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chaoticbardlady99 · 7 months

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HI FIRST OF ALL LOVE YOUR WRITING second of all ! kind of specific but may I request an astarion x reader/tav where like. 90% of their time with the companions reader/tav hasn’t been able to see all that well- like. they can see colors and sort-of shapes but most details are completely incomprehensible, and through some method or another (probably someone’s attempt at “removing the tadpole” or smthn but up to you!) they’re finally able to see clearly and they’re just. completely amazed because EVERYTHING (astarion) is so beautiful actually??

Like Nothing I’ve Seen (Astarion x GN! reader)

CW- Mentions of gore and violence (due to Volo being a socially incompetent goofball) , self-esteem issues because I’m an insecure queen myself and like to deal with my feelings through my OCs

I tried to write a body neutral reader as well so everyone can imagine themselves in this story! I hope I was able to pull that off.

Title inspired by the song “Beautiful Things” by Grayscale

Hello! I am so sorry this took so long. Work has been kicking my whole ass lately!!!

This has not be thoroughly proof read so I may make changes as I find them, but I was too excited to post it! I hope you enjoy!

Being a monk is hypothetically supposed to help your pain tolerance- ya know, zen and shit.

Except, you quickly learn that a crossbow bolt to the eyeball is enough to break your zen.

Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s fighting quickly subsides as you stare at the two blobs out of your (now) one only good eye- good being a stretch. Admittedly, of all the people this could have happened to, it’s probably a good thing it was you since your eyes don’t really work anyway.

The purple, silver, and black blob (who you have come to know as ‘Shadowheart’) comes running towards you, her movements frantic as she begins to try to bandage your eye. You wince as she starts to remove the crossbow bolt.

“I am so sorry,” Shadowheart says, the distress evident in her voice, “if only that gith would stop being such a problem.”

Shadowheart practically screamed the last bit, but at least you are in too much pain for the shrill sound of her voice to bother you. You never wanted to find out if eyeballs could throb- you missed the hours before breakfast when you were blissfully ignorant to the true capabilities of your eyeballs.

The hostile green ball, Lae’zel, comes charging over with an insult sitting on the tip of her tongue before another blob knocks her aside.

“Walk it off Lae’zel,” you hear Karlach say with heavy amounts of exasperation.

Lae’zel grumbles as she storms off; Shadowheart continues to slowly work on you as you wince, whimper, and feel the tears start to fall.

“What did you do?!”

The rage in his voice rattles your bones- if tones could kill, Shadowheart would have keeled over. The radiant blob of your lover is in Shadowheart’s face (at least you hope it’s her face).

“Fangs, put them away!”

“Oh? Were you this anal when they were SHOOTING CROSSBOWS KARLACH?!”

You are beginning to feel dizzy and the yelling isn’t helping. Shadowheart, Karlach, and Astarion are arguing relentlessly- Karlach attempting to mediate. At some point Gale and Wyll join the mix- you think they are trying to hold back Astarion, but you aren’t sure.

In all the chaos, you are unaware of Volo coming up behind you- a solution brewing in his brains.

“Don’t worry my friend,” He explains with gusto, “I can fix this!”

Before anyone can protest, Volo rips the bolt out- your eyeball coming out with it before Volo plops a spherical object in your lap.

“Tada!”

The blood curdling scream that rips through your throat as you clutch at your eye socket surprises even you. In the midst of the white, hot pain- you hear Volo running off , also screaming, away from what you think is Astarion.

You feel Shadowheart grab the spherical object from your lap as Karlach holds you down on the ground.

“Sorry Soldier, but this is probably going to hurt.”

Oh and it hurts.

Shadowheart is wiggling the eye roughly into your eye socket, apologizing the entire time. You feel your socket form around the new eye. The pain from the removal and the new addition begins to subside into a dull ache as the new eyeball makes itself at home in your head- healing energy radiating from it and Shadowheart’s palm.

You feel like you are going to throw up, pass out, or go into a fit of hysteria by the time you start trying to blink your eyes open. You stare down at the grass below you and watch as a red bug with black spots walks along one of the blades before taking flight.

You freeze- the world is definitely not blobbish anymore. You run your fingers through the soft, green grass.

Has it always looked this way?

“How is the new eye?” Shadowheart says nervously.

You look over at her and try to stifle your shock.

Shadowheart is stunning and Karlach is just as awe inspiring as Shadowheart.

“Are you okay, Soldier?”

Sometimes you forget that your companions don’t know about your vision issues. You are able to hide your vision deficit well due to your years of training as a monk teaching you how to rely heavily on your other senses and the energy in the air.

You have come to adore all of your companions for their personalities, their laughs- Astarion especially. However, now you understand why perfect strangers come up to your companions with enamored voices.

“You catch him, Fangs?” Karlach says in a teasing town.

You hear Astarion scowl, “the bastard ran off and disappeared before I could even get near him.”

Astarion appears out from the corner of your eye and kneels in front of you. You try so hard to keep the surprise and adoration from showing on your face. His eyes bore into yours with an emotion that is not recognizable. A tick of frustration flares in your mind- now you have to learn an entirely new set of rules for social interaction.

Except, you’ll deal with that later. For now, you have a literal God kneeling in front of you, his hand cupping your cheek and surveying your new eye.

Gods he’s incredible.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper involuntarily.

As the blush spreads along your cheeks, Astarion breaks out in a bright, beautiful smile.

“Well that settles it, your vision is working just fine!”

He gives you a quick kiss on your lips- your face feels like it’s on fire.

It has been a little over a week since the tiefling party. He had been distant with you initially after your midnight tryst and you had felt quite broken over it. Well- until you had been spending time with Gale at the campfire talking about the Monastery you grew up in and his experiences with the weave. Astarion had barged into the conversation, sat down next to you, and had practically pulled you into his lap next to the campfire. After that night, you’ve become inseparable- sleeping in each other’s tents, more midnight trysts, cuddling, spending the whole night talking or playing games. You spend alone time with your other companions- he would never control you or dictate who you spend time with. He would spy on you and Gale, but he would never prevent you from talking to him.

“No my dear, I trust you. I just don’t trust the boot muncher.”

“You really need to stop saying that,” your serious demeanor cracking, “he doesn’t actually eat the boots.”

He snickered, “oh ya? Then why have we never seen them after he absorbs them? And yet everyone judges my feeding habits!”

