#one sided halsin x tav

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Holy

So this... wasn't what I planned... anyway...

One sided Halsin x Tav, one sided Gale x Tav, Astarion x Tav. Jealous gods, oblivious bears, and a certain someone barging in to make it all about him. Of course. 18+ spicy spice

Taglist:

@boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana

@auroraesmeraldarose @aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard @silent-words

@netherese0rb @sorceresssundries @mumms-the-word

'Let all time slow, let all light go, I don't need to know where we begin and end, I'd still know you not bein' shown you, I only need the workin' of my hands. Do you understand?' - De Selby part II, Hozier

‘Tav,’ Halsin’s warm, deep voice floated through the crowd of her friends, gathered in the balmy evening. Woodsmoke and flowers were heavy in her nose, the sweet headiness of red wine on her tongue curling inside her head to a pleasant cloudiness. She turned, a little unsteady, to find the druid gazing at her with soft, adoring eyes. She could fall into their honey gold depths if she wished, getting him drunk on wine and fucking languidly in the open air. Tonight held that kind of magic. She held the last memory in her mind, verdant green and hazy.

*

Six months ago, stood in the ruins of the High Hall, her friends gathered. Despite assurances to the contrary, Tav knew none of them expected to survive what was coming. Each of them prepared in their own way. Karlach was all relentless energy, itching for one last fight. Wyll spoke quietly with his father, their hands clasped as they stared down the battlements at their city on fire. Minsc, Boo and Jaheira were sprawled against a wall, sharing a bottle of wine. Shadowheart and Lae’zel were stood side by side, sullen.

Astarion paced like a caged cat, hands behind his back, eyes on his feet. When she reached for him, his eyes rose to meet hers. They were unguarded for once, deepest red, and scared. He was the one to pull her in. ‘You survive this,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘You hear me?’ ‘You’ve got it,’ she said, breathing deep. She’d remember the scent of his clothes for as long as she lived, be it hours or years. Citrus and herbs and brandy depth and death. ‘We’ll get out of this. We have to.’

‘Don’t worry, darling,’ he said, sounding for all the realms like he meant it, ‘if you die, we’ll just have to march into the fugue plane and get you back.’

She felt tears come. ‘Yeah, well. You stay on your feet too. You’re so whiny when you’re bleeding out.’ He smiled at her, gentle and almost wistful. ‘See you.’

‘See you,’ he echoed, watching her leave.

‘Hey,’ she said, approaching Halsin. ‘I just wanted to say that I-’

‘I’m sorry my heart,’ he said, looking anxiously down at her. ‘There’s no time. We have to go.’

‘…Oh. I just. I thought that maybe we should say goodbye, just in case-’ She wanted him to take her into the shelter of his arms and kiss her. One last kiss, if it would be so, or one of many more, but he would not hear it.

‘There will be no goodbyes today,’ he said gently. ‘Go. I will see you on the other side, sweet one.’

‘Right,’ she said, feeling her heart splinter in her chest. ‘Yeah.’ She turned toward the exit, to face the horrors head on as she’d always done. Deep breath.

‘Wait.’

Not that voice. Anyone else and she might’ve been okay, but not him. He reached for her hand, turned her to face him.

‘Gale…’

‘Now, I know,’ he said, lifting his hands in that endearingly disarming way of his. ‘We’re not together anymore, and that’s fine, but…’ He smiled. ‘I’d be a pretty awful friend if I just let you go off to this fight without saying something, wouldn’t I?’

‘Gale, it’s fine honestly. We’re going to be fine. I’ll see you on the other side, yeah?’

‘It’s an honour to fight alongside you. You believed in me in a way nobody else did. Nobody but Tara I mean, er… well. You showed me what I had to live for. And for what it’s worth, Tav, I…’ Swallowing hard, his voice cracked. ‘I miss you. A lot. And I love you. Of course I do. How could I not?’

‘You’ll be thrilled to hear my boyfriend just brushed me off, then.’

‘Not remotely.’

‘Are you with me, Gale? Are you going to be able to focus and fight this battle alongside me?’

‘Of course.’

‘And will you give up the crown?’ Her words hung between them. ‘I adored you. So much. But your ambition, it… it poisons everything you touch. Leave it, Gale. Please. If you love me, truly, do this for me. This one thing.’

The light in his eyes went out. ‘You know I can’t lie to you, Tav. Not to you.’

‘I see,’ she said. She suddenly felt unreal, like her knees would give beneath her or her soul would fly away. ‘Well. I suppose the only thing left to say is good luck.’

*

‘Hi, Halsin,’ said Tav coolly. ‘I hope the last six months have been treating you well.’

‘They have,’ he said, seemingly oblivious. ‘There are many orphans in the surrounding environs who need homes. I’ve set up a shelter, of sorts. I never got to be a father as you know, but… I think I’ve found my purpose, finally.’

‘I’m happy for you,’ she said in a sweet voice that wasn’t quite sincere.

‘How about you, my heart? How have the last six months been for you? I must say, I missed you terribly.’

‘They been fine,’ she said. ‘You should have a drink, hmm? I’ll find you later.’ How can I really tell you what it’s been like? There’s no way you would understand. She decided to tell him nothing, retreating to the far side of their old camp, down by the lake and out of sight.

*

She’d searched for him, in the aftermath. Under the rubble and the blood, the cooling bodies and faces strange and familiar, she’d been frantic, scanning everywhere she could for a scrap of fine purple fabric. Finding nothing, she retreated from the city, finding solace in an isolated cottage in the Cloakwood. With Karlach and Wyll in Avernus, Shadowheart living with her parents, and Lae’zel on a crusade against the lich queen, Tav had nobody left. Even Astarion had had to retreat into the dark.

She settled into life there just fine. Slowly she created a small herb garden, her kitchen smelled sweet and fragrant, and she adjusted to sleeping alone. Couriers brought letters from Jaheira with the city’s progress, Shadowheart checked in occasionally and on those days, she brought Scratch and they’d reminisce, bittersweet.

And then the dreams started. Looming into her consciousness she heard Gale’s voice again. It had lost the warmth it once had, instead turning strangely metallic and cold in quality. ‘Tav,’ he said, appearing in utter splendour. He was all rich robes, bright, terrifyingly blank eyes, and skin that had gone silver. ‘I miss you.’ There was no feeling in it. She had the memory of it tucked in the back of her mind. The way his voice would morph from cheery and silly to meltingly seductive, it was all gone.

‘I looked for you,’ she said. ‘After. I thought you were dead.’

‘No.’ His voice echoed in her head. ‘I became something better.’

‘I loved you, Gale. The man you were. Not this.’

‘You left me,’ he said. Even his anger was flat. ‘You could’ve ascended, Tav. I wanted to bring you with me.’

‘I can think of nothing worse.’

‘You’ll understand in time, perhaps. You won’t ever be far from my sights, not with your ambition.’

‘Let me go,’ she begged. ‘Please.’

‘Strange as prayers go.’ He almost smiled. ‘I cannot grant it. I’m sorry.’ His words were hollow, ringing false with every godly breath.

He visited nightly from then on. He would simply be on the periphery of her consciousness, a ghost of a memory.

Every night except one.

Months into the ordeal, she lie wide awake in the dark. He would not come if she was awake, because he was a coward. His human courage had fled him, filling the void of him to the brim with arrogance and apathy instead. So dark became her day, and the last joys she had felt leached away. Leave me, she would pray upon waking. Torment me no longer. Haunt me no more. He never listened, only shored up his domain with her desperation.

A stirring outside perked up her ears. Rising cautiously, she padded to the window, tried to peer into the dark. She percieved an eerie silence; the night was usually so full of life, birds and the chittering of small rodents and the rustle of leaves… it had all fallen away.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

‘What in the nine hells?’ she asked aloud. Nobody had knocked on her door for months. She crept to the door, slowly reached out, and turned the handle, revealing the last person she’d expected to be at her door. ‘Astarion?’

He stood before her, looking furious. ‘Darling, do you know how long it took me to find you? Do you?’

‘I-’

‘I looked for you. After. I thought you were dead.’

Tav stood, jaw slack, staring. Hearing her own words echoed back at her- the words she’d spoken to her new god, because he was, however reluctant she was about it, he had claimed her- sent her reeling. ‘Fucking hells.’

‘You have to invite me in,’ he said dryly. ‘I’ll warn you though. If you do you are in for it.’

She held his gaze. It was almost a challenge, his feline eyes narrowed. ‘Come in.’ She took a step back, he a step forward, over the threshold. He reached out a pale hand to close the door. She held her breath. ‘Of all the people to knock on my door I wasn’t-’

‘Quiet,’ he breathed. She bit her tongue and waited. ‘I told you. You had to survive this. I was going to find you after. I’m sorry I didn’t get to.’ His eyes flashed. ‘I thought you’d be with Halsin.’

‘Oh you know,’ she said, trying to keep things light. ‘He found his calling helping orphans. I’ve always been a bit too much of a bastard for that kind of thing.’

‘He broke your heart,’ he said pointedly. ‘I heard him, you know. He just brushed you off.’

‘It’s fine, really. He’s happy, so-’

‘But you’re not,’ he said, taking a step closer. ‘Come here.’ He reached out to take her jaw in his hand, appraising her appearance. ‘You’re not sleeping.’

‘No,’ she admitted.

‘The least you could do is tell me why.’

‘Gale.’

‘Gale?’ His nose wrinkled in distaste. ‘I thought you broke up with him.’

‘I did. I’m not talking about the Gale we knew, Astarion. I’m talking about a god.’ Hot tears welled in her eyes. ‘He won’t leave me alone.’

‘Tell me.’

‘I’m his chosen, Astarion. There’s nothing I can do about it. It’s not like I have anyone who would-’

‘You have me.’

‘I didn’t finish my sentence.’

‘You don’t need to. You have me. I didn’t come and find you out of the goodness of my heart, you know.’

‘Well then why-’ He didn’t let her finish her sentence. He kissed her so violently her back hit the wall, her little ‘ooph!’ of surprise swallowed up by his tongue cool in her mouth. She pulled back in shock, though they were still nose to nose, sharing breath. ‘What the fuck?’

‘Oh darling, keep up. I’m in love with you, isn’t it obvious?’

Her mind was reeling. There was Halsin, who seemed to have forgotten she existed, Gale, who haunted her every dream and whispered promises of power if only she would just surrender, and then…

‘Tav.’ He took a shaky breath. ‘Say something.’

‘I’m… surprised, that’s all,’ she said faintly. ‘Not that I don’t want-’

‘Yes?’ He was losing patience.

‘Would it be wrong?’ she asked. I honestly don’t know.

‘Oh, almost certainly,’ he said. His voice was cheery, but his eyes were boring into hers. He was serious. ‘I mean, if you want to go back to Halsin, feel free. I’m sure he appreciates you the way you deserve.’

Anger reared in her chest. ‘Don’t be a bastard, Astarion.’

‘If that hit a nerve, ask yourself why.’

He was so close. It was muddling her thoughts, the smell of him. ‘Gods preserve me,’ she said, leaning up to close the meagre distance between them. She could feel him smiling into the kiss this time, his hands moving to gently cup her face.

‘Gods have nothing to do with it,’ he whispered when they broke apart. ‘Fuck the gods. I just want you.’

‘Then have me,’ she said. ‘On every surface in this house.’

‘You little freak,’ he said, deft fingers divesting her of her sleep clothes.

‘Cheat. That’s not fair.’ She pouted. He grinned wolfishly and threw his own clothes on the pile, his pale skin gleaming in Selune’s light.

‘Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?’ he asked.

‘Absolutely none. I’m sure you’ll make up for it.’

‘Damn fucking right, I will.’ He put his expertise to work, nimble hands and soft mouth and sharp teeth. He knew just where to touch to make her feel lightheaded with pleasure, just how to play her body to make her beg, what to whisper to make molten heat crash through her. Not a word of it was false. He pressed delicate kisses to her nose, her cheeks, even her ears, making her giggle. He made her scream his name into the silence, and she felt the god of ambition bristle with every stuttering breath and sigh muffled in the vampire’s flesh. They fucked and rested and fucked again.

And then the light began to change.

‘I have to go,’ he said between kisses. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll come back.’

And then Astarion was gone, and Tav was alone with his scent on her skin and Gale’s rage inside her head.

To be continued…

[astarionancuntnin]

Midnight's Embrace

summary: you can’t recall the last time you had a real, good night of sleep. your fight with the netherbrain is approaching fast and your anxiety is only increasing. halsin proposes to try a special brand of herbs to alleviate your mind. turns out this herb also awoke something else in you.

rating: E

word count: 3k

pairing: astarion x you x halsin (fem!reader)

cw: 18+. smut, porn with no plot, late act 3 business, reader is tav, massage turning into something more, polyamory, reader is sandwiched between her two bfs, recreational drug use, stoned sex, mildly dubious consent due to drug intake (reader & astarion), praise kink, threesome, dry humping, blood/vampire bites, unprotected sex, anal fingering and penetration, double penetration, creampie, aftercare, overall sane safe and as consensual as one can be under the influence.

a/n: taking a smol break from my angsty writing to deliver some smut goodness. hope you enjoy! (i sure did)

a/n²: this is absolutely self-indulgent stuff and i will not be sorry about it. i wish i had two loving boyfriends fucking me while i was high, is that so much to ask

read on ao3

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or keep reading down below ~

You can’t recall the last time you had a real, good night of sleep.

Since your arrival in Baldur’s Gate, your nights have been restless, and your anxiety related to your upcoming fight with the Netherbrain has only increased. It’s not uncommon for you to wake up sweating in the middle of the night, panting, and checking your surroundings. You feel as if you’re only one inconvenience away from crumbling and your lovers are worried about you. You keep trying to reassure them that you’ll be fine once the Netherbrain is dealt with, but they won’t hear you out; you’ve only ever taken care of your companions since the start. Everyone has found their peace but you. 

Halsin and Astarion urged you to start to focus on yourself, and you wanted to, but the truth is you had no idea where to start; you were used to taking care of everyone else, your own wellbeing never crossed your mind. One night, after Astarion feeds on you, he mentions how tense you are, and that he would gladly massage your neck to help with the tension you've accumulated. This makes you think about asking your other companions about their own techniques to decompress. Throughout the day, you ask around: “what do you do when you’re stressed out?” Shadowheart mentions that she meditates and stretches, and while it’s not a bad idea, with your mind constantly racing, you doubt you’d be able to easily meditate. Lae’zel mentions practice dueling, which she usually partakes with Wyll, and although it seems to be working for them, you wanna try to avoid more fighting before your upcoming fight. 

That’s when Halsin tells you about the medicinal benefits of some herbs, and how they could help you relax. Although you’ve never tried, you’re open to the idea; you’ll try anything that could potentially ease your night terrors. You spend the next day marching the streets to reach an herb shop. As you enter, a lady greets you cheerfully, offering her help to find you exactly what you need. They offered a great variety of consumables infused with their many strands available : pastries, desserts, drinks and potions, candies; if you could imagine it, they had it. The lady explains the effect each of their products have and their specialities. After looking around, you settle on a cookie with Midnight’s Embrace, a sleep inducing herb. You thank her and head back to the Elfsong for the night.

You finish your meal with the special cookie and soon after, you bid your companions goodnight before fetching your partners to accompany you through the night. After all, you still intend on holding Astarion to his word about that massage he mentioned the other night, and Halsin promised to be by your side as this was your first time consuming something like this.

You had reserved the room with the biggest bed they had, just for this occasion.  You reach for the bed first, lying comfortably on your chest, ready for your long-awaited massage. Halsin is next to join you, removing his shirt to get comfortable before sitting next to you with his back against the headboard, and Astarion joins soon after, kneeling behind you. The pale elf straightens up before laying his hands on your back, wasting no time to work through the knots in your tired muscles. The relief you feel is almost instant.

Halsin combs through your hair, pushing it aside to reveal your blissful face. “How are you feeling?”

“Sooooo good. A massage was the best idea.”

As it turns out, the massage combined with the herb-induced dessert enhanced each other, as the effect of the cookie you ingested earlier had already started settling in. When the lady mentioned they were “fast-acting”, you didn’t expect almost spontaneous-acting. Your skin feels more sensitive – in a good way – but you know that it’s the effect of the drugs, as if every touch was the softest caress you’ve received, and you found yourself leaning in the vampire's strong and graceful grip, only wanting more. As he makes his way to your lower back, a few unconscious moans escape your mouth before you can stop them. 

“I take it that you’re enjoying yourself, then?” Astarion asks, smiling, in response to your moaning.

“It’s just… your hands…” you sigh content, leaning into his touch. “They feel amazing.”

“I'm happy to provide, my love.”

His dexterous hands turn you to putty and you wish you could feel more, every inch of your body yearning for attention. He keeps working on your back while you reach out to Halsin, his much bigger hand holding yours tightly. You slightly turn your head to be able to look at him.

“I… want you to touch me too.”

“Tell me where you need me, my heart.”

“Can you hold me? I want to be held by you two.”

The two men look at each other in understanding before repositioning themselves on each side of you ; Astarion hugging your waist from behind, nuzzling himself in the crook of your neck, and Halsin sheltering you in his arms, his head resting on top of yours.

The effects of the cookie kept getting stronger : you felt lighter, more peaceful and happier, your mind was clear from any lingering anxiety, only taking in the love surrounding you. In the comfort of their arms, you let your hands roam over the archdruid's chest, exploring each crevasse. The drugs made you more sensitive, especially down there, and it doesn’t take you long to feel a familiar warmth pool down to your stomach. You gently rub your thighs together, chasing the feeling growing between your legs, when you feel the man behind you slightly pull away. 

“Hold on, are you–” He raises his head to look down your waist, “Oh, you little devil. You are touching yourself!”

It seems that you had lost all awareness, not realizing your movements were brushing against Astarion’s groin. Your blood rushes to your face and you suddenly feel warm, “I– Gods, I didn't realize–”

He clicks his tongue, “None of that. We're here for you to feel better, remember? Now, tell us, what does your heart desire?”

“I…” You feel bashful for all the thoughts swirling around your mind, unable to speak them aloud: you wish to be taken at once by both of your lovers, having them make you feel whole as they fill you with their love, touch, kiss, bite, every part of your body. Surely, you're influenced by the herbs, but you can't deny that even sober, the thoughts have crossed your mind. The drugs simply allowed them to wander freely and amplify them slightly. 

You finally manage to get a few words out, barely expressing the full extent of your carnal desires, “I want you… Both… to… massage me… everywhere.”

Halsin cups your face softly, kissing your forehead before getting up. “Let's get you comfortable, shall we?”

You nod hazily, and he helps you remove your camp clothing, before removing the rest of his own, leaving you both naked on the bed. While Halsin was helping you dress down, Astarion allowed himself to remove his own shirt, providing you the skin-on-skin you desired from both of them, all the while respecting his own boundaries. Now comfortably nestled between your lovers, you let your hands explore the man facing you. His warmth is overwhelming and you can't stop touching him, languidly going over his chest and shoulders, your concentration faltering.

“I believe our beloved is rather hungry tonight,” Astarion says, smiling.

The archdruid makes eye contact with you, lovingly holding your cheek, “Is this what you want, my love?”

“Yes, please, I've never wanted anything more,” you plead, now with a breathy voice.

Halsin gives you a soft smile and his lips meet yours in a passionate kiss. Your hips buck on their own, brushing over Halsin’s cock already awakening to your touch

Astarion keeps massaging your tits, never letting you go from his embrace and starts kissing your neck.

“Do you like that, my sweet?” He said between two kisses.

“Y- yes… please… more.”

He drags his hand alongside your body, his nails lightly grazing your skin, tracing every curve, every scar and mark on your body, leaving goosebumps in its trail, before landing over your ass.

“Like this?” He asks with a husky voice.

“Yes…” you breathe out.

Halsin follows Astarion's lead, his own hand caressing your side before landing on your thigh, lifting it up to hook your leg around his waist.

“How about this?”

His hand finds its way to your cunt, softly stroking along your entrance.

You sigh content, your hips bucking into him more, trying to make his fingers enter you.

“More…I need more…”

The archdruid slides his finger inside you, giving you exactly what you want and you moan, letting your nails dig in the muscles of his arm. He steadies his rhythm and your hand finds its way in Astarion's hair, pulling him closer to you. His lips reach your ear, guided by your hand.

“By the gods, you're so beautiful,” he says, nibbling on your ear, getting a whimper out of you, as he leaves a trail of kisses down the nape of your neck.

The attention from your lovers makes you squirm under them as every inch of you is yearning for more contact. Halsin rewards your movements by entering you with a second finger and you cry out of pleasure.

“Keep singing for me my love,” Halsin says.

His fingers working your cunt and his thumb rubbing over your clit only awaken something stronger in you.

“Please Halsin, I need you.”

“You will have me, my heart.”

Your other hand reaches for his cheek, forcing him to look into your eyes, “All of you.”

He reads the urgency in your gaze and he removes his finger from you, giving them a taste and humming at your essence.

“By the Oak Father, you taste like the sweetest of honeys, my love.” His voice is deep, but soft; you can hear the admiration he holds for you, your body, your soul, and it only makes you want him even more.

He places his cock at your entrance before slowly pushing in fully, and you hold onto his face, taking in deep breaths as he gives you time to adjust to his size. 

“Look at you…” Astarion whispers close to your ear. “You're taking him so well, my love,” he rewards you by groping your nipples, lightly pinching them in the process.

You arch your back at the sensation, giving him easier access to not only your breast, but your neck as well, and his mouth instinctively finds its way to the familiar spot of his feeding. His cold tongue traces over your pulsating vein, seemingly asking for permission, and yet, you were the one reduced to a pleading mess.

“Please...”

He hums in the crook of your neck and you feel his smile against your skin, “Please what?”

Your chest rises higher with each breath you take “Bite me.”

He holds your head back by lightly pulling your hair and sinks his teeth into your neck. You cry out at the initial sting and quickly get lost in the feeling. The flow of your blood leaving your body is even more ecstatic than usual; as if you could feel the blood in every vein in your body being pulled away as Astarion drank from you ravishingly. Knowing your limits and accounting for the condition you're in, he pulls back earlier than usual, and you whine at the loss of his mouth only to moan more as Halsin finally starts moving inside you. What the vampire hadn’t thought of was the effect your blood was going to have on him, now that it was mixed with the drugs you took earlier. It wasn't rare for him to get hard drinking from you, but he usually dismissed the feeling since you've discussed taking things slow. This time however, his cock felt rock hard and the drugs now flowing through him made him chase the feeling that the fabric rubbing over him was providing.

He grabs your waist, grinding into your back, while Halsin pumps in and out of you with slow strokes. With any restraint gone, Astarion pushes his hips into you, rubbing himself down through his trousers. By now, his need is clearly showcased by the pre-come stain on his pants, and the head of his cock poking out of his waistband, flushed pink by your blood running through it.

Halsin notices Astarion's mood change and he reaches out to hold his face, bringing him back to him, before he can act on impulse.

“Do you want this?”

His eyes are sincere and caring; granted the reasons they're in this situation is for you, but that doesn't undermine their own needs as well. Astarion nods, affirming his consent, before freeing his erection to show his intentions. Now certain that his lover wanted this as much as himself, Halsin made sure you were ready for them.

He cups your face and gently strokes your cheek. As if he had read your mind earlier, he asks, “Do you think you can take us both, my heart?” 

“Yes,” your voice is merely a whisper, but the lust you express is clear nonetheless. 

He removes himself from inside of you to wet his fingers with your juices, only to take them back out to move them down to your tight hole. His finger coated by your slick gently enters your ass and you gasp at the sensation, surprised at first, but welcoming it as you push down against him. He slides a second finger and you moan in pleasure.

