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fangsandfracturedhearts · 14 hours

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Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 16: Riddles

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 6.8k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events. Mentions of Astarion's Trauma.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]

The manor is mute except for the scratch of paper as you flip the page of Astarion’s sketchbook and contemplate the detailed drawing of yourself. You frown as you try to brush the name over the woman, painting her with the letters and hues of every syllable. It doesn’t matter what portrait you look at; the name still feels foreign and unrecognizable.

Whoever the woman in these drawings is, she is lost to you. She took her name to the grave, and some things cannot be exhumed. You close the book, your eyes sailing up the wall toward the ceiling.

Should you miss her? Grieve her? Forget her?

Climbing onto the bed, you hold your palm out, summoning the flames from the candles. You close your fist to extinguish them and let the black wings of darkness envelop the room. You have a strange feeling that you’re not entirely that woman any longer, which you can’t put into words. You were disassembled somewhere between life, death, and this everlasting afterlife, and your pieces weren’t arranged in quite the same pattern.

You have lost and gained so much in so little time. Would you recognize yourself even if you had a reflection?

There’s an ache in the vacant chamber where your dead heart hangs, frozen in the static state of death. The pang of discomfort doesn’t belong to you, though. Astarion has been leaving the link open more and more, and you’re learning what he meant when he said the world around him seems to move in slow motion.

You once made the mistake of thinking Astarion could no longer feel, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. The reality is that he feels everything with an intensity you cannot begin to fathom. His emotions are like shooting stars. They streak through him, blazing bright and winking out in the blink of an eye.

His beating heart gives away Astarion's return. He doesn’t bother lighting a candle when he enters the room, hanging his formal suit coat.

You light a candle with a twitch of your finger. “You must forgive yourself, Astarion.”

Astarion sighs, rubbing his face. “What gave me away this time?”

“The same thing.” You splay your hand across your chest. This is not the first time you’ve mentioned the ache, as if your heart is in a perpetual state of being torn. “When you hurt, I hurt.”

You feel his intention to cut the coupling, to give you a break from the pain, and you fight against it.

“Don’t,” you rebuke, narrowing your eyes at the increasing pressure in your head. “Please. Stop trying to shut me out.”

Astarion’s eyes fall to the sketchbook you left on the bedside table. “Do you not recognize your name still?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head and fidgeting with your fingers. This is the whole reason for the pain he’s been wallowing in—a bog of guilt and shame. He’s more upset over it than you are. You smile, making your voice a gentle hug. “Give me some time, and I will get used to it.”

“You should not have to get used to your own fucking name,” he hisses, squeezing his eyes closed, and the pain in your chest increases. It feels like your heart is warping itself into knots. “Not even Cazador went as far as to remove my name from my memory.”

“You are not Cazador,” you snap back sternly. “Stop comparing yourself to him. The situation is entirely different.”

“No,” Astarion growls, raising his voice, overtaken by repulsion. “I’m something much worse. At least there were limits to his power. No restrictions hinder me.”

“Good Gods! Just stop!” You yell, jumping off the bed. You’re unsure if your anger is partly due to what Astarion is feeling or your irritation at his self-loathing. At least he cannot remember taking you to the kennels. You don’t think he will ever recover. “You’re not him, and you’re not the darkness inside. You must separate the two.”

Astarion scoffs, turning away and waving dismissively, “I think it best if you rest in your room tonight.”

You deflate, anger being replaced by his disregard and the sharp sting of rejection. Astarion has been making you sleep in your room for days. At first, you thought he needed space, but he’s only become increasingly distant and withdrawn.

“Why are you doing this?” You step toward him, but he tenses and shies away, making you halt. You try to decipher his retreat through the bond, but Astarion is carefully guarding his emotions.

“Doing what?” He asks casually, keeping his blank stare on the wall.

“You show me an open door, then slam it on me and pull the rug out from under my feet!” You look up, hating that tears have begun crawling down your cheeks. “You think keeping your distance from me is keeping me safe, but you’re tearing me apart. Do you even want me here anymore, Astarion? Should I go?”

“Don’t go,” he whispers, brittle and weak. If your hearing were not so sharp, thanks to your vampirism, you wouldn’t have heard him. There’s another stab in your chest that feels like it rips the muscles right off your bones, and you whimper, clutching at your skin. “Please.”

“I can’t take this anymore,” you plead, taking another step, only to watch him tense. Your arms drop to your sides. Your heartbreak is affecting him. You can see it in the way his jaw clenches, and he winces almost imperceptibly at every sob you stifle. “Why are you pushing me away?”

Astarion finally turns, wracking his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know if I can be what you need me to be—what you deserve.”

“I know you don’t love me,” you sigh, shrugging. It always comes back to this. “You need to listen to me; let my words sink into your skin and fade into your soul. I missed you with such intensity that it felt like I died every day we were apart. You are my forever, even if I am not yours, and that’s okay.” You shake your head dismially, unsure how to get through to him. “I love you. Goodnight.”

You’re near your room when Astarion appears in front of you out of thin air, and you bump into him. He vaults you off your feet and into his arms before you can register his movement, making you yelp at the surprise of having your feet swept out.

“Shit,” He holds you firmly against him, his lips pressed to your forehead in a lingering kiss. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to leave. Stay with me, little love. I need you.”

“Stop pushing me away.” You tangle your fingers into his hair, with your face nestled into the crook of his neck.

“I will.” His hand comes to the back of your head as he walks back to his room and places you gently on the bed with adoration in his eyes. “You are my forever, Illyria. Aeterna Amantes.”

“Lovers forever,” you finish, sidling up close to him and laying your head on his chest.

The teeth of guilt gnawing inside your chest cavity have finally relinquished your heart as their chew toy, and all that remains is the steady thrum of Astarion’s borrowed heartbeat.

“Until the world falls down, my love,” he purrs, placing a finger under your chin and his lips embracing yours.

The slow rocking rise and fall of his chest is like the sway of gentle waves; the beat of his heart is a lullaby whispering serenity into your soul, and you slip peacefully into your trance.

Upon waking, your hand meanders across the silken surf of the sheets, only to find Astarion’s side of the bed cold and void. Rolling onto your back, your eyes drag open, and you listen for the telltale susurrus of a heartbeat. A frown creases your forehead when you’re met with nothing but the anonymous creaks and groans of the manor.

Astarion doesn’t usually leave without mentioning his absence as a warning to stay indoors and away from the windows. A florid scent catches your attention, prompting you to turn your head.

On Astarion’s pillow, a red rose rests and a folded note with your name penned in his delicate, flowing hand.

“Good morning, beautiful.

I apologize for my absence, but I am not far. I’ve left blood for you in the kitchen.

Eternally yours,

Astarion.”

The promise of awaiting blood stirs you to your feet hastily. Your belly coils with anticipation, and you barely have enough restraint to dress and run a comb through your hair before you’re bounding down the stairs.

A golden goblet, elaborately etched with prismatic dragon scales that mirror yours, sits on the counter. You snatch it greedily and bring it to your lips. The blood is cool, so you allow your palms to heat slowly, warming it as it inspires your taste buds to recite their devotion to the ambrosial elixir. It’s unmistakably Astarion’s blood. It knocks you over in a wave of delirium that makes your knees weak, and you lean into the counter to keep yourself from melting into the floor.

You’re not sure if it’s your imagination or reality, but you veritably hear Astarion chuckling in your head.

The meal is finished too soon, and you groan as you clean the last traces from your lips. When you open your dreamily heavy eyes, another folded note, previously hidden by the flared base of the goblet, catches your attention. You blink rapidly to clear the insensibility glazed across your sight before you can make any sense of the words before you.

“Find me using the clues I have scattered for you, my clever Illyria.

We have much to discuss.

“Reminisce beneath the faded tapestries, where laughter once echoed; seek the embers of our stolen kiss."

Clues? What in the Hells is Astarion up to, and what the fuck do you have to discuss? An icy shock runs from your dead heart into your feet. Is it possible he found out about Mizora and knows you’ve been keeping something from him? Would he play a game of cat and mouse with you?

You would not put it past him.

He’s left the link between you open, and you cannot feel any malice vibrating in the orchestra of emotions. If he’s figured out your secret, he’s hidden it well.

You stare at the hint with a furrowed brow. Embers of your stolen kiss? Faded tapestries? The pad of your finger rubs over the fringe of scales scored into the goblet’s surface while you think, and then you realize the damn chalice itself is another tip.

This does not belong to Astarion, or it didn’t before you and he stole it after breaking into a shop one night during your adventure. Astarion caught you eyeing it while you were buying supplies. You deemed it an impractical purchase. There was a far more dire need for healing potions and other necessities than to waste coin on frivolous trinkets.

He woke you up that night, dressed entirely in black, and dragged you back to the shop for a thrilling night of thievery and resulting debauchery. Where did you two go after to celebrate?

The Blushing Mermaid.

You dress quickly in a red dress with lace sleeves and a glimmering, golden dragon that snakes up your side. The skirt hugs your hips, flares slightly, and flutters around your knees. The golden bands of the matching hairpiece and circlet wreathe your forehead and long hair.

Throwing on your sandals, you stop dead at the door. The sun still shines outside, as evidenced by the tawny luminance glowing between the cracks in the drapery.

Astarion’s voice frisks across the bond: “You needn’t fear, love. You are safe.”

“What are you up to, Ascendant?” You query back, opening the door slowly and sticking your hand in the small ray to validate his claims.

He giggles, “Solve the riddles, and all will be revealed in time.”

The sky sings of sunset in hues of fire hearths gilded with golden inlays. Despite Astarion’s assurance, your skin still flinches over your muscles as if trying to pull itself away from your figure. Your eyes keep steadily on the majesty of the horizon as you trot through the streets to the Blushing Mermaid.

With the recent meal sloshing around in your stomach, your bloodlust is easier to manage. Still, when citizens brush by with their dainty necks on display, you’re tempted to give them a nibble.

The tavern is as busy as it typically is for late afternoon, but most patrons take no notice of you, engrossed in their revelry.

“Ah, the leaking blood bag.” Captain Grisly’s voice drifts from her quarters. “Nice to see you again. I hardly recognized you without your quarterstaff and haggard, blood-soaked robe.”

When you turn and her eyes catch the cracked crimson of yours, she gasps but holds her tongue with a clenched jaw.

You smile reassuringly and taunt, “Don’t worry. I won’t bite unless you ask very nicely.” There is something about people being afraid of you that’s thrilling. You cannot explain why. Perhaps you’re learning to accept this new you instead of feeling ashamed. It’s freeing. “Was my pale companion here earlier?”

The woman eyes you skeptically and nods, “Yes, Lord Ancunin was in earlier, but he warned me not to assist you.”

“Of course he did.” You roll your eyes as Astarion chuckles in your head. “It was nice to see you.”

“Please try not to make a meal out of my patrons,” Captain Grisly smirks. “The cleaning bills are already enough of a menace.”

You chuckle while your eyes dart around, trying to remember what you and Astarion got up to that night. The memory is garbled under the lagoon of ale you must have drunk.

You drank a lot. You danced. Oh Gods. You danced on the stage.

Your eyes swing to the faded tapestries hanging above a small alcove. Astarion had dragged you off the stage when your provocative swaying earned the attention of too many ogling eyes for his comfort.

“You are a godsdamned delinquent, Illyria,” he’d purred in your ear while he ironed his body to you possessively, shielding you from the onlookers with a forearm pressed above your head. “I have half a mind to take you right here, enchantress, to show these fools you belong to me.”

A small table sits in the alcove with a single candle lit. A white rose rests on it, with a dainty silver chain wrapped around the verdant stem. Unwrapping it, you hold a locket in your hand. The edges are adorned with two exquisitely detailed dragons, one light silver and one dark, forming a heart. In the middle, a black diamond is held by the silver dragon, and a normal diamond is held by the dark one, creating a magnificent contrast.

Opening the clasp, your eyes anchor to a sketch you haven’t seen before. It’s not of the mortal woman you don’t remember. It’s of you, as you must appear now. Your eyes are the only thing in vivid colour, and your fangs peek out of your smiling lips. Even though the picture is small, it holds an impossible amount of detail.

The smooth metal of the back is engraved with Astarion’s nickname for you, Amarillis. It’s Elven, your mother tongue, for Flame-Flower.

Putting the locket on, you find another note nestled between the petals of the rose.

“Where the forgotten lay to rest under the celestial canopy, find the crimson-kissed stone where a single star shines alone.”

If you know Astarion, he’s left another hint somewhere in plain sight, like the goblet. You scan your surroundings for anything that looks out of place, and you find an image hanging on the wall behind the stage that you don’t recall being there.

You recognize the statue, Balduran Looks Out to Sea, located in the Tumbledown district of the outer city. It’s not an area you’ve spent much time in. Astarion and you went to sit on the cliff and watch the sunrise the day before you went to kill or be killed by Cazador.

Now, you just need to get there without eating anyone.

Twilight is a tangible whisper, bruising the stretch of sky in purple and navy when you return to the streets. Alleys and paths are easiest for you to traverse, and sometimes you Misty Step and skate over the roofs when you feel bloodlust evaporating from your control.

At least Tumbledown is far less busy than the Lower City, thanks to the misty veil that never seems to disentangle from the town. The soft percussion of waves from the River Chionthar pulsing upon the cliffside is rhythmic as you walk up the quiet path leading to the statue.

You reread the note, “Where the forgotten lay.”

Cliffside Cemetery.

The large graveyard spreads before you, composed of a bafflingly complex network of headstones, tombs, and old mausoleums. You keep your eye out for anything red, which will appear brazenly against the drab background of the assorted greys and greens of the mossy tombstones.

The moonlight casts eerie shadows that stretch and disfigure the terrain. The stars ignite the velvet wreath of night as you finally come upon a headstone with a red rose draped over it.

The weather over the centuries has worn, stained, and cracked the stone. Crouching, you carefully wipe off the grime that dulls the worn epitaph.

“Astarion Ancunin,” it reads.

Rest Peacefully Beneath a Canopy of Stars.

Your fingers trace the jagged lines unconsciously as tears brim in your eyes, sinking to your knees.

“I have not returned since I punched a hole in my coffin and dug through six feet of dirt nearly 200 years ago.” Astarion’s voice floats from behind you.

Leaping to your feet, you whirl with more agility than you’ve ever possessed and thrust yourself into his arms. Astarion is dressed in clothing reminiscent of his camp clothes, leaving the typical opulence of the Vampire Ascendant behind.

“You are not forgotten, Astarion,” you whisper against his chest.

Astarion’s arms wrap around you. His timbre is angelic and deep, vibrating through your skin and massaging your spirit. “I was. For 200 years, I was a ghost stalking the streets while whoever I was, whoever I could have been, lay dead and buried."

Taking your hand, he walks toward his grave, letting his fingers coast over the roughened stone. “Cazador was waiting for me when I surfaced, hacking up dirt and congealed blood. I was his from that day forward. Even this grave is located on lands once owned by the Szarr family. Yet another nod to his ownership of me, I suppose.”

His finger taps the headstone, but he’s smiling when he turns to look at you—a real, genuine smile that fills your heart with warmth. “Then you fell like an angel from the heavens, quite literally, and waged war on everything I thought I knew about the world. You gave me something I had been without for centuries—hope.”

“I’m no angel,” you whisper.

“You’re my angel, Illyria,” he asserts. With Astarion’s attire and the way he’s speaking, which is so entirely familiar, there’s a shot of recognition that stirs your psyche. For the first time since you relearned it, your name is not an abstract word in your head. Astarion must feel it because he smiles broadly and continues, “No one cared, no one gave me a second look, and no Gods answered my prayers. No one is like you; you’re you. You stood with me through bloodlust, pain, and misery. You trusted me. You were patient. You cared. You were the only one who never gave up on me. You still haven’t given up on me, even though it’s an objectively stupid thing to do.”

“You were being very sweet until you called me stupid.” You giggle as he wipes the tears from your cheeks.

“Sweet and savoury, my dear,” he chuckles. “I’ve been free for over a year. Yet, I am just beginning to figure out who I am and what I truly want out of this newfound life.”

“What do you want, Astarion?” You lean into him. “The world is yours for the taking.”

“Not what,” he says, shaking his head, sliding an arm around your waist, and his fingers grazing over the locket on your neck. He smiles, “But you will have to finish this little quest to find the answers you seek.” He hands you another note and winks, “I’ll see you soon.”

Astarion gives you a small, playful shove and strides away with a smirk. He bows and shifts into an unnaturally large, white bat with crimson eyes you would recognize in a sea of them, soaring around you while you laugh.

“You’re adorable, but are you soft?” You ask.

He answers in your head with a lilting laugh, “Shall we find out?”

He lands, folding his wings and resting on his headstone, and cocks his head. Your fingers tremble, unfoundedly afraid you might hurt him, as they stroke down the alabaster fur.

“Soft and cute.”

“I aim to please,” he snickers, taking off to kiss the stars. “You are wasting time, my treasure.”

You giggle at his jeering and watch him streak through the sky, so beautifully free, before reading the note.

