#magistrate astarion x tav

[moonselune]

OMG i think my req sent without finishing :(! So sorry! Could we maybe get a writing snippet where elf tav reunites with Astarion after he became a vampire / post-tadpole?

Magistrate Astarion’s assistant tav became an expert in magic, and runs into Astarion (ascended if you wanted) in the lower city after being gone / pronounced dead for those 200 years?

Omg omg omg this is such a good ask tysm !!

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Ascended!Astarion x Reader | My Dearest Assistant

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The Lower City of Baldur’s Gate was a place of shadows, where the past often resurfaced in unexpected ways. The years had not dulled its chaotic energy, but you had grown accustomed to the winding streets and the constant hum of life that filled them. As you walked through the familiar alleys, your thoughts drifted to memories of a time long past—a time when you had served as an assistant to Magistrate Astarion.

Astarion had been a figure of authority and charisma, a man who had commanded both respect and admiration. He was known for his dedication to protecting the citizens of Baldur’s Gate, a beacon of justice in a city rife with corruption (at least that is what you thought of him - there were some unsavoury rumours that he was a harsh and corrupt magistrate but you simply could not see him that way).

You had worked closely with him, learning the intricacies of the legal system under his tutelage, and in time, you had become an expert in your own right. But then, one day, Astarion had disappeared without a trace. Rumors of his death had circulated, but there had never been any confirmation.

It had been two centuries since that day, and though you had moved on, the memory of him had never truly faded. You couldn't face the legal system after his disappearance, the courts had ruled him dead and you knew - just knew, in your heart that they were wrong, so they had lost your faith.

Due to your disciplined nature, once you had a taste of magic you quickly rose the ranks and became a successful mage in Waterdeep. Though tonight, as you made your way through the Lower City, visiting some old friends of yours. You felt a strange sense of nostalgia. The air was thick with the scent of rain, and the cobblestones glistened under the dim light of the streetlamps. You were lost in thought when a voice, rich and familiar, broke through the night.

“Well, if it isn’t my little apprentice. I never imagined we’d cross paths again.”

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. The voice was unmistakable, but it was impossible. Slowly, you turned around, and there he was—Astarion, standing before you as if he had stepped out of a dream. He was just as you remembered him, though there was an air of something different about him now, something darker and more powerful.

“Astarion?” you whispered, hardly believing your eyes. “But… you were—”

“Gone?” he finished for you, a sly smile playing on his lips. “Yes, I suppose that’s true, in a way. But I’ve returned, and it seems the fates were kind enough to bring us together again.”

You were overjoyed to see him, your initial shock giving way to excitement. You rushed forward, embracing him without hesitation. Astarion’s arms wrapped around you, and for a moment, you felt the warmth of familiarity, the comfort of a bond that had never truly been broken.

“I thought you were dead,” you said, pulling back to look at him. Your face alight with joy. “Everyone thought you were dead.”

“A rumor I allowed to flourish,” Astarion replied smoothly. “It served its purpose.”

You didn’t notice the way his eyes lingered on you, or the hunger that flickered behind his smile. To you, he was still the same Astarion you had known all those years ago, the upstanding magistrate who had fought for the people of Baldur’s Gate, no matter what others said. You had no reason to suspect otherwise.

He invited you to his mansion, and you accepted without hesitation, eager to catch up on all the years that had passed. The mansion was grand and opulent, a testament to his success. As you entered, you marveled at the fine decor, the luxurious furnishings, and the sense of history that filled the place. You couldn't help but note he had many loyal servants, all coincidentally having the same red eyes. A strange coincidence you assured yourself, -perhaps they were just family.

Astarion guided you to a room with high ceilings and ornate chandeliers. The air was heavy with the scent of incense, and a fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the room. You sat together, reminiscing about the past, sharing stories of your adventures and your magical studies.

That night you fell in love with your mentor all over again, he had reached the success you always knew he deserved - you weren't exactly clear on the details on how, but you were happy for him all the same. The rest of the night was filled with heavy flowing wine and reminscing.

But as the night wore on, you felt a growing unease. Something about Astarion’s demeanor had changed—he was more intense, more focused on you than you remembered. When you finally decided it was time to leave, you stood up, thanking him for his hospitality.

“I should be going,” you said, making your way to the grand door. You tried the handle but the door wouldn’t budge. You frowned, trying again, but it was locked.

“Astarion?” you called out, turning back to him. “The door… it’s locked.”

He remained seated, watching you with a predatory gaze. “Yes, it is.”

“Why is it locked?” you asked, a note of alarm creeping into your voice, yet you couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh. “Astarion, let me out, we've had plenty of wine tonight.”

He rose from his chair, moving towards you with a slow, deliberate grace. “You’ve always been so diligent, so obedient. My perfect little assistant. I’ve missed that about you.”

“What are you talking about, Astarion?” you demanded, your heart pounding in your chest as you continued to try the handle, only stopeed when Astarion pulled your shoulder and pinned you to the door.

“I find myself in need of your services once more,” Astarion continued, his voice low and smooth. “You see, I’ve come into a new… position, and I could use someone like you by my side. Forever.”

“Astarion, this isn’t funny. Let me out.” You told him firmly, yet your vouce wavered, your panic evident. Like an animal realising it was prey. "We can talk about this another time."

But he didn’t listen. Instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “You were always so good to me, always so eager to please. You always silenced those naysayers, those who wished to see me fall. Always saw me for the best that I was and I think it’s time I returned the favor.”

There was a darkness in his eyes that sent a chill down your spine. You tried to move, to lunge away, but he was too fast, his hand gripping your arm with a strength that belied his appearance.

“Let me go, please Astarion” you whispered, fear creeping into your voice. But Astarion only smiled, his fangs glinting in the firelight.

“I’m going to give you a gift,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “A gift that will ensure you stay by my side, just as you always have.”

And before you could react, he sank his fangs into your neck, the sharp pain making you gasp. The world around you began to blur as he drank deeply, his hold on you unyielding. You tried to resist, but it was futile—his power was overwhelming, and you felt yourself growing weaker with every passing moment. No magic would help you now.

As the darkness closed in around you, you realized the truth: Astarion was always the man they said he was, not the man you wanted him to be. And now he had becomes something entirely more wicked.

As the world faded, the last thing you heard was his voice, a soft, satisfied whisper in your ear. “Welcome home, my darling. You’ll never leave me again.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Heheh silly naive little assistant bless them they only wanted the best for astarion ! Hope you guys enjoyed this if you like anymore ascended content check out the dark masterlist below - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

✦. ── Dark BG3 Masterlist ── .✦

[prettyboykatsuki]

✮ tags ; gn!reader, implied bottom reader, semi-erotic and bloody fingersucking, romance, struggling with intimacy on astarions part, not an established relationship fr, 18+

✮ wc ; 1.6k (literally what in the fucking world)

✮ a/n ; *smacks astarions back* you can fit so much projection onto this thing.

canon divergent i.e. this takes place during act two but reader doesn't sleep w astarion in act one. it's explained in da fic.

The taste of intimacy is acrid.

It's bitter and sharp to the senses. In many ways, he finds it unpleasant. Intolerable. He's lost in thought, primarily caught up in the sensation of your skin pressed against his.

Too much, he decides, this entire affair is proving to be too much.

"You know, there's no need for theatrics," He can almost hear the recoil in his own voice, like hiding away into the shadows when dawn approaches. It's instinctive. "All this...poetry is quite thoughtful but very unnecessary."

Yes. Unnecessary. Somehow it feels violent, though it's anything but. You pull away from him and he winces at your expression - genuine confusion draped across your face. Your skin is hotter than the sun, much warmer than his. You're attractive.

Astarion wonders if he can assess you as beautiful. If he's allowed to use something so flowery.

He can't stop thinking about it. He's played the part of a lover before, so kissing and touching in quiet whispers is not unfamiliar. If that's the sort of affair you wish to have, than Astarion can be apart of it no problem. Whatever makes your desire towards him tangible, whatever you want. The last part he doesn't say out loud, or to himself.

But it was real, just a moment ago, wasn't it? The feeling of your lips on his forehead and the crook of his shoulder was real. The words of affection were real. He was looking for fun, debauchery, pleasure.

This is not that, he decides. He decides, too, that he does not like it.

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh don't play dumb, darling," He says, his throat tightening. It's natural to him, in a way. "Though your heroic romantic gestures are quite something, they're very unnecessary. We both know what we're here for, do we not? A little roughing up is fine."

You pause, and you stare. Your eyes are clear, like the water of the open ocean surrounding the lower city. Even in the darkness, he can see you perfectly. You can see him too, but he can't see himself even in the reflection of your gaze. He wonders if that is some kind of mercy, but remembers quickly that no god has ever shown him such kindness.

And you wouldn't either, or you shouldn't. He convinces himself that its a courtesy, and that this conversation is an attempt at honest between you. He's expecting something different. Maybe a snarky laugh of approval, or a widening set of eyes. Lurid with excitement in all the ways you're okay to defile him.

Most people he's laid with have given him the same. They're pleased with his fluidity. He shows it off like he's water in a beautiful chalice, look at all the forms I can take and adore me.

And yet, you're all but silent. What a terrible conversation to have when he's almost inside of you, he thinks.

"If that is what you desire," You says, your words slow. You then, so softly, draw your thumb over his cheek bone. It takes strength not to recoil. He almost wants to mock you. Wants to bite at the gentle caress of your hand, wants to make you bleed. "But I would've hoped my gestures conveyed my feelings a little better than this."

Shit. Shit.

"Feelings? Have you really taken a page out of the wizards book and written me a poem?"

"It would be easy enough to do," You say, so easily and so naturally - he can't help but show that he is startled. Shaken by the sincerity of every word. Bitter. "If you desire such gestures."

A feeling coils in his chest. He cannot distinguish his urges from each other. Whether it is hunger or desire. Whether to push you away or cling to you closer. He cannot make sense of any of it, despite his efforts. He doesn't need any blood, he's sure - but his mind lacks clarity.

Is he afraid or angry? He does not remember how to tell the difference between those two emotions, either.

"We're here for sex, you know?" He says, proactively pushing into old habits. His eyes feel heavy in their sockets, like their weighed by his own need to be desired perfectly. He seduces you easily. Lowers his lids and parts his lips, snakes a hand against your waist and lets you fall forward until you collapse against his chest. "Hot, lecherous, burning pleasure. Such romantics are best saved for..."

You look at him, and you want him. But it is not the same. Even he is not so foolish as to deny something you make so obvious.

"For?"

The words someone you love do not leave his lips, though they threaten to. "Someone more suitable."

"There's no one so suitable as you," You say, and the words do not sound damning. They do not intend to please him. They're not coated in myth or covered in lies. They're like you, honest and rich. "And that pleasure can be found all the same with regards to what I do."

Astarion understands little of you. Never has, in full. He finds your character damning, finds your kindness often irritable. His plan to seduce you had worked, he thought. You had taken some kind of liking to him. Enough that you act against yourself, just to appease him at times. To clumsily win him over by being a little bad, or being silver-tongued.

But you hadn't laid a hand on him despite his efforts. Without taking anything, you shield him from harm. You kill the people who wish to kill him. He'd never stopped trying to seduce you, because it benefits him to play the part of prized possession to the strong.

He thought your acceptance of his request meant you had finally broken. That he could go through with it.

Yet, you touch him like this - as you have been all evening. You brought a bedroll to fuck him in the woods of all places. Your hands are soft, and warm. You're reverent. He's kissed plenty of people, and played lovers even more than that. It was his lifes work, after all.

But it is impossible to deny that you're different, despite his best efforts to believe you are not.

Astarion isn't familiar with your gestures. He cannot hold his ground against honesty when his existence is passing and pleasant - ephemeral as a white lie.

"Astarion," You say, clear. You enunciate his name. It is not intended to have any weight, yet it crushes him. His chest tightens. Aches. It is all so strangely miserable. He wants to interrupt you, but cannot fix his lips to do such a thing "I wish to make love to you. You're welcome to find it unnecessary."

A kiss. Your mouth is warm, and tastes faintly like the sweet wine you had before bed. Your hands cup around his nape, and your other hand keeps you upright. He won't fall for it but his body does not listen, makes him melt comfortably into the bedroll. You kiss and kiss and kiss, and it is well-practiced like you have loved many times before him.

You must know something better than him.

Still. There is not enough strength in his limbs to fight you. His eyes blink open when you've stopped. A scream almost rips from him, but he's frozen in place instead. He can fight now. He could fight this.

The nails he tries to scratch you with, dig deep onto your waist. He closes his eyes. A begging for you to stay.

"Darling, really," His voice cracks. A touch so gentle and unfamiliar may be the thing to flay him open - cut him into pieces and open him up the blackened night sky. His lips feel cracked, hands shaking. "Wholly unnecessary."

There is no way out from this. From his feelings for you. How terrible.

You examine him quietly, then smile like you know everything. He is so much older than you, yet you smile like you've lived one thousand more lives. Maybe you have.

"Astarion," You mumble, your hands finding his hands. You lock your fingers together, your touch making his nerves fire whenever you brush along them. Your free hand ghosts his lips. "Look at me,"

Then, very suddenly, you push your thumb against the point of his fang. It punctures you in no small wound, and you push until the blood spills. You wince, but it's barely there. You let the blood spill into his parted mouth, let the taste of it fetter onto his lips and tongue. It's almost saccharine. He leans up on instinct, latching himself to it. He drinks from your self-inflicted wound with his eyes lidded, with desperation so unsightly.

You don't slink back. You watch onto him fondly. Watch him eat recklessly. Watch him swallow around you.

You already know what he is, he realizes, too late. The weight of your deliberateness nearly buries him. Unpleasant eyes, that know everything about him without any modicum of effort.

The feeling of anxiety, of restlessness well up even deeper inside him. The bitter unforgiving irony of finding intimacy with you lingers still. There is no escaping the thought that it will be you who betrays him first, and not someone else.

But the taste of blood, your blood, washes it all out. The gentle touch of your skin unsettles him as much as it makes him needy. He wants to be adored, and be adored by you.

He wants you in a way that does not incite any instinct. He works against each one trying to look you in the eyes.

When he manages, you are there and you are kind. You want to make love to him. He wants, very desperately, to believe it is possible. That such a ridiculous thing exists outside of a performance.

His voice is soft as a whisper. "I guess it's not impossible to appease you,"

You kiss the corner of his mouth and grin. He doesn't flinch this time.

"I'm quite relieved."

[tinosawruswrites]

A Punishment Fitting the Crime

Magistrate Astarion x Rogue Fem!Tav precanon One-Shot

Word count ~ 8600

Synopsis:

Tav is a petty criminal that got caught and is sentenced by magistrate Astarion Ancunín (prevampirism) in the privacy of his office.

TAGS/WARNINGS:

Rogue thief (Fem)Tav, Pre-vampirism Magistrate Astarion, DomAstarion, Sub(Fem)Tav, power play, minor dubcon, bdsm, sexgames with punishments, blowjob, hairpulling, spanking, edging, orgasm denial, vaginal fingering, penis in vagina sex, vaginal penetration, nippleplay

(If the tags are lacking, feel free to suggest any!)

Other notes:

Tav's looks are left ambiguous but her height is mentioned once as being a head shorter than Astarion.

Magistrate Ancunín’s office was located on the top floor of the court house building. Tav made her way up the numerous rows of polished marble stairs, almost compelled to count them from sheer boredom as she went.

The air was clean, almost sharp, with a lingering node of citrus to it, making it relatively easy to inhale while keeping up her steady pace.

Choosing to wear a light jacket, simple pants and shoes had been the right call after all, compromising style for comfort and ease of movement. If she got too hot after the climb, she could simply remove the jacket and still look presentable in her unassuming, common variety undershirt.

The high arched ceiling above her bent with the elevation like a strange, wide funnel, guiding her further along as water would through a pipe – except water would have refused to defy gravity and slid down the stairs.

Such was the life as a sentient, bipedal being. A continuous struggle against the laws of nature.

And regular law, Tav supposed.

Her case had been deemed too insignificant for a full trial. She was to receive a quick and efficient ruling by visiting the chosen magistrate’s office instead, and that happened to be this magistrate Astarion Ancunín.

Their immaculate signature decorated the bottom of the summons letter right next to the official stamp of the courts, both of them equally as artificial in both size and decorum. The way the A’s in magistrate Ancunín’s name had been written to dominate all the other smaller letters signaled Tav everything she ought to know about the man.

