#astarion reader insert

[littlejuicebox]

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

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Reader/Tav

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

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

Word Count: 2.2K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[immortalwandererxoxo]

It's me, can't you see?

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Reader/Dark urge

Summary/Setting: “You thought they knew and saw you for who you were. The nights around the campfire, the jokes and stories you shared, the rounds of constant checking in on them, it was all for nothing. The hate in their eyes was apparent and set for who could honestly trust a bhaalspawn, and perhaps this was for the best. You thought I’d be free of these urges, these feelings, this life. I’m done; I’ve had enough of all this; how nice your last sight on this plane would be, those jewel-red piercing eyes."

Rating/Warnings: Basically for everyone just get ready to cry your little heart out lol

Word Count: 1,903

A/N: Sooo this is the first fic I've written in a while, so please be gentle with me. Honestly, I just kept thinking about this kind of scenario constantly running through my head. I'll be posting this here and on AO3 if you prefer to read it there as well! Currently, I am writing the second chapter on this. At first, I was going to only do one shot but the ideas just kept growing lol

-----

It was your birthright; that is what the funny-looking butler has said to you. A gift was to be bestowed upon you, but only if you killed the selunite cleric Isobel… the last hope for last light inn.

Your first encounter with her was tense; even being near her brought on a violent pounding within your skull as if it were to spilt any second; you tried to push past it to focus on the vital information that Isobel was explaining in regards to Moontower, it fell on deaf ears, the roaring in your ears started to get louder, your vision began to darken at the edges, no you thought not now! Your finger began to twitch as if in anticipation of unleashing the same horror that claimed the poor bard Alfira.

You needed to remove yourself now. You quickly mumbled about needing a moment to yourself before sprinting out Isobel room and down the stairs and making your way to the furthest edge of the light barrier to try and gather yourself.

“Breathe, just breathe, please just stop; you silently pleased with just you and your horrid twisted mind. You squeezed your eyes tight, though it seemed to not really matter. In fact, it just made the images appear faster in your mind. Oh, the beautiful ways you could rearrange the limbs of Isobel body, bones snapping, eyes all but gone and left with gaping holes of nothing and filled with nothing, darkness, and hopelessness. The delicious fear of condemning these pathetic souls that cling to life only for it to be snuffed out in an instant just if blowing out a candle. It would be so easy.

The sound of footfalls told you that the others had finished up with the Cleric and had most likely come to see why their leader had run out on them.

“Wretched thing, pull yourself together,” You whispered quickly, trying to dissipate the vile thoughts still wracking your mind and readying yourself to answer the many questions probably going to be hurled upon you.

“Oh darling, was that cleric prattling on too much for you to bear? Even Shadowheart had to restrain herself before tearing into her about her love and how much better her dark lady was ha! Astarion says with a

“Ah, my love, are you alright? Darling your hands!

This is what breaks you out of your dazed self. You open your hands to reveal puncture wounds you had inflicted upon yourself. You didn’t even notice your hands had formed into closed fists, forcing yourself to restrain yourself to the point small droplets of your blood had begun to pool a bit in your palm.

“Yes… I.. I’m alright. I just needed fresh air; this shadow curse must do a number on me. You could feel Astarion eyes boring into you. He must have known you were lying, but he didn’t press further, and you were thankful for that. You were not in the right head space to tell him what you had just expressed, nor did you really feel the others would care when you had more pressing issues to address. You must focus on the task at hand and find the nightsong. Your pain could be dealt with later.

“Let’s head back to camp with the others. Gale said he is trying out a new recipe, and it don’t worry; he even managed to find the good kind of wine just for Astarion.

————————————————————————————————————--------------------------------------------------------------

As Gale started passing out the new stew, he managed to salvage together from the stocked-up ingredients you collected throughout your journey; Shadowheart began to explain the current mission and what you had missed. But your heart and mind weren’t all there, considering what happened previously. When would you be rid of these violent urges, these sick thoughts that clouded your mind?

With dinner complete, you did your normal rounds around the camp, checking in on everyone; you were a bit apprehensive in speaking with Astarion, concerned that he would ask you what had happened since you never really did address why you ran out, but no he didn’t even bring it up, you would have thought you would be relived, but a sharp chord struck you within your heart; did he really not care you had thought your relationship with he was making progress or perhaps that was you fooling yourself into thinking someone could love such a creature as yourself.

Making your way to your bedroll and staring up at the pitch-black sky you knew you would not be getting any sleep; the thoughts in your head of today’s events were ever buzzing about.

You were so engrossed in your thoughts you didn’t hear the pattering of talons upon the dirt coming closer to you.

“You called for me, Milady?”

You sat up hastily. Gods, what did he want you to do now, or what exactly were his intentions of coming to you in the middle of your camp?

“What is it now? If this is about killing the cleric, you can forget it. I already gave you my answer; I refuse to be part of such a massacre, you said with a hushed whisper.”

“Your father was most displeased with this kind of outcome, Milady, dear Master; I want only the best for you; you always did need a little push of encouragement with those urges you get; allow me to give you a hand in this, please,” he pleased.

“I don’t need any push or anything from this so-called father I have never met before!”

You wanted him to leave before anyone could overhear you two, and you would have to explain another thing to the group.

“Now, don’t be this way; your father does love you, miss, how he doted on you so tenderly when you were but a babe, and because of this, he is allowing yet another chance for you to redeem such an egregious display you have made of yourself.

Your hands begin to feel clammy and freezing; the building anxiety takes hold of your body and starts to stir. What is that will do? More importantly, is this something that harms others?

You catch the glint of silver with little red specks encircling something within his clawed hand. It looks to be a coin?

“Here is the deal, master: if this coin falls upon heads, your favorite person will be brutalized! This normally would have been your punishment and a token to your father and would allow this minor transgression with the cleric to be overlooked. If it lands upon tails… no, you know what, master? I shall let you find out personally what awaits you; this will be my little push to steer you in the correct direction for you to grab your inheritance.

A flash of anger flared up within you. “No, what is the second choice tell me now!” Panic filled you as if the first choice was not bad enough; something worse awaited you, leaving you in the dark.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Milady. Be patient here; I’ll toss this coin, and we shall see what fate has in store for you.”

With the flick of his finger, the coin spun in the air. The fear and anxiety that you felt waiting on this damn coin to fall, you tried to make a plan of some sort on how to deal with the said potential of having to kill either Astarion, your lover, or dear friend Shadowheart.

“Oh, master! You are Truly cursed with the most delicious tragedy.”

Your eyes widened, and your heart sped up. Gods, what side did the coin land on? Were you fated to kill your sweet love?

“Now, Milady, stay still. I don’t want to miss.” Scelerita’s hands began to glow red, even his eyes;

Beneath your feet, a red glow, a red circle outlined with what seemed to be blood drops arranged in a perfect circular motion on the outermost circle were some ancient ruins, ones that looked familiar, but you had no time to possibly read them before you felt the excruciating pain of your bones breaking in multiple places, your joints snapping, stretching, your skin being pulled into various directions to cover long new limbs you seemed to be growing, Gods it HURT,

Two additional arms shoot out from your sides. Each hand is morphed into sharp, long, talon-like claws. You feel the sharp spikes and horns poke and prick your entire body, from your head, arms, and legs to the tip of your now-said tail. Great long horns jut out from your now spikey head, and you feel something dripping. It seems to be slick blood from your former form. It’s a miracle you think to yourself that you are not dead from blood loss or, at the very least, shock from the horror show that you are becoming.

But honestly, the worst part of this horrid transformation is the one relating directly to your mouth: two large tusk-like horns protrude out from your would-be former jaw that now splits into somehow four splits of skin that are all surrounded and arranged by pointed and thorny teeth that could shred something or someone within seconds.

“Oh, my Master, you truly are a sight to behold; how I missed this form of yours so dearly! Such a strapping young behemoth.”

You attempt to scream for help from your companions; however, it quickly becomes apparent that you cannot speak within this grotesque form. What were you to do now that you were transformed into a monster?

“Master, this will surely be something you can finally make your father proud of! I can see in your eyes that you are waiting for an explanation of what you are meant to do with this new, beautiful form; allow me to get this started. "

Your now small demon butler has waved his hand and conjured up an illusion of self-disguise into a near-perfect replicate of Gale?! He then opens his mouth, and much to your horror, what he screams out next in a voice. That sounds exactly like him.

“What is that monstrosity?! Everyone! Wake up! There is an abominable monster readying to attack the camp, and they have our leader!” screams the illusion-like Gale.

Your heart begins to plummet into the pit of your stomach, and you quickly understand what this sick lesson is meant to teach you. Your father expects nothing to stand in his way. It does not matter if they are the ones that can help you reach the Baldur’s gate. If they are holding you back from your “gift,” then they must be dealt with, and what a perfectly twisted way for them to be under the guise that this monster has taken their precious leader and must kill it.

You can only watch in horror as you look out to see the flames in camp start lighting up and the yelling and harsh footfalls quickly approaching your location. In the distance, you hear Karlach’s battle cry and the others gathering their weapons.

You swiftly turn your head to see your butler’s face, only for him to give you a sick and cruel smile on your friend’s face. “Have fun, milady, your father, and I wish to see some excellent results from the child of Bhaal.”

And then he is gone, leaving only behind thick smoke and the damn coin laying tails side up.

[bhaalbabebardlock]

~ Ruin ~

||One shot, single chapter; 3,859 Words. Reader (f!Tav) x Astarion

Important tags: major character death warning, sad smut, explicit, F/M ||

Masterpost | AO3 Link

Summary:

Five years after walking away from The Vampire Ascendant and everything he offered to you, you've returned to stop him from wreaking havoc on Baldur's Gate. That turns out to be harder than you think.

You let him press you against the wall, his hands coming up under your thighs. Lifting you to wrap your legs around his waist, another echo to when you both didn't know yet what you would become.

Each other's ruin.

Back in those woods, in those early days. As his fingers trailed over your skin for that first time, his eyes wide with lust and desire and an adoration that tasted so sweet, you wanted to hold onto it forever."

Some is under the cut, the full story is linked on my AO3 below.

Tumblr Masterpost | Ruin on A03

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

Maybe coming here was a bad idea. It had been five years, and you knew you wouldn't find what you were looking for. Not really. Even if it looked like him, it would be a cruel joke. One that you had played on yourself only too many times as you attempted to mask the wreckage he had left behind.

You had left behind.

You're not the man I love anymore.

Good. I would have ruined your love anyways.

You didn't know then how those words would haunt you. How you would lay in your bed at night and when you closed your eyes you would see him leaning forward to kiss you. See him the way he looked when he was bathed in moonlight the night he whispered into your ear that he loved you.

Was he still there? That Astarion? Your Astarion? You didn't know. It was a question you asked yourself every day until the day you left and it was a question you had asked yourself every day since.

He had not kept quiet though, and he was causing havoc in the city. So of course they reached out to you. Everyone was aware of the hero of Baldur's Gate who had walked away from the city, from her title, and from the man who loved her. He had not been peaceful, in his attempt to get you to stay. You had refused him anyway.

You expected hostility maybe, or a cool indifference. What you received instead was almost worse. As you opened that door and stepped into his hall and his eyes found yours, you could feel yourself fighting the urge to run to him. To fall into his arms. Gods. He was just as achingly, painfully beautiful as you remembered. As if he had been carved from stone, a lethal beauty etched into every muscle of his body. His snow white curls perfectly framing his face, the flush of his cheeks as he pulled a smarmy smile at you. It made you want to fall to your knees and tell him how wrong you had been. How much you had missed him.

“Did you miss me that much, darling? Finally come to beg for my forgiveness?” There. There was the reminder you needed that this was not your Astarion. That this was a different man even if he wore your lover's face. Funny, that after half a decade you would still call him your lover, your Astarion. But he always would be, wouldn't he? And in so many ways, you would always be his too.

“Astarion, you've been changing people. Too many people. It hasn't gone unnoticed.” He only smirked back at you.

“Why little love, have you come here to kill me then?” You hadn't. Sort of. You had a little, but you were hoping that you could get away with a warning. That small part of you that hoped he was still in there. You still weren't sure which way you were going to need to go. Could you even convince him that what he was doing was wrong? He had been explicitly clear when he told you he was not the same, that he would never be that weaker version of himself. The version you loved. The version that haunted your dreams in the most deliciously painful way possible. This is a gift, you know.

You wondered what might have been different if you hadn't helped him ascend that day. If you had listened to yourself when you looked into his thoughts and saw how afraid he was. That this was desperation and a brute desire to break his chains, and that maybe there had been a better way. Maybe you didn't save him after all, even though that was all you wanted.

Maybe you damned him, in the end.

You weren't really sure.

You took a step back as he took one forward, his eyes dancing with a predatory gleam that you knew only too well. And then he was in front of you. You'd forgotten how quickly he could move now. Be in one place and then another. You don't let him show you it unnerves you to have him this close again, to smell that familiar crushed bergamot scent and feel like you've just walked into your home after having abandoned it for so long. You swallow around the pain of it, reminding yourself this isn't him. Not really. That only gets harder when he leans in, his voice caressing the shell of your ear.

“Tell me, darling, why are you here then?” Did he miss you too? Did he think about you as often these last years as you had thought about him? Did he too walk through the pieces of your relationship, wondering if there was ever a moment where you could have salvaged the love you both so desperately wanted? Promised to each other?

No. Probably not. But couldn't you pretend there was? For a moment, couldn't you let him lull you into believing that this is no different than the man who held you gently in his arms, kissing your temple while he whispered to you that he wanted something real? You could pretend that he had never told you he would ruin all of your love for him. Because it was still there anyways. All of your love for him. It was always real, to you at least. Every moment of it.

The rest of this can be found here on AO3!

[nocturn-warrior]

Let me just remind you guys that...

AI fanfiction is not fanfiction

[frantic-fiction]

Lose Yourself 18+

Pic: @casualya (side note....hot 🥵)

Astarion x f!reader, Astarion x f!Tav

Summary: During a feeding Astarion gets worked up and a bit too excited. He's embarrassed, but it turns out Tav finds it incredibly hot.

Warmings: Smut MDNI, Premature ejaculation, dry humping, fingering, PnV Sex, overstimulation, comfort sex, blood

Word Count: 2.2k

Astarion's grip tightens against your jaw, tilting your head slightly more to give him better access to your neck. The initial chill of his bite has settled to a delicious icy throb. A moan rips from your kiss-swollen lips, relishing the feeling of your blood flowing into his greedy mouth. You scratch your nails against Astarion’s scalp, combing through his tousled curls. A smile streches you lips when a shiver runs down his spine, and the hand grabbing your thigh tightens.

The majority of Astarion’s body weight is blanketing you. His hips slotted between your parted legs, mindlessly grinding against the inside of your thigh, too consumed by your blood to be fully in control. You rub his back, shoulders, neck, any skin you can get you wandering hands on and whispering sweet nothings into his ear. This has him purring into your neck and rutting faster against your body, chasing more pleasure.

This night, you had made sure to stock up on extra health potions and lesser restoration scrolls so Astarion could have his fill without worry of any repercussions on your health come morning. 

And gods, you will be sure to make this a ritual from now on because seeing Astarion so lost in your body’s comfort, so relaxed and focused solely on his pleasure. It has your heart pounding and arousal pooling between your thighs. 

Feeling the telltale signs that it’s time for Astarion to stop, you grab tightly at his shoulder giving him a little shake. “Star,” you slur. 

Astarion sighs through his nose, taking one last sip before unlatching from your neck. He’s still lost in the haze of his feeding, eyes glossy and unfocused, trying desperately to meet your gaze. Tiny trickles of blood fall down his chin and onto your chest, where he messily laps the droplets with his tongue. Astarion’s hips are still pistoning against you, and little breathless gasps of pleasure escape his mouth. You swear you’ve never seen a more gorgeous sight. Then Astarion tenses, and with a choked sob of your name falls from his mouth, and he comes spilling onto your stomach.

The room stills.

Only the sounds of rapid breaths fill the room. Astarion’s eyes are wide open, and his mouth is agape, looking down at the mess on your stomach. You’re frozen, glued to the beads of sweat trailing down Astarion’s chest, moving down the planes of his stomach. 

“Shit,” he backs away. An embarrassed flush–only evident due to the recent blood consumption– floods his face moving all the way to the points of his ears.

“Fuck,”  you whimper needily, clenching against the rush of heat that simmers in your stomach.

Then Astarion lets you go, and you finally notice Astarion’s distress.

“I-that…shit,” Astarion stumbles over his words and hands you a cloth to clean yourself with. “I’m so–”

You pounce, and he catches you in his arms, looking startled. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence?” You growl, claiming his mouth in a chaste kiss, chasing the metallic taste off his lips. “That was so fucking hot.”

He clicks his tongue and lets go of you again. Backing away, Astarion starts picking up his scattered clothes. “Yes, I’m sure watching me cream myself like a boy being touched for the first time was just so attractive.” Astarion huffs and rolls his eyes. “Spare me,”

Feeling annoyed, you huff, knowing you need a different approach. Moving closer, you grab the clothes from Astarion’s hand, throw them to the side, and cup his jaw. You draw him into another kiss and trail a hand up the smooth skin of his chest, stopping to circle your thumb around his nipple. Astarion signs into your mouth and runs both his hands down your naked sides, pausing to squeeze your hips.

“My love, that was by far one of the most sexy things I’ve ever seen.” Voice low and seductive, your lips barely pulling away from him. “Seeing you lose control, drunk on my blood, on my body,” 

Astarion shudders when you scratch your nails lightly down his chest before taking his hand in yours. Smiling wickedly, you peck his lips and pull away, ensuring he can see eyes. 

“Hells, Star,” Pulling him, you guide his fingers to your dripping heat. “I’ve never been so turned on.”

This has the desired effect. Astarion’s nimble fingers instinctually begin exploring, and you bite back a moan. He pulls away quickly to examine his slick, covered digits. When Astarion meets your gaze, all embarrassment seems to vanish, and he’s pushing you back down onto the bed. He rests his forearms on either side of you, cradling your head. Astarion trails a thumb over the curve of your jaw. Your hands snake around his neck. 

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to having Astarion look at you like he is now. Like you hung the moon and crafted each star so he would never be alone at night. It overwhelms you with such love that all you can do is pull him down and capture his lips. The kiss has no urgency, just two lovers enjoying the soft embrace. It holds the warmth of a crackling campfire, its embers building to something that leaves you needing more. 

Astarion coaxes your mouth open, and when you grant him access, he leads your tongue in a practiced dance. Feeling the tease of his razor-sharp fang, you moan, cupping the back of his head. You match the growing pace, hooking one leg over Astarion's hip to pull him flush against your body.