"Seek the shore’s embrace, where stars align, and ascend the steps, bathed in candlelight’s shine. There, seek the terrace above the riverside; a question to decide.”

Shore’s embrace. Now, this you know well. When Astarion turned you he insisted on renting a villa with this name near the river in the Lower City.

The trek back to the Lower City somehow feels lengthier as nervousness hits you, ticking away in your chest, every beat of Astarion’s heart amplifying your anxiety as if the seconds were grains of sand slipping away, impossible to grasp.

You can’t entirely tell if it’s yours or his. With the bond open and uninhibited, you are entangled, a tapestry of threads entwined so seamlessly that it’s difficult to distinguish where one of you begins and the other ends.

If Astarion has figured out you’re hiding something, he’s given you no indication, but some part of you still wonders if you’re walking into a trap. It’s hard to control your thoughts so they do not transfer to him, which he’s been trying to teach you so that you can keep the bond open, but your private thoughts can remain your own.

It makes you wonder what thoughts he keeps from you.

You smell the aromatic perfume of roses before you round the corner. The villa hangs onto the wall and overlooks the River Chionthar. The silver waves sway and reflect the impending dawn’s early light, cradling the morning’s first blush. Candles light the steps covered in white and red rose petals. It almost feels wrong to step on something so wonderful.

The beat in your chest thrums with anticipation, like your extinct heartbeat has woken and risen from the grave as you ascend the staircase to the grand entrance. Your breath catches in your throat as you enter the foyer. The sparkling crystal chandelier is lit, casting scintillating rainbows across the room. Rosemary incense burns, filling the air with an aroma that reminds you of home—of Astarion.

You follow the scattered rose petals leading to the terrace as the golden crown of the sun crests the horizon. Fear typically follows such a sight, but you’re revelling in grandeur.

The heartbeat behind you is the only thing that alerts you to Astarion’s presence. The man seemingly appears out of thin air, but if you had that ability, you would take advantage of it too, you suppose.

“This is beautiful,” you say, and your words are abruptly cut off.

As your eyes fall on Astarion in his resplendent tailored suit, he descends to one knee. His crimson eyes meet yours, sparkling with a celestial constellation mirroring the infinity of his love. The newborn sun lights up the adoration in his features.

“Illyria, my love,” he begins in a soft whisper before your brain can catch up to what is happening. “You are the fire that lights up my darkness, a melody that soothes my troubled soul. After being with you, there is no doubt that I have touched the heavens.” He hesitates momentarily, and the bond surges with warmth, longing, devotion, and good Gods, love, “I love you, and I fall more in love with you every day. I do not know what tomorrow brings, but right now, with you, the world feels right.”

His hand reaches into his pocket and produces a small, velvet box. Lifting the lid, the quick breaths you didn’t realize you'd been taking catch in your throat as your eyes fall on an exquisite ring, nestled on a bed of crimson silk, intricately crafted with a dragon claw, clutching a heart-shaped diamond to match the locket.

Astarion’s warm caramel baritone holds the sweet promise of eternity: “Will you marry me?”

Your hand shoots to your mouth to stifle the sound that erupts from your throat, somewhere between a whimper and a squeak. Your knees fold, unable to hold your weight any longer, and you drop, folding your arms around his neck and draping yourself over him.

His hand comes to your back, and he kisses your cheek. “Is this happy crying, or have I made a grave miscalculation?”

“Happy crying,” you stutter through shaky breaths.

He chuckles, nuzzling you. “Is this a yes?”

“Yes!” You pull back, nodding in case he cannot understand you through your weeping. “But I need one thing from you."

"Ask, and I shall make it yours,” he purrs.

You cradle his cheek, sweeping your thumb across it. “Say it again.”

He smirks, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I love you.”

“One more time,” you choke out.

“Gods above,” he giggles. “Is this all you will have me say now?”

You smile, the tips of your fangs peeking from your lips. “It sounds very good in your mouth.”

“You know I do not repeat myself for anyone,” he taunts. “Anyone but you, my love.” Astarion takes your hand, slipping the ring onto your finger, looking deeply into your eyes. “I love you, Illyria, my wife, my everything.”

“I love you, too, Astarion, my husband, my shining star.”

He beams, “I do rather like that, you know,” he muses. “When you call me husband.”

His arm wraps around your waist, easing you to your feet. You clutch onto him to keep yourself upright as your knees wobble like a newborn fawn and try to watch the sunrise with your head on his chest, but your eyes keep drifting to the ring adorning your finger, reminding yourself that this did, in fact, just happen.

“Do you like it?” He murmurs, catching your eyes moored to it.

“I love it,” you whisper. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I should hope not,” he chuckles. “I designed it. No one will ever have anything similar.”

“How do you know?”

“Oh, you know me,” he shrugs. “I killed the jeweller to make sure he could never replicate it.”

Your head snaps up, wide-eyed, to look at him. He glances at you and bursts into laughter. “A jest, sweetheart.”

“I hope you at least compelled him to forget it,” you snicker. “Or I may have to drain anyone I see with anything similar.”

“Oh,” he giggles. “I do so adore it when you’re murderous. Speaking of draining someone, I’ve had you running around the city all night. You must be positively famished.”

“You fed me,” you say, arching a brow at him. “Lucky for the citizens of the Lower City. Some of them smell very tasty.”

Astarion’s hands find the back of your thighs, and you wrap your arms around his neck as he lifts you. “Not as tasty as me, I hope.”

“No one could ever be as tasty as you,” you purr. “Your blood is nearly as charming as you are.”

He chuckles, taking you into the villa and setting you on the lofty mattress. “Well, who am I to deny your hunger? I would not be a very good husband if I did not keep my lovely wife satisfied. Would I?”

“What are you saying exactly?” You sweep your fingers through his hair as he undoes the elaborate clasps of his suit jacket. He discards it and loosens the collar of his shirt. You quirk your head at him. “Speak plainly.”

“I want you to bite me,” he purrs, pushing your legs to part for him with his knee and leaning over you. His lips mould to yours in a reverential kiss as his hands wander your body and ignite your desire.

“Bite you?” You breathe. “You said I couldn’t.”

“No.” Astarion removes his shirt, and your palms skim over his chest. “I said you can’t unless I permit you. You are as close to a True Vampire as you can get, my consort. It will not change you.”

“I don’t want to change,” you murmur, your fingers pressing firmly into his sculpted muscles. The offer of blood is tempting your hunger. “You’re giving me permission?”

He smirks, “Go on then. I’ll allow it.”

“Where?” Astarion cranes his neck to the side in an invitation. It takes everything you have not to leap for that magnificently pulsing vein. “Your neck?”

“Is there something wrong with my neck, my dear?”

“No. Of course not,” you giggle. “You have a very lovely neck. This is just new, that’s all. I didn’t think you would want to be, uh, well, bitten.”

“Your bite, my sweet,” he purrs, pressing his chest against yours and pinning you between him and the mattress. “Is divine. Only you will ever get the great honour of biting the Vampire Ascendant.”

“I godsdamned better be!” You huff, “I don’t share, Astarion. Not your body, not your blood, and definitely not your heart. You are mine and only mine. ”

He giggles, “Possessive little thing. Aren’t you? Not to worry, my love. I do not intend to share. I am yours. Wholly, and completely yours.”

You trace your lips down the shell of his ear. Your heart frolics at the ardent shudder that courses through his body and how the breath hitches in his throat. Kissing his neck until you feel the vein pulsing against your lips, you wait until he whispers his shaky, anticipatory approval.

The razor-sharp points of your fangs kiss his skin, and you wait for your body to seize up, but it doesn’t. You bite quick and sure, trying your best to be gentle. You feel the pop of your fangs puncturing his skin. His blood erupts into your mouth, caressing your tongue with heavenly heat that cascades through the channels of your veins and nestles between your thighs. You drink from him slowly but deeply, and your body trembles.

Astarion groans, deep and rich, his hot breath fanning the cool skin of your neck, and you feel the icy pinch of his fangs sink into you. You wash through him, and he passes through you in a paradisiacal torrent. The pleasure that harmonizes over the bond is transcendent. You swear you could come undone for this alone, and you ease your fangs from his neck and moan.

He kisses you with a bruising intensity. His tongue parts your lips so you can taste the essence of each other, and he bucks his hips into your aching sex, sending you spiralling into that frisson of pure delirium.

The clothes on your body feel much too restricting, and you whimper. The barrier of fabric between you feels unbearable. Astarion’s fingers go to his trousers, but his usual adroitness is nowhere to be seen as his fingers fumble with the laces.

He stares at his fingers dumbfounded for a moment and then looks at you with an arched brow and giggles gleefully, “Do you by any chance feel absurdly intoxicated?”

You writhe on the bed, unable to contain your ardent lust, as your brain awkwardly processes his question.

“Entirely,” you laugh. Gods. You thought you were high on him last time, but you are almost senseless in your need. You’re not even sure if you’re walking on the planes of reality or in some delightful hallucination, and you cannot find it within you to care. “Is this not normal?”

Astarion throws his trousers to the side, rucks up your dress clumsily, and tosses it away. “I’m not entirely sure. I may have read something about it, but I cannot quite remember where or when.” He shrugs. “We will have to experiment.”

Precum glistens, dripping from the head of his swollen cock. You are overcome with the absolute need for his salty, heady taste on your tongue. You lunge at him, bowling him over. Your movements are somehow swift and equally ungainly.

You lick up his shaft with a long, broad tongue stroke, feeling the ridges of his distended veins, before you engulf him in the wet heat of your mouth. Swirling your tongue around the blunt head of his cock. He sucks in sharp, shuddering breaths, fingers in your hair as you worship him, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking, taking him deeper and deeper until his cock tickles the back of your throat.

“Illyria,” he moans breathlessly. “Hells. You’ve got to stop before I lose my composure.”

But you’re not entirely sure you could stop, even if you wanted to. No. You want to feel his cock twitching on your tongue and his seed shooting into your throat. You want to drink his essence like a fine wine.

“Illyria,” he warns, trembling fingers curling into your hair. You feel the telltale pulse, hear the way his breath becomes ragged and uneven, and you take him over the edge in a few bobs of your head. He cries out, your name a sweet litany in his voice.

His seed bursts into your mouth, and you moan at the salt of him, swallowing every drop he gives you like a thirsty traveller. He is candied like heaven, wicked like hell, and, oh, so fucking delicious.

He pulls your head back by your hair and stares at you like he has found an oasis in an arid desert. You lick your swollen, red lips, determined to get every last drop of him that you can.

“Bad girl,” he purrs, shoving you flat on your back and pressing his lips to yours. He explores your mouth. “I taste exultant on your tongue.”

His fingers run through the seam of your dripping folds, coating them in the sleek of your arousal and easing into your fluttering channel. Astarion presses the pads firmly into that sweet spot inside that blinds you with pleasure, the heel of his palm caressing your clit with mind-numbing friction.

It does not take him long to settle into a rhythm that throws you somersaulting over the cusp of your own release with a lewd, wild cry, and he does not stop until he’s lured every possible shockwave from your body.

Astarion grabs your waist, tugging you down the bed as he settles between your thighs, sliding his length through your folds, his head teasing your overstimulated pearl. He guides himself into you, working your sex open inch by inch as you stretch to accommodate his girth.

Where everything before this was wild, almost savage, and borderline uncivilized, this is slow, passionate, and unhurried. He rocks his hips in languid pumps, coming to his forearm with his forehead pressed against yours. He is not fucking you. He is making love to you.

“You are mine,” he rasps through shaky gasps. It is not a proclamation of his ownership of you. It is not a command. It’s more of a plea for reassurance. “Yes?”

“Yours,” you confirm breathlessly, your eyes squeezed closed in pure rapture as he massages every one of your ridges poetically. Your fingers slide into the hair at the nape of his neck, and you cling to him as if you might float away on this cloud. “I’ve always been yours.”

“Gods. I love you,” he shudders between uneven breaths.

You will never tire of hearing those words, tasting them as they hinge off his tongue, and feeling them as they dally over the bond.

You clench around him, expelling a sighing groan from his mouth that you catch on your lips, determined to taste his ecstasy. His arm folds around your waist, forcing you to arch into him with his other hand at the back of your head. Astarion changes the angle of his thrusts but keeps the easy tempo. The blunt head of his cock waves over the sensitive pad of nerves inside you with every roll of his hips, and his groin grinds against your needy clit.

Astarion purposefully brings you close to your climax and then eases you away from it until you’re a whimpering mess beneath him.

“Astarion,” you pant, unable to take this withholding any longer. From his taut muscles and the way Astarion shakes, you know he cannot either. “Gods.”

“Open your eyes and come with me, my love.” Astarion increases the sensual pace rhythmically. The building pleasure pools in your abdomen, coiling tighter and tighter with every snap of his hips.

You open your eyes, blinking away the daze of passion, and cradle his cheek as he gazes at you affectionately. You’ve never seen his eyes so vividly crimson, as if his love for you itself was shining through the scarlet depths.

He knows the moment you begin to tread the fine edge of euphoria, gripping his girth and begging him to flood you with his pleasure. You shatter, spasms and white-hot pleasure ripping through you so intensely that the candles in the room go out and reignite with every contraction of your walls.

“F-fuck,” he moans loudly, a roll of purring thunder echoing in his chest. With one last pump, Astarion tremors, cock pulsing, and spilling into you. His hips stutter, pulsing deeply within you with every twitch of his cock.

He pushes the sweaty strands of hair from your face as you both struggle to catch your breath. You may never get used to his new speedy movements because, before you even realize you’re moving, he’s rolled you so that your limp body blankets his.

His fingers caress up and down the valley of your spine as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, heaving a sigh of pure happiness while you are once again captivated by the ring wreathing your finger.

Astarion kisses your palm, placing it on his chest, and plays with the ring on your finger. “Will you tell your friends?”

“Our friends,” you correct, even though many don’t fancy him. “Of course. I am not ashamed.”

Astarion nods with a lopsided grin. “Even Gale?”

“Especially Gale,” you giggle.

“I simply must be there when you do,” he snickers. “The look on his face is sure to be exquisite.”

“I am positive he will have choice words for me,” you laugh.

Astarion bristles, “He best watch his words when I am near. I will not tolerate him speaking down to you.”

“Easy, Ascendant,” you tut, clicking your tongue at him. “I am capable of dealing with Gale and his words. I am not a maiden in need of saving.”

Astarion relaxes, chuckling, “A maiden you most certainly are not. I am going to have to field noise complaints.”

You pat his chest, smirking, “All in a day’s work, husband. Our neighbours are going to hate us.”

“We will simply purchase all the houses in the neighbourhood if they become too bothersome,” Astarion chimes, jostling you. “Think of all the places I could make you scream for me.”

You both break into laughter together, still immersed in the intoxication of each other’s blood.

But your bliss doesn’t last long as reality grips its claws into your rapture and bleeds it dry.

You cannot possibly continue to keep what you know for him. How can you expect your love to thrive where secrets sleep? He has to know he can trust you to be honest with him, even when that honesty frightens you. You would want him to tell you if the roles were reversed.

Guilt and fear tangle together and ball in your throat. Astarion jolts at the sudden change in your mood as it resonates over the union, sinking into him as if it were his own. His brows furrow and his eyes dart around aimlessly as he tries to understand the trouble he feels.

“What is wrong, little love?” He coos, taking your hand in his. You can feel his anxiety and the quickened pace of his heart in his palm. “You are frightened. You needn’t be afraid. I am getting better at controlling it. You can tell me anything.”

You steel yourself against the panic. His. Yours. Your combined dread.

You swallow and force the words out of your mouth. “I know what ails you.”

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. Your support gives me the motivation to keep this fic going, and I appreciate each of you!

As always, please enjoy.

AO3 [Crossposted]

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

-We finally got Astarion to say he loves her, multiple times, and a lot more than that. ❤️💍

How is he going to react when she finally comes clean? 🫣

#ascended astarion #astarion fanfic #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x you #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion smut #ascendant astarion #soft ascended astarion #named tav #bg3 fic #astarion x oc #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #fangs and fractured hearts

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writtenbyafan · 20 hours

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Durge Proposal

Astarion: *Lounging around the campfire, filing his nails as he loosely pays attention to Gale who is ranting at Wyll*

Gale: “Necromancers are the worst. You know what really gets to me? They never TELL you they’re a necromancer. They always use some normal spells at first, like Ice Spikes. Then you turn around to look at the rest of the party and there’s an extra person there. Yeeep. They resurrected the bandit you just spent 20 minutes prior killing.”

Wyll: *goes to make a comment but stops when he notices Tav returning with the rest of the party* “Welcome ba- what the hell is that?”

[Tav covered from head to toe in blood, gore and filth, raises his bloody dagger to the trio in greeting]

DurgeTav: “It’s a souvenir, for Astarion.” *Tav grins and brings the severed head clutched his grasp out into view to present it to the vampire spawn*

Gale: “By Ahghairon’s lost nose - why?!”

DurgeTav: “Wha- Do you mean why did I do this? I did it because I love Astarion.”