Another pompous, bigger than they actually were, holier-than-thou prick that loved to punish bad people and get paid to do so, maybe even keep a shifty side business giving out less harsh punishments and shorter sentences depending on how much gold his pockets got lined up with.

Then again, it was an open secret there were corrupt officials within the courts and that you either knew the right people or had to get really lucky to “do business” with them, as they said.

Nothing too unusual for Tav. Being a rogue sometimes happened to rope her in some less than legal gigs by working for shady people in need of light feet, nimble fingers and keen eyes for suspicious things.

She didn’t care where her skills were needed or who they were for, just that she got compensated for a job well done, like any good, hard working citizen – it wasn’t directly her fault if a customer had an enforced vault with mysterious origins that needed cracking open, or a particular door in the Upper City in need of unlocking without anyone finding out about it. At dead of night. When the owners were on holiday.

Those were all circumstantial details at best and did not in fact make her a criminal.

Tav’s inner justification to absolve herself of any guilt worked wonders for her confidence. Convincing the magistrate ordered to rule her legal punishment for allegedly: “Getting caught giving an aiding hand in breaking in to a high noble’s Summer palace and trespassing” did not.

It was a different thing entirely to lie to oneself and succeed, than to lie to an agent of law and walk away free of charges.

Tav finally reached the top of the stairs panting lightly and found herself standing inside another long, all too bright and polished hallway, almost an exact copy of the ones she passed below. All the whiteness was thankfully broken by the occasional dark paneled door and extravagant painting depicting some form of righteousness or an act of justice being given out.

She peered down at the letter and started systematically checking every door for the right name on a golden placate next to it. A large, vertically slim window opened a view into the dark city at the end of the corridor. Tav peered at the lit streetlamps glowing in the growing darkness leading away from the building she was in.

A road to freedom.

Alas, if she managed to wiggle herself off the hook and get away with a slap on the wrist, that was.

It was late in the standards of a regular day worker and Tav had to wonder if there had been an increase in petty crimes, or if it was an effect of some new government policy for a magistrate to be working this late into the evening. It was so late in fact, that there was barely anyone around, not even guards apparently, except for the random ones patrolling the hallways every now and then.

Must have been a real harsh pay cut to everyone.

Tav found the corresponding name and placate next to the door at the end of the hallway. She peered at the letter again and read the instructions stating her to arrive before the designated time, knock on the door and wait for it to be opened before entering. Otherwise, she was to sit aside and wait until she was let in.

Clenching her fists, Tav took a deep breath before tapping a couple stern knocks on the door and waited.

No response.

She looked around and found herself to be alone, then stepped closer and pressed her ear against the door to listen.

No sounds could be heard through the door. Either the room was empty, or the walls were magically enchanted to keep all sounds inside. Potentially to keep any incriminating statements out of curious outsider ears. She stepped back when a distant metal clinking echoed down the hallway. She took a quick seat at one of the small wooden stools lined next to the wall.

A lonesome guard wandered down the hallway, gloved hands balled to tight fists at their side, weapon ready at their hip, face like carved stone, stiff and unreadable. The guard marched before Tav, gave her a tired little smile, turned around and marched back the way they came from.

The metal clinking of the guard’s feet grew distant, finally disappearing into the distance. Tav was left alone once again.

Her gaze wandered around the space, the white walls, unassuming braziers and finally the sizable painting on the end wall of the corridor. It depicted a blindfolded maiden holding a golden scale – a common depiction of fair justice.

She peered at the woman’s covered eyes, wondering if justice was served blindly and without prejudice even by tired, overworked magistrates that were forced to work late into the evening.

She hoped the magistrate had at least been well fed, having heard terrible things about verdicts changing drastically depending whether a judge was hungry or not.

Time oozed by like thick oil and there was still no answer from the door beside her. Tav checked the letter in her hands for the time and date, comparing them to her pocket time-piece and the small calendar handily plastered above the magistrate’s name placate.

All was correct.

She had arrived on time, did as instructed and waited for an answer, and now it was way past her appointment and it wasn’t her fault that the proceedings would take longer. She seated herself once more and smirked smugly, pondering on using the magistrate’s potentially exhausted state to negotiate herself out out as quickly as possible.

Maybe, just maybe he would be so pent up from today’s proceedings he’d just dismiss her case altogether and they could both just go home.

The door clanked open and an older gnome exited. Tav made brief eye contact with him, recognizing them from another gig she partook in months ago.

This one was a peppy, we-can-do it kind of guy, but his current state reflected worn out desperation, like his spirits had been broken and what remained of them had been chewed out to the bones. He shut the door and turned away wordlessly, dragging his feet down the corridor, away from Tav and magistrate Ancunín’s office.

Tav swallowed nervously.

She recalled the gnome only had a small part in the gig, working as the handyman offering tools for the group. If the man responsible for tool handling looked like he had been sentenced for life, what would her door opening services get her?

The rope?

Tav felt a cold sweat rise to her neck and she gripped the edge of her stool until her knuckles turned white.

Perhaps she should have started being more honest with herself and admitted to having wandered to the wrong side of the law before someone else forced the truth upon her face like this.

The door cracked open again and Tav jumped to her feet, back stiff as a statue.

Magistrate Ancunín looked exactly what she had expected him to be and nothing like it at the same time.

Curly, silver locks swiped back from his face. One loose curl elegantly leaning over the right side of his forehead, as if by design, not accident. Pointy, pink tipped elf ears poking from under a tuft of more, unruly curls lining the side of his face. Two piercing gray eyes, glaring tiredly at her under stern eyebrows.

A handsome – No, beautiful – collection of features.

Tav felt a blush creep up her neck and cheeks, shocked at the surprisingly young looking magistrate’s beauty.

Magistrate Ancunín’s lips formed an unreadable, straight line, prominent laugh lines caging it on both sides of his face. He looked Tav up and down briefly. A wry, forced smile climbed upon his lips, bringing his laugh lines more into view.

“You’re late.” He stated coldly.

Tav’s eyes widened and whatever brief attraction she had for the man evaporated. She wanted to retort back and correct him, but bit her tongue instead.

“Inside.��� The magistrate ordered and waved an uninterested hand at her before returning inside his office.

Tav forced a smile on her lips, determined not to show her displeasure and in turn prod the clearly very impatient magistrate further. She followed suit and shut the door as she went, quickly making her way deeper into the office.

The room was spacious and surrounded by heavy, tall bookshelves housing heavy, tall books of law. Miscellaneous scrolls poked out here and there in between them both, with an occasional paper and envelope to accompany them.

The middle of the office was left empty, decorated by an ornamental red carpet, handmade and expensive by the looks of it. At the end of the room sat a heavy mahogany desk littered with documents, letters, an inkwell, quills and a lone, uneaten red apple of all things.

An odd, magically infused crystal lamp provided dim light to the otherwise dark room from the side. Heavy purple curtains covered any leaking light from the streetlamps outside behind the magistrate’s desk, clouding most of the back room in darkness.

Magistrate Ancunín sat behind his desk on his immaculate, leather chair. Head leaned against his bowed elbows and crossed fingers, hiding his mouth from view, gray eyes inspecting Tav keenly.

Tav stood in the middle of the dim room, waiting for further orders.

“Sit.” Magistrate Ancunín commanded.

Tav grabbed the vacant chair in front of the desk and took a seat, polite smile still forced on her lips.

“Do you know why you are here?”

Tav felt like retorting and asking the man the same back, still miffed by the unjustified ruling over her punctuality. He could as well be leaning on her to recite her misdemeanors to him instead of having had prepared accordingly. That, or maybe he was testing her. Or worse, enjoyed verbally tormenting her before slamming a merciless guilty verdict on her.

She smiled and tilted her head, stealing a glance at the side.

“I believe the exact wording was: For aiding in breaking and entering. Oh, and trespassing.”

“Correct.” The magistrate said and picked up the document in front of him and looked it over.

He flapped the paper down and gave Tav a sly side smirk.

“...In addition to suspicions of aiding in other similar activities, not limited to: Breaking and entering. Robbery. Theft. Smuggling. Fencing stolen property and evading law enforcement. Oh. And trespassing.” He added and leaned back on his chair.

Tav’s smile broke a little and a scowl threatened to take over. She willed her face to stay neutral.

“Ah, but the key lies in the wording itself, your honor; suspicions, not proof.”

Magistrate Ancunín’s gaze sparked with interest and he leaned over the desk again.

“Observant one, aren’t you? It must have been bad luck on your end for getting caught that night. Otherwise, I have an inkling you wouldn’t be gracing me with your presence here. In this late hour. In my humble office.”

Tav smiled and read the tired frustration seeping between the magistrate’s words and demeanor.

“Bad luck indeed. Must have been equally bad luck on your part to be stuck in my presence. In this late hour.Iin your humble office.” She repeated and placed a hand on the table, leaning in.

“I believe it’s all just an inconvenient, circumstantial little mishap. Not worth a full trial, certainly not big enough to steal more of your precious time, your honor.” Tav pleaded confidently.

Magistrate Ancunín grinned.

“And what would you suggest we do about this, inconvenient, little mishap stealing my precious time?”

Tav leaned in further, meeting the magistrate’s gaze head on.

“A slap on the wrist, as they say, and I will disappear. We’ll both be free to go home for the night.”

He laughed.

“I’m afraid that’s not how this works.”

Tav leaned against the backrest, her smile now fully gone, replaced by a sullen frown.

“You see, while I appreciate your suggestion to save my time and yours, I however, cannot overlook the fact that this would benefit you more than me.” He mused and grabbed a pencil.

“It’s been a long, hard day and as much as I would love to let you go with a slap on the wrist and go home for the night, I believe there is a serious threat of you repeat offending and being sent back here to steal even more of my highly valuable, highly limited time again. A throughout punishment is in order, I’d say. To make sure you don’t forget why you don’t want to return to my office.” Magistrate Ancunín fixed Tav a sadistic gaze.

It was like he was playing with his food, uninterested in eating it before it jumped up and down, flipped around, pranced and finally begged and pleaded how he liked, before he would even allow it to see his tongue – or declared he wasn’t hungry in the first place and left it to rot on his plate.

“Well?”

“Yes, your honor?”

“You aren’t going to counter my accusations? Plea to soften my verdict?”

“I haven’t heard you come to a clear verdict yet, sir.”

“Guilty. Now, what do you suppose would be a fitting punishment for your misdemeanors?” He arched a brow, tilting the pencil to start writing onto the document in front of him.

“The punishment should fit the crime I would assume. You tell me, your honor.”

“As you wish. I’ll just add in ‘arriving late’ and ‘refusal to cooperate’ to the list first…” The magistrate grabbed the pencil properly and pulled the document closer to himself.

“I wasn’t late.”

“Pardon?” His gaze snapped back to Tav.

“I wasn’t late. I was here before you were finished with your latest customer. I knocked on the door, didn’t hear and answer and sat down to wait, as instructed on the letter.” She pulled out the summons letter and placed it on the desk.

Magistrate Ancunín didn’t even glance at the letter she offered.

“Are you implying I am a liar?”

“Not implying sir, accusing would be the correct term.”

The magistrate sat back on his chair, eyes wide and wild.

“You’re accusing me of being a liar?”

“Yes, your honor. I think we both know you are.”

“Interesting.” He tilted his head.

“… And what will you do with this bold accusation of yours? Convince someone of my wicked ways? Put me on trial?”

“Well I-”

Tav knew this wasn’t a good idea. Even if she knew the magistrate was full of lies, she didn’t have a proper leg to stand on against him. He would just push her down with his superior power and influence, as all great men tended to do to those they perceived to be standing beneath them.

“… Forgive me. I think I spoke out of line, sir.”

“That’s more like it. I’ll correct my notes to read ‘complicit and cooperative’ instead.”

Tav remained silent.

“Now. Back to your punishment. What do you think I should do with you?”

“I don’t suppose letting me just go is an option?”

The magistrate chuckled.

“Persistent, aren’t you?” He sounded almost amused.

“If it’s the verdict you come to, it would be the truth. After all, you aren’t a liar, sir.”

Magistrate Ancunín fixed Tav an intense kind of stare. She stared equally as intensively back. He resumed playing with his pencil before setting it neatly on his desk. He crossed his fingers and leaned comfortably over the desk.

“You would be absolutely correct about that. Alas, the problem lies not in what the truth will be, but what you have on offer for me to enforce said truth.”

Tav perked up slightly. She had gotten lucky after all. Magistrate Ancunín might have been an asshole and a liar, but one of these traits would benefit her if she just knew the right cards to play.

“You don’t suppose some good old gold would settle all this?” She offered.

“Mmh. I doubt whatever amount it is you’re thinking is enough to make up for this.”

“How about community service then?”

“What kind of community service?”

Tav shrugged and peeked around the office.

“You need something opened very late at night, perhaps something small delivered some place without detection…” Tav listed nonchalantly.

“Anything else?”

She returned her gaze to him. He looked slightly interested and more at ease, almost relaxed, if it wasn’t for the ever present frown on his brows. The man looked tired still, exhausted even. He was definitely overworked and hadn’t had a proper break in awhile. He was stressed, tense, like a piano string wrung up too tightly, ready to snap at any moment.

“A massage…?”

“A massage?” The magistrate repeated in surprise.

“Forgive me if I am mistaken, but you look rather... tense, sir.”

“You aren’t mistaken on that part.” He admitted with a raised brow.

“Would you allow me to relieve some of that tension, your honor?” Tav asked sweetly.

“Ever so polite, aren’t you, darling?” Magistrate Ancunín said with a smile.

The petname caught Tav by surprise and she felt a blush rush to her cheeks. She blinked and forced a smile.

“Always, sir.”

“Why not? I suppose it couldn’t do any harm.”

Magistrate Ancunín stood up from his chair and gestured for Tav to stand up with him. She did as commanded and circled the desk to where he was. The magistrate moved his chair to the side to give them free roam near his desk.

He was over a head taller than Tav. His body was slim and his shoulders looked much broader in contrast thanks to it. The air around him gave off an atmosphere of patient authority, something one would expect from a man working in such a high position.

He wore a frill collared jacket made of the finest light blue silks. Silver threaded peonies adorned the front of it. Trails of ornamental threads ran along the cuts of the fabric, every piece carefully tailored to fit his shape.

His legs were covered by similarly colored straight trousers. Plain and uninteresting compared to his jacket that screamed wealth and dignity. His shiny leather shoes provided a dark contrast to the rest of his outfit, having a grounding effect to his looks.

A striking difference to what Tav was wearing. What she had on currently, were some of her more nicer clothes. It was like setting a polished sapphire and a nice, water smoothed stone next to one another. It clearly paid well to be a professional liar in the right place.

Tav settled behind him and the magistrate watched her each move from the edge of his vision. She reached her hands and gripped over the magistrate’s shoulders, starting to rub the firm, tense muscles there in circles.

“Mmmh.” Magistrate Ancunín hummed in pleasure.

“Is that good sir?”

“Very good, darling.”

Tav smiled at the praise and kept going. She worked the top of his shoulders, sometimes dipping over towards his collarbones, to the sides of his biceps and down his back, closer to his shoulder blades.

Even through his fine layers of clothes it was evident to Tav that this man was in excellent shape despite his lanky proportions. He started to noticeably relax the more she massaged him.

“...What else did you have on offer?”

Tav thought through the question as she continued to work on the magistrate’s stiff shoulders. She let her hands wander down along his arms a little.

“Perhaps I could ease the tension on some other parts of your body?” She offered.

The magistrate peeked over his shoulder before fully turning towards her. Tav removed her hands. The magistrate had an inquisitive brow lifted.

“Such as…?”

Tav felt a nervous sting in her stomach. She realized the accidentally loaded implications of her words and let her gaze fall to the man’s chest.

“Your pecks- I mean back, sir.”

He chuckled.

“Aren’t you just adorable?”

Tav froze as a violent rush of heat flooded to her face. Magistrate Ancunín looked proud of himself and searched through her eyes, considering.

“It would be more efficient if I were to undress slightly, wouldn’t it?”

“Eh?”

Magistrate Ancunín smirked deviously and pulled his frilly collar loose and unbuttoned the top layer of his tailored coat. Tav followed his hands with her gaze and felt her heartbeat increase the more buttons popped open.

He pulled his coat off and settled it over the back of his chair, then started on his long sleeved undershirt.

Tav wanted to speak up and tell him it was enough, but she couldn’t. Something in her urged to remain silent and let the events unravel before her as they did. Soon, magistrate Ancunín stood before her shirtless, his well defined pecks and abdomen in full view.

