#and astarion acts like tav is coming over to break up with him and then acts shocked when they say no i like you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

frantic-fiction · 8 months

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Unexpected

Pic: @cheekylittlepupp (I love her posts)

Astarion x gn!Tav, Astarion x gn!reader

Summary: A night of seduction takes an unexpected turn, leaving Astarion to realize just how deep his feelings for Tav have developed.

Warnings: Astarion not knowing how to handle affection. Mild disassociation. Astarion has a lot of confusing feels.

Word count: 2.8k

Masterlist

Astarion sprawls across the blanket, his spine cracking against the stretch. A reflexive groan escapes him. His arms are crossed to cushion his head while the sun's heat seeps into his bones. The last time he felt this warm and relaxed was when his heart still beat in his chest. He feels like he could trance, in just a moment.

It still baffles him, the luck of it all. Being ripped right out of that bastard's chains, only to be dropped in the middle of nowhere with a tadpole in his head and a bunch of problematic weirdos for company. And Tav. Tav, who Astarion has yet to fully figure out.

At first, he thought the naive little hero thing was all an act, but no, that was just Tav. And a sweet, naive person was exactly who he needed to keep his place in this group. He had already seduced them; now, he just needed to keep them on his side.

Astarion is pulled from his thoughts. He's not sure why until his ears twitch at the sound of boots scuffing on dirt. Pushing up on his elbows, Astarion looks up towards the tree line.

Tav, slightly obscured by clouds of disturbed dust, is trudging up the west trail. Their body seems to have deflated, shoulders slumped, both hands gripping their pack straps as if the moment they let go, the heavy bag would pull them to the ground.

Tav looks exhausted, not the kind brought on by a poor night's rest or a long day's travel. But one that builds up slowly, from continuous tasks and responsibilities, with constant eyes looking for guidance in a time none could imagine experiencing. The suffocating feeling that claws its way under the skin, burying deep behind fake smiles and pleasantries.

Sitting up further, he watches Tav start to make their rounds. First to Gale, they pull a necklace out of their pocket before placing it in his palm. The wizard makes what's sure to be a subpar joke, and Tav's delicate laugh rings out—Astarion glares in annoyance.

Tav says goodbye and moves over to Wyll. They unsheaths a polished rapier- a replacement for the one Wyll managed to break when they fought against a pack of minotaurs. It's ridiculous if you ask Astarion, but Tav tells him to keep his comments to himself and, as they say, "don't bite the hand that feeds."

After a quick hello to Lae'zel, Tav's eyes find Astarion. They perk up a bit, a timid smile stretching their plump lips. Astarion is now fully on his feet, returning their smile with a smirk of his own.

"Hello, my sweet," Astarion says, moving behind Tav. "Let me," he pulls the straps off Tav's shoulders, letting the heavy pack fall into his arms. "Hells, my dear, you carried this all the way from town."

"It's not that heavy," they mumble, reaching for the bag.

Astarion swiftly pulls the pack from Tav's reach. "What did you get?" He quirks his brow and unlatches the pack to begin sifting through its contents.

Tav huffs something under their breath and crosses their arms, but makes no further attempt to reach for the bag.

The pack is brimming with food, potions, arrows, daggers, and scrolls, all basic supplies. "Boring," Astarion says, tossing the bag to the side carelessly.

"If anything broke, it's coming from your gold pouch."

"Yes, yes, of course," Astarion says, waving his hand casually before turning up the charm. They look up at him with lidded eyes and a glaze over look . "Are you alright?" Astarion asks, his voice laced with played-up concern.

"Hmm... O-Oh, yeah, yes, I'm fine." Their eyes dart away, seeming to look for the next lie. "You know me; I'm always doing good."

Astarion glances around the camp, looking at the others. None seemed to be paying attention to the two of them. He steps forward and brushes a strand of hair behind Tav's ear, trailing his fingers down their neck.

"I've begun to know you very well, my sweet, and I can tell you are exhausted."

"I'll be fine," Tav catches his hand and starts to play with his fingers.

Astarion freezes, brow furrowing in confusion. They're just pulling slightly at his hand. An odd feeling settles in Astarion's stomach.

Why are they doing that?

They let go a moment later, and Astarion pulls his hand back quickly.

"I've got to talk with Shadowheart; if you'd like, you can feed on me tonight." Tav hesitates before quickly pecking his cheek and skipping off.

Astarion is left staring after them with this dreadful fluttering in his stomach. A hand absentmindedly touches his cheek. His mouth feels dry, and he swallows hard.

Astarion has an idea brewing that would please Tav, and maybe he would even get another of those soft kisses.

Why would he care for another damn kiss? Gods, what is happening to him? Is it the damn tadpole?

It's nightfall when Astarion finds Tav again. They are sat on the ground, suffocated between a growing owlbear cub and a slobbery dog. Scratch's tail wags and the subtle movement of Tav's hands petting each animal's fur are the only movements. Tav's eyes are closed, and their face is relaxed.

"Should I grab the cleric?"

"No, I think the rogue will do just fine."

Tav's eyes open, their face breaking into a bright smile. They sit up, displacing the animals who no longer consider Tav a suitable bed.

"Time for dinner?" Tav wiggles their fingers at them, beckoning for assistance.

Astarion scoffs but grabs their wrists and pulls Tav to their feet. Tav stumbles forward a step and presses into him. He gets the urge to kiss them for no reason other than he wants to and almost leans down to do just that when Tav speaks.

"So… my tent or yours?"

Astarion blinks out of his thoughts. "Right, I think my tent tonight,” he offers his arm, which Tav takes. "This way, my dear."

Tav allows Astarion to escort them to his tent, where upon entrance, on a small table sits a platter containing a loaf of bread and a chunk of cheese he nipped from Gale's pack, alongside a fresh vine of grapes he may or may not have gone all the way to the bloody town for. Tav mentioned it was their favorite fruit, and hearing the shocked gasp made that obnoxious trip at least worth it.

"What's all this for?"

"I was feeling a bit peckish tonight, so I decided to have a nice meal. I merely wanted to rub it in your face."

Tav rolls their eyes and punches him in the arm dropping to the ground. They pluck a grape from the vine, pop it in their mouth, and pierce the skin with their teeth.

"Where did you even get all this?"

"If I told you the lengths I went," Astarion says, pulling out a bottle of wine and popping the cork. "I would have to kill you, Darling. I've got an image to keep." He pours out a glass and passes it over.

Tav chuckles and thanks him and takes a sip. Astarion sits on a cushion beside Tav with his own glass, watching them slice the bread. It quiets long enough for Tav to finish the slice of bread with some cheese along with a couple of grapes.

Astarion couldn't help but think how cute they looked, cheeks puffing slightly from too big of a bite. They swallow it with a mouth full of wine, a droplet falling down their chin. He wants to catch it with his thumb.

"But seriously, isn't this time reserved for your midnight snack?"

"Typically, but you looked so tired, my dear." Astarion places his goblet to the side and scoots closer to Tav. "I wanted to help you relax, help you sleep. You are always doing so much for everyone."

He plucks a grape and leans in, guiding it to their wine-stained lips. Lowering his voice, he whispers deep and low, "Let me help you."

Tav instinctually opens their mouth, letting the fruit fall in between their lips; their tongue catches Astarion's thumb briefly before his hand retreats. He cups their jaw, and traces over Tav's cheekbone.

Every time he gets a chance to look, really look at Tav. Astarion can't help being captivated by their beauty. The shine of their hair, the softness of their face alway so warm and inviting, their nose scrunching up anytime he teases. So gorgeous.

Tav's doe eyes flick down from his eyes to his mouth. Their tongue peaks out gently swiping across their bottom lip.

Who kisses who is irrelevant. Only the feeling of their smooth lips gliding against his, the shaky exhale of breath, Tav's warm hands curling around his neck, fingers carding into his hair.

Tav pulls away to breathe, running their nose against his. Astarion can't remember the last time a kiss left him wanting more. And having Tav rush back into the kiss as desperate as he feels sent unfamiliar shivers down his spine.

Astarion's hand presses against the small of their back, pulling Tav close to his chest. The other falls on their thigh, gripping gently like a lifeline. Astarion sighs low in his chest and runs his tongue against the seam of Tav's lips. They tentatively part, and Astarion chases the taste of grapes and bread.

Hells, he wishes to stay in the moment- in the softness of this kiss, the closeness of their bodies. His chest felt light, and the warmth of Tav's body under his hands is something he never wants to stop feeling. It feels as if nothing more needs to happen if either party deems it so.

But that wasn't how this worked. No one ever wanted a simple kiss. Astarion was never the innocent kiss that had you blushing the whole walk home. He was the sinful whisper and dirty looks. The pleasure before the end. Never this.

So Astarion begins the routine he's done a thousand times before.

His mouth leaves Tav's lips, trailing hot, wet kisses down the column of their throat. Tav releases the softest whimper when he bites at the flesh of their shoulder. Their fingers tighten in his hair. He grunts.

Astarion no longer feels quite present; it is more like he is simply observing the scene as a third party. Just finish the task.

His agile fingers snake up their waist, pulling their shirt from their pants and caressing the smooth skin underneath. Astarion begins to unbutton their top when Tav grabs his hand.

"Wait." They say out of breath.

Astarion focuses back in, eyes taking in the look of Tav's flushed face and kiss swollen lips. They look flustered, and he's suddenly confused about why they stopped him.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. I was…" They trail off, looking away then back again. "Could… we not do this tonight?"

That wasn't what he thought they’d say and it has Astarion momentarily at a loss for words. What does he do now? Tav's looking at him, and he's still frozen. No one has asked him not to have sex before.

"Yes, of course. Would you like me to pack this food and escort you back to your tent?" He sounds robotic to his ears and cringes.

"No."

Astarion's brow furrows. Do they want his tent? Okay, he can work with this. Let them have his tent for the night; he'll be fine. And it's a nice thing to do since they don't want sex. He can still win favor. Right?

"That will not be a problem, my dear. I was going to be out late hunting anyway- probably until morning. You're welcome to sleep here. Rest well."

Astarion moves to leave- flee more like when Tav grabs his wrist.

"Wait," Their voice is so tiny.

Astarion turns back to Tav. They won't meet his eyes and are playing with his fingers again. Is this something people do? Or just Tav?

"Would you hold me?" A subtle blush began to bloom across their cheeks.

"I can't sleep; I keep having nightmares. I keep waking up trapped in my body." Tav released his hand to hug themselves. "I just don't want to sleep alone again."

Tav. Fearless, reckless, heroic Tav. Who killed more goblins and helped more people than any hero he could think of. To see them look so small, so vulnerable. And ask him. Him. To hold them, protect them from the monsters that torment their sleep.

His mind is ricocheting around. Who was this person before him? So kind, so beautiful, so trusting of him, who deserves none of it.

Astarion has been quiet for too long. He knows this when he sees hope drain from Tav's wide eyes. They are looking for a way to leave.

"Okay," Astarion croaks, nodding before clearing his throat and repeating the word more confidently.

Tav beams at him. "Okay."

They stay rooted in place, awkwardly staring at each other. Tav bites their lip, tugging it between their teeth. Astarion feels like he's been plunged into the deep end. Every physical encounter he's partaken in was sexual and one he quickly left feeling used and disgusted.

This was new territory; did Tav want him to initiate? How did he initiate this without sex?

Astarion looks down when he feels a tug at his arm. "Um, would it be okay if we laid down?"

Astarion nods rigidly, his tongue cemented in his mouth. He moves to his bedroll and lays back. Astarion's body felt like a wood plank, he couldn't seem to relax. Tav sees this of course, because they seem to alway notice him.

Everything Astarion wished to keep buried, all his dirty secrets, he kept behind the facade he perfected over the centuries. Tav seemed to see through everything. Read him in a way no other had.

"Astarion," he looks up, Tav's kneeling beside him, eyes full of concern. "If you're uncomfortable, I can-"

Astarion snaps back to himself. He shakes his head and props himself up on his elbow. A flirtatious smirk automatically stretches his lips.

"Me? Uncomfortable? Pfft, Darling, to have you pressed against me all night," Astarion reaches out to pull Tav's arm hard enough to have them stumble onto his chest with a small yelp.

His voice drops to a husky whisper. "I don't think there's anything I'd like more."

Astarion chuckles at how reactive Tav always is to him. Their hands are splayed against his chest, face inches from his.

They open their mouths to speak, but Astarion cuts them off with a kiss long enough to leave Tav chasing him for another.

"Though I will admit, having you so close, it's going to be very difficult to keep my hands to myself."

"I don't want you to keep your hands to yourself. I want you to hold me." Tav speaks plainly as they adjust til they are pressed against his side.

Their head is in the space between his collar and jaw. Astarion takes a deep breath. The smell of pine, rosewater, and something distinctly Tav hits his nose. The scent alone acts like a cool drink of water during a searing summer day, calming his anxiety.

Tav grips the front of his shirt loosely and tangles their legs with his. Astarion was initially unsure what to do with his hands, hovering them slightly over the contours of Tav's body. But he adjusts quickly enough, and pulls them tighter against his chest, chasing the addictive warmth of their body.

This was strange, unfamiliar, but…nice. Tav's nose brushed against his neck, and the heat of their mumbled words fans over his skin. Astarion hums in question.

"Thank you," Tav repeats, yawning, their words slightly slurs from exhaustion. "You make me feel safe."

Tav was trying to break the record for how many times they could shock Astarion in one day. But before he could come up with a charming retort, their breath had already evened out. Tav fell into the world of dreams, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Astarion didn't trance that night, just staring up at the roof of his tent, listening to the soft breaths and steady heartbeat, rubbing absentminded patterns to the planes of Tav's back.

Why couldn't he have found them when he was still so hopeful? Less broken. Because he think he might have been able to make it through just about anything with Tav by his side.

Tav, whose eyes find him first. Who makes sure he's fed and comfortable and okay with the plan even though he could give two shits about the poor fools that need saving.

Who asks to be held at night when the dreams are too dark to handle alone, and they trust Astarion of all people to keep them safe? Where was Tav when he needed and pleaded for someone to care for and protect him from the cruelty of this realm?

Gods, he thinks he loves Tav. The thought turns his stomach to lead, but he stops and takes a deep breath. That is something he will have to think about tomorrow.

All Astarion wanted to think about right then was the person in his arms. He kisses the top of Tav's head and closes his eyes. Astarion doesn't believe he's ever felt more at ease.

I really enjoyed writing this, so please let know what you thought. Astarion discovering his feelings for Tav past his survival instinct is a personal favorite type of fic for me, so I want to write one of my own.

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

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#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion imagine #reader insert #fanfic #writing #astarion fluff #frantic fiction

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the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 9 months

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Crawl Home To Her

Ship: Astarion x fem!Tav/reader

Summary: As awful the feeling of blood on the skin is, sometimes it can be helpful, you have to admit. At least, when it comes to Astarion, blood is always helpful. You'll have to take his word for it—and that's oh so easy bathing with him.

Word Count: 5,461 words

Warnings: sexual content (18+) blood, gore, nudity, sexual & non-sexual touching, bathing each other, soft Astarion, established relationship, brief mention of past sexual encounter, dealing with past trauma, teasing from Karlach, mention of dismemberment, fluff & smut mix

18+ Warnings: brief fingering (f receiving), tiny bit of a hair kink, sensual touching, semi-public sex/nudity

Note: Part 2 of Burns Like Rum is coming soon! But here's a little something to tithe you over until the sequel (Sweet Like Rum) is ready!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Shafts of pale sunlight fell on your face as you walked through the forest, your arms swinging at your sides, small critters running amok in the bushes around you. Birdsong filled your ears, pleasantly light and summery, reminding you distantly of a childhood memory you couldn't quite reach. The weather was warm enough that you were thinking you might have to change into something lighter. The few weapons you had on you were already starting to make you break out into a sweat.

For a day that had started with murder, the weather was surprisingly nice.

You hummed as you walked—the song pulled from your childhood, the words long forgotten but pieces of the melody clunking around in your head. You strung them together the best you could, tapping out a rhythm against your leg.

You were on your way to the waterfall you'd spotted several days ago while hunting. It was small and nothing too violent. The pool it fell into wasn't deep enough to drown you, nor was the flow of water all that fast. You trusted it—and the rock ledge behind it—would suit your purposes quite nicely.

Coming upon the pool was like stepping into one of the fairytales you had heard in your youth, sitting upon your father's knee in a tavern, listening to a traveller tell a story you weren't sure was entirely true.

It was guarded by willow trees with branches that swayed in a breeze you hadn't felt until you came upon them. Pushing the curtain of branches away revealed an almost perfectly circular clearing, the ground covered in vibrant green moss that squished delightfully beneath your feet and sprung back up when you stepped off of it. Patches of flowers sprouted all around, pink and yellow and purple blooms that grew up to the sun. The pool was as blue as the sky above, clear and shallow, surrounded by a few feet of soft white sand. The water shimmered in the sunlight, rippling over the pebbles that covered its floor. From the pool, the water flowed into a thin river that could hardly be called a river and out into the woods.

You sat by the pool's edge and pulled off your boots. They were just as bloody as the rest of you, the sticky and quickly drying substance staining the black leather. You splashed water over them and scrubbed with a cloth you had designated for this purpose that had once been grey.

Only after your boots were clean did you stand back up and step into the soft sand. You wiggled your toes, smiling at the feeling. You breathed in the crisp, sweet air. It smelled faintly of flowers and citrus, a scent that was familiar, though you couldn't place it.

You stripped slowly, hissing and wincing as you tugged at the places where blood had stuck the fabric to your skin. It acted like glue when dry, staining your skin and leaving a mottled pattern across your flesh. The fabric of your shirt had grown stiff with semi-dried blood.

One by one, you pulled off belts and straps holding weapons, the gloves you protected your hands with, your shirt, your trousers—until you were standing naked at the pool's edge. You gave yourself a cursory inspection, searching for any wounds you had acquired in the fighting this morning that you hadn't noticed; it wouldn't be the first time you'd walked away from a fight and realized you were injured only hours later. But, this time, there was nothing.

Usually it was Astarion who noticed you were injured, catching your smell in the air when it shouldn't have been. But you were drenched in so much blood already that you imagined it would have been very hard to pick out your distinct scent.

You waded into the pool, taking your clothes with you, and sat at it's deepest point. Standing, it reached your knees; sitting, it almost came to your shoulders. You scrubbed the blood from your clothes, using the soap you had brought with you.

You watched the blood and soap swirl together in the water and flow toward the river, a thin stream of red and bubbles slipping away from the crimson cloud surrounding you. You almost felt bad to ruin the clarity of the water, but the others—back at camp—were taking far too long to wash the blood from themselves with your limited store of water. This was better, in the long run.

Astarion would have a field day with this if this wasn't goblin blood, you thought to yourself, staring at the blood drifting just below the surface. He would drink it, from time to time, but never happily.

You scrubbed at your clothes until your fingers were stiff and sore and the blood was no longer coming out of the fabric. You inspected them and deemed them clean enough to put back on the moss, spread out so they would dry faster.

To clean yourself, you headed toward the waterfall. You climbed up onto the stone ledge behind it, reveling in the surprisingly gentle spray of water that reached you and the stillness of the water that it fell into, high enough to reach your knees.

You stepped under the water. It cascaded over you, dousing you in its coolness that reminded you of the first time Astarion had ever touched you—

—gentle hands, cascading down your sides—fingers lifting your chin so you would meet his gaze—a kiss to your forehead—a hand on the small of your back—his lips on your own, warmer than you had anticipated—his fingers in your hair, keeping your head off the ground—his hand slipping between your legs—his little giggle when you shuddered beneath him—the pleasured sigh from his lips as he slid inside of you—

Stepping out from underneath the water, you shook your head, banishing the memory. You had spoken recently about all of this. He'd told you, "I don't think I want you to think of me in terms of sex." He'd said, "I don't want to be just a body for you, darling." And though he'd teased you that you were more than welcome to "sustain yourself" (his words) with your memories of him while he took time away from intimacy, some part of you still felt like you violating his wishes any time it was his body that you thought of, rather than of, well, just him.

You wiped the water from your eyes and knew your tears had mixed in with it; Astarion had been very vulnerable with you, so you knew his reasons for it all. You had two responses: either unbearable sorrow that he had been forced to endure it all (which the current cause of the crushing weight in your chest), or blinding rage that birthed the desire to see Cazador's head on a spear.

You carded your hands through your wet hair, trying to work out the tangles. Your fingers came away covered in watery blood.

"Mind if I join you?"

You jumped, eyes flying open, and looked up. Leaning against the stone wall was the vampire himself, a gentle smile on his face. Gods, how you loved that smile. In this light, you couldn't tell his eyes were red and his fangs were hidden. If you didn't pay attention to how pale he was, you could imagine he was just an elf again—the life he deserved.

