#shadowstar bg3

[vagoonabeach]

oh we IN it boys we in the shadowstar trenches

[shadowstarion]

shadowheart and astarion dry humping in the gauntlet of shar, him pinning her down and rutting between her legs with his fangs in her neck, her wound repeatedly sparking with pain every time she whines and grinds herself up against him. it feels so good to let go, to surrender to him, to lose her blood and her dignity and herself deep in shar’s most holy temple. he’s making an offering of her, greedily taking his communion from her, not stopping until she’s weak from blood loss and he’s coming, wrecked and straining and desperate, ruining the insides of his trousers for her, shar’s praise on both their lips

[lakefu]

I just think that all the bg3 elves should kiss each other actually 😙

[ancelle-art]

Happy mean gurlz ❤️💜🍷

Here's the first part

[casualya]

And again, kisses from Astarion and the little priestess Shar. And I used Minthara's kisses in this video for Shadowheart.

full scene with Photomode Mod - on my YT

[mosaiclobster]

Can I interest you in an OT3 of secretive, traumatized bisexuals? Check out Mark of the Hunter :*)

Ty SO MUCH to @snacobie for capturing a tender moment amidst the chaos of Act 3! They deserve it.

[jupitermayyy]

I’ve been thinking about underrated bg3 origin character ships like bladeweave and can somebody tell me why literally no one ships Astarion and Shadowheart?

I started wondering about this bc one day I was bored and listened to those banter compilations on YouTube and found out that he flirts with her the most, literally calling her beautiful/ delicious and invites her for a drink. And people keep saying they have sibling energy whaaat who tf flirts with their sibling 😭

They’re both kinda mean but have a soft side as well, both approve of many questionable things where others disapprove. In their banter she asks him such random and cute questions about vampires and he isn’t even annoyed lol

Don’t know if Shart (or any companion) could handle Astarions sass in the long run tho but I think they’re a good match 😊

[marimosalad]

I’ve started a mini comic loosely based on @pursuitseternal’s Shadowstar knife play fic (explicit)

Follow along for sketch updates (18+) on my Patreon

[lassieposting]

Astarion getting to a point where he's relaxed and comfortable and trusting enough to start smiling into kisses send tweet

[thehightiefling]

I love you. I love this. And I want it all.

[ivolgacosplay]

Modern AU Shadowheart and Astarion cosplay

Yes, they’re watching “Twilight”

Yes, Astarion wears “I hate sex” t-shirt, please, dear artists, draw it 😂

Myself as Shadowheart

Mixontape as Astarion

[vagoonabeach]

cascadia every time we touch plays in the bg (shadowheart/astarion modern au ✌️)

[shadowstarion]

strangers • pregame shadowstarion

i am a sucker for the “we met once and had an impact on one another but neither of us remembered it” trope and i need them crossing paths at least once. this is just some thoughts/concepts for a fic featuring baby sharran shadowheart and rookie vamp spawn astarion

++ warning for mentions of trauma & abuse

Novice Shadowheart being the honeypot piece for an investigation on disappearances near her House. She’s sheltered and awkward, not yet confident in herself, and the idea of going to seedier hangouts in town makes her very uncomfortable, which is 75% of the reason this task gets assigned to her. Her sitting nervously in a tavern bar, feeling overexposed in that leather getup and nursing a drink.

Astarion approaches her and she’s smitten in an instant— there’s no way that this is the creep her superiors are after, right? He’d walked right up to her in plain view, his flirtation is polite and respectful even. All of his words and touches are sweet ones, compliments and chaste caresses. She realizes it feels nice to be just a girl in a bar, batting her eyelashes and enjoying the attention of a stranger. No obligations, no pressure to be perfect, no standards for her to meet other than simply existing as she is.

There’s no moment of “she’s the love of my life i must spare her from certain death” where Astarion consciously refuses to lure her home, he just… doesn’t. They end their night together with an almost-kiss after she’d insisted on bidding him farewell, sounding almost pained. He’d leaned in for it, to give her that mesmerizing kiss that would linger in her mind and draw her back here some other night, but she’d winced and flinched away at the last second before hastily leaving. And Astarion would let it happen. With his skill set and the clientele of the tavern, he’ll have plenty more options to bring home for his master’s dinner. Maybe some part of him just wanted to be an interested suitor chatting up a shy but beautiful maiden, not a hunter in pursuit of prey.

The whole time they’re talking, Shadowheart is growing more convinced that this stranger was not the one she was meant to seduce and interrogate, but she just can’t tear herself away from him. Shar is punishing her for it, her brand flaring up once or twice throughout. Of course her patron would protest at this, her wasting her time flirting around instead of pursuing the objective, the way her smiles and laughs are growing much too genuine. So she rushes back to the cloister, repents for her failures, and has the mission wiped entirely from her memories.

