risk himself—he moved as quietly as he could, crawling on all fours, inching his face closer to the opening in his tent to see if he could glimpse at the two of them. He knew he would regret it, he knew it might not be a good idea, they could easily find him out…there was the risk of him transforming if he got too excited. It felt wrong but if they were going to continue despite thinking he might be there…

“Well we better put on a show for him then, shouldn’t we?” 

Halsin managed to peek out of his tent…he watched Astarion silence Tav with a kiss. She was sitting up against him, her back against his chest. Her shirt was still on, but it was loose, her collar unlaced and pulled aside to allow access to her neck, which was smattered with a couple of oozing bite marks. Her head lolled on his shoulder as she leaned onto him. Astarion was sitting on a raised section of rock that jutted up from the ground, the staggered granite created just the right spot for him to sit upright against, his knees draped over the edge and feet flat on the ground. As far as Halsin could tell, he was still fully clothed, Tav’s bare legs draped over his knees, her weight fully resting against him. Her skirt was hiked all the way up to her waist, held back only by Astarion’s wrist as he splayed her wide open across his lap. He swore his heart was beating loud enough for them to hear it. Would it be wrong for him to give himself some relief? 

He abandoned all sense of guilt as he watched Astarion’s slender fingers disappearing into Tav’s wet, squelching folds. Fingers he wished were inside of him, flesh he wished he was sinking himself into. He wasn’t sure which he wanted more – he wanted both. Halsin was grateful the only piece of clothing he had to struggle with was his underwear, which came off easily enough. He brought himself to his knees and slid them down, leaning carefully against one of the sturdy posts holding his tent up. He cupped his throbbing cock gently and gave it a few light strokes. 

One of Tav’s hands grasped desperately at Astarion’s legs as she thrust into his hand motions, matching his pace, her other hand reached behind her to grab onto his hair while he closed his eyes and drank from her neck again. His expression was peaceful, satisfied, his long lashes contrasting against his ivory skin. Tav’s movements were hypnotic, her body moved like gentle waves at sea as she undulated with his hand movements. Astarion’s free hand moved from her neck and slid over the top of her shirt through the unlaced collar of her camp shirt, Halsin could see his hand moving over her breast beneath the shirt. He grit his teeth as he held back another groan. 

Halsin set a steady pace as he began to stroke himself to the sight of them. He wanted to know what Tav liked…was Astarion just rubbing her nipples? Pinching them? He wanted to see them for himself…he wanted to taste her soft buds and suck them gently between his teeth. He wanted to feel them hardening at his touch as she moaned softly in his ear. He wanted to see what shape nature had sculpted beneath those clothes, to see if her nipples were as pink and pretty as her lips. 

Astarion gently kissed Tav's neck, licking at the wounds he had given her, not letting a drop of her blood go to waste. 

“I can feel you clamping around me, are you going to be good and come for me again? Show that druid what he’s missing if he would just give you a chance…”

Halsin felt the raging beast within him surge at his consciousness and he had to bite his lip to suppress a growl. He wanted Tav so badly, if only she knew how many times he’d had to resist the urge to throw her over his shoulder and carry her off into a secluded glen and claim her body with his. Every fiber of his being itched to feel her soft skin grow sweaty and warm at his touch and to feel her writhing with pleasure beneath him. All he’d wanted since the moment he joined their camp was to have her. He couldn’t indulge…he was so close to his goals. He knew he was often obsessive, he didn’t want to lose focus and she would be his downfall but he craved her so desperately—

“I’m going to—yes…yes…!” She was breathless, her movements becoming erratic as Astarion’s hand moved faster, he adjusted his arm and reached further, diving in deeper.

Halsin matched his pace with theirs, his breath growing ragged. He reached around into one of his bags for some lubricating oils…no sense in denying himself at this point. 

“I bet his cock is nice and big... I’d love to watch him pounding into you, darling. Just picture it…him bending you over and fucking you into oblivion…”

He quietly uncorked the bottle and poured the oil over his hands and let out a relieved sigh as he stroked himself faster…faster…the oils soothing and warming his skin as his hand slid over himself. 

“And what would you be doing?” She said, her voice sounded like she was pleading.

He removed his hand from the tent post and sat back, closing his eyes as he sat in a more relaxed position so he could just focus on his pleasure. He shouldn’t continue to watch, but he could listen…he was so godsdamned close…

“Watching, of course. Unless he wants me on top of him…” 

Halsin let a gasp out as quietly as he could as he leaned himself back onto his other arm…gods he would give anything, anything, for that right now. 

Tav moaned again, louder this time, the sound came from deep in her chest. Her scent was heavier in the air. Halsin’s breathing became shakier as the smell of their combined arousal wafted into his tent. His cock was starting to leak at the thought of being sandwiched between the two of them, rutting into Tav while Astarion was buried deep inside of him. Or better still, being balls-deep in Astarion while he fucked Tav, his thrusts moving both of them—

“Oooh someone loves the idea of that…” Astarion crooned as he heard the unmistakable sounds of Tav reaching the apex of her pleasure, just as Halsin was starting to reach his. He yearned to see her skin flush and her body shaking as she lost control. Honestly he should punish them both for teasing him, for coming into his territory, for continuing to pleasure each other even knowing he might be a witness…

“It’s too much...Astarion…” She gasped. “It feels so good – ah! Fuck…fuck! Astarion!” Another series of loud moans…and then she nearly shrieked: “Fuck me…oh gods… Halsin!”

His orgasm hit him like a tidal wave at the sound of his name escaping from Tav’s lips. He doubled over on his knees, shaking uncontrollably; he had to bite down on his hand to keep from crying out as a hot stream of liquid pleasure escaped from his body, his abdomen twitching, his toes curling, gods damned it all, he wanted them. Badly. Halsin laid down on his back and stared at the ceiling of his tent, panting, spent…and yet still barely feeling satisfied, his cock twitched with his pulse as his heart continued to drum in his chest.

“Careful, darling, don’t stand too fast. What little blood you have left might not be in your legs right now.” Astarion crooned. They were silent for a moment until he heard a soft sucking noise and a pop…like Astarion had sucked on his fingers and pulled them out of his mouth dramatically. 

“You are delicious, my dear.” A pause. “Would you like a taste?”

Silvanus save him. He didn’t need to see them to know Tav was sucking on the fingers that had just been buried deep inside of her…sucking them…licking them…he couldn’t take much more of this. He could clearly imagine her lips caressing his cock, barely fitting her mouth around him...

“You’re teasing me…cheeky pet.” Astarion tutted.

“Aww, does the sad little vampire want more? I’ve already given you so much… you’ll have to ask nicely if you want anything else.” She said in a pouty voice he’d never heard her use before. “I should punish you for teasing me with my little crush on Halsin…”

Halsin knew she had some sort of affection for him…the way her cheeks would turn pink every time he spoke to her drove him mad, but to actually hear it aloud was damn near torturous. His cock twitched, the spark within him reigniting already. He was still so sensitive but nonetheless, he tried to satisfy himself again. He gently gripped his length and stroked slowly, taking long, deep breaths in as he tried to keep himself quiet.

“Please darling, there’s nothing little about your crush–ah!” Halsin could only assume she had managed to get into Astarion’s trousers, or had done something to tease him further like grabbing him, stroking his growing bulge through his tight little leather pants, the ones that hugged his ass just right. 

“Tav…how likely is it that Halsin is in there?” He groaned. “If he’s not in there…what's to say you and I have a little fun on his bedroll?” 

Halsin froze. He should put a stop to this. He should. What would be more embarrassing…them coming into his tent to see him pleasuring himself to them or him walking out of his tent right now? Perhaps they were joking. Surely they wouldn’t take it this far. Halsin quickly searched around for his underwear. He couldn’t find them, not without making noise. An invisibility potion, maybe…a scroll…anything. He wasn’t sure if he was more panicked or more angry that they would put him in this position. 

“Astarion… Gods, you’re so naughty.” She giggled. “We could get caught if he comes back…”

He contemplated turning into some manner of small creature and sneaking away…but alas he had used too much of his magic today. There was no way he could voluntarily focus on shifting right now, either. It didn't necessarily need to be embarassing... maybe he should embrace the moment. Maybe he deserved a night of passion, just one night wouldn't ruin him.

“We could get caught out here, too.”

“We could already be caught.” 

He heard footsteps approaching and the sound of Tav giggling and their lips smacking together growing closer. 

Halsin would just have to embrace the moment as it unfolded.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

There will be a part two, as soon as I decide how I want the next part to play out. but I pinky promise there will be one!!!!! I've already started writing it!!!

There is a possibility of me writing two endings. tbh, the direction I go might depend on what feedback I get, so let me know what you'd like to see happen :3

[pursuitseternal]

“You had better tie me up, darling…” very nsfw (f*ck or die) update for Rogue Astarion in part 7 “Bites in the Night”

Astarion x F!Reader |E| 5.5K F*ck or Die Smut

Summary: He isn’t well… something he’s consumed… the blood of a Succubus in the heat of battle by mistake. He needs release… help… or else undead won’t be an accurate description of your vampire rogue any longer.

CW: rough sex, bondage, Sex Pollen Trope but blame those Succubi, feral rutting, blood kink (does that go without saying yet?), implied shared infection, tongue bath, raunchy and yet sweet confessions from his undead lips.

Read on AO3 | Series on AO3 | Master List

Better get your rope…

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Sunset always brought the demons out to play… and this time it had been real. Everything about the Shadow Cursed Lands fit the name… but you had all made it at last to the Last Light Inn.

Not without blood spatter and slaughter, fear and relief once victory over the Hellspawn was won.

Now at last, you can take your rest. In peace.

Most of your companions still drink and eat to their heart’s content. Of course, not your Rogue. After the fight, he had looked… gaunt. Tired. You had promised to come and let him feed, but first you needed your fill. He had flashed his smile at you before heading up the creaking stairs.

That was an hour ago. Now, you make your way to those same stairs, only to catch Shadowheart hustling down with wide eyes, Gale looking much the same as he follows.

“Come with us,” they whisper, leading you up the stairs in a hurry.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, anxiety darking your tone.

