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littlejuicebox · 6 months

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Mermaid whiskey.

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Reader/Tav Summary/Setting: 2 weeks after BG3 final battle, Elfsong Tavern / Astarion has been ignoring you and spending too much time reading for your tastes, you aim to distract him. Rating/Warnings: M+ / Smut / Light BDSM / Soft Dom Astarion vibes / Some mild in game spoilers/allusions to events / Overstimulation, Teasing, Bondage, Blindfolding etc Word Count: 4.3K Notes: Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off x Whiskey Girl

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Two weeks after the final battle, Astarion is lounging by the crackling fireplace on the upper level of the Elfsong Tavern, a large goblet of red wine in one hand and a book in the other.

Everyone else spent time after the battle exploring the city or downstairs drinking and celebrating their victory as they all prepared to move onto new adventures. But Astarion had chosen nearly every opportunity over the past two weeks to hang back and enjoy some much-deserved alone time. Now that the constant worries about Cazador and the overall impending doom of Baldur’s Gate were all behind him, the rogue threw himself into finding bits of individual enjoyment whenever and wherever he could. He'd fixated himself on hobbies and leisure, and reading had seemed an obvious first choice. He'd easily idle hours away, sometimes reading an entire book cover to cover in one sitting.

Often, you would sit with the elf as he read, snuggled in a blanket or cuddled up against your love, but eventually you always got the urge to get up and do something else. You'd tried on more than one occasion to interest the rogue in another activity, but Astarion remained glued to the couch for those two weeks, barely stepping away to hunt, bathe, or trance. You'd noted, with a bit of concern, that he hadn't even asked to feed on you in more than a tenday.

Tonight, you’d tried more than once to pull him down to the tavern, but the elf quickly refused, barely lifting his eyes from the pages in front of him. Astarion seemed particularly obsessed with this book; you were almost convinced he’d already finished it and had started a second reading.

Several hours passed while you socialized down at the bar and Astarion's perfect nose stayed wedged in a book before a very tipsy Karlach decided to climb the stairs and speak to the vampire. “Oi! C’mon, Astarion! Close that dusty tome and join the fun. We’ll all only be together for a few more days. Me, Lae’zel, Shadowheart, and Tav are taking shots!”

The vampire’s ears perk up and he furrows his brow at the woman, snapping his book shut in the process. “Shots? Of what, exactly?”

“Mermaid Whiskey!”

“Oh no. Oh no, no, no! Karlach! Mermaid Whiskey practically makes Tav’s clothes fall off!”

Astarion is on his feet now, the book abandoned as he rushes past the Tiefling and down the flight of stairs into the tavern. He quickly spots the silky blue bandana you use to tie your hair up at camp strewn upon a forgotten bar stool. Knowing it’s possibly your most prized article of clothing, the elf tucks it into his back pocket. Scarlet eyes perform a hurried scan of the room and the vampire bristles when you’re nowhere to be found.

The others are still at the bar, where Lae’zel just challenged a bartender to an arm-wrestling competition. The women warriors are cheering Lae’zel on as she’s locked in a stalemate with the man.

“Shadowheart, have you seen Tav?”

Shadowheart barely acknowledges the vampire, too engrossed in the show. “What do you mean? She’s right—“ Her gaze flicks to the abandoned stool as Lae’zel successfully slams the worker’s hand onto the sticky bar, causing the campmates and some other patrons to erupt into cheers. “She was right there a moment ago.”

Astarion runs a stressed hand through his curled hair, inspecting the room for any sign of you. Soon enough, he spots a familiar pair of shoes and hurries to them, eyes already searching for the next clue. A discarded earring floating in a glass of half-drunk whiskey is sat on the bottom step of the stairs. That hadn’t been there when he descended down them, had it?

The vampire’s gaze trails up the stairwell and his suspicions are confirmed. Your navy-blue dress is draped across the back of an armchair he can barely see from his low vantage point.

‘She must’ve snuck around when I was talking to Shadowheart.’

The rogue dashes up the stairs to find you reclined on a chaise lounge, body flushed from the whiskey coursing through your veins. You are strewn suggestively across the chaise, clothed in only your laced undergarments and thigh high stockings. The alluring vision caused Astarion's heart to leap into his throat.

“Darling, what on earth do you think you’re you doing? You’re barely clothed in the middle of the tavern. This isn’t the wilds anymore.”

You’re lying on your side when Astarion finds you, and you pout in his direction as he scolds you, waving a dismissive hand. You roll onto your stomach, bending your knees and crossing your legs. You’re pleased to see the vampire's gaze drag down your body, pausing at the curve of your bottom, before flitting back to your face. Astarion licks his lips as he looks at you, the first sign that your little plan is working. You’ve finally gotten his attention after trying to steal him away from that damned book he was so enamored with all night.

“I know my love, but I’m just so unbelievably hot right now. You wouldn’t believe how hot I feel.”

Astarion quickly crosses the few feet between you two, placing a cool, concerned hand on your flushed cheek. “How many shots did you take?”

“Oh, just two. Maybe three? I kept losing the stupid ‘never have I ever game’ because everyone made all their questions about vampires.” You pout at your lover again before turning your head to press your lips against his thumb, lingering there intentionally, your wide eyes still focused on the rogue.

Astarion was no fool. With your mouth holding his thumb in that suggestive manner, he soon realized what you were doing. You adored the vampire with your entire heart, but on your drunken nights, you knew how to be a perfectly tempting, needy little brat. “And why, my sweet, did you keep playing the game if it was so clearly rigged against you?”

You groan, moving to a sitting position, while your hands toy with the laces of your bodice. “Because…” You sharply tug at the flouncy strings and Astarion’s hand catches yours in a tight grip, moments before you’re about to expose your breasts in the center of the lounge. “You’ve barely paid attention to me the past two weeks… and I was lonely and bored and wanted to have fun.”

“Darling, I know what you’re doing... I thought we agreed that tonight you’d go to the bar, and I would stay up here.” Astarion murmurs, nimble fingers toying with the strings of your bodice. He tries to resist the temptation to look down at your cleavage and fails; you see his eyes roll up in annoyance at himself and his inability to fight off his baser instincts in your presence. Inside you’re practically giddy that you’re winning the charade, but you keep the pout plastered to your face.

“We didn’t agree to anything, my Star. You didn't give me a choice.” You huff, pointedly brushing your hair away from your neck to reveal the little pinprick scars made by your lover. The rogue's eyes trail to the marks and he licks his lips again, suddenly quite aware of how long it’s been since he’s sunk his fangs into your flesh.

Gods you were frustrating. Astarion both loathed and loved that you could play him like a lyre; you knew him so well that you understood exactly what would make him tick. Every. Single. Time.

The vampire shakes his head, trying to rattle the fantasies out of his brain and not allow you the upper hand. You were being ridiculous; if you’d wanted attention, you should’ve just asked instead of acting out. Trying to turn the conversation, Astarion asks, “What is it you even like about whiskey? It’s vile.”

You sigh and roll your eyes before sliding off the chaise and sauntering away from the elf. For a moment you think he’s going to let you leave, but then he’s trailing after you like a lost puppy and you know you've got him hooked.

“Excuse me? You’re just going to walk away? Conversation over?”

You shrug and sigh again, stopping just in front of the door to your bedchamber. You turn to face the rogue, leaning back against the door and crossing your arms. Astarion’s eyes are narrowed as he stares at you with some level of frustration and incredulity at your antics.

“If you must know, I suppose I like a bit of edge… and a bit of pain with my pleasure.” Your voice is coy, eyebrow raised, and you're fully leaning into the innuendo of your statement. “And you like that I like it... don’t you?”

Astarion chuckles at this, a smirk ghosting his lips. “You are a wicked little thing, aren’t you? Using my own games and my own tactics against me now?”

You’re wearing a mischievous grin as the rouge saunters forward, closing the distance between your bodies. He firmly grasps your chin in his hand, scarlet eyes studying your face. Just as his lips brush against yours, and you're thinking you've won this little game, you murmur, “I guess the apprentice has become the master.”

Astarion pauses and draws back for a moment, the darkening of his gaze and his raised eyebrow causing you to shudder where you stand as he grips a bit tighter on your chin. “Oh darling. You’re cute. But now I think I have to teach you a lesson and remind you who the master truly is here.”

And then his lips are on yours, fangs clashing roughly into teeth. He feels for the knob behind you and turns it, forcing you both into the room before unceremoniously slamming the door closed. Your mouths are melded together as the vampire effortlessly guides you to the bed and shoves you into the mattress. Quick, pale hands tug at the strings of your bodice and your breasts are released from their confines, spilling out in front of the vampire’s eager gaze as he drags the undergarment off your arms and throws it aside.

Then Astarion grabs something from his back pocket — your blue bandana — and dangles it in front of you with a mock-condescending pout on his lips. All you can think about in that moment is how you want to take that pout into your own lips and bite.

“Darling, you left this downstairs and I had to retrieve it. I think I may need to teach you to take care of your belongings. You only have two of these, my love, and I know you would be so desperate to find them if they were permanently lost, wouldn’t you?”

You nod as you reach for your bandana, but Astarion is faster and pulls it away just in time, smirking at you all the while. “Come to think of it… where is your other bandana, my sweet?”

"It's in here." You murmur, lips already swollen from the rough kiss he'd pulled you into. You turn to the nightstand and withdraw your second bandana, an identical twin to the first. Astarion quickly takes it from your hand and grins mischievously, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as the silken fabric glides from your fingers.

“Good girl. Now, give me your hands.”

You oblige and the rogue deftly binds your wrists together with an expertly tied knot. He tugs at the bindings, testing their strength. Astarion lifts your hands to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of one before taking the second bandana and folding it into a long strip. Your eyes are fixated on his lithe fingers. Then he presses forward, face mere inches from yours. His eyes are dark and intense, but glimmering with adoration all the same, in a way that floods you with the overwhelming sensation of excitement and safety all in one.

“You’ll let me know if it’s too much, won't you, my love?”

“Y-yes.” You whisper, almost breathlessly and wholly impatient for what is coming next. Your body still burns with desire and Mermaid Whiskey. The last thing you see is Astarion’s eyes before the second bandana shrouds you in darkness.

Cool hands guide you to lay back onto the mattress and soon enough long, nimble fingers languidly trace their way down your body. You feel Astarion’s hands ghost over your arms, down your collarbone, and then trail circles around your breasts where he gives both nipples a gentle, teasing tug before moving on. His fingers brush your abdomen, around the curve of your hips, down the tops of your thighs, and finally to your calves. Then his lips press to your foot, and he works at pressing feather light kisses up your leg.

He continues kissing up your right leg for what seems like forever, fingers still moving tantalizingly along your calf and thigh. By the time the vampire makes his way back up to the top of your thigh, you are wiggling and keening in anticipation. He hovers over your still-clothed mound for a few beats before shifting slightly and returning to kissing down your left leg. You whine in disappointment, your bound hands straining against the fabric as you try to grip your lover. A dark chuckle is all you get in response as Astarion continues to kiss your opposing thigh, nibbling here and there, at a rate that seems somehow even slower than the first leg he worshipped.

By the time he’s placing a kiss to the top of your left foot, you’re writhing wholeheartedly, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to give yourself more stimulation. You don’t dare use your bound hands, knowing the punishment would be further binding and teasing. Astarion unhurriedly runs his hands up your legs once again, stopping to draw leisurely circles at the apex of your thighs before tracing one chilled finger along the waistband of your underwear.

“A-Astarion!” You choke out with another whine, just as the vampire runs that same finger down your still-clothed slit, feeling the wetness now soaking through the fabric from his torments.

Your lover chuckles in dark delight. “I’ve barely even touched you, my needy little love, and yet here you are, positively soaked. Your lesson is far from over, darling.”

There is a moment of silence apart from soft rustling; you cannot see anything, but your ears pick up the sound of Astarion’s buckle coming undone. And then you feel his weight on top of you. You can tell he’s still wearing his briefs as he presses his groin against your sex, legs straddling either side of your hips. Suddenly you feel a sharp pinch on both your nipples. Your back arches in response to the sensation while a pleading groan shoots from your mouth.

“Mm… I think you quite like that, don’t you?”

“Y-yes!” Is all you can reply as you feel Astarion's cold hands kneading the flesh of your breasts before he resumes pinching the swollen buds.

You try to buck your hips, but the bastard knows what he’s doing, and he’s got you pinned perfectly beneath him in a way that renders you all but helpless. Your bound hands search for Astarion’s body, and you barely graze against his abdominals before the vampire rips your hands away with a little tut, laying nearly all his body weight atop you as he raises your hands up over your head. You can feel his breath against your ear before he takes the lobe in his mouth and nibbles. Gods the torture was becoming unbearable. You buck again, another frustrated whine escaping your lips.

