#starting to get more of a handle on astarion's voice i think

[blackjackkent]

>:3 I've come from A03 and see Requests

I humbly suggest camp shinanagins while Tav/Hec™ is away

(including Karlach?:D)

Or - if more serious

I think it's pretty neat alot of the companions literally reflect the same themes of abuse at the hands of people in charge

I'd love to see Astarion and Karlach or Karlach and Shadowheart or Karlach and-

Jokes aside, honestly any pair realize/talk that out a bit

Hey anon! TYSM for the requests. <3 You sent these a while back so I have no idea if you'll see this but I hope you will. c: I went with the serious prompt first but I will be coming back to the more light-hearted prompt very soon!

Broken Little Puppets

Pairing: Astarion & Karlach Characters: Astarion, Karlach Rating: Gen Content Tags: Dialogue-heavy, bonding, moving on, light angst Word Count: 1.8k Setting: Several days after Cazador boss fight, Lower City camp. Read on AO3 other bg3 one-shots | send me fic requests! Summary:  Karlach supports Astarion after a nightmare about Cazador's ritual - and gets a little support herself in return.

“Hey. Psst. Astarion-- hey, hey!”

Astarion hears Karlach’s voice as if at a great distance. He is at the bottom of a deep black pool of reverie, trapped, drowning while still breathing. The world is far away, and the memories infinitely close, crawling across his skin. 

Images flash through him with agonizing clarity. Some nights they are more indistinct, the accumulated recollections of years upon years of varying torments - but tonight it is almost as immediate as it was in life. The humming power holds him helpless on the edge of Cazador’s ritual circle, stripped of armor and weapons and friends and hope, feeling his master’s ascension starting to boil his blood with agonizing heat…

“No. No-- please--” he whimpers, his head thrashing side to side. “Let me go--”

“Hey!”

The grip on his wrist enters the reverie and pulls. Another force trapping him, another surge of blazing heat. He jerks, lashes out blindly with his free hand, and his knuckles connect with a hard, solid jawline, sending a stab of pain through his wrist and up his arm.

“Ow! Fuck!” Karlach yelps. 

Her voice finally breaks through the reverie, shattering it apart around him. His eyes snap open and he finds himself half-sitting up in his bedroll, looking at Karlach crouched in the tent flap. She's holding her cheek with one hand and looks distinctly startled. 

“What…?” Astarion mumbles, shaking his head to try and clear the lingering fog in his thoughts. “What happened?”

“Well, you punched me, for one thing,” Karlach says. Her usual grin, never far away, is already sliding back onto her face now that she sees him awake. “Didn’t know you had that kind of right hook, Fangs.”

“You never asked,” Astarion says, with a painfully transparent attempt at his usual cocky disdain. He sits up fully, rubbing absently at his stinging wrist. “What’s the idea, grabbing me like that?”

She shrugs, letting her hand fall. There’s a visible bruise already darkening along her jaw; he really did catch her perfectly square-on. “You were, uh, having a nightmare, I think,” she says cautiously. “Or whatever you call it when you’re an elf, doing your elf thing.”

“Elves don’t have nightmares,” he says curtly. It’s not entirely a lie - reverie is not sleep. It serves the same function, at least theoretically, but an elf in reverie is not unconscious and does not dream. He remembers, locked in meditative trance, everything that has ever happened to him, often in brilliant, visceral clarity. If only that truly meant there were no nightmares…

She shakes her head. “Well, whatever it was, you were - I dunno. You were… sort of whimpering, crying out. Sure didn’t seem like you were enjoying it.”

No. No, he most certainly wasn’t. It’s only been a few days since Cazador’s blood splattered over his knife and his hands and his face; those memories are still crisp and fresh, not yet melded in with the rest. “I’m fine.” He smiles thinly. “But thanks ever so much for your concern.”

“Uh huh.” She hunches forward, crouched on the balls of her feet, and rests her elbows across her knees. “You know that’s not at all convincing, right?”

He clicks his tongue and makes a show of rolling his eyes. “Oh, all right, fine, you’ve dragged it out of me,” he says. “It was a sex dream. Very intense, lots of… you know. Positions. Orgiastic debauchery. People hanging naked upside down from chandeliers. Good cause for whimpering, is what I'm trying to say. So unless you’d like to hear all the nasty details, maybe you could just see yourself out of--”

“Astarion.” She’s still smiling, but there's no humor in it suddenly, just a sort of rueful sadness. “I’m pretty dumb sometimes, but I’m not stupid.”

His shoulders slump and he looks away from her, rubbing the heels of his hands to his temples. “Right. Of course.”

She settles forward into a more comfortable kneeling position. She’s so tall that her head still brushes the ceiling of the tent, her intact horn giving a gentle clink against the upper pole. “You wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

She doesn’t make any move to leave the tent, and he doesn’t make any move to force her. They both just sit there, listening to the muted bustle of the city outside their alleyway camp.

After a while he speaks, low, almost inaudible. “I couldn’t possibly explain it,” he says, “in a way that would make you understand.”

“Try me.” She rolls her head to one side, then the other, stretching out the muscles in her neck. “Maybe I’d surprise you.”

“You’re young,” he says bitterly. “How could you possibly comprehend torments that operated on a scale of decades?”

She juts out her jaw thoughtfully. “I had one decade in the Hells. Feels like maybe that counts for something.” When he doesn’t respond, she goes on quietly, “I get nightmares too, y’know. Ten years in the Hells is no two hundred years in Caza-fuck’s dirty basement, but you still rack up a lot of bad memories. And Zariel was just as much of a cruel fucking prick…”

It’s pathetically obvious what she’s doing, of course. Talking first to get him to talk after. He’s not fooled. Sort of endearing, though, he supposes; how many people would actually bother to try?

“Woke up just last night absolutely convinced I was beating the shit out of a hezrou,” she goes on. “You ever see one of them? Nasty little brutes. Only I kept killing it and it kept coming back, and coming back, and coming back…” She stops abruptly, pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her chin on them. “Fucked up my pillow something good.”

He grunts noncommittally. Another long silence stretches between them. 

“How’d it feel, killing him?” she asks abruptly. And this time her voice is quieter; it’s lost some of the note of friendly assurance. 

He stiffens. “Surely you don’t need me to tell you what it’s like to kill someone,” he says sardonically. “I think we could both give a lecture on the subject that would put Gale to shame.”

“That’s not what I mean.” She frowns. “How’d it feel killing him?” The emphasis is clearer this time.

“Mm.” He gives her a keen look sidelong. “Rather the way it felt for you to kill Gortash, I imagine,” he says. “Though I think I managed it with more artistic flair. Really spattered the canvas, if you will.”

“Yeah.” She huffs out a breath, rattling her lips dramatically. “Watching you tear him up - it felt good. Wish I'd gone all-out like that, with Gortash. All I did was sink one good one right in his chest, but you left Cazzy just a piece of fucking meat. Shredded him. That’s the way it should be - for him, for Gortash, for Zariel, for all the fuckers who use people like that. Just a piece of fucking meat for some dog to chew on.” 

Her voice has dropped lower, and he can feel the way the temperature in the tent has ticked up a notch or two as her engine starts to rev with agitation. “And even so…” she mutters sourly, “it still doesn’t fucking fix anything, in the end. Their final little laugh at our expense.”

He wants to object, to snarl out, like the wounded animal that he is, that of course it fixed things. He won. He’s alive (in a manner of speaking) and Cazador’s gone. He will never have to follow that bastard’s direction ever again, never again let his body be used, or be compelled to press a hot poker into his own flesh, or sit in solitary confinement while hunger gnaws in his belly like a furious beast. That is all over now, it’s done. It’s gone.

Except it isn’t, not really. 

He is still a vampire. He will still never see his own face in a mirror again, or taste food as anything more than ash on his tongue. The scars on his back are still deep and harsh, spelling out an infernal message of ascension that has lost its only purpose. All the memories of two hundred years of abuse still linger in his mind, ready to be recalled in such clarity as if they happened yesterday.

And the hunger will never, ever, ever stop.

Nothing he did to Cazador changed that in the slightest, just the way nothing Karlach did to Gortash changed the inferno burning in her chest.

He shudders, his shoulders hunching up involuntarily as if recoiling from a blow. “No,” he mutters. “It doesn’t fix a damned thing.”

“Yeah.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “Shoulda seen the way I screamed in Hector’s face when I figured that one out. Still, at least they're dead. And we're free.”

“Free. Yes.” He laughs sharply. “Two broken little puppets with their strings cut.”

She grins - with no humor but with a sort of savage intensity. “And still managing to put on a pretty good show.”

“Are we?” For a moment the sardonic mask slips and he lifts his head to look at her. “I'm not putting on a good show - I'm lost. All of Cazador's power was at my fingertips, and instead I'm sitting in a dirty alleyway listening to Minsc snoring from the other end of the camp. This is no good show. It's a farce.”

She says nothing, just waits, and eventually he adds grudgingly, “But it's my farce.”

“Damn right it is.” Humor flashes back into Karlach's face suddenly. “Besides, who doesn't love a good farce? Mistaken identities, slapstick, dick jokes… the height of entertainment, if you ask me.”

Astarion can't help a slight, crooked grin in return. Karlach's indomitable energy is always infectious, even in the deepest depths of his brooding. “Darling, let me be the first to condemn you as incurably lowbrow,” he says airily, giving a dismissive wave with one hand.

“Listen, vampy, I don't have the kind of time you do to worry about appearances.” She uncurls her legs slowly from her chest to a cross-legged position instead. “Funny thing, y'know. You're gonna go on and on forever, and I've got a year left in me, tops. But we're both fighting the same fight when it comes down to it. Staring down all that freedom, trying to force it into a shape that makes sense. Make something worthwhile out of it before it’s too late.”

Astarion draws his head back and looks at her suddenly as if seeing her clearly for the first time. His fingers fidget absently with the edge of his bedroll. “Well,” he finally says quietly, “I won't give up the fight if you don't, hm?”

Her eyes brighten and she laughs. “Got yourself a deal, Fangs.”

[frantic-fiction]

Payback 18+

(Pic: northernolddragon) I cropped it

Astarion x f!reader, Astarion x f!Tav

Summary: Astarion goes too far and embarrasses Tav in front of the party. She decides she wants a bit of revenge.

Warning: Smut, MDNI, slight Dom!reader, slight Sub!Astarion, Dom/Sub switch (kinda?), delayed orgasm, Oral sex m and f receiving, PnV sex,

Word Count: 3.8k (I'm a gremlin who just can't help myself)

Masterlist

That fucking asshole. How dare he? You slammed open the door, the handle hitting the wall with a resounding smack. Locking it behind you, you kick off your shoes, stumble over your feet, and rip off your dress. You begin throwing off every other accessory and remaining article of clothing until you are completely bare and breathing heavily. You sigh, frustrated, and pull on a pair of trousers and an old, tattered shirt. Anger pulses through your veins, and embarrassment burns deep in your chest. Falling onto the bed, you drop your face into your hands and pull at the ends of your hair.

Astarion went too far this time. Usually, you loved his sassy comments and sarcastic humor. You were typically the first to laugh when he jests and pokes fun at you and the other party members. But how can you laugh when his lighthearted jokes turn to dirty secrets? When he's telling your friends out in a crowded pub intimate details from your sex life.

You should have known it was a bad idea to have Astarion feed from you while there was liquor coursing through your veins. But he was curious and very convincing. It didn't take long before you were offering him your wrist. Neither of you really thought the alcohol would affect Astarion, and you didn't expect Astarion to be such a fucking ass when intoxicated. 

He teased you and shared private moments all night, and you wanted to hate him. Moreover, you wanted him to be sorry. Beg for forgiveness and mean it. But Astarion is a prideful man and has a stupidly hard time giving out apologies. He's improved, especially with you, but you don't want a simple sorry. You want payback, a little revenge, or as close to it as possible.

A sudden, devilish thought crosses your mind, and you know how you're going to get just that. Quickly, you jump up and move to set your plan in motion. You clean up the room, erasing your angry tantrum from before, and strip down naked once more. You dig around Astarion's pack and pull out his white-laced shirt. And then you wait for him. 

It takes just under an hour of waiting. You filled the time with one of the books you picked up the other day. But just as you go to flip another page, the door handle twists, catching on the lock. You’re on your feet and at the door before Astarion can attempt to unlock it. The palm of your hand hits the door hard, and you're holding it close. 

"Why should I let you in?" Your tone lace with venom.

"Darling," Astarion sighs, a tinge of exhaustion undertoned in his words, his voice no longer holding that annoying drunken slur. "Must we do this?"

"You weren't very nice to me tonight." You lean your back against the door, crossing your arms. “I have half a mind to make you bunk with someone else.”

His head falls against the wood, pushing lightly against your back. "If you let me in, I promise I'll make it up to you." It felt like he was breathing these words sinfully into your ear. 

You flip the lock and open the door. "Say you're sorry."

"Is that really what you want?" He purrs, his eyes darkening and pressing into your space. "I much prefer physical apologies."

Astarion pulls you into a lustful kiss, his hand snaking up your shirt and massaging your breast. He bites your lip, and when you gasp, he licks into your mouth. He traces his fingers over your hip bone and pulls you close.

"Wearing my shirt with no underwear?” He nips your bottom lip, and you shudder. “I don't think you're as mad as you say, my sweet."

You smile sharply and pull him further into the room. Reclaiming his lips, you start pulling at his shirt, exposing Astarion's pale skin. He's kissing down your neck, tugging your shirt aside to lather his tongue over your shoulder. His fangs tease your skin, and you moan. Trailing your fingertips down his stomach, you undo his pants, tugging it down. Astarion steps out, leaving him in a pair of tight briefs, an outline of his swelling cock evident against the straining fabric. He pushes the trousers to the side, and the two of you fall onto the bed in a heap.

"Who says this is for you?" you say coyly, forcing his head to the side and biting hard at his throat.

"Hells,"

"Maybe I was going to take care of myself tonight." You kiss his cheek "Take a bath, have some wine," you bring your lips to his ear. "Touch myself." You tease his ear between your teeth. His grip tightens on you. "I don't need you to please myself, Astarion."

Astarion groans deep in his chest and runs his hands up your thighs to the swell of your ass. He grinds you down onto his half-hard cock. "But here we are." 

"But here we are." You mimic, smiling smugly, relishing how Astarion so confidently believes he holds all the cards.

He kisses you again, and you let him. You could easily get lost in the wet dance of lips and the delicious silent promises of more to come. Give in and just let Astarion consume you. But no, you are far more excited with what's to come. 

"I want to taste you." You moan needily- dragging your teeth down his chest. Maybe you were playing it up, but it seemed to work. You circle his nipple with your tongue, and Astarion lets out a deep groan, nails digging into the plush flesh of your ass.

"Don't let me stop you, my love," 

You tug his cock out and squeeze him softly; he's stiff and aching and instinctually bucks up into your palm. Licking over his nipple, you begin to suck. A trickle of precum starts to fall, and you collect it, beginning to stroke slowly. Kissing down his stomach, you reach his pelvic bone. You look up, meeting Astarion's intense gaze. His mouth is agape, his chest moving in harsh breaths. One hand is reaching up, gripping the headboard in an ironclad grip. You softly press a kiss to the tip of his cock before taking him into your mouth. 

"Fuck," He hissed through clenched teeth, "Gods, I love your mouth." 

Urged on by his response, you take more of him in his mouth and begin to move at a slow pace sucking and bobbing your head. Astarion's hands grabbed your shoulder and softly stroked up your neck to the back of your head. He didn't force the pace, just gently held your head, rubbing his thumb softly behind your ear.

"That's it, Darling. So good to me."

Heat rushes through your body, the praise going straight to your core. You hum and begin to bob your head faster. Sucking hard, hollowing your cheeks, you trail your hand down his tensed thigh and cup his balls. You roll him in your hands, and Astarion moans, thrusting into your mouth. You gag and grab his hips, holding him down with your weight.

He's close. His eyes are unfocused, trying desperately to stay on you; he's letting out breathless gasps and attempting to buck up into your mouth, seeking more for you to give. That's when you pull off of him entirely and squeeze his cock tightly.

Astarion lets out a needy whine, sits up, and instantly meets your eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. 

"Apologize!"

"What?" Astarion says, dazed and still lost in the loss of stimulation. Then it dawns on him, and he realizes what's happening. "Naughty little-"

You give him one stroke, and Astarion chokes. "Apologize for embarrassing me tonight."

"My sweet, I was intoxicated; it's not really my fault." He's trying to give off an air of indifference, but you know him better. Astarion was moments away from crumbling.

"I was just as drunk, and I wasn't telling everyone about our sex life." You lick over the tip and begin to stoke him slowly. "Apologize, and I might just let you fuck me."

He moans deeply, thrusting up into your fist. "I-ng shit, I'm sorry, you were upset with my words tonight."

"Nope, try again." You stop completely and meet his eyes. "You have to mean it."

"Please! My love, I'm sorry." His voice cracks. He's practically whimpering; he brings his fist to his mouth and bites down to keep a semblance of control. 

"That's closer, but what you said still hurts, so I want you to make it up to me." You move up his body and kiss him. "Do you want to make it up to me?"

"Yes! Anything!" He sounds so desperate. You don't think you've ever felt so aroused. You clench instinctually against nothing, seeking friction that's not there.

"I want you to beg. I want you to beg to fuck me, handsome" You scratch your nails teasingly down the broad of Astarion's chest. "I want everyone to hear how - how did you put it, love? 'desperate and needy' you are for me."

He looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, eyes blackened from arousal, and a smile stretches his lips."I like this side of you, Darling."

 Astarion captures your lips, and you're on your back before you can comprehend what's happening. "My sweet, please, I need to touch you." His voice is louder than it needs to be. 

"Do you?" You purr, hooking your leg over his hip. 

"Yes!" He moans out, rutting against your dripping cunt. "Please, I need you!"

You brush your hand through Astarions hair and pull him down for a kiss. "Then be a good boy and touch me." 

Astarion doesn't need to be told twice to tug up your shirt. You let him pull it off and throw it across the room. He starts to trail sloppy, wet kisses down the column of your neck. A rough hand grabs your breast, and nimble fingers pinch your nipple. You sigh and thrust your hips up when Astarions mouth finds your other nipple and rolls the peak softly between his teeth before sucking hard.

"Astarion," you moan, caressing any available skin of his you can reach. "So good to me."

He grunts at the praise and moves down your stomach, leaving kitten licks and sharp nips in his wake. His hands are trailing down your sides and stop to grip your hips in a firm hold. He pulls you down the bed, and you let out a little yelp. Astarion meets your half-lidded gaze and bites at the fat of your thigh, lapping up the droplets of blood that bead up to the surface. 

"The sweetest treat," Astarion moans, throwing your leg over his shoulder, trailing his nose down your thigh to the spot you want him most. But I'm still famished. I need more, please."

"Don't let me stop you, handsome." You smirked, mimicking his previous words. Your breath was catching, and you felt just as desperate as Astarion.

You let out a gargled mewl when Astarion trails one long agonizing lick up the length of your cunt. He never breaks eye contact; you bite your lip and grip one of your breasts, fisting the other into the bedsheet.

Astarion consumes you like he'll never be able to again. Desperate, messy, and with no care for the thinness of the walls. You gasp and instinctually try to clamp your legs close. His cold hands hold your hips apart, only allowing pathetic gyrates of your hips. The room is filled with filthy wet slurps and needy moans as Astarion tears you apart.

"Faster, Star. Don't you dare stop," you demand, grinding against his face, shivering when his pointed nose teases your clit. "Such a good boy."

His moan quakes through your cunt, and you throw your head back into the pillow, arching your back slightly. Astarion's fingers push into you and match the ragged pace of his mouth. Your hand finds his soft curls again and holds him in place, pulling gently at the roots. Astarion could break away anytime, but he seems to like it because you feel him grind down against the bed. 

"No, no, pretty boy." You tsk, pulling his hair harsher. He grunts against you, sucking harder at your clit. "You don't get to come until you’re forgiven."

Astarion pulls away from your clit, chin glistening with your juices. His fingers are still pumping into you. "You cruel women." He practically whines breathlessly.

"You're- shit- you're making up for your naughty behavior, remember?" The coil is tightening in your stomach, your body hot, and your breath shaky. "Now be good and make me come."

He smiles wickedly and resumes his ministrations. He curls his fingers up and presses against the spot that has you gasping in silent cries. His mouth finds your clit again and laps his tongue against it. He's relentless, and your legs are trembling. The pleasure is building, the flame licking through your veins. 

"m close, Star,"

He doesn't stop or voice any cheeky comments he would typically make. He just pumps his fingers faster and sucks and lavishes his tongue harder against your cunt. You feel your body tightening, and you grab for anything to hold on to; one hand is still in Astarion's hair, but your other hand grabs his shoulder, digging your nails into his flesh. Astarion scrapes his fangs playfully against your clit, and that's all you need to fall apart. 

You're moaning and screaming his name and mumbling incoherent praises into the air. Black spots seem to cloud over your vision, and all your muscles tighten at once. Astarion drags you through your orgasm, slowing his fingers and moving to soft kitten licks. It takes you a moment to return to yourself, and you are out of breath and covered in sweat. Looking down, you see Astarion. He's staring at you, licking his lips, collecting every drop of you. His face is full of affection and untenable arousal.