Tav gawked at his perfect skin, her fingertips itching to reach and touch him. She looked him up and down, admiring his figure. The smile on magistrate Ancunín’s lips told her everything she had to know.

“Well, you aren’t just going to stand and gawk there?”

Tav blinked in an attempt to get her wits back, but the sight of magistrate Ancunín’s naked torso had chased most of them away, possibly permanently.

“Oh, of course sir.” Tav moved to stand behind him again.

The magistrate turned with her, staying face to face.

“Ah ah, not my back. You said pecks first, didn’t you?”

Tav froze and her eyes widened. Her gaze dropped at the half naked man’s muscular pecks and remained there.

“Yes. My mistake, sir.” She said half out of breath.

“You are absolved.”

Tav reached to touch magistrate Ancunín’s pecks and began massaging them in circular motions. She tried to keep her breathing calm despite her body’s increased need for more air. She faked appearing confident and stole glances up at the magistrate’s face every now and then, finding his eyes transfixed onto hers each time.

“You’re doing excellent, little pet.”

Tav couldn’t force down the smile and an accidental giggle escaped her. She tried to hide it with a loud clearing of her throat, but the magistrate had noticed it.

“Enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

“Ih… forgive me sir, I didn’t mean…”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head at her.

“We can’t have that, now can we? You are to be punished for your crimes, not rewarded for them. Although… if you behave, I suppose a little reward is in order…”

“A reward, sir?” Tav’s voice pitched from excitement.

“Punishment first, pet.” He nodded.

Tav locked eyes with him and nodded with him. He peeked down her body, then leaned close to her face.

“Strip.”

Tav’s eyes widened and she looked herself over. She studied the look on magistrate Ancunín’s eyes and determined he was serious.

“And… if I don’t?”

“Is this not what you want…?” He countered and lolled his head to the side curiously.

Tav felt heat surge to her loins. A pressure formed inside her lower abdomen and she was suddenly aware of the growing slickness between her legs. She sucked on her lips and nodded.

“Yes. Yes it is… your honor.”

“I thought so.” He smiled and snapped his fingers.

“Now, strip.”

Tav bit her lower lip and stepped back, removed her jacket and dropped it on the floor. She began to unbutton her undershirt while magistrate Ancunín watched her with a smirk.

She struggled to hop out of her shoes and trousers, somewhat clumsily ridding herself of her clothes all at once. Soon, she stood before magistrate Ancunín in her underwear.

He gave her a questioning look.

“Naked.” He said.

The breath in Tav’s lungs halted and she nodded, slid the straps of her bras off her shoulders and reached behind to unbuckle them without question, setting her breasts free. Her nipples hardened against the cool air of the office.

She discarded her bra on top of the pile of her other clothes and pulled down her panties, letting them drop down to her ankles. Panting, she stepped out of them, feeling hot slickness rub along her inner thighs.

Magistrate Ancunín grinned and stepped forth.

“Why are you here?” He asked, slowly circling around her.

The repeat question caught Tav off guard.

“Because of my crimes, sir?”

“Because you’re a bad girl, no?”

“I’m…”

The situation she was in started to catch up to her. Tav realized she was inside the top floor of the court house, alone with a shirtless magistrate, naked. Like a scene straight from some cheap smut chapbook circled around Amn. This wasn’t how she expected things to go or how she would negotiate herself off trouble, but didn’t really mind how things looked for her currently.

“B-because I’m a bad girl… magistrate sir.” She panted with a smile, playing along.

“Bad girls need to be punished accordingly before they can become good girls. You want to be a good girl, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Yes who?”

“Yes, magistrate Ancunín!”

“Good girl.”

Tav felt herself grow wetter over the praise and gnawed on her bottom lip harder. She watched as magistrate Ancunín stopped in front of her, his gray eyes dark. She focused on the way he slowly wet his lips before speaking up again.

“I couldn’t help but notice what a beautiful mouth you have, darling. Not only is your tongue clever with words, I’m sure you can put it to good use on other matters.” He alluded.

Tav nodded, stealing a glance down his front. He extended an arm and curled most of his fingers up into a fist, pointing down at the floor with his index finger.

“On your knees darling.”

Tav’s mouth gaped slightly and she obeyed wordlessly. She got on her knees and looked up at the magistrate as he approached. He unbuckled his belt. Tav ogled as he pulled the belt off and tossed it over the arm rest of his chair. Her eyes flickered down to the man’s crotch and the way his long, deft fingers unbuttoned his trousers.

Unsurprisingly, his underwear seemed to be as fine and expensive as the rest of his clothes, fitting the rest of his getup seamlessly. A man of style and principle. The blue and silver threads of his undergarments were stretched at the front, strained by the growing weight of his half erect cock underneath.

Tav let out a tiny whimper when magistrate Ancunín pulled out his heated flesh. The lean shaft of his cock was as pale as the rest of him and deliciously flushed closer to the tip. The word ‘elegant’ described it perfectly. His trousers folded below his ankles and he stepped out of them while adjusting his underwear lower.

“Lips apart, darling.”

Eyes adoringly fixated on the magistrate’s cock, Tav parted her lips as commanded.

“Lick.” Came the order.

Tav wiggled closer on her knees and leaned in, mouth open, tongue extended, hearing her pulse drum in her ears. She slithered the flat of her tongue from the underside of the magistrate’s engorged dick to its swollen tip with a sigh.

She repeated the action and peeked up momentarily to see the approving smirk on magistrate Ancunín’s face.

“That’s a good pet.” He praised and Tav felt something akin to butterflies flutter inside her chest.

Eager to hear more, she continued her ministrations and started to lap all over the magistrate’s cock. She began properly from the base, continued up the underside of his shaft, twirling around his cockhead and went back down to its base around the sides, then repeated the motions like a ritual.

Magistrate Ancunín’s breathing was starting to grow heftier, as was his hardened length. His erection reached it’s peak as Tav kept lavishing his member with the slick attention of her tongue, her own loins already soaking wet at this point.

A droplet of precum formed at the tip of magistrate Ancunín’s dick and Tav pulled back briefly to admire it.

“Suck.” Came the one word order from the slightly hoarse voice of the magistrate above.

Tav huffed hot air over the glistening wet tip and opened wide, let the cocktip slip between her lips and gave it a gentle suck.

Magistrate Ancunín tensed and let out a muffled growl. One of his hands found its way among Tav’s hair and grabbed a hold, before starting to pet through her soft locks gently, encouragingly.

Tav closed her eyes and swallowed more of the length in front of her, minding her teeth and carefully applying pressure with her lips and tongue. She began to bob her head back and forth slowly, listening to the tiny grunts of approval elicited by magistrate Ancunín above her.

She had experience sucking up to authority, but this was a new form of doing so entirely. Despite the clear, outrageous imbalance of power between them, she found herself feeling safe and pleased by the situation she was in – trouble like this was what she enjoyed finding herself in the most.

She felt oddly powerful down on her knees in front of him. The thought of being able to render a man of such high status as magistrate Ancunín into a whimpering mess just with her mouth excited her further.

The wet heat between her legs demanded attention and one of her hands slipped to soothe her aching clit. She got so lost among the pleasure of sucking the magistrate off while touching herself that she lost the rhythm of her mouth more than once.

A snap of fingers brought her out of her zone.

“What do you think you’re doing down there? Both hands where I can see them. Now.”

Tav furrowed her brows and huffed with her mouth stuffed with dick and removed the hand attending to her own growing need. She placed both of her hands up against the magistrate’s thighs and focused back on sucking him off.

“Eyes on me, darling.” Came the call from above.

Tav’s gaze snapped up and above, meeting magistrate Ancunín’s pleased gaze and self-satisfied grin. His gray eyes looked down upon her with a glint of sadistic joy, the thrill of having power over someone.

“You’re being such a good girl. Keep going.”

Tav couldn’t help the smile that wrung to the edges of her lips and blinked a couple times, slowly starting back up again. Her gaze ate in the way the magistrate above her shivered and twitched each time she pushed his length down as far as she could muster, feeling the hot flesh throb against her own.

Her fingers dug against the soft skin of magistrate Ancunín’s thighs, both in search of support and to heed the earlier command to keep her hands in his sight. The man above her shut his eyes, lost in his own pleasure, his surveillance of her growing lazy. She could easily slide one of her hands off his legs and he wouldn’t notice it returning between her legs.

Yet the new need to obey and be recognized as ‘a good girl’ somehow overpowered Tav’s natural urge to disobey – for now.

Magistrate Ancunín whimpered above Tav and held onto her head, gesturing for her to stop. She could tell he was close, having felt his flesh tremble and his balls constricting in anticipation of his release. He pulled back and shot Tav with a mirthful glance.

“On your feet.”

Tav swallowed the excess spit still in her mouth and licked her lips. She got up on her wobbly feet, knees feeling slightly achy from supporting her against the office’s hard plank flooring. A trail of hot wetness trickled down between her legs as she did.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” The magistrate raised a brow.

Tav met his strong gaze and nodded sheepishly, lips still wet and gleaming.

“Bad girl.”

He raised his hand once again and gestured for her to turn around. Tav spun on her heels and found herself facing the magistrate’s work desk. Magistrate Ancunín reached past her and swiped the documents and items crowding the center of the desk to the sides, clearing empty space in the middle.

Tav stared at the shiny dark surface of the mahogany desk and was sure if it was polished a hint further, she could see the wild arousal burning behind her eyes reflected from it.

“Bend over it.” Magistrate Ancunín ordered.

Tav closed the gap between her and the desk, then laid her hands over its gleaming smooth surface to test it. She bent her upper body over it until the base of her legs stopped her from going any further along it. She felt a firm grip take a hold of the back of her head and gently force her face down against the table. Her chest and perk nipples squashed against the table’s cool surface. She sighed from the contact.

She felt another hand trail up her spine sensually, the magistrate’s surprisingly calloused palm feeling up the arch of her back and the dip between her shoulder blades.

A cool, leather shoe tapped below on the insides of her bare ankles, ushering them apart. With the domineering hand laid over her neck keeping her head in place, Tav felt cornered enough for the will to disobey rise back up again. She kept her feet where they were.

“No?” Asked the magistrate curiously.

Tav breathed against the hard desk, glancing back at the magistrate standing at the edges of her vision. She heard the floor creak lightly as he stepped closer and felt the heat of his flushed skin hover near hers.

“Don’t you want to be a good girl for me?” The magistrate asked softly, petting her hair.

Tav shook her head as best as she could and smirked disobediently.

Magistrate Ancunín tutted at her and she could barely make out the way he shook his head in disapproval. The hand at the back of her neck tightened its grip and pressed her face harder against the desk.

She whimpered.

“Quiet.”

She stilled and listened.

“Maybe I need to remind you why you should behave?”

Tav swallowed heavily and waited. She felt deft fingers slide between her thighs and brush over her wet folds to her neglected clit. Her hips shivered at the contact and her lungs let out a gasp. The fingers kept rubbing at her ache and the heat at her center wound up tighter. She let out a pleased moan.

“You like that, don’t you?”

The magistrate’s clever fingers glided over her wet folds next, teasing around her hot entrance. Tav shivered at the growing feeling of emptiness around her yearning flesh. The fingers poked at the twitching entrance leading to her leaking canal, never breaching in deeper than that. Tav huffed out of frustration.

“Beg for it.”

Magistrate Ancunín’s touch froze near her entrance and Tav bit her lower lip in excited silence. She relaxed her lower back and parted her legs, sighing deeply before peeking back at the magistrate.

“Please, magistrate Ancunín?”

“Please what?”

“Please… feel up my cunt with your fingers, sir?”

“Hm. Better.”

Tav hummed as a warm digit slid up to the knuckle within her wetness and curled.

“A-ahh…!” She jerked at the sudden stimulus.

The magistrate kept rubbing at the roof of her depths, clearly aware of the sweetspot lingering around there. Tav’s legs shook with every jolt of pleasure, her hips starting to rock against the invading pressure.

“Hold still.”

Tav halted on her tracks, her breathing shallow and laboured. The finger inside of her pressed up against the ache and she struggled not to move.

“I’m certain you’re aware it could be something entirely different easing all this tension within you, yes?”

“Yes, magistrate Ancunín, I am aware.”

With a chuckle the magistrate rubbed his hard cock along her inner thigh and outer folds for emphasis. The finger inside of her curled again, applying more relieving pressure against her lustful ache. Tav sucked in her lips to keep her voice in.

“Ask for forgiveness and I might consider giving you more relief than just my finger.”

He rubbed his finger against her inner walls a couple more times before pulling out entirely. Tav whined as she felt the emptiness around her, the need throbbing inside of her, craving to be filled.

“Please forgive me, magistrate sir. I’ve… been such a bad girl and I must be punished.”

“As you wish, my sweet. Punished you shall be.”

Tav felt the comforting heat of magistrate Ancunín step away from her. He settled out of her view, but kept the hand over her neck firmly in place. Tav waited, listening to him rummage around his shelves.

Suddenly, an hourglass was placed in front of her face. The sand was all piled at the bottom and the magistrate’s fingers tilted it to show it off to her.

“This hourglass will be the length your punishment will last. You can endure until the last strand of sand has fallen, can’t you darling?”

The hourglass seemed relatively small and would last a minute, maximum of three, or more. Tav had no idea how long it would actually take, most definitely a calculated move on magistrate Ancunín’s part. Another devilish way to amp up her discomfort in addition to the sweet torture he was about to inflict upon her.

Tav bent the arm next to her face to see the item better and tried to look where magistrate Ancunín was.

“But you must not make a sound, otherwise I will tip the hourglass over again until you remain completely silent, understood? This is a punishment, after all. Knock on the desk once if you understand.”

Tav clenched her fingers into a fist and knocked on the desk once.

“Good. Now, as to not sully our fun little punishment game, knock repeatedly against the desk if it becomes too much to bear and I will stop. If you stop however, there will be no reward for you, unfortunately. Only good, obedient girls get rewarded. Knock once if you understand.”

Tave knocked once.

“Excellent. Now, lets play.” The magistrate said with a notable thrill in his voice.

Tav took a deep inhale and braced herself for what was to come. The hourglass in front of her was flipped and the sand began to drain.

A sharp smack hit her left buttock. She jolted from surprise. Another slap hit her right buttock and left it tingling the same way her left side did.

She knocked repeatedly against the desk before the third strike could land. The magistrate halted and leaned over her to peek at her face. Tav gave him a coy little smile.

“Sweetheart, are you testing me?” Magistrate Ancunín’s voice sounded playfully shocked.

Tav knocked once.

He chuckled delightfully.

“Do you want me to stop altogether or was this just a test? Knock once to stop, twice to continue.”

Tav watched as the sand in front of her in the hourglass kept draining. She knocked twice.

“Very well then, but ah, would you look at that. I left the hourglass running. Interrupting me like that will extend your punishment, I’m afraid.”

The magistrate resumed spanking Tav with his bare hand, lavishing both of her ass cheeks with plenty of attention. Tav managed to keep quiet through it all, feeling her ass start to tingle and warm up from the repeated strikes against it. The vibrations from each strike traveled to her folds and clit, granting her a teasingly small amount of stimulus that only served to increase the want in her.

The sand drained to the end and magistrate Ancunín paused to tip the hourglass over.

Each slap echoed inside the otherwise silent office of the magistrate as he continued on. He alternated between light and hard strikes, randomly switching between each ass cheek every now and then, pausing at times to create anticipation and hoping to catch Tav off guard.

The pain ebbing on Tav’s behind was starting to sting and she bit down on her lower lip to keep herself from whimpering. She panted hard against the wooden desk, her moist breath misting its gleaming surface. Eyes focused on the slowly draining hourglass in front of her, mustering herself to keep quiet.

Tav began to sweat from the heat of the situation, small droplets trickling down her back and sides in tandem to the heavy trickles of wetness seeping down between her thighs, smearing the hard wooden floor below.

She wanted to disobey so badly, but felt the pain on her backside starting to turn uncomfortably numb with each new spank. She licked her lips, glaring at the hourglass to drain faster, eager to taste the reward for enduring her punishment so well.

Then the final strand of sand fell and the spanking halted. She let out a loud hum of exhaustion, feeling her neglected cunt throb in need.

The hand over her neck was removed and she raised her head to peek over her shoulder.

“That’s a good girl. You endured so well despite the interruption at the start.”

Tav flashed a brief smile.

“Now then, as promised. Good girl’s get rewarded for their efforts.” Magistrate Ancunín said and moved to stand behind Tav.

His still erect cock slid under Tav’s swollen cunt and his hips pressed flush against her aching behind. She hissed at the contact.