Astarion helps you up off the ground and you are dizzy from all the new stimuli around you. His hands find purchase on your hips as he helps steady you. You take advantage of the support and look around your camp.

It all looked exactly how you did and did not imagine. Your brain feels like it’s having a war between what your senses tell you about the land versus what your eyes are saying. You can label everything in the camp because you know where it is based on location, but none of it looks like the way you had anticipated- in fact, it was all far more breathtaking than you imagined.

“What are you thinking about Darling,” he whispers against your ear.

A pleasant shiver runs down your spine, a smile consuming your face.

“I was thinking it might be fun to go explore around camp and make sure my eye is really working.”

He stares at you with an unreadable expression, “I’m sure the environment and your sight hasn’t changed that much?”

Ah, that look means confusion.

“Don’t be such a pessimist,” you put your hand on your hip and flash a grin, “besides, it’s not like I asked you to go with me.”

*******************************************

Astarion walks leisurely behind you as you make a point of touching anything you can reach. He thought you were the most normal one at camp (mentally at the very least), but he is beginning to think he misjudged you.

You are twirling around the forest like you’ve never been in one before. You ask him questions about specific objects and express a great deal of interest in everything you come across- you even find the rocks interesting. While he did find the strangeness to be odd, he still couldn’t help but relish in the genuine, innocent joy on your face. Astarion feels an unfamiliar warmth spread throughout his body while he watches you as you bound around the forest floor.

Astarion is slowly recognizing that his plan is unraveling, but only a little bit. He had thought you would be the lovesick puppy chasing him around camp, but, as Karlach has pointed out to him, it’s the opposite.

He finds himself always making an inventory of where you are in relation to him, who you are talking to, and your feelings- even the ones he is currently disrespecting by attempting to gain your undying protection.

Now Astarion is here- watching you follow a bumble bee towards a large Oak tree.

As you stop and make a point of sitting down under a tree, you touch the various flowers scattered in the grass and excitedly chat about the details of the flower. Astarion silently sits next to you with a smile and takes a look at your face- you look like a blind man seeing for the first time. The realization hits him like an eldritch blast.

“Darling?”

You hum.

“Have you not been able to see until today?”

Astarion watches as you tense up and your eyes meet his. Astarion struggles to discern the look in your eyes- it’s somewhere between fear and apprehension. He offers you a small smile before you break eye contact with a sigh.

“I, um, was sick as a baby. My mom left me outside of a monastery. I guess whatever I was sick with attacked my vision so I could only really see colors and the basic outlines of the things,” Astarion looks at you as if to encourage you to go on so you continue, “it’s never affected me though. The monks taught me how to use my other senses and taught me how to sense energy in the air.”

Astarion is still trying to wrap his head around the fact that a. He was right and b. You slept with him without knowing what he looks like? C. You are easily the second strongest in your little gang of weirdos and the entire time you could barely see.

“So when you told me I was beautiful last week?”

You blush and hide your soft grin. He hears your heart begin to race.

“I really did mean it then,” you pause,” but it’s a different kind of beautiful. I think you are a very good person- I just adore you. Your smile, your laugh, your personality- even the snarky bits. Or when you are at your absolute worst.”

You pause and give him a joking smile, “You are a real pain in the ass though. I didn’t know why everyone is so enamored with you, but now I can see why all those tiefling women kept flirting with you at the party now though.”

He tries to hide the frown that threatens to reveal itself and he sees the panic flash in your eyes.

“Not that I’m saying you are nothing but your looks because that is not true,” you bite your lip, “I just know I came to like you for who you are on the inside and that was…. Quite the experience.”

“Are you suggesting I’m an acquired taste?!”

“Hmmm,” you tap your chin, “ I suppose that is exactly what I’m saying.”

“I am truly heartbroken darling, I thought we had something special.”

He huffs playfully and pretends to be upset- ignoring the butterflies in his stomach. Astarion’s heart clenches as you look at him with the same warmth he is feeling. You break eye contact from him and he can’t help but feel disappointed.

“We do, you’re just lucky I’m a monk and I’ve been forced to practice patience my whole life.”

Astarion is lost for words as he turns over what you just said in his head. You scratch the back of your neck and start talking again.

“And not to mention, you deserve someone who is going to take the time to know you for you- not just adore you for what you look like. You are really one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met Star.”

We do. Incredible. Star.

His body feels like it might explode from the chaos of emotions spirals through his body. He thinks maybe the effects of the tadpole are wearing off because he feels like he is burning alive. He fights the urge to take you right there in the flowers.

A couple minutes later, you look up at him again- that same fear in your eyes, but also some hope. After you realize he isn’t going to say anything, you speak again.

“I am not entirely sure why you have gravitated towards me, but I really like you. I understand if you don’t feel the same way and we can just go back to being friends,” you pause, “and you won’t lose my protection. I still intend on helping you be free of Cazador once and for all.”

You look away from him, hands fiddling with the flowers. Astarion is still digesting everything you just said to him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t reciprocate your feelings (even if he refuses to admit he does), he just doesn’t… deserve someone like you.

He had always been under the assumption that monks were stuffy and by-the-book. You had taken him by complete surprise. You are slyly funny, have no problems with bending the rules if it means helping someone (he doesn’t care for the intent of bending the rules, but he likes bending the rules), and you are accepting. You aren’t neutral with your feelings unless you are trying to mediate an argument or make the best decision for the group.

He appreciates how blunt you are in private- he never has to try to guess what’s on your mind. You make him feel safe like no one else has for the last 200 years.

How could I not gravitate towards you?

It also occurs to him that you have never seen yourself- how your eyes twinkle when you smile or the dimples that grace your cheeks. You hadn’t even seen your body- the same body he was starstruck by and, despite the dissociation and icky feelings, he was able to enjoy the sex between you to some extent.

He gets up from his spot on the ground next to you- your shoulders slightly slumping in defeat.

“Oh stop being so dramatic darling,” he teasingly smiles at you, “get up- I have something to show you.”

***************************************

You blindly follow Astarion to his tent- you had asked him what he wanted to show you the entire walk back, but he refused to disclose that information.

Once you were in camp, Astarion had wrapped some cloth around your eyes before dragging you in the direction of his tent.

“Now you stay right here- don’t move a muscle.”

