#hisses in drow

[demonwebs]

arabella: will u search for my parents??? big puppy eyes vhaal, trying his hardest to act unnaffected: siGH ugh maybe if i come across- arabella: fiNE I'LL GO SEARCH FOR THEM MYS- vhaal: STOP I'LL GO !!!! GODSSSS !! CAN A MAN NOT ACT UNBOTHERED TO PRESERVE HIS REPUTATION ANYMORE !! DEVIL CHILD !! DEVIL CHILD !!

[lotusillustration]

anyway lilith's sunlight sensitivity also comes back after the netherbrain goes boom & she immediately casts darkness so astarion doesn't have to run off I Do Not See the way that scene actually goes

[moonselune]

The game never really elaborated other than giving you the “everyone disapproves” messages when you let Volo pluck your eye from your skull on accident. How do you think the romanced companions would react to Tav with their new Ersatz eye?

ooo it was fun writing for those who weren't actually part of the camp by then, good request !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

You sat by the campfire, the flickering flames casting long shadows across your face. You felt the weight of your new ersatz eye, a strange and unsettling sensation that you were still getting used to. The camp had fallen silent, the rest of your companions busy with their own thoughts and tasks. Karlach, however, had been watching you closely ever since you had returned with the new eye.

She finally broke the silence, her deep voice carrying a hint of amusement.

"So, tell me, love—what possessed you to let Volo pluck out your eye and replace it with… that?" She gestured to your new, artificial eye with a wry smile.

You shrugged, trying to find the right words. "It seemed like a good idea at the time! Plus, it has its advantages. I can see things now that I couldn’t before."

Karlach chuckled, shaking her head. "Well, that was a bit silly, wasn't it?" She reached out, her hand warm and comforting as she cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing against the edge of your new eye. "But I have to admit, it gives you a certain… unique charm."

You smiled, leaning into her touch. "You think so?"

"Absolutely," she said, her eyes sparkling with affection. "It’s very you—bold, a little reckless, and definitely one-of-a-kind." She leaned in closer, her breath warm against your skin. "And if it helps you in battle, then it’s worth it. Just promise me you won’t let anyone else convince you to do something quite so drastic again, okay?"

You nodded, feeling a rush of warmth in your chest. "I promise."

Karlach’s smile widened, and she pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Good. Now, in your words, let's go find some evil for you to smack"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The air was tense as you approached Minthara, the stern drow warrior assessing you with her piercing gaze. You could feel her eyes on you, scrutinizing every detail of your altered appearance. When you finally stood before her, she reached out and grabbed your face with a firm, but not unkind, grip, turning your head this way and that to examine your new eye.

"You fool," she hissed, her voice low and filled with a mixture of anger and concern. "Why would you let that imbecile Volo mutilate you like this? I will miss your eye."

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. "This eye allows me to see people who have turned themselves invisible. It gives us an advantage in battle."

Minthara’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you feared she would remain angry. But then, slowly, a smile spread across her face, transforming her stern expression into one of approval. "Is that so?"

You nodded, relief flooding through you. "Yes. It may look strange, but it’s useful."

Minthara’s grip on your face softened, and she let her hand slide down to rest on your shoulder.

"You always surprise me," she said, her voice tinged with admiration. "Your willingness to sacrifice for the sake of our mission is commendable. I suppose I can forgive you for this… folly."

You couldn’t help but smile at her words. You weren't going to dare correct her that you had done it as a last ditch effort to get the parasite out. "Thank you, Minthara."

She leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, "Just don’t make a habit of letting fools experiment on you. I need you whole and capable, not a collection of curiosities."

You chuckled softly, feeling the tension between you dissolve as she kissed your cheek. "I’ll keep that in mind."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

The firelight danced across Lae'zel's face as she stared at you with a mixture of irritation and fascination. Her yellow eyes narrowed as she took in the sight of your new ersatz eye, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"You fool," she snapped, her voice tinged with frustration. "You let that bumbling idiot Volo pluck out your eye? Your own eye, the most reliable asset in battle? When we are already on our way to the creche!"

You winced, her words stinging despite the underlying concern you could sense. "It wasn’t exactly planned, Lae'zel. But this new eye… it has its advantages. I can see things now that I couldn't before."

Lae'zel crossed her arms, her expression still stern. "Your own eyes were more than capable. But if this ersatz eye gives you an edge, then I suppose it is not entirely worthless."

She stepped closer, her fingers brushing against your cheek as she inspected the new eye. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, her irritation melting into something softer. "It is strange, but… there is a certain appeal to it."

You raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at your lips. "You find it sexy?"

Lae'zel huffed, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Do not misunderstand, it does not make you less of a fool. But yes, it has a certain… allure. Just do not let this happen again."

You nodded, relieved and somewhat amused by her reaction. "I’ll be more careful next time, I promise."

She leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a brief, fierce kiss. "Good. Now, let us see how well you can fight with your new eye."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

You found Shadowheart by the edge of the camp, her eyes reflecting in the sun as she turned to face you. Taking a deep breath, you revealed your new ersatz eye, waiting for her reaction.

She stared at you for a moment, her eyes widening in shock before narrowing in annoyance. Without warning, she lightly whacked you on the arm. "What were you thinking? Letting Volo pluck out your eye like that? That was incredibly stupid."

You rubbed your arm, feeling a mix of embarrassment and regret. "I didn’t mean for it to happen. But it does have some advantages, Shadowheart. I can see things now that I couldn’t before."

She sighed, her expression softening slightly. "I can’t heal your eye. You’re stuck with that ersatz one now. You should have come to me first."

You pouted, feeling the need for some sympathy. You draped yourself over her, resting your head on her shoulder. "Shadowheart, I didn’t mean to be reckless. Can I at least get some sympathy?"

She laughed, her annoyance melting into amusement. Pushing you off gently, she shook her head. "You’re impossible."

You continued to pout and whine, giving her your best puppy-dog eyes. Finally, she relented, pulling you into a hug. "Alright, alright. You look… pretty. Stupid, but pretty."

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at her words. "Thank you, my love"

She kissed you softly, her hands cupping your face. "Just promise me you won’t let anyone else experiment on you. I need you whole and safe."

"I promise," you murmured, holding her close. "I’ll be more careful from now on."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

The moment you revealed your new ersatz eye to Jaheira, her expression froze. Her eyes widened in shock, and she raised a hand as if to stop you from saying anything.

"Don't speak," she said sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose. You could see the internal struggle playing out across her face as she tried to collect herself. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, clearly fighting to maintain her composure.

For a few long moments, the only sound was the crackling of the campfire. Then, her eyes snapped open, and despite her earlier efforts, she couldn’t hold back any longer.

"What were you thinking?" she yelled, her voice a mix of anger and worry. "Letting Volo of all people pluck out your eye? Do you have any idea how reckless and foolish that was?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but she cut you off, her words coming out in a rush.

"You could have been blinded permanently! What if something had gone wrong? What if he had lobotomised you - although that may have improved that brain of yours!"

You stood there, feeling a mixture of guilt and helplessness. "I… I thought it might work, that it might get rid of the parasite. It gives me the ability to see things I couldn’t before."

Jaheira took another deep breath, her anger slowly subsiding into a weary resignation. She stepped closer, placing a hand on your cheek, her thumb brushing against it. "Just… promise me you won't do anything like that again without talking to me first."

You nodded, feeling the weight of her concern. "I promise, beloved. I’ll be more careful."

She sighed, pulling you into a tight embrace. "Good. I don’t want to lose you. You're too important to me."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

When you showed Gale your new ersatz eye, his reaction was immediate. His brows furrowed, and his mouth dropped open in disbelief.

"You let Volo pluck out your eye?" he asked, incredulous. "Are you out of your mind?"

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of his disapproval. "I didn't mean to let him pluck it out, it just... happened, when he was trying to get rid of the parasite. But! It gives me the ability to see things I couldn’t before."

Gale shook his head, launching into a rant. "Volo is a charlatan, a storyteller with a penchant for the dramatic. Trusting him with something as delicate and vital as your eye is beyond foolish. And to think he could remove the parasite?! What if it had gone wrong and you were left with no vision at all?"

As he continued, his voice growing more animated, he inadvertently let something slip, "And yet, despite the madness of it all, I have to admit, it’s… it's incredibly attractive in a strange, reckless sort of way."

You blinked, taken aback by his confession. A smile crept onto your face as you saw the realization dawn on his.

"Gale," you said softly, stepping closer, batting your eyelashes at him "you think my new eye is attractive?"

He stammered, momentarily thrown off his rant. "Well, I mean… it's not the point. You were still a fool to trust Volo, but… yes, there’s a certain allure to it."

You leaned in, silencing him with a kiss. His initial surprise melted into a deep, passionate response as he pulled you closer. When you finally pulled back, you whispered against his lips, "Thank you for caring, Gale. And for finding me attractive, even when I do foolish things."

He chuckled softly, resting his forehead against yours. "Just promise me, no more reckless decisions without consulting me first. I can't bear the thought of losing you."

"I promise," you replied, your heart swelling with affection. "I’ll be more careful from now on."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

As you approached Astarion with your new ersatz eye, the night air seemed to still. He had stayed at camp whilst you and the others were exploring the grove, it had given you time to prepare for this moment. He was lounging casually, a goblet of blood (where it was sourced you did not want to know) in hand, when you revealed your altered appearance. His reaction was immediate and dramatic, his eyes widening in horror and surprise.

"By the gods, what have you done?!" Astarion yelped, his voice a mix of shock and disbelief. It was as if he had seen a ghost or been caught in a sudden, terrifying twist of fate. His reaction was so pronounced that you couldn’t help but feel a pang of annoyance.

You crossed your arms, frowning as you looked at him. "Astarion, really? I didn’t think it would be that shocking."

He flinched, his grip tightening around his goblet. "I—I'm sorry. I just wasn’t expecting it. You startled me, dear."

You started to turn away, feeling a mix of frustration and embarrassment. But Astarion quickly moved to stop you, placing a gentle hand on your arm. "Please, don’t go. I truly apologize for my reaction. I just… didn’t know how to handle it at first."

You looked at him, seeing the genuine remorse in his eyes. "It’s alright, Astarion. I suppose it was a bit sudden."

He sighed, pulling you into a tender embrace. "I should have been more composed. I’m just… well, shocked, darling. It is not everyday your dearest appears with a brand new eye. I apologise a thousand times over."

You softened at his touch, resting your head against his shoulder. "I’m not angry. Just a little embarrassed. But thank you for apologizing."

Astarion nuzzled into your neck, his voice warm against your skin. "I promise I’ll adjust. Your new eye is… striking. And it suits you, even if it did give me a fright."

You chuckled softly, feeling reassured by his embrace. "I’m glad you think so. It’s a bit different, but it has its uses."

"Well I simply cannot wait to see you put it to work my darling." Astarion smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek, he was still in the doghouse but this was a promising start.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

When you revealed your new ersatz eye to Wyll, his reaction was immediate. His eyes widened in shock, and he let out a low whistle.

“By the gods, you actually let Volo pluck out your eye?” His voice was a mix of disbelief and concern.

You hesitated, feeling a bit awkward under his gaze. “Well not exactly, but let's not focus on that right now. The eye lets me see things I couldn't before.”

"We will get back to that later." Wyll shook his head at you, a bemused expression on his face. He tilted his face as he took you in. “Foolish, but then again, I suppose I can’t say much. After all, I’ve done my fair share of reckless things.”

He managed a half-smile, stepping closer and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Welcome to the one-eye club,” he said, his tone softening. “You’re now part of a very exclusive group.”

You blinked, a bit surprised but touched by his attempt at lightening the mood. “I am honoured, you have my eternal thanks, my love.”

Wyll’s smile widened, and he pulled you into a gentle embrace. “You’re still my beloved, no matter how many eyes you have or don’t have. Just… try to avoid letting anyone else poke at your eye, alright?”

You chuckled softly, feeling a mix of relief and affection and you melted into his embrace. “I’ll keep that in mind, Wyll.”

"Good, now it looks like I have some competition for the prettiest member of the one-eyed club." Wyll murmurs, and you laugh, pulling away. Wyll kisses your forehead and smiles to you, "Fierce competition indeed."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

When you revealed your new ersatz eye to Halsin, his reaction was immediate and deeply telling. His usually calm demeanor was replaced with a mixture of disappointment and concern. He drew in a sharp breath and let out a low, disapproving sigh. As he examined your altered appearance, his brow furrowed and he shook his head in disbelief, tsking softly under his breath.

"You let Volo perform such a risky procedure? Why would you trust someone like him with something so delicate?" Halsin’s voice was a mix of disbelief and frustration. His eyes were fixed on the artificial eye, assessing its placement and function with a critical eye.

Feeling a pang of guilt and embarrassment, you pouted, your shoulders drooping slightly as if you were a child being reprimanded. You reached out tentatively, wrapping your arms around Halsin in a heartfelt hug, hoping to mitigate the disappointment in his gaze.

"Please don’t be mad at me," you murmured against his chest, your voice muffled. "I thought it was a good idea at the time. I really didn’t think it would cause this much trouble."

Halsin’s expression softened, though his concern was still evident. He gently placed a hand on your back, the touch warm and reassuring.

"I’m not angry with you, my love," he said, his voice calm but firm. "I just wish you wouldn’t let hacks like Volo have their way with you. It’s not only reckless but downright dangerous. I care deeply about your well-being."

You tightened your embrace, nuzzling into his chest as if trying to seek comfort and solace. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I’ll try to be more careful next time," you said, your voice earnest and apologetic.

Halsin’s posture relaxed as he allowed himself a soft chuckle. He wrapped his arms around you more securely, drawing you into a protective embrace.

"I’m not truly mad, just worried," he admitted, his tone warm and gentle. "I don’t want to see you put yourself at risk. You’re far too important to me for that."

You looked up at him, your eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and affection. A small, hopeful smile tugged at your lips. "Thank you for understanding," you said, your voice filled with gratitude.

Halsin smiled back, his eyes softening as he leaned down to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

"Always," he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity. "Just promise me you’ll be more cautious in the future. I care too much about you to see you hurt, especially when it’s avoidable."

You nodded, feeling reassured by his comforting words and the warmth of his embrace. "I promise, Halsin," you said, your voice steady and sincere.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xoxo

Keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[luvyeni]

JAKE DRABBLE !

pairings. bestfriendsbrother!jake x fem!reader

🔖: 18+ , make-outs, marking, unprotected sex (he pulls out) , dirty talk

authors note ! this is for the 6k drabble special , you can read all of them here !

it was your bestfriend birthday , you shouldn't be up here while she was downstairs at her party , you definitely shouldn't be laid underneath her brother , grinding against his clothed cock , while he marked up your neck. "ja-jake no marks -fuck- don't want her to find out."

he wasn't listening though , instead he sat you up , pulling your shirt over your head , marking up your ollarbones , and your chest. "fu-fuck ,princess i don't really care if she finds out , i gotta have a reminder of this." he sounded so hot , his voice airy , soaking your panties.

"jesus princess , you're soaked." he rubbed your clit through your panties. "need me to fuck you that bad?" he smirked , watching how your legs twitched. "pl-please jake , i need you so fucking bad."

he kissed you , climbing off the bed , taking his clothes off , his cock strained against his boxers. "you're drooling princess , but as much i would love to stuff your little mouth with my cock , but we need to hurry before my sister comes looking." he said , spreading your legs , his cock kissing your hole.

he grabbed the base of his cock rubbing it up and down your folds , "jake plea— oh fuck!" he pushed into you. "god damn princess , your pussy is choking my cock." he groaned , slowly starting to move his hips. "so b-big." you gripped his bicep.

"your cunt feels too good -fuck- don't think i can let you go." he grunted , hitting your g-spot over and over. "jake , jake you feel so good!" you screamed , the music hopefully drowing out your noises.

"jake?" shit , it was your friend. "sh-shit , be quiet." he hushed. "what do you want." he yelled. "have you seen y/n , she went missing?" he smirked , looking down at your form struggling to keep quiet. "i don't know." he gave you a deep thrust , that made your eyes widened , pushing at his hips. "have you checked the bathrooms?" he started to move again.

your cunt tighten around him , making him hiss. "fu-fuck , stop tightening around me before i make you scream , i don't fucking care if she's out there." he growled in your ear. "where the fuck did she go?" your friend stood outside.

"i'm kinda fucking busy , go look for her somewhere else." he was losing all self control. "fucking fine , im gonna kill her , whenever your done fucking whoever , please come join my party." he scoffed , not even bothering to wait , speeding his hips up. "we gotta hurry princess."

he rubbed your clit , you were a moaning mess. "fu-fuck jake , im gonna cum!" he grunted , his orgasm approaching also. "fuck!" you screamed , warmness spreading all throughout your body as you came.

"fu-fuck princess , im cumming -ngh- shit." he grunted , he pulled out cumming all over your tummy. "fuck , i came so much , your pussy is magic." you rolled your eyes. "how , romantic jake."

"if you're a good girl for the rest of the night and don't dance with other guys and i'll take you a date tomorrow."

©️LUVYENI

[blkgirl-writing]

What Happened at the Moon Lit Pond PART 2

Gale of waterdeep x F!Reader smut

Summary: You and your companions finally made it to baldurs gate, well, rivington. And it's finally time to relax and have a fun day out.

TW: drinking, sex, oral, PnV, F/M sex, thigh riding, brothel, overstimulation, a bit of anal, begging, everyone is consenting! I'd love to do a public sex chapter sometime, but not today.

word count 3.3k

{part one} {part 1.5}

-

It had been a long time since that night at the pond. You had long since left the grove and past the shadows, almost to baldurs gate, actually, in the small town of rivington. It was a long and difficult journey, yes, but with ample time and opportunities to talk about what had happened. But it never came up. Instead, there were many longing stares shot your way on gales part, small flirty conversations, and even more excuses to skip away from your companions to get any alone time with Gale, practically praying to the gods he’d say something first. But Gale wasn’t the type to come out of his comfort to express his feelings, let alone such complex ones. He had been rendered speechless.

Today was different. Maybe it was the long journey nearing it's end, but everyone was ready to let loose, even if it was just for a short while. Karlach and Wyll had split up to look for some armor, jaheria stayed back at camp to care for the small child who lost their mother, so it was a smaller company than you were used to. Just halsin, Shadowheart, Astarion, and of course, You and Gale. It was really a perfect day to mill about town, the sun beaming down in warm rays of light, not too hot and not too cold out, not even a hint of rain, so the dirt paths often muddy were dry, no ruining the clothes you had just washed.

Everyone was at their happiest, though of course, the underlying anxiety and pain for events soon to come were lingering, just pushed aside for the time being.

"Is the sun usually this blinding?" Astarion hissed, shielding his eyes with his hand "I don't remember everything being this bright"

"It simply feels brighter coming out of the shadows, you will get used to it" Halsin smiled down at Astarion, slipping behind him slightly to cast a shadow around him, guarding him from the sun. "We Haven't been inside in a while, why don't we find a shop to rest in for awhile, we have some money to spare"

"I could use a new hair ribbon, My old one looks a bit strange now that my hair has changed.." Shadowheart commented, lightly playing with her hair.

You went from shop to shop, it didn't matter, stopping by everything on the way, getting food, drinks, jewlery, and other small goods, the last place you had any energy for was a small looking shop with people outside raving about their service and pleasure being a customer there., without really looking at the sign or name.

Inside was dimly lit, a dark oak, cream, and red color scheme. Easily the most expensive place in all of the town.

"this is...awfully fancy, isn't it?" Gale murmurs, eyes flickering across the room.

"Certainly. I wonder what we could get to drink, I need a good wine..." Astarion immediately glided across the hall and to one of the counters, a huge smile graced his pale face. He stood there, talking for quite a bit, meanswhile, shadowheart wandered around, peaking her head into a room, she slipped a bit more into the room, then suddenly jolted out.

"Shadowheart? you look like you've seen...a lot"

"It's a brothel!" Astarion and Shadowheart said in unison, shadowheart nearly a whisper, Astarion nearly a yell. The woman behind the desk gave them both a nasty stare for the disruption of the ambiance.

"oh of course, sorry, beautiful" Astarion cooed at the woman. the immediate reaction to his flattery and dashing smile visible as she tucked her auburn hair away from her blushed face. He sauntered over to your merry group, that smile still plastered over his face. "I got us a discounted rate on a pair very talented drow."

"Excuse me, what now?"

"I got a discounted rate for an absolutely lovely time with drow twins for the same rate as one person but five. And we will have two rooms for comfort of space. I'm just that good, you all should be thanking me."