"Am I forgiven?"

You surge forward and tackle him into an uncoordinated kiss. You maneuver him around until his back is against the headboard, and you are seated comfortably in his lap. Your tongue tangled with his, the tangy sweetness of your release mingling in the dance. Pulling back, you catch his lip tugging playfully.

"Hmm… I don't know," You smirk, grabbing his neglected cock and giving it a few languid strokes. 

"Darling, please!" He begs, head falling back, exposing his neck to your greedy mouth. 

You press your mouth to the hollow of his throat and suck until you're sure there will be a noticeable mark tomorrow. "I guess you have been such a good boy." Circling your thumb over his tip, you swipe his cock through your folds, coating him in your arousal. 

"Yes, I've been so good." His voice chokes, and he clenches his jaw, desperately trying to seek more friction. Hells, he was so incredibly sexy like this.

"And I think a good boy deserves a reward. Wouldn't you agree, Star?" The rush you feel at his desperation, his neediness for you and only you, has your confidence surging. 

"Yes! Please!"

You line him up with your hole and sit down painfully slow. Two groans of pleasure join together in the room as you seat yourself to the hilt. Astarion grabs your hips in a death grip, releasing an almost painful hiss through his teeth. For a moment, you don't move; feel the stretch and the completeness he gives you. Meeting his eyes, you place your hands on his shoulders and raise on your haunches. You pull up almost off him completely before lowering at the same brutally slow pace.

"Gods, you're so tight." Astarion groans, head falling against your arm. 

He uses the grip on your hips to help set a steady pace that has both of you dissolve into a moaning, blubbering mess. You clench around him and run your hand up his neck to the back of his head, pulling him to your chest. Astarion is quick to resume lavishing your breast with messy kisses, surely littering you with bites and bruises that will linger for days to come. 

You would have loved to drag this out. Punish Astarion for hours until he was nothing but a mumbling, blushing pussy-drunk mess. But you were growing impatient, and the delicious feeling of Astarion's cock filling you was clouding your more devious thoughts. Grinding your hips down hard onto his cock had Astarion gasping into your chest. 

You cupped his jaw and captured his mouth before whispering seductively into his ear. "You've been forgiven. Now I want you to fuck me hard."

A deep groan rumbled through Astarion's chest, and he did just that. You're suddenly on your back, and his tongue is in your mouth. The slow pace was thrown out the window to a brutal pounding that tore the breath from your lungs.

"A-astarion, fuck” You roll your hips to match his pace. 

You're not going to last much longer; you don't think you've ever been more aroused, and seeing how pent-up Astarion is, having been teased along for too long. You know he's just as close. You grab his hand and pull it down your body to where you want it most. He grunts huskily in your ear and rubs harshly at your bundle of nerves. Throwing one of your legs over Astarion's hip, you adjust your body, and his thrusts find a new angle that presses against that beautiful spot inside of you. 

Astarion’s other hand, can’t seem to stay still, moving up and down your body, trying to pay equal attention to all of your soft skin. He’s squeezing your hip, tickling your side, cupping your breast, and moving back down to repeat all over again. He’s peppering kisses over your forehead and cheeks, biting your kiss-swollen lips, running his nose along yours. It’s overwhelming and not enough, but it is always with him. Astarion moves to your neck and sucks at his favorite spot, the place he feeds most frequently from, silently begging for a taste. 

"Mhm," you nod, words no longer forming on your tongue. 

Astarion's fangs pierce your skin, and the familiar icy cold floods your veins. You cry out as he greedily drinks from your body. Your blood seems to turn Astarion feral. He grabs your other leg to join the other in a link behind his back. Astarion grinds you into the mattress, brutally pumping in and out of you. All your body can do is wrap your arms around his neck, smoothing your hands over his body, and hold on. The only sounds that echo in the darkroom are the slick, obscene sounds of skin sliding against skin and needy moans and desperate whimpers. 

You can't tell if you're lightheaded because of the pleasure Astarion is giving you or the blood that he's consuming from your neck. It's probably both, but right now, you only care that he keeps going because that lovely burning heat is returning and boiling in your stomach. 

"I'm so close," you whimper.

This has Astarion finally pulling away from your neck. He looks deeply into your eyes, his pace never faltering. There's a trickle of your blood running down his chin, and you reach up to catch it. You push your thumb into his mouth, and without breaking your gaze, Astarion licks it clean. He grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours above your head. His hand somehow seems to move faster against your clit, and you are moments away from coming undone. On the ledge but seemingly hanging by your fingertips.

"S-so am I, darling." He manages to stutter out, and you pull him down for a kiss. It is desperate and needy, and the taste of your blood, sharp and metallic, mingles with his spit. "Come for me, love; let me feel you."

Those words, always commanded with such affection, had an immediate effect. You clench around him like a vice, mouth falling open in a silent gasp. You sigh his name into his mouth and cup his face with your spare hand as if the moment you come down from this high Astarion might no longer be real. 

Astarion's pace falters, and he clumsily thrusts. Once, twice, three more times before burying deep into your cunt and coming hard with a deep groan. While you're still amid your ecstasy, you are still mesmerized by Astarion coming undone before you. The way his jaw clicks shut and he squeezes his eyes closed. The tightening of his hand on your body, gripping hard enough to bruise, not that you minded. The stuttering minute juts of his hips as he rides out the last of his orgasm. And finally, watching Astarion's body turn to jelly, bones and muscles collapsing under his weight as he falls onto you, head finding your chest.

You run your hand through his curls, scratching his scalp. Astarion purrs softly and kisses your chest, running delicate fingers up your side. He catches your hand and brings it to his lips to kiss the inside of your wrist. 

Astarion rolls off of you and moves from the bed. You whine at the loss of fullness but make no other protest. A tiredness has settled deep in your bones; you don't think you could move if you wanted to. 

Thankfully, Astarion was quick to return. In his hands was a cup of water and a wet cloth. Smiling softly, you take the glass from him and take a long gulp. Handing it back, he places it on the nightstand and rejoins you in bed. Astarion delicately cleans you off, kissing your neck when you wince from oversensitivity. After that was taken care of, he discards the used cloth and pulls you to his chest, kissing the crown of your head and tightening his hold on you. You hum softly and nuzzle into his chest. 

"I am sorry," he says, fingertips drawing nonsense patterns on your back. You glance up to meet his gaze, and he pushes some of your hair out of your eyes. "I'm truly sorry I hurt you, my love. I didn't mean to." 

You give him a tender smile, "Thank you, Star," you kiss the chest just above his heart and whisper, lips brushing against his skin. "I love you."

"And I love you."

Next Day: You giggle over your glass of juice, watching a very disgruntled Astarion from across the room. His shoulders were tense, and his eyes were sharp. His bare forearms crossed over his chest. He was slouched down in his chair, looking like he would rather be anywhere else than in his current situation.

Gale was sitting in front of the vampire, a dusty tome placed on the table between him. You could barely hear the wizard's words as he vainly tried to teach Astarion a simple silencing spell. Gale was trying to help, given the very vocal display Astarion gave last night. And you couldn’t be more pleased at Astarion’s predicament. 

Astarion's ears twitch and his head snap in your direction to give you a pointed glare. He's only given more of your laughter in response.

Fine I'll admit it, I like a needy Astarion, sue me. But you got to agree that drunk Astarion would be a fucking menace.

Anyways let me know what ya thought. Talking with you guys is a highlight of my day.

Taglist: @heartfully10 @ayselluna @marina-and-the-memes @anixson @canonicalchaoticneutral @toadsbitch @meulinkitten-blog @ambr4armr

Want to be added? DM me.

[lendeah]

Three times you take care of Astarion and one time he takes care of you

[ao3 link]

You were a caring person. That much was clear from the first moment you let him drink off you, almost to death. It was also clear when you tried to cool Karlach down with a rainy spell so you could hug her. Or give Gale every piece of magic item in your inventory so he could eat it. You enjoyed taking care of people.

However, taking care of Astarion wasn't an easy task. As much as you wanted to be there for him and help him, the vampire was a difficult person to handle. He was like a wild animal, constantly on edge and ready to lash out. It soon became clear that Astarion wasn't used to being on the receiving end of caring. Wasn't used for someone to care at all.

So you went little by little, as to not startle him. You started by simply spending time with him. Patiently listening to his endless complaints and blatant flirting, offering a sympathetic ear and a playful response, respectively. It was clear that Astarion enjoyed your company, even if he didn't always show it. He would often make snarky comments or sarcastic remarks, but you could tell that deep down, he appreciated having someone around.

Of course, you let him drain you dry every night, which honestly left you sick and tired through the day, but it was worth the glint in his eyes and the way his cheeks seemed to light up as if he was alive again.

You couldn't help but notice; he always had a book in his hands. Whether you were at camp or out on an expedition, he was constantly reading. So you began collecting every book you stumbled upon and leaving them on his bedroll for him to find when he returned to his tent. No matter the genre- whether it was a history book, poetry or even erotica- you always gifted them to him.

The first times, he would search around the camp in confusion, wondering who had left them there for him. But after the fifth or sixth book, the vampire's expression would light up with a secretive smile as he eagerly flipped through the pages. It warmed your heart to see him so engrossed in a story, his curiosity evident in his shining eyes. However, you kept your identity hidden: if he knew it was you leaving the books, he might become wary again and you didn't want to risk it after coming this far. This went on for a few weeks until one day, as you were leaving another book, a voice called out from behind you.

"Well, hello there. I suppose the game is up."

You froze, the book still in your hands, as you turned around to see Astarion standing with a sly smile on his face.

"I... erm, I just found these books lying around and thought they might be yours," you said lamely.

He smirked, eyes narrowing as if he saw right through your excuses. "Funny, I don't recall owning any of these books you are holding."

You blushed, avoiding his gaze. "Oh...I must have made a mistake then."

But Astarion just shook his head, walking closer to you until he was within arm's reach. "You think I don't know what you're doing? You haven't exactly been subtle, sweetheart."

You felt your face heat up even more, the blush reaching your ears.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably as your voice came out a little squeaky.

Astarion chuckled. "Well, if I didn't know any better, I might suspect that you were trying to seduce me. If you wanted to come into my tent, all you had to do was ask, my dear."

"I-It... It's not like that!" you sputtered out, trying to avoid eye contact with him. "I just thought... you like reading."

"Oh, I do," Astarion said in a low voice. "Among other things."

You swallowed hard as your mind raced. Had he just... Was he implying what you thought he was implying?

"I-I should really get going," you said quickly, turning away from him and almost tripping over your own feet.

But before you could run off, Astarion's hand closed around your wrist, pulling you back towards him. "Wait," he said, his eyes locked onto yours. His expression was a bit serious, a stark contrast to the playful persona he usually wore. "Thanks for the effort. It's almost sweet, doing all this for me."

The two of you stood there for a moment longer before Astarion spoke up again.

"Perhaps we could have a little fun and read them together sometime?" he suggested with a raised eyebrow.

You smiled shyly at him, feeling butterflies in your stomach at his offer.

"I... I would love that," you said, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice.

Astarion's smile widened and he released your wrist. "Wonderful. I look forward to it, my dear. And I do hope the next book is a good one."

You walked away from his tent, trying to convince yourself that the thumping of your heart was simply due to your love for taking care of others.

With each passing day, your meetings with Astarion in his tent became a familiar routine. You allowed him to feed on you, then spent time reading together from the books you had collected for him. It was also a chance for you to study him closely, searching for any other way to care for him. One night, as he read aloud to you, the soothing sound of his voice lulled you into a peaceful slumber, curled up on his bedroll next to him. The next morning, as sunlight flooded the tent, you woke up to find Astarion already awake, holding a book in his hands.

"Good morning," you said, rubbing the sleep off your eyes. "Sorry I fell asleep here."

Astarion raised an eyebrow at you. "No need to apologize. I must say, you look quite lovely when you're sleeping. Although you do not sound that lovely, but well, we can't all be perfect."

You rolled your eyes, then sat up stretching your limbs. As you glanced around the room, your eyes landed on the book in his hand - the one you two had been reading last night. It was almost finished now.

"Wait, you haven't slept?"

He let out a soft laugh.

"My dear, I am an elf. We do not sleep; we trance. And to answer your inquiry, no, I did not partake in that either. It's not something I typically find enjoyable."

You looked at Astarion with confusion and concern. "But... why? Don't you need to rest?"

He gave a casual shrug. "If I enter into a trance, the only memories accessible to me are my own life experiences. And let me tell you, those are not pleasant memories."

"But isn't there a way for you to... just rest? Without the memories, I mean?" You asked.

Astarion smirked, his eyes still fixed on the book in his hands. "Why bother learning how to sleep when I can trance instead?" he quipped "Trancing has always been my preferred method anyway."

You couldn't imagine what it was like, being forced to relive your trauma over and over again every night.

"I’m so sorry, Astarion," you whispered, your voice barely above a hush.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Oh well," he said, "It's all in the past now, isn't it? Just another part of who I am."

You nodded slowly but you couldn’t shrug off his words as easily as he could. You recalled the way he looked when he was trancing - peaceful and unguarded. It was hard to imagine that behind those serene features he was being haunted by his memories.

The day was a blur, as you struggled to maintain a cheerful facade and engage in small talk. However, Astarion's words continued to haunt you. As the evening progressed and you both followed your usual nightly routine, you made a decision to do something.

"Astarion." He turned to you, a curious look on his face. You took a deep breath, trying to gather your courage."I think we could try something different tonight. Do you trust me?"

Astarion looked at you as though surprised by the question, a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes.

"Trust is a strong word, darling," he replied, a smirk forming on his lips. "But yes, I suppose I do trust you."

"Good," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart.

You cleared your throat as you settled into the bedroll, signaling for him to join you. Astarion raised an eyebrow but followed your lead, settling into the bedroll beside you.

"Rest your head on my lap," you instructed softly

Astarion's eyebrows shot up once more, but then he shrugged and followed your instructions. He cautiously rested his head on your lap, surprising you with his compliance. Sensing the tension in his body, you refrained from touching him yet, and instead reached for your bag. He watched you curiously as you took out a small jar.

"What's that?" he asked, his eyes glinting with intrigue.

"It's a special blend of herbs and oils that I use to help me relax and sleep better," you explained, opening the tub and taking out a small dab of the mixture. "Can I touch you?"

He seemed to hesitate for a few seconds, before he answered, "Yes you may."

You rubbed the mixture between your fingers before gently massaging it onto his temples and forehead. You could feel him tense under your touch, probably not used to this kind of contact.

"Does it help?" he asked quietly, his eyes closed.

"It helps me," you replied honestly. "I'm not sure if it'll have the same effect on you, but I figured it's worth a try."

He nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," you replied, smiling back down at him. "Now just close your eyes and try to relax. Let your thoughts drift you away."

Astarion blinked, his long lashes fluttering against his pale skin. He looked at you with a mix of surprise and skepticism, clearly hesitant to follow your lead. But he didn't protest, didn't push your hands away. Instead, he nodded slightly, closing his eyes once more.

You watched him closely, noticing how the tension in his jaw gradually subsided and the creases on his forehead smoothed out little by little. You continued gently massaging his temples, the rhythmic movements soothing both of you.

The change in his demeanor prompted a fluttering sensation in your stomach that you hastily shrugged away, reminding yourself not to read too much into it.

Eventually, you started running your fingers through his hair and Astarion let out a contented hum, adjusting himself slightly in response. You could have sworn he was purring, and it seemed like he had fallen into a deep slumber.

By the end of the night, you were asleep with your hands still gently stroking his head.

From that moment, a subtle tension seemed to linger between the two of you. It was unspoken, but present every time you were alone together. Astarion would ask for your help to fall asleep each night, and without fail, he would drift off quickly and sleep soundly. You loved watching him relax under your touch, feeling his body go limp and his soft sleepy sounds. But more than that, you enjoyed drifting off with your fingers tangled in his soft curls, your heart feeling light and at ease in his presence.

However, the perils of your journey became worse as your party reached the Underdark. Your main concern became avoiding attacks from shadow monsters, leaving little room for any attention to whatever connection was building between you two.

One night, as you approached Astarion's tent, you noticed him sitting cross-legged in front of his small mirror. His brow was furrowed and his expression was one of deep contemplation. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should disturb him or not.

"Looking at something?" he suddenly asked.

You jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, not expecting him to break the silence.

"How did you see me?"

"The only benefit to a mirror when you have my condition. It doesn't quite make up for the lack of a reflection, mind you."

And then it clicked. He couldn't see his own reflection. Why hadn't it occurred to you before?

"Do you miss it? Your own face, I mean."

Of course he did, what a stupid question.

"Preening in the Looking Glass? Petty vanity?" Astarion scoffed, "Of course I miss it."

Astarion's tone was bitter, his gaze fixed on his reflection-less face in the mirror. You sat down next to him, mirroring his position.

"I've never even seen this face not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red"

So he hadn't seen his face in over 200 years. You couldn't imagine what that must feel like. To not have seen your own face in over two centuries. To be unable to remember how it even looked like.

After your conversation, ideas began to circulate in your mind. You considered asking Gale to use his magic to transform your appearance to match his, but that would only be temporary. You wanted something more permanent that would allow him to admire his own face whenever he pleased. The thought of enchanting his mirror so that it would reflect his image crossed your mind. Surely there had to be a spell for that. However, time was limited and you were unsure how much you could dedicate to the task anyway. Then, an answer presented itself at the Last Light Inn when you encountered an artist on your way.

"How long would it take for you to paint a portrait?"

"Like, a month?"

"I will pay you triple if you finish it in a week."

Although the artist was hesitant, the promise of triple payment was too tempting for him to turn down. And so, a week later, you returned to Astarion's tent with a canvas in hand. He arched an eyebrow in question.

"What is this?" Astarion asked, gesturing towards your offering. "Another gift? At this rate, my tent will be overflowing with your generosity."

You grinned and gently set the canvas on the floor in front of him. A delicate, sheer fabric covered its surface.

"This is a special one, though."

His eyes glossed over with a mixture of curiosity and amusement as he leaned forward to unwrap it. An expectant silence filled the tent, the only sound being the rustle of fabric as he carefully lifted the veil. The sight that greeted his gaze left him momentarily speechless - an exquisitely painted portrait of a man, elegantly handsome with sharp, angular features and piercing red eyes.

"What is this?" Astarion asked with a chuckle, clearly admiring the artwork."You've given me a portrait of a handsome stranger? How thoughtful, dear. But the quality could be better, honestly."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you whispered, "That's you," holding your breath for his reaction.

There was a tense moment of silence as Astarion stared at the portrait. You couldn't quite read his expression, and your heart started to race with anxiety. Had you made a mistake? Was he displeased with the gift? Maybe you were intruding too much in his personal life...

After what felt like an eternity, Astarion finally spoke. "This is... me?" His voice was barely above a whisper, almost disbelieving.

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes.

"Yes. I wanted you to have something that would allow you to see yourself again, so I asked an artist at the Last Light Inn to paint you."

His fingers traced over the painting, brushing lightly over the likeness of his own face, his own eyes - red now - but still his. He took a step back as if he'd been hit, staggering slightly. There was a moment where he just stood there, staring at the man in the portrait - at himself.

"Is this... is this how I look now?" He asks, voice barely audible.

You swallowed hard and nodded, "Yes."

"I..." he started, then stopped. Shaking his head, he turned towards you with a conflicted look in his red eyes. "I... don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," you told him reassuringly, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

He looked at you for a long moment before nodding and squeezing your hand back. A tear trickled down his cheek and he quickly wiped it away, but not before you saw it glistening in the dim light.

"Thank you," he said finally. It's quiet, almost lost in the silence of the tent, but the sincerity in his voice is unmistakable. You smiled at him, feeling a wave of relief and happiness wash over you.

"You're welcome," you whispered softly.

Astarion's crimson eyes shimmered with tears as he gazed at the painting, struggling to maintain his composure. You gave him a reassuring smile before turning around to give him some space to process his thoughts and feelings. But just as you were about to leave, he reached out and took hold of your hand, stopping you.

"Don't go" he said solemnly. "Please don't go... I'd like to... I want..." slowly, he stepped closer to you and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug.

You were taken aback for a moment but then quickly melted into his embrace. After a moment of silence, the vampire spoke softly, his voice raspy.

"I don't know... how to repay you, I..." he murmured into your hair.

"You don't have to," you whispered back, feeling overwhelmed by his sudden display of emotion.

After what felt like an eternity, Astarion finally pulled away slightly so that he could look into your eyes. His eyes were moist with tears, but they also held a glimmer of hope, happiness. You couldn't help but smile back at him, feeling a wave of warmth spread throughout your body from the simple touch. And in that moment, you realized just how deeply you had fallen for this man. It wasn't just a matter of caring anymore; you were deeply and irrevocably in love with him.

And you would tell him, you decided. You would let him know that he didn't owe you anything because you had acted out of love. Your heart pounded in your chest, adrenaline rushing through your veins. His eyes were still on yours, searching, questioning.

"Astarion...," you started, your voice soft and filled with emotion, "I need to tell you... I..."

However, just as you were about to spill your heart, the sound of someone calling for you pierced through the quiet atmosphere of the tent. With a sigh, you reluctantly untangled yourself from Astarion's arms.