“Oh you mean like-“

He interrupts you by swatting your hand away from his curls. You pout playfully and he pulls you to his chest before kissing you deeply. You are shocked by his actions and his gasp of surprise tells you he is just as shocked too. You feel him pull back as you start to melt against him, your hands tangled in his hair. An impatient whine escapes your lips. He chuckles.

“No, no, no,” he says, “not yet. Now stay still or there’s no more kisses for you.”

“No more kisses!?”

“You heard me!”

You stay still- the threat is more than enough to convince you to stop. You can hear and sense Astarion rustling around the tent, placing various objects of different vibrations all around his tent. It feels like it takes eons as he readjusts and moves the objects around. Finally, Astarion hums with approval.

“Alright darling, you can take the blind fold off now.”

You take off your blindfold eagerly and your eyes adjust to the warm light in the tent. As you look around, you see that Astarion had set up every mirror he owns all around the tent.

Mirrors.

You stare back at who you can only presume to be yourself. You take in all your features- dissecting yourself. The longer you stare at yourself, the unhappier you become.

You know that Astarion’s intent is good (or you hope it is), but you can’t help the frown that takes place on your face. You are so plain in comparison to Astarion and everyone in camp. Why would he want to be with you when he could have someone as stunning as Shadowheart? Someone equally as interesting to look at?

“What’s wrong,” Astarion says with alarm in his voice.

You suddenly become aware of the hot tears running down your cheeks as Astarion cups your face with his hands. You shake your head, crying harder as he wipes your tears away.

“Darling, please.”

The desperation in his voice causes you to finally meet his eyes, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“ I’m so plain looking,” you state with venom in your voice, “the rest of you are all beautiful in unique ways and I just look like everyone else.”

He scowls, shaking his head at you.

“That is not even slightly true.”

He twirls you around in his arms and has you facing the mirrors again. You have to remind myself that he is behind you still as you feel his fingers trace the details of your face (it would really ruin the moment if you elbowed him in the ribs).

“No one shines like you do. No one smiles like you or laughs like you- crinkles their eyes when they are happy like you. You are funny and intelligent; and by the Gods you are powerful. The fact that you have been fighting blind this whole time is absolutely incredible. You, darling, are a force of nature,” he puts his face in the crook of your neck, kissing the delicate skin, “I may say a lot of honeyed words, but I wouldn’t say them if they weren’t true.

“And, in all my 200 years of living, I must say, you are like no beauty I have ever seen before.”

You can’t help but smile brightly and you try to look at yourself the way he sees you. Maybe you can see the person he is referring to, but you just need more time to get used to actually seeing yourself. Maybe with time, you will be able to see how brightly you shine too- you’ll just have to work at it.

You smile at yourself softly and say a quiet you’re wonderful to yourself before looking away from the mirrors.

You turn around and give Astarion a soft, long kiss- he sighs into it, meeting your tempo until you pull away; Breathless like a fish out of water. He puts his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes.

“Thank you, Astarion- I think you shine too.”

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion #astarion x you #astarion romance #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #astarion x tav #baldurs gate astarion #volo

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justcallmefox89 · 4 months

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Gale and the Gith: Chapter Nine - Before the Creche

Just a little fluff.

“I cannot believe you are letting him keep that thing.”

Gale turns and flashes Shadowheart an amused smile. “Bold of you to assume he’d listen to me even if I did attempt to dissuade him.”

The cleric rolls her eyes. “You’re the only person X’aa’nath will even consider listening to.”

Gale simply shrugs and smiles, turning his attention back to X’aa’nath and his newly summoned quasit, Shovel. The sorcerer had finally gotten around to studying the summoning scroll the group had scavenged from the dead necromancer’s cellar, and had become instantly enamored of the tiny fiend.

“I don’t see the harm,” Wyll gently interjects. “It might do X’aa’nath good t-”

“Shit-piddling toe rag!” the quasit shrieks.

“To have a pet,” he finishes dryly.

“Well I quite like it,” Astarion says, sauntering over with a goblet of red wine in hand.

“Of course you do,” Shadowheart huffs. “But camp will become crowded with two obnoxious imps present, don’t you think?”

Astarion takes a sip of his wine, looking wholly unimpressed. “Such scathing wit. Oh, how you wound me,” he replies, monotone.

Gale turns back towards X’aa’nath, smiling softly to himself as he watches the young gith take Shovel’s tiny, clawed hand in his own, demonstrating how to gently pet first Scratch and then the owlbear cub, Pudge. The quasit’s dark eyes light up with wonder as he timidly scratches the dog behind his ears, earning himself a quiet woof of approval.

“I think they’ll be alright,” the wizard murmurs. “And we’ll be reaching the creche soon; I think we should allow X’aa’nath all the joy we can before we arrive.”

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sinizade · 5 months

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Imagine the surprise of waking up one day in Water Deep and discovering that the egg you promised to protect has simply hatched? Gale could hardly believe that he had become a father and Qih'Za didn't even know what it meant. They were difficult days with many hard things to do, but they both managed to learn together what it's like to be good parents.

Jaitre Dekarios, a little girl with few words, almost always serious (except with her father who always makes her smile). She likes shells and wants to become an aquatic elf when she grows up, she has incredible speed and reflexes that are always further exploited by Qih'Za to make her daughter strong and able to defend herself when she needs to. Her knowledge of Githyanki culture only comes from what her mother explains, even though Qih'Za has a lot of respect and love for the place she comes from, she is happy to be able to see her daughter grow up in a less hostile place, grow up in a different place where Qih'Za grew up...

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piipaw · 9 days

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Draw Gum and Gale 100 times sorry

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #gale bg3 #my tav #bg3 tav #githyanki #gith tav #bg3 githyanki #gumposting #still trying to find good Gith casual wear for gum to have #aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa i love them

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grandmother-goblin · 6 months

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Asking Nicely

Masterlist

Summary: After an argument with Cas, Astarion decides to try to set things right. Although seduction and manipulation are on his mind, he never expected to be so thoroughly seduced himself.

(This is an excerpt of the rewritten sex scene from chapter 6 of my long fic, Field Study!)

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for smut.

Word Count: 5k

Tags: Smut, oral sex, blow jobs, cunnilingus, fingering, penetrative sex, enthusiastic consent, mild begging, mild disassociation, references to past trauma.