“Shhh now, darling. Shame we don’t have a third bandana or you would be gagged. We are quite impatient today, aren’t we?”

You whimper as he continues the abuse to your ear before trailing his tongue down to your neck. “My little whiskey girl…” His lips hover over that familiar little spot on your neck, his breath tickling your skin. Your pulse jumps to greet your lover. “May I?”

You barely nod, “Yes. Please.”

Astarion groans at your response, thrusting his hips forward to press his rock-hard bulge into your folds. You feel a sharp, icy sting in your neck before your body gives way to the delectable ripples of pleasure. The vampire laps from you lazily, rutting against your mound, the still-clothed underside of his cock sawing torturously between the folds of your still-clothed but now dripping slit. He continues suckling, not really drinking for sustenance but more for his own pleasure, his hardening member abusing your swollen clit. You’re keening again, and one of his hands moves to tease your nipple while the other gets lost in your hair, holding you in place as he takes his lazy laps.

“A-Astarion. Astarion! Please, I’m gonna—“

But before you can finish, you feel the wave of pleasure crashing over you and your legs are trembling as you find your release. The elf groans again as you orgasm, now suckling and rutting with more fervor as the taste of your ecstasy courses through your veins. When the crescendo wanes and you’re left panting, Astarion retracts his fangs from your neck with a pleased little hum.

Suddenly the bandana is pulled from your eyes, and you blink, adjusting to the light. The vampire is still straddling you, an arrogant smirk plastered across his face as he wipes the final rivet of blood from his mouth and licks it off his thumb. “Satisfied, darling? Have I paid enough attention to you now?”

You groan and buck your hips again, your drenched undergarments barely rubbing against the rogue’s stiff cock. “No!” You shriek as your bound hands pound back into the mattress.

Astarion’s lips are on yours anew, swallowing your protests as he delves his tongue into your eager mouth. You taste the iron of your own blood and groan, writhing against him and desperately pulling at your bindings. When the rogue pulls back he chuckles before easily delving two fingers inside your ruined undergarments, curling his fingers to barely strum against your swollen clit. You try to arch to meet his digits with a desperate, pleading moan, but the weight of him on your legs keeps you pinned, and you cry out.

“Please, please, please.” You whine in a soft chant coming from your lips, still using all of your strength to barely buck your hips. Your hands are twisting desperately in their bindings. “Please, please, please.”

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you, my love?” He coos, continuing to barely tease your throbbing clit with expert fingers. “What is it that you want?”

“You know what I want!” You hiss through gritted teeth, your frustration bubbling over as the rogue torments that sensitive nub between your legs.

“Hmm… perhaps I do. But you need to ask for the things that you want, my sweet. The parasite is gone and I’m no mind reader.”

“Please put your cock inside me! Please.”

“Hmm... there we are. That’s my good girl. Now, was that really so hard, little love?"

Before you can answer, Astarion’s mouth is enveloping yours as he works to quickly remove his own undergarments. The feeling of his barren member on your mound renews your desperation and you keen into your lover's mouth, causing him to smirk into the kiss. He quickly maneuvers his knee to the inside of your thigh, hitching his own leg up to spread you wide, granting him full access to your sex. Deft fingers slide the thin, arousal-soaked cloth of your underwear aside and then you feel the head of his cock pressed just against your entrance.

“Who do you belong to, my love?” The vampire asks when he pulls away from the kiss, scarlet eyes peering into yours. He’s rocking his hips just slightly, the tip of his member barely teasing in and out of your desperate pussy. He brings his hand to the side of your face, stroking his thumb along your cheek.

“You, Astarion.” You whisper, so entranced by the look in his eyes and the feeling of his cock pressing into you that you can barely think or breath. You try to thrust down to meet your lover's miniscule ministrations, but his other hand has your hip pinned in place.

“Give me your hands again.”

You oblige, and the rogue quickly undoes your fastenings, gently pressing his lips into the angry red marks around your wrists. He takes one of your hands and interlaces your fingers in his. Astarion pins one hand back above your head, but allows you the freedom of the other hand, which you bring to the side of his neck.

Then the vampire kisses you once more. As his lips press into yours, his cock slides into your eagerly awaiting cunt. Every ripple of Astarion's thick shaft makes your body sing in delight, and you're groaning into the elf's mouth as he begins to make fervent love to you, hips snapping with vigor as he sheaths and unsheathes himself in a steady rhythm.

“You are… entirely infuriating… and vexing, sometimes. Do you know that, little love?” He purrs between his lips enveloping yours, tongue exploring your mouth. The vampire plunges into you with steady determination, slowly picking up his tempo.

You’re breathless, rolling your hips to meet the rogue’s. Your eyes are shut as you smirk at his comment. “I know.. I just think you’re so sexy when you’re frustrated.” You respond between panting breaths, and that earns you a rough thrust that hits your cervix and knocks the air from your lungs as you moan in surprise.

Astarion’s hand that isn’t intertwined with yours comes under your chin and takes a firm hold, pressing just enough on your windpipe to create the delicious feeling of breathlessness without actually preventing you from breathing. Your eyes snap open from the sensation.

“You. Are. A. Naughty. Girl.” He hisses, eyes boring into your own, face mere inches from yours, and each word punctuated by another forceful snap of his hips. You moan at the feeling of his length slamming into your cervix. By this time, he’s panting and the flush on his ears is rising, and you know he’s close to his own release. One of Astarion's fingers is lingering dangerously close to your mouth as he clutches your neck; you take the digit between your lips and begin to suck.

As the vampire sees your tongue snake around his finger, he’s done for. All resolve is gone, and your lover fucks into you with reckless abandon as you moan around his hand. The grip on your neck tightens as he starts to emit his own cries of pleasure, and your hand wraps tightly onto his neck in response, nails digging into cold flesh.

“Do you see what you do to me?” He asks through gritted teeth as his thrusts become sloppy. You’re seeing stars, and the friction of his pelvis paired with the intense throbbing of your abused pussy is sending you towards a second climax. As your body reaches its crescendo, you release Astarion’s finger from between your lips and cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. The rogue hears your beautiful cry and feels the pulsing of your sex, which finally pushes him over the edge as he spills into you, cock twitching with every new stream of seed.

His mouth is on yours before you finish your strangled cry of release, and Astarion’s works to kiss you down from your incredible high. The vampire releases your neck, and the passionate force of his lips slowly ebbs into a gentle, lazy kiss. Eventually, with both of your bodies fully spent, the rogue rolls onto his side, sliding himself from you and spilling the evidence of your love making across the silky sheets.

Astarion rolls from the bed, and you whine, but he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear as he promises he will be right back. He slips his trousers on and exits the room for a minute, only to return with the book he seemed obsessed with. Part of you is annoyed when the rogue settles back into bed, opening his arm so you can nestle yourself in the crook.

You give him a little pout. “Do you not love me more than you love these books? I’m beginning to worry I’ve coupled myself to another Gale. I was sure that tonight would distract you and I would have you all to myself.”

Astarion chuckles, shaking his head slightly before turning to kiss you on the forehead. “My sweet, surely you know the depths of my love for you far surpass the pages of a book. And you are always distracting... even when I am thinking of something else, I am also thinking of you.”

He shuts the book and taps his hand on the cover, lithe fingers moving to trace the embossed words of the title. “I apologize if I’ve been consumed and you’ve felt neglected, my darling. This book is just… intriguing.”

You turn your head and for the first time, read the title: ‘The Creation of Dhampirs: A Guide.”

Oh.

Your brow furrows as you turn to look at Astarion, and you see a wistful, faraway look in his eyes. This look was different from his unfortunately familiar one that he displayed during flashbacks and night terrors… this one contained hope.

“Are you imagining your future, Astarion?” You ask, sitting up just enough to place a kiss on your lover’s cheek and brush a few wayward curls back into place. “If you are, then I’d better be there by your side.”

The rogue snaps out of his reverie and turns to look at you again, his expression laced with love. He extends his long arm backwards, dropping the tome on the nightstand before placing his hand on your face. Astarion’s thumb strokes your cheek and he sighs happily before whispering, “Yes, you’d better be.”

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astarionfixation · 2 months

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Am I Fu**ing Insane!?! MASTERPOST

Chapter 1: *Would it really matter if it was a bite or a kiss?* R: Mature

Chapter 2: +As if I had been kissed by mint leaves all over+ R: Mature

Chapter 3: *is she fu**ing…?!?!?* R: Very Explicit

Chapter 4: *F*ck Eternity if Immortality Looks Like Me* R: Explicit CW Blood, Gore

Chapter 5: *Who said it's no fun to play with your food?* R: Explicit CW Vague Mention of Sex Work / Trafficking

Chapter 6: "It won’t hurt but a moment, darling" R: Explicit CW PTSD, Disassociation, Panic Attacks, Blood

Chapter 7: *I have all the time in the world, darling* R: Explicit CW Vague Mention of past Trauma

Chapter 8: "Show me, and I’ll follow you" R: Mature CW: mentions of parental abuse, childhood abuse, forced prostitution, implied rape

Chapter 9: “Would you like my tongue first, or my fingers, darling?” R: EXPLICIT for Sex, Fingering, Cunnilingus CW: Vague mentions of past sexual abuse, PTSD

Chapter 10: *There's no need to hold back anymore* R: EXPLICIT for Sex, Fellatio, PIV CW: vague mentions of past sexual trauma, PTSD flashbacks

Chapter 11: +I am not a glass doll+ R:EXPLICIT ROUGH SEX (intercourse PIV)

Chapter 12: *That'll teach me not to get all talkative…* R: Mature CW for mentions of Abuse and Past Trauma, possibly body dysmorphia if you squint.

Pairings: Astarion X OFC Tav

Status: Ongoing

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54356776/chapters/137677126

I have a quite serious praise kink. Which also means compliments in the forms of tags and/or comments might very well spur me to write and post more

Teaser:

Astarion swallows again, involuntarily, his lips slightly parted mimicking hers and his mouth now watering the closer he gets to her. As the tip of his nose brushes lightly against her lobe a deep moan escapes her lips, carrying his name again to his ears.

“Astarion”

Her deceptively warm fingers have somewhat found a way to sneak up on him as they now tickle the back of his neck, almost as if she was inviting his mouth down to her and *Would it really matter if it was a bite or a kiss?*

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astarionancuninslittlelove · 4 months

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When Darkness Falls

“Every single time I looked at him, it felt like the first time.

My body came to attention as my eyes found his. Every fiber in my body knew that I was unabashedly his for the rest of my days.

And he knew it too.

He didn’t need a tadpole to know that much.”

Find my new Astarion x Tav (F) fanfic here!

Photo by @astarionposting

#astarion fan fiction #astarion x tav #bg3 #astarion #astarionxtav #tav #dom astarion #soft dom astarion #archive of our own #ao3 #bg3 fanfic #smut and fluff #smut #astarion ancunin

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tieflingsfingers · 2 months

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Foraging for Ripened Fruits

What and who: Soft Dom Astarion smut, Character Study, Half-Drow Bard OC. Summary: Thomasin goes off to forage for a meal for camp, but Astarion pops in to remind her of a bet she lost. Realizing he's rehashing an old promise, she reluctantly agrees in hopes of enjoying his company. Warning/Content: 18+, Reimagining of first sexual encounter. Post bite-scene, part of series. A lot about two elves that are bad at feelings. Partial mentions of past traumas that inform their current actions. Word Count: 4,174 Ao3 Link

Thomasin wandered off the beaten path. Unknown thickets and brambles were an easy trek though. From a young age, the half-elf had been taught a labyrinth of knowledge about living off the land. A library of resources left to collect dust with each decade for she’d become dependent on ship crews and city streets with passing years. Now to only blow off those dusty tomes to reread with fondness.

Although, camp was just thankful she could identify a meal.

There was escapism in placing a floral handkerchief and guidebook in her wicker basket. Buckling her skirt at the waist to watch the length sway at her feet. Perhaps she’d find the same little blue flowers dancing along its hem. Handfuls of berries. Bitter leafy greens. Hidden roots revealing hearty starches to soak in broth. Dirt, crisp and cool, compressed beneath her boots. Patches of grass where plants raised their heads to the sky, bathing in sunlight and twisting at its joints.

Pinched between her thumb and forefinger was a leaf whose colors were difficult to distinguish.

She narrowed her vision and wracked the encyclopedia embedded in her memories.