A groan rumbles through Astarion’s chest, and he gives a playful bite to your bottom lip, earning a squeak you will deny if asked about later. One of his hands moves down to delicately play with your breast, kneading softly before pinching your nipple between his finger and thumb. You break the kiss with a breathless gasp, tugging at Astarion’s roots, forcing a ragged groan from the elf. Astarion wastes no time to pepper kisses down the column of your neck.

“I don’t think I tell you enough, just how beautiful you are, darling.” He mumbles against your collarbone before sucking a bit of skin into his mouth and playfully teasing it between his teeth. 

You chuckle, swing your other leg, and link them behind his back. “You tell me at least once a day, handsome,”

“You’re such a sap.” You tease and roll your hips up against Astarion’s cock, already swelling once again.

“See, not nearly enough.” He pulls away from the freshly marked skin.

“You, my love, are so breathtaking, exquisite, beautiful,” Astarion emphasizes each adjective with wet, open-mouth kisses down to your chest before beginning to suck another mark just above your heart.

He grunts, grinding back against you. “Only for you, my love.” 

Astarion’s hand moves between your bodies to your neglected pussy. His deft fingers enter you with a wet squelch, and you instinctively buck into his palm. A whimper leaves your lips, and you dig your nails into the skin of Astarion’s shoulder. He set a pace that is both agonizing and toe-curling perfect. 

“See what you’ve reduced me to, darling,” Astarion whispers sinfully, voice low and filled with temptation, his thumb finds your clit. He applies light pressure rubbing tight circles. 

You throw your head, arching your back, clamping your thighs tighter around his waist. “Fuck, Star.” 

Astarion picks up his pace just a notch; his mouth finds your neck again. “It’s all your fault.” He says before biting your ear.

You cry out his name, fisting the bedsheet, feeling the familiar coil building. You are so lost in your pleasure you barely notice Astarion is now rubbing his cock with his spare hand looking down at you with lidded eyes.

“M close Star.” You cry, bucking your hips against his palm. “Fuck.. don’t stop.”

“I am now merely a sappy, love-sick fool who just can’t control myself when it comes to you.”

Astarion is now pumping his fingers in and out of your sopping-wet cunt in a way that has your orgasm building quickly.

“That’s it, darling,” He groans, kissing you softly. “Let go for me,”

Electricity pulses through you, seizing every muscle, every nerve, and every cell of your body with blinding pleasure. You’re moaning and babbling nonsense and pulling him into a sloppy kiss, all teeth and tongue. Astarion continues his ministrations, helping you ride out your orgasm. Finally, when the heat simmers down, he pulls his fingers from your body, leaving you whining from the loss. 

Astarion is quick to put your whines at ease. “Will you give me one more, my love, please?” Astarion practically begs, kissing you with the desperation of a starving man. 

The tip of his swollen cock slides through your folds and teases your sensitive entrance. You barely have time to choke out a yes, please, before Astarion is plunging into you with a grunt. Instinctually, you clench around his length, loving the feel of the fullness Astarion always gives you. 

“Shit..so tight,” Astarion groans and begins to thrust frantically into your heat. “Always so perfect.”

“Astarion.”

All decency, coordination, and softness was tossed away. Both of you were too sensitive, too desperate for the other, to care for anything but mindless pleasure. It was messy, feral, and perfect. Astarion devoured your mouth, groaning against your tongue. His hands couldn’t seem to stay in one place, constantly caressing, grabbing, and massaging any part of you he could hold. 

You spread your legs wide and angled your hips, bucking against each one of Astarion’s deep thrusts. One of your hands cups Astarion’s jaw, keeping him close, and the nails of your other rake down his back, causing a violent shiver to run through Astarion’s body.

“M-more..ugh, please.” You gasp out between Astarion’s feverish kisses.

He nods in return and grunts into your open mouth. “Shit..ugh,”

With a strength you hope never to get used to, Astarion effortlessly switches your positions. Your hands are on his chest, knees framing his slim waist. He’s on his back, smirking smugly up at you. You giggle dumbly, feeling dizzy from the sudden movement. That giggle turns into a wanton moan as Astarion thrusts up into you, hitting a deeper spot inside of you.

“Yes... Star.” Using the hold he has on your hips, he moves your body to pick up the brutal pace from before. “Gods,”

You bounce on your knees in time with his thrusts, and the room is filled with the slick sound of skin slapping against skin and collective cries of ecstasy. The pleasure is almost too much, and you feel the pressure bubbling again. You try to say as much, but a wave of pleasure has you gasping mindlessly, head lolling to the side.

Astarion wants to feel you come undone around him. Lose yourself so he can lose himself with you. So you oblige his request and snake a hand between your legs just above where Astarion is fucking you and begin to rub your clit in time with his quick thrusts. 

“Love, fuck..ngh,” he chokes on a moan. His thrusts are faltering and getting sloppier.

“T-touch yourself for me... I’m close.” He trails off grunting, but you don’t need words to know what he wants.

It’s all too much, the angle of Astarion’s hips hitting the sweet spot inside you over and over, the delicious grip of his hand on your body, the tenderness of your clit as you add more pressure. You’re so close and trying hard to keep looking at Astarion’s beautiful flushed face and wanting him to be your last image before you fall into black-out bliss. But it’s getting harder to keep your eyes focused. Your numb legs buckle, and you stumble forward; your orgasm is almost painful. It tears through your body, ripping pleasure from your trembling muscles and fried nerves. You bite into the flesh of Astarion’s pectoral to stifle your sobs of ecstasy.

“Fuck, darling, good girl.” Astarion praises, grinding your hips against his. “Shit... I’ve got you.” And with a few shallow, pitiful rolls of his body, Astarion is cumming with a deep guttural groan filling you with ropes of his warm come.

He drops boneless, and you pant against his chest, heart still pounding against your ribs. You both are like jelly melting into a puddle on the bedsheets. You feel the drag of Astarion’s fingertips drawing nonsense patterns on your back. Humming softly, you pepper kisses over his still heart. 

“Shouldn’t be embarrassed ’round me,” you mumble, yawning against his skin, too tired to raise your head. The feeling of Astarion’s fingers felt like a sleep spell. “I love you. Nothing’s gonna change that.”

Astarion stiffens under you, hand stilling against your back, clearly taken back. It takes him a bit to respond, but you don’t rush him. Just continue to kiss his chest and melt further at the feeling of his hands on your skin. Content just being here with Astarion.

He clears his throat before saying thickly, “And I love you, darling.” Astarion moves slightly and pulls out of your tender cunt. In doing so, a gush of your combined juices spills down your thighs.

 “Gross, now I feel sticky.” You puff, grimacing at the feeling.

“How about I draw us a bath?” You nod silently and he sits you both up. However you refuse to get off his lap, clinging to him like a sloth to a tree. 

“Carry me?” 

He kisses the crown of your head. “Always.” Astarion scoops you up and carries you along to the bath.

Heya, I quite like how this turned out. I love writing 'rougher' smut, but sometimes the tender stuff just hits ya know? Let me know what you thought. I hope Astarion didn't seem ooc.

If you want to be added to the taglist DM me, please!

Taglist: @heartfully10 @ayselluna @marina-and-the-memes @anixson @canonicalchaoticneutral @toadsbitch @meulinkitten-blog @ambr4armr @lotusandcrystals @venussakura @synapticjive @skittleabyss @asterordinary @lariatbunny @whispering-depths @butchboi-chihuahua-slumlord @darkest-part-of-the-forest @queenofcarrotflowers-s @sessils @d20bunny @cherifrog @ophelia-ophelian

[meowsgirldrawing]

Tavstarion Family naptime~

Bonus- Bat Family

(He heard something)

He protec and attak

[cowboygenesis]

18+ knuckle up | astarion x reader

| buy me a coffee?

summary: after a drunken night and a dumb bet you're left in an emotional (and physical) chokehold by your favourite vampire companion.

pairing: astarion ancunin x afab!bard!reader tags: 18+, smut, fluff, switch dynamics, m/f, fingering, unprotected sex, resolved tension, playfighting, sex after training session. word count: 7.8k notes: this fic was SO fun to write even if im a gale girlie myself. this is my first attempt at writing ANY bg3 character, so i really hope i did okay. if not, let me know! comments help me improve my writing (and warm my heart, seriously, thanks to anyone taking the time out of their day to comment). anyways gang, no beta as ALWAYS, you know how we roll. ENJOY! masterlist.

It still made little sense to you.

You had honed your skills at the most prestigious music schools in Faerûn for years, pouring your heart into every note, every chord, only to find yourself shamelessly ridiculed for an entirely different kind of performance. And by a man you’d grown to like, no less.

"Get up, darling," Astarion’s voice drips with amusement, the self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips with infuriating smugness. His crimson eyes watch you with a predatory glint, locking onto your vulnerable form sprawled in the dirt—a definitive result of his frustratingly agile moves.

You groan lowly, propping yourself up on bruised elbows, wincing as a dull ache pulses through your body. A stray lock of hair falls in front of your face, and you blow it away in frustration.

"I’m starting to think this isn’t educational at all." You glare at him with all the venom you can muster, eyebrows furrowed as his arms cross.

Your eyes absentmindedly scan down his body, taking note of his slightly disheveled shirt and tousled hair. He looks… good. Beautiful, even. Basking in the soft moonlight seeping through the vast greenery above, he stands there like he’s in his element.

He chuckles, seemingly unbothered by your vapid tone. "Oh, but it is, my dear. Think of it as a new, humbling experience. Valuable in its own right."

You bite back a retort as he offers you a hand, his expression making your eye twitch. You never thought you’d fall for arrogance, yet ironically it’s your own conceit that might have brewed your upcoming downfall.

After a particularly boisterous night of drinking in camp—brought on by the recent victory over a pack of gnolls—you foolishly accepted Astarion’s challenge to best him in hand-to-hand combat. Your alcohol-addled brain had been more confident than your body, and now, after a series of harsh jabs and sidesteps, you were being taught the harsh reality of “real” combat.

Defeated, you eventually obliged a quick lesson from the master himself, which he had (admittedly suspiciously) made you take after losing your bet.

At the very least, the bruising would rid you of your lingering hangover once you were done taking the thrashing. Plus, you hoped it would bring you two closer. Figuratively and physically.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your hesitation. "Come now, my dear, don’t be so stubborn. You seemed so eager at first,"

"You told me you’d teach me to fight, not fall on my damn face," you lament, but begrudgingly accept his help, allowing him to pull you to your feet.

His grip is firm, and the coolness of his skin sends a small jolt of electricity down your spine. You had often imagined what holding his hand would feel like during the colder nights alone in your tent, and while the circumstances ended up being less than ideal, it was good enough for you. For now.

You rub at your sore arm with a frown and catch that Astarion, unmistakably, stands completely unscathed, his pale complexion almost glowing in the ambient light.

"I’m thinking…” he muses, glancing at the weathered lyre resting peacefully by the roots of a tree. His lips curl into a smirk, and you can feel the teasing jab sting your pride. “Perhaps you’re better suited to the more... delicate aspects of life,"

Your jaw clenches. While bards famously went underestimated— a fact you were reminded of frequently— it hurt more coming from someone you so badly wanted to fuck.

"Oh, I don’t know," you say with a saccharine tone, brushing the residual dirt from your pants; your favorite pair, yet you’d probably end up having to toss them out after your poor performance today. "I think a harp string could make a fine garrote in the right hands."

Astarion’s laughter rings out clearly, and your heart skips a beat unbeknownst to you. "Dully noted. Fortunately for the both of us, we’re stripped of any weaponry in our current pinnacle."

Your eyes roll, running a hand through your disheveled, sweat-slick hair and adjusting your posture to the one he had taught you: one foot forward, back straight.

"Again," you demand, squaring your shoulders. If he wanted to mock you, fine— but you wouldn’t go down without a proper fight.

Astarion’s eyes widen, but his smirk never falters. He sighs in faux exasperation but quickly matches your posture. "So eager to be tossed into the dirt again, darling."

Your face flashes with heat at his painfully languid remark, your mind going places it probably shouldn’t. You knew the pet names were simply an inherent part of his vocabulary and that he used them generously, with everyone, yet a part of you liked to imagine they were reserved for you, and you only.

“Try me again,” you reply curtly, lowering your gaze as you feel the tension sprawling through your aching body.

He shoots you an arrogant smirk, his gaze penetrating your soul with an intensity you didn’t think possible. He bares his fangs, licking over his bottom lip lazily. “Let’s see it, then.”

Astarion approaches, but this time, you’re ready. As he moves to close the distance, you anticipate the first jab, ducking low before he can catch you off-guard. You dart to the side, aiming a swift thrust toward his midsection. It’s clumsy and unpracticed, but it seems to work.

Your fist connects with his toned stomach. He topples off-balance, but only for a fleeting second. His reflexes are too sharp, too honed through his century-long life for you to overcome with your pitiful attempt.

He catches himself with a graceful pivot, turning the stumble into a curt spin that has him facing you once more.

"Fast learner, are we?" he muses, watching you closely through his fists. "I might actually have to try now."

"Don’t flatter yourself," you shoot back, heart racing. At that moment, you recognize you can’t win. Not this time, probably not the next. But you don’t want to forfeit, even if it means enduring a day or two of terrible muscle soreness.

Every sidestep, every deflected blow, brings you closer, the air between you growing heavy with static. You aren’t sure if it’s the heat of the fight or the dangerous proximity, but you can feel it—an irresistible, undeniable pull.

"Careful now," Astarion purrs as you barely miss his face with a rugged swing. He catches your wrist, holding it tight as he leans in, breath ghosting over your ear. "You wouldn’t want to harm me, would you?"

You swallow hard, your body tensing under his tight grip. The closeness is intoxicating, but you force yourself to stay focused, pushing back against the growing heat in your chest.

"Maybe I would." You don’t.

For a moment, neither of you move. The world seems to narrow, the charged atmosphere thick with tacit suspense. You can feel your pulse hammering in your throat, senses sharp, attuned to every breath he takes as they intermingle with yours.

"Darling," a dramatic pout creeps onto his lips, only to be replaced by a sly grin seconds later. You feel his grip on your wrist loosening just enough for you to slip free. It’s a calculated move, once he grants you himself. "You wound me with your words."

You take a step back, breathless. This isn’t over, not by a long shot, yet your muscles fight against that thought. They scream at you with pain, worn and stretched by what feels like hours of sparring.

“Sounds like you’re the one trying to wound me,” you taunt, shooting him a lowered gaze. “Why’d you take me out here? Trying to make your next kill less obvious?”

The vampire had insisted you two train away from the bustle of camp, even if it meant missing out on tonight’s feast. While the rest of your companions enjoyed the finest ale Baldur’s Gate could offer, you were stuck trying to prove something to your crush.

Astarion's grin widens, his eyes flashing with amusement as he takes a slow, calculated step forward. “Now, now,” he purrs, voice dripping with mock innocence. “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have seen it coming— no need for childish theatrics.”

You hold his gaze, refusing to let him see the slight tremble in your legs from the strain of the sparring—or maybe it’s from something else entirely, you can’t be sure. You know he’s dangerous, that this game you’ve been playing with him has always had its sharp edges. But there’s something about that edge, about the way he dances so easily between teasing and threatening, that weakens your knees and makes you breathless every damn time.

"Then why are we here?" you challenge, taking a step back to match his forward one. Your voice is steady, but your pulse is hammering in your throat. The woods feel like a world apart from camp, the sounds of chatter distant as you sit in your isolated little bubble of the world. “It’s a little… intimate, don’t you think?”

Astarion tilts his head, studying you with a curious twinkle in his crimson eyes. “That sharp tongue again,” he says quietly, “Do you truly believe I’d go through all the trouble of bringing you out here just to end you? If I wanted your death, I’d make it enjoyable for both of us.”

Your breath catches at his words. His words drip with venom, but somewhere deep down, in the depths of his blackened heart, you swear you feel an instance of temptation.

“What’s the game then?” you ask, holding his gaze despite the anxiety twisting in your chest. “Because by the Gods, I know you love those.”

Astarion’s smirk softens, but the intensity in his eyes never falters. He steps closer again, until there’s barely any space between you, his presence intoxicating. “Maybe I just wanted to see what you’re capable of,” he murmurs, his voice low and velvety. “Maybe I wanted to see how far you’d let me push you before you push back.”

His hand hovers near yours, fingers brushing lightly against your skin, but he doesn’t make full contact.

“And maybe,” he continues, leaning in just enough that his breath grazes your cheek, “I’m curious what could happen once we both stop playing.”

Your heart is racing now, and you’re not sure if it’s the adrenaline from the sparring or the charged air between you that’s making your head spin a hundred miles an hour.

“You’ll never know,” you murmur, meeting his gaze with a boldness you don’t quite feel. “Because I’m not backing down from this.”

His grin widens at your rebellion, and with a swift, fluid motion, the man’s playful smirk turns into a vicious one. Before you can react, he spins you around, movements smooth and practiced, making you lose your balance.

Your back hits his chest, and within seconds he wraps one arm around your neck in a tight headlock— his grip is firm, but not painful. Your mind strays to his other arm, feeling it press against your waist to keep you securely against him.

“Such a feisty little thing,” he purrs into your ear, his breath warm against your sweat-slick skin.

You struggle against his hold, trying to twist free, but his grip is relentless. “Fuck you,” you manage to scowl, though the words are strained by the pressure on your throat.

Astarion chuckles softly, and you feel it reverberate through your body. “Oh, she bites back,” he teases, his voice a dark, seductive buzz. “Are you taunting me, darling?”

You try to shift your weight, to find a way out of the headlock, but his grip doesn’t waver. “You’re projecting,” you growl breathlessly.

“And you’re persistent,” he replies, “Suits you well.”

You feel a warmth spread through your belly, tickling your nerve endings and making your thighs squeeze. You thank the Gods he can’t see your flustered face right now.

And suddenly, he releases. Not fully, but his grip weakens enough to allow you a moment to slip out again, stumbling over your own feet as you face him.

“Here’s your second freebie,” he chuckles, getting into position again. “Careful, next one might come at a price.”

“Like I need a third one,”

You recalibrate, then in the spur of the moment, pounce. Your arms extend as they barrel toward him. His eyes widen, but he manages to catch them mid-air; his hands clasping into yours and pushing against you.

“Fair strategy,” he commends, and you sense it might at least be partially earnest. “Desperate, but fair.”

You strain against him, breath hitching when he periodically pushes back. Whenever he does, you feel his gaze boring into you with a crazed intensity.

Then, you try not to think about the fact your digits fit together really damn well— and fail. Take what you can get, right?

“What’s wrong, my dear?” he sneers, slender fingers tightening around your palm. He leans in, your chests threatening to collide. “Getting distracted?”

You grit your teeth, leaning in with your full body weight, but he barely budges. “You wish,” you shoot back breathlessly.