“That's my good girl.”

He prepares your hole, making sure you're accustomed to the feeling, then removes his fingers to spit in his hand, now to prepare Astarion for you. He grasps the vampire's length and slowly strokes him. Astarion hisses at the initial contact, but quickly melts into his touch, bucking his hips into Halsin's wet hand. The archdruid aligns his partner's cock at your tight entrance while he positions himself back against your pussy, ready to enter you again. He asks for one final permission.

“Are you ready, my love?” 

With partly lidded eyes, you nod and whisper a faint yes, and he grabs the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss, while his hips and Astarion's thrust into you at once. 

You cry into his mouth, both overwhelmed by their sizes and the friction having both of them at the same time provided, and behind you, the vampire growls, steadying himself inside your ass. Having both him and Halsin inside you like this was a sensation you couldn’t begin to describe. It’s everything you ever wanted, you feel whole, but also vulnerable; you were entirely at their mercy, and you wouldn’t be able to get out from their strong hold on you, especially not in the state you’re in. You're completely helpless, caged between their imposing arms and legs, and yet, you’ve never felt more safe than you do right at this moment. For once, you could let go, let yourself be guided, your life between their hands.

You’re brought back to the moment when they start moving, picking up a slow and steady pace, and you let yourself be used by them; while one pulls out, the other enters you fully. You’re rendered speechless, reduced to moans and soft cries, but your lovers make sure to fill in for your silence.

“You feel so good.” The voice behind you groans close to your ear. His grip on your hips tightens, with his sharp nails lightly digging into your soft skin.

“So deliciously wet, just for us.” A honeyed voice praises you more and you start to lose your hold.

“Gods, you’re so fucking tight.”

“You're doing so well.”

Their words of praise worked like a charm on you, and they knew the effect it had on you. They noticed how you reacted to encouragement on the battlefield, and it applied just as much in bed. 

“My love.”

“My good girl.”

The shock to your mind hits you like lightning. You convulse between them, crying out as electricity runs through you, your walls tightening against their cocks, milking them dry. 

“Ugnnh I'm– ah fuck- I'm close.” 

“Mnh- my heart, I’m gonna come–.”

You're still going through your first orgasm when you feel a second one hitting you brutally as they shoot ropes of come inside both of your holes, leaving you overflowing from them.

The sensation numbs you out entirely, still spasming around their members, but completely spent and breathless. Your mind is blank, with nothing but pure bliss swirling around. As if you were between two worlds, switching from dream to reality, you barely feel your lovers pull out of you and move around, cleaning themselves and you. You think you hear a distant voice saying “let’s get you cleaned up” as you’re lifted up from the bed. You don’t notice Astarion removing the ruined sheet, but too tired of his own to care about replacing it with another, and snuggling back in bed. You’re laid down next to him and you instinctively reach out for him; your hand reaching out for his, laying close to his undead heart, and your forehead leaning over his shoulder. Finally, the archdruid slides behind you, covering you three with a warm blanket, his arm circling over your waist. At long last, you let yourself drift to sleep in his loving embrace.

For the first time in weeks, you get a real, good night of sleep.

~

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

tag list (comment or message me if you want to be added!): @grimistheangerinmystares @silverfangmarks @roguishcat

[celestialowlbear]

🌿 ♡ Halsin NSFW Headcanon Drabble ♡ 🌿

Pairing: Halsin x Reader (GN)

WC: ~600

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

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

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

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

Your lips, your gentle touch, your sounds…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[oh-my-damn]

Cat Behavior

Pairing: Astarion x Female!Tav/reader

Summary: You've noticed certain behaviors in your vampire lover. And it's adorable.

Wordcount: 1600

Warnings: None. Pure, unadulterated fluff. Fun and sassy (and in love) Astarion. Astarion being a kitty-cat.

Masterlist

The best part about getting that damn worm inserted in his head was the fact it took away some of the side effects from being a vampire.

Astarion had never been able to enjoy the benefits of being one - for 200 years he was forced to do his masters bidding, always hiding in the shadows and being fed rats to sustain himself - if he was allowed to eat, at all. That's without even mentioning the things he was forced to do, the matter of his consent not even an afterthought in Cazadors mind.

But the tadpole had taken away those issues, even if it was only temporarily for now, which allowed him to enjoy the things about himself he hasn't been able to for the past 200 years. Those things included his speed and agility when fighting, using his fangs as both a weapon but also as a way to taste the sweetest nectar he could ever imagine. Nothing quite compared to sinking his teeth into your beautiful neck, the little shivers in your body as he drank from you.

Except maybe one thing.

The tadpole allowed him to be in the sun, again.

When the nautiloid first crash landed and he was thrown from it haphazardly, he thought it would be the end of him. He woke up on that beach, and he immediately felt heat - something he hasn't felt in several lifetimes. He thought that would be the end; that he would perish right there, on some disgusting beach surrounded by smelly fishermen and even smellier mindflayers, burning in the sun.

But when his scarlet eyes popped open after minutes of feeling that heat but no pain, he realized that whatever had been done to him must have had an affect on his vampirism, in some strange way.

And since then, he has cherished being in the sun – almost as much as he cherishes being around you.

You've noticed how he tends to gravitate towards the sunny spots wherever you go. The first time you took note of it was in Grymforge. Astarion had managed to find the only spot in your entire camp where, despite Grymforge being in the Underdark, a small beam of sunlight had made it's way through the rubbles.

You chose not to comment on it, though. It didn't surprise you to learn that he wanted to enjoy the sun for as much as possible, after hundreds of years of lurking in the shadows. Seeing him in that spot in your camp reminded you of the first time the two of you spent the night together - or rather, it reminded you of the morning after the two of you had spent your first night together.

Waking up to see him standing in that clearing, his eyes closed and head tilted backwards, soaking in the warmth of the sun. You hadn't fully realized what it meant at the time, being so early on in your acquaintance, but you understood now.

Which is why you've never mentioned it to him when you notice him subtly moving around whenever you're in camp, to try and find the best patch of sun to sit in. Part of you is unsure whether he is even aware he is doing it - it starts out with him leaning towards where the sun is moving, and then shifting short distances when it moves too far; all while still reading his book, or talking with the others, or drinking his wine.

The one time it does annoy you, however, is during times like today.

You're all back at camp, enjoying a well deserved half day off, and the sun has been beating down on you for most of the day. The afternoon is lurking, which means the sun is slowly moving across the sky, preparing to set for the day.

You're sitting around the un-lit campfire with the others, Karlach and Wyll sitting at your left, Gale and Shadowheart at your right, and Halsin and Jaheira straight across.

Everyone is talking casually or reading a book, seemingly all enjoying an afternoon of quiet resting before your next big confrontation interrupts it.

You and Astarion are sitting on a blanket, each of you with a glass of well deserved wine in hand. Well, perhaps sitting is not the right word; he is leaning back on his hands with his legs in front of him, and you're resting your head on his thigh. He's deep in conversation with Halsin, and you wouldn't have considered Astarion to be as interested in the druid as he seemingly is, if it wasn't for the fact you suspect he might be just a teensy bit attracted to the beefy elf.

You're having a conversation with Karlach and Wyll, the two of them asking questions about your past and defending their inquiries with the fact that you know so much about them and they barely know anything about you.

You're replying with chuckles and smiles for the most part, indulging them, carefully taking sips of wine with your head leaning on Astarions thigh.

The sun moves slightly on the blue sky, as it always does this time of day, and you want to curse at yourself for not seeing what happens next coming in advance.

Just as you're about to reply to one of Karlach's questions, your pillow (Astarion's thigh) is snatched away from under your head, resulting in it thunking against the grass. Your boyfriend shifts away, completely oblivious to what just happened as he lets out a delighted laugh at whatever Halsin tells him.

Your let out a hrmpf at the impact, your brows pulling into a frown when you sit up, rubbing the back of your head with your fingers, "Ow."

Karlach and Wyll both watch you with widened eyes, their gaze bouncing between yourself and Astarion, the latter still completely unaware of how he just moved away from you to accommodate for the moving sunbeam he always chases.

"What just happened?" Karlach muses, tilting her head. The question makes Astarion glance over at her, taking a sip of his wine, "What do you mean?"

You narrow your eyes when they find your lover, letting out another disgruntled noise, "My head just hit the grass, you oaf!"

You push at his shoulder (gently) to make your point, making him spill af few drops of wine, "Hey, watch it! This is a perfectly balanced red!"

You glare at him, his scarlet eyes searching your face in confusion, "Astarion!"

"What?!" He exclaims, looking utterly confused as he looks between you and the others, "What is it?"

"You made my head hit the ground when you moved, you doofus!" You exclaim in exasperation, scooting closer to him to get back to your former position, your lips forming a pout, "Apologize."

That makes him frown instantly as if the notion of apologizing is obscene, his nose wrinkling as he glances down at the blanket, "What are you talking about, I didn't even move?"

"Yes you did!" You exclaim, and Karlach chimes in with a "Yeah, you did," which makes you look at him pointedly.

Astarion's expression only gets more confused, but he glances at the others who look equally confused yet entertained by whatever is happening between the two of you right now.

You let out a dramatic sigh, sitting up to point at your former spot, "We were over here, now you're over here. See? You always do this."

"Do what?" He asks in annoyance, "I don't even remember moving."

"I know," you quip, grabbing his glass of wine out of his hand to take a sip, "But you always do it. As soon as the sun moves, you do too."

He blinks in surprise, and the others around you snicker in response.

"What do you mean?"

"You move with the sun, vampy," you jest, cupping his confused face in your hands, "And normally it's real cute, but not when I'm using you as a pillow. Got it?"

His eyes search yours, his lips lifting slightly at your teasing expression, but he looks a little embarrassed when he asks, "I move with the sun?"

"Uh-huh," you nod, ruffling his hair and making him sputter in protest, "Whenever the sun moves so you're no longer in it's direct path, you move to wherever you need to in order to get back in it. It's very cute, all things considered, but it's not very practical when I need to use your milky thighs for resting. Okay?"

He pushes your hands off at your little comment, making the others chuckle, and instead he reaches up to curls his hand around the back of your neck. He smirks, clearly embarrassed and a little flustered but trying to hide it as he pulls you closer, "All right, I think we all got it. I move with the sun."

"Yep," you quip, "Just like a kitty cat."

His eyes narrow as the others laugh, and then the two of you have a staring contest, each refusing to back down. Your smile turns wider, enjoying the teasing banter between the two of you, your previous gripe already forgotten.

"Are you calling me a cat, darling?" He asks, his voice lowered, "Is that what I am to you?"

"Yes, just a cute kitty. Like Halsin!" You muse, glancing over at the wood elf. Astarions eyes dart over to look at him momentarily, and you can tell he gets even more flustered when the large elf only smiles back at him.

"You hear that, Astarion? Guess we have more in common than we thought."

[starsofteal]

Daylight

Halsin x Tav // Halsin x Reader

Summary: Tav misinterprets Halsin’s declarations, thinking he must not want her as much as she wants him. Can Halsin convince her of his love? A/N: Well, my first Halsin fic is here! Based off this dialogue from the game, featuring a classic miscommunication trope. When I first came across this dialogue, I found myself rather disappointed by Halsin’s declaration, and I realized I was focusing on all the wrong parts of it. I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, so here we have a scenario in which Tav has done the same. This fic is so self-indulgent it should be a crime. Warnings: Hurt/Comfort (emphasis on the comfort—I promise all’s well that ends well). Pretty spoiler free, except for the opening dialogue if you’re romancing Halsin and you want all that to be a surprise. 

“Relationship?” A deep chuckle rumbles in Halsin’s chest. A sinking feeling settles into your gut. You weren’t sure what to expect when you broached the topic of a potential relationship, but a laugh? A direct blow from an enemy sword would have hurt less. 

“Such terms belong to civilization—a little unfamiliar to my lips.” His words continued, but that soft smile, those kind eyes, the strong, steadfast shape of Halsin, it all begins to shift, distorting just slightly as traitorous tears prick at your eyes. A quick bite of your inner cheek reminds you to hold steady, to not let the tears fall—by every star in that gods damned sky, you are not going to let him see you cry. 

“…you and I should each seek happiness wherever it lies…”

He’s still going on? You think to yourself. How long can one rejection take? You bite your cheek even harder, a coppery tang bursting on your tastebuds. 

Halsin’s words echo in your mind, despite the fact that his monologue seems to continue, piercing your heart again and again, the pain stealing the breath from your lungs. You will yourself to take in another breath.

“Let others know the happiness of being with you.” Halsin smiles down on you, not an ounce of malice in those soft green eyes. The staunch difference between his kindhearted gaze and the red-hot pain radiating in your chest was nearly laughable. In fact, at that very moment, you were unsure if your next steps would include crying, laughing, or launching an all out assault on the mountain of a man before you—an action that would surely not work out in your favor given the comical size difference between you two. 

In the end, it was all you could do to offer a small, meager, “I see.” It’s a notable effort to keep the emotion from your voice, but you’re proud of the attempt all the same.

A frown breaks out across Halsin’s face, his brows knitting together in confusion. “Have I said something wrong, my heart?” 

Those two words are a slap to your face. You don’t trust yourself to speak, not again, so without a word you turn and make your way to your tent as fast as your feet can take you. 

The fabric barely has time to fall in place behind you before the warm tears finally break free. 

_________

Two days had passed since the incident. While you wanted nothing more than to mope about on your bedroll and avoid Halsin altogether, your situation doesn’t exactly allow for such luxuries. 

Which is how you find yourself in the woods with Shadowheart, foraging for ingredients to top off your party’s supply of potions and tonics. Though you left early in the morning, the sun glares bright overhead now. Wiping a bead of sweat from your brow, you crouch low beneath a bush and scan the area for the bright violet blooms Shadowheart had you scouting for. 

“I just don’t understand why you had to drag me out for this,” you fuss at your friend as thorns from the underbrush prick your side. Your clothing offers little protection against natures most irritating defenses. 

“Surely there’s…someone more suited to this than I.” Your following scowl can’t be entirely blamed by the literal thorn in your side, not as thoughts of Halsin flash through your mind once more. 

Shadowheart hums absentmindedly. “Yes, this is true. Halsin is more in tune with the forest,” she mutters, collecting something from the earth too small for your eyes to make out. A soft clink tells you the specimen makes it into the glass bottle. “I was actually hoping to talk to you about that,” Shadowheart continues, popping the cork back on the bottle and tucking it away. 

“About what?” You hiss as another thorn embeds itself in your palm. You toss a scowl her way before distracting yourself from the conversation as you fiddle with removing the thorn. You’re not sure which hurts worse, the abrupt change in conversation topic or the wound in your hand. Impervious to your dirty looks, Shadowheart makes her way over to you. 

“Well, you two were nearly inseparable. Absolutely enamored with each other—anyone could see it.” She takes your hand into her own to assess the damage.

“And now, well, if I’m being completely honest dear, you’re rather dour, you seldom leave your tent, or you’re looking for any excuse to get away from the party—sorry this’ll only hurt a second.” You wince as she pulls the thorn free and presses hard on the wound to stanch any bleeding. “And, well, Halsin’s been…unusually forlorn. Like a poor dog that’s been kicked in the stomach.” 

With a scoff you withdraw your hand, taking care to apply pressure to it just as Shadowheart had done. 

“I couldn’t care less what Halsin’s been doing.” The lie is ash on your tongue. 

Shadowheart looks at you then, really looks at you. You try your best not to fidget under her assessing gaze. 

“What happened?” 

“I—“ 

“And don’t bother lying to me,” she’s quick to interrupt. “Save it for someone else. I know something has been bothering you.” 

Resignation floods you. Leave it to Shadowheart to see right through your bravado and into your heart. 

“I was a fool for thinking he could ever be happy with me.” The words are soft as they fall from your lips, but they burn your heart all the same. A firm weight falls on your shoulder as Shadowheart offers an encouraging hand. 

“Tell me everything.”

_______

Halsin’s voice calls out your name from just outside Shadowheart’s tent. His low timbre still brings a tightness to your chest, but you will yourself to breathe normally. You’d been doing your best to avoid him since getting back to camp with Shadowheart, but you suppose now is as good a time as any to rip that particular bandage off. 

“Yes, Halsin?” You ask matter of factly, not even looking up from the array of ingredients you’re currently sorting through. You pointedly ignore his gaze as he steps into the tent, taking up a majority of the albeit limited empty space. 

Halsin clears his throat, clearly uncertain how to proceed. You two had always shared such an easygoing openness between you,  but the last two days had left him scrambling for purchase. 

“I was hoping we could talk,” Halsin smiles down at you, undeterred by your clear avoidance. 

“Mm, we are talking.” You collect up one of the empty potion bottles, wiping at a smudge spot with the edge of your tunic. 

Halsin forces a chuckle, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course we are, but, erm, perhaps we could go for a walk? Enjoy some of nature’s company for the evening?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Your tone is sharper than you’d intended, but the guilt passes over you in a second as you replay his words in your mind, his scoff when you so much as mentioned a potential relationship. 

Halsin sighs. He had hoped that his 300 odd years of experience would give him a leg up in navigating this prickly conversation, but—as is usual when you’re involved—his heart and his tongue seem to be tripping over one another. 

 “My heart,“

That gets your attention. Your gaze snaps up to his, laced with venom. 

“You do not get to call me that. Not anymore.” 

Halsin feels his own chest start to cave in as the hurt flashes across your face—you master it a moment later, but the damage is done. 

“I’m not sure what I’ve done to upset you,” he starts, but you interject again. 

“It’s fine. I’m not upset,” you force some neutrality back in your voice. “You weren’t interested in things continuing between us, and that’s fine. Nothing to apologize for.” You gesture to the flap of the tent. “You can take your leave now.” 

Halsin does the opposite, braving another step closer. 

“Of course I need to apologize. It appears my words have caused some confusion. Worse yet, I fear they’ve caused you pain.” 

At that, you still, finger pausing over the bottles set up in front of you. 

“You must know that I would never intend to hurt you.” Halsin’s tone was bordering on pleading. “Even now, it physically pains me to know that I’ve hurt you so.” He draws a hand to his chest, moving as if to soothe an ache that’s nestled beneath the surface there. 

You glance up to see the hurt now reflecting in his eyes. It’s enough to bring forth a sigh from your lips, your shoulders caving in as resignation takes over your body. Even now, you can’t find it within yourself to hate him, no matter how much easier it would make this. 

“You’re not responsible for my feelings, Halsin,” you sigh. “They are my own.” 

“No, but I do take responsibility for my words,” he counters. 

“You don’t want a relationship with me and you said as much. There’s nothing left to be said.” Despite your best attempts, your voice breaks on the last word. You close your eyes, clinging to the blunt words, mentally rebuilding your armor to power through the rest of this conversation. 

“There is so much left to say, my heart.” Halsin’s gentle words caress your face like the sun’s rays on a warm summer day. “I have so much left to say.” 

You keep your eyes closed, focus on taking another breath, keeping your heart steady. “Then speak.” 

“I love you.” 

Your eyes spring open, and Halsin is before you, close enough to touch. A large, tentative hand reaches up to cradle your face. You don’t pull away, and that’s enough to bring relief to Halsin’s heart. 

“I don’t understand,” you whisper, afraid your mere voice would crack the perilously thin ice you suddenly find yourself on. “You said—“ 

“That I would not keep you to myself,” Halsin is quick to finish the thought. 

“That we should seek out other people,” you correct, a touch of anger shading the words as you step out of Halsin’s grip. 

At that, Halsin’s eyes widen. “No.” His voice holds more sharpness than the druid had ever shown with you before. “I said no such thing.” 

“Well, maybe not exactly, but the sentiment was there,” you grumble, the frustration seeping through at your hazy memory. 

“That ‘sentiment’ is misguided.” His tone leaves no room for argument, but you do it anyway. 

“Well, forgive me if I don’t have it memorized word for word—I was a little busy having my heart broken,” you snap. 

Halsin pauses for a heartbeat and you watch the pain shine in his pale green eyes at your words.

“And I will never forgive myself for the pain I’ve caused you these last few days. But listen to my words now. I beg of you.” 

Another heartbeat passes. He takes your silence as permission to continue.

“I don’t abide by these conventional rules set in place by society. My home is in nature, and I follow the path the Oak Father has set before me. These ideals of what relationships should or shouldn’t be, you’ll have to forgive me if they're all but foreign to me.” 

Another wave of disappointment washes over you and you close your eyes in a futile attempt to deter the familiar pinpricks of tears. A warm, familiar hand caresses your face before tilting your chin up to bring your gaze to his. 

“But trust me when I tell you that I have never met someone like you. My heart does not stir lightly. But it does for you. What I feel for you pales in comparison to those who came before you.” 

There is no doubting the sincerity that lies in those soft verdant eyes. 

"It feels as though I have been asleep in a centuries long dark night, and now I am finally seeing daylight,” Halsin’s deep voice soothes, each word repairing the aches and tears of your heart.  

“There is no one else for me, my heart. Call it what you wish; you are all I want. Nothing would make me happier than to have you by my side for the rest of my days, if that is what you desire as well.

My love for you runs deep and true. Never doubt it, my heart.”

And then his lips are on yours, and every thought eddies out of your head, but one: Halsin loves you. 

Pure joy and relief floods your body and you don’t even bother trying to stop the tears of joy that follow. Halsin pulls back from the kiss just enough to swipe the tears from your cheek.

“I love you, too, Halsin,” you whisper in the space between you as Halsin presses his forehead to yours. 

“Forgive me, my heart. For the pain I have caused you.” 

You smile up at that handsome face you’ve grown to hold so dearly. Your slender hand  reaches up to caress his cheek, tracing the swirls of his tattoo. “Only if you’ll forgive my foolishness for doubting you.” You feel the shame rise up, bringing a heat to your cheeks.

“My heart, there is nothing to forgive,” Halsin murmurs before pressing another kiss to your forehead.

[happy-beeeps]

Sweat it out

Summary: tav comes down with a nasty flu, and one of her travel companions begins to worry... and maybe realize his feelings

WC: 1.3k

warnings: none i think! idiots in love

f!tav x reader

It’s quiet outside Astarion’s tent as he paces back and forth. Halsin has been inside with you for far too long, and the lack of communication has him worried. How long has it been since he hasn’t ended the night with your words, your breath near his? Weeks, months?

He doesn’t like to think of it. In fact, he’s doing an excellent attempt at thinking about anything else as he paces, and fails to notice the clatter of their camp members walking over to him.

“Chin up soldier, the rest of us seem okay, it probably has nothing to do with her tadpole.”

“Karlach is right,” Gale agrees, “it seems unlikely that the rest of us would be spared the same fate if this truly was connected to our wormy affliction. She will pull through.”

As much as it pains him to admit it, Gale is right. For all logical sense, this should have nothing to do with the mind flayers—but the thought offers little comfort (few things hinging on Gale’s ideas rarely do.) 

It has started this morning, you had remarked how your head felt wrong. You felt wrong. You had ignored it, had soldiered on. As the day progressed, you complained of aches that had not been there, of chills that ran down your arms. Your skin grew pallor, covered in a sheen of sweat. By the end of the night, a cough ragged at your chest, and you could do nothing f else but whimper to yourself. The slightest motion had set tears out of your eyes, your skin burning itself to rid your body of whatever was happening.

Only Halsin, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart accompanied you now, the two healers were working overtime on an attempt to find your ailment, and Lae’zel was not easily persuaded to leave behind one of her dearest friends.

Astarion thinks of the dagger pressed to poor Wyll’s throat when he kindly attempt to guide her towards a spot nearest the fire.

He’s worried about you. This isn’t new, he’s made peace with the reality that he cares for you, he just hasn’t figured out how to say it. Now, he fears the opportunity may be slipping from him.