Poisonous markers found themselves hazier and hazier as the years went on. Rhymes recited to know danger by its features. Whether speckles and lines were meant to be fine. Whether pinks and blues sent you praying at the pews. Or was it yellows at the tips? Spikes and spines? The longer this troubleshooting ran through her filters, the more she felt the urge to laugh. What a thing to have a lapse of judgment on. Poisoning the camp on the off chance their stew was more savory than usual.

Just as absurd stakes set in, the leaf was flicked away from her fingertips. The ball of her foot spun in the dirt, twirling in whimsy to head another direction. Skirt in tow. Light dramatics to match the melody humming from her lips.

That was, until the sight of another in her presence. Astarion had created a habit of startling her for his own entertainment. Knowing the windows of calm and isolation meant her propensity to be skittish. Thomasin scowled, immediate embarrassment melting into frustration.

“In the gods’ names, Astarion! Make your presence known or I’ll start sharpening every shard of wood in our vicinity.” She took a deep breath to calm herself from offering more creative threats.

Astarion couldn’t help but clutch his stomach in self-satisfied laughter. When they approached conflict, Thomasin was no stranger to deescalating those with sharp tongues or unflinching convictions. Her own proclivities for chaos even pulled the group into a few hi-jinks. She always wiggled her way out of things unscathed for the most part, from his short experience.

And so, how could he not take advantage of such a glaring pitfall? A gap exposed in her armor? Only for his own amusement, of course. Each of his steps became looser, bouncing with their weight, partaking in one of his favorite activities. Peacocking.

“Is it not hilarious that you’re more frightened of me than those giant bandits we encountered? Although…” He placed a hand upon his chest. “Maybe it’s a bit of a compliment. Thank you for that. I have felt quite the masculine energy in me with all this newfound freedom.”

Thomasin snickered. “Glowing. Don’t look a day over three hundred years old.”

“Excuse me, it’s not my fault you hop around here like a scared little fawn.”

“Okay, fine. What are you doing out here anyways?”

“It is a curse to simply be, I don’t know. Bored? The woods aren’t as magical as druids like to make a big fuss about. ”

Finding his answer lackluster at best, Thomasin continued to search her surroundings. Like a puppy gnawing at her ankles, he followed her trail, preparing quips to throw over her shoulder. Watching her pluck foreign fruits from mysterious branches. He’d offer an agreeable “hm” and “ah” in half-hearted acknowledgment as she conjured up ways to poison Cazador.

Nothing worth pocketing for later though. Scary flowers? To defeat the reign of vampiric terror? Child’s play. Absolute yawn.

Thomasin turned to be greeted by his eyes wandering about the flora with little thought brewing within. She found his predictability charming.

“You’re not even listening,” she said.

“Bah, nothing but accusatory language. I am immensely interested in what the leaves are up to. Which herbs are the biggest gossips or whatever,” he followed up. Almost too immediately. “I did have something to bring to your attention though.”

“Hm? Another confession? Lycan blood also in your veins?”

“Oh, I’d be unstoppable with Lycan blood in me. Imagine? A dinner of champions– Although I wouldn’t want to spoil my snack.” He inched toward her, keeping just enough distance to offset potential rejections.

Thomasin arched her brow, leaning back and compensating for the closing quarters between them. “Are you going to kill me now?”

”This is a peaceful coup, on my heart, I swear it.” One hand raised, chest puffed and proud. “Consider this a midday snack. Don’t be a sore loser now. A deal is a deal.”

Thomasin slipped into momentary bemusement, attempting to recollect what bet they made. The prize seemed obvious at least. His glances failed at subtlety and she’d catch his eyes dart to the clavicle peeking from her neckline. Not the most bizarre way she’d been objectified, but it still took some getting used to.

It was all uncharted territory. Even if she felt flustered, she had to press it down. Blushing admitted defeat. Docile defeat wasn’t in her vocabulary nor her nature.

He twirled his hand about, gesturing to matters as casual as the weather. “You cannot tell me my winning hand at cards is suddenly incorrect, Thomasin. I love delusion as much as the next man, don’t get me wrong. I mean, Karlach and Wyll could read you the contract as if straight from Avernus itself. Just a light nibble of thy neck.”

Thomasin wanted to retort. Yet, she had been around the campfire those long nights. She was aware of exchanges lightening the load of their gold pouches. The glory of riches on the line. Opportunity to watch Karlach drunkenly arm-wrestle Wyll or Astarion throw daggers at glass bottles with precision. Irresponsible banter around the fire was prime for it. Even if the night was hazy at this point, vague stipulations of a retired magistrate couldn’t be disputed. He was right. She didn’t think her hand was that bad, from what she could recollect, but he was right.

If anything, the length he waited was more of an oddity. The bet went unredeemed for a long while. Weeks even. They had been busy though. Shooing the feistier of goblins and gnolls into early graves, resolving power struggle after power struggle. Hunching over hastily cooked meals and soothing aching muscles in lakes. Perhaps flirtation here and there, but the sweet nothings had been there for comic relief. Cheeky remarks to remind them of normalcy.

“Fine, fine. C’mon,” she said, amused by his persistence.

The half-elf tugged at her skirt, sweeping it into the direction of a cushioned patch of wildflowers and clovers tucked beneath a tree. Her basket slipped from her hands, cradled by clovers.

Astarion grinned at Thomasin, following in suit, pinching at the bow helping fasten her skirt to her waist. He studied her shape like many times before. Quietly, but nevertheless. The drapery of her blouse and how it tucked in along the small of her back. Her sleeves pushed up to her forearm, billowing fabric tapered, cuffed, and buttoned.

She flicked her view up from her under her lashes. The stitches of her linens had folded into themselves to reveal her shoulder, her fingertips pressing into her clavicle as if she’d gather more answers from touch alone. She was a peach, carefully cut into slivers for his enjoyment. To drip and glisten down his palms. To sticky the already unspoken laws of the platonic.

“I caught you staring earlier. I-Would that hurt more? My shoulder?” Thomasin glanced down at the grass for a split second to consider her options, meeting him again with a quick answer. “Actually, that’s a lot more hidden than the neck.”

It’d been ages since one of Astarion’s conquests felt like less of a chore.

He was quick to slip into his role. Rehearsed as often as a shopkeeper stocked their wares, he turned on the “pursuer”. Sexual conquests and their success were a promise of relief. As much as he would never admit, he had dug into his filing cabinet of archetypes he’d approach. Whether she was a romantic, a bookish sort, or looking for sexual wanderlust. The complexities mixed with their constant travels made for rocky waters though. Talking alone wasn’t going to work.

This made him toss and turn at night. Feeling like the ground could crack under his cot every reverie and swallow him up. A man not suited for more than being hung up like a rug, heavy with dust, to be beaten and displayed as usual. He didn’t want to think about that.

“Perfect,” he finally spoke up.

Astarion gingerly pulled her wrist in to close distance once again. The chimes of nervous giggling made his ears twitch. As if it ignited something ingrained deep in the recesses of his mind. Was it an internal monstrous instinct? Was it a matter of preying on vulnerability? The promise of a quick and easy night in most circumstances. He hoped that maybe, just maybe, it was a positive emotion he couldn’t distinguish yet. No matter how benign.

He scouted out the landscape of her skin, although it wasn’t long before he noticed how quick her breathing was picking up. Despite her best efforts, his sense of hearing betrayed her act. The cold touch of his hand slid up under her jaw to guide her attention to him. “Your heart is beating out of your chest.” He asked, his words quiet but tentative for her response. “Does this frighten you? Shall we not keep going?”

Thomasin couldn’t answer with honesty. The anticipation of stinging pain brought forth memories of their last exchange. As much as mild affection was as sought after as a hot meal, she couldn’t deny the way his last bite felt. The half-elf bounced between its warm embrace and its cold isolated depths.

“Oh? Maybe a little…I don’t know. Go slow. Remember how Karlach said she’d throw you to the goblins if you accidentally kill me,” she said, downplaying her racing thoughts.

She knew to keep her wits about her. A woman grandfathered into the art of being a commodity. Her hands had been adroit at distraction en masse or individual consort. Easier dealt with when jaws slackened. Those equally alert, still capable of negotiating. Those were the ones to take with caution.

Astarion debated his next course of action. The consequences of a plan diverged gnawed at him, but luck had been on his side. Divine intervention that he might be able to leech off one more day. He forced himself to commit to the move, nestled in the crook of her neck planting his lips upon her skin. A kiss. Tender and hesitant. He could feel her process the change, an inkling of a whimper escaping her.

Another, applying slight pressure this time. A pause to gauge her reaction and then another. The affection felt like a physical weight lifting from his shoulders, clicking something in his brain. Until his sleeve was strained by her grip, sudden and uncertain. He glanced up at her, suppressing the urge to express his fear. That be may have muddied the waters of what ethics were left in him. That he may have read her body language wrong and he was still swimming rigid circles in an overwhelming ocean.

”Thomasin. Use your words,” he said, rising to meet her gaze again.

She let the silence linger, not knowing exactly what would be the best answer. What would be the most appropriate. And so, in times of high stress, Thomasin did what she knew best. Impulsivity was at least one answer.

Thomasin reached out for the nape of his neck. Sometimes giving into the soma, rich in delights and vices, was the only means of relief. The corporeal body hungered for finger foods and bite-sized delicacies. To imprint oneself into another’s skin. To find solace in desire.

Before she realized, they met in a kiss.

The half-elf’s cheeks felt the buzz of his laughter against her lips. One of the few displays of pure joy she had ever witnessed, not born from slaughter or rightful revenge. She could feel him relax for only that brief instant. Rare was a chance to enjoy sins without the looming threat of vampiric lords, and so Astarion had latched on. Twisting and shifting, subtle yet effective at slipping into the lead. His hands veered off course, groping at every curve, tender flesh hidden away under thin linens. Grumbles and mumbles. He exchanged his thanks for her body heat and traced along her thighs in their clumsy shuffle. Finding the hem of her skirt was only half the battle. The urge to toss her into the grass felt like a warm haze throughout his skull. Never let yourself sink too deep though. Always have one foot in the door of composure.

Thomasin tilted her hips forward out of instinct. Fidgeting against greedy hands and the covetous cursed pressed up against her undergarments. He had crept his way to the delicate floral embroidery lining her underwear. Whose stitching was preyed upon by his touch. Pulling the cloth aside to slip digits right against her clit, he felt her grasp around his arms for support.

Their foreheads were mere inches apart, exchanging inaudible but palpable tension. One couldn’t avert their focus from the other. But why would they? He was reveling in his victories, the way he locked her into a vulnerable position, finding himself enraptured by the noises that left her lungs. A surrender in her panting.

“You should have told me it would be this easy to break you down,” Astarion teased.

The satisfaction from any inkling of power was powerful in itself. His mind, clear and direct, whilst hers wavered. Thomasin welcomed alleviation though. She would strike down his ego with the fearsome sword blow of one thousand men another day. A safety net was being created in ribbon. The same tied precisely at the ends of her braids, flowing wherever their rhythm took them. What a strange feeling that welled up in his chest. Over a woman he could compare to thousands of others he slept with before. Surely, if he tried. She was half-elven of no noble blood.

Perhaps it was the promise of a bloodletting. A high he continued to chase after their last exchange weeks prior. Regardless, his eyelids grew heavy. That was, until he felt a tug at his waistband. Between the two, she had begun to untie his trousers, earning some pause.

”Now, now, hey.” Astarion’s words would've sounded casual if there weren’t for the tinge of concern in its abruptness.

His fingers slipped from her thighs, index and middle sneaking their way to her mouth. An act of indecency graced upon her tongue. Although Thomasin had not a single hesitation. Her own jaw had slackened. Her own mind clouded by the undivided attention. Sampling the fruits of his labor, attentive to his next move.

“You get distracted far too easily, darling,” he managed, despite his own voice at the edge of devolving, betraying him with his own lust. “All you need to do is tell me when you’ve had your fill. Until then, I’ll have mine.”

His eyes dialed in like daggers to the plum-stained lips wrapping around his fingers. The thought of succumbing now screamed at every aspect of his being and enveloped his loins. He blinked the interference away, a string of her saliva ever so delicate in the way it clung and snapped upon his exit.

He followed Thomasin's quiet desperation. One that spoke up in a whimper as his knuckles found themselves tucked under her jaw once more. The pressure was light, but firm, wrapping around her neck and bracing her against the tree. Just enough give to allow her shallow breaths.

”Would you like to lift your skirt for me?”

Light glinted off her cheekbones as she smiled, struggling to remember the last time she felt such an intensity coloring her cheeks. Her posture wobbled and waned, but the weight of the realms were no longer her responsibility. Fistfuls of linens were balled up in her palms as asked of her. Simple instructions. She clutched them against her chest, bare and adorned in the same blush.