“It’s Astarion, he’s… unwell.” Gale… always so vague and polite.

“He’s in a rut,” Shadowheart snips back, exactly. “Literally.”

“What?” you startle.

“During the fight, he must have bitten and drank Succubus blood.” Gale rubs his fingers at his temple. “He’s locked in his room, but I fear he will claw his way through the door until he finds… relief.”

“Sex, you mean?” you can’t help but correct him too.

“It’s bad,” Shadowheart presses her lips together. “The blood is ten times worse than the spittle. Like, if he doesn’t find relief soon he could expire. Again. It’ll last him a full day to work out of his system.”

Your eyes go wide, your stomach sinking as well as your jaw. “Isn’t there some countermeasure? Some spell or… or potion?”

Shadowheart opens her hands, a small scroll in it. “Not for him, but for…”

“Me…” you realize. Your body tingles with the idea, that heady mix of fear of death and thrill of fucking with him. It always swims in your system before you go to his bed, but this time. It feels… more… exhilarating. More deadly. Riskier.

“It’s a scroll of Greater Protection… just in case he gets carried away.” Gale’s face screws into a look of discomfort.

“Keep your cunny from giving out on you.” Shadowheart winks.

That sinches up the knots in your stomach now. And by the time your cleric recites the spell, the dust in the air swirling into your lungs, you know you can’t turn back. You can’t forsake him.

You take a breath once they both wish you good luck, reassurances that the spell should be enough to keep you safe… but that they would come running if needed. That’s when Shadowheart stops you one more time, behind Gale’s back. She makes her face shush you silently as she shoves something into your hands.

A coil of rope. It tingles… enchanted probably for extra strength… that it could hold a deranged, sex-crazed vampire if worse came to worse.

That’s when you head up another flight of stairs, your heart beating faster with each step. Especially as you hear the grunts and growls that crescendo as you reach the landing. It’s easy to tell which room is his, the light under the door burns bright… the sounds of his voice raw and feral…

You hover your hand over the knob, sensing the magic that’s sealed him in. But you stop… that sound inside, you can tell already how he’s plagued. Rough, wet, and fast. The slap of his own hand tending to his… need.

You swallow, the beating of his fist on his cock already making you wet. Hells below… if there wasn't part of you that was just… tantalized. A small part, mostly cloaked in that heady fear to preserve your life.

But you feared no danger. And you by now… he would listen.

Maybe.

One last squeeze of the chord in your hand, you gripped the charged metal of the door, throwing it open.

He is naked, sitting on the edge of the bed at the back of the little room. His teeth glint in the firelight, his ivory skin glowing with sweat. Gods, if he had blood in his body, you are sure he would be beet red. His profile cut like the masterpiece he was. His throat bobbing as he swallows, the muscles of his arm bulging as he pleasures himself at a terrifying pace.

The sound as you shut the door behind him finally draws his attention.

He is… wild. Feral. Eyes so dilated, you can barely make out the ring of scarlet in them. His face shines from his exertions, he growls… like an animal… the second he sets eyes on you. His nose sniffing so hard at your scent… you can watch it open and close.

“Out!” He snarls, rising to his feet. That’s when you take in the full extent of his… suffering. He’s so erect, bigger than you have ever seen him. Harder. Throbbing so hard you witness it… where it stands almost vertically. Those intricate veins that usually rise subtly from his length strain dark, a web over his pale skin. “I’ll not hurt you, darling. Not you. Get out! I won’t have you!” He snaps his jaws. Every muscle in his body straining as he stands in place.

As if he’s fighting with himself.

“You will have me,” you snap back. “You don’t have a choice, do you?”

“Of course I do!”

“Not if you want to keep yourself in this realm. Undead you might be, but I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you alive… undead…”

That made him smile. Dark, wicked and still slightly manic. But it was there.

His eyes rake down your body, devouring you as he dares to let himself take one step. His eyes fall to your hand, the tangle of rope hanging visibly at your side. “Seems someone had the wisdom to not to send you in here defenseless and you stink of protective magic. Good,” he shudders as he talks. That voice sounding hollow. Pressed. Barely above a snarl. “I haven’t said this to many… but you had better tie me up, darling…”

He groans, forcing his body to move stiffly to the bed. The wood frame creaks and cracks as he crawls in, his rigid frame laying down.

That erection makes your mouth water, despite the obvious agony your vampire is enduring. But you can’t help but be mesmerized by how tall it stands as he pants on the bed. You cross to him, he can’t look at you, holding his hands out for you to bind.

Your hands work quickly, securing his arms firmly together, wrapping them to the scrollwork of the headboard.

His breathing is rough, ragged. His body twitches, shuddering each time your fingers barely grazie his arms and wrists. “Please,” he groans. “If you’re going to do this, then by the hells do it!”

His eyes are wide as he strains to look at you.

Your body aches, sympathy pains twitch down your spine to watch him quivering on the sheets. Your skin feels hot, your own body breaking into a sweat. He’s licking his lips, “Gods, if you go any slower getting something on this cock of mine, I can’t promise your safety, darling…”

You reach for that straining length, the second you wrap your fingers around it, he throbs and groans and twitches. His hips bucking into your hand, legs propped up so he can fuck anything you can get around his cock. You beat against his thrusts, that hardness unrelenting even as you move quicker than you usually do. Looking into his face, you move even faster, his face contorted in agony, his teeth biting so hard into his lips he’s bleeding.

He thrusts and groans and cries as he comes. Spurts of his seed drip down his shaft, coating his already damp lap, trailing milky streams as far as his belly.

But his breathing eases for a moment, his muscles softening just a bit perceptively. And Astarion gives a single contented sigh. “All that with just your hand. You little minx… pacing yourself?” he purrs. “Won’t you at least kiss me hello?”

You give him a small grin, at least he sounds like himself. His eyes are a bit more focused, his voice a bit more silken.

What harm could one kiss do?

You lay alongside him, pressing your lips to his.

The moment you touch, you can feel it, the heat, the lust, and the agony roaring full force through his veins. He’s straining on his bonds, trying to claw you into him. His mouth consumes you, sucking your lips inside his mouth, drawing them deep enough for him to bite. The tang of blood covers your tongue. And his.

He’s frenzied for more, biting you again and again. Drinking the blood that leaks from your kiss. Then you feel it, his legs, untethered, grip around your waist, sliding you to cover his naked, throbbing body. “Astarion!” you cry, muffled by his mouth. But he has you pinned between his thighs. Not unlike that first day in the wreckage.

His erection presses into your belly, he’s grinding it against the linen of your shirt. Rough and aggressive. As if he means to tear a hole in the soft fabric. He keeps you there, humping and riding into your abdomen. Grinding against your mound. Sucking and drinking your kiss as long as you let him.

Not that you have much of a choice, caught in his legs. “Easy,” you breathe, managing to steal your mouth back for the moment. “Easy…” you soothe again, making your body bear down against where he dry fucks against you.

“There is nothing I have in mind to do to you that would be easy…” he hisses. His voice almost sounds… not of this realm. And you press out of the clutches of his fangs. But he just raises his head higher, eyes crazed at the sight of the wounds he’s made on your bleeding and split lips.

“Sorry,” you murmur as you catch his throat under your palm. “It’s for your own good.” You feel his breath rasp, the ragged swallows of spit under your palm.

“The minx has claws…” he growls as you keep his head down.

“Only when you make me use them, Astarion,” you smirk. “Now, if you can keep your mouth to yourself, I’d be more than happy to put mine to other uses.”

“Gods, yes,” he moans. “It’s unbearable, the lust, the need to drive into you. Please put me out of this agony, darling. Please…”

The second you wrap your lips around that fleshy, pulsing head, his cock twitches out of your reach. With a smile and a lick of your tongue, you grip his straining, iron length, holding it steady as you run from base to bulging tip. The bitter tang of his cum fills your mouth. Making you swallow. Making you realize just how used to it you will be before the day of this torment is through.

You manage to still him enough with his squirming and bucking to get your mouth around him. Gods, it’s like stone in your mouth, every vein dragging over your tongue and you suck. You manage to bob your head up and down, avoiding the way he’s thrusting to get more of him down your throat.

The noises from his throat sound pained… agonized panting for more. “That’s it…” he’s hissing as you swirl your tongue around that ridge of his head. “Gods, do that again.” You do, laughing in your throat as you run your tongue over that seeping slit in his tip… so tight as you lap the stains of his cum. You feel it under your hand that works the base of his cock, that thickening, quickening spasm.

He howls, jamming his length into your pursing lips. And this time, you let him. His seed spills down your throat, spurting over your tongue and dripping in your cheeks. More with every pulse as he slowly begins to still again.

One last suck, you swallow him down. Greedily. Wondering if that succubus magic isn’t somehow in your system too. It’s heady, intoxicating. The way he’s glaring at you with his flame-kissed, glistening sweaty face.

But for now, he’s calmer. For now. “Darling…” he’s sighing as he tries to ease into the bed. “You… didn’t have to do this, you know. It’s still such a risk… if I didn’t… care for you… who knows how much of your body would be in one piece when this finally passes.”

“Oh I’m sure I’d leave in one piece… but maybe mostly bloodless and unable to walk straight…” you laugh leaning over him, placing a kiss on his dampened lips.

He slips his tongue in right away, searching for the taste of him in your mouth. He growls again, that throbbing suffering of lust raging beneath his skin again. “I want to see you,” he snarls. “I want to take you naked this time, my pet.” You shiver at the echo of pure desire in his silken voice. As if it doesn’t always drip with seduction. This… you shiver. This was even more wild, unchecked, feral. The need to rut. To fuck.

He looks at you with those heavy-lidded eyes, so dark with his lust, his attraction for you, you feel your own arousal dripping between your thighs. He purrs,“I want to be inside you, darling…”

Your hands couldn’t tug your clothes off fast enough, cursing the practicality of breeches. At last, you stood as he wished. Bared. Ready.

You scramble on the bed, throwing your legs around him. He seems… steadier. Still harder than rock, but less desperate. He strains against his binds, wriggling his lean and wiry body beneath you. So beautiful, every etched line of his muscles, every rise of his stomach, every vein that protrudes in his arms.