"I'm afraid that's my cue."

He gave a silent nod, his eyes reflecting a mix of conflicting emotions.

"Sure, sure. Wouldn't want to interrupt your exciting duties as our esteemed leader."

You rolled your eyes with a small smile and got out of the tent. However, there was a feeling of disappointed and regret for not being able to express your true feelings to him. You made a mental note to tell him later when you had the chance.

But that night, Astarion didn't come to his bedroll. Nor the next one. Or the one following. You sensed he was putting some distance between you as if something had changed. He continued with his blatant flirting and sly remarks, of course. They just seemed... mechanical. Every time you tried to talk about your feelings, he would deflect or change the subject. Days turned into weeks and still nothing changed between you two. Astarion remained distant and aloof while you struggled with your own emotions, feeling confused and rejected.

One morning, you woke up with a heavy weight on your chest. You initially dismissed it as the usual feeling of sadness that had been lingering for a week now. But after a whole day of choking on your own breath and dizziness, mixed with a deep pounding in your head, you knew this wasn’t the case. Despite your condition, you pushed through the day, determined not to be seen as weak or unreliable by your group.

However, as time passed, it became increasingly difficult to hide your worsening state from everyone else. Your coughing spells were becoming more frequent, and your body was weakening rapidly. You could sense Astarion's worried stare on you from time to time, but he never approached you to inquire about your condition.

That all changed one morning when you couldn't even muster the strength to get out of bed. Your entire body was in pain and your fever was soaring. You heard footsteps approaching your bedrolls and prepared yourself for one of your companions coming to check on you (or more likely, tell you off). However, it was Astarion's smirking face that came into view.

"Well, well, well," he said with a teasing tone, "Seems like our fearless leader is not feeling so fearless anymore. Feeling lazy today, are we?"

You managed to roll your eyes, laying your arm back over them to shield from the morning sunlight peering in through a hole in the tent. "If by lazy you mean sick, then yes." Your voice was weak and raspier than usual. You coughed into your arm, the action causing your body to shake and shudder with discomfort.

"Hmm..." Astarion's voice was no longer teasing. "That doesn't sound good, darling."

His gaze was intense when he leaned down to press his hand against your forehead. You suppressed a shiver at the unexpected coolness it brought and tried to turn away from him. He didn't let you, pushing your hair away from your face with his other hand.

"You're burning up," he said, moving away from you but not before you saw the worry flash briefly in his eyes. He stood up abruptly and started pacing around your bedroll, "What can I do?" He asked more to himself than you.

"Nothing… I just need… rest..." You managed to respond before another coughing fit washed over you.

Astarion shook his head "I'm going to get Shadowheart and Halsin. They will know what to do."

Astarion hurried out of the tent, and surely a few minutes later he came back bringing your two companions. As Halsin handed you the potion and Shadowheart casted her healing spells, Astarion's hand brushed against yours briefly before pulling away.

"Thank you," you whispered weakly before passing out.

A few hours later, after resting and drinking more disgusting beverages than you could count, your fever had finally subsided a bit and your coughing fits were less frequent. Astarion stayed by your side through the whole ordeal, a comforting silhouette against the flickering candlelight. You closed your eyes and felt his cold hand soothingly stroke your forehead. The cool, comforting touch of his skin against yours was a relief from the fever heat radiating off your body.

"Feel any better?" Astarion asked, raising an eyebrow.

You attempted a smile, "Well, I'm not dead yet."

His lips twitched in response, a semblance of his usual smirk flickering across his handsome face. "Good. That would be inconvenient for my dietary needs."

Despite feeling weak and exhausted, you couldn't help but chuckle. It was a welcome distraction from the constant throbbing pain in your head and rattling chest.

He shifted awkwardly on his seat next to you, looking almost hesitant, before he started speaking again. "I... I was scared of losing you," he admitted, "And I have to confess something."

His usually confident and cocky demeanor was replaced with an almost childlike uncertainty.

"What is it?" You asked, your voice still weak but full of concern.

He sighed heavily before meeting your gaze.

"I had a nice simple plan; to manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn on me. And honestly, I thought it would be so easy, with you being so open, so eager to care for everyone..." He frowns, "But that is the thing. You are so kind, so thoughtful. No one's ever cared for me the way you have. And... I don't know how to handle it."

You reached out and grasped his hand, squeezing it gently. "I understand," you said softly. "It's not easy to let someone take care of you, but you don't have to push me away. You deserve love and happiness just like everyone else."

He nodded, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "I want to try," he said, determination flickering in his gaze. "I want to let you take care of me. And I want to take care of you, if you let me."

You smiled at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words.

"Of course. But first, I feel like I need to tell you something too." You took a deep breath before continuing, "I...I think I'm falling in love with you."

He looked at you puzzled, before letting out a loud laugh.

"Oh, my love. I already knew."

You were taken aback by his words. "What? You did?"

He rolled his eyes "Dear, you were hardly subtle about it. A portrait? Essential oils? Come on..."

You couldn't help but laugh at his response, feeling relieved and embarrassed all at once.

"I guess I'm not as sneaky as I thought," you said, shaking your head.

"But I'm not better." He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "I've been falling for you since the moment you started leaving books on my bedroll."

With that, he closed the distance between you and pressed his lips against yours in a soft kiss. It was like a spark igniting, sending waves of electricity through your body. In that brief moment, all the emotions and tensions that had been building between you seemed to dissipate into thin air. The softness of his lips against yours was like a warm embrace, melting away any doubts or fears you may have had.

When you both pulled away, you rested your forehead against his and whispered, "You are going to get ill now."

He chuckled, "How fortunate I am already dead then."

Yet, in that moment, the gleam of his eyes made him seem more alive than you had ever seen him.

[thedreamlessnights]

Fervency

Non-Ascended Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW

Synopsis: After falling into mysterious spores in the Underdark, you start to experience some... strange side effects. Astarion is more than happy to assist.

Warnings and tags: 18+ (and I cannot stress this enough), aphrodisiac/glorified sex pollen, established relationship, discussions of consent, fingering, oral sex (both giving and receiving), blood drinking, multiple orgasms. Takes place post-game and includes mild spoilers.

Word Count: 5.7k

There’s not much that surprises you anymore.

It’s true - being kidnapped by illithids, having a tadpole implanted behind your eyes, facing the gods themselves - all of that does make it difficult for mundane life to come anywhere close enough to truly shock you. Your days aren’t necessarily peaceful, but they never seem quite as exciting as that blind haze of companionship in the aftermath of the nautiloid, trekking through the wilderness and shadow-cursed lands and the city, finding yourself in the company of strangers but soon-to-be family.

Still, these days, there’s something every now and then that catches you off guard. The trouble is, you’re never quite left in a space to know how to handle it. Unlike your earlier adventures, things are rarely solved with a dagger in your hand or a dash of flattery in your words. No, the burdens of day-to-day life are much more complicated than that.

Falling into a patch of mysterious spores, for one.

The Underdark is full of various mushrooms. Poisonous. Explosive. Befuddling. You could go on and on. You’ve had your number of close calls with them, but the sensation coursing over your skin feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced - and it doesn’t help that you’ve never seen spores like this.

Hells. Of course this is where your day would end up. 

Just a little stroll, you’d told yourself. It’ll be harmless. And it had been, for the most part. There’s an unearthly beauty to the Underdark that you’ve never encountered anywhere else, one you’ve come to appreciate just as much as the upper surface. But halfway through your usual route, your feet had snagged on a branch and you’d gone tumbling, and now - now you’re in a patch of glowing, red spores, feeling like…

Gods, what do you feel? 

Hot. You feel very, very hot. Sweat trickles down your back. Warmth blooms like poppies in a number of strange places - your cheeks, your lips, your neck. The feeling is spreading fast, bleeding through your ribs as you get to your feet.

Alright, you think to yourself, ignoring the sharp, bleeding panic in your throat that’s threatening to take over. Situations like this call for a sense of rationality. You’re going to get out. 

It takes much longer than it should for you to slowly stumble back to familiar ground. Your movements are jerky, as if you’re being puppeted around, and it’s getting harder to think straight when you’re feeling as if - whatever this is - is slowly consuming you. The heat is in your lungs, coursing fire near your pounding heart, raging with every inhale. 

You need to get this off of you, and as quickly as possible. After that, maybe it will fade and maybe it won’t. You’ll… you’ll figure it out. 

By the time you make it to the river, your knees are trembling so much that you nearly fall in. The water barely scratches the surface of the fire when you splash it over your skin, but the coolness of it is euphoric. You go as quickly as you can, covering area by area - your clothing, your arms, your face and neck - until most of the spores are off, but the feeling pulses and throbs in you all the same. Whatever it is, it isn’t killing you, but it certainly isn’t pleasant. 

You could tell Astarion. He’d tease you a little, but he’d also be certain to search endlessly to find something to stop your discomfort. And you ache for him. His touch, his voice, the fondness in his eyes when he looks at you. 

Had it really been just this morning when you’d last seen him? It seems like lifetimes away - lost to a very, very different type of ache in your veins that won’t seem to fade. You’ve just made up your mind to go find him, rising to your feet again, when the heat rushes to a very specific place between your legs and all thoughts of looking for Astarion are instantly cast out.

Oh, you think, somewhere between dizzy, needy, and utterly humiliated. So that’s what this is.

You’ve read about things like this - plants, pollen, potions -  but most of them had been in bad romance novels, and none of them had ever come with any mention of an antidote. And, needless to say, you won’t be making your way to the Myconid Sovereign to learn more. It’ll have to be handled on your own. 

You could risk going home and pretending to be ill, but Astarion is far too perceptive for that. He’d see through your ruse immediately. Which leaves the only option: hiding in a cave and waiting this out, praying he won’t notice you’re gone and come searching for you before you’re back.

And really, how bad can it be?

Bad. It can be very, very bad. 

You’ve been sitting in this cave for who knows how long, and your sanity is fading more and more by the minute.

It had been manageable at first. The heat spread through you like warm cider on a cold night - a slow, steady increase, the way a candle gradually burns down to the wick. You’d thought it would stop at a certain point (it had to, didn’t it?), but no. It just… kept going. 

Now, every inch of your body feels like it’s on fire, and it’s not slow, or steady, or even remotely bearable. It’s a strange, pleasurable flame, but a flame nonetheless. You can’t even decide whether touching yourself would even help at this point. Even just grazing your hand along the length of your thigh sends the fire rising, and you’re not keen on experimenting at the moment.

Your hands have gone stiff from balling your fists. Your mouth keeps switching between being as dry as sand and overly salivating. Each breath ignites more warmth, and you’ve been trembling for so long that you don’t remember how it feels to be still.

Gods. If you trusted yourself to get to your feet, you’d go see the Sovereign - a lifetime’s worth of humiliation or not. You don’t have any clue what time it is. There’s no sun or moon down here to guide you, no mechanism to spell out the hour. Has Astarion noticed your absence? How long until he’s concerned?

You know enough to know that you should have been back by now - that it’ll be unusual for you to have been gone so long. At least this spot you’ve found for yourself is relatively private. A dark, dry little place with a stone floor; fluorescent ivy in shades of lavender and coral; remote enough that, if your willpower fails and you end up making some noise, no one will be around to hear. 

You attempt to swallow, but the action dies on your tongue. You attempt to breathe, but you can’t seem to suck in any air. You’re just thinking you really might die in this painful, mortified state when the pad of footsteps on stone hits your ears, and your whole body pulls as taut as a rope. 

Oh, gods. Please not him. Anyone else. The Sovereign. The Society of Brilliance. Anyone.

But it’s him, because of course it is. He slowly makes his way inside, pressing through the narrow entrance and around the corner, and when he sees you curled against the cave wall, his brows rise - alarm.

“Wait,” you blurt out, determined to speak before he can. “Don’t come any closer. Please.”

Astarion stays where he is, but his eyes start instinctively scanning you over, searching for ailment or injury. “What’s wrong?” he asks, tilting his head. “You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, even though you’re anything but. You want to say more, but your thoughts trail off as another wave of heat flares inside of you. You’ve started trembling again. Your fingers accidentally graze against your thigh, and you let out a small, involuntary noise.

Astarion hesitates, then takes a step closer. “Darling,” he starts, raising a brow, “you make a terrible liar.”

Of course you can’t fool him. Not even a little. You let out a laugh, but the sound hitches into a strange, choked sob. You pull your knees to your chest and let out a long, shaking breath, trying to get a grip. “I know,” you say softly. “Gods. I’m sorry.”

He takes another step closer, and concern writes itself into his expression. “Gods below,” he exclaims. “Er - my sweet, I don’t mean to be rude, but you look...”

“Horrible?” you finish for him. “I know.” 

“I… was going to say ill, actually,” Astarion replies, laughing a little. “This dark cave lighting looks beautiful on you, my dear.”

You can’t resist another laugh. It’s less burdened this time, but it fades away as you hesitate, very pointedly gazing down at your fingernails instead of meeting his eyes. “I may or may not have fallen into a patch of mysterious spores.”

“And?” Astarion says, lifting a hand into the air and giving a small, contemplative gesture. “Go on, darling. Seeing as you aren’t dead - I’m assuming they weren’t poisonous?”

You shake your head, swallowing hard. How the hells are you going to phrase this? “No,” you answer. “I just feel… hot. Not like the explosive ones, just… hot.”

“Well,” Astarion says, “That’s… interesting. Alright - let me take a look at you.”

Half of you wants to protest, but what’s the point? He’ll find out the truth sooner or later. So, instead, you nod.

He steps closer, kneeling down at your side, and you have to ball your fists to keep from doing something stupid. You’re expecting more flame at his touch - a painful flare, like when you’d grazed your thigh - but when the back of his hand meets your forehead, his touch is like a salve. Soothing, cool, sweet. It mellows out the fire, makes you feel sane again.

You shut your eyes in relief, staying as still as you can, and when you open them, you find him giving you a look you know all too well. Smug. Affectionate. A glint in his eye that can only mean trouble.

“My, my,” he purrs. “Darling, I’m no healer, but… a racing pulse, dilated pupils, feverish to the touch? That, I know.” He leans in, his voice low in your ear. “And I can smell how much you want me.”

A shudder runs down your back, betraying you. Astarion leans in to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours - soft and gentle and perfect - and it takes everything in you to pull away.

“Wait,” you protest. 

He instantly halts, pulling away from you and scanning over your expression. “What is it?” he asks. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine,” you say quickly. “But you don’t… I mean - I can manage this on my own, you know.”

His brows rise. “My dear, you do realize I am very capable of helping you in this situation?”

“Gods, Astarion,” you say, biting back a delirious sort of laughter. “Believe me, I’m well aware. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. I can manage this.”

A fondness enters his expression - the rare kind, reserved for the most meaningful of moments. He leans closer, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “I know,” he says softly, the words tender and delicate. “Trust me. I want to do this.” He trails a finger along your thigh, and you shiver again. “I’ve missed you,” he murmurs. “And, unless I’m wrong, you’ve missed me, too.”

After searching his gaze and finding him entirely present, you let yourself relax into his touch. “I’ve missed you more than anything.”

“Good,” he says. “I was almost worried.”

He skims his knuckles over your jaw, leaning in to kiss you once more, and the flame in you seems to bend to his touch. It rages in you like a furnace, bellowing and cruel, but with every frigid brush of his fingers, the feeling subsides. Even the feel of his lips on yours seeps away the discomfort.

He’s slow with his actions, but he doesn’t tease, even though you can see the amusement in his eyes when he pulls away to look at you. He’s enjoying this, and if you’re honest with yourself, you are, too. If only it didn’t come at the price of your dignity - but if it’s going to fall away in front of anyone, it might as well be him. 

His hands slide down to your thighs, and your whole body pulls tight, torn between wanting him to touch you now and not wanting him to stop what he’s doing.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting against your ear. “I’ve got you, darling.”

You let out a shaky breath and try to coax your body into cooperating, shutting your eyes and letting the feel of him drown out the path of your thoughts. The sensation of his mouth, trailing down your neck, ranging between feather-light kisses and the barely-there sting of his teeth against the skin, making every inch of you melt into his touch like clay. His hands, sliding to the front of your top, deftly unlacing it and pulling it away from your skin.

Thank the gods no one is anywhere around this area - if anyone were to interrupt you, you’re sure you’d die right here and now. The simmering need that lies under your skin is bordering on painful, a white-hot delirium of impatience that will not be ignored any longer.

Astarion’s fingers skim across your sternum, further soothing the burning inside your chest, and his lips soon follow downward. You let out a soft noise from the back of your throat, something choked and desperate, and he hums against your skin in response.

When your eyes flutter open again, you find that he’s staring up at you as he kisses down your abdomen, eyes dark and hands curled lightly around your ribs, ardor and affection both palpable in the heat of his gaze.

Your instinct is to shut your eyes again - to shut out the intimacy and vulnerability that comes from holding his stare - but you don’t. Instead, you move the stiff muscle of your arm and coax your hand into working again, gently tangling your fingers into the silky-smooth, silvery curls in your lap.

He gives you a roguish grin, tugging on your bottoms until they finally, mercifully, pull away from your skin, leaving you in nothing but your smallclothes.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he mutters, the words dark and heavy on his tongue, but they feel more for him than for you. His brows crease together and his actions turn sure and firm and quickened - as if he can’t wait to have his mouth on you.

Beautiful. It’s the second time he’s called you that word tonight, but it doesn’t stop the heat from rising back into your cheeks, and that feeling of the warmth seems to spark a chain reaction. 

It’s as if his voice is stoking the fire - more heat, all rushing to the very place his lips are heading to now, only to be soothed by his touch. He gently pulls at your thighs, coaxing you to lay on your back, and you’re so desperate that you nearly knock your head against the hard floor laid out beneath you in your effort to obey.

Your mind isn’t processing things the way it usually does: in an even, progressing line of events, every moment spread out from one to the next. Rather, everything comes in bursts of feeling, flashing between being a thousand miles away and all too close, all too present. You barely feel the graze of fabric when he removes your smallclothes and leaves you entirely bare, but the gentle, wet press of his tongue against you feels amplified a thousand times over.

“Astarion,” you gasp, your hand tightening in his hair. 

He hums again, and the feeling of it has you shivering, muscles going slack in pleasure. Short, soft flicks of his tongue over your clit and you’re left a shuddering mess, not thinking to try to be quiet - not really thinking at all, anymore. He grips at one of your thighs, looping it over his shoulder as he pulls away for a moment, nipping at the tender flesh there. Soothing it with a gentle kiss, then returning to his work.

You’re a walking - or perhaps laying - contradiction. Your arousal is lava hot, but your pleasure is cold as ice. You can’t decide if you’re cold or hot or both or neither. You’re not in a place to think, not as blinding bursts of pleasure course up your spine, rendering you a lump of skin and bones and not much more. His mouth is nothing if not fervent.

You aren’t sure how long it lasts - your hand in his hair, his mouth against you, writhing in dizzying pleasure against the hard, stone floor and barely feeling the discomfort. It might not be very long at all - but it feels like hours before his fingers enter you.

You’re soaking wet. If you weren’t so focused on, well, everything else, it’d be humiliating. Still, when two fingers slip into you and meet no resistance whatsoever, Astarion groans. The pace he’s setting with both hand and tongue is torturous, slow and even, and it takes everything in you not to beg him for more. 

But when he goes a little faster, a moan pulls from your throat, and you look down to find him grinning as he pulls away, fingers still at work. “Look at you,” he says, praise lilting the words as he curls his fingers - sending your hips rolling. “You’ll come for me, won’t you, darling?”

And as if he’s flicked a switch in your mind, you’re coming around his fingers, gasping and shuddering and clenching. Electricity seems to coarse through your veins, hot and sharp, flaming and radiant, and when it’s gone, there’s only the slickness between your thighs, a slight breathless laughter that escapes from you without a thought, and the fading warmth of the spores.

For a moment, it seems as though there might be relief. Your thoughts clear and the heat wanes, but after a sparse second or two of relief, it comes back as strong as ever. 

You’d be disappointed at its reappearance, but then Astarion is crawling over you, using his knee to coax your legs apart for him, so how could you ever be disappointed? Everything else slips away except for him. His eyes, dark with want, his lips, molding against yours, his tongue, gently pressing into your mouth as he buries a hand in your hair.

He’s hard for you. You can feel it, and that realization has you grinding against him. He groans, cursing under his breath, then reaches down to undo his trousers. “Are you ready for me, love?” he asks, his voice half-broken with want.

You laugh, still trembling from your climax. “You know I am.”

“Mm,” he hums, his eyes glimmering in the dark. “But maybe I wanted to hear you say it for me, darling.”

Gods. He’s beautiful - always so beautiful - even here, in this dark, cold cave you’ve found. A work of art down to the dark circles under his eyes, the crow’s feet around his eyes, his smile lines. 

You could spend a thousand years studying the art of him and never, ever get bored; not of his voice, and the way his confidence sometimes, ever so rarely, breaks into something real and raw. Not of his hands: nimble fingers and the calluses from his blade and soft skin - and not of his eyes, which seem both dark and light depending on his mood, and which can seem so sharp and severe at times, but sometimes soften into something soft and round. Sometimes. When they’re looking at you.