"Thank you, Astarion-" Halsin crossed his arms, a small smirk on his lips.

"I-thank you?" Shadowheart sputtered, still looking a bit frazzled by her earlier revelation.

you were still trying to process all of what just happened when even Gale spoke up.

"Well, looks like you'll have just...four people joining you, I'd prefer the company of a good book and an ale right now, i think."Gales eyes met yours for a split second, as you looked up at him. A very distinct look. He wanted you. It was hunger, lust, but restraint. He wasn't going to stop you from having fun with your company, but god did he want you to stay with him.

"I...um.." you looked up at Gale, fully taking him in this time. Gods...He was really the only thing you wanted. You wanted his soft hair between your fingers, your thighs wrapped around his waist. You wanted to feel his tongue shoved inside of you again.

"I think I'd like an ale or two as well."

"Oooookay...Well, since i already paid for two rooms, why don't you both buy a round for the spare room while we get busy." Astarion's eye roll was quite visible and very pointed, but that didn't matter, no one would actually remember anything that was said, as they'd be wrapped in bodies and sweat, including you.

So you ordered two bottles of ale and two of a beautiful red wine, they sat in the middle of a small round table. The room itself was stunning, the walls painted a deep purple, with a golden trim at the tops and bottoms. There was a bed centered in the middle of the room, with an abundance of fluffy pillows on top and a velvet sheet to top it off. It was by far the fanciest room you'd stayed in. Everything dripped of gold and pearls, there was even a damn chandelier. If this was a side room, you wondered what the main room must've looked like.

"This is...." You trailed off, still taking in the whole room.

"extraordinary?" Gale muttered, taking no time to sit down and pour out two glasses of wine. Something was obviously on his mind, as he swirled the red liquid around, his eyes were slightly distant, and his brows furrowed. It didn't surprise, you, though, there was a lot going on, and he had the chance to end his own life to possibly save the world, and yet here he sat, already on his second glass. There must be a lot on his mind, you thought.

Really, he just wanted the courage to make a big move, and a bit of liquid honesty couldn't hurt. While you drank, he tried not to stare, but it seemed to be getting harder and harder. He wanted so badly to reach out and devour you. He wanted to taste you again, grip your thighs with his hands, leave hickeys across your whole body, he wanted everyone to know how much he could pleasure you. He couldn't help but look at his drink, look at you, and the bed. he kept repeating 'just tell her' Tell you what? He wasn't sure what to even tell you?

Was he madly in love with you? Likely. Did he Lust for you? Always. Of course he did. Out of all the worldly and otherworldly beings, things, concepts, you were the most perfect. He Would year the night sky apart to see your smile. Commit crimes to stare into those eyes endlessly.

"They're certainly making some noise," The drinks were certainly kicking in, your voice was a bit shakey, but your head still fairly clear, clear enough to hear the moaning and grunts from the other room, even some....weird god kinks, you weren't sure and didn't care to be that snoopy.

Gale chuckled, nodding his head. "I would bet 5000 gold I could get you moaning louder than all of them, combined."

"Is that the wine talking?" You tried to blink away the disbelief and shock you clearly wore on your face, Gale was an upfront man, but this was on another level...

"Only to help say what's been on my mind." His deep brown eyes looked at you with incredible lust, more than you'd ever seen before, It was hot, searing, intense. "You have always been on my mind."

You got up from your chair, legs weak not from the wine, but from how this charming wizard looked at you like you were the entire world, right in front of him. "Is that so?" You wanted nothing more than for Gale to wrap his arms around your waist and take all of you til night passed and morning arose.

Your legs slotted through his perfectly, your knee nearly grazing his crotch. In one big gulp, you downed the rest of your drink, and leaned over Gale to set the glass down on the table, not very subtly getting closer to him, and even though your chest was practically in his face, he was still looking into your eyes.

"it would be such a waste if we didn't use such a beautiful bed. We're not often afforded those luxuries.." You took one more small step closer to him, reaching out to the hand free from drink, guiding it to your waist. "And we don't want to be wasteful..."

"Certainly not." Gale took one last sip of wine, licking the small drip that fell from his lips. He stood from his chair, his obvious hard on graising your hip. A small gasp left your lips, gods, you had forgotten how badly you'd wanted him, how big he felt...It was all returning to you. Your face flushed with heat as you remembered his tongue deep in your pussy, your lips wrapped around his cock.

Gale was emboldened by the wine, tipsy off of lust, his mind racing with all that he wanted to do to you, sweep you off your feet and into the weave. but that would have to wait, the here and now, right in front of him, you practically offering yourself to him yet again, he'd be a fool not to take it. "Come here, beautiful."

You let out a sigh, biting down on your lip as you sat down on his thigh. He wrapped his hands around your hips, squeezing slightly, almost reassuringly. He guided your hips back and fourth, while pressing you down further onto his thigh. your dress rode up to your waist, only your thin underwear creating all the friction you ever needed between your pussy and his thigh, getting ungodly close his his bulge yet never quite close enough.

His pace was slow and hard, Still clutching onto you like you absolutely needed it, which, was true, as the longer he rocked you the more wobbily your legs felt. You breath started to get heavier and heavier. Your head fell to his shoulders, the pleasure wracking through your whole body.

"No no, beautiful, look at me when you cum" Gale's hand inched its way to the back of your neck, pulling your head off his shoulder and holding you steady as you looked into his eyes,

It was all so much, his needy eyes begging for you to cum, your throbbing pussy, the small wet stain now on his pants from how gods damn much he turned you on, it was hard to keep his stare but you did, as you moaned his name, gasping as pleasure kept pulsing through your body. "fuck..." you chocked out. He let go of your neck but kept his hand on your shoulder, still keeping a firm grasp on your hip as it was clear you weren't exactly stable.

"I...That was..." You nearly whispered, still shuddering from the orgasm. You were so flustered, something that wasn't too easy for you, yet, he made you. His intensity with a smile had you dizzy. "Do you want me to return the favor?"

He raised a hand back to your jaw, tilting your head to look at him fully, to stare into his eyes.

"Let me make love to you-" Gale cooed, soothing you with his charm. "Sit back and let me give you everything."

"Yes, please-" you practically begged. Gale used his fingers to tilt your head slightly, leaving room for him to trail kisses and love bites down your neck, sucking on your skin, leaving you with shivers down your spine. You leaned into his touch, your hands nearly shooting up to grasp his soft hair, pulling him even closer.

"you're so beautiful-" He muttered between hickeys, breath getting heavier as you pressed your hips against him, feeling how much he wanted you, straining

You pulled away slightly, grasping his hand and struggling a bit to get up, turning to lead him to the bed. Although your eyes were set in front of you, you felt his gaze scan your body, how your hips swayed as you walked, he wanted to take all the time in the world to explore your body, learn it more than anything he'd ever read.

"just lay down, beautiful." He pressed his hand to your chest, pushing slightly, letting you fully relax into the bed, his body hovering over yours, his steady and strong arm next to your head, the other making quick work of unbuttoning your dress.

"Take those off for me," he looked down at your panties, slipping a finger at the band of your underwear and pulling it back, snapping it against your skin. It took a moment to register, there was so much distracting you, but you somehow managed. Completely bare and laid out, displayed like a work of art for him to admire. Gale took a moment, sitting up on his knees, to take you all in. His fingers traced along your stomach, lowering slowly, with such a light touch you could barely tell if it was him or a chill.

It shouldn't have been surprising but when he slipped his middle finger inside, you gasped, letting a moan escape your lips as his finger curled in and out of you, working in a slow and consistent pace. His index finger grazed your clit every time he pumped in and out, lightly, still taking you down from the high of riding his thigh, him knowing you'd still be sensitive, to not overstimulate.

"Come here" You pulled him in by his hair, now slightly tosseled and looking frankly unfair. "kiss me."

He didn't need to be told twice, quickly pressing his own lips to yours. He tasted of the sweet red wine, with hints of caramel and clove. He was delicious , addicting. You licked his bottom lip, opening his mouth to allow you deeper into his mouth. While you explored his mouth, he slipped another finger deep inside you, pushing in further than he had been doing before, quickening his pace.

His lips left your own, slightly panting, a bit out of breath. He then trailed down your neck to your breast, looking back up at you, asking permission to suck on your skin. You nodded desperately, gods you needed anything he would give you. His lips attacked to your nipple, sucking and licking, bobbing his head with every pull, it was all building up.

"I'm gonna cum, gods, Gale please I'm close-" You begged, yet he pulled back quickly, you let out a disappointed groan, why would he stop now? It didn't take long to get your answer, he wanted your cum on his mouth. He moved fast to move his mouth to your pussy, not relenting in his speed with his fingers and now, tongue. It didn't take long for the wave of bliss to wash over you, uncontrollable sounds coming out while he rode our your orgasm with one less finger and slowing down with his lips. It wasn't until your hips stopped shaking that he drew out his fingers, moving them to his mouth where he sucked them dry, letting out a small moan when they were clean. "divine.."

His clothes were stripped off, yours now completely tossed aside, the cool air hitting you both, but neither of you really noticed. You were focused on his hard cock pressed against your pussy, grinding againt your lips, getting slick with his spit and your cum. It would be so easy just to slide it in, but he drew it out, teasing you til you begged, pleaded, please, you needed it, you wanted him so desperately. Yet still somehow a fraction of his need for you the past weeks.

Gales restraint was shocking, even to himself, but the sight of you underneath him, begging for his cock, glowing from the orgasm he brought you, was enough for a lifetime, though he hoped there'd be many more lifetimes of this.

One more whimper is all that it took for him to shove himself deep inside you, all the way to the hilt. You felt him pressing against your cervix, a small but sharp pain from the sudden sensation , a good pain, that meant you were taking it all, and so well for him too. He had waited too long for this to stop, he kept pumping inside you, at an unrelenting pace, fast and hard. He switched between sucking on your neck, your breast, and biting your lip, keeping eye contact whenever he could. He wanted to see how much you wanted him, and he wanted you to know how much lust he had in his soul, just for you.

Gale held your neck with his hand, grasping lightly, as he came for the first time, shoving his cock even deeper into your pussy as he slowed his pace down, nearly whimpering in your ear as his head fell to your shoulders, biting down on your skin to keep from some more sounds he found embarrassing, but was so very sexy. You expected him to lay down and rest, after that, but he kept going.

"Flip over for me." He asked, giving your earlobe a small nibble as he spoke. You couldn't move fast enough, laying down on your stomach as he held down your waist, fingernails digging into your skin, leaving small crescent dents. You shoved your ass down on him with every thrust, wave after wave of orgasms wracking through your body, it felt endless, overwhelming. When it all felt like enough he kept going, adding more, rubbing your clit as your ass bounced on his cock, his thumb slipping in and out of your ass, him completely exiting you and only coming back in when you came from his words alone, sweet talking you into more orgasms. Or stopping completely to finish you off with his mouth again, you'd squirted in his mouth more than once, and he came once just from that. Maybe the stopping and starting was also so he himself could keep going as much as he could muster, but that never crossed your mind.

"You take it so well-" and "I want to see you need me" and "You're just too beautiful when you cum, I can't help but follow."

You went until your bodies gave out. Too sweaty, too raw to take anymore.

Gale fell beside you, out of breath, tan skin glistened with sweat and cum, his cock still leaking a bit, though even he was shocked there was anything left in him. You laid there for minutes, maybe longer, it didn't matter. It didn't click that the room next to you had fallen silent until you'd finally caught your breath. Actually...you remember the screams and moans ending a while ago. you notice Gales eyes had also turned to the shared wall, probably coming to the same conclusion as you.

"Do you think they heard us?" You asked, a small smile forming.

"Most definitely."

_

A/N: Well that was a lot huh? This took probably 20 hours straight of writing if not more, so please tell me if you liked it! It would mean a lot to me. Requests are always open but slow, as i'm not a fast writer haha. Thanks for following along! My gale fics have done better than I ever expected, I've gotten about 1k new followers from them I believe, so thank you all!

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[pursuitseternal]

“Rescue Me:” Risk, nsfw Romance, and sub!Ascended Astarion update for “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 4.2K rescue and nsfw reward

Summary: just a harmless hunt turns dangerous, an old threat from your Tadpole days resurfaces. Once your love has you rescued, you reward him handsomely for the effort.

CW: Canon-typical violence, bloodshed, Vampire Bride powers homebrew, protective Astarion, soft sub/dom dynamics, Sub!AA, outdoor sex, praise kink

My bloody Valentine for @marimosalad , @myfavouritelunatic

Ao3 Link | Astarion Fic Masterlist

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

The world is a wash of colors, a bouquet of scents, now that you step into it with all your vampiric powers. The forests around the city are colored as the trees begin to turn, reds like his eyes and golds like the treasure you’ve amassed as sovereigns. And your limbs are alive as you bolt under those trees. Reithwith is far behind you, the forests and wilds ahead. The only thing faster in the world rushes at your side

Astarion. Hair whipping wildly in the wind, eyes narrowed as he runs. Mouth grinning like a fool so wide, his pointy fangs peek from his lip.

You feel the same too. Alive. Powerful. The rush of speed and thrum of your vampiric vigor, it intoxicates you. Powerful. Like nothing can touch you.

“Bet I find and kill a bigger animal than you, my love…” you taunt right into his mind.

“Oh my dear, I’d like to see you try…” he pants with open mouth as he purrs back into your thoughts. “Nothing so delicious out here in these woods than me, my pet.”

“True…” you flash him an image of your razor-like fangs biting him all over… his neck, his thigh… that sweet, filled out swell of his own ass cheek, your hand fondling his balls from behind…

He nearly stumbles over the roots of some great oak at that. Regaining his sure footing just in time. “Tempting… but I’ll enjoy my spoils so much more by winning this little hunt you suggested, darling.” He slows a bit until you’ve caught up, until your shoulders bump as you keep in stride through the forest undergrowth. Even as it’s dying.

You toss your head, hair streaming from your face as you flash him your own fanged smile. “To the winner goes the spoils, then….” You give a giddy laugh before darting into the forest away from him and out of his sight….

It’s only after you’ve fallen a stag, feasting on its warm blood, that you realize someone stands behind you. Before plain lances throught the back of your head.

Before the world goes dark.

The forest has grown dark by the time you open your eyes, your head swims. Whatever they smacked you with, it left no lingering damage, not with your vampiric powers. Not when you have his blood in your veins. Slowly the world comes into focus, and you know you’re not alone. Three large male Drows stand guard over you, their armor thick and their eyes intense.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

That voice. A female crosses towards you, her own armor dark like night, her red eyes shining as she scans you, bound with your legs together under you, your arms behind your back. The chains around your wrists and ankles sting, but it’s her gaze that makes you disgusted and slightly nervous. Those eyes flash between your mouth and your neck.

She wants your bite. And your blood.

“Araj…” you growl.

“I’m glad I made such an impression on you and your lord that I haven’t been forgotten.” She looks down at you, closing in on where you’re bound. Every urge in your body hums to life, you strain at your bonds, but they burn your skin the more you struggle.

“You know, he will kill you when he finds you,” you hiss, “Lord Astarion wouldn’t deign to drink from you, but he will enjoy spilling your every last drop.”

Araj laughs as she crouches next to you, “I should hope he tries, little consort. I cannot wait to study your blood. You little spawn, how does it feel when he compels you?” She runs a finger up the side of your neck, you pant as she touches you, you flinch. She is repulsive, her finger on your skin an insult to Astarion’s greatest creation. She strokes where your own two bite mark scars dip your flesh. “Does he drink from you nightly? Make you do all sorts of exotic and rigorous things, that Vampire Ascendant?”

Fangs bared, you hiss in her face. “You dare to touch what is his…” your mind spins, suddenly flooded with a surge of power. A warmth races down your spine and into your limbs. It makes you bold. It makes you laugh. “He is coming, you vermin. And he does not like having his things taken….”

Araj gives a nod to her soldiers, they draw their blades and fan out into the dark. She laughs, cackles more like. “Oh, imagine if I captured the Ascendant and his consort… if I had their blood to play with… their teeth to satisfy my dreams and curiosity…. You should have killed me when you had the chance instead of leaving me unconscious.”

Your voice shifts in your throat, you can feel him whisper in your mind. “Your hero is coming. I’ll be there soon, my lady….” You take a sigh of relief, feeling his haste, drinking in the wave of his rage as if it can nourish you.

And then, you speak, his voice in your mouth, his silken tones on your tongue. “I’m rather glad I did leave you… it will be far more satisfying to end you slowly now for what you have done… darling….”

Araj freezes at the sound of his voice. Eyes wide and frightened as she watches his power possess you. His power caresses your body, giving you a lasting sense of comfort. And you give the Drow a wicked smile. “We are going to love punishing you.”

The dark glade you’re in is suddenly filled with the sounds of bones crunching and blood spattering on the ground. One body… two… three bodies hit the dirt with a crunch. And Araj draws a little dagger. You laugh, your own sweet tones on your tongue again. “Oh yes, little prey, pull out your claws. Won’t stop you….”

“…from being devoured….” That low, velvety male voice caresses up your spine, his footsteps landing behind you.

Your hero, your lovey villain. Your master and mate. He touches the top of your head briefly, assuring you of his protection and presence.

Astarion’s hands pull your bonds apart. That roguish dexterity never leaving his beautiful fingers, the silver chains coming apart like butter in his grip. And even as you hear the little hiss of its power burning his skin, he gives no hint of pain.

Flinging the chains aside, he lifts you to your feet, steadying you, as if you weigh nothing to him.

The Drow’s eyes are wide, the red of her irises shaking up and down in her fear. Astarion growls, his twin daggers pulled from behind his back swiftly. You have seen it countless times. A chilling laugh comes from his mouth. “You really should have brought an army if you planned to touch what is mine… if you planned to take what is precious to me.”

“How else was I…” she tries to back away, stepping with a sickening crunch on the bones of one of her guards.

“What… darling? Fulfill your twisted little fantasy? Or find a way to sate your death wish?” he chuckles, his daggers twirling so beautifully, so gracefully in his long and bloodied fingers. “It took me all but a moment to rip all three to shreds… and you,” he points his dagger at her quivering form, head held high and shoulders squared, bloodied mouth ginning wide in the moonlight. “You’ll I’ll take my time with, darling. For what you tried to rob me of, my Consort, my Bride, there is no punishment fit enough for your crime, if I am any judge.” Another roll of dark laughter. “Which I was once, but now…” he closes in on Araj, feline and fast, “I’m your executioner.”

You watch, your stomach turning sour at the smell of her fetid blood. He’s so graceful, the way his body moves as he fights, not really a fight. It’s a dance, his movements fatal and swift, his little noises of effort punctuating the silent forest.

You draw closer, until he drops his blades into the mat of leaves on the forest floor. She’s still twitching on the ground, Araj, lover of all things sanguine, laying in a pool of her own life’s blood.

It’s more than enough vengeance for now. His arms sweep you up, taking you from the carnage.

Taking you to safety.

A clearing bathed in the moonlight… not unlike your first time. If only you knew the road ahead of you that night and all the pleasures and love that awaited.

You still smell fetid blood in your nose, you still feel the burn of silver round your wrist and ankles.

He sets you gingerly on the ground, his eyes looking everywhere but your face. His heart pounds so heavily, you can hear it as if it is your own. His touch pulses with it in his fingers, his hands turning over the burn marks on your pale skin. Hetugs where your sleeves and trousers have been torn to expose you, to make room for the silver chains to corrode into your flesh. “That bitch… I hope she does slowly, I hope she’s still in agony for what she did to you,” he spits, words hissing between his clenched teeth.

“Never,” he proclaims so loudly it hurts your ears. Suddenly both palms press into your face, making you turn to meet his glowing crimson eyes. He’s livid, silver brows furrowed deep, thick lips somewhere between a frown and a snarl. “Never again, I’m never letting you out of my sight again, darling. Where you go, I go. I will always be watching you everywhere you go. And never again will you stray from my side, do you hear me? Don’t you dare….” The ferocious snarl, the fearsome timbre of his voice, snaps in an instant.

His face presses against you, nose to nose, his forehead hot and damp with sweat where it crams against yours, his cheeks beginning to stain with wet. “Don’t… I can’t… I can’t lose you again.” He sobs, his tongue licking his lips from the salty strains of tears. “I’m not strong enough for that.”