[Tav looks at the wizard confusedly. As if Tav clutching the severed head of another human in his hand and presenting it like a bouquet of fresh flowers wasn’t a big deal]

Wyll: “Is this a proposal?” * Wyll asks in a really bad stage whisper to Karlach, Shadowheart, and Lae'zel*

[Every one is valiantly trying to ignore the wet drip drop sound coming from blood hitting the floor from the severed head]

Astarion: *Dropping his nail file to the ground and taking on a demure, shy expression* “Darling, I accept.”

Prompt Source: Here ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

#astarion acunin #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #bg3 #bg3 imagine #astarion x reader #baulders gate 3 #boulders gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #Astarion bg3 #bg3 drabble

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kaermorhenatnight · 2 days

Text

Something real

Astarion x Tav, Tav is afab, she/her pronouns

word count | 2.5k

warnings | act I spoilers; conversation about SA; mentions of the previous sexual encounter, story seems to be going towards another but it doesn't; drinking blood.

A/N | This fic takes place somewhere in the act II, Tav and Astarion had their little hook up after the tiefling party. I see it as another version of the unprompted confession he makes/the talk after meeting Araj Oblodra. I just think that the game focuses on the romance progressions too much and feel like there were things that should have been said (he jumps into being okay with having sex again without any real discussion about boundaries or about what he says in the unprompted confession - or at least it didn't happen in any of my playthroughs) so I wrote this to kinda fix that in my head. I know a lot of people who experienced SA still want intimacy and a healthy sexual relationship is important to heal, but I felt like a lot of discussion was missing in the game (which is understandable, they cannot elaborate on everything)

Read on Ao3 here

As he takes a step towards Tav's bedroll, she raises her head and tenses, but quickly relaxes again when she sees his silhouette.

Astarion looks around to check if the rest of the camp is surely asleep before swiftly sneaking into Tav’s tent. She told him he can come by to drink her blood tonight, so he was going to do exactly that, but he would still prefer their companions didn't know about their little agreement.

“Hi.”

“I thought you’d be asleep by now. Did I wake you up, darling?”

“No, I couldn’t sleep. A lot is happening around us, you know.” She rubs the corners of her eyes.

“I guess I understand.” He shifts his weight nervously. “So, can I still…?”

“Sure, I said what I said. Just please, be quick.”

“Of course, dear, I wouldn't want to take too much of your night.”

Astarion kneels next to her, one hand slipping under her neck to hold her head still, gentle fingers grazing her skin. His other arm reaches to her side to stabilize himself over her. As he does that, his fingers drag, probably accidentally, against her stomach towards her pubic bone. Even through a shirt, his touch burns, sending shivers through her skin. His closeness, his touch, his smell, stir feelings inside her that she is only recently becoming brave enough to admit.

Tav remembers how they sneaked out after the celebrations with Zevlor's people. How ridiculously good Astarion looked in the moonlight, leaning over her, how he whispered sweet praises in her ear while he fucked her numb. When she didn’t even know he was a vampire and he gently nibbled at her neck, grazing it with his teeth. Now she knows he was showing a lot of restraint that night. Restraint, she almost wishes he didn’t have.

And now he was over her, fingers twisted in her hair, face reaching towards her exposed neck, the memory of pleasure he gave her and yearning for a pleasure he could give coursing through Tav's entire body and forcing a sharp inhale as she tenses to hide the excitement and warmth accumulating in her abdomen.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, his lips curving into a smug smirk.

“Yes, just get on with it.” Tav's hands form into fists to focus some of the tension and blush of embarrassment creeps on her face.

“Darling, what did I do to excite you so much?” His hand slips from under her head and he playfully strokes her increasingly red cheek with his thumb. She doesn't have enough willpower not to lean into his touch, feeling more and more blood just flooding her face and loin. “Are you so eager to have me bite into that darling neck of yours?” He chuckles. “Or maybe it’s something else you want from me?”

He moves from her side, grabbing and decisively moving her legs to place himself between them and wrapping them around his waist as he leans over her. “Maybe, since you were so kind to let me... dine with you… And we are in a rather intimate setting,” –he glances to check if the flaps of the tent are enough to obscure them from prying eyes of their companions should they wake up– “I can do something to make it worth your while.” He rolls his hips gently, putting pressure between her legs, right where she needs it.

A sigh that Tav tries painfully hard not to turn into a moan, stumbles from her mouth. She looks up at him.

He is just… so pretty. His hair, in a seemingly chaotic disarray, that he in fact spends a lot of time combing it into and securing with some kind of magical cream. It's truly impressive he learned to do that without any mirror. His eyes, burning red, glistening in the dim light of the singular candle in her tent.

His eyes.

There is sadness and a silent resignation in them that wasn’t there just a minute ago, when he was leaning down to bite her. He was flamboyant, relaxed, and a little bit excited. Now he is looming over Tav, his growing erection pressing against her and yet he seems… defeated.

He doesn’t really want it. He is just afraid she will punish him, even if just by rejecting him, if he doesn’t do it right now.

“You know you don’t need to do this?” Tav slowly gets up, forcing Astarion to sit back on his heels.

“Oh, but I want to.” He gently caresses her cheek, thumb dragging down her bottom lip. “I want your pretty mouth to scream my name.” Now that she knows what to look for, she can see how forced his smile is. She moves back a bit, so he's not between her thighs anymore.

“Do you? Or are you just afraid of what would happen if you say you don’t? I didn’t offer my blood to you to get something in return. I did it because I want you to feel strong. And comfortable.”

Astarion looks at her with visible surprise and confusion like he never imagined the possibility of anyone doing a nice thing without expecting something in return. Or, more specifically, like he never imagined anyone doing it for him. And, like no one ever made sure he actually wanted to be intimate.

“Look,” Tav presses her fingers to her eyes, to ground herself a little and focus on forcing all of the remaining arousal out of her body and mind. “I don’t want you to fuck me because you think you have to. I offered to let you bite me tonight, so let’s do just that. I’m sorry for my reaction earlier, I–” She takes a deep breath. She needs to choose her words carefully. Astarion looks at her, tense, brows furrowed. “In other circumstances, I would love to share a bed with you for the night… but not like that. Not with you feeling forced to do it. You should never feel forced to do it.” She grabs his hands and gives them a sympathetic squeeze.

His eyes wander on her face, trying to read her, like he is trying to figure out where’s the trick, what is she trying to achieve, in what way is her kindness just a decoy. It’s Cazador, still whispering into his ear. That he’s not a person. That his wants don’t matter. That he cannot say “no” and he can never refuse.

“Come on now, Astarion.” She lies back down, turning her head slightly to expose her neck. She really wants to make him understand that he does have a choice. He is free now. And she will not reject him or change her opinion on him for setting a boundary. Because despite his meticulous attempts at being an unbearable asshole to everyone around, she cares about him. She can see his trauma. And she is not going to contribute to it. “I invited you to eat. So eat. We can have sex another time. If you want to.”

“I–” he starts, but his voice seems to get stuck in his throat. “Thank you,” he says finally, his shoulders relaxing, his face softening.

He resumes his position at Tav's side, and bites into her neck. A familiar sharp cold pain hits her and weakness swirls in her head. After a moment he lets go of her, and sits back. A drop of her blood dribbles down his chin. He shoots her a charming smile and licks the corners of his mouth, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

"Delicious as always."

"You know how to make me blush," she says breathlessly, knowing well that right now her body doesn't really have enough blood to spare some for her cheeks.

She expects Astarion to say his goodbyes and leave but he just sits there, staring at her. Maybe he still worries that I expect something from him, she thinks. She needs to let him know he can leave, nothing is expected or required of him.

"I think I will have an easier time falling asleep now, feeling a bit dizzy and all. So goodni-"

"Can I stay?" he interrupts. Eyes wide, mouth slightly open, like a lost puppy. "Just stay in your tent. I don't want to be alone."

"Of course." Tav smiles and wants to reach for Astarion's hand, but stops half way. "Do you… want to cuddle?" He doesn't sleep, really, so she's not sure what exactly he wants to do. Maybe just sit in the corner, reading a book.

"Yes, please." He whispers and without further encouragement crawls onto Tav's bedroll throwing his arm around her to pull her down with him. "Goodnight, Tav."

"Goodnight, Astarion." She rests her head on his shoulder and quickly drifts away.

"Hey, Tav, Gale made killer eggs for breakfast, better hurry if you want–" Karlach pushes away the flap of Tav's tent and stops in her tracks as soon as she sees Astarion raising his head, before Tav shakes off the rest of sleep to sit up. "Oh, shit, sorry. Erm, didn't mean to interrupt. I– will leave now." She swiftly backs out, but pokes her head back inside for a moment just to add: “Nice!”

"Well, good morning, Astarion" Tav laughs, and stretches her arms.

"Did you sleep well?" He stays down, head propped up on his elbow, with his usual flirty smile.

"Very well."

"Glad to hear it."

They just look at each other, smiling, breathing in this intimate moment.

Suddenly, Astarion sits up, puts his hands on Tav's cheeks and places a gentle kiss on her lips.

“I wanted to thank you,” he says, pulling away.

“For what?”

“For last night.”

She understands, even if he doesn't know how to vocalize what he means exactly.

“I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do.”

“It's a novel concept, I admit. And a little intimidating. I wasn't entirely honest with you. That night, in the forest. You… you asked what I wanted. And the truth is, I wanted protection.” His posture goes back to the carefully curated smug, confident one, to mask the vulnerable position he is putting himself in. “People don't usually trust vampires, perhaps understandably, so I needed someone on my side. And seducing you was easy, frankly. So imagine how stupid I felt when I started to… genuinely… feel something for you."

Tav bites her tongue to not show that she is sincerely hurt a little by that confession. She knows where he is coming from, she knows his history, but it still stings.

“Trust me, I was not happy about it,” he continues.” You're a… complication, I didn't see coming. And yet…” He pauses for a moment. “Last night was the first time I was told I don't have to do something I don't want to. Especially of sexual nature. I really appreciate that.”

Tav touches his hand gently and he immediately tangles his fingers with hers.

“Cazador has no power over you now. It's not fair how many things you were forced or pressured to do. I care about you. Deeply. And I would love to have something more with you. More than friendship. But if our nights together was something you had to endure and not something you really wanted, then I regret it ever happened.”

“Well, it's not really nice to hear you regret having sex with me.” Astarion tries to laugh off the seriousness of the situation, but fails, as his voice breaks a little. “I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my master. What I wanted, how I felt about what I was doing… it never mattered. And… being close to someone, any kind of intimacy was something I performed to bring people back for him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don't know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I'd like to.”

“I want to be intimate with you, Astarion. But only you if you really want it. Not when you do it out of fear.”

“I– I would also like that. But… I don't think I'm ready yet.”

“Of course. And just so you know, it's also okay if you're never ready.”

He looks at her surprised.

“Would you… Really? You would still want to… have something more with me, if sex wasn't even on the table?”

“Of course.” Tav smiles and strokes his cheek.

“Why?”

The confusion on his face seems sincere. Not because he wouldn't want to be with Tav if she didn't want sex, but because he can't really see himself as worth more than what his body can offer in the end.

“Because” –she leans closer, taking his hands into hers, gently tracing patterns on his palm with her thumb– “as gorgeous as that body is, it's not all that you are. You are intelligent. You are funny. You are sensitive. I love being around you. You are curious and you want to live. And I want to help you live. And live with you.”

Astarion just looks at her, processing what she just said. He swallows loudly, pressing his lips tightly together to hide the tremble of his chin.

“And you shouldn't have thanked me for what I did,” she adds, firmly. “Asking for consent shouldn't be something you're grateful for. It's the bare fucking minimum, okay?”

He nods weakly. She can see he doesn't fully process it and doesn't fully believe it yet. But she hopes one day he will.

“But surely you–” he shakes his head, still not grasping at what she is trying to say. “You still have your needs. I wouldn't be offended if you wanted to take another lover–”

“Astarion. I am not a wild animal. My genitals don't dictate what I think or feel. I think with my brain. And feel with my heart. And my heart is yours. If you'll have me.”

“I–” he pauses for a moment, staring at the ground and then raises his head to lock his eyes with hers. There's hope in his gaze. Warmth. Adoration. “I would love that. I would love to have–” he pauses, scrunching his face, as if the phrasing bothers him. He quickly corrects it. “For us to have each other. To have something real.”

She leans forward and pulls him into a hug. Just a hug. No hands wandering around looking for sexual pleasure, no lips searching for his lips, no tension. Just a warm, soft hug. He is slow to reciprocate it, his hands just frozen in air, but when he does, he holds her tight.

When Tav finally pulls away from the hug, Astarion seems to tremble a little, reluctant to let go. She stands up and offers him her hand. “Let's go before they eat all the eggs.”

He accepts her hand and lets her help him get up. He doesn't let go of her, until they sit down at the campfire and she needs her hand back to hold a spoon.

#astarion ancunin #astarion #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #no beta we die like men

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thesolarangel · 6 months

Text

Source of pleasure

1.094 words · Rating: Explicit +18 · Halsin x Astarion x reader · AO3

Tags: threesome, unprotected P in V! (remember: wrap it before you tap it!), coming inside, creampie, dirty talk, chubby reader, they/them pronouns for gnc-reader, laughing while fucking, polyamory

(Oh noo, the filthy smut I imagined in my head turned into ✨love making✨as soon as I was writing it down… Whoopsie)

________

“You’re doing amazing, darling.”

Astarion purred, grazing his lips down your neck and sucking into the soft flesh. He was seated behind you on the bed, his chest against your back, whispering sultry things into your ear. His hands were now on your plump tits, kneading them, teasing your nipples mercilessly, making you moan unrestrained.

Halsin was kneeling in front of you, two fingers working you open, his thumb pressing lightly on your sensitive clit. The druid presented such a gorgeous sight before you, all big and broad and a beautiful hairy chest to die for. His hard cock stood proudly between his legs. The bulbous pink head and thick shaft making your mouth water, you wanted him inside so badly.

“Look how big he is, how he's throbbing for you.” Astarion’s low voice was sending shivers down your spine.

Halsin watched your face closely for any sign of discomfort, he wanted to make absolutely sure that you were ready for him. You moaned, encouraged by Astarion’s words and eager for Halsin to finally give you what you wanted most…

Astarion wasn’t unaffected by all of this. You felt his hardness against your lower back. He was straining against his pants. You tried to turn around to get your hands on him, you didn’t want him to be left out, but he stopped you mid way.

“Ah-ah-ah, this is just for you, darling”, he pulled you snug against his chest and continued kissing your neck. “Let us take care of you, hmm?”

Halsin bent down to cup your cheek with his other hand. He captured your mouth in a gentle kiss, grazing over your lips in languid motions. He was always so careful with you as if you’d break under his big hands. You felt so small with him hovering over you.

You loved the way he made love to you. You always felt so secure and protected with him. But right now with Astarion teasing you, finding your sensitive spots and Halsin’s big fingers exploring the depths of your warm, wet cunt, you were close to your limit.

“Please, Halsin…” you whined impatiently.

“Don’t make them wait any longer”, Astarion chimed in while roaming his hands over your round belly and your alluring tits.

Halsin smiled, “I hear you.” He stole another heated kiss and then he positioned the head of his cock at your entrance, making you gasp. “Don’t worry, you’ll get what you desire, sweetheart.”

Fetching and opening the small vial of lubricant, he let a few drops dribble onto your vulva, smearing it into your cunt with the head of his cock.

You and Astarion both made a lewd noise in unison while watching. Astarion’s hands wandered downwards and spread your labia open to watch Halsin nudge his cock inside. Cautiously, he fed you inch for inch of his hard length, making you gasp at the stretch.

Once Halsin was seated inside you, Astarion spoke up once again, voice heavy with lust. “You take him so well, every inch of him…”

”By the oak father, you feel incredible", Halsin agreed with a low grunt that went straight to your swelling cunt. He caressed your thighs and the soft flesh at your waist as he waited for you to get accustomed to his thick shaft.

“Do you feel generously stuffed, darling? Does he fill you up nicely?” Astarion purred close to your ear while he watched.

“Yes… “ You moaned in response. You closed your eyes and threw your head back onto Astarion’s shoulder.

Halsin bent down to pull Astarion into a filthy kiss. Astarion made a surprised yelp that turned into a needy whimper as Halsin devoured his lips hungrily.

He smirked when he broke the kiss, gazing deeply into Astarion’s eyes. “Let’s make sure they’ll never forget this.”

Astarion stared at him and you could feel his erection growing harder against your back. He adored the druid as much as you did and you felt it. “Sounds like a plan”, he whispered seductively.

Halsin grabbed your waist and started fucking you with slow, languid thrusts while Astarion had one hand on your breast and one on your clit, massaging it just the way you liked it.

Halsin looked gorgeous above you. His tanned skin was glistening with sweat, his stomach flexed as he plowed into you, making your tummy and your tits jiggle with every thrust.