You could spend a thousand years admiring him and never, ever get tired of him, and never, ever deserve him. And he’d never believe it.

He’s noticed you staring, because of course he has, and he tilts his head. “What’s going on in that pretty little mind of yours?”

You can only smile, deliriously happy and wanting and both hot and cold - hot where the warmth burns uncontained, and cold everywhere his skin meets yours. “I love you.”

Your words must catch him by surprise, because it’s shock that meets his expression first. It fades away into affection, placing itself on his lips in a soft smile. “I - I love you too,” he answers, brushing a stray strand of your hair out of your face. “More than anything.” 

He clears his throat and shifts, and as you feel his erection brush against you, only then do you remember the conversation you two had been having. Him between your legs. You, still needing him inside of you.

“I’m ready for you,” you breathe. “Please. I want you.”

“How could I say no?” he asks, leaning in and biting at the lobe of your ear.

He presses into you slowly, even though you don’t need it - not after the effects of the spores and your first climax still evident on your thighs. Only when he once again begins a slow, torturous pace do you realize that he’s doing it to tease you, and when you look up and find a certain amount of devious intent in his eyes, a shudder runs down your back.

He’s always seemed to enjoy watching you fall apart. How many times have you looked up in the middle of one of your late-night trysts to find his eyes on you, the darkened ruby gaze that seems as starved for you as his hunger for blood? 

How many times has he eased your arm away from your face when you felt the need to hide yourself, and how many times has he gently pulled your hand away from your mouth so he could hear the noises you made for him? 

There’s never really been a question about it; Astarion gets off on your pleasure, and the feeling is very, very mutual. Vulnerability aside, it does something beyond words to you to know how much he enjoys giving you pleasure. And, sure as the hells, you like to give it right back to him. So, keeping your gaze locked on his, you grind your hips down to meet him and let out a moan.

His jaw clenches and he swallows hard, his thrusts deepening as he props himself over you. You watch the lovely path of the action over the bob of his Adam’s apple, then flit your eyes back to his, letting out another noise.

“Gods,” he says, and his pace quickens. His hands wrap around your shoulders and he groans, panting as he rocks into you, his grip turning into something almost bruising. 

Part of you desperately wants him to keep going - but the other part of you wants to give him something, and now seems the proper time for it. So you tilt your head to give him access to your neck and murmur a few, soft words, and he slowly comes to a halt: breathing heavily, nails digging into your skin as he tries to regain some semblance of composure.

He kisses down your jaw, slowly drags his teeth along the skin, then sinks his fangs into your neck. You’re used to the sharp pain of his bite, but it’s different today. Intensified. It’s as if his mouth on your skin, the barely-there pain, is salving through that fire and every single limb of yours goes slack with…

What is it? Pleasure? Affection? Relief? It’s something in between, something warm but not scorching, something sweet but not overly-saccharine. He starts moving his hips again and you’re instantly on the edge, planting your hands on his lower back underneath his scars and resisting the urge to dig your nails into the skin.

He’s drunk from you enough times since you met to know where the limit lies, even on the cusp of his climax. He drains you until you’re sufficiently lightheaded, but not enough to harm you, then pulls away, planting a messy kiss on your mouth. 

Messy. It’s how you know he’s close. His actions are usually so graceful, his movements lithe and calculated. Only on the edge of orgasm do the pretenses fall away - his shaking thighs, soft moans into your lips, panting, blood smeared across his lips and almost certainly yours. 

There’s a blinding moment of pleasure as he thrusts harder, deeper, neither of you caring about the level of noise you’re making, and your nails dig into his back. He lets out a groan of approval, then - gods, you’re climaxing again, your whole body trembling with the waves of pleasure that crash over you. Overwhelming at first, then receding into the brief moment of clarity that lasts a minute or two this time. 

Then the spores start their work again.

The heat isn’t nearly as intense this time, but it’s still there. Part of you wonders if it’ll ever really fade. You lay still, gasping, as Astarion slowly pulls out of you. Then he brushes the damp hair out of your face and kisses you again. 

“Darling,” he starts breathlessly, flashing a mischievous grin at you, “if this is where we’ll end up, you should fall into mysterious spores more often.”

You laugh, sending a playful, light hit toward his shoulder. He catches your hand mid-action, pressing a kiss to your palm, holding your gaze the entire time. “You’re not the one who feels like they’re on fire, Astarion.”

He hums, kissing back down your neck, cleaning up the remnants of blood from his bite. “I wouldn’t say that,” he says, his voice gravelly with want. 

That gives you pause. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he says with some effort, propping himself above you, “whatever those spores were - they seem to have entered your bloodstream, my dear. It’s - an interesting sensation, I’ll admit.”

You’re searching his face for a tell that he’s not being serious, but instead you find wide, blown out pupils, flushed cheeks, and nothing beside his usual mischievousness. Any blood left in your face quickly exits. “Gods, I didn’t even think. I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be. I’m not.” He presses another soft kiss to your lips, and you see a small smear of your blood on his lips. When you lick your lips, you can taste the iron of it on your tongue.

Astarion is watching you. His gaze darkens, and he lets out another thin, broken groan. “Darling. At this rate, we’ll be going the whole night.”

And, honestly? With the rate the heat is returning - you don’t doubt it. 

Still, you gently ease him off of you to sit up, then make your way into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck. 

There’s something addictive about Astarion - there always has been. From the moment he’d had you against the dirt, a dagger to your neck, he’s been your fix.  

In those first days when you’d had to hide your want for him - not even lust or sheer desire, but want; the ache to run your finger through silver curls, the warmth in your cheeks when he held your gaze just a moment too long, and the rare moments of vulnerability that came more and more as you’d gotten to know him - it had been torture. 

And then he’d propositioned you. And all at once, you’d found yourself in a clearing under silver moonlight, alone with him, long before you ever knew the extent of what had been done to him - and after all this time, the craving for him, the need to lay beside him in the long nights and find him there come morning, has only ever gotten so much stronger.

The heat is somewhat bearable now. Enough to take a moment to admire him, head tilted as he gazes up at you, pure need simmering in his eyes. Dark, glinting rubies. His fangs, barely visible under parted lips. Flushed cheeks. That will fade before long; the rosiness of drinking never lasts more than a few minutes, but you admire it all the same. 

“You’re beautiful.” The words are hushed. You hadn’t even meant to speak them, but your mind isn’t really yours at the moment, not wholly, not as firm as it should be. You feel half-drunk, half-needy. 

The corners of his lips flick into a smile, and he raises a brow. “Oh?” he asks, clearly stealing for more flattery. “Do you think so?”

You lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You know I do.” 

You gather a single, loose curl in your fingertips and gently roll it between your thumb and index finger, admiring the softness of it. You could use the same soaps, wash your hair with the same things he uses a thousand times over, and it’d never matter. It’d never be as soft as his.

“Anything in particular?” he asks. His voice is particularly airy; he’s battling between begging you for what he needs, and the compliments he likes so much.

You think back to when you’d first described him - that night beneath the stars, when he’d tossed the mirror aside and asked how you viewed him. Words hadn’t been enough then, and they still aren’t, but you’ll try.

“Your eyes,” you start, running your finger over his crow’s feet. “They change color in the light. Right now, they’re dark. Hungry. I can tell you want me, and I like that.”

His hands, which have strayed to the back of your thighs, tighten against your skin. “And? What else?”

The heat’s strength is back, clawing its way up your abdomen. “The way your hair curls around your ears,” you murmur.

He frowns, and you know you’ve gone too poetic. To distract him, you lean in and nip at the lobe of one, and any of his upset disintegrates. 

“Gods,” he murmurs, bringing his hands up to your waist. “Darling, I can’t wait much longer-”

You’ve trailed down to his jaw, alternating between kisses and sharp little nips just like the ones he likes to give you, and the words die in his mouth in favor of a sharp inhale. 

You won’t keep him waiting much longer. In fact, you have a plan. A plan that’d hatched from the moment you’d realized that the spores were in his system, too. Since you’d seen the hungry look in his eyes - every inch a predator circling around its prey.

Only, you’re not content to be the prey. You want to disarm him, and if any of the time you’ve spent together means anything, you’ve gotten very, very good at that.

His shirt is still on, so your hands are quick to remove it, tugging it away from cooling porcelain skin, silky under your fingers as you drag them down his sternum. He shudders, and you remember how it’d felt when he’d first touched you. If it’s anything like that, he’s probably dying to beg you for more.

Your lips soon follow the path your hands are sitting, taking your time with the softness of his abdomen before you pull his trousers away. He’s panting now, and a frenzied sort of desperation lies in his gaze when you look up at him.

And he’s hard again. Leaking.

You lightly trace your nails down his thighs, silently relishing in the way his breath hitches - the way his hips unconsciously buck toward you. 

“Gods,” he says again, and though it isn’t a direct request, with the broken way it falls off his tongue, this time it is every bit a plea. 

And you’re in a mood to please.

You take his cock in hand, swiping your thumb over the head, where precum is slowly leaking, and he lets out a long, breathy noise. You hum in response, taking his length between your lips, and the sound becomes strained, more needy. His hand gently makes its way into your hair, very lightly guiding you where he wants, but not forcefully.

You alternate between things: long, even movements of your mouth as you drag your tongue down the shaft, swirling your tongue around the head, then sucking him hard and slow. Eventually, simply following the guidance of his hand. His grip tightens in your hair - not painful, just encouraging - and his noises become more drawn out, less coherent.

When you pull away for a moment, using your hand to continue what your mouth had just been doing, you find him dangerously close. You press a kiss to the head and take him in again, increasing pace, accommodating him as you take him in as far as you possibly can, and he starts whimpering. 

“Please,” he says, and if that isn’t a rare word to hear from him. 

On another day, you might tease him, but you don’t want to. Not now, while he’s begging to have you. Instead, you take him as deep as you can again and suck harder. Astarion tugs at your hair and his thighs shudder and you know he’s close.

“Please,” he says again. “Gods, don’t stop.”

And you wouldn’t dream of it. What you can’t take into your mouth, you use your hand to stroke, and that’s it. He’s coming.

There’s something artful about it - the tremor that runs through him, the salty taste of him in your mouth, and those seeking, breathless sounds that come out of him as he spills onto your tongue. A long, shaky inhale as he pumps his hips, still chasing out his pleasure, then the trembling exhale as his mind starts to come back to him.

He doesn’t soften, and you don’t take your mouth off him. Not yet.

Usually, Astarion can be counted on for two orgasms, but if those spores are doing anything remotely like what they were doing to you, there’s certain to be much, much more than that.

“By the hells,” he murmurs airily, running a hand down your back. “You’re going to kill me, darling.”

You pull away for a moment, kissing at his abdomen, keeping his eyes locked on his as you do. “Does that mean you want me to stop?” you ask sweetly, trailing your nails along the skin of his thigh.

He swallows hard. “Gods, don’t,” he pleads.

And you don’t.

[vampiresfromxenon]

Kiss It Better

Astarion x gender neutral! Reader/Tav

Around 2.2K words 

Tags: Fluff, kissing, blood, soft!(ish?) Astarion, hurt/comfort, angst, 3rd person, no use of y/n

CW: Blood, deep wound on hand, existential thoughts (?)

Summary: After accidentally cutting your hand on your blade, Astarion is the only one in the camp to help you deal with it. You’ve been seeing him for awhile now, but this is the first time you’ve ever seen him actually care. Perhaps he does feel the same way about you…

~

With the daylight fading, you rest just outside your tent, wiping the blood off of your blade with a damp rag. As you sit there, shining it to perfection, you can’t help but analyze your reflection, thinking about the events that led you to having newer, fresher scars on your face. It’s been a few months since the start of this nightmare, since the start of having these things inside your head. The tadpoles weren't that bad to deal with, but your feelings were worse. 

You’ve grown to love all the companions you’ve met along the way, laughing and enjoying their company as you travel across the land, searching for answers, for a cure. You all keep each other safe in one way or another, and while you hate to get too attached, knowing this won’t last forever, you feel as though you found your family, especially since you can’t remember your real one. God, your real family. One you once knew but now have no memory of. Your past is a mystery, and it haunts you, much more than the gnawing idea that you could become a mind flayer at any waking moment. 

You want to remember. Oh, so desperately do you want to remember, but you can’t. That is not an option for you. And besides? What good would that do you now? You can only confront the horrors that lie before you. The thought of losing your friends, the thought of losing yourself. The thought of losing… No. You can’t bear the thought of losing him.

You find your heart sinking in your chest at the thought of him turning into a mind flayer. Your chest aches at the thought of where you promised you’d stab him if, Gods forbid, he turns. Looking into his eyes and seeing nothing, no life, no character, but a vessel. A vessel for these wretched things. It was becoming too much to handle. Your body begins to tremble from these false images enveloping your thoughts, these twisted and sickly ideas corrupting your mind for far too long. You’re so distracted by these terrors that you fail to notice the fact that you started to scrub the blade harder, or even more pressing, the fact that you dropped the rag. 

In one swift movement, your palm forcibly glides across the blade, drawing both blood from your palm and a string of curses from your mouth. The images disappear, fleeing your mind as you pick up the rag and crush it into the palm of your hand to stop the bleeding. The blade was no longer important in this moment, tossed off to the side for later. You storm into your tent, clutching your hand, searching for any sort of healing potion or power that you could find. Shadowheart and the rest of the camp had left to explore the town for the night, leaving you all to your lonesome, or so you thought. 

You sit on a cushion, exasperated and upset with yourself and your doomed existence. Removing the cloth, you take a closer look to see just how bad the wound is, trying to ignore the stinging feeling. Distracted by the blood, you fail to hear a visitor’s light footsteps approaching. 

“Oh dear, what happened to you?” A charming voice rings out. 

You turn to see a pale, slender elf standing in the opening of your tent, his white hair perfectly styled as always, his piercing red eyes invading your soul. Shoving the rag back into your burning palm, you attempt to hide your mistake, though you know he smells the blood from miles away. 

“I had a moment of clumsiness, nothing more.” You stated in a nonchalant tone, attempting to downplay your embarrassment. 

You turn your hand away from him, your eyes drifting around your tent, avoiding his gaze. He slowly approaches you, kneeling down on the cushion you are sitting on. He moves his head to meet your gaze, not wasting a second of eye-contact. 

“Mind if I take a look, darling?” He purrs, asking more nicely than usual. 

Your heart begins to race as he leans over you a little, prying into your personal space. If it were anyone else, you would push them away, but he invited himself in so much that you couldn’t help but miss it when he left. However, in this moment you did not want to feel this vulnerable, this embarrassed at your mistake; you couldn’t help but push him away just a little. After all, he is not known for having the best 'bedside manner’, if any at all. Meeting his eyes, you give him a knowing look.

“I’ll be alright on my own, thank you, Astarion. Besides, I thought you went into town with the rest of the camp?” You inquire, suddenly aware of just how much your feelings of being alone may have been an illusion. 

“I had no need to go, and honestly I couldn’t take any more of Gale’s whining about ‘needing to eat magical artifacts’. I know everyone complains about my diet, but let’s be realistic here for just a moment…” He looks away smirking, proud of his own snarky comment. Turning back to you, there is suddenly a shift in tone on his face. While he still has his typical look, one that is oozing with flirtatious energy, he looks a bit more serious, concerned even. You’ve never seen this side of him before, and it shocked you considering just how insignificant he’d find a wound like this normally. 

“Let me see it, please.” His voice was low, softer than usual, but commanding. One of his hands reaches across you, his hand ghosting over yours. You can’t help but lift your bloody hand so his palm touches the back of your hand. Never breaking eye-contact, he pulls your hand closer to him, gently pulling the rag from your white knuckles. Looking down, he notices just how bad the cut is, taking up most of your palm. 

“Oh, my dear… How did you do this?” His voice is more concerned now, his thumb gently rubbing circles into your wrist. His eyes soften, and you can’t help but think back to what put you in this mess to begin with. Your body trembles once more, eyes breaking his gaze as you stare down at your hand. 

“My hand slipped while cleaning my blade. It’s alright, I just need to wait for Shadowheart to come back…” You trail off. 

“Why wait for Shadowheart? I can make you feel better, you know…” His free, slender hand reaches down and grabs your chin, gently raising your head to face his again. You blush from his touch, his willingness to command your body. Your mouth falls open a little, unsure of what to say or how to respond to such a comment from him. You were used to his flirting, but this unlocked a whole new feeling in you. He could sense your speechlessness, and so he did the one thing he knew how to do best: make you even more flustered. 

“Would you like me to kiss it better?” He asks in his normal, teasing tone. This offering catches you off guard, breaking your immersion in this intimate moment. You can’t help but laugh, thinking now that he was only just charming you like he does everyone else. Continuing to laugh, you call him out. 

“Very funny, Astarion. Hilarious. Need I remind you of when I was opening up to you not that long ago and you said almost the exact same thing? Seems to me you’re running out of tactics here.” You roll your eyes, not amused by his antics.

You feel his grip tighten on your bleeding hand, pulling it closer to him. Looking to see what he is doing, you connect with his eyes one more time, seeing an almost predatory look. You stop laughing, your face heating up once again, your heart pounding as his soft lips connect with your wounded palm. It still stings, and you wince a little at the contact, but you can’t seem to look or pull away from him. He kisses all along your palm, and you can feel him gently sucking at the blood. Not only was he kissing you better, but he was feeding on you. 

If you weren’t so attracted to him, you’d be much more upset. Instead, you sit on this cushion while the vampire of your desires kneels before you, kissing and sucking at your wounded palm. You can feel his tongue lapping at your skin, his fangs ever so slightly poking out from behind his lips. Yes, he was feeding, but was he… actually kissing you too? His hands continue to massage the back of your hand and your wrist, trying to provide you comfort without completely invading your space. Eventually he stops, planting a final kiss on your wrist, his mouth covered in blood. He licks his lips, and you can’t help but tremble now but for a whole new reason. 

“Better?” He asks, smiling enough to show his fangs this time. 

“You just wanted an excuse to suck at my hand, didn’t you?” You raise an eyebrow, an attempt to see through him.

“I am always looking for any excuse to suck at any part of you, my sweet.” His voice is low once more, a rumbling laugh escaping his lips.

He finds a section of the rag not absolutely soaked in blood and pushes it back into your, now much cleaner, palm. Your whole face is flushed now, unable to think of any more witty remarks or comebacks. For the second time in just a few small minutes, he found yet another way to leave you completely speechless. The sly vampire decides to take advantage of your silence once more. 

Letting go of your hand, he leans forward, his lips connecting with yours. It’s soft, gentle, and new. To be fair, while you have spent a few intimate nights together, this moment here alone feels so much more real, so much more genuine. Almost as if he was kissing you… because he wanted to. A real, genuine want. His hand caresses the side of your face, his other landing on the small of your back as he continues to kiss you. Without hesitation, you lean into the kiss, your body elated by his touch. It’s not long before he deepens the kiss, his tongue parting your lips, wanting more from you. 

He tastes of iron, what more could you expect, but for once you don’t hate the taste. You invite it more into your mouth as he continues to lean even further over you. He begins to push you back, your body relaxing into the cushion. He breaks from the kiss, planting small kisses on your face, trailing them down your jaw and to the side of your neck. You can’t help but close your eyes, softly sighing as he kisses at your skin, sucking softly, his fangs once again poking you. He had been feeding off you almost every night now for weeks while you were dead asleep, and while it was unusual for you two, it was so much more enjoyable to experience it this way. He lifts his head, meeting your eyes as a way of warning you he was about to bite. He opens his mouth, his fangs protruding, ready for the taste of your flesh and blood. 

“Helloooo? Astarion? Tav? We’ve got some goods!” Yells out Karlach, just a few meters away from your tent.

Shit. He sits up, kneeling over you, looking dissatisfied. You sigh and throw your head back into the cushion, frustrated. His cool hand caresses your cheek before tracing down your arm. He leans in close to your face one last time, his breath warming your skin. 

“Shall we finish this later tonight, my love?” He purrs, not even remotely finished with you.

You nod, still unable to speak from the last few eventful minutes. He kisses your cheek before standing. “Find me in the woods at our little spot, just after everyone has gone to bed. Don’t keep me waiting.” He flashes one last cheeky smirk before exiting your tent. 

“Hello, Karlach. Gale find any boots to devour today?” He quips, and you can’t help but laugh when Gale offendly responds.

The camp erupts in conversation, and you find yourself leaving your tent after a few minutes to track down Shadowheart. She heals you in her tent, though she has quite a few questions. Giving vague enough responses, she accepts them and lets you be on your way, but she’ll definitely be curious about it for a while. 

No matter, the only thought you could think of now was what Astarion had planned for both of you tonight; you knew exactly what was going to happen, but there was this whole new sense of excitement now that you could tell there was something deeper, real, and authentic going on between you two. You lie there in your tent, waiting for the snoring and sleep talking to begin to resonate throughout the camp, eager to scamper off into the wilderness with the elf you adore.  

-

Author's Note:

Hello! I haven't written any fan fiction in a loooooong time, and none of it was ever good to begin with- I've been struggling with writer's block for awhile now, and this was the first thing to break me out of it... lmao. I am very new to BG3 in general honestly, and I just barely started act 2. Please no spoilers, but also if Astarion is sorta OOC, I hope that explains why too :)

I've only had Astarion for what, two, three weeks now, and this man is just so whewww. I thought of this fic idea right as soon as I started a longer drive, and I started recording my thoughts on video so that way I wouldn't forget anything before I could start writing hahaha- I blushed so hard writing this, hope y'all feel the same

Hope you enjoy!