“I feel it,” he corrects in a whisper, leaning in just enough that his lips hover dangerously close to your ear. “It’s in your eyes. You’re not even thinking about our little lesson anymore, are you?”

Your breath hitches at his words, the undoubted truth in them cutting through the haze in your mind. He’s right. The bet, your lesson —somewhere along the lines, your sparring posture went lax. All that matters to you now is the palpable closeness, your hands in his, and his hot, idle breath on your neck. Your throat threatens to cast a strained groan, but you withhold.

“I—” you start to protest, but your voice falters. His chest is now pressed flush against yours, pushing you forward.

“Admit it,” he murmurs, his voice low, seductive. “And I’ll let you win.”

Your hands tremble in the small space they lock with his, the smoldering red of his gaze telling you he knows exactly what he’s doing—how his actions leave you a mess in body and soul.

“I won’t, I— I can’t,” you manage to stutter, but the words sound weak and unconvincing even to your own weary ears.

He chuckles softly, the sound reverberating through you like a slow current. “Liar,” he whispers, and you catch a glimpse of his pearly fangs in your hazed peripherals. “Not a good one, either. Another thing I should school you on.”

Your eyes roll, but the implication accelerates the growing tension within your guts. “Just how generous you are.”

His head tilts gradually, and you go pale as you catch his tongue running along the length of his bottom lip.

“No, darling,” he purrs, “I haven’t shown you generous just yet.”

And then, you catch his eyes darkening. There’s a certain mania to them when they widen, pupils blown out like a cat’s when he suddenly pushes firmly against you. Your feet stumble backward, staring into him as a wild grin plasters on his face.

You yelp when you lose balance, lips ajar and eyes closed shut as you feel your back crash into something soft, or at least, soft enough to leave you un-bruised.

When your eyes flutter open, he’s on top of you. You study his broad shoulders, the pale neck between them, and finally let your half-lidded gazes connect in a silent, tension-filled juncture.

The ambiance of dusk quiets down to a soft murmur, crickets chirping in the distance as his strong body hovers inches above you, hands placed firmly around your wrists to successfully lock you in place.

“Seems to me you’ve lost our little bet,” he purrs out, and your breath hitches as one of his legs slides between yours, slowly inching to put a distance between your knees.

All you can do is stare up at him hungrily, desperately, drinking in his weathered features and pray he’d let you run your fingers through his flaxen locks at some point in the night.

“No clever retort? That’s not the little bard I know and love,” he teases, and your hips almost buck into him at that one word. You know he doesn’t mean it, yet your teeth still clench when your body jolts in response to his familiar lilt.

“You’re playing dirty,” you finally breathe out, cringing at how strained your voice sounds as you lie under his weight.

“No one ever said this would be a clean game,” he retorts, his crimson gaze boring into you before gradually disappearing into your neck.

His lips hover over your skin, hot breath tickling the soft spot near your pulse point as you gasp quietly. You feel him hesitate, arms tensing and releasing over your own as if soaked in apprehension. You strain your muscles, eyes shutting in preparation for the inevitable, sharp bite coming onto your poor vein. Gods, was this his plan all along?

But then, you feel the grip on your wrists loosen.

Your eyes flutter open, and you quickly catch the tousled white locks in your neck as the vampire looms over you.

“Here’s your chance to run,” he hitches, and somehow he sounds just as out of breath as you do.

You lie on the blanket of moss, chest heaving and gaze tracing languidly over the treeline as you feel your body go limp. He’s giving you one last opt-out before… before something happens, be it a bloody massacre or... Or?

Your mind shrieks at you: take advantage, prove yourself on top in this stupid bet— but the little voice in your heart urges you to stay under his firm body; find out if your instincts rang true after all.

You stay. Not only that, but you let your hands slip out of his, one of them snaking down his shoulder while the other runs through his waves. They’re silky, and soft, and when you catch a whiff of rosemary in the air, your grip tightens.

“Astarion,” you whisper, voice surprisingly steady as your heart beats a constant rhythm into the space between you.

His body jerks abruptly, albeit subtly, and you feel him smirking— smiling— into the soft flesh of your neck. “So I was right, after all.”

His face withdraws from you slightly, the residual condensation of his warm breath leaving you shivering. You catch his gaze, half-lidded and scanning your expression with apt concentration.

“Feisty, spirited little thing,” he continues, inching towards you again.

Your stiff body jerks, grazing against him as your shaky hand snakes to his cheek. You cradle it gently but with urgency, and there’s a beat of silence before you finally understand what to do.

You inhale softly, catch his questioning gaze, and crash your lips onto his.

He groans softly when you meet in the middle, lowering himself with his arms. Your chest thrums with the beat of your heart, shooting waves of dopamine down your worn spine.

When you feel his nimble hand on your jaw, your lips part with a sigh. He matches your buzz with his own self-satisfied murmur, stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

You smile. He’s sweet and bitter, and you whine gently into the kiss when you recognize brandy on his tongue.

This is what you’ve been waiting for all these lonesome months.

The culmination dawns on you like a powerful current, making your eyes squeeze and your hands tremble in his waves.

He seems to notice your tremor, but instead of slowing down or (Gods forbid) stopping, he dives deeper. You moan into his mouth as he wriggles a hand around your waist, holding you close to his hips and suddenly, you feel a steady pressure grinding into your crotch.

The movement is slow, precise, practiced. His hips buff into yours in a controlled rhythm, making you sense his already taut erection through the thick material of his linen pants.

“Do you get it now, darling?” he murmurs, breaking the kiss to stare lazily into your glassy eyes. “Look what you do to me.”

His hand snakes to your blouse, and before you can register what’s happening, you hear three ivory buttons pop off followed by the cool, evening breeze tickling your heated skin. You don’t need to open your eyes to know your nipples are standing taut in the chilly air, yet the image makes you redden.

“How— how unceremonious,” you croak out, moaning softly when his large hand begins palming at your right breast.

His thumb and forefinger squeeze at your erect nipple, toying with it in smooth, tactile movements and relishing the way his name sounds coming out of your kiss-swollen lips.

“Mm, forgive me,” he chuckles darkly, planting a quick, ardent kiss on your lips before lowering his face to your chest. His tongue licks a slow, tender strip up your sternum before he looks up to smile at you; it’s a genuine look of satisfaction, untouched by the plague that is his faux arrogance. “I’ll make sure to be good next time.”

’Next time?’

You look at him lazily, gaze puzzled and lips ajar to ask but he doesn’t even offer you the chance. His hand dips from your tits to the band of your pants, sliding underneath it with his finger, the coolness of his skin making you gasp.

His mouth assaults your other nipple with sucks, nibbles, and gentle bites, making you mewl under him as his hand continues to travel down the soft flesh of your thigh. He rubs it gently, lovingly, starting under your hip and slowly stroking his way toward the inner region, where you’re most sensitive.

“Divine,” he mumbles against your chest, pressing a kiss to your rib. “So divine.”

His free palm moves to your exposed belly, massaging it gently. You sigh at the slow, consistent pressure, moving your trembling hand to the back of his neck.

When your one eye pops open in curiosity, you see him snug against your body, face contorted with empathic fixation as he labors down your body. It’s intimate, yes, but also… loving. His tongue is warm against your breast, and his palms caress your skin with slow, delicate strokes; the same hands you’ve seen wield blood-soaked daggers and longbows.

He runs two digits along the stretchy fabric of your bottoms, lip caught between his teeth. He catches you staring and smirks up at you.

“Enjoying yourself?” he husks out, and you’re desperate enough to nod wordlessly.

He chuckles at your enthusiasm, hand smoothing down the waistband of your panties that peers from behind your bottoms. Not even your cutest pair, but oh well. He doesn’t even seem to notice, as his digits play with the elastic.

You’re already so exposed, but nothing can prepare you for what he does next.

With a few more kisses to your breasts, he tugs at the two waistbands, pulling down your pants and panties in one go.

The material slides off your legs and you hiss out, feeling the coolness caress your slick core. Your hands instinctively reach to cover up, but you’re stopped in your tracks by a strong grasp around your wrist.

“Oh no, no,” He looks up at you with an arched eyebrow, and somehow, despite his collected mien, you catch a soft dusting of pink across his cheekbones. “Don’t you dare deny me this view. Not after I’ve waited for so long.”

Your face heats up at the brazen comment, but that only seems to draw him closer. Your eyes flicker down to his lips, and he takes the hint immediately.

You connect in a heated kiss, and this time, Astarion is the one groaning against you. You work in tandem, like a gentle, effortless dance, heavy breaths intermingling in a sweet symphony of hums and sighs when…

You feel a touch against your heat. The contact is almost impalpable, yet your eyes flutter open in shock as the man’s fingers trace over your slit.

He withdraws from your kiss, hovering inches from your lips with a soft smile.

“S’unfair,” you slur, gazing up at him with a pleasure-drunken gaze. He exhales loudly, and you gasp. His fingers dip in, rubbing slow circles around your clit. “You— Gods—”

“Yeah? Tell me,” he taunts lowly, continuing his torturously languid movements with a devious smirk plastered on his perfect face. “What’s got you so bothered, my sweet?”

He dips down, teasing your entrance with his index. You pant softly at the prolonged stimulation, trying your damn best to stay focused on furrowing your eyebrows in mock anger.

“Got me so exposed and—” you trail tensely as his finger probes your entrance. “—And you’re still in your damn clothes.”

He hums in acknowledgment, but you doubt he’s even listening to you by how he surveys your body, bottom lip caught between his fangs. “I’m about to show you ‘generous’, like I promised.”

And then, he bottoms out. You moan, feeling two of his digits sliding into you, the slickness of your opening making it an easy feat.

You squeeze around him, and he pumps into you once, then twice for good measure. The sound of his movements is unbelievably and utterly obscene, making your stomach knot in delight.

“So wet already,” he purrs through a smirk, watching you writhe under him, “Don’t tell me our little sparring session got you this bothered.”

You roll your eyes, thighs squeezed tight around his wrist as you move your hips in tandem with his rhythm.

“Come on, talk to me,” he taunts again, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek and letting his fingers fuck you in a steady, purposeful rhythm. “Now’s not the time to get coy.”

He switches gears, stopping his movement so he can curl his fingers inside you. He presses against the sweet spot, his thumb reaching to simultaneously rub slow circles against your swollen clit.

You cry out at the newfound pressure, the warmth in your belly twisting into a vortex of fiery delight.

“I—” you mewl against him, wrapping your fingers into the soft fabric of his shirt. “I’m gonna— c-cum—”

His movements quicken at your desperate words, digits working hard against your favorite spot.

“Cum then, my darling,” he taunts firmly, his free hand roaming under your jaw and holding it in place. “Cum for me. Let me— let me look at you, sweet thing.”

Your glassy eyes struggle to focus on his face, but once they do, he hits something white-hot inside you.

His lips crash desperately onto yours, but you struggle to kiss him back through the blinding pleasure of your climax. It thunders down your legs, up your belly, making you cry out against his mouth as everything melts away into a wonderful oblivion.

The last thing you see before your muscles go lax is red.

He rubs your clit methodically through your high, letting you ride it out peacefully as he burrows into your neck again.

When your breath steadies, you feel his fingers slowly withdraw. The emptiness that follows makes you cry out softly, helplessly watching as the man runs his palms up and down your sides.

He presses a soft, soothing kiss against your swollen lips, and you can’t help but glare when you see that he’s still fully dressed, even after your heated orgasm.

He catches your pouting and raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, darling?” he purrs, pulling away to take you all in. You’re caught speechless when his hungry gaze scans down your nude body; starting at your smitten face and ending with a lingering glimpse at your spent pussy.

“Please,” you mewl out, raking your hands down his clothed abs. “Gods— Please take these off, I can’t—”

He does.

His hands momentarily withdraw from around you, and with a swift, deft move, he tosses his shirt off.

The silken cloth comes flying into the night like a phantasmal figure, and you watch it catch onto a stray branch to your right.

Your gaze skims hungrily down his sculpted body, watching his muscles tense and release with every little movement. Yes, you’ve seen him shirtless before, yet the context of your current predicament somehow makes it feel like it’s the first time all over again.

Unbeknownst to you, his hands work at his bottoms, swiftly unbuttoning the waistband and letting it sit loose against his hips. You catch a soft, white trail against the edge of his undergarments, leading down to a straining, tented mess below.

Your hand reaches out absent-mindedly, still drunk off the high of your climax and so, so desperate to finally feel him for yourself.

“Not so fast, darling,” he scolds, gently slapping your hand away and letting it wither at your side.

“Let me touch you,” you retort desperately, but he only chuckles as his fingers begin working at his waistband.

“You lost our bet,” he explains, sliding a thumb under the elastic and letting it lower. You catch the very base of his straining erection, and that taunting alone makes you gasp. “Gives me the upper hand.”

“Says who?” you hiss under your breath, failing to give him the glare he deserves as your eyes bore into his.

He gives you a once over, gaze drawing languidly over your exposed body, and only then does the extent of your nudity finally dawn on you.

“Don’t make me laugh.”

You shift under him, shimmying within the small space he allows, and he takes your brief distraction as a moment to unravel his pants completely. They drop to the ground behind you, leaving him in his undergarments, and you bite your lip at how dangerously lax they sit around his hips.

“I think I’ve left you waiting long enough,” he mutters, and your lips go ajar.

The thumb hooked into his briefs starts sliding down his waist, lower and lower until you’re finally even in terms of undress— and you’re ever so starstruck by the sight of his bulging cock hovering over your belly. It stands thick and taut within arm’s reach and you find the fact makes your mouth water.

Then, before you can think of touching him, you feel him place either hand below your knees. He looks up at you with a sly smirk, and you gasp softly when he pushes your thighs flat against your torso, feet in the air and scandalously exposed in front of him.

“You’re playing with me,” you mutter breathlessly, hissing as you feel his length stroking against your inner thigh.

His arms compress you tighter as you feel him lowering, the underside of his cock slapping against your tummy. The gasp that leaves your throat at the sudden contact widens your eyes, and he catches your gaze with his self-satisfied one.

“Do you like that I’m playing with you?” he follows up without a beat, his hips rutting forward. The movement is gentle, yet the pressure is enough to make you whine out in desperation— it’s also the only answer you manage to choke up for him before his cock slides between your wet folds.

“A-Ah— you fucking— fucking prick,” you hiss at the vampire, and so he bears his fangs at you through a wide grin. You find that it makes your breath hitch even amidst your despair.

“Now, now,” he reprimands, words syrupy, “bold words coming from someone so vulnerable.”

His nails dig into the soft flesh of your legs as he slides back and forth, taking meticulous care so that the head of his cock butts against your clit with every dip. The stimulation feels electric, and soon enough, you feel your still-sensitive body ramp up with heated energy for a second time this night.

A minute passes, yet it feels like an eternity. The air between you is thick with tension and the soft, repetitive harmony of your strained moans and his little gasps. You watch his eyes close in concentration, and despite his otherwise relaxed facade, you can tell he’s struggling to resist you by the way his eyebrows knit in the middle.

“Fuck me,” you breathe out, one of your hands extending to claw at his withholding forearm.

When your gazes meet, he looks surprisingly spent; eyes glassed-over, mouth ajar, and the slightest hint of sweat glazing his pale forehead. You realize that his domineering act seemed to come at the expense of his stamina: a resource you had slowly replenished in your comfortable position.

“Not— not yet, darling,” he hitches out, but the words appear tender and helpless to your trained ears. “I— I want to enjoy this— enjoy you—”

Your grip on his forearm tightens, making the bucking of his hips stutter. His eyebrow raises at your touch, but before he can shoot you a witty comment, you’re pushing him forward.

It happens within seconds.

Your knees straighten, feet slamming into his abdomen. He coughs at the sudden, unexpected impact, and you take the opportunity to grab tight onto his forearms. He falls backward, and just before his spine hits the soil beneath, you use the momentum to push yourself onto him.

When his eyes flutter open, you’re straddling his waist.

He blinks in brief confusion, surveying his surroundings before the crimson gaze finally turns to you.

He surveys your face, and you let him. The moment is like a silent meditation, heavy breaths intermingling as he takes your raw beauty in; the longing in your eyes, the soft dusting of pink across your nose, and ultimately, the plush of your lips he had ravaged mere moments ago.

Next, he moves to your body. His eyes scan down your taut nipples, down your tummy, and to the softness of your thighs squeezing his midriff to the ground. When he reaches the junction between your bodies, your hips buck as if on instinct.

“My, just how courageous we are,” he purrs under you, hands reaching to rub down the outside of your thighs. “I wouldn’t be so nice about your dirty tricks if I didn’t find this view thoroughly delectable.”

You shiver at his honeyed words, yet your gaze stays determined on him. Your palms go to rest atop his, marveling at the eccentric softness of his knuckles and the polarizing edge of the nails.

“No one ever said this would be a clean game,” you grin playfully, rocking your hips back to feel his hard length against the curve of your ass. When a soft hiss escapes his lips, you feel your ego inflate. “Sound familiar?”

His eyes roll, but the grin creeping onto his lips deceives him immediately.

His head tilts at you, fangs bearing in the soft moonlight. “You’re trouble.”

The mischief of your smile spins into a warm fondness. Your cheeks warm, and your heart swells, but you don’t quite understand why. “Oh how rich that is coming from you.”

And then you’re rising on your knees, hips hovering over his throbbing erection. Your palms connect, digits intertwining with his as you lower yourself onto him.

You test the waters first, letting his tip brush over your slit with feather-like touches. You hum gently at the teasing pleasure, and so does Astarion.

When you feel your tummy tightening with anticipation, you dive in. With a light shimmy, you line your hips with his, and with more desperation than you planned, you slide down.

You both hiss as the head of his cock penetrates you, the stretch making your palm tighten against his. You bend at the knees, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the delicious sensation of being filled to the brim after such a long, lonesome time.

Finally, you let your hips slam against his. The sudden, harsh movement makes you gasp out into the tantric air as his tip pokes against your womb. The dull pain quickly shifts into a flat, resonant pleasure, and you waste no time.

Your hips begin to buck against his, building a slow, steady rhythm until you’re confidently riding your vampire lover with a self-satisfied smirk on your lips.

Each thrust makes you mewl, moan, and cry out into the night, that pleasant angle of his cock hitting that same spot his fingers did just minutes ago.

His head rolls back into the ground, and with the remnants of his energy, he issues an occasional, quick rut into you. As it’s rare, you decide to savor it. You squeeze around him with the thrusts, and soon, you feel yourself running out of breath.

“I— I could let you do this for—hells— forever,” he hisses out, and suddenly, you feel his hands unclasp from yours and snake around your waist. “Where have you been all these centuries?”

