#astarion x reader

[ancuninfiles]

Art by @bloodoathlilith

I love Gale in the bg omg

(Full version on Twitter)

[pursuitseternal]

“Treat Me:” tender loving aftercare from the Vampire Ascendant in “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x Female Reader | E | 2K

For @starryjuicebox so he can tuck you into bed

Summary: He cradles you after a long session at his pleasure, and now the softness returns. He pampers, soothes, and cares for you, his beloved consort.

CW: soft A!A, mild injury tending, bath snuggles and hair washing, Oral female receiving, comfort, cuddling, and sunbathing.

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

“Such a good darling, an obedient pet…” his voice is a distant purr, your eyes barely opening as he lifts you down. The silken rope slithers from your wrists, the broad expanse of his shoulders catching your weight as you drape down his back. “Come on, my love, time to tend your love bites and other… markings,” he snickers quietly to himself.

You murmur something, too quiet for even your mind to register. The thump of his footfalls sounds muffled through the veil of pleasured sensations… too overstimulated from his intoxicating brand of pain and pleasure on these nights he spends with you in his special room… when he lets that edge of danger within him come out to play. You catch your breath, sensation slowly returning to your arms where he had you suspended. As he cradles you over his shoulder, carrying you up to your rooms, his fingers trace his bite marks that pepper the backs of your thighs and dot across the swell of your ass cheeks. And every inch of you is damp… blood, sweat, and cum, that heady mixture that coats your skin.

Closing your eyes, you let his touch caress, chasing away the fleeting flashes of pain from moments ago. You can smell the instant he brings you into your bathing chamber, the sharpness of his scent, of citrus and rosemary and brandy hits your nose and wakes you up. You raise your head to the dimly lit room, two dozen candles flickering in the purple of darkness makes everything shimmer. A snap of his fingers and a couple spells, Astarion fills the elegant marble bathing tub. He sets you cautiously on your feet first before handing you into the steaming water.

Crimson eyes flicker over your naked body as it sinks beneath the water, that bottle of potion shines a bit in the candlelight as he pours it into your tub. “Just a little something extra to provide you some… relief,” he snickers, dipping his elegant hand into the waters to stir it around. A soothing numbness targets your most sore and swollen parts, and you sigh. Your body easing into the water, you barely notice the ripples of Astarion slipping his body beside you. It barely registers, his arm wrapping around you, the warm water pouring down your neck to rinse off the blood… the trickles that run down your face as he wets your hair and washes it clean of sweat and more.

For a starved as you can be for his touch, right now, you have glutted on it, overstimulated and nearly numb to that now-gentle caress.

A far cry from his bruising, marking, claiming touches that pleasured and teased you for hours.

But now, you are his treasure, cradled in the crook of his shoulder, attentive hands washing every offending swipe of grime that discolors your soft skin. The scents of flowers… lavender to relax, roses to pamper… it fills your every breath as your body finally softens and soothes the aches he’s driven into your body to the bone. You begin to hear his velvet purr in your ear, sweet words of praise and gratitude that you did so well tonight, words to affirm his love for you, to soften the literal blows he rained on the fleshy, jiggling curves of your ass.

The pain is intense but brief, and the pleasure is always more than immense… but it’s these moments after that make it all warm and worth it. Little droplets of scented water fall on your cheek as his hand cups your face, his petal-soft lips pressing tenderly against yours.

“Astarion,” you breathe his name, addicted to the way it feels to moan it… after all, it’s been ripped from your lips and screamed and whimpered and sighed countless times night.

“Yes, my treasure?” he croons right into the shell of your ear, a little shimmy of his shoulders, just as he once did during those hazy, nostalgic days in your camp.

You snuggle into his neck, lazily running your tongue over the sensual sinews where his pulse throbs. “Please… I’m feeling oh… so… peckish,” you give a tired laugh, one he matches.

An equally worn out laugh in his throat, he takes his finger, perfectly manicured nail point dragging across his neck to let a trickle of his blood run for you. The scent of it hits your nose in an instant, rich and powerful and complex like the most refined of vintages. You barely lick your lips first before you swipe along the scarlet trail he’s left for you. And then you suck, that thick, heady blood of his so smooth on your tongue and down your throat.