Though he would never admit it, Astarion needed that day of rest. Not just for his body, but to give himself time to sort through the thoughts swirling around in his head. Mainly, it gave him time to figure out what he wanted to do about Cas.

He needed to set things right with her. Both as an ally and as the closest thing he had to an actual friend. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had anything close to friendship with someone. It would have been foolish to give it up so easily.

It didn’t take much to see his relationship with Cas was different. She spent her time with him because she enjoyed his company, not because she had nowhere else to go. As much as his instincts told him to twist her kindness, generosity, and naïveté to his advantage, part of him didn’t want to. Deep down, he knew that he simply enjoyed her company as well.

The dark desires that came with immortality easily infiltrated his genuine feelings. It was difficult to pick between the thoughts, or to figure out which ones were tainted by his affliction. Did he really want something more than friendship with Cas? Was his desire for more fueled by a lust for power or something else entirely?

He didn’t get to dwell on his thoughts long before Cas and the others returned to camp. Lae’zel seemed beyond pissed off, paying no mind to anyone or anything as she immediately went to work dismantling a training dummy with an ax. If he had to make a wild guess, something went terribly wrong with their quest to find the Gith crèche. Despite his awkward conversation with Wyll, it seemed staying at camp was by far the more enjoyable option. He did not want to imagine what it was like to walk miles upon miles alongside an enraged Githyanki warrior.

Cas and the others, thankfully, didn’t seem to share the Gith’s frustrations and simply went about their business as usual.

When Cas acknowledged Astarion with a soft smile and a nod, his heartbeat quickened in his chest like an answer to his previous question. The dark desires courtesy of his vampiric nature were cold, calculating, and yawningly empty. Whatever was stirring in his chest was anything but. Warm and pleasant, like a thick blanket around his shoulders that guarded him from the cold.

Her smile melted away some of his anxieties. Despite his behavior from that morning, she didn’t seem to hold a grudge. She was giving him another chance. A chance that he did not want to waste.

Astarion went out to hunt while his companions busied themselves with their own dinner. By the time he returned to camp, Wyll was sharing a drink with Shadowheart, Karlach, and Gale around the campfire, laughing and telling stories while Lae’zel was still beating that innocent training dummy into oblivion. When he asked where Cas had wandered off to, Wyll cocked his thumb towards the river and said she went to wash up.

Perfect. Just the opportunity he needed to get a chance to chat with Cas alone, away from the potential interruptions from camp. Although interrupting her bathing wasn’t ideal, he didn’t want to sit around and wait for a more appropriate moment either.

Between the sound of friendly chatter and dull thuds of Lae’zel’s steel blade meeting packed straw stuffed in armor, none of his companions seemed to notice when Astarion snuck off.

Enough time had passed since Cas had left that he felt she’d be done with her bath and he was hoping to intercept her on the way back to camp. When he spotted her, it appeared as though she had just gotten out of the water. A beige towel wrapped around her torso, barely covering the curve of her ass as she carded her fingers through her damp hair. The faint scent of lavender scented oil and soap reached him just as Cas noticed his presence.

Her dark brows furrowed at him in question, but she continued working the lavender oil through her hair, focusing on the tips. “Please don’t tell me you were watching me bathe,” she said dryly.

“I considered it, but no.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets as his eyes were drawn to the way the towel clung to her subtle curves. “I just wanted to catch you alone for a moment. Figured we needed to talk about some things.”

Cas dabbed a few more drops of oil into her palm and began to work it through her hair. “I suppose we do,” she said and exhaled deeply as she averted her gaze. “I’m sorry for what I said last night. It wasn’t right for me to accuse you of using me for my brother when you had only just found out about him.” Her fingers worked through her hair, but in a way that was more nervous than productive. “I won’t bore you with excuses, but I am sorry. You didn’t deserve it. I hope you’re able to forgive me.”

Not what he was expecting, but he didn’t disapprove. The words stirred a funny, unfamiliar feeling inside him. When was the last time someone he knew apologized to him? For anything at all? While the apology was nice, and appreciated, it was something else she said that dug deep in a way he hadn’t expected.

You didn’t deserve it.

For centuries, there was always a reason why he deserved every moment of agony he endured. He failed to bring back prey for Cazador. Or he spoke too loudly. Or too softly. He wasn’t standing straight enough. Didn’t smile when he was supposed to. Stood six inches to the left of where Cazador expected him. According to Cazador, he had deserved every harsh word, every cut along his skin, every missed meal. For centuries, the only things in life he didn’t deserve were the good things.

Cas adjusted her towel, holding the thin material in place more with her arms crossed over her chest than with the corner tucked over the edge. She laughed sheepishly and brushed a damp lock of hair behind her ear. “I suck at apologies,” she said, her eyes almost pleading as they fixed on his face. “If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you–”

A smile crept across his lips as she bumbled over her words. Adorable. How could he have ever been upset with her? It was difficult to hold much of a grudge when she was wrapped in a towel like a gift and spoke such sweet words.

“I suppose I can forgive you, darling,” he said, as if forgiving her was some dreadful chore. A droplet of water ran down her neck to the hollow of her collarbone before it disappeared beneath her towel. Astarion licked his lips. “But if you insist on making it up to me, I might have some suggestions.”

The subtle sound of her heartbeat quickened in his ear as her mind went exactly where he wanted it to go but the noise was quickly drowned out with a laugh. “And what might those suggestions be?” she asked as she took a single step closer, keeping herself just out of his reach.

Astarion feigned interest in a non-existent speck of dirt beneath his fingernails, which only seemed to amuse Cas more. “Do I really have to spell it out for you, darling?”

His eyes wandered over curves the towel scarcely kept hidden, from the swell of her breasts to the roundness of her hips. As much as he wanted to close the distance between them and tug the towel loose, he resisted. He was a gentleman after all. Well, that was a lie. But he could very well pretend to be enough of a gentleman that he would at least ask before ravishing her on the spot. “I’m suggesting that we kiss and make up.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” A smirk on her lips said she was intentionally being difficult, like she was waiting for him to just ask her outright. “Or are you more interested in the ‘kissing’ part?”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “You’re cheeky, aren’t you?” he said as his gaze landed on her full lips. “If you aren’t interested—”

“— I never said I wasn’t interested,” Cas said as she stepped closer until they stood toe to toe, her chest brushing against his. “But I want to make sure you’re certain about it. Now that you know who I am—”

He didn’t bother to wait for the end of her sentence. Astarion cupped her face between his hands and covered her lips with his own by way of an answer. He was certain. In this situation, her being the Huntsman’s little sister mattered as much as him being Cazador’s spawn. Which was to say, not at all. For a few moments, they could both forget who they were and the situation they were in.