You caress him, once on his chest. So damp with sweat. Running your tongue up the center of those muscles, he shivers. The salt of his body makes your mouth water again.

“Hells, are we sure you haven’t ingested the same as me, my sweet?” He croons with a soft little laugh. “Or is this just all for me, darling, to ease my suffering.”

“To keep you alive? I’d do so much more than just lick the sweat from your body,” you taunt back, your voice so low and sultry, you barely recognize it.

He flashes his fangs at you, licking his lips. “Like slipping that sweet cunt on me? Riding me until you are dripping again?”

Ugh… you moan. “Yes,” you pant, “like that.”

The moment he feels your drenched folds hover over his cock, he spears into you. He screams at your union. “Sweet hells,” he groans, voice rasping and sore. “Yes, darling, give me everything. I can take it all…”

You lean over him, your hair cascading down in a curtain as you splay your hands on either side of his head. Barely brushing against his damp, unruly silver locks. You give the smallest rise of your body, the steadiest drag of your walls around his cock. He cants his hips beneath you, timing just right to shove up into your cunt as you settle back down.

A chorus of groans escape you both. He’s sputtering, “Please, darling, again,” over and over. Each time you give him what he wants, only to have him careening up into you harder. Begging for you to go faster.

Soon, your pace is breakneck, your own body shimmering in sweat as you buck and writhe and groan.

His eyes never blinking, those dark black pupils are wide as he watches your face twisting as you chase your own climax, flickering to the swaying of your breasts as they slap together each time you fuck him. They dart to watch where you are joined, where his stiffening cock pierces between your thighs, drenched in his cum and your arousal with every loud, squelching slap you make.

He’s merciless, finally hitching his hips to drive the hardest into you yet. You feel it when he comes inside you now, the sheer volume of his spew, hot and dripping from inside those walls where he’s buried in deep. Your belly aches from where he’s hammering against the end of your channel. More cum with each twitching spurt you feel. He screams like one wounded, his orgasm drawn out as you chase your peak yet. But he’s panting beneath you, catching his breath as he licks his lips.

Even more limp this time.

You’re relieved in your heart, even if your loins ache from the friction, the need to still release your own bliss. His brows furrow, his lips pouting as he looks into your eyes. “I’m… I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” you gasp, even as your arms quiver and your thighs shake with the need to continue.

“No,” he squirms and tugs at the tethers. “Infernal rope. If you just let me free, I swear I’ll make it up to you…”

Your mouth waters. He would probably just find a way to break it or chew through that rope if he had to. A smirk plays across your lips, leaning forward to reach your knots. His cock slips out from inside you as you do, making him groan again.

The rope tugs apart in your fingers. Instantly his hands pull free, he shoves you over his face, so close already as you lean forward. He growls, his tongue slipping into your folds. His hands claw into your, gripping at the backs of your knees, spreading you wider as he eats into your cunt with all the hunger you feel raging in his body.

Starving, he feasts on you, and it takes all your strength to hold yourself up, hands splayed on the mattress over his head. That swirl of his tongue… that sucking of his lips on your clit, you already creep closer and closer to that swirl of heat simmering ready to consume you. It sweeps through you, cresting and tearing from your core up your spine.

And then, the world spins. His arms clutch around your legs, throwing you over. You're screaming, still spasming and clenching around nothing. Until your back is sprawled on the bed… until he’s shoved his cock into the last dregs of your orgasm. It makes you whimper his name once more, until you feel another spasm ripping through you.

Only this time, he’s pounding into you, thrust by thrust. Giving you something long and hard and cold splitting you in two as you go limp beneath him. His mouth descends on yours, sucking your breath from your body even as he traps your lips, your tongue with his own.

Manic, driven, he fucks you like one possessed, eyes wide as he finally pins you beneath him. Having his way with you as he chases that required release.

You lay back, still swollen and numb from your pleasure. But he is nowhere near close, not as his hands claw down your side, latching around your legs to make you wrap around his narrow waist. “Gods, you’re so tight, so wet… there have been none like you, darling. None I have wanted as badly as you.” He growls, fingers reaching around the backs of your ass, clamping into your cheeks. He raises you just enough to drag his length all the deeper. Making you keen and mewl and sputter incoherently.

Every nerve in your body hums, every patch of pleasure between your thighs feels him inside you. Gods, if it wasn’t for that scroll, you are certain you would pass out, lying there unconscious while he works this tainted blood from his own body.

By using yours.

By using you.

It makes you smile. Twisted and delighted to be so at his disposal. You were used to his fangs in your neck, his cock plowed into your cunt and his hips clenched between your thighs… but this…

This was intoxicating. Unbridled, unihibited fucking.

For his own sake of course.

That tainted blood and its magic being burned up with each time he filled you to bursting with his seed.

And as if his fixated eyes, hazy with his lust, can read your thoughts, he groans as he thrusts the harshest into you yet. So deep and hard and wild, you wriggle and claw against him as if you could shove him away from where he prods at the end of your cunt. But he only laughs. A laugh swallowed up as he is thrown off by another climax, another spilling of his cum that runs down your body and sticks to your skin. He pants as he looks straight into your face, manic and depraved.

“By the time this is through, your belly will swell from me, won’t it, darling? So filled with my cum, gods, you’ll be leaking for a week. For a fortnight.” He kisses into your neck, your body shivering at the chill of his breath on your skin. “And I’ll have the pleasure of smelling it, of remembering every time you took it so well, darling. I’m so very pleased…”

You look at him, half lidded and panting as he lifts his mouth from your flesh. “As I am…” you hum, running your hands up the ridges of his back, over those mysterious lines of Infernal, to thread your fingers into his damp silver hair.

He purrs as he kisses your lips, a sigh of his satisfaction as he tangles his tongue with yours. You taste yourself still in his mouth. Always so hungry, he is. It makes you wonder… “Aren't you going to beg me to feed, Astarion?”

“Hmm, if the offer is on the table, I’d love nothing more than to sup on… all… that you have to offer…”

He slowly slinks down your body. Your breath quickens, heart racing as he wraps his arms around the backs of your thighs. “Sweet hells, you're going to…”

The lap of his tongue up your seam again unravels you immediately. Your hands fly into his hair, pushing him away and pulling him deeper into your cunt with equal measure. You don’t know which you want more. He’s feeding on you, humming in delighted pleasure as he licks his cum from your folds, his eyes gazing up into your face as you pant and watch. Mesmerized by every dart and swirl of his pink tongue.

He licks his lips, “There is only one thing sweeter than the taste of us,” he purrs, low and deep in his throat, before he laps in a long, wet streak up your thigh. “Your blood, darling, my first living blood, and the last I ever want to drink in the realm…”

Your heart skips a beat, his words sweetening the pain of his bite into your thigh’s supple flesh. “Yes, love, yes,” you feel the wave of your joining… your connection by blood as you now fill him as he has filled you.

“That’s why I call you my sweet, you know… my little treat. None I have tasted… nothing comes close to how your blood sings in my veins like the way your body trembles beneath me.”

He bites you again and again up and down your thigh… little nips of his fangs, making blood drip down the softness of your skin as he licks every tiny trickle.

And all the while, he growls hungrily as he feeds.

It isn’t pain that fills you… not even pleasure. It is pure rapture. Pure bliss that rides up and down your spine. His fingers slowly, languorously curling into your folds, catching on that secret spot just inside that he knows so well.

“You’ve been so generous,” he purrs, letting the low rumbles of his voice shake into your already throbbing folds. “So good to help me through this. Giving me everything.” He glances up from between your thighs, pure wicked delight on his handsome face. “Well, I hope you haven’t given me everything. I think this tainted blood is going to take much, much more before it’s through…”

He pauses his sweet words to circle your clit, sucking it hard in time with the pulsing of those long, cold fingers inside you.

“You will come for me again, won’t you?”

You can’t even get a word in before he builds you to bursting. Driving you to shatter on his hand, under his mouth, as that voracious tongue laps at the arousal that spills from you. Your world spins, nothing but his touch on your skin, his fingers still clenched deep in your cunt.

You’re floating, limp as your muscles flood with warmth and pleasure. Steadied only by the bed at your back and the little sucks of his lips and the wet passes of his tongue over the blood on your thighs.

“Mmm,” he hums as he draws himself up to sit between your outstretched legs. “Every time with you is just perfect. And not just because it’s chasing the devil from my veins, you know…”

He shifts over you, dragging that heavy, cold, unyielding body across your skin. Making you shiver. Spasm. Making you reignite with desire for more of him again and again. That knee… that wicked, provocative knee… it creeps beneath yours to hook you, to spread you wide again as he glides his cock through the mess of your unions already drenching you.

“Seems you still have some of the devil in you, needing to be driven away, hmm?” you flirt, trying to maintain some composure, until he grinds against your already overstimulated folds, your aching clit, reducing you to nothing but moans and spasm.

And he laughs. “Why, my darling, it seems your body is as raging as mine.” His hands stroke against your cheek, fingers teasing their tips into your errant strands of hair that stick to your face. “Why, if I didn’t know better, I would have thought you were the one infected, if I didn’t still have this raging erection needing release…”

You catch him by surprise, buckling your knees around his waist, the wetness of your cunt almost drawing him inside you as you buck against him.

He groans, just a little thrust of his hips and he’s sheathed, so deep and already pulsing with that tainted, blinding need to fuck again.

You giggle, watching his eyes darken, his lids lowering to gaze with all the raging lust in his body upon the one he desires. The only one. As he is yours. You sigh, running your hands up those intricate scars of his back, “I am infected too, you know. Infected by my need for you, perhaps.”

His kiss descends to cover your lips, but it is one of tenderness. Longing. Unsated need softened by the affection that brims in the way he takes you this time.

He is slower, deliberate. Each thrust an offering of adoration for your body. Each drag of his cock inside your folds an expression of his gratitude, his devotion.

His proclamation that you are, in fact, perfect.

Your body rides his, melting into every motion your legs tight around his narrow waist, his arms slinking around your shoulders, pressing your face into the broadness of his shoulder. You gasp against his neck, wrapped in his pleasuring of you, as if you could pull him into your very being more.