Being loved by these two beautiful creatures was like something out of a wonderful dream. Watching Halsin’s adoring expression while he was fucking you, feeling Astarion’s gentle, experienced touch on your hot skin, all of it made your heart race and you couldn’t get enough. You whined desperately as Halsin picked up the pace.

“Fuuuuck…” Halsin grunted.

“Listen, darling, you reduced our handsome druid to profanities, well done!” Astarion chuckled.

You let out a hoarse laugh, but Halsin’s hard thrusts stifled your laughter. You watched his length disappear inside you over and over again, while listening to the lewd sounds and moans that filled the room.

Halsin pounded into you mercilessly, Astarion rubbed your clit harder and suddenly your orgasm hit you with such brutal force and you cried out when deep hot pleasure washed over you and through your body for several seconds.

“Sweetheart, I’m close, where–” Halsin began, unable to finish his sentence, trying so hard to hold it in.

Astarion noticed you were distracted from your orgasm. “Do you want him to come inside you, baby, hmm?” He asked while he was fondling your tits and grinding against your back, chasing his own release.

“Yes, please…” You whimpered.

Halsin was panting above you and with a few more erratic thrusts, he spilled his big load inside you. At the same time, you felt Astarion’s trembling motions coming to a halt as he burst in his pants with a rough grunt.

You made a pleased hum when Halsin pulled out carefully and you watched his cum leaking out of you and onto the sheets.

After all three of you had cleaned up, you got back into bed, with you in the middle, Halsin spooning you from behind and Astarion on the other side, facing you. He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead and whispered sweetly: “Hmm, thank you, darling, that was wonderful.”

“My heart, you are so loved…” Halsin peppered your cheeks and your neck with little kisses while he snuggled his big body against yours.

“You make me so happy, both of you.” you murmured as you slowly drifted off to sleep, safe and warm between your two lovers.

______

MDNI divider by @cafekitsune here

tag list: not sure who to tag here, since it's my first fanfic for this fandom, so I'm just gonna tag the ones that agreed to be tagged in everything and some others who are in the fandom and read smut...

@starlady66 @fenharel-enaste @queenmeriadoc @elronds-pointy-ears @corrodedbisexual @lady-of-imladris @aiwe-the-little-bird

#halsin x reader #astarion x reader #halsin x astarion x reader #astarion x halsin x reader #this is not beta read!!#smut fanfic #self insert fanfic #reader fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #halsin smut #astarion smut #astarion x you #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #halsin x you #halsin fanfic #Halsin #Astarion

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dancingbirdie · 6 months

Text

Back with another bout of plotless smut. Read at your own discretion and take note of the tags. <333

Like my smut writing? Find more here.

We Have All Night

Rating: MATURE

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader x Halsin

Word Count: 800

Warnings/Tags: Oral sex (fem!Reader receiving), praise kink, hand kink, threesome technically?, mentions of alcohol, pure plotless smut

Summary: You'd been wondering for some time what it would be like to have Halsin and Astarion share you.

*****

You could have easily blamed the events that ensued on the bottles of Blingdenstone Blush you all had passed around camp that evening. But if you were honest with yourself, the position you found yourself in was one you had been fantasizing about for some time.

“That’s it, darling,” Astarion coaxed as his fingers slipped gently through your hair, teasing and massaging your scalp. Your head was pillowed in his lap, pupils blown wide with lust as you peered up at him. He smiled down at you, a wicked, hedonistic sort of grin.

“You so desperately want to hold still for him, don’t you?”

You whined your assent, trying your best to keep your hips from bucking – an impossible task considering the relentless way Halsin’s tongue was licking and circling that sensitive spot at the apex of your thighs.

“Such a good girl. You’re doing so well” Astarion cooed, while Halsin groaned in agreement. The vibrations it created against your skin felt like electricity surging through your limbs.

Your mind was a disjointed haze of lust and alcohol. Totally uninhibited, you keened loudly as the druid suddenly gripped the softness of your thighs and plunged his tongue inside you.

“Shh, shh, shh” Astarion hushed, moving a hand to cover your mouth. “We don’t want the rest of the camp to hear our fun, do we?”

You groaned and shook your head slightly.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join in?” you rasped, your lips moving against his slender fingers.

He gave a mischievous little chuckle. “I’m certain. I’m having a wonderful time just watching,” Astarion returned.

“The night is still young,” Halsin persuaded, pausing his feasting on you to meet Astarion’s eyes. The absence of his mouth left you wanting, aching for contact once more. “If you change your mind, there’s plenty of fun to be had.”

“A tempting offer, indeed,” Astarion smirked. “Let’s see where the evening takes us, shall we?”

You moaned against his hand as Halsin dipped his head to begin circling your clit with his tongue once more. You fisted his gorgeous auburn locks in your hands, eliciting a groan from his mouth that felt absolutely delicious against your hypersensitive skin.

“Our sweet pup has an oh-so-difficult time keeping quiet, doesn’t she?” Astarion crooned, tracing his fingers against the seam of your lips. “You’re trying so hard, darling, I know you are.”

His silken, sinful voice felt almost as euphoric as the deplorable things Halsin was doing between your legs. In a bout of unbridled lust, you opened your mouth to capture Astarion’s index and middle fingers in your mouth.

You sucked down on them, circled them with your tongue, as you imagined having his hard length sheathed down your throat. Your bawdy move drew a sharp breath from the vampire, followed by a quiet groan.

You paused your ministrations, lifting a hand to pull his fingers from your mouth before asking, “Is this okay? Is it too much?”

Astarion chuckled darkly, and you watched as his chest rose and fell with uneven breaths.

“You wicked thing,” he purred. “Yes, it’s okay. And it has the added benefit of keeping you quiet.”

You were beyond laughs and jokes. Hearing his consent, you drew his fingers back down to your mouth and resumed your sucking. You moaned your approval as Astarion pistoned his fingers deeper into your mouth at the same time Halsin inserted two fingers inside you.

You knew you wouldn’t last long. Not with the way the druid was fucking you with his fingers at the same time his tongue was circling your clit. Not with the way Astarion was trailing one hand delicately across your exposed skin while you worshiped the fingers of his other hand with your tongue and lips.

Every nerve within you was alight and thrumming with barely-restrained energy. You could feel yourself climbing higher and higher, your body preparing for the sweetest freefall that would soon ensue. Your heels dug into Halsin’s muscled back as you tensed, one hand still clenching his hair while the other held desperately onto Astarion’s thigh.

“Yes, darling, yes,” Astarion kept coaxing as your body drew more and more taut. A bowstring desperate to be released.

“Let yourself come, you know you want to,” he added in a soft whisper.

It was too much.

Those words, and a final flick of Halsin’s tongue, had you shattering into a thousand pieces. Your cries were barely restrained by the fingers still occupying your mouth. You were lost in pleasure, awash in the tingling aftermath of your release.

Chest heaving, mind reeling, you could barely find words.

“That… that was…” you wheezed, before letting loose a giggle. “Everything I’d imagined it would be.”

“You’d thought about this before?” Halsin grinned, wiping his mouth clean against his forearm before leaning down to plant a reverent kiss against your lips. You could taste yourself on him. It gave you more satisfaction than perhaps it should have.

“My, my. What other sort of depraved carnal pleasures are bouncing around in that head of yours, I wonder?” Astarion added, helping you sit up so that you were lounging between the two of them.

You shared a conspiratorial grin with both elves. “We have all night, if you’d like me to show you.”

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riseatlantisss · 8 months

Text

The end we start from

Pairing : Astarion x female!reader/Tav Around 1,8 words Takes place after the events in Cazador's palace in act 3 (non-ascended Astarion, established relationship) Angst with a happy ending (and loooots of sex) <3

Astarion doesn’t feel good enough. you show him he’s everything.

TW : 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex, very angry/angsty/rough sex, fingering, mature language, mentions of death and depression, mentions of blood

A/N : when i don’t work, i do two things: i take care of my dog and i play BG3. i don’t eat. i don’t sleep. i don’t socialize. i just play BG3. and I write stuff about *him*.

Astarion is many things. Quiet is not one of them. But lately, that’s all he’s been, and you’ve been worrying about him night and day. Tonight is no exception. You wake up in the middle of the night and realize two things : not only is Astarion’s side of the bed empty but the sheets and pillows are untouched, uncrumpled. His side hasn’t been slept in. This isn’t right. Of course, he doesn’t really need to sleep but he always, always lays next to you at night, spooning you, playing with your hair and whispering sweet I love yous in your ear until you fall asleep. His absence means something’s off. Unable to shake off the anxiety, you get up in one swift motion, determined to find him. No chance you’re falling back asleep now anyway.

Your bare feet hit the cold marble floor and you shiver as you make your way accros the bedroom in a hurry. You think of searching outside in case he went for a hunt, but it turns out you don’t have to look too far. There he is, silently leaning against the wall by the window, gazing into the pitch-black night of the Underdark. The light in the room is so dim that you couldn’t even spot him from your bed. You approach him and your heart breaks a little when you notice the lingering sadness in his crimson eyes, enhanced by the faint light of the burning candles next to him.

You want to ask him if he’s ok but it’s obvious he’s not so instead, you remain silent and close the space between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him and gently resting your head on his shoulder.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask softly after a while, your voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion averts his gaze and gives you a faint smile, nothing but a twist of lips.

“Nothing,” he replies. “I’m just being selfish, as usual. Forgive me, y/n.”

You frown and stare at him incredulously. “You’re not selfish,” you say, surprised at how intensely he means it. “Why would you even say that?”

“I –” He pauses, rethinks his words. This does nothing to make you less worried. “I caused you great pain,” he finally says. “I put you in danger. Repeatedly, ever since we met. You could have died a hundred times and it would have been my own, entire fault.”

You look up to him and feel a lump form in your throat. You have never seen him look like this – grief in his eyes and etched into the lines of his face.

“I’m not dead, Astarion. I’m right here with you.” You say as you wrap your arms around his neck. He makes a sound somewhere near a sob and your arms tighten.

“But I did put you in danger and now you’re stuck with me for eternity, in the middle of nowhere, and you—" Again, he stops. He’s bad at this, at talking about emotions. But he fights through it because it’s you. And nothing can be left unsaid between the two of you. Not after everything that’s happened. “You deserve so much better. You deserve the world, and I can’t give it to you.” You’re not sure where this conversation is going but you don't want to find out. His lower lip quiver but he goes on, words spilling out of him like blood from a wound. “I can’t give it to you, and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for it. It’s killing me all over again.” You crumble under each one of his words. His lips are trembling now and you can’t stand it. You can’t but you can’t do him the dishonor of looking away either.

“Astarion, I chose this life.” Your hands flutter to his face, each one cupping a cold cheek, forcing him to look at you. Your heart is pounding, and you know he can feel it. “I had a choice; I could stay, or I could run, and I chose you. I’m not stuck here. I’m home.”

Astarion heaves a faltering breath in an attempt at composure. “Sometimes I think you would be happier without me. Better off.” He barely mouths the words, but you hear them all distinctively, nonetheless. “You should go and leave me here. Walk in the sun. Be happy and live your life.” You draw your hands away from his face and he steps back, speaking louder now.

“It won’t get any better in here,” he continues, gesturing urgently around the room. “It’ll always be cold and dark, I’ll always be a blood-thirsty monster. I belong to the shadows, and I’ll never be able to make you happy, so you might as well just leave.”

His words knock the air out of your lungs and, for a moment, you cannot breathe. You feel your pulse pounding in your veins and blood thrumming under your skin as your heartbreak turns into anger. That fucking idiot, you think, looking up at him through eyes blurred with tears.

“You don’t know what makes me happy. You don’t,” you shout, surprised by the vehemence in your voice. "And you certainly don't get to speak for me." Astarion looks at you in such confusion that you almost feel bad for a moment, but you continue.

“You – you make me happy, Astarion, gods you do. I would rather live an eternity in the Underdark with you than one more day in the fucking sun.” Your heart is clenching in your chest, and you can feel the heat pooling in your cheeks. “By no means would I be better off, let alone happier, without you. I can’t believe that you could even think –” You trail off and sigh in frustration. You can’t bring yourself to scream at him any longer because that’s all he’s ever known before you, screams and shouts and abuse, and you can’t do this to him. But that doesn’t leave you with many options to get through to him. Astarion opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t let him.

Without warning you grab his shirt to pull him close and your lips crash into his, knocking the breath out of both of you with the force that you collide with. It only fuels your rage because the moment his lips are on yours, you can’t help thinking that you almost lost this once and you can’t actually lose it. You won’t let that happen. So you kiss him harder. It’s rough and desperate and sloppy. It's harsh breath and biting teeth.

He turns you around and backs you against the wall. You take it rather hard, but you welcome the sting. Anything to shut him up about not being good enough for you. He crowds in closer, presses you even harder against the wall, shoving his knee between your thighs. His cold lips connect to your throat, making you eagerly tilt your head to give him access to your thrumming pulse dancing at your neck. You have absolutely no qualms about it. If he wants it, it’s his.

But he doesn’t take it. Instead, his mouth sucks and licks, making you squirm and rock your hips against him. You cling to him, grabbing his shoulders and sliding your hands down his shirt and to his back. He hoists you up like you weighed nothing and you wrap both legs around his waist. You tangle your hands in his curly silver hair and pull him forward to feel that mouth on yours again. His tongue running over your lip makes you grind faster, searching for more, more, more. You moan when his hand reaches beneath your gown and through your damp underwear.

Firm, icy fingers are stroking you into madness. You make a sound that’s close to a whimper, but more like a groan, because damn it, you are so impatient now. You are clenching – aching to have him inside.

He is gasping at the feeling of your fluttering around him, and you must be gasping too, but you’re not sure; your head falls back and it feels like you’re breathing, but you could just as well be drowning.

You dig your nails hard into his back - you need to channel the anger into something. Maybe you’ll be the one drawing blood this time. You lean forward to rest your dizzy head on his shoulder and groan in anticipation. Not wasting anymore time, he pushes his hard, large cock into you, going steadily until he’s all the way in.

“Harder. Fuck me harder.” You plead and he obeys.

He sets a pace that graces all the right spots, spurred on the increasingly desperate noises escaping your mouth. This is no effort at all for him, holding you up easily and fucking you hard with determination. But you can see it when you rest your forehead against his – the sheer weakness you feel is reflected right back at you and you know he needs this just as much as you do.

You are so close. You need to concentrate on breathing, just so you simply don’t die. Your lower back thuds against the wardrobe with your oh gods and fucks singing in tandem. The vampire trails open-mouthed kisses and little bites down your neck while maintaining the almost vicious pace in and out of you. Every stroke curls and loves and breaks you into submission. You forget to be angry because your release is in his hands and your body is desperately handing itself over to him.

Your thighs start to quiver around him, the sounds of wetness and the feeling of his own explosion of pleasure deep inside you taking you so high that eventually, you shatter into him. You’re so grateful for the strength holding you up, so you can fall apart.

Your repeatedly moan his name on your way back to consciousness, lips brushing softly against his pale skin.

Before you know what is happening, you break into a sob.

“Please…. Please don’t ever tell me to leave, ever again.” You try to articulate, your voice shaking uncontrollably.

He sinks down onto his knees, holding you in his lap and whispering, “Shh,” into your ear.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice is low and full of gravel. He never sounded so sweet. “I love you, always have and always will. And you’re not going anywhere.”

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littlejuicebox · 4 months

Text

You'll stay still, won't you, little love?

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Reader/Tav

Summary/Setting: Sometime in the beginning of Act 3; you and Astarion are exploring intimacy/sex

Rating/Warnings: M+ / 18+ only please/ Smut with little to no plot / Light BDSM / Soft Dom Astarion vibes / Some mild in game spoilers / PiV / CW / fingering / teasing and overstim if you squint / not beta read or edited too much

Word Count: 2.2K

A/N: I'm a degenerate, idk what else to tell you guys. I’m shocked this came out of my brain, but here we are. Enjoy or be totally flabbergasted or avoid it entirely I don’t know about you all but I simultaneously want to do all three. 💀

-----

You suspected Astarion enjoyed exploring intimacy with you, perhaps more than he thought he would. The first few weeks after his confession at Moonrise Towers resulted in a rather chaste arrangement between the two of you. Days were filled with stolen pecks and occasional hand holding between missions; nights were spent mostly cuddling half-naked or sometimes simply making out.

When a situation became particularly heated, he would always break away, panting. The flush on his face and the thrumming of his undead heart told you he enjoyed these moments, and his erection pressing into you always became quite the distraction.

Gods, how badly you wanted more. But you had to force yourself to pull back and allow him to take the lead, never pushing further than he was willing to give.

For a few weeks, a bit of grinding and caressing above the waist was as far as Astarion would advance. But shortly after leaving the Shadowlands, something within the silver-haired elf changed. He’d become quite intent on exploring your body almost every night, putting his masterful fingers and tongue to work, almost desperate to watch you come undone.

“You don’t have to, Astarion,” You pant one evening, after a few weeks of nearly daily interactions quite similar to this one. The rogue was working his nimble fingers inside the edge of your small clothes, aiming to delve into your already soaking folds. The bulge of his cock, barely covered by his own underwear, pressed against your rear as he slowly rocked his hips into you.