His arms wrap around your head, pulling you into his blood spattered and embroidered jacket. His favorite one, with the golden stitched peacocks on a sea of cream silk. But it wasn’t cream any longer. You hiss as your hands and wrists brush his body. Instantly he recoils, concern etched across his handsome features. That mask of indifference he wears so often as Ascendant has vanished. And all you see staring at you in the dark woods, huddled on the ground, is the man who loves you, who stops at nothing to rescue you.

He pretends his cheeks aren’t wet, pretends that aquiline nose of his isn’t almost running. He brings your wrists to his mouth, kissing over the burn marks as if his lips could heal you.

As if his love could heal you alone.

You shiver in pain. The wounds are still fresh and raw with blisters. He instantly starts to work the buttons of that jacket, his pale skin exposed to the night as he wraps it around your shaking shoulders.

His heat saturates the fabric, his eyes and hands busy as he snugs it tightly around your frame. But behind his eyes, inside his thoughts he only hears that beat of how he needs to save you.

Just as you have always saved him.

Fangs pierce his own naked wrist, his blood, warm and tingling, drips with a hiss on your burned skin, blisters fading and raw skin knitting back together the second it connects with his powerful essence. Quickly, he moves to your ankles, making sure every little bit of your injuries is bathed in his blood.

Feeling returns to your extremities. You wriggle them, and Astarion leans closer, bringing his wrist to your lips, letting it whet your hunger.

Your stomach turns at the taste, instantly needing more in your belly, instantly losing all sense of pain. Or fear. Or loneliness. Not now that his power flows from his veins to yours. And you release your lips after a few swallows. Just enough to steady your head.

He’s shushing you softly, muttering to himself, “Never agains, never…”

“Astarion,” you breathe, “you are strong.”

“No,” he shakes his head, bringing you against his warm chest, “I can’t be if it comes to losing you….” His breath is ragged in his lungs, heart racing still from his rescue.

And fear.

“Then we are strong enough together, my love,” you force his face in your hand, turning it, making him, compelling him, to meet your gaze. “I knew you’d come,” you whisper, feeling him lean a little harder into your touch. “You fearsome Vampire Ascendant, if I need to be confident enough for both of us, then let me do that for you.”

He gives a wet laugh, “My consort, my queen, my right hand….”

“The hand that helps pull you up even when I’m the cause of your fall,” you give a tender smile in return.

He gives you a smile that resembles more of his rakish smirk, if still a bit tragic and a bit forced. “Maybe there’s something that hand of yours could pull… if you’re offering.”

Your hand strays down the soft skin of his chest… his stomach. “I wouldn’t want to spoil you, but you do so love when your acts of heroism are compensated, I recall….”

“Rewarded, my little love,” he tries to chuckle. Still weak, his body showing more of the despair that still blisters inside him that his words will allow to describe. “Why don’t you reward me,” he looks down on you with those big, wet crimson eyes, “haven’t I been so good to you?”

“Of course,” you whisper, pressing your hand in the valley of his chest, making him flatten out on the forest floor.

Not unlike days of old.

“You’re always so good to me, won’t you let me be good to you in return?” you slink your way over his body, spreading your thighs so straddle those hips of his.

“I have earned it, haven’t I?” He preens beneath you, just a small spark of that arrogance and seduction coming back. His hands haven’t left your body, pawing at your hips, running up your back.

As if he will never let you go, never let himself lose you again.

You shrug the weight of his jacket from your shoulders and pull the edges of your long tunic over your head, torn and dirty as it is, you breathe a sigh of relief. The dark of his pupils consume that ring of red around them, eyes dilating to see your breasts, a sight just for him. Instantly his hands reach for them, one in each palm, cradled in his touch, so soft and so perfectly. You long to taste him, to get the sour tang of fear and bile that still lingers in your mind, despite even the taste of his ascendant blood on your tongue.

His lips shake as they meet your own, almost unwilling to believe he gets to do this again. Disbelieving he’s managed to save you, to decimate your enemies with you so deep in their clutches.

He basks in the way your body clings to him, like he does every chance he has to sit curled in the sun. A little smile on his lips, even as they dance and devour yours. His touch reverently ghosts up your belly, tantalizingly light on your skin, tucking into the waistband of your trousers to try to slink them down.

But you smile into his kiss, brushing his hands away like gnats. “My love…” you rasp, “did you ask to try to remove those?”

“No,” he growls in reply, hands instantly slinking back up your body, brushing against your swaying breasts to cradle the back of your neck.

“Mmmm, that’s better,” you moan slightly into his mouth. Hands splayed on his chest, you raise yourself back up, feeling the heat and pressure of his growing erection beneath your body. A slight wriggle of your hips makes his mouth hang slack. “Let me just ride you, my love. Let me make you feel that I’m here with you.”

He groans at that. Hands planting firmly back on your hips, you slowly grind on that length, feeling it hardening under you. But you tutt your tongue, sliding down his thighs. “Can’t have you hard down your leg, can we?”

He shakes his head, “By the hells no,” he hisses as you reach in to adjust him. He groans as you take his shaft in your grip, a few gentle pumps aren’t enough for him over that steely hard erection. You sweep your thumb over that weeping slit, just enough to make the bead of precum slick your fingers before you let go, keeping his cock inside the waistband of his breeches.

Tongue running over one fang, he watches as you lick your fingers clean, as you slide your body back over to grind on his aching hardness. “Aren’t I worthy of a little more reward for my heroics?” He tries to sound demanding, but with each buck of your hips that rubs the heat and fabric where you join, he only grows more desperate.

“Good things come to Ascendant Lords who wait, my love,” you purr, slowing the way your hips gyrate over his just to prove your point. Fingernails claw into your hip bones, scoring and tearing your skin. His head digs back into the ground, the rustle of leaves beneath him a staccato to the way his breath pours out in a long pant. “Tch,” you lean down to capture that mouth that twists in agony. “Easy my love,” you whisper as his lips try to consume your own cold breath. His hands press on your shoulders, the back of your neck, holding you steady as he thrusts up into that warming crease between your thighs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Damned right, you’re not,” he growls, a tenacity in his tone and ferocity in the way his fingers cling into your mussy hair. “And you’re mine…”

You shake free of his hold, sliding to slip off your trousers, the night air making every hair on your body prickle. Your nipples firm up harder than pebbles, even as your nerves burn to take his heat within you, for him to thrust his pulsing cock inside, to fill you with the friction you crave more to survive than blood.

But instead you settle back, your folds wet and pressing into the suede of his breeches. “Your reward is rather cruel, little love,” he hisses, nearly whining, even as his voice rumbles in his chest. “May I touch my spoils?” he whispers.

A wicked, gaping smirk on your lips and your head throw back as you demonstrate. “Like this, my lord?” You still on his prodding cock, lifting your hips just enough for his darkened eyes to watch your fingers slip loudly into your drenched folds. Your stroke, you circle and curl, whatever movements make the most sounds. Astarion’s hands slowly creep from your hips lower… lower… daring silently as he encroaches closer where you now ride your own touch.

You smile, closing your eyes, giving him a little nod, a little gift of your permission as his thumb slips inside where your fingers already play. His cock presses into you as his fingers slide over your clit. That bulge throbs through the now soaked spanse of suede, a satisfied smirk on his face as his touch catches you just right.

As your thighs grip him hard, as your own hand goes still inside your entrance, leaving you with just that merciful stroke of his thumb on your clit as he steals your breath. As the warmth of pleasure blooms from your belly. As you buck and writhe all the harder, all the more erratic until your vision swims.

Boneless, shivering, you’re pulled down to his mouth, fingers gently throttling you as you stil gasp for air from your climax.

It feels… so good. Saved. Rescued. Claimed. Good to be his.

His kiss is all tongue and fangs, those little growls and huffs he makes when he feeds on you filling your mouth as he caresses you. His hands slink into the new open space he’s made, fingers snapping his laces open. Finally almost freeing himself.

But you laugh, sinking your own fang into his lip to make him gasp and freeze in pain. “Naughty,” you breathe before sucking on that seeping blood. “You know better than that… you know to ask first, my love.” You chastise him, making him shudder under your lips. “But since you were so wonderful being my hero, saving your lady love, I’ll forgive you…” you raise up, feeling his hands tugging fiercely, not even finishing all the straps to release that aching erection.

“To the victor…” he raps, guiding your body to sink quickly on his shaft… He pants in delight as you squeeze around him at last, “go the spoils.” His chest rises and falls, pale skin catching in the moonlight, his sweat glistening. But you can’t tear away from his mouth. Not with how he works his lips on yours, his tongue tangling in time with every little thrust you make.

One of his arms presses you closer to join where he fucks up into you, where you soak his skin and slap hard against him. But that other, that other arm winds behind your shoulders, hand clawed into the base of your neck, keeping your breath as his breath, your tongue twisted with his. But it’s not enough… not hard enough or fast enough, even as you feel his breathing grow ragged.

You sit up, launching off his chest with two hands braced. He whines, whines to have you break from his clutches. A single finger crooking, you beckon him up to you. A rustle of leaves, the scent of damp, nighttime earth in your nose, and he obeys to sit up too. Eager, biting his fangs into his bottom lip. Hips rolling, back arched in deepest pleasure, you feel his tongue lapping up, a single damp streak between your breasts. Those dexterous hands grip into your skin, those powerful arms that snapped your enemies in half are wrapped tenderly around your waist.

He growls against your neck, too hesitant to bite. Warm lips wrap around your ear, the loud suck, the squelch of his tongue sends ice cold shivers of pleasure right down your spine. One more time, a loud suck, the clack of his fangs together in your ear, and you shatter, another wave of orgasm ripping you in two. Wetness squirts down your thighs, his cock is so slick inside you from your arousal, even as thick and hot as he has grown approaching his own release.

Even as your walls clutch and undulate through his thrusts into you that never relent.

His back is wet, dead leaves clinging to his shoulders as you hold him, trying to keep your balance against the flexing muscles of his back. Your rogue, your hero, he takes advantage of your breathless submission as you float down from orgasm to clutch you even harder. His voice grates in his throat, thick with desire and breathless from exertion. “May I…”

“What do you wish?” you murmur, slack in his arms as he thrusts with desperation, your body barely able to ride him much longer.

“I want…” he pants, “to fill you. For you to seep with me, to make you…” he groans as you shudder at that dark, deep tone in his voice, “make you full of my seed and scent. So I’ll always be able to find you, darling…”

“Yes,” you hiss somewhere in the middle of his words. A shuddering whine in his throat, and you feel every muscle tighten like a bow string. Rolling you to your back, he presses your legs into your body, the heat of your folds now open to the night air. Hips snap hard, reckless and with abandon. He fucks into you at his pleasure, at his mercy. His eyes don’t seem to blink as he stares into your own face. Dirt smudges his cheek, but it’s that haze in his eyes, that way his mouth twists in beautiful bliss that makes your own body hum to be used.

Pressing you, folding you bent and spread for him, he cages you into the earth this time. A smirk, wide and toothy, pants down from above you, those dark crimson eyes flutter shut as he bucks and shudders. One loud pant that sticks in his throat and your walls grow warm, coated as he does fill you, cum and arousal leaking into the dirt. Not for the first time.

Not for the last.

Breath heavy, skin damp, he hugs you into him, the echo of his beating heart in your own chest hard enough to almost be your own.

“Never again, my love, my consort,” he whispers, more to himself than for your ears. “I’ll spend the rest of our lives rescuing you… as you rescued me.”

With one last kiss, he softens over you, almost sleepy in his breath, and you wipe the mud from his cheek.

That roguish mud from his ascended skin. And nestled as he is, he smiles against your breast as you do.

[sirenmoth]

Monster Mash - Drider

CW: Bondage, body worship, vaginal fingering, restraints, cum smearing, scent marking, scent marking via cum, spider anatomy, cum insertion, (i promise it makes sense), (literally looked up if spiders have dicks and how spider sex works)

Monster Mash Masterlist

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Legs sore and trembling like a newborn fawn learning to walk for the first time since opening its eyes, sleep still heavy and ever present on your mind as you try and traverse the massive manor you all share using the walls as support, still as naked as the day you were born. The sudden sound of quickly fast approaching scuttling footsteps and a pair of drow arms around your bruised waist alert you of a new presence as you are lifted into the air.

The relief you feel once you are off your feet, legs no longer shaking to keep you up-right, as the drider carries you away and towards his web, gently placing you into the centre like an ornate piece of porcelain, closing your eyes and letting yourself sink down into the sticky mass of string below. Your mind barely registers your limbs being moved around, lovingly and carefully being tied and secured in place by the driders own silk.

Eight spider legs and a set of drow arms come into peripheral vision as the drider climbs into his own web, taking his spot between your spread legs. Eight sets of eyes, six spider and two drow, borrow deep into your skull, never once looking away as the drider takes in his work.

A soft chitter echoes in your brain, "Still awake, my dear?" A breathy chuckle follows his question, "We are far from done, I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun." He says, nipping at the bite marks on your neck and shoulders, his silver snow-white hair falls over his shoulders, the light from the window casting a dull halo around it. "He just loves to ruin you for us, doesn't he, takes all the run out of it." None of them used each other's name, a way of showing their still burning distaste for each other.

The drider starts to rearrange your limbs once more, moving you this way and that until he finds the perfect positions for you to be relaxed and comfort, and for him to worship you and love you. Once your arms are resecured and restrained once again by his soft silk string, he moved onto your legs, replacing them, so your knees were pulled up close to your legs and spread open as wide as they could be. Small click and chirps of approval leave the drider mouth as he works, clearly pleased with his work and your compliance.

With your arms above and legs spread, nothing was left to the imagine, more than it usually was. You lie your head back into the web, the room the drider picked and claimed as his nest was always warm, despite being in a drafty attic, must be all the tightly-packed webbing the covers every corner and wall.

He covers your body with his, his torso slotting between your immobile legs, his spider legs curls under his spider abdomen as his drow arms trace the marks that dot your body left behind by the vampire, tiny hisses and grumbles can be heard every time he examines and assesses a new one.

"He does this on purpose, knows how sore you get after he feed, knows we have to go easy or wait until you heal enough." He tsks as he traces a bruising mark on your hip, "Don't worry, my darling light, I'll be gentle. Make this all about you." The drider kisses a huge mark where your neck and your shoulder conjoin, a bright red now turned blue-ish purple hue, carefully places his hands on your damaged thighs, lightly kneading the flesh, mindful of the bloomed bruises and healing bites that litter your skin.

Rolling your head to the side as your drider leaves a trail of kisses up your neck, his mandibles that sit where his drow half connects to the spider half move lightly, the small fangs at the ends of them gracefully dancing along your lower abdomen just above your cunt, careful not to puncture your skin. Soft kisses are placed just below your left ear, like the drider is trying to fix the marks your vampire lover left.

Those eight eyes always looking in your direction whenever you are near, no matter what either you two are doing, observing your action. He worships you like he would his drider queen, but only you have the pleasures of begging with him.

Little butterfly kisses are pressed against your temple and check, a small distraction while his finger trail downwards towards your dripping slit, tapping your clit with featherlight touches, you softly whimper at the feeling, mind still foggy from sleep and the soft silk webbing underneath was only adding to your delirious mindset. Unable to move due to the strands of silk that weave over and under your legs, you can only lay there and take it as the driders move lower, teasing your entrance. Twitching and squirming as the drider timidly plays with you.

You are like a fly, stuck in a spider's web, waiting in anticipation as the spider plays with you until it decides to devour you. Slowly, the drider slides three fingers into you with no warning, your body accepting him with ease. He pushes and pulls and presses at the sensitive nerve deep inside you, calculated strokes to make you fall apart all over again but to ensure you aren't hurt, the drider mandibles toy with your clit, nibbling and nipping at the exposed nerve while he studies you expressions, watching you moan and whimper, watching your attempts to squirm as you beg for more, for him to move faster.

Your drider takes pleasure in treating you like the most precious thing in the world, something that could break so easily, and he found joy in making you break while he had you tied up like this and his fingers deep inside you as your mind shatters in pleasure, sometimes he would use one of the toys you have, though him and the other eight never understood why you have toys when you have them, all you had to was ask, and they'd let you ride them or fuck you, or you fuck them, until you were satisfied. They do admit it is fun using the toys on you while they do their thing, they never use them as they do nothing for them.

One of the driders hands cups your left breast, squeezing the mound of flesh and pulling at the nipple between his fingers, tugging after each squeeze to create an unwavering, rhythmic sensation that sends euphoric shockwaves through your body. His fingers and hand move in opposite tandem of each other, when his fingers pull out his hand squeezes, slow and calculated, as he leaves small barely noticeable marks over the previous ones.

"So soft, your skin feels like the finest silk ever to exist," the drider mutters into your neck before biting over a mark the vampire left, "and all only for me." They all shared their own and mutual possession over you, displayed through the words they spoke while having a few fingers or a cock, sometimes cocks, pumping inside you, trying to outdo each other with their mark and claims.

Your whimpering and moaning only fanned the flame, the drider fingers sped up to a leg-shaking pace, or what would be if you could move your legs.

Low hums as the drider worships you and your moans fill his web as he coaxes you to cum on his fingers, "That's it, my darling, cum all over my fingers, mark me as yours." The squeezes on your breast grew more aggressive as his fingers move impossibly faster, the butterfly kisses turn into bites. You scream as you cum hard around his fingers as he curls them just right to hit your g-spot, your hole tightening as the mandibles stop their tweaking on your clit, resting against it as you catch your breath.

"So good, looked so pretty for me, so beautiful." The drider remarks, pulling his fingers out to admire your mess, mesmerized by the glimmer of white slick coating his fingers and the way it caught in the light. Bringing the slick covered fingers up to his mouth, he runs his tongue over the digits while keeping eye contact with you. Once he deems his fingers clean enough, he leans over you, "Lay back now, going to reposition you." He whispers into your right ear, you can do nothing but submit as he readjusts you, pulling you lower half high, so your sopping entrance lines up with his clicking mandibles, another chip and soft click once he finds the right placement.

You feel one of the fangs tracing your cunt, flinching at it as it runs up and down, collecting your cum. The drider pins you down under his drow half so he can work undisturbed, one of his hands stays put, playing with your hair while the other collects some of his own cum, letting it drip and run down your body, painting white streak with it across your skin as you try and piece together what the drider has planned. "Going to make you smell like me once I'm done, both inside and out, you'd look so breathtaking dripping with my cum."

Another kiss pressed just behind your ear, "See them try and get rid of my claim now."

One fang carefully slips into you, barely more than a few centimetres, while the other recoils in on itself, his free hand exploring your body like it's brand new to him all over again. The wetness between your thigh grows, you lift your head to watch as the fang that recoiled in returns with a clump of drider cum, pushing it into your gummy walls, quickly the drider reinserts his fingers back into you, forcing the large goop of white substance further into you, only retreating when the opposite fang wants to add its own ball of cum to the mix.

Your head falls back onto the web as your lover repeats the same process, the mixture of slick building between your thigh runs down and pass your ass, onto the web below to combine with the silk, making it near impossible to tell what's web and what's not. "Cum for me again, my love, I know you can do it." The drider murmurs, forcing your dreary head back up to watch as one of the mandibles insert another large goop of seman into you, the drider picks up what didn't make it in and smears it on to your skin. You watch as fangs switch, left right, left, right, the drider re-entering the same three fingers back into you between the pattern, fingering his cum far into you.

Your legs shake in the restraints, your hole clamping down on the drider fingers as your mouth falls open in a silent scream of ecstasy as you cum hard on his fingers, the drider slows down until he deems his cum is deep enough, only then does he pull his fingers out. More kisses are left on your cheeks and the hand comes up from your cunt to stroke your hip, your cum joining to the messy streak on you, the driders warmth bleeds into your own as you both lay chest to chest with each other, staying in this position even after you've both calmed down, his arms around you and his legs under his abdomen.

"Hey, are you going to untie me now? My limbs are going numb."

"Oh right. Sorry, my love."

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Unpunishable

Astarion x F! Tav

(Girl Talk part 4, can be read alone)

18+ love triangle dynamics, possessiveness, blood drinking, tav being a menace, dom/brat, angry sex, power play, fingering (f!), mild restraint, spanking, spitting, p-in-v, prostate orgasm, some silly fun at the end

After Karlach spent the night with Tav, Astarion is feeling very normal about it. So normal that he needs her in his tent all night. Just to feed, he swears...

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

-

"You can feed from me tonight, if you'd like."

Her words were sweet, alluring. He knew he should express gratefully, but he was tight. Breathing through his nose.

"I'll see you tonight, then." He intoned in his best pantomime of casual.