It’s Halsin’s booming voice that calms his nerves, he and the other two step out from the tent, his grin palpable even from where Astarion is standing. “She’ll be fine. It’s a nasty virus, I’ve given her a brew to aid in the healing, and I’ve created tonics for the rest of us.”

As he passes them out, Shadowheart walks up to Astarion, who is quickly making his way towards your tent. “You… don’t need a tonic. On the account of you being, you know. Not really alive.”

“You’ve got such a way with words, really,” he breathes, but his eyes flicker to the flap of your tent, “so I can go see her?”

Lae’zel speaks up, placing a firm pat on his arm as she walks by, “she’s certainly been asking for you.”

* * * 

You have two clear, feverish trances.

The first is of your mother. A memory that’s not uncommon, one you drift back to anytime you attempt to rest an illness away. Its familiarity brings comfort as you attempt to sweat this bug out, and ignore Halsin and Shadowheart’s proding over your body. 

The other is… newer. One you hadn’t expected. You’re in a secluded section of camp, feet tapping against the water, skin swathed in moonlight. Your wearing nothing other than a long, white shirt, unlaced dangerously along the neck. This is no more than two days ago. 

You follow the memory along, watch from your eyes as you trace circles along your bare thighs, until you look to your side. Astarion is there, eyes swimming with emotion, as he gnaws on his lip.

Memory Astarion reaches out, grabbing your hand, weaving your fingers together. “I’m glad you’ve convinced me to stick around after our escapades, you are entirely addicting.”

Memory you leans against him, pressing your weight against his. His skin is cool, the chill sending tiny bumps along your exposed legs. “I’m glad you’ve decided to humor me, Star.”

You’re mortified when your eyes flutter open, your mouth in the process of muttering his name, to realize he’s here. Next to you. In your tent. As you sweat through probably a third pair of smallclothes.

“You rang?” He’s cheeky when he speaks, but his hand goes to palm your stomach quickly, as if he’s checking to make sure you’re here, you’re still you. The concern is sweet, and it sends an all new kind of flush across your body.

“Feel so sick, Star.” Shit. Is that tiny little voice coming from you?

He moves then, gentler than he’s ever moved before, carefully contorting his body around yours and pressing you against him. In an instant, it’s like a salve to your soul. You’re covered in him—his smell, his weight, his temperature. The chill itself is a whole other soothe to your aches. 

“I know you are darling, but Halsin said you’ll be better soon.”

“Can’t get you sick,” a cough takes your lungs briefly, “who’s gonna pick the locks for us then?”

He laughs, and smooths a few stray hairs out of your face. “I won’t. Officially medically cleared, according to Shadowheart. On the account of my ‘not being alive.’”

You move to nod your head, but the pain makes you stop. Astarion is quick, and he cushions the movement with his hand before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I hear you were dreaming about me?”

“Maybe. Lots of trances. You know how it goes.”

“Was it particularly scandalous? Is that why my little love is so keen to swear?”

“Don’t have it in me to hit you.”

“You wouldn’t dream of it.”

It’s a calm silence that takes you next, Astarion stroking your hair as you listen to the distant clamor of your friends. You break it, after another moment.

“I remembered my mother.”

You don’t often talk about your family, and he knows this. He moved just slightly so you can see his face, curiosity and warmth covering his eyes. “What was it?”

“When I was little, I got sick, nothing bad but still sick. My mother, she’d rub my hair and sing to me,” you pause to close your eyes, as if you could will her here right now, “she’d go to our kitchens and shoo the cooks out, she’d make me her special soup, and when she brought it to me she’d promise me she’d teach me one day.”

“She sounds lovely.”

“She was. Smart too. She always knew things about me that I didn’t know.”

“Oh, like what?” Astarion’s face shimmers with a laugh and you use the last bit of your strength to attempt a shrug and burrow into his chest.

“She used to tell me she knew I’d end up with someone older. Don’t know if she knew how old.”

After your words, as if in cue, your chest begins its steady rise and fall, and Astarion recognizes the twitch in your fingers. You’re trancing again. Which means he’s stuck with your words and their heavy implications.

Still, with the way your overheating body simmers against his cold touch, he resolved that he doesn’t mind their weight, not at all. In fact, he’d like more of your burden.

You don’t slip out of your trance that night, but feel the briefest ghost of a kiss on your forehead.

When sunlight rolls around, your eyes blink awake. You’re weak, you can feel it, but better. You go to sit up, but realize quickly Astarion’s weight is still against you, one arm cradling your head to his chest, one arm twisted beneath you. 

You’ve never quite felt so comfortable, so held. You don’t remember what you told him last night, don’t remember exactly what he said. Instead, you decided to live in this moment now, and pray to all the gods you’ll get to relive it again soon.

[obsessedwhyyes]

An Empirical Study

Part 2 of The Scientific Method Series (though readable as a standalone). Part 1, A Sound Hypothesis, can be found here!

Summary: As your first night together with Astarion draws near, your mind, ever the analyst, goes into overdrive. Thankfully, Astarion has a cure for those racing thoughts - a sensory experiment, one that will release your inhibitions and help you to embrace the unknown. In doing so, you discover that some mysteries are best experienced, rather than solved.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7132 Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader Content: Act 1, smut with plot, inexperienced nerd reader, losing virginity, sensory play, tantric massage (sort of), fingering, Astarion guides you during sex. Warning: Very mild reference to Astarion's past trauma, though this Tav doesn't pass her insight checks.

Gif by silverformymonsters on Tumblr!

A/N: This fic was inspired by the idea that mindfulness is the best cure for a busy mind. No one says mindfulness can't be sexy, right? Actual smut appears halfway through.

Travelling lush verdant landscapes on your search for the Druid, Halsin, your eyes are drawn to Astarion at each opportunity, your mind wandering to thoughts of your night prior. You had bared yourself to him, and him to you in an evening of bliss and exploration which you, even in all your overthinking, had not anticipated. Yet, it was nothing compared to what was to come tonight - at least, according to him.

Stolen glances, lingering touches on the small of your back, a brush of his hand against yours - all promises of what is to come, whispered between almost-lovers.

And so you find yourself sneaking glances at his lips, which spilled forth such delicious sounds for you at your touch; at his silver hair which you envision your hands running through in a moment of passion; at his eyes, which gazed into yours with the intensity of a winter storm as his pleasure spilled from him.

Gods, is it distracting.

You're meant to be leading this merry band of tadpolled companions you have founded, not indulging these dirty little fantasies of yours. You need to keep your wits about you. Lives depend on it. 

He, meanwhile, is the picture of easy grace and sardonic smiles, sauntering ahead of you with all the casual arrogance of a man who knows how good he looks from behind.

Every so often, he pauses to check his nails or adjust his perfectly coiffed hair, as if the finer details of his appearance are the most pressing concern in this current life-or-death situation.

And then there's that smirk. That knowing, mischievous quirk of his lips whenever he catches you staring. It's a look that says, “I know what you're thinking, darling. And you have to work for it.”

You're torn between wanting to wipe that damn smug expression off his face and wanting to… well, the evermore debauched side of your mind helpfully supplies several colourful suggestions, none of which are appropriate for your current company or circumstances.

So when you find yourself tripping over a fallen beam and nearly falling face-first into a pile of mouldy straw as your companions attempt to loot the blighted village you’ve stumbled into, you decide, for your sake and the sake of your increasingly concerned friends, to seek a moment of reprieve.

“You all go on ahead,” you shout to them. “I'll catch up.”

When they nod their understanding and continue on, you're relieved to have a moment to yourself. A moment to rein your wandering thoughts back under control and return to the wizard you were - one with a mind of sound, scientific thought and resolve, not of such lewd desires. For now, at least.

It seems only a taste of the once unknown was enough to drive you to madness.

But that isn’t all that plagues you.

As you stand alone in the dilapidated building you’ve resigned yourself to in your moment of madness, your mind wanders to the night ahead. Excitement bubbles in your chest, but it’s tempered by a gnawing anxiety that threatens to overwhelm you. You’ve faced down monsters, handled the horror of a mindflayer parasite lurking in your brain with a surprising grace. And yet, the prospect of fully giving yourself to Astarion shakes you in a way that you have never experienced.

It’s a natural biological response, you tell yourself. The release of hormones in response to a new, potentially stressful situation.

But there is a sense of finality to the coming night that intimidates you - a threshold that once crossed, cannot be uncrossed.

You pace the worn floorboards, your footsteps echoing in the empty room. Your mind, ever the analyst, begins to dissect your fears with scientific precision. Perhaps it’s not the physical act itself that fears you, but what it represents: a change. For so long, you’ve defined yourself by your rationality - your dedication to your craft - even if it meant keeping intimacy at arm’s length. But Astarion - he's awakened something within you. Something primal, something that can't be contained by logic or reason.

Astarion is a master in getting your heart racing - a dangerous cocktail of excitement, fear, and desire that leaves you breathless, in more ways than one as of late. He’s like the night itself - dark, mysterious, full of hidden dangers and untold pleasures. And just like the night, he calls to you, urging you to explore, to experience, to lose yourself in the shadows. It’s intoxicating.

There’s a part of you that fears this - that desire to cling to what is familiar. Yet you also yearn for the connection, the raw intimacy, the chance to experience life with your whole being, not just your mind.

And really, what does it matter if you lean into this yearning? You could all be dead tomorrow, or worse, transformed into mind flayers. If you're going to die or become a monster, at least you could do so knowing what it feels like to–

No, no. Stop that.

You groan and run a hand through your hair. All this anticipation is maddening.

Your eyes scan the room - what was once a bedroom - for a distraction, and locate a suitably perfect one placed conveniently on a bedside table: a small coffer, liable to be filled with the valuables of its owner, now long dead to the goblins which had infested this area before you and your companions had cleaned it up.

You sit down on the edge of the bed, the old, torn frame creaking as you lower yourself. The coffer is ornate, its lock intricate - complex enough to keep out the finest of goblin thieves, seemingly. Probably not enough to keep out particularly dextrous vampires though, your traitorous mind supplies.

Nevertheless, it will make a suitable distraction. You can figure out an old lock without Astarion’s expertise. You’re a wizard for gods’ sake.

You pull spare lockpicking tools from your pack, tongue poking out slightly in concentration as you set to work, trying to remember the vague instructions you’d once overheard in a tavern. Hells, what was it again? “Insert and wiggle?” Or “poke and hope?” Undeterred, you begin your fumbling.

… And the pick slips as you attempt to insert it into the lock, jabbing under your fingernail.

You yelp, nearly dropping the entire set, swearing profanities under your breath.

“Now this is just pitiful.”

“Shit!” You shout, the coffer clattering to the floor as you scramble to get up to address the velvety voice that manifests behind you.

You look up to see Astarion gazing down at you, eyebrow raised, amused at your lack of grace. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, the picture of casual elegance.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he coos.

“No, I just…” You fight to catch your breath. “It looked valuable. I couldn't just leave it here without taking a peek.”

“All by yourself? I do hope you were planning to share,” he teases in mock pouting.

“As if you wouldn't keep it all to yourself.”

He brings a hand to his heart, with all the theatrics of a wandering bard recounting his most exaggerated conquests after too many tankards of ale.

“How you wound me! I think you'll find I'm very generous.” He looks you up and down as you reclaim your fallen items and your space on the bed to resume your attempts at this gods-damned impossible lock. Astarion, however, seems to have other ideas.

He saunters into the room, circling you like a predator sizing up its prey.

“You know,” he continues, a smirk on his lips, “if you need me to teach you, you only have to say so. If I recall, you're an exceptionally fast learner…”

He leans over you, lips hovering closely to your ear. You pulse quickens, but you don't look him in the eye.

“... Darling.”

Nope. Still not looking him in the eye.

“I’m perfectly capable of picking a lock, Astarion.”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt. But perhaps you’d like a lesson from the master of larceny himself? I promise to be a thorough teacher. All you have to do,” he teases, “is say please.”

Bastard.

“And I suppose you’re offering this lesson out of the kindness of your heart?”

Astarion’s laugh is rich and warm, and your heart flutters for just a moment. “Let’s just say I enjoy watching you learn.”

The double entendre isn’t lost on you. Heat pools in your belly as you recall his “lessons” from the night prior.

“Fine,” you sigh in mock exasperation, turning to look directly into his ruby eyes. If it’s a cat-and-mouse game he wants, a cat-and-mouse game he shall have. “Please,” you purr in your best attempt to embody the sultriness that Astarion so easily exudes, holding his gaze with eyes hooded. You can only hope you don’t look and sound as silly as you feel.

You get more than you bargained for.

“Oh, my.” He positions himself behind you on the bed, pressing his chest against your back, his legs either side of you. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Your breath hitches. Your pulse quickens, pounding so loudly that you have no doubt he can hear it. But worst of all, the proximity, his breath on your neck, and the feeling of his hard body against yours ignite that familiar ache in your core. 

So much for a distraction.

He tuts. “Ah, I see the problem.” His voice is low, lips now hovering beside your ear. “The pick you’re using - it’s not quite up to the task.”

You frown, examining the delicate tool. “What do you mean? It seems fine to me.”

“Oh no, my dear. Size matters when it comes to these things. It’s simply not big enough for a lock like this. Luckily for you, I have a pick that is very large.”

You bite back a laugh and decide to play along. “Is that so? And how exactly do you manage to fit such a large pick in these small locks?”

He chuckles, the sound low and rich in your ear. “It’s all about technique, darling. With the right approach, you’d be amazed at what can fit where.”

You half expect to find yourself suddenly transported into the pages of one of those tawdry “romance” novels hidden in the darkest corners of Candlekeep’s library.

“I see,” you reply. “And I suppose you’ve had plenty of practice…”

Gods, you can’t quite believe you’re indulging this.

“... inserting your pick into various locks over the years?” You continue, heat flushing your cheeks at your own brazenness.

“Oh, indeed,” he replies. “I’ve encountered all sorts of locks in my time. Each one unique, requiring a… personal touch to open properly.”

“And have you ever met a lock you couldn’t pick?”

Astarion’s voice is downright wicked. “Not yet, darling. Though I must say, I’m quite looking forward to trying my luck with yours.”

There’s that ache of excitement again, pooling at your core at the implications which race through your mind. The air hangs heavy between you, charged with promise and anticipation. “Well then, master lockpick, perhaps you’d better show me how it’s done.”

“With pleasure,” Astarion coos, reaching behind him to retrieve an, indeed, much larger lockpick from his pack, alongside an additional curved tool: a tension wrench - how very advanced. He hands them to you, keeping a hold of your hands as you hold onto the implements.

“First,” he murmurs, his cool, long fingers guiding you to bring the tension wrench to the lock, “we need to slide this into the keyway, here. Apply constant, gentle pressure. Too much, and you’ll bind the pins. Too little, and they won’t set.”

Next, he raises your other hand, holding the pick. “Now for the delicate part,” he purrs. “We’ll use this to probe deeply, searching for those sensitive spots that, when touched just right, will yield to you.”

You swallow hard, but persevere.

As you work, you feel the subtle vibrations of pins through the pick; the minute clicks as they each settle into place. Astarion’s hands never leave yours, his touch both instructive and maddeningly distracting.

“Feel that resistance?” he asks as you encounter a stubborn pin. “Sometimes, darling, you have to apply a little more pressure.” He emphasises the word by pressing his body closer to yours, and you have to bite your lip to keep from making a sound. “Maintain tension while you lift the pin with the pick.”

“That’s it,” he encourages as you successfully work your way through the lock, guided by his expert hands. “I knew those clever fingers of yours were good for more than just spellcasting.”

“And just what other uses did you have in mind for my fingers?”

His chuckle is low and rich. “My dear, I have so many ideas, we might need another night to explore them all.”

The promise in his words sends a thrill through you, equal parts excitement and trepidation. 

“Almost there,” he murmurs, voice husky with concentration - or perhaps something else entirely. “Just a little more pressure…”

With a satisfying click, the lock finally gives way. You let out a triumphant laugh, turning to face Astarion with a grin.

“Well done,” he says, with something resembling pride flickering across his features for a moment. Or hunger. It’s hard to tell sometimes.

As the excitement of your victory over that bastard lock fades, you become acutely aware of Astarion’s proximity. You realise with a start just how close you are. His face is mere inches from yours, eyes boring into you with an intensity that steals your breath. The cool solidity of his chest against your back, his breath ghosting over your neck - it’s intoxicating and terrifying all at once. The reality of what is to come tonight crashes over you like a wave, bringing forth those familiar pangs of anxiety deep within your chest.

“Astarion,” you begin, turning your face away from him. “About tonight…”

“Not having second thoughts, are we?” He says as he shifts to sit alongside you. You find yourself equal parts relieved and disappointed at the loss of him pressed so firmly against you.

“No,” you say quickly, then pause. “I want to. It’s just… I don’t know. I’m just–”

“Nervous? Darling, I assure you, I won’t bite.” He pauses, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Unless you ask nicely, of course.”

Your face flushes at his brazen comment.

“Besides, after your… performance last night, I thought we were well past this bashfulness. You don’t need more ‘experimentation,’ surely?”

“That was different,” you mutter, avoiding his gaze.

“Oh?” Astarion leans in. You feel his breath on your skin, cool and gentle. “Do tell. What makes tonight so special that it has our dear leader in such a state?”

You take a breath, deciding to be honest. “It just feels like… once we do this, there’s no going back. I’ll be… I don't know. Different.”

It’s a foolish notion by all logic, but one that gnaws at your mind nonetheless. You feel almost ludicrous as you voice your feelings aloud. It’s difficult, this “being honest with yourself” business.

Astarion’s eyebrow arches, a mix of curiosity and amusement. “Ever the overthinker.” He pauses, seemingly considering his words. “Darling, you’ll still be you. Just… more experienced. And significantly more satisfied, I might add.”

You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean, Astarion.”

His expression shifts to something altogether softer. "I do. But tell me, darling - didn't you feel it last night? That thrill of breaking free from your own chains? The prim scholar I met would have baulked at such unseemly behaviour. And yet, there you were, eager and willing. Why cling to those old restraints when you could shed them entirely? There's so much more to experience, so many delicious freedoms to taste."

You blink. Loathe as you are to admit, he’s right about one thing: abandoning your own self-imposed constraints last night was… liberating.

“You know, you can be surprisingly insightful at times.”

He feigns offence, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “Surprisingly? My dear, I’ve had centuries to perfect the art of observation. How do you think I’ve survived this long? It’s a crucial skill for any vampire. Or any lover.”

You laugh, and some of the tension eases from your shoulders at his usual bantering. “And there’s the Astarion I know.”

“Would you prefer I return to being mysterious and dangerous? That can certainly be arranged.”

“No,” you say softly, meeting his gaze. “I think I prefer you as you are.”

Shit, you think. Did I really just say that?

He makes an odd expression. That same indecipherable expression from the night prior, flickering across his features, barely visible, impossible for you to categorise. Is it disappointment? Annoyance? A deeper emotion that you cannot name? Gods, you wish you could see into that mind of his.

Well… you could, but that would be impolite.

But before either of you can speak again, a voice cuts through the air.

“Oi! Are you two coming back or do we need to leave you to the goblins?”

It’s Shadowheart, her tone impatient and slightly suspicious.

Astarion's usual smirk slides back into place, the elusive expression gone as quickly as it appeared. "Well, we'd better not keep them waiting. Wouldn't want them to start any unsavoury rumours, would we?"

As you gather your things, your mind whirls with thoughts of what almost was and what's still to come. Astarion brushes past you as he heads for the door, his hand ghosting over the small of your back.

"Until tonight, darling," he murmurs, just for you to hear.

-

The day crawls by with agonising slowness, each moment stretching like treacle in the sun; thoughts of the unknown looming over you like a curse - albeit one that promises especially satisfying outcomes.

When evening approached and you and your companions returned to the sanctuary of your camp, Astarion had caught you alone, his voice low and rich with promise.

“Meet me tonight,” he murmured. “When the others are asleep. In the clearing we found yesterday. Follow the path, and head east at the fork. I'll be waiting,” he finished with a smile - that same teasing, rakish smile which lingers in your fantasies at night.

Now, as you make your way through the darkening woods, your heart pounds a staccato rhythm against your ribs.

What if I do something embarrassing? What if I accidentally cast Fire Bolt in a moment of madness?

You snort at your own ridiculous thoughts. You can almost hear Astarion's voice in your head, calling you out for being the terrible overthinker that you are.

As you approach the clearing, you take a deep breath, trying to centre yourself. You're a bundle of contradictions - nervous yet eager, apprehensive yet excited. Your mind might be a chaotic whirl of thoughts and doubts, but your body moves forward with purpose, drawn to Astarion like a moth to flame.

Well, you think wryly, at least if I embarrass myself horribly, I can always hope for a sudden mindflayer attack to put me out of my misery.

With that comforting thought, you step into the moonlit clearing, your eyes searching for Astarion's familiar silhouette.

And then you see him.

Astarion emerges from behind a tree, shirtless, moonlight casting shadows that accentuate the lean contours of his form.

"There you are," he purrs, his voice low and rich. "I've been waiting. Waiting since the moment I laid eyes on you. Waiting... to have you."

You can't help but chuckle, a mixture of nervousness and amusement. "Since the moment you laid eyes on me? You mean when you held a knife to my throat?"

"Gods, you just can't let me woo you, can you?” he teases. He steps closer to you, his presence electric.

Your eyes trace the elegant lines of his face, the sharp angle of his jaw, the mesmerising depth of his ruby eyes. He is beautiful in the way that wild things are beautiful - captivating and perilous in equal measure.

“You don’t need to ‘woo’ me, Astarion. I’m already here.”

His smile widens. "Indeed you are. But where's the fun in rushing? I intend to savour every moment of this."

As he approaches, he snakes a hand around your waist, lingering at the small of your back, before pulling you flush against him. Before you have a chance to acknowledge his brazen actions, his lips meet yours and his kiss is as hungry as you remember; as intoxicating as you’d dreamed. His tongue plays with yours, cool and skilled, a stark contrast to the warmth blooming in your core. For but a moment, you find your body taking the lead once more - your fingers glide up the bare skin of his chest, up his jaw, finally tangling themselves in the silken strands of his hair.

As your arms wrap themselves behind his neck, you suddenly feel your feet lift the ground. Your stomach drops, a fleeting sensation of weightlessness before Astarion secures you in his arms, twirling to press you against the tree he emerged from. The rough bark presses into your back, only accentuating the feeling of his hard, smooth body as it envelops your own.

But then the rush of sensation begins to ebb. In its wake, your mind reasserts itself, a tidal surge of thoughts and fears flooding back in. The bark digging into your back, once a thrilling counterpoint to Astarion's touch, now feels uncomfortably real. The weight of the moment settles on you, heavy and undeniable.

This is happening. This is real.

Your body, so responsive moments ago, now feels stiff and awkward. Your hands suddenly feel clumsy and unsure. You're acutely aware of every point of contact between you, hyper-conscious of each touch.

Astarion, ever perceptive, seems to sense the change. His movements slow, and he pulls back slightly, ruby eyes searching your face. A furrow appears between his brows, concern replacing the hunger that had darkened his gaze.

"You've gone rigid as a statue, darling.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words stick in your throat. How can you explain this? The desire that still smoulders beneath the surface, at war with the fear that threatens to extinguish it?

Astarion's head tilts, a predator scenting uncertainty. But when he speaks, his voice is uncharacteristically gentle. "You're overthinking this again, aren't you? I can practically hear the gears grinding."

He doesn't wait for your response, instead lowering you gently to the ground into the grass below and settling on his knees alongside you.

"Perhaps," he says, a thoughtful look replacing his usual smirk, "we need a different approach. One that will keep that brilliant mind of yours occupied.