Astarion still wore his clothes, which were slowly darkening as they soaked up the spray of water and splattered with as much blood as his handsome face, but his boots were placed neatly next to yours on the moss. He'd cleaned them already; how had you not heard him before?

While he waited for your answer, aware of your admiring gaze on him, he pulled his shirt off over his head, mussing the curls you loved so much. He stripped quickly, nearly falling over when his trouser leg caught on his foot, and left his clothes in a pile on the rock ledge. Perhaps you were imagining things, but his skin looked paler than it had this morning, when you'd been rudely awoken by a horde of goblins invading your camp.

You held your arms open to him. "I'd like that very much."

He stepped into your arms, wrapped his own around your waist, and buried his head in your neck, breathing in deeply. "My love," he whispered, his lips against your skin. He kissed your neck softly and pulled away, cupping your face in his hand, to look into your eyes. "Are you alright?"

You nodded. "I'm okay."

"No injuries this time?" Astarion's eyes slid down your naked body, examining, his gaze concerned when it had once been sensual. You felt yourself relax in his arms, at ease with his concern. It felt real, honest in a way you hadn't had a chance to be yet. It was natural, somehow, to be checking each other for injuries in the time you finally caught together, away from the others.

"Not this time," you said, leaning into him. More watery blood dripped from your hair and across his chest, leaving streaks that made it look like he'd just returned from a rather messy feeding.

He kissed the top of your wet head. "Good." He leaned away to smile at you. "I was worried you'd run off to take care of your injuries by yourself, if only to keep me from smelling the blood."

You shook your head. "If only we'd been attacked by something you could drink from, satisfy your hunger for a few days." He smiled weakly and you knew the thought had been on his mind, too. "What about you? Are you okay?"

He spread his arms and did a little twirl for you. You giggled at his antics, glancing over his skin, pleased he was comfortable enough to even be naked with you. "Yes, darling. Not a scratch on me."

The two of you looked at each other, your hair already damp and clinging to your head, and his curls slowly being matted down by the thick mist of the waterfall. His ears poked out, more noticeable than normal.

Astarion bent and picked up your bar of soap. "May I help you wash off all this grime?"

"Please," you said, your voice soft but as loving as you could make it, your eyes fixed firmly on his.

He lathered his hands with soap and scrubbed gently at your skin. His nails, kept trimmed and neat, were hardly more than a light sensation as he worked at the dried blood until it crumbled away from your skin and ran down your body in red rivulets. His touch was soft, caring where it had once been lustful and groping. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the sensation of his fingers digging into your tired muscles, and held him. You adjusted your hold on him as he moved across your body—an arm draped across his shoulders, a hand on his bicep, your fingers against his chest, your head on his shoulder.

You looked up at Astarion, blinking quickly to keep the water out of your eyes. His gaze remained fixated on your hips as he gently washed off the blood, but he smiled, aware of your stare.

"See something you like?" he asked, tone playful.

"Someone I love," you corrected. He looked up at you, a tender smile growing on his lips. "Someone I love dearly." You leaned close, cupped one side of his face, and kissed the other. "I love you, Astarion."

He kissed your cheek, too. "And I love you." His lips found yours. He kissed you with a sweetness that simultaneously broke your heart and mended it. You wrapped your arms around his waist. He hummed happily into your mouth and cradled the back of your neck.

The pair of you fell into a tight embrace. You felt the adrenaline drain from you and leave you limp in his arms, your hot skin going cold under the water. Despite how suddenly you must have slumped against him, Astarion held you with ease. He gave the crown of your head a quick kiss, then made an unpleasant sound of surprise from the back of his throat.

"Darling, do you mind if I wash your hair? There's an awful lot of goblin blood in it."

You forced yourself to stand up straight on your own, still holding his sides for support. "Oh, yes—that would be from Karlach throwing one she'd just chopped into over my head." Even as you said the words, you felt the blood splattering into your hair again and shuddered.

Astarion grimaced. "Let me help you with it, then." He lathered his hands and put them in your hair. As he fell into a rhythm, you closed your eyes and let him doing the work, your thoughts drifting...

At first, you weren't sure why you had even woken in the first place. The light coming in through a crack in the tent's opening was still the watery and grey color of pre-dawn, much earlier than you usually woke. You frowned and pushed back into Astarion, his arm squeezing you tighter, sleep once again tugging at your eyelids.

And then you heard a shout, vicious and loud. It was close to camp, maybe even in camp. The shout came again and you realized it was Lae'zel's war cry.

All at once, the sounds of a battle filled your ears. You jerked awake in an instant, clambering onto your knees and shaking Astarion awake next to you. Of course the one day Astarion decided to indulge in the very human activity of sleep was the day you and your friends were attacked.

"What's going on?" he mumbled as his eyes flickered open, his words slurred together.

"Come on, grab your knives," you said, pulling your lightest set of armor on over your clothes. You were suddenly very relieved Astarion had decided skin to skin contact was a bit too much for him last night. "I think we're under attack."

He woke just as quickly as you had. He swore, dragged a quick hand through his hair, and grabbed his knives. He waited until you had your own weapon in hand before he opened the curtain flap of his tent.

The camp was a sight to behold. Already it was trashed and overflowing with goblins. Some were already on the ground, their blood oozing everywhere in the dirt and grass. Gashes from Lae'zel's sword seeped blood and gristle, if she hadn't horribly disfigured the corpses and turned them into little more than lumps of flesh. Many of them bore scorch marks that ranged from minor burns to melting flesh. It smelled horrendous and nearly acidic; you bit back the bile in your throat.

A dismembered arm fell at your foot. You kicked it away on instinct, looking up to see Karlach ripping a second goblin limb from limb.

"Now that's just vile," Astarion said, still looking at the arm, a fang poking out over his curled lip.

"Complain about it later," you said, grabbing his chin and giving him a quick and customary 'good morning' kiss. "We've got to help the others."

"If you insist."

Astarion ran to Karlach's side; you headed for Shadowheart and Gale. Wyll was approaching, too, cutting a path through the goblins.

"Morning, you two!" you said cheerily. "How'd this happen?"

"We're not sure," Shadowheart said, kicking a goblin in the face as it ran at her with a scream. "Lae'zel said they came from the north, just over those hills."

"Odd. I wonder if we camped too close to them for their liking, and now they're trying to do something about it. Are goblins territorial creatures?"

Gale grunted, casting another fireball. "Enough chatting. Let's just kill these things and figure out where they came from and why later. Got it?"

"Fair enough," you decided. "Whoever kills the most chooses dinner for a week."

"I'll take you up on that," Wyll said from behind you. "I'm dreaming of a good meal for once."

Astarion's hands sliding out of your hair abruptly brought you back to reality, to his body pressed against yours and the waterfall at your back, shielding the two of you from the world.

"Where'd you go?" he asked, voice soft. You could feel his fingers toying with the ends of your hair, curling it on his fingers.

"Back to the fight," you admitted. "I just keep wondering how they snuck up on us."

"No matter now," he said. "We'll let Lae'zel criticize us all for not anticipating every possible disaster when we get back, but not yet. Not here."

He went back to massaging your scalp, despite the blood being long gone, and your sighed happily. He smiled and kissed your forehead, adding pressure. A content whimper slipped from your lips and you blushed instantly as his eyes lit up; he'd heard far more obscene from you, yet still the slightest sounds you made embarrassed you and delighted him.

"My, my, the noises you make for me, lover," he teased, giggling. He wrapped his hand in your hair and tugged, hard enough to draw a loud moan out of your chest.

Astarion covered your mouth with his hand, his eyes playfully wide. "Shhh, unless you want the others to come looking. We're not that far away from camp."

Heat rushed through your body. "Oh, gods, Astarion, I'm— I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to— And I certainly didn't expect it to be that...that loud—! I..."

He swallowed your frantic apologies with a kiss. Against your lips, he whispered, "If you can keep quiet, though...I can grant you all the pleasure you want. You need only ask, darling."

Your heart skipped several beats in your chest. You put your hand up to his face. "Oh, I don't... Star, I don't need you to, I wouldn't want you to...feel obligated." He pulled his forehead away from yours to see your face. "We agreed not to do anything until you're ready. And that wasn't that long ago, so... I don't want you to be uncomfortable—"

Astarion cupped your chin with his hand, dragging his thumb across your lower lip. The words died in your throat. He met your gaze, his crimson eyes open and honest, and said, "Your pleasure is a gift. Even if I don't want to be touched yet, that's not stopping me from touching you. Only you can stop me from touching you."

"Star..."

He pulled you into a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around him, suddenly too aware of the raised scar you felt against your arms. "I trust you. Wholeheartedly. I trust you to...to respect my boundaries. To check in with me. To see when I'm uncomfortable. You've already done it, again and again, and proved that you're worthy of that trust. And do I look uncomfortable now?"

You studied him. His pupils were blown. His eyes told a story of contentment. The tenseness you had once noticed laying deep and dormant in his muscles was gone. He looked at you with a fondness you realized now was a profound trust and he stood utterly relaxed in your arms.

So you answered him honestly. "No."

"Exactly, darling. I'm not uncomfortable. I want to do this for you, if that's what you also want. I feel...safe with you. I've never felt like this around anyone before," he admitted, a bit of sadness creeping onto his face, "and I don't want to ruin it. I don't know... I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm going to try to do right by you. So if you want me..." He placed his hand low on your abdomen. Your stomach did flips. He put his lips against the shell of your ear. "Tell me, darling, because I certainly want you. All I ask is that you not touch me, not just yet."

You whimpered. "Please, Star. I promise not to touch you, I promise. But please touch me."

"That's my girl," he whispered. "Spread your legs for me, no need to be so nervous."

You readjusted your stance, widening the space between your previously clenched thighs. His hand filled the gap, cupping you gently. You sighed, leaning your head against his chest again, looking down to watch his ministrations.

Astarion pressed his palm to your clit. You watched his wrist move as he slid his fingers along your slit, teasing you and never quite touching you where you needed him. You whimpered as his fingertip lightly ghosted your entrance, just barely dipping inside before he moved his hand back up, his fingers toying with your clit.

"That's it," he whispered in your ear. "Make those quiet, pretty sounds for me. Show me how you feel."

You rocked your hips against his hand. "Astarion, please..."

He kissed your temple. "Feeling good?"

Your broken moan was your answer. He chuckled, sliding his hand up your side, taking your breast in the palm of his hand. He rolled your nipple between his fingers, making you gasp and buck your hips against him. He closed his lips around it and sucked gently.

"More," you whispered. "Please. I need...I need you."

"Alright, darling, alright," he said against your skin. He rubbed your entrance for another moment, then slid his finger inside you. You clenched down on him as you sighed your pleasure. He curled his finger inside you, rubbing away at your walls, and you gasped loudly.

Astarion grinned. "Make those noises. Moan for me. I want you to show me how good this feels, show me you want me." You gripped tightly onto him, one hand on the back of his neck and the other on his hip. Your breaths grew heavy and your whimpers louder. "Yes, that's it! Be loud for me, my sweet, the loudest you've ever—"

A branch cracked in the forest. A voice called out your name, then Astarion's. You jumped a mile and Astarion's finger slipped out of you. You stared at each other with wide eyes.

"D...did you hear that?" you asked. "Or am I hearing things?"

As if an answer, the voice—Gale's—shouted again, "I know you're over here, I can see your boots!"

"Shit," Astarion sighed. He craned his head to peer around the curtain of water. "What the hells do you want?"

"Is she with you?" Gale asked. "Shadowheart sent me to find you both, the rest of us have all finished washing up! There's water left for you."

"That's what we're trying to do, Gale!" you called, reaching an arm through the waterfall and waving at him. "Use the water for something else, we'll make do here."

He harrumphed. "If I had known this was just a few minutes away from camp, I would have come to wash up here ages ago."

You and Astarion exchanged a look. So much for a secret getaway spot.

"Be back soon, or Karlach will start worrying," Gale said, in the tone of a chiding parent. "And no funny business!"

"Oh, shut up!" Astarion shouted, the tips of his ears turning a deep pink. He ducked behind the water again and holding you close. You barely held back your giggles while the two of you listened for Gale to walk away. One slipped out and Astarion hurriedly covered your mouth with his hand. You licked his palm and he pulled it away quickly. "You weirdo!"

You wrapped your arms around him and leaned into his chest. "Yes, but I'm your weirdo. You love me anyway."

Astarion pushed a strand of your wet hair behind your ear. "I love you anyway," he admitted, with a fondness that turned you into mush in his arms. He held you close for several moments, then asked, "Do you want me to continue?"

You thought about it, then shook your head. "Not just now. I suspect Karlach will be on her way to investigate the waterfall I didn't have the decency tell anyone about very soon."

"Very well," he said. "I'll finish you off later in my tent, then. As long as you can keep quiet for me, darling." He gave you that charming smile that made your stomach do flips.

"I thought you liked me loud," you teased.

Astarion rolled his eyes, playful and flirtation in such a comfortable way that it warmed your heart more than any of his touches ever could, delightful as they were. "Only when I have you all to myself, lover." He nipped at your neck, his fangs scratching but not breaking your skin. "Your moans are mine."

You stood together like that for several more moments, his hands on your hips and your arms looped around his neck, your foreheads pressed together. You exchanged dainty kisses, basking in each other in the few minutes left you had alone.

At last, you planted one firm, lingering kiss to his lips. "Let me clean you off," you said. "Though you're going to have to crouch for me to get your hair." Most of the blood and grime had been washed away by the waterfall's spray, but his silver hair was still speckled with it all, and you could taste it on his lips—sour and gritty. No wonder he only drank from goblins as a last resort.

Astarion bent his head down, pressing his forehead into your shoulder and holding you by the waist. You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp and smiling (but saying nothing) every time your touch managed to pull a soft whimper or moan from him without him realizing it.

You washed his body anyway, wiping away the remaining grime and massaging his muscles. You enjoyed the way he relaxed in your arms, quietly asking for more or less pressure.

"My back," he said, voice quiet and almost timid. "Can you...?"

"Are you sure?" you asked, frowning.

He nodded and turned in your arms, exposing his back to you. You started slowly, massaging his upper back and shoulders before working your way down, giving him plenty of time to tell you to stop if he needed to. But he leaned into your touch and responded with more of those gentle and timid—but happy—sounds.

You kissed the nape of his neck when you were finished, rested your head against his back, and wrapped your arms around his waist. His hands found yours and laced your fingers together.

"Thank you, my love," he said. "I've never... No one has ever done that for me before."

You hugged him tighter. "Any time you need me—I'm here. I will always be here." You stepped away and guided him out of the water with a hand. "Come on, we should head back."

The pair of you helped each other dress, though neither of you were wearing anything that required the help. You suspected Astarion just wanted to keep you close; when he got into his cuddly moods, it lasted for hours at a time. You would sleep wrapped up in your vampire's arms, safe and comfortable, tonight.

You were both pulling on your boots when Karlach found you.

"There you are!" she said. "Why didn't you tell us where you'd run off to?"

You shrugged. "I wanted the peace and quiet," you said honestly. "Besides, you all take forever to clean off."

Astarion snickered. "She's right about that."

Karlach sat on the moss, staring at the waterfall. "Well, you're right about one thing, soldier—this place is peaceful."

You hummed your agreement. "Yes. I'm glad we camped near it, or I never would have found it."

"How did you find this place?" she asked.

"Hunting," you said.

"Really? I assumed it must have been when you and Astarion sneak out so the rest of us can't hear you having sex." You choked on air and she laughed. "What? He found it easily!"

Astarion spluttered. "Because I could smell her!"

You sighed. "Karlach, we stopped sneaking off ages ago. We don't need to, we sleep in the same tent now. Rest assured, if anything is happening, it's happening silently and the rest of you are none the wiser to it."

"That doesn't make me rest assured."

You laughed. Astarion smiled at you, the kind of smile that made his eyes seem a little less dark and made you really remember that he was an elf.

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm going back to camp," he said. "I'm sure there's much to discuss about these...impertinent creatures who keep attacking us." He kissed your cheek and whispered into your ear, "I'll see you tonight, darling. What we do is up to you."

Before he could leave, you reached over and held his cheek, kissing him firmly on the lips. He smiled into it.

"Lovebirds," Karlach groaned, rolling her eyes, "will you please get a room?"

"The next time we stop at an inn—yes," Astarion said, winked at you, then disappeared into the woods.

You gulped. "I pity whoever is in the room next to us."

Karlach snorted. "I pity you and your poor cervix!"

"Karlach!" You splashed her with water and she roared with laughter.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Only slightly."

You huffed, scooped up your weapons, and started back to camp. Karlach followed.

"I mean, in all honesty, you two were so loud that first time we all heard you at camp, even though you snuck away. Kept us all awake, but you sounded like you were having a good time. So clearly he's doing something right, but can you take all of that every time? You were walking with a limp the next morning—"

"Okay, let's change the subject," you said loudly, heat racing through your body. Remembrance pulsed through you again, ghostly touches and reminders of just how easily Astarion made you scream.

She giggled. Gods, she was spending too much time with you and Astarion; he was rubbing off on her. "Oh, yes, because what would poor Gale say if he heard?"

You rolled your eyes. "It's not Gale I'm worried about, it's Astarion. If he hears you, he's going to become insufferable."

"Isn't he already?"

You whacked her with the flat end of your sheathed dagger. She laughed, putting her hands up in surrender.

The others were cleaning up camp when you arrived, scrubbing blood from tents and carpets and hauling away corpses and severed limbs.

Gale waved when he saw you, then jerked his thumb toward Astarion. "Didn't he just wash?"

You looked over at your vampire, only to find him feeding on a goblin. He looked up at you and grinned sheepishly, a trickle of blood sliding out of his mouth and down his neck.

"I just washed him, actually," you said dryly. "Astarion, you aren't that messy of an eater. What on earth are you doing?"

"Oh, so now you deign to eat the goblins," Karlach scoffed.

He shrugged. "What? I'm hungry!"

You spluttered. "You could have just asked me!"

Astarion wiped his mouth with a feral grin. "Well, I'll keep that in mind later, darling." He winked at you and then blew you a quick kiss. He shoved the carcass into the woods and went into his tent, closing the flap behind him.

Gale sighed heavily before looking back at you. "That one. Are you sure you want to choose that one?"

"Yes, Gale, I want that one."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

~❊~

Night fell. One by one, the others retired to their tents. Only Karlach and Gale remained awake when you left the fire and slipped into Astarion's tent.

He was laying on his side, reading and drinking blood, the picture of leisure. He closed his book immediately when you laid beside him and pulled you flush against his body.

"There you are," he said, snuggling into your shoulder. "I was beginning to wonder if you were coming."

You reached up and dragged your fingers through his perfect curls. "You don't have to wonder about that ever, Star. As long as I live, I'll be coming home to you. Even if I have to crawl."

"Gods, I love you," he said, wrapping himself around you. You kissed the top of his head.

"I love you, too," you whispered. He sighed happily and cuddled into you, sliding one of his legs between your own and settling there. A few minutes later, you felt the pressure of his knee against your clothed crotch. "What are you doing, mister?"

He grinned at you, showing both fangs. "Finishing what I started," he said cheekily. He began undoing the lacing at the front of your pants. "Now, just lay still for me, dear. And please do your best to keep quiet—I'd hate to have to cover that pretty mouth with my hand. Again."

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Acunin

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justporo · 11 months

Text

Brewing Storms

A storm is brewing - oh yes, a literal one too. Tav's scared to be alone during a thunderstorm. Astarion is reluctant but stays to provide some comfort - and realises it might have been one of the better things to happen to him.

Author's Note: I started this a while ago and then stuff got in the way - like Gale for example (lol) - and now I'm happy to be back to write something soft for Astarion and Tav!