Pretending he didn't see her emerge from Karlach's tent this morning. That he didn't go back to his tent to scream into his pillow.

Oh gods, no, no. Why had he waited?

Well, he knew. Fate had aligned against him, like it always does. He had planned to tell her, he truly had. But then she had nearly drowned. By his own idiotic actions, to boot.

Some god truly had a vendetta against him, he just wasn't sure which.

He tried to reassure himself, watching her mill around camp, it didn't appear they were together. Yet, anyway. They exchanged sly glances but beyond that their chatter was relatively the same.

Maybe he still had a chance.

Oh who was he kidding, it's Karlach. He's done for.

No. No, he couldn't give up.

Tonight, he had her for tonight.

Watched as her long legs kicked out in front of her as she sat down, leaning conspiratorial to whisper something in Shadowheart's ear. Saw the cleric's cheeks go red.

Feeling his eyes she glanced up, smiling cat-like at him. Pulling her hair over her shoulder. Tipping her head back slightly, beckoning him.

Gods below, he was in over his head.

Her face smeared with a smile, arms coming up. Arcane power pulsing wicked through her. "Umbra!"

Their enemies were swallowed in darkness. A flash of red hair as she dove in. The sounds of thrashing death from the darkness.

He pulled his focus back to the light, firing down on those on the outskirts. Pointedly ignoring the sounds of her viciously tearing into bodies.

He had asked before why she could still see in her spell.

"Ironic, isn't it?" She had laughed, pointing to her demonic eyes. "The blind leading the blind, truly. Well, previously blind. It's the Devil's Sight." Leaning on her hip, flourishing with her fingers. "What can I say, I'm thorough. I intended to never be without sight again, and I meant it."

He knew it went deeper than that, if her reaction to Volo's "help" was any indication.

When he had pulled a needle from his pack she grabbed his wrist tightly. Her normally charismatic eyes tight with icy rage. Sitting up.

"You are not putting that in my eye." Her voice a hiss, grip tightening.

Volo had flinched, endless apologetic words flowing from his mouth.

She had reminded him of their other Drow, Minthara, in that moment. Could see the same cold controlled anger in her. He understood why they were close. Both Drow nobility. Both raised with the same frigid hand.

The more he got to know about her, the deeper the rabbit hole went.

Now, their enemies were felled and he let out a relieved sigh. They had gotten into a powerful rhythm of combat, all knowing their role and executing it well. But that didn't guarantee victory.

She emerged from the dark, absolutely soaked in blood. Shaking the excess off of her blade with a flick of her wrist. Her usually neatly pinned hair falling out of its plaits. Chest huffing with exertion.

Gods below spare him.

"Call off?" She shouted, eyes scanning.

Since she fought almost entirely in darkness, she usually didn't know how the others had fared. So they worked out a system.

"Aye!" Karlach called cheerfully.

"Aye!" Minthara growled, pulling her greataxe out of a body with a grunt.

"Aye!" He called, more breathily than he meant to.

She smiled at him. "Excellent. Good job, all. Though I had no doubts."

"Minthara, check for injuries. Karlach, take account of the dead, throw any scrolls to me. Astarion, help me with this locked chest."

He let out a great sigh, pretending to be put upon.

She leaned into his play, looking at him with great pleading eyes. "Astarion, pleaaase~"

He could never tell her how shockingly effective that was on him.

"Alright, you child. Step aside." She laughed, stepping away with a flourish of her hand.

He crouched down, taking out his tools with sure hands. Beginning his ministrations.

"You know," He jumped at her voice in his ear, her warm body crouched behind his. "You make this look so easy, surely it must be harder?"

He resisted the shiver that sat at the bottom of his spine. Her velvet voice directly in his ear.

Of course she was still drenched in blood. She knew what she was doing, the she-devil.

"I assure you, it's difficult for most." He huffed, focusing back on his work.

"Hmm, do you think I could do it if I practiced?" She murmured, he could hear the smile in her voice. "I've been known to have very nimble fingers."

He nearly dropped his tools. Memories of their first night assaulting his mind. Regained composure.

"I'm sure you'd make a fine locksmith, darling. Now if you don't mind." His voice was snippy, irritation thinly veiling his arousal.

Always teasing him. Gods he wanted to push her against a wall.

Shook his head slightly. No. Less of those thoughts. Focus.

"Oh, you're no fun today." She giggled, rising to feet. He immediately felt the absence of her body.

"Prickly, I'll have to watch that I don't nick myself." At the word nick, she waved her wrist past his face as she passed. Rejoining their companions with a look at him over her shoulder.

Oh he was going to take her apart tonight.

He paced in his tent. So many emotions crashing around inside him. Longing, fear, anger, desire. And the one that surprised him the most; possession. That had been at the forefront of his mind shockingly often.

He wanted her. Badly. And he wanted her to himself.

He had a great fondness in his heart for Karlach but if it came down to it, he wanted it to be him.

Rest assured, he wouldn't go down without a fight, and he didn't fight fairly.

The flap of his tent lifted slightly, her white eyes asking for entry.

"There you are." He purred as she stepped inside.

She tied down the fabric. The universal sign of do not disturb.

Oh?

His dead heart raced a little.

"Well, are we planning for more than a feeding tonight?" He stepped closer, smirking.

She pulled the pins in her hair, kicking off her boots. Shaking her head, her red hair fell and bounced down to the base of her spine. Her eyes cutting up to his.

Hells below it wasn't fair.

"If you play your cards right. Now help me with my armor."

He stepped forward and she turned her back to him. Pulling her hair away for him.. His quick fingers went to work on the buckle on her shoulder.

The smell of her well-oiled leather breastplate, the blood still caught in its creases. The oils in her hair, something sweet. Appleblossom.

"...Are you smelling me?"

He sputtered, heat rushing to his neck. "Certainly not. Gods."

He saw contained laughter in her shoulders as he lifted her breastplate off. She sighed in relief, stretching.

"I don't mind." She turned her head slightly, winking at him. "I'm sure your keen senses tell you a lot. Don't they?"

She stepped back into him, sliding her head into the side of his face.

He leaned in then, giving in completely. Eyes closing, breathing in like she was the most enthralling perfume. If he could bottle it, he would wear it on his wrist.

His hands came up to pull at her hair, nuzzling down into the curve of her neck. A small moan in his throat. Exquisite.

She kicked off the last of her armor, now in her damp underclothes, still sweaty from their fight earlier that day. Her musk coming to swirl into the heady bouquet.

"How do you want me?" She asked, sighing and leaning her head back.

That question send a quick shock of pleasure into his already hard cock.

"Down. Down with me." He pushed on the back of her knees with his own.

She kneeled down with him, straddling around her back. Pressing his erection hard into her lower back. Making his intentions clear.

This was the first time he had taken charge between them and it sent a delicious thrill up his spine.

He bit down into her with a groan. Pulling her into his throat in pulses. Her taste sending his eyes into the back of his head. He would never get used to it.

Her little sighing whimper stroking down his cock.

He latched on harder with a growl, his frustration brought to the surface again. How many times did he have to bite her to make it clear that she was his to the others?

His.

That she felt the need to seek out other bodies. Oh he would make her certain that she needn't do that tonight.

He pulled off with great effort, laving his tongue obscenely up her neck. They had more pressing matters to attend to.

"So I couldn't help but notice," He started, fingers trailing up her arm. "That you spent the night with our sweet Karlach."

"I did." She agreed, pushing her ass back into him cheekily. Subtly moving her hips up and down. "Do you have any feelings about that you'd like to share?"

He expected her to deny it, to get flustered. He should know better by now.

Gods below, he wished he could warn that idiot on the beach that he was about to walk into the vipers' den.

"Feelings?" He intoned, playing up for time.

"Mhm," She hummed, reaching up and playing with his ear. Her skilled hands pulling, the sensitive skin betraying him. He stifled a moan.

"Would you have liked to join?" She smiled, giving a little tug.

The band of frustration snapped inside him. Catching her wrist into his hand.

She gasped and he could smell a new wave of arousal rising from her.

"No. I did not." He growled.

"As a matter of fact," He hissed, pulling her hair in his fist. Her neck bending open to him. "I was not pleased to see that at all."

She moaned, arching her back. "No?" Her voice coming out hot. "Not into sharing?"

He reached around her front. Pulling her chest wrappings off in a harsh flick of his wrist. Falling away into her lap.

"Not even a little, darling." He warned, directly into her ear.

Fingers twisting her peak. "I intend to make you mine."

She shivered, much to his delight.

"Prove it." She hissed, turning her head just enough to look in his eyes. That devilish smile on the edge of her lips.

He shoved the space between her shoulder blades, pushing her face down into his pillow. Hiking her hips up.

She groaned, then laughed. Laughed.

He growled, pulling her underclothes down roughly. His hand snapping hard down on her ass.

She mewled, burying her face in his pillow.

Oh now we're getting somewhere.

He struck the reddening skin again, the crack of his hand hanging in the air. Seeing the wetness start to drip down her cunt.

"You evil little thing." He chided. "Are you going to be good?"

She hooked her legs around his knees, pulling him off balance for fun.

"Hmm, I'll consider it." She mused.

He reached around her front, fingers circling against her clit, other hand pushing two fingers inside her. Fast and angry. She moaned, pushing her hips into him.

"You'll consider it..." He repeated, goading in his voice.

He thought about how she had him in the same position not long ago. Felt a thrill of fresh arousal fire down his cock.

He blurred his hands against her clit, curling his fingers and slamming inside her.

She arched her back up like a cat, her hands held out to balance her curling. Little choppy breaths.

"Astarion," She moaned, nearly whimpering.

Oh that was doing it for him. Pre-cum pooling in his leathers.

"Say my name again, or I stop."

She hit her fist against the ground in frustration, not wanting to give in. He smiled wide. Oh, he could get her to play his game by the rules.

His hands started to slow in warning.

"Astarion!" She whined, incredulous. That same tone when she asked for help earlier.

He started back up again dutifully. Her shooting daggers at him. Giving her a smug preening smile.

She was rocking back into him, sweet little urgent moans pushing out of her. He loved to hear her sing for him. Him and only him.

"Tell me you'll only make these sounds for me." He leaned forward into her ear.

"Is that what you want?" She panted, hand coming up to cup his head.

"Yes." He bit at her ear. Hands punishing.

"Swear it."

She panted, nearly there. The smell of her blood burning with heat.

"I swear. Now fuck me like you hate me."

He groaned, his cock throbbing against her backside. Suddenly remembering that she had never taken a man before. His arousal doubling.

He released his cock from its painful cage. Lining up to her with as much restraint as he could muster.

Planted a hand on her lower back. His cock steadying at her entrance.

"Hold on, darling."

She slammed back, sheathing herself on him to the hilt. He groaned, nearly buckling over.

Gods below, she was going to kill him.

"All out of venom?" She teased.

"Do I need to gag you?" He held her hips harshly, restraining her. Rolling into her at a punishingly slow pace.

"You can try." She moaned, gripping his length. Clenching down around him in pulses. The languid pace making her shake.

He gripped down on her hair again, fisting it at her scalp. Pulling her head back.

Saw her smile, eyes closing in pleasure. Hips meeting his in rhythm. Finally giving in to him.

But he wasn't done with her.

He leaned over her back. "Look at me."

She opened her eyes, those haunting white eyes. Filled with desire for him, pupils blown wide.

"Open your mouth."

She looked surprised but obliged dutifully. Those perfect plush lips falling open.

He spat into her mouth.

He saw her eyes hitch back, clenching down hard around him. Knew her orgasm was close behind.

He said her name sharply as he slammed into her, pulling her hair again. "You look at me while I fuck you through this."

She nodded, swallowing his spit. Face flushed.

Gods now he could barely keep his eyes open.

Her face cringed in what looked like pain. Eyebrows knitting together. Keeping her eyes open with what looked like great effort.

"Oh Gods," She whined, as the first contractions hit.

He focused on keeping pace but it was a futile effort. Her cunt taking him at the rapid pace of her undoing.

He felt his own face screw up in pleasure. Her eyes still locked on his.

Whimpering and begging moans pushing through her. Body shaking against him deeply.

"Please come, Astarion." She urged, her voice so sweet.

He could hold off no longer. Hearing his name said like that again the match striking to the powder keg.

His pelvis contracting in vicious pulses. His body remembering her pleasures had activated his prostate without touch. Those same hard tremors shooting through him. He spilled inside her in unbearable pulses. He bit down on his arm to not scream. Coming so hard he saw stars, and then coming more after that. Unable to maintain eye contact anymore, his rolling back into his head.

"Oh Gods. Fuck." He groaned into the muffle of his bloody arm. The pleasure finally winding down.

She squeezed his thigh reassuringly as she panted, head fallen into the pillow.

He pulled out of her slowly. Groaning at the obscene amount of his spend pouring down her backside.

Gods he didn't know he had that much.

He grabbed a cloth and wiped it away from her. Though he would love to stare at it for hours.

"Oh thank you," She purred tiredly, smiling at him. "What a gentleman."

She sat back on wobbly legs, reaching for her clothes.

He grabbed her wrist.

"What are you doing, darling?"

"Getting dressed." She said simply. Looking at him confused. "Don't worry you'll be free of me soon." She said easily.

Gods below how did she still think he didn't want her.

He pulled her into a searing kiss.

She squeaked in surprise.

"I Don't."

Bite.

"Want you."

Bite.

"To leave."

She moaned quietly into his mouth, wrapping her legs around his back.

"You're sure?" She asked, eyes soft. Melting him through.

"For the love of... yes!" He admonished, to her little smile. Biting her lip.

Blushing.

He never thought he would see the day.

"So you want to be my boooyfriend~"

"Oh Gods, I'm regretting this already."

"You liiiiike me~"

"Yes, you demon." He grabbed at her waist, biting at her playfully.

She squealed out a laugh. Trying to get away. "No biting! No biting!"

"A little late for that, don't you think?" He laughed. Digging his fingers into her sides to reignited laughter. Wiggling to get away.

"No! I'm ticklish!"

"Oh, you've made a grave mistake, admitting that." He leaned down and nipped at her sides.

He smiled evilly at her hands shoving his head, her mouth open wide in a gasping laugh.

He could get used to this.

~

(okay I think this is the last one of these, I hadn't planned to make this a series but the gods of smut took my hand. thank ya'll for all the feedback on this series!!!)

[mistystepmoonbeam]

Reborn in BG3: Chapter 14 - Astarion's Night

You're reborn into BG3 with only the memory of your past life. Now you're Tav's companion on his journey, and must learn about yourself as much as your new reality.

Chapter 14 (Astarion's Night): Your first night in the Underdark. You catch Astarion sneaking back into camp after a hunt, and he finds out you're more injured than you let on.

Tav's Night

Gale's Night

Word count: 1.9K

A/N: Don't mind the slight differences in reveals, it'll all come together. Somehow. At some time.

You get a blissful couple hours of sleep before your eyes open and refuse to close.  The only comfortable position you could find with your bruises was on your side, but now there’s no position that gives you any relief.  Finally you sit up, wondering just how bad your back looks for it to ache so much.  You would give all your gold for an aspirin right now.

It’s too dark in your tent to check your wounds.  Even if you use your staff the light won’t be enough to tell the difference between the shadows and the bruises.  With the camp quiet you step out of your tent and into the firelight.  The braziers are still going, flames a little smaller now but giving off plenty of light.

The first few nights you’d been too scared to take off any of your clothing to sleep.  Your jacket, socks, boots, everything had stayed on.  But you’ve grown comfortable enough to take some of it off.  You walk on the balls of your feet to get to a brazier, enchanted socks whisking away the dirt as fast as it touches them.  Those, your loose pants and untucked tunic are all that protect you from possible attack.  You’ll be fine within the base, surrounded by weirdly overprotective barbarians and Scratch.  The dog lifts his head when he spots you, tail wagging but he remains laying by the campfire.  You hold up a finger to your lips and he sets his head back on his paws, eyes closing.  His tail gives a couple more wags before settling.

It’s hard to manoeuvre your body well enough to see all of your injuries.  You can see the dark blue bruise on the right of your hip, which wraps around to your back, the edges fading to lighter colours.  There’s an equally dark bruise on the right side of your ribs—had you been jabbed there?  Between the goblins' pikes and a couple of falls you’re not sure who is to blame for what bruise.  But those ones aren’t the ones bothering you the most.  The ones in the middle of your back are what keep you from a comfortable sleep and you can’t see them at all. 

You poke at the bruise on the right of your ribcage when a voice startles you. 

“You’re still injured.”

You drop your shirt, hiding your wounds.  You look at the broken wall that leads to the Spectator, finding Astarion crawling in, blood on the collar of his shirt.  His words don’t really register, neither does the guilt in his eyes or his downturned lips.  Instead all you can see is the blood on his shirt and hands, and you rush over to check him for wounds.

“Astarion,” you hiss.  Your hands hover around him, eyes searching for any sign of injury but it doesn’t appear to be his blood.  But he’d just come from—what was he doing out there?!  “You shouldn’t go out there alone!  It’s—that way is…bad.”

It’s no wonder he called you dim when this was how you spoke to him.  Lying on the spot is so much harder when it comes to life and death situations.  You sidestep him and peer outside but there’s no evidence of an epic battle between the vampire and the Spectator.  The petrified drow are still scattered across the cliffs, the explosive mushrooms unexploded.  When you turn back to Astarion he seems lost in thought, eyes on your torso.

“Are you okay?” you ask. “Did you go hunting?  You should have waited until someone else could go with you, we don’t know what’s out there.”

Liar.  Well, half-liar.  The Underdark in the game is only a sliver of your new reality.

“You’re asking if I’m all right?” he questions.  “You…”

He cuts himself off with a sigh.  He grabs your hand and begins to pull you to his tent, muttering something you can’t make out.  When you say his name he doesn’t respond, and you are dragged inside, the flaps closing shut behind you.

Unlike in the game his tent is almost as sparse as yours.  But you can’t really tell because it’s nearly pitch black inside, only the faintest of light coming from the braziers outside making it through the fabric.

“Lie down,” Astarion orders.  You squint into the dark, his hair and shirt the only things you can somewhat make out.  With another sigh he grabs you by your shoulders and manhandles you to the ground.  Your body goes pliant as he sets you facedown on his bedroll and begins to lift your tunic.

“Hey!” you yelp.  His knuckles brush against a tender spot.

“Be quiet.  I don’t feel like being tackled by the tiefling again.”

“But what are you—”

Something cold is pressed against the bruise on your hip.  You flinch as Astarion rubs something against your skin, his fingers warming the spot.  

“It’s a healing ointment,” he says quietly.  “Since you refuse to let the others help you, this will have to do.”

You open your mouth to argue but he quickly continues, “And if you say you’re fine or you don’t need it I will get Tav in here to pin you down while I apply it.”

You snap your mouth shut, face heating at the thought.  You raise your arms to bury your face into them, mumbling your thanks. 

Astarion’s hands are soft as he applies the ointment.  He doesn’t spend too long rubbing it into the wounds, and he’s gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt.  You let out a soft sigh as both his hands travel beneath your shirt and stroke over your upper back.  He’s quick to pull back at the noise, but doesn’t comment on it.  When he’s done with the bruises on your back he tells you to flip over. 

Your eyes shoot open, blinking wide.  You shift and try to sit up when he pushes on your shoulder to keep you on the bedroll.  You lie on your back, wishing you could see his face clearly and at least guess what he’s thinking.  Him being so nice and quiet right now is off putting.  But without his hands on your back the ointment begins to cool your wounds, and the pain fades.  Unsure of what to do with your own hands you clasp them together atop your chest.

Astarion lifts your tunic until he uncovers your ribcage.  You’re about to offer to apply the ointment yourself when he dabs his finger into a cylinder by his knees and leans over you.  You watch his hair fall in front of his face while three fingers press against the bruise on your ribs.  You inhale sharply as he puts too much pressure on the sensitive spot. 

“Apologies,” he says.

“It’s fine,” you whisper back.  “And thanks.  I didn’t know stuff like this existed.  It doesn’t hurt so much anymore.”

Astarion huffs and you see the hint of a smile on his face in the dark.  But still, he doesn’t respond in the usual Astarion fashion.  Instead he drags his fingers down your ribs, almost tickling you until his full palm is against your skin.  His hand keeps going lower until it’s cupping the bruise on your right hip and just…stays there.

“You were telling the truth, weren’t you?” he asks.

Probably not, you think to yourself.  “About what?”

“About…my being warm.”  His fingers dig into your hip, just enough to remind you there’s a wound there.  “Am I…now?”