“I want you to close your eyes,” Astarion instructs, his voice soft but commanding. “And then I want you to focus entirely on sensation. No thinking, no more analysing. Just feeling. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, both nervous and intrigued, as your eyes flutter closed.

“Excellent,” he purrs. “Now, I’m going to touch you, and I want you to tell me everything you feel. Everything. Alright?”

“I think so.”

With your eyes shut, every other sense seems to heighten as anticipation washes over you. Moments pass like centuries, almost agonisingly so.

As if to break the spell, you feel him trace a line, gentle and deliberate, along your jawline, all the way to your neck, resting his fingers above your pulse.

“What do you feel?”

“I… I feel your fingers,” you venture. You can't hide the uncertainty in your voice.

“What about them?”

“They're… cool? But not cold. Your fingertips are slightly rough; they have a texture to them.”

“Excellent,” he encourages. “What else?”

You pause as you feel him shift above you, straddling you at your hips, and he brings his head down to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. You shiver slightly as you feel the coolness of his breath, and his lips, which graze your skin, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake.

“I feel your lips. They're soft. I can smell your cologne… It's fresh, herby almost. And something else… something earthy. Something ‘you.’”

“You're more observant than I gave you credit for,” he teases, though his praise causes your heart to swell for a moment.

His touch becomes bolder, a hand trailing down from your neck to reach the swell of your breast, massaging it gently. You inhale sharply, the sensation both thrilling and unexpected as he brushes a thumb across your nipple over the barrier of your clothes.

“And now?” he asks into the crook of your neck, punctuated by slow, delicate kisses, planted along the line where he would sink his fangs.

“It's… intense,” you manage. It's as if your skin has become hypersensitive, every nerve ending alive and receptive to his touch. “I can feel everything so clearly, even through my clothes. It's almost overwhelming, but in a good way.”

You hear a low chuckle from Astarion. “Good,” he murmurs. “That's exactly what I want you to feel.”

As he sits up, his fingers travel to the hem of your shirt, a whisper of a touch that sends shivers across your skin. He pulls at the fabric with deliberate slowness, exposing your midriff inch by inch. His fingers occasionally brush against your skin, leaving the most wonderful tingles in their wake. When he reaches your chest, he pauses, hands hovering just below your breasts.

“May I?”

You nod, unable to find your voice. With a gentleness that surprises you, he slides your shirt, bra along with it, up and over your head as you raise yourself momentarily to help him. The cool night air hits your exposed skin and you shiver, though not entirely from the cold.

“Beautiful,” Astarion breathes.

His fingertips trace patterns on your skin, starting from your collarbone and working their way down. Each touch feels electric, sending little sparks of sensation through your body. He traces the curve of your breast, the dip of your waist, the plane of your stomach, as if memorising the feel of your skin beneath his hands.

When he reaches the waistband of your skirt, you feel his knuckles brushing against your hip bones as he works at the fastenings, and the muscles in your abdomen tighten of their own accord. You hear every sound, every breath he makes, every rustle of fabric.

As your skirt falls away, pulled with deliberate slowness, you become aware of new sensations. The blades of grass tickle your legs. The night air caresses your skin. 

You feel exposed, vulnerable. But… safe.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The night seems to hold its breath, the world narrowing down to just the two of you in this moonlit clearing. You're acutely aware of your nakedness, and you need not see it to feel Astarion's eyes roaming over you.

“You're exquisite,” he says, and for once, there's no trace of his usual sarcasm or teasing.

Astarion’s hands and fingers continue their exploration of your body, alternating between feather-light touches and firmer caresses. He seems to delight in discovering places that make you gasp or shiver - the shell of your ear, the dip of your waist, the inside of your wrist.

The sensation is incredible - like tingles radiating out from his touch, spreading across your skin in waves. It reminds you of the pleasant shivers you feel when someone whispers close to your ear. But gods, this is so much more intense; more all-encompassing.

“It… it feels like…” You try to describe the feeling aloud, but words catch in your throat, coming out as a soft moan instead, causing you to clasp your hands to your mouth to stifle yourself.

“Don't hold back, love,” he encourages. “Let me hear you.”

As his fingers trail along your inner thigh, a soft gasp escapes your lips.

Astarion’s touch is feather-light, teasing, as he moves higher. When his fingers brush against your entrance, arousal and anticipation leaving you more sensitive than you have ever known, a low moan rises unbidden from your throat.

And then his fingers enter you. One finger, then two. He moves slowly, almost agonisingly so, in and out and in and out of you, curling his fingers ever so slightly upwards. Little whimpers and sighs escape you, a wanton symphony of pleasure that you never knew you were capable of. Each sound seems to spur him on, his touches becoming faster, more purposeful, more focused.

You find yourself arching into his touch, your body seeking more of the exquisite sensation he's drawing from you, only for him to bring a thumb to your clit, playing you with virtuoso expertise in rhythm with his fingers. You cry out and, for a moment, you're embarrassed by the volume, but Astarion's hum of approval vanishes any self-consciousness.

“That's it, darling,” he whispers, his voice dark, husky. “Let go. Let me hear how good you feel.”

His words push you closer to the edge. Your sounds become more frequent, more urgent. You're dimly aware that you're babbling, a stream of “please” and “Astarion” and “oh gods” spilling forth from your lips. 

As the pleasure builds to a crescendo, you feel the last of your inhibitions slipping away. It's as if the invisible chains which have bound you for so long are finally breaking, link by link. Each wave of pleasure weakens their hold, and Astarion’s touch is the key that unlocks every shackle.

When you finally reach your peak, it's like a dam bursting within you, sending all the pent-up fears and self-imposed constraints out along with it. Astarion’s name leaves your lips in a cry that's part plea, part praise, as you soar on wings of newfound freedom.

“Open your eyes, darling,” Astarion says softly, a grounding force in the wake of your climax.

You do, blinking in the moonlight. It takes a moment for your vision to adjust, but the world comes into focus slowly, like awakening from a dream.

Astarion’s face is the first thing you see, illuminated by the soft moonlight filtering through the trees as he sits up on his knees alongside you. And as your gaze travels down…

… He's also naked.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you take in the sight of him - all of him - all lean muscle and pale skin. You don't think you'll ever get used to the sight of his cock. Somehow, in this light, it's even more perfect than you remember: glistening, with a slight upward curve, and a girth that makes you ache in anticipation.

Astarion's smile widens, a hint of his usual mischief returning to his eyes. “See something you like, darling?”

You laugh, your voice raw. “You know I do,” you admit, surprising yourself with your own boldness.

“Hmm, yes,” he purrs. “But I do so enjoy hearing you say it.”

He shifts, positioning himself above you, aligning between your thighs.

For the first time, even at the final threshold, your mind is… quiet. You find yourself relaxed, languid. You feel that pang of nervousness, yes. But you don't find yourself restrained by it.

You want to revel in this feeling. In him. In the sensations he brings you. In this freedom he has granted you; this freedom that you have never before granted yourself.

A moment passes, and tension crackles in the air between you.

“Ready, love?” He asks, breaking the silence.

You nod. You are certain.

He positions himself, his hand guiding his cock, ready to bring it to your entrance.

“Breathe in for me, darling.”

You do as he says, drawing in a deep breath. And as you do…

His cock enters you.

You squeeze your eyes shut at the sensation. There's a moment of discomfort, your body stretching more to accommodate him as he slowly inserts inch after inch, giving you time to adjust. You have never felt so full before. You have never felt anything quite like this before.

“How does it feel?” He asks, his voice strained with the effort of holding still.

“It's a little sore,” you exhale, and your voice slightly shaky at the rush of sensation.

“Then let's start slowly, shall we?”

When he leans down to kiss you, you become aware of every point of contact; the coolness of his bare skin pressed so closely against the warmth of yours, yet it never quite feels close enough. You wrap your arms behind his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss between you and, in turn, he wraps an arm under the small of your neck, lifting you to him. His weight on you is grounding as you adjust to the foreign sensations.

That is until, oh so slowly, he moves inside you.

His movements are controlled, restrained, yet you can feel the barely leashed power in his lithe form, in the ripple of his muscles. He's a predator, dangerous and deadly, yet in this moment, he handles you with a gentleness that gives you goosebumps.

Pain meets pleasure with each deliberate motion, merging into one muddle of intense sensation. But then the discomfort begins to fade, replaced by a building warmth that spreads throughout your body. Each slow thrust of his hips brings a new wave of feeling overwhelming yet exquisite.

Astarion brings a hand to your leg, coaxing you to lift it. You understand the message, wrapping your legs around his waist as he thrusts into you and gods. He's even deeper within you, the sounds wet and lewd with each undulation of his hips. You gasp loudly at the sensation, breaking free momentarily of his kiss.

You suddenly find yourself in need of more. More closeness, more contact, more of him.

Your legs, encircling his waist, involuntarily pull his hips into you, urging him on, faster and deeper into you. You hadn't meant to be so bold. But this feeling of fullness, of connection, is overwhelming, igniting every primitive urge within your body, now unconstrained by the shackles of your mind. He responds in kind, thrusting in time with each pull of your legs. Your voice is not your own, the most wanton of cries spilling forth from your lips, high pitched and needy. Your eyes search for his, eager to see them hungry, dark, brimming with pleasure just as you remember from the night prior.

But something’s different.

His eyes are glazed, ever so slightly, looking more through you than at you. It's as though he's focusing intently on something you can't see.

Concentrating, perhaps? Trying to maintain control? Gods, it's hard to think straight when each thrust hits deep inside you so deliciously. Each movement is methodical, perfect - skill clearly derived from centuries of experience.

But amidst the haze, you reach up and gently brush your fingers along his jawline. “Astarion?” you breathe, soft and inquisitive between each gasp of pleasure.

He blinks rapidly, his rhythm faltering. He pauses, still inside you. For a split second, what looks to be confusion flickers across his features, before his usual charming smirk, practised and perfect, returns.

“Ah, darling,” he starts, his voice hoarse. “Just got a little… lost in the moment.”

Before you can respond, Astarion suddenly shifts, changing your positions with a grace that takes your breath away. In one fluid motion, he scoops you into his arms and sits up, bringing you with him so that you're straddling his lap.

“Now then,” he says, “where were we?”

His renewed enthusiasm is almost overwhelming. His touch is more purposeful, his movements more intense as tangles a hand in the strands of your hair, pulling you in to kiss him. You find yourself swept up in his redoubled efforts.

Astarion’s spare hand settles firmly on your hip, pulling you to him, coaxing you to rock back and forth on his cock and–

Stars burst behind your eyes. A new, intense pleasure, richer than the last as the head of his cock brushes the uppermost wall of you.

He guides your movements, bringing you to a rhythm that has you gasping. You chase that elusive feeling eagerly. When you falter, uncertain and unbalanced from inexperience, he whispers his encouragement.

“That's it,” he murmurs as you find your stride. “Keep going.”

He rocks his hips to meet your own, and gods, there's that beautiful voice of his, punctuated by the rhythmic slaps of skin against slickened skin. His low groans reverberate through your body, mingling with your own breathless gasps and whimpers.

Finally, seemingly sensing your fast approaching limit, he brings a hand between your bodies, and you feel the familiar sensation of his thumb rubbing delicate circles on your clit.

The added stimulation is too much to bear. You cry out, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through your body as you close your eyes, giving yourself over to the feeling. Your breath quickens, your pulse a drumbeat in your ears, and you feel yourself shuddering, spiralling. You’re falling, flying, lost in sensation, and Astarion is both the cause of your descent and your only lifeline. He holds you steady, an anchor, as your senses return to you.

But this steadiness does not remain for long.

With a start, you find yourself lowered to the ground, Astarion holding you firmly by the hips, burying himself in you once more, his purposeful rhythm replaced with an erratic, senseless pounding in the final throes of his pleasure.

You feel the tension in him before it fully takes hold, a low steady hum beneath his skin. His breath grows shallow, his muscles tightening as if holding back a flood. You watch it build, each buck of his hips pulling him closer, like a thread winding tighter and tighter. His body starts to tremble and then, suddenly, it breaks - his breath catches, his body jerks, and you feel him give in, a surge of release that ripples through him like a passing storm. You find yourself moaning in response to the intensity, lost in the tension heavy in the air. Somewhere in the midst of his climax, you realise, he had pulled out of you, as you feel the coolness of his release on your abdomen.

He exhales, spent, the fire that had burned so hot now just a quiet warmth.

In the aftermath, silence falls over the clearing, bar your shared panting. The night air, cool against your heated skin, brings you gently back to reality.

“That… was amazing,” you breathe, still somewhat dazed.

Astarion chuckles, leaning his forehead delicately against yours. “You sound surprised,” he teases.

“Not surprised. I just had no idea I could even feel like that.”

Astarion's lips curl into a smug smile. “You just needed an expert’s touch.”

You laugh, giddy and carefree from the lingering euphoria. “Gods, all this talk of your touch might just make me want to go again.”

“Tempting,” he purrs. “But even I need a moment to recover, love.”

With that, he rolls off of you, settling beside you on the grass. You turn to look at him, taking in the sight of his profile in the moonlight, smiling as you notice the charmingly dishevelled state of his hair, a few errant strands falling across his forehead.

He seemingly feels your gaze, turning to meet it. The moonlight catches in his crimson eyes, causing them to glitter with his usual mischief, and something darker, more complex.

You recall his eyes in the throes of passion… a glazing over; a distance that you couldn't quite understand. The look had vanished as quickly as it appeared, just like all the others. The vigour with which he renewed his efforts to pleasure you was almost enough to make you forget the moment.

Almost. 

Alas, you are ever the overthinker.

You find yourself spurred on by thoughts and feelings you don't quite understand. A need to experiment.

Acting on impulse, you shift closer to Astarion. You hesitate for a moment, then slowly, carefully, you rest your head on his chest. You feel him tense for a moment.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice a mixture of confusion and wariness.

“I'm not sure,” you admit. “I just wanted to be close to you. Is that okay?”

There's a long pause. Astarion doesn't push you away, but he doesn't relax either.

“I suppose,” he finally says, his tone carefully neutral. “Though I must say, this is… different.”

You lift your head slightly to look at him. His expression is guarded, as you've come to expect.

“We don't have to if you're uncomfortable,” you offer softly.

Astarion’s laugh is short and sharp. “Uncomfortable? Darling, I've done things that would make a succubus blush. This is hardly–”

He cuts himself off abruptly, seeming to realise he's saying more than he intended. There's a moment of silence, heavy with unspoken words.

Then, slowly, hesitantly, his arm comes around you. It's not quite an embrace - more like he's unsure where to put his arm and this is the most logical place. But it's a start.

You settle back against his chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathes - unnecessary for a vampire; a relic of his past which he retains.

“This isn't… unpleasant,” Astarion finally says.

You smile against his skin.

Astarion truly felt like a puzzle box of a man at times. Certain reactions of his, certain words, dance on the edge of your understanding, always just out of reach. For a person of science, not being able to understand him in moments like this was… infuriating. Exhilarating. A conundrum that both frustrates you and drives your curiosity. Each time you think you've figured him out, he reveals another layer, another facet that sends you back to the drawing board. It's like trying to map the stars only to find they've rearranged themselves overnight. Thrilling, yes, but also unsettling. You're used to being the one with answers, the one who can make sense of the chaos. But with Astarion, you're adrift in uncharted waters, your usual compass rendered useless.

And yet, isn't this what drew you to the arcane in the first place? The allure of the unknown, the thrill of discovery? Astarion is a mystery more complex than any spell you've unravelled, a puzzle more intricate than any magical or alchemical theory you've studied. He challenges you, pushes you beyond the boundaries of your understanding in ways both terrifying and exhilarating.

You find yourself wondering if perhaps this is true alchemy - not the transformation of base metals into gold, but the transmutation of the self through connection with another. Each interaction with Astarion feels like it's changing you, reshaping your perceptions, your desires, your very understanding of the world.

But these are hypotheses to be considered in the daytime. For now, you rest, as a curious yet comfortable silence settles over you in the night air.

Masterlist can be found here.

No Pressure Tags: @silverfangmarks @davenswitcher @roguishcat @sparrowbard @chonkercatto

[astarioffsimpmain]

Unsolicited Affections (Part 2)

[Far Left & Right Screenshots + Tav by @brabblesblog & Center Screenshot by Raz]

Halsin x Plus Size F!Reader

Warnings: Body insecurity; internalized fatphobia; Halsin is a sweetheart

Synopsis: Halsin's cure for your ailments isn't exactly what you expected, but you're not exactly upset about it.

Author's Note: Thank you again to Ban and Raz for the wonderful screenshots! This one is where we dig really deep, everybody. Settle in with your comfort items and prepare for some Halsitherapy. <3 I hope you all enjoy, and get ready for some spice in Part 3!

Part 1 Here | Part 3 Here

Your hands shook as you made your way toward Halsin's tent near the edge of camp. He had insisted on being the first line of defense from any unwelcome visitors as a way to repay you all for saving his grove from the shadow curse, and while at first you had argued, you stopped short after witnessing the earnestness in those beautiful green eyes. He wanted to do this. He wanted to protect you all. So you had relented, and had found it nearly impossible to say no to him since.

You clamped your hands together and steadied your breaths. "Gods, get it together. He's just going to check over your cuts and bruises like always." You reasoned, chastising yourself for even taking your vampiric friend's words into consideration. "I'm nothing more than a good Samaritan to him. He is being kind in response to my kindness, nothing more." You reminded yourself, doing your best to ignore the way your heart ached sharply at the admonition. You wanted to hope, but you couldn’t afford it. Wrenching your hands with one another, you stepped up to Halsin's tent and awaited his appearance. 

"There you are." His soothing voice rumbled in your ear after several disarming seconds of silence and you would have toppled over in surprise had a strong arm not wrapped firmly around your waist to steady you. The Druid pulled you against his front and you nearly lost all of the breath in your lungs to the feeling of being tucked against him. He was solid, 7 feet of muscle mass, beautifully encased by the soft ripple of tanned skin that pillowed ever so slightly to accommodate you being pressed against it. You had never been this close to him before and your mind blanked as your heart hammered painfully against your ribcage. 

"Yep, here I am." You managed to sound playfully flippant, unable to reveal your true feelings, despite how desperately you wanted to jump into his arms. "I really do think I'm alright, Halsin. Nothing more than a scrape here or a bruise there."

"Physically, you seem well for wear, but I sense something bothering you, and I'd like to help, if you'll allow me. So please, follow me. I believe I have just the remedy." He smiled down at you, at last releasing you from his hold, which sent confusing waves of both relief and disappointment coursing through you. 

"Well… alright. I'll see what you have in mind." You mused, shrugging your shoulders and missing the way his eyes glinted in the light pulsing from the plants around you. You fell into step beside him, giddy at the prospect of spending more time with him. You figured this was as close to the Druid as you would ever get, so you relished each moment you spent by his side. You tried not to think about what would happen in the future. If you didn't end up the product of a non-consented ceremorphosis, what then? Where would you go? You knew it was likely that you'd never see Halsin again; that he'd return to the Grove to resume his position as Archdruid and that you'd end up somewhere far away, working some tavern job to survive. Hollowness carved its way through your chest, more painful than any knife, and you suddenly had to take a steadying breath to keep up with your companion's long strides. 

‘Don’t think on it now,’ you chastised yourself silently, instead forcing a glance to the towering man beside you. He was relaxed, walking in a gate slow enough for you to keep up without much effort. A soft smile decorated his beautiful lips and his green eyes reflected the serenity of the darkness surrounding them. There was not much peace in the Underdark, but what little there was, you found with Halsin. Soon, the path he led you on tapered into a clearing of stone and rocks, and in the very center, a small lake. A gasp escaped your lips at the sight. It was beautiful. The water hummed with the glow of bioluminescent lichen from beneath the surface, growing in scattered mounds at the bottom of the body of water. From the surrounding rocks and the looming trees hung glowing moss, their effervescence bathing you and Halsin in a soft blue light. 

"Halsin, this is stunning." You breathed out quietly, taking in the scene before you. 

"It is, is it not? Even here in the Underdark, a form of nature prevails and finds a way to create beauty. It inspired me when I found it. I have checked the water many times over, and it is safe for submersion." He replied, looking across the lake with a sense of pride that he could only find in what was natural. Several more seconds of awe passed through you before the implications of his words connected in your mind. 

"Oh, uhm…" you sputtered, your mind beginning to reel away from the scene before you and into your own insecurities. 'Oh gods, he's talking about swimming! I can't just swim in my clothes; can I? Maybe I can. He can't see me bare! Hells, he'd never look at me again!' Your thoughts ran away with you and you stood there, unmoving and unresponsive, and Halsin took notice. 

"My heart, please be silent no longer. What is it that troubles you?" He coaxed softly, fingers trailing over your arm with a gentleness that should not be possible from a man his size. When you did not react, he reached forward with the same fingers and curved them under your chin, turning your head to face him. Your eyes met his, wide and afraid, and his other hand came up to cup your cheek, his fingers wrapping around the back of your head as he settled into the hold. 

"Oh-" was all you managed to mumble before Halsin's lips were on yours; tender, loving. 'Gods..' your mind was racing.

You practically moaned into his mouth when he abandoned your chin to wrap his arm around your back, pulling you flush against him, the hard planes of his body sending electric shockwaves through you at an alarming rate. All thoughts from moments ago had scattered and you were awash with a feeling more overwhelming than anything you could ever remember experiencing. You weren't sure how your arms had made it around the Druid's neck, or when he had hoisted you into his arms, but when you finally parted for air, your ankles were crossed behind Halsin's back and he stood ankle deep in the lake, holding you in a vice grip against him. His eyes locked with yours and the green of his irises was overshadowed by how large his pupils were blown, staring at you like he held the world in his arms. You were made breathless all over again and felt your cheeks warm. 

"I- gods… Halsin, I-" you sputtered, your words still not having returned to you quite yet. 

"I do hope I have not been careless, my heart." He said lowly, his voice betraying a hint of uncertainty. "If I have misconceived your heart, I deeply apologize."

"I- no! Halsin, I- it was incredible. It was… it was everything, I had no idea. I never thought you would feel that way about- about me." You shook your head in surprise, a breathless chuckle escaping you. "Of all people." You added, attempting to seem at least somewhat put together in front of this incredibly handsome man who had just kissed you senseless. 

A confused look passed across Halsin's features. "You speak as though you are disbelieving. You saved me. You saved my home, knowing I could do little to pay you back in return. You are incessantly kind to me, and understanding of my position, my condition-" He paused, his voice cracking with barely hidden emotion, and you reached a tentative hand to his cheek, brushing your fingertips across it gently in hopeful comfort. You let out a shaky exhale as he leaned almost desperately into your touch, his eyes having fallen closed. "You are a wonder, my heart. Nature could not possibly have made a more divine creature." 

Your heart swelled, and the thorny vines that had grown around it over time began to prick it painfully, letting it bleed into Halsin's. You sniffled as a tear escaped your eye and cascaded down your cheek, and green eyes met yours once more. It was time. He deserved to know. "I-" you took a deep breath, steadying yourself. "It seems so foolish now, in the face of everything you've said to me."

"If it troubles you this deeply, it cannot be foolish." He corrected you gently, and you nodded, another tear falling down your face. He kissed them away like it was the most natural solution in the world and you giggled; a strained, breathless thing, riddled with leftover pain, shock, and love - gods, so much love. 