[yourfriendowlbear]

Boundaries

Astarion x gn!reader

Summary: A stranger approaches Astarion in your favorite tavern

Genre: slice of life, little bit of angst, mostly fluff

The tavern is cozy. Loud and lively and warm. There’s a fire in the fireplace. The bartender keeps the alcohol flowing plentifully. And you’re seated at your favorite table–in the corner, against the wall but still close enough to the action to enjoy the tavern atmosphere–with your favorite cold-blooded company.

Astarion has dragged his chair around to your side of the table, and he’s sitting close enough that you can feel the chill from his skin.

You’re comfortable, a drink in-hand as you both watch the tavern’s small stage. There’s a musical group clustered together–a fiddle player, a flutist, a man with a hand drum, and a woman playing a horn–and there are people dancing just in front. 

Overall it’s joyous and raucous and fun, and though you’d originally had to practically bribe Astarion to come with you tonight, you can tell he’s enjoying himself all the same.

You both cheer when the band ends a song, and when they take a small break to chat with the crowd around the stage, Astarion leans back to say something to you.

But you never get to hear what he has to say, because at that exact moment, a man appears in front of you both. He’s handsome–strong jaw, piercing eyes, youthful energy–and his smile, though enticing, is predatory. A cat who has sighted a dove.

The man sizes you up briefly before turning his attention to Astarion. You can tell that the vampire knows what’s coming based on the way he tenses up. The stranger either doesn’t notice, or he doesn’t care, because he continues on without a care.

His opening line makes you roll your eyes. It’s cheesy and basic (“I saw you from across the room and I just had to come over and say hello.”) and he looks proud of himself when Astarion laughs and says “Oh, how positively quaint.” Poor sod can’t even tell when he’s being made fun of.

He’s shockingly persistent, asking questions, asking if he can buy Astarion a drink. For the most part, you’re sitting there, both offended because hello you’re right there and amused by Astarion’s polite but increasingly snarky responses.  

Around the third time the man asks to buy Astarion a drink, things start to get significantly less polite. And when the band starts up again and the man asks Astarion to dance, the vampire practically growls out “No. Thank you, darling, but I’m much more comfortable here.”

As he’s saying it, Astarion shifts slightly closer to you, as if he’s trying to get physically away from the stranger. You can tell he’s annoyed from how tense his jaw is.

“Oh, come on. Have a little fun.” The stranger’s persistence has finally pushed you to your limit and you snap “Gods above, he said no. Take a hint and fuck off.”

The stranger scowls, but ultimately, he does leave, and you follow him with his eyes as he weaves through the crowd and out the door of the tavern.

After a moment, Astarion stands, moving his chair back to the other side of the table. “I can handle myself, you know.” His voice is soft, but you can hear the hurt in it. “I know you think I’m just some pitiable creature that can’t set his own boundaries, but I assure you, I can manage on my own.”

You frown. Of course, you don’t think that. And of course, you know he can handle himself. You were trying to help. But when you go to say that, he shoots you a firm glare, and your words die in your throat. Instead, you simply say “It won’t happen again.”

You leave shortly after, the band no longer holds your attention, and you want to give Astarion some space. So you head out into the night.

Bloomridge is the nicest neighborhood in the Lower City. The City had gifted you the house after everything, and while at first, you’d chafed at the idea of living in the quiet, sweet, more affluent part of the city. But you’d both grown to love it. The view over Grey Harbor is unparalleled, and it’s shockingly nice to have somewhere quiet to settle down between adventures.

Your feet have carried you home, but you don’t really want to go in yet–the night is covered in a beautiful, light fog, and there’s a lovely breeze coming in off the harbor–so you sit on the front steps and lean your back against the door.

It’s only a few minutes later that you see Astarion picking his way back up the stairs along the side of the city wall. He pauses in front of you, and you can see the pain in his crimson eyes before he sighs and sits beside you.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly. 

Beside you, Astarion stiffens and inhales sharply. “Why are you sorry?”

“You’re right. I should have let you handle it. You’re more than capable.”

“I…” He deflates a little, and a confused frown creases his forehead. “I appreciate that you stepped in. Sometimes… sometimes it’s still hard to…”

He trails off, but you know what he means. Sometimes it’s still hard for him to enforce his boundaries. He tries, but 200 years of Cazador’s reign of terror don’t go away in a year. It can be difficult to walk the line between being firm and being outright rude (and as snarky as Astarion can be, he doesn’t always want to be rude).

These things take time.

You reach out and squeeze his hand, wordlessly telling him that it’s okay, that you get it, that he’s done nothing wrong. You’ll work on his boundary enforcement together. You have a lifetime together to do it.

[pheonixgrave]

Ignore It (18+)

This is really my first time posting a story to here, I usually only do it to AO3, but this is what I made this account for. Might as well start using it?

WARNINGS: Heavy smut, corruption kink, mild blood kink? (not sure about that one) Fem Tav, hetero relationship, stress fucking, not beta'd, angst, use of cunt

Smut blow the cut, please enjoy!!

Trekking through the wilderness was exhausting as is. But the bickering? That was starting to drive Tav crazy. Vampire this. Shar that. Eating magic this. Demons that. It was always something else. No matter what she did, they were always at each other’s throats. Oh the irony in that. Maybe the Illithid worm wasn’t the worst thing. Maybe this, the arguing, was the worst thing to happen to her. If she had to hear any Githyanki phrases in the next thirty minutes, she might kill Lae’zel herself. Tav was at her wits end, ready to beat her head against the nearest tree just to see if that got rid of the tadpole. It would be a win-win if it also got everyone else to shut up. 

They didn’t even let up at camp. Sure, they all had their respective tents and spaces. But the glaring. Oh, the glaring! Not a moment of peace before bed. She sat near her bedroll, closer to the fire Gale had set up. A tankard in hand, her back to the more vocal members of the party. She could practically hear Lae’zel glaring at Astarion. And Shadowheart wasn't exactly quiet about her distaste for him either. It’s not like there was an Infernal being less than ten yards away from him. Or a Warlock just across the flames. 

She very quickly downed the rest of her drink before tossing the tankard near the flames. Curling up in her bedroll, she tried to block out all of the noise and barbed words. It was currently taking everything in her to not scream at her first three companions. They had all been through something insane and deadly. Why could they not have it in them to simply get along? It felt impossible. 

Fortunately, her sour mood was noticed by her party. Not that she’d realize it at the moment. The biggest point of contention, Astarion, managed to get the courage to walk up to their fearless, albeit grumpy, leader. He nudged her with his foot. Which he immediately realized was a bad decision. Taz shot up to meet his eyes in the blink of an eye. “What do you want?”

The bite in her voice was unmistakable. But he knew how to handle it. “I want-”

“Don’t bother,” she cut him off. She never cut him off. She was more than happy to let him talk at her sometimes. The final glare she gave him was intense as she stalked towards the lake, away from everybody else. Astarion watched her walk away. Did he only watch to see her hips sway? Absolutely. But that didn’t change the fact that the Bard needed to relax. He smiled to himself before following her. “Didn’t I say don’t bother? I’m not in the mood to be your midnight snack tonight.” 

He didn’t fail to match her step. “Why darling! Do you truly think so little of me?” He pouted. 

Tav just sighed, “Take your antics somewhere else for now, Astarion.”

“Will you just sit down?” He pushed on her shoulders, forcing her down.

Much to the rest of the party's dismay, she did trust the vampire. Whether that would lead her to her own doom was yet to be seen.

Her knees crumbled under the pressure as she fell on the ground. She shot another glare in his direction but that didn’t seem to dissuade him from his plan.

“You’ve been far too stressed today, darling.” He purred in her ear, his hands never leaving her shoulders. 

“Astarion?” He continued to move her body until she was on her stomach.

“Shhh, do you trust me?” Gods, that man was always far too much for Tav.

“Should I?”

He chuckled as he readjusted himself so he was sitting on the back of her thighs, straddling her. It took every ounce of self restraint he had to not immediately rub her ass. Gods, it always looked so perfect when she walked. He took a deep breath before applying pressure between her shoulder blades. He felt her body tense before slowly relaxing. 

It wasn’t what she expected. Was he giving her a massage? His hands worked slowly from the base of her neck to her waist. And-oh? Did she just moan? 

“It’s alright, my dear, I love hearing you.” He smirked before continuing his work. He continued like that for a few moments, just enjoying the little sounds she was making. “Let's get you out of these clothes, shall we?”

She pushed him off her, rolling on her back and sitting up. “So that’s what this was? Just an excuse to get me naked?” That fire was coming back.

“Darling, if I was trying to get into your pants, I’d try flattering you more first. Unfortunately, it is difficult to get this right over your clothes.” He sat next to her, staring out at the water, just watching the water crash against the coast. “I was taught how to do this a long, long time ago.”

She stared at the rogue before swallowing. The tips of her ears and the back of her neck were flushed. But she did trust him. He would say if this was untoward. Right? With a shaky breath, she sighed but said “Alright.” 

Astarion watched her shaky hands start to untie the little knots holding her bustier. His mouth started to water, but he had patience. As she shrugged the last of her tunic off, she covered her chest and turned the other way. He did manage to lay down her tunic so she wasn’t just laying on the dirt anymore. She laid herself in front of him. He could feel how shaky her breath still was as he climbed on top of her once more. 

He resumed his previous work, addressing the knots in her lower back. The elf’s skin was so soft, so warm. He found himself just getting lost in the feeling of someone trusting him. It was a strange feeling but a welcome one. 

Tav, on the other hand, was getting lost in his touch. His cold hands worked their way up her back and she liked it far more than she thought she would. What started off as little moans slowly became louder. It didn’t help that he was an expert with his hands. And her mind started to trail off to things that were unbecoming of a lady.

But Astarion could feel her thighs clench. No matter how she tried to move without him noticing too much. Gods, he could almost smell her arousal. Over 200 years old and here he was, still trying to keep himself from getting hard. But then she moaned his name. And what little restraint he had disappeared. He put his hands near her head before leaning down towards her ear. “This wasn’t an excuse to see you naked but you are making it very hard to not act on my…baser impulses, my dear.” He felt the shiver go down her spine. 

“Astarion,” she moaned again before grinding back on him. And she got what she wanted when he flipped her on her back without moving from his spot. And there she was, laid out in front of a vampire spawn with her chest bare. She looked up at him with wide eyes, unsure how to go from there. But him? He had far more experience than most. He moved faster than she thought. He captured her lips as he slotted himself between her thighs. And just like that, his hands were everywhere. 

It was like he couldn’t decide where he liked them best. Her throat? Her breasts? Her hips so he could grind against her? He just couldn’t decide. And she tried so hard to keep herself quiet. But then he moved his lips down her neck, his fangs brushing over the still healing marks from the night before. He thought about feeding for a moment, but something far more filling had his attention right now. He moved until he had her nipple in his mouth. Flicking the nub with his tongue, his hand went to massage the other one. He wasn’t gentle. No one that knew Astarion for who he was thought he was a gentle man. It was rough but Tav didn’t seem to mind. 

In fact, Tav seemed to love it. Her back arched into him. “Astarion!” And then her hands were on his shoulders, urging him downwards.

And he didn’t want to fight it. He kept moving, biting and nipping at her stomach. And then he got to her trousers. He sat up, panting and looking wild. His fangs were bared and he was panting hard. He threw her legs on his shoulders, tossing her loafers somewhere behind him. And then he went to work on the knots holding her trousers up. Which he made very quick work of. He shimmied them off her, making sure to keep her underwear on for a moment. He stripped off his shirt before returning to her mouth. 

He needed her. 

“Astarion, please, touch me.”

He was quick to snake his hand towards her cunt. And even quicker to find the spot that made her gasp into his mouth. Gods, he could do this forever. He made his way back to her neck, lapping over those same marks. Her hand tangled itself into his hair and the other gripped his shoulder with far more strength than he expected. His cold hands were a sharp contrast to the warmth of her. Her head was thrown back against the ground as she gasped for air. She was shaking. 

It was already so much for her. She had been so pent up and so angry. But the way he worked her clit? It was a way no one ever had before. Not even herself. In fact, no one had ever touched her like this before. Nothing past shy kisses or heady glances. If she had known, maybe she would have lived her life a little differently. 

But once her back arched and she cried out his name? She clenched around nothing. She felt so empty now and he hadn’t even gotten close yet. He chuckled as best he could, “Already, darling?” he muttered against her neck.

“I-” she gasped once he slid a finger inside her. “Astarion,” his name rolled off her tongue and he swore he wouldn’t mind hearing her do this forever. He could still feel her cunt clench around his fingers and he groaned. He couldn’t wait much longer but she was enjoying herself. “I’ve never-” he curled his finger before adding a second one. 

“You’ve never felt this good before?”

“Done this before,” she managed to gasp out before he curled his fingers again. 

His hands stalled for a moment and she whined. “I’m to be your first?” She nodded, wriggling her hips, trying to will him to move again. “My dear, why didn’t you say anything?” He removed his fingers and she cried out. “Shhh, I have to make a good first impression, don’t I?”

He practically ripped her underwear off. She was a virgin. He couldn’t lie that it made him even harder to think about being the only one who got to touch her. But he had to take care of her if he wanted to be the only one.

He buried his face in her cunt, holding her thighs open with his hands. Tav covered her mouth to hide her cries of his name. But it was his name on her lips. His fingers going right back inside her, where they belonged. His lips on her clit. He groaned again when she came, this time right on his face and hands. He lapped at her for a moment longer and started pistoning his fingers in and out. He couldn’t help but watch her cum make a mess of his fingers. 

“Astarion!” She cried as she came on his fingers yet again. “Please!”

“Please what, my dear?” He wiped her juices off his chin before closing the distance between them. His lips hovered over hers, those red eyes glazed over with a hunger. Her eyes fluttered open. She smiled at him, all too happy to offer herself to him. She bared her neck. And dive he did. His fangs pierced her neck once again as he drank. He knew better than to drink more than his share but he wanted nothing more than to keep drinking as she wrapped her bare legs around his waist and rubbed her cunt against the fabric of his trousers. He released her neck and practically shredded what was left of his clothing. 

He leaned back for a moment, taking in the sight. This elf, a noble from Waterdeep, was laid out before him. Freckles dotting her skin and her blonde hair spread out like a halo before him. It would be angelic if not for the blood slowly trickling out of her neck. “Astarion,” she whispered. Her voice was full of something he couldn’t quite place. Something he had pushed aside a long time ago. 

All he could do was nod before he lined himself up to her. As he slowly slid in, he swore that this was the closest he could get to heaven. 

Astarion wasn’t small. Tav could feel his cock stretching her cunt out. Why did no one ever tell her it could feel like this? She gripped his shoulders and wrapped her legs around him once more. She sighed as he finally finished. “Gods above, you’re amazing.” She whispered, almost too afraid to say it. Too afraid to say the other things on the tip of her tongue. Her eyes traveled down his body to where they were connected before looking back up at him. 

“Shit,” he panted, withholding every emotion that came flooding through him. Instead, he snaked a hand underneath her thigh, lifting it up before he began to thrust.

She thought just having her inside him felt amazing. But this angle had her barely able to breath. She threw her head back and arched into his body. It was all she could do to hold on to him as he upped his pace. Tav could barely gasp out his name as she tried to look at him. His eyes were shut and his hair was more than perfectly tousled. “Beautiful,” was all she could get out before she tightened around his cock. 

“Shit!” He followed closely behind her, seemingly unexpectedly. They laid there for a moment, just feeling each other before he slipped out of her. She cried, a palpable sense of emptiness. He watched her breath for a few moments longer, secretly enjoying his cum starting to drip out of her cunt. Normally, he’d leave. He’d get up, put his clothes back together and leave. But Tav? Something told him he couldn’t. So he grabbed his tunic and wrapped her in it before carrying her to the water. 

He tried not to notice her nuzzling his neck. He tried to ignore the praises she said. He tried desperately to ignore the draw she had on him. He tried to ignore her moan as he set her in the shallow water, gently taking his tunic off her shoulders. Instead, he sat next to her and let the water wash away the previous activities. 

[tragedybunny]

Fun Astarion idea:

Tav finds a wish spell (does the Deck of Many Things behind Astarion's back and gets insanely lucky), and offers to use it to cure his Vampirism.

He would probably be annoyed at them for risking that, at least.

This one ended up short and sweet anon, but I didn't want to belabor it because I think it would be gilding the lily.

As requested, Tav draws from the Deck Many Things, Astarion is less than thrilled.

Gambles and Wishes - F!Reader x Astarion

“Astarion,” you pound on the door to your home’s library until you thought it would break. 

“I’m still not talking to you,” he shouts back, not even getting close to the door. 

It was locked from the inside and you consider an unlocking spell for a moment but stop. The lock was a boundary, and you hated to cross his boundaries, he didn’t get to have any for so long. Instead you opt to groan in frustration. “Please, this isn’t the healthiest way to solve our problems.”

“Neither is lying, but that didn’t stop you,” he shoots back and you cringe because he’s technically right. 

“It wasn’t lying so much as not telling. And see, you’re talking to me so why don’t we stop shouting through the door.” To be honest, it was starting to make you nervous, he’d never been angry at you for this long before. Maybe your good intentions had taken things too far. “Please Love, Starry Sky,” your voice shakes. 

The noise of the lock opening causes your heart to leap, but you're not sure if it’s dread or elation, so you just stand there, arms crossed around yourself until the door opens. Astarion stares at you with watery red eyes, “is that really how you want this relationship to work?”

“No, you’re right, but the possible reward was too great to deny.” Why can’t he understand, you’d do anything for him?

“So was the risk, you pulled a card from the Deck of Many things. You know magic, you know what could’ve happened.” He’s not shouting anymore, it’s so much worse. He’s barely whispering the words, and the tears are finally starting to spill over. “And you didn’t even consult me, we’re supposed to be equals in this.” 

So much for those boundaries you didn’t want to cross, the realization started to eat you up inside. Protecting him wasn’t a good excuse anymore. “I’m so sorry. It’s just that I would risk anything for you and I knew you wouldn’t let me.” 

Even amidst all the pain, the two of you find yourselves holding onto each other. “Sunlight, that’s because you always take risks for me. You need to worry more about yourself sometimes.” He sniffles into your shoulder, and you hope his tears are drying as you stroke his hair. 

“I know, last one I promise. But I got what I wanted, one Wish spell, we can have the life we thought was impossible.” The life you wanted so badly to give him, the life he deserved. 

Stepping back from you, he appraises you seriously. “Are you sure this is what you would use it on? You could have an Empire, become a Goddess. Not that you aren’t already, especially when it comes too- ” he smiles lasciviously. 

“Astarion,” playfully you smack his shoulder, “behave yourself. And yes this is the only thing I could think of using it on. I couldn’t wish for anything more than you.”  

“You’re still a silly girl who’s too nice to me.” New tears appear in his eyes you notice, but for an entirely different reason. “Well then I accept, on one condition of course.”

“And what is that?” 

“You promise you’re stuck with me as long as we both live. I’m not used to being alive of course, I’m going to need someone to keep an eye on me for a long time. And let’s be honest, you’re the most qualified. I don’t think any of our friends would really be able to handle it.” 

He’s rambling but you know it’s because he’s nervous, so you lean over and kiss him softly. “Deal. Now let’s make you an un-undead Love.” 

[grims-sunshine]

🤍 Where I'm supposed to be 🤍

Summary: Tav (aka the reader) is taking care of Astarion after defeating Cazador.

Word count: 1.5k

Pairing: Astarion x Tav/Reader

Tags: Hurt / comfort; I think this is called reverse comfort? (When the reader comforts the character); lots of mentions of blood; Not 100% canon compliant but it's just minor details/ me not wanting to simply retell what happens in the game

A heavy silence falls over the crypt as Astarion sinks to his knees. You almost preferred it when he was still screaming. The current silence feels like a dark presence stretching over you, making it difficult to breathe.

You can sense that your other companions are just as uneasy as you are. Karlach uneasily fumbles with the handle of her weapon and Gale is biting his lip while staring at the gory scene in front of you with Astarion as its main actor.

They're clearly struggling to decide what to do now. So are you.

Your first instinct is to hug Astarion, to fuss over him and make sure he isn't injured, but you're not sure he wants to be touched right now. However, just standing there watching him doesn't feel right either.

"Astarion?" You finally ask, taking a small step towards him, carefully stretching out your hand like you're talking to a wild animal. He doesn't react. His eyes are fixated on the dead body of his former master in front of him, almost like he's waiting for Cazador to jump up and start mocking him again. Like the moment he looks away, Cazador will return back to life and continue to attack.

You follow his stare, seeing the multiple stab wounds and the puddle of blood he's lying in. No, that bastard is dead.

You kneel down next to Astarion, placing a hand on his shoulder. If he noticed you at all, he isn't showing it. You look at him, trying to make out any immediate signs of injuries. He doesn't appear to be hurt, but you do notice the slight tremble of his bottom lip and the way his eyes swell up with tears. You gently pull him towards you, wrapping your arms around him. Astarion doesn't resist, letting his head sink into your chest.