“Yes,” you answer.  

Whatever expression he’s making is lost in the shadows.  And he still doesn’t move, even with all your bruises coated with the ointment.

Having him there, the warmth of another person and your bruises no longer so sore, you find your mind trying to drift off again.  The couple hours of sleep wasn’t near enough to stave off the exhaustion of the previous day, and Astarion’s bedroll is more plush than yours.  Your eyelids are fluttering closed but you can’t help but wonder aloud: “Do you think it’s because I’m a necromancer?”

“I doubt it, but who knows?”  Astarion pulls his hand off of you, fingers dragging along your hip as if savouring every moment against your skin.  

“Do you think…”  You hesitate, lowering your shirt while Astarion lies down beside you, head propped in one hand.  “Do you think Ethel was telling the truth?”

You can’t bring yourself to face him as he looks down at you.  Not that you’d be able to see him clearly even if you turned your head.  You keep your eyes on the roof of his tent, pretending like this is the most normal of situations.

“It would explain why you’re parasite free,” he replies.  “If you were a Chosen of some high and mighty god.”

“No.”  You turn on your side, mimicking his position and pointing a finger at him.  “Because if I was a Chosen of some high and mighty god they wouldn’t have let me get taken in the first place.  And–and!  I’d remember them.  Gods don’t like to be forgotten.”

Yes, this makes sense.  You continue, “So, Ethel is wrong, and I’m just a really rich person from Baldur’s Gate and no gods love me.  Done.”

Astarion’s brow furrows but he’s grinning.  It’s only because his face is five inches away from your own that you can see this.

“Maybe you should try praying,” he suggests.

Your nose wrinkles.  

“Oh, you have, haven’t you?”  He sets a hand over his heart.

Does drunkenly cursing the gods at the tiefling party count as praying?  You give a small nod, finger finally lowering to press into the bedroll.  Your eyes follow the shadow of movement, no longer wanting to look at the vampire.  “I know the gods don’t really care about us.  Chosen are just…favoured toys for a little while.  Passing fancies.  I’m not about to hold my breath waiting for divine intervention.”

Had you been looking at Astarion you would have seen his eyes flick up and down your features, studying you intently.  You go on, “It would just be nice to…know something.”

When you finally look up at Astarion a breeze flows into the tent, temporarily moving the flaps and letting the firelight in.  The light catches in his eyes, reflecting like rubies when an image flashes in your mind.

Your heart rate spikes.  Or maybe your heart just stops.  That’s what it feels like.  The wind is knocked from your lungs, vision blackened just as quickly as the image had arrived.   A car horn screams inside your head, a voice trying to match the volume of the horn.  Male or female, you can’t tell.  You can’t even understand the words as it all vanishes.

Brake lights.  You’d seen brake lights.

You choke, stuttering breath from your lungs as you try to remember how to breathe.  When you shoot your torso upwards Astarion joins you, watching as you cough and wheeze, choking on nothing.

That was…your death, wasn’t it?  But the first time you’d seen a truck coming at you, now it was brake lights?  You cough again, hands grabbing at the fabric of your tunic and pulling.  God, why was it suddenly so tight?  You pull and pull but it feels as if something is wound around your chest–your heart and lungs and mind.

“What is it?” Astarion questions, voice giving away his worry.  “What’s wrong?”

You gasp for air as another breeze shifts the flaps of the tent.  Someone is watching you, someone that isn’t Astarion.  You peer beyond the tent, past the braziers and campfire to find the source of your unease.  And you see him.  You’d actually forgotten about him, for a bit.  But he’s watching you now from across the camp.

Withers.

Taglist:

@half-poison-and-half-hope @sanscas @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @thequeen-oni @terrenuserinj @straewberrysoda @theomnipotentfox @becksynthetic @quitecontrary-to-mary @furblrwurblr @mega-trash-cringe @fandomsbookclub @dontneedbiologytoadopt @pebble-bb @v3lv3tvampir3 @mrow-kat @jeneralmischief @notsaelty @runaway-17 @aoirohi @tinswhimsy @xxgrimripp3rxx @kemonocat-blog @thetiredtoad0-0 @sleepydang @iwannabealocalcryptid @troutberryspoon @betwixttheweave @the-pale-elfs-love @kindadolly @bitchyzombienacho @game-savvy @hardbarbarianfox @secr3tlover @stranger-owl

[scarletpath]

Well, well, well....

Turns out that SPIDERS don't like the smell of Lavender.

Yep. It's cannon! You can't change my mind.

Drow are allergic to Lavender confirmed.

Drow theory. But honestly should be cannon.

Drow hates or avoids Lavender.

Why?

Well Lavender reacts to sunlight. And due to Drow's sensitivity to sunlight, lavender oil or creams to their skin will cause a Photodermatitis reaction if they're in the sunlight.

((referred to as sun poisoning or photoallergy, is a form of allergic contact dermatitis in which the allergen must be activated by light to sensitize the allergic response, and to cause a rash or other systemic effects on subsequent exposure.))

[demonwebs]

*picks him up by the scruff like a misbehaving kitten*

❝ hey ! ❞ swish , swish ! his talons cut through the air , managing to scratch nothing . ❝ unhand me , at once - ! put me back down , magic woman ! ❞ arms folded , he's sulking now . ❝ ... this isn't fun unless i'm doing it . ❞

[pupsmailbox]

CAT ︰FELINE ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　aina. aislin. alonzo. amaris. amaru. ash. asher. aster. aylin. bast. bastet. bengal. burmilla. butterscotch. calico. cassandra. cat. catherine. catline. catness. catrine. catriona. catsel. chacha. chancey. charm. chartreux. chat. chaton. chausie. cheshire. chichi. clover. dreametta. drowsette. dust. dustbunny. eada. elara. falin. fang. feli. felias. felicity. felin. felina. feline. felis. felius. felix. felyne. fifi. fluffy. fortuna. fortunato. fuwa. gatita. gatito. gato. george. ghost. ginger. gold. hima. hiraya. honey. hypnoticesse. kat. katelyn. katti. kiara. kiki. kissa. kit. kitlita. kitri. kittie. kittlin. kitty. kizzy. koi. koneko. korat. kovu. kätzchen. layla. leo. leon. liora. lolly. lucifer. luckita. lucky. luna. lunar. lunette. mafdet. maine. maneki. mao. marble. marie. meekine.meeko. meowesse. meowette. meowlina. meowser. meowy. mew. mewbell. mewmi. mewy. mici. micino. mimi. minette. minou. mischieffe. mist. mizuki. molly. mona. moonie. morphius. munchkin. nala. narcyz. narkissa. nebula. neko. nemuri. neoma. neomi. nova. nuka. nyamu. oliver. otto. palu. patches. pawline. platinum. plato. purmwyn. purriette. purrsie. pwounce. ragdoll. ravae. saffron. selenia. silver. simba. sleepesse. smoke. smokey. star. stone. stripes. suerte. sunny. tabby. thomas. tiger. tigger. tigris. tom. ton. tyche. tychon. valor. victor. victoria. vitami. whiskers. yue. yume. zira.

PRONOUNS ⌇　(=^･ω･^=)/(=^･ω･^=). /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\//ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\. :3/:3. >:3/>:3. ^^/^^. ^^/^^. ^w^/^w^. bean/bean. bell/bell. bite/bite. calic/calico. calico/calico. carnivore/carnivore. cat/cat. cat/like. caterwaul/caterwaul. catnip/catnip. chance/chance. charm/charm. chase/chase. chatter/chatter. che/cher. chirp/chirp. chuff/chuff. claw/claw. cle/clever. coin/coin. col/collar. collar/collar. curi/curiou. cute/cute. dark/dark. dream/dream. drow/drowsy. dust/bunny. dust/dust. dust/kitty. dustbunny/dustbunny. dustkitty/dustkitty. fae/fang. fang/fang. fang/fang.carni/carnivore. fate/fate. feli/feli. feli/feline. felicitous/felicitou. feline/feline. flu/fluffy. fluff/fluff. for/tune. fuzz/fuzz. fwu/fwuffy. ginger/ginger. grey/grey. hi/his. hiss/hisse. hunt/hunt. hunter/hunter. hx/hxm. hy/hym. hy/hymn. it/it. ix/ix. jungle/jungle. kit/kit. kit/kitten. kit/kitty. kitty/kitty. luck/luck. me/meek. meow/meow. meows/meow. mew/mew. mimimi/mimimi. mis/mischief. molly/molly. moon/moon. mrow/mrow. mrreow/mrreow. mrrp/mrrp. nap/nap. neko/neko. nim/nimble. nya/nay. nya/nya. paw/paw. pet/pet. play/play. pou/pounce. prr/prr. purr/purr. queen/queen. quiet/quiet. roar/roar. shx/hxr. shy/hyr. slee/sleep. sneak/sneaky. snooze/snooze. soft/soft. star/star. stripe/stripe. tabby/tabby. thxy/thxm. thy/thym. tiger/tiger. tired/tired. tom/tom. trill/trill. void/void. whis/whisker. yawn/yawn. yowl/yowl. zhe/zher. zi/zi. zz/zz. 🍣. 🐀. 🐁. 🐅. 🐆. 🐈. 🐈‍⬛. 🐭. 🐱. 🐾. 💤. 😺. 🥛. 🥩. 🦁. 🦴. 🧶. 🧸. 🧺.

[moonselune]

Okay 1 I’m new to your blog but I’ve read your pin post. 2 you’ve content has just kept on showing up hence why I’m here and 3 can I request BG3 ladies reaction to gn Reader who has a habit of adopting children on the streets so when they come home to Baldurs gate. Alllll of Readers kids are like “Papa/Mama!” I just can’t help but laugh at the pure Chaos that would happen

I love the idea you were just browsing the tag and I just would not stop showing up and you were just like ah ffs might as well

mwhahaha welcome to this mess

This is such a sweet request and I had so much fun writing it!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The streets of Baldur's Gate hummed with life as you and Karlach made your way home. The closer you got, the more your heart pounded with anticipation and a touch of anxiety. You had mentioned your habit of adopting children off the streets to Karlach, but you had definitely downplayed the number.

As you rounded the corner to your home, a chorus of excited shouts erupted.

“Y/N!” A whirlwind of children of all ages, from teenagers to toddlers, rushed towards you. In an instant, you were surrounded, hugged, and pulled in every direction.

Karlach’s eyes widened with surprise, but a wide grin quickly spread across her face. “Well, I’ll be damned! Look at all these little rascals!”

One of the older kids, a lanky teen with tousled hair, pointed excitedly at Karlach. “You’re the one from the letters! The big, strong one!”

Karlach laughed heartily, dropping to her knees to be at eye level with the children. “That’s right! And you must be the ones Y/N never stops talking about.”

Chaos ensued as Karlach was bombarded with questions and challenges. She revelled in the chaos, roughhousing with the older kids, lifting the younger ones in the air, and roaring with laughter. One by one, the children warmed up to her, their initial awe giving way to delighted squeals and playful shoves.

Karlach’s enthusiasm was infectious, and soon, the entire street was filled with the sounds of joy and laughter. She wrestled with the teenagers, showing them moves and tips while effortlessly juggling the toddlers, who giggled uncontrollably.

As you watched Karlach seamlessly integrate into the lively chaos, your heart swelled with gratitude and love. She caught your eye over the heads of your children, her smile softening into something more intimate and tender.

“Hey, Y/N,” she called out, her voice warm with affection. “I think I’m gonna like it here.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The walk home with Minthara was filled with a comfortable silence, the drow warrior’s presence a steady anchor beside you. You had told her about your habit of adopting children off the streets, but you hadn’t quite been upfront about the sheer number of them.

As you neared your home, the familiar sound of children’s laughter and chatter grew louder. Suddenly, a small army of kids of all ages burst from the house, their faces lighting up at the sight of you. “Y/N!” they cried, rushing towards you. Minthara’s eyes widened in surprise, her expression quickly shifting to one of mild shock as she was swept up in the chaos.

“By Lolth’s web,” she muttered, stepping slightly behind you as the children swarmed. You were surprised she hadn't leapt up on your shoulder yet and started hissing at them, but there was still time. She came close to doing so when your toddler grabbed at the end of her robes, their little fingers covered in their own drool.

But before Minthara yelled at you to get it off of her, an older child, a girl with bright eyes and a confident stance, approached Minthara, looking at her in awe. “You’re Minthara, right? The drow, the one that saved Y/N?”

Minthara blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Yes, that’s correct,” she replied, her voice cautious as she still panicked about the grubby toddler that was advancing their assault, now using her robes as a tissue.

The girl’s eyes sparkled with admiration. “Can you teach us? Please? Y/N said you are the best fighter she has ever met!”

Minthara’s initial reaction was to scowl and correct the child that she was the best fighter ever, but the earnestness in the girl’s eyes softened her. “Teach you?” she repeated, glancing at you for guidance.

You gave her an encouraging smile and to her relief, scooped up the toddler that was about to wipe something on Minthara's leg. “They’d love to learn from you, Minthara.”

Minthara hesitated but then nodded, her usual stern demeanor relaxing slightly. “Very well. I can teach you a few things.”

The older children gathered around her, their excitement palpable. Even the previous enemy toddler, wobbling on unsteady legs, looked up at her with wide, curious eyes. Minthara knelt down, her movements careful and deliberate, and began to demonstrate basic dagger holds.

As she spoke to them, her confidence grew, and the children listened intently, mimicking her movements with the sticks they had. The initial chaos had given way to a more organized form of learning, with Minthara guiding them patiently.

You watched with a smile, your heart swelling with affection and pride. When Minthara had sent them off and returned to you, she gave you a small, almost shy smile.

“This,” she said quietly, “is not what I expected.”

You chuckled, stepping closer to her. “Welcome to the family, Minthara. It’s always a bit chaotic, but there’s a lot of love here.”

She nodded, a hint of warmth in her eyes. “I can see that. And perhaps,” she added, glancing at the children who were now eagerly practicing the dagger holds she had taught, “this small army isn’t so bad after all.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

Returning to Baldur's Gate with Lae'zel by your side, you felt a mix of excitement and nerves. You had mentioned your habit of adopting children off the streets, but you hadn’t quite conveyed just how many there were. As you turned the corner to your home, a wave of voices erupted.

“Y/N!”

Suddenly, a throng of children rushed towards you. They encircled you in an instant, their arms wrapping around you, pulling you in every direction. Lae'zel’s eyes widened in surprise, her usual stern demeanor faltering.

“What is this chaos?” she demanded, her voice tight with alarm. “Where is the discipline?”

One of the teenagers tugged at your sleeve, laughing. “Who’s the scary lady?”

“Lae'zel, this is my family,” you said, turning to her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, “They’re just excited to see us. Relax and go play with them.”

Lae'zel looked at you, clearly puzzled. “Play? What do you mean by play?”

You smiled, crouching down to address the younger children. “Kids, I have a super important adventure for you, do you think you can handle it?"

"We're not babies Y/N of course we can!" The little children shouted at you.

"Okay, well if you think you can handle it" You said in mock disbelief "Can you teach Lae'zel how to play?”

With delighted giggles, the children took Lae'zel by the hands, leading her towards a game of tag. She stood stiffly at first, unsure of how to engage. But as the children ran around her, laughing and encouraging her to join, she began to loosen up.

One of the younger kids, a girl with pigtails, tugged on Lae'zel’s hand. “Come on, Lae'zel! It’s fun!”

Lae'zel hesitated but then nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Very well. Show me how to… play.”

You watched with a mix of amusement and affection as Lae'zel, the fierce warrior, was gradually drawn into the children’s games. Her initial panic gave way to tentative enjoyment, and soon she was running and laughing with the rest of them.

When she caught your eye across the yard, her smile was radiant. “I am still not certain about this play,” she called out, “but it is not entirely unpleasant!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

Walking through Baldur’s Gate with Shadowheart, you felt a sense of anticipation. You had told her about your habit of adopting children off the streets, but you hadn’t gone into detail about the number of kids you’d taken in. As you approached your home, a joyful chorus greeted you.

“Y/N!”

A swarm of children of all ages came rushing towards you, their faces lighting up with excitement. They surrounded you in an instant, hugging you and clamoring for your attention. Shadowheart’s eyes widened in surprise, her usually composed demeanor giving way to uncertainty.

“Oh my,” she murmured, glancing at you. “This is… a lot of children.”

“Shadowheart, meet my family,” you said with a smile, you then leaned in and whispered to her, “Just go with the flow.”

She nodded, still looking a bit bewildered. One of the younger kids, a little boy with curly hair, grabbed her hand. “Come play with us, Lady Battleflower!”

Shadowheart blinked. “Lady Battleflower?”

“Yes, you’re Lady Battleflower now!” the boy declared with a giggle.

Shadowheart gave you a bemused look, but she allowed the children to lead her away. You watched as she was drawn into a tea party, the children fussing over her, placing imaginary crowns on her head and handing her tiny cups.

Later, you found her still seated at a tiny table, a group of kids around her. She was holding a teacup delicately, playing along with their game. One of your children corrected her posture, insisting that Lady Battleflower must sit with grace.

You approached with a grin, ruffling your children's hair as you walked past them towards your beloved. “Shadowheart, may I join your tea party?”

Shadowheart looked up, a slight blush on her cheeks. “Only if you address me properly,” she said, her tone playful. “Lady Battleflower demands it.”

"Oh my apologies," You laughed, taking a seat beside her. “Lady Battleflower. It’s an honor.”

As your children continued their game, you exchanged a smile with Shadowheart. She was clearly out of her element, but she was making an effort, and the children adored her for it.

Later, as you sat together, watching the children play, Shadowheart leaned close to you. “This is… different,” she admitted. “But it’s not as overwhelming as I thought.”

You squeezed her hand. “Thank you for trying, Shadowheart. It means a lot.”

She smiled, a genuine warmth in her eyes. “Anything for you, Y/N. And it's Lady Battleflower, actually, your dismissal is offensive, I require five kisses as reparation”

"Only five?" You asked as you leaned towards her, "I believe someone of your stature requires, much, much more." You pulled Shadowheart into a deep passionate kiss, forgetting that you were surrounded by kids who quite quickly made theirselves known.

"Oh my gods, I'm going to throw up!"

"Somebody gouge my eyes out, please"

"Ah! they are eating each other!"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Oh my gods I had so much fun writing this I actually cannot express it ! Hope y'all enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

[loulouhattie]

The Vampire’s Violin

Pairing: m!Tav x Astarion

Summary:

In my playthrough, Astarion multiclasses as a bard. My HC is that he loved music once, and played it before Cazador took him. Now, with his taste first of freedom in 200 years, he indulges himself by trying again. But doesn't anticipate Finn watching him

Tav: Finn is a half drow fighter/paladin who puts up a front of being a too-cool, tough guy jock. In reality, its a mask for his sensitive and gentle nature

Rating: teen

Tags: fluff, romantic tension, little bit of enemies to lovers, but very light

This is a very self indulgent one-shot I wrote because I couldnt stop thinking about this story hc, and then I had to draw it to bring it to life and

Well

Bon appetit i guess

————————

‘Gods above!’

Astarion almost dropped the violin, swinging around to see the Finn staring through the bushes, eyes gleaming and his face split into a mischievous grin.

‘How bloody long were you standing there!’ he hissed.

Finn shrugged.

‘I only came out here to find a tree to piss on. Certainly didn’t expect to find you giving the squirrels a concert!’ Finn smirked at him.

Astarion's fingers curled around the bow. He hated this feeling that he’s been caught.

But there’s nothing wrong with what he was doing, is there?

Finn noticed the tension in his shoulders, and his sneer softened.

‘Can I listen?’

‘What? No. Fuck off,’ Astarion spat, ‘and if you tell the others, I’ll decorate your bedroll with your innards.’

Finn stepped out from the bushes, standing only a few feet from the pale elf in clearing. Astarion’s eyes narrowed, his hackles tense like a cornered cat.

‘I won’t breathe a word, honest. I guess I’m just surprised, you don’t strike me as...well, it’s nice to learn a little more about you,’ Finn explained earnestly.

His tone was sincere, but Astarion’s eyes remained narrow.

‘well, it’s not much to learn about. It was a long time ago. From before I was turned,'

He absently twirled the bow,

'I suppose I got curious. People have often said such skills never leave you, and, well, like I said. I got curious.’

‘Cazador not a music lover?’

The bow stopped twirling.

‘That had better be a joke.’ it came out in a snarl.