“I know, my love,” He murmurs, removing his mouth from where it had been tenderly suckling your neck. The vampire licks along the fresh love bite, eliciting a little whimper of pleasure from you. And then he smirks as his fingers find the already engorged bundle of nerves between your legs, causing you to instinctively buck toward him with a whine, “But I want to. I quite like the pretty little sounds you make for me, you know.”

He continues his ministrations for a few moments, reveling in your desperate keens. Nothing else stroked Astarion’s ego quite like this.

“Darling, I’d like to try something different tonight, if you don’t mind.” He purrs as his fingers change their rhythm from the languid circles over your clit to gentle, teasing strokes between your folds. The rogue’s hand dips just enough to tease your entrance with two digits before he retracts again, leaving you mewling in frustration.

You need more. He knows it. And he aimed to give you more tonight, but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to toy with you for a moment or two.

“What is it, Astarion?” You ask breathlessly, as he pauses his movements entirely. You whine again and then turn your head to look at the rogue, where he is smirking down at you, clearly enjoying the desperation he’s elicited from his lover. You are caught between his cock and his hand, slowly rolling your hips back and forth, practically begging the silver-haired elf to fuck you with his fingers.

“I want you to come on my cock tonight.” He responds, arching his eyebrow just slightly, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes, “If that’s what you want, my sweet.”

Your eyes widen in shock, and you swear you feel yourself grow more slick at the mere suggestion. You lick your lips, attempting to moderate your own excitement, trying to avoid making him feel obligated in any way. Astarion’s fingers have resumed their teasing movements, and the newly found wetness causes the vampire to chuckle in delight.

“Judging by the slickness of your perfect little cunt, that certainly is what you want. Am I correct, love?” He purrs into your ear, fangs grazing against your lobe as he rolls his growing erection toward your ass once again.

“Y-yes,” You gasp, and as soon as you do, Astarion rips your underwear from your body before tossing the ruined undergarment across the tent.

“Then you will get what you want on one condition, darling.” He continues, and you feel the engorged head of his cock stroking between your folds from behind. The sensation makes you shiver in delight; you desire nothing more than to have him buried inside you.

“What is it?” You ask, instinctively rolling your hips back against him again, moaning when his length rubs against your clit.

Astarion grabs your hip firmly, digging his nails into the side of your ass and ceasing your movements entirely. You whine and then he’s practically laughing in your ear, you can feel how entertained he is by your predicament. He places a tender kiss on your neck before he purrs, “You aren’t allowed to move one bit, sweet girl, or else I will pull out and leave you with nothing.”

You groan in dismay at this stipulation, “Astarion! I don’t- I don’t know if I can hold still.”

“Oh but my love, the choices are simple,” He continues, his voice playfully condescending as his other hand wanders up to lightly tease a nipple, ripping another little moan from you, “You can either be filled by my cock or by my fingers. So which will it be?”

You whine as the male elf uses one hand to stimulate your breast and the other to barely plunge into your sex again.

“Your cock!” You cry, unable to contain yourself any further, “I want your cock.”

Astarion chuckles, quite content with this response. He slides his erection between your folds again, using your arousal to lubricate his length, “And you’ll stay still, won’t you, little love?”

“Yes, I won’t move,” You agree, and this earns you a delighted groan from the vampire. He reveled in the power dynamics of your coupling, and your willingness to surrender control in the bedroom.

“Good girl,” He coos, and then he’s pressing himself into the entrance of your sex. You moan as the head of his rock-hard cock stretches your cunt; there is a bit of resistance at first; it’s been several weeks since more than two fingers have been inside you, after all.

He takes you inch by inch, slowly dragging himself along your velvet walls. Before long, Astarion’s length has filled you completely, and you’re basking in the sensation of being stretched by your lover.

His breath is ragged behind you as he struggles to remain in control, almost entirely overcome with the desire to simply have his way with you. But that’s not the game tonight, he reminds himself.

In one swift motion he’s rolled you both so that you are straddled over him, your back pressed to his chest. He uses his knees to spread your legs wide, fully opening you up for his seasoned hands to explore. His long fingers drag over your stomach and then travel down between your legs, where they easily find that sensitive nub.

“How does it feel to be sitting atop my cock, darling?” Astarion asks as he slowly, teasingly strokes his slender fingers up and down on your drenched folds. You are seeping arousal at this point, coating him with his well-deserved reward. His cock throbs at the thought.

“Wonderful,” You respond, honestly but breathlessly as you struggle to keep yourself from rolling your hips at all. Your legs are positively shaking with the effort to exert such control, and the little tremors running along your spine are urging the vampire on.

Astarion guides your own hand up to your breasts, where he urges you to tease your own nipple. He palms the flesh of the other breast in one hand as he continues to drag his nimble fingers around your throbbing bud.

You are instinctively clenching around him now, your body desperate to milk every ounce of seed from the vampire. Astarion himself is shaking with the amount of restraint it’s taking him to not lift his hips and fuck up into your warmth.

You cannot restrain yourself any longer, your hips buck and you’re instantly rewarded with the delicious sensation of Astarion’s length running against your walls. But then a sharp, stinging smack singes the side of your ass, and a shocked gasp escapes your lips.

“What did I say, darling? Be a good girl and hold still. Try that again and I will pull out.” The rogue warns while speeding up his efforts on your clit.

You sharply pinch your own nipple, trying desperately to keep yourself from moving any more. But gods, how badly you want to. You’re so close. Your walls are clenching tighter and tighter, and the sensation is causing Astarion to grunt in response. He’s trying just as desperately to hold back as you quiver around him, tempting him to do the exact opposite.

His hips buck just once before he regains control and stills himself, but gods the walls of your tight pussy wrapped around him felt divine. The sharp thrust made you moan loudly in delight, and your entire body was shivering from the self-control you were using to hold still. He felt you standing on the precipice of pleasure, so close to the edge. You just needed a little push to fall into a world of ecstasy, and that, he could provide.

“Let go, little love. Come for me,” He whispers hoarsely, and the command sends you tumbling over the edge. You feel the wave crashing over you, rippling through your sex and up to your spine. You clasp your hand over your mouth as you whine, signaling your release.

You are mid-orgasm when Astarion roughly grabs both sides of your hips and hisses, “Fuck it.”

And then he’s thrusting upwards, repeatedly burying himself inside you, intent on fucking you through the second half of your orgasm. You cry out in pleasure as the vampire moans into the side of your neck, continuing to piston himself into you as he chases his own release.

Once again, his fingers find their way to your over-sensitive clit and he’s working at it frantically, in the practiced motion he knows to be your favorite. You keen and try to clamp your legs shut; the sensation is almost too much. But Astarion growls and forces your legs open with his knees as he quickly brings you to the edge of another orgasm.

Your lover is panting with exertion as he holds back his own release. Through gritted teeth he urges you on, using the hand not playing with your clit to grab your hip and slam you down to meet his thrusts.

“One more, darling. You can do one more, can’t you? Let go, I’ve got you.” He coaxes, his voice near breathless but filled with gravel.

“Oh, fuck!” Is all you can respond as the second orgasm rips through you, stronger than the first. You’re seeing stars as your pussy throbs around Astarion’s shaft, rewarding his efforts with a deliciously tight grip and another gush of your delectable juices. The high-pitched, uninhibited whine that escapes you while you’re drowning in ecstasy is music to the rogue’s ears.

As your greedy cunt clenches around him again during that second wave of pleasure, Astarion emits a strangled moan of his own.

He buries his face in your neck as he soon struggles to buck forward, shakily dragging his sensitive, swollen length in and out of your walls just a few more times before he buries himself balls-deep. Thick ropes of his spend shoot up into your warmth as he groans, consumed by his own euphoria behind you. His cock continues to pulse for a few moments longer, urged on by the relentless spasming of your sex around him.

Both of you are heaving and shaking slightly once he finally relaxes his legs. You’re still laying atop him as he slowly roams his hands over your body, idly stroking your curves in soft, soothing motions.

“I thought you said we couldn’t move,” You finally say, voice completely hoarse from the cries of ecstasy you uttered moments ago.

“I said you couldn’t move, darling. I didn’t say anything about me.” The vampire responds with a self-satisfied smirk as he playfully nips at your earlobe, “Are you truly complaining that I did all the work?”

“No,” You respond, finally pulling yourself off of the vampire, releasing the slick combination of your respective arousals as it drips between the two of you. “But at some point I’d like it to be me making all that effort to bring pleasure to you.”

He pulls you down beside him with a little hum. You pull the blanket over the two of you. No other words are exchanged as you drift to sleep, thoroughly exhausted by the events of the day and this satisfying but unexpected evening. Astarion watches you sleep, and for the first time he allows himself to acknowledge that he might also like to let you have a bit of control in the bedroom… perhaps next time.

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lovrspell · 3 months

Text

First time

Pairing: Astarion x Gn!Reader.

Summary: a little throwback to when Astarion received aftercare for the very first time — from you.

Warnings: Fluff. Suggestive. Mentions of abuse/trauma. Inability to manage displays of affection. Vampire bite. Blood sucking. Aftercare.

Word count: 2,3k

Masterlist.

Looking back in time and examining your relationship with Astarion now and several months ago, you realize how much progress you have made together. Astarion, especially.

Now, he trusts, loves, and cherishes you effortlessly, finding comfort in the familiarity of your presence. Your intimate moments are a source of joy, marked by the tenderness of your comforting kisses and caresses. He's accustomed to it all.

But... Before, things were different.

Sometimes you recall the times when he shamelessly hit on you, and you're surprised that you deluded yourself that it was real interest, at least in the beginning — he used it as a defense mechanism, it was something rooted in him.

As for your first night together, it was... Well, it was definitely memorable.

———

“...Are you okay?" you asked, still out of breath from the passion you two just shared. The air in the tent was humid — you had quite the experience.

He turns to you, that usual smirk of his playing on his lips. “W-.. A-ha! Why wouldn't I be okay? I could finally taste you. Of course I'm okay.”

You gave a slight nod, lying down again. Astarion had already sat up, and in that position you could capture even the smallest details of that huge scar on his back you noticed earlier while you undressed him — but you didn't dare to ask about it yet.

In a brief spell of silence, you found yourself teetering between the realms of dreams and reality. The tranquility was interrupted by the sound of a forced cough. Abruptly, your eyes opened to the sight of Astarion staring down at you, fully clothed, wearing a somewhat snarky expression.

He looked anxious. Not his usual self, for sure.

In your half-asleep state, seeing him like that worried you. Were you talking in your sleep, by any chance? Were you drooling?

“What's— What's wrong?”

He raised an eyebrow, shifting his weight from hip to hip.

“It's kind of late, darling.” his tone had something almost impatient about it.

“I guess it is.”

Poor, oblivious you.

In that moment, you witnessed such confusion in him that it made you blink a few times; you couldn't wrap your head on where he was trying to go with that.

Parallelly, he couldn't understand you. Usually he offered his body, the other person took advantage of it and then… They left. But you? You were still there. And you hadn't even bothered to get dressed.

It was natural finding it a bit peculiar to see you still in his tent several moments after your climax. Was there a silent invitation for another round lingering in the air? Was he supposed to read between the lines?

A few moments of silence lingered as he gazed at you, perplexed. You returned the same gaze until a subtle shift in your expression hinted a realization –

Perhaps he sought some personal space.

Feeling a tinge of embarrassment, you blushed, not wanting to come across as intrusive.

“You want me to go?”

He's lost in his thoughts and, very unlikely of him, at a loss of words, apparently. It seems like his brain was trying to process too many informations at the same time, resulting in him going silent.

But you, at the time, as accustomed as you were and still are to gentle kissing and lingering caresses after the thrills of sex, recognized his behavior as annoyance towards your presence; therefore feeling unwanted you took it personally. Still, you didn't want to be on his tail.

“...Alright.”

You began to gather your clothes rather quickly, which were scattered here and there around the tent. As you absentmindedly buttoned your shirt, his gaze was fixed on you.

“See you tomorrow, Astarion. Thank you for... This. Good night.”

The fact that you thanked him for having sex with you baffled him enough, but never as much as the little kiss you planted on his cheek before leaving his tent. Simple and tender.

The tent flap swayed back and forth gracefully, following the lead of the gentle wind on a quiet night. His gaze lingered on the space where you had just been, right in front of him.

What was that?

He tried to think clearly.

During this shared night, he found no compulsion to wander far, to delve into the empty, dark yet strangely comforting realm he usually retreats to in moments like these — while to no one's surprise he effortlessly entered that familiar mental space without conscious effort.

He had sex with you because he knew no other way to gain your trust and protection. That looming, self-loathing sensation is still there, clawing under his skin and nibbling at his self respect with a trillion sharp teeth — but that kiss... That simple kiss on the cheek made him feel something he can't quite define. It's new and scary.

He wondered if it was really necessary to do all this to have your support in this journey.

He was too accustomed to the life he led under Cazador's command — seducing to survive. You're the first person he's willingly had sex with since escaping Cazador and he wasn't even fully into it; the thought upsets him.

Perhaps he's overthinking a simple kiss on the cheek.

But was it that simple?

The thoughts reached a deafening crescendo, and, as if emerging from a dream, he blinked several times and looked around, dazed. He needed to rest.

———

It's been a while since your sexual encounter. Astarion has not failed to make some teasing remarks about it every now and then, alluding to a second chance to indulge in each other again.

That second opportunity occurred, but several days after the first. It happened when you told him that he could feed on you that night and agreed that you would meet at your tent.

Astarion came to visit you late in the evening, when almost everyone had already retired to their tents. He found you reading a book, lying on your stomach.

“Hello, darling.” he greets you, his voice a sound that wakes you from your trance from the huge book you were absorbed into.

“Hi,” you reply distractedly, turning quickly towards him and taking the opportunity to stretch. You pushed the book aside, closing it.

It seemed that over the course of the day you had forgotten that you had proposed him to feed on you — the look of surprise on your face that dissolved rather quickly gave it away. You were visibly tired, he noticed. However, as soon as your eyes met his, you offered a gentle, sheepish smile — the kind reserved for moments when words become wearisome.

Allowing him to feed on you even when it seemed that all you wanted to do was rest stirred a semblance of life in his chest.

You sat up, adjusting comfortably. “I’m ready.” you informed him, moving the fabric of your clothing away from your neck to expose it to him.

Astarion stared at you, and for a moment he didn't say or do anything. He wanted to do something different this time, not just bite you, suck your blood, and then return to his tent. No, he wanted to try something new.

Instead of bringing his mouth to your neck, he brought it to your lips. He kissed you slowly, introducing his tongue in your mouth tentatively — but when he felt the natural tension vanish from your body, he brought his hands to your waist and deepened the kiss.

Astarion felt you melt in his arms, remembering how you had let yourself go the same way a few nights before.

Your hands came up to rest on his shoulders; Astarion leaned towards you until you were laying down. His lips separated from yours with a pop and only then did he place them on your neck. But even there, before sinking his sharp fangs into your skin, he planted a few kisses here and there.

He persisted, leaving a trail of kisses that moistened your neck. His lips traced a path to a point just under your ear, where he planted an open-mouthed kiss. Suddenly, you experienced a sharp, dull pain spreading rapidly in that spot. You hissed, clutching his shirt tightly and exhaling sharply; you heard a soft hum coming from him as he immediately began swallowing mouthfuls of your warm, succulent blood.

That little kissing ritual was to thank you, in a way. You were and have always been available to him, despite his bad temper and grumpy tendencies.

As he fed, the movement of one of your hands moving from his shoulders distracted him.

Next, he felt the touch of a gentle hand running through his hair.

He was so focused on sucking your blood that he didn't even notice for the first few seconds. Accordingly, he felt the distinct touch of your warm hand move across his cheek and cupping it.

What are you doing?

Your tender touch left him puzzled. Akin to a feather's caress, it cradled him in a way that stirred a desire more profound than any teasing or vulgar contact could evoke.

You felt him grunt against you, the guttural sound vibrating through your being.

Those touches reminded him of that kiss you had printed on his cheek after your night together; his stomach twisted in contrasting sensations.

He pulled away from you after a few seconds, but your caresses didn't stop. Your blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, his hair disheveled as a result of your fingers combing through his curls.

“What's up?” you asked, trying not to giggle at the fact that he looked like he had just woke up. You reached an hand in his hair to fix some wild curls back in their place.

He didn't answer at first, but then he shrugged slightly.

“Nothing.” he muttered softly, his body moving in your direction almost without his control. He was experiencing new things within himself, things he had never felt before.

A desire. A genuine desire, nothing that had to do with that of a few evenings prior. Despite his less-than-noble intentions previously, he openly acknowledges being drawn to you. However, unlike before when intimacy served a strategic purpose, this time things are different.

He craves you spontaneously, yielding to the impulse of the moment. While leaning in for a passionate, bloody kiss on your lips, he pledges not to flee from this moment or from you. No mental refuge exists now, just two bodies entwined and two souls merging into one another.