Astarion forgets because he hadn’t been able to bring home supper that night. Entertaining that pretty girl at the bar bleeds into a tick in the endless tally of tortures, no different from any other evening he’d come home to a punishment. Faces and names are hard to recall, everything stained by Cazador’s cruelty.

When they meet again, neither of them have any idea they’d ever met before. That entire day’s worth of time was erased from her mind, she couldn’t possibly remember him. Even if Astarion might have remembered Girl At The Tavern #147 for some reason, he wouldn’t recognize her immediately— her hair is much longer now, she’s slimmed down a bit, and her personality is forcibly cold and prickly.

Regardless of how their story ends, I don’t think they’d ever even know. If Shadowheart did recognize him via Selune returning her memories, she wouldn’t tell him. Knowing she’d been one of his failed targets in that time would only make him feel terrible, and what’s the use in dredging up old wounds now when they’re finally free from abuse? She’ll just keep how he made her feel close to her chest as a cherished memory.

[lakefu]

For @pursuitseternal 🌹 Inspired by Ch 5 of her fic, "In the Monster’s Shadow" ❤️ Ao3 Link Here ❤️ TWT Link Here

[pursuitseternal]

Tensions break in this NSFW update to “In the Monster’s Shadow:”

Ascended Astarion x Shadowheart | E | 1.7K

Summary: left to her own devices and freedoms, Shadowheart finds solace alone in the gardens of the Palace… until she realizes that being alone isn’t what will soothe her. But he might…

CW: angst with feelings, vulnerable and inebriated Ascendant, outdoor smut, PiV, regret with true feelings

Previous Ch | Ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 5…

⚜️🖤⚜️🖤⚜️🖤⚜️🖤⚜️🖤⚜️🖤⚜️🖤⚜️🖤⚜️

Sunlight. Warm, pure, unadulterated sunlight. It finally made Shadowheart smile, feeling at peace, and she could forget the walls of the palace where she was… Well, she hesitated to say trapped now.

She had so much freedom now, her room remained in the cellar, as he called it. Not dungeon. And she could explore the grounds freely, the walled garden brimming with flowers and fountains and little tucked-away benches was by far her favorite. Even if she could hear the din of life from the Upper City just on the other side. It was her sanctuary, bathing in the spring sun. Whatever limit he had on her magic extended out here too, since of course she tested it out immediately.

Strangely, it didn’t bother her. Not when he had made such a beautiful place… not when there was so much sun and fragrance and tranquility. And besides, she hadn’t seen him in days. Almost a tenday by now.

She hated that annoying tug in her gut now, his words haunting her still from when last she saw him. The only one… he had called her.

“Ugh,” she grunted at herself, at the way it made her feel… special. That self-loathing tried to gnaw at that ember that just wouldn’t snuff out. That feeling she found in that moment of being… wanted… appreciated… desired…

“No!” She yelled at herself, covering her small, pointed ears as if she could shut out her inner thoughts. “Fuck you, Astarion,” she hissed to herself.

An inane giggle sounded from behind her… from the direction of the palace. “Fuck me? Oh, so now, she’s asking for it to happen, is that it?” That velvety voice was thick with alcohol, his usually exact and dulcet tones sticking on his slurring tongue.

She spun her head around, her tight braid whipping her own body as she faced him. Sure enough, goblet in hand, Astarion slunk near-silently from some double doors in the side of the palace. “How long have you been watching me from your lair?”

“You’re one to accuse me of lurking… given you had to go traipsing around my walls and battlements…” his fingers of his free hand grabbed for her braid and twisted it around his palm, “not the only one curious about the Ascendant, but certainly the only one foolish enough to end up here…” His voice dropped low and he leaned over her seated form, his breath rich with fragrant wine.

“You… reek…” she hissed, pinching her nose and sliding away from his looming presence.

“Like wealth… power…” he rolled his shoulders to flex his muscles and spilled his pricey wine in the process.

“You smell like the Elfsong used to after closing…” she wrinkled her nose in disgust, sliding away from the splatters of red wine.

That made him draw up short, his eyes struggling to focus at the mention of… those times. His gaze grew distant, that constant tweak at the corner of his eyes softened.

Shadowheart paused, holding her breath for a moment before she whispered, “Do you remember how those nights were the best… music whining from the tavern below, Halsin whittling animals…”

She watched his jaw clench and release about five times. “Karlach… making up dances for us to all try…” His eyes shut tight, as if he forbade them to show his turmoil, his weakness, or maybe even tears. “Those days seemed so much…”

“Simpler?” Shadowheart offered, not even noticing that her body leaned closer towards him. Her eyes scanned that refined black silk shirt, the way it clung to his muscles and frame, the way it tucked into the band of his stitched scarlet trousers.

“Defenseless,” he suddenly turned his head sharply to meet her soft green eyes. His gaze was that same bloodied shade of crimson, that same piercing intensity. “We did so many foolish things just to bury our fear,” his voice dropped to a snarl, haughty tension in his neck returning stronger than ever. “And now, I never have to be afraid again.” He gave a confident toss of his head, sipping from his chalice as his fingers went white around the stem.