That rhythm, that rocking, it begins to sweep you away, binding you to his body. Claiming you for his own. That same fever crawls in his veins as he clutches at you, that tempo increasing harsher. Faster. Until he’s groaning with all his feral drive again.

He pulls out from you, only to slam himself into your cunt, every inch of that long, pulsing length of his filling you to bursting.

He can’t take his eyes off you, raised up in his hands now. His crimson glare consumes your every reaction, every twitch and grin and grimace of painful bliss that he commands from you. Pummeling into you over and over again, your hands claw into his shoulders, slipping down his back to savor the feeling of every undulation of his hips into your core.

“So good… so perfect…” he purrs, ravenous in his gaze, “my only blood… my living blood…” the hard lines of his body ride over every nerve in yours. Your body burns. On fire. Consumed. His words tingle in your ear, caressing your heart that raps in your chest, pattering in time with his merciless thrusts.

It’s brutal, it’s unrelenting.

It’s wonderful. The sliding of his sweat soaked body over yours, your skin flaming and damp. “Hells,” you groan as that thick head of his cock presses and drags over that sweet spot in your channel. “Astarion…” you moan his name, almost incoherent aside from all he is.

“Mmmm darling,” he rasps, “no sweeter sound than my name on your lips… well,” he hums giving you thighs and extra hard slap that squelches with all your sweat and arousal, “aside from the way your body sounds as you take me over and over again so eagerly…”

Your eagerness peaks, your body ripping in two around the rapid plundering inside you. You sputter his name again, a moan that tears from your throat, a scream that makes his handsome face twisting in ecstasy as he rams hardest yet, pulsing and hitching and forcing his eyes to stare as you unravel. Sopping and drenched, the warmth of your fresh slick mingles with his, coating your thighs and his as it seeps from where you couple.

He groans, dropping his weight on you, blanketing you in his scent and sweat and panting frame. He places his damp forehead against your cheek, his cool breath making you shiver as he finally seems to relax. Even if his cock is still hardened and buried inside you.

You feel the rigid planes of his body slipping across yours with every one of your combined breaths. Signing in relief, you relish just how dirty you feel.

How dirty you’ve been.

“Once this has worked its way from your system, you will need to bathe me,” you pant. Your fingers linger and stray through the damp and sweaty curls of silver that stick to his face.

“That can be arranged…” those eyes, that face suddenly twisting again with all the depravity he still has simmering under his skin and in his mind. “Or would you settle for my tongue instead, darling?”

You shake your head, face bright, amused and skeptical. “As if you could accomplish that without bending me over in your state…”

“Mmmm,” he nuzzles against you, tilting his face to run the cold, damp pad of his tongue up your jaw. Laughing as you tremble. “You assume I could accomplish such a feat as resisting your charms without this suffering of tainted blood…”

He slips his cock from inside you, and you moan into his mouth, turning to bring that taunting smirk against your lips. Just for a moment kissing him, before he returns to lapping and caressing your sweat soaked cheek. You sigh with relief, stretching your legs, clenching them together to relieve the throbbing of your muscles.

And this was with that magical healing to sustain you.

You shake your head, in amused, affectionate irritation. Feeling his still erect cock beginning to rub against your hip. His tongue darts across your neck, the unvoiced question in the deliberate lapping and dragging of his fangs on your flushed and pulsing neck.

“For the love, please,” you pant, arching into him with your feverish body, your lust still matching his each time it rises, even as your muscles and marrow scream for reprieve. “Just a bit of rest, love, surely that tainted blood’s hold on you is lessened…”

“But what of your hold on me, hmm?” he rasps into the rapid pulse of your neck. “What if it’s not the succubus whose magic has consumed me, driven me mad and feral, making me no more than a rutting beast…” he gives that low throated giggle. “Your fault, you know, my sweet.”

You breathe heavily, aroused and exhausted in equal measure. “I take full blame,” you laugh weakly, “but it’s only because you’re so beautiful…”

“And witty… and passionate…” he adds a roll of his hips as he utters that last word, grinding that still hardened cock against your side.

“Just… a breath,” you plead. “Just a moment. You don’t seem to be so near death’s door now…”

“I’ll try not to take offense at that barb, given how good you’ve been and how much I’ve fucked you senseless,” he chides.

You laugh again, a bit of a whine in your voice. “Can’t you take care of just one by yourself…”

He murmurs in your ear. “Darling, I’ll take my pleasure from you in every way, in every hole, until this tainted blood is burned up in the blaze of my lust for you,” he groans, “or until I’ve completely exhausted you, leaving you spent and heaving. And then I’ll simply seek my own pleasure just at the sight of you sleeping.”

You stretch, clenching your whole body hoping for that release and rest. If he lets you have it for a moment. “Mmmm, well love, sounds like I’ll really need that bath in the morning any way you come at it…”

He giggles again. Naughty. Dirty. His hand now wrapped firmly around his cock, rubbing for himself, letting it beat against your skin softly. “Oh… I’ll come at it, don’t you fret… darling.”

[kittenintheden]

hit the bricks

surprise PWP drop lol. this is sort of a deleted scene from Not Your Sweetheart. this is not a scenario that will end up in the NYS so you get to have it here in bite-size instead. enjoy!

Rating: E Paring: Astarion/Ori (f!Tav) Word Count: 1.6k Content: 18+, established relationship, semi-public sex, quickie, wall sex, Ori being a bit of a power bottom

Link to AO3

This stakeout is horrifically boring and likely entirely pointless.

Astarion leans with his back against one side of a narrow alley, arms folded. Ori faces the opposite wall, peeking her head around the corner every now and again to try and spot their quarry.

He sighs.

She continues to look.

“This stakeout is horrifically boring,” he voices aloud. “And likely entirely pointless.”

From further down the alleyway, Elias chimes in. “We’d feel real stupid if they managed to sneak by us, though, wouldn’t we?”

Astarion rolls his eyes as hard as he possibly can and glares at them. They smirk at him, knowing full well where his annoyance comes from. He’s certain of it. When he’d volunteered to pair with Ori for this reconnaissance mission, he hadn’t expected a third wheel. But Gale had insisted that they keep an open method of communication just in case, and, well. Elias is as convenient as it gets, considering they can move from group to group through the Ethereal Plane in seconds.

Whether or not they prefer to be used as de facto communication is yet to be determined.

It’s a bother. He maintains his irritated expression as he goes back to staring at Ori’s arse as she wriggles it back and forth between glances out of the alley. She might be doing it on purpose. The breeches she’s chosen to wear this evening are quite form-fitting.

His brow smooths and his eyes go lidded as he lets himself fall into fantasy, picturing her just like this, but all soft skin, warm and gray beneath his touch as he runs his fingers down the length of her spine. He hasn’t taken her from behind yet. All in good time.

Astarion slow blinks and flicks his tongue over his bottom lip.

Now could be a good time.

He’s brought abruptly back to reality as arousal rises in him, sending a rush of heat between his legs. He huffs and shifts position, straightening one leg with a grimace. Fantastic. Now he’s grouchy again.

Their corner of the square remains unpopulated. At this time of evening in this part of town, passerby are few and far between. He scans the space sullenly for a moment before his eyes are drawn back to Ori. She stands straight, still facing the wall, and puts her arms over her head in a long, arching stretch.

Astarion tucks his chin. That’s definitely on purpose.

“Elias,” Astarion says. “I think perhaps you should go check in on the other team.”

“What for?” they say distractedly, their eyes currently tracking a stray cat at the far end. “Nothing’s happening.”

“Something’s about to,” he says lowly. Then he pushes off the wall and closes the space between his body and Ori’s, pinning her up against the bricks on the opposite wall. She squeaks in surprise.

“Oh, for fuck’s-” is all they hear before Elias’ voice cuts itself off as they vanish.

Ori’s laughing, now. She turns her head to one side and puts her palms against the wall in front of her, pushing gently back against Astarion. He puts his mouth to the side of her neck, running his tongue over her pulse point and punctuating it with a kiss.

“What was that about?” she teases, even as she shivers and shuts her eyes.

“I needed to ask you something.” He places another kiss to her neck, this time closer to her ear.

“Mm. And what’s that?” She stretches her head to one side to give him more access.

Astarion puts his lips to her ear and whispers, “How wet are you?”

She gives a quiet giggle, her mouth stretching in a playful smile as she cracks her eyes to look at him.

“Wet enough,” she whispers back.

That’s all the go-ahead he needs before his hands are at the front of her trousers, undoing her fastenings quicker than she’d be able to herself. As soon as he’s able, he dips a hand down her front and into her smallclothes.

His fingers find her slick and he huffs out a breath, dropping his open mouth to the spot where her shoulder meets her neck. He slides his fingers against her and she gives a controlled moan when he finds the swell of her.

“You’re always so ready for me,” Astarion groans into her skin. “It drives me mad.”

Ori hiccups and responds, “If you knew how good it is to take your cock, you’d be walking around wet all the time, too. But we’re supposed to be, ah, keeping a lookout. Someone could… mmm… catch us with our literal pants down.”

They’re not exactly in public, but they’re not exactly not in public, either. Being quiet may not be an option. Does he care?

Not at the moment.

Astarion stops teasing her clit long enough to push her clothing down past her hips. As he goes to deal with his own ties, he breathes, “Then they’ll get a show, because you know anyone about to stumble on this would have no choice but to watch.”

She answers with a quiet growl and play-bites at him.

“Ah, ah,” he says as he pulls himself free of his trousers. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“Disappointing,” she teases.

He presses his hard cock between her legs, causing her to gasp and arch as he draws himself along her slick cunt and grazes her clit. Her thighs are trapped tight together from her breeches, coating him in her wet as he grinds.

“I said quick,” he says, hiding the shake in his voice with a laugh. “I didn’t say disappointing.”

The head of his cock finds her willing entrance and he pushes inside, the slide smooth, but oh, he didn’t think that through, that’s very-

Ori clocks the way he tries to quiet the moan that spills from him as he enters her. She clocks it even as she leans her head onto his shoulder, arching her back as hard as she can with him pressing her to the wall. The glide and stretch are perfect. She can feel him everywhere.

But he’s not moving.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?” she says, voice shivering.