“Shhhh… I’ll make it better soon. Now, what do we say when we want something?”

Magistrate Ancunín began to rub her aching ass cheeks with both hands while waiting for her reply.

“Please, sir?”

“Please what, my dear?”

“Your cock, sir. I need your cock inside of me, please?”

“Good girl.”

He pulled away and nudged the head of his cock at Tav’s leaking entrance. He grabbed her hips and pushed in with little effort. Tav moaned wantonly and moved to accommodate him further. The magistrate sighed with pleasure and his grip on her hips tightened as he bottomed out. Tav felt his hot breath against her neck as he bent over her back.

“Oh, you sweet thing. So wet for me.” He panted and began to rock against her softly.

Tav gasped and wiggled under him, her knees shaking from their continuous efforts to stay afoot, backside still tender from the punishment.

“Mmhh… Hold still.” His hand snuck into Tav’s hair and yanked her head back.

Tav whimpered and stilled as best as she could. The magistrate continued to pound into her in languid motions, slow and relaxed, his cock hot and rigid inside Tav’s needy cunt. His grip on her hair kept her head bent back.

She bit her lower lip and enjoyed the way the magistrate’s cock filled her, relieving the heated tension building inside of her. Her wet folds wrapped around him, tightening whenever he pulled out, relaxing as he pushed in, welcoming him back into her depths, begging him not to leave.

She felt the coil in her lower abdomen tighten and felt her release getting closer. Her breathing grew heavy and erratic. Her sweaty fingers grasped at the desk underneath it desperately, her head bent back by magistrate Ancunín’s hand pulling on her hair.

“M-magistrate… Ancunín…!” She whimpered breathlessly.

A broken yelp left her when the magistrate pulled out of her unprompted. His hand released her hair. She shivered and turned to look behind her.

“Turn over.” The magistrate panted.

Tav blinked and pushed herself up from the desk with some effort. She flipped over and magistrate Ancunín helped her lay down on her back on top of the desk. He grabbed her knees and spread her legs, aligning himself between them and pushed back inside her with a loud groan before crashing their lips together.

He licked at her upper lip and wasted no time pushing his tongue between her teeth and intertwined it with hers. She kissed him back with the same fervor, both of their moans muffled by each other’s hungry mouths.

Tav blinked at him through the kiss and watched as his face softened with pleasure. The tense frown was gone, replaced by a pleased furrow instead. He broke off and a broken string of spit fell onto Tav’s breasts. Magistrate Ancunín grinned as he gripped Tav’s sides and fucked into her harder.

“You were so obediently quiet before. I want to hear you scream in turn.” He panted and smirked wickedly.

He slammed his hips into Tav and her eyes rolled back in reaction to the mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Ahhh!” She moaned.

“Louder, darling. Nobody except me can hear you inside these walls.”

He slammed into her again.

“AhhHHHnh!”

“Louder.”

“AHHHHH MAGISTRATE ANCUNÍN!!!” Tav shouted blissfully.

“You’re so pretty when you say my name…”

Tav’s face contorted and her whole body shivered.

“M-magistrate… Ancun… ín… I’m going to… going to…!”

“You’ll cum when I say you can, darling.”

Tav heaved in blissful frustration, her back arching off the desk, ass tender, legs shaking against the magistrate’s sides as she fought against her approaching orgasm. The magistrate slowed down to help her come down, his own body jerking every now and then to chase his own building release.

He stopped still and lifted his hands to play with Tav’s chest. He cupped both of her tits and massaged them, rubbing her perk nipples with his thumbs. She moaned and clawed around his desk for something to grab hold of. The magistrate chuckled.

“Why are you here?”

Tav whined and struggled for words.

“B-because I’m a… a bad girl, your honor…!”

The magistrate pinched her nipples and pulled on them while sliding out of her painfully slow.

“Do you want to be a bad girl?” He questioned and rubbed Tav’s nipples sensually.

Her head thrashed from one side to the other.

“N-no… sir!” She whined, her legs trying to wrap around his waist and pull him back inside of her.

“I-I… I want to be a good girl!” Tav added and pleaded at the magistrate with her eyes, nodding frantically.

She was so agonizingly close. Her abdomen was beginning to hurt from the unfulfilled need. She felt her eyes grow moist from the tears that welled in them.

Magistrate Ancunín gave her a warm smile and gave her nipples one final pinch before releasing them. Tav sighed from the loss of contact, her chest now tingling the same way her ass was.

“You promise to remain a good girl after you leave my office?”

Tav nodded.

“Yes! Yes, I promise magistrate Ancunín sir!” She panted enthusiastically.

“Good girl.” He grinned and slammed back into her.

Tav screamed and threw her head back, letting her voice out in long, broken moans and whimpers as the magistrate began to fuck her in earnest. Her wet walls relaxed to let him in, allowing his length deeper inside.

“P-please… Magistrate Ancunín! Please let me cum!!” She pleaded weakly.

“Not yet, darling. You can hold off a little longer.”

Tav whined and nodded.

Magistrate Ancunín’s own voice broke out and he whined in rhythm to his hips. He hissed and bit his lip, his punishing pace losing focus.

Tav writhed under him, her wet folds pulsing from her barely held back release. She groaned almost painfully, tears breaking free from the corners of her eyes.

“Now darling, cum for me!” He commanded and Tav’s pleasure exploded beneath him.

She screamed his name from the bottom of her lungs and arched her back, her needy cunt milking his throbbing length. Magistrate Ancunín followed soon after, losing himself in her and let go with a husky little whimper. His whole body shook against Tav as his hips rocked into her, jerking the last of his pent up need into her.

He stilled and gasped for air, trickles of sweat now streaming down his face and chest. Tav panted under him, her eyes shut tight as the aftershocks of her orgasm still shook through her nerves. The magistrate pushed himself up, pulled away and stepped back shakily before slumping onto his leather chair.

Tav’s legs felt like uncontained liquid and as soon as they had nothing to support them, fell open and dangled over the firm mahogany desk she was laid on top of.

The office was filled with nothing but their heavy breathing for a good while before an oddly comforting silence took its place. Tav blinked up at the ceiling above, her heartbeat and breathing now calm and steady.

She finally came to enough to push herself up to sit on her still aching ass. She found magistrate Ancunín leaning on an elbow, seated comfortably on his leather chair, legs crossed, his underwear pulled back up and trousers firmly buttoned up again.

His chest was still rising and lowering noticeably heavy, his brows gleaming with sweat.

“I think this concludes your trial. I deem you free to go with a warning. This time.”

Tav managed a weak smile and inched herself off the desk. Her knees felt wobbly, her buttocks ached, and her nipples were swollen, but the pleasant heat now thrumming at her core made everything feel better. She was free to go and more than that, exhilarated by the success of their negotiations.

The magistrate allowed her a moment more of his time to clean up before exiting his office for the night.

On her way down the hall and the near infinite amount of stairs, Tav thought back on her little gigs at the edges of law and was glad to have trailed off to the wrong side of the law for once.

Feeling the combined fluids of their heated negotiations slick the insides of her underwear, she itched to be bad again, in hopes of finding herself back within magistrate Ancunín’s office to be reminded how to be a good girl once more.

[docilefleur]

ok…..i literally NEVER post on here i just lurk but i am desperate. astarion fic writers pls make a magistrate!astarion fic where him & reader are together (dating, engaged, married however u wanna do it) before he gets attacked & turned by cazador and then him and reader reunite after however long and its just a big sappy mess i am BEGGING

[kittenintheden]

magistrate switch bitch fic coming soon. soon.

in the meantime, a snack.

[comatosebunny09]

*gently takes your hand, leading you to a bench.*

Come sit with me, my friend. I’ve something to discuss.

Magistrate!Astarion, on his way to a ruling one morning, gets hung up by a pickpocket who swipes his pocket watch.

He chases down the crafty thief on some parkour-type stuff, jumping over carts, running through markets and chicken coops, etc. It’s uncommon for nobles to engage in such things, so for the first time in a long time, he’s enjoying himself.

Eventually, Astarion catches up with the pickpocket, a triumphant smile on his face as he holds their offending wrist with his watch in their hand. A crowd starts to gather as people begin to realize, Hey! That’s a magistrate! What in the hells is he doing?

Astarion, suddenly self-aware, loses his grip on the thief, and they slip away with a roguish smile, waving his pocket watch in a manner that suggests they’ve won. He doesn’t bother chasing them, shrugging it off as a loss.

Fast-forward to later that afternoon.

Astarion has a date with someone his parents set him up with—honestly, he sees no need in courting anyone. But his parents insist that, as their only son, he must continue the Ancunín bloodline. So he humors them if only to shut them up.

He’s led into some nobleman’s home to meet with his date by the maids. He’s shocked to see a familiar face when he enters through the doors of the parlor. This time, the face isn’t partially shrouded by a hood and grime. And they look a hell of a lot more prim and proper here than they did on the street.

The pair play nice with each other in front of their parents, throwing little jabs at each other under the pretense of flirting. Eventually, the pair of them are left alone to get better acquainted. That’s when Astarion makes his move, darting towards the person he’s to court, snatching up their wrist, a snarl on his face.

“My watch,” he quietly seethes. “Give it back!”

His potential mate, revealed to be Tav, laughs impishly in his face, trying vainly to snatch back their hand. “Like you haven’t the money to buy another, Magistrate.”

“It’s an heirloom! A gift from my grandfather!”

“Ha! You don’t strike me as the sentimental type.”

“And you don’t strike me as a grubby little street urchin who steals for fun! Yet, here we are.”

Cue the pair of them glaring daggers at each other, neither willing to yield to the other.

Slowly, it dawns on them that this is has the makings of a beautiful rivalry friendship.

[savs-sims98]

Rogues In The Library

Premise: Astarion takes Sylvannah back to the place where he used to work as a magistrate. She wants to explore the library; he has other ideas.♡ˎˊ˗

Astarion X OC 

| 18+, Mentions of breeding kink, fluff, smut, sex at work, Magistrate Astarion | 

It was night in Baldur's Gate. The shops had closed and there were no longer crowds of people in the streets. Astarion walked at a brisk pace holding Sylvannah's hand tight. He had asked her to go somewhere for the night. Astarion always had this way of convincing her to explore, even when she only wanted to crash on her bedroll next to him.

Once he had stopped she could see they arrived at an abandoned building on the city's outskirts. It was large and grand; even though it had not been maintained in many years. She looked at Astarion and he seemed to be reminiscing on old memories.

This must have been the courthouse he worked at all those years ago.

"Astarion, is this where you worked when you were a magistrate?" she asked looking at him with all her attention.

Sylvannah watched as he silently bent down and retrieved a lockpick. He unlocked it in a flash his movements quick as a cat. As the lock clicked he turned the knob and opened the door. Astarion placed a gentle hand on her back leading her into the building.

"Yes darling, this is where I spent many hours doing stacks of boring paperwork." he laughed as he twirled around the foyer.

He moved swiftly taking in the scene before him. The building had a thick layer of dust coating the desks and light fixtures. It was still a sight to behold. The building was white with an intricate ceiling design. All the windows were beautiful stained glass. As he stopped he stood to look at his love. Sylvannah had made her way to the library section of the building.

She walked around the library looking at the book ends. Her hand trailed along the books kicking up a plume of dust. A blue ray of moonlight was caressing the library and Astarion thought she looked astonishing as it kissed her skin. She had always told him he looked good in blue. Now Astarion thought she would look good in a busty blue blouse. Sylvannah continued to walk around reading out loud to herself. He watched her lips as they hung open taking a closer look at one of the books. His eyes wandered down to her hips, exposed on each side. The slits of her dress came up high and he could see the straps of her red thong. The front of her dress was open as well. Astarion could feel himself growing harder at the sight of her breasts. Gravity worked nicely as she leaned in to inspect a book further.

Astarion came up behind Sylvannah and placed each hand on her ass. Rubbing softly his hands made their way to her hips. He grabbed hold of her hips and pressed her ass on his cock with a bounce. His dick flexed against her ass and she moaned for him. Her voice sounded sweet like honey and it made him feral. He was going to take her right here. Astarion could feel her heat through both their clothes. He turned her around spinning her to face him. Then he knelt down in front of her gripping each red strap of her thong. Pulling down he could see they had been completely soaked through.

Sylvannah stood as he shot back up. He kissed her and as he did so he freed his cock from his pants. Next, He moved to place his hips flush against hers and lifted her left knee up taking the middle section of her dress. Now her wet cunt was exposed and Astarion gently guided all of his length into her.

"Very good Sylvannah. You take this dick so well. Let me reward you for a hard day of work." he growled into her ear biting her neck and drinking deeply. Astarion whined into the crook of her neck and circled his dick against her clit.

She lifted her other leg and grabbed hold of his body and he started thrusting. Sylvannah moaned and yelled as he fucked her hard. She looked up at the ceiling breathing and pacing herself. She could feel herself squirt a little. Sylvannah worked to angle herself so Astarion could get even deeper inside her heat. Her pussy became slack and she could feel her come flood out and crash down onto the floor.

She grabbed hold of his white curls her voice echoed as she called out. "Please, don't stop! I do not know how you do it, but I think I'm going to come again."

Her head leaned back and Astarion gripped the bookshelf tightly as he listened to her sing. She could feel his cock start to pulse and flex. Sylvannah started placing kisses on his face. His mouth was open and she could see her blood still coated his fangs. His brow was furrowed and he started to moan deeply. He was close and so was she.

"Come with me, my love. I need to feel you come Astarion." Sylvannah begged barely able to speak through waves of her approaching orgasm.

Astarion started coming. Holding onto her tightly grunting and bucking. He was so sensitive and as she kissed his ear lightly he felt her body tremble. Sylvannah's moans became high-pitched as she started squirting all over his dick. It was so much he was soaked in her essence. Astarion kept thrusting and he could hear her pussy break like a damn. Her cunt was so tight still and he knew he was going to come again.

"Oh, I'm going to put a baby in you." Astarion said from deep within himself as he removed his hands from the bookshelf.

As he came inside her for the last time grabbing hold of her ass Sylvannah's legs spread open wider. He made sure she took every drop of him. Although she would not be pregnant this time. He'd make love to her deeply every time. To be so close to the woman he loved was incredible. As she came down from her high Astarion held onto her helping to guide her legs back down to the ground.

Sylvannah took a moment to collect herself. Then reached out to kiss him again. Astarion reached down placing two fingers into her wet folds. He picked her up as her legs became weak and brought her over to a desk. Then he began to fuck her again on the desk slowly and tenderly.

He whispered gently into his love's ear; all the things they would do with their lives. How he would love her like this for eternity. A cottage in the Underdark, a baby, whatever her heart desired. He would give it to her. He had more than a dead-end job. Astarion had found his soul mate and someone who loved every piece of him. This was his life now and he was ready for all to come.

[cryptidcryptic]

I like to think of AA as a kinda of pampered cat that’s just got the ultimate home 🥹 he has a lot of things he wants! but dammit it this pillow is so soft and his consort is so pretty placed in his lap…he’ll focus on world domination later after he indulges a little more in this delicious feast before him.

They had eternity after all, Why not gorge himself on his darling dark consort? If he doesn’t want to go to a meeting he simply won’t.

Dark consort waking up from a wonderful nap in his arms to Astarion, their crimson king, reading a book as they lounged in their den of plush pillows and high class wines.

“Mhhh, didn’t you have a meeting you had to go to?”

AA, with that half smirk of his: I don’t have to do anything, my sweet.

Tav/durge: you’ll loose buissiness that way

AA: dear, who do you know, in this city that could afford to turn down business with me?

Tav/durge: Jaheira.

AA, already pouting: ugh, don’t mention the geriatric so early in the morning, you’ll ruin my appetite.

[qserasera]

title: Remontoire pairing: magistrate astarion/tav, astarion/original female character, past!vampire ascendant astarion/tav rating: M chapter: 1/??? warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of past unhealthy relationship, other warnings in author's notes later on

summary: All the thoughts Astarion had been cataloguing before about the strange visitor go still.

His fingers reach out, lifting the pendant closer to his eye.

Silver—finely wrought. An engraved swan volant, flying, and three etoile stars on the right.

The Ancunin crest.

(An escape goes well. A little too well, to be honest.

But elves live long lives. How different could it be, really, going 200 years back?)