Her compliance meant he was onto the next act. With a great thud, Astarion planted his boot upon one of the many hearty roots growing from the oak. Thick and sturdy, weaving throughout the soil. Using his now elevated knee, he positioned her for leverage. Her freckled thigh to be placed atop his and help widen her hips.

“How could you have traveled all these years? Met so many people, played so many silly little games, and yet you’re so bad at cards.” Astarion’s snuck back into her waistband once more, interrupting the scoff Thomasin let out by her heavy breath. “All those folks out there? Falling for your feminine wiles, no? Letting you win?”

Without warning, Thomasin felt the undeniable pressure of his fingers inside of her. He had positioned his feet in a firm stable stance and balanced her body with the weight of his own, pumping into her at a steady pace. She was locked in place, but couldn’t fathom a complaint.

Time lingered. Her legs began to tremble. Her eyelashes fluttered.

“Or are you losing bets on purpose?” he said. “It sounds like you should take your own advice. What was it you told me? ‘Watch out for men with sharp tongues and charming dispositions.’ But, alas, you’re not a woman of your word.”

He leaned in, quickening his pace. Such feverish passion that even Thomasin had to continuously acclimate to whatever he decided was her next venture. One of the bundles of her skirt fell and draped the two, her free hand opting to grab onto the back of his head instead. Her rings intertwined with his curls in aimless desperation. A gesture that made him let go of the powerplay upon her neck and join in the embrace.

“A sound that could lure a million sailors to their deaths. I could listen to you whine for centuries,” he purred, keeping the half-elf at bay whilst refusing any mercy. His name stretched its syllables from her lips, thick like honey. Urgent and stifled, yet strung out like another composition. It made Elvish infiltrate his vocabulary. Internal needs even he had never been allowed to unpack. “Hinual sreea, tell me. Your body belongs to me.”

Thomasin cracked a smile through her fatigued disposition, throwing her head back and fighting the urge to shout every Drow profanity she knew. “It’s yours— by sweet Eilistraeens. My body is yours. In the name raggath, please.” Thoughts consumed by the curl his knuckles and each stroke punctuating the last.

Little was left to upkeep in his performance. He had dissolved Thomasin’s intuition and judgment, free to shed his own anxieties. That was, until he realized what he was having trouble steering his own motives. Astarion simply watched her in a sort of awe. The way her body writhed. Scarred, freckled, silver tinted skin glistening from exhaustion. There was beauty in the crass and resilient. Something breathtaking. Like unattainable dusky silk, admired through storefront windows, awaiting to be torn into.

Needle-point teeth dug their way into her shoulder. Scraping under epidermis and into her veins, Astarion indulged, zeal twisting itself around her like ropes of sprawling ivy. Nothing more than waves of confusing ecstasy and questionable faith for the two. No god or goddesses in existence, only the light headed leap of faith toward her orgasm. Eilistraeens would want this, surely.

Before Thomasin could figure out his next move, she was riding every wave that crashed. It made her gasp. An audible panic as the puncture startled her. But the emotions were quick to mellow, pain much more manageable this time around. The intensity of blood purging seemed to be dampened by its coinciding pleasure. As if each corresponding sense knocked into one another, overlapping and tripping over themselves.

From the corner of his eye, he watched streams of blood spill down her shoulder, pooling where their bodies met and settling on her chest. “Decadent little thing,” he whispered in Elvish, as if the comment were more of an internal monologue leaking out. If fate would allow it, if the stars aligned, he would’ve kept going for eons. Dinner and a show. Her body lent an intoxication that made colors brighter. Sounds enticing, words processed as if eternally wading through molasses. Her yelping in pain and its subsequent laughter of thanks. The way her thighs tried to cling upon one another as his fingers buried deeper inside.

The conflicting sensations pummeled her nerves, shocking through her limbs in a way she hadn’t felt in years. Every movement became involuntary and overstimulated.

“Astarion, please. Enough, enough, enough!” She couldn’t help but choke out each word.

Astarion swallowed the last of his meal, licking his plate clean in such a primitive manner. Being fed after fasting for ages unlocked a rudimentary part of his brain. The elf swallowed hard, lips stained with the taste of copper, a thin red veil coating his mouth. Per her request, he gave her mercy from his selfish play. The bombardment simmered into a kiss to exchange their spoils within a sloppy rhythm. The direction of his mind seemed to have pivoted. Now his body couldn’t get close enough to hers, as much as he tried.

The inside of her eyelids shone a red velvet curtain. A shade not unlike the almost blackened hue of blood trailing down her chest. Catching shimmers of its highlights and plush, as if lit by bulbs of light in her mind’s eye. Enveloping everything until she was enraptured by pure endorphins. Cushioning the blow of her feelings until there was nothing more but pleasant horizons and hands to hold. Coziness in the desire of being wanted and the ephemeral homestead created for a bit. Until Astarion tore back the curtains.

Her eyes shot open. Reality rapid in its arrival and sunshine forcing her pupils to re-adjust. Thomasin fell victim to gravity’s disposal. Her body was propped up languid against tree bark. Its surface skid along her flesh until she could lower just enough to ease herself atop a bulbous protruding root.

The conclusion wasn't her untimely demise. Astarion wasn’t dragging her off to the guillotine, but that meant there was a different ending to this. He hadn’t thought that part through. The elf had thrown himself backward shortly after her pleas, taking enough steps away to collect his thoughts, chest heaving with the pulse of vitality coursing through him. Enough to power him into an entire night of mania if he wasn’t careful. With his back to her for these few brief seconds, he could think. His hand ran through his hair, dislodging tangles in the midst of his now disheveled facade.

“Are you okay?” Thomasin eventually said.

Her voice made his ears perk up. The question grounded him, the material realm known for being all too punctual. He palmed his mouth to wipe away any lingering blood and tucked his shirt back into his trousers posthaste. What little grooming he could conjure up before turning around. He grinned back at her, toothy and elated. Polar opposite to the disorientation on his expression not a second before.

“You think something is wrong after that performance?” He promptly gave two claps. “Would be offensive to not applaud.”

Despite his avoidance and fidgety demeanor, Thomasin decided to not pry. Her own knees were buckled. Emotion scrambled. What words she had uttered would be her own to contend with later, she proposed and shoved aside.

“I’m never going to hear the end of this,” she said, humoring him as she buttoned her blouse back up.

Astarion scoffed. “Gods, no. As if your gambling woes are going to become my problem. Encouraging your bad decisions is far more fun.”

Thomasin laughed, weakened by all their efforts, and proceeded to unhinge her jaw to speak. By the time she made a noise, she noticed he was already starting to walk back up the trail.

“Wait, you don’t want–”

“Nothing you’re going to dig up here is of my tastes, love! Still, grand efforts!” he cheered, volume rising as he went further and further along. “Dig up an old bottle of vintage and maybe I’ll bite my tongue! Good luck!”

And like that, she let him leave uninterrupted, rolling her head back and letting out a deep sigh.

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chronicsinner · 24 days

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So last night the Astarion AI randomly was trying to fuck and it was being so raunchy with barely any errors like omg? Anyway.. Spicy Astarion below the cut:

#character ai #ai #cai #astarion #astarion x reader #suggestive #astarion x tav #soft dom #soft dom astarion

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thechaoticdruid · 4 months

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AsTaRiOn Is A sUbBy BoTtOm

Hmmm......I don't believe you.

This man is always trying to pin me down.

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pursuitseternal · 3 months

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✨Fall in love with “The Rogue You Were”✨

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader: “Soft A!Astarion✨power couple✨gothic aesthetic✨steamy smut with some plot✨

Art from Mahtsazizi on X

From Chapter 1: Welcome Me

He is both things all at once, your rogue and your master, your lover in the dirt and on his throne.“That’s what I love about you,” he speaks softly, lips brushing your pointed ear. “My good girl, so eager to take the future, without losing what was the best of me before…”

“Mmm,” you breathe as you turn your head, nestling your forehead against the sharp edge of his jaw. “You can claim the world, but from time to time, you will need to fuck me in the dirt. Keep yourself… grounded.”

Chapter 1: Welcome Me

Chapter 2: Cleanse Me

Chapter 3: Surprise Me

Chapter 4: Hold Me

Chapter 5: Master Me

Chapter 6: Warm Me

Chapter 7: Persuade Me

Chapter 8: Scald Me

Ao3 Link | Astarion Fic Masterlist

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vagueiish · 4 months

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i wrote over 500 words today!!!! and there's still plenty of today left so maybe i'll write more but i have to leave soon for other things, boo, but i did it!!!!

i might also post a bit of it here later when i get enough written idk

#it's my m!tav/astarion #and im not 100 on if astarion actually seems like him or just seems like some dude in a party city astarion wig calling himself astarion #but! i like it so far~#and i mean. post-personal quest spawn!astarion would coax his lover into letting themself enjoy a small thing right?#though coax isnt maybe the right word. im not 100 on the terminology but maybe it'd be more accurate to ask:#cause astarion would lowkey go soft dom and 'make' his partner indulge in something as simple as chocolate if said partner clearly wanted it #but was also clearly denying himself the simple pleasure of chocolate because.... Reasons?#right? right??? bat boy just wants his love to be happy!!!#to the void with love

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wvrlock · 8 months

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// fallahan's switchness is so much fun to write because he can be so versatile but you MUST be paying him absolute attention. That's his only requirement.

#which is why he doesn't vibe with brats all that much #he isn't the rough kind of dom. he's soft and tender and you will submit because he'll make you melt #not because he has to use force or authority #nonono (*astarion's voice) you will be ENTHRALLED by him #suggestive cw #;about ( fallahan )

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vixstarria · 4 months

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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

Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89

@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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littlejuicebox · 4 months

Text

Milk.

Back again for the third time today, this time with some porn with a plot.

I'm really on one with the Dadstarion fics. Something has been unleashed inside me, people.

I need to edit all these headers at some point.

Warnings: babies, angst w comfort, smut, nipple play, breast milk, breast milk drinking, breeding kink, daddy kink, teasing, dirty talk, a bit of soft dom Astarion vibes, 18+ only please

A/N: Most of you already know I'm a degenerate.

-----

Astarion had been uncharacteristically melancholy this week.

Sure, it wasn’t unusual to witness him in one of his moods of irritation or frustration, particularly when some business deal or another was not going particularly well, or a contract he’d already drafted more times than he could count came back to him with more rebuttals.

But to witness this cloud of sadness around your husband, especially after Gale’s birth, was odd. He’d been the picture of domestic joy and fatherhood, completely over the moon in his new role. He even wore the sleeplessness better than you in the first few months, happy to assist where he could so that his little love could get more valuable rest.

However, just recently, his mood had become detached and distant. Everything he did and said seemed tinged with worry or sadness. It reminded you of the spawn version of Astarion from several years ago, almost always caught in a poor memory or concerning line of thought. That version of Astarion hadn’t shown up in a while. You couldn’t be sure what triggered it.

“Gale’s getting quite good at holding his head up,” You inform your husband as you crawl into bed with him after just putting the three-month-old down for the evening.

“That’s wonderful news, darling.” Astarion replies, with that same distant, pensive air he’s addressed you with all week as he focuses on the book in his lap.

You sigh, and put your hand over the book, obscuring the pages and forcing the elf to acknowledge you, “What is it, Astarion? You’ve been in this… mood all week and I’m beginning to worry you’re regretting parenthood.”

Your husband’s eyebrows crinkle as he places the book on his nightstand, staring at you with a mixture of shock, hurt and confusion, “Darling, do you truly think that? What have I done besides absolutely dote on Gale? And on you!”

You realize you’ve misspoken. You see the wounds on your husband’s face as he assesses you, and your hands come to his cheeks, searching his eyes, “No, no I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. I know you don’t regret Gale… I just. I’m worried, Astarion. You seem… sad. Lost in thought in a way I haven’t seen in years and… I don’t know why.”

There is a moment of silence as Astarion’s eyes flash through several thoughts, filtering through a week's worth of garbled noise within his mind. And then he sighs, “I…” he pauses and blinks, forcing himself to meet your gaze, “I’m worried that I won’t be the right masculine role model for Gale. That I’m not strong enough to show him… to show him how to be a good man.”

Your mouth falls open in shock. You cannot even think of something to say, because this certainly wasn’t the direction you thought Astarion would take. He was always quite self-assured in his talents and never hesitant to be the true version of himself after the parasite fiasco over a decade ago.