A sound of surprise came from deep in her throat as his tongue brushed against hers. Sweet peppermint coated his tongue as he stroked hers, and it might as well be his new favorite flavor. Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt as his hands slipped to her waist. He pulled her body flush against his so she could feel the effect she had on him. His cock, already half hard at the sight of her, swelled and thickened between them. “I want to take this towel off,” he said, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke.

When he bit her earlobe, she made a sound that fueled something primal deep within him. Something that only understood need, want, and possession. Something that took the fire in his core and doused it in whiskey, making the flames burn even brighter. His fingers hooked into the towel impatiently, wanting and waiting. He would still play the gentleman, though he wanted to be anything but being gentle.

Her hips pressed into the hardened length and he groaned at the moment of relief the pressure provided. Her movement was slow and deliberate. Taunting him, daring him to take what he wanted. Then her hand slipped between them as she palmed him through his trousers.

She unbuttoned the front of his pants and Astarion suddenly found it a little hard to breathe as her deft fingers ghosted over the inside of his briefs. It was the first time Cas had touched him like that: the first time she had gone for what she wanted rather than following his lead. A sense of familiar numbness mixed with excitement. It felt different than the countless others who had touched him. It wasn’t blind demand fueled by lust. She seemed to be focused on him as she wrapped her warm hand around his aching length.

She stroked him gently and a groan rumbled deep in his throat as he pressed himself into her palm. “You want this, don’t you?” His words were a sultry whisper against her ear. “You’ll have to ask nicely.”

Cas hummed in contemplation as she kissed down his neck. Carefully, she slipped his shirt from his shoulders, letting it fall to the grass behind him.

Then she lowered herself to her knees.

“Love,” he said, caution sneaking into his tone. “What are you doing?”

Of course, he knew exactly what she was doing. He just didn’t know why she was doing it. What in the Hells was she playing at? He was supposed to be the one in her position, the one offering pleasure, but not the other way around.

Lustful, doe-like eyes gazed up at him as she traced her finger from base to tip. “I’m asking nicely.” She licked her lower lip and her eyes went back to the bulge just inches from her face. “Unless you’d rather I do something else with my mouth. It’s up to you.”

Some mechanism in his brain sputtered. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone had made such an offer. Years. Maybe decades. Hells, she even left the choice up to him. She actually bothered to ask what he wanted in the first place and….

He could say ‘no.’

The realization sent a shockwave through him. For the first time in centuries, he could refuse someone.

Somehow, he knew she wouldn’t push it if he told her that he wasn’t interested. It would have been a lie, but just the knowledge that he could refuse her made him feel more powerful than he had in ages.

His heart picked up speed and his throat felt a little tight. “You’re sure?” he said, and mentally slapped himself. Gods, he was supposed to be seducing her! Not… whatever he was doing at that moment.

What the Hells did this woman do to his brain? Sometimes, he swore she affected him more than the tadpole.

Part of him expected her to change her mind. After all, her own pleasure was the only thing she wanted, wasn’t it? That was all anyone ever wanted from him. If his needs ever got taken care of, well, it was usually just because he got lucky.

“Very,” she said and kissed him through his briefs. Then, with a playful tilt of her head, she added, “Please?”

Astarion ran his fingers through her still damp hair. “If you insist, darling.”

Easing down the waistband, a faint hint of redness colored her cheeks as she took in the sight of him. Fuck, he had been in Cas’s position hundreds of times that it felt almost wrong to have someone kneeling before him.

Cas looked up at him with eyes that were simultaneously so innocent and so mischievous. Slowly, she dragged her tongue along the underside of his shaft and his fingers tightened in her hair. Just that small touch made his whole body tense as heat rose to his cheeks.

“Let me know what you like,” she said before wrapping her lips around the head of his cock.

His jaw fell open as she took him into her mouth and every single thought he had vanished. Nothing registered except for the warm, slick, heaven surrounding him. For a moment, he just watched her. Her movements were slow and delicate, like she was savoring him. And he wasn’t sure if anyone had ever paid him attention the way she was. He couldn’t bring himself to look away even if he wanted to, mesmerized by her lips wrapped so beautifully around his cock.

“Fuck, Cas,” he hissed. His fist tightened in her hair as he eased his cock further into her mouth, guiding her into a deep, steady rhythm. “Just like that, sweetheart.”

Cas was a quick study, figuring out exactly what he liked with just the smallest direction. Shamelessly, his eyes locked onto the sight of her lush lips sliding up and down his cock, following her movements, unable to look away even if he wanted to. He groaned when she sucked him a little harder, and took him a little deeper until the head of his cock nudged the back of her throat.

Gods, he couldn’t remember the last time someone touching him felt… not terrible. Heat pooled in his gut as his hips bucked involuntarily. Fuck. If he didn’t stop her, it was going to be over before it ever really started.

“That’s enough, darling,” he said, his voice somewhere between a groan and a primal growl. With his fingers tangled in her hair, he eased her off of him before he came down her throat. With a wicked glint in her eye, her tongue lapped over the head of his cock once more and he bit back a moan.

Her hands settled on his hips as she gazed up at him, pupils blown wide with lust. Waiting. Watching his reaction with parted lips.

She must have seen something in his face because then she breathlessly asked, “Do you want to stop?” The question almost made him want to laugh.

Astarion leaned down, putting his face close enough to hers that he could feel her breath across his lips. “That is the very last thing I want to do.”

His lips crashed against hers in a bruising kiss. It was like something ignited in him like a shot of whiskey tossed into an open flame, sudden and intense. Like the fire spread beyond his body, Cas inhaled deeply as her fingers sunk into his hair with unabashed passion. Astarion wasted no time pushing her down onto the grass.

The towel Cas had wrapped around herself had loosened completely and began serving a much nobler purpose of keeping them off the grass. Mostly. It was an admittedly small towel, but it was better than nothing at all.