“You seem so sure of that,” Shadowheart couldn't help but tease, that same prickly tone from their days on the road. “I think it’s better to be afraid in good company like we used to than to bury it down deep alone, never…”

His lips silenced her. The clatter of his cup broke the stillness of the garden as he kissed her, hard and fast and possessive. She squirmed at first, noises of surprise muffled under those thick and wine-tasting lips. It felt so good… he was probably too drunk to remember anyway, the thought passed her mind as she decided to kiss him back.

His hands grasped at the back of her head, pulling her inescapably from his working mouth. She tasted blood, though hers or his, she couldn’t tell with all the sucking and nipping they both did. His hands, almost claw-like and strong, pulled her flush against him, the thin silk of his shirt betraying the heat of his own skin, a heat she knew was matched by her own as it blistered through her own light chemise. He swayed roughly, his balance compromised, and all it took was a little shove from her hands on his chest to land them both in the grass at their feet.

He broke from her kiss looking up with hazy, lust-clouded eyes, his hand wrapping around her long braid as he smirked. With yank, he pulled her closer, her body seeking the warmth and pressure of his between her thighs. That one breath was all they took.

Mouths locked again, all fangs and pants and sighs. He tore into her shirt, ripping it open enough for her breasts to catch the sun. A snarl on her lips, her fingers deftly freed his cock from its confines. No thoughts, it was just heat and need in her veins and shared on his breath as she hiked up her skirts and sank onto his cock. Fangs bit her lip, keeping her bent over him even as she rode him. Her pants of pleasure defend her own ears, the loud wet sounds of their bodies joined making her spine tingle with lust as she finally let him claim her this way.

There was no logic, no coherent sensation in her mind. Only heat and desire as the floodgates of their lust and need shattered at last. Tendays of pent up desire finally pulsed and released, coursing through both their bodies.

The world spun around him, Astarion grunted at the force of her bucks, his body unfamiliar with unbridled lust of late. It had been… Well memories escaped him. Thoughts escaped him now that he was buried deep in that warm, wet pressure. Her breath was hot in his mouth, her blood on her tongue delicious… the grass on his back, the weight of her body. His tired eyes stayed shut, lost in the waves of sensation.

For that moment, they were back in the Emerald Grove, their own little piece of nowhere. Two hands gripped at his shoulders… rolling playfully… the skin of her fresh neck pressed against his eager lips and fangs.

Blood poured into his mouth as he clamped down on her neck, starved as he was for her essence, for attention… for touch. He groaned as he took all of her in, through his mouth and his cock. Her mouth hung slack in constant sighs of pleasure, her hips rolling to match his punishing pace. Nails, legs, hair, hands… she was everywhere and all his. Waves built between them, the perfect synchronization of their hips and pants as they fucked in the dirt.

Thighs clenched around his hips, shirt torn asunder, Shadowheart hung on for dear life. Bright sun warmed her flesh, but he was scalding, burning her up with that long-craved friction of his body on her, inside her. Shattering, bursting, she came, unashamedly twitching and writhing and moaning in her too-long-denied ecstacy. It was tantalizing and dangerous… not unlike when she watched these same lustful choices play out so long ago.

But gods, it felt better than it looked.

Especially the part where his hips snapped harder than ever, his lips barely freed from drinking her down as he growled right in her ear. Three more erratic thrusts, and she knew he filled her, his body collapsing and shuddering and grunting. A few pants of air still thickly laced with their desire passed between their lips, a slight smile on his face as he shifted slightly.

“I’ve missed…” he started to whisper before his eyes snapped open. That softness evaporated, cracking over with resolve and anguish and rage in an instant. He scrambled off her, his voice instantly cold and cruel again. “Get inside, Princess,” he growled as he turned his back, stuffing his cock and shirt back inside the band of his trousers. “That was more than enough of a session for you today.” He rounded, merciless in his gaze as she scrambled to close her blouse. “I’ll ignore the fact your twisted words tried to manipulate me into…”

“What?” She spat, scrambling from the dirt. “Me? Manipulate you?” She scoffed with all the ire in her soul. “That’s rich, not to mention a lie.” Hands clenched into fists at her sides, and she longed to cast any of her spells, just to get at him. “You know what’s really sad, Astarion, really pathetic?” She seethed as he glared at her from the doorway to his study. “All this time, you aim to torture me, give me pain and make me submit, and yet, by doing so, aren’t you just pushing yourself deeper into your own torment?”

He said nothing, muscles in his jaw clenched painfully tight. “You’ll pay for such insolence when next I find you.”

“You can try, but you know I’m right, Vampire. You torture yourself far worse than anything you could do to me.”

Her accusation hung like frost in the air, a coil of tension that snapped tight between them. And in that moment, she could have sworn that glimmer of longing shined in his crimson eyes.

And before he could say another word, he rounded on his heel and retreated back inside again.

[casualya]