{{READ ON AO3 HERE}}

[lavendrgremlin]

To save a magistrate - An Astarion pre-vampire fic on Ao3

“Please you have– no, must reconsider this, please just look at this” The pretty little thing flaps her mouth as she pushes a stack of evidence into his desk, anger etches all over her face as she digs her fingers into her palm, she's on the verge of imploding. “Gandrel is innocent, and you’d see it if you take a look at this” she slams her palm against the pile. She looks simply delicious being so angry. Astarion just watches her go on and on, resting his cheek on his palm. “Hm, fine, I would reconsider this..” Her eyes lights up, “Only if you close that pretty mouth of yours and instead wrap it around my cock.” The light quickly vanishes, shifting to pure anger. “You are as despicable as they say. And you will pay it for it oh so dearly.” She spits before slamming the door shut behind her.

[honeybeebard]

Missing Files (Astarion x Lilith)

Summary// After sneaking into a young magistrate’s office to find some files that she desperately needs to get rid of, Lilith is forced to play the newly hired secretary when said magistrate catches her red-handed. What could go wrong?

(After finding this art piece by @BloodOathLilith on twitter, I immediately became obsessed and had to write a fic based on her Tav and Astarion. This is before he was turned, obviously, and will contain a filthy amount of smut with some plot at the top. I hope you guys enjoy it, and PLEASE GO FOLLOW HER ON TWITTER AND OTHER SOCIALS. SHE IS AMAZING OKAY, BYE)

WARNINGS: Smut, 18+ only, Degradation, Choking, Pet Names

“Where the fuck is it?” She mumbles to herself, combing through the files on top and inside the desk. The office was full of clutter and chaos, making it even more difficult as she desperately searched for her name on anything. Time was ticking, and if she didn’t find it soon, she would find herself in the jails below before dawn tomorrow.

The outfit she had stolen from one of the shops was itchy on her skin as she pulled at the collar of the dress, a growl rumbling in her chest as she swore and chucked the nearby pile of papers into the wall. It was helpless. She could barely make out any of these words, so how in the hells was she going to find her name?

As she turned to find some grease and a match, her last ditch attempt to burn any evidence of herself along with the rest of the office, a lone paper by the lamp caught her eye. Lilith’s eyes widened as she snatched it, her lips forming into a grin as she made out the letters of her name. 

“Fucking knew it.” She smirked, kissing the paper and making her way to the door until she saw the knob turn slowly. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-

That was the only thing running through her mind as she searched for an escape, her fists curling as she saw the window to be too small and the dresser to be too full to hide in. She hurriedly shoved the paper behind her back as the door fully opened, revealing a handsome man dressed in some of the finest silk she had ever seen. 

He glances around the office, eyebrows raised as he takes in the damage she has done before his eyes land on her. The color took her breath away, a cerulean blue that reminded her of summer skies that she trained under as a child. He stood tall, confident, though she knew they were almost the same height. 

“And you are?” The man asked, his tone light as he cocked his head slightly. She bit down on her lip, focusing back on the problem and not how unbelievably attractive he was for a godsdamn magistrate. 

“I, um,” She frowns, looking down at her dress as if it held the answer. “I was just in here because-”

“Let me guess,” He sighs, crossing his arms as Lilith prepares to be revealed. “The courts decided to send me a new secretary without warning me. Again. And just let you into my office?”

Lilith swallowed, trying to decipher if he was serious or if he was tricking her, before nodding slowly. “...Yes?”

The man rolled his eyes and walked past her, their shoulders brushing, which sent her mind buzzing as she followed him with her gaze. He glanced at his desk, clicking his tongue in dissatisfaction, before looking at her once more. 

“Well? What are you waiting for? An invitation?” His tone was sharp as he waved at the stack of paperwork. “Get to work. These need to be organized.”

She hesitated, gripping her documents still held behind her tightly as she said, “I’m sorry, I’m not sure how you want me to organize these. I think I shall go fetch you another secretary, someone more suited for-”

“Nonsense, don’t go bother someone else for a job that an idiot could do. Just do it.” He grumbled, sitting in the plush chair as he began to scribble on the parchment in front of him. Lilith, not wanting to risk anything, sat down on the small chair beside the desk and gingerly lifted the file at the top.

It mentioned something about Baldurs Gate, Nine Fingers, and some other words that she could not pronounce. She tried to sound them out in her head, her eyebrows furrowed before the paper was snatched out of her hand suddenly. 

“Did I say read them?” He said, glowering. “No. I said file. As in file them away. Gods, are you always this dense?”

“I am not dense!” She protested, glaring as she stood up abruptly. “Maybe you are since you can’t seem to keep a thing organized in here. No wonder you need help.”

Lilith immediately regretted the words the second they came out, her heart lurching as the man stood up and placed both of his palms on the table with a dangerous glint in his eyes. 

“Do you know who I am?” He asked mockingly, raising a brow. “I am Astarion Ancunin, the youngest and brightest magistrate Baldurs Gate has seen in years. I could have you thrown in the cells like that.” He snapped his fingers, his smile deadly. “I’ve had people thrown in for much less, my dear.”

She felt sweat forming on her forehead as she shook her head in apology, backing up to the door. “My mistake, Astarion, I-”

“That’s Mr. Ancunin to you, love.” He cooed, stalking around the desk. “Such bad manners for a woman dressed so lovely. It makes me wonder if you are who you say you are.” The doorknob was within her grasp, but before she could twist it, he had her pinned against the door, his arms caging her in as he sneakily stole her file from behind her. Lilith’s eyes widened as she reached for it, gasping when his hand wrapped around her throat and shoved her back. 

“Ah, so this is why the snake was in the garden.” Astarion hummed, red lips turning up into a smirk. “Looking to avoid punishment for a whole list of crimes…tsk, tsk. What are we going to do with you?”

“Let me go peacefully so that my dagger doesn’t end up buried in your throat?” She says sweetly, her eyes dark as he throws his head back and laughs. 

“What happened to the sweet, innocent secretary standing here moments ago? Or do you give up that quickly?” He taunts, tightening his grasp as she struggles against him. “I have your life in my hands, darling. I think you ought to tread carefully lest you draw even more attention to yourself than petty theft charges.”

Lilith snarled, baring her teeth as she tried and failed to snatch the paper once more. “Let me go, or I swear by the blade, I’ll stain this entire room with your blood.”

Before she could lunge again, Astarion deftly flipped her around so that her front was now pressed against the oak of the door, his body leaning into hers as his breath ghosted over her ear, “Temper, temper, little one, I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”

She couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down her spine from his touch and his scent, rosemary and bergamot wine, filling her nose until her vision felt fuzzy. His hands were now roaming her waist, his touch hot despite the layers separating them, but just as her eyes fluttered shut for the briefest of moments, she realized too late what he was doing. 

Astarion stealthily stole her only weapon, dodging her angry fist with ease as he took a step back and twirled it between his fingers. Lilith, without hesitation, ran towards him to tackle him, only to trip over her own skirts and fall to the floor.

Until the snarky, white-haired magistrate caught her, of course. 

“Sloppy.” He stated with disdain, his face inches from hers as she glared up at him. “I’m prepared to offer you a deal. A quid pro quo, if you will.”

“A quid what?” She scrunches her nose, looking at him strangely as he rolls his eyes again and pulls her up to his height with ease.

“Quid pro quo, darling. Tit for tat.” He explains, eyes glancing down to her lips before back up to her face. “I detest thieves and liars, always ready to lock them away to better our society, but there is something about you…”

She flinches instictevley as the back of his knuckles brush against her cheek, testing the waters. Lilith’s lips parted for him as he turned his hand over so his thumb could capture her bottom lip, teasing the soft flesh as the air around them became electric.

“Do we have a deal, little thief?” Astarion murmured, his grip on her tightening. She watched him, weighing her options though she already knew what she was going to do as the heat of her cunt seemed to turn into an inferno. 

“Yes,” She agreed, her tone breathless. “Please.”

Astarion’s lip curled into a smirk at how pliant she had become. He let her go, watching as she fell to her knees before him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She looked up at him, hands on his thighs, and a slight nod was all she needed to free him from his breeches. 

Lilith’s mouth watered as she saw the outline of his cock through his boxers, her hands greedily pulling them down so she could get to work. He was long with a little girth, his tip red and leaking as she took him all the way down her throat. She couldn’t stop the pride swelling up when he cursed and fisted his hands in her hair, obviously caught off guard.

“Fuck, darling,” He groaned, nails digging into her scalp as she set a slow, sensual pace. “You’re good at this.”

The praise made her preen inside as she ran her tongue from the bottom up on the underside of his cock, flicking it at the tip and causing him to shudder and thrust forward. She choked but only for a moment, relaxing her body so that she could take him. 

She didn’t know how this situation had ended up like this, especially after the threats from both of them, but she wasn’t about to refuse such a gift. Especially when it came with her freedom and a hot elf’s cock in her mouth. 

“Mmmph!” Lilith moaned, the vibrations making Astarion gasp and pull at her hair again. The pain was mixing intoxicatingly with her pleasure, one of her hands hastily shuffling her skirts so she could sink two fingers into herself. 

“That’s right, little thief, touch yourself for me.” Astarion snarled, biting his lip when she raised her eyes to watch him. He could already feel his balls tightening with the urge to cum just from that sinful gaze. “Fuck yourself on your fingers, wishing it was my cock ruining that pretty pussy.”

His words made her pull off his cock for a second and whine loudly, curling her fingers as she chased her own high. Astarion, however, wasn’t having any of that as he wound her hair in his fist and yanked it back painfully. “Ah, ah, this is for me, darling. Remember your place.”

He grabbed his cock and rubbed it across her cheek, smearing the mixture of her saliva and his precum across her alabaster skin before shoving it roughly back into her mouth. Lilith didn’t care, though, her brain hazy as he fucked her mouth. 

She continued to watch him as he ruined her, her eyes teary and bleary as his movements started to grow sloppy. He growled above her, lips pulled back in a primal snarl as he waited until he was almost to the edge to pull out. 

Astarion didn’t give her time to react as he yanked her up and shoved her back to face the door, lifting her skirts and pushing aside her underwear in one fluid motion before he lined himself up with her dripping hole.

“I want to hear your cries, little thief, as I fuck you like you deserve.” He grunted into her ear, biting the tip of her pointed ear as he pushed himself all the way in with one thrust. The sensation of being stuffed full and his teeth grazing her ear made her see stars, her mouth hanging open as her nails dug into the wood door.

“Fuuuck…” She moaned, panting as he wasted no time in fucking her hard and rough. He was hitting spots inside of her she didn’t even realize she had, the feel of him dragging through her walls making her toes curl. “Feels so good, Astarion.” 

He tensed for a moment at the use of his name before relaxing again, moving one of his hands to cup her face and turn it to the side so he could see how desperate she was. 

“Look at how well you take your punishment, how wet your cunt is for a stranger's cock.” His tone was teasing, but she could hear how breathless he was as well, his other hand drifting to her clit. “You love this, don’t you…Lilith?”

“Fuck yes!” She cried out, her back arching as he rubbed small, fast circles on her clit. “Please, shit, please go faster.”

“Greedy little thief,” Astarion growled into her ear, pinching her clit between his fingers as he fucked her as if his life depended on it. The sound of his balls slapping against her wet sex echoed across his office as he felt that familiar tightening in his abdomen. “Do you want me to cum inside you, darling? Leave you dripping a trail all the way back home?”

“Gods, yes!” Lilith pleaded, her face red and eyes desperate as she watched him. “Fill me up, fuck me, I don’t care, just don’t stop!”

“I have no plans to, darling.” He chuckled, rubbing her clit once more until he could feel her start to flutter around his cock. It only took a few more circles until she was crying out his name, her eyes rolling back in earth-shattering euphoria. Astarion was right behind her, his hands falling to seize her hips as he thrust one, two more times before stilling as he coated her walls. 

“That was…” He panted, looking up at the ceiling. “Amazing.”

Lilith could only nod, her legs shaky as he gingerly pulled out and fixed her outfit. She rested against the door for a moment, collecting herself from the best orgasm she had ever had, unbeknowing that Astarion was doing the exact same thing.

When she finally turned around, she was surprised to see how fast he had fixed his outfit and hair. Almost no evidence that he had just fucked her brains out thirty seconds ago. Well, except for the slight flush to his face. 

He licked his lips and picked up her forgotten file from the floor, tearing it in two and handing it to her with a smirk. “A deal is a deal, darling. You are free to go.”

“Well, um,” She hesitated, crumpling the paper in her hands before looking back at him. “Thank you. For…this. And that.”

“The pleasure was all mine.” Astarion purred, turning to walk back to his desk while she walked to the door. As she opened it, she heard him call her name, making her turn to look at him. 

“If you ever find yourself needing another file lost, do come by again. I’m sure I’ll be seeing your name again soon.” He grinned, sending her a wink and waving to her as she blushed and rushed out of the room.

Lilith walked down the hall and to the stairs, biting the inside of her cheek as she felt his cum leaking down her thigh. She would definitely be coming back. 

[kittenintheden]

WAAAAAAAH thank you <3

what a lovely piece! blushy blush *hands on cheeks*

AU: Magistrate! Astarion and Tav

[easy-there-leftovers]

I See You, Darling

[Astarion x reader] The idea never left my mind, and I so very badly need this right now. Heavily inspired by this cutscene where Tav chooses a dialogue option and Astarion's eyes just deviate-- (gif above, just wait for his eyes to look at you WKDKWKDK) |Word count: 2k.| Based off of this post I made.

Part 2 here!!

Also, this is more heavy on the world building rather than dialogue. If I end up making this a series, I might write with more dialogue in mind but it was just necessary to do this first afhjaqfbnjkafbnebn--

A story in which an overworked art student longs for a fictional character that they've devoted so much of their time to.

Alternatively; Astarion realizes there's someone else watching him. And he can't wait to get acquainted with them.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

You’ll admit, perhaps you were simply tired. Attending a prestigious school for the arts doesn’t exactly leave you with much free time to indulge in more calming forms of recreation. Your course requires you to consume a wide array of media to expand your library of creativity, after all. All in the name of generating more interesting media to entrance and enthrall your audience with your original work. 

Maybe all the moving pictures and swimming texts have caused you to greatly misunderstand what you are seeing. Surely, your favorite character isn’t looking directly at you, right?

Right?

But before that, let’s review what might have happened earlier to explain just what exactly in gods name is happening.

Shall we?

——

You purchased the game a few months back. “Baldur’s Gate 3.” A game that took the players and immersed them in the world of Dungeons & Dragons, introducing them to the mechanics of tabletop RPG as they did. It seemed interesting enough. And if the concept of character creation and storytelling didn’t sell you on the idea of it, the pretty faces on the cover certainly did.

So, with the little money you could spare from your part time job at your own institution’s library, and with what little sanity you had left to argue with, you impulsively bought said game. And it was fun. Exhilarating. Electrifying. 

Until you ran into a problem.

Astarion. The rogue, elven vampire that you have chosen to romance after careful deliberation. You scoffed to yourself. He was one of the biggest reasons why you purchased the blasted game at all. You’ve carefully studied the character in all his glory, from his striking carmine eyes and delicate unstained curls, to his aptitude for bloodshed and all manners of gore. He was such an interesting character, giving you more and more reason to pursue him as the story progressed. Yet the same can’t be said about your relationship with him. Or at least your “Tav’s” relationship with him. 

You’ve had some difficulty in deepening your relationship with the ex-magistrate. It seemed as if no matter what options you chose, no matter what manner of advances you made, he’d be quick to dismiss you. Painting you as a desperate little pup as he did. Denying you the opportunity of further knowing him. You’ve created and overwritten more save slots than you'd like to admit, perusing each one to select different lines of dialogue only to be rejected time and time again.

You thought it strange. But perhaps this was simply the way his route was meant to unfold. He was such an incredibly complex character after all. Perhaps this was meant to prove the party’s loyalty. 

But that didn’t stop you from being frustrated with other aspects of the gameplay. You've spent countless nights hunched on your work chair, back curving like a dead bug as you analyzed each and every possible outcome in combat. Eyes, bloodshot from cutting your sleeping hours short, just to endure the story until you were at an appropriate place to log out. And hair, flicking and curling out in different directions due to you weaving your hands through them in exasperation. 

You saw your reflection on your screen as it darkened to load the next scene and you couldn't help but stare at your character in slight envy. You know full well that however you designed them, it wouldn’t affect how the others perceived you, and yet you couldn’t help but pretty them up for your own interest. You designed it with yourself in mind, but making them far more attractive than you would ever be. Effortlessly beautiful as they stirred to wake up in the forest you settled in for camp.

How could Astarion ever turn this beautiful being away? If not for their heroism, then surely their looks would be enough to draw him in, no?