Every instinct he had told him to plunge his cock inside her and fuck her until she couldn’t see straight. Once he removed the rest of his clothing, it took every bit of willpower he had not to do just that. Cradled between her thighs, his hard length prodded her entrance, teasing her as she arched to meet him, desperate and wanting. But he didn’t press into her just yet, no matter how badly he wanted to.

Normally, for him, sex was just about going through the motions. It was something that he had been forced to do for so long that he didn’t even have to really think about it. But Cas had completely thrown him off with a few words and a blow job. Gods, she had actually been willing to stop before she ever got her pleasure. She didn’t even seem to be upset by the prospect. All he had to do was say the word and… that was how it was supposed to be, wasn't it?

But after centuries of being denied even the most basic human decency, it felt like a godsdamned gift.

Astarion’s lips moved against hers, hot and eager, as he held his weight above her with his palms on either side of her head. He dragged his mouth down the column of her throat, over the lovely bruise on her neck, more interested in tasting the salt of her skin than the blood that pulsed beneath. His lips wandered to her collarbone, then her full, rounded breasts. Her dark nipples tightened to stiff peaks as his tongue flitted over the tips, one after the other.

“You’re gorgeous, darling,” he said, his voice thick and unrecognizable and far too full of desire. He drew her into his mouth, sucking the most sensitive part of her breast until she was squirming beneath him.

A small gasp passed her pretty lips when his fingertips brushed over the heat between her thighs. “Already so wet for me,” he purred as his fingers delved into her.

The response was immediate. Her hips rocked to meet the movement of his fingers as he kissed between her breasts, his lips trailing down to her firm stomach, lower and lower. His thumb strummed over her clit in practiced motions as he kissed her mound and her inner thighs. Everywhere but where she wanted him. Even in the moonlight, he could see the red flush to her cheeks and the sighs that escaped her lips were like music to his ears.

“Astarion,” she said, his name like the softest caress on her breath. Her fingers tunneled through his hair, blunt nails trailing over his scalp in a way that made his skin prickle with pleasure. Though he expected it, she did not pull or guide him to where she so obviously wanted him.

He glanced up at her and eyes met for a brief moment. A spark of electricity shot through him. Something more than lust, more than simple desire. It was too much. He closed his eyes, breaking the connection, and lowered his mouth between her legs.

Cas’s breath hitched when the steady rhythm of his thumb on her clit was replaced by his tongue. Like she was fighting the urge to hold him there forever, her fingers tensed in his hair without pulling it. As he dragged his tongue through her folds, his fangs ached with the sudden urge to bite her. To taste all of her; blood and sex. He let his fangs graze over her without breaking the skin, sending a satisfying shiver through her.

Cas arched when he began to suck on her clit. His fingers curled within her, stroking her sweet spot in a way that had her hips lifting off the ground. He pressed his forearm over her hips, pinning her in place as he licked, sucked, and tasted her.

Her legs pressed around his ears, her thighs trembling as her walls tightened around his fingers. “I’m going to come,” she panted as he lapped at her swollen clit like he was trying to brand her with his tongue.

It was only another second before her whole body began to shake. Then all of Cas’s muscles went taut as she let out a choked moan, her pussy clenching around his fingers as she came undone. Astarion glanced up and was greeted with the sight of her flushed face and her hand clamped over her mouth as she tried to muffle herself.

Gods, was she beautiful.

While Cas caught her breath, Astarion withdrew his fingers and pressed soft kisses to the inside of her thighs. He trailed kisses up the length of her body, his cock aching to be inside her.

His heavy length ground against her soft skin, desperate for any sort of relief and impatient for a response. The need he had to feel her around him, to fill her with all of him, was indescribable as it was instinctual. He spread her thighs with his knee and pressed himself against her, sighing as the slickness between her legs teased his cock, warm and welcoming.

“Tell me you want me, darling.” His lips brushed against her neck as he spoke.

“I want you.” Cas raised her hips in encouragement. “Please.”

Something primal rumbled in his throat as he notched his tip against her entrance. “I love hearing you say ‘please.’” He thrust into her with one deep, hard, steady plunge that buried him to the hilt.

Her mouth fell open as her pussy clenched around him. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as if trying to pull him even closer, deeper. “Gods, yes,” she said as she pressed her face into his neck, nipping his pale flesh as she rolled her hips against his.

Astarion went still as his breath shuddered, cock throbbing inside her and his hips pressed against hers. Though he had done this exact thing thousands of times, she felt so incredible. So warm and snug around his length as she pressed delicate kisses over his neck to his jaw. Then, with her hand on his cheek, she captured his mouth with hers.

For a moment, something like shame and trepidation flickered within him, before he kissed her back. There would be time to dwell on that later. It was different with Cas. Cas wasn’t a victim, or a target, or just another meal for Cazador.

She was… so good to him. She defended him, protected him. Though she was obviously attracted to him physically, it was clear that there was something more. There was something in the way she smiled and laughed with him. Something in the way she wanted to spend time with him, hear his thoughts, and was willing to stand her ground when they disagreed.

For the first time in centuries, he might have an actual friend in Cas. A real connection. Usually he couldn’t wait for his sexual encounters to be over, but with Cas, he almost didn’t want it to end.

Worst of all, he was still manipulating her.

He was using her the same way others had used him.

She was far too valuable, and he had to keep that in mind. His feelings on the matter be damned. He could push them aside, just like every other time they got in the way of what needed to be done.

“Is everything okay?” Cas asked, her voice thick with lust as her brown eyes watched him with a touch of concern.

With a rakish smile, he rocked his hips. “All of your nipping makes me want to bite you back.” The lie rolled off his tongue easily and grazed his fangs along her neck.

Before she could think to question him, he withdrew almost completely and slammed back into her. A pleasured cry tore from her lips as her blunt fingernails bit into his shoulder. Astarion gathered her in his arms and his hips gently rocked into her, the practiced movement putting steady pressure on her clit. Her walls fluttered around his cock, and every time he slid in deep her breath sighed out as she held him tight.

He couldn’t remember the last time sex had made him feel so connected to another person. So close and so vulnerable. He couldn’t remember the last time he looked a lover in the eye as he was inside them. It was as liberating as it was terrifying.

Cas’s hands roved over the contours of his body, from his shoulders to his ribs to the curve of his ass. Fingertips traced over the marred skin on his back like she couldn’t even feel the scars. No part of him went untouched. No tormented past, no uncertain future, just her body against his like nothing else in the world mattered except their pleasure.