Astarion has been clenching his jaw. She can feel him loosen it as he says, “You are so t-tight like this.”

She grins, holding back her laugh. “Did you…?”

“No,” he huffs, wrapping his hand around hers where it’s pressed against the brick. “Give a professional a little credit, dear. I just, ah, needed a moment.”

“Glad to hear-” she starts.

“Moment’s over,” he interrupts.

His hips begin working with short, shallow thrusts, grinding Ori up against the wall, her front pressed to the masonry, and she pants prettily for him as he ignites the fire between them. He keeps one hand over hers on the wall and the other wrapped around her hip, guiding her in time with his rhythm.

She feels exquisite. He presses his lips to her exposed shoulder and sucks, vaguely aware he’ll leave a mark there, but he doesn’t care, because it feels good this feels good she feels good all around him. Fangs graze skin, tempting. Her arse is so plush pressed close.

He moves the hand on her hip around to her front and between her legs, using his fingers to spread her just a little wider, exposing her to better feel the root of him on her clit every time he thrusts into her. It has the intended effect as she whimpers out his name surrounded on all sides by soft ah ah ahs. Gods, it’s hot.

Taking her here, hidden but not invisible, makes the rush of being discovered hit his blood and urgency pulses through his core. He pulls his mouth from her and pants through his teeth, molten heat coiling around the base of his spine.

“I need you to come for me, darling,” he whispers. “Can you do that? Can you come for me? Don’t let me…” He gasps on the next breath and continues, “... embarrass myself, love.”

“Say please,” she breathes with a surprising amount of control given her current position.

“What?” he blurts, brow furrowed as he continues to rut into her. His body wants to come so badly that it’s making thought beyond gods gods fuck yes gods difficult.

Ori groans this time before she repeats, “Say. Please.”

Astarion presses his mouth to the side of her face and says, “Please, please, come, please come, please, love, love, please, come, come-”

She clenches down hard around him and he whines, barely managing to ride out her climax before he hits his own, the flutters of her peak continuing all around him. Ori bites her own forearm, her cry lost against her skin. Astarion does his best to stifle his inelegant grunts as he spends himself inside her, the relief palpable.

They take a moment before Ori mumbles, “Neither of us really considered how to extricate ourselves from this situation, did we?”

“We did not,” Astarion mumbles back with his mouth against her temple.

There’s another beat of quiet.

From around the corner out of view, they hear Elias say, “The mark is here, you’d better be done, I swear, I’m not coming around there. Let’s go.”

The mad scramble to separate and quickly rearrange clothing goes smoother than expected, all things considered. It isn’t until they pick up their things and make to run for the square that Ori pulls a face.

“All right, love?” Astarion asks, dagger already drawn.

“Yeah,” she says. “I’ll, erm. Deal with it later.”

She speeds by him and it takes him a full second to catch on before he snorts out a laugh and follows her.

[aethes-bookshelf]

empty eyes, emptier words || astarion/tav/halsin

I've been stuck in BG3 hell since the game first came out. I'm still in there. I don't think I'll be coming out anytime soon, so have this piece of angst. If everything goes well, maybe I'll deliver on some devil fucking (ft. Haarlep & Raphael). But that's a big IF.

For now, take this. I wrote it in class. I was supposed to be paying attention, but I made this instead. Bon appétit.

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, tav straight up fucking dies

Pairing: astarion/tav/halsin

Wordcount: 1.4k

Summary: Orin knew exactly who to take to hit those troublesome True Souls the hardest. Their leader was the obvious choice - a chicken can only run so far if you take its head. Tav would make a beautiful sacrifice for Bhaal.

And if anyone came to try and get them back? All the better. Blood will flow either way. And what a sight it'll be.

[I made some changes to Orin's dagger. Now, whoever gets killed with it can't be resurrected. Or can they?]

ao3 link || part 2

Orin turned around at the first sound of footsteps. She brandished her dagger, her Netherstone embedded in the cold metal of the weapon. She was standing on the sacrificial altar at the center of the temple. Beneath her laid Tav, arms and legs bound. They were unconscious, fresh and old wounds littering their body. The little clothing they wore stuck to their skin, wet with blood. The smell of it hit Astarion like a club to the head. He hated how his mouth instantly watered, hunger rearing its ugly head.

‘I don’t smell Gortash’s rot on you,’ Orin said, crouching by Tav’s body. She dragged her blade across their skin. Fresh blood bubbled to the surface. Tav didn’t even flinch. They were barely breathing.

‘Did it think it could trick me? Did it think it could save?’ Orin taunted, her dagger stopping right over Tav’s heart. Astarion could hear its faint beating.

The heat of Karlach’s anger burned the air around her. ‘I hope you’re not about to do what I think you are. For your sake.’ Her massive ax sliced through the pungent air, tail swishing behind her.

Halsin didn’t speak, but his eyes glowed bright gold. His hands were clenched at his sides, anger barely restrained.

Astarion unsheathed his own daggers, their weight a fleeting comfort. ‘You lay one more finger on them, I’ll rip your throat out,’ he said. A growl ripped itself out of his throat.

‘Your teeth aren’t sharp enough to pierce my throat,’ said Orin. The tip of her dagger sank into Tav’s chest. ‘Not enough to slice my flesh, taste my blood.’ She drew back her hand, dagger rising into the air. A speck of blood followed its tip.

Astarion clenched his jaw so hard his teeth hurt. His upper lip drew back; he bared his fangs on instinct.

‘Even if you kill them, all you’ll achieve is pissing us off,’ said Karlach. Her words were confident, but her voice betrayed her; she was afraid. ‘We’ll just bring them back so they can spit on your fucking corpse after I split you in half, you crazy bitch.’

None of them liked the way Orin laughed at those words. ‘“Bring them back”? Not here. Not with Bhall’s blessing.’ She grinned, showing all of her teeth. ‘They’ll be the first sacrifice of the night. Then I’ll spill your blood and guts on their flayed skin.’ A shiver ran through Orin as she brought her dagger down.

The blade sank into Tav’s chest with a sickening squelch. They gasped, body going rigid for just a second. Then they went limp.

Astarion’s scream rang through the still air as Karlach charged the altar.

* * *

Astarion knelt down by the bodies laying on the stairs and started rifling through their pockets.

‘What the hell are you doing, Fangs?’ asked Karlach. Tears were evaporating off of her face, her infernal engine still hot with her battle rage. The ashes of a used scroll of revivify were cooling at her feet. The spell's energy had already ran out and Tav was still limp, their body slowly going rigid.

‘I’m looting, can’t you tell?’ Astarion’s voice was snappy, but even. ‘Tav’s usually the one to take everything that’s not nailed down but they obviously can’t do it this time, can they?’

He leaned down over a pile of smoking bones and burned blood that used to be a man once. ‘They always find something for us in these piles of trash, I thought it’d be… nice to do the same for them for once.’ He managed to fish out a rusted dagger from underneath the pile.

‘Astarion,’ said Karlach, voice breaking.

‘Besides, their favorite tea ran out a few days ago, so we’re gonna need stuff to sell.’ He leaned over the pile of Orin’s gore next. ‘Tav spent most of our money on some new armor for you and Gale, and that tea’s expensive, you know?’ He took Orin’s dagger. His hands were shaking.

‘Astarion,’ Karlach tried again. The low hiss of evaporating tears got louder.

‘They deserve to drink something good when they come back, no?’ Astarion stood up straight. His grip on Orin’s dagger was so tight his chuckles went paper-white.

‘Astarion,’ Karlach’s voice was low and thick with tears, ‘I don’t think they’re coming ba—’

‘Don’t you dare finish that sentence.’ Astarion was quick to turn around and point the dagger at Karlach’s chest. ‘Don’t you dare finish that sentence.’ For the first time since they arrived at the temple, his voice broke. ‘Of course they’re coming back. Why do we keep that creepy skeleton around if not to bring us back in times like these?’

His eyes watered. ‘They’re coming back. They have to. They must. Even if that means I’ll have to drag them out of the Hells myself.’

Astarion’s eyes wandered to Tav’s broken corpse. They were still laying on the altar, the stone of it slick with their drying blood. He couldn’t see their face; Halsin’s shoulders were obstructing the view. Astarion could swear the druid was shaking too.

‘Halsin, they’re coming back, right? They’re coming back!’ If Astarion’s heart still beat, it’d be fluttering with rising panic.

Halsin’s voice was low and quiet. He kept stroking Tav’s matted hair as he spoke. ‘I’m not sure they will, my friend.’

Those words punched all air out of Astarion’s lungs. Fury replaced it.

‘Shut up!’ he screamed; his voice echoed in the empty temple. ‘We were supposed to have decades together. Decades! They can’t leave yet. They promised!’ His knees buckled. With every word he spoke, he sank lower and lower, until his knees hit the cold stone beneath him. ‘They promised we’d… We were supposed to find a way for me to be in the sun again,’ his voice faded into silence.

Astarion couldn’t speak anymore. His chest clenched and his eyes burned. He wanted to scream. He wanted to rage and kill, and tear. He wanted to bring Orin back just so he could send her to her blasted god all over again. He wanted to hear Tav laugh at one of his stupid jokes.

His throat was clenched so tight not even sobs could escape it. He was vaguely aware Halsin’s shoulders were openly shaking with his grief, but he couldn’t bring himself to comfort the druid. That would mean looking at Tav’s empty eyes. That would make this entire nightmare real. So very, terribly real.

Astarion’s grip on Orin’s dagger loosened; the weapon fell with a loud cling, its Netherstone slipping out of it. The stone shone dimly in the light of the torches.

All of it for these stones. All this death, pain and misery for these three pieces of one whole. Tav died for it.

Meaningless, meaningless, meaningless. All of it. All of it!

Astarion’s mind was reeling; jumping from pain to denial to anger to desperation. He didn’t know what to do. Tav would know, he thought, and a fresh wave of tears fell.

Karlach laid a hand on his shoulder. She’d cooled down enough for her touch to be only slightly painful on his corpse-cold skin. ‘We have to go, Fangs. Halsin.’ Her grip on Astarion tightened when he shook his head. ‘We have to go,’ she repeated, harsher this time. Barely restrained emotion shook her voice. ‘If they even can come back, we need to get them back to camp as soon as possible.’