And speak of the devil. Once you could control your character again, you readied them to interact with your sharply dressed companion. Wanting to try your luck once more as the bright sun shone upon your character like a promise of a new day. Unfortunately, you’re greeted with a look of boredom, oh so familiar, that you sigh. “I hope you’re not here to beg—” Mocking him, echoing the words you’ve come to expect with faux mirth in your voice. But you cut yourself short when you realize he has yet to say anything. 

Strange.

 What’s even stranger is that he's just staring at you. Well,--- he’s staring at Tav. Your character.

“What the fuck…?” You move your mouse around, clicking to try and toggle the dialogue options to no avail, screen stuck in a cinematic close up of his face. Much like how the camera always pans when awaiting your response. 

However, unlike the common script of his actions that you’re used to, the one that you’ve memorized like a well practiced dance, his eyes smoothly glide off of your character and onto you. 

You freeze, but your heart doesn’t. The beating of your chest growing stronger the longer he looks at you. Eyes, blood red like rubies, boring into your own. He regards you, blinks, and then smiles that deviously charming smile of his before your screen turns dark. Your computer turns off, and you stare in shock of what just happened.

‘No fucking way, no fucking way, no fucking way—‘ You’re not delusional, right? Sure, you’re tired, but no fucking way did you just imagine one of the hottest characters you’ve seen in a while break the fourth wall just to fuck with you.

You laugh to yourself.

Yes, you’re just tired. Nothing like a good four hours of sleep can’t remedy. Although, as you get up from your chair, foolish as it may seem, you grab a used shirt from your floor, and hang it on your computer in the case that those piercing eyes come to life once again while you sleep.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you get ready for the day, you notice your dirtied clothing still on your computer. Covering it as if it were a petrifying doll from a horror movie. You feel childish for doing so, reasoning that you were simply stressed from the events that taken place prior and removed the cloth.

As you did, your screen was brought back to life. Showing you the next night as if your little "tryst" with Astarion never happened. An entire thirty minutes or so of progress seemingly gone. Thankfully, you saved just before your game went haywire and you attempted to load up your last slot. 

Zzzt Zzzzt!

Alas, your game was not cooperating once again. You tried the save just before that and the same error screen presented itself to you. ‘Maybe this is a sign that I should just fucking work instead.’ Irritated at the thought, you moved to log out of the game but a familiar voice convinces you otherwise as the screen returns to normal. 

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” 

‘Is this— a romance scene?!’ Astarion had never initiated an interaction before! Perhaps the game gods were granting you mercy. Or maybe, something you did last night might have given way for this line of dialogue to open up. Regardless, you happily took the opportunity and began reading your choices.

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” ━─━────༺༻────━─━

Well. Thank you.

It’s none of your concern, fangs.

Better now that you’re here.

What happened last night?

━─━────༺༻────━─━

What…did happen last night? You don’t recall anything past the blackening of your screen, but it looks like you did something after that which caused this dialogue.

You don’t want to squander this opportunity, who knows when this will happen again, but your curiosity gets the best of you. So you save, and choose option 4. 

“Oh, you poor thing. Spooked you, did I?” He laughs, seemingly taking in the look of confusion that graces both yours and Tav’s face.

“What do you think happened last night?”

“My fucking game crashed.” You answer automatically.

Tav moves to open their mouth but is silenced with a tut. “Not you, spawn.” His eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement, but the way his mouth is pulled in a tightly-lipped smile offers you further insight otherwise. 

“I need your answer.” His eyes are on you yet again, and you feel the world begin to spin.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you plan to get ready for the day, you notice you’re not exactly in a state to do so. You expected to wake at dawn, the dark and cool air to greet you as it fills your room and envelops your walls. Instead, you wake to see an endless amount of evergreen and the smell of the dark and damp grass beneath you filling your senses.

And if spending hours, weeks, months, of playing this damned game has taught you anything, you know that you now reside in the heart of the forest that you usually set up camp in. But this time, you're far from your bedroll and the fire that your party created.

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far to no avail. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

And this chill so does love playing games.

You clamber away on your knees when you hear that deep chuckle of his emanate from right beside your ear. Creating as much distance to inspect this figure you’ve yet to face.

You see Astarion in all his vampiric glory. ‘Well, for a vampire spawn, I guess.’ You comment to yourself. Crimson eyes, darker than you imagined, with full, dark lashes contrasting his pallid skin and pure hair that glow under the moonlight. An unsettling, and cursedly attractive, smirk curls onto his lips. His ivory fangs on full display as he does.

“It seems as if those useless artifacts were worth something.” He marvels at his handiwork, his prize, and approaches it with confidence. 

“Well, your character certainly is more ‘prettied up.’” He circles you, carefully appraising his newest asset, and grins. “But you are far more intriguing.”

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster.

“Although, you are very cute. Cheeky little pup, aren’t you?” He jests.

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster which earns you a click of his tongue in response.

“You’re not broken, are you? Or am I to anticipate your little ‘what the fuck?’s as your only contribution?” Long, and incredibly masculine, fingers crawl and curl to grasp your chin like a spider. 

“I’ve waited months to have you. And now here you are, finally within my grasp.” The statement causes something to stir within you.

“What do you mean, ‘months?” 

He narrows his eyes, possibly trying to comprehend your stupidity.

“I’ve been watching you. Waiting, for the right moment. Interacting with this– caricature of yourself until you could deny yourself of me no more.” Blood rushes to your head. Your cheeks burning in embarrassment for seeming overly eager. And in panic as his intentions have yet to be cleared.

“And now that I’m here? Do you want to kill me?” You feel your heartbeat in your ears, awaiting his response. Your eyes wide in fear, yet trying to fake heroic bravado in the attempts to gain the upperhand.

And in this moment, he thinks you absolutely invigorating.

“Oh no, sweet pet. I’ve waited far too long for that. I’m going to make you mine.”

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Should I make this into a series? "The adventures of a misplaced artist in Baldur's Gate!!" Or something like that. Let me know, lol

[pursuitseternal]

“Knowledge is a dangerous weapon:” Bookworm!Tav, Vampiric Spawn Powers, and Breeding—“Bites” Update 📚

Astarion x F!Reader | E | 4.6K of banter and breeding

Based on an anonymous prompt

(HBD @lipstickghoulie )

Summary: You have always loved your books and a challenge, when your Vampire Rogue learns his starvation has kept him from his full powers, you take him up on his challenge to teach him the skills that are his due. As you draw closer together, he finds that one bit of information you have failed to teach him… how to make a dhampire

CW: light mocking of Astarion’s ditziness, Spawn Spidercrawl, catching powers and feelings, flirty touching, creepy silent vampire moves, Breeding talk, no babies just breeding, Mating Press™️

Ao3 link | Series link | Masterlist

📚✨📚✨📚✨📚✨📚✨📚✨📚✨📚✨📚

You always knew he was… dumb. Thick headed. Unobservant.

Okay, at times the comments from his thick, rosy lips were just plain stupid. “That lever… must do something…” That was a wonderful moment, one that earned him your eyes rolling so far back in your skull they hurt. “We have some words and some… circles…. Wonder what they do….” Another example of his unparalleled intelligence.

Not to mention the countless times he failed to remember any of the major gods and their shrines as you passed through crypts and defiled chapels.

For as handsome as he was, for as sultry and seductive as you found him, he was… smoothed-brained. But as your journey forced you closer together, you couldn’t help but think some of it may be merely pretense, he was a magistrate after all. He was abused and tortured for centuries, surely that does things to one’s mind. And he was always reading. Every day, every night at camp, his beautiful aquiline nose stuck in a book, crimson eyes devouring the words at a breakneck speed.

One to even rival your own thirst for knowledge.

Maybe it was that you allowed the poor Spawn a chance to drink living, thinking blood for once. Your own. Maybe that was what began to take his little, stupid moments and turn them into something endearing.

Not that he was gracious when you corrected his ignorance. Every time, he gave that adorable, grumpy harumph and then defended his comments, or… since he started feeding from you, he’d just look at your neck still freshly marked and lick his lips. That really shut you up. Set you on fire.

But it wasn’t until you needed him to reach that last little chest up on the crumbling ledge inside some dank cavern that you realized his ignorance wasn’t wholly pretend.

Astarion, vampire spawn, didn’t know just what he should be capable of. He looked positively befuddled when you told him to just climb the brick wall. His sass had been sharp, “I’m not some spider, darling.”

“But you can spider climb, you dolt,” you had laughed imitating his tone, trying to call his bluff on skills he should have, at least according to what you had read in your book. A Spawn should scale such a wall with immense ease.

He just narrowed his crimson eyes at you, a snarl on his lips as he shook his head. “I have never performed such an act, darling, nor have any of my brothers and sisters, those of us Cazador kept for his bidding. Better check your precious facts in your precious tomes before you throw your assumptions on my prowess… dear.”

You still shiver at that night. Back at camp. When you ignored the way he bristled as you approached him in front of his tent. He had sneered at you, readying his next acerbic quip for you… Until you sat so close beside him, settling the heavy book in his lap. Leaning in, you point to the page. Traits and Strengths of the Vampiric Spawn.

You felt him cease breathing, his left hand clutching at the edge of the book growing even whiter. “Astarion,” you breathed. Leaning in more, you looked into his eyes, his gaze scanning the words so quickly on the aged vellum. And then he shoved you by your cheek out of his sightline. He needed to finish this.

“Why, I should be positively remarkable, assuming your book is correct,” he sighed, as if he saw a vision, a dream fulfilled. One where he was powerful.

You nodded as his crimson eyes flashed at you, wide with wonder. “You mentioned Cazador never let you feed enough, and not from thinking creatures.” He nodded, skeptical even as his eyes fixated on your lips. “Well, what you did not know was that denying you a sufficient diet meant also restricting you from your full powers, even as a Spawn, Astarion. You should be able to climb up walls and ceilings, move swifter, lift boulders too much for even Karlach to manage. You should be able to heal almost instantaneously, without potion or feeding.”

“And now?” he replied, that little tremor of hope in his voice unmistakable as his hand traced over the page of your book.

“Well, it’s a difficult deduction, since you have our unwelcome illithid parasite. But now that you are feeding regularly, even from thinking creatures, you should find the effects more than just making you feel… happy,” you rambled on. Even as you kept talking, his eyes glued their gaze to your neck, your lips. If you weren’t mistaken, they even dipped down the v-shaped cut of your tunic.

“So… the more I drink from thinking creatures, the stronger and more powerful I will be?” he murmured, a slight grit in his throat as his eyes definitely darted down your bosom now.

“Y-yes,” you rejoined, sliding back just a touch.

And he slid that touch closer, and then some.

“You’ll help me, won’t you, darling? You’ll help me learn these skills? Give me all I require to access my full potential….” His eyes looked wet, the ruby irises glowing in the flickering firelight. “Please?” he adds with that smirk and that single arching brow of his made you stomach flutter and heart thump so hard in your chest.

“I…” you started, but he only seemed to lean ever closer.

“You know, when I was a Magistrate, back in the City, I would have craved someone with intelligence like yours. We would have been rivals, colleagues…” his eyes dip once more shamelessly up and down your seated body. “Perhaps lovers even,” he breathed. “I always surrounded myself with those of highest intellect, darling. Intelligence is so… undervalued by many, and knowledge is a dangerous weapon, but I see you, my darling. Won’t you please come to my aid now?”

“We… we can try,” you had whispered, barely able to the let the words from your lips with how you seemed to seize under the intensity of his stare.

“Wonderful,” he purred, catching your cheek, your chin in his cool palm. “I just hope we don’t have to wait too long…”

You squirmed as his thumb began to brush beneath your lip.

“…to put my new strengths to the test I mean, of course.” He smirked that little bit more twistedly. More seductively. And you knew he heard your heart beating in your artery, your blood rushing under his touch in your veins to pool lower. It was his nature, and you knew more of it than he did.

“Of course…” you breathed. “I’d be happy to help.”

“Then it’s settled,” his voice was thick in his throat, you relished the way his other arm stole around you, clutching at you back to bring you all the closer under his heady spell of charm and seduction. “All that’s left is to seal our new arrangement somehow…”

He pushed that heavy book off his lap, sliding to bring you into completely flushed against him. You’re sure your pulse was raging so loudly, it’s deafened his pointed and twitching ears. That chilled, corpse-cold touch under your chin tilts you up just… so…

You melted, closing that distance between your lips. Every logical thought dispersed in the wind of your desire, that panting breath that passed from your lungs into his.

That’s how this all began, and where it had brought you to this moment, where he clings to the ceiling of a massive cavern filled with both the stink of Gnolls and the vile creatures themselves. Dagger gripped in between his glinting fangs. He readies himself with a look of pure and dark excitement. He loves this. He misses this when it’s just you all back in the quiet of camp, where he tests his ever growing strength and climbing abilities, where he drinks from you every night before he hunts in the dark.

Where he slowly makes you more and more aware of your awakening body the more he touches you and caresses and kisses you. Always every night. Always between your increasingly intellectual discussions about vampiric powers and the moment he sinks his fangs into your skin to feed. He always leaves you after dark, his own belly sated, while you… you grow all the hungrier. Needier. You want more debate, more analysis, more of his body covering yours as he drinks you down.

But not anything more. Not yet. Even as you knew he was edging closer to asking you for sex. Even if he didn’t know all the… implications. After all, knowledge was a dangerous weapon.

You shake your head to free yourself from the longing thoughts of past nights and burning expectations of the night to come. You give him the signal, watching him release with flawless precision, dagger in hand now, as he falls from his spider-perch.

The Gnolls never see you coming, not before your endearingly ferocious Vampire Spawn lands with preternatural grace on their heads and vivisects them before you even reach their location.

He pants as you get at least one good shot from your bow, right for the last twitching body on the ground.

It’s not until you smile, satisfied, you notice that Astarion’s pale skin is riddled with scratches and tears from the beasts’ claws. He holds out his arms, rolling up his sleeves and smiling. Enjoying the sight of his vampiric body healing before his eyes. That crimson gaze practically glows as he looks at you over the carnage. “See something you like, my sweet?” he purrs, arching that brow, just for you, as if the others in your party aren’t even there.

“Ahem,” you clear your throat, turning to find the coveted chest of supplies, that Zhentarim sigil on it is no deterrent to you. Not when your Vampire Spawn can charm anyone to do anything now. “We better head back to camp,” you kneel before the strong chest, trying your hand to pick the iron lock.

“Tch,” his voice brushes your ear, physically tickling the small stray hairs that make you gasp. “You know I’m far more skilled with my fingers, especially when it comes to slipping inside…” You shudder to feel him crouching right behind you, his thighs pressed against your ass, his waist brushing your lower back. “…Slipping inside chests, locks, that sort of thing,” he adds louder, just to appease your unease. That dexterous touch has only grown all the smoother and stronger and sneakier now that he has fed well for a while.

He is so sneaky in fact, only one of his hands actually works the lock pick for a moment, the other quickly skates up your leg, tracing the inner seam of your buckskin breeches almost to the peak of your thigh. He laughs in your ear as you muffle a noise under your own palm.

“Soldiers, you really need four hands to pick one lock? Haven't you gotten better, Fangs, now that our fearless leader has let you suck on her and tutor you in being a Spawn?” Karlach chortles, her feet swaying side to side in that perpetual motion dance she seems to do.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Astarion throws the barb over his shoulder, letting you bury your face to hide the tweaks of ecstasy at the corners of your eyes as his fingers keep moving higher… higher. “Some silent performance only you get to savor, it seems?”

“If I didn't know better…” Gale’s pedantic voice draws closer.

“There now,” Astarion crows like the proudest rooster of them all, his hand quickly leaving the edge of your mound to twist that pick and pop the lock just as Gale peers from behind. “Look at all this loot,” he groans and stands, satisfied as he folds his arms over his chest. “Good thing you have a strong, well-fed Vampire to bring it back with us. Wouldn’t you agree, darling?”

He smirks down at you, hand extended to help you to your feet. Back to the rest, he flashes you that fang-toothed smirk that he knows sets your pulse galloping out of control. Pulling you up, he has to steady you in your legs, near boneless as they are with just that tease of pleasure. “Calm yourself darling, you're making my undead heart hurt sympathetically from all that… excitement,” he rasps right into your ear once you’re on your feet before him, releasing you in favor of bags of treasure and potions and loot to stuff in his pack.