The tenderness of that kiss amazed you.

You feel his arms wrap around your waist to lift you up in his lap, kisses trailing down your neck to suck briefly on the holes he left in it.

One thing led to another and a few minutes later, you were both naked and nestled into each other.

Astarion was thrusting his hips into you breathlessly, continuing just to try drawing another orgasm out of your guts before you pull apart. This has been going on for a while now; he has absolutely drained you. In every way.

You had noticed a certain vigor in him, which was not given solely and exclusively by the fact that he had just made an excellent reserve of blood. He felt alive, present, current. He was there with you, made a puddle in your arms while you cradled each other through your collective ecstasy.

If the first time his gaze seemed empty and absent, often far from yours, now it was bright and lively, never too distant from your own. It was impossible not to notice the difference.

When the rush of pleasure died down, he pulled away from you slowly, almost reluctantly. He came down from above you to lie next to your body; both sweaty and out of breath, you remained silent for several minutes.

You anticipated for him to leave as soon as possible, given the discomfort he displayed that evening when you prolonged your stay just a bit, expecting to spend some time together after your sexual activity.

But he remained there, next to you, his expression thoughtful but relaxed. You assumed he didn't want to leave just yet.

However, just as that pleasant, inviting thought etched itself into your beliefs, he sat up and reached for his undergarments dispersed around the tent.

You frowned, sitting up and reaching for his arm without even thinking twice.

“Wait, wait... Why don't you stay?”

You didn't fail to catch him off guard this time, too. Your voice had such a sweet, pleading edge to it.

“We can talk, we can... We can even just be silent together. Do you want to?”

He guessed it couldn't hurt to try.

He lay down again, putting his clothes aside. He saw you smile from the corner of his eye as you did the same, this time lying on your side.

One of your hands carefully came up to caress his chest tentatively. The tips of your nails scratched his skin deliciously, sending shivers down his spine. His eyes fluttered and he looked up at you; he was confused, disorientated.

“What are you doing?”

“Do you not like it?”

“...I do.”

“Then just enjoy it.”

He followed your advice.

In that instant, he embodied a certain beauty that surpassed his usual charm. Surrendering to your soothing enfolds, he reached a blissful state, breaking down every wall and baring his soul to you. Every muscle in his body eased into relaxation. He scoots closer until he's basically all curled up in your arms, melting against your comforting heat.

That night, he shared a peaceful slumber with you, and to this day, he never ceases to express his profound gratitude for the invaluable gift of your love.

You made his dead heart start beating again.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x gender neutral reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion fluff #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion x fem reader #astarion x male tav #astarion x male reader

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elvirable · 8 months

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Instincts

[ Astarion x f!Reader/Tav ] | ao3 link

rating: explicit | word count: 3.7k | status: complete themes/tags: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, creampie, feelings realization, denial of feelings, light angst at the end, you know the sex scene after the tiefling party?, yeah so this is it, with astarions pov, already catching feelings smh, smut is halfway through, just skip to after all early dialogue

----------------------------------------------------

Little did he know that evening, that was the beginning of his simple plan crumbling apart.

In other words: Astarion has been struggling to balance century-long instincts with newfound feelings, an undeniable connection. He carries out his simple little plan as intended, but meets complications he didn't quite expect. ----------- A/N: so i hung up my cod medals of honor to write this.. i've been playing for a month now. originally posted without proofreading, but its now edited for grammar and some terms -----

It was hard not to have fun around you.

Something of a child-like giddiness would buzz through his nerves whenever you sauntered over, his marbled red eyes wouldn't dare to miss a beat of the vision you were. Swaying hips and that deceivingly coy face. Of course, you were strikingly beautiful – a wickedly delectable sight – but that wasn’t the only source of his carnal anticipation.

It was just you, the enigmatic little thing you were.

Admittedly, Astarion believed he had read you like an open book the moment he laid eyes on you. It was an instinct of his: gathering a cerebral repository of notable ticks and body language, facial twitches, and octave changes in those around him. Watchful, constant observations.

He had chalked you up to a sort of stoic character at first. Graceful, to a degree, in your manner of subtly balancing the world around you. A stable composure, quick and quiet without brash or idle chatter.. unlike that Gale. You were a less flagrantly repulsive hero-type crafted in his mind – but he had still expected you to be oh-so predictable with a shallow drive for self-emaciating ‘justice’. Whereas the others wore their baggage like a garment, you held your cards close to your chest – like a chameleon suddenly thrust into the spotlight.

Yet the sun rose and fell two or three times around the wilderness of Elturel, when he found himself pleasantly contradicted. He normally didn’t dedicate much attention towards someone he believed he so easily pegged, but his interest began to pique. Just enough to leave him sitting with an edge and a consuming desire to peer in closer.

Maybe it was the way your mouth twitched into a quiet smile during his verbal antics on the road or the firm passiveness you held from the blighted village to the drama of Emerald Grove; an intoxicatingly confusing blend of traits you harbored. The closer he watched you, the less blurred you became. You didn’t fear being authentic and enforcing boundaries to those who attempted to use you – but you weren’t cruel; you met the world around you just as it was, without discrimination. No unnecessary harm, no free handouts either.

Or perhaps it was your sarcastic remarks that stirred what little glee he had in him; an especially delicious and refreshing insight into your humor. While he could care to give a critical note or two on your lack of blatant cruelty, Astarion respected your compelling demeanor; he witnessed how all these companions turned their eyes so frequently to you with decision.

But what he did know for sure was the eye contact.

Gods, the first time your heads swiveled mid-strife and your gazes locked with a rich crackle – the memory alone was enough to stupefy him! Something strange stirred, something that didn’t sit comfortably. He didn’t know what to make of it.

With all this said, that same sensation boiled inside his stomach as he mulled over his every interaction with you. He recalled that moment of midnight – when all was still and you had caught him prepared to taste your throat. Your wary stare pierced through him, washing away briefly the desperate pangs of blood-thirst and left him feeling.. nervous.

Ugh, how he despised the feeling.

He was sickened when all those ledgers of observations caved in on himself, caught in his pale throat. He had taken such an overwhelming liking to you – to the extent, he had realized, that he was drawn to your guidance, your approval; a repulsive frustration at the time enough to coil through his cold veins. Without much to say, however, he was adamantly relieved when you conceded and soon regularly allowed him to drink from your slender neck.

His trail of thoughts glossed over your stifled grunts onto the following morning: when you came to his defense as everyone felt the need to chime in with their unfettered prejudices. And how his ease, his excitement around you became persistently potent – a fresh energy that filled him as you spurred on his teasings and whims. Astarion noticed your subtle release of your ever-strong walls, just enough so he could relish in your humor and affable side.

There was always a hesitation at doting on the sensation that rose inside him at these thoughts of you. He surmised he was merely back in the practice; where he spun honeyed words and charmingly guile eye contact, to wrap his target around his finger. Any little edge of control he could grasp onto, the familiar taste of influence he used to know so well. These habits of two hundred years were kicking in. He’d play the part and – sooner or later – this eagerness to please would be reversed onto you.

Whether it was his own willful denial or the culmination of fate’s ever-spinning thread, the first crumble began the night of the tiefling party.

Cool and clear was the star-freckled night. Everything was too merry for him: the wide-toothed grins of the tieflings, sharp strums of the lute, the chatter. Even the wine was downright awful, pungent and tart like vinegar.

Astarion would’ve normally indulged in his bitter mood, but it was the sight of your drunken smile that diffused his prior desire to complain.

How interesting, he thought as his eyes lapped up your squinted grin and eased laughter. It was helplessly infectious to see you so earnest, casually prattling on in conversation throughout the camp.

Red eyes followed while you made your rounds, encouraging the tiefling’s dancing lights spell and conversing with the bard. Astarion even raised a brow at the playful expression that washed over your face as you spoke to the hulking druid by the name of Halsin. When you strolled over to Shadowheart and he caught that carefully provocative glint in the raven-haired cleric’s eyes – a chord of jealousy grew taut inside his chest.

He had half the mind to feel insulted that you hadn’t wandered in his direction yet, but that was quickly dispersed when he noticed you dismiss yourself and head towards a wooden crate near the riverfront.

Almost like a shadow, Astarion swept in your direction. Whether it was to merely take in your smile up close or to put his plan in motion, he settled on the latter. You were rifling through the crate that held what could barely pass as wine, muttering a quiet curse about the little tiefling probably pocketing a bottle or two.

“Here’s my little treat with her cheeks all flushed,” the words dripped from his mouth with a sweet cadence. “You will come to my bed tonight, won’t you?”

You swiveled at the sound of his voice, raised brow accompanying your hazy smile. The influence of wine lowered your usual wariness, and he caught the realization flutter across your face; there was no constitution in attempting to act reserved, especially with the rapport you two had grown. Amusement was written all over your face, hardly concealed – you had decided to play along.

“A little treat? You can do better than that.”

“Oh, I certainly can. It would be my pleasure.”

He leaned closer, half-lidded eyes darkening and breath heavy with a mischievous delight. You watched him expectantly, reveling in what would pour from his lips.

“How about this one,” he loosened his posture, as if you both were stowed away from the entire world instead of dawdling along the outskirts of the shoddy camp. “All these accolades from the tieflings are nothing compared to the sound of my name, cried from your lips.”

Astarion watched the smile further spread across your soft lips, the wickedly sweet crinkle in your eyes while you crossed your arms. An exhilaration rose underneath his suave demeanor, even the bemused snicker invigorating.

“Is that the best you can do?” came your quick quip.

“Hmm, let me give it another go,” his voice was thick with arousal, a hungry glint in his eyes. “Every part of your perfect body whispers temptation – it’s as if the Gods made you just to ruin me.”

His words clung to the air for a moment. The deliberate onslaught of poetic pleasantries laced with such ardent lust, the hum of the wine – Astarion studied your face swirling in thought. Heat had built up from the lower half of your body up to your cheeks, a quiet neediness wavering in your stance and threatened to boil to the surface of your skin.

Gods, you were thinking, it had been the longest time and you’ve been touch-starved.. more so under the urgency of all the trouble you had been thrust into. You never trusted a pretty boy, but you'd be damned if his flowered prose didn't stir something in you; you had never been the subject of such pursuits, real or not. Desire rushed through you, coiling in your stomach.

There was a beckoning in his eyes as they clutched onto yours, imporing you to draw closer, and his boyish features were even more alluring when caressed by the moon’s glow. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to trust those flowery words. They were tinted with an air of rehearse.

“Did these really work on Cazador’s targets?”

“Well, they’re working on you, aren’t they?”

A mild bashfulness buzzed through the warmth on your cheeks, as you couldn’t really deny it.

“How about if I said these little words… everyone’s favorite,” Astarion continued, pausing for effect.

“I love you.”

Sly amusement colored his face. He had succeeded in riling up the intrinsic urge, no matter how much you tried to conceal it. How adorable you were when your gaze fluttered briefly.

“Having fun, are you?” you observed, smile holding on your lips.

As he had mused earlier, he was. It was hard not to whenever around you.

Festivities settled down, the entire camp fast asleep once the wine crate had emptied and bellies were full. Only the chittering of crickets could be heard amongst the trees.

The forest, usually dressed in potent darkness, stilled beneath the moonlight. A serene, subtle beauty of the night – one Astarion was very accustomed to knowing, to living . He had done this so many times it had become second nature – the salacious rendezvous, the secrecy and fleeting thrill of them all.

He had contemplated before, the image of you melting in the throes of pleasure. He wondered whether you preferred his hands gentle or rough, what sounds would dribble from your lips – if they sounded as sweet as you tasted.

Though nothing could prepare him for the reality, which far surpassed fantasy; the pretty little thing you were, bare figure caressed by the lowlight, slowly making your way towards him.

“There you are. I’ve been waiting.”

You offered him a coy smile, cheeks still warm and rosy. An ache rushed between your legs at the sight of him sauntering forward, his well-formed broad physique. Lean, yet muscular – and the soft details of his appearance; the crease of laughter lines, the curl of his lashes. Just the anticipation of it all served enough to make you wet.

“Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you,” he leaned closer, desire coating every syllable.

“You don’t have me yet,” you matched the pulse of his words, emanating a playfulness to goad him on further.

Greedy lips suddenly met yours, and you were pressed against the tree trunk. His palms gripped the back of your thighs, swift dexterity almost catching you off guard. You instantly melted, like a puddle, in his grasp; your soft lips just as eager, skin aching and impatient for his touch. You never realized how sensitive you were, how truly touch-starved until you fought the gasp that escaped your throat.

Astarion didn’t waste a beat, carefully laying you onto the grass below while he drawled slow kisses along the curve of your neck. Fervent yearning permeated from your skin; you wanted more, and he was prepared to give you everything .

He drank in the sight of your arousal, eager to please you yet potently roused from the position he was in: you were such a delectably pretty thing sprawled beneath his weight, completely bare and vulnerable. Wide eyes bashfully beckoning him to just taste you.

“Part those precious legs for me, beautiful.” He directed, his voice less of a growl this time – instead more sweet. Soft.

You could feel your face heat up further at his words, following his command without hesitation. Tender hands trailed along the soft skin of your thigh, his intense eyes briefly leaving yours to watch his fingers lingered over your folds – you were glistening with slick , fevered arousal.

“Oh my, you’re already so wet for me.”

His voice was almost a whisper now, as a keen excitement rushed through his veins. A twitch pressed against his briefs, his cock already hard and eager especially when his eyes darted towards your rosy. So willing, ready to indulge his every whim. For a moment, he settled in your vulnerability – a sight he didn't expect to see. You were always full of such delicious surprises.

He shook the thought from his mind, allowing a sly smile to return to his lips.

“Who knew you were so needy?”

Your cheeks flushed, timid lips scrambling to form a defensive retort before he slipped two fingers inside. Only a quiet gasp left your mouth as your soaking warmth struggled to adjust, tightening around his digits. You were barely able to comprehend the words he said, instinctively bucking your hips.

“ Astar ..” your breath hitched before you could even finish, when his fingers began a slow pace. Teasingly slow, you would beckon, but there was nothing you could even fathom whispering anymore. Your walls began to clench, eager to receive his unwavering attention.

Hums of pleasure pulsed through your every nerve, rapidly as he fastened the curling pace of his fingers. Every hitched and quiet whimper encouraged him, his palm soaked with your slick. He relished the sight of your round breasts rising and falling feverishly, your heat clenched around him – his cock further hardened, precum no doubt pooling on the fabric of his briefs.

All you could manage was to focus on the pleasure mounting between your legs, thighs now quivering with anticipation. His thumb slid up to your swollen clit, never breaking pace, to draw teasingly slow circles. He adjusted his weight to lean closer to your face, the sudden attention causing an overwhelming shyness to press your eyes shut. Your thighs trembled more now while his fingers beckoned and lured your pleasure to spur closer and closer.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his voice the gentlest you’ve ever heard.

He couldn’t place the sensation – of feeling entranced in a sense, when whimpers of pleasure fumbled from your beautiful lips. Astarion almost felt lost, nearly mesmerized, when you kept those pretty eyes trained on his. He could feel his eyes soften at your vulnerable stare, and all at once everything inside him craved to slide into your warmth. To feel you melt into him, to hit every right spot to make you sing, for every sweet prayer cascading from your lips to be for him.

“Mmf..” You were left in a sudden foggy haze, a mix of pleasure and confusion when he abruptly withdrew his fingers. You couldn’t fathom any words to speak, only furrowed your brows in a hazed and disorientated manner.

“I’m sorry, love.” His breathless laugh seemed dazed before the low, heaviness returned to his tone, “You were practically just begging with those lovely eyes of yours.”

He leaned downwards to plant soft, reassuringly delicate pecks across the nape of your neck; each a mantra to affection, leaving a buzz in their wake. Carefully he peeled down his briefs with a wasted moment to rub his eager cock against your slick warmth.

Your moans sounded even sweeter closer to his ear, and a delighted sigh pressed from his lips onto your skin. His throbbing cock was met with some resistance as the length and girth was suffocated by your tightening walls, warm spasms at the sensation being filled.

A guttural, low moan hummed from his throat. Fuck, you were so perfectly tight.

His cock pulsed at the sudden attention, aching with pleasure and a warm buzz radiating through his skin. He paused for a moment, needing to relish every second it felt to be now pressed so deep inside you. The softness of your skin, delicate cues of pleasure washing over your face, how your warm walls enveloped his cock.

You moaned as he pushed more of his length inside your needy warmth, tears beginning to well up in the corner of your eyes. Pleasure and slight pain blurred, the tip of his cock almost pressed against your soft cervix and a rouse of heat traveling up your spine.

His hands gripped the globes of your ass to adjust his leverage, slowly but deliberately digging his hips against yours with each thrust. His body was achingly ready, alive with frantic urge. He was incapable of any pretty words to whisper, tangled groans replacing his usual velvet tongue.