You curled your fingers into his chestnut brown locks and fiddled with his braids while you sorted out the correct way to begin. Halsin waited on you patiently, stroking the undersides of your thighs with his thumbs as he continued to hold you far above the water below. "I have never been perceived as beautiful. The- uhm… well, the world has decided on an idea of what beautiful is, and I simply don't fit. I never have. No matter what I tried or how hard I tried it… I never became that ideal. I've come to accept, at this point, that I was never meant to be that. I have always and will always take up more space than most people. I will always have trouble finding clothes. I will always be more difficult to pick up and swing around. I will always be too large, in all the wrong ways." Tears were streaming from your eyes now, vehicles of the pain you carried deep in your heart running out to join the water around you. "I have always been told that someone will find beauty in me eventually, that someone will find me worthy of love, but there's a hesitancy in their eyes; a question in their gaze. 'Should I tell her this? Should I raise her hopes like this?' But even with all of their good intentions, I have only ever been ignored, or used and tossed away." 

A little sob escaped you and you clapped a hand over your mouth to quiet it, but lips pressed firmly against your knuckles and you blinked through your tears to look at the Druid. "Do not hide your pain from me, my heart. I wish to see all of you, to love all of you. I wish for you to know my heart as well as my body, and I want the same from you." Your hand returned to his shoulder and he nuzzled your nose with his own. "You should never have had to know such heartache. You shine brighter than any sun, and had they not already been blind, perhaps they would have seen that." He murmured the words you had been longing to hear all your life into your mouth like a prayer, and then he kissed you with such earnestness that you thought you would melt away and become a part of the lake beneath you. 

You cried through the kiss, your tears wetting Halsin's cheeks along with your own, but he only held you tighter, his fingers finding purchase in the dips your thighs readily made for his grip. When your lips parted, only far enough for air to play across them, Halsin murmured, his voice low, "Let us bathe together, my sweet." 

fin

Tag List, Darlings: @thoughts-of-bear @knightofmight01 @snumlik @tifaria @listen-to-navi @greycloudsy @tiedyedghoulette @halsinsilverbough @nightlyrayne @the-library-of-the-smut @brabblesblog

(if your name isn't highlighted/underlined, I wasn't able to tag you!)

[finn-writes-stuff]

Hello! Can you write for Gale, Astarion and Halsin's reaction to tav wearing the wavemothers robe? Nsfw please😳

An Intricate Jewel

Tales tell of a most wondrous fish, scales resplendent, an intricate jewel that shone beneath the sea. When it died, the Wavemother gifted its hide as a robe to her most devoted follower - and demanded she drown the sailors that killed her gem-bright fish. - Item Description

Halsin, Gale & Astarion x Reader

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Format: Headcanons

Gender Neutral Reader

Masterlist

I haven't actually gotten to this robe in my own playthrough yet, but I've seen plenty of it online lmao. This one isn't fully nsfw but it's spicy. -Finn

Halsin

"Oh. You look stunning, my heart."

He is openly admiring you any chance he gets. It is shameless because why would he be ashamed of looking at you? Of admiring all of nature's bounty before him.

He's handsy if you allow it, holding onto your hips where the slits of the dress show off your skin. Pressing kisses to the back of your neck just over the collar. Halsin always loves getting to see more of your skin, and this dress is certainly showing it off.

In general, he is a big believer in wearing whatever you want and enjoying it. He's hardly going to get jealous about others getting to admire you, so long as he's allowed to look as much as he pleases as well.

Even better, when you still have water clinging too you after being healed, dripping down your skin and making the dress cling even tighter.

You'll have him pressed up to your back to murmur in your ear about what he would like to do to you the moment you can both slip away.

And once you get the chance, he'll be between your thighs with the skirt pushed up around your hips. And you'll get to see just how long he can gold off before tearing the dress off of you completely.

Gale

"Oh! Yes, well, um, you look lovely! That sure does, well, show off your figure. Hmm. Yes."

This man is bright red and cannot look away from you. Yes, he can be blatant in his own flirting, but you make his brain shut down sometimes. And in this dress? Oh Gods

He is trying so incredibly hard to be a gentleman. He is NOT staring at your legs or the cut out in the back of the dress or how much it reveals of your chest or the way it clings to you as close as he wants to be. He is definitely not thinking about any of that. He missed his spell for unrelated reasons.

Show off in front of him, put yourself in his line of sight constantly. He will be going insane trying to stay polite and focused. And it's always a fun game to see if you can make him trail off in the middle of a monologue about magic.

Gale will spend an entire day suffering and watching you and trying not to say anything about it, but the moment the party breaks camp, he is dragging you into his tent to show you just how much he likes this dress on you.

You've left him so pent up after the whole day. He can't get enough of you, touching and grabbing and kissing you like you're the air he needs to survive.

The dress stays on until he's made sure you are both fully sated for the night. And he swears that if you wear it again he won't be so patient.

And if he's going to make a promise like that, he shouldn't be surprised when you wear it the next day.

Astarion

"Ohoho, please do say you're all dressed up for me, love."

He thinks this is delightful and would do the same thing if he could find something flattering enough.

Trying to tease him with it? No, that's his game. He's teasing you by letting his hands just barely touch you, appearing behind you to whisper in your ear about how delectable you look. Then slipping away before you can say anything back.

If he's noticing anyone else paying you too much attention, he'll make fun of them for it, but he's also likely to stick closer to your side, his arm around your waist. Showing the world that you're his.

He's the least worked up about the dress, but he likes it when you still stay by his side regardless of how much attention it gets you. He's just as much yours as you are his, and he'll be more than willing to reward you for being such a sweet thing all day.

He wants to see the way the fabric presses into your skin when you arch your back and let him sink his teeth into your neck.

[soulessjourney]

Sick

Paring: Astarion x fem!DurgTavReader

Word count: 766

Summary: The moment you let out a cough in camp Astarion turns to his necormancy book for answers.

Warnings: OOC Astarion, Humor, Astarion doesn't know how to comfort sick Tav, Astarion believes Tav is dying, fluff

A/N: This one is just a tiny little humorus work that I had sitting here in my drafts, I thought the idea was cute as we apprach out spring months.

The changing of seasons was the one time you dreaded being alive. Transitioning from winter to spring meant a massive shift in temperature, often resulting in catching a cold due to the sudden change. Seated on the ground between Shadowheart and Halsin, you observed as he taught you the art of carving a small wooden duck. A few feet away, Astarion was engaged in a lively argument with Gale about who knows what, while Lae’zel tirelessly sharpened her sword against the stone wheel for the fifth time that day.

“Gently slide the dagger over this portion of the wood; the trick here is to apply pressure and scrape for a smooth outcome. Now, give it a try,” he instructed, handing the small wooden figure to Shadowheart.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you watched her work, following Halsin's guidance. Her tongue poked out from the corner of her mouth, a sign of her focused concentration. An itch filled your throat, and you cleared it a few times to relieve the sensation. A cough escaped you, catching Astarion's attention as he turned to look at you. “What was that?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Raising a brow in confusion, you glanced at the others, only to receive shrugs in response. “What was what?” you asked, shifting on the ground. Another cough slipped past you, and Astarion quickly approached, shoving his finger in your face.

“That! You never cough, Darling. Are you dying?” A laugh sounded from Shadowheart, and Halsin shot Astarion a confused glance before looking at you. A fit of coughs overtook you, causing you to lean over in an attempt to stop them. “You are dying. Out of everything we have been through, I cannot let this be the one thing to take you out,” Astarion declared, rushing towards his tent.

Once your coughing fit ceased, you followed his movements, watching as he tore apart his tent in search of something. Shadowheart leaned over and nudged you gently. “Who's going to tell him that you simply have a cold?” she whispered, keeping her eyes focused on him. Halsin, from the other side, laughed and took the dagger and wooden duck from Shadowheart.

“I've never seen Astarion care so much. What is he looking for, anyway? If you were dying, I could've simply helped you,” Halsin remarked, shrugging. Everyone turned their attention to Halsin, nodding in agreement.

Just a few moments later, a loud ‘Ahah!’ echoed through the camp, and everyone's heads snapped towards Astarion, their eyes widening. Gale stepped forward, holding out his hand. “Now, why did you pull that out? She's not dead, Astarion. There is no need to bring out the necromancy book,” Gale said, eyeing the book in Astarion's hands as the stone placed in the center of the cover glowed brightly.

Astarion scoffed as Gale continued trying to convince him to hand over the book. “I know she’s not dead, but if by chance she does die, I can simply bring her back,” he stated, flashing Gale a confident smile before shifting his gaze to you. “Don’t worry, my sweet. I would love you even if you were undead.” Your jaw dropped open as you shot to your feet, placing your hands on your hips.

“My gods, Astarion, I’m not dying. Put the damn book down; I just have a cold,” you snapped, narrowing your eyes as you met his stare. “If I were dying, I don’t think I would be standing right now.” Shadowheart stood, sensing a shift within you. Whether it was from standing too quickly, being sick, or both, black dots filled your vision, and you felt yourself collapse to the ground. Shadowheart dove to catch you, breaking your fall.

Astarion looked between the group of your friends before flipping to a page in the book and beginning to read a spell from its contents. A chorus of “No” echoed from the group as everyone lunged to tackle Astarion, preventing him from reading any further.

Karlach walked up to the camp, a deer hanging over her shoulder, observing her groupmates tackling Astarion, Gale prying the book away from him, and you lying on the ground a few feet away from everyone. Dropping the deer to the ground beside her, she caught the group’s attention. “What in the nine hells is going on?” she shouted, her eyes staying trained on you. “Well, don’t stand there; bring her back!”

The group groaned as they scrambled to keep Astarion from grabbing the book again. “She’s not dead!” they simultaneously yelled, the sound of their voices bouncing off the rocks around them.

[bloodlust-1]

˗ˏˋRelieve Meˎˊ˗ part 1

Halsin x fem Tav — Explicit 18+

Summary: Halsin is looking a bit tense, Tav offers to massage his muscles and relieve his tension in the best way she can. He wants to return the offer to help relieve her as well.

"I never felt my heart stir like this before you, I haven't loved in so long, and yet there it was...and I was in it.”

-> Part 2 <-

TW: none for part1

Note: needed some big-boy energy. This will be an explicit two-parter so ;p enjoy.

It was one hell of a day, everyone nearly dragged themselves into their tents for a well-deserved rest. Recently their travels have been getting harder and harder as they inch close to Buldars Gate. But no matter, the party seemed to try to keep their cool with Halsin’s and Shadowheart’s healing. Sometimes it was just too much though.

Tav sat by the fire with Karlach, who was rubbing her neck, “All that healing couldn’t get the crook out of this fucking neck. I’ve taken weaker hits that hurt less than this.”

“I agree, we’re all walking zombies at this point. Maybe we should take a break tomorrow. We all look like shit.” Tav laid her back on the floor and stretched her limbs out. Just as she sat back up her glance catches Halsin. He was walking by to pick up some food rations, an apple, and placed it in his mouth before walking away.

“Gods what I would do to that man…He makes me look small.” Karlach let out a small sigh of passion. She then looked at Tav who was lost in thought, “Hey, Soldier! Are you admiring our Druid, hm?” She nudged Tav’s shoulder with a smirk.

“He just looks…tense is all.” She rubbed her shoulder that Karlach nudged and hid her smile a little.

“Cmon you’re totally into him! Have you not laid in bed with him yet? I thought you guys were close..maybe even a little too close. Buuut— if it doesn’t work out for you let me know. I’d love to have a go with him.” Karlach giggled and nodded, “I’m serious, go talk to him.”

“And say what? What if he’s tired and doesn’t want visitors. He didn’t even say a word to us.” Tav was visible flushed. A nervous wreck even.

“Shit I don’t know! Make something up. You did say he looked tense. Touch some of those muscles in the name of help. You’re catching my drift?” She winked and pointed at his tent, “hurry before he falls asleep.”

“Karlach you’re a fucking genius. I’ll be back.”

“Or not.” Karlach chimed and sat up, “I’m heading to bed, don’t enjoy yourself too much, soldier.” Karlach reached out her hand for Tav’s and pulled her up to her feet. “Good luck.” Karlach ruffled up Tav’s hair before heading to her tent.

Tav palmed down her fly-aways before holding her head high. Karlach was right, they were close but they never took it to the next level. Why? She wasn't quite sure why, all she knew was that it was time to have courage. She wiped her sweaty palms on her shirt and made her way to his tent.

"Halsin, you there?" Tav pulled the draped curtains to the side. She saw him placing ointment on a couple scratches on his arms.

His eye darted up and he gave a surprised look, "Oh, Tav..I'm sorry, I would've cleaned up a bit. I wasn't expecting company. Please come in." His tent was littered with books, potions, and random old letters from the grove.

"Do not worry about that but—“ She welcomed herself in and kneeled down next to him. "Let me help you with this." She grabbed the small jar of ointment and started to smear any cuts she could find on his arms.

"You're too kind. I would not have bothered you with something small like this. I appreciate it all the same, thank you." He sat still and did not even budge to the pain at first,

Tav nodded her head. This was no trouble at all, after all, she really did care for his well-being. "If you don't mind, it'd be easier to get all these cuts without this shirt." She tugged on the hem of his shirt.

"Of course, little one." He grabbed the edge of his shirt and lifted his arms up. His muscles were immaculate as always, the sweet scent of eucalyptus wafted off him, and she could see all the untouched cuts. Some were deep, small, and even healed. Bruises of all kinds of healing stages were scattered on his skin.

"Halsin! You know these could get infected right? If you needed help it wouldn't be a problem!" Her face was angered. Her eyebrows furrowed, and the sight was nothing short of hurt.

"I'll manage." he patted her head and smiled softly at her. As if he wasn't in any kind of pain.

Tav shook her head, she was visibly angry, "You're so stubborn, allow me." She reached out her hand and placed it over his cheek, "I want to help you."

"You've helped me enough. I'll forever be in your debt if you keep going like this." Halsin stared with loving eyes. His gaze was soft and warm, and a gentle smile crept on his lips. His eyes sparkled with the joy of being in her presence, and he looked at her with admiration and affection.

"Then you'll just have to make it up to me one day." Tav pulled away her hand, "Now, let's see this back." She adjusted herself to face his back. Tav continued to aid his cuts, and from time to time he winced to the pain. "You know Halsin. Back at home, I dabbled in some medicinal skills."

"Oh really? This is news to my ears, tell me more, dear." Halsin perked up. He loved educating and learning new knowledge to add to his collection of skills. This definitely peaked his interest because Halsin never knew Tav had medicine skills since she was a fighter.

"Well— my people believed that healing was more than just potions. It's important to take care of your muscles and physique." She rubbed her hands together to create friction. She placed the warmth of her palms against his back. Tav began to lightly press pressure into his skin with long slow strokes. "This'll help reduce tension, improve circulation, and relieve any pain. I can definitely feel how tense your muscles are."

Halsin let out small little groans of relief as Tav's fingers glided up and down his spine. She started to apply a little more pressure and could feel his muscles start to loosen up. Halsin was truly all muscle, she's never touched a man with so much density, not for medical reasons and definitely not intimately. For as much as Tav was in awe, she genuinely tried her best to relax him. He deserved it after all. He did not need to leave his home in the name of aiding Tav. She was grateful for Halsin as much as he was grateful for her.

Her hands glided up and rubbed the muscles of his neck. Halsin could feel her breathing against his neck, it felt like hot little prickles that hit the skin. Halsin shivered in response. Tav noticed the goosebumps along his neck, "Does that feel good?" She whispered innocently in the back of his ear. The heat of her breath tickling his skin.

Halsin leaned his head outward to expose more skin, "Mmm, it puts a healing spell to shame." He complimented Tav. But under his relaxed facade, Halsin was melted with every touch from her warm hands. He was trying to find restraint in himself as an Arch-druid after all. He tried to close his eyes in an attempt to calm down his racing heart, but it only made it worse. He felt like he could feel and smell the presence of Tav. Lewd thoughts crumbled his mind and it made his skin crawl more. As a druid, all his senses were heightened, and the feeling for more clouded his judgment.

Tav noticed the small groans, his skin layered with goosebumps, and felt like his shoulders tensed up once again. She went back to work to massage him some more until she pulled away, and decided to sit in front of him instead. "Let me see your hand?" She said softly as she reached out for one of his hands and rubbed them lovingly.

His hand was way bigger than hers. She thought it was cute how mighty he was, yet how gentle his personality was. Tav thought Halsin was probably touched by the gods themselves with the way he looked. He was truly a masterpiece, a muse. As she rubbed his hands Halsin suddenly intertwined his fingers with hers, stopping Tav from massaging him. Tav's cheeks lit up crimson, and she darted her wide eyes at his gaze. He was holding her hand, one that engulfed her own but she felt so protected by it.

Halsin looked at the woman with an intense gaze, his hazel eyes softened. He was captivated by her beauty, taking in every detail of her face and scars. His heart was pounding in his chest as he thought of all the amazing moments they had shared together. He had such strong feelings of love for her, and he knew deep down that she was the one for him. He was filled with a sense of contentment and joy just being in her presence, and he looked forward to what the future held for them. "I never felt my heart stir like this before you, I haven't loved in so long, and yet there it was...and I was in it. I hope you feel the same, I fear the most these days." He grabbed both her hands and placed a tender kiss on them. "I want to repay your kindness, only if you'll allow me, of course."

Tav eagerly agreed to Halsin's offer, she too felt a connection and a strong mutual attraction. She was a woman who would never take Halsin's love for granted, "I feel the same, Halsin...I'd be happy too."

He smiled and placed a single kiss on her lips. It was tender and gentle, sadly it lasted only a moment before he pulled away, "Meet me at my tent tomorrow night and I will grant you a night of pleasure. One that you'll remember for all your long nights. I want to make you feel good too, my heart."

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

You Know Better

Absolute filth for @amorgansgal, thank you for distracting me from my sadness with Gale being utterly unhinged... again. 18+ obviously. Little bit of pregnancy as body horror vibes.

'It can't be unlearned, I've known the warmth of your doorway, through the cold I'll find my way back to you.' - It Will Come Back, Hozier

Taglist:

@netherese0rb @boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana

@auroraesmeraldarose @aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard

The world was saved again. There was nothing to do now but part ways; no camp to return to, no fireside to share, Tav followed her druid back to Moonhaven. Halsin threw himself into the rebuilding effort there, gathering the orphaned and the needy. He relished being a father figure, but Tav had never seen herself with that life. She helped where she could of course, but each night, as she lay beside him, her thoughts returned to the campfire. She pined for it, she realised. An adventure as thrilling as what had come before.

The first nights were dreamless sleep, her body too exhausted even to conjure memory. Halsin’s sleep was peaceful too, though she often woke to find him hard and was all too happy to accommodate a new routine. It was slow, at first. He seemed to want to take all of her in, savouring her moans and whimpers. She developed a taste for it, in truth. Though the days were boring, the mornings were worth it, the nights restorative.

‘Mummy, will you come with us to pick mushrooms?’ asked one of the older children on this particular bright morning. Halsin smirked, cocking his head at her.

‘Not today, love,’ she said gently. Her stomach dropped, anxiety and revulsion shuddering through her. ‘I’ll be back later, alright?’

She found herself taking to the risen road, toward Baldur’s Gate. She’d not said a word to the druid, shouldering her pack and a bedroll and setting off. She did not know where, or why. Only that she should. The first night on the trail, her thoughts turned to her companions: Karlach and Wyll in Avernus fighting demons, Lae’zel on dragonback, Astarion poring over tomes in the dark for a cure, Shadowheart finally free of Shar, embracing her Selunite legacy.

She did not think of him.

It was only as night fell that Tav realised what danger she was in; there was no-one to keep watch while she slept now. She would have to risk the kindness of strangers or the exposure of the open road. She found a cave, empty and spacious. Setting a fire going and warding the entrance against intrusion, she went through her provisions: there was a heel of bread, a mealy apple, half a wheel of cheese. She’d need to trade if she wanted a hot meal. She ate in miserable silence. The sound of gnolls in the distance unnerved her, accomplished as she was in manipulation of the Weave.

Her dreams were full of whispers. She was back at the Last Light, plunged into darkness. The lake was smooth and cold as glass, seeming to suck the dregs of moonlight into itself. She was kissing Halsin; it was a pleasant surprise to feel his weight above her, the strong, sure presence of him as his warm mouth pressed to her own.

‘Hi,’ she said, smiling up at him. ‘Sorry I just left…’

‘No matter, my heart,’ he said, pressing a kiss to her neck. ‘I know you’ll come back to me. The children miss you.’

Her stomach twisted. ‘Yes,’ she said, running her fingers through his hair. ‘I’ll be back soon.’ She knew it was a lie even as the words left her mouth. Even in a dream.

‘Have you thought more about it?’ he said sultrily into her ear. The slow roll of his hips against hers made her whine. She clutched his massive biceps, shivering under his heated gaze. He dropped his head, pressing open mouthed kisses to her belly. ‘Well?’

She knew what he was asking. Opening her mouth to answer, she suddenly jolted awake, taking great heaving breaths. She packed up quickly and returned to the road, putting more distance between her and the druid.

‘What a sweet dream,’ said a voice on the wind. She froze. It couldn’t be.

‘What?’ she whispered. No response. She kept moving. Tav was spooked; every little noise startled her, each glimpse of people on the horizon making her heart rise and sink. I should’ve hired a carriage or something, she thought. The next night, she bedded down in a small tavern. Grateful for a bowl of stew and good ale, she felt more restored than she had in weeks.

Laying in the dark little bedroom, she watched moonlight through the leaded windows. Her belly was full and pleasantly warm, her breathing slow and soft. In the half-light, a figure was outlined in the doorway, but was gone again by the time her eyes had adjusted. Just playing tricks, she thought.

Her dream that night took her to the Stormshore Tabernacle. It was night-time, empty and quiet. She cast knock on the door, slipped inside and locked it again, breathing in its sacred energy. Moonlight cut across the floor and illuminated the statue of Mystra. Beneath it, ankles crossed and perched on the plinth, was the man she’d been trying to ignore for months.

‘Hello, my love,’ he murmured. ‘Come here to me.’ Halsin’s words out of his mouth. Gale reached out, slender fingers beckoning her forward. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

‘We broke up,’ she said tersely, though her steps carried her to him all the same.

‘Hmm,’ he said, in that half amused, knowing way of his that infuriated her. ‘You’re adorable.’ He pushed off the plinth, hands behind his back. Though this was a dream, he seemed to have changed; his hair was pulled back, his eyes keener than before, his shoulders a little broader.

‘Gale,’ she said, for the first time in months. ‘It’s over.’

‘Of course,’ he said, hand over heart. ‘You must be flourishing. With Halsin throwing himself into his role as father, you can only be doing the same as mother to all those orphans…’ his eyes glittered. He knew her, better than anyone, knew he’d just described her nightmare. She pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to scratch his eyes out. ‘How long, do you think?’ He pressed a cool hand to her belly, stroking his thumb over the thin fabric of her elegant nightgown. ‘A few weeks? Months? Oh you must be aching for him to put a baby in your belly.’

‘Stop it,’ she snapped, reeling back.

‘Oh, but pressing your buttons is so fun,’ he said, catching her wrist. ‘Because you know as well as I do what you want.’

‘Is this really a dream?’ she asked suddenly.

‘In a manner of speaking.’ He shrugged. ‘A little astral projection.’

‘How do I make it stop?’

‘You don’t,’ he said lightly. He gestured to the statue of Mystra. ‘You know where I am.’

She woke gasping and scrambled to leave the inn as quickly as possible. The next day she made more progress, refusing to sleep. The day after that, even more progress, even as she began to feel faint. After collapsing into dreamless sleep the next night, one morning she shouldered her way through to Wyrm’s Crossing, stole through Wyrm’s Rock with its haunted ghosts, returned to the lower city. She knew where he was and would not give him the satisfaction of showing up in daylight. She wandered instead, visiting her old haunts. She thought about the cold of Cazador’s palace and shivered, hoping Astarion was alright now that it had burned down.