Halsin took a deep breath and wiped his face with the back of his hand. ‘Karlach’s right,’ he said and stood up. Tav was limp as he cradled them close to his chest. To his heart. ‘If we stay here too long, we’ll certainly lose them for good.’ The druid squared his shoulders and turned to face the other two.

Astarion went rigid at the sight of Tav’s hand, limply hanging off the side of their body. He couldn’t bring himself to look up at their face.

‘Astarion,’ Halsin’s voice was soft, ‘I understand your pain. They are in my heart as they are in yours. But we mustn't waste time lest we lose them forever. If there is a chance to save them, we must act now.’

Astarion swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. The chill of death had never been more present in his bones. He nodded, silent, and picked up Orin’s dagger and Netherstone.

‘Let’s go,’ said Karlach, new-found determination on her face. ‘We still have to buy their favorite tea after this, right? How’d you put it, Fangs? “They deserve to drink something good after this”?’

Astarion nodded. He didn’t trust his voice not to break if he spoke. There was an empty, far-away look in his eyes.

As they left the temple of Bhaal, the sweet stench of blood followed them out.

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Six

Summary:

Astarion surprises you with a night at the theatre that doesn't go quite according to your plan.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.7k Tags/Warnings: rough/angry sex, hair pulling, emotional manipulation, dubcon, bad BDSM practices, angst, daddy kink, reminiscent of Ascended!Astarion, discussions of domestic abuse (in Taming of the Shrew)

Hi. Hello. My sweets. My darlings. This is it. The chapter where you absolutely must mind the tags. Just know that I won't take you anywhere that we won't be able to come back from. Know that I, too, am an absolute baby when it comes to intense subject matter in fics. But I want you to take care of yourselves and your hearts. As always, shoot me a message if you'd like more specifics.

Photo credits: Zaria for Green Pussy Suit Astarion and Nephi Garcia for the incredible dress.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

“In the library? Babes, are you insane?” Shadowheart's voice reaches a pitch you’re fairly sure only dogs can hear. You curl your knees into your chest and cover your face in your hands, feeling the exact appropriate amount of shame.

“I know, I know. All logic goes out the fucking window around him. All I can think is ‘mm, good dick makes brain go brr.’” You let out a frustrated sigh into your hands.

“Do you want to get fired?” She pulls your hand from your face so you can't hide from her pointed stare.

“Oh trust me, I ran about forty different scenarios of that happening through my head on the drive home.”

“Did you, now? And in how many of these did he also get fired?” Shadowheart presses, knowing how your anxiety can get out of hand.

“Like, two,” you groan and drop your head back onto the couch cushions. “I don't know what comes over me. I feel like I can't tell him no.”

“Wait, wait.” Shadowheart grips your knee, suddenly worried. “You can't tell him no as in it feels too good to stop? Or as in it doesn't feel safe to say no?”

“Nine hells, no, the first one!” you respond, horrified. She squints at you and you squirm under her gaze until you’re finally more truthful, both with her and yourself. “Well, I mean, mostly. Like it's not like that. But like also not not like that, you know?”

“I can assure you I do not,” she says in a flat voice, not interested in joking around. You sigh dramatically, trying to find the right words to describe how you feel.

“Like. Okay. Am I fully consenting to everything we do? Yes. 100%. Oh gods, yes.” Your cheeks tinge pink even thinking about it. “But like… am I going against my best judgment? Do I feel like I should say no? Does part of me kinda wish I would say no? Like… maybe?”

“Tav, that's not okay. You need to talk to him about this.” Shadowheart’s voice is soft with genuine worry. Which is ridiculous, because she’s focusing on the wrong thing.

“No, see, that's the thing. It's not actually a him issue, it's a me issue. Like there's something wrong with me, I see his most toxic traits and suddenly I'm like a horny teenager!” Your voice increases in pitch as you grow more hysterical. “How am I supposed to call him out on it when the only words that will come out of my mouth are ‘yes daddy, more please’?”

“Is there anything redeemable about him at all? Besides being good in bed?” She leans back, taking a sip of her wine and fixing you with an incredulous look. 

“I mean… yeah. He’s witty, and bantering back and forth with him is fun. He’s incredibly smart, as loath as I am to admit it, and I like hearing his ideas on things, especially his interpretation of Shakespeare’s text.” You don't even notice the smile growing on your face, but Shadowheart does. “And he’s got this unexpectedly soft side. Like he seems cold and aloof on the outside, but he cares, deeply. About his students, about his cat, about-”

“About you?” she interjects, and your smile falters.

“I don't know, Shade,” you say quietly, almost ashamed to look her in the eye. “I think so. I hope so. But it's not like we've been seeing each other for that long, he’s under no obligation to feel anything.” You practically swallow the last sentence, a truth you're reticent to voice. 

“And you?” she asks softly.

“Man, I don't fucking know. I just want to keep getting laid and not catch feelings, is that so much to ask?” you whine. She laughs, but you can tell that she's only humoring you.

“For you? Probably.”

***

It's been several days and your busy schedules have kept you and Astarion apart for most of it. Save the occasional tension-filled passing in the hall, you've barely interacted at all. You're almost beginning to believe that your whirlwind affair has come to an end when you find a mystery package at your apartment door.

It's made out to you with no discernable return address. You bring the box into your apartment while examining it, trying to ascertain its origin. It doesn't even really look like it was sent through the mail, it looks like it was dropped off.

You take out your phone and call down to the front desk. It rings a few times, then a somber voice answers.

“What dost thou require?” His voice is deep and crackled, like some ancient eternal being.

“Hi Withers, it's Tav in 3C. Do you know anything about this package that was left at my door?”

“I have inspected it, and determined it safe for you to open. It was brought by someone claiming to be a friend.”

“Can you tell me anything about this someone?”

“No.”

And the line goes dead. You laugh and shake your head. If Withers says it's safe, then it probably is. You’d trust that wrinkly old man with your life, honestly. You cut open the tape sealing the box shut and lift off the top.

Inside is something wrapped in tissue paper with a note stuck to it in Astarion's immaculate handwriting. 

Tomorrow evening The Rosewood Seven o’clock Wear nothing underneath

You let out a small involuntary moan when you read the last three words. You carefully unwrap the tissue paper to find a fabric that looks like it's made of starlight. You pull out the midnight black dress and go slightly breathless when you get a good look at it. 

It’s a backless dress with a sweetheart neckline and intricate gold embellishments that almost make it look like armor. It has a lavish gold neck piece attached by several gold chains that drip over the skin. The skirt is made of a weightless black fabric that shimmers with gold as you move it in the light. It almost appears to be cut into two panels with dual hip-high slits.

With a dress cut like this, you wouldn't be able to wear undergarments even if you wanted to.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you think about what he might have in store for you. You're not even sure what's running at the Rosewood right now, but it could be complete trash and you wouldn't even care. You probably won't even be able to pay attention, too distracted by Astarion sitting next to you for two hours.

You feel a pulsing between your legs at the thought. You think of his hand sliding up your knee while you struggle to keep a straight face. Or him reaching an arm around you, gently sliding his fingers into your hair before giving it a sharp tug.

Another moan works its way out of your throat and you follow it up with an annoyed groan. You can really get swept up at the most inconvenient times. It’s not like you don’t have any work you need to do or anything. You roll your eyes as you stalk off to draw a bath.

***

Waiting in the lobby of the theater, you’re feeling surprisingly nervous. The dress, though beautiful, is not particularly comfortable. With all of its various chains and pieces, you needed Shadowheart’s help just to put it on. It helps that she’s also incredibly talented when it comes to hair and makeup, so in truth you feel positively glamorous. 

When you see Astarion, however, everything goes silent. You’re certain that he’s posing for you the way he’s stopped to adjust his cuff. The cut of the suit he’s wearing is exceptionally flattering and you imagine running your hands all over the emerald velvet. His crisp white button down is almost sheer and you desperately want to pull him into you by that forest green silk tie. 

But you can’t tear your eyes away from his face. This is the first time you've seen him wear makeup, and the simple smokey eyeliner look makes his red irises pop. He’s decided to forgo his glasses, presumably opting for contacts instead to show off the makeup. He’s also swapped out his standard silver hoops for little daggers with a red rhinestone glimmering at the hilt. 

He looks up at you the moment you lay eyes on him, or more specifically, the moment your heart starts to beat out of your chest. He flashes you a devastating smile before striding up to you and pulling you into a deep kiss. You can’t even be bothered to care that the other patrons are probably staring as he slides his hand onto your bare lower back, his cool touch sending a shiver up your spine.

He pulls away from you just enough to breathlessly ask, “Are you ready to sit down?”

“Huh?” You’re distracted, too busy plotting a mental path to the bathrooms to fuck him. He lets out a winded chuckle.

“The play. House is open, would you care to find our seats?” His palm is still pressed against your back and you can barely form coherent thoughts. You still don’t even know what play you’re here to see. You just want—no, need—to be near him.

“Um, yeah,” you respond, still trying to get your bearings and remind yourself how to be a person. You let him lead you into the theater, and only once you're in your seats do you realize that neither of you grabbed a program. You pull out your phone to see if you can look it up, but service in the Rosewood is notoriously bad. Instead you just need to sit still next to Astarion, who looks like a dream and smells even better. 

He glances at you as your heart quickens again and his lips curl into a smile. He slips his hand behind your neck and lightly runs his finger along the seam between the golden collar of the dress and your flesh, sending goosebumps down your arms. He leans toward you until his lips are almost brushing your ear. 

“You look absolutely ravishing, my dear,” he whispers, his breath tickling your earlobe. You turn your face toward him on instinct, your chest heaving as you try to steady your breathing. Your lips hover inches apart, anticipating the kiss, when suddenly a throng of noisy actors come barreling down the aisles. You snap away from Astarion as the cacophony of their shrieks of laughter, calls across the audience to one another, and drunken banter fill the house.