As he pounded quicker into your warmth, your pulsating soft walls sucked his cock tighter and deeper with each buckle. He nestled his head into the nape of your neck. Sweat formed on his pale forehead as he wrestled with his restraint, his cock stroking in and out, hitting pleasure points you never knew existed and relishing in your shameless cries – desperate for him.

Soft, warm pleasure unraveled across you in hot waves. If you had the mind, you could only hope that no one could hear you two – the sounds and wet smacks of his skin colliding against yours – but all you could do was turn your pleasured cries and whimpers into soundless gasps.

Your lips parted, hips bucking before your back arched from the ground. Every fiber of your body attempted to get closer to him, and his to you. Of some act of grace, your hand caressed his face, lifting him to face yours.

Oh, how he wanted to melt right there.

Eager eyes met each other, brows furrowing together into a soft, tender stare. Astarion’s hips began to buck erratically for a moment as he struggled to regain his resolve. Once steadied, he continued to bury deeper into you in every perfect way. You were clenched so tightly, so divinely around him while his name trickled as a whisper from your lips.

“You – fuck .. “ you couldn’t be bothered to form a proper sentence, every whim of comprehension overwhelmed by new heights of white pleasure. You were lulled into a stupor, and his grip tightened at your garbled pleas.

“Thaaat’s it,” Astarion practically begged, voice ragged, his eyes never leaving your beautiful face as it twisted with sweet expressions. An eagerness gnawed inside him, to push you to the edge of your pleasures. You were so perfect while you cried his name, taking all of him so well.

“Come for me, sweet girl –” Hushed and delicate was his tone, only causing you to surrender any inhibition.

Heat wound tightly in your abdomen, lashes wet with the tears trailing down your warm face. Every nerve was wound so tight, finally snapping into a rush of white hot pleasure that left your skin flushed and tingling. You tried to whine out his name, but it spilled out into broken gasps as you reached your fingers to grip his silver curls.

His hips began to stagger, riding out your pleasure until he could no longer postpone the succumb to pleasure. They lost their rhythm, and a low moan rumbled from his throat as he surrendered to the overwhelming sensation of your tightening walls, pressing into you.

You could feel his cock throbbing in you, as your nerves are slow to fizzle from the glowing buzz, and it swelled. Your slick walls were overstimulated nearly by his desperate, choppy thrusts before a cry escapes his lips – his cum flooded into you, thick and hot. He felt waves of warmth, so real and alive. So helplessly right.

The air was silent, as you both collected your breaths in hurried gasps. Astarion peeled his weight off of you only to roll onto his back, by your side. Your body felt light and completely slack, almost boneless as you sunk into the earth underneath you. Aftershocks of pleasure still rippled throughout your nerves.

Both of you laid sweaty, flushed, exhausted, lacking the energy to care. You broke the silence with a wobble in your voice.

“Fuck, you came inside me..” you stated the obvious, reeling from pulsing nerves and vision hazy.

“I’m sure the druids have something that’ll take care of that..” Astarion said breathlessly, extending an arm to wipe the sweat glistening off his forehead.

He waited for a quiet laugh or a retort, but neither came.

Turning his head, he was met with the vision of your exhausted figure fast asleep. Slowly your chest rose and fell, face at ease – a vulnerability he had only seen when you were in deep sleep, if you weren't tossing and turning.

The quiet sat with him while he attempted to gather his thoughts, his experience. He had seen an entirely different side of you – exposed delicate. Part of his conscience pooled with guilt.

He had a plan. A nice simple plan. It wasn’t foreign to casually bed strangers, seducing and manipulating them into following his every whim. Hells, this had been routine for two hundred years . The count was lost on how many nights he spent using people like ragdolls, only to be lured back into the hands of Cazador.

Astarion returned his gaze to the stars glistening above, attempting his best at reducing it to the odd circumstances or perhaps he was simply out of practice.

Regardless – even if it was more than a fluke – he had already fucked things up. The thought felt tainted now, uneasy and riddled with remorse.

Little did he know that evening, that was the beginning of his plan crumbling apart.

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ancuninfiles · 16 days

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Art by @bloodoathlilith

I love Gale in the bg omg

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#astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #astarion ancunin #astarion x original female character #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x female tav #astarion fluff #bg3 #astarion x #astarion x female reader #astarion x f!oc #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader #astarion x female oc

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astarion-approves · 8 months

Text

More than sex.

Astarion x gn! Tav

"You’re telling me, that you.. would pass on a night of… meaningless, fantastic, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mind blowing sex… for love?”

“Yes.”

Rating: Mature (for the subject but no actual sex or smut in any way shape or form.) Tags: Demisexuality, demisexual Tav, Demisexual Reader, No Smut, gn! Reader, Slight spoilers, Act One spoilers, Developing Relationship, Developing Friendships, Drabble, short and sweet, Confessions

Ao3 or keep reading below:

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“I’m just looking for a little more excitement. A little more fun.”

Tav considered these words, anytime they saw Astarion having ‘fun’ was on the battlefield. Either stabbing his way through anything that stood before him, or sneaking up behind them and slitting their throat before they could even scream. “And what’s your idea of ‘a little fun?’”

Astarion smiled, taking a sip of his cheap wine before speaking, “By the hells. Sex, my dear. A night of passion.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed. So, how about—“

“Shadowheart is free.” Tav looked over their shoulder to where she stood by her own tent where she fiddled with a bottle of wine attempting to open it with slow hands.

“Wait, what—“ Astarion shifted to look past Tav to where she stood, the woman catching his gaze and glaring in return.

“And she’s really pretty too,” Tav offered.

“I’m not interested in hearing her praise her goddess tonight.”

“Well, there’s also Lae’zel—“

Astarion shook his head. “I think she would rather behead me before she would ever bed me.”

“Halsin is available too—“ The Druid elf was handsome, and such a powerful one at that but before Tav could even finish, Astarion cut them off.

“Tempting, but not the one I’m interested in.”

“Gale—“

“No.”

Tav hummed, putting their hands on their hips as they scanned the rest of the camp. There were many others, but most were already too drunk to even remember their own names. “I can’t think of anyone else.”

“There’s always you, darling.”

“Me?” Tav snorted a laugh. Surely he must have been joking. Of all the people that Astarion could have… Tav would personally put themselves at the bottom of the list.

“Yes, you. It’s not everyday someone like yourself would be propositioned by someone like me, and this may be your last opportunity—“

“No thank you.”

“No?! What do you mean ‘no’?!” Astarion was shocked, his hands jumping to his chest as if Tav had stabbed him directly in the heart.

Tav grimaced, the way that Astarion’s face dropped, the hurt that filled his eyes so quickly… “Look, I’m not… rejecting you—“

“Sure sounds like rejection to me—“

They shook their head. “I need to be in love first… before I can…” Tav lifted their hands, gesturing towards Astarion in a weak display of trying to find the words and failing. “Don’t get me wrong… you’re- you are breathtaking, Astarion. The most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on—“

“Yes, I know. But– you’re telling me, that you.. would pass on a night of… meaningless, fantastic, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mind blowing sex… for love?”

“Yes.”

Astarion paused, taken aback. “Well, that’s actually quite admirable… But why?”

“For me, I want it to mean something. Sex is an easily obtainable thing, but love… love you have to work for, to fight for, to earn and to cherish. Sex is great and all but… making love to the person who means the most to you in the world. That’s what I want. That’s what I need.”

Astarion tapped his finger against his lips, thinking to himself before speaking again. “Hm. Sex and love, I never took you for such a sap,” he said with a light laugh. “Well, how do you feel about being friends then, hm? The kind of friends that protect one another, that is.”

Tav chuckled. “I think it’s too late for that.”

“Too late?! So what, now we can’t even be friends?!” Astarion threw his hands up, frustrated. “All I did was hit on you and now—“

“No, no,” Tav cut him off, reaching for Astarion’s hands and holding them gently. “What I mean… We can be friends but… I have developed some feelings for you. If you want to be friends, that’s fine. That’s great, actually. I just… well, I need to know if I should ignore those feelings—“

Astatrion pulled his hands way, choosing to gesture towards Tav as he spoke. “So, let me get this straight. You have ‘some’ feelings for me?”

“Yes,” Tav replied with a nod.

“But you don’t want to fuck me, tonight? Right now?”

“Right.” They nodded again.

“How very interesting… and even.. a little refreshing,” Astarion smiled, a smile that almost seemed shy… With his head turning away from Tav—and Tav swore they saw the smallest blush growing on his cheeks.

“Refreshing?” Tav questioned, learning towards Astarion in an attempt to see that adorable blush—

Astarion waved them off, the blush already gone and Astarion back to his usual self. “Never mind that, Tav. I guess we can see where this goes then?” He reached out, taking Tav’s hand into his own and giving it a light squeeze. “Whatever this is, anyway.”

Tav smiled. “I’d like that.”

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lovelybluebirdie · 5 months

Text

Something to care for

Astarion x f!Reader

Summary: Astarion seeks comfort when he is terrified of losing you to his former master.

Word Count: 2,1k

hurt/comfort, angst and fluff

[ AO3 ]

Fleeting glances across the tavern, jovial laughter followed by a touch to his arm, and Astarion has exactly what he needs. Your trust builds fast over his charming words, so you agree to accompany him to the mansion without doubting his intentions.

Astarion dissociates, follows his usual routine as he has done for over hundreds of years by now, while you remain blissfully unaware that you are already caught in his trap.

The scene feels painfully familiar, and yet it doesn't at all.

Uneasiness spreads over him.

No, this doesn't seem right.

Why are you here?

The next moment you lie on his old master’s bed, your eyes closed and shallow breaths emitting your lungs. A dark silhouette is bending over you, its mouth glued to your neck.

Cazador.

Panic creeps down Astarion's spine.

No, this isn't right at all.

His thoughts start to race. He needs to free you from this monster's claws - now.

Cazador looks up as his lips form a hideous grin, blood running from his chin and spluttering on your motionless body.

“A very pleasant bouquet you have brought to me, boy. But you know of that already, do you not?”

Astarion freezes.

The malice in his voice shatters his ribs with the blow of an axe.

He wants to scream, to get you away from here, but his body doesn’t respond.

Suddenly the whole scene shifts and Astarion finds himself with his fangs buried deep inside your neck, warm liquid pouring in his mouth while your hand rests loosely on his nape.

An unbearable dread rises in him.

He desperately tries to tear himself away, to stop feeding on you, but an invisible force holds him down, leaving it impossible to let go.

He must be going mad.

“You sought out to drink from thinking creatures, did you not? Go on then, lavish yourself on her blood! Bleed her dry.”

Cazador’s command unleashes like a fist to his skull.

Astarion knows that he is enjoying this, and it makes him sick.

He concentrates back on you, frantically looking for a way to get you out of this.

“It's alright, Astarion…” you whisper. “I know this isn’t… you.” You seem on the verge of fainting, the hand that rested in his hair slipping, your pulse weakening.

The fondness in your words almost breaks him.

He wishes to plead, to offer himself - to give Cazador everything he demands, if only he would allow you to leave unharmed, but he can’t speak.

Instead, he feels Cazador’s violent grip push him down, ramming his teeth deeper in your neck.

Astarion’s eyes wet and his body trembles while he’s obliged to swallow more of your blood. The thick liquid spills over his lips onto your neck, drips to your hair and paints the collar of your blouse.

Astarion knows that he’s hurting you, killing you, yet he has no control over his own doing. He can't stop, even if his whole body longs for nothing more than to release you.

His senses start to dull, colourful dots exploding before his eyes, while he’s unable to form a single coherent thought anymore, entirely helpless to this monstrosity he inflicts on you.

“What’s the matter, boy?” his former master taunts with a malignant chuckle and positions himself so that Astarion has to look at him. “Isn’t this what you craved? To be free of me, to do as you please?"

His laugh evolves to a gruesome crescendo, echoing through the dreary halls that Astarion once called his home - mocking him, a punishment for his disobedience.

Astarion summons his remaining strength to banish Cazador from his mind and fixates back on you.

He must save you, now, otherwise you will -

Astarion's lungs are on fire. His fangs ache, and his chest is bursting.

He grasps his throat and chokes as he remembers the taste of your blood in his mouth.

Gods, what has he done to you?

He takes a moment to perceive his surroundings.

This is not Cazador’s mansion, he realises, but your shared tent in the camp you made near Rivington.

The essence of his nightmare returns with agony: his fangs piercing your neck, Cazador’s order to bleed you dry, while you were completely defenceless against his torment. The image is almost too much to bear.

With haste, he begins to fumble the woollen fabric of his bedroll in search of your warm body. He has to ensure that you are alive - that he didn’t hurt you.

Then his hand finds your wrist and he stops in his motion. He pushes the fright that shrouds him aside and feels for your pulse, careful not to wake you. There it is - a constant throb at his fingertips.

Despite the evidence that the violent scene was nothing more than a figment of his imagination, he can’t bring himself to fully accept that there wasn’t an actual threat - that you are safe. Yet he has no desire to worry you with his musings, so he starts to slowly pull his hand away, before he notices that it’s already too late. You sit up beside him, rubbing sleep from your tired eyes.

You look so adorable that his chest grows tight.

“Astarion? Are you alright?” Your brow furrows when your gaze meets his, concern lingers in your voice.

Astarion opens his mouth, only to press it shut again as he feels hot tears forming in his eyes. He swallows hard. He wants to reassure you that it’s nothing, to tell you that you should go back to sleep, but the ferocity he committed in his nightmare robs him of any speech.

You give him an understanding expression and lift your blanket. “Do you want to come over here?”

He nods and shifts towards you.

You wrap your arms around him and pull him into a tight embrace. Astarion sinks his head onto your chest and listens carefully to your heartbeat - to make sure you are truly unscathed. That he didn't kill you, didn't bleed you dry - that he has not become like Cazador.

The pulsing sound flows in a soothing rhythm.

He closes his eyes and inhales your familiar scent. The weight that is crushing his lungs slowly begins to dissolve.

You are so warm, he thinks, so comforting, always so affectionate.

“It’s alright,” you breathe and rest your lips at his temple. “He can’t hurt you now.”

There is no need to ask how you know what haunts him, you simply do, and Astarion buries his face deeper in your chest, grasps the fabric of your tunic and lets out a deep sigh. A few silent tears he has tried to hold back spill from his eyes, dampening your clothes.

Your hands draw circles on the small of his back, up to his shoulder blades, until they move to his hair and tenderly stroke along his ears.

He concentrates on your touch. You are here, with him, unharmed - he didn’t hurt you.

A calmness enfolds and for the first time since he woke he allows himself to relax.

Astarion suddenly wonders if he ever had something like a home, a real home, somewhere he felt safe - not Cazador’s mansion, the place from his nightmare, where he endured nothing but torture and cruelty.

Something he could choose for himself - willingly. Not something he was forced to, but something he wanted.

For centuries he was used to the pain he suffered under Cazador’s rule, but you've proven how different his life can be. Through the time he spends with you, he's learned that he is valued as a person. You make him feel seen - show him compassion and patience, despite him missing the words at times.

You give him honest, loving affection, without any vile intent or in expectation of getting something in return.

You are the only one who is like that. Who genuinely cares for him, who loves him. No one was ever kind to him, only you. No one has a heart like that.

Maybe a home isn’t a place, he thinks, but a person.

He feels your fingers twisting gently around his curls, while he listens to the sound of your beating heart, and wishes to never let go of you.

But there is still Cazador and the Rite of Profane Ascension to overcome, and his mansion is barely a tenday away from now.

Astarion wants to shove the thought aside, but knows he can’t. Not when there is so much at stake - when you give him so much to care for.

He envisions the ancient ritual Cazador has planned.

If he was to complete the rite himself, would he become even more powerful than his old master? Would this newfound power offer you protection - keep both of you safe?

But what if you came to harm once you entered his residence? Hells, what if it would be his fault?

The fear of losing you clings its relentless hooks back to his core.

Astarion sinks deeper into your arms and sighs.

No. He cannot lose you - not to the Absolute, not to Cazador or any other madness you have to encounter along your way.

His shoulders tense, leading you to squeeze them fondly.

“He won’t win, Astarion,'' you vow with the determination that Astarion knows too well by now. “We will beat him.”

At first he wants to scold you, point out how naive you were to think it would be an easy task to confront his past tormentor, but instead he pauses to consider.

He remembers the foes you've come across on your journey. There have been gruesome, vigorous creatures among them, and yet you were able to vanquish them in the end.

Have you gathered enough strength to destroy a powerful enemy like Cazador, though?

For a second, Cazador’s liveless body appears in front of Astarion’s inner eye.

Maybe, there was a real chance…

After all, to ensure that both of you will be safe - truly safe - Cazador must be ended, one way or another.

“Is that so?” Astarion clears his throat and frowns. “Well, when you sound so resolute I find myself actually imagining us succeeding.”

Your features soften as you lean forward and put a kiss to his brow.

“I know we will,” you reply confidently. “Besides, for some reason I was declared the leader of our little group, so I'd suggest you better put some trust in my word.”

“I’m afraid being the leader of this group full of weirdos is hardly something to be proud of, love,” Astarion murmurs against your neck.