Night fell. It was not his voice that drew her, though she felt its memory winding around her heart. It was the darkness within him, cold and hungry, that pulled at her. As soon as she was inside the Tabernacle it was overwhelming, like being submerged in the midnight sea.

Mystra’s shrine was empty. He tricked me, she thought. Her vision went black, and she heard a bolt slide into place. ‘You came,’ he crooned into her ear, sending a dark little thrill through her. ‘Good girl.’ The dim light was restored as he ran his knuckles down over her ribs.

‘I shouldn’t be here,’ she said, her voice catching. The darkness she could feel enveloped her, squeezing at her heart and seeping into her lungs. ‘I need to go home.’

He came slowly into view, still touching her. His brown eyes were as soulful as she remembered, mouth plush and inviting even as it pulled into a self-satisfied smirk. ‘You are home,’ he said softly. You’re right, she thought but didn’t say. He seemed to sense he was right, anyway.

‘Halsin’s a good man,’ she said instead. ‘Better than you.’ She sought to wound him, dig her fingers in and make it bleed.

‘No doubt.’ His eyes burned. ‘You still came to me. You still shiver with desire when I touch you. If he’s so good,’ he spat the word, venomous, ‘why are you here?’

I made a mistake, she wanted to say. I need you. I want you. ‘Curiosity,’ she said instead.

‘A noble endeavour.’ He had decided to play her game. ‘Satisfy it then.’

They were in a holy place with the eyes of his goddess glaring down at them. ‘You don’t honestly think you’re in control, do you?’ she asked him, her own mouth smirking as he faltered. He licked his lips, eyes glowing out of the dark like some cornered beast. ‘Take off your clothes.’ She knew he itched to tear hers off instead, but he obeyed.

He moved slowly, watching for the subtle signs of her own want. The way she swallowed hard, bit down on her lower lip. She leaned against Mystra’s shrine, knuckles white with the effort of keeping her hands to herself. The darkness inside him purred. He stood naked before her, out of reach.

Tav would not break first. He’d come crawling on his hands and knees to her if she had any say in it. She pressed back into the stone, like she could shrink further from him. I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t.

You should, crashed his own thought into her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut. As if that would keep him out. My love, he went on, his voice in her ear as though he weren’t across from her. Let me in. Tav opened her eyes.

He stroked himself, there in full view of his goddess, of the other deities on their plinths, silent. The sight was so profane she could hardly believe he had the audacity to do it, here of all places. Any shyness he’d once had had vanished, clearly. ‘I didn’t say you could,’ she croaked. He stopped, took one prowling step forward.

‘I am at your command,’ he said into the dark. His words were contrite, but his eyes bored into her soul.

Fuck, she thought. I can’t take this anymore. She did not move. She didn’t even speak. He approached, knelt slowly before her. Slowly, she nodded.

With surprising speed and strength, he pulled her towards him. His hands clawed insistently at her unmarked flesh, a snarl leaving his throat as her clothes became an obstacle to what he wanted. She cried out as he sucked bruises into her inner thighs, lapped at the heat between her legs, dragged his teeth across her flesh. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling to draw bestial sounds from his throat as he devoured her. She came quickly and her legs buckled but he caught her before she fell, overwhelming her senses as he pushed his tongue between her teeth and dragged his nails down her spine. Her mind was a fog of his scent and taste and then he was inside her, pressing her up against the statue of his goddess and laughing darkly as she choked out his name over and over and over, a prayer all its own. She whimpered when he pulled out of her to come on the stone.

‘Tav,’ he panted, pulling her to him again and palming her breast. ‘You’re never leaving me again. Ever.’

‘Never,’ she hissed as he pushed her back against the wall. ‘Now shut the fuck up and do it again.’

[notquitecanon]

Insufferably Admirable // Astarion x Reader

Summary: After a restful day turns into a bloody night, your unspoken yet painfully obvious dedication to Astarion has put you in what should be a harder choice. Once Astarion realizes just how far you'd go for him, he has to begin to confront the feelings and realizations he's been ignoring for a while. OR that time You figured out the most effective way to heal a vampire and Astarion got emotional about it

Set at the end of Act 1, but not quite act two. Pre-confession but it's obvious they have some sort of feelings for each other

TW: canon typical violence, blood & blood drinking(obvi this is an Astarion fic), no use of Tav or (Y/N), one use of technical self harm (c*tting) but not in a self mutilation way??, mentions of manipulation obvi, reader might be a little too willing to help (totally not be projecting what???)

this is my first time writing anything for Astarion after hyper fixating on him for a month so please be gentle. I know it's a bit all over the place. (yes I could have completely left out the first half, but there isn't much actual dialogue in the second half and I like to put this guy in situations)

"Remind me again why you insisted on coming with me? I figured you’d be ripe for a day to lay around camp and let us do all the heavy lifting." You grumbled, scanning the crowded streets for a merchant. The goal was simple: get to the nearest village, sell off the extra weight, use the gold to stock the necessary supplies, and whatever the gold couldn’t buy… well, acquire it by any means necessary. No matter your path, through the shadows or the Underdark, you'd need to be prepared.

Gale had gone to pilfer for useful scrolls and maybe an enchanted item to snack on. Lae’zel and Shadowheart to a blacksmith for specialty arrows, useful armor, and any other weapons that caught their eyes. Karlach had carried the two trunks and barrel of items you had collected from your adventure thus far, finding you a wheelbarrow before heading back to camp to help Wyll with his preparations. Halsin… had taken his wild form and disappeared into the forest. Originally, you had intended to do your tasks alone, until- 

"My dear, I’m always ripe for a lay." Astarion twisted your words with a smirk, easily dodging the hand that reached to swat his chest. With a short laugh, he answered your question, his theatrics only increasing to more you argued, "To begin with, Someone- my fabulous self- had to make sure you didn’t get the whole group wrapped up in another laundry list of side quests- who knows what trouble you could have found if you were left all by your lonesome? A gnoll den? A kraken in the pond?  an old woman’s wagon with a broken wheel? a kitten up a tree? An orphanage with a leaky roof? Another cult for us to dismantle? Another temple to drop on me? Where would it end? You’re incapable of turning people away, it’s one of your insufferably admirable qualities."

"It’s called being kind, you dramatic elf." You grumbled, not prepared for the in depth analysis of your character. Trying not to focus so much on the fact he’d called something about you admirable.

"Second, knowing you, you’d sell all this off and still manage to come back to camp with them full. Honestly, pet, how have you managed to collect this much junk? You don’t even have a bag of holding." Astarion scoffed, using a single pale finger to peek under the lid of the barrel. It was just barely containing the countless daggers, goblin bows, pairs of leather armors, and dusty sandals. Your cheeks burned hot- maybe you had a habit of being overzealous in how eagerly you pilfered through all the crates you came across, checking bodies for anything valuable, and demanding the vampire to pick every locked chest the party uncovered. Hells only knew the thrill you got when you would find a buried chest.

"You never know when you might need something!" You reasoned, but swatted him away to hastily shut the barrel before the contents could spill out. It had taken you the better part of the night to pack it full of all the things your companions had convinced you to get rid of. The pale elf rolled his eyes, brushing past you so gracefully you didn’t feel his fingers in your pocket. 

"Really, my sweet? When, pray tell, might we need the collection of rusty necklaces you’ve amassed." Astarion held the bronze and silver necklaces up to the light, the red and blue stones sparkling despite the rust. His voice always like velvet, ruby eyes alight with teasing, "Far be it from me to criminalize accessorizing, but that darling neck of yours is tempting enough already." 

"Astarion!" You cringed, hearing your voice almost whine. Damn him for having that effect, so you cleared your throat as you snatched the jewelry back, "They are useful when we can sell them for gold." 

Astarion, having gotten the reaction he wanted, let you shove the necklaces back in a pocket before glaring at him, though it didn’t hold much actual malice, "Well, come on then, let’s sell the sandals for all the riches the village has to offer us." 

—

An afternoon later, you were smiling smugly as you watched Astarion grumble. Between all the goods and six different merchants, you were leaving with an additional 9,000 in gold, not to mention the additional 3,000 Astarion had managed to pickpocket while you bartered, and the items the two of you had managed to swipe. You felt particularly vindicated as he complained about the weight of the coins in his pack. 

"I’ll buy you something pretty in Baldur’s Gate." You cooed teasingly, to ‘appease’ him. Astarion spared you a deadpan glance before standing to leave, only making you giggle all the more, "Let’s get back to camp."

Astarion caught your eyes once more, scowl softening out at the sight of your bright smile. He was just about to say something sickeningly sweet and perhaps more than a touch vulgar when his eyes flitted up to something, pointed ears twitching at something you couldn’t quite hear. Until you could. 

The door of the jeweler you had swindled burst open, a strangled voice shrieking, "THIEVES! SOMEONE CATCH THEM!" 

Astarion must have been rubbing off on you, because for a moment you tried to feign confusion, looking around for the ‘culprits’ as if the dwarf wasn’t pointing directly at you.  Not that it did much good as several passerbys began to circle around the two of you. 

"Everyone’s so touchy about their personal belongings these days." The rogue scoffed.  Astarion grabbed your wrist and tugged you to him, so that your back was pressed to his and no one could sneak up on you. In his other hand, a dagger had already appeared. 

You sighed in defeat, taking your bow off your back, "No killing." 

"No promises." 

Compared to the goblin camp or fighting through the githyanki creche, disarming and incapacitating untrained townspeople and barely trained guards  was barely a warm up. Still, Astarion never left your side, an increasingly common occurrence when you found yourself in tight situations. Together, it didn’t take long to put distance between yourselves and your attackers, managing to get far enough to escape to the fight. Deflecting one last blow as the two of you passed by an open tavern, you incapacitated a rather pitiful guard with a blunt thunk from the pommel of your dagger. Taking one relieved breath, you tried not to focus too much of the trail of bleeding, unconscious bodies you and the rogue had left behind in your escape attempt. 

"Best we stick to the shadows before we attract more attention." Astarion mused with a cruel smirk, grabbing your sleeve and using it to wipe the blood off the corner of his mouth, his fangs glinting in the afternoon sun. The rogue only chuckled at your curses, giving some inane quip about the crime of dirtying his ensemble and how blood someone always looked better on you, "Now, believe what I said about you finding trouble? Back to camp before you find more." 

Before you could wrench your arm back or remind him that he was the only who got caught stealing, he pulled you off the main road into the alley adjacent- unaware of the attention that had already been attracted from inside the tavern. 

____

Ambushed in the night.  

A whole hunting party of Gur hunters. Willing to purge your party as they slept. 

And they were calling Astarion the monster. Fortunately, Scratch was an excellent guard dog. Waking the entire camp when the hunters tried to creep where you slept. Just as fortunately, there wasn’t a soul in camp that didn’t sleep without at least a dagger under their pillow. 

Your camp had become a bloodbath in the dim glow of the campfire. You had used the book you had fallen asleep reading as an improvised weapon, throwing it so hard it broke the first hunter’s nose. Lae’zel was single handedly mowing through three hunter with her long sword. Spells and incantations sent flashes of light from Gale and Shadowheart’s part of camp, and fire and brimstone lit up Karlach’s. There was yelling and cursing echoing in the cool night air, orders to take the vampire spawn alive and to kill the rest. 

And Astarion? Their target? 

He was where he always was during a fight these days. Right beside you, like a pale, snarky shadow. He had been the one to press your sword into your hand so you’d have more than just your dagger.  With him, you slashed and sliced anything that came near. Until the bastard appeared out of no where, squeezing in between you and the rogue. You would have applauded (more likely cursed) the near perfect use of an invisibility charm- had it not been for the poison-dipped stake raised against Astarion. 

This hunter was different, you could see it in his eyes. They were somehow devoid of life and yet also simmering with rage as they trained on your snow haired companion. This hunter didn’t plan to take Astarion back to Baldur’s Gate, not alive at least. He didn’t care about whatever orders they had, or what consequences would come for disobeying them. He only cared about driving the stake into Astarion’s heart. 

Astarion’s eyes went wide as well at the sight of the stake, realizing as you did that this was no longer just a kidnapping, it would be an assassination. Your thundering heart stuttered, blood going supernova in your veins before freezing to ice as your mind whirled through a hundred different possibilities and also went blank. Your own opponent, along with years of learned strategy, were instantly forgotten as blind instinct took over.  Every ounce of strength and speed you had was directed into a desperate lunge. In your desperation, you really weren’t sure if your goal was to tackle the hunter, grab his arm, tackle Astarion, or maybe even take the stake to your chest instead- you decided to choose along the way, as long as it ended with Astarion alive(ish) and well.

You managed to close the distance, one hand planted firmly to Astarion’s chest shoving him further and the other clamping onto the leather of the hunter’s gauntlet, the same arm poising the stake. With a feral sounding shriek, you pushed his arm so his aim was off. At the same time, your original opponent, frustrated at being forgotten, cast a wave of thunder that sent all three of you flying. 

Astarion, the Gur, and you flew backwards a good fifteen feet, the thunder shaking you to your very bones and splitting your ears. The breath was knocked out of you so hard you thought your poor lungs might collapse and you weren’t able to tell if it was the spell or the impact that did it. You didn’t have time to contemplate, the moment you were able, you scrambled onto your knees. With the same feral tenacity from earlier, you grabbed the hunter by the front of his leather armor, nails leaving scarily deep tracks as you hauled him off your vampiric companion.  With your new opponent, you rolled both your bodies until you were on top of him, knee to his chest. Seeing the look in your eyes, the rage left his own, pure survival instinct taking over. You didn’t even feel the sting of the slicing blow across your shoulder, too consumed with a singular mission. It was Astarion’s dagger you had snatched from the ground on the way that delivered the quick death blow. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You expected to hear something from Astarion- a snarky comment about your lack of technique, a snide remark about his assailant, or even just a stream of petty curses- but he was silent. You turned back to him, only to have dread flood every cell in your body. 

Nothing else mattered anymore, not the fight, not your injuries, and especially not your forgotten original hunter. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You barely noticed.

The moment you’d disposed of Astarion’s assailant, you were scrambling back towards the rogue, who was laying all too still. At first, you hesitated to even touch him as if that might make it worse. You called his name once, and then again when you were able to gingerly lay hands on him- one hand to his chest and the other pushing some curls out of his eyes. The stake, what should have been an almost useless weapon against anyone else, was still buried in his chest, piercing his favorite frilled collar shirt. 

"No… Astarion-" Your voice was breaking, thick and raw. Your eyes couldn’t rip away from the stake, protruding from his chest, the poison staining the white linen of his shirt a sickly green. The hand on his chest balled into a fist, bunching the unsoiled fabric in your grip, but something caught your attention. The tiniest candle light of hope in the rapidly encroaching darkness of grief. 

Your hand was directly over his undead heart. Anytime you touched him, your hand always fell directly over his heart. When you teasingly swatted at his chest, when you needed to steady yourself against him, when you needed to catch you balance… you always sought out his heart- subconsciously, instinctually, always his heart. Your hand was over his heart, and that gods-damned stake was four inches to the right. A tiny light, but a light none the less. It was then you realized you were calling the wrong name. 

"SHADOWHEART!" 

None of your companions had ever heard your voice that desperate, that scared.  All their heads snapped to where they had last seen you, finding Astarion pulled to your chest as you wrenched the stake out of the spawn. Astarion stirred only long enough the let our a gurgling shout that fizzled into a groan at the pain, and you could only hope he heard your soft apologies before you started barraging the vampire with healing cantrips. You didn’t stop until the words held no more magic, your supply of magic tapped for the night. 

The night air had changed, no longer fueled by adrenaline and challenge, now it was thick with urgency and fear. Each of your companions starting fighting towards the two of you, and when you locked watery eyes with Shadowheart you found her clearing her path with her spear. She had stopped using magic to fight, saving it all for Astarion.

"I’m coming! Hold on!" She promised as Karlach fell in beside her, battle axe taking over and sending two hunters to the grave together. Scratch and the owlbear cub had taking a lesson from Halsin and formed up beside you, growling into the night with hackles raised and feathers ruffled. 

"Just hold on, Astarion." You relayed to the vampire, who was completely limp against you his back to your chest, head tilted back against your shoulder which bared his neck to you, showing the fang marks on his pale skin. If you were capable of humor, you would have laughed about the reversal of roles, it was usually you baring your veins to him. But at the moment, his lack of movement wasn’t particularly amusing, so instead you laced his fingers through yours, hoping the warmth would bring him some comfort.  You pressed your cheek against his white curls, using your other hand to brandish his dagger just incase anyone got too close, and whispered all the reasons he was going to be okay. And that’s how you stayed until camp quietened and Shadowheart slid to a stop in front of you. 

___

Hours later, Shadowheart had used every healing and restoration spell she knew, not stopping even when she began to sway and sweat. Halsin had offered his magic and healing herbs, Karlach made sure there was always a bucket of hot water and a stack of clean rags available, and you hadn’t missed Gale trying to hide the scroll of reviving from you as he slipped it to Shadowheart.  Everyone in camp had been quick to gather all the healing potions, depositing them at the entrance of Astarion’s tent. Wyll and Lae’zell had slipped into the tree line to make sure the ambush was well and truly taken care of.  

And you? Their appointed ‘fearless’ leader? You had gone uncharacteristically silent. Your heart hadn’t left your throat, clenching painfully every time they jostled the rogue. Your hands were shaking too much, both from fear and white hot rage, to really help the two more experienced healers of the group. And the thought of being too far from Astarion made your stomach turn, so you kept rooted like a tree. But, you were grateful, truly, for all of them. Even if in the moment, all you could do was sit beside Astarion and pray to any God or Devil that would listen. You felt like a wild animal in a cage and a helpless child at the same time, your insides very well might vibrate out of the body if you didn’t melt into the soil first. 

The vampire needed all the help he could get. Aside from the occasional heartbreaking groan of pain or agony driven writhing, Astarion was eerily still. Barely breathing, less so than usual. His already pale, chilled skin had taken on a stony complexion, almost gray. And despite the inability to run a fever, there was a sheen of sweat over his face, clammy and uncomfortable. You hadn’t allowed them to undress him all the way, but part his shirt had been cut away to reveal the stab wound. It was deep, weeping Astarion’s already dark blood, and stretching out from the injury were black, twisting varicose veins that afforded you the cruel visual of the poison spreading. You wanted to take Gale’s revival scroll, use it on the hunter, and revoke the kindness of your mercifully quick death.  

"It’s like the effect of our magic is being dampened." Shadowheart huffed, hands glowing as she cast another restoration spell. The sweat on Astarion’s brow subsided briefly before returning. Halsin nodded beside her, taking a deep sniff of the stake. 

"His lack of blood isn’t moving the potions or antidote through his body fast enough, and this poison isn’t doing any favors." The druid thought aloud, taking some of his herbs to make a paste, "It doesn’t matter how many we pour down his throat if his body can’t absorb them." 

Shadowheart’s worried gaze flickered to you for a moment, before settling back on Halsin, "We’ll figure something out." 

You knew she was saying that more for your benefit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the pity. Instead, your grip tightened on Astarion’s hand as you swiped a clean rag to dab at his face. There was one more round of healing incantations and one more bottle of healing potion nursed into Astarion’s mouth. Your jaw twitched, watching most of it fall from the corner of his mouth. The same trail your own blood usually made after he fed. 

"I’m tapped." Shadowheart sighed almost ruefully, the glow around her flickering and then fading, falling back on her heels. Halsin stood, stooped slightly in the low ceiling of the tent, turning to you. 

"We’ve done everything we can do. We’ll try again with fresh minds in the morning. For now the best he, and we, can do is rest." His voice was calming, as if he thought you might start screaming again, but you just nodded, muttering something along the lines of thanks for trying, and not meeting either of their eyes as they ducked out of the tent.  

Since you had belligerently refused any of their magical attempts to heal your shoulder, Gale had done a rather pitiful job of wrapping it, taking some pointers from Karlach along the way. The wizard offered you a tight smile and a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder before pressing a bottle of healing potion into your hand, "This one is for you. You’re no good to him if you bleed out all over the floor of his tent. We all know how Astarion feels about waste." 

"Yeah- fancy boy will be starving when he wakes up." Karlach’s chipper voice was still laced with a sting of concern. The tiefling didn’t touch you for fear of burning you, but did leave you with some roasted meat and a carafe of water from earlier in the night, "And it wouldn’t hurt for you to eat something either, soldier." 

Then you were left alone with your thoughts, hunched next to Astarion’s side, tired eyes examining the bottle after confirming the rise and fall of his chest. In your hand, the potion glowed slightly with the subtlest warmth, the scarlet liquid seeming to have a mind of its own as it swirled in glittering patterns behind the glass. Your injuries were meager, this little bottle of healing would have you as good as new. Bitterly, you flicked your eyes to the numerous empty potion bottles in the corner that had barely slowed Astarion’s bleeding. Your hand closed around it as you cast another look to the Vampire spawn beside you. His breaths were shaky and shallow even after Shadowheart and Halsin had exhausted every last bit of magic they'd had. Now in the quietest parts of the night, or maybe the darkest hours of the morning, your thoughts swirled, desperate for any sort of plan to latch onto. You had to do something. 

For you, Gale had said, No good to him if you bled out… He’d be starving, Karlach had been joking, His lack of blood wasn’t moving the potions enough to be effective, that had been Halsin’s hypothesis.

Blood. He needed blood.

The revelation was like being dropped into a freezing lake, determination razing the fearful lethargy out of your soul. With your teeth, you pried the cork out and downed the first circular bottle, the overly sweet taste a stark contrast to the somber mood of the night. For good measure, you did the same with a potion of superior healing and two bottles of general poison antidote, slamming them down so fast you had to ignore the churning in your stomach. You’d loot twenty more goblin caves to make up for the dent in supplies if you had to, in that moment you just didn’t care. You waited a moment, begging the powers that be for your ragtag plan to work, not so patiently watching the bruises on your wrist until they started to fade.

You felt it, the moment that you had been completely healed and there was no where else for that magic to go. And then, you wrapped your arms under Astarion’s, heaving him against your chest. You bared your neck, letting gravity gently swing Astarion's nose to meet your pulse point, his silvery lashes tickling your jaw. He stirred slightly, groaning at the movement, pressing himself into your warmth before stilling again. Was he too far gone to realize what was being offered? 

Realizing you’d need to play into his vampiric insticts, you huffed, shattering one of the empty vials against a stone, struggling to do so and keep his deadweight in place. Taking a shard, it wasn’t hesitation but a moment of stilling your shaking hand before you pressed a shallow cut to your neck, right above where his lips rested.

You hissed at the haphazard sting, not as gentle as the pinprick of his fangs were in the night, feeling the blood instantly pool at the seam, a single red ribbon dripping before the potion healed the scratch, "C’mon, Astarion-" 

The moment his name left your lips, or maybe it was the moment a drop of your blood hit his, regardless you could feel his instinct, that sanguine hunger, take over. The soft lips at your neck were replaced with dagger sharp fangs digging into where the small cut had been. The sound you let out was somewhere between a gasp of pain and sob of relief as you barred him against yourself, fists clutching into the back of his shirt like it would keep both of you rooted to each other. Somewhere, in the back on your mind, you thought about the irony of the position, being so afraid to let him slip away, like a rabbit latching onto a snake for fear of the serpent starving. Even if it meant being consumed. 

In that moment, you were so relieved he’d started feeding that you didn’t care that his fangs dug in deeper than they ever had before, much more animalistic than his usual polite nibble. You didn’t dare flinch or wince, in case that might break the spell. Instead, you focussed keeping the both of you upright, one of your arms wrapped under his own, your fingers splayed across his ribs, and your other hand cupping the nape of his neck. The angle had his silvery curls dusting your fingertips and your thumb caressing the sharpest part of his jaw. Never had you been so happy to feel that throbbing numbness in your neck. Astarion’s chin prodded further into your neck, deepening the hold he had, and with his own shaky breath, he swallowed the first mouthful of your blood. 