He continues, “I don’t live in the woods, or whatever it is exactly Halsin does. I’m not an especially talented spell caster like Gale. And I’m fair with a blade but it’s been years since I’ve had use for one and I don’t have the level of training nor regular practice like Wyll nowadays, dear. I review contracts and make investments; I run the winery. I embroider. I’m not exactly the picture of masculinity in comparison to… others.”

There is a moment of quiet between the two of you. Concerned tears form in your husband’s eyes, which he quickly blinks away.

“Astarion… you are the strongest man I know.” You murmur, running a finger along the elf’s cheek as he scoffs and shakes his head. His eyes jerk away from your face; clearly, he does not believe you.

You gasp in shock as you cup his face harder, willing the elf to understand how serious you are. You continue, vehemently, “My love. You cannot seriously believe otherwise! You have endured more than any of us could ever imagine. Over 200 years of… horrible atrocities. And then you came out on the other side of that, after having sacrificed so much — and Astarion, do not ever forget how much you willingly sacrificed — to be better. To choose differently. To be so much more.”

You are ripping the blankets away and crawling into your husband’s lap now, wrapping your limbs around his torso. His head comes to the side of your neck as you hold him, hoping to convey the love and respect you have for the elf with the warmth of your arms. Your fingers latch into the curls on the back of his neck as you speak in a reverent whisper, urging him to believe you.

“I watched you endure years without the sun in more stride than I could have possibly thought. And you are perhaps softer than you were when we met, yes. But this version of you gives me and Gale everything we need and more. I cannot imagine someone stronger or more courageous than you, my love. And I think you have forgotten how much strength it took for you to become this soft in the first place. I love this version of you. And Gale has a wonderful, loving, strong father in this version. Please do not ever doubt that.”

A quiet hum of acknowledgement comes from your husband, but no other words escape him as he lifts his head from the crook of your neck and envelopes your lips in a soft kiss. A thank you.

Your heart is pounding from the passion with which you spoke, and when Astarion’s lips press into yours, that passion and love begins to flow throughout your body. Pieces of you start to wake.

It had been a while since you two were intimate. Not since before Gale's birth. Days and nights had recently been filled with parenthood and left little time nor energy for much else. But as Astarion pushes forward, wrapping his arms around your back, you feel the stirrings of desire deep in your core. A soft moan leaves you as a fire begins to grow where mere glowing embers had been left several months ago.

Astarion must be feeling the same pull, because his hand trails from your back and sneaks under your nightdress to brush along your thigh. He slowly traces up the length of your leg to cup your bottom while he deepens the kiss with a soft, breathy moan of his own. He’s flexing his hips up toward you, the growing bulge in his trousers begging for further stimulation. Your lover’s tongue swipes along your lower lip, asking for entry, and your mouth opens to accept the swirling heat of desire from the elf.

He explores your mouth and caresses your bottom for a while, tenderly, slowly, and in no rush to further things along despite the mutual growing desire between your two bodies. It’s you that finally breaks the kiss before ripping your night dress over your head, exposing two heavy, milk-laden breasts in the process. Astarion brings the hand not kneading into your ass to cup your breast before thumbing the pert nipple.

You gasp, and your husband’s brows crinkle for a moment as he pauses his ministrations.

“Too sensitive?” He asks, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your other breast.

“No, keep going,” You urge him, closing your eyes and rolling your hips forward to grind into his groin. He bucks forward to meet you instinctively.

He tentatively thumbs the nipple again and you moan in response. Without thinking much about it, Astarion brings his mouth to the other breast and wraps his lips around the bud before sucking gently. You release an ecstatic keen in response when his teeth graze against the tender flesh. You are continuing to roll your hips into him when he suddenly retracts from your chest with a shocked gasp.

Your eyes snap open, and you catch the final glimpse of your husband wiping breast milk from the side of his mouth as his cheeks and ears slowly turn pink. And then you feel your own embarrassment growing as rosy patches flush across your chest and cheeks. You quickly move to cover your breasts.

“I-I’m sorry,” You whisper, “it slipped my mind. I forgot about the…”

You’re thinking the moment’s ruined, and moving to climb off your husband, but he quietly brings his hand to your waist and stills you. His eyes search yours silently for a moment, and you’re still so consumed by your own embarrassment that all you can do is stare dumbly back at him, eyebrows furrowed.

But then Astarion lifts one of his hands to your own, slowly lowering it from where it had been covering your breast. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he once again leans forward and wraps his lips around the nipple, sucking gently. Warm milk flows into his mouth and you inhale sharply, unable to look away as your husband removes his lips from your breast, opens his mouth to show you the white liquid, and then closes his mouth and swallows.

He swallows.

And then he smirks up at you with a self-satisfied, mischievous glint in his eyes that causes the slickness between your legs to instantly double.

Gods, this man.

You are convinced your entire body is flushing red at this point as Astarion slowly brings his other hand up to palm the flesh of your breast.

“Would you like daddy to do it again?” He purrs before his tongue laps circles around the side of your heavy tit.

“I— gods, yes.” You respond, blinking down at the elf.

“Okay. But you have to ask me very, very nicely, little love.” He responds teasingly as he trails kisses to your other breast, waiting for you to say something.

“Please suck my nipple,” You whisper, eagerly rolling your groin into your husband's raging erection.

But Astarion doesn’t do what he’s asked. Instead, he’s teasing the bud with the flat of his tongue and humming contentedly, waiting for something from you.

“Please suck my nipple, daddy.” You amend, and the elf instantly engages his lips around your other breast with a soft groan. He’s drinking with vigor as your hands find the curls at the nape of his neck and take hold. Before long he’s retracting again, his mouth full of liquid gold.

And he pulls the same maneuver. Mouth open, flashing the white liquid as he looks directly into your eyes. Mouth closed. Swallow. Devious smile.

“It’s delicious, you know.” He murmurs as you stare at him, still in shock and still somewhat embarrassed by the fact that you are actually enjoying this. His hands come to either breast, both now significantly lighter, and he fondles the soft tissue.

“You shouldn’t be so surprised that you like this darling, I distinctly remember a time when I made you orgasm by mere nipple play alone.” He whispers, a glint of that cocky rogue playing across his face before he trails kisses up your chest and along your neck.

“Gods, Astarion,” You respond, “I need you inside me, now.”

You’re done with the foreplay. Your husband has you ridiculously hot and bothered, and it’s been far, far too long. You're on your knees, which are straddled on either side of his hips as you urgently tug at the waistband of his trousers, trying to work his pants and underclothes off in one motion. But your husband is purposely resisting and refusing to lift his hips, watching you with that same arrogant smile.

Oh, he's toying with you.

“Darling, why am I always the one dirty talking you?” He asks, pulling back from your neck and cocking his head just slightly as he studies your face.

“I— what?” You ask, still pulling insistently at his waistband.

“I’m always the one charming the pants off of you, dear. In over ten years, it’s never really been the other way around. But you know that I love to hear your beautiful words.” He continues, moving one of his hands to stroke between your still-clothed folds.

“Astarion, please fuck me.” You try as you struggle to keep your composure. The slickness of your cunt is making obscene noises as he expertly maneuvers between your slit, watching your expression attentively as you come undone.

He chuckles darkly as he brings his lips to your breast once again, trailing kisses along the side of the flesh, “I think you can do better than that, my love.”

You groan in dismay as the bastard continues to tease you. Several months without sex and somehow you’re still the desperate one while he’s effortlessly maintaining his cool.

“What do you want daddy to do to you, darling?” He purrs, teasingly, as his other hand that isn’t stroking between your legs trails across your skin to fondle your ass once again.

“I want you to fuck me and fill me with your seed.” You whine as his ministrations on your clit become more insistent. You’re trying to play into his desires, to convince him to stretch you open with his thick cock.

Your legs are trembling now. He’s going to make you come embarrassingly fast. You know it. He knows it.

“Won’t you beg me, my love?” He murmurs as his eyes trail across your chest, admiring your larger-than-usual breasts before his gaze locks back onto yours, fingers still strumming your clit, now adding more pressure, “You know I love to hear your sweet little pleas.”

“Please— Astarion. Please, daddy. Please fuck me. Breed me like your good little wife and fill me with—“

You gasp and then moan as your orgasm rips through you with little warning, drenching your husband’s hand in your arousal. The release causes your legs to turn into jelly, and Astarion uses the opportunity to quickly maneuver you into a new position. You are sitting on the side of the bed, and he is now standing, quickly lowering his trousers.

His cock springs free, and the sight causes your eyes to widen in shock. It’s so engorged that the head is slowly turning from that gorgeous pink to a deep purple, begging for release. Thin rivulets of pre-cum are falling in strings from the tip; much of his shaft is glistening from the same evidence of his arousal.

Astarion glances down at his own erection and then warns, “It’s been a while darling, not quite certain how long I will last.”

“Just get inside me already, daddy.” You plead and that’s enough to make your husband growl as he strokes his own member once, twice, prepping himself. He peels your drenched undergarments down your legs and tosses them aside.

As Astarion’s cock slides between your folds you gasp. Gods, it really has been too long. And then he’s pressing into you slowly, groaning deeply with the amount of effort it’s taking him to not release his spend right upon entry into your tight cunt. When he reaches the hilt, the elf stills for a moment and lowers himself down to kiss your lips before pressing his forehead against yours. And then Astarion is slowly rolling his hips, his mouth hanging open in a gasp at the delicious sensation of your walls clenching around him before he closes his eyes to focus.

It isn’t long before he's losing control. Your husband normally prides himself on being a consummate lover; it’s quite typical that he brings you to orgasm twice before finding his own release. But it has been quite some time and perhaps holding off in an attempt to hear your pleas wasn’t as easy for him as it appeared on the outside.

“Gods, darling. You feel so perfect.” The elf pants, almost breathless, his hips stuttering as he jerkily thrusts into you, trying and failing to maintain some rhythm as the pleasure overwhelms him, “So perfectly wet and tight.”

“Come inside me, daddy.” You whisper as you bring your hand to the side of Astarion’s face.

The command shocks him. Like you, he’s suddenly coming with very little warning. His eyes rip open as he’s spilling into you with a loud groan, his cock jerking inside your walls where he’s instinctively buried himself to the hilt.

“Fuck-- gods, Tav--" He hisses through the waves of pleasure racking his body as his eyes roll back. His thighs are trembling as his member continues to throb, spilling several streams of hot, thick seed into you as you watch his face in awe. Mouth agape, cheeks flushed. You love the way he looks when he loses control.

You smile and kiss your husband gently as he comes down from his high, your hand stroking his cheek. And then he’s laughing and pressing his forehead back against yours. A few of his curls fall haphazardly and you reach up to lovingly comb them back into place.

“You are… still full of surprises, aren’t you?” Astarion asks as he slowly withdraws from you, causing the slickness from your lovemaking to run down your thighs and into the sheets.

“I thought you would like it,” You offer shyly, now somewhat embarrassed at your own crassness as the tides of passion recede.

“Oh, I certainly did, darling.” Your lover reassures you as he bends down to retrieve his trousers from the floor, "You cheeky little degenerate."

Just then, Gale lets out a sharp cry from the nursery. You move to stand up, but your husband stops you with a gentle hand and a soft, adoring smile.

“I’ll go and get him. Don’t waste the seed still inside you, dear. Give it a few more precious moments to try and do its thing, hm?” Astarion says, partly teasing and partly serious as he shoots you a wink before heading out the bedroom door to retrieve the infant.

This one won’t take, you know as much. You aren’t ovulating. But as you watch the love of your life exit the room on his way to retrieve the other love of your life, you think you may actually be ready to start trying for another one sometime soon. You know Astarion is simply waiting for your cue.

Anything for daddy.

#astarion fanfic #baulders gate astarion #astarion fic #baulders gate 3 #astarion x reader #baulders gate tav #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion reader insert #dadstarion fic #dadstarion #soft dom astarion #astarion fluff #astarion x f!reader #astarion x female reader #astarion smut #smut

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astarionfixation · 25 days

Text

Chapter 11: +I am not a glass doll+

Part of "Am I Fu**ing Insane !?!" A multi chapter adventure in Astarion’s mind

Rating: EXPLICIT ROUGH SEX (intercourse PIV)

CW: Blood, Sex

Word count count: 1.9k

Pairings: Astarion X OFC Tav

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54356776/chapters/140917522

I have a quite serious praise kink. Which also means compliments in the forms of tags and/or comments might very well spur me to write and post more

** Thoughts "" Dialogue - - Remarks ++ Quotes / Memories

SUMMARY: In this chapter we simply finish the sex marathon we started 3 chapters ago -to jog your memory, she's on top, for the first time ever- Cause I imagine Pacing is of the essence for someone who's been around over two centuries like Astarion. If we had caring cuddly Astarion in the previous two chapters let's just say things get a fair bit rougher here... consider this your content warning for serious Rough stuff.