Your upper body is dragged forward, your tits colliding with his toned chest when he pulls you into a tight, possessive embrace.

You gasp at the warmth between you, and your eyebrows soon furrow when you realize the position limits your hip movement. As you’re forced into a pause from your delirious riding, his lips crash onto yours.

Your tongues share a private, slack dance, heads tilting to adjust as you both hum and groan into the fiery kiss. You attempt to rut into him, and soon enough he gets the hint.

Keeping you immobilized against his chest, his hips pound up into you. The first few smacks are scandalously loud, and you revel in the newfound angle.

You’re lost in him, completely and utterly. When he moans, you respond with a hum— when his embrace tightens around you, you kiss him harder.

The familiar, fiery heat in your tummy bubbles up again. You feel it amp up, grow, and send jolts up your spine when suddenly, you’re being pushed up. When your eyes flutter open, you catch his still closed.

His chest stays firm against yours as he positions you upright, letting you straddle his hips as you’re both left sitting in the soft patch of grass and wildflowers.

With your body regaining its mobility, you start grinding against him again. The position allows for a deliciously intimate closeness, his cock burrowing deep into you as you resume riding him.

The pressure within you grows, emerging as a knot— threatening to unravel with every other thrust. Your clit rubs against the base of his groin, amplifying the pleasure into a sensation you’ve long forgotten about.

“A-Astarion—” you mewl out between kisses, and his hot breath tickles your face when he chuckles.

“Cum for me,” he sighs out, and the assertion comes off soft and pleading as it settles into the groves of your heart.

“O-Okay— I… I—”

He tightens his hold on your waist with one hand, as the other moves to cradle your cheek. His touch is unbelievably delicate and affectionate, and out of all the stimulation he had so graciously provided you this night, it’s that soft touch that sends you over the edge.

Your lips connect in one last kiss, and you moan throatily into his mouth. Your hips still, thighs squeezing as your pussy tightens around his cock in a moment of pure bliss. The steadily rising pressure in your belly finally tips over, sending a wave of bliss down your entire being.

Still, he keeps moving. You almost want to scream against him as his hips begin pounding into you again, the soft slaps quickening as he slowly peaks with you.

Withdrawing from the kiss to lean against your neck, he cums. Hard.

Your slowly declining climax seems to slam the gas pedal as you feel him release deep into you, the warmth spreading through your body like a genial embrace, a fact that makes him groan loudly against your mouth. Your breath stills in your throat, before finally releasing into a long, guttural moan— it echoes into the night, and your vision blurs.

White-hot bliss envelops your body, and you melt into Astarion’s for solace. You feel him grip you, caress your face, kiss away your adrenaline-fueled tears, and pant softly against your lips as your pussy spasms again.

Your orgasm envelops you in slow, pulsating waves as it withdraws, and you’re soon left huffing into the vampire’s flaxen locks. You think you hear him speak, but the ringing in your ears is too potent to know for certain.

Then, as the ringing finally retires, you hear him whisper your name. It’s a soft, patient call against the burning skin of your neck, one you commit to memory as you’re finally awarded your senses back— if only partially.

The forest feels exceptionally silent as you fall into his arms. You recognize the soft chirp of crickets in the distance, perhaps a distant hoot of owls, but it all seems to blend into an indecipherable blur as exhaustion floods your system.

Your head falls into the crook of his neck, and your mind sinks into the soft, languid thumps of his heart. His hand caresses your back, and you sigh deeply.

You sit there for what feels like hours, drinking each other in. You’ve waited so long, and finally, you’re at ease— it’s a feeling you wish to cherish, and if it wasn’t for the pesky passage of time, you’d choose to stay in this damned forest for eons; with him.

You feel him shift against you. His hands withdraw from your waist, and he whispers softly against you. “Come, my love.”

You hum in disagreement, face burrowing deeper into him. Yes, rosemary and brandy— now it’s clear to you.

He exhales sharply, and you smile into his neck. He waits for a beat, before placing a soft kiss to your temple. “Wait here.”

You nod gently and finally allow him to withdraw. The separation makes you sigh, your body shivering in the newfound cold of the night, but you persevere. In the longing to hold on to the moment for a little longer, you keep your eyes closed and hope he’ll return before you open them again.

You hear him shuffle around, walking from left to right, before finally returning to face you. “Hands up,” he mutters softly, and you do as you’re told in your pleasure-drunken stupor.

You feel him drape something silken over your sweat-slick body, the soft material draping your hips before coming to a stop at your thighs. When you breathe in, you immediately realize it’s not your shirt, so you grin.

When you’re comfortably wrapped up, he leans in. Once you finally sense the familiar warmth of his chest, you lean against his shoulder and breathe in his scent.

You’re surprised he does this for you. Tenderness is not exactly something you’d connect with a man of his past, of his skill. Yet, when his hands move to rest under your knees and back, you don’t resist.

He lifts you off the ground, letting your fatigued frame rest against him. He takes it upon himself to get you back to camp, safe and sound, and only slightly perturbed.

You drink in everything you can, letting yourself be greedy for once. The steadiness of his breath, his warm chest, the crinkling of leaves under his feet— it’s an image you swear to place, no matter what difficulties might threaten to befall you in the future.

And he’s silent up until you reach the campgrounds. The chatter of dinnertime has long died down, and when you open your eyes, you spot the crackling embers of firelight flickering away among a circle of stones. The flames cast a soft, warm light onto the closed tents, and you revel in the intimacy of the moment.

“Everyone met their bedtime while we’ve been naughty sneaking out,” he murmurs with a chuckle, and you close your eyes hurriedly in hopes of feigning slumber. Still, you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face at his brazen comment.

You reach the outskirts and finally spot his tent just below an old, sturdy oak tree. You recall the talks you had out front so many times before, back when your feelings were just sparks of something much stronger and much, much warmer.

He crouches down and with an unsurprising agility climbs into the little shelter with you still in his arms. You lie slack against him, letting his arms lay you gently onto his woolen mat. You melt into the warmth almost immediately, sighing out dreamily when you feel his presence beside you.

It’s silent for a moment, and when your eyes finally flutter open, you catch him staring at you. His gaze is thoughtful but warm, lingering over your form with a certain glimmer.

“I guess it’s official, then,” you sigh out, closing your eyes again and letting a lazy smile drift over your features.

He pauses for a moment, then clears his throat. “What… what is?”

You chuckle softly at his awkward tone, shifting to the side and letting one of your eyes pop open to glance at him.

“My victory,” you state matter-of-factly before quickly shifting to your other side, facing away from him just to let a satisfied grin creep onto your face.

You don’t witness it, but his expression goes from tense, to disconcerted, to irritated in a matter of seconds. His eyes roll, and you suddenly feel a flat slap against your ass.

“Woah there, hey!” you gasp, followed by a cheeky giggle. Your head turns to face him from your comfortable position, and you catch him mirroring your grin.

“Quiet, now,” he commands softly, pivoting to lie beside you. His arm comes over your waist, pulling you into his chest. “Bet’s over, darling. I’m sorry to say, but you’ve not proven yourself capable. Shame, really.”

You blow a raspberry through your smile and shimmy closer to him, your body melting perfectly into his— a fact that has you near to falling asleep.

“Shame indeed. The look on your face was priceless when you ate dirt,” you shrug nonchalantly, “At least that’s the version I’ll be telling everyone come morning.”

He scoffs, the low rumble of it vibrating against your back, but his arm only tightens around you. You feel his face in your hair, breathing in your scent.

“If you do that, I might just have to kill you,” he mutters, but despite the intensity of the words, his voice is soft and loving against your head. His hand drifts to your belly, fingers tracing lazy circles against the soft skin there.

“You would never.”

He’s silent for a beat. Your lips open to build on your clever retort before you feel his sharp exhale on your neck.

“Sleep, darling,” he reprimands, squeezing your midriff gently.

You sigh contentedly, your lips brushing against the pillow as you settle deeper into his embrace. The tent is cocooned in warmth, but you feel the cool kiss of the evening breeze filtering in through the small opening at the entrance. Outside, the campfire crackles faintly, the last embers glowing like distant stars before fading into fine ash.

As you drift closer to sleep, wrapped in the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the world around you blurs into the peaceful haze of near-dreams.

Just as the veil of slumber begins to pull you under, you feel his lips press against your hair, a soft whisper brushing against your skin.

“As long as I'll live, I never could.”

[rabbiquity]

Astarion adores every part of your body.

He tells you as much every night you spend tangled up in one another. How warm and soft and tight you are, how pliant you are beneath his skillful hands. How very good you're being for him. But even if he didn't tell you, you would know.

Now that he doesn't have to put on a performance anymore, he can be selfish enough to focus on his own pleasure. Sometimes his lip trembles when he bites down to muffle a quiet little whimper as he takes you from behind, cock sliding deep as your body clenches around him. Other times you catch him chanting your name like a filthy prayer as he mouths at your neck, ravenous for a taste of you as he loses himself in your warmth, your scent, your embrace.

All the while, his hands roam over your body, mapping every dip and curve and swell a thousand times over.

The first time he pushes your legs together and slips between your thighs, you hear the moan catch in his throat as a shudder rips through his body. He can't believe how wonderfully soft you are here too, and Astarion’s thrusts grow increasingly desperate until the taut thread inside him snaps and he comes hard across your stomach. He's still panting when he bends down to kiss you.

Your breasts are one of his favorite parts of your body. He's always touching them and massaging them between his hands, but what he really enjoys is straddling you while you lay beneath him on your back so he can fuck them. The tips of his fingers dig into your soft flesh, and he presses your breasts together as his cock glides smoothly between them, the pretty pink tip peeking through just beneath your collar bones with every thrust.

He was already slick and aching before he crawled on top of you, and the way you watch him with pupils blown so wide your eyes are almost black is almost as intoxicating as the way your body always finds a way to mold itself so perfectly around him. You arch your back and cry out when he rolls your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, the place between your legs dripping with need.

“Don't worry, my sweet,” he purrs, acutely aware of your arousal. “I promise I'll take good care of you too.”

He always does.

And you're more than happy to watch him get off this way, with the full, heavy weight of him pumping between your breasts as he chases his release. Closer and closer until he's there, fisting his cock and emptying himself across your chest and onto your waiting tongue. Astarion sags against you and runs a hand through his hair, eyes narrowed to slits as he watches you run your tongue over your lips to get a better taste of him.

And when he finally slips between your legs to return the favor, he's certain there's no place else he'd rather be.

[littlejuicebox]

Milk.

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

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

I need to edit all these headers at some point.

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

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

-----

Astarion had been uncharacteristically melancholy this week.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He swallows.

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

Gods, this man.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, he's toying with you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anything for daddy. 

[khywren]

I Wanna Love You (But I don't Know How)

❛ pairing: Astarion/f!reader ❛ word count: 5.7k ┊ ❛ rating: 18+ MDNI ❛ tags/cw: smut, pwp, piv sex, oral sex, blood drinking, anxious reader, soft(ish) Astarion

▸ summary: “I knew you'd understand,” Astarion says, lowering his head to press his lips against yours in a kiss that sets your entire body alight with desire. Never in your wildest dreams had you ever thought you'd be lucky enough to kiss him, yet here he is, slotting his mouth against yours and running his tongue across the seam of your lips as if it's the most mundane thing in the world. And for you, it's anything but that. For a moment you forget to breathe as time stands still, and only once his other hand lays on your hip to pull you closer do you realize that you haven't died and that this is actually happening.

OR: A reinterpretation of your first night with Astarion with an anxious/slightly inexperienced reader.

AO3 ┊ masterlist ┊ dividers

It's well after sundown when you slip as quietly from your tent as you can to meet Astarion in the forest. One last glance over your shoulder at the edge of camp reassures you that no one has spotted you leaving, an embarrassment you would like to avoid at all costs.

Astarion has never kept his flirtatious behavior a secret from the others (in fact, you'd wager he does it publicly on purpose with the specific intent of watching you squirm), but it's one thing to let him tease you and another thing entirely to have anyone discover your little nighttime tryst.

You're already nervous enough about this as it is, thank you very much.

When he'd asked you to join him earlier in the evening, your initial reaction had been… less than ideal. You try not to think about it, which consequently means that it's the only thing you can think about. Reverse psychology at its finest.

“What's your idea of ‘a little fun?’”

“By the hells.” An exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes, as if he can't believe how oblivious you are. “Sex, my dear. A night of passion.” He leans close, smiles that wicked smile of his. You catch a glimpse of his fangs and curse the heat in your cheeks. “With you,” he adds after a moment, just in case you still didn't get the hint.

Your face still burns at the memory of his voice and the thrill of pleasure it had sent directly to your core. You had almost reconsidered even coming out here, humiliated by your own naivete, but here you were, nonetheless. Not because you didn't want to disappoint him, but because somewhere along the way you had gotten it in your mind that maybe he liked you as much as you liked him.

Wishful thinking, but who could blame you?

After all, what wasn't there to like? His biting, sarcastic humor. The effortless way he moved in battle, daggers as sharp as his fangs as he felled his enemies in a graceful yet deadly flourish of steel. That silver tongue of his, always primed with a clever remark or a quick jab. And that was all without even mentioning how unfairly handsome he was. Most elves were naturally gorgeous, you knew, but Astarion was an anomaly even by those standards.

When you stop to think about it, this girlish crush of yours is perhaps the most embarrassing thing of all. But there's something about Astarion that makes you feel like an innocent, blushing maiden all over again, and you'd be lying to yourself if you hadn't secretly been a little excited by his offer. Even the idea of casually spending time alone with him would have been enticing enough.

So now, here you stand in the middle of the forest, breathing deeply and trying to steady your rebellious heartbeat as you wait for him to find you. It's late summer and the nights have grown significantly colder since your journey began, and when Astarion doesn't appear after several agonizing minutes you consider that perhaps he's had second thoughts after all.

More than a little disappointed, you turn to leave, only to see a figure emerge from the trees at the other side of the clearing. Your eyes immediately fall upon his broad, bare chest, openly gawking at him in the moonlight. Astarion is just as stunning in the dark as he is in the sun – because of course he is. He moves with an almost feline grace towards you, lips pulled back in that familiar smirk of his that you've grown so fond of. 

“There you are,” he purrs. His words are husky, sensual, flowing like liquid silver inside every recess of your mind to banish any thoughts that aren't about him – what few there were even remaining. Your mouth is dry when you swallow around the lump in your throat, letting out a shaky exhale. Astarion is standing close enough now that you can catch his scent on the breeze, citrus and something earthy that does nothing to calm your nerves.

“I’ve been waiting,” he says with an arch of his brow. “Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you.”

You don't anticipate the fit of laughter that bubbles in your throat and spills out your lips, but it immediately breaks the tension that had settled between you.

“Oh, gods,” you manage, grinning despite the way Astarion glowers at you. He clicks his tongue in disapproval and folds his arms over his chest.

“Excuse me? What's so funny?”

The way he scrunches his nose makes him look like a disgruntled housecat, something you find both hilarious and endearing. But you keep that little fact to yourself because you value your life, and instead cock your head to the side in consideration.

“First of all,” you say, holding up a finger, “that's an awful line, even for you. And secondly –” you hold up another finger “– the first time we met, you held a dagger to my neck and threatened to slit my throat. Or was that part of the foreplay too?”

A turbulent wave of emotions flicker across Astarion's face before it settles on a petulant sort of pout.

“Yes, well, difficult as it may seem to believe, I made a mistake,” Astarion huffs, pointedly looking away as you've plainly caught him off guard. But he can feel you staring, and he quickly clears his throat and schools his expression with impressive ease. “A mistake that you will find I am here to rectify.”

The silence gives you time to think – time to poke more holes in his story. Before you have the opportunity, Astarion steps swiftly forward again, and you shiver as the ends of his long, slender fingers slide beneath your chin and tip your face towards his. That seductive look is back, no traces of his earlier irritation visible beneath the heated gaze he fixes you with.

“So, darling, what do you say?”

Your heart is in your throat, hammering wildly at just the barest touch of his skin. Despite his shameless flirting, Astarion rarely touches you, and each time he does sends a jolt of excitement through you. This time is no different, amplified tenfold by the circumstances of your present situation. You wonder how he does it, disarming you with nothing more than a simple touch.

Astarion continues to watch you, head tipped to the side as though he's a wolf sizing up a hare, deciding which part of you he'd like to sink his teeth into first.

Gods, yes. Of course. I've only been thinking about this for an embarrassingly long time.

“Okay,” you say instead. You try to match his stare, but his eyes leave you feeling as bare as the day you were born, and you can't help but cast your gaze elsewhere; worse still, you're certain that he can read every one of your most embarrassing thoughts, even without the aid of the tadpoles wriggling around in either of your brains.

“I knew you'd understand,” Astarion says, lowering his head to press his lips against yours in a kiss that sets your entire body alight with desire. Never in your wildest dreams had you ever thought you'd be lucky enough to kiss him, yet here he is, slotting his mouth against yours and running his tongue across the seam of your lips as if it's the most mundane thing in the world. And for you, it's anything but that. For a moment you forget to breathe as time stands still, and only once his other hand lays on your hip to pull you closer do you realize that you haven't died and that this is actually happening.

The feeling of his lips on yours is so much more intimate compared to the way they felt on your throat when you've let him feed on you. They're soft and pliant – far moreso than you would have guessed – especially when the rest of him is all hard muscle and sharp edges. When he's this close, his scent ensnares you completely, and you can detect the subtle notes of brandy beneath the bergamot and rosemary. 

You sag against his chest and let him do as he pleases, opening your mouth to let his tongue sweep inside and taste you. He groans softly when you bite down playfully on his tongue, eyes gleaming when he pulls away and smirks in approval. 

“Careful, darling,” he growls, close enough to your ear that you can feel the vibration of his voice. “I bite too, and I can guarantee I won't be nearly as gentle.”

It's no secret that Astarion knows how much you delight in letting him feed on you. He knew even before you clumsily admitted it to him the morning after the first time it happened, and by the third time you had invited him into your tent after dark there was an unspoken understanding that it was immensely pleasurable for both of you.

There's nothing quite like it, is there? The sharp sting of his fangs that melts away into the purest form of bliss as he nibbles your skin and sweeps his tongue greedily over the puncture marks between long, slow pulls of your blood. Or the way he murmurs little noises of approval against your throat – “that’s it, darling; so good for me…”

Even now, Astarion fully expects the effect his threat has on you: the way you tremble in his arms and how you press your mouth into a thin line to stifle a moan. He kisses you more insistently this time, one hand tangled in your hair as the hand on your hip guides you back until you're flush against a tree and pinned beneath him.