The hand at his ribs clenched, pulling him impossibly closer and twisting his shirt into your grip again as your pulse began to speed up. The increase of your heart rate only seemed to encourage the vampire, teeth sinking ever deeper to draw more blood flow. Clenching your jaw, you forced your muscles not to tense, it would only make it hurt more. This mouthful was quicker, Astarion seemed to be actively drawing it out of you instead of just waiting for it. He swallowed again, gaining the strength to snake his arms around you. It wasn’t a strong hold at first, but one arm snaked around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head, those long fingers finding their usual place in the locks of your hair. You couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped, relishing the cool touch. Your voice stoked another fire in him, provoking another instinct, your blood provided the strength for his grip to harden, becoming more cage like. As if he needed to worry about you trying to escape. 

He swallowed again, and the numbness spread, not just in your neck but into your cheeks and across your chest. Blood was racing, coursing through you and into him, and with it all the magic of the healing potions. You could feel him getting his legs underneath him, untangling himself from you. At the same time, it was getting harder to hold your arm up, the numbness had reached your fingertips leaving them fumbling at his curls before falling to his shoulder. Another long drink and you found your eyes starting to flutter, everything was starting to feel cold as a shiver shook your body. Astarion, against two centuries of vampiric instinct, started to pull back, and you didn’t stop him, but didn’t let him go far either. He was mostly supporting himself now, which was a relief because a fair bit of focus was freshly delegated to preventing yourself from swaying. 

"Take all you need, ’Stari-" You meant for your voice to be assuring and strong, but it came out breathy and slightly slurred. Astarion pulled away, the movement bringing you mostly out of your stupor. His ruby eyes were as sharp as ever once again, even if the shadows under his eyes were still too dark for your liking, and they stared into your own half lidded eyes. Other than the deep purple shadows, the ashen complex had started to even out, the sweat on his brow had faded away, and when you dropped your gaze, you noticed the twisting black veins were starting to recede and fade. Hells, you could get up and dance (very briefly before you passed out).

Even, with a foot in the grave, more dead than usual, and covered in both of your bloods he was unfairly beautiful. His eyes narrowed on your dopey smile, as if he your relief was a symptom of too much blood loss. If that was the effect of four swallows, just a little more would flush out the poison completely, "I can take it, love, just please let me help you." 

Astarion never considered himself to be someone that had to be coaxed into receiving a gift, and you were offering him one so sweetly, practically begging him. After 200 years of rats and spiders, you had put literal magic in your veins for him. Magic that was bringing him back from death to his usual state of undead. He could feel it bringing his strength back, allowing all the magic the cleric and druid had poured into him to finally take some affect. Your blood, his first thinking blood, was always delicious- sweet and metallic, a delicate blend of all the good tastes, something so intrinsically you. With the potions infused, though, if Astarion was to hazard guess what sunlight tasted like- this would be it. How could he refuse? 

Before he went back in, he placed a reverent kiss to the marks he had left in your neck, gingerly lapping at the wounds before sinking his fangs back into your tender flesh. This time, it wasn’t a gasp or sob, but a mewl, your frigid fingers once again digging into the flounced collar his shirt. If you both lived until morning, you were sure he’d gripe for hours about all the wrinkles you’d put in his favorite (only) shirt. Probably throw a proper fit about the stake hole.

Now, as the potions effects dwindled in your own body, you could properly feel the drain. The coldness crept up from your extremities but didn’t counteract the burn in your muscles, making it harder and harder to suppress the shivers. Your breathing was quick almost a pant, but you still felt like you weren't getting any oxygen. If you were thinking rationally, if you hadn’t gone through the brief grief of thinking you’d lost him, you would have realized you need to push him away, that you were approaching your limit. But you weren’t thinking rationally, no. You still were too busy grinning- as your hand had fallen from his collar, it grazed across the wound, now fully closed. Just a little more, you promised yourself. You felt him swallow more, he held himself up completely on his own allowing you to lean into him. 

Astarion was okay, more than just on the mend, he was alive and strong, the potions and magic were working, were the thoughts that were reverberating through your head as things started to feel farther away. Your desperation had melted away, leaving a grateful smile in its wake. It wasn’t completely on purpose, but you let Astarion take on more and more of your weight, barely aware of his fangs in your neck anymore, not quite hearing Scratch and the cub whining outside, the shivering even began to subside as it seemed to take too much energy. 

Earlier, you had drug him to you and held him against your chest almost crying. But, as more of your blood flowed through him, it had become juxtaposed. Astarion held you in place, leaning over you for the best angle at your neck. It was his arms that kept you from falling over, his firm hand that kept your head from lolling too far back. His bite became less fervent, his grip less cage like and more affectionate. His survival instincts started to give way to civility and charm. You barely noticed as he twisted himself so he could slowly, gently lay you down onto the bedroll that had moments ago been his sickbed. He laid you on your back, onto the generous stack of pillows he kept in his tent. He tangled his fingers into yours, just as you had done for him, his knees holding him in a predatory crawl over you, all without breaking from your neck. 

Barely registering the softness, it was the thud of your other hand against the floor that roused you, just a bit. It was also what drew Astarion’s attention, it took everything in him to withdraw his fangs. He gave each puncture would a diligent cleaning with his tongue before pulling away completely, lest he lose control and dive right back in. (Really, how could one person be that tempting?)

But, you had arguably saved his life, it’d be terribly impolite of him to kill you. When Astarion’s eyes met yours, your gaze was more than half lidded as you watched him- what little of your eyes he could see were glossy and fighting to stay focused, he could hear your heartbeat markedly fainter than he was comfortable with. 

You were watching him as intently as you could. In the dim lantern light of his tent, surrounded by potion bottles and bloody rags, Astarion was up and moving and breathing again. Revived and strong, his eyes practically glowing scarlet, and, if you really focussed, you could make out the tips of his ears becoming pink. Something that only happened when he was freshly well fed, nothing was left of his stab wound but the hole in his shirt, the frayed edges dyed from the poison and his blood. He could have looked like a angel, complete with the fire’s reflection creating a halo effect on his snowy curls, had it not been for the sheen of sticky blood drenching his chin and neck. Your blood- the blood that gave him enough strength to heal. How could you not smile? 

Astarion tried to come up with a snarky comment, but for once, nothing came to mind. Instead, he kept glancing between your intertwined fingers, glassy eyes, and that idiotic little smile. Your giddiness was beginning to unnerve him, had you been charmed or perhaps taken a hit to the head? With the parasite, he reached out briefly into your mind. His brow twitched when he was only met with waves of relief and gratitude, you were too tired for structured thought, but too relieved to give into the exhaustion. How could someone on the verge on exsanguination look so happy? And why in the nine hells did it seem to be directed towards his well being? 

The vampire was stricken, taking count of everything you’d truly done that night alone: fought beside him, tried to take the death blow in his place, comforted him, held his hand, cleaned him up, hadn’t let the others undress him anymore than necessary, stayed with him, circumvented his vampirism to find a way to heal him, and had genuinely tried to bleed yourself dry for him. Hell, you’d cut your own neck for him- not even metaphorically, but literally cut your throat for him. He could feel your warmth, your kindness and everything good about you settling into his very marrow. Something uncomfortably… gooey… stirred in his chest, something more and more worrying common as of late, when it came to you. Had his manipulation really worked so well? A feeling too close to sharp guilt gnawed at that warm gooey feeling. Was it really manipulation anymore? Gods, your morality was infecting him.  

“This is that Insufferabe admirability I was talking about ." He muttered into the tent, shaking his head as he watched your chest rise and fall, using his free hand tame some of the hair at your crown. It was then Astarion realized your eyes had slipped shut, your fingers, now just as cold as his, going limp against his. Weeks ago, he would have polished off the last of your blood and left you behind. But at present, he felt the sickening need to return even half the care you’d shown him. He’d have to dissect his emotions later. The rogue was glad the other companions had left supplies within arms reach, as it meant he could gather them without dropping your hand. 

"Ah, ah, ah," He called quietly, gently pulling you back to the real world, pleased to watch your scrunch your nose in the exertion of waking back up. Finally, that contented little smile on your face slipped into a frown, a protest against his interruption of your sleep. Astarion’s smile was almost apologetic as he helped you into a slightly more upright position, "Not quite yet, little love. It’s your turn. No sharing this time."

Another healing potion was pressed into your hand and opened for you, and you allowed Astarion to guide it to your lips, his pale hand guiding your own. This time, the warmth of the elixir was welcome, a comfort instead of a taunt, assurance instead of a plea. Astarion carefully watched you as you swallowed the potion down, noting how you shivered less and a bit of color returned to your face. When the potion bottle was empty, he traded it for a small cup of water, keeping a guiding hand on the silver chalice he’d nicked from a tradesmen weeks ago until you had enough strength to hold it. 

Though still exhausted and dizzy, you had the energy to throw him an obstinate look. Astarion feigned a dramatic sigh but kept a firm enough grip on you that you couldn’t lay back down, "All this for me, yet you won’t even let me give you water?"

Ignoring how it made the dizziness worse, you rolled your eyes, taking a few sips of the water at a time even if it was mostly just so he’d let you lay back down. Astarion was in one piece and you were exhausted, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about anything else. But, Astarion seemed very pleased with himself, squeezing your hand once again, "Good girl." 

If you weren’t on the verge of blood loss, you could have choked on the water. Still, there was a part of you that whispered in relief he must be better if he’s back to teasing you. Astarion watched you take a few more sips before you sagged back against the pillows. Your eyes closed again, but your breathing was deeper now and the hand he held didn’t feel as cold. Outside, Scratch and the cub seemed appeased at your improvement as they stopped their pacing and whining to settle at the tent flap.

This time, he didn’t pull you back up, instead muttering to himself as he gently tilted your head to the side, exposing his bite marks. No wonder you seemed so tired, they were much messier than usual. Vicious, was the better word. Not only had his two fangs pierced your delicate skin, but his bottom canine teeth had punctured through as well, and he could see the outline of his other teeth in the deep bruising grooves they had left behind. In unfortunate addition, it seemed in the height of his blood lust he’d made more than one bite, leaving your neck littered in marks. Astarion grimaced, it really was more of a mauling, “Apologies, darling, I’m not typically so brutish. Forgive me?" 

Astarion pointedly ignored how his heart lifted at the slightest nod you gave him, instead focussing on cleaning you up as gently as possible. The potion had stopped the bleeding, and he watched as the wounds themselves were slowly closing. Each swipe of the rag was feather light, almost not even there. The elf noticed you give back into sleep, this time not bothering to wake you again. Instead he kept working and fussing until the only sign of his feeding was the stained neckline of your shirt. Then, he gently ran a clean, wet rag over your face and hands, taking away the evidence of your tears and worry. Finally, he threw a cloak over you like a blanket, to hopefully ward off the last of the shivers from the warmth he’d stolen from you. 

Not stolen, he reminded himself, though the truth somehow felt more dangerous, it was freely given to him. The vampire settled in, laying across from you, the only part of you he could touch was the hand still holding his. Though, already in your sleep you had shifted towards him. Astarion frowned, eyebrows furrowed, the more he came to know you, the more he knew that you would give and give and give. Truly, he knew that he didn’t need to manipulate you anymore, maybe he never needed to, and for the first time in centuries, he didn’t want to just keep taking. He didn’t want to bleed you dry and loot you for all you were worth. Astarion was surprised to find he wanted give something back to you. He just needed to figure out what.

The nights events caught up to him once again as his eyes closed, listening to the evermore familiar sound of your heartbeat as it became steadier and the even sounds of your breathing as you slept, letting it guide him towards meditation. 

Gods damn you and your insufferable admirability.

___

Part Two Here!

Again this was my first time writing for Astarion. I also tried to balance things into being equal parts in each persons perspective. I just love when two lovestruck idiots have to confront their own feelings about being in love.

[celestialowlbear]

𖤣.𖥧 Flowers for You 𖥧.𖤣

Pairing: Halsin x Reader / Tav

Summary: Halsin admits his feelings for you.

Warnings: Fluff. Kissing. Yearning. Admission of feelings. Sex is implied but not described, so 18+ just to be safe.

WC: 1700

A/N: This fic is inspired by the amazingly sweet artwork by @pani-artz found here! Please give your love and check out their other art. 💕

This one got away from me a bit, but I’ve been obsessed with the idea of Halsin in bear form giving Tav flowers and obsessed with this art! Just a cute little cheesy feelings admission fic for ya’ll. I hope you enjoy! 🥹

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

You let out a long sigh, your eyes tired from studying the map. You were trying to figure out the shortest path to a village over a mountain pass, but the surrounding craggy terrain was making it difficult.

You stepped away from camp for some peace to ponder the routes. Everyone was vocal about their opinion on the fastest way, through varying levels of danger and difficulty, and it seemed like the discussion wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

The bickering began to give you a headache, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to make a clear decision while frustrated.

You rested your head against the tree you were sitting up against, pondering the options and trying to figure out how to get everyone to agree on which way to proceed.

You closed your eyes, trying to focus on the tranquility of the woods around you, hoping it would ease your mind.

You honed in on birds chirping and flitting between branches. A stream trickled nearby, crystal water pouring over glossy stones. The scent of wildflowers and grasses tickled your nose.

Your heartbeat slowed, your mind clearing.

Your eyelids felt heavier, your body relaxing into the soft earth beneath you, the smooth bark of the tree cool against your back.

You unwound further, the tension in your head leaving. Your thoughts began to wander, fantasizing of a comfortable bed and hot bath.

You imagined sinking into warm water, your aching muscles needing the relief.

A pair of large hands slide over your shoulders, beginning to knead the stress away. A low whisper at your ear, lips at your neck, the hands moving lower to caress you.

Someone else is in this bath with you, and the person takes the form of Halsin. He’s there, his golden hair down and wet, holding you close to him, kissing you with passion and urgency. Your hands wander over the broad expanse of his chest, memorizing every scar.

This exact fantasy plays in your head every night as you lay in your tent. You’ve been trying to keep these feelings at bay, but it was getting more and more difficult as the days passed. You were falling for the kind druid. How could you not?

You haven’t felt this way in a long, long time. These feelings don’t come easy to you, but somehow everything was easy with Halsin.

He was always so thoughtful, so understanding. He doesn’t hesitate to heal you, check you over for wounds. You often spoke late into the night, talking of past adventures like you have been friends for centuries.

You couldn’t help but think, or hope, that he felt the same about you. You have been hesitant to make the first move, not wanting to make a fool of yourself. You have resided yourself to fantasies, at least for now.

Heavy footsteps startled you out of your daydream. You froze, eyes snapping open, lumbering steps drawing closer.

You peeked over the map, scanning the forest around you. Twigs cracked and bushes rustled as something large made its way toward you.

You slowly reached to your side where your dagger was sheathed, staying completely still otherwise, holding the map up with your other hand.

A massive bear head emerged from the brush, golden eyes immediately locking with yours.

Adrenaline pumped through your veins, gripping your dagger, sweat beading at your forehead. If you stood still, maybe it wouldn’t perceive you as a threat. You swallowed, waiting for the bear to move first.

The bear stared right at you, and a familiar deep, rumbling grunt of your name came from the bear’s mouth.

You blinked a few times. Did you just hear your name?

Halsin.

It was Halsin.

You couldn’t help but let out a relieved laugh, slumping back against the tree.

“Halsin!”

You released your dagger, setting the map down next to you. “You startled me!”

“I apologize, it was not my intention to alarm you. I often forget this form can be intimidating.”

Halsin’s deep timbre floated through the air, resonating in your head.

The adrenaline left your body as Halsin lumbered fully into the clearing.

“Don’t apologize, I was lost in my thoughts. The quarreling in camp was beginning to give me a headache.”

Halsin made a huff that sounded like a chuckle if a bear could do such a thing.

“That is exactly why I went roaming, myself. The wind, the trees, and the birds all offer cures that medicines or other concoctions cannot. Only out here can you achieve pure harmony and clear one’s mind.”

You always loved the way Halsin waxed poetic about nature. While others may scoff, you listened and agreed wholeheartedly. You admired his passion.

Halsin shifted on his massive paws.

“I also wanted to make sure you were faring well. You left camp abruptly. I followed your tracks.”

You felt a flush of embarrassment, realizing you may have stormed off a little more dramatically than you thought.

Also, Halsin was following you?

“I don’t mean to intrude on your solitude but…”

Halsin tilted his massive head back, motioning to a bush behind him.

“I was foraging for medicinal herbs to resupply my stock and found something I hope you’ll enjoy.”

Halsin turned away from you momentarily.

You sat forward, wondering what he was doing.

He bent his head below the bush, turning back around to face you.

In his mouth was a bundle of wildflowers in different colors and variety. Each was different and vibrant in its own right.

Heat crept up your neck, blushing your cheeks.

Halsin took a few large steps toward you, placing them gently at your feet.

“These are…for me?” You questioned, hoping you weren’t misinterpreting this gesture.

Your vision flitted from the flowers to him. You were always in awe when he was in wild shape, witnessing how he harnessed the power of nature and extended his strength into a physical embodiment of it.

Though he was a beast, when you looked into his eyes, it was still him.

His gaze softened as he nodded, watching you gently pick up the bundle, admiring the gorgeous assortment.

“These flowers produce a calming tea when dried and prepared correctly. It is a favorite recipe of mine, one that I tend to make for myself when I’m feeling overwhelmed. I hope I could show you how to prepare it. Also…”

Halsin paused, something tender flashing in his ursine eyes.

“Their exquisite beauty reminded me of you.”

Your heart leaped in your chest at his bold admission.

You smiled, your headache now long gone. “You…really think that of me?”

You’ve spent so long fighting, beautiful is not something you’ve thought of yourself in some time. Hearing Halsin say it with such sincerity stirred your heart in a way you haven’t felt before.

Halsin took a few steps back from you, his stare not leaving yours.

“The most brilliant of sunrises or the most magnificent hues of a sunset do not compare to you.”

Suddenly, leaves whipped around, and Halsin’s bear form was bathed in golden light. You watched as he transformed, slowly standing upright as the fur fell away and revealed the man underneath.

He held out a large hand down toward you, offering to help you up.

You took his hand, calloused and warm, and he pulled you up with ease.

“Halsin…” you started, your heart feeling as if it might burst out of your chest at his heartfelt words.

“I cannot lie to you. I wish to spend more time with you and see no better time to start than now. Your friendship means a great deal to me, but I long for more. I could not wait longer to tell you.”

Halsin’s hand squeezed yours lightly.

“I believe you do as well. Unless I am misguided. Tell me now, and I will step away.”

Halsin was not a daft man. He catches your stares or the way your cheeks bloom a deeper color when he speaks to you. He notices how you stand closely to him on the battlefield, often putting yourself in harm’s way to protect him without a second thought.

You were unlike anyone or anything he’d experienced in his long life. You were everything to him. He finally felt like he was in the right headspace to admit it, and give you his full attention and heart if you’d want it.

He knew you had your burdens, though. The tadpole in your brain, trying to be the leader that everyone needs, trying to solve every problem and save every person. He would understand if you said no, and would continue to stand by your side as a friend.

Halsin was gazing at you with so much admiration, that you felt as if you were floating. You picked up a hint of hesitancy, as well.

The large man was putting his heart on his sleeve, the flowers representing the start of something beautiful and new in chaos, and it was up to you to accept it.

“Yes.” You whispered, “I want that and so much more. You are not misguided.”

A large smile graced his features, his eyes shining.

Halsin leaned down, lightly touching his forehead against yours, bringing your hand to his chest, and you could feel the fast thrumming of his heart under your fingertips.

“I am happy to hear it.” He whispered, his lips close to yours.

Halsin let out a soft sigh, bringing his free hand to cup the side of your face.

“I have been wanting to express my feelings to you for a long time.” His voice was low. “May I kiss you?”

You nodded, squeezing the stems of flowers in your one hand, while your other was still enveloped in his against his chest.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please.”

The words barely left your mouth as his lips captured yours, fervent and passionate, better than any dream.

His lips were soft and purposeful, both of you pouring your long-held emotions into the dance of your lips.

Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, you both pulled away for a much-needed breath.

“So many nights I laid awake, desperate to feel your lips on mine, dreaming of how you’d taste and feel…none of those fantasies were even close to the real thing.”

“How many nights did you dream of me?” You asked, leaning your head against his chest.

“Since we first met.”

“I admit I dreamt the same of you, Halsin.”

Halsin laughed, a pleasant rumbling in his chest.

You looked up at him, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Well then, my flower, we must make up for all the lost time.”

Before you could answer, Halsin scooped you up in his arms bridal-style, silencing your surprised squeak with his lips, more hungry than before.

“What about making the tea?” You gasped between his kisses, wrapping your arms around his neck for purchase.

“When we are done, we can brew it and enjoy it under the stars. Though, by the time we are finished, the sun may just be rising.”

Your body ignited with his words, feeling him smile against your lips as you kissed him with urgency, suddenly needing to feel your entire body against his, needing to feel every part of him.

You knew he felt the same, and he kneeled to lay you on the soft grass, caging you in between his thick biceps.

As his body pressed to yours, your worries and frustrations melted away with every touch and pass of his lips and fingers and sultry praise of your magnificence.

Halsin was true to his word, you explored and worshipied one another until the stars began to fade and a new day was rising, ready to face the world stronger together.

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

[thecampjuicebox]

Was wondering if you could do one with Halsin or Astarion (or Gale👀) where Tav/reader has never let him finish inside them before and it’s something he reallyyyy wants to do so he spends a long time getting Tav all worked up (maybe even days saying he’s too busy to do anything right now) and then keeps bringing them to the edge before telling them what he wants and saying he’ll let Tav finish if they beg for him to finish inside of them

AHHHHHH OKAY WAIT all three would work so perfectly but I feel like this is especially Halsin coded so ding ding ding, he's the winner today. This is going to be a little out of order canonically because I have a very specific time period in mind for this to go down. HERE WE GO!

Just as nature intended.

Pairing: Tav (f) x Halsin (m)

POV: 2nd person (Reader is Tav)

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

Warings: SMUT, edging, piv sex, breeding kink, fluff, oral (f receiving), lots of scratching (with some blood), finishing inside, game spoilers

Camp is especially quiet tonight. Gentle waves lap at the short rock ledge, sea mist floating through the air and invading your nostrils with the salty scent. You sigh and relax your tired bones into the cracked stone. The barely audible crackle of the campfire lulls your shot nerves and you rub your temples, the tadpole wriggling just behind your eyes. To put put it plainly, you're exhausted. The shadow curse has really taken it out of you and your group today, evident by the lack of usual banter and comradery that camp often bustles with at the end of each rough day. Instead, everyone has retired to their tents immediately after dinner. You tap your fingers against the rock in a random pattern, doing anything to distract you from the pounding headache in your skull. Carefully pushing yourself from the ground, you move to retrieve your bedroll, preparing to settle in for the night. Whether or not sleep finds you is up to the tadpole at this point.

An idea works it's way into your thoughts and you pause your busy hands for a moment. You know a perfect way to relieve the thundering between your ears. Your lover, Halsin. His large hands and incredible sex drive often offer you solace when nothing else will. Even if he declines your offer for sex tonight, you're perfectly happy to curl up in his arms and search for sleep that way, although you'd much prefer the former option. You plop your bedroll down next to the fire and start towards where he's set up, the familiar scent of oak and basil wafting in your direction from the narrow opening in his tent and you salivate.

"Is that you, my heart?"