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) Warnings: Talk of trauma, very light smut Wordcount: 2,4k

~~~

Astarion and you had fallen into a sort of weird routine with your little late night escapades. Since the party after you saved the Grove and the first night you’ve spent together you had come together time and time again.

First only every couple of days. Always meeting somewhere away from camp and then sneaking back sometime before the others woke up. Although you were surely fair they all knew already anyway. But now you were almost spending every night together. Fortunately for the two of you, being elven meant you were still getting enough rest despite the nightly adventures.

Astarion kept feeding you his cheesy lines – you ate them right up. No one had ever given you this kind of attention. And as much as you knew that it was an act: how could you resist? You had never experienced such flattery nor could anyone you’d shared intimacy with ever compare to Astarion. But that wasn’t even the main thing.

You’d had crushes before, you’d fallen in love before but you were pretty sure it had never been quite like this. Your whole chest sometimes ached when you looked at Astarion. Sometimes when you caught him in a rare moment when he let his perfected mask drop for a second you saw the bottomless sadness and worry in his eyes. And all you wished for was to erase whatever it was that caused that sadness – to keep him safe and always give him something to smile about.

You had quite positively fallen for the vampiric elf. What had been a crush at first had very quickly become an unyielding need in your heart: desperate to be near him, to hear his voice, talk to him, to laugh at his sassy comments, to lay in his arms and to hold him in turn. Out of everything you surely hadn’t wanted or planned to fall in love with everything else going on – but there you were.

You were a hopeless case – even though you were sure it would come back to bite you (and maybe even literally): be it that he lost interest in you way quicker than you would like or that he had ulterior motives and that you were merely a means to an end.

In fact, you were entirely sure that there was more to Astarion. You weren’t all fooled and blinded by your brewing emotions for the vampire. Maybe not really the first time, but as you got more used to sharing a bed with Astarion you were well aware that it seemed like he wasn’t fully there with you.

You could take only guesses at why that was exactly – and you didn’t like any of those.

At several occasions you had tried to bring it up. But he had swatted your concerns away every time, just making a sultry joke or drowning you with kisses until you had forgotten what you had wanted to say. In any case he always pushed you to get back into his arms.

Gladly, you would have offered him an open ear – your heart was already wide open.

But you were sure this wouldn’t last. You were in way over your head and you so desperately wanted to avoid breaking the spell.

And as much as you would have wished for him to open up more, to let you in a bit more and as much as you would have liked to confess the way you felt: you didn’t think you could do it without ruining whatever it was between the two of you.

At least, he seemed to be a bit more present when he was with you of late. The changes seemed subtle enough, but you were convinced that it slowly became different. Maybe it was just that the two of you had gotten used to this dance now, but you could swear his hands lingered longer now on your skin, that his kisses became deeper and more tender, that the way he looked at you became softer sometimes. And that those moments, when he seemed miles away, became fewer.

Tonight, when you had set up camp it had seemed like a storm was brewing.

You had already felt tense when you had noticed: growing up on the streets of Baldur’s Gate as a child with nowhere safe to go had traumatised you for life. Especially when it came to storms: too many nights you’d had to spend outside somewhere while the rain kept pouring down.

But worst had always been the thunder. Every single one like an explosion while a little child sat somewhere cowered trying to stay safe and crying from fear and loneliness. Even when you had gotten older and had always managed to secure a safe spot for sleeping and shelter the fear of thunderstorms had remained.

And thus far you’d gotten lucky that there had been no storms since this whole chaos had started. But the stroke of luck was over now it seemed.

When Astarion had thrown you certain looks after the party had gone to unwind each on their own after eating, you had very rambly and awkwardly suggested to maybe spend the night in your tent this night, because the others surely knew anyway and what if it started pouring and wasn’t it more comfortable anyway?

You just were desperate to not be somewhere outside when the thunderstorm was going to hit – and maybe even not alone.

And Astarion had looked at you suspiciously with a raised eyebrow, surely noticing that something was up. But in the end, he had simply shrugged and followed you to your tent.

So now you lay pressed against each other. Astarion on top of you, his body delightfully weighing you down, both of your shirts already off and his hands kept roaming your body as you gratefully gave in to his open-mouthed kisses. His hand had just dipped below the waistline of your trousers when you could hear the first far away rumbling.

Immediately you tensed a little but forced yourself to try and not be bothered by it. Astarion’s kisses wandered down your throat now.

A second already much louder rumble. You gasped.

And apparently Astarion had noticed that it wasn’t because of his touch – you could almost feel how he had furrowed his brows. But he kept silent and continued to kiss and caress you, leaning on one of his forearms.

When a third roar of thunder made you actually wince and recoil, he pushed up on his arm and looked at you. The other hand though stayed right where it was inside your pants.

“Afraid of a little thunder, love?”, he said and cocked an eyebrow. His tone wasn’t even overly sassy but you still couldn’t help but to feel hurt.

More thunder. This time so loud it felt like it was exactly above you. You recoiled again and felt how panic rose in you. You pushed the vampire - who actually looked hurt by that - off of you. His hand slipping from where it had caressed you.

“Maybe I am afraid of thunder. So?”, you spat back while you sat up and hugged your knees to your naked chest. As much as you wanted the comfort of his arms: panic and whatever feeling it had been that had overcome you when Astarion had looked hurt when you’d pushed him back got the better of you.

Shame mixed with the fear and you could feel your throat close up.

Astarion had knelt back on the balls of his feet watching you with a look in his eyes you couldn’t quite place. He definitely didn’t seem as cocky as a few moments ago though.

You looked away as another thing spiced up the mix of emotions running high: worry, that you had just broke something that couldn’t be repaired.

“I-“, Astarion started and then stopped helplessly.

The vampire was actually worried about you in this moment. Astarion was surprised by the sudden outburst of emotion and he was certainly hurt that you pushed him away. But more than anything: he didn’t know what to do now. Quite obviously you were not in the mood anymore for getting down and dirty.

It occurred to him that he did not want you to be afraid and upset. But then again, he had no idea how to make it so. And on top of that: he was pretty sure you weren’t interested in anything of the sort. Sure, you were absolutely the one person he talked the most to in the party. And yes, you were always making sure he’d gotten enough blood – but that was probably because you had need of him being his fittest for fighting. Also, you did actually seem to care about what had happened to him, wanting to learn more about him – but…

The vampire was confused and helpless. So he opted for the one option he deemed reasonable: leave.

He grabbed his shirt and started pulling it over his head while saying: “Alright, since it seems there won’t be any naughty indulgence tonight, I guess I better get back to my tent and you can try and-“

He was interrupted by you grabbing his wrist firmly.

“Please”, you pleaded, “don’t leave me alone.”

You were desperate: you didn’t want him to leave, you didn’t want to have ruined the delicate thing that had been forming between you.

Astarion let his shirt drop again and looked at you. Your eyes were filled with tears and full of fear. His confusion became even more: “Darling, I’m not… Maybe you should ask the druid to… help you. Maybe he has something herbal to-“ You basically yanked on the vampire’s arm.

“No please, Astarion, I just… want you to stay here with me. Just… hold me? Please?”, you pleaded with him as tears started to stream down your face.

You really didn’t want to be alone for one but also you were desperate to feel his arms around you again – to be sure he would still want to hold you, as much as wanting his comfort.

Astarion’s brows furrowed again but he dropped his shirt again and crawled over to you as you shyly opened up your arms to him to be cradled by the vampire. He slid his arms around you and softly moved you until you were laying there: him on his back with you carefully snuggled up against his chest – skin on skin.

The relief you felt was almost instant. Not only because he had agreed to stay but also feeling his body against yours immediately made some of the tension inside you ease.

Astarion reluctantly started to stroke your back as you buried your face against his chest. It all felt more than just a little awkward and you felt a blush creep onto your cheeks, but you just wrapped your arms around the vampire and tried to calm yourself.

Still tears kept coming and thunder was rolling in quicker now. Then the rain started as well and became a constant drumroll on your tent. The loud rumbles kept going and made you wince from time to time, but it was now considerably better than before.

Astarion grew more confident with just stroking your back. He even carefully placed a kiss on the top of your head at one point, in your all messed up hair. You both eased into this rather unfamiliar form of closeness.

After being stressed about the coming storm all evening, you felt that your body couldn’t retain the tension anymore. You weren’t entirely sure what all this meant for Astarion and you, but you forced yourself to just stay in this moment. Because this already was something you wouldn’t have thought to ever be possible. It was tender and sweet. Something you would have never imagined when this vampire had, upon first meeting him, thrown you on the ground and threatened you with a knife.

You were so desperate to hold onto this. So, you wrapped your arms around him a little tighter and cautiously tangled your legs with his. He let it happen.

And Astarion – Astarion’s mind was racing, utterly confused by the turn the night had taken. It definitely wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy this outcome – to his own surprise. Quite the opposite actually.

When the thunder subsided and the rain tap-tap-tapping on the tent ceiling was what remained of the storm and he felt you quite noticeably relax into his arms even more – his chest started to ache.

He was overthrown by his own sentiment and the trust you put into him; surprised, scared even.

In his thoughts Astarion kept turning around the fact how you had specifically asked him to stay with you although you had so visibly been upset. More upset even than he had ever seen you in any battle. And that you had wanted nothing but to be held in his arms. And he – to his own surprise – had been happy to be there for you, proud even, realising that he really wanted you to be alright.

You hadn’t even talked since he had taken you in his arms. Just felt the connection, your skin warm on his. His hands hesitatingly caressing and trying to comfort you while your tears subsided and your breathing became more even.

And even though it had been you who had pleaded for comfort – Astarion could feel it too. Felt, how the warmth of your body soaked into his undead body and your breath brushed over his naked upper body – now in a steady and calm rhythm again. You were so close, he could even feel the beat of your steadying heartbeat through your conjoined chests.

And when Astarion was sure that you must’ve drifted off into your dreams – because he had held you – he kept staring up at the ceiling of the tent.

The rain had become almost non-existent after what must’ve been hours now.

The vampire’s chest still ached with something he wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge yet. But he could feel that it had become something way too big to ignore. Something that would soon be unleashed – for better or for worse. And he was frightened about that.

But not in this moment. This moment he would hold onto. So he wrapped his arms around you a little tighter still, closed his eyes and full on buried his face in your hair while he was so fully aware of the feeling of your body against his.

Then he whispered so silently, even the last of the raindrops would have drowned out the words. So silently, because he was still so unsure, so scared and the words were only meant for him – and maybe sometime for you: “My love, what ever have you done to me?”

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #tav #one shot #drabble #bg3

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brain-rot-central · 8 months

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Home

Rating: E, but a soft E Pairing: Spawn!A/Fem!Tav CW: 18+, dry humping, breeding kink, non-penetrative sex, trauma mention, intimacy issues, soft Astarion (emotionally, not physically), possessive Astarion, verbalized consent Word count: 1.9k Summary: Astarion and Tav have resumed being intimate, though sometimes, Astarion can't quite commit to the full act. Not to worry, there are still other activities to enjoy!

They barely make it up the stairs of the Elfsong Tavern and back into their rented suite.

Articles of clothing come peeling off in a flash as soon as the door clicks shut behind them. With the elf’s deft hands, the lock is sealed, now steering the couple back toward the bed.

His human partner’s knees bump against the edge of the bed, and both bodies are suddenly toppling over onto the sea of silken sheets adorning the mattress below.

The human’s legs instinctively bend at the knee as the elf slots himself between them, grinding himself down into her warm, inviting center. He lowers his head, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that speaks to the depths of his lust.

Teasing his tongue into her mouth, his rutting grows more heated and desperate. The woman moans softly against his mouth, inviting his tongue to a dance as hands find purchase in the silver curls atop his head.

Bare from the waist up, they continue grinding, the human hooking her ankles around the small of the man's back for leverage. He groans in response to the added friction, cock now straining against the front of his pants.

Physical intimacy is still something they’re easing back into, though tonight it’s taken a leap into new territory.

The elf breaks the kiss as he pushes himself up onto his hands, saying, “Scoot a bit higher, Tav, darling. I need more leverage for what I have planned for us.”

A shiver runs across Tav’s body, and she nods her head in agreement. She unlocks her ankles from around his hips and drags herself back until she’s in the center of the bed.

He follows close behind, bringing himself up onto his knees between her splayed thighs. His arms wrap around the underside of her thighs.

Tav moans again as he sinks his fingertips into the clothed flesh, pulling her roughly against his crotch. She can feel the evidence of his desire with every roll of his hips into her center, a familiar heat and pulling sensation filling her abdomen with every press of his clothed length against her.

“These need to come off,” the elf growls out, and within seconds his fingers hook into the waistband of her trousers. Pulling them down her wide hips and off her legs, he throws them across the room to join the pile of previously discarded clothing, promptly returning to his place between her legs.

She’s left in just her underwear, bearing a deep wet spot at its center on full display. A rich, ruby blush sits high across her face as she watches her partner survey her clothed sex. She feels exposed like this, and yet, incredibly fulfilled. She knows the effect her body is having on him, as well.

The pale elf growls in anticipation above her as his hands make quick work of undoing the laces of his own leathers. He slips a hand down the front of his pants, a soft sigh escaping his lips, eyes rolling closed for a brief moment as his hand wraps around his erection. He adjusts his length, now laying up against his abdomen, and groans as he unwillingly peels his hand away.

Tav’s eyes fall upon the bulge now straining against the undone laces of his pants. A small dark spot can be seen on his underclothes, where the head of his cock lay hidden.

“Can I touch you, Astarion?” she asks, shyly. Her hands begin to trace the outline of his biceps, gently stroking his skin with the tips of her fingers.

Astarion hums, the ghost of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips before replying, “Oh? Where exactly do you have in mind?”

Tav meets his gaze, eyes traveling between his and the spot between his legs, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

The elf huffs, sitting up on his knees. He narrows his eyes, looking at her from under his lashes. “Cheeky pup,” he purrs, “at least offer some assistance first.”

Her cheeks burn at his bold invitation and she rises from her position on the bed, placing one finger on his sculpted chest.

Astarion's eyes look to the single digit pressed into the center of his chest, rising and falling with the uptick of his breathing. He allows Tav to begin pushing him back to the edge of the bed. He stands up off the bed, his crotch now at level with her hands.

Tav hooks her fingers into the hem of his leathers, tugging them down his toned thighs until they pool on the floor around his ankles. Astarion kicks them briskly to the side to join the other articles of clothing littered about the room.

“Are you okay?” she asks. She knows the challenge that physical intimacy imposes on him. She wants reassurance that he’s still comfortable, still willing to continue.

“Quite,” he replies, voice husky, watching her finger trail down toward his underwear. His undergarments do little to conceal the outline of his cock, her finger settling on the small wet patch gathering right at the tip of him. Laying her palm against his clothed shaft, he sucks in a sharp breath as she squeezes him gently.

With genuine concern, Tav inquires, “How far can we go?”

Hips twitching into her touch, he answers, “T-this. This is, aahh, good.”

She smiles before asking, “Can I ride you?”

Entire body seizing under her touch, he moans, loud and uncaring as to who might hear. “Fuck, darling,” Astarion huffs out, hips bucking involuntarily. “There is nothing I'd like more.”

Tav’s gives him a few more pumps along his length. “You should lay down, then,” she states.

He nods, cautiously climbing onto the bed. She gives him space to make himself comfortable, which doesn't fall unnoticed.

Suddenly, he feels small, anxious - his stomach churns as she climbs over his hips to settle herself in his lap. He's slept with countless others in the past, including her. Why feel this way now?

Because this is Tav, Astarion tells himself.

Something about this being with her makes it… different.

She's careful not to apply much pressure too soon, testing the waters as she sinks down onto his lap.

The elf hisses as her clothed center envelopes his covered cock, biting his lip to stifle his moan. His hands find purchase atop her thighs, keeping her steady.

“Is this okay, Astarion? Please, tell me,” Tav says, beginning to grind slowly against him.

Astarion's mind is a battlefield, filled with shame, lust, disgust, desire, but above all, love.

He loves this woman. He's known this for quite some time, though too afraid to admit it.

Love has always meant pain. Attachment meant control.

But, with Tav…

Love is safe. Attachment is freedom.

Free, and safe, to be his own person. To live life for himself.

“I'm okay, dear,” he affirms, holding the hands she has over his chest. “I'm still here.”

Tav smiles down at him as she grinds over the length of him again, bending over to capture his lips in a chaste kiss. “Good,” she tells him, “I really like when you're here.”

Astarion tangles a hand in her hair, holding her close. She relaxes under him as he rolls his hips up against her core, a moan escaping his lips.

“I- I want-” he chokes out between broken moans.

Tav hums softly against his ear before asking, “Want what, Astarion? Tell me.”

“I… I want to come inside you,” he tells her, punctuating his statement with another thrust of his hips.

She moans against his ear, meeting his thrusts with her own. “...Right now?” Tav asks.

“N-no,” he admits, “not now. Eventually.” His other arm wraps around the middle of her back, holding her tighter to his chest. The pleasure begins to coil like a spring, tighter and tighter, eyes falling closed as his head falls back against the pillow.

“I… I want to feel you around me as I fill you.” Astarion opens his eyes, turning his head to meet her gaze through heavy lids. “...I think about it often,” he further admits.

Tav giggles, grinding down harder before saying in a sultry voice, “That can get me pregnant, you know.”

Eyes closing again, Astarion groans, hips bucking against her core. “I don't care,” he growls out. “I would show you off to the entire world, everyone knowing what we've done.”

“You want to knock me up, Astarion?” Tav asks, more in acknowledgement than in question.

“Fuck, darling, yes,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

Tav pushes herself upright in his lap, bending back to brace herself on his thighs. “Would you still fuck me, Astarion?” she questions, continuing their prior rhythm.

“What a silly question,” he replies, placing a hand on her lower abdomen. “I would lavish every change of your body as it swells with my child.”

Humming, Tav tosses her head back, losing herself as he bucks up into her from below. Her own arousal is quickly mounting, threatening to spill over.

“Lucky for you,” she tells him, her voice strained, “I, too, wish the same.”

Tav feels his cock twitch under her as she confesses. The waistband of his underwear has slipped under his glans from their activities, pre-cum starting to pool against his lower abdomen.

“But,” she adds, breathily, “only when you're ready for it.”

Astarion’s hands quickly drag her back down over him, and she holds her arms out just in time to brace herself above him. His hips buck up into her heated center as he holds her face, bringing their lips together with a throaty groan.

“Gods, I love you,” he tells her, breaking the kiss momentarily. He tugs at her bottom lip with blunted teeth before capturing her lips again, their tongues intertwining.

They find a rhythm to their seemingly ceaseless rutting, breaths hitching. They're panting now, hard, Tav running her hands through silver curls as she nears completion.

“Astarion, I’m almost there,” she pants against his neck.

His arms wrap around her lower back as he brings his face to her ear. “Tell me what you need, darling,” he purrs, nipping at her earlobe with a fang.

“My… my neck,” Tav says. “K-kiss my neck, please. Your favorite spot…”

Astarion's lips descend upon her neck, suckling at his usual spot. He's fed from this particular spot enough that she's beginning to develop scars - the same scars that he himself bears.

She's given so much to him, he realizes. Her blood, her body, her trust. Never once has she doubted him, even if it was the more reasonable thing to do.

Astarion teases her skin with his fangs, applying enough pressure to feel like he's going to bite, without actually piercing. Tav’s body shakes above him.

“Gods, fuck, Astarion-!” Tav cries, toppling over the ledge. Her hips grind messily over his crotch. He quickly follows her, ropes of his spend shooting between their stomachs as they lay pressed together, mouths agape as they drift softly down from their high.

Astarion groans softly against her neck, planting soft kisses against her jawline as her hands play idly with his hair.

They lay together for some time before Tav speaks up, “Hey, Astarion?”

He hums in acknowledgement, giving her the confidence to continue.

She lifts herself up by her arms, looking into his eyes and she tells him, “I love you, too.”

A relieved smile fills Astarion's face as she settles back against his chest.

Neither mind the mess between them as they continue to lay together, enjoying the genuine peace of co-existing.

I'm finally safe, he reminds himself.

This is home.

#bg3 astarion #astarion smut #astarion x reader #bg3 #astarion #fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader

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morgana-ren · 1 year

Note

I DONT KNOW IF YOU WRITE FULL FICS BUT IF YOU DO PLEASE WIRTE ONE ABOUT TGAT LAST ASK.

Just about Astarion sitting in his throne of sorts, in the palace, with tav sitting in his lap. He’s bored, tav sits there- dissociating and wishing they were anywhere else. He asks them if they’d like to do something fun and they say something like “Only if you do my lord” and he saddens some, expecting them to come up with something fun like they used to but they can’t think of anything that he would approve of them doing after so many years of breaking them down and he realizes it’s gotten so dull because tav was the person that brightened his life

"Awfully dull today, hmm? How would you like to do something fun, my love?"

It's an oh-so rare quiet day in the Crimson Palace, and his favorite source of amusement sits placidly on his lap, silent as the grave and still atop him. Content as he is in the peaceful quiet with solely her company, he'd spend the day with her doing– well, something, surely. It’s been a while since they’ve had any time to themselves to truly enjoy each other’s company alone. In fact, he cannot recall the last time with any distinct accuracy.

It seems so terribly long since they've had any time to themselves. Being a Lord keeps you awfully busy.

In a tender moment, he reaches forward to brush a stray strand of hair out of her face and behind her ear with a long, pale finger. She doesn’t react save a slight instinctual flicker of her lashes. Not a hint of expression on her face. He expects her to lean into his touch as she used to and is almost shocked when she does not.

Odd, he thinks. She hardly even seems to notice anything at all.

It’s almost like she isn’t entirely present.

Still, before he can chastise her, she responds to his bid for her attention.

"If that is your wish, my lord,” She responds to his question, lifeless and monotone. Perfectly obedient, just as befits her, and yet—

He frowns, just a little. It irks him, but now that he thinks about it, he cannot recall the last time he saw enthusiasm on her face– or much of anything at all aside from the blank, hollow mask she has now. Completely impassive and unresponsive in a cruel sort of practiced indifference.

He studies her for a moment and comes to the conclusion that it reminds him of the robots they found in that strange tower in the Underdark so long ago. Programmed to respond to the right things and make the right moves, but utterly incapable of acting on her own whims. Eternally awaiting instruction.

Empty. Robotic. Precise and yet disingenuous somehow. Eerily so.

Has she been like this before? Has he simply not noticed?

Perhaps she just needs to awaken a little more. It was such a long night, and he had kept her remarkably busy. She must be exhausted, but surely, she will perk up. She always does.

Doesn’t she?

“Come, darling. What would you like to do?” He jostles his knees, dandling her on his legs like one might a small, particularly grumpy child. She bumps up and down, only reaching to steady herself on the sides of his throne.

“Whatever would please you would please me, my lord.”

He groans, rolling his red eyes, a very sudden burst of irritation bubbling in his gut. Always with the My lord, My lord, scraping and bowing like some sort of indentured serf. Proper respect is important, of course, but for the first time in a while— longer than he can honestly think back on, to be honest— they are entirely alone. He is her Lord, yes, but she knew him by another name once– did know him by another name. She knows better than to tease him in front of his vassals but surely—

He can’t remember the last time she said his name.

His real name.

How long since he has truly sat by her side and talked with her? Spent time with her? He's been so busy, laying plans and waste, conquering and shedding blood of those who oppose him. The Lord Tyrant, come to rule over his dominion of Eternal Night. She is always by his side, never straying and yet—

(“I love you, Little Star,” She’d laugh, planting a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose, which would promptly crinkle in annoyance.

“I’m not ‘Little Star,’ and I’ll never understand why you insist on calling me that.”

“That’s what your name means, doesn’t it? Little Star? Or perhaps Little Starlight– I don’t really remember.”

“Then why make that my pet name?" He rolls his eyes, annoyed at the use of his own childish moniker that follows him like a shadow to anyone who speaks even a lick of his native language. "Of all the things your brilliant little mind can concoct, you give me a child’s handle? I’m strong, dashing, capable, handsome, fearsome– but instead you choose that absurdity”