Finn raised his hands in apology. The silence in the clearing was cool and comforting, accented by the occasional chirp of insects.

Astarion’s shoulders relaxed, and he turned so that he faced Finn fully.

‘You’re not going to fuck off. Are you?’

‘Nope!’ the half drow’s eyes couldn’t possibly get any rounder as he plonked happily down on the ground, legs crossed and beaming like a child.

Astarion scoffed. He twirled the bow once more, chewing the inside of his cheek.

‘If you’re going to insist on staying here, just keep quiet. It won’t do to distract me.’ he snapped at Finn, raising the violin to his chin. Out of the corner of his eye, Finn’s eyes sparkled as he shifted to a more comfortable position.

The pale elf exhaled, pressing the rest into the crook of his neck. With his bow hand, he plucked the string. He turned the peg for the corresponding string slowly, plucking steadily as the note sharpened.

A hot spot in his fingertip formed under the string’s friction. The note pinged clearly through the clearing, and he was satisfied. Onto the next 3 strings.

Finn watched the vampire intently. He couldn’t help but notice that his posture shifting. His brows were always so furrowed with malice, but now the focus on tuning the instrument had melted them.

There was a ghost of gentleness to his red eyes. Finn made sure not to move, careful not to disrupt this trancelike state.

Astarion plucked all 4 strings once more, their notes singing gently into the air. Shifting his stance, he raised the bow to the instrument. The insects were silent, waiting. Waiting for the performance to begin.

But the elf hesitated. His gaze clouded. Finn felt a sense of melancholy radiate from him.

‘Is…is something wrong?’ Finn probed gently. Astarion lowed the bow, dejected.

‘I don’t know what to play.’ he admitted.

200 years without so much as thinking of playing, and he was going to just give it a go?

Pathetic. What a stupid, foolish idiot he was! He wasn’t good for anything beyond manipulating and seducing pretty things-

‘I know!’

A sharp whistle sang through the clearing, making Astarion winced.

What was this idiot doing now? Astarion stared at him incredulously, about to snap at him.

Finn’s face scrunched with focus as he barely got a half cooked tune out between his lips. The only time he ever whistled was for Scratch, and this tone deaf fool couldn’t get a note out!

Then, he heard it. In between the very flat notes, he recognised that tune.

It was the song that Alfira sang in the Grove.

Astarion went still. He focused on the notes that wove together in a tapestry of melody.

Could he piece that melody together? Something he had only heard once?

He raised the bow, and passed it across the instrument. The strings squeaked in protest.

A grimace.

Finn continued to whistle... well, he continued to struggle.

Astarion repositioned the bow in his fingers. He pulled it across the violin again.

And this time, the note flowed forth. And melted into the next, flowing into a song.

It was as though mage hands were gently guiding him. The dust fell slowly from his memory as he recalled the forms for playing.

What started as rough squeaks began to form into a melody, a song. It filled the clearing, and he instinctively began to shift his weight from one foot to the other to keep his tempo.

Finn watched, transfixed. What he thought was a shift in demeanour before when he was tuning the violin was nothing compared to what was before him now.

Moonlight gleamed off Astarion’s pearlescent skin and snowy curls, dancing off him to the song he deftly coaxed from the instrument. He was a different being entirely - he was lost in the music.

His face creased in focus, not out of his usual snidenesss. He was transcendent, his brows and lips dancing to the rhythm as he bow flowed across the strings.

The song came to an end. And both men were still.

Neither said a word for a beat.

‘I won’t lie: you’re a bit shit.’ Finn broke the silence.

Astarion let out an uncharacteristic bark of laughter. Finn snickered to himself. The air was light, and mild around them.

A blush crept up Finn’s ears.

Astarion lowered the violin, letting it hang at his side. The silence of the forest permeated the clearing. He was suddenly aware of how exposed he felt out here. The bliss of feeling the music vanished in an instant.

‘We should head back, before some goblin or beast comes calling for an encore.’

‘Wait,’ Finn stood up quickly, dusting off his trousers. ‘I really enjoyed that. Listening to you play. Do you…'

He shifted on his feet, scooting dust beneath his shoe,

'if you play again, could I come and listen?’

Astarion took in the half-drow before him. He hadn’t noticed before, but his ashen skin seemed to absorb the moon and starlight. A gift of the Underdark, perhaps.

His red eye sparkled, and he recognised the blush on his ears and cheeks. The faintest hint of desire.

This would be easier than he thought.

‘Darling. I suppose we could arrange a more intimate viewing.’ he stalked past Finn, taking care to breeze so closely by that he brushed delicately past Finn’s fingertips.

He heard the faintest trace of his breath catching, and he knew he had him in the palm of his hand. He gazed at him through lowered lashes, a smile etched across his face. Poor, pathetic boy.

‘Let’s head back to camp. Maybe tomorrow night, we can arrange another little…performance.’

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 35 - Saviors

The rogue swoops in.

On AO3.

He scents her blood. Before he catches the first thumping of distant hearts, before he lays eyes (ha!) on so much as a single drow, her blood reaches his nose and hits him like a runaway carriage. Normally rich and strong, this is sour. Thin. His dead heart almost manages a strained lurch.

The blood scent gets thicker as he sprints. A continuous flow, and fresh. That means she isn’t dead. And it doesn’t carry the stink of bowels or that heavy scent that comes from a bleed from the deep arteries, the last of a body’s reservoirs spilling out.

It still makes the beds of his fingernails ache.

It’s been all nine hells getting the damned beastie to follow him. Not the following part, exactly—it was quite happy to take up that challenge. It was the part where Astarion has to outpace the thing without said beastie snapping off his heels or taking a chunk out of his backside. He’s near running dry; his skin wraps tight around his body, veins standing out like purple lines down his arms and along the backs of his hands. He’s all muscle and bone.

He’s seen it before, many times. He’s lived in a near constant state of it for all he can remember. He’s seen it worse than that—skin split without so much as a drop of blood to well up, all pale, dead meat and sinew and bone—

He’s not locked away now, though. He’s got a monster after him and the promise of incredible violence before him, and that carries him on.

The drow do notice, of course. By the time he’s close enough for his vampiric senses to hone in on the bright, shining life before him, the cacophony of his leader’s birdshark burrowing after him sends them scurrying.

No matter.

He draws his bow—on the run, and he hopes she’s watching this—and finds the connection to his leader.

“Hello, darling!” Her hero has arrived.

He fires. Takes a drow in the throat (good gods, but he’s thirsty).

Shots hiss towards him. They’ve made camp in a ring with no fire, but at this distance, they’ll be able to see him in the gloom with their normal darkvision. He reaches the shallow depression they’ve found and throws himself into a spinning dive. Lands. Takes the impact as those arrows fly overhead. He’s already drawn his next shot.

One of them moves in the back, a man, and Eleanor’s blood scent clings to him like a damning miasma. Astarion shoots that one in the leg. Doesn’t want to kill him. The arrow will pin muscles together and make the limb difficult to move. A hunt is all very well and good, but as his leader has acknowledged several times (so very sensible, that one), a predator does enjoy an easier meal when they can take one.

And there she is. Bound tight, face a mess of wet blood and bruises. But it’s the look she wears that gives him pause. Though the swelling and gore, she looks at him. Stares up at him in a way no one ever has before. Not with lust or desire, not with scorn or disgust, not even the tiny smile he sometimes coaxes out of her that makes him feels strange. She looks…broken open. Vulnerable. A strange mix of home and shame.

Then a sword comes flashing out of the dark towards his neck and Astarion has to bend over backwards, pivot in, and unsheathe a knife to stick it up, under the ribs of a drow.

At which point the birdshark erupts behind him and plows into the camp. Things go a bit chaotic.

There’s shouting and a scream. A purple flash of magic and a voice echoes with a thunderous roar—that’d be the priestess. The birdshark chitters and a woman screams again (that’s a death sound if he’s ever heard one).

Astarion ducks low and sprints. The other drow ignore him for just a moment—the birdshark bites into someone and hot blood manages to spray across camp to spatter the back of his neck and it smells delightful.

Then he’s there. To her. She tries to say something, but her mouth doesn’t shape her words right.

“Hold still,” he says. Finds her hands—her fingers are dark and thick. He places a knife to the rope and slices carefully. It falls away.

And she screams.

He’s never heard her scream like that. Shout in fear, squawk in surprise or outrage, and swear filthily enough to put a deckhand to shame.

Not this. Not in such…outright agony. His death-cool skin prickles from the crown of his head all the way down his spine.

“Darling?”

Her hands. Her teeth clench so hard the muscles of her jaw bulge. Her eyes water anew, even clenched shut, and she rolls in the dirt, teeth bared. He hovers over her, hands frozen by her side. Something much like panic flashes through him. Because he doesn’t know…

Living flesh. She has living flesh and flowing blood. It gathered in her hands bound like that, and he’s just released it all on one, fell swoop, shit.

The drow are still fighting a rampaging birdshark. It’s got another woman in its mouth, flinging her about like a ratting dog with a rodent. Astarion rips open his bag. Finds a bottle. Uncorks it with his teeth and spits that to the side as he reaches for his leader, hauls her close to his chest.

Tears stream down her purple cheeks.

He tries to smile. Tries to smooth his voice to casual, but it cracks when he says, “Come now, that kind of pain really doesn’t look good on you, darling.”

She catches sight of the potion. Still has enough in her to lift her cracked and swollen lips (even now, a niggling part of him want to lick the blood off them). He holds her tight as she makes the first, small sips. Holds her tight even as she gulps down the rest. And then she falls back. Cursing as new flesh seeks to correct itself.

He senses movement behind him. Whirls and lifts his knife to block a very muscular drow swinging down at him with a curved short sword. He’s a strong one. The arms master, forearms dotted with what Astarion assumes are training scars, thin and pale against his deep, lilac skin.

Astarion manages to parry, but the man lashes out with a foot, catches him in the shoulder, and he just manages to turn it into a roll (right over his leader).

The man follows. Swinging again before Astarion can regain his feet. He throws himself down, manages a roll, and comes up right as the blade scrapes down the back of his new armor.

Eleanor sits up, fumbling with something at her feet. She’s bound to a stake. Won’t be able to untie it, not with those fingers. That healing potion will have taken off the edge, but her flesh is still damaged.

He reaches for his second knife, shoves a thought at her, and throws it. Sticks it blade-first into the dirt just beside her.

And then the drow is on him again.

Gods, he’s fast. Far faster than something that bulky should be. This still wouldn’t be a problem for him, normally. Astarion is faster than mortals, even under that bastard. Not now. Not after running for at least a day, body shriveled and tissues screaming. It’s all he can do to keep just out of range of that sword.

He’s good with his knives. Or knife, rather (she’s cut herself free from the tether, saws through the ropes on her feet and falls back with another cry, and Astarion has a casual relationship with murder most times, but right now…)

He tests the arms master. Tries darting in at a few different angles. But the bastard is well-versed in his craft and keeps Astarion at the edge of his reach. Double shit. He backs further away. Keeps the arms master focused on him.

“You’re quite good at this,” he says. Gives a little hum, the one he can usually combine with a casual touch to elicit a blush in a lonely tavern crawler. “Are you good with all forms of swordplay, I wonder?”

Annoyance flashes through the thick man’s expression. “Silence, traitor.”

It’s his turn to press his advantage. Comes in with a jab and a swipe. Astarion manages to spin away from the first and counter the second.

“I do love spicy food,” he says. Licks his lips just slow enough for the man to catch it. “I’ve often wondered what a dark elf might taste like.”

“Keep up your prattle and I’ll give you a taste of my blade as I slice out your tongue. Perhaps my matron mother can keep it as a token.”

He comes in again. Still testing. Unsure of Astarion’s ability, probably wondering why he can’t see heat within him. That’ll keep him cautious until he sniffs out how Astarion is starting to flag. Behind him, Eleanor rises into a crawl. Looks around at the chaos, the huddle of drow trying to get in to hack at the birdshark, their priestess firing blasts of magic. They won’t be able to run. Not with her in that condition, and not with Astarion as he is, either.

Then she spots something, and his own mind lights up in tandem with hers.

Something else moves in the gloom. Not fighting, not bleeding, and not dying. Large and low slung, a pointed snout sloping up to a sleek head and a streamlined crest. The saddle still sits upon its back—this was to be a temporary rest, then.

The drowic riding lizard.

He giggles. Not the one to keep a mark talking, or when he’s playing at being coy. Not the one twisted in nerves when he tries so desperately to explain a failure, a mistake. Not even the odd one, almost genuine, that his leader pulls out of him. This is deep-seated. Sharp. Macabre enough that said leader stops to look back at him with her puffy eyes.

His leader has been slung over that beast. She knows what it is. He knows, or has heard, that they can be swift. And if they get that lizard and leave the drow to continue on foot…

The arms master is suddenly there. Astarion doesn’t flail back—barely—but he does have to scurry. Take a hit on his gauntleted forearm that cracks off a splinter of bone inside him. Use that to grab the weapon and twist. But the arms master has earned his presumed title, and manages a twist of his own. He wrenches the weapon back. The blade bites into Astarion’s fingers even as he lets go.

He gasps.

“Surrender,” the arms master says.

Astarion grins. “Oh darling, you haven’t even bought me a drink, yet.”

He’s circling to the right, now. Edging himself back towards the center of camp. The arms master follows in a low guard. And then his eyes widen. His teeth pull back in a snarl, and Astarion realizes that while, yes, this puts himself closer to the riding lizard, it also means the thick man can see past him to Eleanor making her way towards it.

Well.

“Sister!” the arms master says.

Astarion has no time to glance over to the last place he saw the priestess. The drow charges him. Barrels right into his guard. Doesn’t even swing the sword or try to skewer Astarion through the intestines. He comes in close. And he does it so swiftly Astarion can do little more than lift his blade to score a line up the man’s forearm.

They crash together. The shorter man has weight on him, and they both tumble to the ground.

He’s pressed down beneath hot flesh. The scent of blood and sweat. Scorching hands on him, grabbing. A large body pressing, a knee digging into his thigh. All the times he submitted to this. Feigned passion, little gasps and moans, bucking into a hold like this as if he wanted it. As if what was left of he, himself, didn’t long to crawl out of his skin, split himself open and let the misshapen creature he held inside—the last vestige of himself—flee into the night.

Hot breath on him. A grunt in his ear. Can’t resist. Must never resist. He’s a thing to be used. This is all he’s good at, all he’s made for. He needs to let himself go slack and go somewhere else until this is over. Let two hundred years of rote memory slide into place to guide his body in his absence.

His armor digs into his neck as a hand wraps around his throat.

His armor.

No threadbare, ancient finery. No worn silks, the embroidery frayed at the edges despite his best efforts. No lace cuffs or frilled necklines to hide the marks no one ever seems to notice, not in dark alleys stinking of ale and piss and stale sex. No. He’s in armor. Because he’s not bound to service any more. He’s been conveniently lost. He’s tasted the blood of thinking creatures and felt the strength it brings surging through his dead veins, filling out his flesh, a long-neglected plant tasting fresh water for the first time in centuries.

He’s not helpless. Not anymore.

And he doesn’t have to lie here.

The drow has one of Astarion’s arms pinned to his side by his meaty leg. The other held in his grasp, the man’s hand on Astarion’s throat to choke him. He’s so lost in a battle haze, he doesn’t register how cool Astarion’s skin is (they never do).

Astarion twists his arm. Not to escape. The man’s weight presses the limb down hard, and his bones grind together. But he gets his palm up.

He still has air in his lungs. Stopped breathing the moment they went down.

He goes still and limp. All quite suddenly. The arms master registers this and the hint of a frown forms on his brow. That’s not how strangulation works. Bodies instinctively fight it all the way to the end. They gasp. They grasp. They kick and buck and flail.

They do not give up. They do not make eye contact and grin.

And they don’t rasp out, with the last air still held within their dead lungs, “Ignis.”

Fire blooms in his palm. The man’s eyes widen. He lets go, tries to push off, but it’s too late.

The firebolt catches him in the face. He twists at the last second, manages to limit it to one side of his face. But it’s a hit. And he screams. Throws himself back. Beats at the flames and falls to the ground.

And as much as Astarion would love to stand over the man and watch his flesh melt, he does have pressing business elsewhere.

Namely, his leader now by the lizard, grappling with the other man, the one Astarion shot in the leg. The one that carries the scent of her blood.

He races across the camp.

The slight man has her on her back. One foot in his grasp. As Astarion closes the distance, she kicks out with the other. As always, she’s a focused, vicious little thing. Doesn’t aim for the knee or even the bollocks. She goes for the broken shaft of the arrow still jutting out (he must have snapped off the rest).

The man howls. Staggers, cursing. But doesn’t let go.

Then Astarion is there. He still has one knife. He drives it up, through the soft underside of the man’s jaw.

It’s not enough to kill him. No punch and scrape of blade into bone. But it’s certainly enough for the man to drop Eleanor’s foot.

He stinks of her blood. Her nose was broken. Even Astarion can add one and one and arrive at two.

His leader doesn’t even pause. She’s already up, scrambling for the lizard. Pauses only a moment at the saddle and the stirrups—all the things he’s seen of her world, and do they even ride animals like this? Apparently they do. She slips her foot in, cursing and grimacing, and manages to haul herself up. She rather crashes over the back of the animal. But she’s up and that’s all that matters. She pauses again to reach for the saddlebag and dig ferociously through it. Lets out a soft “oof” sound when she pulls free the flask containing her soul.

Horses don’t like Astarion. Something about the smell of grave dirt and faint decay. He’s fairly certain his own dislike for the beasts was well-established before his early death. He’s seen people ride them, of course. Knows one sits in a saddle and uses the leather around its head to steer it. He’s not certain a lizard works the same way—until his leader takes up those leather straps, only fumbling once, and makes a face he’s learned means “I hope this isn’t wrong.”

The birdshark makes a last, piteous shriek. The air vibrates as it dives back, into the ground with a booted foot still in its mouth. Leaving Astarion, his leader, and the man still skewered on his knife—it’s almost adorable how he thrashes—the sole focus of the remaining six (well, five, since the arms master is still writhing around on the ground) drow.

No time for delicacy. He hops and slithers up behind her. Has to grab her shoulder to brace himself as he hauls the struggling man up to join them, pins the man onto his lap.

“The fuck?” his leader says, twisting around to stare. He recognizes the last word as a curse.

“Go!” he says.

The priestess shouts. The air trembles. Astarion grabs his leader and pushes her down, but the green light of a spell hits her and explodes above them in a shimmering X.

“Go, darling!” he says.

She makes a sound, some sort of command? But the lizard only stands there, motionless.

Then the skinny drow, amidst struggling and muffled screams (it’s hard to get the sound out properly with one’s mouth filled with a blade) kicks. He mostly hits air. But he also connects with the lizard. The beast’s crest fans wide and its head juts out.

Astarion has no memory of riding a horse. Most of the ones inside the city lumber about at a walk. And yet, he’s quite certain none of them leap off as quickly as this lizard. One moment, they stand there as drow charge them. The next, he’s all but flung backwards out of the saddle as his leader plows into him. And it’s only thanks to his vampiric reflexes that he catches himself on the edge of the saddle and keeps them all from rolling right across the thing’s back to crash to the ground.

Off the lizard charges, into the dark, with the drow and their priestess shouting after them.

Astarion cannot contain himself any longer. He lets out a whoop.

[pursuitseternal]

“Possessing:” jealous, possessive Astarion in a double smut update for “Our Blood is Thicker,” featuring a first-time flashback 💞

Astarion x Cordehlia (F!OC) | E | 8.7 K possessive and first time smut

Summary: the Shadow-Cursed lands resurrect more for Cordehlia than an old enemy— more memories and griefs that Astarion can’t recall. If only there was some way to show Astarion their past… memories that kindle the same possessive desires of the past and new professions of… love in the present.

CW: angst, longing, jealousy, possessive Astarion, Kind Uncle Vibes Halsin, arrogant young Astarion, first time hand job, first time fingering, teenage sneaking for sex, inappropriate tadpole use if you squint, absolute feral rutting once the memory is done.

Previous Chapter | AO3 | Masterlist

Chapter 10: Possessing

🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️

Astarion could feel the rage building in his love, shuddering with tension off their leader. They all could. Waves of scarlet temper fluctuating as the Drow inside Moonrise Towers insisted on talking despite Cordehlia’s death stare… insisting on talking with Astarion. This Araj… as she introduced herself with the overconfidence of youth and privilege.

Cordehlia hated her already for both. And more.