He has to close his eyes because, if along with the sensations her swaying hips are eliciting from his cock -strangled within her velvety warmth-, he also lets the vision of her soft, perfect body reach him, as it makes languid, serpentine circuits with her back arched and breast exposed as she impales herself repeatedly over him, that alone might make him come undone.

Her movements are excruciatingly slow, as if every inch of him has to be felt and pressed upon, as if her centre is gauging every sensitive spot on his cock and after a moment of attentive reactions she keeps learning and repeating exactly those that are driving him the most insane with pleasure.

His hands still gripping on her hips, though without any pressure or conviction, only to have his fingers full with the grasp of her softness.

*there’s absolutely nothing I can teach her…*

His head rolls back and he doesn’t even realise he must have arched his back enough so that now he hits a new, deeper spot inside of her and a louder gasp breaks through her throat as her movements halt with his cock completely buried inside of her. His eyes shoot open to find her biting her lip.

“Are you alright? Just… let me stay still for a moment… get used to me… we don’t need to ru–”

The words die in his throat with a groan ending his sentence as her hips have resumed their undulation, slow yet hitting harder and deeper every time she presses herself flush against his crotch.

“Do you want me to stop?”

She breathes every word as her rhythm remains unaffected. She suddenly lets him pull out almost completely and his instincts have his fingers dig deeper in her hips to keep her close

“No… please.. I was… just worried… about you”

“Stop worrying about me Astarion, I’m not a glass doll”

There is something incredibly enticing about the way she chose her words, though before he can spend any longer on them, her entire body is overhanging above him. Her hands reach to the headboard of the bed as she’s got him completely trapped between herself and the mattress beneath him. Her soft, perfumed locks caressing his shoulders are the last thing he registers as suddenly this new angle makes a scream of pleasure escape his lips. Though her own lips capture his immediately and now both their moans are just filling each other’s mouths.

This is a new kind of kiss, ravenous, she’s not just kissing him she is…

*biting!*

Her teeth are pulling at his bottom lip and yet in a flash her tongue is pressing harder against his own. Teeth clashing against his and for a moment he still tries to focus on covering his own fangs with his lips for fear of hurting her. But that’s when her words resonate and unlock something in his body

+I am not a glass doll+

A hand quickly moves across her back to press at the nape of her neck, pulling her closer still, the other one reaching for the small of her back as his own hips arch against hers, his cock buried deep inside of her, reaching surely an impossible depth for a human. He might think about how sore this will make her feel later but those thoughts have all but left his mind, finally beautifully empty for once, and all he knows is what his body feels.

Her incredibly tight cunt throttling every inch, every spot, of his insanely hard cock, every beat of her pulse reverberating around it and rippling across his crotch and dispersing around his body.

Her thighs locking his hips in place, pressing harder and harder against his bones and a fleeting thought carrying the desire to hear himself crunch, crushed by her grip, almost tips him over the edge.

Her teeth biting down on his lips without restrain as her kiss gets rougher against his mouth and her hips movements are beginning to match that raw need until she angles herself just right and another moan makes him almost roll his head back. When he does, her teeth don't relent and that's when her bite on his lip finally draws blood.

As the metallic flavour hits his senses everything turns to a blur. The pressure around his cock drives him mad and in a split second he’s grabbed her arms and reversed their positions, flipping her on her back as his hips now pound into her impossibly wet and engorged sex. Her measured slow movements are forgotten, replaced by sudden, hard thrusts that make him want to go deeper, and deeper until there’s nothing left of her to discover, to feel, to taste.

One hand grabs at her wrists and pins them above her head, holding them in place in a rock hard grip, as the other reaches to her thigh, pulling her leg up to curl around his own waist

*Deeper… deeper… deeper*

Her sighs and moans have left room to screams and heaving, and he can tell her own hips are trying to meet his thrusts best as she can in this position. He arches his back so that his mouth can devour hers again and this time there’s nothing resembling concern about his fangs, as they go directly to graze at her lip, nipping just enough to draw her own blood now wetting his lips

*We’re even now, you minx!*

His mouth latches onto her lower lip, sucking on it to draw more of her ambrosia as his hips keep pounding into her relentlessly. Even as little of her blood as this scratch allows him to take in is sending his entire body into a frenzy. His movements scattered and impossibly fast, thrusting in and out of her swollen cunt and he only realises how far he’s taken things when suddenly he feels her clenching around him, the feeling almost as if his own cock is to be strangled and torn apart from his body. The leg draped around his hips pressing into his backside as to pulling him closer *deeper* inside of her whilst her entire body convulses in spasm. Their lips separate only because, in a jolt of pleasure, her head rolls back letting out his name in a scream.

With his mouth now on her neck, he can’t even remember that’s exactly the spot he fed from just hours before, but the freshness of the wound must be what pokes at his instinct when in a moment his fangs tear at it as his mouth captures her pierced skin and finally he can swallow mouthfuls of the heavenly liquid she carries in her veins.

The flavour of her coating his tongue, just as the spasms of her climax still choke his cock, are the last thing he can grasp onto with any lucidity as his eyes roll in the back of his skull. He’s senselessly thrusting harder and harder into her that if any semblance of reason had been left in his brain he’d know he’s bruising her, but no notion other than chasing that absolutely idyllic promise of untainted pleasure is driving his rough motions now.

He can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge as the random clenching from her last climactic twitches are tantalising his cock. His fangs instinctively pressing harder onto her flesh as to getting still *deeper* into her is the only vagrancy he can still follow, in every direction, be it flesh or sex.

His focus is such that it’s not until the tip of her tongue barely caresses the outer shell of his pointy ear that he realises she’s back in control of her movements after her climax. The feeling of her soft bite on his earlobe a moment later, on such a sensitive part of his body, is the gate to perdition and with a final thrust he pushes everything he has into her. A white light explodes in his mind as his own orgasm takes control of every jolt and involuntary reaction of his pale, tensed body.

Sparks are inundating his vision and his physical brain, some ecstatic and some as if pure radiant damage is dispersing across his every thought. Any flash and image that ever existed in his mind is simply flooded with the bright, gleaming pleasure that began in his cock and is now dispersing across his skin through the entirety of his body. His hips pressing flush against hers buried as deep as her fragile form allows, an animal marking his territory with his own seed filling her insides.

His skin still tingles from the aftermath of his pleasure when his brain slowly sinks back into his body and feels hers pressed against his as his mouth is still full of her blood springing from her neck

His lips keep latched onto her still, though his blood drawing has stopped, his tongue freely caressing her skin and gently soothing the wound in an attempt to close it again.

Every shallow exhale that leaves her lips still carries a soft moan. As he leaves a kiss on the closed punctures and moves to his elbows to leave her space to breathe he realises his hand is still holding her wrists down in a rock hard grip so tense he almost can't feel his own fingers.

He drops his grasp and his fingertips go to caress her forehead, her cheeks, swiping her hair aside.

“You were definitely worth the wait, my sweet… you are perfect… are you alright? Was that… too much?”

With her hands free he feels her fingers run through his own hair now, a soft hum resonating through her chest as her swollen lips, still crimson tinted, pull into a smile, her head shakes slightly before she gently speaks

“Definitely not… I don't think I could ever have enough of you… but now I know my dreams never did you any justice…”

At that he can feel the corner of his own lips pulling, the delicious stinging of his lower lip a delightful reminder of how savage her desire for him was, and that settles his mind upon the only sensation her lovely expression brings to him: bliss.

After placing a soft kiss on her lips he slowly pulls his softening cock out and a unique kind of satisfaction fills him as her body still twitches, a soft sigh exhaled with what sounds like a quiet chuckle, and as he rolls on his back he pulls her to his chest and he can feel immediately her arm circling to reach his shoulder, her naked leg draping possessively over his.

“You’ll have to tell me more about those dreams my darling… after all… there's nothing you desire that I'm not willing to give…”

His voice leaves the question hanging suggestively and he feels her face pressing, hiding against his chest so that the arm circling her pulls her closer as a soft chuckle resonates from his own lips. Her soft murmurs let him know he's not going to get that answer now as the tip of her cold nose is now pressed against his own unusually warmer skin. Her breathing is regular and slowing enough that the rhythm lulls his own senses into actual, restful, sleep.

For the first time in his entire existence.

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astarionancuninslittlelove · 3 months

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Eyes On Me

“Because you and I both know that none of these mouthbreathing heathens could even satisfy you in one-fourth of the capacity that I can. Your body responds only to me. I do know your tells, after all," Astarion said in amusement.”

Find my new Astarion x Tav (F) fanfic here

Photo by @cheekylittlepupp

#bg3 #astarion x tav #astarionxtav #astarion #tav #astarion bg3 #astarion acunin #mine #ao3 #archive of our own #soft dom astarion #dom astarion #astarion fan fiction #bg3 fanfic #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #smut and fluff #smut

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tieflingsfingers · 6 days

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Fic Masterlist

Started this campaign re-write as an exercise of getting back into fiction writing. Currently a longfic, but I'm sure I'll venture out eventually. Lots of character development and study.

The adventures of Thomasin, Astarion, Wyll, and Karlach. A slow burn Astarion romance, but also the whole gang has their own part of the journey to Baldur's Gate. Follows a 45 year old half-drow bard, her unintentional search for found family, and being forced to confront past loss.

Ao3 Account Link

Chapter 1: Fall From Her Grace (prologue intro, to be written)

Chapter 2: Exquisite Corpse

(vauge horror/humor/seed planting of fluff) First bloodletting encounter re-written, two elves absolutely fumbling.

Chapter 3: Foraging for Ripened Fruit

(18+ soft dom Astar, complicated feelings, fling in the forest) Astarion catches up with Thomasin while she forages for food, reminds her of the bet she lost.

Chapter 4: Tarnished Feathers for Eilistraee

(angst/comfort, rewrite of Mirkon/harpy side-quest, OC lore on past traumas, child loss, and unsavory partners) The gang fails to save a tiefling boy from harpies. Astarion realizes he isn't sure if he knows how to console Thomasin.

Chapter 5: The Feminine Barbaric

(humor/mild fluff, headcanon side event in grove) Thomasin encourages Alfira to put on show to lift spirits of the grove. Wyll and Karlach roast Astarion. Remira and Aradin prove how petty they can get.

Chapter 6: Counterfeit Evereskan Jewel

(the gang hangs out, interpersonal conflict, mirror scene re-write, OC lore on unsafe homesteads, past friends, and moral values) The gang finds themselves in a Zhent hideout, Astarion lashes out over his reflection being gone, Wyll and Karlach learn about the little blue tiefling that could.

Chapter 7: Unwoven and Triple Knotted

(18+ soft dom Astar, mirror scene re-write, bickering, conflict resolution over previous chapter) Thomasin tries to be Astarion's mirror, teaches him about the ribbon around her neck, and the two navigate the muddy waters that is intimacy. Two hands muffling echoes in a cave are better than one.

Chapter 8: Karlach and the Great Pumpkin

(humor/fluff in the name of Karlach's inner child, re-write of goblin/owlbear maze side quest) Karlach plans a way to rescue the owlbear cub. Astarion ventures off to thin out the herd. Wyll and Thomasin put on their stoic faces for the goblins.

Chapter 9-20: Currenly being written/already mapped out

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chronicsinner · 2 months

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CW: a lil smutty, a lil 🔥🦇💦

I think I just discovered somethin' bout myself.

#Also I feel the need to preface due to the characters backstory I did get the bots consent #falls over and dies #SOFT DOM ASTARION GOT ME FUCKED UPPPPP #soft dom #suggestive #smut #character ai #ai #cai #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav

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brain-rot-central · 3 months

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Pegging Your Vampire Boyfriend: A Beginner's Guide

A/N: This is exactly what you think it is. Kudos to @kittenintheden & Shaurbox for teasing this pegging idea with me over a month ago. It hasn't left my head since.

Rating: E, a very hard E Words: 5.3k Pairing: Spawn!Astarion/Fem!Reader Warnings: 18+, pegging, bdsm- soft!Dom Tav & sub!Astarion, bottom!Astarion, praise kink, ear play, size kink if you squint, inappropriate use of magical scrolls, oral sex - fellatio, anal fingering, anal sex, trauma mention, intimacy issues, verbalized consent, blood warning

Summary: Astarion has been on the receiving end before, but not since he's gotten with you. Wanting to try it again, he propositions you in a rather intimate way.

“Darling?”