“Because you’re my little star!” And she would smile so brightly that it seemed impossible in the darkness, and he could not help but smile himself. “My light in the darkness. My Astarion, for as long as you want to be. And I love you.”

His expression would soften once again and he would simply sigh, pulling her close to kiss her temple. The night was cold, but she was so impossibly warm against him, somehow fitting perfectly in his lap and into his heart, where she’d wormed her way in against his own will. The dim firelight reflects in her eyes as she tells him again that she loves him forever if he’ll have her, and he can think of nothing he’d desire more than to ride out the endless night of eternity with her here on his lap, cradled close.)

Something gnaws at him. Something raw and edged with a vicious sort of misery he’d done so well to avoid in ages. He cannot place it but as he looks at her, his stomach is as a dark, abyssal pit, circling and swelling like a maelstrom.

Something is wrong.

He cannot place the negative emotion, and so he does as he always does now, making the strange yearning her responsibility to soothe.

He lashes out at her.

“I’m growing bored,” He says with a cold, cruel edge to his voice. “You know how much I dislike boredom, don't you, darling?"

What he seeks is a reaction. A sudden spark of life from within her. For her to grab his hand and take him to do— to do something. Surely—

And yet, with a motion so fluid that it implies an aged and practiced skill, she slides from his lap down to her knees before him, reaching towards the laces of his breeches. There is nothing behind her eyes as she extends her hand forward to unlace him, hardly even seeing him. Nothing at all.

“What are you doing?” He slaps her hands away, scowling down at her, taken back by her brashness.

“You said you were bored, my Lord.”

“And why would you think–”

Because that is what he’d taught her.

That her body was built for his amusement; his temple to defile at will. Because of the cold nights in the castle after so many years where he would reach for her, and she would quiver and shake her head with eyes rimmed red and puffy and beg to be left untouched and yet he would speak the words without thinking and she would bend for him any way he wished.

Because even as she would obey, she would cry and turn away, and he would give it little thought until one night the crying and protesting simply stopped. He thought she had learned. Made peace with her duties and loyalty to him and what it entailed. Mayhaps she had come to realize that her theatrics had little impact on him and surely, he wasn’t so wretched to her now that these waterworks were necessary. His touch could not repulse her so that her weeping was remotely acceptable. She loves him, surely she—

Because he would command her until she would kneel, and so now, she kneels without command.

He sighs, breathing the fire from his lungs, reaching down to pull her back up into his lap. She does not respond, only obeys in kind to his guiding instruction as he settles her back down on his legs. He finds a semblance of patience from within himself which is a strange and unusual feeling, mustering it up to once again ask:

“My dear, what is it that you would like to do?”

Her head cocks. She does not understand.

"What would you enjoy? If you had the freedom to do anything, what might it be?"

It takes a moment, but for the first time, a reaction: Confusion. It is slow to take hold but becomes blaringly apparent as it does. It is not as if she doesn’t know the answer, but almost as if she doesn’t understand the question.

“Whatever you would like to do, my Lo–”

“No, no, darling. What is it you would like to do?” He impresses, harsher this time, and she flinches, recoiling from… something.

From him.

If her heart was still capable of beating, he'd be able to hear the way it pumps into overdrive. As it stands, he cannot, but he is aware no less. Her scent changes entirely around him to something that has his brows furrowing. Shortness of breath, dilating pupils, hands beginning to quake— Adrenaline. Steel-edged anxiety. As if this is not a question at all, but rather a test and she does not know the answer, and failure means his displeasure and his displeasure means–

"I— What would you—" She hard-swallows, harrowed by the open-endedness of the question. "—I want what—"

("Come to the meadow with me, Asto," She would grab his hand with a mischievous smile when their compatriots were fast asleep, tugging him up from the comfort of his bedroll. "I want you to come with me."

"It's late, darling. Wouldn't you rather come here and lie with me?" He would try to tug her back down playfully, but would fall against her aggressive temerity, being pulled to his feet through her sheer will. She would stifle her giggling with a hand as she guided him past their slumbering companions, through the tree line and deep into the forest.

"Come on, lazy boy, come! Come with me!"

"Well, I'm trying to—"

She would hush him and yank him by the wrist, out into the field where he'd first had her, down once more into a bed of wildflowers and long grass. Her melodic laugh like a strange song as she yanks him to the ground despite his weak protests until she would lie her head on his chest and trace gentle patterns on his white shirt against his flexed chest.

"We don't have to come all the way out here to make love, darling—" He would move to try to kiss her, but she would adamantly press her head against his torso, insisting he stay down in the dirt with her.

"I'm not trying to seduce you," She would giggle, pointing at the star-spangled sky. "I want to lie under the stars with you."

"But… why?"

"Because I know we'll have eternity to do it, but it's my favorite moon tonight and it reminded me of you."

He squints, struggling to find anything different about it at all. "I don't notice anything, darling. It looks very much like the moon we see every night."

"It's so full and bright! Look at the rays!" She holds her hand out as if to cradle a silvery moonbeam in her palm. "It reminds me of the color of your hair."

She reaches over him to delicately pluck something from the grass, tucking it gingerly behind his ear after she does so. "These poppies are the same beautiful deep red of your eyes in the moonlight. I feel safe here; home, with you. I just wanted to enjoy it for a moment. Just the two of us."

He would wrap his arms around her waist, squeezing so tightly that she would gasp and worm about, trying to return the favor, and yet he would not relent.

"I want you to feel safe with me," he would whisper into her hair, desperately trying to memorize the scent of it, as if expecting Bhaal himself to come and steal her from his frantic embrace. "Now and forever, I want to feel home in your arms, with you.")

He thinks, for a moment, to return to that meadow, and that perhaps his love— the one he remembers— will return to him. As if her ghost still lingers there, trapped and waiting to be rescued.

He can’t.

It is not a meadow any longer, but a battlefield, not unlike the vile destruction left in Ketheric's wake at Raithewait; another one in a million places sacrificed in his conquest for glory, littered with bodies and bones. A graveyard tribute to his power, scorched soil and dead grass. No flowers bloom there anymore— there is nowhere for them to bloom between the suffocating aura of death.

All that is left is a beautiful memory buried beneath a river of dried blood, and you cannot water flowers with dried blood or wean them on bone dust. That meadow is one moment suspended in time as trapped in amber, impossible to claw free from its temporal prison. He cannot remember the last time he saw that jovial smile she had saved just for him in that damned meadow.

He cannot recall the last time she said the words "I love you" and cried his name as a preternaturally beautiful siren song without being commanded.

He frowns, feeling something strange and haunting in his chest. Something viciously clawing up his throat as he looks at her: at her empty red eyes that were once the most beautiful color, full of love and life when she looked upon him; at her contorted expression that used to be as radiant as the sun and he could have sworn that her light could have sustained him through the dark, miserable nights of his eternal curse if only she was by his side; at the frailty of her body that almost seems to creak and break beneath his weight.

"My love, look at me."

And she does, if not by command, then by instinct.

"Smile for me, will you? Can you do that for me?"

And she does, her lips turning upward and raising to reveal two sharp teeth— and nothing more. It's uncanny and revolting and wrong. There is nothing behind her eyes, nothing at all. No light, no life, and certainly no love.

He used to be able to see himself in her eyes. How her heart sang for him, cheeks blossoming with blood at the sight of him. He could hear her heart rabbit behind her ribs, her hands quaking with excitement to touch him even in the most innocent of ways. Through her eyes, he found his own value— his own worth— and finally began to understand that he deserved love; he deserved happiness. She had healed him, giving almost all of herself to do it, selflessly and without asking for anything in return even as he despised himself and refused his own agency—

And she stares at him now with soulless eyes, he is left to wonder if he has taken too much from her in his quest to take everything. Wonders if she will ever be that lovestruck, moon-eyed girl again, wanting nothing more than to lie under the moonlit meadow with him. If she will ever kiss his eyelids as a delicate butterfly and whisper eternity in his ear. If she will ever feel safe and home and loved around him again in his embrace–

Save she is no longer quaking with anticipation at his touch, but trembling from fear, lost and terrified at the posing of a simple question. Her scent is foreign even as it is familiar and he cannot recall when it began to change. There is something in her eyes that haunts him, and though he can see himself within him, what stares back is not him. A terrible realization rakes knives down his soul, a gaping maw threatening to swallow him whole. A tightening in his lungs, and even as he does not breathe, he does not believe he could even if he tried.

“Darling?”

“Yes, my Lord?”

Her face is impassive once more. Perfect porcelain expression. Not a crack in the mask. Not a wrinkle in the facade. Practiced day in and day out until it becomes real. He remembers it well.

How long has it been? How long since he has looked at her? Truly looked at her? Spoken to her? Told her he loved her?

Showed her he loves her?

When was the last day he did not command from her that which she begged not to willingly give?

He cannot remember. He cannot recall.

He demanded and she had no choice but to give. More and more and more. He drained her dry and now where was once his sacred oasis, there is nothing at all. No matter how long he looks, there is never a flicker of anything in her glassy eyes.

He wonders if even as he has gotten everything he has ever wanted, he lost the one thing he needed.

It paralyzes him. For the first time in an ageless eternity, he feels something: Panic.

Even his endless power cannot bring her back. His beloved is dead, and he has killed her. Upon him sits a pretty corpse, empty and devoid of all that made her her. A doll with her face. A doll with barely even that.

Her laugh, her smile. Her passion and desire and love. The tenderness inside of her and the warmth she once held. Everything that pulled him from his shell and showed him how to love once more. He bloomed in her light– and then snuffed it out entirely.

How long has it been? How long has she been gone?

Though she may be undying, he realizes with horror akin to a dawning sun that she is gone– and has been for some time.

“You seem stressed, my Lord? How can I make you happy again?”

Second part of the story HERE

#morgana and friends #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #literally whatever you want it to be #very bad implications here do not read if sensitive #bad mean astarion #sort of #lots of mistakes here fellas #i TOLD yall i was having a tough time writing #this needed more time and work but man I just CANNOT focus #you get the gist right #this needed more detail and to be longer but i was struggling here #god i need medicine or something #one down about 399 more to go lmao

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yangcherie · 6 months

Text

play chase

pairing: ascended!astarion / spawn!tav (reader.)

content warnings: female reader, dubcon, briefest references to age gap (c’mon, he’s 200 years old), power imbalance, forced dependency, abuse. cunnilingus. mentions of death. references to cannibalism. abuse. ascended astarion things, except he’s a bit nicer.

sypnosis: astarion has been having an immensely difficult time taming you; his newly-turned bride-to-be. he believes a lesson about obedience is well overdue. so he fucks you before the honeymoon.

author’s note: ugh. this was messy. like immensely messy im so sorry i just lost interest in this fandom but thought id still finish this up. hope you guys enjoy btw tav is feral here like Kinda i guess? ignore the plotholes or i rob ur house angry face emoji here

“Little one.” Astarion carolled, hoping he sounded just genuine enough to coax you out of wherever you’ve tucked yourself into like a feral animal. You’d catch more flies with honey than vinegar, after all. “Sweet thing. Whatever you’re playing at, it’s time to put an end to it.”

He hopes the restlessness doesn’t bleed through his voice; having walked and stalked through what felt like the very entirety of his former master’s palace – now claimed by none other than himself. It only felt right to do so after his ascension, in the same vein he claimed you as his own. The manor is a wretched thing – but so were you. He would come to love it in time; as he had with you.

He felt like a fool right now with the way he was practically just going to rot away waiting for you to either crawl out or hiding spot (which was never) or to hear you slip up, shuffle around or screech just loud enough that he could catch the sound in his fingers and hunt you down.

You’ve fallen into much troublesome, teasing habits, including hiding away from him or viciously teething and ripping at whatever caught your eye — and Astarion doesn’t have the slightest idea on why or how — but he could excuse it. Decades of cruelty have also taught him mercy, despite having lacked it.

All the furniture you would violently break apart into splinters? You must’ve been teething, and this hideous manor desperately needs a renovation, anyway. The troublesome amount of tear and rip and fray of fabric in curtains, clotheswear and sheets alike? You’re simply due for a trimming on your claws, and again, the manor needs a renovation. Your incessant disturbances of racket and noise during the occasions he’d bring nobles over? His poor, needy wife must’ve been feeling neglected – and that alone is a perfect reason for him to usher away any unwanted guests.

(It honestly did him more good than you knew.)

Astarion could not only excuse and enjoy it, all your petty, feral little acts of disobedience – but he’s also dedicated nearly half his time to provide you gratification. You needed teething? Fine, expect to be fed with ambrosian blood; be it by kegs of it at your bedside, or drunkards thrown at your feet, paralyzed with alcohol and terror, all but open for you to forcefully dig and tear out their throats and drink in their dwindling life. He’d even dab at your face with a handkerchief after.

Couldn’t control your claws? He’s provided you toys to rough up and chew into — himself included, of course; if the never-bite marks beneath his collar were anything to go by. And if you were good enough, willing to paw at and prop your chin on his clothed thigh to prettily stare at him with roseate, cherub eyes; he’d take you hunting with the given main course or prey being deers, goats or nobles who couldn’t be swayed to his upcoming reign.

And if his other efforts to be of no avail, he could always do with his last but favorite method of calming you down; exerting his dominance with his own fangs wounding the muted skin of your throat to keep you still as he gives you a good fucking – just hard enough to keep you content from acting out for the next few days.

Astarion had done his utmost to be considerate. You were a fledgling; still adjusting to the intricacies that came with your newly-gifted vampirism. He was all but destructive during his first years as a spawn, as well. He could excuse it, all this disrespect, this ingratitude to his affections. Really! It just had to be a good day.

And to the fucking Nines, today was not a good day.

Right now, he was nothing short of frustrated. Frustrated with his idiotic thralls, with having to deal with posh aristocrat fools to establish his reign over the Gate, with the fabric of his shirt – all of it! And now he has to be frustrated with you, as well? All he yearnt for was to be soothed by none other than you, but even this you would pettily keep out from his reach?

The manor is stretched far and wide, generous; much unlike the fraying thread that is his patience. He licks his teeth, brows furrowing – legs aching just the slightest. You couldn’t behave for just today, could you? Always needing to test him to keep you in line.

You could’ve simply drained and massacred the enthralled nobles in his dungeons, or lay waste to yet another room in the palace and he wouldn’t have given much of a damn, but no, instead, you’ve decided to play hard to get and hide yourself away from him when he needs you most.

“Dearest.” Astarion grits out, an exasperated groan stuck in his throat. The heel of his boots thudding against the cobble is all he’s heard for hours, in his search of you. He might just raze down the entire manor if it meant you’d come out. “I am in no mood to be entertaining your tantrums.”

A wearisome ache begins to swarm his temples, coaxing a sigh from him. He can just envision it, in whatever hole you’ve tucked yourself in lays the ripped ivory tulle fabric of yet another gown alongside the vast amount you’ve already ravaged. It’s all you’ve been tearing at since he’s arranged your bethrothment with him – and his enthralled tailors aren’t very willing to oblige him and sew another.

He swears on the fucking ragdoll he will make out of you once he finds you that this time, you will not go unpunished. He has been lenient, and he was no fool; he could tell instinct and intent apart. Whatever game you were playing at, Astarion would let you know he didn’t like it in the slightest. First, you deny him of your presence and then you deny him of his right to wed you. What a little demon you are.

But it seems even you were getting restless in your own petty little game, he thought so smugly, as a hiss so unmistakably yours laden with offense and the impact of ceramic against the ground bounced off the opulent hallway making him sharply turn his body around to follow the sound. You never quite had the knack to keep quiet as a rogue like himself could, even before the feral inanity that clouds you now. It’s not long before he’s behind yet another bedroom out of hundreds in the palace and twisting the rusted doorknob.

It creaks open, Astarion pursing his lips as he steps inside – just to be hit with the pungent stench of blood and a mess littered that told him you indeed were in the room. A good hint; the hint being a gutted body of what he could only assume was a servant crumpled on the floor, who with no doubt you hurled actoss the room once you had forcefully drained your fill of.

His nose wrinkled at the sight. He ought to teach you something about manners on not playing with your food, after he catches you.

“Little pup?” He stalks through the room, briefly kicking the body aside and glancing at the two puncture holes on its neck. If you were hungry, you simply could’ve asked.

It’s a dreary scene, the room a relic of neglect worth centuries. Moth-eaten curtains spotted with fresh blood, rusted chandeliers rickety with dust. Dreary as it was, he had no doubt this is one of the rooms he’s used to bed many a victim.

He briefly wonders if you even bedded the servant before draining him.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are...”

There’s a subtle shuffle, a little, pathetic bleat of a hiss to his call, just below the old, yellowed canopy bed in the very center of the room. The space between his brows pinch as he approaches the dingy canopy and drops to his knees to peer below, batting at the dust that assaults his senses.

Craning his neck downwards, peering below the bed, he’s fixed with your beady, red stare – and it startles Astarion more than he’d like to admit.

Something weary between a growl and a sigh comes out of him when he wills himself to tear his gaze away from your unnerving eyes and across the entirety of your body; you’re filthy, with flaky remains of gore and scratches, cobwebs stuck to your hair and soot stuck to your skin. He quietly groans, filled with just enough irritation that your beady eyes bat him a blink so innocent and faultless that he’s rather tempted to bend you over his lap and paddle you —

But it was futile to scold you. He knows it, that you wouldn’t understand – had made sure your senses would dwindle, like a honed knife being whittled to dullness. Slowly but surely being to forced to rely on base instincts. He always thought you to be too smart for your own good, and he couldn’t have you thinking you could leave him in the dust, no, no.

(And, well, if you ever did, he doubt the ghouls that follow his word like law would let you through any door out, anyway.)

Futile as it is it to scold you, it’s easier to let his irritation roll over him in waves sear him like boiling water.

“You insolent brat, you.” Astarion hisses, batting his hand in a motion that tells you to get out and up. It’s with an infuriating obedience that you follow, one that casts something bitter to brew in him. Where was that earlier? He roughly wrenches you out by your wrist, dragging you up to your feet to meet his infuriated eyes. “Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you, you fucking–?”

You hiss at the touch, nose scrunched and teeth bared enough to show gums – your free hand flying out to grip his wrist to dig your untrimmed nails into his skin just as he did with you. He raises a brow, unamused. Perhaps he should have felt offended the way you thought you could just behave like an animal and disrespect him like that. Perhaps he really should go and dig the heel in, let you sink in the fall from pride to humiliation of being paddled.

“You think you’re hilarious, hm? Quit acting like an animal.” Astarion huffs indignantly, disregarding a small part of him wanting to croon at you in the same manner one would with a feral thing. You need discipline and gods damn him if he did not provide that. He wrenches his wrist out of your clawed fingers, glaring. If you were some stranger, he’d feel inclined to spit on you. “Or I’ll drain you like one.”

It’s a lie, a petty one at that, and you seem to know it as it only pulls another one of those sounds out you; one more grating and animalistic than the last, one that makes him bare his own teeth at you. The threat is as petty as it is tragic, a reminder of what you’ve given up to him beyond your blood – your soul, your mortality.

He’s had his fill of you since the night you turned, since he sunk his teeth into the very marrow of your being and drained you for all you were worth. He swallowed you with a hunger that could burn out even the sun itself. You could not believe that on that night, the night he had killed you, the soft, benign hands keeping your head from hitting the hard floor were of the same body with the mouth and teeth that snuffed your light straight out.

(You died being held in his arms; whether it was to keep you still, keep you there unable to jerk away from death or to keep you comforted, you never found out. You didn’t want to.)

When you awoke, it was no longer his teeth that speared through you next but loss and hunger, a mind-numbing, mingling pit in your stomach. You woke up with grief knowing you were no longer who you once were.

Astarion has an intimate relationship with hunger, true and daunting hunger. And no nobles’ blood, no sheep, bear, boar nor lamb can fix it.

It will not leave him, and it will not leave you.

“I’ll have you know you look delectable right now.” He hisses through his teeth, something burning all hot, ugly and hungry in his stomach. It’s the way he says it that has you backing down, meeting his eyes with a glare of your own before tentatively softening; allowing him to touch you. In a time before now, he would have said it teasingly, as your lover, your man. Near a warm fire, pinned to the ground with your hair splayed and a summer solstice grin.

But now, he is more hunger than man.

(You suppose you are too.)

He stares you down, the dip of your collarbones, the slope of your hips, the slightest cinch of your waist, your lips, all doused in some servant’s blood. The scent of it with yours wafts out and beckons to him. Spanning his fingers over the stiffened slopes of your bare shoulders, he finds the knots he’ll have to work and ease over with floral oils later on during bedtime.

In your feral head, it feels as if he’s fondling the meat on your shoulder. Prodding at the softest spots, finding which would taste best.

His fingers leave your shoulder in favor of returning to your wrist, pulling taut at it to lead you out the dryrotting room and into those intricate halls, turning left, right, right, left, straight until you’re stumbling into his personal chambers, his soft canopy bed and sinking into his mattress with enough space between your parted legs that he takes the chance to crawl towards and tuck himself in.

He pushes his lips to yours, kisses you dizzy, tongue fighting a battle with yours. The bed is downy soft beneath you when you melt into it and dig your nails in, heeded by instinct as he pins you against them with ease. The air feels hotter, when he pulls away with silken strands of spit between you two, splitting when he dips back downwards to lay his head on your stomach, circling his arms around your hips to keep you still as he noses around the softness of your stomach.

“Stay still.” He rasps, throaty enough you feel inclined to begrudingly listen and settle down with a growl stuck behind your teeth. “This is just something to make you relax.”

It’s not entirely a lie, he thinks to himself. Nowadays, he only ever beds you if he sees you need to be put into your place or to be sedated. You’re not exactly as smart as you used to be.

He kisses his way down; trails little licks and bites over your stomach, lowering to the jolting of your hips, to the swell of your thighs. Moves a hand to fondle your calves and returning it to join the arms still locked around your hips, using his head to gently nudge your legs a bit wider and teeth to lift up the chiffon dress pillowing around your legs, lingering on your calf; to settle his lips on your clothed mound.

A protestant, breathy noise comes out of you when his mouth ghosts your clothed clit, and he grumbles at it; tugging at the flimsy fabric until it delicately finds its place on the floor.

The cold, dusty, evening air wraps around your clit, the muscles in your legs tightening with the amount of whatever strength you have to use to avoid clamping around his head when he kisses it briefly but so sweetly that an uneasy expression makes home on your face.

A dreadful shiver shoots an arrow straight through your spine then, when that one intimate kiss at your bundle of nerves turns into two, then three, until all that fight and spark in you has been stomped out and worn out into the dirt. Despite that senseless fog that clouds your head, you remain soft and still, legs open and unclamping around his head with the indomitable fear he’d do something less... gratifying than this.

That kiss turns into stripe licked up your clit, a shaky breath forced out of you once again. He gently pulls you closer, just a breathswidth from your fluttering entrance.

You wonder if he feels the way you stiffen under his hands, if he mistakes the way your hips rock as wanting more instead of trying to run away.

“Be good,” he murmurs, breath hot and voice lazy. “and everything else will follow...”

A spawn’s desire to follow their master is something even the likes of you cannot help but submit to, and so with a rough grunt, you finally let loose your tense muscles just enough to let Astarion pull you gently down, to fully ease you on his mouth — so he can really give you that relaxation.

He runs the tip of his tongue over your clit, laving around it and allowing himself a lazy glance up when you abruptly sit up and thread a hand through his hair, chest stuck in a growling air you struggle to take in. Rough as it is, it also sounds lewd – and it’s music pretty enough that he hums and closes his eyes shut, rewarding you with flicks and sucks on the sensitive little thing that only makes you tighten your grip around his perfect curls and dig into his scalp.

A moan can’t be stopped from slithering its way out your mouth, your shoulders working itself lower and the crease between your eyebrows letting up. He wasn’t lying, it feels good, you begrudingly think and huffing in an effort to hide your moan and keep the current of anger from diminishing under pleasure. You find it easy to keep grappling onto it when you feel him crookededly smile against the flesh of you, as if the idea of you adamantly resisting was theatrical and hilarious.