“Is that what you want, my sweet? Shall I drink your blood while I fuck you?” Astarion peppers a series of deceptively light kisses across your jaw, teasing you with the razor sharp points of his fangs as he seeks out your pulse point. You know he can feel it just beneath your skin, the blood surging through your veins with each erratic beat of your heart telling him what you lack the words to say. You envision his proposal in vivid detail and moan softly in response.

“Who knew you harbored such dirty little thoughts.”

Astarion's tongue traces an idle path over the bite marks on your neck and your breath catches in your throat as your hands scrabble for purchase on the rough bark behind you.

“I have so many thoughts about you, Astarion,” you confess. “That's the problem.”

You feel Astarion exhale across your skin, breath fanning out to tease the nape of your neck. His mouth splits into a wide, wolfish smile.

“Is that so? Why don't you tell me all about them, hmm?”

But where would you even begin? Nevermind that your mind is far too addled to form more than a single, barley-coherent thought.

“I could tell you, but I’d rather show you.”

“Oh?” This seems to pique his interest, though he never stops mouthing at your neck. He must be hungry, and you make a mental note to address that concern as soon as possible.

 “What did you have in mind, darling?”

In response, you fumble for his waist, earning a noise of surprise as you spin him around and sink to your knees in the grass. This, he clearly does not expect, if the way he raises his eyebrows is any indication.

You glance confidently up at him, at last feeling like you have the upper hand. You don't necessarily mind him being in control, but neither will you deny yourself the fun of surprising him.

“Isn't it obvious?” You allow yourself a small smirk of your own.

Your hands trace the edge of his waistband, making your intentions clear. For once he is silent, as if uncertain how to proceed. But that's fine – you're more than happy to take the lead for now.

“Most of the men I've been with expected me to do this,” you explain, waiting for his consent before you commit to undressing him further. “It's been a while, but I promise I know what I'm doing.” You huff a laugh and stick out your tongue. “Well. Mostly.”

You can only hope that your eagerness makes up for your lack of recent experience. And that's half the battle anyway, isn't it? Astarion looks at you for what feels like an eternity, and for a moment you see a flicker of hesitation in his expression before his eyes narrow and anchor on your face. 

“You don't have to,” he finally says, his hand lowering to brush an errant lock of your hair out of your eyes. He sounds almost sad, as though the only reason you had made the suggestion in the first place was out of obligation.

“Yeah, I know,” you say, smiling cheerfully up at him. “But I want to do this for you. And besides, wasn't it your idea for us to ‘indulge’ ?” you ask, poorly mimicking the teasing lilt of his voice. “That means you too.”

Astarion's expression softens as he smiles almost reluctantly back at you. A weight seems to lift from his shoulders and he visibly relaxes.

“All right, then. If you insist, darling.”

“Good, because I do.”

You shift slightly between his legs, steeling yourself for the task at hand. Your nerves flare yet again, the idea of disappointing him suddenly far more relevant than it had been before. Astarion's skin is cool and smooth beneath your fingers as you slip them beneath his waistband, tugging his pants down over the ample curve of his backside and down the length of his toned thighs. The only remaining barrier between you and the rest of him is his underwear, which is currently doing very little to obscure the very noticeable bulge beneath the fabric. With one last glance upwards, you suck in a breath and give them a swift tug, busying yourself with pulling his clothes down to his ankles so he can kick them aside.

The next time you lift your head, there's nothing left to the imagination. Astarion's cock greets you at eye level, half-hard and already glistening with a slick bead of precome. It's as pretty as the rest of him, the tip flushed a soft shade of petal pink that has you dying to know how much more enticing it would look after he's fed on you. You file that thought away for next time – provided there even is a next time. Best to not let yourself get distracted.

That, it turns out, is easier said than done. You reach out almost shyly and wrap your hand around his cock, impressed by the feel of him. He's smooth and heavy in your palm, and you give him a few experimental jerks, transfixed by the way you can feel his cock begin to swell in your hand. 

Astarion makes a quiet noise and your eyes follow the path of his body along his stomach and the hard lines of his chest, surprised to find his own half-lidded and a single fang digging into his bottom lip. You maintain eye contact as you continue pumping him, coaxing more soft sounds of pleasure from his throat.

“Ahh…” Your name slips from his lips, almost as an afterthought, and you instinctively squeeze your thighs together to give yourself some relief from the way his voice has your body begging for his touch. You've never heard him quite like this before, and the effect it has on you is nothing if not potent. His nostrils flare and you know instantly he is aware of your arousal.

Astarion leans back against the tree, one hand anchored in your hair as the other one digs into the bark, desperately trying to help him maintain his balance. The length of him is slick with his arousal, and you want nothing more than to taste him. Emboldened, you guide your free hand between his legs to cup his balls, lifting his cock so you can press the flat of your tongue against the underside at the base. The sensation makes his cock jump and his hips buck forward, eager for the feel of your mouth upon him. He tastes of clean linen and something distinctly Astarion, salty-sweet and decadent.

“Does it feel good?” you mumble against him, tracing your tongue along the vein that snakes around the length of his cock as you work your way towards the sensitive tip. When you wrap your lips around him and swirl your tongue over his slit, Astarion lets out a whine and tugs sharply on your hair, clearly fighting the urge to thrust deeper into your mouth.

“Y-es, love,” he says hoarsely, “that's – ohh… ”

You repeat the action, as eager to hear him again as he is to let you pleasure him.

“Don't stop.”

As if you had anything else in mind.

You tighten your lips around him and hollow your cheeks as you take his cock deeper into your mouth, hand twisting around the base of him in little corkscrew motions. Eyes locked on his face, you moan against his hard length, bobbing your head in time with the hand that strokes his shaft. You feel more than pride when Astarion's mouth falls open and he is unable to do anything but voice his pleasure, each moan and mewl he makes making your clit throb with need. 

Precome and saliva coat your chin as you take him deeper still, bracing your hand on his thigh to help you guide his cock to the back of your throat. The sensation is almost too much for you to handle, and you take a moment to breathe through your nose and remember to pace yourself. With his pupils blown, Astarion's eyes look more black than red, slamming shut as you swallow him to the base, press your nose against his stomach, and moan. He struggles to watch you work his cock with your lips and tongue, hips jerking every now and then and shoving his cock even further down your throat.

“Fuck,” he breathes, voice tight and raspy. “If you keep this up, darling, I'm going to –” Another groan as your tongue slides across his shaft in a way that makes his thighs tremble. His body is as taut as a bowstring, his release imminent.

Speaking now would only be an inconvenience. You take advantage of the tadpoles to reach into his mind, allowing him to feel the building pressure between your thighs as his cock hits the back of your throat again and your cunt clenches in response.

“It's okay,” you assure him. “I want it. I want you to come. It feels good for me too.”

Astarion needs no further encouragement. With both hands buried in your hair, his hips stutter and he bucks into your mouth, spilling himself down your throat with a groan that tapers into a satisfied whimper. He releases you and falls back against the tree, chest heaving. His cock twitches in the open air, dripping and still half-hard.

“See?” you pant, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I told you I knew what I was doing.”

“Cheeky little pup.” He speaks with that same sensual lilt in his voice that you're so familiar with, but this time it seems almost lighter, less restrained.

Astarion advances on only slightly unsteady feet, pushing you back onto your elbows as he takes his turn settling between your legs. Your eyes are wide as he hovers over your face, lips only inches from yours.

Kiss me. Kiss me, gods dammit.

A low chuckle rumbles in his throat, and you realize that you hadn't bothered to sever your tadpole connection before beaming your thoughts directly into his mind.

“Needy little thing, aren't you? Although I suppose it can't be helped.” Astarion kisses you again, nipping insistently at your bottom lip to encourage you to open your mouth. All the while, his hands slip beneath your sleep shirt, tracing a searing path across your body. But instead of grasping your breasts as you expect him to, he breaks the kiss to pull the garment over your head, one hand on your sternum as he presses you into the grass. The cool air isn't the only thing that makes you tremble.

Astarion mimics your actions from before, fingers dipping beneath your pants as a playful grin slides across his elegant features. “Has anyone ever done this for you, sweet girl?”

He licks his lips and you part your legs further. “N-no,” you admit with some reluctance.

Astarion clicks his tongue. “No? You poor thing. Allow me to fix that mistake as well.”

He doesn't need to ask you to lift your hips for him. Your body moves as if on instinct, letting him undress you with one swift motion. You lay shyly beneath him in the grass, gazing up at him with round, curious eyes as he looks at you in quiet contemplation.

“Do you want to know the reason I asked you to come all the way out here?” he asks, hands on your knees as his eyes rake down your body. Your skin burns beneath his lustful gaze, wetness pooling between your slick folds as he bares your center to him.

“Why?”

“Because this way,” Astarion purrs, sinking between your legs, “I don't have to hold back.” The last thing you see before your vision goes white are the rich, ruby reds of his eyes, narrowed to slits as he descends upon you. The first flick of his tongue against your clit is enough to make you cry out into the night, and when Astarion does it again and wraps his lips around the sensitive pearl and gently sucks you truly think that this might be the death of you.

His tongue glides between your folds to gather your arousal; the taste of it makes him groan, and you dig your fingers into the grass, trying not to thrash beneath him. Pleasure erupts like wildfire over every nerve ending as he works you with his tongue, wasting no time discovering the parts of you that make you whimper for him the most.

“Is it too much?”

It takes you a moment to realize he's asked the question, and you find the strength to peer down at him through hazy, unfocused eyes as he glances up at you.

“Yes… no… I don't…” You stop before you embarrass yourself any further and take another breath. “Maybe a little,” you admit, more coherently. “But it feels good. I want you to keep going.”

“My apologies.” He runs his tongue over his fangs and your poor heart skips a beat. “I'm finding it very difficult to resist devouring you whole. You, darling, are quite the delectable little treat.”

Another unexpected giggle bursts forth from your lips and you fall back against the soft ground as Astarion sits up and looks at you in confusion.

“You don't have to do that, you know,” you manage between laughs, finally propping yourself up on an elbow and tossing him an affectionate look.

“Do what?” he asks.

“Try to flatter me with those terrible pickup lines. I already like you; I wouldn't be out here if I didn't.”

Astarion's brows furrow and he seems to stare at you as if you are some unsolvable riddle, the expression on his face something you have no name for. It's as forlorn as it is relieved, amused as it is exasperated. 

He's still studying you when you sit up, and maybe it's just your imagination that tells you he leans into your touch when you cup his face and pull him in for a quick kiss, but that's all right with you. Astarion's eyes are curious and bright, an ocean of precious rubies shining beneath the light of the moon. The sight of it is enough to make your heart ache.

“All right,” he agrees, shrugging. “No more terrible pickup lines.

“Good,” you say. “I like you better that way. Just… just you.”

The grass is already wet with dew when you lay back again, letting your hands fall from Astarion's face. He almost seems to mourn the loss, but after a moment he slides gracefully down the length of your body and gently parts your legs once more.

This time he is far more mindful about what he's doing, tongue gently lapping at your center before dragging slowly across your opening. You moan and writhe beneath him as before, rolling your hips to press your clit against his nose. You don't expect how cold his fingers feel against your opening as he presses one gently inside you, waiting for you to encourage him for more before he coaxes you open.

“Astarion…”

He returns your whine with a groan, teasing your clit with his tongue as he guides a second finger inside you. Your arousal coats his fingers as they dip and curl inside your cunt, stoking the roaring fire inside your body. You're helpless to do anything but be swept up in the current, safe in the knowledge that Astarion will guide you exactly where you need to be.

Your orgasm doesn't slowly build as much as it roars to life, and you have only a moment to tell him before you're coming hard on his fingers and his tongue, trembling like a leaf in the wind as unrivaled ecstasy suffuses through you. Your throat constricts around the syllables of his name, the pace of his fingers and tongue gradually slowing as your euphoria finally fades.

The next time you open your eyes, Astarion is hovering over you, his face still coated in the evidence of your arousal. You pull him in for another kiss to taste yourself on his tongue, sighing contentedly into his mouth. His lips are no less insistent than before, but they lack the same urgency. But you certainly don't mind, letting him kiss you until you're left breathless and panting.

“Are you hungry, Astarion?” you ask, pressing his face against your neck. “You can feed on me, if you'd like.”

Astarion's fangs are an immediate presence against your skin before you even finish making your offer, his hands pinning your arms above your head just before he punctures your flesh. What little blood escapes his lips is quickly gathered on his tongue, and each long, steady pull of your blood is taken in time with the beating of your heart. His fangs dig deep, but you can feel his restraint behind the hands that pin your arms and his legs as they bracket your waist.

As he drinks, you gradually become aware of his cock against your thigh, heavy and full and so enticingly warm as your blood courses through his body. Astarion's hips shift as though he's seeking relief, and you oblige him by untangling one of your arms from his grasp and reaching for his cock, wrapping your fingers around his hardening length. He grunts in appreciation and snaps his hips forward at an increasingly desperate pace.

“Darling…”

Astarion's voice is slurred against your neck, made clumsy by his own arousal and the heady taste of your blood. 

“I think…” A pause, another few thrusts, another low groan. “I think I'd like to be inside you now.”

You instinctively squeeze his cock, nodding your ascent.

“I think I'd like that too.”

Crimson coats his lips when Astarion tears himself from your neck, a thin trail of your blood running down the side of his mouth. His tongue flicks out to gather it and he sighs heavily with satisfaction as he sits back on his calves. You feel the blunt head of his cock glide through your slick folds as he coats himself in your arousal, eyes trained reverently on your face. He notes each subtle change in your expression as he enters you, moving with more patience than either of you have to spare.

Your cunt pulses around his cock as Astarion thrusts himself deeper, the thin line between pleasure and pain blurring with every inch he buries inside you. When at last he bottoms out, you watch each other for a moment, listening to the sound of one another's panting breaths. 

Astarion's hands move to your legs, tucking beneath your knees as he lifts them up and presses them against your chest. 

“I'm going to move now, darling. Is that all right?”

You nod, breathing a shaky “yes” as you will yourself to relax. The first thrust has you throwing back your head with a strangled sob, and Astarion must find it encouraging because he wastes no time rocking into you again shortly after, and then again with even more force. He sets a steady pace, slamming his hips into the backs of your thighs with each punishing thrust. You squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face in the grass as you turn your head to the side, letting the sensation of him on top of you and inside you flood your senses.

Astarion digs his nails into your skin and growls your name. It sounds almost possessive, sharpened to a razor thin point as it cuts through the fog inside your mind. With monumental effort you open your eyes and search for his face somewhere on your periphery, mouth falling slack as a series of undignified whimpers and moans tumble from your lips.

“Eyes on me,” he commands in a tone that leaves no room for rebuttal. Your gaze finally catches sight of him and Astarion leans close, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. “That's it. Let me see you, sweet girl…”

“Astarion…”

Your mind is empty of all other thoughts but those of him, as it should be. How could it be otherwise, when you are full of him in every sense of the word? The feel of him inside you, the touch of his skin on yours. The scent of him that addles your senses and the sound of his voice that mirrors your own pleasure? Beyond it – beyond him – nothing else matters.

“Again,” he says through gritted teeth, and you follow the path of his gaze towards the arch of your neck and the blood you feel trickling down over your shoulder. You slip your legs around his waist, inviting him closer.

“Astarion.”

His mouth is on you again, eager for another taste of you. You acquiesce gladly, craning your neck to allow him better access.

“Again.”

This time when you cry his name, his fangs pierce your neck again, and his thrusts grow even more frantic as he drives his cock inside your quivering cunt. You tighten your legs and cling to him as closely as you can, each snap of his hips intense enough to lift you off the ground. Your tadpoles link, and Astarion's thoughts pour into your mind as liberally as you share yours with him; for a few, blissful moments the sensations you feel are neither entirely your own nor entirely his. 

The pressure inside you builds to a roaring crescendo, crashing over you like waves breaking on the shore as you fall to pieces beneath him with a shout that leaves your throat raw. Astarion holds you down as he pistons into you, the tight, inviting warmth of your body pulling him over the edge when he finds his own release. 

The absence of his weight as he extracts himself from the tangle of your limbs is a loss you mourn with a whine of protest, and you roll over onto your stomach with an ache in your thighs you know you'll be feeling in the morning. After a moment, you hear the rustling of clothes behind you and find Astarion half dressed already, tugging his pants on with an indecipherable expression on his face.

“I guess it was a bit silly of me to think this could last forever,” you say with a sigh, offering him a sad smile. Astarion approaches you and extends his hand to help you to your feet, and you try not to feel too embarrassed as you wobble like a newborn fawn.

“Not if you and that feeble mortal constitution of yours don't want to catch cold,” he says flatly.

“Hey!” You scowl at him in mock offense. “Fair enough, I guess. Rude, but fair.”

Astarion waits for you to pull your clothes back on before turning back the way you came, and you follow him in silence as you make your way to camp. The moonlight filtering through the trees sometimes catches on his form and you note what appears to be a series of intricate marks carved into his back, a sight that leaves you both curious and filled with a sense of dread.

“Astarion?” you ask, “What's that on your back?”

A bitter laugh leaves him and he turns to offer you an equally humorless smile, his eyes distant in a way that makes your heart twist in your chest.

“A story for another time, darling,” he says, and there's a finality to his words that broker no more room for discussion. You nod in understanding, stepping over the threshold of the woods that circle the clearing where you and the others set up camp only a few hours prior.

Returning alone to your own tent is not something you're looking forward to, but as you turn to look at Astarion he's already pulled his tent flap aside, sparing you one final glance as if he's anticipated the question you no longer have the courage to ask. You feel your lips tug into a small smile, one that Astarion only mirrors after a moment of hesitation.

“Good night, Astarion. Um… thanks. For tonight. I enjoyed spending time with you.”

“It was my pleasure, darling. Sleep well.”

As you watch him slip inside his tent, you have the sudden feeling that whatever happened between the two of you tonight has only further complicated your already curious relationship with Astarion. But like so many other things about the man, it is only one more of the many mysteries surrounding him that you hope one day to unravel. You curl up in your bedroll, unable to keep your mind on anything else as you drift off, eager for whatever awaits you tomorrow.

[dervampireprince]

taking care of astarion after cazador's death no smut, just comfort /// gender-neutral reader/tav

after cazador's deminse, after the spawn leave, once it's just you and your companions again, astarion doesn't speak. it's as if he's in a daze. you're torn between giving him space and leaving him on his own, and wondering if he really needs to not be alone right now.

he's still covered in blood, you'd given him a shirt he pulled on over his head, the grime on his skin soaked through and left it sticking to his skin, it was over his face, in his hair. he didn't make any move to wipe any of it away.

the trek out of the castle, out of the dark, seemed so long. you wondered how he was still standing, how he was dragging his legs. you stay by his side, but did not touch him, you make no move to grab his hand, to sooth him. you hoped walking at his side, matching his pace, conveyed enough. you were here. and you weren't going to touch him until he said it was alright.

you only had one plan you cared about when you finally reached the inn. the others talked amongst themselves, one by one their eyes lingering on astarion, apologising, telling him he did the right thing, that they were proud of him. you watched them start to retreat up to their rooms as you spoke with innkeeper.

once done with your conversation, key in hand, astarion still stood at the foot of the stairs.