Her companions held their breath, watching for those quick and deadly fingers of hers to reach for that shining dagger. And they all wanted to close their eyes the moment they heard the Drow, some expert in blood magic and potions, slather her attentions on The Spawn who pressed at Cordehlia’s side. “I’ve always dreamed of being bitten…”

“Uh oh,” Wyll bemoaned under his breath, taking the opportunity to grab at the she-elf’s elbow and whisper in her pointed ear while the Drow was busy making all her intentions known to Astarion. “Have care, for as much as you would like to run the monster throgh, it would not make things easy for us. Unless you wish to face Ketheric from the inside of a cell…”

“Or dead,” Gale added in her other ear.

Cordehlia gave a single, unwilling nod, rolling her shoulders and crossing her arms. Just as the expert in all things sanguine returned her dark eyes on the rest of them. “Can’t you talk some sense into your charge?”

Cordehlia’s fiery eyebrows raised slowly at that. “My charge?” she spoke between pressed lips. A wave of rebuke held back barely by their need to remain inconspicuous. “My vampire is his own being, he can choose who he bites, who he fucks, whom he loves, who he kills…”

“I’m sure he truly believes that,” the Drow laughed. Disparaging.

“Want a demonstration?” Cordehlia added quickly, a single corner of her mouth turning towards a smile.

“It’s alright, darling,” Astarion turned to meet her stare, caught somewhere between aroused and intimidated himself as it turned to lock those narrowed, hungry, enraged eyes on him.

“Oh, oh I see,” Araj gave a disparaging laugh. “You think he’s yours. All yours. I promise, I’ll leave your lover’s lower regions untouched, I only want a bite. In exchange, I’ll give you a potion so great, you’ll never find another like it in the realms…”

“I’ll thank you to never mention my lower regions again,” Astarion hissed.

“And he said no to you,” Cordehlia snapped, closing one step between her enemy and her beloved. “You can keep clear of us, Drow, of me, my companions, and my vampire. What need do we have of watered down power like blood potions when we have the blessing of the Absolute. I wonder why they keep you here at all.”

That made everyone behind her stiffen, every set of eyes scanning for enemies. Just in case.

But Araj laughed. “Fine, linger in your ignorance with your lover. Savor it while your bodies still haven’t burst into a mess of tentacles. See how romantic your nights of coupling are then… True Soul…”

Three sets of hands pressed against Cordehlia’s back then, but only one pulled her into his arm, tugging her along and back into the halls of Moonrise Towers. “Gods,” Astarion scolded her gently right into her ear as they paused on the outer walls of the tower, “your jealousy nearly got us all killed.”

Was he… angry?

She snapped her neck, turning to scowl right into his face. But that raging expression melted the moment she looked into his. He was so soft, so adoring, head tilted slightly as those crimson eyes widened and brushed over her face.

Until they rested on her lips, pursed tightly.

“That pleases you?” she managed to rasp as her tempers cooled.

“To hear you might just risk bringing the whole army of the Absolute down on us because some other female is pining for me to take a bite?” he smirked wickedly, completely possessive and naughty as his eyes looked to her neck. “And they say romance is dead, darling…”

Just as his palm cupped her cheek, tilting her face so close to his, her warm breath filled his undead lungs and coated his tongue with her taste… Gale cleared his throat.

Loudly. Distracting. Intentionally.

“Need I remind everyone that we stand literally on the precipice of the Absolute’s power? That Ketheric Thorm and his army are literally everywhere…”

“And all you two want to do is fuck,” Karlach burst in with a laugh. “I mean, it’s not a bad plan, it’s just not a plan to take down our enemies, soldier.”

Cordehlia rolled her eyes, gripping the back of his neck in her gauntleted hands. Unable to deny herself just a quick kiss, even at the heart of their enemy’s domain. “Fine,” she sighed. “We find the secret to bringing down this… General, but if anyone comes to try to take any of you from me,” she tapped a finger on Astarion’s perfect, aquiline nose, “especially you… they will find it very hard to think with a dagger buried in their skull.”

“Again, such poetry, such romance,” her vampire purred, his arms struggling to release her. Not that he wanted to either.

They made their way back inside the Tower, and thoughts swirled in Cordehlia’s head, the haze of memories beginning to pierce through that constant blanket of lust Astarion seemed to draw about her at all times.

“Right,” she huffed under her breath. “Let’s go find this imposter who calls himself the General….”

“Imposter?” a deep voice rumbled quietly as Halsin turned around. “How do you mean?”

Cordehlia stopped, the others continuing a few paces ahead. “Ketheric is dead, weren’t you there? Did you not fight in vain glory for his defeat alongside Harpers and Druids and Elves? Did you not see the countless souls sacrificed to put that monster in a tomb?”

“I did,” his pale green eyes scanned her face with all the wisdom and insight three-hundred years lends. “You speak as one who knows of such things yourself, young one.”

Cordehlia’s mouth shut tight. Locking her lips in silence, keeping whatever it was that simmered behind her silver eyes within her.

“I may have joined your band to help break this curse that darkens the land, but make no mistake,” he paused before turning to follow, “I will help do whatever is necessary. But to do so, I need to know more than I can read on your own wizened face.”

She shrugged, pushing past the enormous Druid to rejoin the others. “In good time, perhaps…”

But her words dried up the second she stood on the edge of the gathering in the throne room.

He was there. In flesh. Ancient, grey, undead flesh.

Ketheric Thorm, half-elf, great general, and dead no longer.

Cordehlia heard nothing as she watched with frozen horror the scene before her unblinking eyes. An ax, launched from the hand of some goblin about to be punished for their failure, sliced right into the General’s armor. His great, gauntleted hand pulled it free, as if it were no more than a dull knife in butter.

Immortal. Just as they all had said… back from the dead…

And as she tried to steel over her face and steady her nerves, she forced more of those shadows from her past deep down inside her. They would have to be ignored. For now.

It wasn’t until they were back on the shadow-cursed trails, sent to find the mysterious relic that granted the immortal Ketheric Thorm his power, that Cordehlia finally felt her tenuous hold on reality and on her past begin to slip.

It was a century ago… a lifetime ago, a time when she wandered between losing the love of her life and falling under the spell of bloodlust the Bone Picker loved. Before she found herself totally alone. Not-quite widowed, but decidedly orphaned.

And now, her feet traced the same paths and vaulting roots from dying trees he must have…

Her father.

She kept herself busy, hurrying at the front of the group as they moved headlong into the dark and cursed forest.

“We really should make camp,” Shadowheart commented, “there are many dangers ahead, and we wouldn’t wait to face those exhausted.”

“A wise idea,” Halsin affirmed. “We can get a new start with the dawn… or,” he grinned a bit sheepishly, looking at the lands cursed to eternal darkness, “…if not dawn, at least when we are all rested.”

A few laughs sounded from the group as they headed for safer ground. But not Astarion. And not Cordehlia. She gave that smile that didn’t meet her eyes, holding her shoulders slumped down as if she carried that massive, invisible weight. He could almost feel it himself, just by looking at her. Slowly, he drew nearer, falling within earshot. Within arms reach, should she need him.

But she kept her attention on the Druid, locked in as they headed up the path. “Halsin…” she added, voice shaking just a bit, “you… fought to bring Ketheric down… the first time I mean?”

“Giving up your claim of being an imposter?” the Druid teased, instantly regretting the jovial tone as he saw the lines of her face. As he read her pain. “What troubles you?”

Cordehlia glanced beside her, face easing to find Astarion at her side. First in her heart. Always at her side. “These… ruined battlefields, where so many lives were lost, you’ve been here, Halsin. Tell me, did you fight beside the elven hosts?”

Halsin stopped short. That weight in her voice flooded with knowledge. He froze, nearly mid-step. “I thought you looked familiar…” he commented, almost to himself, eyes scanning the she-elf.

“Why?” Astarion interjected, curious if not a tad bit defensive at the familiarity.

“Of course, Star Elf, red hair that shock of brightness. A temper to defy the gods. You’re the daughter of General Aquilae, aren’t you? You’re just as ferocious in battle, just as passionate and hot-tempered.” The Druid tilted his head, starting to walk again. “I am… sorry for your loss. Sorry his sacrifice must feel like it's in vain with Ketheric back from the dead…”

“Don’t assume to know how I feel,” Cordehlia snapped, chin jutting up, barely meeting the large male’s chest-height. But fierce in demeanor. “Sorry,” she relinquished, that defiance instantly retreating back inside her carefully crafted shell.

“Quite alright. You’re in pain, grieving. But even grief heals, all things heal. Nature will heal, as hearts will too,” Halsin grinned gently, “but it takes time and… many ways of seeking solace…”

Astarion couldn’t fight the way his eyes tweaked in suspicion, hackles raising at the informality. As long as it was his tent that her solace was sought for…

“Aquilae…” Astarion let the name roll off his tongue. Something inside his mind thawing, something creeping into the light. “Is that… your name?”

What normally would have made a tender smile come to her full, pink lips made them scowl instead. “For once… for once, it would be a boon to have you either remember your past, or not ask such obvious questions.” She bit at every word. Her shoulders squared at him, armored and taught.

Those crimson eyes narrowed at her, his mouth hardened into a flat line. An exterior of equal adamant to resist her anger. And to hide his hurt.

“Well, darling,” he shook his head quickly, derisively. “I apologize for my shortcomings,” his gaze darted to the Druid who still lumbered beside her. “And I’ll leave you two to… reminisce correctly, then.” The vampire pushed his way between them, heading for the bustling group as they hurriedly and anxious made a small camp, setting magic wards and torches against the Shadows.

Cordehlia’s heart sank, her stomach knotted, making her want to puke right there and then on cursed grounds, watching him stride from her so quickly.

That exterior of injured pride, that mask of indifference hiding his own pain. Pain she caused. Pain flowed from her own.

Halsin cleared his throat softly. “He means a great deal to you, the Elf. The others gossip about your past constantly. Your Wizard, in particular, seems rather… put out that Astarion has meant so much to you,” the Druid sat himself down on a log, the wood creaking beneath his sheer mass.

But Cordehlia was too uncomfortable to do anything more than sway in place as her eyes darted between her Druid and the rest of her party. Not as if she were watching for every pissed-off dart of her silver-haired vampire in the mix.

“I… believe I know your history, or at least as much of it as the rest do…”

She scoffed, fingers beginning to unbuckle her armor methodically, absentmindedly. “More than he probably recalls,” she huffed under her breath. “If only… things were easier. Not just the tadpole and the Absolute… but with him.”

“Nature does not have regrets, young elf, only growth,” he smiled slightly, his scarred face turning with that wise happiness. “Besides, for as much as you resemble your father, the General…”

“He still seems like the pampered, arrogant, devastatingly handsome son of our High Lord and Lady?” she sniffed, suddenly feeling the warm pull of those years, however ancient they may be.

“I suspected as much. Your father only ever spoke to us briefly, to the point, not unlike his formidable daughter when she feels the need…”

That made Cordehlia grin softly once more.

“He had said once, on the eve of battle, he regretted risking his daughter to lose another… that you had already lost so much of your heart, an engagement to the next High Lord ending in tragedy.”

Halsin paused, turning to follow her own sharp, unerring gaze into the mess of companions. Watching as her eyes followed her lover through the crowd, her whole being growing heavier with grief each second that passed.

He let her breathe in silence a moment, waiting for her to speak. At last, something seemed to ease within her. “He was my everything, Halsin. My childhood playmate, my first kiss, my… first of many things…” Her voice was steady, aching with grief and joy mixed into one weighty tone. “He defied his parents to ask for my hand, well… his weakness for planning ahead worked that once, for as much… shame as it could have brought on us both. But I didn’t care. I had him.”

“The son of the High Lord and the daughter of the General must not have been such a match to frown upon,” Halsin sounded.. wistful. Cordehlia wasn’t sure. But she turned to look anyway. “At least now, for whatever darkness you both have endured, you share in one another’s burdens. But you can’t fault him for how he has… survived his pain by pushing down his memories. They will return, in time, as all things…”

“In nature heal,” Cordehlia finished with a laugh. “You’re rather predictable, Druid.”

“Three-hundred and fifty years, and you learn the value of consistency, young one,” he laughed, standing from the log. “Now, we better return before your vampire’s jealousy turns its hungry attention on me as a threat.”

Cordelia gathered the plates of her armor she had removed, walking them towards camp. And then she paused. Cursing.

Of course… as it had been of late, since that night in the Emerald Grove, all her things were in… his tent. Her stomach sank. She… wasn’t ready to face him yet. Wasn’t ready for his chilled anger or his glare of simmering rage, or his little frown of hurt.

But she swallowed her dread and headed towards that stretched structure of red and rose fabric.

It was already so dark, just the flickers of torchlight dancing to show her the way. Pausing, her hand hesitated before it pulled back the flap so she could enter. Cordehlia swallowed, why was she so nervous, he night not even be inside. Might be out hunting… or helping… or…

Before any other thought could make her hesitate longer, a pale hand shot out at her from within, wrapping its cold, undead touch around her wrist, and dragged her inside his darkened domain.

His tent was blacker than pitch. Even for her elf-eyes, it took her a moment to adjust her sights. But she could feel him around her, grabbing her from behind, hand around her chin, arm clutched around her waist, as he pulled her within.

“I didn’t think you’d come, darling…” his voice chilled her marrow, all the jealousy she had imagined inside him biting his words. “Thought you’d be too busy strolling down memory lane with someone who could walk with you…” his lips pushed against the edge of her ear, nipping it with his fangs, “just as you’ve always wanted…”

“You know what I want…” she murmured, arching against the confines of his body.

“Hmmm,” he taunted, and she could feel his breath trailing down her neck. “I thought I did… I’m surprised that you’re here, not indulging in some time with your warm-blooded companion who knows you… and most likely wants to… know you.” His mouth sucked on her ear, “carnally, to be clear.”

“Tch, tch,” she forced her body to twist in his hold, landing the point of her elbow in his gut to make his grip ease. Savoring the little grunted “oof” he made. “Don’t think so low of yourself, my love,” she breathed, scanning the way his face twitched between suspicion and arousal. “As if I could take anyone else, now that I have you back with me at last…”

She meant it, every word. Those eyes soft with sincerity, those lips already slightly puckered to invite him closer.

But he still had too much jealousy gripping his undead heart, too much ice flowing in his veins yet. “You’d rather have someone remember, I know, someone who knew your name, your father, someone who recognizes the family resemblance of your temper to match your hair… someone who can match the… intimacy you seek with your memories in the same way they might with your delicious body.” He pouted, those full lips of his frowning in taunting disapproval. “If only there was some way for us to share thoughts and memories, mind to mind…” he turned to give her the full power of his gaze then, and it made her lose her breath with his beauty, his intensity. That rakish cant of his brows and the haze of hunger in his eyes.

Her brows raised slowly, her smile spreading. “What are you suggesting, Astarion?”

He let his fangs show, his hands gripped into the soft flesh of her upper arms. “Show me, show me everything. Use the parasite, link your mind to mine, for I’ll be damned if anyone…” he growled with a snap of his jaw, “anyone lays a claim to you more than me.”

“Why, Master Ancunìn,” she smirked, running the pads of her fingers down that sharp cut of his jaw, “jealousy does rather become you.”

He stiffened beneath his touch, the muscles of his jaw tweaking as he clenched.

“You’re… not just jealous, are you?”

His eyes cast to the side. Just enough hint of remorse, of regret and longing softened his face.

“I… can’t explain it,” he whispered, almost sounding frightened to let the words out. “All I have known for so long is to manipulate, to do as I was commanded, to use my body and bury my mind, my feelings so far down, I… forgot what it was to think or feel for myself.”

His hands began to wander, to stroke her smooth skin and taught muscles beneath her shirt.

“And then, I found you, or rather, you found me. You forced me to confront those parts of me I neglected in order to survive. You made me rediscover what it meant to want a person…to want anything for myself. Like how you almost tore the throat of that vile Drow today, just for assuming you could compel me to bite her fetid flesh.”

He breathed, that jealousy still crept close by, his fingers insistent on her flesh, even with all the vulnerability that flooded his voice.

“I… should say thank you, my darling, but I would rather show you my gratitude. Rather stand at your side as equals, knowing everything that makes you… you.”

“That makes us… us,” she added, a smile soft on her lips. Her hand held his, pulling him down along with her, sitting on the mess of his blankets and pillows he called a bed. Before he could even settle completely, she crawled in his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist, cradling his cheek in her palm. His eyes bore into hers, the intensity, the possessiveness, the curiosity burning bright in the deep red of his eyes. “What would you wish to see?” she asked softly.

“Show me your father, show me you… show me our first moments, our sweetest moments, our most sensual, our most painful,” he rasped, brows furrowed with his ardor. “I want to recall… everything…”

She paused for a breath, eyes closing as if she searched those memories. Finally, her silver eyes opened, her gaze was languid, distant, and desirous. “Open yourself to me,” she whispered so close to his own parted lips.

A single brow arched in humor, “That's my line, darling…”

Before she could tease him or roll her eyes, their minds smashed into one another, their tadpoles humming as the world around them instantly disappeared….

———

“What do you have to say for yourself, lordling?” General Aquilae stared at him with those piercing dark eyes. Sharp like the eagle, the bird of prey after which he was named. “Son of the High Lord, caught watching our daughter bathing, you know there will be repercussions even your parents can’t pull enough strings to free you from…” The warrior’s voice rumbled like thunder, towering over where the young elf male stood in his study.

But Astarion gave no ground, arms crossed over the pale green of his tunic, the golden threads of its intricate embroidery catching the firelight as night began to fall. His sharp features smiled slightly, his deep violet eyes dancing as he watched the warrior pacing back and forth, that silver shock of hair barely tamed, same as he was as a youth, barely more tamed than the willful elfing that ran about with his daughter.

And now… now they would be inseparable. They had to be.

“You know what you have done has sealed Cordehlia’s fate as much as your own, little lord?” the general added. His voice sharp, direct.

“I would hope so, Commander,” Astarion purred in reply, “I thought my affections for your daughter were on… full display this afternoon.”

General Aquilae pressed his thick fingers into his temples, rubbing them as if to ease a headache. “You know, Astarion, most young males court their intendeds with letters or poems or art or song… not their cock in their hand as they watch them bathing.”

Astarion shrugged, coolly and casually. “I have never been like most young males, Commander. You have always known that, as loyal friend of my parents, their faithful General…”

“You can leave your parents out of this, boy,” the general straightened. “What will you do to make this right by Cordehlia? Leave her to the shame you’ve inflicted? To the gossip and the ostracization of her peers?”

“I intend to make her mine, General,” he replied. Steadily, those hard, smirking lines of his face easing as his smile dropped.

The commander turned to round one more time across his study, his boots falling harshly against the wooden planks of the floor. Until he drew up short. “It’s close, but you need to be clear, Ancunìn. You’ll make her your what? Mistress, whore…”

“Bride.”

It was a simple word. Uttered so clearly, so matter-of-factly, all ears that heard it frozen.

Her father. And Cordehlia. The sneaky she-elf who peered through the smallest chink in the wall, who held her breath to hear two men discussing her future. But at that word, her heart soared, scared, excited, terrified and… something else she didn’t know. Something that stabbed her like a hot poker in the gut and flooded her abdomen with heat. She could see Astarion’s face perfectly from here; he looked so regal, so confident. So happy. Especially at making her father draw up short and stop, at a loss for words.

“Well, General?” Astarion grinned, smiling so self-assured, so cocky, “do you need me to repeat, sir?”

“No,” the older elf cleared his throat loudly and repeatedly. “Thank you.”

Astarion bowed his silver-tousled head. “If that is set arights, then perhaps I can break the happy news to my intended myself?”

“Firstly,” General Aquilae raised a single thick digit at the boy, “I will set you straight on this point, lordling. You are both far too young by the rights of our people to marry. Prepare yourselves for a long engagement, one where you had better show her nothing but the respect and devotion befitting a female of our status…” he narrowed his large silver eyes down at the boy, “even if it is still beneath your own, Master Acunìn.”

Astarion flashed a bright smile, a deferential bow of his head and shoulders, hand placed graciously over his heart. “On my honor,” he crooned, magnanimous in tone. Just like his parents. “The lady and I will wait for years, for decades, if that is your sage guidance.”

“Not decades, no,” he sniffed in rejoinder. “Don’t be so grandiose, boy. Five years hence at most until you may wed, unless any unexpected, little… surprises… come up in the meantime…”

Violet eyes wide, Astarion remained still at the implication. He swallowed hard, much to her father’s satisfaction. “Yes, General,” he murmured in reply. The meaning was clear enough.