His words trickle like honey into your ears and your core burns like the fires of Avernus. You reach a trembling hand out and move the right tent flap to the side, ducking into his spacious living quarters. Halsin is sat cross legged on his bedroll, careful hands whittling a comically small piece of wood, the shape of a duck barely visible past his large fingers. He looks so handsome. Caramel hair tied back in a messy half up, half down bun. Pale green eyes carefully scan the small piece of wood that his knife works at, chipping away little chunks here and there. You giggle quietly to yourself, chewing on the middle knuckle of your index finger to stifle the noise, taking care to not startle him while he works. His attention shifts to you and he immediately sets his work down, muscular arms spreading wide to welcome you into his warm embrace. You oblige and slink into his arms. Your face instinctively nuzzles into the crook of his neck, inhaling his musk. He tightens his grip on you with one arm, using the other to adjust your seating position until you're straddling his muscular thighs. You grin, testing the waters of tonight's potential plans, nipping gently at the side of his neck. He groans, both hands reaching down to grasp your plush ass. "Hmph.."

"Hello, my love."

You lift your head to bite the pointy tip of Halsin's ear, earning a grunt into your perked up ears. A sweet sigh escapes his lungs.

"Not tonight.. My mind is elsewhere. I'm afraid I cannot please you the way you and I both desire. I'm sorry.."

Your lips flatten into a frown and you nod. "Alright." Kicking yourself for even thinking now was a good time, you carefully move to his side, throbbing temple resting against his firm bicep. His eyes soften at your quickness to pull away.

"What's wrong?"

You groan and mumble a soft "headache", closing your eyes to soothe the new light sensitivity. Halsin nods and leans to blow out the candles lit in a row next to him, arms snaking around you, guiding you onto your side with him. He runs his fingers through your soft hair and gently scrunches the hair in random spots on your scalp to relieve pressure. You sigh contently, allowing your lids to flutter.

...

It's been about a week of begging Halsin for release, being disappointingly turned down every time and your core aches from the moment you wake up, to the moment you lie your head on your bedroll at night. It's very unlike him to turn away moments of pleasure with you, especially after he confessed his feelings during the Teifling party. He was very open with his intentions and it made your head spin. He took you that very night. Large hands grabbing and prodding and begging for you, touching every inch of your willing body. Sex with Halsin is euphoric, to be blunt. Otherworldly. With Halsin's age and experience taken into consideration, it's no wonder. His words still ring in your ears every day.

"I have lived a very long time. I have taken many lovers. My heart does not stir lightly. But it does now. I want more than to fight at your side, or sit around the campfire with you. I want to lay with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine."

You lie in your bedroll, the thin veil of sleep still shrouding your tired eyes, but you're trapped in a dream. It's early morning, the rest of the camp still quiet, little snores breaking the dewy silence. Astarion tip toes past you, watching your body writhe in your sleep, clearly dreaming of something dangerous. He smirks and nudges you with his foot. You sit up in a panic, chest heaving, sweat beading up on your forehead and you shoot a look of surprise at Astarion. The vampire crosses his arms over his chest.

"Dreaming of me again, pet?"

"Oh, fuck off. You wish."

You scoff, shooing the man away with the back of your hand, both of your hands coming up to smooth your sweaty hair back and you groan. You quickly pull your nightgown over your knees, shielding yourself from the vampire's prying gaze. Astarion saunters off with a giggle. The small commotion stirs Halsin from his tent and he waves a soft "G'morning" to Astarion, the vampire returning the gesture with a similar wave. You squeeze your thighs together, noticing a very familiar warmth between them. Fuck. You're soaked, night garments basically ruined from the rather intense dream you had. Reaching down, you swipe the slick from your inner thigh and lift your hand up to inspect, the clear substance stretching into thin ropes between your fingers. You grin, not at all noticing your lover standing behind you now, pupils blown wide. He huffs and your bones nearly eject from the skin and muscles that hold them inside. "Sh-Shit." Halsin reaches down and grabs your arm, hoisting you up from your bedroll effortlessly.

"My tent. Immediately."

His tone is deep and hoarse with arousal. You obey and follow the elf to his tent, yelping when he throws you to the bedroll like a ragdoll. You love when he's rough with you. Primal need aches in your belly. You spread your legs for him while he clumsily fumbles with the clasps on the tent flaps. Eventually giving up, he turns to you, mouth salivating at the sight of you so open for him. So ready. He shakes his head, palming at his already erect cock through his leggings.

"Undress for me."

You nod, making a show of sliding your nightgown up and over your head, tossing it beside you, your absolutely soaked underwear coming next. You hook your thumbs into the soiled fabric and tug downwards, painfully slow. The elf grunts in approval, eyebrows knitting together. Once the fabric is at your knees, you slide one leg out, the other flicking the underwear into the air and towards Halsin. He catches them and quickly presses them to his nose, inhaling deeply. You beckon him closer with a slow curl of your index finger, a lust filled grin thinning your otherwise full lips. The air in the tent is warm, the scent of your heat getting Halsin absolutely drunk. He stumbles forward, collapsing overtop of you, large frame pressing you into his bedroll as he aggressively grinds his throbbing cock into your naked mound, desperate for any kind of friction. You wrap your arms and legs around him tightly, closing the gap.

"Halsin p-please.."

His grinding halts, body sliding down yours. You whine at the loss of friction and grab for his hair, shoulders, ears, whatever you can get your hands on to pull him back to you, desperate to feel him against you again. He nuzzles his nose into your soaked cunt, breathing you in, hands sliding to your inner thighs to firmly press them apart to anchor you in place. Your hips buck upwards into the tip of his nose, finding a moment of friction against your deprived clit. He exhales heavy against your slit, his hot breath coasting over your wet skin. Wiggling desperately beneath him, your hands fly down to his hair and he chuckles.

"Oak Father preserve me.. You'll be my undoing."

A quick flick of the tip of his tongue ignites a flame in your core that you cannot control, fire burning hotter and hotter up your spine. Grasping fingers tug and yank at his caramel locks and he grunts against your cunt, the vibrations only assisting in your molten hot pleasure. You burn as hot as Karlach's engine heart. Your climax builds and you yell into the early morning air, teetering on the very edge of absolute bliss. Then the feeling stops. Halsin pulls away, smirking up at you. You kick your legs in frustration and push your hips up towards his face, clit searching for his tongue.

"No, please! PLEASE!"

Your fire dulls to embers and you whine down at your lover, head lifted just enough to meet his eyes. He waits there. Breathing slowly. Each huff of air fans out over your begging cunt. Your eyes well up with tears at the lack of touch. Halsin hushes you sweetly, lips wrapping themselves around your clit once more. He laps at you in slow, painfully slow motions, his head bobbing slightly with the movements of his tongue. The aching builds again and you flex your stomach muscles, walls clenching tightly around the emptiness. The agonizing emptiness. Your sharp nails dig into his shoulders and he groans loudly into your folds. Teeth scrape over your clit, your hips bucking upwards quickly in response and you cry out. "Gods!" Halsin grins and moves his hands under your ass, pushing you up roughly against his tongue as we works you to the edge once more, listening for your change in moans before he pulls away again. You sob. Tears stream freely down your cheeks, back arching up off of the bedroll beneath you and you babble incoherently.

He repeats this process until you're absolutely broken, begging, screaming for him to give you what you so desperately crave. Release. You're positive your other companions are awake now, eating breakfast around the fire to the sounds of Halsin destroying you. The thought definitely arouses you further. He stands over your writhing body and kicks off his leggings, angry and erect cock springing forward. A thin rope of precum drips onto your thigh and you mewl. He bends over to grab your hips, hoisting you into the air. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders, nails digging into the same spot on his shoulder before. Halsin hisses. You grin and try to sneakily lower yourself onto his cock, Halsin catching on quickly. He tuts.

"Patience. I want to savor you for as long as I can."

His lips crash to yours, tongue begging for entrance, the subtle taste of your cunt lingering in his mouth. You accept his advance, wrestling your needy tongue with his, a mesh of wet sounds filling the tent. Without warning, he lowers you onto his cock. You moan loudly into his mouth and he follows suit at the grip your cunt has on him. He breaks the kiss to mumble under his breath.

"By the nine hells, you're tight. This is going to be harder than I thought."

Your hands move down his back, nails dragging behind them, slicing long bloody marks into his tan flesh. He throws his head back, bottoming out inside of you before lifting you all the way off of him once more, tip popping out of you with an audible squelch. You keen at the emptiness. Slick drips down beneath you, creating a puddle on the bedroll. Halsin slides in again, then out, then in, teasing your insides. You growl in frustration.

"Fuck me, gods damn it!"

Tears sting in your eyes from the way he's toying with you. You can't take it anymore. Your entire body burns. Aches. Needs.

"I will, my heart. And I'm going to fill you to the brim once I'm done. Only then, can you cum."

Your breath catches in your throat. Halsin had asked to cum inside of you before. And you declined every single time. The idea of potentially carrying a child terrified you. He often reminded you of the resident cleric in your camp, had the need for her become necessary. Now.. Now you're intrigued. You quirk an eyebrow at him and nod slowly, teeth catching your bottom lip. You chew the skin there nervously before settling on a decision. You craved Halsin. Needed every inch of him inside of you. You agree.

"O-Okay.. Just please.."

Halsin slides in before you can finish speaking, the tip of his weeping cock slamming into your soft cervix. You cry out loudly, head falling back, jaw falling open. Your eyes cross, your fingers and toes go numb, you're floating now. Black spots speckle your vision as Halsin aggressively ruts up into you. Your walls flutter around him and he chokes on his breath, hips struggling to keep a consistent rhythm. He nears his end, and you're not far behind. He curses under his breath, grip on you impossibly tight, the indents his fingers leaving on your thighs and ass sure to bruise later. You cry his name into the air of the now steamy tent, the shuffling noises of the rest of the camp making you painfully aware of just how loud you're being. They definitely hear you. Halsin encourages your loudness, nails digging into the flesh of your ass roughly as he continues his thrusting, your entire body bouncing in his arms.

"Gods, I'm close. Beg for it. Beg for me to fill you, just as nature intended."

You pull yourself closer to him, torsos melding into one. Leaning close to his ear you let out a deliciously low moan, tongue working your way along his earlobe.

"Cum inside of me, Halsin. I want you to fill me up. Please.."

Halsin reaches a hand between the two of you, relying on your grip on him to hold you up and his fingers find your deprived clit, rubbing in furious circles. He thrusts one final time. Hot ropes of cum spew inside of you, the large elf grunting in pure ecstasy. He works your clit still, your climax very suddenly slamming into you and you scream his name. Your walls tighten around his softening cock and he slides out of you. You ride the waves, lungs burning from the lack of oxygen as you come undone. He holds you for a moment, cooing into your ear about how well you did for him, how much he loves you, how proud of you he is. You mewl and press tired kisses to his chest and shoulders, asking to be put down. He sets you on your feet and you squirm at the mixture of his cum and yours dripping down your inner thigh, legs barely able to hold you upright. You giggle.

"I need to bathe.. You've ruined me."

Halsin chuckles and pulls his leggings back on, reaching down to retrieve your nightgown and he hands it to you. You slide it on carefully, turning to catch Halsin taking another deep inhale of your underwear. You shake your head and he smirks in your direction, tucking the fabric under his pillow. "I'll be keeping these." He slides his hand into yours and leads you out of his tent, the rest of your companions snapping their attention to the two of you as they're finishing breakfast. Your face turns a deep shade of red and you lower your head in embarrassment. Yeah, they heard you. Astarion stands, moving behind Gale, placing his hands on Gale's hips and rutting playfully into his behind.

"Oh gods, Halsin! Please Halsin! I'm so close Halsin!"

Astarion mocks your loud moans, squeezing his eyes closed tightly as he pretends to cum. Gale rolls his eyes and shoves the vampire backwards, smoothing the back of his now crumpled robe down. Karlach and Shadowheart throw their heads back and laugh, Wyll shakes his head and sips his tea, blinking through the steam. You scurry out of sight of everyone, hand covering your face to somehow shield you from their taunts. Halsin slaps a hand onto Astarion's shoulder, leaning in to his ear, the smell of you still evident on his breath.

"Wishing she'd cry out for you like that, blood sucker?"

[vampiresfromxenon]

Luscious, Succulent, Delectable

Astarion x gn! Tav/Reader

Around 2.3K words

Tags: Fluff, so much kissing, so much moaning (so so much), body (thigh) worship, consensual touching, mutual love, they are so insanely in love, slight angst, consensual biting/blood sucking, soft! Astarion, implied smut, no y/n

Summary: After a tough battle, you can’t help but fall apart in your tent, aching both inside and out. Astarion, whom you’ve recently committed to a relationship with, comes to your side to comfort you. Wanting to help you focus more on yourself and what your wants and needs are, he finds himself lost in exploring your thighs. 

~

It’s been a long day. Hells, it’s been a long life. One day you wake up on a Nautiloid ship and suddenly you’re responsible for saving not just yourself, but pretty much all of Faerûn. Lucky you, right? Life’s punching bag, here in the flesh. 

It’s not all bad, though. You’ve been met with some kindness along the way, though perhaps not as much as you feel you deserve. One of your traveling companions, however, has certainly delivered on his promises of ‘kindness’. For nights on end you two would sneak off into the woods, exploring each other’s pleasure limits, and for many, many mornings, Shadowheart was less than pleased to cure you of your bloodlessness. 

As time went on, you learned more about Astarion, your pale, vampiric friend. You had your doubts about him at first, but you had grown to love him, caring for him deeply the more you learned about his past, the more he became vulnerable around you. After a drow from Moonrise Towers was very persistent to have Astarion drink from her, and you supported him in telling her to ‘fuck off’ (but in nicer words than you’d hoped for), you found yourselves re-evaluating your situation. 

The vampire had grown to care for you, seeing much more in you than just protection. He saw something deeper, something real and fresh and… It was a bit much for him at first, but over time you both grew to be even more comfortable around each other, finding yourselves enjoying the smaller, lighter moments of intimacy that rose from being deeply in love. 

Tonight was no different, as your party returns to camp from defending Halsin’s portal in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. You were covered in blood and bruises, trudging along to your tent at a slow pace. Most party members found themselves skipping dinner, just trying to sleep off their wounds and soreness. You found yourself nearly doing the same, sitting down on a soft cushion as you remove your armor, tossing it off to the side to be cleaned and polished later. Lying on your bedroll in your night clothes, you softly sigh, your body relaxing enough to where you can feel the full extent of the trauma your body went through today. Closing your eyes, you begin to doze off, trying to forget it all and think about what a new day could bring. 

“How are you feeling?” A smooth voice asks, the flap of your tent crinkling as a figure wanders in. You wake with a start, sitting up to meet the new inhabitant of your tent. 

“I’ve never felt better. Poets could write sonnets about how at peace I feel.” You sarcastically scoff, rolling your eyes. 

Astarion grunts as he sits at your side, taking claim of the cushion you were previously on. It’s clear that today’s battle had also hit him quite hard. “I’ll be sure to sing along as they recite it.” He teases, trying to hide his discomfort. You both sit there in silence for a moment, not wanting to show a sign of weakness talking about how much your bodies ache from the day’s activities. You can’t help but break the silence first.

“I don’t know how we’re expected to do all of this. My whole body aches, I’m unsure if I’ll be able to walk properly tomorrow!” You say, exasperated.

“You carried on just fine after all those nights I left you unable to walk…” He snickers, and you playfully push at his chest. 

“I’m being serious! This is a lot of pressure, so many people are relying on us, relying on me… I just don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.” Your eyes land in your lap.

Astarion takes a softer tone, hating to see his love in such a melancholy mood. “Darling…” He sighs, his hand resting on your thigh. You flinch a little, your legs badly bruised. He is quick to notice this, and he begins to gently massage your thigh through the fabric, hoping to bring you some comfort. 

“You take on too much. I know you want to help, it’s a damn curse that you care so much, but we have to focus on taking care of ourselves for a bit. We spend so much time helping other people that I think you forget we have that hellish tadpole behind our eyes. We don’t have much time left, but I know we have enough for you to take a break. Please, you need to rest. You can’t solve everyone’s problems, especially when you can’t solve your own.” 

You find yourself on the verge of tears, trying to take in all these words that he would have never said to you before you became close. Hearing this from him, seeing this side of him, you know he’s serious and means every single word. He notices your silence, your closed-offness from the conversation, and he gently places his fingers on your chin, tilting your head up to meet his. 

“Promise me you’ll take a break? Only focus on the tadpole stuff for a bit?” He softly asks, his eyes switching between both of yours, looking for any sign of confirmation.

“Ok…” Is all you can breathe before he leans forward to hug you, both of your bodies trembling slightly from the bruises brought on from today. He pulls from you, placing soft kisses on your cheeks before a delicate one on your lips.

“I want to help you relax.” He offers, and you nod your head, trying to follow his words of advice about taking more time for yourself. He smiles as he moves down your body, slowly removing your trousers, leaving you in just your nightshirt and underwear. He tosses them off to the side, taking in the sight of your legs. He frowns before saying something in a low, rumbling, lustful tone.

“Oh Darling, those bruises should be from me.” 

He sighs before crawling between your legs, his hands caressing the sides of your thighs as he lifts your legs over his shoulders. Moving his hands up and down your thighs gently, he takes in the scent of your skin. A smile creeps on his face as your body shivers from his touch, already very eager for more. Knowing this, he decides to take his time, teasing you for as long as he can handle. His hands begin to curl around your thighs, his fingertips dragging along the inside curve of your thighs now.

“Gods, why have I been sleeping with that ratty old pillow when these have been here this whole time?” He growls, gripping your thighs a little tighter, holding them closer to his head. 

You let out a small gasp from both the pain and excitement from his touch. He’s massaging your thighs a little harder now, and you can’t help but let out small moans here and there, only encouraging him to continue. You throw your head back into the pillow, your hand on your mouth as he massages a particularly sore spot. Seeing this, he stops, waiting for you to meet his gaze again. Distraught from his lack of touching, you open your eyes and look down at him to see him gazing at you through his lashes.

“Don’t you ever hide those sounds from me, darling.” He purrs, a commanding tone in his voice. He reaches through your legs to remove your hand from your face, his hand trailing down your torso in a teasingly slow pace.

“I’m not even close to being done with you yet, I intend to make you sing all night. Your throat will be aching for ages…” His words are dripping with lust, and your heart races at his usage of those dirty double entendres. His hand slips between your legs, hooking around your left thigh again, bringing it closer to his face.

Maintaining eye contact with you, he licks a stripe up your leg, starting near the junction between your torso and thigh, ending all the way up to your knee. His breath tickles your skin as he chuckles, watching you shake from his attention. He does the same with your other thigh, making sure to go just a little bit slower to really drag out your slight frustration. Your chest feels tight as it rises and falls quickly, the sound of your panting becoming loud enough to be quietly heard from outside your tent. At this point, neither of you cared if anyone in the camp heard you; it wouldn’t be the first or last time they’d hear it. 

“Your body is so soft, so beautiful, so perfect. Your thighs-” He kisses the inside of your left thigh near your knee softly, his tongue tracing at your skin. As he continues to speak, he sloppily kisses down your thighs, panting from all this excitement he brought on himself. He laps at your skin like a wild, hungry animal, your legs a fresh, raw, succulent steak.  

“They are delectable, darling. ~mhm~ I just can’t get enough of them. ~mhm~ The knowledge that you get to have them, ~mhm~ that they’re part of you, ~mhm~ that you walk around with them ~mhm~ every day. ~mhm~ Gods, I envy you. ~mhm~ If I had legs these perfect, ~mhm~ I’d never ~mhm~ hide them ~mhm~ from the world. ~mhm~ Just the sight of you, ~mhm~ lounging on cushions, ~mhm~ your legs draped on each other, ~mhm~ the way your legs look so soft ~mhm~ and inviting… ~mhm~ It's a wonder how ~mhm~ I don’t just take you ~mhm~ right then and there. ~mhm~ You drive me crazy, ~mhm~ my love. ~mhm~”

He pulls away from your thighs, both of you so riled up that you feel as though the air has been knocked out of you. Your head is hot from all the blushing, all the flattering comments, all the kissing. His face is slightly flushed, his pupils blown out, his eyes brimming with both love and lust. He almost sounds drunk as he speaks, his voice nearly cracking at the thought of what he wishes to do to you next. Pleading, he lies his cheek on the inside of your right thigh. 

“Your thighs are so delicious. I just need a taste. Just a quick taste. Please.” You can’t deny him, not after how much pleasure he’s brought you without even touching you like that yet. You nod your head, and even though he appears desperate, he makes it clear that he’s still the one in charge, the one with the upper hand.

“If you want it, you’ve got to say it.” You whimper as he massages your leg, teasing you. 

“Yes! Gods, yes!” You breathlessly exclaim.

Without wasting a single second, he sinks his teeth into your left thigh, moaning as he bites harder into your soft flesh. You moan with him, the feeling of both pain and pleasure extremely stimulating. In all your excitement, you clamp your thighs together, almost crushing his head between them. He moans even louder, his hands pressing into your thighs, encouraging the pressure. Had your legs not already been bruised, you’re sure you’d have the shape of his hands in your skin for a few days after this. During all of this, you can feel his body moving, shaking… thrusting. If you weren’t already moaning, Gods only know how you’d react to the sight of him rolling, perhaps almost slamming, his hips into your bedroll as he drinks from you, his head clamped between your thighs.

As he drinks from your thigh, you feel the sharp stinging pain from the initial bite fading away, the tingling numbness taking its place. You can feel the blood leaving your body, and it feels different from how it usually does when it leaves your neck. It’s a new, exciting feeling, hard to compare to your neck as both give such different feelings of pleasure. 

You can feel him slowing down on drinking from your thigh, his throat thick with your blood, his moans slowly turning into needy little whimpers and whines. He pulls from your thigh, eagerly lapping up the blood that drips from the two puncture wounds. The sight of his desperation makes him look like he’s never had anything to drink before in his life. The pressure from your thighs around his head releases, your legs falling open as you relax. You both lie there together, his head resting on your right thigh and looking up at you as you both try to catch your breath. He goes to speak, his voice wavering as he still continues to pant, his body now full of more energy thanks to your blood.

“For a moment there, I couldn’t breathe at all. I thought about pushing your legs away from me to catch my breath, but then I realized that I could die happy knowing that my head was crushed between your luscious thighs.” 

You laugh, realizing how ridiculous his statement is, as well as how arousing it is too. He smiles, gently kissing the puncture wounds on your thigh again. Climbing on top of you, he nestles his hips between your legs, and you can feel just how much he enjoyed all of that. He leans over you, kissing you lightly, pulling back to gaze into your eyes. 

“Thank you.” You quietly say, brushing his hair out of his face. Your hand caresses his cheek, feeling how warm he is with all your blood rushing through his body. 

“No, thank you. And besides, don’t think we’re done just yet, my love.” He gives you a knowing look, cocking his eyebrow. “I want to be the main reason you can’t walk tomorrow.” 

Before anything else can be said, you hungrily grab his face, his lips crashing on to yours. Your legs wrap around his waist, drawing his body closer, his chest grinding into yours. The night wanders on, your tent rustling, full of moans and panting breaths, two people utterly, embarrassingly in love. 

~

Author’s Note:

GUYS. Ok think back to that one scene where he drinks from Tav for the first time. You guys remember that one line of dialogue that happens if you persuade him off of you? “Mhh? Oh, of course. That - that was amazing.” His little whimper. His gulp. His panting. That one line alone was such a huge inspiration for how I wrote this, I need you all to know that that’s basically what he sounds like during most of this fic. Do with that information what you will- 

(Also this is probably the closest I'll ever get to writing smut. I don’t feel 100% comfortable writing smut, but I hope you guys enjoy the moments like these as much as I do!!)