It wasn’t long before she was quaking, her eyes shut tight as she took every last inch of him. With a soft cry, she was coming again, biting into his shoulder to stifle herself. Fire spread across his skin as he picked up the pace. Sweat clung to their bodies as he found a steady rhythm. Just two people at the utter mercy of each other’s touches and her moans were like the sweetest harmony to his ears.

His eyes roved over her parted lips, her flushed cheeks, and the way her breasts bounced as he rammed into her over and over again. A sight just for him, and he wanted it branded in his memory. His movements became uncoordinated and reckless, immersed entirely in the feel of her. With each thrust, the fire pooling low in his abdomen grew stronger, wilder, until it burst into an inferno. He followed her over the edge, spending himself deep inside her as flames ignited him from within.

When Astarion slumped over her, Cas wrapped herself around him tight like she needed him close. Her heartbeat pounded in his ears as they both caught their breath. A comfortable, satiated, silence fell between them, the sounds of night and the rush of the nearby stream grounding them back to reality.

Astarion rolled them onto their sides. Cas curled into him, her arm draped across his middle as his fingers traced along her spine. His mind eerily blank, he smoothed her still damp hair with the palm of his hand as they listened to cricket song.

It was peaceful. Calm. He just wanted to hold her for a bit longer. To feel the heat of her skin against his as they laid together without doing anything more at all. To just be.

But it was far too soon to be getting sentimental.

At the end of the day, it was still about protection. And repayment for everything she had done for him. It would have been foolish to wish for anything more.

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I take it you enjoyed yourself?”

“Do you really need to ask?” She raised a brow at him, but the blush on her cheeks betrayed her attempt at sass. As if she was suddenly shy, Cas buried her face into his chest and said, “I think I left a love bite.”

An unexpected bark of laughter passed his lips. “It’s not like I haven’t done the same to you, darling.”

She traced a splotch of red skin on his shoulder with quiet fascination. “You’ll be able to cover it pretty easily,” she mused as she pressed a kiss to the mark.

“You didn’t cover yours.” Astarion’s fingertips brushed over the fading bruise surrounding the two puncture wounds on her neck that no one else could claim. “Though, I do think it’s only fair that I return the favor,” he said as his mouth found the junction between her neck and her collarbone and inhaled her scent: lavender mixed with the salty scent of sweat. A mischievous grin grew on his lips as he gently nibbled her soft skin. Not hard enough to leave another bruise, but just to make a point.

Cas pushed herself away from him with a laugh. “Don’t you dare,” she said and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory it brought to mind. The one of the night where she so generously allowed him to drink her blood and he tried to go in for seconds. She had laughed and pushed him away then, with the same words on her lips.

They fell into easy conversation as they cleaned up and dressed. When Cas offered to fix his mussed-up hair, she did so with an uncertain smile, her eyes darting to his lips every few seconds. Unsure if she was being too forward, or being too tender, for whatever their relationship was. He soothed her worries with a kiss.

It wasn’t often he had that simple luxury. That he got to spend some time with someone after he had slept with them. Usually they left because they had been satisfied or because Cazador had taken them. Either way, his job was done once the clothes came back on.

He didn’t know what his relationship with Cas was. Or how sex might change it. But he knew one thing for certain: he didn’t hate it.

If anything, he wanted more.

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baldurs-simp · 8 months

Text

Un-Holy (Astarion x Aasimar!Reader)

Summary: Your heritage comes out in the midst of a battle, leaving you to confess your past to Astarion, whom you have developed a strong relationship with.

Warnings: strong language, mild spoilers, aasimar!reader, fluff, written at the spur of the moment while slightly tired, a bunch of rambling in the beginning but shit goes down later on

MY MASTERLIST

You have gone years without a fight until you woke up on the Mind Flayer ship with a tadpole behind your eye. Now, you cannot go a day without fighting for your survival after the ship crashed somewhere near Baldur’s Gate. You are not alone in the fight, however, having met some companions along the way who all share the same affliction you do; the threat of becoming a Mind Flayer.

The first you met was a Gith, Lae’zel, on the ship before it fell, then a Cleric of Shar, Shadowheart. The two don’t see eye to eye, but they keep the peace well enough to not cause a fight within the camp at night. Then you meet the rogue, Astarion, whom you later find out is a vampire after he tried to drink your blood in your sleep. How he’s able to walk in the sun without burning to a crisp is a mystery to everyone, but you think you could be because of the tadpole lurking around in his head. Or perhaps it is the work of the Guardian that visits you in your dreams.

Then you met the wizard from Waterdeep stuck in his portal, Gale. He has his issues. An orb sits in his chest, waiting to explode if it is not sated with magical-infused objects. You normally allow him to consume items that would otherwise be of no use to you. Items that grant you spells that you can already cast. Items useless to you, but not to Gale.

Wyll you had met after defeating a group of goblins that tried to enter the Emerald grove. Meeting him spurred your quest to help the Tieflings being kicked out by the druids. You plan on clearing the way for them, getting rid of goblins that might attack them west of the Blighted Village. Wyll had his quest to hunt down a devil, whom you found, Karlach.

Karlach is nothing like what Wyll had described and they finally came to a consensus to not kill each other. The tiefling that fought in the Blood Wars was only enlisted against her will. And she now joins your party in search of a cure for the Mind Flayer tadpoles.

You feel as if you know everyone in your party, and know somewhat about their past from what they shared with you after bunking down for nights while on the road. Yet, they don’t know a thing about your past. They don’t know who you truly are, or what you really are. But sometimes you think it’s for the better.

Battling the Hobgoblin leader, Dror Ragzlin proves to be a difficult fight. With the majority of your companions looking rough and the fight still raging on, you can’t help the necrotic energy bubbling up inside of you. You have to let it out.

Planting your feet firmly into the ground beneath you, you let out a fierce cry as ghostly skeletal wings sprout out from your back. A necrotic shroud falls over you, turning foes close to you around in fear. Your eyes turn into black pools as your gaze falls on Ragzlin, letting him know that he is your target.

The fight is quickly won after that and you drop your celestial facade, helping up Gale and healing him of his wounds. “Well, I didn’t know we had an Aasimar in our party,” Shadowheart mentions, causing you to turn your head towards her and see that everyone else stands behind her, staring at you in awe and curiosity.