His tongue leaves your clit, delving into your hole and squirming against your walls in a way that has your ears ringing, hand still in his hair. Your eyes shut tight.

You hate him, you think. Hate how he makes you feel this way, makes you feel so alive despite being anything but. And you especially hate yourself for the sharp heat that tugs at your stomach, a thinly-veiled frenzy arching over you.

Ever since the undeath of you, you’ve lacked control; and it’s no easy feat to defy the oncoming slaught of pleasure about to wash over you. Not when his tongue laves around your slick clit in such a way that it makes you throw your head back and dig your heels into his back. So with a moan caged low behind your throat, you convulse, coming in his mouth when you wished for anything but.

“See what being good gets you?” He pulls away and coos at you with his teeth and lips shining, savoring you as if you were just the sweetest pomegranate out there. Your chest heaves as you come down from the high, so weakly throwing him a glare that attests to your damaged pride.

Your eyes flicker around his face and his hands, expecting him to move back and let up, having had his fill of you. But he doesn’t move back, no, he stays smiling at you, lets himself be busied by the frantic pattern of rise and fall by your chest — by the fact you breathe by habit even when you no longer need to.

Your throat bobs; his eyes are quick to narrow and trace the movement.

“You,” you rasp, you speak, the conciousness you fight to grapple on a rope so quickly fraying. Astarion’s smile stretches into a mean, mean grin that makes your skin crawl. “You’re done.”

Your head tricks you into thinking you lack the breath to make the questioning lilt in your words, so it comes out as a demand. One you’re not very sure he takes to kindly.

“Adorable!” He giggles, tapping the tip of your nose. “Silly. No, we aren’t.”

“And you,” Astarion coos again, meaner, reaching out with slick fingers to dig into your cheeks whilst ignoring your flinch and bared teeth. He squeezes your face and patronizingly moves it around as if afflicted with cuteness aggression, like an owner unable to believe his pet wants him to stop giving it pets. “You don’t get to make the demands around here. I–”

He pulls your face closer, his breath fanning your face.

“I do.” He snarls. You give him one back twice as malicious, sharp fingers flying to grip the hand that holds your face captive. “I make the fucking demands around here and you– you listen, and you do what I tell you to do because I—”

He inhales a sharp intake of breath, the fingers on your face digging in just further enough it starts to hurt.

“Honestly, dear.” He laughs like the idea of you having command over him is the funniest thing in the world, but the sound is so taut and forced. A display of theatrics. “If there’s anyone out here worth listening to, it’s me!”

Astarion doesn’t let go much to your dismay, watching you so keenly, drinking in your pain – and you start to hiss when his fingers don’t cease the tightening grip on your face, forcing you back into that instinctive, protective shell. It’s all a blur when you plant your two feet on his chest and kicking him with all your force, knocking him back just a mere distance away, still on the bed but further. He merely scoffs, moreso annoyed than pained, quick to get back on his knees and crawling towards you yet again. His hands grip the comforter, fingertips digging into the softness as he grits his teeth.

“No– no, no, don’t you dare.” Astarion brattily tugs at you, like you’re his favorite toy, until you’re situated beneath him once more, scratching and squirming about. “You will not not run away from me!”

“Not when I’ve been so kind to you,” he spat. It’s between a grit and tease when he says it, and now that he’s between your legs again, he grinds his clothed hips against your cunt. “And I’ve been busy making dresses for you, you know, when really I should be making leashes.”

He offhandedly mentions with a sneer and as if to help visualize the collar, his strong hand goes to wrap around your throat – squeezing just hard enough your breath leaves you all at once. Your mouth gapes open then, floundering to claw at his wrist.

“What do you think?” Astarion laughs, mean, mean, mean. Another hand goes to unbuckle his belt, the leather of his pants sliding off and making brief but chilling contact with your thighs. “Would you prefer it with a chain?”

Black dots around the edges of your vision, with the hand on your throat and the dwindling air in your chest, you cannot muster any disapproving sound to his words – and as if to punish you for your silence, he tightens his grip until you’re sure that the skin would be bruised purple and pretty underneath for days. And he watches you, like you’re some form of entertainment, floundering and wincing about for merciful air, distracted enough you don’t notice the heat of his cockhead pressing against your pulsing opening.

Distracted enough you don’t notice with how you’re squirming about for air, you’re grinding yourself against his cockhead.

You can’t breathe.

Whilst you’re busy thinking if this is it, this is the fucking end of it all; you’ll be found dead on the master’s bed in the morning, indecent, monstrous even without a stake in your heart but with blue and purple around your neck instead, Astarion’s attention was charmed like a moth to flame with how you don’t seem to notice you’re still so alive despite having sunken his teeth into your neck and given you his blood.

How you don’t seem to notice that in being undead, you do not even need to breathe anymore. How still you look for the air even unneeded.

Entertained, Astarion hums and releases your throat, settling his hands on your knees as he watches you sputter and cough as the air hits you like debris. The pain in your chest as you take in the missing air is pure catharsis.

“Yes...” He whispers moreso to himself than you, nudging his cockhead against your opening – slick with his spit. “Perhaps a chain would look better than jewelry.”

And with that, he pushes into you with a low hiss, moving slowly enough that you feel the veins and the pulsing of him even as you focus on gasping for air, the pit in your stomach dreadful and the crawl up your spine pleasured. When it feels like he’s snug inside your guts all buried inside, he leans forward and catches your lips into a terribly one-sided kiss. It makes his cock nudge further inside and you flinch from the dull, familiar ache of it all.

“Fuck,” Astarion gasps hot against your mouth and pulls away with a string of spit, slowly dragging his hips and pulling back to watch his length move out your cunt. He slams it back in and you want to shriek but you bite your tongue instead, hating how he deep he is inside of you and how slow he is – like he’s trying to get your walls to take his shape. “—I wish you were always this good for me, little mouse.”

Pleasure is so cruel to you, bowing heavy against your spine as it forces you to arch, forces your legs to spread and take in his cock deeper. Something groaning guttural crawls its way out your throat as you clench your eyes tight and twist the sheets in your fist as you’re thrown gracelessly into the ever-tightening jaw of ecstasy. Your legs shake with a tremor to it, feeling his hand ghost over your hip.

He pulls back again; and slams back inside. Over and over and over again until you feel like you’re turning mad yet again, sweat beading at your forehead and sounds not so easily beckoned now tumbling out your mouth.

You once foolishly thought that with being undead comes the death of sensation in your body – the way your body flinches and burns so alive with every strong nudge of his cockhead into you just proves you so wrong. Sparks fly across your body like rocks trying to make fire when with every collision of his hips against yours, the base of his cock grinds so deliciously against your sensitive, reddened clit.

One particularly rough slam of his hips has you keening; the soft curls on his base bumping your bundle of nerves in a way that has you keening into him, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him down, closer and closer until you feel so utterly consumed by him in the same way you did that wretched night.

Another sound, one so feral and from the heart is forced out of you when his hips stutter teasingly, a moan so out of place from a voice unused and locked away when your stomach all but tightens when that thrust forces your hole to slacken and his cock to nudge at something so soft and delicate inside your walls. And you shriek like a murdered woman when he laughs so mean and thrusts even meaner.

He continues to thrust, thrust and thrust like some bully to that one little spongy spot, groaning st your little moan-shrieks. Your mouth stretches into a scowl as your teeth mash together in an effort to sweat through the pure pleasure that swarms your head and makes you see dots, only vaguely aware of the slick foam that runs down your thighs. All purely and humilatingly your arousal.

“A-Astarion,” You raspily grit out, locking your bruised knees around his hips and feeling a pleasant soreness bloom amongst yours when he gives you a response by driving in harder, tracing your throat as you throw your head back. “Astarion.”

Smooth fingers trace your neck before running up your cheek, dragging at the chub of it until your lips are apart and no longer are you scowling nor your teeth gnawing. “What?” Astarion murmurs, slurred and drunkenly kissing away the sweat that’s gathered like freshwater rain on your throat.

You open your eyes, blinking away the sting of tears and sweat mingling – and Astarion looks so godsent, romantic with his own teeth gritted and sweat down his arms as he piledrives into you.

You won’t last – you feel it the way your body is twitching with the exhaustion it takes to build up an orgasm, core burning even with the friction of slick inside. Astarion doesn’t need to be told, so very familiar with your body even in its death; so he dutifully lifts a hand from your hip and gently snakes it towards the in-between, towards your warm pussy until he finds your sensitive little button, circling the pulsing bud immediately and fondly laughing when your legs uncoil around his hips, and you shriek, squirming like you’re about to get murdered a second time. Your mind is fucking melting.

“Astarion,” you choke out, again, this time, more desperately, hand flinging out to grip at his wrist between your legs. His thrusting stutters as your voice breaks and your pretty eyes roll behind your head. “Y-you’re gonna fucking kill me, oh—”

“Don’t be a c-coward, darling.” Astarion is breathless, brows furrowing. He’s close too.

You pant.

You’re about to pop at the seams.

Your tongue lolls with every breath that heaves your chest, the ring of your entrance so tight around his cock as your body trembles with every feverish snap of hips and rub of his fingers against your red, abused bundle of nerves. The sound of slick flesh on flesh so obscene, you feel your body trembling as you throw your head back to the undercurrent of an orgasm — so strong it has white flashing hot behind your eyelids and a final, ragged whimper coming from you.

It only takes a few moments for him to catch up, his hips chasing your clenching as he throbs, pulsing once, twice against your walls until he’s spilling into them with his own warmth, contentedly sighing into the crook of your neck whilst you wince and whine lowly with satisfaction.

You both stay there, unmoving, until the warm semen that runs down your thighs turns cold enough that Astarion feels he should move, slipping out your hole and letting his member hit the cold air as he hisses, sensitive. And apparently, you’re rudely startled awake out of your pliancy with the sound, tensing up like you’re about to run again. He notices before you can and kisses you stupid, lips smacking noisily with yours in a way teasing lovers would do so, before pulling away with a grin and setting you still on the bed with the weight of a blanket on you.

“Oh, no, no, none of that tonight.” You try to wrack a hiss out your scratchy throat – but it comes out as a humiliatingly feeble cough. Astarion, endeared, smiles at it and pecks your forehead, bringing the blanket up to your chin by habit as he once used to when you were sleeping in tents, under nights and by fires. “You’re always running away, you little hellion, you.”

He’s tucking you in.

He’s an asshole, you think. He must be teasing you. With being undead comes the inability to sleep a wink – only being able to go as far as meditation. And by the gods, you do not want to be stuck thinking of how you just let the man you despise drive his cock and seed into you – and how he’ll do it over and over again if it means you’ll stop acting out for a night or two.

Astarion eyes you, giving you a once-over as if to size up if you’d take your chances and run away. You don’t budge, narrowing your heavy eyes at him and blinking blearily, shifting in the sheets, unwilling to admit to yourself how you like the molten warmth you feel when he looks at you attentively, the warmth that runs down your inner thigh and the warmth of the blankets tucked so nicely around you. He smiles again, smoothing a hand over your hair and lowly murmuring something about cleaning you up later at night where you’re more awake and hopefully, preferably not a bat hanging off the ceiling staring at him with beady eyes.

He hums then – reassured, standing up from the bed with a creak and reaching into the drawer beside his bed for a flimsy pair of thin, reading glasses he wears.

“Be good, and stay here, okay?” He lowly coos, like a husband leaving for war wishing his ill wife goodbye, walking towards the old mahogany door and twisting the knob open. You twist your fingers and clench your eyes shut, enraged and fulfilled all the same. “I’ll see you later, I have work to do, sewing your wedding dress and all.”

The door closes, gently, and you turn to bite the pillow and scream into it.

#astarion x reader #bg3 x reader #bg3 smut #astarion smut #bg3 #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion ancunin smut #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #hoo #okay #this was shit

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lucrezianoin · 10 months

Text

Two minutes of Wyll and Astarion being attracted to each other

The Wyllstarion compilation is almost finished! IT TOOK ME FOREVER.

If I am not wrong I only miss the Wyll-origin playthrough scenes post act 2 (epilogue ascended and spawn with duke and blade mainly), a bugged scene that I cannot trigger (epilogue duke wyll friendship route playing as Astarion) and the "Wyll, get up you sweet fool" one! Another one I cannot get is the act 2 "choose which one to romance" in Tav game where Astarion talks about Wyll being a guy he dreamt of marrying when he was 13.

One of the clips is not mine as I could not trigger it (you will see in video, I added text over it, and I used it with their permission). It comes from here.

Under cut all the ways to get these clips:

Shadowheart, Astarion, Wyll party banter in a Tav* game you play another character (this should be their first banter)

Astarion origin game, revealing to Wyll you are a vampire

Tav game, as long as you do not recruit Gale and Lae'zel before this scene happens (this is the "wondering about how the others' blood taste" scene)

Tav game, you killed Astarion when he tried to bite you at night

Tav game, you danced with Wyll in act 2 while having started a romance with Astarion

Tav game, Wyll's comment after you recruit Astarion

Wyll origin game, after you get turned into a devil by Mizora

Tav game, this is the second night dialogue where Wyll asks you if you ever heard of a banshee screaming

Tav game, if you tell Astarion you would like to taste Wyll's blood

Impossible clip! From third night, Astarion origin game

Tav game, if after killing Ansur you agree with Wyll becoming Grand Duke and have Astarion in the party, this dialogue will happen after (Wyll will have an exclamation point on him)

Tav game, post act 2 dance, if you break up with Astarion the day after, to be with Wyll

Karlach game, after Wyll becomes a devil when he doesn't kill you

Astarion origin game, epilogue with Blade of Frontiers or Avernus Wyll, friendship route

Tav game, random comment (so you will have to only have Astarion and Wyll in party to 100% get it) after killing Ansur

Astarion origin game, epilogue with romanced Duke Wyll

Astarion origin game, epilogue with friendship Blade Wyll

*I say Tav game but I mean any game where you do not play Wyll, Astarion or the third character in the banter if it is a banter. That is why in some Tav games I have Karlach.

#wyllstarion #bloodpact #astarion #wyll ravengard #wyll #bg3 vids #mine #IT TOOK ME FOUR7 GAMES

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snowyarcher · 6 months

Text

Thinking about the Astarion break up before his quest is finished in Act 3

All was well in the relationship, so naturally, I expected some objection from him at the news. Instead, true to his character, Astarion had come prepared for the break up with some pretty heartbreaking lines.

Not at all questioning the player's decision, Astarion sounds... defeated. He speaks about "midnight chimes" with a bittersweet smile. He reasons that he doesn't have much to offer except trouble and burdens. He can hardly blame us for breaking up with him. He was counting down the moments till the inevitable end.

Yet, this is the first time in 200 years that he has been taken care of, heard and seen. He isn't going to let us go, even if he knows it will end eventually. So, he won't ever initiate the break up. In fact, Astarion won't ever initiate anything. At this point he will accept any decision made by us without defending the relationship, because to him this is no ordinary relationship.

What is it then, if not a relationship?

"Whatever in the world could you be?"

In a way, we are the dream that holds power over him, where Cazador was the nightmare. Tav is like the sun, at the centre of his chaos. His happiness, his freedom, his vengeance and his catharsis orbit around the player. And in his good ending, Astarion flourishes.

He really is the ultimate "I can fix him" or "I can make him way worse" fantasy.

#just thinking about fictional men #you know how i be #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x durge #bg3 #i have so many thoughts on act 3 post quest break up as well #as well as the durge break up

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kittenintheden · 7 months

Note

Since I adore the way you write I was thinking this might be up your alley:

Tav/named Tav or Ori (years after the Netherbrain or some such) challenging Astarion that they can make him cum with kisses alone. He's blindfolded and he cannot touch himself 👀

And maaaayyybee just to make it harder: pointy ears are off limits.

Well. How could I say no?

Rating: E Pairing: Astarion x AFAB F!Tav (3rd person) Word Count: 1.7k Content: 18+, established relationship, sexy kissing, sexually explicit talk, teasing, orgasm delay, analingus

***

They love to kiss.

A few years have passed, the greatest of their heroics nowhere near forgotten but just a bit distant. They've been together through it all and beyond. They've more adventures under their belts, more friends than they know what to do with, and memories enough to bring more joy than sorrow most days.

As they recline in one of their favorite armchairs, her draped across his lap crosswise with her arms wrapped around his neck, Astarion doesn't kiss her like the first time. That was stilted, acted, hollow. No, he kisses her like the first time he realized this was... something.

He remembers that kiss well. Softer, opening. The loosening of lip and tongue to let someone in. She meets him instantly, as she always has. Always up for anything if it involves him. It has the same effect on him now that it did then.

Astarion groans as he breaks their kiss, rolling his forehead against hers. "Gods, Tav, how do you do it? Sometimes, I think I could come from your kisses alone."

Her grin goes wide against his lips. "Is that a challenge?"

His eyelids feel heavy as he blinks them open to look at her. With effort, he raises an eyebrow. "Would love to see you try."

"Oh, you..." She leans in close and curls out her tongue to just barely touch his bottom lip before she sits back again. "... asked for it."

"Literally did, yes," he says. She pushes up to standing and gives him a gentle shove so he takes her place draped across the chair, legs hanging over one side and his head cushioned on the other. He folds his hands across his torso and smirks at her.

Tav matches his smarmy look as she reaches to her hips to untie the sash she has tied across them. She takes the cloth and begins folding it over itself before she says, "I don't think you're going to see me try, though." She winks and comes closer.

"Cheeky," he teases as she places the cloth over his eyes and moves around to tie it behind his head. "Fine. I get to lay ground rules, as well."

"Go ahead," she says as she gets the blindfold in place, amusement in her voice.

Astarion raises a finger in the air. "No ears. My ears are off limits."

She drops her hands with a huff. "What for?"

"You know exactly what for, you cheat," he says, mockingly shaking his raised finger as if scolding her. "This is kisses only. Kisses from your mouth."

He hears her tutting above him. "Tongue? Teeth?" she asks.

"Only as much as would reasonably be expected during an intimate but not... aggressive moment," he says. "No sucking."

"Hm," she hums. "I'll work with it. Now, my rules: no touching."

"What?" he huffs through his laugh.

She boops his nose. "No touching me, and no touching yourself. I'm steering, not you. Dear."

"Feisty tonight," he purrs. "I'll allow it. Because it's hot, mostly."

She chuckles as she pushes off the chair and takes a step back from the sound of it. "Challenge accepted. Clothes off."

He turns his head in her direction. "Why don't you do it?"

There's a pause, then she clears her throat and says "uh-uh" and he realizes she must have shook her head and then realized he can't see her. He huffs a laugh.

"I'm only allowed to kiss," she says. "You know I'm skilled, but undoing buttons and hooks via kiss is beyond even me."

"Oh, all right," he lilts through his grin as he begins to undo his buttons. "If you insist."

"This as much as you'll get to touch yourself for a bit, so enjoy it while you can," she says. She's closer now. Kneeling near his head by the sound of it.

He enjoys it. He enjoys it very much, teasing her mercilessly by plucking each button with intentional slowness, sliding his clothing off his skin bit by bit. Though he can't see her, he can hear her pulse quicken, smell the stirrings of her arousal. It's giving her a head start, he knows, but he can't help his body reacting to it.

She notices. "I haven't even touched you yet and you're already half-hard. The odds look to be in my favor."

"Long way to go before you can gl-" he starts, but he's cut off as he feels the weight of her hands on the arm of the chair by either side of his head and her mouth is on his. His last words melt into a pleased hum.

It's a sweet kiss. Tender, loving. Exactly the way she kisses him when she wants him to know he's precious to her, safe with her. It's a lover's sigh swirling down the length of his spine and he blooms instantly, just like she certainly knew he would. He tilts his chin up toward her, trying to get closer. More.

Tav lets him take comfort of her. Take love, take care. When he cracks open from it, when his lips fall open and pliant, she teases them open further with gentle laps from the tip of her tongue. They meet, warm and wet, tasting of one another.

He nearly catches her about to suck one of his lips but she stops herself, her mouth flickering into a quick smile before she gives him a light nip instead. It sends a shiver straight down the line between his abdominals and he feels his cock go fully hard and aching.

Astarion presses his hips deeper into the chair and arches his chest up, a low noise in his throat. He makes his hands into fists and his sides and feels Tav reach for the hand nearest her. She sits up and he lets her lift his hand to her face, gently loosening it until she can press her lips to the pad of one of his fingers. It's a relatively innocent gesture, which makes his soft moan sound all the more debauched in the quiet of the room. He bites his lip and turns his face away from her, desperate to pretend she's not having the effect she is as she presses kisses to each of his fingers, then his palm, then the inside of his wrist.

Then her tongue is warm and gentle against the thin skin of his wrist and his cock twitches hard. There's the smallest bit of tightening and he feels cool air more prominently against his skin. He realizes it's because he's leaking, the head of him going slightly damp.

"Ah ha, ha," he laughs breathily. "That's... made your point, I think."

She giggles and puts his hand back down. He feels her body heat as she leans over him. "I don't think it has, love."

"Oh, oh.... kay..." he manages before her lips land beside his windpipe and he instinctively bares his whole throat to her, head tilted back over the arm of the chair.

Tav giggles against his skin as she kisses down the length of his neck and back up again, paying special attention to the place where his pulse point would be if he had a pulse. He nearly gets it together enough to scold her for straying so close to his ear when she kisses down once more and continues over his collarbones, then between his pectorals.

Her mouth presses and lifts down, down, following the line of his abdomen all the way. She's always careful to keep her arms on either side of him, dutifully not touching in any way that could be considered cheating. Speaking of cheating, she's getting dangerously close to...

But she veers to the side, instead placing another open-mouthed kiss over his hip bone. Astarion rolls into it with a sigh, his neglected cock seeking stimulation of any kind. He's so achingly hard and sensitive that he's nearly to the point of mindlessly attempting to rut whatever's closest.

Tav's laughter ghosts her hot breath over the crease of his thighs. Her mouth leaves him and he bites down hard on the whine that tries to escape him. He can hear her breathing hard around her words.

"Lift up a bit more for me?" she says.

With a groan, he does so, lifting himself so his hips are angled better for her. He's at the point of doing whatever she asks because she's a balm, she's soothing relief and rolling pleasure. Just barely, he manages to say, "Kisses only."

"Yes, dear," she says as she uses the softest possible nudge to get him in place.

Her mouth is back at the crease of his thigh, then the other side, gentle kisses up and down, and it is so sweet but he's losing his mind, he needs more, always more.

Tav's parted lips are soft against the root of his cock and his balls pull in tighter to him. Close, but not quite there. Not yet.

"Darling, I... I can't take... please," he breathes. "I'm so close, please."

She kisses the base once more and moves up higher, just a breath, and he preemptively smiles, waiting for her to take him in her mouth, give him his final end, relieve the ache. But she doesn't keep going up.

Tav goes down.

Just as Astarion realizes what she's about to do, she does it. A warm, teasing, slow open-mouthed kiss to his arsehole, followed by circle, and circle, and circle, and-

The blackness behind his blindfold whites out as his body rolls through its orgasm, his spend spilling from him in bursts as he shivers through it. His groan stutters out of him in pieces.

When he can move his arms again, he raises a heavy hand to pull the blindfold off his head and glares down the length of his mussed body at his partner, who leans on one hand and grins up at him from between his legs.

"That was definitely cheating," he pants.

She shrugs. "You said ears were off limits. You didn't say anything about arse."

"You're... going to get it... later." He flops back onto the chair and goes boneless. "Once my limbs are answering requests from my brain again."

#astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion bg3 #bg3 smut #kitten writes #ask box #davenswitcher #that one didn't go where I expected it to but I'm not mad

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avocado-writing · 5 months

Note

Hi, I really like the way you write BG3 party members! I had a thought for a while and wanted to request the main party with a Revenant!Tav? Imagine all the angst that comes with Tav only seeking vengeance on their killer, knowing that their time is limited (revenants have only 1 year to enact their revenge). Or maybe the companions try to find a way of making them 'alive' again, if you want a happy ending? I just think it has a lot of potential and want to know your thoughts!

this one is a bit angsty, so reader beware

My beautiful boy Astarion understands the need for revenge, and is committed to helping you get it if you help him kill Cazador. The two of you stay up late at night to discuss tactics, how you will enact your brutality upon the people who deserve it… but then Astarion realises that you do not talk about what comes after, like he does when he considers a life without his abuser. He does a little research and finally finds what a revenant is. It breaks his heart to think that you’d die at the end of your quest because… well, he loves you. He begs you to reconsider. That there are other ways. You don’t need to be like him. But you take his cheek in your hand and tell him there is no other path for you, so the two of you must just enjoy the time you have together. If he finds a way to cure you, he’s yours forever - if not, the time you have together is sacred. He wastes not a second.