One of them clambors onto the stage and shouts, “For God’s sake, a pot of small ale!” He’s dressed in rags and appears by far to be the drunkest of them all. Three servingmen swarm him with various shouts of, “Will’t please your honor?” He shoves them all away and proudly takes up space center stage.

“I am Christophero Sly! Call not me ‘Honor’ nor ‘Lordship,’” he bellows as the rest of the players make their way onto the stage.

Christopher Sly… you’re wracking your brain to remember which play he serves as a framing device for. Most productions cut this scene because it’s long and completely irrelevant. You just can’t for the life of you remember which play he appears in.

The scene continues with their drunken antics and slapstick comedy as the players address Sly as “my noble lord,” making him believe he’s a king that they’re about to perform for. Eventually they carry Sly out on a makeshift palanquin as the “play within the play” begins. Two handsome young men in preppy clothes enter, holding a book and wearing glasses that aren’t too dissimilar from Astarion’s round metal ones. The one without the glasses speaks first.

“Tranio, since for the great desire I had to see fair Padua…”

Tranio? Isn’t he one of the characters in Taming of the Shrew?

He knows you don’t like this play.

Well, if it’s all that’s playing at the Rosewood right now…

But if that’s the case why not just, like, see a movie?

You shift uncomfortably in your dress and cast your gaze towards Astarion. He smiles, taking your fingers and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles before turning back to the stage. He keeps your hand in his, absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. 

You can feel your heart pounding in your ears and you find yourself wondering what’s running through his head. Just when you think you have him figured out, he does something to surprise you. And honestly, not always in a good way.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. You know the creative team at the Rosewood wouldn’t pick this show if they weren’t going to try to do something with it. 

But even still… is this text even redeemable?

You sit through the entirety of the show cringing as the audience around you laughs at flagrant displays of domestic abuse. The actors, several of whom you’ve worked with before, are trying their hardest to make the lines playful, but some things just can’t be recovered. Between the forced starvation, physical intimidation, and gaslighting, you wonder why companies even bother performing this play anymore. No matter how witty the writing is, it’s just too out of date to be a good season choice.

When the time comes for Kate’s final monologue, you watch in pain as the actress tries to wink-wink-nudge-nudge her way through lines like “place your hands below your husband’s foot.” She’s young, and you wonder if this is one of her first professional gigs. You get a little sad knowing that she’s probably just desperate to do anything, even if it’s trash.

Maybe you’re being a little harsh. All of the individual elements of the show—the acting, set, costumes, direction, lighting—were quite good. You just can’t get over how irredeemable this text is. Worth teaching, yes, and maybe even taking Act II out of context just for the fun banter and clever wordplay. But professional theatre companies should really just retire this one.

In the Lyft back to your apartment, you decide to get Astarion’s take on the matter.

“Do you think it’s possible to redeem a text like Taming in a modern age?”

He pauses for a moment, continuing to look away from you and out the window.

“I do, yes,” he finally answers. “I think it takes a skilled hand, but it can be successful when done well.”

You sit on his response, chewing it over. You decide to take a different route.

“I guess a better question is do you think it’s worth trying to? Like, what are we getting out of it anymore?”

“Is entertainment not enough?” he says with a laugh. You wrinkle your nose at him.

“Sure, if you’re a basic ass bitch. But I want my art to mean something. And I can’t think of what this play can possibly mean if it’s not ‘shrill women are annoying and should learn their place.’” You cross and uncross your legs, trying to keep yourself decent.

“Last I checked, you enjoy being put in your place,” he says in a low hum and your pussy betrays you with a clench. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, and you’re grateful that the dark car hides your reddening cheeks. “It’s different.”

“Is it, though? Ultimately it is a text about two dysfunctional people finding comfort in one another.” His sincerity catches you off guard, and almost makes you angry that he’s been taken in by the propaganda.

“That’s only a valid interpretation if you ignore half of what happens in the play. They’re not equally dysfunctional, Kate literally gets beaten into submission and pretends to be happy about it. Petruchio is exactly the same from the start to the finish, he has no fucking character arc.” Your hands start to shake as you try to keep your cool. You’ve had this conversation far too many times with men who think they can interpret out the sexism by simply glossing over Kate’s abuse.

The Lyft stops in front of your building and you thank the driver as you get out. Astarion follows you, and you’re not even sure if you want him to accompany you upstairs. But you remain silent as you walk past Withers and into the elevator.

“You’re overreacting,” Astarion says once the elevator doors close. “People are drawn to this play for a reason. The text is excellent, and no one truly thinks of Petruchio as an abuser.”

“Are you joking?” Your voice gets shrill and the similarity to Kate isn’t lost on you. “The whole thing normalizes his abuse. The fact that people don’t think of him as an abuser is the problem.”

“It’s a slapstick comedy,” he snaps, his voice growing stern. “Are you going to tell me that we need to cancel the Three Stooges because it promotes violence?”

“Don’t be fucking condescending,” you spit. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

“How is it not the same? Suddenly because it’s a woman in the role it no longer counts? Are you implying that women should be barred from certain types of performance because of their gender?” He walks past you into your apartment and you throw your keys and bag on the counter, not even bothering to see where they land.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying, now you’re just twisting my words,” you grumble, more frustrated than ever by your inability to match his eloquence.

“So use your own words,” he sneers, whirling around to face you. “How is it not the same?”

“It’s because- well, I- It’s different, just- argh!” Your head is clouded by your attraction to him, which has annoyingly only grown over the past few minutes of shouting. You’re suddenly reminded of the smug arrogant bastard that you first met. He lets out a jeering laugh.

“See? You can’t even defend your own point.” 

His sardonic cruelty sets something off in you and you angrily grab the lapel of his green suit. Your intentions are a complete mystery even to you, because as soon as you’re within inches of one another, instincts take over. You crush his lips into yours and pull him backwards until you thump against the door behind you. He paws hungrily at the dress, sliding his hand under the slit and around to grab your bare ass. You gasp into his touch, feeling equally frustrated and aroused that he even controlled what you wore tonight.

Your fingers make their way into his hair and you pull hard, breaking the kiss and leaving his mouth open, panting. His eyes are sparkling with a fire that you haven’t seen yet and a low growl manifests in your throat. He smirks and buries his teeth into your shoulder, something he usually asks bespoke permission for. You cry out in response, twisting your hands tighter into his silvery locks.

He unlatches from your shoulder and pushes his knee past the front of your skirt and up onto your bare cunt. You grind wantonly against the velvet as he kisses you with bloody lips. He grabs hold of the delicate chains of the dress and yanks, detaching them from the collar and making the entire bodice crumple and pool around your waist. Your nipples immediately harden at the sudden exposure to cold air and he pinches one sharply between his fingers. Your hips roll into his leg as you groan, fully ruining his pants. He continues to bite around your neck and shoulders, placing little puncture wounds in his path, marking you as his.

You grab onto his tie and push him away so you can shimmy out of the rest of the dress. You’re now down to just the gold collar of the dress and your heels, a look you wish you could hate but don’t. You pull him across your living area and toward your bedroom, shoving him down onto the edge of the bed. 

“Thou hast hit it, come, sit on me,” he says, quoting Petruchio with a sinister grin. Kate’s retort falls out of your mouth reflexively.

“Asses are made to bear, and so are you,” you hiss as you straddle his hips, wrapping his tie around your hand until you’ve gripped it up to the knot. Your other hand violently unbuckles his belt, yanking it through the loops with a snap.

“Women are made to bear, and so are you,” he says with a caustic laugh, digging his nails into your ass cheeks. You tug sharply on his tie, bringing his lips close to yours.

“No such jade as you, if me you mean,” you snarl and silence him with an angry kiss. You don’t want to encourage his idiotic behavior, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said this wasn’t a fantasy you’ve had before. You fumble with the buttons of his suit jacket, trying to get him undressed as quickly as possible. You’re not sure if you feel more vulnerable or more powerful being undressed while he’s still fully clothed, but either way you want him naked, now. You get about three buttons into his shirt before you grow impatient, ripping it the rest of the way open and sending buttons flying. 

Good. Let him need to repair his clothes for once.

You push him flat onto his back and descend onto his chest, alternating kisses, licks, and bites. Your dull human teeth don’t have nearly the same effect as his fangs, but it just means you get to bite twice as hard in order to leave a mark. He writhes beneath your touch, and you feel a twisted satisfaction at the quiet little grunts and gasps you’re finally pulling from him. He’s rarely this vocal during sex, and it’s only serving to spur you on more.

His groans build until you capture his nipple in your teeth and bite down, causing him to shout and buck his hips up into you. In a flash he flips you around onto your back and he bears down on you, eyes dangerous. 

“Little love, do you think you’re in control?” he asks in a low growl, his hand gripped around your jaw. You sneer and slide your leg against the strained bulge in his pants. He hisses and your smile widens.

“Right now? Yes,” you coo, continuing to press your calf against his velvet-covered cock. You grab the tie still hanging around his neck and pull him close. 

“If you want it back, fucking take it.”

If I put my hands around your wrists, would you fight them?

He kisses you roughly, catching your bottom lip in his teeth biting hard enough to puncture the skin. He pulls back slightly, a drop of your blood running down his chin and a snide grin. He makes like he’s about to kiss you again but shoves your face away before your lips make contact.

This is the worst you’ve ever seen him—the most arrogant, the most condescending, borderline cruel even. And you have never been more turned on.

If I put my fingers in your mouth, would you bite them?

“Is that all you’ve got?” you taunt, licking the blood from your lips. “Go ahead, choke me, daddy.”

The feminist in you is horrified, but the little gremlin controlling your libido is having the time of its life. It squeals with delight when his hand closes around your throat, just barely constricting your breathing. 

“You insolent little brat,” he breathes into your ear, pulling up on your jaw. “I will absolutely ruin you.”

And there will be no tenderness, no tenderness.

“Do it, coward,” you spit, and he lets go just long enough to finish undressing from the waist down. He grabs your still heeled ankle and presses your leg up by your shoulder, stretching you wide enough to take him without any prep. You gasp as he fills you, the stinging pain outweighed by the gratification of finally feeling him inside you.

The only thing that I ask, love me mercilessly.