He's completely still for a few moments, then the previous silence is broken by a series of loud sobs. Astarion's hands grasp the back of your shirt, fists balling together like he's scared you'll disappear. He trembles in your arms and you pull him even closer. You run a hand through Astarion's hair in an attempt to soothe him, even if just a little bit. It's sticky with blood, but you hardly notice that.

"It's okay, love. He won't hurt you anymore," you whisper in his ear, your other hand gently stroking his back. He only sobs louder in response, but it seems to help him breathe a little more evenly.

You're interrupted by the other spawn approaching. They still appear in just as much shock as Astarion, eyeing the corpse of their former master like they, too, can't believe he's really gone yet.

"Well… What now?" One of them eventually asks, all of them turning to Astarion like they expect guidance from him now.

You look over to your companions, hoping one of them might step in to redirect the spawn. But before any of them can say something, Astarion loosens his grip of you, getting up with his back straightened.

He's still sniffling a little, but already looks far more composed than before. Or, at least he tries to look composed.

Perhaps he even manages to convince everyone else that he's really okay. However, you can't help but notice the slight tremble in his legs as he walks over to pick up Cazador's staff, and the way he's fighting to keep his voice steady while talking to the others.

You've spent enough time around him, observing his mannerisms, to know when he's putting on a show. As much as he tries to appear alright, in truth he's far from being okay.

As Astarion's siblings leave, his eyes trail after them, staring off into the distance even after they're long gone. You put a hand on his shoulder, hoping to break him out of his trance. "Astarion, are you alr-" He cuts you off.

“Let’s just go home. I've had enough of this place," he says without turning around, just loud enough for you to hear.

You only nod in response and Astarion starts walking, the rest of your party following close behind.

Nobody says a word on your way back to Elfsong Tavern. Yet, you grow increasingly worried for Astarion. He looks like he's barely holding himself together, while pushing his emotions as far down as possible. You can only hope he'll open up to you later, rather than trying to pretend the events of tonight never happened.

The moment you reach Elfsong Tavern, Astarion drags himself upstairs to the floor you rented, straight to his bed where he sits down, staring at the wall. You contemplate whether it would be best to leave him alone with his thoughts for the time being, or whether you should try talking to him.

Eventually you decide to just sit down next to him, quietly reaching for his hand. "Just so you know," you start, "you don't have to talk right now if you don't want to. But I'm here for you."

Astarion nods in response, ever so slightly squeezing your hand.

You don't know how much time passes like this, but Astarion eventually breaks the silence, almost startling you with how suddenly he starts speaking.

“Do you think I made the right decision back there?” His voice doesn't have its usual smoothness to it as he speaks. Instead, it sounds sore and raspy. He just sounds tired.

“Yes.” You say it wholeheartedly, not even having to think before you respond. Astarion made the right decision - Of that you’re sure. “You’ve proven you’re better than Cazador. You didn't cause others to suffer for your own benefit. You made sure he'll never hurt anyone again. I’m absolutely certain you made the right decision.”

Astarion hums, nodding slowly as if he's contemplating your words. “At least one of us is sure, then. I really hope you’re correct.” He sighs and runs a hand over his face. "I'm not so certain I did the right thing. But maybe I should trust your judgment while I can't think straight."

You squeeze his hand tightly, and he gives a weak squeeze back. “Give it a while for everything to settle down,” you suggest, gently. “Once you’ve had some time to work through all this, I’m sure you’ll see things have worked out for the better.” He just grunts in response, letting his head sink against your shoulder. You sit like that in silence for a while, and you can tell he’s on the brink of falling asleep.

“Hey, how about we get all this blood off you and go to sleep?” You suggest, running a hand through his hair. Astarion just nods, allowing you to pull him along and lead him towards the small bathtub in the bathroom.

You run some warm water and grab a sponge while Astarion sits in the tub. Under normal circumstances he probably wouldn't let you take care of him like this, but tonight he doesn’t protest as you run the sponge over his skin, making sure to wash off the blood still sticking to his skin. He even closes his eyes for a while, completely giving himself into the care of your gentle touch as you run the water over his head in an attempt to get the blood splatters out of his hair.

Once you're sure you've gotten rid of all the blood, you bring Astarion a towel, wrapping it around him.

He sits there and watches as you grab a second towel, using it to dry his hair.

As you're about to put the towel away, you suddenly find Astarion's arms finding their way around your waist, pulling you close enough for him to rest his head against your torso.

You freeze in place, only moving enough to drop the towel and run your hand through Astarion's still damp hair. Just by his expression you can tell he needs to be close to you right now, and you have no intention of denying him that comfort.

After a while of being together like this in silence, you gently nudge Astarion. "Let's get you to bed, alright? It'll be much more comfortable there."

Astarion seems reluctant to let go of you, finally agrees to it after you promise not to leave his side for the night (not that you would've done so either way).

As he climbs into bed, you lie down next to him, pulling him into your arms. Astarion seems happy to rest his head on your chest. He seems almost peaceful like this, listening to your heartbeat while you run a hand across his back with gentle strokes.

"Thank you. For taking care of me… And for stopping me from probably making a big mistake. It's good to have someone looking out for me for once," Astarion mumbles, sounding like he's on the edge of falling asleep.

You run a hand through his still damp hair. "Don't mention it. You would've done the same for me." You press a kiss to his forehead, catching a glimpse of the slightest smile curling Astarion's lips. "And I hope you know you can always rely on me."

Astarion nods, hugging you a little tighter. "Yes. And I'm grateful for that, too."

Soon after, the only thing you hear is Astarion's soft breaths as he drifts off to sleep. You can only hope the next day will be a little brighter for him. But if not, he still has you to rely on.

Thank you for reading 🤍

Title was inspired by this

[leighsartworks216]

Hello!! I love your writing a lot and Im sorry if you've written something similar before but I just think a quieter Tav who would gently tug on Astarion's sleeve or shirt everytime they need help with a lock or a trap would be super cute. It would be super light and gentle tugs or taps to his shoulder, nothing forceful or hurtful. In exchange for his help they would let him have first pick of whatever is inside. Tav thinks he agreed to help because he gets a cut of the rewards, and that is true, but mostly because he's more fond of Tav than they know and he likes the way they smile and look at him when he helps - worth far more than the treasure inside any chest or room.

Thank you for sharing your writing! ❤️❤️❤️

This one feels super short to me but I still think it's pretty cute

Warnings: none

Word Count: 572

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Astarion couldn’t quite recall when it started. He remembers that you were cagey around him - around everyone, for that matter. Always so quiet, never speaking unless you absolutely had to. He’d tag along with you while you explored, and when you needed his lockpicking expertise, you’d call for him. Even if it was barely a whisper, his sensitive ears picked up on it and he came sauntering to your aid.

It evolved, rather quickly, he thinks. You stopped calling for him in favor of tapping against metal or knocking on wood, calling his attention to your location. It was especially effective over long distances, if you’d ended up wandering off.

And then it evolved further. This time it was mostly on his part. He decided once to stay nearby, search the rooms with you, looking for anything you may have looked over. But when you needed his help, you didn’t knock, you tapped on his shoulder. Admittedly, it startled him at first. Your footsteps were so quiet he didn’t hear you coming up behind him. Somehow, despite the efficiency of knocking, this was how you continued to get his attention.

You tugged on his sleeve, tapped on his arm - always gentle. That, too, formed its own little code. You tugged when there was a trap ahead, telling him without words to be careful. You would tap when you found a locked door or chest, or even just to get his opinion on something.

It was… endearing. The rest of the group would wander on ahead, exploring for themselves, and he stayed by your side the whole time. He wrote it off, of course, claiming he didn’t want you to strain your voice for his sake, but it became much more than that. And even though you always compensated him for his trouble (First dibs on treasure had earned him a few lucky finds, things that the others sure would have liked for themselves.), he found a greater treasure in your smile. In the way your eyes lit up at a particularly interesting discovery.

-

You tapped on his arm excitedly before you ran to a door. It was old and rusty, but not rusted enough to break through the lock keeping it in place. You tugged on the door handle and turned to him with such glee. He could hear your heart racing with anticipation.

“And what do you hope to find in there, darling?” he teased as he pulled out his lockpicks and got to work. He could see you shrug from the corner of your eyes. “Well, if all that’s in here is a skeleton, I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on claiming my reward.”

You nudged his shoulder playfully. He had a hard time keeping a smile off his face. With a few clicks and a very stubborn turn, the door unlocked. He stepped back before you could barrel him over.

The room was dark, with small reflections of light off metal catching your attention. It was probably gold or weapons or something worth the effort. But he couldn’t tear his eyes from you. Your child-like enthusiasm as you rushed inside to grab anything good, bright-eyed and smiling. If he could see his face, he’d see just how fond he looked at them - the gentle smile that came unbidden to his lips; the softness of his eyes, full of adoration and affection.

Yes, he thought, this was the best reward.

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnlovesloki @aurasyn @furblrwurblr

[sae1549]

More very random head cannons. -SFW—NSWF-

Characters mentioned: Astarion, Gale, shadowheart, laezel, Wyll, Karlach, Minthara and Halsin +1

Content warning: hair pulling, oral f/recieving & m/recieving, knife play, size kink, predator/ pray kink.

Word count: 3.2k

Astarion

-SFW-

- He has a very gravelly voice in the morning that lasts around 25 minutes.

- He absolutely loves cats. And later you end up moving to the underdark, you both adopt a cat that is able to travel alone to get the things that they need. He sees it as your baby and treats it as such.

- He is the person you go to if you want any gossip. When you both get to the underdark I could see him becoming a bartender or something like that. Where he can swindle people of their money while having fun doing it.

- He can cook. Contrary to him not eating normal food anymore he was once human. But he will look over cookbooks for a while if you tell him that you would like to try his cooking.

- He dislikes flowers, of course he thinks that they are beautiful but they do not live long. He gets sad because he links that thought to losing you. So he tries to keep those thoughts away from him.

- He absolutely loves shoes, he can rant and rave about them, when everyone was in camp he would like to go up to gale the most. He really liked his shoes, even going as far as stealing them. Only to have a grumpy gale walking through camp with his arms crossed pushing Astarion over and taking his shoes back.

- Astarion has to clean himself in his bat form as well as his normal form. So he takes extra long in the shower. But he gets so fluffy!

- He starts seeing a therapist after everything is settled in the underdark.

- He loves to give forehead kisses.

- Astarion loves to be called beautiful!! Call him beautiful often!!!!!

- When you ask him what his natural eye color is he thinks about it for a while getting back to you telling you that they were a steel blue.

- He does not have many things, but he wants to some day. So without him noticing you slowly start to give him little things here and there. Like an extra bedroll that you had, a blanket. Some new pillows, candles, anything that you can find that you think he would like to make him more comfortable.

- He loves horror movie nights!!!!!!!!!

-NSFW-

Ascension ver.

- When he is ascended he does not care as much if you get off first.

- He would be a lot more rough, biting much more feverishly and more often.

- He would give you head, but he would not do it for long.

- He knows exactly how good you are feeling, but will make you tell him.

- He is the dominant one.

- He will take up multiple partners as he expects you to do the same. He would go out of his way to ask if you would want to add another partner into your nightly activities.

- His sex drive would increase greatly.

- He sets a brutal pace.

- He likes to tease.

- He would not fall asleep after doing it, but he would ask you about what you liked and how he did.

- He lets you rest your head on his lap to fall asleep after.

Gale

-SFW-

- Man can sing. But mostly does it when he is bathing or concentrating. Quite interesting to hear for the first time when you are in battle together. Singing in a tired gravely voice before shooting off another spell.

- He tried to convince Tara to let him dress her up in a cute little outfit one time. He left around 30 minutes later covered in scratches. That is to say he does not make those comments anymore.

- He likes painting from memory, yes he can control the weave but he would like to have some sort of proof if there was ever a day when he could no longer handle the weave any longer.

- When coming back from a particularly hard day, if you massage his shoulders a bit he will melt into a puddle and fall asleep.

- His favorite juice is apple juice.

- Always likes books more than movies. Does not matter if it is actually a good movie.

- He keeps photos of you on hand so he can show his students. And they know so much about you and he wants to ask if you would visit his class to shed some light on recent events. Totally not an excuse for him to see you more.

- He likes his food hot, even his salads. All food needs to be hot.

- Loves silver jewelry, his wedding ring is silver with purple stones embedded into the ring. You have the matching version obviously but it is a wide band with white and purple stones honored on the ring.

-NSFW-

- He is into pulling hair, if things are getting a bit more rough. You are sitting on his lap. Getting into a very heated makeout session, in a heated kiss his hand snakes up onto the back of your head, seating itself into your hair. The other hand softly rocking you back and forth. He breaks away from the kiss. “You are quite breathtaking my love.” He says through slightly labored breaths, he grips and gently pulls on the hair at the back of your head. Swiftly latching his lips onto your neck.

- He does like when there is a bit of lightheartedness while making love, but it is serious so he will always go back to being more serious.

- He likes to lay in the sun after finishing, watching as you also bask in the light, he thinks it makes you look ethereal.

- He would go at a moderate pace, and would not have very good rhythm when he first starts.

- He thinks it is a bit romantic to have music playing while enjoying eachothers company. So there will be soft piano playing in the background.

- He definitely uses magic, mage hand would come in handy, being able to bind your hands for a little rougher session.

- He does not own any toys, but would be okay with owning some if it helped you get off better. He would end up enjoying it immensely.

- Public sex is something that he could be talked into. As long as it is somewhere where less people are. But there is still the thrill of possibly being caught.

- He masterbates from time to time, it is not often. But if you are not around and he is fully alone then he would enjoy himself.

- His stamina is not very high, but he can fully please you and a little more if he is asked.

Lae’zel

-SFW-

- She would keep a collection of rusted or busted knives to fix while at camp. It helps her calm down plus it gives her something to look forward to.

- She would eat dinner at either 5 pm or 10 pm no in between.

- Talks to herself all the time. Saying she is the best therapist she knows.

- Her favorite color is Silver.

- She likes to read before she goes to bed.

- She also likes to sit on a high point at the camp to look at the stars.

- She would be an astrology girl. And would believe it completely.

-NSFW-

- She is the top.

- She is a biter, lightly gliding her teeth across your skin. She loves to feel you shiver from the touch she is giving you.

- She is not loud, and does not want you to be loud either.

- She would be 100% serious in bed. No laughing, no jokes.

- She has a moderate sex drive.

- She is a C cup.

- She would not fall asleep directly after having sex. She would wait until you fell asleep before she would sleep.

- She would have a small collection of toys that she would bring into your sex life.

- She has a lot of stamina, she would want to go more than one round if you are up for it.

Wyll

-SFW-

- He liked bugs when he was a kid.

- He really likes spicy food, and will go out with Karlach to find it.

- Has a very big sweet tooth, and loves to share it with everyone in camp. He has a whole pocket in his pack dedicated to sweets. Giving them away to children you may meet. It makes him feel extra happy if there is a group that he can give it to. But he has a special place for candy that you specifically like, which he gives to you when you feel down.

- He loves Halsin, and goes to him for advice about his father.

-NSFW-

- He loves sensual romantic sex.

- He could get off to kissing. You don’t even have to fully have sex to get him all riled up.

- Man is cheesy, he will set this up when you are living together. Setting out roses leading from the front door to your bedroom. When you walk into the bedroom it is enveloped in a warm soft glow of candlelight dancing over the horned man laying across your bed that is also covered in flower petals in the shape of a heart. “Welcome home my sweet.” He would say in a sultry voice, getting off the bed to meet you. Taking a rose off the table and handing it to you.

- He would be really good at praising you.

- “Tell me how good I make you feel.”

- He is not very experienced, but that is okay, he is very willing to learn.

- He likes things to be more serious in the bedroom, but a soft giggle or smile would not go missed.

- He would have a slow pace, he would want to take his time and enjoy every moment.

Shadowheart

-SFW-

- She loves yoga. And will do it every chance that she has downtime to do it. But it is mostly just her stretching.

- She would be a Hello kitty girl, and would own so many of the stuffed animals.

- She hates classical and post- disco music. But would love R&B and jazz music. Shadow heart in the garden with soft music playing in the background. She hums along while you are on the opposite side of the garden. This was an activity that you both loved to do. She would be dressed comfortably in a shin length skirt that was covered in loose soil. She turned the music on a little louder, swaying from side to side as you both worked together, sharing in kisses here and there. It was quite an eventful afternoon.

- she hates orange juice. Like genuinely hates it and will get upset if you give it to her.

- Likes a good cup of tea. With very little sugar. But if she were to have coffee she would want a lot of sugar but no cream.

- She wants a flower garden.

- She would end up being a plant girlie.

-NSFW-

-She is somewhat experienced. Having done it with a handful of people at most.

- She would get her nipples pierced. I think it would make her even more confident than she already is.

- She is very confident in bed, she is fully okay with taking charge or letting you take control.

- She would try almost anything once. Outside of things that would hurt her too bad.

- When you are in the comforts of your own home she is really into bondage. Being bound really excites her.

- She is serious while doing it, you can laugh during it. But she does want it to be a more serious moment shared between the two of you.

- She would prefer a faster pace, it would drive her wild.

-She is a B cup.

Karlach

-SFW-

- She gets very protective of scratch, he lays near her when going to sleep for a very long time.

- She loves going swimming since it cools her down. But will refuse anyone to go with her since the water around her would get way too hot. And possibly boil anyone going in there with her. But that is in fact how she has gotten you dinner before. When everyone was literally starving and going off wine and grape soup for the 4th day in a row. Karlach brings back fish. And sets them on the table. She announced that we will be having something different for dinner than the normal everyone was so excited that they forgot to ask. Later on that night she told everyone. And was met with a still silence. Before someone cleared their throat and everyone went right back to conversation.

- She would drink a lot of water to try and cool herself down.

- Her favorite color is Blue.

- She likes doing yoga to stay limber.

- She smells like Vanilla and Amber.

-NSFW-

- She is the top, no questions asked.

- She would have nipple piercings if she could. But her heat would have them melting to her skin. So she just settles for real and natural.

- She is not very experienced. Since she was always fighting for others she never got to find much pleasures of the flesh. But don’t worry she is a quick learner.

- She would definitely be goofy in bed, joking here and there. But does know when to be more serious.

- She would enjoy slow and steady pace, she would also enjoy taking her time. But also loves a brutal pace from time to time.

- She is a D cup

Minthara

-SFW-

- She would jump out and scare children if she could.

- I feel like she eats the crust first on pizza.

- Despises ranch.

- She ends up wearing glasses later in life.

- She would only eat while standing.

- She likes red wine, and will always ask if you would like to join her in a drink.

- She becomes softer and a bit nicer when you start to get close to her.

- She could fall asleep standing up. She is also a really light sleeper.

-NSFW-

- Scary in a hot way.

- She would be into knife play. Holding a knife to yours not the other way around.

- Top.

Her favorite part of her partner's body would be the neck. Thinking that it could be the quickest way to kill you in case you threaten her. But also that it is so sensitive and gives wonderful responses when kissed.

- Gives absolutely amazing head.

- She likes the predator prey dynamic, finding it quite thrilling to chase before taking what is hers.

- loves to see you in skirts (if you wear them) Or really tight fitting pants. And will tell you all about it in confidence later.

- She is quiet, she does not moan too much.

- She is very experienced, she has enjoyed many pleasures of the flesh. And is ready and willing to show you everything she has learned.

- She is very serious during the deed, there would be no laughing.

- Brutal pace or nothing. She wants to go hard and fast bringing herself and you to a high quickly before doing it again.

- She is a D cup.

Halsin

-SFW-

- He walks around barefoot. You question how his feet are still intact from all the rough places that you have traveled together.

- He literally sleeps on the ground for more than half of the time he is in your camp. I think he just didn’t know how to bring up that he didn’t have a bed roll and just waited till he could buy one. He will never tell you that though.

- He cannot handle spicy food in the slightest.

Likes plum juice, and would drink it all the time if he could.

- He has joint pain, so he sits on the ground to relieve a bit of the pain and stress off them. He will often ask if you would like to join him for a walk. When you say yes you both walk together for a few minutes before he sits on a rock in the woods. You sit down next to him and continue your conversation. For a long while. You knew why you had stopped, This had become a favorite spot to stop for him while you are in this area. Before he got up and continued walking. He would give you a soft warm smile as you walked holding hands.

- He will carve you small gifts and sneak them into your pack as long as you have the room.

- he would partake in the grass. But would be away from anyone else so they are not bothered by him.

- He likes fruit and vegetables over meat.

-NSFW-

- He is quite fluid, anything you want to do or try he would be down to do it.

- He loves when you kiss his neck, the tenderness will make him melt.

- His ideal place to do it is in a field of flowers, or a forest area where there is a soft patch of moss.

- He likes to bite, gently of course. But he gives soft nips and bites any part of their body. Loves leaving hickeys.

- We all know this man is experienced, he is ready and willing to give you all of that experience.

- He can be goofy during, he likes when things are lighthearted but sensual.

- Animalistic pace, or soft and sensual no inbetween.

- High sex drive.

- He only masterbates when he has not gotten action in a long time. But would find a very secluded area to do so.