Gale immediately researching about how to lift your curse, that the two of you may live a happy life together after you get your revenge. You tell him not to bother, it’s too much effort, he needs to move on and find someone better - someone with a life worth giving to him. He deserves proper, warm, and tender love, something your dead heart isn’t capable of giving. He does not listen. He doubles down, desperate to keep you in his arms. Maybe he finds some secret forgotten rite which allows you to live after you’ve killed the person who wronged you… or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he watches you die and pass on peacefully when you’re done, then does everything he can to ascend to godhood and bring your soul back into his arms. Either way, nothing will stop your wizard.

Wyll listens to your story with a heaviness in his heart, but he knows he wasn’t upfront about his past either… but that does give him an idea. One night, with no way to understand how or why, you feel your curse being lifted, life returning properly to your body. When you seek out your Blade he tries to act pleased, but there’s something weighing on him. It does not take long to realise that he has given up his soul in its entirety to Mizora in order to restore yours. You cry and wail and beat at his chest pathetically. How could he make such a trade? You are not worth it. He holds you at arm’s length to look you over and tells you you’ve always been worth it, and he’d make his choice a thousand times over again. You love him so utterly that you're brought to silence. You vow to make the best of this gift he’s given you, with him by your side.

She knows what it is like to live your last days, does Karlach. The infernal engine in her will kill her sooner rather than later, so she indulges with you. Rich food, fine wine, long evenings of partying and celebrations of life. At Baldur’s Gate you hold her after she kills Gortash, and she begs you not to follow her suit, because revenge isnt worth it. This confession just leaves you empty. There is nothing left after except hollowness. And maybe you listen to her, the two of you find a way out of your curse and go on to Avernus to live out your happiness there (or what you can muster of it) or maybe you ignore her, or your time runs out, and she is left to face the Absolute alone - and lets herself burn on that dock, because a life without you isn’t a life at all.

Lae’zel is excited about your revenge. Enthusiastic, even supportive. She does not understand the nature of your curse. Many a long evening is spent training with her so you may sharpen your abilities, and she gains a great respect for you as both a warrior and a person. Either you find a cure which allows you to be together… or too late does she find out what your revenge brings. She holds you in her arms as you pass, your final words ones of love as your body goes limp and your soul passes into a different plane. She takes a lock of your hair and keeps it on her as a reminder. It is all she has left, after all.

Shadowheart is a great supporter of you… as a Sharran. She pushes for your revenge, evangelising the merits of you killing the person who wronged you, as it’s what Lady Shar would want. But then, as a Selûnite, she begins to think differently. Life is sweeter than she believed. There is more to it than suffering, and she wants to experience the loveliness of it with you by her side. She spends her nights poring over tomes to try and cure you. Maybe she finds a way with her new goddess. If not, when you pass, she keeps you in her heart forever, trying to move on with the guidance of her new goddess, but always feeling just that little bit empty without you.

Taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kat @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget @useless-contributions @beardedladyqueen @snoozeeebee @hopeful-n-sad

#gale of waterdeep x reader #Gale of waterdeep x tav #Astarion x reader #astarion x tav #wyll x tav #wyll x reader #wyll ravengard x reader #my writing #Long post #bg3 imagine #Gale x reader #Gale x tav #lae'zel x reader #lae'zel x tav #karlach x reader #karlach x tav #shadowheart x reader #shadowheart x tav #companions x tav

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charmandabear · 10 months

Text

Ascendn't

Summary

I got mad when the game wouldn't let me hug him after the Cazador fight. So I fixed it. Plus a bit more steaminess in the graveyard scene. (Also, yes, I'm insufferable about this title.)

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Tav Rating: M Word Count: 4.5k Tags/Warnings: post-Cazador fight, Act 3 spoilers, blood kink, biting, hurt/comfort, fluff and angst, soft dom Astarion, enthusiastic consent

It's been a good 10 years since I've written fanfiction and probably about 20 since I've published any online. This boy got me down BAD. I made an AO3 account for this fucker. (Which you can find here.)

“I can do this, but I need your help.”

You’ve never heard him plead like this. He’s usually so cool and confident. He doesn’t need anyone if he can help it. But this is different. Standing over Cazador, dagger in hand, fear and desperation in his eyes.

“I’ll be free - truly, completely free. Isn’t that what you want?”

He knows how to make your heart melt and break all at the same time. Gods, yes, of course that’s what you want, more than anything in the world. For him to be free to live the life that he never got to have, the life that Cazador stole away from him. He was so young when he got turned. And if he doesn’t take this chance, then as soon as you manage to get these damned tadpoles out of your head he’ll be relegated to the shadows once again. You can’t do that to him.

But this isn’t it. This won’t give him the freedom he so desperately craves, no, deserves. It’s just another form of chains. You take a shaky breath and prepare yourself for his disapproving glare.

“I know you think this will set you free, but it won’t. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador.”

Astarion’s face goes slack, the recognition of the cycle of abuse suddenly clear. His eyes on you soften as he murmurs, “You– you’re right. I can be better than him.” He turns a steely gaze back to Cazador.

“But I’m not above enjoying this.”

With a ferocity that you haven’t yet seen in Astarion, he yanks Cazador’s head back and starts viciously stabbing into his neck. Two hundred years of pent up fury and revenge release in a matter of moments. At a certain point, he’s not even stabbing the man, but rather the idea of Cazador and everything he represents.

Eventually he slows and drops Cazador’s limp body to the ground. The dagger falls with a clatter, and Astarion takes a step back. His eyes finally come back into focus and he realizes that it’s over. Really, truly, over. He’s finally free.

His face is awash with an overwhelm of emotions that you can’t identify. He’s panting, first from the physical exertion and then the sobs that wrack his body. He lets out a howling cry filled with pain and suffering and relief and anguish and he falls to his knees, shoulders shaking. Up until this point, you and the rest of your party have been frozen to the spot as you watched Astarion claim his revenge. But something in you breaks free and you rush to his side. Where you need to be. Where you belong.

You grab him tight in your arms and curl into his neck, your own tears mixing with the blood and grime on his bare shoulder. You think with an almost sardonic humor how often your positions have been reversed. Whereas when he leaned into your neck it was often with hunger, or lust, or even just a flirty playfulness, now all you could bring is a shared pain and comfort. You plant a tender kiss just below his ear and he looks at you with tearful eyes, an unidentifiable question present. You wrap your hand around the base of his neck, fingers raking through bloodstained silver curls. Pressing your foreheads together, you sync up your breaths with his, trying to slow them back to an even rhythm. Gods, you love this man so much.

You finally dare to break the silence, whispering, “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” He lets out a weary chuckle and nods. You take one more look into those wet crimson eyes, bloodshot and tired, and smear some of Cazador’s blood left on his cheek in an attempt to wipe away his tears. He takes your hand and kisses your fingertips gently. You suddenly become aware that the other six spawn have been released from their soul-draining chains and are approaching, just as tired and sweaty as the rest of you. The two of you slowly get up to your feet, each helping the other in the process.

“Is… is it over? Is he…?” The woman you vaguely recall meeting in the flophouse in Wyrm’s Crossing, Dalyria, cautiously peers at Cazador’s body. Astarion lets out one final sigh, his breathing finally returning to normal.

“Yes. He’s gone.” He sounds like he can hardly believe it himself. As though saying the words aloud might somehow break a spell and make them untrue.

“What does that mean for us?” Petras, you think, comes up behind Dal. You do remember meeting him, feeling like he was like a knockoff version of Astarion. Trying all the same moves with half of the charm. You feel bad, now, about that judgemental assessment. He looks like such a lost little boy.

“It means you have a choice,” he says with exasperation. Sibling bonds, even when forged in fire, never die. “You can hide here, living in the shadows, like parasites.” His voice is filled with venom. “Or you can be more than what he made us to be. You can choose differently, of course. But the consequences are on your head.”

“What does it mean for them?” Dal asks, and Astarion falters slightly.

“Ah. Now that is a question…” You can tell he had been trying not to think about the seven thousand vampire spawn locked up in the dungeons. He was trying to get Sebastian out of his mind since their conversation. You don’t blame him, honestly. Astarion may have been forced to do Cazador’s bidding, but that doesn’t make the fallout from that any less reprehensible. Worse even that he was good at it.

Astarion had taken a step away from you to talk to his siblings, and you can see him beginning to spiral. You close the distance again and lay a hand on his shoulder. You can feel him start under your touch.

“Let’s release them,” you offer quietly. “They deserve the same chance you got.” You have no idea who Astarion would be right now if he hadn’t gotten kidnapped by the Illithid. If he hadn’t been on this journey, seen everything he had seen. Met you. Honestly, you don’t know who you’d even be if you hadn’t met him either. The thought alone makes you run cold.

“You’re right,” he breathes barely above a whisper. “The poor wretches in the cells are innocent. They shouldn’t have to suffer just because I-” his voice catches in his throat and you see him shake off a dark thought, “lured them here.” He reaches down to pick up Cazador’s staff - Woe, you think it’s called - with a hand still stained reddish black with the vampire’s blood. He looks at it for a moment, considering it carefully, and everything this staff had ever meant. Then he slams it on the ground, red waves of energy emanating from it, using its power to unlock every single one of the cells in the dungeon.

“They’ll need someone to lead them. Take the tunnels into the Underdark. Find somewhere… well, not safe, but less perilous.” Petras eyes light up with fear.

“What? No, we can’t-” he begins desperately, but Astarion cuts him off with a hand.

“Just try to keep them out of trouble.” The exasperated tone is back. How often had he needed to manage Petras’ emotions as much as his own? You vaguely wonder if Petras looked to Astarion as a role model. The other six spawn walk off slowly, exhausted but clearly relieved to be starting anew.

You turn to Astarion, who has just finished redonning his armor that Cazador had stripped him of. His gaze is glassy; you’ve seen this look before, sometimes even when you’re in bed together. He might as well be a million miles away. You gently touch his arm to bring him back to you. He jumps slightly, then a wan smile touches his lips, but not his eyes.

“That’s it. He’s gone. After all these years – these centuries – it’s really over.” He shuffles his feet, antsy and tired at the same time. You hesitate a moment, unsure of the best way to respond, but you finally settle on, “I’m proud of you. You did the right thing.” His smile isn’t free of bitterness.

“I’m glad you think so, because I’m not so sure.” His eyes flick up back to you, but that glassy look has returned. “I just feel numb. What I’ve lost, what I’ve gained – it’s all so much. And gods, all those spawn, free in the Underdark. I need some time, I think. Just to let it all sink in.” You reach out to touch his face comfortingly. Your heart sinks as he gently pushes your hand away, but it settles when he doesn’t let go of it.

“Let’s just go. This place reeks of death and I want to feel alive again.” He gives your fingers a small squeeze and then walks off ahead of your party, making his way down the long corridor into Cazador’s dungeon. Well, not Cazador’s anymore. You briefly wonder what’s going to happen to this place.

At the end of the hallway, you see the Gur standing there, too late to be even remotely useful. You struggle to keep a scowl off your face. You hate how they treated Astarion in your last encounter. You could be sympathetic of their pain, of course; they’ve lost so much to Astarion’s actions. But the fact that they offered no sympathy for him back, the fact that they could barely acknowledge that he was a victim himself? Absolutely despicable.

Ulma stands at the head of the group, and her scowl matches yours. “You killed one vampire, but released seven thousand of his spawn? Have you lost all sense?”

“They were innocents. To kill them would have been an even greater crime.” Astarion couldn’t possibly sound more tired. You don’t blame him, these are the last people he wants to defend himself against right now.

“Some of those innocents are your fucking kids,” you grumble under your breath, hopefully not enough for Ulma to hear, but just enough for Astarion’s benefit. It’s clear that she couldn’t when she retorts, “And our children? What of their fate?”

“Cazador turned everyone we brought him into spawn. I can only assume your children are somewhere in those wretched cells. You’ll find them in the Underdark, although you may not like what you find.” The grief is plain in Ulma’s face, as well as the rest of the Gur. You feel a little more sympathy for them, but still no warmth.

“This is…” Ulma searches for the right word to capture the enormity of the situation, “difficult news.” She probably could’ve done better. “We will need to decide what this means.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “Thank you for what you have done – slaying Cazador was a great justice. As for the rest… well, time will tell.” Astarion nods curtly, and you’re relieved to be able to push past them and leave.

You and your party finally trudge back to Elfsong Tavern to rest. The rest of your companions are eager to gossip about the day’s events, everyone having something to say. You shield Astarion from their nosiness and distract them while he bathes in the tub in the corner, washing away more than just the physical dirt.

Later that evening as everyone else is beginning to tuck into bed, Astarion comes to you, finally ready to talk again. You can smell his signature fragrance, an earthy citrus with an undertone of spice, and it’s positively intoxicating. You’ve grown to really love that smell, and even the slightest whiff makes your head spin. For the first time maybe ever since you met, his eyes look… soft. Almost warm, even.

“I should probably start getting used to the shadows, again,” he muses with a light smile. “Who knows how long I have left in the sun?” Your heart drops. This had been your greatest fear, that he would feel resentful of the fact that you convinced him not to go through with the ritual, thereby committing him to an indefinite lifetime in the darkness. You know how much he’s grown to love the feeling of the sun on his skin. Not to mention how it makes his skin look, soft and kissable.

“Don’t say that,” you plead with him. “We could still find a way to control the tadpole.” He shakes his head, his freshly washed curls bouncing slightly.

“Maybe, but even if I could control it, it’s a dangerous game. I’d spend every day waiting for something to go wrong. For the tadpole to find a new trick, reassert itself, make me a slave again.” His eyes grow lighter, discovering the truth of what he’s saying as he says it. “Maybe never seeing the sun again is just the price of freedom.” You reach out and give his arm a reassuring squeeze, relishing the feel of his cool, toned arm beneath the warm linen. Even after all this time, being this close to him makes you a little lightheaded. You feel the blood rush to your cheeks and neck, almost as though it’s aching to be drunk.

“I’ll be with you either way,” you breathe softly. You can’t help but glance at his lips. “I hope you know that.”

“I think I do.” He sounds genuine, a bit of a rarity for him. Lest anyone believes Astarion to have a sincere bone in his body, he adds, “Assuming we survive, of course. Because a horrible death is always just around the corner with you.” You playfully shove his shoulder for teasing you. He laughs and gently pulls you in by your lower back and you feel the heat rising again. Your breath catches as his eyes rake over your body and face. He lingers on your lips for a moment before darting back up to your eyes.

“There’s… something I’d like to show you, if that’s alright? Something out in the city.” He cocks his head and looks at you with an almost impossible combination of bashfulness and lust. Being this close to him and breathing in his heady scent makes you dizzy. You manage to recover just enough to quip, “If you want to sneak off for a cuddle, you can just ask.” He lets you go and you feel a significant drop in your internal temperature.

“I’ll try to restrain myself if you do,” he says with a cheeky smile. He takes you gently by the hand and leads you out the Elfsong Tavern.

The graveyard is quiet, almost serene. Astarion walks forward towards a tombstone covered in ivy and, with something bordering on reverence, brushes the vines away to reveal the text engraved in the crumbling stone.

Astarion Ancunin 1229 DR - 1268 DR

He wipes the dirt off his hands and steps back next to you to get a better view of the stone. You stand together in silence for a moment, as if in prayer.

“Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there.” His gaze is overtaken by that glassy look, the one you recognize to be him reliving his trauma. “I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt. Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting. From that day on I was his.” He sneers at the memory. Then he pauses, considering, “Until today.”

He comes back to himself with a shake of his head, and his eyes return to this plane. He adds, as much to himself as to you, “Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.”

“And what do you want?” Your mouth is dry as you ask the question. You can hope for the answer, but you wouldn’t dare presume. He might need to figure that out on his own, and if that’s the case, you will respect that.

He turns to face you, his red eyes full of more warmth than you’ve ever seen. Your heart leaps into your throat as he smiles and says, “You… I want you.

“You were by my side through all of this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You cared.” As he’s speaking your heart starts beating loudly, blood pumping through your arteries at an almost vulgar rate. You know he can tell, and he chuckles softly. Cupping his hand below your ear and gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, he adds teasingly, “You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do.” He pulls you even closer and rests his forehead against yours. You could never get tired of this. As much as you love those moments filled with heat and lust, there’s something so tender about these intimate gestures that aren’t about sex.

“I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don’t want to lose that.” You grasp at the back of his shirt, looking for purchase as you fall so much more deeply for him. Your voice is barely above a whisper as you breathe, “You won’t. Whatever comes next, I’ve got you.”

“Thank you.”

You two stand there for what feels like both an eternity and a fraction of a second before he pulls away and looks at the grave again.

“Well. I should probably fix this.” He pulls a dagger from his belt with practiced fingers and kneels beside the stone, carving something into it. You kneel beside him and see that it now reads

Astarion Ancunin 1229 DR - 1268 DR 1492 DR -

His new life. For the first time in two hundred years, he can call it his own. You find yourself at a loss of what to do, or what to add, so you self-consciously pick up a nearby wildflower and gently place it at the base of his gravestone. He glances at you sideways and smirks, “Cute.” You both sit back on your heels to admire his work. He heaves a great sigh, letting go of centuries of tension and fear.

“I’ve been dead in the ground for long enough. It’s time to start living again.” He turns to you and takes your hands. “With everything life has to offer.” His voice has taken on that gravelly tone that sends a shiver up your spine. You don’t want to pressure him, of course, but your desire for his touch is getting harder to ignore. These gentle grazes, lovely though they’ve been, have set your skin aflame.

“Meaning…?”

His eyes glint mischievously and that familiar flirty lilt comes back to his voice. “If a night of passion is on offer, I could be persuaded.” Your body leans toward him instinctively, breath heavy in your chest. The words are out of your mouth before your brain catches up, “Sounds good to me.” He gets close to your face and you can feel his breath on your lips before he pulls away suddenly. He’s teasing you, and you know that he’s relishing in the satisfaction of it.

“You know,” he says with a feigned innocence, as though he doesn’t know the effect he has on you, “I didn’t care for you when we first met.” The sudden shift in tone knocks you back to reality, and you can’t help but laugh. He impishly glances up at you through his lashes.

“But I do now. Being with you is about more than lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance.” He takes your hand, cheekiness gone, and looks you squarely in the eye with a rare earnestness. “I love you. I love this. And I want it all.” You will never tire of hearing those words. He reaches behind your ear and tenderly pulls you closer to him, finally giving your lips the reprieve they’ve been so desperate for. It’s a soft kiss, gentle, yet it still makes you burn up inside.

He pulls away far too soon, and you gaze back at him with starry eyes. His features is soft and smiley, but in an instant he raises on his knees so he’s towering over you and he takes on that stern expression that makes your temperature rise. He shoves you back onto your elbows before bending down to crawl up your torso hungrily. He kisses you again, this time with more intensity. He pins you down with the weight of his chest and then traps you further by nudging your leg up with his knee, eliciting a small gasp of surprise from you. You couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. And you most certainly don’t want to.

His body presses against yours and you curl your leg around him, pulling him tighter. An almost imperceptible grunt escapes his lips and you smile through your kiss. You can feel his smile in return and you lace your fingers into his silvery hair. He deepens the kiss, rolling his hips harder against you and your mouth opens involuntarily. He takes advantage of this momentary lapse and makes his way toward your neck, marking the trail with kisses. You seize up and your fingers tighten in his hair, encouraging him silently. But he needs more than that, and you know exactly how he’ll respond.

“Use your words,” he hums between kisses. You squirm beneath him, trying to sound even remotely dignified.

“You can,” you manage to gasp out as you try to suppress the moans that his lips are tearing from your throat. He flicks his tongue right over his usual puncture wounds and then gently trails it up the shell of your ear. You shiver with the intensity of it all.

“I can… what? I can’t know unless you tell me.” How the fuck does his voice stay this even? You can bearly even think straight, let alone string full sentences together. And yet he remains calm, nigh indifferent to the effect he’s having on you. But as cool as he is on the surface, you know how much he wants it. You both love the teasing, each night a challenge to see who can outlast the other.

“You can bite me,” you breathe and he nips at your ear ever so lightly, causing you to choke out the last few words, “if you want.”

“If I want? But what do you want?” He emphasizes the pronouns in a singsongy tone, and even hearing “I” and “you” in the same sentence does it for you. He’s still grinding against you all while assaulting your neck with filthy kisses. You try to remember what words are.

“I want you,” you gasp, trying to keep your words legible, “to bite me.” You suck in sharply through your teeth as he hitches your leg up a little higher. He grabs both of your wrists in one hand and pins them above your head.

“Are you sure?” his tone is still infuriatingly innocent. He knows how much you want this, and you know what he wants in return. You’re not quite ready to give it to him yet. But gods how you wish he would break first tonight. Odds aren’t looking great as his free hand slips behind your lower back causing you to arch it off the ground slightly.

“Yes,” you groan in agony as his lips continues their heinous walk up and down your neck and collarbone. “Please, Astarion. I want you to.” He nips you again at the same time that he presses his thigh right at the apex between your legs. He tightens his grip on your wrists and whispers sharply in your ear.

“Beg for it.”

That’s it. You’ve lost. You cry out in a delicious mix of pain and pleasure. The words come tumbling out of you, unbidden and unburdened.

“Please, Astarion, bite me. Please please please. Bite me. I want to feel your fangs pierce my skin. I want to know the feeling of my blood inside you. Gods, please, I can’t take it any longer and if you don’t bite me soon I think I might-”

Thank the realms that he cuts you off in that moment, acquiescing to your begging, because you have no idea how you planned to finish that sentence. The sharp moment of pleasure as he sinks in, followed by the loveliness of feeling your blood flow into his mouth. It makes you feel slightly lightheaded, and the high it gives you is better than any you might hope to achieve on Elendren pipeweed. The gentle feeling of his tongue lapping at your neck contrasts beautifully with the sharp tension of him sucking the blood out of you. You can feel him starting to get lost in your neck, his grip on your wrists loosening. You use this moment of vulnerability in Astarion to get him back by arching your back even more to move your hips against his. You hear the sudden intake of breath through his nose and you smile to yourself smugly. He knows what you did and isn’t about to take it lying down, metaphorically speaking.

Once he’s had his fill he draws away from your neck, lips stained red with your blood. He sits up again, one knee between your legs as he looks down on you. He tsks quietly as he shakes his head, drawling, “So naughty. What am I to do with you?” You prop yourself up on your elbows and return his gaze wickedly, your blood tickling your neck as it drips down toward your shoulder. He swipes at the drop with a long pale finger and lasciviously sucks your blood off his fingertip. Your smug grin is back, knowing how weak he is for you.

His face drops into that stern expression again, but this time a devilish smile plays on his lips. He puts his hand on your chest gently, then takes a hard turn as he grabs you by the throat. Not enough to be painful, nor enough to constrict your breathing, but just enough for him to have control. He studies your face for a moment, admiring its beauty, before he yanks you upward commanding you to look him in the eye. He leans in for a forceful kiss as he keeps his hand tight beneath your jaw. You start to lose yourself in the kiss, melting into him, and he takes the opportunity to sharply push you away, his pointer lingering on your chin to show that he’s still in control of where you look. He lets you go and leans back confidently, enjoying how you’ve become extremely pliable in his hands.

He stands to loom over you for a second more, then reaches for your hand to pull you up. You’re completely under his power and couldn’t be more than happy to give him whatever he wants. You take his hand and he pulls it behind his back, pressing your chest into his.

“You’d better be good for me,” he murmurs against your lips, once again denying the kiss you ache for. “We wouldn’t want to punish any bad behavior, now would we?” He caresses your face momentarily and then turns with your hand still in his and pulls you toward… somewhere. Honestly, you couldn’t care where. You love him, and you love this, and you’ll go wherever he leads.

#astarion fanfiction #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #astarion angst #astarion fluff

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mimsynims · 11 months

Text

Fool For Love

part 7