"were you waiting for me?" you asked. he opened his mouth to speak, his eyes drifted down, he paused. "i want to take you somewhere. and i know you're tired, i promise it's to help you rest."

he nodded, still mute, you reached out to take his hand, stopped yourself, and instead beckon him to follow you.

you wound through the inn, existing out into a small garden, and entering the building on the other side, guiding astarion through the main door and down the corridors until you found the door that fits the key the innkeeper gave you.

inside was a small, private bath, sunken into the ground like a hot spring. it's nothing that fancy, but it's quiet, and fits it's purpose. you press the key into his hand, carefully.

"i can leave, if you'd like. and you can take all the time you need... or, if you'd rather, i can stay and help you wash. and that's all we'll be doing. i'd be touching you, but it wouldn't be sexual. and if you're not comfortable with that, it's okay," you twisted your head to try and catch his gaze. "would you like me to stay or go? i won't be offended or upset, the choice is yours, and if you'd rather i go i'll be waiting for you upstairs."

he still didn't speak, you wondered if his screams and cries earlier have made his voice hoarse, or if he just can't bring himself too. your hand hovered by his cheek, not touching, but trying to guide his head to turn towards yours, and when he finally does there's wetness in his eyes, the blood high on his cheekbones becoming smudged.

"would you like me to stay?"

his teeth sank into his lip, if they drew blood you'd be unable to tell. he nodded his head.

"would you like to undress yourself, or do you want me to help?"

you saw him shudder, and he stepped back and as he started to remove his clothes you did the same with yours. you wade into the bath, sinking down and sigh as the water washes over your tired muscles.

you turned, and reached out a hand towards him. he took it.

he's silent as you reached into the small basket at the side of the bath, lathering soap in your hands and getting to work, starting with his hands, kneading around his nails, up his arms, his torso, his face.

he's silent as you nudged him to move, knelt up behind him, asked him to tilt his head back, poured water over his head, felt him start to relax as he closed his eyes, running your hands through his hair, feeling as though it's the most intimate action you've ever done with him, despite the multiple nights of passion.

he's still silent when you exited the baths, annoyed that you can't just roll under clean sheets but have to redress yourselves, as you hesitated to follow him into your room, ready to bunk with one of the others, but he took your hand, and then you're both silent as you undress again, crawl under the sheets, letting him reach for you this time, now that he's ready, taking him in your arms, cradling his head to your chest, fingers playing with his hair.

you don't imagine the soft "thank you" that fell from his lips as you both drifted off to sleep.

[frantic-fiction]

Tease 18+

(Pic: cheekylittlepupp)

Astarion x f!reader, Astarion x Tav

Summary: The party is taking the night off. You're convinced to wear a dress, and Astarion just can't control himself.

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, Semi-public sex, caught in the act?

Word Count: 3.2k

Mastarlist

Standing in front of the mirror, you pull at the dark green fabric, tugging it down this way and that. You try again to tie the corset but give up quickly. You swing your hips, and the flowy skirt swishes, tickling the skin above your knees. Looking yourself up and down, you zone in on your hips, squirming at the fabric extenuating your curves. So much skin on display makes you want to steal someone's spare cloak to hide in. You weren't one to be self-conscious, but you're used to donning armor and leather, not this scrap of fabric Karlach had convinced you to buy. 

You should just change. Grab some leggings and one of Astarion's shirts, and call it a night. You didn't need a dress to catch his eye; you know how Astarion feels about you; wearing a dress won't change that. Backing away from the mirror, you're just about to rip the dress off when Karlach bursts into the room, Shadowheart following behind her at a much tamer pace. 

"Soldier!" Karlach squeals, stopping suddenly in the middle of the room. She slaps her hands on either side of her face. "You. Are. Gorgeous!" Your face burns as Karlach pounces on you, spinning you around to give her the best view from every angle. Heat creeps up your chest and you giggle awkwardly.

"She's right, you look stunning," Shadowheart smirked and added, "Ten gold Astarion won't be able to keep it in his pants."

"20, he won't make it to a room," Karlach shouts.

"Gods! You both are ridiculous." You squeal, swatting Karlach's hands away and stepping back from her excitement. You huff and fix your skirt. Crossing your hands over your chests, you glare at the girls before timidly looking off to the side. "So, I don't look silly?" The hesitation is evident.

"All joking aside, I assure you, soldier, you are beautiful. And I know for a fact Fangs won't be able to keep his eyes off of you."

You beam under Karlach's compliment, doing a few excited calf raises because you have no idea how else to handle her words. Shadowheart moves towards you and fixes a fallen strand of hair. She gives you a soft smile and moves to finish lacing your corset, patting your arm when she’s done.

"Now we should go. The others are waiting downstairs," Shadowheart motions everyone to the door, letting you take a moment to slip your shoes on. 

After months of endless travels and brutal battles, the party decided to take the evening to drink, relax, and enjoy each other's company. A night to forget the tadpoles and the Absolute. All except Lae'zel, who scoffed at the idea, were joining in on the fun.

Descending the stairs, you slammed with the melody of lively tunes played by a band of minstrels, competing with the animated conversations of patrons. The music, infused with the spirit of celebration, is so loud that it vibrates through the wooden beams of the tavern. The dance floor is alive with energetic movements as couples twirl and spin to the rhythm and the joyous laughter of those lost in the moment.

The bar is surrounded by a sea of drunk patrons clamoring for attention. Tankards slammed onto the worn surface as the bartender poured frothy ale and mead expertly. The dim light of flickering candles and oil lamps casts a warm glow on the diverse crowd. The unmistakable odors of stale ale, greasy food, and the tang of sweat intermingle in the air, creating a distinctive nostalgic and pungent aroma. You're lost in the crowd's movement, overwhelmed with the sounds. You grab onto Shadowheart's elbow like a lifeline.

"Karlach!" Wyll calls and you all snap your head to the side. The party had claimed a booth, and Gale and Wyll were standing up, waving their arms over their heads. They looked like they started early on the drinking; both men's faces were flush, and they each held an easy, dopey grin.

"Wyll!" Karlach linked her arms with yours and Shadowheart's and approached the table. You let her pull you, too busy searching for him. Astarion is slow to stand, but you know the moment he sets his eyes on you. You watch the subtle change in his body language. His hand tightened around the goblet; the exaggerated inhale of air as if someone had kicked him, watching the hunger grow in his eyes.

Now, you feel the confidence bloom in your chest. The dress no longer makes you squirm in discomfort; no, it gives you power and makes you feel desired and sexy. The flame ignites low in your abdomen. Suddenly, you were playing with fire and excited to get burned. A smug smile stretches your lips the closer you get. Pulling away from Karlach, you move and hook your arms around Astarion's neck. You pull him down and place a kiss on his cheek.

"Hi, handsome," you smile up at him, feeling his hand caress the small of your back. Cold fingers playing at the edge of the corset.

"Hello darling, you look breathtaking." He pushes you back gently, giving him space to take in your attire. "Turn for me, my love. Let me look upon the goddess before me."

You roll your eyes at his cheesiness but oblige his request, spinning slowly to allow Astarion to take in every angle. When you come full circle, Astarion captures your lips, and you fall against his chest. His lips meld against yours in a sensual kiss that was entirely inappropriate for the amount of people around, but neither of you seemed to care. Humming against his mouth, you cup his jaw and pull his face away. Astarion chases your lips and lets out a low groan when you deny him what he wants.  

You give Astarion a mischievous grin, patting his chest when you ask. "Do you mind getting me a drink?" 

He gives you a pointed look, visibly dissatisfied with his kiss. With one look and your hand running up his chest and over his shoulder, Astarion caves with a huff. "Yes, of course. Would you like your usual?"

"Yes, please." You say pecking his lips a final time before joining your friends in the booth. 

Wyll was regaling the table with a tale of his early days as the Blade of Frontiers when Astarion slides in beside you. He sets your drink down, and you whisper your thanks before taking a sip and focusing back on Wyll. Gale is quick to call out Wyll's bullshit, Shadowheart pointing out the exaggeration the warlock had blended into his story. It soon devolved into a bickering match as Wyll tried to defend himself. You chuckle between sips of wine, leaning into Astarion, setting your head gently against his shoulder. His hand had found your bare thigh, fingers kneading the supple flesh. 

Suddenly, your friends become background noise as your senses hone in on Astarion. The cheeky smirk that stretches his lips tells you he knows exactly what he's doing as Astarion inches his smooth hand further under your dress—never crossing the line but far enough to make you clench your legs together in need. You bite your lip, cheeks burning from more than the alcohol, and reach down to take his hand in yours. 

"I know what you're doing,"

"Oh, and what is that, my dear?" Astarion grins, bringing your hand to his lips and gently kissing your knuckles. He leans to your ear, "Do you not want me to touch you?" His breath cascades over your neck, and a shiver runs up your spine.

"Not when you're trying to tease me in public."

"My sweet girl, I'm not the one being a tease."

"Soldier! Stop making goo-goo eyes at Fangs, and come dance with me!" Karlach yells across the table, breaking whatever spell Astarion had you under. Pulling away, you look up to see Karlach jumping up and down, hand outstretched for you to take. 

"You know I won't say no to dancing." Astarion reluctantly moves to let you out of the booth. Karlach is quick to grab your hand and pull you towards the stage. 

The time is lost in the beat of the drums and the flow of your hips. Karlach twirls you around, and you can't stop giggling. Wyll joins in the fun, and suddenly, the crowd has formed a unified line dance. It's messy, and you don't know the steps, but you watch Wyll and poke fun at Karlach's improvised moves. You dance until your breath is ragged and your feet start hurting. Moving your body until the sea of people starts to drown you. Maybe it's the alcohol coursing through your veins or the excitement of the dancing. Still, the fun quickly turns to overstimulation that blankets you in thick sheets. In an instant, the room is too hot and too loud, and if you don't get out now, you just might scream.

You leave Karlach and move towards the door outside to the back alley. Pushing it open, you stumble over the threshold and inhale the cold night air. It instantly sobers, clearing your mind and easing your panic. You stare up at the starry sky, soaking in the bright moon. Goosebumps spread over your exposed arms and legs, and you shiver. It doesn't stop you from stepping further into the alleyway as you breathe and allow your heart to settle its pounding. You can still hear the muffled music and thumping feet. 

You hear the door open again but pay it no mind until Astarion speaks, "There you are, my sweet."

You turn on your heel and give him a soft smile. He glowed under the moonlight, an ethereal being standing before you, his face partially cast in shadow, staring at you with hunger. "I needed some air."

"I'm sure you did," Astarion smirks, stepping closer toward you. A predator stalks up to its prey. "All that dancing you were doing must have been exhausting."

"It was, but it was so fun." You reach out instinctually, wrapping your arms around his neck. Astarion smoothes his hands down your spine to the swell of your butt, moving to squeeze the soft, plump flesh. "You should join me next time." You squeak at his grip, pressing yourself closer to him.

Then his lips are on yours, and your back is digging into the rough brick of the alleyway. Astarion's tongue is in your mouth, and you're moaning, gripping his shoulders to find purchase. One of his fangs nipped your bottom lip, and your knees practically buckled under you. You would have fallen if Astarion hadn't pressed you against the wall. 

"I think I just might take you dancing tomorrow." His cold hands caress your thigh, pulling it up and over his hip, pushing up the fabric of your dress with it. "I'll buy you a pretty new dress to add to your growing collection, and I'll have you move your body for me like you've been doing all night." 

He rolls his hips into yours, and you cry into his neck, kissing his skin to muffle your noises. "Swaying those hips in this tight little thing. Gods darling, I've been hard all night, and it's entirely your fault, you naughty little minx."

"Astarion," You sigh, relishing the friction of his hard cock against your clothed core. 

"Such a cruel woman, dangling a feast over a starving man. I'll have to punish you for that." Astarion purrs, running his nose along the line of your jaw, stopping to bite at his favorite spot; his fangs puncture the surface just enough to have droplets of your blood trickle out.

His tongue lavishes over your skin, making sure not a drop escapes. The moan that rumbles through his chest is purely animalistic, and a rush of heat gushes between your legs. "But right now, my naughty girl, I'm going to fuck you here against this wall." 

You let out a whimper, hips bucking instinctually, heat coiling in your lower stomach. "Please.." 

Astarion takes no time to push your underwear aside and push two of his fingers into your folds with a lewd, wet sound. Astarion begins to pump his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt, with each stroke curling up just slightly. The rough pad of his thumb finds your swollen clit, and applying pressure, he circles the nub in time with his fingers. 

"You're already so drenched, always so ready for me." You pull his face in and sigh into his mouth, niping his lip playfully. Threading your hand through his soft curls, you give a soft tug, relishing in the grunt Astarion gives you. 

You're painfully aware of your surroundings and know that someone could step out and catch the two of you any moment. The thought gives you a jolt of excitement you'll have to think about later. There is no room to take your time, so you tug harder on Astarion's hair loss, pulling his lips from the flesh of your neck he was playing with.

"Star," You roll your hips against his hand impatiently. "I need you to fuck me already,"

"So impatient, but you are right. This is not the time to play." Astarion tsk before unceremoniously ripping your underwear off and stuffing them in his pocket. 

"I liked those."

"I'll buy you a new pair, maybe one to match your new dress." Astarion peppers kiss down your neck. Your hands move to pull his pants down, freeing his cock. It's red and looks painfully swollen. Astarion hisses through his teeth when you give the base of his cock a tight squeeze. 

"I want one that matches the new dress and the same ones you just ripped." You countered, giving him a few languid strokes using his precum as a lubricant. 

"Whatever you want, my love." He says mindlessly, taking you into another breathtaking kiss.

Astarion hands leave your cunt, and a whine leaves your lips. He kisses your pout and quickly grabs his cock. Astarion pumps himself a few more times before lining up at your entrance. When Astarion sheaths himself fully in your heat, the wind is knocked out of you. A collective groan of ecstasy escapes from both of your mouths. There is no build-up, no room to catch your breath. Astarion quickly pulls out and slams back into you—your back scraps against the bricks, and your foot slips on the cobblestone.

You yelp scrambling to hold on and not fall pathetically onto the dirty alley floor. Astarion, without skipping a beat, scoops you up fully in his arms. All you can do is wrap your legs around his hips and hold on as he pounds into your dripping cunt. 

"Gods, you're perfect," Astarion signs into your neck. He pulls at your dress, moving the corset just enough to expose one of your breasts. He bends his head and sucks your nipple into his mouth. You choke on a gasp; cupping the back of his head, you press him further against you. 

"Astarion," you moan, carding your fingers into his curls. Rolling your hips, you match his thrusts. Your lower stomach tightens, and you will not last much longer. Not with him pulling you apart in the way only he can. You tried to say as much, but you choke on a sob when Astarion's fingers find your clit. 

He grinds your hips into the brick wall and brutalizes your clit with tight circles. His voice is raspy in your ears. "I'm close, love…ngh - gods, you feel so good."

"A-astarion, please!" Tears bead down your cheeks, pleasure overwhelming your senses. Your muscles are tightening. Your legs quake, and you clench tightly around him. 

"That’s it, come for me, beautiful." And that is all you need to see stars, opening your mouth in a silent cry. Ecstasy courses through your veins, and you bite down on his collarbone to ground yourself in your pleasure. His hips stutter, pace faltering as he loses himself in your body, spilling his seed deep into you. 

Neither of you moves; the brick is now uncomfortably digging into your back, but you can't find the energy to care. Astarion peppers kiss up and down your neck. You scratch his scalp softly and catch your breath. It’s nice.

"I guess I should wear more dresses."

"My dear, you could wear a burlap sack, and I would have still taken you against this wall."

"Horny bastard." 

The two of you were too caught up in each other to notice the tavern door opening again. Nor did either of you notice two figures stepping out. At least not until Karlach's loud cackle echoed down the alleyway. You whip your head in her direction, Astarion following suit. Karlach is hunched over and on her knees, shoulders shaking with laughter. Shadowheart stands beside her, arms crossed with disgust and annoyance plastered on her face.

Astarion is quick to turn you away, shielding you with his body. He let’s you go and you scramble to cover yourself. He helps you fix your dress. Great. 

"What did I tell you? Fangs couldn't keep it in his pants long enough to find a room!" Karlach booms, slapping Shadowheart on the arm. "Hand it over," her palm extended in wait. You hide your face in Astarion's neck, face burning in embarrassment. 

Shadowheart mumbled something under her breath, digging in her pocket for her gold pouch. "Here," the gold is slapped into the tieflings palm. She turns to the two of you. "Find a different cleric to cure whatever disease you've contracted in this filthy alley." Shadowheart quickly turns back into the tavern, the door slamming behind her. 

"Well, thanks for the gold," The tiefling beams and skips after Shadowheart, leaving you and Astarion alone once more. 

You refuse to leave the space between Astarion's jaw and collarbone. Thoughts of packing your stuff and running to Candlekeep are crossing your mind. Karlach and Shadowheart are already telling Wyll and Gale about your exploits, and you don't want to handle the smug looks. 

Astarion's chest rumbles with silent laughter, and you're pulled from your escape plans. You emerge from your safe space and glare up at the man. "What's so funny?!" 

He laughs harder, and runs his thumb over your pout, cupping your jaw. You hold firm in your annoyance and turn your head. "Karlach is telling all of our friends that we just fucked in a dirty back alley, why would you be laughing?" You snap.

"You would think at this point Shadowheart would stop betting on our love life. Tsk, all the gold she's lost." You narrow your eyes at him. His playful smirk widens. "She and the other weirdos should know how shamelessly I want you. They were lucky I didn't fuck you on the table." 

Rolling your eyes, you shove him hard, forcing Astarion to stumble back. Moving past you storm towards the door; he's laughing and calling your name. Astarion, only get your middle finger before the tavern door closes behind you.

Astarion is a cheeky shit. I love him.... Let me know what ya thought, i love your feedback.

Taglist: heartfully10, ayselluna

[aspenmissing]

Can I request headcanons for Karlach, Gale, Halsin, Astarion, poly Gale & Astarion, and poly Astarion & Halsin flustering her/his/their shy female s/o by showering her with kisses because she absolutely loves it but she's always feel extra bashful afterwards please?