“Let’s just find Halsin and get out of here,” you quickly say, walking past them without so much as making eye contact with them.

“Woah, woah, we’re not gonna talk about how fucking cool that was?” Karlach mentions as the party follows you, stepping over goblin corpses as you briskly walk toward the exit.

“There’s nothing to talk about so let’s not mention it. This is just something I can do just as you can go into a rage,” you say over your shoulder, pushing the heavy oak door open, shoving the piercing gazes you feel on your back from your companions. You sigh, knowing that they will pester you if you don’t tell them what they want to hear. “Look, it's a long story, okay. I come from a celestial background. It’s no different than Lae’zel coming from a Githyanki background. We all come from somewhere and none of us has pestered anyone about it, so why should it be different with me?” you question, turning around to face them. So, can we please leave it at that, find the druid, and get out of this place?”

From the tone of your voice, they can tell that your heritage is a sensitive topic. And they know you’re right. Everyone has their past and they are free to disclose as much as they want. It prevents tension from rising in camp. So, they suck it up, leaving your story to their imagination. Until you’re comfortable telling them.

Astarion, on the other hand, is not one to let things go. He thinks that he deserves to hear your story after he told you what happened to him and how he became a vampire spawn. Not to mention that you and him have become somewhat close. After all, you do allow him to feed off of you at night when he needs to. That creates quite a bond if he must say so himself.

As night draws near, everyone tends to themself to rest after a long day of slaying foes in the desecrated temple of Selune. You keep to yourself, not wanting to be involved in conversation as you fear that someone will bring up what happened to you in the fight. It’s a conversation you don’t wish to have.

You sit by the edge of the lake, looking up at the stars, lost in thought and memory. You don’t even hear the footsteps approaching you from behind as you stare at the twinkling lights illuminating the sky.

“There you are,” Astarion’s voice calls, pulling you out of your thoughts and back down to earth as he sits beside you on the ground. “I had thought that perhaps you had flown off.”

It was meant to be a joke and you know that. But it does not make you laugh or smile. Instead, you sigh heavily and glance down at your feet. “If only. Unfortunately, my wings are incapable of flight,” you state, looking back up at the water lapping at the shore. “They never used to be, you know. Gods, I used to be so fast, flying between clouds like a blur. Now, I can remember what it’s like,” you say, smiling to yourself as you recall a memory of being in the sky.

Astarion has his eyes fixed on your face, taking in your smile, something that rarely comes across your face since he’s met you. “What happened?” he asks, tentatively and in a whisper.

“I fell in love with someone I wasn’t supposed to,” you say, shaking your head in shame. “I fell in love with a devil. He was charming and cunning and I was cast out from my people because of it only to find out that he was toying with me because he wanted to see me stripped of my radiant power. He wanted to see me fall,” you explain, turning to meet Astarion’s gaze finally. “There is no pride in being a Fallen. Only shame.”

He understands now. If anyone, he knows all about shame and it explains more than you know to him why you never told anyone what you are. He wants to reach out and touch you, lay a hand on your wrist as a way to tell you that you are not alone in this. But he doesn’t know if you will allow him to touch you. He knows that if the roles were switched and he told you in extensive detail what Cazador had done to him, he might not know what to do with a friendly touch.

“I wandered around on my own, living off the land, too ashamed to show my face to others, fearing that they would know what I had done and how far I had fallen from grace,” you say, looking back out to the lake. “I was on my own for so long, until I was taken by those Mind Flayers. It seems fitting now, being a Fallen Aasimar with a tadpole behind my eye.”

“You are not alone in this, you know,” he simply says, leaning slightly forward so that he can hold your gaze. “No matter how far you have fallen from grace, you are not alone, little angel.”

You chuckle at his words, your shoulders relaxing as you shift in your seated position. “I’m glad to have met you, Astarion. I only wish that we had met sooner,” you say, smiling sweetly at him as you cross your legs under you. “Perhaps things would have been better.”

Astarion laughs, throwing his head back slightly as he follows your gaze out to the water. “I do not think you would have liked me all that much. I would most likely have led you like a lamb to the slaughter for Cazador to feast on. And he would have reveled in the taste of your blood,” he says, a low growl in his voice at the mention of your blood.

You two had talked about what the others might taste like to him, talking - theoretically - how different people’s blood would taste like. You’re sure that yours must taste different than those he had bitten in battle for a bit of extra strength.

“And I would have tried to kill you if you did,” you tease him, looking at him, your eyes meeting his and you two stare into each other’s eyes.

“May I see them?” he asks, his eyes shifting to your back.

You know he means to see your wings, even in their dismal state. You feel comfortable showing them to him just as he had felt comfortable telling you that he is a vampire. Giving a small nod, you close your eyes to focus on conjuring your spectral wings, revealing their skeletal form with minimal feathers covering parts of them, some looking as though they are ready to fall off.

His mouth falls slightly open as he stares at them, shifting himself on the sand of the shore so that he can kneel behind you. You can almost feel his breath on your next as he shifts closer, his fingers reaching out to touch the exposed bone.

A breath catches in your throat, your head perking up as a shiver runs through your spine, making your wings slightly perk up. Your heart skips a beat, something you’re sure Astarion can hear, and you turn your head slightly over your shoulder to look at him.

You don’t have the heart to tell him that his actions are considered something intimate between your people. Taking another’s wings is something only lovers do. You’ve never had anyone touch them, even when they are in their original, glorious form.

You close your eyes at the sensation, taking in it because you are not sure when you will experience it again. When you feel Astarion moving away, you look at him again and smile. “Thank you. For letting me myself around you,” you whisper, standing up off the ground and dusting off the sand from your hands and legs.

“No. I think I should be the one thanking you for trusting me,” he speaks, standing up with you as he gazes at your features illuminated in the moonlight. Gods, he wishes he could see you in your full glory. He knows you’re still holding back what you could be. Still, he thinks it could be absolutely glorious to see you as the angel you truly are.

You bid him good night and walk to return to your tent. As you leave him, he casts his eyes to the ground to spot a black feather that has fallen from your wings. He bends down to pick it up, twirling it in his finger as she smiles to himself.

He’s going to keep this feather so he remembers this moment forever.

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