~~~

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

~~~

Author’s Note: I wish I could say that this part wrap things up, but I need at least one (probably two) more before these two get their shit together.

More act 2 spoilers this time!

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: (mildish?) angst, pining, pining while fucking, jealousy, minor Karlach/Dammon, eventual happy ending

Summary: You thought you knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn’t have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only…now you do.

And you’re not handling it very well.

~~~

You’re at the edge of the camp when a hand curls around your arm, forcing you to stop and turn around.

Astarion.

And he looks angry.

“Were you spying on me?”

Thrown by the accusation, you grapple for words. “What? I– Of course not, why would I–”

“Just because Karlach chose Dammon over you, you don’t get to spoil my fun.”

The strange remark about Karlach is quickly overshadowed by his downright ludicrous allegation. “What the hell are you talking about?!”

Astarion carries on as if he didn’t hear you. “You were the one to break things off with me, not the other way around, so you don’t have any say in what or who I do.”

The audacity. “And I wasn’t trying to!”

“Sure, darling, sure.” Sarcasm drips off his words. “That’s why you followed me to the inn.”

“I–” You break off, because, in a way, he’s not wrong. “My intention was to have a drink.”

“If that was true, you wouldn’t have run off when I caught you watching me. Watching us.”

“Astarion, I don’t give a rat’s arse who you sleep with.” The lie slips off your tongue before you can stop it — the alternative is telling him the truth, and right now, that’s not an option. You feel too vulnerable, and honestly, you doubt he’d believe you at this point. “I only left to not make it awkward.”

“Really?” His smile feels vicious, mocking. “Perhaps I should go back to the inn, then.”

The urge to ask him not to is so strong you remain silent until you have yourself under control. “You do that,” you finally press out, “as I said, I don’t care what you do.”

Astarion takes a step closer, searching your face. Your heart is pounding as he scrutinises you; it’s as if he’s determining the validity of your claim. Will he see right through you? A part of you hopes that he will, and as the seconds go by, your determination wavers. Should you risk it?

“Astarion…”

“Fine.” His face hardens. “Have it your way. I’ll see you tomorrow, oh fearless leader.”

With a slight bow, one that feels tinged with scorn rather than respect, he turns around and leaves the same way he came. Towards the inn.

Towards…

“You’re such an idiot, Tav.” You drag a hand across your face. This is the second time he walks away from you, and it hurts just as much as the first time it happened. “Such a fucking idiot.”

If you were tired before, you’re exhausted now.

Perhaps it’s time you take a hint and focus on more important things, like getting these goddamn tadpoles out of your heads.

And maybe by then, things will have worked themselves out. Somehow.

It’s a good thing you’re not expected to be up early the next morning because when dawn comes around, you’ve barely slept at all. Too many thoughts, too many feelings.

You can hear some of the others stir, but you ignore it. And perhaps the comforting background noise of your friends talking and preparing breakfast is exactly what you need to finally relax, because the next thing you know, you fall asleep.

When you wake up, the only ones left in camp are Gale and Shadowheart. And Withers, of course.

“Oooh, look who’s finally awake! Late night for you as well, huh?”

Gale is far too cheery for your taste, but you bite back the snarky comeback because it’s not his fault you feel like shit.

“No, just…”

Shadowheart offers you a sympathetic smile. “Nightmares?”

It’s a convenient lie, so you simply nod, because the truth is far too complicated.

“Where are the rest?” You don’t really want to know, but it’s something you should be asking. So you do.

“Around, somewhere. Haven’t seen Astarion or Karlach, though.”

“Ah. I think I know why.”

So he stayed the night somewhere else, too.

Once you’ve eaten something, you and the rest go back to the inn. Finding Karlach sitting with Dammon is no surprise, but Astarion is nowhere to be found.

No matter, you tell yourself. There are more important things to worry about.

There are a lot of familiar faces to talk to, keeping you busy. So busy you don’t even notice when Astarion joins the rest of you — suddenly he’s just there, in the back. A quick glance lets you know that he looks about as worn-out as you feel, and you can’t help but wonder if he stayed up all night with that person you saw.

Inhaling a deep breath, you tell yourself to focus on the matter at hand, which is listening to Alfira. It seems it’s time for another rescue mission because of course it is. You’re tired and the increasing burden tests your already frayed patience, but Alfira isn’t the one to blame, so you rein yourself in.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, a small voice tells you to take a break, but you ignore it.

You visit Isobel last — and it’s lucky that you do. The attack comes from out of nowhere, catching you all off guard. You don’t want to think what would have happened if Isobel was alone.

It’s a tough battle — made even more difficult by the fact that you’re not on top of your game. You’re struggling, and it’s no one’s fault but your own.

You’re fortunate that you and your friends work like a well-oiled machine by now — because you will all be doomed if you fail. It warms your heart to realise that even in the midst of your falling out with Astarion, he doesn’t hesitate to fight back-to-back with you when it comes down to it.

In the end, your side comes out winning, but not without losses. You yourself have several cuts and bruises that will need tending to, but you ignore them in favour of checking on everyone yourself. You may not be the leader of people currently residing at the inn, but your neglect makes you feel responsible either way.

“Tav.”

“What is it, Astarion?”

“Stop it with this good samaritan nonsense and go see a healer, would you? You’re leaving a trail of blood all over this place, and I think they have enough problems as it is without having to clean up after you.”

His usual snark is both annoying and comforting. “Maybe once I’m done.”

“You are done. Now, Tav.”

You have intentionally been refusing to look at him until now, but his tone has you shifting your head to glare at him. It seems someone has patched him up already, as you can see bandages on his lower arm and hand. “Astarion, you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“I will most definitely tell you what to do when you’re being a stubborn idiot. These people already have a leader.”

You know he’s right, but guilt is eating you up and this is the only way to placate the monster of shame inside you. “That doesn’t matter–”

“Tav.” Halsin and Karlach join Astarion’s side, both giving you a worried look. “That’s enough.”

“Right. Fine.” You may have won the fight, but you feel like a failure, knowing how many lives were lost tonight. “I’ll go and find Shadowheart.”

You have no idea what she sees on your face, but it’s enough to have her hold back any remarks and tend to your many wounds in silence. As you’re coming down from the adrenaline rush, you start to feel weary and disappointed with yourself.

“You should eat something. Rest.”

“Later.” You know she’s right, but you’re too restless still to heed her advice. “I need to, I don’t know.” Rising, you make a vague motion with your hand. “Walk things off first.” What you really need is to fall into someone’s arms and cry, but that’s not on the table.

“At least bring an apple or something,” she concedes. “And make sure to return before nightfall, or I’ll send Astarion after you.”

You open your mouth to object but close it again. That’s the perfect threat right now and you hate that she knows it. “Fine.”

“We just want you to be careful, Tav. We all need each other, you know.”

You sigh. “I know. I promise I won’t be gone long.”

“Good. And for what it’s worth, it wasn’t your fault.”

Wasn’t it, though? You catch Astarion watching you as you leave. He better not follow you.

For everyone’s sake, you need to be alone. Now, and until this whole tadpole situation has been dealt with.