- It takes him a long time before he falls asleep after. But when he does he sleeps like a rock.

- he thinks you being smaller than him is very hot. Definitely has a size kink.

A little extra…

Rolan

-SFW-

- He thinks it is funny when people try to cast magic and it fails.

- He ends up taking on an apprentice.

- When he has down time he would read all the books that were in the tower.

- When he would go back to his tower after the events of the game he would be sad seeing many of the books, but went in to look for survivors that may have been inside.

- He was a spoiled child, but he grew out of the spoiled attitude.

- He is only sweet in private.

- He would not be into PDA. But does kiss you when no one is looking.

- He wants to be able to teach people magic. But, would treat them all wonderfully. He would be a great teacher.

- He would smell like cedar and old books.

- When he blushes the blush spreads over his face and up to his ears.

-NSFW-

- His favorite part of his partner's body would be their hands.

- He thinks that it is so hot to cum on your face and chest. The thought alone would make him cream his pants.

- He is not experienced. He has not been able to experiment while on his travels.

- He is loud, his moans can be heard from a fair distance away.

- He loves to degrade.

- Power bottom on a good day. Bottom.

- He can get really shy when asking for alone time.

- He loves when you take charge and tell him what to do.

- He has moderate stamina. But will only want to go for one round.

- He will fall asleep soon after finishing the deed.

————————————————————————

I'm sorry for any of them being shorter than others. I have not been able to do all of their story lines yet. I am slowly working towards finishing them all. So if any of my head cannons are very off from the characters I am very sorry! Thank you!!

[bananastarion]

Rambling headcanons about how Astarion's trauma could manifest in your relationship.

Disclaimer: I am not fetishizing trauma or PTSD here. I have C-PTSD myself, and have dated others with it as well. So some of this is (loosely) inspired by my own experiences. It's not pretty, it's not fun, but I'd say it's pretty realistic. So yeah, fair warning! Anyway, let's gooooo

Astarion isn't fazed by much, but he IS claustrophobic- having to claw your way out of your own coffin, being trapped in a mindflayer pod and being trapped in a tomb for a year straight would do that to anyone. If he is ever unfortunate enough to be stuck in a small space again, he'll go into a blind panic. He'll hyperventilate and try to force his way out any way he can, and if he can't get out in time he'll just completely mentally shut down for a bit. If you plan to pull him into a little broom closet for a sneaky fuck, just forget it ok? You will probably get your eyes accidentally clawed out.

There is a long period in your relationship where Astarion is gradually getting more comfortable with being vulnerable around you, but he's also very self-conscious about it. He doesn't want you to pity him or think he's weak. You will be tempted to give him lots of validation and praise to make up for all of the psychological abuse he endured, to reassure him that he's finally safe and free, and that you love him for more than just his body. That his problems won't ever drive you away, and that you don't judge him. He appreciates your words deeply, he wants and needs them more than he cares to admit. But at the same time, they completely overwhelm him. Finally being in a good place with a caring partner is such a stark contrast to what he's been through, that it forces him to see even deeper into the void inside him and recognize just how badly he was treated, how deprived he's been. They hit him hard in both good and bad ways, and sometimes he'll tell you to stop because he just can't handle feeling so much right now. It's best to stick to mostly surface level stuff and ease carefully into the deeper, more meaningful observations.

The sweeter your words, the more his mind races with fears that you are idealizing him and eventually you'll come to see him for what he really is- and then abandon him. Fears that he'll come to depend on your kindness only for it to be ripped away, whether by you or by circumstances beyond his control. Fears that you don't really mean it, that you're just manipulating him the way he did to others. Deep down he hopes and trusts you're sincere, but it's just so hard to accept when Cazador's voice is in his head, countering all of it. This is all so new to him, so unknown. And the unknown is terrifying. He gets frustrated that your kindness does this to him, he wants to be able to embrace your words, he's so impatient to heal and finally be over this shit already. He judges himself so harshly for still struggling with all this. Cazador's dead, he is free, he has someone who truly loves him- why isn't that enough?! Why can't he fully appreciate it, is he just going to feel broken forever? He worries he'll take too long to get over his past, and you'll get tired of it and leave. Expect to give him lots of reassurance about all of this.

He doesn't like to cry around you, but over time you will lower his guard enough that he'll stop fighting back the tears quite so much. Sometimes it's a bad dream, sometimes you say something that just hits him hard (even if it's in a good way), and sometimes he has no idea what triggered it. You tell him he can wake you up any time if he needs you, but often he chooses not to wake you and just suffers through it alone. When it happens while you're both awake, at first he would roll over and face away from you when the tears started flowing if he couldn't collect himself, and you'd just hug him from behind. But eventually he feels comfortable enough to bury his face in your chest and just let it all out. When it's really bad, he'll be trembling and hugging you so tightly as he sobs into your shirt that it's almost hard for you to breathe. The best thing you can do is just be there with him, stroke his hair, caress the tears off his cheeks. It can be dicey, but eventually you learn to read him well enough that sometimes stroking the scars on his back very gently can be healing for him. There are other times though, when this will be too much for him. Same goes for kissing. Also, don't even think about telling anyone you've seen him like this. But of course, why would you?

Don't go into therapist mode with him when he's that vulnerable, and if he decides to talk, just let him talk. Hold space for him and be there with him. Afterwards, help ground him in the present and reconnect him to his senses by pointing out things in the room, remind him that it's not all happening to him right now. Realize how special it is that he feels safe enough with you to be so vulnerable. There are times when he even breaks down during sex, and he'll say that he's fine and you can keep going, but it's for the best to stop what you're doing and check in instead. He often dissociates when he's triggered, and doesn't realize something is wrong until it's too late.

Trauma isn't always pretty, and there are times when it does strain your relationship. When he's really triggered, he might take it out on you. He'll try his best to push you away, and say terrible things he doesn't mean. Perhaps things Cazador said to him. His articulate manner of speech can be sharper than his blade when wielded against you in the heat of the moment. He doesn't believe you can love this side of him, that he is fundamentally broken and unlovable, so it's a test of sorts to prove his own fears. He doesn't necessarily realize what he's doing, he's just lashing out from a point of pure fear. Trauma is an explanation for this behavior, but not an excuse, so it's important you set very firm and consistent boundaries when he gets like this. He might not appreciate it in the moment, but he will once he calms down.

It takes some time for him to feel truly secure with you, but he's getting there. In the meantime, he's starting to get a little clingy and codependent. He's not used to having so much freedom, and doesn't always know what to do with himself when you're not around. Being in your presence is when he's closest to feeling safe and at ease, and being apart for too long can cause his mind to race, especially when he has nothing to distract himself with. It drives him crazy that it gets to him so much- he's never been dependent on anyone before, and this side of him surprises himself. He hates it, which only stresses him out more. He tries to play it off, but it's very obvious he is struggling with separation anxiety. You don't want to overindulge him, but to ease his fears you decide to get a pair of magical rings. You can make each other's rings glow whenever you want- so if Astarion is feeling lonely, he can make your ring glow and you can make his glow back. Sometimes, just that is enough to get him through a rough day without you. Once he has done some more healing, eventually he will come to enjoy his alone time in a way he's never gotten to before in his life, and as much as you enjoy spending time with him, you'll be so happy for him to finally have that.

[spider-visions]

✧ ೃ༄ੈ✩ the sun and the stars | astarion + tav/reader

"You've had a deep instinct to impress Astarion since the moment you met him. You're very aware of this instinct, and you can easily recall multiple situations in which you tried to handle things in ways that you thought might make the vampire proud of you, as embarrassing as that is. You never let it change your moral stances, but the more you think about it, the more apparent it becomes to you just how dangerous the hold he has on you is. You barely know him, and he could bend and break you with just his word if he wanted to.

You weigh these options in your head, but deep in your chest, you knew your answer the second he said anything to you."

Alternatively: you are a relatively experienced adventurer, but a very inexperienced romantic partner. Astarion digs it.

! this is part one to a two part fic! part two will be out sometime around september 17th, 2023. this fic was also cross-posted. you can find the links to the other postings at the bottom of this!

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You have been drinking for what feels like hours. You can feel your head spinning as you dance your way around camp, stopping every once in a while to speak to one of the very thankful tieflings littered about. This is fun, you think, probably the most fun you've had in years. Definitely the most fun you've had in the past couple of weeks.

You wander aimlessly around, clumsily, drink in hand, when your gaze falls on Astarion. He's standing in front of his tent, face full of annoyance, as he sips from the glass in his hand. A young tiefling approaches him and says something, and you see a very fake smile flash across his face. He rolls his eyes as she walks away. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you begin your journey towards him.

"Why are you moping over here all by yourself, are you not enjoying the party?" You ask, words slightly slurring together, stumbling a bit as you approach the deep burgundy tent.

A small smirk spreads on the sharp face of the pale elf, one that feels much more real than what he gave the tiefling woman moments ago, "woah, there, darling," he begins, sitting down his glass and gently steadying you by your shoulders.

"Perhaps you've had too much to drink tonight."

You roll your eyes, holding eye contact and taking another sip from your own cup in a teasing sort of defiance.

"It’s a party, Astarion, you're supposed to be having fun!"

He chuckles, a deep velvet song that travels effortlessly into your brain and settles itself in all the right places. You feel goosebumps begin to raise on your arms at the realization that his skin is touching yours.

"I'm not quite the type to be celebrated for heroism, my sweet," he starts, "I kind of hate this, actually."

Much to your dismay, he pulls his hands away, crossing his arms on his chest. Your skin feels electric where his hands just were, and you feel the need to yank them up and put them back.

You don't do that, though, and instead your brows furrow deeper as the statement registers.

"Really? I thought you'd be all for being celebrated, no matter the occasion." There's a hint of teasing in your voice, but it's a genuine statement. This scene seems like something Astarion would absolutely bask in.

He shrugs, a usually anxious gesture somehow made so confident by the tall man, "I don't know, perhaps I'm just hoping for some real fun to find me tonight."

You snort, a sound that escapes your body involuntarily and causes you, even in your drunken state, to internally cringe at the idea of what that must've looked like to him.

"And what does that mean? This is about as fun as it gets!" You proclaim, confident, though that doesn't last long as the look of humor that plasters itself across Astarion's face quickly makes you feel as though you're missing something. Your face falls.

"What?" You ask, eyes wide, "what's so funny?"

"Oh, you innocent thing," you can feel your cheeks and the tips of your pointed ears begin to heat, no doubt burning a bright red against your skin. Astarion leans in close to you, his cheek brushing against yours lightly. His hand finds its way to the dip of your waist, resting there so lightly you almost don't feel it through the fabric of your large shirt.

"I'm talking about sex, my dear." His voice is soft and warm against your ear, and you can feel his breath cascade down your neck in a way that sends shivers along your spine. You nearly drop your glass, trying to compose your face so the pure horror you feel isn't evident.

You can't help yourself, though.

"With me?" you ask, timidly, eyes desperately trying to focus on anything but him to relieve the immense anxiety building in your chest.

"Would you like that?" Your breath hitches in your throat at the question, and your glass hits the ground. It feels as though the world is spinning, and you instinctively reach up and grab at the fabric of Astarion's ruffled white shirt with both hands, gripping like it's the only thing keeping you grounded on Faerûn.

You take a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut as the vague scent of bergamot and rosemary fills your senses. He presses the pads of his fingers slightly into your hip, and you feel a deep heat begin to build between your thighs.

"I.." the words you're looking for escape you and you can't seem to form a single coherent thought. Astarion has always been unattainable. You're not the kind of person who attracts people like him. He's confident, beautiful, and he's never shown an ounce of interest in you before — in fact, you've always thought he felt very negatively about you, given the way he's always opposing your actions.

He lets out another breathy laugh, pulling away slightly so he's face to face with you, forehead less than an inch from yours.

"Open your eyes," he says, a quiet demand. You don't know what compels you to listen, but you force yourself to obey, opening your eyes. Anxiously, you keep them trained on the dip of his collarbone — you can't bear to maintain eye contact with him with the intense feeling currently burning a hole in your chest.

"Look at me, darling," his hand comes up from your hip, gently guiding your chin upward between his index and thumb, until you’re eye to eye with him. The embarrassment grounds itself deep in your veins, and you're sure you must look like a tomato right now with how hard you're blushing. It takes every ounce of control you have to not turn and run away from this feeling.

"I am going to leave and walk into the woods," he begins, "into the clearing near the lake where we washed our clothing earlier, do you remember?" His voice isn't condescending or teasing — you swear you sense a sort of affection lingering on the ends of his words – it’s completely genuine.

You nod at the question, eyes wide with fear and desire. You say a prayer that he won't notice how blown out your pupils are.

"Good. I'm going to walk to that clearing, and if you would like to join me, I will be waiting." He finishes his sentence with a quick flash of a smile before turning around, grabbing his glass, and wandering off into the woods.

You stand in that spot, completely dumbfounded, for what feels like a very long time. Your brain is running at a million miles an hour trying to comprehend what could have possibly just happened. You feel almost sober after that experience, and part of you is convinced that there's no way that could've been real.

You have a choice to make, and you weigh the options in your brain.

If you decide to stay here at camp and continue about the party like nothing happened, how would that affect your relationship with Astarion going forward? He doesn't quite seem like the type to hold this against you — he did give you a choice, after all — but you don't really know him well enough to be sure. What if you deny him this and he disappears? While you're not super close with Astarion, you do like him quite a bit and it would probably affect you more than you'd like to admit if he left. Plus, he's a good asset for the team. It would be difficult to get through the upcoming challenges that you're sure you're going to face without him.

Now, if you gave in to the much more desirable option and followed him into the woods...

You pause, visualizing the outcome. He would find out that you're a virgin, that's for sure. There's no way you could possibly hide it from someone as experienced as Astarion. You're a terrible liar normally, but in this situation you're sure it would be damn near impossible to play it off like you even kind of knew what you were doing. Maybe he wouldn't care... But what if he does? What if you go out there and he finds out and he laughs in your face? You shudder at the thought.

You've had a deep instinct to impress Astarion since the moment you met him. You're very aware of this instinct, and you can easily recall multiple situations in which you tried to handle things in ways that you thought might make the vampire proud of you, as embarrassing as that is. You never let it change your moral stances, but the more you think about it, the more apparent it becomes to you just how dangerous the hold he has on you is. You barely know him, and he could bend and break you with just his word if he wanted to.

You weigh these options in your head, but deep in your chest, you knew your answer the second he said anything to you.

Legs shaking, hands numb, throat dry, you shakily turn and look towards the forest behind your camp. You take a deep breath in, holding it in your lungs for a moment before exhaling and straightening out your posture, a determined look creeping its way onto your face.

Nervously, you begin to make your way towards the clearing.

You feel like a baby deer as you carry yourself through the woods, tripping and stumbling against every rogue branch and rock. There's a persistent heat that has made itself comfortable right in the core of your stomach, and the closer you get to the clearing, the more intense it grows. You can smell the salty breeze of the lake waft in your direction as you head towards it, and the cold breeze that follows after it has you shivering and rubbing your palms against your upper arms, trying to warm yourself.

You reach the lake, and it's an absolutely beautiful sight. The water sparkles and ripples against the reflection of the large full moon beating down against it, and it envelopes everything in a dark blue hue. Far against the expanse of water, on the very edge of the horizon, you can see a spot of land, adorned with bright orange lights that bounce off the lake and fill the area with warmth.

You feel like you're being watched, as you take in the sight before you, and you freeze where you're standing. Slowly, a hand reaches itself from behind you, wrapping around your waist and pressing it's palm flat against the bottom of your stomach. Cold lips brush against the outside lining of your ear, something sharp tugging at the skin for just a moment, before you hear him speak.

"There you are," he says, his tone full of approval as his other arm wraps itself around your waist to envelop you fully. Despite his cold touch, your face and sex burn white hot at the contact.

"I'm so glad you made the right decision," his right hand travels upward slowly, flat palm fully exploring the clothed expanse of your stomach before tracing lightly around the mound of your breast. He grabs it lightly, squeezing softly and rubbing in slow, small circles. You can't help but let your eyes fall shut, mouth hanging open at the electric touch.

"I have wanted you since the moment I first saw you, you know. All small and shy and pure," he chuckles, mouth ghosting against your skin as it travels down to your neck. He presses a kiss against your skin.

"You can barely hold a conversation without reverting in on yourself,” his voice is barely there, all breath as he kisses up and down your neck. Your fingertips buzz with anticipation and your mind races. 

"Yet, the moment we enter battle," the hand lying against your waist begins to slowly make its way down the plane of your stomach, melting over the curves as it approaches the heat building between your thighs.

"It's like your bloodlust overtakes you. You become someone entirely different," his finger traces ever so lightly against your clothed clit, forcing a small gasp to fall from your lips as your legs open instinctually, "chest heaving, covered in blood, eyes lidded in an ecstasy I've only ever seen in brothels... There's something nearly animalistic about it."

His finger presses slightly harder against your clit, and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter as he rubs it gently, small noises falling effortlessly from your mouth. The hand he has palming your breast begins to journey upward, slotting itself perfectly into position around your throat – his long, dexterous fingers gripping the skin tightly, causing your breath to strain.

You can't help the way your hips buck up into the touch, and your hands shoot forward to wrap around his forearm, urging his fingers in their gentle assault against you. You try desperately to hold his hand in place and grind yourself harder against it, but he's much stronger than you. Instead, he pulls his hand away completely, turning your body to face his as he pushes you back by your neck.

You stumble and trip over the branches and stones littering the ground, but he keeps you upright as he continues to lead you backward. Your eyes flutter open, staring up through heavy lashes to meet him, and you can physically feel yourself tighten at the sight. His eyes must be ten shades darker than they usually are, his pupils blown, nearly wiping the dark red color out completely. You can practically taste the lust dripping off of his sharp features, his face stern and his eye contact ruthless. You typically find it extremely difficult to hold eye contact with Astarion for long periods of time, but you just can’t pull yourself to look away from the gorgeous sight.

You feel your back hit the rough bark of a tree somewhere behind you, and you grunt at the feeling. It’s sharp, and it stings through your shirt, but there’s little time to focus on the pain as, almost immediately, Astarion presses his lips against yours. A wave of panic surges through you, and you feel the ball of anxiety in your chest burn hotter, growing and growing, as he swipes his tongue against your lips.

He wants in, and, fuck, you want to let him in, but you falter. Your hands work their way in between your bodies, and you push at his chest lightly, mouth sealed, eyes open. He pauses, pulling away, hand around your throat loosening.

He looks at you through lidded eyes, completely blown out, fangs peeking out from beneath his top lip. 

“Is something the matter?” He asks, his tone still holding a hint of the lust it did before. You swallow, the anxiety in your throat refusing to move as the heat of embarrassment begins to replace the burning desire that was building itself up in the core of your stomach.

“I…” You start to speak, but stop yourself again for the second time tonight. How do you even say this without sounding completely incompetent? You feel stupid for not having thought about this before you wandered out here after him. You feel like banging your head against the nearest hard surface for being so oblivious.

Of course he was going to kiss you. That’s what lovers do. It’s one of the first steps in any intimate encounter, sexual or not, and you – ditzy and airheaded as ever – couldn’t have even considered that this would happen before following him out here blindly and putting yourself into one of the most uncomfortable situations you’ve ever been in?

You can see he’s holding his breath, clearly expecting a rejection of his advances or some sort of big drop of information. As you open your mouth to speak, you can tell it’s not what he was expecting to hear.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before.” You force it out, and the sentence hangs heavy in the air. Your chest tightens as you push the words out, and you nervously pinch and pull at the fabric of his shirt, eyes avoiding his at all costs.

He’s silent for a moment, “really?” he asks, astonished. You nod.

“But… you’ve had sex?” 

You cringe again, bracing yourself for the worst as you slowly shake your head 'no'. Everything is still for a moment, and you manage to quickly flick your eyes up to get an image of the damage. Astarion’s mouth is open slightly in shock, his eyes scanning you for any trace of joking or deception. You can feel your face practically boiling under the heat of your blush, and you momentarily think that you’d probably enjoy the rare sight of the vampire rendered speechless if it weren’t for the unwavering insecurity you had swirling around this situation.

“Huh.” He breaks the silence, taking a step back, and your body slumps forward slightly, immediately missing the security of having something to lean on.

It’s nearly impossible for you to make out what’s going through his head. You watch his face carefully, doing your best to try and understand what he could possibly be thinking.

It’s silent for a long time. Your back is still pressed tight against the tree behind you, and the anxiety bubbling in your chest feels like it’s about to spew out any second. 

“Well,” Astarion’s voice cuts through the quiet, a smile spreading across his face. The smile isn’t genuine or even mocking like you’ve come to expect, instead it seems extremely forced, almost like he’s uncomfortable with the way this situation played out. You couldn’t blame him, you weren’t very comfortable with it either.

“My apologies, then,” he says, turning on his heels and beginning to walk back toward camp. Your mouth falls open in shock, your eyebrows furrowing together. You open your mouth to call for him, but nothing comes out, and he quickly disappears into the dense trees.

After a moment, you begin to slide your body down the tree, slumping to the ground, defeated, and you stay there for a long time. Distantly, you can hear the sound of the party starting to die down. You do your best not to cry, but you just can’t help it as the waves of embarrassment wash over you. You feel stupid, you feel self-conscious, you feel frustrated. The emotion just crashes down on you like a ton of rocks.