Your mind is racing as your trod back towards your little camp well off the Risen Road for good measure. Thoughts scramble, worries peak their heads up, and you can’t stop thinking about the rest of what you have learned reading about vampires. Necessary research for you, particularly since Astarion has seemingly added flirtation and seduction into your witty repartee this last tenday. So far, you’ve managed to keep his wandering eyes from those pages when he glances through your tomes. He seems to prefer every little dip of your skin where he can see it at any rate. So far, you’ve managed to keep his hands in places on your body that are not too dangerous, yours on his as well.

But something inside you knows that tide is shifting. He wants to offer you more in exchange for more… and… well, if it doesn’t just make your body thrum with life in ways no books had and no previous interests had either.

He has beaten you back to camp, haphazardly tossed the loot for the rest of you to sort out in the center of camp. You know he’s waiting in his tent, now that the sun has begun to trek lower and lower. It’s time for your research, for your indulgence of his strength, and… whatever else might happen.

His tent is dimly lit as you enter, a mess of blankets and pillows, some fine and some in tatters. Stacks of books in the corners have replaced the blood bank bottles you first found here to clutter his space.

But no Astarion.

You tilt your head confused, settling down on one pillow, more or less intact, reaching for an apple he keeps in his stash of food just for you. Just to replenish you between his own feedings. As you bite into the hard skin, as the juice fills your mouth, you reach for a book, some ancient law book he found in the ruins of that village. Must make him think of his old life.

The pages are old and soft in your fingers, your eyes absentmindedly skimming the long words and complex sentences as you chew.

Peaceful. Until you realize it’s far too quiet.

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck prickle, that feeling of being watched creeping up your spine. Turning, mid bite, you peer into the shadowed corner of his tent behind you.

Two glowing red eyes stare at you from the dark, just a hint of glinting teeth as he smiles and drinks in your fear and surprise. He laughs to hear you hiss as you jump in your seat. “There you are,” he croons from his darkened corner. “I’ve been waiting.”

“F-f-for what?” you force a smile and force your breath to steady all at once. He slides closer, settling down right beside you, and you notice your worn book in his hand, the smile on his face is sultry.

And predatory.

And for a moment, you regret teaching him as much as you have about his untapped powers.

“When were you going to tell me about your little bit of… research… on the side?” his voice is chilling, his brow arching as he flips the book open right to the back.

Right where you had been trying so hard to prevent his eyes from skimming, his ambitious brain from devouring the knowledge.

Your body is hot and rigid, and you know from the way his pointy ears twitch, he hears your pulse. You know from the way that his nostrils flare that he smells your arousal, the slick that dampens your underthings just to be this close to him again after his little stunt today.

“If my observations are correct… and they usually are…” he purrs, even though the stack of evidence to the contrary is vast. But you bite your tongue as he continues, your heart leaping at the topic he is about to breach. “You sound and smell eager to discuss this topic if dhampires, my darling.”

You swallow, watching so heated and frozen as he slides so gracefully to place the weight of that tome in your own lap, his fingers removing the half-eaten apple from your fingers to toss to the side. Then he brings their sticky, juicy tips to his mouth to suck them clean.

You moan, unbidden, at the wet and vigor with which his tongue cleans every crevice of those digits.

“Now, I’d hate to be left wondering just why my intelligent, little darling would withhold such a vital… potent… part of my unrevealed powers as a vampire?” he sets your hand back on your thigh, a little extra brush of his fingers, returning to trace that seam inside your breaches as he had before. “Is she… curious? Afraid? Is this why she has been just so hesitant during our…” he grips your chin, turning your head with commanding force until there is nowhere else to look but his deep crimson eyes, “…late night trysts?”

“It’s not something one just… brings up, Astarion,” you try to flatten your tone, even as that one hand still traces up and around your thigh. “It’s just not… done…”

Something about his eyes softens, “It would be important to discuss, you know, for there is more that I would like to share with you than just witty banter and blood…” his tone dips low into a rumble. “It’s not something I would have known, not a concern I would have shared until I knew of it…”

“There’s more to it than you might know,” you squeak as his fingers press into that slot between your legs. “Now that you’re well-fed, you’ll feel actual….”

You swallow the word. His touch presses hard enough into your folds through your breaches to make them soaked. And you, wanton you, you give a breath and a buck of your hips to keep his fingers there.

“Pleasure,” he smirks, eyes scanning your face as your force your eyes back open, halfway at least. “Yes, I gathered as much. The more I feed, the more I come alive… alive enough to perhaps even bestow a new life…” he squints a grin at you, your mouth slack as he draws that touch just as hard again, “…perhaps one day.”

You arch your body, trying to slip closer. Your secret is out, your anxious thoughts over clandestine information dispersed in the air. And so, the next words from your mouth just build on all that you had been swallowing down.

“Yes, perhaps one day…” you sigh, leaning back on your hands to try to give him full access to your cunt. “Perhaps one day, we could test out those powers together.” Your voice shakes with excitement, it’s pressed with the sincerity you feel for him.

“Oh, my love,” he smirks and reaches both arms around your waist. That newfound strength pulls you flush into his lap, until your molten, silk-soaked center presses against where he’s hardening. “You always know what to say… Seems like quite the power that will take much preparation and proper timing…” He brings your fingers back to his lips as he kisses them softly. “I’d have to feed on more than just a bear and more than just sips from my little treat, sweet as you are…”

You nod, once or twice, before losing yourself in the bliss of his tongue on the tingling inner skin of your wrist. Barely more than a lap before his fangs pierce your skin and suck you down. Your very essence, your living blood pools in his belly, you feel it coursing in his veins. It fills him and hardens him beneath your hips in an instant.

“Well, practice makes perfect you know,” he croons, bloodied lips barely hovering off your own. “I can tell from your scent you are not… in season…. And I have only had the single little taste.”

You pant, writhing at the scratch of your clothing, you long to rip it off and toss it where your book has long since been abandoned. “Sounds right to me,” you hiss, arms tucking around his neck to lower those arrogant stupidly handsome lips to your mouth.

Astarion’s throat rumbles with a growl, the taste of your blood fresh in his mouth as he rolls you on your back. Primal. Feral. He’s your powerful vampire, blood in his body, lust in his brain. And you want to put it all to the test—your own little experiment to match his enthusiastic desire for you. His touch is lightening fast and strong, pulling off your clothing, swift and sure and careful until every inch of your bodies are bare.

Strength hums in his muscles, even as his hands gently caress your cheek, your neck still sore from all his feeding. His body presses you into the pile of blankets that cover his plank of a bed. His hips grind your belly, your thighs are pulled almost against your chest until you’re spread wide open for him. But for every jolt of his cock as it prods above you and drips his early cum on to your belly, his kisses on your lips are sweet, gentle. A silent movement of gratitude for all your willing aid. Those fingers drag their slightly warmed touch around your breast, kneading it tenderly. With every arch of your back, you can almost catch the base of his cock inside your folds.

And you shake. You quiver. You’d had a few lovers, mostly boring and few and far between. But never has your body burned for anyone like it does for him.

As if his vampire touch is calling your blood to pool beneath it. Not one traditional strength, but with Astarion, you aren’t totally sure he doesn’t have some unnatural ability to command your body. To make your blood pound and sing just for him.

“What a good girl,” he rasps, a grind of his hips to send that cock near your navel, over your skin. “I can feel your heat for me from here. Just waiting to be fucked full.” His mouth descends quickly but carefully, only taking a single nipple in his lips. Sucking hard, he pops off with a loud wet noise.

Almost as loud as your moan.

“So ready, aren’t you?” His question weighs you down, your eyes half shut to savor the way he drags back with that length, sliding it in just an inch or so into your aching sex. “I’m waiting…” he growls, and you sob as he pulls even that little bit of his tip back out.

“Yes, hells below, yes,” you pant, hands flying to claw into his ass. Pulling him towards your throbbing core.

That blunted tip prods just barely inside you again. “You want me to fill you?” he rasps.

You nod, your teeth biting your lip hard enough to bleed.

“You want me to fill your belly like you let me fill mine with your sweet blood?” he grips his arms around your shoulders, pressing harder into, cock sliding in another little bit. “Fuck you so many times, my cum will drip from you for days?”

“Yes, Astarion…” you breathe, his mouth devouring your words, ready to swallow your cry as he does, finally, fill you.

You feel the gravity of his body crushing you, his legs braced with every tendon taught as he snaps his hips into. It’s so deep, so driving the way he fucks. And every thrust slaps your flesh and smacks his balls against your ass, but you love it. His breath dampens your collarbone, arms wrapped so tightly around you, you can do nothing but hold on for dear life. Your thighs burn from how they’re bent into your stomach almost, your folds leaking with arousal, and the drag of his cock touches every part of your walls and slams against your channel’s end.

He licks your shoulder, wet tongue lapping up to the artery in your neck. Where it pulses and dances in time with his beat inside you. Flushed and boiling, speared on his length, you pant, suffocated deliciously until you burst. Your visions swimming and muscles contorting in his press, you scream for him. You can hear your arousal, your slick, coating his thighs as his thrusts only increase with speed.

Lifting his head, he sweeps a hand down your sweat-drenched belly, palm bracing just below your navel. His push is relentless, hard and gradual enough you feel it behind your belly, how he gives you resistance from outside against that constant ramming of his cock at your deepest point. It’s enough to throw you into another coil of bliss instantly. “Good girl, so wet and dirty and waiting to be filled…'' he finally speaks through his panting. And he pushes on your belly once more, grunting with each fuck as he comes undone.

As he thrusts and spills his seed, prodding the full length of him to the deepest point yet. You can feel it almost sticking through your skin as he pulses. As he spills, burst after burst, he still rams that end of your cunt.

Beads of sweat drip from his forehead as he looks down your body, and how your skin is wet and flushed and marked from where he gripped you so fiercely.

He smiles and licks his lips. You try to clamber out, but his hand only comes to rest on your shoulder. “Ah ah,” he tutts his tongue at you, slipping out, only to take two of his fingers to play in your mix of cum, slipping it back inside you over and over again. “You’ll need to practice too, and you’ll need to rest to keep all of me inside of you.”

You shudder, a smile wide on your mouth, aroused and embraced, half hidden behind the back of your hand as you cover your face.

“Tch,” he chides you, pulling that hand from your face, “none of that, my darling. I’ll watch every bit of your blush darken your cheek until you’re ready to go again.”

“Again?” you choke. Your hips already feeling stretched and sore, you lay them flat and try to ease the aches.

“Oh yes,” he purrs, “you’ll have to build your strength the old fashioned way, my treat. Now,” he gives your ass a little smack on the side as he lifts it, “on your knees, darling…”

You finally take a breath, freed from his wiry, heavy frame. One cool hand settles between your shoulder blades to have you rest your head on his bedding. But that other hand pulls your hips up, slipping through your juices and teasing your clit until you buck back against his belly. You breathe contentedly, savoring the way his fingers caress you, worship you.

You close your eyes, wriggle your hips, already craving that stretching fullness inside you. A future with him at your side during the day as your strong, well fed vampire… and on your back and knees and belly and any way he would want you during the long nights with your virile lover.

[petit-etoile]

Oh oh I have an AU I haven't had the chance to write anything for. It's pre-vampirism magistrate Astarion and criminal tav who is incredibly well-versed in law. They keep committing crimes and getting caught in purpose just to see Astarion who fucking hates their guts because he can't ever convict them of anything bc they find loopholes and somehow manage to evade the law. It's an "at each other's throats" kinda romance and they kiss with teeth between cases

darling,  if  you  love  me  say  it  back

pairing  .  ⊱   astarion x tav wordcount  .  ⊱   3,604 content warnings  .  ⊱  canon compliant temporary character death,  tav isn't a human but can be whatever else you like,  astarion isn't a vampire yet,   tav is gender neutral other tags  .  ⊱   canon compliant,  canon temporary character death,  introspection,  p.orn without plot,  oral s/ex,  desk s.ex,  inappropriate use of a cravat,  c.reampie archiveofourown  .  ⊱   here.

taglist  .  ⊱  @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia,  @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness, @queenofcarrotflowers-s, @kirahlene be added  .  ⊱   here .

summary  .  ⊱   The Magistrate Judge Astarion Ancunin has a soft spot for you. You like to exploit that fact.

‘I need to see you in my office,’ Astarion hisses  —  and the tips of his ears are so red you think they might catch flame. He grabs you by the elbow roughly and tugs. ‘Now.’

‘Let’s do it, baby,’ you say smugly. ‘I know the law.’

Knowing the law might be an overstatement. You have studied the law for only one purpose, and that purpose you know like the back of your hand. So when Astarion presses you, you don’t argue. You do as the magistrate says and allow yourself to be dragged across the court. He admonishes you like one would get onto a dog who misbehaves. You can’t help but laugh.

It isn’t like Astarion isn’t a super serious magistrate with a focus on criminal prosecution. He wants to nail you for your sins, for your crimes. The only catch is that no matter how amazing Astarion is at his job, you’re simply better. If you’ve stolen something, you’re more than capable of hiding the evidence. If you’ve murdered someone, you know all the best ways to hide a body. It comes naturally.

Astarion is wearing that ever familiar frown as he marches through the elegant halls. It’s a frown that says you’re in trouble and there’s nothing that I can do. But that isn’t necessarily true. Astarion will do anything you ask so long as you ask nicely, and you’ve been getting good at asking nicely lately. He prides himself in training you even if it isn’t that simple. He calls it rehabilitation. You call it sex.

‘You can’t keep doing this, you know,’ Astarion snaps at you. ‘At some point you must give it up!’

He isn’t good at whispering when he’s riled up. He runs his free hand through his curls in anger, pushing them away from his face like his bangs being wild make it hard to think. It makes him more attractive.

‘You don’t mean that,’ you say with a shrug.

‘I do,’ he says, ‘very much mean that.’

You grin. ‘You would miss me,’ you tell him lasciviously, and he groans. ‘I know you would.’

He huffs. ‘The only thing that I would miss is the peace after the headache you’ve given me. It’s as though you aren’t even aware of how vexing you are.’

You laugh, and the fine line of Astarion’s temper snaps. He all but throws you in his office and locks it behind him. He’s annoyed with the way you stagger dramatically to one of the velvet couches before his desk. You lean over the arm and kick your feet up.

‘Does the idea of cuffs around my wrists excite you?’

You look over your shoulder. Astarion clenches his jaw. It must hurt to frown as hard as he is. You pull yourself onto the cushions and sit demurely. You study him. His rigid lines, tense gaze. He comes and sits on the edge of his desk, pressing his forehead into his hands as if that will relieve him of his headache. You’re determined to make it worse.

‘I apologize,’ you say sweetly. ‘I’ll behave from now on.’

‘We both know that you are not capable of behaving,’ Astarion says thinly.

He shouldn’t have said that. You can’t help yourself, but most of the time, Astarion makes it so easy for you to dig into his weaknesses and exploit them. You stare at him with wide, innocent eyes.

‘You should teach me,’ you suggest.

Astarion’s patience snaps. ‘I beg your pardon? Have some decorum, please!’

‘Having decorum is so boring,’ you say, pouting. ‘Life is much more fun when you live freely.’

‘And committing crimes is your definition of living freely?’

‘What is the point of living if not to live?’ you ask. ‘Why confine myself to rules of good or bad when I can choose what makes me happy.’

‘What exactly makes a criminal like you happy?’ Astarion asks bitterly.

You’ve always been possessed by a sense of otherness. You rise from the couch and carefully twist your fingers in his cravat, tangling yourself in him as he has become entangled in you. The Silverymoon lace tickles your skin. You pull Astarion closer and he begrudgingly caves to your strength. Your lips barely brush against his and already you can sense it. The barely contained restraint. The hunger. Astarion longs for you. He’s carefully hidden it beneath the scent of bergamot.

Slowly, you slide him free of what pressures him most. The cravat slides from his neck easily. It excites Astarion. His eyes glitter like you’ve never seen before. Being a magistrate isn’t about caring about the laws he’s vowed to uphold. It’s about power. You give it to him. You hold your wrists together with a wicked grin.

You balance the fabric on your fingers. Astarion swallows. Being proper isn’t really his thing. It’s thrilling to watch as he changes his mind. You annoy him  —  he detests you, wishes you gone. You are the object of all his improper late night dreams.

But as if he’s moving through water, he takes his cravat from your hands. You almost think it’s going to be a rejection. Astarion bundles your wrists together with an expertise that suggests he’s done it before. The binding becomes tight but not too tight and you relish in the way it twists your wrists. He fastens the knot into a pretty bow.

And then he kisses you. He grabs you so roughly by the back of the neck that your teeth slam together, but Astarion sighs so prettily against your mouth you decide you could withstand anything.