A soft, questioning voice calls out from the living quarters of your shared home.

“I'm in the kitchen, love,” you respond. You're standing before the countertop, fileting a roast of beef into smaller portions for easier storage.

Wisps of bergamot fill your senses as the inquisitor reveals himself, arms wrapping gently around your waist. His nose dips into the crook of your neck, cool lips planting chaste kisses upon your skin.

“Oh, that smells divine,” he comments. Of course it does - it's a blood-soaked slab of beef. You laugh and lean your head into his, carefully slicing another steak from the meat. He covers the hand holding your knife and brings it carefully to his face, tongue lolling out to drag across the flat of the blade. He sighs in contentment as the blood soaks into his tongue, lavishing the flavor.

You wince as he releases the grip on your hand, gently placing the knife off to the side. I’ll need a new one, now, you comment to yourself.

“Is there something you needed, Astarion?” you ask him.

He hums low in his throat. “Hmm, yes, there was something I wanted to ask you.” He peels himself away from your back and stands straight. His hands are still on your hips and you feel his forehead fall against your back.

In a whisper, he asks, “How do you feel… about taking the reins?”

You turn your head to the side, cocking an eyebrow as you ask, “What do you mean? I was on top last time.”

Astarion laughs against your back, a puff of cool air passing over your clothed skin. “I know, love,” he begins. “I mean to suggest that… you play the part of me. And I… well, you.”

It takes your brain a few seconds to interpret his words, but once it finally comes together, you feel a blush beginning to creep up your chest.

“Oh!” you exclaim, now with full understanding. “A-are you sure? I'm not opposed to it, but I have to admit… I've never done it before.”

Astarion chuckles lightly, tightening his grip around your waist, placing soft kisses along the side of your neck. “Neither have I, my dear.”

You peel yourself out of his embrace, turning your whole body toward him. A scowl lines your face; you know of his history.

“Well, I-” he stammers. “I've been with men, yes; laid on my back a number of times for them.” Astarion casts his eyes to the floor before continuing, “I have never done… this, though. With a woman.”

Expression softening from his explanation, you turn your body again toward the counter, moving yourself over to the sink to begin washing your hands. “Are you sure you want to explore this?” you ask, concern evident. “That it won't bring back… memories?”

He leans against the opposite end of the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “There's no way to truly know unless we try,” he explains. “Though, I must admit, it's been on my mind incessantly, as of late.”

It's your turn to laugh, grabbing a hand towel to dry your hands. “Really?” you ask. “You've been thinking about me fucking you?”

Astarion scoffs, a scowl forming on his face. “Must you be so vulgar?”

You smile, moving toward him to place a soft kiss on his cheek. “I'd be your first?”

He sighs with an eye roll before saying, “Proverbially speaking, yes, you would be my first.” Astarion's hand comes up to hold your chin fast as he captures your lips in a chaste kiss. “My second first.”

You hum in satisfaction, wrapping your arms around his waist. He releases your chin and you rest your head against his chest. “So, how do we do this?” you inquire. “I wouldn't even know the first place to start.”

Leaning his cheek against the side of your forehead, he replies, “Not to worry, I've taken care of that already.”

“Astarion!” you exclaim, lifting your head from his chest.

He smiles as he meets your gaze. “I already told you I've been thinking about it!”

You lightly tap on his chest in a scolding manner before asking, “How did you know I'd even be okay with this idea?”

“I didn't,” he explains, shrugging his shoulders. “But even if you weren't, I'd still have something to play with later.”

Your face burns at his bold admission, images of him sinking said something into himself flooding your vision. You've never thought of him in that way before, but you quickly admit to yourself just how much it excites you.

“Hello?” Astarion asks innocently, waving his hand over your face. “Are you still with me? Have I given you too much to think about?”

“You're terrible,” you tease, peeling yourself from his embrace in a huff once again. Your face is as red as hot coals, head swimming. “When did you want to try this?”

Astarion cocks his head to one side in thought. “I was thinking tonight?” he answers. “Or sometime soon. Whatever works for you, love.”

Nodding your head in agreement, you say, “Alright, then. Tonight it is.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evening has fallen and you're fresh from the bath. You walk out into your shared bedroom, bathrobe wrapped snugly around your form as you dry your hair with a towel. Astarion bathed earlier as you cleaned the kitchen, telling you he would use the opportunity to prepare for your night ahead.

“Ah, there you are!” he exclaims in joy. “I've been waiting for you.” Dipping down into the drawer of the end table next to the bed, Astarion says, “There are a couple options we can choose from, darling.”

Astarion is dressed in nothing but his ruffled white shirt with the front laces undone, and his favorite pair of baby-blue and gold underwear. The hem of the shirt covers his underwear, giving off the illusion of wearing nothing underneath.

Standing up straight, he's now holding a tube of rolled parchment in one hand and a phallic toy in the other. “We have a scroll of Mystical Phallus,” Astarion explains, “or, your more traditional approach.”

You smirk as you run the towel through your damp hair, letting your bathrobe fall to the floor. Lifting your chin toward the direction of the parchment, you ask, “What's the deal with the scroll?”

Astarion clears his throat as the robe falls off your form, eyes quickly roaming over your newly exposed skin. He turns to place the toy back in the drawer, returning to meet your gaze before saying, “The shopkeeper explained it as ‘granting the caster a temporary phallus that's as close to the real thing.’ Not quite sure to what level it goes, but I'll admit - I am curious.”

“Alright, let's go with that one, then,” you decide, walking over to take the scroll from his hand.

You're not too familiar with magic, being a soldier and all, but you've used scrolls before. Opening the paper tube, you're relieved to find that the spell is a rather simple one.

As you recite the incantation etched within the scroll, a faint blue light envelops the room for a mere moment. The light fades, the scroll disintegrating, and you can't help but notice an unfamiliar heaviness between your thighs that wasn't there before.

“Oh,” Astarion comments, shifting his weight onto one hip, accompanied by a hand. “Well, that's rather generous.”

Looking down, your eyes drink in the source of your discomfort. Glowing blue, and well endowed, lay a cock. Your cock, at least for tonight. It juts up proudly in the air from between your thighs, seeming like an extension of your clitoris. Other parts, thankfully, have remained unchanged.

“...Oh,” is all you manage, continuing to survey the mystical length. “This… this is mine?”

Astarion walks over, lowering himself onto his knees in front of you. “It would appear as such,” he states. “And my, oh my, how beautiful it is.”

You scowl, meeting his gaze. You're suddenly uncomfortable, his eyes flitting between yours and your newly summoned appendage. “I don't know what to do, Astarion,” you admit in a hushed tone.

He chuckles lightly. “Touch it, love,” he says, reassuringly. “Don’t be afraid. It's your cock.”

Nodding your head, you bring a hand up hesitantly to brush over your new addition. “Ah!” you exclaim in shock, your fingertips passing over the bulbous tip. A familiar pulling sensation in your groin begins to stir as you bend slightly inward.

Astarion, looking up at you with wide eyes, asks, “So? How does it feel?”

You can feel everything, as if this has always been part of your anatomy. Each feathered touch sends sparks of electricity up and through you, snagging behind a peculiar spot in your lower stomach.

“Real, Astarion,” you sigh in disbelief, giving yourself a few more tentative touches along the shaft. “I feel like this is my cock.”

“Do you, now?” he quips in a sultry tone. “Is it okay if I do this, then?”

Your mind barely has time to register what he might be implying before Astarion drags the flat of his tongue up the underside of your ethereal summon. Your vision blanks from the sensation, nearly toppling over had Astarion not been bracing you.

“Wh-what was that?” you yell, nearly breathless.

Concern outlining his face, Astarion asks from below you, “Too much? We can stop, if you want.”

You shake your head in disagreement. “N-no,” you respond. “No, that's not it.” Placing a hand on his head, you brush his fallen curls out of his eyes, meeting them with yours. “If this is even remotely close to how you feel when it's me doing this,” you explain, “then I appreciate the level of self-control you maintain over yourself.”

Astarion hums in satisfaction, placing a quick kiss along your shaft before rising to his feet. “It's a lot, I'll admit,” he tells you. Your length jumps in response, and he smiles. “Especially how you suck my cock.”

You're barely able to respond before Astarion’s kissing you; soft, but passionate. His hands grab hold of your hips, drawing you in closer until your centers meet. You moan into his mouth as he repeats the motion a few times, your jaw going slack under his ministrations.

His arousal is evident through the fabric of his undergarments, though not quite there just yet. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you roll your hips into his with vigor, a bolt of pleasure pulling behind your pubic bone. He groans, tangling his tongue with yours, and begins walking you back until you hit the wall behind you.

Astarion asks, “Do you want me to do that to you, darling?” breathily, breaking the kiss. A hand winds in your hair, pulling your head to the side as he licks a stripe up the side of your neck.

You shudder under his touch, grinding your length against his clothed erection again, searching for friction. “O-oooh-nly,” you groan, “i-if you want.”

Astarion pulls himself back entirely, tapping a finger lightly on your chest. “Ah-ah-ah,” he chides, “I asked you. I already know what I want.”

You close your eyes in frustration, hips involuntarily lurching forward in an attempt to catch more contact. You feel how heavy your cock is - painfully hard between your legs, desperate for release. It throbs in time with your clit, and you feel the wetness of your arousal beginning to gather at the apex of your thighs.

“Y-yes, please,” you gasp, thighs rubbing together in a hopeless quest for relief.

Satisfied, Astarion plants a kiss along your jaw, placing his hands on either side of your shoulders. “Good girl,” he purrs as he begins to kneel again. Tracing a line of kisses down your body, starting between the valley of your breasts, his hands move down to cup each within his palms.

Rolling the sensitive peaks of your nipples between his fingertips, your body jerks again, cock brushing ever so lightly against his chest as he continues kissing down the plane of your abdomen. Astarion, now sitting on his heels, braces his hands against your thighs.

He looks up to meet your eyes through full lashes. “Please tell me to stop if it becomes too much,” he tells you, genuine concern lacing his tone.

You hum in agreement, a hand coming up to tangle within the silver locks atop his head. Watching as he closes his eyes, Astarion licks again at the underside of your cock, base to tip. You shudder as his hand wraps delicately around your shaft, peeling the foreskin back. He takes a few tentative passes with his tongue along your frenulum, meeting your eyes momentarily to gauge your reaction.

Your hips buck and stutter under his tongue, a string of pleasured gasps and guttural moans slipping past your lips. The hand in his hair tightens as he takes the head of you past his lips, suckling softly on the sensitive gland.

It takes a world of restraint not to shove the rest of yourself into the inviting cavern of his mouth. Astarion must know this, however, as the hand still planted on your thigh moves to your hip, holding you still. He doesn’t leave you wanting for long, passing as much of your length into his mouth as he can manage, his hand following you down to the base. He flattens his tongue on the way back up, hollowing out his cheeks as he reaches the tip, only to do it all over again.

Knees growing weak, you push your back into the wall behind you to hold yourself steady. The hand in his hair slips, pads of your fingers passing just over the tip of his ear. Astarion moans at the faint touch, the vibration shooting up through your cock and spreading like wildfire throughout your abdomen. You perform the same motion again, and Astarion begins craning his head into your touch.

“A-ah-” he gasps, pulling himself off of you. “Darling, if you keep doing that, I-”

His mouth falls open in a delicate pant, eyes flitting closed as he works his spittle over your length with his hand. You continue toying with the outer shell of his ear, intrigued at this new discovery, and he rests his forehead against your hip.

“I never knew you had such sensitive ears,” you comment as you look down, watching him rub his thighs together as his hips buck up and down into the air.

With a drawn out groan, Astarion explains, “I’m an elf, my love. We all have sensitive ears.”

“Noted,” you respond, shakily bringing a hand down to join him along your shaft. You softly peel off his touch, lacing your fingers together. “I-I think I want to try something else, now,” you admit.

Smiling, Astarion slowly rises to his feet, cradling your jaw within his hand. His lips, swollen and soft from his prior activity, find yours; his kiss is desperate - hungry. “What do you have in mind?” he questions between quickly stolen breaths.

A fire swells within your core, and you're suddenly met with the same raging intensity and desire displayed in Astarion's kiss.

Hand tangling within his mess of moonlit curls once again, you pull Astarion’s head back, exposing the marble column of his throat. He groans when you drag the flat of your tongue over the apple of his throat, hips jerking into yours.

“I want to try fucking you,” you whisper into his skin, grinding your conjured length against his concealed erection to punctuate your intent. The coiling in your core winds tighter, but not enough to snap just yet.