General Aquilae almost laughed at the submission, the immediate effect of discomfort that smacked the boy across his pristine, handsome, and youthful face. It would be enough to scare the boy into caution for the time being. And that would be enough for now. “Allow me to fetch your intended, then.” He crossed towards the door, but paused when the boy gave that signature boisterous giggle.

“No need,” he giggled again. “Cordehlia already has her ear pressed to the wall, eyes peering through keyholes, I shouldn’t wonder…”

That violet, glinting gaze looked right at her… where she had one eye locked through the crack in the wall. A smile dancing on his thick, parted lips.

Quickly, she moved and held her breath, flouncing her gown and making her way as if she were simply strolling by the study door, a little book in hand as if she were lost in reading. Her father threw open the dark wooden door. “Daughter,” he ordered. No other words needed. His lined brow furrowed to see her, in fact, so close to his study.

“Yes, Father?” she lilted, tucking the book neatly against her chest as she folded her arms. “Is… is there something the matter?”

“I’ll let you find out for yourself,” he replied, walking out the door, “but no, nothing the matter.” His rough hand caught his daughter’s fingers from her book, giving them a tender squeeze before he left them to it.

Her heart raced, slowly turning to face that smirking youth in her father’s study. The one who went toe to toe with her father, and lived to tell the tale.

“Astarion,” she beamed, open and exuberant to see him against her better judgment to be coy. “It is late, you know.”

“No better time for a man to call upon his beloved, his intended…” he grinned, all feline and subtle, striding to shut the door behind her. “I don’t need to regale you with all the negotiations do I? You were listening ever so intently from your little hiding spot, weren’t you?”

“Of course,” she smiled, taking a few steps away from where he felt so close to her. Crossing, she sat on the little couch near the fire. And she regretted it the instant he sat immediately beside her. “I… I suppose I should thank…”

“Don’t,” he interjected. “Tch,” he sucked his teeth, a habit of his when teasing her lately, “I told you I would get what I wanted, Cordehlia.”

“And, what was that?” she forced her face into a blank, innocent expression. Wide-eyed and pouting, hiding the laughter that bubbled inside.

“You,” he slowly seemed to lean in. “Despite my parents’ plans for a marriage alliance… despite your father’s hesitations…” his eyes cast down the front of her down, scanning the intricate weave of laces and ribbons that held her in, even as her chest heaved with panting and her bosoms threatened to spill out the top. “Despite even your own thoughts of self-inadequacy…”

“Oh, I do not doubt my own measure, Astarion,” she chided in reply, “I doubt that I will be enough to satisfy you and your… ambitions.”

“Wanting great things out of life means nothing if I can’t share it with you, my…” he whispered, that edge of pretend leaving his silken voice. A single finger pressed under her chin, feeling her throat swallowing and her jaw bobbing as she nervously met his gaze. “Hmmm, what shall I call you now?” he grinned. “My friend seems too unromantic. My intended, my betrothed… those seem so cumbersome.”

“Something simple, sweet and flirtatious,” she smiled, leaning into the heat of his touch, more of his fingers beginning to sweep over her cheek. “Nothing too saccharine… just a little something… darling…”

“Oh,” he gave that secretive half smile of his, “aren’t you just darling? So sweet and yet deceptively strong… that hint of irony behind it.. yes. Yes, it’ll do nicely, darling…”

Her eyes darted away, feeling so hot, cheeks flushed and burning, his hand still holding her face. But that heat swirled in her gut, her mind still reeling over the events of that day, and while her skin was clean from bathing, her mind had turned to only images and questions that were so, very dirty. “So…” she paused, feeling his face drawing nearer, his breath washing over her. “What was it you were caught doing exactly?”

Astarion’s eyes flashed, wide and dilating as he stared at that impertinent grin. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean… I wish to know… what… you were doing while you watched me,” her voice grew quieter, deeper in her throat the more she spoke.

“I was… pleasuring myself,” he managed to say, watching her cheeks growing pinker and pinker.

“Show me,” she whispered. Her chin jutted out in that over-confident way of hers.

Astarion cocked his head, a single corner of his lip curving slightly. “What?” he drolled.

“Show me… what you were doing…” she whispered, eyeing the door shut beside them, pure mischief in her silver eyes. “Show me, please…”

“I do so like it when you ask so sweetly,” he raised his brow, grinning widely as he leaned towards her breathtaking face. “So refined and smoothed over your edges, and yet…” His fingers pressed on her chin, tilting her upwards and drawing her close to his lips, “I still see that willful, feral playmate of mine who never once treated me like the son of the High Lord…”

“Quit your stalling, Acunìn,” she snapped, smiling all the while. Her body was pulsing, hotter than the fire before them should have made her. Her skin grew tighter the more he touched her.

“I can show you,” he whispered, smirking as his eyes darted towards the door. “But I’ll not do it in your father’s domain. Not when I’ve just garnered his dissenting approval.”

Her breath grew heavy, her dress suddenly too tight. “Where… when…?”

“It’s your home, darling. Can’t you think of someplace quiet… someplace intimate…”

“The gardens,” she couldn’t reply quickly enough. “I can slip from my terrace, if you meet me.”

“Then I shall be there,” his voice was thick, his lips brushing hers as he spoke. It made her stomach knotted and fluttery. Made her skin burning and her blood pounding. Whatever it was she was about to learn, she could barely wait the few moments it would be to sneak away.

Then he kissed her, more than just the little pecks as children. More than the courtly press of his mouth on her gentle fingers. He spared her nothing, for she knew full well already the twist of his tongue around her own, the sucking of his lips and the clack of his teeth against hers. But this kiss, this devoured her. Sucked her breath and filled her tastebuds with him alone. Until she forgot to so much as breathe.

A loud footstep outside the door made them suddenly draw apart, the turn of the handle making Astarion shoot right up from the couch to stand coolly at the mantle, a chilled, contented smile on his lips as her father returned.

As if those lips weren’t just consuming his daughter.

“It’s late, Master Acunìn,” the General commented, always direct, always commanding.

“Yes, well, there will be many years ahead of us for goodnight and goodbyes, isn’t that right, my darling?” the young elf nodded his head to his future bride. Who, very wisely, kept her flushing face away from the sight of her father.

“Yes, Astarion,” she replied, all joy and music in those two words. “Goodnight to you both,” she stood to dip a curtsy. “I am ever so pleased with our arrangement,” she added, smiling as she made her way from the room.

“As am I,” Astarion replied, locking eyes with the General. “Goodnight, my future bride and father. I can see myself out.”

“So long as you don’t see yourself back in, boy,” her father laughed under his breath. A cold sort of laugh, wisened by experience past the machinations of youth. “You have years for that. The blink of an eye for our kind.”

Astarion nodded his head, eyes still fixed on his exit. Careful not to give away the racing of his heart in anticipation. Gratified that his instincts were sharper than the General, the aging elf whose eyes he could feel until the moment he shut the door to their home behind him.

It would be an easy deception, to head down the path towards the road and double back to the little garden. The moon was bright, and the stars even brighter. Hanging arbors of bright purple and rosy blooms covered the walls and trellises.

She had chosen well, a secluded spot, hidden and muffled. He watched her room, a little cutaway on the ground floor, as he had before. Her shadow moving in the light, the flicker of candles gutting out as he heard the door to her terrace open.

He peered out from behind the arbor, her eyes instantly setting on him, her mouth parting in a smile. Hoisting her skirt, she ran over the little tiled terrace, scrambling, almost vaulting over the balustrade to land in his arms.

“I can’t believe you did that, Astarion,” she panted, instantly pressing her lips against his. “You’re so much trouble…”

“Yes,” he breathed in between her moving lips, “but aren’t I just worth it?”

“Show me what you were doing and we will see,” she growled into his mouth, his hands already skating over the silks of her gown, pawing beneath the edges of her robe. His fingers traced down her arm, weaving into her hand. Pulling her, they reached the little bench, nestled among the hanging vines of sleeping flowers. All was quiet and shadow. The air was cool against their burning skin, the stone of the bench even colder as they slammed into it, tumbling down to sit side by side. Pressed so tightly together, her leg draped between his. His arms pulled tightly around her waist.

“First day giving me your word you’ll be mine,” he panted, “and already all you want to know is how to pleasure me?”

“Well,” she shoved him away, hand planted firmly on his chest. “I already know how to tease you, to best you, to anger you and calm you…” she tilted her head with a sultry, knowing smile. “I’m sure there is much I have yet to learn… and I am eager for you to teach me.”

“You’ve come a long way from flinging mud in my face and threatening to tattle on my father, darling,” his words tickled her cheek as he hovered over her ear. “If you wish to learn, this lesson will be completely… hands on.”

“Save your wit, Astarion,” she hissed, a smile on her face, her hands already straying over the soft fabric of his tunic. “Need I remind you, after today, you had the advantage of knowing the sight of me… all of me. I have yet to have the same pleasure.”

“All in good time, after all…” he pulled away to stare into her eager eyes, so bright as they caught the starlight, “we have years ahead of us now.”

His hand covered hers, sliding it lower, letting her fingers brush over his belly that clenched as he struggled for air. Astarion said nothing, just giving her that half a smile that made her blush. His eyes watched her face blanch as he moved her hand even lower, to press it against where he was hard yet again that day. Slowly, he moved her fingers up and down it, her mouth hanging open slightly to feel its length from where it met his pelvis to the tip that pressed somewhere down the leg of his breeches.

She swallowed hard. Her breath was harsher than ever. Than even after sprinting.

“Well,” he finally purred as he kept their hands working over him slowly. “I only saw the parts of you that glittered in the water above its surface, and I have never been more jealous of some dewy drops on your skin before.”

Cordehlia smirked, beginning to move her hand more freely, fingers tracing the rounded edges of whatever it was beneath. “Now poetry? I prefer you razor wit…”

“How about nothing more than the sounds we make all on our own?” he breathed, his hands pulling the laces from his breeches free. She felt it shift as the fabric released. That hard thing twitching as he reached inside. She couldn’t look away, the sight of him making her mouth water.

And her body even hotter than she had ever been in his presence, in his arms before.

She shut her jaw, clenching it as she watched his hand wrap around its width, watched as it jerked and twitched as he beat over it back and forth. “It’s not like you to hesitate or to balk when something is… hard.”

One hand shoved his shoulder, the other wrapped to join his grip around that… thing. She exhaled as she squeezed, the skin so smooth, the whole shaft so hot and pulsing with the beat of his heart. And so hard as he had joked. Rigid and silken, hard and smooth. Her touch straying towards its tip, she saw it dripping, little white, almost clear drops as she touched it. She swept it in her fingers, tacky and slick over that fleshy tip.

He groaned as she did so, and instantly she pulled away. “Sorry,” she hissed, her cheeks growing even redder in shame to hurt him.

“No,” he panted, grabbing her hand back to encircle that tip again. “The opposite, it felt amazing, the way you touch my cock…”

“Oh,” she smiled, reapplying the same sort of stroke over that little slit, feeling it seeping again as she touched him. “So…” she tilted her head, meeting those dilated, violet eyes, “…you like this?”

“Mmm, very much, even better than when I touch myself and think of you. The real thing is so much better,” he groaned again as she stroked harder, faster, like he had before. Head thrown back, he closed his eyes, savoring that no-longer-timid touch.

“What happens next?” she asked, somehow breathless herself.

“The best part,” he replied through clenching teeth. “Whatever you do, don’t dare stop…” he was growling, his hips raising as she kept that beat. He rocked on the stone bench, hands gripping into the edge. She watched as he contorted, seeming to be in agony, that cock in her hand growing harder and hotter, but she didn’t dare stop. Like he asked.

She felt it shudder in her fingers, his body clenching as he groaned. Collapsing forward, he kept shaking as noise after pained and panting noise came from his mouth. More of that sticky white drips shot from him, and Cordehlia held her breath, so certain she had hurt him.

A fear that was dispelled the moment she looked at his face now. His slack-mouthed smile, his eyes wide and glowing in the moonlight, he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her against him. Lashing his mouth to hers, he muttered such sweet things into her lips. “That was…” he paused to breathe, “amazing. You were perfect. Better than I had dreamed…”

“It looked painful,” she replied, breaking away with a push on his chest again. Turning her head, she looked where the stones of the terrace were discolored and wet, where his cock still dripped a little more of that gleaming whiteness. “And you call that pleasuring yourself?”

“I assure you, he grinned, brows raising, lips quirking, “it is quite the opposite of painful.”

“Hmm,” she hemmed, skeptical as she turned to look back into that face.

“You look like you need some.. convincing…”

His hands wrapped around her waist, slowly starting to gather up the thin silks that covered her perfect, pale skin.

“I think I can show you, if you let me,” he crooned, mouth smiling wider.

“You’re going to teach me how to… pleasure myself?” Oh, she was so haughty, so confident and daring. Even when she was wrong, it was stimulating.

“Really?” She kept that hand firmly on his chest, even as her body gave her away, her hips sliding slightly closer as his hands pulled her skirts to her knees. “I take it this knowledge was not garnered from first… hand… experience…” she tested him.

“No, no,” he shook his head, smiling with reassurance, “I read it in a book, a most fascinating book…”

“So fascinating that it made you pursue release in… pleasuring yourself after?”

“Seems like you know more than an elegant, righteous she-elf should…” he touched her skin then, sliding two fingers higher from her knee. “You weren’t watching me, were you?” he taunted, fingers tracing back down only to dare higher beneath her skirts.

“No, that seemed to be your duty, my darling,” she laughed as she spoke, low and slick. Her breath came heavier. Her skin flamed hotter the higher he touched.

Then, she looked right into his eyes, all that taunting evaporated, her smile softened, her eyes wide and pleading as she could do nothing more than breathe and lean back even more.

And he kept touching, awed by that look of trust and… love. And then, he slunk those fingers beneath the thin line of her undergarments.

She was… wet. Hot. Those folds he had read about, observed in drawings… it was so much better now. But he needed more.

His other hand gripped her knee, pulling those strong legs of hers apart. A gasp tore from her throat as she let him. Her fingers clutched at the back of his head, locked into his hair as if she was about to collapse.

And then, his touch slid inside. Her eyes shot wide, her face contorting like his had, now she knew why.

He slid those fingertips back and forth, dragging that hot slick more and more through that seam. At last, he circled through that point at the apex, drawing his touch over that hard little spot. Just as he had read. But the way it made her clench and groan was even… more magnificent.

Her cheeks were so pink, her forehead beading with sweat. “What… is that…” she managed to speak, breathless and deep in her throat.

“Give me you hand, sweet Cordehlia, and you can tend to your own needs when I can’t be with you in the shadows.”

She obeyed, keeping that one grip tight around his neck. But the other slipped in to join his so quickly. Pushing harder, sweeping faster, his fingers tried to keep up with the way she was… touching herself.

“Gods,” he groaned, “how does it feel?”

“I… can’t…” she panted, eyes shutting hard as she groaned.

So he slid his fingers in deeper in… in her quivering walls.

“Ah!” she mewled, forgetting they were still in danger, forgetting anyone could hear them.

But Astarion didn’t care, not when she clenched hard and tight around his fingers, not when his cock was pulsing again, aching for another round of his own release.

She shook so hard, she almost pulled him down, her arm releasing instead to hold herself up. Her eyes looked at his body again, settling on where his cock still stood hard and twitching in his lap. “I want to watch you… watch you touch yourself while I…”

“Yes,” he growled, hand slipping from her skirts, rubbing that slick that coated his whole hand over himself. “Gods, Cordehlia,” he couldn’t keep his eyes open, not needing much more than a few more pumps on his cock to set him nearly off again. One last glance of her face wracked with ecstacy, the sound of her orgasm as she beat her own fingers into that hot slick he could smell… it was enough.

It was more than enough.

He watched as she bit her lips and screamed through them, hearing that wet squelch of her fingers beneath her skirt grow somehow wetter sounding.

She was divine. Worthy. Beyond compare. Worth all the wagging tongues of the nobles and disapproving scowls of his parents to make her his.

His.

And with that, he groaned and came again. Harder and more intensely than ever before. Spurting streams of his cum covered the tiles and dripped from his hand.

He looked at her then, her eyes glazed with lust, with sated desire and yet burning up for more.

He was hers as much as she was his…

And he would never be the same.

————

She released his mind. His mouth hung open, his breath ragged.

His heart warmed over, despite being dead, all fluttering and hot. Maybe a fragment of his soul returned to him, he wasn’t sure. The way her silver eyes beat open, that ember of desire in them from the memory of so long ago… it made him realize just how achingly hard he had become.

More than her blood in his stomach, more than the sight of her bathing… it was an ache in his groin and his chest that only one thing could satisfy.

And he could smell the same need between her legs, could hear it in the way her heart raced and rapped in her chest.

Swift and sure, her hands clutched into his shirt, grabbing him hard and pulling him. To make him climb on her body, to cover herself in the only remedy to quell her burning. She pushed his clothes off his skin, his voice reduced to a growl in his throat. Those eager, dexterous fingers ripped his own clothes off, relieved only once he was freed. Once they both were freed, nothing but their skin and desire to share.

“I was your first,” he rasped, crushing her with his body, consuming her with his mouth. “The first to know you, to touch you…”

“To taste me and pleasure me and have me…” she purred, “and I you.”

“And none shall have you like I have… like I do…” Astarion groaned, slipping his fingers into her, just as he had perhaps a million times before. Her arousal was so hot and plentiful, all resistance was gone.

As if her body was made for him. The same way a key can slip so perfectly into its lock.

After those memories, he wouldn’t be surprised if it were so. “You enjoyed learning from me,” he grunted into her mouth, the visions of their memories still flaring in his head. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she sighed back. Her hips bucking hard, riding each crooking touch he made deep inside her.

“Your little shakes of excitement, your wide, innocent eyes and pink little lips wet for me…”

“Yes,” she sighed again, arching and clinging hard around his neck.

“Your lips, your breasts, your honey-dripping cunt… Gods, I want to fuck them all, make every inch of you mine, make them swollen and marked by my bite…” he looked down at her then, teeth glinting as he gave a wide-mouthed grin. “Not the Druid, not the Wizard, not a single one that looks at you would doubt you are mine…”

“Astarion, I’ve been yours,” Cordehlia said, hands gripping hard as she shuddered, feeling her own juices beginning to gush around his fingers, his thumb commanding her with all the dexterity he plied, all the knowledge of her body he now recalled from centuries.

He crooked his fingers even harder through her orgasm, working and fighting against every time she bore down in ecstacy. Panting, she softened around him, beneath him. Yielding to every part of him, body and soul. “Your turn,” she rasped, face nestled against his shoulder. Her hand gripped around his cock, slick already from the drips that already leaked from its tip.

Hips bucking into her fist, his lips peeled back to bare his teeth. “May I?”

“Bite me a dozen times so everyone sees your markings? Yes,” she snickered, rubbing over his shaft just a little faster until he groaned. From her touch or her words, she wasn’t sure. But she loved it either way.

The base of her neck, the throbbing of her jugular, the crest of her collarbone… one after another he nipped and drank. Each bite making her fist clench so tightly around his cock, he had no choice but to let his body rut into her grip. His tongue lapped all over her own ivory skin, her crimson blood thick in his throat as she pleasured him.

That age-old touch that commanded him, pleasuring him as only she could. Thousands of forced lovers over hundreds of years, and for once, he reclaimed that feeling of intimacy, that near-first-time thrill he thought long dead. Making love to one he wanted. One he…

“I love you,” he whispered between her blood-dripping breasts.

“I have always loved you,” the reply couldn’t leave her lips fast enough. Her fingers gripping into the locks behind his pointed ears, pulling his dripping copper-tanged mouth to hers. Furious. Crazed. Matching that possessiveness stroke for stroke with her tongue, nip for nip with her teeth on his lips. Her hand dragged through the pooling blood on her body, running that warm, thick liquid over his cock.

Making him shudder as she ran her touch up and down it again. He groaned with that hot slick gliding over his length. The scent of her blood was too delicious to resist. “As fun as it was to cum all over you when we were young, I’d much rather be invited inside, my love.” He tried to sweeten his voice, but that play on his cock already had him undone.

She only chuckled, guiding him inside her so quickly, he barely could tell what was her fist and what was her folds until her thighs clenched tight around his waist, her hips bucking hard against his own. Riding him with every little bit of passion she had stored inside for him alone.

Possessing her for centuries. Making certain he never forgot now that he was hers to possess as well.