It’s a passionate kiss made up of teeth and spit and tongue. Astarion is both pushing you and pulling you. He can’t make up his mind. Does he want you and the stain you’ll bring to his reputation? A magistrate with a weakness for a criminal is such an interesting dynamic, but Astarion is a proud man. You are almost certain he would throw you into harm’s way if a situation ever occurred that deemed it necessary. You would do the same given the chance. This is simply a tryst.

You like to pretend it is, at least. You hate coming across as a romantic. You chase a freedom so exquisite no one will ever understand it, but when Astarion pushes you towards the couch, you don’t complain. You fall across the cushions with ease and catch him as he falls between your thighs.

‘You,’ Astarion accuses hotly, ‘are an irrevocable annoyance I may never be cured of.’

‘You are so very frank in all the ways you despise me,’ you say, moaning softly as he kisses your neck. ‘I think you’re capable of being freed after all.’

‘I am glad to see you are finally aware that it is hate that drives me,’ Astarion murmurs thickly. ‘It repulses me that you think you could possibly be endearing.’

You laugh and Astarion sucks a bruise into your collarbone. He’ll pretend to be aloof and noncommittal to your very presence, but he’s invested. You can feel the weight of his pleasure against your thighs even as he denies his feelings for you. Astarion doesn’t bother with your shirt or his own. He clings to your waist as he finds the lace of your breeches and tugs you free.

Astarion pushes his hand inside of your smallclothes and touches your flushed skin, spreading his fingers so that he can touch every inch your body has to offer. The fervor of the motion is what causes you to gasp. He’s a man on a mission, and he touches you at your core so adoringly it makes the bite of his words all but disappear. He fondles you like he’s never touched your skin before. Your gasp turns to a sultry whine, and he bites your neck like a punishment. You almost think he’s going to admonish you, that he’ll say your silence is worth more. He doesn’t. If anything, the echo of your voice spurns him to go further.

Astarion presses two fingers inside of you and the laughter dies in your chest. He’s trying to rearrange you through a perverse method. If he fucks you good enough, crime’s appeal will turn to dust within your mind. It makes you wonder what it would be like to dote on a magistrate. Would it be enough? Could it be enough? Sinning feels just as sweet.

He curls his fingers against your core and your back arches prettily off the velvet cushions. You bite your bottom lip and try to quell the pining, but then you catch a glimpse of him from beneath your eyelashes. Astarion is watching your every move. His lips are parted. His pupils are dilated. His cheeks have colored at the sound of your voice. He is torn between watching your face for your reactions and glancing down at his hand underneath your breeches. You meet his gaze bravely, chin lifting, and smile.

He adds another just to watch you struggle. The angle, the curve of his wrist, and the situation are enough to make your thighs squeeze together, but Astarion doesn’t let you. He roughly throws himself between your legs so that you can’t, and it’s hot, too hot that you cry weakly. He grins at the sound like he always does, like he always will. It’s his victory this evening. 

But as quickly as Astarion deigned to touch you, he releases you. He stands up and drags you by the wrists, turning his cheek the other way when you try to taste his skin.

‘The prosecutor is ineffectual  —  ’

You snort without meaning to, and Astarion digs his fingers into the swell of your hip. You allow him to maneuver you, bending at the waist while he presses you forward, chest against the chilled wood of his desk. You have to rise on your toes to stand comfortably.

‘Is that what you’re thinking about?’ you ask breathlessly.

‘I’m thinking about the necessary reform,’ Astarion snaps.

You press your cheek into the wood and stare at his door. The prosecutor, the defense. It doesn’t really matter, does it? Astarion is the only one who cares. You’re somewhat glad he does. It means he’s taken your case to interest, and when he presses himself to your lower back, you’re excited. He shoves your breeches to your ankles.

‘Are you going to take me here?’ you murmur. ‘On your desk. Where is your propriety?’

‘You dare speak to me of decency?’ Astarion snorts.

‘The weight of my sins will be forever embedded on your desk,’ you say. ‘You flatter me, your honor.’

‘Do you ever stop talking?’ Astarion asks. You can hear his patience snapping.

‘Well, you’re just so boring,’ you say, laughing. ‘Why don’t you do something that  —  ’

Astarion kneels down behind you and shoves his way between your legs. You shiver when he presses his lips against your core. He mouths at you hungrily. He grunts low in the back of his throat and digs his nails into your thighs. It steals your breath away. He’s so determined to change the very essence of your being that his tongue and mouth searching where his fingers first were makes you go weak in the knees. You whine.

You press your fingers into the dark, rich mahogany of his desk and try to keep focus. You want to taunt him. You want to tease him, but that wanton desire is almost forgotten entirely by the way Astarion feasts upon your flesh. He parts you with his thumbs and groans against your skin and you almost forget who you are. This is what he wanted. He wanted to pull your desires from you and replace them with his own.

You let him. He works you up as easily as anyone can be worked up, his fingers and his mouth exploring every inch of your skin that’s exposed. He goes to slide a finger in curiously, but you twist your hips away. Astarion is all work and no play. He will tease you relentlessly as it suits him, and he will do what interests him. You interest him more than he’s willing to confess. That’s why he works so hard for your pleasure.

When he’s done with you, he kisses the base of your spine soothingly. Your legs tremble beneath you. Astarion smooths his hand across your hip. You glance at him.

‘Perhaps I can fuck some sense into you now,’ Astarion mumbles.

He has the audacity to sound inquisitive. It’s not like it’s possible, but he seems determined enough to try it out regardless of his intuition. His hands are warm against your skin, and the excitement only builds in the pit of your stomach as you feel Astarion’s skin touch yours. You hear his clothes rustle and his breath catch in his throat. You hide a smile against your arm.

When Astarion slides into your core, it’s like a possession. The breath steals from your lungs. His touch is a familiar constant  —  you would recognize him anywhere by scent alone. You cry weakly. Your toes crunch from the angle, but there’s nothing you want more at this moment than to learn to be good.

Astarion hums behind you as well, his fingers digging into your hips as he tries to steady himself. The desk crunches uncomfortably against your belly but it’s a welcome pain. It keeps you focused. You still have the energy to wiggle back against him as his cock slowly pushes in until there is no more room left to explore.

‘Be good,’ he whispers, ‘and I will give you what you deserve.’

What do you deserve exactly?

It’s hard to say. You enjoy your life of crime almost as much as you love the way Astarion bends you over his desk. You’re good at stealing, you’re good at killing, but you’re good at being soft and pliant as well, giving in to that sentimentality that keeps you coming back from more.

At first it was an elaborate game. What could you do to ensure that Magistrate Judge Astarion Ancunin looked your way? He was a noble elf, and your hands were covered in fresh dough from the baker you stole from. There was a curious glint in his eyes when he looked over you, yet somehow the gods had deemed the yeast and honey on your fingers was not honest enough to be proof.

You are smitten. You bounce taller on your toes with every aggressive thrust, arms struggling to support your weight. Astarion fists his fingers into your hair and pulls until your throat is exposed. He wants you to sing for him, so you do. You arch your back and moan loudly. The sounds of it bounce around his little office.

‘You wouldn’t shut up before,’ Astarion says breathlessly, a hoarse laugh.

‘Do something  —  worth talking about  —  ’

Astarions laughs incredulously, but he does fuck you harder for it. He releases your hair without much flourish and focuses on dragging your hips back onto his cock, punching forward so hard you see stars. It’s wonderful, it’s powerful. If Astarion’s entire goal was to make you forsake the world, he’s done a good job of turning your life around. The cravat rubs against your wrists as you try to seek purchase on the desk. Your fingers drag across the polished wood, and you shudder as you clench down around his cock.

You sound so breathless and silly, groaning while he fucks you against his desk. He fills you full until you’re certain you can take no more. You press a hot cheek against the wood and try to catch your breath. You hook a foot around his ankle for support, twisting on his desk. You tuck your arms beneath your chest. You feel as though you’re coming undone. All your years of villainy, and it comes undone by the consistency of Astarion’s presence.

Your arms are stiff from constantly being up, but you’re almost grateful when Astarion pauses. He helps you turn on top of his desk so you’re on your back instead, and even though the edge digs into your lower back, you prefer that to anything else.

You meet Astarion’s gaze. He tells you he hates you, that he wishes you were out of his hair, that he despises you, but the gentleness of his eyes tells you otherwise. He slides back into you with a small moan, and you wrap your legs around his hips to guide him in further.

‘It’s good,’ you gasp. ‘It’s good, you’re good  —  ’

Astarion doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. You can see it clear as day in his eyes. Astarion won’t say he loves you, that in his ardent fervor he seeks you out, but he knows that you know. Why else would fate lead you back together? You reach for his face with your hands, and his eyes flutter closed to avoid the wistfulness. He leans into your touch.

You cry softly as Astarion begins to grind into you again. He helps carry you as he does so. And it feels so good, feels so overwhelming that you briefly consider the fact that he has changed you for the better.

A spirit that slides into your very marrow. Astarion is hauntingly beautiful, and if he is a spider then you are a fly tangled in his web. He calls you a pretty thing and you give into the struggle. You press your wrists against your forehead and strain against his cock, unable to hide from the waves of crashing pleasure.

Astarion finishes inside of you with a low moan. He presses a rough hand against your belly to stabilize himself, and shyly, you touch his wrist with your bound hands just to feel his pulse. As soon as he’s caught his breath, he releases you from your bonds.

You almost miss him when he pulls away from you. He uses one of his hanging cassocks to clean himself with and is kind enough to do the same for you. You’re almost certain that your legs won’t work, so you sit up on his desk to rest and damn his paperwork to the hells. You kick off your breeches from around your ankles and sit, legs crossed, while Astarion tries to fix his reflection in the mirror.

‘You are truly an astute teacher,’ you say casually. ‘The art of lockpicking is all but gone from my mind. Thank you, your honor.’

Astarion snorts and shakes his head, torn between ignoring you and giving into your wiles. He curls his hair back into place and then walks back to you, leaning forward until you’re nose to nose.

You think he won’t kiss you, but then he does. His lips taste like summer oranges and you taste him until it’s the only thing you can think of. He hugs you tenderly. It isn’t the same as when he admonishes you. It makes your chest feel warm. You almost feel weaker for it. Your bite is being taken away.

‘I can’t keep protecting you,’ Astarion says softly against your cheek. ‘You torment me day and night. When I lie down in my sheets, I find myself consumed with worry.’

‘You think about me?’ you tease. ‘In your sprawling manse?’

‘Move in with me,’ he murmurs. ‘Then you can be inferior yet vain inside my sprawling manse.’

Astarion is not there that evening. You try to wait as long as you can without seeming suspicious. There are maids, family members, and their admirers who come inside and out throughout the evening  —  but not Astarion, never Astarion. You wait until the sun sets and fireflies light up the streets of the Upper City but eventually, the malaise of abandonment guides your feet away. You walk the streets aimlessly until a shiver runs down your spine. A chill so violent turns you away from the courthouse.

But in the morning, there’s a fuss. It draws you back into where you left and you can’t help but to lose yourself. Astarion is dead. His mother sobs. The members of the city watch who bear the bad news look equally as morose. Astarin’s father nearly falls to his knees in despair.

When you break into their manse that evening, you look for one thing. You steal a cravat from his wardrobe and tie it around your neck.

Then, you leave Baldur’s Gate.

You aren’t sure where your feet are going to take you.

Part of your yearns for the Underdark. Baldur’s Gate is a cursed city, you decide. You wander back to it after two hundred years of avoiding it like the plague, and not an hour within the city are you spirited away on an adventure you never longed for.

You have changed. You can’t really remember who you were all those years ago, or the hopefulness you might have felt in your chest once. You’re different now. A folk hero. You used to steal from the rich and give to the poor before the mindflayers fed you their parasite and stole that part of you. But you aren’t alone this time. You wander the beach for hours searching for anything that can be of use and pause over a love letter that makes you sob.

It isn’t all bad. You meet a half-elf who scowls as much as she mumbles to herself.

On the other side of the beach, you meet a ghost.

His eyes are different from what you remember. The warmth he once looked upon you with is gone and replaced by unfamiliar sanguine.

[write-and-wander]

That Night

Astarion x Female Tav/Reader Description: A slowed-down, in-depth retelling of the aftermath of the Cazador fight; looking deeper into the thoughts and feelings of Astarion and his lover. Warnings: Violence and trauma mentions

She loved him.

That was all she knew. That was all she could think of, in this moment.

He had finally conquered his demons- no, his own hell. It was over, now, and the story could continue however he wanted it to. And instead of jumping head-first into any direction, he looked to her for guidance. Because despite the past that drove him to this point, the only future he cared about was one she would be a part of.

So he looks to her, bloodied Cazador at his feet, fate-sealing dagger in hand, heart laid out in a state of vulnerability completely unknown, and asks her what to do.

She looks back at him, her own hands bloodied from the exhausting battle they had just endured, and knows that she loves him. She loves him. Just as he is. She wouldn’t wish him any other way.

She can see the fear, yes. The drive for power, and revenge, but even more than that; the ecstasy of being able to take the one thing Cazador wants after he had taken so, so much from Astarion- the perfect act of justice.

And she asks him only to take it from Cazador- she asks him not to take it for himself. She asks him to keep his freedom, rather than submit himself to the shackles of madness that unprecedented power would demand.

And his open, bleeding heart is suddenly soft.

Though he may not get to take and keep, he is more than happy to take and watch evil lose.

So he does.

With shaking body and ragged breath, he drives the dagger into Cazador’s chest as a mortician’s hammer drives nails into a coffin; sealing death. The death of Cazador, the purest form of evil he has ever known. The death of who he could have been, in all the corrupt power he could have basked in. The death of life as he once knew it, defined only by the black and white chess game between power and powerless. He stabs straight through Cazador’s heart, and again, and again, and again; a desperate frenzy that will never quite feel like enough, until he is forced to stop.

His body fails him in its divine relief. Decades of pain, fear, and torture are at last released with his final act. He will never know Cazador’s pain again. His will never have to run from the monster that chases him again. He will never be a toy or a lure again. He is free, and he won, and he is still, somehow, despite everything, in tact. Inexplicable tension is finally let go completely. He collapses to his knees, wails ripping through his chest and echoing against the stone cold walls that surround him.

She watches as her very heart weeps in a grief she could never even begin to comprehend. The heart that beats in her chest seems to twist in its own turmoil, and a sympathetic hand- or perhaps the hand of a friend desperate to grip something else in an attempt to maintain their own balance- finds her shoulder. Her own tears stream down her face, as do the tears of the friends who helped them make it here.

Astarion’s “siblings-” not by blood, but certainly by bond- rush over to him, their faces contorted in concern combined with utter disbelief.

Her mouth opens for a moment; she wants to ask them to stop, to give her heart space to breathe, to please, gods, don’t touch him, but the words stick in her throat. She’s too choked up to speak, but gratitude sinks in as she realizes that this is their moment of blessed freedom, too. They shared in their pain together- they deserve to share in their relief together, too.

He steels himself as they approach, and she sees Astarion the Upper City Magistrate show himself as the suddenly gentler elf seamlessly steps into a place of leadership. The others look to him in a sudden cry for a compass- they are free, but they are left without direction; and he so easily gifts it to them. He gives them direction, and offers what little encouragement he can to the now-freed slaves. Thousands of spawn are suddenly given a second chance, now that the pale elf had changed their fates- a thankless act that outweighs his sins tenfold.

It isn’t until they leave to fulfill their last charge that he returns to his lover. He hesitantly takes her hands in his, and she grasps them with the same gentleness in confidence. He had done it. It was over.

There’s an instinct in her to hug him; to enfold herself around him in an act of love, and yet, she knows her beloved vampire better than that. He will come and effortlessly wrap himself in all that she is when he is ready. Instead, she gently presses kisses onto his bloodied hands.

He looks to the companions that now stand beside her- his friends, who have so selflessly fought for this moment despite his outward reluctance to fight for them.

Though he wouldn’t be able to say it out loud until years later, he loves them. That is what he feels in this moment, in its purest form. Though it is seamlessly woven into waves of gratitude and grief, he feels love. For all of them. For her.

Later that night, after the sun goes down and most of the others had retired to their tents, Astarion does, indeed, find himself in his lover’s tent. Later still, after a long and tear-filled conversation periodically interrupted with near-silent fits of weeping, Astarion buries himself into his lover’s arms. He cries until trance overtakes him.

And all through that night, she holds him.

And the sun rises. And a new day comes. And they will find out all it holds, together.