“That’s rich, coming from the weirdest of the bunch,” you tease as you tousle through his curls. “You’re a rogue who’s terrified of clowns - shall I go on?”

Astarion snorts at your remark. “I'm not terrified of them!” he protests with a pout. “It's just.. They make me uneasy, alright? And they're not original - or funny. Honestly, I’d rather witness a goblin mating ritual than any of those wretched clown shows again.”

He removes your hand from his hair to intertwine your fingers with his. Then he recalls the image of the clown you visited at the circus the other day and his face turns into a grimace.

“Keep telling yourself that, but I know for a fact that you were absolutely petrified the moment you saw Dribbles.”

“That wasn’t even a regular clown - that beast was also a shapeshifter!” Astarion exclaims in feigned bewilderment.

You raise an eyebrow and wait for a moment, leaving Astarion curious, until you pin him down to tickle him all over.

“Stop it, you cheeky thing!” Astarion presses between his laughs while he tries to shelter his most sensitive parts from your ruthless fingers.

When he eventually manages to roll on top of you and grab your wrists, you look at him lovingly and catch your breath. He feels the remaining knots in his chest come loose.

Then your face turns serious again. “I promise you, we will beat him.”

“Stubborn as ever,” Astarion states and clicks his tongue, before his lips curl up to a genuine smile. “But perhaps I’ll remind you of that promise when the time comes.”

“By all means, I hope you do,” you assure and return his smile, your thumb softly brushing his cheek.

You have a rare talent to relieve the tension, he notices. To make him feel light - to make him laugh even, a real, honest laugh, despite the horrors that linger on his mind of late.

Astarion kisses the tip of your nose and lifts from your chest, resting his body against your back and draws you in a close embrace. Then he buries his face in your hair and presses a kiss to your neck, relishing your pleasant warmth.

A sudden fire rises inside him.

The thought of facing Cazador remains scary, terrifying even, but somehow with you, he senses there is a viable chance to defeat him at last.

You give him something to care for, and he will do everything in his might to protect you - both of you, his home.

He won’t lose you, and he won’t lose this.

Masterlist

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vixstarria · 3 months

Text

Seeing stars

Welp, I wrote more porn.

Astarion x F!Tav/F!Reader

18+, smut, porn with plot, porn with feelings, jealous Astarion, soft dom Astarion, dirty talk, fingering, PIV, elf ears and more! Humour, banter and fluff mixed in per usual. Tav failing several insight checks in the process.

I also poke fun at the in-game romance mechanics, and Wyll's Act 2 scene in particular.

This is the last time they have sex before the "I want us to be something real" conversation.

Approx. 2,900 words

“You won’t believe the ludicrous encounter I just had with Wyll.”

You burst into Astarion’s tent. Well, it was ‘Astarion’s’ tent only notionally at this point. Yours still stood, but it now served solely as storage space for your assorted junk. You had effectively moved in with Astarion, having first coerced him into replacing the wooden plank and bloodstained rags he slept on with some sensible rugs and blankets.

Astarion lounged half-naked on one of the bedrolls, reading something by candlelight.

“Oh?” he looked up at you. “Do tell.”

“First the massage you promised earlier,” you said sinking down onto the floor of the tent and stripping off most of your clothes. “My back is killing me after carrying everyone all day.”

“Oh please...” he rolled his eyes. “I recall you nearly walked into your own cloud of daggers, again, and would have if I hadn’t pulled you away in time. And then you blasted Lae’zel off a cliff. It’s a wonder we haven’t kicked you out yet.” He shook his head. “And if you’re carrying anyone, I’m the one carrying you.”

Still, he sat up as you laid down on your stomach.

“Who do you think you’re fooling with this modesty, darling?” he murmured, noticing that you’d kept your underwear on. “Just lose it now,” he added, as he slid it off, leaving you completely naked, before he settled over you, his fingers commencing work on your shoulders. “So what happened with Wyll?”

“I was making my way back here, and found him... performing some kind of jig by the campfire, pretending like he didn’t know I was there.”

“The ‘Blade of Frontiers’, dancing alone in the middle of camp?” Astarion snickered. “Did you mock him? Please tell me you mocked him.”

“Well... I was going to, but then he asked me to dance with him, very earnestly.”

“That scoundrel...” he mused. “And let me guess - you agreed, didn’t you?”

“Oh trust me, at that point it would have been more awkward not to dance with him, I had to play along.”

Astarion scoffed, with a chuckle.

“Do you always go along with whatever people want from you just because it would be too awkward to say no?”

"I try not to – last time I did, I ended up with a vampire who won’t stop sucking me dry,” you deflected. “I figured there was no harm in indulging him. Besides, I don’t see you dancing with me. It was kind of nice,” you teased.

“I hate dancing,” he said.

“Right,” you said. “I’m sure you hate dancing just as much as you hate poetry, flowers, art, cats... What else?”

“Children,” he answered. “I also can’t stand children.”

“No, that one I could see being true,” you grinned.

“So anyway, you two dolts pranced around the fire to the sound of crickets, then what?”

“And then he tried to kiss me,” you admitted, with a sigh.

Astarion’s hands paused for a moment before resuming their work, slightly harder than before.

“Well look at you, receiving the Duke Ravengard’s heir’s attention. Moving up in the world, hmm?”

“I didn’t let him.”

He laughed.

“Is there even a single person left in camp that hasn’t tried to get into your pants, darling?”

You had to think for a moment.

“Are we counting Volo?”

“Sure.”

“Then just Karlach and Withers.”

“Gods, I fucking love Karlach,” he murmured. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Why? Getting jealous all of a sudden?”

Astarion was silent for a few moments.

“I just don’t understand it,” he said. “You’re with me every night. I’m at your side every day. They see us. They hear us. Still, they don’t take me – or you and me – seriously. Tell me, is there something about me that screams: ‘Please, go ahead and take my lover for yourself. Come on in and snatch her right out from under me, I don’t mind’?”

Perhaps you’d made a bad judgment call when you thought Astarion would find the absurdity of the situation humorous rather than offensive. Still, you had to bite your cheek to keep from laughing at the dramatics he added to the delivery of the last few lines that left his mouth.

“Stop laughing,” he said.

“I’m not laughing,” you laughed.

“I can feel your back muscles twitching in your efforts.”

“Well, they’re aware this all started as a joke. Perhaps they never realised that it’s long stopped being one?” you offered.

Astarion’s hands had been moving lower and lower along your back. They had now reached your ass and continued to rub, stroke and squeeze, as you let out a soft groan.

“That’s not my back, Astarion.”

One of his hands kept squeezing an ass cheek, while the other dipped to stroke you between your legs. He gave a satisfied hum when two of his fingers entered you effortlessly.

“Maybe if they could see how wet I can make you just by rubbing your back they’d reconsider how much of a joke this is,” he said, his voice low. He continued to pump his fingers in and out – you were almost embarrassed by the loud squelching sounds that came out of you. You moaned and tried to lift your hips higher, but your legs were encased between his thighs, pinned down on the bedroll. “Do you think you’d be reacting this way to young Ravengard, darling?”

“Stop it,” you hissed. “You know I don’t want anyone but you.”

“Stop?” he pulled his fingers out, to your dissatisfied whine. You looked back to see him studying your slick on his fingers. “I should go smear this on his face right now... The audacity to try to get his hands on what is not his.” He licked his fingers clean instead. He turned his attention back to you.

“Maybe if you were more vocal about your devotion to me the others wouldn’t make these mistakes.”

His hand returned between your legs, spreading your wetness and slipping lower to tease your clit.

“I could be... encouraged... to be more vocal about it,” you breathed, trying to grind against his hand.

“Yes... I should make you scream my name, so they all know who you belong to.”

His fingers returned inside you, teasing you with shallow strokes.

“You can try,” you taunted him.

Astarion let out an indignant huff and shifted to spread your legs open with his knees, simultaneously placing a hand on your back to firmly hold you down. You expect to feel his cock enter you, but he continued to stroke you with his fingers, turning his hand to curl them downwards.

“Is that a challenge, darling?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “You should know better by now than to bet against me,” he said, continuing to flex his fingers inside you.

It started off pleasant enough, but rapidly grew into... more. And more. You weren’t sure what he was doing but whatever it was, it was just about making you see stars.

You sputtered as the new sensation started to take hold of your whole being.

“Ast… what..”

You couldn't manage anything coherent, as his fingers continued to dig into you, gradually picking up speed and pressure. You started to squirm to try to get away despite yourself, but he simply put more weight against the hand on your back, securely pinning you to the bedroll.

“Always getting yourself into situations you're not prepared for…" he murmured. "You're not talking your way out of this one.”

His fingers were relentless. You were worried you really would scream and wake everyone in camp. All you could do was bite down on the pillow, hoping that it would muffle your drawn-out moans.

“Let go, darling... I know you want to.”

It's not so much that you let go – rather, all your decorum was ripped from you, as your muscles convulsed, the orgasm rolling through your entire body. You panted and shuddered, trying to keep quiet, your hands clutching desperately at the covers beneath you, trying to hold on to anything like your life depended on it.

Once the feeling subsided, you came back to your senses to find Astarion hovering over you, kissing the back of your neck and shoulders, grazing them with his fangs, almost but not quite hard enough to draw blood. You felt his erection rubbing against your hip.

“Has anyone fucked you like this before?” he whispered hoarsely into your ear, his breath ragged from his own arousal. “Tell me.”

“No,” you gasped, trying to catch your own breath.

“I thought so,” he whispered with a smile, kissing your neck before he sat back up.

You turned back to look at him over your shoulder. He watched you with a self-satisfied grin, his fingers returning to stroke you lightly between your legs once more.

“Do you want me to do it again?” he purred.

A part of you wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face after what he just put you through. Another, much larger part, wanted nothing more than to submit yourself to whatever he would do to you.

“Yes,” you admitted sheepishly.

“Turn around...” he narrowed his eyes mischievously. “I want to see your face this time.”

You flipped around onto your back, under his watchful gaze. His eyes never left yours as he stroked your slit, teasing your engorged clit with his thumb, before his fingers slipped back inside you.

You found yourself mewling in anticipation before he really even started doing anything.

“So eager,” he smirked. “So wanton...”

He curled his fingers again, moving his whole hand to mercilessly claw into a sweet spot you didn’t even know existed inside you.

You tried to relax into and accept this sensation, now that you were familiar with it. A growing pressure kept building at the bottom of your stomach. It was too much. It was entirely too much. You couldn’t take more of it. You couldn’t-

“Let go, I’ve got you...” His whisper sounded so tender in sharp contrast to the depraved way he was handling your body.

You sobbed as what you hoped was cum gushed out of you, your legs quivering.

“Good girl”, Astarion laughed with glee, bending down to place a kiss on your lips, continuing to stroke you lightly, “Your body reacts so perfectly to me... Do you want more?”

“You... I want you...” you groaned, biting his lip.

“If that’s what my good girl wants,” he purred, discarding what was left of his clothes.

You groaned as his cock entered you, rocking your hips against his, trying to find that feeling again.

“So wet and needy for me...” he goaded you. “I’ve completely ruined you for anyone else, haven’t I?”

He held absolutely nothing back as he fucked you, lewd insistent sounds of skin slapping on skin combined with your shared grunts and moans disturbing what was likely otherwise a silent night.

“Anyone awake knows exactly what I’m doing to you right now,” he rasped, voice thick.

Your walls clenched at the thought, making him shudder and sigh as well.

“You like that thought, don’t you..? I know you do,” he continued. “So shameless...”

Despite yourself, you whimpered, clenching again as another orgasm started threatening to overtake you.

“That’s it... Come for me again,” he groaned. “Come for me, my love.”

‘My love’..? Just a figure of speech, you thought. You’d thrown that phrase around, jokingly, but it’s never sounded so... raw. You wanted to hear it again. You wanted to keep hearing it.

“Your what?” you gasped.

He didn’t answer. Instead he caught your lips in a deep, devouring kiss, pinning your arms over your head.

Your body gave in and you trembled under him, caught up in waves of pleasure again.

He released your arms and eased his movements once you rode out your high, but kept kissing you, hungrily, unwilling to release your lips from his.

Clearly, no further words of love would follow, you thought to yourself with a tinge of both relief and disappointment, deciding to let it go.

“You’re so good to me,” you managed, breaking your lips from his.

“Aren’t I just?” he groaned, speeding up again to chase his own release.

You kissed your way up his jaw to his ear, pausing to nibble on his earlobe.

You couldn’t see it, but a ditsy, open-mouthed smile started to play on his face.

Astarion gasped with a sharp intake of breath as you continued further, running your tongue over the inside of the shell of his ear.

“Oh sweet hells,” he sighed with pleasure, immediately grinding into your harder.

You smiled as he tilted his head, just about pressing his ear against your lips.

“Do you like that?” you whispered in his ear, running your tongue over it again, lifting your hands to run your fingers through his hair. You knew he did. You just wanted to hear him say it.

“Yes... Don’t stop...” His words sounded like a desperate plea.

You continued to gently nibble on the edge of his ear, soft moans escaping you from his movements.

“That’s it, take what’s yours” you groaned, as his hips crashed into yours harder.

His breathing and movements were becoming more and more frantic.

“Astarion...” you whispered, grazing the shell of his ear with your lips.

He let out an uncharacteristic whimper, all his usual composure slipping from him, as he bucked his hips, fucking you with quick, shallow thrusts.

“My sweet...” you breathed against his ear.

He came completely undone, spilling into you with forceful, jagged thrusts, before finally stilling. His whole body seemed to melt into yours as he stayed on top of you, trying to regain his breath.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, not wanting to let go of him yet, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to lift himself from you either. Instead he trailed light, tender kisses from your neck up to your lips.

You delicately traced the contours of Astarion’s face with your fingertips, running them from his cheekbone down to his jaw, as he leaned into your caress, gazing into your eyes.

Astarion parted his lips slightly, as though to say something, only to seal them again. He tilted his head to kiss your knuckles as your fingers gradually made their way back up, to run through his hair. Eventually he spoke.

“You would really choose me over the more... blatantly obvious options you have at your disposal here?” he asked quietly.

“Haven’t I made that abundantly clear already..?”

“Well of course you have – no one else is this good,” he said with a tired smirk.

“I’m not talking about the...” you blinked. “You know I’m not with you just for the sex, right..?” you frowned, looking into his eyes.

He looked away, slipping out of you and moving to lie down next to you.

“Is that so?” he said softly.

You found yourself suddenly feeling rattled. Was he simply fishing for compliments again, or had you been utterly oblivious to just how deep his insecurities ran this whole time..?

“You have a wealth of other qualities that I... enjoy and appreciate,” you said, somewhat lamely.

Astarion propped his head up on his hand and raised an eyebrow at you quizzically. There was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes despite his outward nonchalance.

Oh for fuck’s sake, you thought. I’m not ready for any serious conversations now, especially not with cum running down my thighs.

You turned away to grab something to wipe yourself down with.

“A gentleman would clean up his own mess, by the way. Not one of your strong points. But you do have some virtues that make up for it. For instance... I can leave cheese unattended around you, knowing you won’t eat it.”

Astarion went to pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“You’re a treasure trove of useless information,” you continued. “But unlike some of our companions you usually keep it to yourself.” A hint of a smile played on his lips at that.

“Your hand feels nice and cold on my forehead when I have a headache.” You laid back down next to him, mirroring the way he was lying.

“You always smell nice, especially for a dead guy. You never hog the mirror.”

“What about my hair, won’t you mention that?” he smiled.

“No, fuck your hair, it makes mine look awful in comparison.”

He chuckled at that.

“I do rather adore the garnet puppy eyes though,” you murmured. “What else... You make me laugh, and, more importantly, I make you laugh – which is great for my ego,” you continued.

“As long as you understand that I’m usually laughing at you,” he countered.

“Prick... Then there’s the fact you’ve saved my life four times.”

“Seven,” he said quietly, looking into your eyes.

“Five.”

“It’s seven, dear, I counted.”

“Whatever. When it comes to battle, you’re silent but deadly,” you said. “Like a-”

Astarion’s hand covered your mouth.

“Do not finish that thought, darling.”

You grinned from behind his palm.

“I think we can be done with this conversation,” he said.

“Wait, wait, one more...” you laughed. “You’re eccentric, unpredictable, often irrational. I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth.”

You smiled as Astarion groaned dramatically, covering his face with one hand.

“Knowing I’ll get to spend another day in your mad company gives me a reason to get up in the morning,” you added, softly.

“Come here, you sweet fool,” he whispered, drawing you against him.

You hugged him tightly. It took so long for him to start initiating these embraces that wouldn’t lead to sex... You relished each one.

Tomorrow, Astarion thought to himself, unbeknown to you. I have to tell her tomorrow.

~~~~~

Follow up bonus scene

This work is part of a series - here is the master list

Next in series - Confession

AO3

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@spacebarbarianweird @kittenintheden - hey, I heard you like elf ears

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 smut #astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #astarion romance #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfiction

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