ᴀ ꜱʜᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴋɪꜱꜱᴇꜱ

ᴀꜱᴛᴀʀɪᴏɴ | ᴋᴀʀʟᴀᴄʜ | ʜᴀʟꜱɪɴ | ɢᴀʟᴇ | ᴀꜱᴛᴀʀɪᴏɴ/ɢᴀʟᴇ | ᴀꜱᴛᴀʀɪᴏɴ/ʜᴀʟꜱɪɴ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 4692 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴ/ᴀ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ʏᴇᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! ɪ'ᴍ ɢʟᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ! ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀꜱ ᴍᴜᴄʜ! <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴀꜱᴛᴀʀɪᴏɴ | ᴋᴀʀʟᴀᴄʜ | ʜᴀʟꜱɪɴ | ɢᴀʟᴇ

ASTARION

The fire crackled softly, casting a golden glow on the mossy rocks and worn leather bedrolls. Shadows danced on nearby trees like slow-moving ghosts, and the occasional breeze carried the scent of pine needles and smoldering embers. The night was calm—a rare, precious gift after a day marked by bloodshed and the screaming of the dying.

The others had drifted off to their corners of camp, either asleep or feigning it. Gale was mumbling in his sleep again, something about “Weave compatibility,” while Karlach’s snores rolled through the clearing like distant thunder. Shadowheart sat in her tent, quietly reading. Lae’zel had long since retreated to sharpen her blade—or her temper.

But not you. And certainly not Astarion.

You sat beside him near the fire, your knees drawn up, your hair slightly damp from a hasty rinse in the river. The ends curled softly in the heat. You’d just finished recounting a particularly mortifying story from your childhood—one Astarion had insisted on hearing, after expertly needling you into it with those teasing eyes and that unbearably smug smile.

“Oh gods,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands as the final detail slipped from your lips like a death sentence. “Why did I tell you that?”

Astarion let out a delighted laugh, sharp and musical, like chimes caught in a summer wind. It made your heart stutter, every time.

“My dear, that was positively adorable,” he cooed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Who knew the mighty, fearsome warrior of our little troupe once got her foot stuck in a pumpkin of all things?”

“Please,” you moaned, voice muffled by your hands. “Let me melt into the ground now.”

“But if you do,” he said, scooting closer, “how will I keep you all to myself?”

You peeked through your fingers to find him already far too close, the firelight reflecting off his pale skin like moonlight on silk. Instead of mocking you further, Astarion did something worse—far worse.

He reached out, gently taking your wrists in his cool hands, and pried your hands away from your face. His touch was light, reverent, as though you might vanish at the slightest protest. When your gaze met his, you forgot how to breathe for a moment.

“I simply can’t resist you when you’re like this,” he purred, his voice dropping into that dangerous velvet register. “All pink in the cheeks, lips twitching, trying so hard not to smile…”

“Astarion—” you warned, though it lacked any real conviction.

His lips brushed your forehead.

You froze, the warmth of the kiss blooming through you like wine in your veins.

Then he kissed your temple. Your breath caught.

Another kiss landed on your cheek. Then another. Then another. Quick, soft pecks. Featherlight. Mischievous. His mouth moved like a whisper across your skin, never lingering, always chasing the places you didn’t know you needed to feel.

He was grinning now, and your face burned hotter than the fire.

“A-Astarion!” you squeaked, trying to twist away, though the attempt was more symbolic than sincere. “You’re doing that thing again—”

“Oh? You mean the thing where I absolutely shower you with affection?” He captured your hands again, bringing them to his lips. He kissed each knuckle slowly, as if savoring the taste of your skin, like royalty or a relic. “Guilty as charged.”

You whined, half-laughing, half-mortified, your face so hot you could have sworn it was glowing. “You’re awful.”

“I’m charming,” he corrected smoothly, trailing his kisses down your wrist. “And—what was it?—irresistible? Wasn’t that what you called me the other night after your fourth glass of wine?”

“That was the wine talking,” you mumbled, hiding behind your free hand again.

“Oh, darling,” he murmured, brushing his lips up your arm now, slow and lazy, “but you’ve never needed wine to look at me like I hung the stars.”

You peeked at him through your fingers again, flushed and trembling and melting in equal parts. “You said there was a secret.”

He raised an infuriating brow, smug as the devil. “Ah, yes. A little secret I’ve discovered about you.” He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “You love it when I do this.”

Your hands dropped to your lap, betrayed by your own curiosity. “...Do not.”

“Oh, really?” His eyes gleamed, and before you could think of a rebuttal, he began peppering kisses along your jawline. One, two, three—pausing only to smirk against your skin as you squirmed in his grasp.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, voice like silk dragging across bare skin.

You bit your lip, eyes squeezed shut, and tried very hard not to giggle. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he murmured, pressing a kiss just beneath your ear, “you still haven’t stopped me.”

“I’m trying to hold onto some dignity,” you mumbled, voice featherlight and almost pleading.

“Darling,” he chuckled, pressing his forehead to yours, “I stole your dignity days ago. Right after you told me you dreamed of me feeding you grapes on a velvet couch.”

Your eyes flew open. “That was one time!”

“And a delicious detail it was,” he purred, all mischief and moonlight.

Then, without warning, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his lap. You landed against his chest with a soft yelp, and he held you there with startling gentleness.

“You’re far too precious,” he whispered, the tone of his voice suddenly shifting—less teasing now, more reverent. “Every time you blush, I swear my unbeating heart stirs.”

You buried your face in his shoulder with a muffled groan. “You are the worst.”

“And you,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple again, “are mine.”

The silence that followed was warm and heavy, broken only by the fire’s lullaby and the soft beating of your heart against his. He ran his fingers slowly along your spine, his other hand gently cradling the back of your head as though holding a dream he wasn’t ready to wake from.

You stayed like that, tangled in moonlight and warmth, your heart thudding embarrassingly loud in your chest while his lips found the soft spot just below your ear, the place that made your breath hitch every time.

You didn’t tell him to stop.

You never really meant it when you did.

KARLACH

The lake glittered under the afternoon sun, each ripple catching the light like a tossed coin. Wildflowers lined the grassy shore, and dragonflies skimmed lazily across the surface of the water. It was quiet—peaceful in a way the road rarely allowed. No shouting. No blades clashing. Just the hush of the breeze and the gentle lapping of water against smooth stones.

Y/N sat in the grass a few feet from the shoreline, boots kicked off and legs tucked beneath her. She ran her fingers absently through her damp hair, tugging out little knots and brushing dried blood from the ends. The fight earlier in the day hadn’t been bad, but it had been enough to leave her nerves buzzing, heart still trying to decide whether to calm down or stay on edge.

A shadow fell over her.

She looked up just in time to see Karlach grinning—wide, radiant, and slightly mischievous.

Before she could react, strong arms swooped down and lifted her off the ground.

“Karlach—!” Y/N yelped, flailing a little as she was hauled effortlessly into the barbarian’s lap.

Karlach plopped them both back into the soft grass with a huff of laughter. “There she is,” she said, nuzzling into Y/N’s shoulder like a happy bear. “My favourite girl.”

Y/N covered her face with both hands, already blushing furiously. “You can’t just—pick me up like that out of nowhere…”

Karlach leaned in, her voice warm and teasing in Y/N’s ear. “Pretty sure I just did.”

Y/N groaned softly, trying to hide in her own sleeves.

“Stop it,” she muttered, the words utterly devoid of conviction.

“Stop what?” Karlach asked innocently. “Showering my adorable girlfriend with affection?” She punctuated it with a kiss just below Y/N’s ear, then her jaw, her cheek, her temple—soft, rapid-fire kisses that made Y/N squirm and gasp with every one.

“Karlach—!” she half-laughed, half-whined, trying to duck away. “You’re not being fair!”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m not trying to be fair.”

Before Y/N could wriggle out of her grasp, Karlach leaned them both back into the grass, rolling until she hovered above her. She braced herself on one arm while the other gently cupped Y/N’s flushed face, thumb brushing lightly against her cheek.

Pinned beneath her, Y/N looked up with wide, dazed eyes, the sky a perfect summer blue above Karlach’s silhouette.

The cold press of Karlach’s infernal engine brushed against Y/N’s stomach, barely felt through the fabric of her tunic—but it was the heat in Karlach’s eyes that made her breath catch.

“Look at you,” Karlach murmured, grinning down at her. “You’re blushing so hard I think the sun’s getting jealous.”

“D-Don’t say stuff like that,” Y/N stammered, covering her face with both hands again. “It’s embarrassing…”

Karlach chuckled low in her throat, eyes crinkling. She bent down and gently pried one of Y/N’s hands away, pressing a lingering kiss to the centre of her palm. “You love it,” she said smugly.

Y/N shook her head stubbornly, lips pursed into something between a pout and a bashful smile. “N-No I don’t.”

“Oh really?” Karlach grinned and kissed her nose. “Then what’s this?” A kiss to her cheek. “And this?” Another to the tip of her chin. “And this one right—here.”

A slow, soft kiss to Y/N’s lips shut her up entirely.

Y/N let out a tiny, startled noise, one hand curling into Karlach’s shirt like an anchor. She was melting—absolutely melting. Her thoughts turned to mist, her whole body tingling in the warm sunlight and the weight of the woman above her.

Karlach pulled back just enough to brush their foreheads together.

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered,” she whispered. “Like, devastatingly cute. I might never recover.”

Y/N made a soft, strangled sound, now covering her face again with both hands and mumbling something incoherent.

Karlach laughed again, a real belly laugh that rumbled through her chest. She leaned in, nuzzling against Y/N’s neck with exaggerated affection, nose scrunching up like a big, overgrown puppy.

“Okay,” she whispered dramatically. “I’m gonna keep kissing you until you admit you love it. No escape. This is your life now.”

Y/N peeked between her fingers, still bright red, voice muffled. “…Maybe just one more.”

Karlach froze. Then slowly, that grin returned, wide and unstoppable. “Oh, baby,” she said, voice low and warm, “you have no idea what you just unleashed.”

And with that, she kissed her again—slow, deep, sun-drenched—and didn’t stop for a very long time.

GALE

You were quietly reading by the campfire, the flickering flames casting warm, golden shadows across Gale’s face as he watched you with that familiar, soft smile that always made your heart flutter. The crackling fire filled the night air with a comforting rhythm, and for a while, nothing else mattered but the simple pleasure of being together.

You loved moments like these—peaceful, simple, shared.

The book in your hands slipped a little as you caught Gale’s gaze lingering on you, his eyes reflecting the dancing flames. He looked almost… mesmerized. You smiled softly and glanced up, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

Before you could say a word, Gale leaned in, his breath warm against your skin, and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.

Your breath hitched, cheeks flushing a deep rose as a surge of warmth spread through you.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured, voice low and tender, almost a secret meant just for you.

You swallowed, heart pounding, but before you could respond, his lips trailed down your cheek, slow and featherlight, teasing the sensitive skin beneath your eye. Then came the tip of your nose, which he nuzzled playfully.

You instinctively tried to pull back, eyes sparkling with laughter, but suddenly a shimmer of sparkling blue magic flickered around your wrists and ankles—a delicate yet firm Hold Person spell.

“Gale! What—?” you giggled, caught between surprise and amusement as you realized you were frozen in place.

He grinned like a mischievous child, eyes twinkling with delight. “Just a little spell to keep my favourite person still. I want to make sure I can show you exactly how much I adore you without you running away.”

Your cheeks burned hotter, both from the magic and the affection radiating off him in waves.

His hands cupped your face gently, thumbs brushing along your cheekbones as he leaned closer, lips capturing yours in a soft, insistent kiss. The world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you—firelight flickering, your breaths mingling, and the steady beating of your hearts.

He pulled back just enough to pepper a dozen little kisses along your jawline and down to your collarbone, each one igniting tiny sparks beneath your skin. You sighed against him, body melting, heart pounding so hard you feared it might burst free.

When he finally released the spell, your limbs tingled, freed but reluctant to move. You instinctively tried to pull away, cheeks flushed a bright crimson, voice barely above a whisper.

“Gale… you’re… you’re impossible.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and deep, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face with a tender touch. “Only for you,” he replied softly.

You hid your face against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calm your own racing pulse. The moment felt infinite—intimate and perfect.

“More kisses?” you dared to ask, still shy but secretly hoping, your voice trembling with a bashful excitement.

Gale’s smile deepened, eyes shining with affection and a hint of playful mischief. “Always.”

Without hesitation, his lips found yours again—gentle, lingering, and utterly full of love. You laughed softly between kisses, the bashfulness melting away into pure, happy contentment.

When at last you pulled back, breathless and flushed, Gale tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and whispered, “You make me feel like the luckiest man in the world.”

You smiled shyly, fingers threading through his. “And you make me feel like I’m the most loved.”

He leaned in once more, a single tender kiss pressed to your forehead before resting his cheek against yours. The fire crackled on, but you barely noticed — because in that moment, nothing else existed but the warmth of his love and the sweetness of his kisses.

HALSIN

The forest around you was alive with the soft sounds of rustling leaves and distant birdcalls, but your focus was entirely on the steady, quick rhythm of your own heartbeat as you darted between the towering oaks. The air was cool and crisp, heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth—a scent that grounded you even as adrenaline surged through your veins and made your pulse race with excitement.

Your feet barely made a sound against the thick carpet of moss and fallen leaves, your movements light and fluid beneath the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. You weren’t running from danger—far from it. This was a game, a chase woven from laughter and shared moments, something wild and free that you cherished more than you could say.

Glancing behind you, just once, you caught sight of a familiar figure moving effortlessly through the trees. His amber eyes glinted with something playful, something warm that made your breath hitch and a smile tug at your lips despite yourself.

He was gaining on you fast, closing the distance with sure, steady strides that never broke the rhythm of the chase. You knew, without a doubt, that he could catch you whenever he wished—but the thrill was in the trying, in the momentary hope of escape.

You pushed yourself harder, laughter bubbling from your lips like a melody, light and bright as the sunbeams around you. Branches brushed against your arms, leaves tickled your skin, and your hair danced wildly around your face. Your heart soared, not from fear, but from the joy of being alive and being seen.

Just as you thought you might slip away—just as the soft whisper of victory brushed your mind—a rush of warm air brushed past your cheek. Before you could turn your head fully, strong arms wrapped gently but firmly around you, pulling you down onto the soft moss with careful ease.

You landed in a tangled heap, breath leaving you in a startled gasp as the world shifted beneath you. For a moment, all you could see were those warm amber eyes—bright, amused, sparkling with quiet delight—hovering just inches from your face.

A faint, tender smile played on his lips as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead. His touch was soft and reverent, like he was handling something precious, something delicate and dear.

“You thought you could outrun me?” The words came then, low and teasing, but you hadn’t even realized he’d spoken until you heard the rich rumble of his voice. It was a sound that sent a shiver down your spine, warm and comforting all at once.

Your cheeks burned as you struggled to meet his gaze, feeling utterly exposed and wonderfully vulnerable beneath the intensity of his eyes. “I… I wasn’t running away,” you said quickly, your voice trembling despite your best effort to sound casual and composed.

His smile widened, slow and affectionate, the kind of smile that made your heart flutter and your knees go weak. Before you could even find the words to respond, he leaned down, his breath warm against your skin. A gentle kiss pressed to your temple, soft and tender as the caress of a summer breeze.

Then another—softer still—landing on your cheek like a whispered secret meant only for you.

You barely had time to breathe before his lips found your jawline, each kiss slow, deliberate, like a promise held close and treasured. Your eyes fluttered closed, heart swelling with a blissful warmth that bloomed through every fiber of your being, a feeling that words could never quite capture.

When he finally pulled back, the flush in your cheeks deepened, and your breath came faster, uneven and shallow.

His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek, tracing a path so gentle it was almost a question. He caught your shy smile, his own amusement and tenderness shining through like the golden light filtering through the trees.

“You really do love this, don’t you?” His voice was barely more than a murmur, teasing yet filled with something softer, something entirely his own.

You bit your lip, cheeks aflame, trying—and failing—to hide just how flustered you were beneath his gaze. “Maybe…” you whispered, voice soft, almost shy, the tiniest smile playing at your lips.

A quiet chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest as he tucked a stray curl behind your ear with delicate care. “Good,” he said simply, eyes gleaming with warmth and affection. “Because I’m not done yet.”

And then, with a final, lingering kiss pressed to your lips—slow, sweet, and full of quiet adoration—he wrapped you in a gentle embrace, holding you close beneath the ancient trees, the forest around you seeming to hold its breath in reverence to the moment.

You rested your forehead against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your skin, your own pulse still racing. Whispering breathlessly, you said, “Next time… I’m not running.”

He smiled against your hair, his voice low and certain, like a vow and a promise all at once. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

GALE / ASTARION

The dappled sunlight filtered through the thick canopy of ancient trees, casting warm golden patches on the mossy ground beneath your feet. The forest was alive with quiet sounds—the distant call of a bird, the soft rustle of leaves stirred by a gentle breeze, and somewhere nearby, a brook babbled in a soothing murmur. The air was crisp and fresh, filled with the scent of pine and wildflowers, grounding you in this peaceful moment far from the chaos of the road.

You, Gale, and Astarion had just finished dealing with a particularly troublesome patrol of goblins that had been harassing the trade routes. The fight had been swift but exhausting, and now you had a moment to catch your breath. The tension in your muscles began to ease as you sank down onto a smooth, sun-warmed stone, letting the soothing quiet wash over you.

Gale came to sit beside you, his presence steady and calming. His eyes, filled with that familiar blend of kindness and admiration, softened as he looked at you. With a slow, deliberate movement, he reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “You fought admirably,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, a tenderness threading through every word.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, an involuntary smile tugging at your lips. Before you could respond, a shadow shifted nearby, and Astarion stepped forward from where he’d been lounging on a fallen log, his usual roguish grin playing at the corners of his mouth. His eyes sparkled with mischievous delight. “And it seems our dear is as fierce as ever,” he added, his tone teasing but genuine.

Your blush deepened, cheeks flaming like embers as you tried to suppress a shy laugh. But before you could protest or deflect their praise, Gale leaned in gently, closing the small distance between you, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your temple. The warmth of his lips sent an immediate shiver through you, as if a current of electricity had sparked beneath your skin.

No sooner had Gale pulled back than Astarion slid down from the log with catlike grace and closed in on your other side. His lips brushed lightly against your cheek in a feather-light kiss, his breath warm and scented faintly of herbs and danger. “We do enjoy reminding you how much you’re adored,” he whispered, his voice a velvet caress that made your heart hammer wildly in your chest.

Your pulse raced as two pairs of lips lavished you with affection, each kiss feather-soft but charged with promise. Gale’s hands settled on your shoulders, steady and grounding, while Astarion’s fingers traced delicate, teasing circles along your forearm, sending delightful sparks of pleasure radiating beneath your skin.

Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering closed for a moment, savouring the sensation. When you opened them again, both men were watching you intently—Gale with that warm, open expression, and Astarion with a playful, almost triumphant gleam in his gaze.