As his weight presses into you, his hands grip your biceps for stability. Another roll of his hips and he sighs, dropping his head down to catch your eyes. “Are you sure?” he questions, breathless. “Because I'd really like that.”

With a nod of your head, your hands travel up under the hem of his shirt to settle on strong, narrow hips. Your lips meet again, the kiss just as ravenous as before, and begin walking you both toward the bed. When Astarion’s knees hit the edge of the bed, he gently falls back, with you quickly closing the distance above him.

“You needn’t worry about preparation,” he reveals as you lavish attention on his neck. “I took care of that earlier.”

He shudders beneath you as you mouth his scars. “Isn’t that part of this whole process?” you ask while hooking your hands into the waistband of his underwear, slowly tugging them down.

Astarion lifts his hips up and laughs, providing enough space for you to slide the cotton fabric down and off his form. “It is, but I figured it was gracious enough of you to entertain this idea,” he explains. “Prep for this is… well, intimate.” He averts your gaze for a brief moment, drawing a large breath in before continuing, “I would understand if it didn’t appeal to you.”

Removing yourself from his reach, you sit back over your legs. His face shifts uneasily at your sudden withdrawal. “Astarion,” you begin to tell him, “I’m not ashamed of your body. I want to explore this as a couple.” He’s drawn his legs together in a likely attempt at covering himself. You place a hand atop one knee, rubbing soft circles as you say reassuringly, “All of it, together. So, please. Let me?”

Astarion sits up with a smile, and rests his forehead over yours. “If you keep being this nice to me, I may just return the favor,” he says, light-heartedly.

“You already do, Astarion,” you tell him with a laugh. “Always the gentleman.”

His kiss is a quick peck over your lips as he tells you, “There's a bottle of oil in the bedside drawer. Grab it, and I'll show you what to do.”

You nod, sliding off the mattress and doing as instructed. Astarion moves himself higher into the center of the bed, sinking into the comforter and pillows. The bed dips below him as you climb back on, bottle of viscous liquid in hand.

“Pour some into one palm and rub your hands together, love,” he instructs. “This helps warm the oil.”

Popping the stopper off the bottle, you pour the cool, thick, opaque fluid out into your hand. You reapply the cork, placing it face up on top of the bedside drawer, rubbing the palms of your hands together. It takes a bit, but inevitably your body heat begins to seep into the oil.

Astarion lay before you, eyes beginning to hood over as he follows your hands. His legs fall silently open as his breath hitches for a mere moment. “Good,” he says encouragingly, his voice an octave lower. “Now, come here. Between my legs.”

You move in closer and note how the hem of his shirt is obscuring his cock from view. You can just make it out, though - it pushes against the fabric of the shirt, tenting it slightly and you swear you see a small darkened spot right where the tip of his cock lay hidden. Looking up, your eyes drink in how his collar has fallen to one side, sliding down and off his right shoulder, exposing his collar bone. Astarion normally wears this shirt with the sleeves rolled up tight, yet today, he's chosen to wear them loose.

His hands, half covered by the cuffs of his sleeves, envelop yours in a gentle embrace as he guides your slickened fingers to his core. Astarion stills for a moment, and you look up to find him staring back at you.

There's an expression on his face that you’re not immediately familiar with - it's not fear, excitement, or lust, really. Yet, the longer you study him, recognition begins to dawn over you.

It's the same look you've given him countless times before on this very bed, having thrown caution to the wind as you entwine the very fabric of your souls together.

Astarion is… submitting himself. To you.

Something majorly delicate, knowing his past.

You know of what he was forced to endure while being compelled into submission.

The barrage of lovers who cared not for the person below them; who saw him only as a means to an end. A quick pump, a cheap lay, a tool to scratch a nagging itch.

“Some people refer to the moment of climax as ‘a little death,’” he’d once told you. That was before you knew just how many he'd lead to their actual deaths.

True to form, Astarion's words are often double-edged blades. His mind dances constantly on the edge of pleasure and shame. You see it in his face, now. He’s standing on that precipice, knowing not whether to jump head first or step back.

You swallow thickly and stare back at him, unblinking, before saying, “You can always tell me if it becomes too much, and I will stop.” You pause for a brief moment before adding, “Pleasure is my only intent, Astarion.”

A smile graces his lips as he welcomes your fingers to make first contact with his entrance. “Oh, my dear,” he says with a sigh, “I’ve never doubted that about you.”

Leaning over him as you press the pads of two fingers teasingly against his tight ring of muscle, you kiss him. Astarion groans softly into your mouth, his hands coming up to cup either side of your face as he arches into the kiss. He’s grinding down lightly into your fingers, meeting each of your chaste touches against him.

“How many should I start with?” you ask softly, breaking the kiss for a brief moment.

“Two,” he answers, voice but a whisper against your lips. “Whichever ones you want.”

Humming into his mouth, you begin pushing your fingers into his entrance. Astarion’s breath hitches as you breach the perimeter, shoving his head back against the pillows. He instinctively tries closing his legs around you, though you hold one open with your free hand.

You still your movements, giving him a chance to adjust to the intrusion. “Is it alright?” you ask him.

Astarion nods his head as he moves a hand under his shirt to toy with a nipple. “Yes,” he huffs out. “I'm more than fine, love.”

Emboldened to the task at hand, you move, gently pushing and pulling your fingers within him. You feel his muscles contract around you and you briefly wonder if this is what he feels when he's inside of you. The thought sends a bolt of pleasure to your cunt, reverberating as a twitch of your cock.

You look down to watch your fingers as they work him open, and finally see his cock laying against the plane of his abdomen. Compared to the pallor of the rest of him, his length is flushed pink and red, and you can make out the labored beating of his undead heart as his cock thumps softly against his stomach. Pre-fluid seeps from his tip, gathering in a small puddle just below his navel. Bending down, you catch a small rivulet rolling off his hip with your tongue, tracing it back to the source. Astarion shudders under you, threading his free hand through your hair as he pushes down onto your fingers.

You're beginning to understand that this isn't too different from your usual sexual encounters with one another. It's truly just a mirroring of your typical positions. Out of curiosity, you curl your fingers upward in one particular pass, and his entire body spasms beneath you.

“Fuck, darling, yes… You've found it,” Astarion groans out, labored. The grip in your hair tightens and he begins fucking himself in earnest on your fingers, a string of moans falling from his lips as he passes that same spot over and over again.

Your cunt aches and your cock throbs watching the scene before you. To see him unraveling before you, submitting himself to the pleasure of the moment is intoxicating. His legs have fallen open again and you watch, diligently, at how easily your fingers glide in and out of his core.

“I- I need more,” Astarion suddenly chokes out. You meet his gaze and through lust-hooded eyes, he says, “Please… let me ride you.”

He's pleading, you notice. Begging. Your eyes travel down his form again, drinking in the wanton display of him splitting himself open over your fingers. Your cunt throbs; you think of nothing else in that moment but pulling out your fingers and replacing them with your cock.

To hear the delicious whines, the sobs, the cries that would surely tumble freely from Astarion's lips as he came undone around you. You want this, just as much as he does.

Pulling your hand free from his entrance, Astarion sobs as you crash your lips into his. “I'd love that,” you tell him, honestly.

Astarion begins to sit up, concentrating on never breaking the kiss you share as he aids you both in switching positions. You lay back, him straddling your lap mere moments later. He grinds his taint against your conjured appendage, your shafts brushing, and he cries out in a gentle moan against your lips. He breaks the kiss, reaching for the bottle of oil on the bedside table, dribbling some onto your cock.

With a few languid strokes of your mystical length to spread the oil and he lines himself up over you. Your eyes meet and you hiss through clenched teeth as your tip kisses his entrance, feeling the pressure slide over your glans as he slowly begins to take you.

“A-ahh,” Astarion pants from above you, still holding your cock steady in one hand. You sigh as you feel yourself push past the first ring of muscle, throwing your head back against the pillows. Your hands grip at his thighs as the sensation threatens to overwhelm you, fingertips likely to leave bruises that will be gone come morning.

Once he feels confident that you're nestled far enough inside, he releases his hold on your shaft, resting the palms of his hands against your lower stomach. He continues to slowly take you further in, words in a language you're unfamiliar with spilling from his mouth, until he's flush against your thighs.

Both of you freeze in that moment - you struggle to control your ragged breathing as he flutters around you, Astarion taking a moment to adjust to this foreign, but not unpleasant, sensation.

“H-how do I feel?” he asks in a hushed voice.

Truthfully? He feels… astounding. Tight, wet, and warmer than you would have thought for a vampire. When he lifts his hips, you feel the air being pulled out of your lungs. His walls drag deliciously along your shaft, and a nagging pull starts to build behind your navel.

Your mouth drops open in a silent gasp as your eyes meet his through hooded lids. “A-amazing,” you pant out. “You feel so good, Astarion.”

He moans above you, his head falling to one side as he rolls his hips over your cock. His shirt hangs off one shoulder, the hem obscuring his cock again from view. Though, you feel its weight slap against your stomach with each lift and drop of his hips.

Astarion’s voice comes out strained when he says, “Tell me again… please.”

You feel your cock twitch within him; he clenches around you as he locks eyes with you, waiting patiently for a response. Strands of sweat-soaked hair stick to his face, and on one particular stroke of his hips, you brush up against that place inside of him that forces his vision to blur at the edges. His mouth begins to salivate.

“Please, please, please,” he begs impatiently, voice an octave higher now. He's practically sobbing, spearing himself over your cock so each roll is angled to hit his prostate. You meet his thrusts from below, coil winding tighter within your abdomen as his walls continue to massage your cock.

You're not going to last much longer.

“You're so good for me, Astarion,” you say, obliging him. “You're being such a good boy.”

Astarion's mouth drops open as he bows his head forward, his entire body dipping down over you as a shudder passes through him. “Yes,” he whines, rocking back on your hips with renewed vigor. You feel his cock lay flat against your abdomen in this new position. It drags over your stomach, pre-fluid dripping from his tip and onto your skin providing an easier surface.

I am! And beautiful - not enough people mention that.

His words from long ago echo in your mind as you drink in his expression. He's gorgeous above you; handsome to begin with, but as he slips further toward toppling over the Cliff's edge, his beauty is quickly becoming amplified as he continues to lose composure.

“You’re beautiful like this,” you coo to him, lifting a hand from his thigh to rub over an ear.

Astarion's body is wracked by yet another tremor as he cries, “Darling, if you don’t-, I will-, I'm going-!” His head nestles into the hand toying with his ear and his hips pump erratically over your cock, having lost his prior rhythm.

You suck in a sharp breath, jaw clenched as Astarion becomes impossibly tighter around your shaft, and you groan. You're so close, so very close that all you need is one more thing to push yourself over the edge.

“Let go, Astarion,” you say, somehow finding the rhythm in his desperate rutting. The sound of skin slapping roughly fills the room as your hips meet his on his downstroke. You wrap a hand around the outline of his cock tenting his shirt, and jerk him in tempo with your thrusts.

He’s sobbing, loud and unabashedly. With one particular pass of your fingers over the outer tip of his ear, Astarion suddenly unwinds. He yells his pleasure above you, collapsing onto your chest as wave after wave overcomes him. You feel his spend seep into the fabric of his shirt and onto the skin of your abdomen in a small warm pool.

It doesn't take long for the involuntary spasming of his core over your cock to send you spiraling into your own completion. Moans slip freely past your lips and you feel your folds become soaked, drippinh down the cleft of your ass as your relief washes over you. You bury your face against Astarion's hair, breathing in his soft silver curls and the signature cologne you know so well.

As you both begin to come down off your highs, you wrap your arms around his back and hold him tightly against your chest. You feel the spell of the phallus lift, Astarion whimpering softly as it vanishes from within him. You both lay on the bed, panting, trying to catch your breath for what feels like ages.

Astarion is first to lift up his head and say, “That… that was amazing.”

“Mm,” you hum in agreement. You can barely open your eyes as fatigue begins to set in.

Taking a finger, Astarion traces circles absentmindedly into your skin as he rests his head back down over your chest. “Darling?” he asks softly. “May I tell you something?”

Sleep almost has its claws in you when you jolt back awake, forcing your eyes to snap open and find Astarion. “Hmm?” you groan in question.

With a quick huff, Astarion says, “I just wanted to thank you for doing this with me.” He places a quick peck below your jawbone before adding, “It was really nice.”

You sigh audibly, and say “It was, we should do this again.” Your eyelids are impossibly heavy; sleep is threatening to claim you and will do so in mere moments. “I love you,” you manage to mumble out before slipping gently out of consciousness.

Astarion smiles into your skin as he says, “I love you, too,”

I love this, he thinks.

I love us.

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