You don’t return to camp until you’re sure everyone is asleep.

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✦ archiveofourown

✦ wattpad

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I am currently looking for beta readers and editors for my fics! i cannot pay you for this job, but i can give u access to my super cool discord server - full of BG3 and DND nerds - where you will get the coveted "buzz's beta" role. please, shawty, i'm desperate!

if you are interested in doing this please shoot me a message, either here or over on discord (username: buzzbey#4141 [case sensitive!]).

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[zombieunicorngamerzu]

(Astarion x fem reader)

[Warnings - love confession, P-N-V, cream pie, lovemaking, marking, claiming, soft dom Astarion, sub reader ]

“How many times do I have to tell you Astarion, no!” You snapped for the upteenth time at Astarion’s desperate attempts to accept his advances, but not because you didn’t like him, it was actually the opposite… you loved him. That’s why you were trying so hard to keep him away, you were growing dangerous and unpredictable with the tadpole in your brain, it manipulated you into doing dangerous, evil things, and you were terrified of your impulses that you were getting weaker and weaker to control by the day. You were turning into a monster.

“Why not?!” He cried out with a usual fit, “Is it me? Because I really need to know if this is you just trying to play hard to get or if you genuinely hate me, it’s getting hard to tell, dear!” He waved his hands in the air in a defeated gesture, his expression softening slightly as he stepped closer, his tone softer, “Is it me?”

You looked at him with such a pained expression, you were so conflicted, so scared, you knew he wouldn’t give up unless you blatantly rejected him and even then he still might keep trying, but that wasn’t even it! You loved him… but you couldn’t risk hurting him, even if that meant loosing him In a way, and you knew if you told him what you actually thought he would never give up, but hearing him voice his insecurities of himself… thinking he’s the problem… when he’s not, nor could he ever, it broke your heart to see the look on his face as he awaited your answer. “No Astarion, it could never be you, there’s not a thing wrong with you that i dislike…”

“Oh don’t go and do the whole “it’s not you it’s me” phrase, don’t make ME feel guilty just because you don’t like the man I am, or what I am… just be honest if your disgusted by me, if you don’t trust me, if you fear me, but DO NOT LIE TO ME!” He cried out in a rare moment of vulnerability, he’s had this built up for as long as he could, but now he’s finally broke, “I’ve had enough of that in my life…” he spoke out so softly, his head drooping down as he frowned, trying not to tear up or let his voice crack. Gods… he loved you so much he would tear out his own heart right now if that’s what he needed to prove it. “Please Y/N… just give me a chance, I swear… i-i can change, I can be a better man, I-“ you had to cut him off.

“Astarion, enough!” You couldn’t bear to hear him speak like this, you didn’t want him to change, he was perfect. “I don’t want you to change a single thing about yourself…” Those words themselves seemed to shock him, his head leaning back just a little with a stunned, puppy dog-like look before he spoke, “Well then what is it?! Here I am bearing my heart and soul out to you and you just say, no? Without an explanation, I-I need more than that!” You were staring to tear up at this point, just dropping your head with a heartbreaking sigh that he caught, stepping closer as he took your hand, “Darling please… speak to me, whatever it is… just tell me and we’ll deal with it, together. I can handle whatever daddy issues or baggage you may have so just blurt it out!” He chuckled wearily, but he was concerned overall for you seeing how much you were struggling, he realized this was something more.

“I-I’m changing Astarion…” you spoke out with a shaky tone, your lip quivering as tears started to fall down your cheeks, “And I’m scared, I’m turning into something… dark, I can feel it growing every day, and I’m terrified I’m going to just- loose control, I-I feel like a monster, I don’t even think I’d realize if I was already one, but I can’t risk hurting you, killing you…” you spoke out your fears with such honesty, such vulnerability, you just decided to be honest, maybe you could console him and convince him to leave you after you voice your concerns. “Darling, you are far from a monster.” Astarion scoffed, chuckling as he leaned his head back, motioning his hand towards himself, “Y/N, if you are a monster… I-I must be… Lucifer reincarnated, the embodiment of evil! And even if you were a monster I would still love you, hell- if you start to get all growly and nippy, I-I’ll tie you up and feed you squirrels to sate your bloodthirsty hunger!” He blurted out making you burst out a few giggles through your tears, making him smile with pride at making you laugh.

He stepped closer again, inches from you as he rested his hands on your shoulders to rub soothingly, “Was this really all it was, just you scared to… hurt me?” He scoffed with a gentle tone, he was surprised and just dumbfounded. You just sighed and looked up into his eyes, such a beautiful brown, and the gentle expression on his face, the slight head tilt as he awaited your answer, it made your heart flutter at how gentle he was being. “Astarion, what if I-“ he put a finger to your lips, cutting you off, “No more what ifs. Do you love me?” He asked bluntly, staring into your soul with such a look of determination, he would not give up on you, no matter what. You lifted your eyes to meet his with a pained expression, quiet because you knew you did, you knew if you said yes, he wouldn’t never let you go, but if you said no, you know he would know you were lying, you both could see how much each other cared for one another, the amount of times you’ve come close to death just to have the other race to each others side with such fear in their eyes that the other would die before either of you got the chance to just confess your undying love.

“You know I do…” you nodded with your honest confession, making him smile with satisfaction, cupping your chin in his hand before he pulled you closer, “Then that is all I need to know, I get to choose how I live my life… not you, I get to make the decision to stay, to love you, I’ll deal with the consequences myself.” He spoke with such passion before tilting your face up, his face inches from yours with his eyes locked on yours, “Now may we stop this torturous foreplay and make love already?” He smiled so adorably, tilting his head, “May I kiss you and make you mine, love?” Those words made your heart beat alive you swore and all you could do in that moment was nod as the last few tears fell down your face, meeting him in a passionate love-felt kiss.

Astarion’s arms wrapping around you protectively to cradle your body closer as he deepened the kiss, his hand cupping the back of your head and only pulling back when you needed air only to pick you up with a smile, your legs wrapping around his waist as he spoke, “Now, my love, I’m going to take you back to my tent, no- OUR tent now and make bedbreaking love to you until the entire camp knows your… mine…” he growled out those last few words possessively before carrying you back to his tent, it was daybreak, making his skin have a golden glow, his silver hair looking lightened by the dying sun, you were relieved, scared, anxious, but surprisingly, you just knew it would all be okay.

As he laid you down on his bedroll, Astarion did his very best to be caring, gentle, kind, and most of all respectful as he carefully stripped you bare of your armor, kissing every inch of bare skin he revealed, starting with your neck, then your shoulder, then down your arm, the back of your neck, down your spine… until every article of your clothing was off so he could admire every inch of your body, his voice husky as his eyes grazed over you with adoration and affection, “My love, your… gorgeous, ethereal, breathtaking…” he moaned out huskily with a whine as he helped you to lay down, tilting his head as he gazed down at you, knelt between your thighs still fully dressed in his white tunic shirt and black leather pants that were now a little strained around the nether regions due to you did he start to strip for you, pulling his shirt over his head to reveal his pale skin and rippling abs, his chest rising and falling quicker with his excitement that was also shown between his thighs, straining through his pants he wanted to rip off for being in the way of him and you.

But he couldn’t wait, having to lean down in just his pants to kiss you tenderly, now that he had you, he just didn’t want to part from cherishing you even for the little time it took to undress himself, he just needed to feel your love, your touch, he waited long enough, “Help me, my love, please…” he whimpered out against your lips with a desperation, making you nod through breathy moans and breathes as you slid your hands down to unbutton his pants, shoving them down so he could kick them off, revealing his generous length, he was perfect, not too girthy or large, but just right, and so so pretty, his tip a angry pink and already dripping pre-cum for you, he was throbbing and impatient, but he was restraining himself. Astarion wanted this night to be perfect, not just lust. Love. He wanted to love you. To make slow and passionate love while worshipping your body to greater lengths then you’ve ever had, he swore in that moment to protect and cherish you for all off eternity, Gods be damned.

“I love you, Y/N, monster or not.” Astarion whispered out as he hovered over you, his arm holding him up as he guided his other down to his length to press his tip at your soaked entrance with a pleasured growl, gently pressing in until you gasped from the intrusion, making him still so you could adjust. He brought his hand up next to caress your cheek, leaning down for another deep kiss to distract you as he pushed in deeper slowly, making you arch with a whine against his lips at being filled, the stretch felt so good, and due to just how gentle he was being with you, it only made you wetter, you’ve never seen Astarion like this, so serious, so passionate and caring, so sincere… but as he started to slowly move, gentle thrusts accompanied with his deep breathy moans and various kisses littered across your collarbones before he dipped down more to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, making you gasp and arch, threading your fingers in his hair to tug which only made him groan with pleasure and nip at your nipple before thrusting a little harder in return, making you moan out loud.

The pleasure and passion only burned brighter as the time went on, Astarion focused on littering your skin with Marla of his claim as he pumped his cock inside you with a mission to claim you as his own, his eternal love… you both were matching each others moans, your thighs wrapped around his waist as he pounded into you, getting you closer and closer to your release which he could feel building with how your walls were pulsing around his cock, it made him gasp and moan, his hands pushing your knees up to your chest before he started to thrust more intensely, his focus on making you cum, getting his pleasure from your whines and cries as you sung such a pretty song for him. He could feel your slick coating his cock, watching his cock as is disappeared inside your tight wet heat repeatedly, it was enough for him to shutter and tense, moaning out loud, “L-Love, I’m close, please… ugh… cum with me, my love!” There was no way you could have held back with Astarion begging you with that breathless tone and stuttering thrusts, you felt his cock throb inside you which only made you shutter and moan with a nod as you placed your hand on his chest, gasping and arching as your eyes squeezed shut, crying out as your walls clamped down on his cock, covering his length with cum which only made him moan so passionate and loud with no shame, “Yes, darling, good girl! Cum for me, cum all over my cock, god! I love you!” He cried out, falling over you before wrapping his arms around your waist, thrusting sloppily before moaning into your ear as his orgasm hit him, his cock throbbing before his cum spurt deep inside you, filling you with his seed as he panted and groaned, his hands lazily stroking your lower back, his voice softer as he came down from his high, “Your mine…”

(Now I’m a lesbian… but this man makes me question myself…)

[world-of-shadows-and-music]

Just One Look

Here is a Soulmate!AU for Astarion where when you meet each other you see in color for the first time. He ended up winning the poll I posted with more than 50% of the vote! I do plan on posting a soulmate!AU for the other companions in the poll as well but I don’t have a timeframe for that. Not beta'ed, we die like men.

Summary: Astarion has spent over 200 years living in this grey colorless world, he didn’t think getting a tadpole shoved into his brain would lead to him meeting his alleged soulmate.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Tav / Astarion x GN!Reader

Warnings: Typical violence, Astarion being Astarion, no use of Y/N

Word count: 348

Over 200 years. That is how long Astarion has been living in this cold, grey, colorless world. When he was young, he had heard the stories, how the world would blossom into unimaginable colors. He had even been hopeful once about meeting this alleged soulmate but once he was captured and turned into a spawn of Cazador he could not even dare to dream of hope.

Now it also was not in his plans to be kidnapped by illithids and have a tadpole implanted inside his skull but the for the first time since he could recall, he was able to feel the warmth of the sun on his chilled skin. He would take that as a win. After the Nautiloid crashed into the ground his only goal was finding out if there were any other survivors and keep himself alive through all this.

It did not take long, hearing voices carried on the wind coming from the wreckage. As they got closer Astarion called out asking for their assistance. The fall of footsteps approaching almost made him grin until his eyes met the approaching survivor. Suddenly, the world seemed to melt away and the only thing he could hear was static filling his ears. Colors came slowly; their eyes first, second their skin glowing in the sun light, the colors of their stained and singed clothes. Soon they were a cutout of color against the world of grey. Then the color started to bleed into the world around them, turning the sky blue and the grass green. It was wonderful and terrifying and if Astarion was still a living, breathing being he swears his heart would have exploded out of his chest.

Astarion’s soulmate seemed to be just as shocked as he was, just staring at him with wide eyes and their mouth stuck open as if saying ‘o’. He couldn’t deny they were pleasing to look at, Astarion felt as if he could stare at them all day but he could not handle the silence that grew between them, so he broke it.

“Well… Hello, Pet.”

[faerunnn]

Pain.

Before we get started, i have not written ANYTHING in over 10 years, so please, bear with me. I felt the need for some Astarion angst. You getting hurt, him confessing deep and true feelings. You get the drill. Please let me know your thoughts and feedback!! It is greatly appreciated :D

Astarion x GN (dark urge) TAV

Trigger warnings: Mentions of suicide, please please PLEASE read with caution. And know you are not alone <3

Word count: 2040 (sorry it is on the shorter side)

It was cold. Dark. The ultimate void. There was nothing here, only darkness, emptiness, for the first time in your life you felt truly alone. But the void came with a certain peace. The silence is a refreshing change of surroundings. Alone at last. No more bickering, no more painful thoughts and memories, no more tadpole. It was almost like you were relieved. Was this really the blissful ending you have been yearning for? You didn't even feel like you were missing anyone or anything. It was just you. At rest. At peace.

Just when you started getting used to the feeling of true peace, you felt yourself being pulled away from it. Like you were being sucked out of the bliss, pulled back into a life you did not want to live anymore. It had been too much. There had been too much loss, and even for you, there was a limit to what you could handle. There seemed no ending to the pains, the fights, the conflict within you. A darker force urging you to walk down a path you did not want to follow. You were able to resist some of its urges, but there were too many times where you  blacked out, woke up and were covered in blood. The lives of countless innocent souls burned your hands.This was the only way out. But now you were being pulled back. 

Gasping for air, you try to lift yourself to the surface, only to realize you weren't there anymore. You were not in the water, but on land, surrounded by 6 very worried faces. Unable to properly catch your breath and too embarrassed to make eye contact, you hastily get up and try to walk away. Shadowheart wants to get up and follow after you but Gale steps in front of her.

 ‘’Let them be for a second.’’ You can hear him say to her while the sounds of their worried voices get more silent by the second. Unable to contain your feelings and emotions any longer you try to kick a big rock into the water. Angry, that you failed. Upset, that they found you. Raged, for the voices are back in your head, urging you to let off some steam in the form of a bloodbath. A single tear rolls down your cheek as you lift your foot to the rock. It is simply too large to just kick, you cry out a little as your foot makes contact and the rock simply just stays put. You drop to your knees, head in your hands in a desperate attempt to just force the voices out with all the power you have collected in your body. A soft sob leaves your lips as you realize that this is an impossible task. There is no cure lying in the palms of your hands.

‘’That rock seemed a bit too large to just kick.’’ A soft voice behind you says. You don't have to look over your shoulder to see who it is. You stay put, but rest your head on your arms while they are propped up on your knees. A small sniffle escapes your mouth as you try to somewhat calm down. You feel your tadpole squirm behind your eye. He is trying to probe your mind, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. You frown, not in the mood to talk about anything right now and block as much of yourself off as you can in your fragile state. But him being him, you know he can peak through the cracks of your already cracked walls. No matter how high you put them up. 

‘’We can talk about it, you know?’’ He says, sitting down next to you. ‘’We don’t have to of course, but this is a bit dramatic. Don’t you think?’’

You can almost hear the smirk in his tone, knowing he is trying to lighten the mood in a situation he also knows is very serious. You shrug, unable to  really comprehend a full sentence without letting your emotions take over. 

‘’I didn’t want to fight anymore.’’ You say after a few moments of comfortable silence. Finally being able to look up at him after voicing your thoughts. You are met with worried red eyes. ‘’I didn’t think i would be a valuable asset to this group, hells, to this life anymore.’’ 

He looks at you but stays silent, giving you space to explain further.

 

‘’The only thing I can think about is death. It is all we seem to face, surrounding us everywhere. No matter the situation. The voices in my head, they’re only getting stronger after each kill. Justified or not, I have way too much blood on my hands. I didn't want to contribute anymore. There was no other ending for me here anyway. We will die by these tadpoles in our heads, or by my urges. I don't want to be a liability anymore. We have been through enough, don't you agree?’’ You look at Astarion with watery eyes, but not giving in to the satisfaction of fully crying. Just letting the tears linger there for a moment. He hums in agreement. 

‘’ We indeed have been through a lot. It has not always been a walk in the park, so to speak. But there is more out there. More people who can help you, who can cure you.’’ He says while not breaking eye contact. ‘’Besides, imagine how boring it is going to be for me when you are not around anymore. I can’t imagine being stuck with the rest of them for the remainder of however long this journey is going to take.’’

 

You smile a little at his comment, breaking eye contact and looking out on the river, seeing Baldurs gate in the far distance, bright lights from bustling streets.

‘’I just wish things were different, you know.’’ You say, sadness lingering on your voice.

 

‘’I know. I wish they were different too.’’ Astarion says softly, with a small sigh.

‘’Do you think we would have met each other if this were not to have happened to us?’’ You ask out of nowhere.

“Maybe. It is a big city after all.’’ He says.

Looking back at him you see him staring at the city the same way you were just a moment ago. His white locks perfectly curled around his face, a light smile resting on his lips and his skin looking even more ethereal in the moonlight. He truly was such a beautiful being. You might not have known each other prior to the events of the tadpole but a part of you hopes you will remain in touch after all of this is over. You look back at Baldur's Gate before being caught staring at him, sitting together in a comfortable silence. The only sounds you hear are the distant fire back at the campsite and the water that is breaching the shore of the river in front of you. You enjoy the combination of soft, gentle sounds, somehow feeling a little bit more at peace. The voices seemingly have backed off out of your mind, for now.

 

‘’You really scared me.’’ Astarion says after a while, a delectable sadness lingering on his voice.. ‘’I thought I really lost you, for good.’’

You can feel his eyes boring into the side of your head but you are too embarrassed to make eye contact. Your eyes lower to the sand and gravel at your feet, unable to really know what to say to that.

‘’I know I cannot take away the pain for you, but god's darling, if there was a way I could, I would in an instant. I want you to know that no matter what happens, no matter what situation we are being put in, I will be there. And would I risk a knife in my back when I'm asleep? Maybe. But i think if you wanted to hurt me, really hurt me, you already would have by now. This, this is not you. I know you. You are the sole reason my heart is aflame, lit up, every single day. I know this sounds selfish, but I really am not ready to let you go. And I know deep down you are not ready to let go either.’’ He turns his position and takes your hands in his. Finally being able to meet his stare, you notice his eyes are just as glassy as yours. He was being truthful. Nothing of what he just said was deceiving. Some tears roll down your cheeks as he lifts his hand and wipes them away for you.

 

‘’I am sorry.’’ You softly say. A soft sob escaping from your lips.

 

‘’You don't have to apologize. There's no need. Just promise me that you will talk to me? About anything. Anything and everything that is bothering you from this moment forward. You do not need to face these demons alone, not anymore.’’ He looks almost desperate. You nod in agreement. He gives you a soft smile and cups your cheek. Staring deeply into each other's eyes before emerging into a tight embrace. A hug so deep, one that can heal almost all wounds. One you didn't know you so desperately longed for until you were experiencing it. You cry out on his shoulder while he rubs your lower back with one hand and holds your head soft but firmly against his form. 

Lingering on for quite some time, you finally break free from the embrace. You need rest. Looking over your shoulder to the camp, you see that everyone has already gone to bed. You give Astarion a look and as he gets up he reaches out his hand for you. You take it and as he helps you up you notice your body is much weaker than you thought. Now that the adrenaline of the whole situation has worn off. You stumble into him as he catches you before you could hurt yourself, again. A small, but so much more meaningful gesture that now has a lot more meaning to it that it had before the events of tonight. As you both walk towards your tent, he has his hand on your lower back and the other is holding your arm that he draped around his shoulders. Making sure you got to your bed safely. 

When you reach your tent you try to take off the layers of damp and clammy clothes. It was not by any means cold outside, but the fabrics still clung to your skin in the humid climate. Your body not being able to put enough strength together to take them off yourself, you sigh and almost drop to your knees again, in frustration and sadness. Astarion not having left your side, catching up on your emotions and softly and oh so gently starts removing the layers of fabrics. You lean into his touch, missing it when he is not gracing your skin with his gentle touch. And then it hits you.

Safe. You felt safe. A feeling so overwhelming, one you haven’t felt in so long. One you craved for so long. You felt it, now, in this moment. And maybe have been feeling it for a while. Ever since he confessed his feelings for you, and you confessed yours for him. Ever since he started looking out for you instead of looking back for himself. Small gestures with big impacts, you never truly recognised them. Never truly appreciated them, until now. In this moment, you felt it all. The way he was caring for you, how gentle, understanding and cautious he was. He did it because he wants you to feel safe. And you do. A space he created, just for you to let your guard down. An effort no one has made for you. A gesture so big that you almost couldn't comprehend how much this man cares for you. 

As you put on your sleeping garb, you turn around and look at him. 

‘’Thank you. For everything.’’ You say with a soft smile. He smiles back at you. Genuinely. ‘’Will you please stay here with me tonight?’’

 

‘’I will stay with you every night, for as long as you will have me. Darling.’’