No more distractions.

~~~

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x tav #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 spoilers #fic wip

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lipstickghoulie · 9 months

Text

Crimson Plots

•Astarion/female Tav (lots and lots of menstrual and blood talk, period oral, period sex, dirty talk, Astarion being manipulative since this is set around act one, PIV, creampie. Over 5k words. Could be seen as a sequel to my “Loss of Innocence” drabble or not. Version with breeding kink is available on my ao3)•

The first time that Astarion had sniffed out that Tav was on her menstrual cycle was the same night that they made camp after their rather tumultuous initial impression. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, beyond being moody since it was clear that she was on the tail end of it since the smell was so faint as to be nearly imperceptible even to Astarion’s nose. He knew that, even as charming as he could be under the right circumstances, there was no possible way that he could see himself talking his silver tongued self into her pants before the time had passed for him to try such a rare treat… especially since he had been holding a dagger against her neck earlier that day. His luck, or lack thereof at the time, had made him even more broody even though it was doubtful that he would have gone against Cazador’s edicts that early on.

Cazador’s rules about not drinking from thinking creatures, unfortunately, had extended to women on their periods. The few spawn that had been willing to test how serious that their master had been about that warning were found out very quickly and been made into violent, stomach-turning examples that still made Astarion shudder to think about to this day. How exactly the bastard had known that those unlucky spawn had indulged on the fine red between someone’s legs was anyone’s guess and not something that Astarion had felt wasn’t worth his time to poke the boundaries of personally when he was already frequently on Cazador’s shit list in those days anyhow. Why add more tortures and indignities on the pile?

But a few weeks later, Astarion was still a free man and away from Cazador’s rules and compulsions. He had already fed on Tav’s lovely neck and nothing had happened. He had finagled himself into her bed and hopefully her loyalties. Things were definitely looking up for him… and he began realizing that this chance might come up again with him having full opportunity to lap at a different source of her blood. Why not break this rule too? He liked eating pussy, especially Tav’s sweet pussy, so he couldn’t stop thinking about how much more delicious it might be while juicy with her sanguine fluids.

Some might uncharitably call what Astarion started doing as scheming. The fact that in the days leading up to when he guessed that her period might be starting, he became a lot more amenable to Tav’s do-gooding inclinations. That he had a placidly encouraging smile on his face instead of his typical scowl when she glanced at him after helping some pathetic and downtrodden soul for free, that he would give her an encouraging pat on the shoulder (even if half-hearted) instead of crossing his arms over his chest at the thought of Tav assisting these people who didn’t deserve her generosity. She didn’t seem to catch on that he might be up to something and merely seemed grateful to not deal with any pushback on her decision making. Some people would definitely call what he was attempting as plotting when he started squirreling away the choicest food supplies when they would be looting all of those thousands of tedious barrels and wooden trunks during their adventures. A cinnamon roll here, a shiny apple there… all tucked away into Astarion’s pack for him to kindly present to her later with a tender smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

When she responded with a huge hug and watery, appreciative smile that seemed a bit too emotional for the gift of simple snacks, Astarion could barely hide his grin. She seemed hormonal, even her scent changing into something headier and muskier, and hopefully that meant that his desired goal wasn’t too far off.

And when the next day came around and he could catch a whiff of blood coming from Tav’s tent after they started making camp for the night? The smile on his face was definitely predatory and sharp. Astarion ducked into his own tent just to grab a fluffy towel, that he had nicked for this express purpose the last time that they had traded with a merchant, before sauntering over to her own canvas enclosure.

He almost felt bad when he lifted up her tent flap without greeting her first and walked right into Tav getting changed, her nudity on full display. Every soft curve of her physique, every enticing muscle, all calling to him as she yelped Astarion’s name in shock at the intrusion.

“Sorry, my love,” Astarion said immediately, though his inflection spelled out that he was anything but sorry and was, in fact, enjoying the view. The iron rich, cloying scent of blood was even stronger in here and it was enough for his mouth to feel parched in sheer, reeling want. Hells, if that’s what her moon’s blood smelt like, it must taste even better than he had been imagining. “I caught the scent of blood and I thought that I should come check on you, make sure that you aren’t injured?”

Tav winced, both in embarrassment and in pain, touching a spot on her lower stomach as she seemed to prioritize that over trying to be modest over her bare frame. She paused before stuttering out quietly, “Ah, uh, no. I’m not hurt. I mean, not really. It’s my… period? And while I have cramps, I’m not, like, dying or anything…”

She stopped talking and chewed on her bottom lip, face pinking in humiliation. Tav was so adorable in his eyes right now. So bashful over normal bodily functions and clearly having no idea that this was practically catnip to a vampire.

Astarion stalked forward, giving her his most sympathetic pout and sheepdogging her over to where her simple and plain bedroll lay sprawled out. He murmured, “Oh, pet, that is so unfortunate. I really hate to see you in pain like this. If you’d permit me to, I could help you out, chase those mean old cramps right away? I have heard that pleasure can make them subside for a while.”

The towel was already being unfurled in his hands and laid out over her bedroll to protect it from any messes that may occur. Astarion was nothing if not benevolent about spilled blood. Tav blinked at him a few times in confusion but didn’t protest as he took her shoulders in his hold and delicately guided her down to sit on the protective layer of cotton.

“You mean… like sex? I thought that men didn’t like doing that when women were in this state,” Tav squeaked out, puzzled and blushing even harder at his offer. “I would hate it if you were disgusted by me after this, Astarion.”

Obviously he meant to do a lot more than sex but as always, Tav’s naivety was so twee.

Astarion crooned, nearly sugary in tone, “I could never be disgusted by you, dear Tav. I want to do this and I’d love to help you out. Consider it a favor between lovers. But only if you want to, of course.”

That last part was one that he actually could say that he meant. Astarion might have been a tad grumpy if she said no but he’d accept it with no ill will. But how he hoped that she’d say yes and he knelt in front of her in anticipation, unable to stop his heated gaze from flicking over the apex where legs met and where all of her tempting sanguine offerings pooled where he couldn’t quite see yet.

There was a beat of silence, then two, then Tav nodded and laid back a little. Her movements seemed unsure but it was more out of self consciousness than reluctance to let him do this, which was good enough for him. Astarion hastily pulled his shirt off over his head and threw it into the corner of her tent to recover later. It wouldn’t do to stain it when they both knew already that he was already a messy eater when it came to only her neck. With a beaming and victorious grin, he tapped her knees apart so he could survey his prize.

She was even more jawdroppingly stunning than he thought she’d be, with her center tearing up with the most impressive red drops, like rubies calling to him and glimmering under the light. Some of her blood hued darker in some areas, almost black, and he couldn’t wait to test out if the difference in color meant a difference in flavor. Astarion scooted closer until he was close enough for his breath to ghost over her responsive folds and cool the liquid there, making Tav shiver.

His tongue chased the thick river of blood up her upper thigh, clearing a path up her skin that revealed a cute little vein in her flesh. Astarion immediately nipped at with his sharp teeth, unable to resist marking somewhere that he knew he would return to later, like a reminder to himself. Tav’s moan broke off in an admonishing shriek of surprise, though it quieted when Astarion soothed the bite with another long, lingering lick and batted his eyelashes at her contritely from his spot between her legs.

Gods, he knew that he should be careful. With the metallic and deliciously bright pop of her monthly blood coating his tastebuds, it was getting harder and harder to pretend that he was doing this solely for Tav’s benefit and simply doing her a favor that she would have to repay to him at a later time. All she’d have to do is look below the waist and she would catch on to how Astarion’s straining erection pushed at the front of his breeches and begged for relief, precum dotting the dark fabric in a way that he couldn’t ever remember happening before. Normally his arousal was not dripping down the length of his dick as if it was crying with want at the mere thought of being buried in a tight, needy hole.

“Is this helping at all, pet?” Astarion asked in a carefully put-together tone of concern. He was just trying so hard to help her out, after all. “Or do you need a bit… more?”

And without waiting for an answer, just to give Tav a small taste of what he was offering while he received a taste of his own in return, Astarion made confident eye contact with her as he slowly dragged the tip of his tongue up the frills of her clit.

The way that Tav moaned out his name was more beautiful than any song he’s ever heard, more of a masterwork than the best blade forged by the most skilled of blacksmiths. The breathless and shocked undertone was something extra that made his dick twitch against the fabric prison of his pants. Thankfully he had been too eager when plotting out this excursion and had foregone his usual underwear so that was one less barrier. Resigned now that he needed to free himself, Astarion hastily reached down and unlaced the front, finally letting his cock spring free with a sigh of relief. It leaked a few stray drops of clear precum onto the towel underneath them but with how Tav was already starting to paint it crimson as she dripped under his steady attention, he wasn’t too worried about her noticing.

Astarion sweetly pressed a kiss against her clit. Tav tried to jerk away instinctively, her knee almost knocking Astarion in the cheek as her leg reared out. His hands shot back up to grasp her by the upper thighs and firmly hold her open for both his eyes and mouth to devour at his leisure. He didn’t think he had ever seen a more delicious sight as Tav trembling, eyes wide and pupils dilated, as he spread her apart to admire the way her arousal and blood mixed together and drenched her lower lips and down the curves of her ass.

“What’s the matter? Doesn’t it feel good? Aren’t I helping your pretty pussy feel so loved?” Astarion asked innocently, his thumbs rubbing circles into the meat of her thighs as he stared up at her from his kneeling position. “It would be rude to stop me now before I’ve even gotten enough of a taste to satiate me, you know…”

“P-please continue, I just got startled-“ Poor Tav stammered out, cheeks turning an adorable shade of bright pink that made Astarion want to make her even more flustered, just to see how far down that blush might travel.

Astarion was already leaning forward to deliver another mockery of a chaste kiss to her swollen clit. Though he couldn’t resist flicking his tongue out before he pulled back this time to trace the pearl slowly, making sure that some of his saliva drooled out past his smiling fangs to coat it until it was glistening. Oh, it really felt right to him for her to be coated or filled with Astarion’s spit and cum. As much as he was using her for his own purposes, he really did love marking Tav up as his in any form that he could. A traitorous part of his mind slithered and snickered and pointed out how awfully obsessive he was over a woman that he was just using, but Astarion ignored that voice in the back of his head as well as he ever did… if a bit uneasily.

Enough playing with his food. Tav was turned on enough that she was pliable, distracted and surely wouldn’t notice how much fun that Astarion was having. He would prime the pump, so to speak, and then have the sweetest meal that he could ever look forward to. One of his hands fell off of their holding position on her leg to slip between her folds, two fingers sliding right into her slippery, inviting core. Even with how sensitive that Tav probably was right now, he met no resistance so after a few unhurried pumps into her, he added another finger.

Tav’s cunt struggled to take the width of three fingers but much like she did with his cock usually, the greedy slit still stretched and sucked his fingers in wetly. Astarion never forgot in moments like this that he was the only one to ever touch her like this, the only one to ever defile her holes and fuck her, and pride swelled inside of him at the thought. He would make damn sure that he remained the only one to ever possess her so completely too, if he was able to continue using his cunning to stay in her good graces like this even after the illithid threat was taken care of.

Her hands reached out desperately, trying to grab onto Astarion’s forearms so wildly that she nicked him with her nails, her voice shaking and high pitched as he worked at her with his wicked fingers, “A-Astarion, that feels so nice, please…”

“Aw, I know, I know, you poor thing,” Astarion tutted in false sympathy, shaking his head. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head; I’ll take such good care of you and make those pesky cramps go away.”

Tav’s crimson liquid was drenching Astarion’s hands, a mixture of it and her juices running down the planes of his palm and wrist by now. The metallic and animalistic scent of sex and blood was so heavy in the air that Astarion could feel his mouth watering. He knew he’d have blood packed deep under his fingernails after this for days and normally, the thought of anything messing up his perfectly manicured nails would have infuriated him but now? The idea of seeing the reminder of this delightful excursion even while putting a dagger into an enemy’s spine during battle was very appealing indeed.

On the next come-hither movement into her pussy, Astarion’s fingertips glanced upon that spongy section that made her twitch and keen out his name again. He couldn’t help the grin that pulled at his lips as he immediately pressed forward harder, increasing his speed between words as he crowed out triumphantly, “Right there, darling? Show me just how great it feels when I touch… you… right… there… my good girl.”

Astarion had made thousands upon thousands of people come before; he had it down to a precise science what he could do to make someone, anyone, lose their composure in minutes. But it never had felt like this before as Tav’s walls squeezed around his fingers and she found her climax. He usually never felt anything at all but with her, he felt smug, excited, hungry… he tried his best to chalk it up to being starving and surrounded by blood even as that small voice deep in his brain laughed at him.

Tav didn’t even have a moment to catch her breath before Astarion was spreading her open again and descending on her. He had delayed his gratification as much as he was willing to now, he wasn’t a patient man and he had been practically saintly in the restraint that he had shown tonight (at least in Astarion’s opinion). He took a few testing licks of the leaking trails of Tav’s cum and life force mixed and gods above and below, it was a good thing that he wasn’t standing otherwise his knees would have buckled and he would have crumpled like someone being released from a ‘hold person’ spell.

Her blood was always the best that he had ever supped and that went beyond simple-minded sentimentality at how she had been the first thinking and humanoid creature that he had fed from. It made him feel more awake, almost alive, in addition to tasting like the most bubbly and effervescent (if metallic) wine he had ever enjoyed. It tasted even better right now though and while Astarion couldn’t tell if it was because it was coming from her pussy or because of her orgasm, all that he knew was that he couldn’t get enough.

“Fuck,” he breathed, then caught a clot of blood on the flat of his tongue, closing his eyes in bliss for a moment as he swallowed thickly. It slid down his throat like some sort of exotic jellied syrup and he knew in that moment that the time for teasing was over. Any former illusion that he had of restraint was gone and as dead as he was.

Astarion’s mouth dove to seal over her as he moved now to bully as much of his tongue into her as possible. Her voice seemed far away now, partially because of her thighs trying to push themselves closed around his ears, though that just added to the pleasure for him as her soft skin rubbed against the erogenous points of his ears. Thankfully she seemed to still be very much into this if the garbled cries of “yes” and “Astarion” were any indication. Though the way that her hole clenched and kindly produced more liquid of both arousal and the crimson variety was definitely another sign that Tav did not want him to stop. Not that Astarion was sure that he could, not when he felt drunk on her, addicted past all logical reasoning and rationality, his tongue pistoning into her like something more machine than vampire, his grip desperately trying to pull her closer as her blood ran down his chin and neck like juices being let loose from a freshly bitten peach.

After these dreadful business with the Absolutist cult and everything else was done and dusted, Astarion decided (rather deliriously), that he would have Tav tied up and spread open for his feasting pleasures during her monthly menstruations every month for the rest of their lives. Just a perfect treat, helpless to the ravages of his mouth as he drank his fill of her until his stomach was full and she was limp and mindless from countless orgasms. She was rather squirmy right now so he thought she might even thank him next time if he restrained her and licked at her while he placed her on his face to sit on it. Why not take advantage of how Astarion didn’t need to breathe? Yes, this seemed like a fine plan to him, even if he was normally adverse to planning things out at all.

This was a fantastic position too though, with Tav on her back and Astarion looming over her, even if her hands had become too weak to grab at him further and just clutched at the towel still doing its best to absorb any falling bodily fluids underneath her sweaty frame. Astarion already knew that he would spirit that towel away later under the guise of being helpful and trying to help launder it. Really, it would end up disappearing into his tent for him to hold up against his nose and inhale during the times that he would jerk himself off to this memory, to let the lingering traces of Tav’s fluids guide his mind back to this place mentally when he was alone.

Astarion nudged his nose into the swollen ridge of Tav’s clit on the next thrust of his tongue into her and unexpectedly, that was enough to make her cum again. She whimpered this time instead of wailing as his mouth was rewarded with a gush of sticky, aroused blood. Astarion had enough volume for both of them though as he groaned so loudly into her cunt that he was sure that his tongue vibrated where it was happily trapped within her spasming, gummy walls. His precum was dribbling off of his erection in persistent streams now, even wetting his heavy and wanting balls, and he truly knew that if he didn’t bury his dick deeply and thoroughly into her soon, he would go mad beyond help. She had bewitched him with the tang of her gifted blood and now his brain swirled with nothing but thoughts of Tav, of owning and taking and ravishing her in every position possible (and some that probably weren’t, anatomy-wise).

Almost regretfully, Astarion backed up slightly and let his tongue free from her wonderful cunt, taking one last lap of enjoyment at a cheeky river of blood that had escaped his notice. Tav was starting to sit up, giving him a dopey and grateful smile as she said, “Oh, Astarion, I already feel so much better, my cramps feel like they’re nearly gone, thank you!”

“We’re not done yet,” Astarion growled darkly, pushing Tav back down with an impatient hand shoving between her perky breasts until she flopped onto the bedroll bonelessly. Any pretense of amused condescension and helpfulness was gone as if it had never been there at all, he no longer cared if she thought he was doing her a kindly favor now. He did briefly soothe her shock by running the same fingers that had returned Tav to her laying down position over her stiffened nipples, pulling on them until they ached and her spine arched. She had the cutest tits, Astarion mused to himself almost fondly. He would enjoy spraying his cum over them one day, covering those sensitive nipples with white pearls, if he could ever convince himself to blow his load somewhere other than her welcoming holes.

He couldn’t wait any longer to fuck her though. Astarion yanked off his pants the rest of the way, uncaring as he heard stitches come undone in complaint at the brusque way that he got disrobed. He could always repair any rips later, he reasoned, but he didn’t want to waste any more precious seconds instead of being balls-deep in Tav’s eager and weeping slit. Grabbing the damp base of his dick, Astarion lined himself up with her hole and stuffed himself inside in one brutal motion. Tav cried out, mouth slack and cheeks still so adorably flushed, but didn’t protest at his rough treatment even though she had to be overstimulated by now. Fuck, her pussy was even hotter than normal with it being heated further by both her production of menstrual blood and his amorous attentions and Astarion had to shut his eyes for a moment and just exhale for fear that he’d go over the edge in one embarrassingly short thrust.

“You are so perfect, every time,” Astarion said lowly, giving an experimental push of his cock and smirking when he was reassured that he wouldn’t cum right away. “I could spend the rest of my unlife attempting to stretch out this little cunt and never tire of it.”

“Astarion, you can’t keep talking to me like that, it’s too much,” Tav complained, voice simultaneously pleading with him to stop and to keep going. Poor darling didn’t know what she wanted, Astarion thought to himself, entertained. It’s a good thing that he knew exactly what her body needed.

“Oh, it’s too much? It’s too much for me to tell you how I love how needy and desperate that you are for me and only me? How I love how gorgeous that your pussy looks when it’s trying to fit around my cock?” Astarion purred out, smirking, manhandling her a bit to tilt her hips up just a touch and go back to his former position of holding them open as securely as if his hands were iron manacles. His bruising grasp left stains of her own blood behind on one of her thighs as a pointed reminder of how he had fingered her open and bathed his hand in the generous bounty that the very center of her had offered him.

Tav only cried out shrilly in response and when he felt her flutter all around him, Astarion lost interest in bantering at her much more anyways. Pussy this fantastic, this divine, was surely how Strahd met his downfall, Astarion thought to himself, crazed as he watched blood bubble and well up in the crevice between them as he fucked her. The notion didn’t deter him even a little though as he picked up speed, his hips a blur as he pounded his dick into Tav again and again. He knew she would be feeling this for days to come, struggling to sit down and even walk on their trek to the crèche, and that made a strangled, lustful whine erupt from his throat. He was humiliating himself now with how he was practically drooling as he took her, his hair messy from her thighs ruffling up his typically styled curls, at how shaky his pants of exhaled breath were. To distract her from how much she was driving him to ruin, Astarion looped her legs loosely over the juts of his hips and dragged his hands up her arms until they intertwined with hers.

This wasn’t something he usually did either; holding hands during sex. It felt oddly right, here with Tav, though. Their noses bumping against each other as he lay almost prone on top of her, driving his cock into her with mindless abandon as their eyes locked desperately, as if they could connect with more than just the tadpoles in their skulls, fingers entangled with hers even as one of his was still wet with her blood and desire. Astarion leaned forward and gave her a hesitant kiss for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, unsure if she would be turned off by the remnants of the drying bodily liquids there either but no. She met his kiss as openly and without reservation as when she would ask him for a kiss anywhere else and it made something pinch in his chest where his heart lived.

A few more frenzied thrusts and Tav was grabbing his fingers just as tightly as her pussy clutched at his cock, her eyes wide and surprised as she came yet again. This was the time that pulled him along with her, unable to resist any longer and unwilling to stave off his own pleasure for even a minute further. He could feel his length pulsing seemingly for ages as his hips slowed, spilling what felt like an ocean of semen into her until it spurted out around the sides of his dick. As he delicately started to pull out, it wet her pussy lips so well that Astarion longed to lap at them again and gather up their combined essences in his mouth and experience how they tasted together. He could tell by how disheveled and cock drunk that Tav looked that she was too overstimulated for that right now so he just resolved to try it next time, chuckling at the idea. Instead, he gathered up some of the escaping white strings of his cum, swirled beautifully in some spots by the ruby color of her blood, and pushed it steadily back into her puffy, slick hole where it belonged. She mewled at the sensation on her sore walls but let him do it, too exhausted and fucked out to do much than give Astarion an exasperated look.

He settled back in over her and tucked the top of her head under his chin, rolling them both slightly so then they could both lay on their side comfortably. Astarion couldn’t help but be amazed at how happy he felt in this moment. His vampiric hunger wasn’t completely gone (as it probably never would be as long as he remained a spawn) but it was placated enough to just be a tiny rumble instead of the ravenous, quavering earthquake that it usually was. Even as messy, blood-sticky and cum-tacky as they both were, Astarion felt content and peaceful.

Tav’s voice was small and drowsy as she murmured against his neck, “Thank you for all of that, Astarion. It feels like my cramps are gone completely, you were so right.”

Oh. Yes. He had nearly forgotten that had been his ruse for doing this in the first place.

“Well, I usually am right about most things, darling,” Astarion sniffed haughtily, pulling her in closer against his side as he basked in her warmth and grateful adoration. “Maybe we should make this a frequent occurrence whenever your period comes to visit. I do hate to see you suffer so…”

Tav muttered her agreement and nuzzled further into him peacefully. Astarion smiled and allowed himself to close his eyes and enjoy the snuggling. He had earned it, being so selfless and helping her out so thoroughly… Astarion couldn’t get through the thought without chuckling. Still, he had manipulated his way into what he wanted yet again, he had Tav at his side and devoted and what more could he want than that?

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