He sets a punishing rhythm, one knee on the bed and the other foot still firmly planted on the floor. He bottoms out with each long thrust and you grab hold of his hair to brace yourself. He winces with the pain but doesn’t slow down, and your moans grow high and loud as he continues to furiously pound into you. 

“Gods, fuck, Astarion,” you keen, your desire coiling in your belly and threatening to explode. “Keep going, daddy, fuck me please.” He grunts with the effort and your dirty talk seems to be having an effect as his pace falters. You jerk your hips up into him, chasing your orgasm, until finally it barrels through you like a runaway train. You pull on his hair as you come and that sets off his, his pulsing cock pressing against the clenching walls of your cunt. 

He stays deep inside you as the aftershocks reverberate through both of you, until the only sound remaining is your heavy panting. He drops his forehead to touch yours, a pleasantly tender moment after some of the roughest sex you can recall having. He starts to giggle and you follow suit, suddenly giddy. He pulls out of you with a squelch and walks to the bathroom to get a towel to clean up the mess you’ve left behind. He wipes you down gently, a surprising bit of aftercare you’re not accustomed to with him. He plants a tender kiss on your lips and you feel dizzy with affection for him.

You settle up against the headboard of your bed, his arm around you and both of you looking at your phones in a companionable silence. After a moment, he lets out a small chuckle. 

“What?” you ask, turning your head towards him quizzically.

“I’m just shocked that worked, is all,” he laughs, shaking his head. Your confusion grows and you furrow your brow.

“What worked?” you laugh with him, but something doesn’t feel right.

“The whole night, taking you to see Taming, getting into just enough of a fight to result in,” he vaguely waves his hand, gesturing to the edge of the bed, “all of that.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean?” You pull away from him and your stomach drops. Surely he can’t be suggesting what you think he’s suggesting.

“You get riled up so easily, I thought this might be fun.” He still doesn’t seem to have picked up on your heart pounding in your ears, which is frankly unusual for him.

“Are you saying… Wait, are you saying that you planned that fight? So, what, we’d have angry sex?”

“Of course, you don’t think I actually believe anything that I said, do you? Taming of the Shrew might be well-written, but it’s a rubbish play to produce.” He finally turns to you and sees that you’ve gone white as a sheet. “Oh, darling, don’t take it like that, you’re positively adorable when you’re angry, I couldn’t resist.” He tries putting his hand to your cheek but you flinch away like he’s burned you.

“Get out,” you say in a low voice, unable to even look at him.

“What?” He’s still laughing. He doesn’t get it. “My sweet, didn’t you-”

“GET. OUT.” Your voice has a venom in it that even shocks you. He stares at you in horror until you shoot him an icy glare. “Now.”

Without a word he stands and quickly puts his clothes back on. You stay in your bed, naked and curled under a sheet, until you hear the front door of your apartment slam. With shaking hands, you call Shadowheart.

“Moonmaiden’s delight, did you enjoy yourself? It certainly sounded like you did.” The sound of Shadowheart’s bubbly laugh usually makes you smile, but right now it seeps into your skin like poison.

“Shade, please come over,” you whimper, and the second the words leave your mouth, the tears begin to fall. You don’t hear her hang up, but you do hear a muffled, “I’m going to fucking kill him!” through the wall. You pull your knees further into your chest and sob.

[wiltedreamofbaldursgate]

You, Blinding Like the Sun

characters: Astarion x gender neutral Elf!Tav/reader word count: +1.5k Rating: teen and up. sfw. trigger warning: very loosely implied trauma on both sides. read on ao3

Astarion despises you so very much because you’re everything he isn’t, everything he has never been. Not even alive could he have held a candle to you, because you’re perfect and he is falling, and he hates that he is falling for you.

He despises you.

From the moment Astarion first laid eyes upon you—confident, selfless little elf, blinding like the sun—he has despised you. You with your dazzling golden eyes, the sweet flush on the tip of your pointy ears. Your artfully arranged hair, kissed by the sun to make it shine like fine silk. The cute little freckles sprinkled all over your unmarred skin—skin that has never been touched by undesired hands. You who lived long enough to choose a name for yourself—to make a name for yourself.

How he despises all of it.

The way you win anyone over with nothing but an honest smile; the sheer purpose in your every step. That nasty confidence of yours that isn't some skill you ever needed to acquire because, to you, it comes all-natural, of course—you were born with it. Astarion can tell it's true because he’s spent two centuries mimicking the behaviour of people just like you.

And he despises you for it.

Before you were even born, the gods have bestowed their gifts on you, and here you are, not even knowing what power you hold, how very blessed you are. You wouldn’t even care if you knew, because the fact of the matter is that you have no need for gods nor gifts nor skills. Not when people gravitate towards you as if you have hung the stars. And how dreadfully inviting you always are, so very accommodating.

Come sit by the fire, Astarion; isn’t it cold and lonely over there?

Come feed from me, Astarion; you look so terribly starved.

Come enjoy yourself, Astarion, have all of me, Astarion, I don’t ask for anything in return, Astarion.

Astarion, are you alright? 

Everything you say or do, everything you are—he fucking despises it.

He despises how laughably easy it was to fool you, to fuck you, to make you fall for him; honestly, don’t you know any better, darling? Probably not, because it’s evident that you aren’t all there in the head sometimes.

After all, who in their right mind would let a starved beast feast at the most divinely set table, have it indulge in the sweetest of wines as if it were nothing, as if it weren’t everything to him? And it’s only by luck that you’re still breathing now, that he hasn’t ripped out your throat to drink up every obscenely delicious drop of you.

But of course, you come with an excessive amount of luck—so much of it that it makes up for your lack of brains. Hells, the worst thing that has ever happened to you is the little fiend lingering behind your eye, the very same thing that has set him free after centuries of endless suffering, and he despises you. Astarion despises you so very much because you’re everything he isn’t, everything he has never been. Not even alive could he have held a candle to you, because you’re perfect and he is falling, and he hates that he is falling for you.

You with the soft lilt in your voice, a reminder of a language that weighs like lead on Astarion’s tongue. You with your easy smile that he can’t help but return with an unfamiliar one of his own. You with your blood that tastes like the very sun. Astarion hates that he never even stood a chance against you because you care. Because you either love sincerely or not at all. Because you somehow love him.

And he hates that his gaze keeps following the alluring sway of your hips; that he finds himself instinctively reaching for your hand whenever you hold it out to him, and that he hates it even more when you don’t.

He hates the way you say his name—not because you mock him for that childish name of his, no, but because it makes him want to hear it from your lips over and over and over again.

And most of all, he hates the way you speak of victory. How dare you make it sound so believable—probable, even? He hates how he trusts your words to come true, that real freedom is at his fingertips. If you think it’s possible, it has to be, doesn’t it…?

Yes, Astarion well and truly hates how much he wants you, trusts you, craves you. Your blood. Your smile. Your love. All of you. It makes him feel like an idiot because all you had to do to mess up his perfectly fine plan was to exist next to him. You are the stake hovering right above his heart, and he is so fucking scared of the inevitable impact. Because sooner or later, his love for you will bite him in the ass—it always does. It hasn’t happened yet, but here he is, already hurting.

It hurts Astarion to watch you get injured in battle, and it hurts even more to see your eyes frantically dart over him to make sure he’s alright after. It hurts that he wants to make love to you so badly but doesn’t quite know how. It hurts him to guard over your trances, to watch you struggle through each night, haunted by your very own ghosts—and that he can’t do anything to ease your suffering. It makes him feel weak, and he is tired of feeling this way, tired of being so fucking useless to you. You haven’t realised that he is nothing yet, but you will soon enough, and Astarion is afraid—always afraid that that will be the end of it. The end of him. Around you, he can feel his mask slip all too often, all too easily, and he is afraid of your blindingly loving gaze upon him. What do your golden eyes see?, he wonders, too afraid to ask. Why don’t you look away when you see him laid bare? He’s afraid that there’s something wrong with you, because how could it be any different?

In fact, Astarion is mostly afraid for you, because every day he learns that you’re not perfect at all. There are more knots in your hair than he can count, and you always seem to have a nasty sunburn spread across your shoulders. You sometimes cackle like a goose around the fire, and you’re too gullible, too good for your own good. And you can die so very easily…

Deep inside, Astarion is terrified that one day you will glide through his fingers like sunlight at dusk.

He’s terrified that there won’t be anything he can do to save you.

He’s terrified of what he might be willing to do to try anyway.

You wake from your restless trance with a choked cry. It seems like you always startle into consciousness, unsure of where you are even moments later. It’s not the first time that Astarion wonders what could possibly be haunting your memories, but the way you tremble and make yourself look smaller keeps reinforcing his sickening suspicions.

Forcing down the anger soaring through him, he leans over to where you’re lying next to him. Cooing softly, he brushes a strand of hair from your forehead, cautious to barely touch your sweat-drenched skin. His eyes lock with yours, and together you wait for the tightness in your chest to ease, your hurried breath to slow down. 

You grab his hand to hold it against your racing heart, and Astarion wants to tell you that you’re safe; lying is what he does best, after all. He can’t bring himself to say those false words, though, not to you—never again to you. He has already tainted so much of what you have together and although you’re not perfect, you’re special. This is special and he will do anything to make it last.

When your breath has calmed into a gentle rhythm again, Astarion wraps his arms around your waist, gently pulling your back against his chest. His lips are still warm from your blood circulating underneath his skin as he presses them against your temple.

“Rest,” he whispers. “I got your back, sunshine.” Astarion’s words are hesitant and shaky, even in his own pointy ears. Long years of disuse have perverted the inflection, and he doesn’t trust himself to say any more—not for now, at least.

It takes you a moment to realise that Astarion has spoken in your common mother tongue, but when you do, you tilt your head to find his almost timid gaze again.

“I know you do,” you answer, a lazy smile tugging at your lips, making your perfectly melodic words sound so much lovelier. “Thank you, Astarion.”  

The pale elf brushes his lips against yours. It’s a quick, sloppy kiss, and he doesn’t recall ever kissing someone like this before—rushed and imperfect; real. He takes in your smile one last time before he buries his face in the crook of your neck, taking in your warmth, your scent. Everything that is you. 

Astarion loves to be blinded by the sun.