You felt like you might melt where you sat, cheeks flushed with a deep rosy hue, lips parted slightly as if trying to find the words that seemed just out of reach. Instead, all you managed was a soft, breathless whisper. “You’re both impossible…”

Gale chuckled quietly, reaching up to brush his thumb lightly over your flushed cheek, the touch gentle and tender. “Only for you,” he said, voice thick with affection.

Astarion’s grin widened, eyes sparkling with unrestrained delight. “And we both rather enjoy making you this adorable,” he added, his tone teasing but filled with warmth.

You couldn’t help but glance up at them, heart swelling with something fierce and sweet all at once, warmth spreading through your entire being like sunlight on a cool morning. You bit your lip, voice shy but daring as it barely escaped your throat. “Well… maybe don’t stop, then.”

At that, Gale leaned in again, pressing a slow kiss just beneath your jawline, and Astarion’s lips found yours in a tender, lingering brush that left you breathless. Their hands found yours, fingers entwining easily, grounding you in the moment.

For a long while, the three of you simply existed in that quiet, sunlit glade—two men showering you with affection, and you, utterly and blissfully overwhelmed, basking in the warmth of their love, your cheeks forever stained with the sweetest kind of bashfulness.

ASTARION / HALSIN

The campfire flickered softly, casting warm, dancing shadows on the faces gathered around it. The air was crisp, carrying the subtle scent of pine and earth, but Y/N felt a comforting warmth radiate from the glowing embers nearby. She sat cross-legged on a soft patch of grass, the firelight catching the soft flush on her cheeks—part from the cool evening breeze, part from something else entirely.

Halsin sat quietly close by, his calm and steady presence a soothing anchor. He caught her eye and gave her that gentle, reassuring smile that made her heart flutter just a little. Across the fire, Astarion lounged with his usual mischievous smirk, the gleam in his eyes telling tales of some impish plan.

Y/N felt a quiet thrill run through her, knowing she was surrounded by two people who cared so deeply for her, even if their expressions said “plotting” more than “sweet moments.”

Then, without warning, Halsin’s form began to ripple and shift. His human features softened, muscles expanding, fur sprouting thick and glossy beneath the campfire’s glow. Within seconds, the massive, powerful bear stood where he had been only moments before.

The great, furry bear padded over to Y/N with surprising gentleness, each step soft despite the size of his paws. His warm breath brushed against her skin as he lowered himself carefully. With a low, affectionate growl, Halsin plopped down right on top of her, his broad, heavy body pressing her gently into the soft grass.

Y/N gasped, caught off guard, her breath hitching in a burst of surprised laughter. “H-Halsin! You’re—” She squirmed beneath his warm weight, trying to push him off playfully, but he was too steady, too strong.

Before she could get a proper protest out, Astarion was at her side like a shadow, graceful and quick. He leaned down, lips brushing over her cheeks, her jawline, her neck—each kiss soft, teasing, deliberate.

“Looks like we’ve got you, little one,” Astarion whispered with that sly grin of his, voice low and velvety as his lips trailed warm, feather-light kisses down her skin.

Y/N’s cheeks flamed hotter than the fire. She squirmed again, laughter bubbling out as her heart hammered in her chest. “S-stop… you’re going to—”

A deep, rumbling growl vibrated through Halsin’s thick fur, low and affectionate, as he nuzzled her gently with his massive head. His warm breath brushed her cheek, and with careful, deliberate weight, he settled himself to keep her pinned just enough—firm but tender.

Y/N’s bashful smile was a quiet confession. She did. She loved it. She loved how safe and adored she felt wrapped between these two—Halsin’s protective strength, Astarion’s playful intimacy.

Astarion’s lips lingered a moment longer just below her ear, a tender, teasing kiss that made a shiver ripple down her spine. Then he looked up at Halsin, eyes sparkling with affection and amusement.

The bear let out a soft huff, a contented sound like a purr, and gently pawed the grass beside her, as if marking this moment sacred and tender without words.

Y/N’s heart fluttered wildly, caught between embarrassment and the pure, joyful warmth that blossomed inside her chest. She felt the steady beat of Halsin’s heartbeat through his thick fur and the soft brush of Astarion’s breath on her skin.

Her cheeks burned as she whispered, “You’re impossible...” but the smile she gave them was full of affection and secret happiness.

Astarion grinned wider. “Oh, we’re just getting started.”

Another affectionate growl rumbled low and fond from Halsin, the bear’s eyes soft as he rested his massive head near her shoulder.

Y/N let herself melt under the weight of their love, surrendering to the safe, playful cocoon of their kisses and embraces. The night stretched on around them, the stars blinking down like silent witnesses to this perfect moment—full of laughter, whispered promises, and the sweet, electric joy of being utterly cherished.

[undercoveravenger]

Intrusive Thoughts

Pairing: Astarion x Reader (written with a male!reader in mind, but can be read as gender neutral)

Requested: No

Summary: An unexpected side effect of the tadpole leads to you finding out what the camp’s resident vampire really thinks about you.

WARNINGS: Some suggestive content

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Nothing has been “normal” since your escape from the nautiloid, but you’d settled into your new life with your merry band of misfits. You’ve grown used to the rumble of Halsin’s snoring, to the ever-present bickering between Shadowheart and Lae’zel, to the ever-present prickle of Gale’s magic against your skin. You still don’t like it, but you’ve even become accustomed to the faint squirming of the parasite in your head and the strange powers it provides.

But now, only three days’ travel from home, from Baldur’s Gate, the rules have changed again.

You’d been speaking with Astarion, helping him by copying out the runes carved into his back when you hear it, hear his voice asking “Why would you help someone like me?”

You respond without thinking, not even looking up from your sketch. “I care about you, Astarion. I’m happy to help you.”

He shifts slightly, twisting to look at you over his shoulder. “Not that I don’t appreciate the declaration of your devotion, but that was rather out of the blue, don’t you think?”

“Not really?” you say, “You just asked me why I’d help.”

Astarion is quiet for a long moment. “I didn’t say that.”

You blink, eyes finally lifting from the parchment balanced on your lap to study him. Astarion loves mind games, thrives on the little bit of control they give him that he’d lacked for so long, but you’ve gotten good at reading him in the time you’ve been travelling together and you know he’s not playing with you now.

“I could have sworn-” you shake your head, dismissing what you thought you heard as a passing impulse, an errant daydream. “Never mind.”

Astarion hums agreeably but his eyes don’t waver from you, sharp as always but intense in a way you haven’t seen before. “What a pleasant sight,” his voice hums through you, “Wonder what else I could do to have you on your knees…”

Visions flash behind your eyes, perspective warped like you’re seeing yourself from someone else’s eyes. 

You, kneeling before Astarion with your hands settled against your thighs and your head tipped back so you can watch him, fingers twitching like you ache to reach for him and are only just restraining yourself. 

You, sprawled on your back near a roaring campfire and Astarion settled on your lap, pale thighs bracketing your hips. There’s a smile on your face as you offer him your wrist and he takes your gift - because that’s how it feels, like something to be treasured, hidden close to your heart and protected - and then you can hear the hitch in not-you’s breath as his fangs sink in and then liquid gold as your blood floods your mouth and he moves against you. 

The vision shifts again, to you curled up with Astarion, your arm curled around his waist and your head on his shoulder like it had always belonged there. Not for the first time, you’re struck by the strangeness of looking at yourself through someone else’s eyes, but the look of absolute trust in your eyes as you shift to look up at Astarion - at yourself? - and not-you’s mouth opens and “I love you” spills out with all the ease of something said a thousand times before.

A cold hand touches your face and you’re wrenched back to the present. Astarion is looking at you intently, worry evident in his brilliant ruby eyes. 

“Darling, are you alright?” He studies you, eyes trailing over the length of you like he’s looking for a wound that isn’t there. “You seemed rather lost in thought.”

Thought? Was that it? Had you been hearing- seeing- Astarion’s thoughts? Did he really want those things with you? Blood and sex, sure - those were things you’d shared already. But that intimate sort of trust - love? You’d never expected that he'd want that with you. 

You can feel it when he looks at you, not quite full thoughts but snippets, fragments - warm, safe, happy. There’s a sensation of  butterflies in your stomach and you have to ask before you choke on the wings.

“Astarion, are you in love with me?”

He freezes, eyes wide and startled. If you hadn’t known him so well, you might not have been able to see the mask starting to slip back into place. There’s a tension in him now, you can see the desire to run, can feel his thoughts whipping into a whirlwind. It’s a frantic mess of “Lie- run- yes- hide it- admit it- Cazador will use this against me- lie-”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” he says, eyes downcast like he can’t bear to look at you while he says it.

It’s such an Astarion-typical deflection that it gets a smile out of you. You roll your eyes, hands moving to cup his face and tug him closer until you can kiss him.

There’s a fraction of a second where he hesitates against you, frozen under your fingers, but the moment your lips touch he’s surging forward against you, his hands in your haid. There’s a flash of “Oh” and then “Good- Great- Wonderful,” that has you grinning against his lips. He pulls away after a few seconds and looks at you, eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. “Am I to assume then, that you share my… interest?” There’s an echo of “say yes. Sweet Hells, please say yes,” and an ache in your chest, a yearning you’re not quite sure how to process.

You do your best to block his thoughts and feelings out, to focus only on your own. You think of the way his eyes shine when he’s amused, his wicked sense of humor, that infuriating charm. The white hot rage that flooded you when he told you what Cazador had done to him. You think of the future and can’t picture it without him at your side.

“I love you.” The words are easier to say than you’d expected, and the smile that overtakes him, bright and unrestrained, reassures you that you’ve made the right choice in telling him.

“Oh thank the gods,” slips past your mental barricade as Astarion moves to pepper your face in kisses and you can’t help the laugh that escapes you. 

“Would it-” he interrupts you with a kiss, “be a bad time-” he kisses you again, “to mention that I’ve-” another kiss, “been hearing your thoughts this whole time?”

He leans in to kiss you again before your words sink in fully. “You WHAT?!”

You can’t contain your laughter and Astarion smiles as he redoubles his affectionate attack. For the first time, even with everything looming ahead, the future looks bright.

[vegasisthinking]

Me when I find a good reader!fanfic but it uses Y/N (i can’t read it without feeling like a 14 year old)

[a-case-of-attachment]

Astarion didn’t get jealous.

Scared and lonely? Well yes, of course he did. He even felt angry and vengeful as well but when one considers the life he had been forced to live up until his involuntary relocation to the nautiloid you could hardly blame him for feeling those things.

He couldn’t really remember being jealous of anyone or anything in the short years he had lived before being turned. Then again, he couldn’t really remember much from then at all. Not how he looked, his mother’s name or even if there had been someone for him to love and cherish. Everything important was gone, like it had been swallowed up by a dense fog and no matter how much he search all he ever found was more nothingness. Hardly a good reference point when trying to remember if you had experienced something before or were just familiar with the concept from books.

It was possible he had once been jealous of Cazador’s chosen few. The favourites that had gotten to rest in actual beds and spared the crueller torments that often befell the spawn. Not forced to lay on the cold and unforgiving floor, surrounded by rotting rat carcasses and the smell of fresh and old spawn blood so thick in the air that it felt like he was choking on the stuff.

Maybe that had been jealousy, but Astarion thought it had been more spiteful envy. More angry and covetous of the reprieve then jealous of the attention the favoured few got. He didn’t want to be one of those pathetic, snivelling devotees that scurried around behind Cazador like roaches, blinded by their idiotic belief that all the pain and suffering meant something. That there would be a worthwhile reward at the end of it all. No, all Astarion had wanted was to be treated with just a shred of common decency. Something that he had been denied until he had been fortunate enough to find you after the crash.

So yes, Astarion was sure that he had never been jealous before yet here he was, most certain that as he stared across the fire of their ever-growing camp that was exactly what he was feeling.

You and Gale were huddled close together just outside his tent, heads leaning towards the other and whispering as you both poured over the pages of whatever spell book the wizard had pilfered from the bandit camp, they had raided just that morn. You were smiling, laughing as the idiotic man waved his free hand about, clearly regaling you with a tale that he was heavily embellishing if not outright lying about. You seemed to be enjoying it though, encouraging him with your sweet laughter and wide smiles even as you shook your head in disbelief.

Normally Astarion wouldn’t care if you were feeling gracious and decided to bestow one of your ever hopeful companions with your attention. Astarion was always the one you went too first when arriving back at camp. He was always the one whose flirtations you returned and the only one in their camp of weirdos and misfits who could say they had seen you naked and on more than one occasion at that. He was the one who’s attention you sought. The one you always made time for. Him. Not anyone else…normally but tonight wasn’t like normal because tonight when Astarion had approached you, all charming smiles and quick wit you had done the unthinkable and he had been left staring after you in shock and disbelief like a complete idiot because tonight, you had said no.

Now, don’t misunderstand, you were allowed to say no. He wasn’t a monster. He wouldn’t force you into anything you didn’t want like he had been. Sure, there had been a playful back and forth a time or two. You like to tease him as much as he did you, playing hard to get and making him work for every stollen moment and mouthful of liquid gold that ran through your veins, but it had been playful, done with a teasing smirk and eyes full of promise. Astarion had known that with the right word, the perfect brush of fingers and a well-timed appreciative once over that you would be putty in his hands, willing and open to his advances and what that would lead to. You had never outright said no to him before and for Gale for god’s sake.

Had you maybe hit your head on their last little adventure, and no one had noticed. Perhaps you might even be under some sort of spell or enchantment. Whatever it was there had to be some sort of explanation for this, this madness because there was no logical reason as why you would suddenly up and abandon him for Gale of bloody Waterdeep.

You laughed again, louder this time. Your smile wide and eyes practically glowing with it. Astarion’s mood darkened even more, his eyebrows furrowing as his scowl deepened. Honestly, what in the hells could be so funny about the dull drivel Gale passed off as story’s of his adventures? If you wanted a story, then Astarion could spin you a tale so grand and fanciful that whatever rubbish Gale was regaling you with would look like a child’s bedtime story.

Huffing he turned away, his grip on the book he had been pretending to read for the better part of an hour tightening as yours and Gale's laughter mingled in the air like wine and vinegar. He was not jealous. He wasn’t. He just didn’t like Gale’s barking bellow he called a laugh mixing with your melodic and light one. Really, he would be doing everyone a favour if he went over there and stole you away. It wouldn’t mean anything. Wouldn’t mean that Astarion was hurt and angry that you would want to spend time with Gale instead of him. You were free to do whatever you wanted. He wasn’t your keeper, and you were more than capable of making decisions for yourself even if those choices were clearly wrong.

Astarion’s eyes narrowed as he watched Gale subtly move closer to you, using the small spell book he had suddenly pulled from his pocket as a rather poor excuse to draw you in. The two of you were so close now that a leaf would barely fit between you. He couldn’t see what Gale was showing you anymore but what he could see was how Gale was looking at you. His head was turned towards you, his eyes soft and full of longing as his voice dropped into something gentle, smoother. You seemed oblivious to the shift in tone, your eyes and attention fixed on the book between you, but Astarion could see it all. Gale was a man in love and longing, looking at you like you were the most breathtaking piece of art and the first drop of rain after a drought. It was uncomfortable to watch what Gale probably intend to be a private moment and it made something squirm and tighten in Astarion’s stomach.

Everyone knew that Gale had romantic feelings for you, well, everyone except you but you didn’t seem to notice that almost everyone in their weird little group wanted you in one way or another. Astarion was sure that at least three of the others were halfway in love with you and those that weren’t coveted your body. Gale though, he was the one who had fallen hardest, his feelings as clear as if he had spelt them out with fireworks in the midnight sky.

Astarion had been so smug at first when you had started to favour his company over everyone else’s. He had been able to see the wizard’s heartache and longing, but he had scoffed at the foolish man’s feelings, making a grand show of whisking you off to his tent or other less crowded parts of the camp so he could have you all to himself. It had been a heady rush to have all your attention on him, to become the sole focus of someone who wasn’t expecting him to take his clothes off and seemed to genuinely enjoy his quick wit and rather scathing comments.

He had taken a rather perverse joy in calling you darling and seeing Gale scowl as you smiled ever so sweetly at Astarion. He had been so free with his touch, everything from a simple brush down after a fight to cupping your jaw or brushing his fingers gently across your cheek. He was the only one you allowed to touch you so openly, practically inviting him to lay a hand on you whether that be the small of your back, the inside of your thigh or even your hand, your fingers laced together. Gale had seen it all and Astarion had thought the wizard had understood that you were off limits to the likes of him, but the fool had apparently not given up hope and thought to worm his way into your good graces with made up stories of grandeur and whispered spells.

You turned your head towards him, a question on your lips that quickly vanished as your eyes widened, finally realising how close Gale had gotten whilst your attention was elsewhere. Time seemed to slow then, the world around him falling silent as everything else fell away apart for the two people in front of him.

Gale’s eyes fell from your eyes down to your slightly parted lips. His tongue slowly wetting his lips and giving them a slight shine. His eyes went back to yours, a flicker of uncertainty dancing through them before determination set in. He shifted, the dull thump of the forgotten book hitting the floor not enough to break the intense staring the two of you were doing. Your breath hitched, eyes widening impossibly more as you and Astarion both seemed to realise what was about to happen at the same time.

Astarion had never moved so quickly in his life before.

One second, he had been sat across the other side of the camp, book open but forgotten in his lap as he watched you light up for Gale and the next, he was up and across the space before the book even had time to fall closed. His fingers curled around your arm, and he yanked you rather violently onto your feet and away from the wizards’ searching lips. “Ahh!” Your surprised cry was loud, most likely drawing the others attention but Astarion barely even heard it, his eyes fixed on Gale who had jerked back at your sudden disappearance.

“There you are my darling.” Astarion smiled brightly, his voice loud and cheerful as he spoke over your stuttering indignation at having been so roughly handled. Gale was glaring back at him now, hands curled into fists on his thighs and practically vibrating with anger. Though he supposed it could always be the magic he was always consuming to keep from blowing himself and more importantly them up. It could be quite hard to tell sometimes and Astarion didn’t care enough about the other man to actually bother to work it out. All he knew was that he had to get you away from him before Gale got another one of his disastrously good ideas and tried to make yet another attempt on your lips. “So sorry to break up this little,” Astarion slowly dragged his eyes over Gale, hardly able to keep the sneer out of his voice, “dalliance but there is something I need your assistance with love.” He didn’t wait for an answer from either of them, spinning on his heels and dragging you along behind him. “Astarion!” you hissed in a mix of annoyance and disbelief, but you didn’t stop him, didn’t even try and break free of his hold, just letting him quickly lead you across the small camp and towards the tree line.

Now with a part two!!