Aches and pains fade away, your belly growing more and more full with every swallow. It hums in your veins and restores your own power to you. Those longer nails rake against your scalp, teasing your wet hair and petting you like the precious little thing you are to him. A contented sigh from your lips, you release from his skin, a listless, pleasured twist of your mouth when you smile at him.

The palm at the back of your head presses your chin to his warm, waiting tongue, and he licks your chin clean. “I do so love to taste you… after you’ve tasted me…” he rasps against your lips, his words flowing into another languorous kiss.

His lips twist against yours… some brilliant idea inside his silver-curled head that he wastes no time acting on. Water sloshes over the side of the tub as he stands, your body already in his arms, your mouth already being consumed by his tongue and lips and teeth. Supernatural, strong, secure… he carries you in his arms to the bedroom to set you down on your wiggly, wobbly legs and dry you off.

The moment you’re dry, you happily crawl into bed, the softness of your sheets cushions you, another layer of balm to your pleasured and battered body. In the muffled distance, you hear him toweling off, the bed frame creaking and the buckling of the mattress follows… the telltale signs he approaches. That warm, sinewy frame of his covers you, slotted between your thighs, and you hiss at the insistent friction.

“Don’t you fret, my dear,” he chuckles, deep and low and wicked in his chest. “Despite the evidence to the contrary…” he grinds his still-hard erection over your mound gently, “you’ve done so well, I have nothing of that sort on my mind, just a little treat for my… treat.”

His voice purrs, his lips kissing and sucking lovingly across your collarbone and then over the pillowy tops of your breasts. He kisses around the angry, red bite marks from before… careful not to tease your nipples hard again. That warm tongue swipes up through the valley of your chest between them, only to have him kissing his way lower… and lower still. Hot breath warms your folds, the only prelude to his fingers and tongue licking into you with perfect precision. He paces his lapping, slow and attentive and thorough. Those same little growls he makes as drinks your blood reverberate through your slickened pussy. Fingers tease inside you, catching and stroking that bundle of nerves hidden in your channel until you hear your own sloppy arousal weeping from around his fingers.

Ravenous, his tongue laps it up. Insistent and strong, he sweeps up every drop of your slick and brings it to swirl around your clit. So tired, your poor brain and dulled senses barely hear the gasps from your own lips, barely controlling the rhythmic buck of your hips to match his fingers and mouth that worship you.

His voice rumbles such pretty words, such saccharine epithets into your folds. “Pretty consort…” followed by the wet suck of his lips, “…little treat…” Growls of his own hunger tickle as he curls that tongue back to your clit, “…mine forever, my love…”.

You feel his hair in your hands, not knowing how or when you fisted it as he eats you, feasting on you… A low sigh from his mouth sends you careening, that warmth and pleasure blooming from your core to swallow any last traces of lancing pain. Limp, breathless, boneless… you feel as if you’re floating in the downy bed beneath you.

You brace yourself for a moment for that fullness and friction of his cock, but it never comes. Only a tender kiss inside your thigh at the joint and the comforting weight of his body to lie beside you. His breathing is relaxed, warm and contented, as he nestles that sharp face and aquiline nose behind your ear and into the mess of your hair. He’s breathing you in… the fragrance of fresh-washed hair, the scent of your skin and fresh arousal. And despite that hardness at your lower back, he just pulls the heavy weight of your comforters over your naked bodies. Arms wrap softly but assuredly around you, one hand holding your arm, the other tucked snugly beneath both your still-drying heads. You feel the slowing thump of his pulse against your back as he pulls you even closer, the rush of his breath in your ear tingles your spine and relaxes you all at once.

Lulled to sleep by the warmth of his skin and the lullaby of his body…

Daylight caresses you, and instantly, as you stir, you know he’s already awake from his trance. The sunlight flooding your room, the curtains blown wide to let the dawn in, those are the dead giveaways. Those are the signals that he has already woken up and taken full advantage of his powers as Ascendant, his favorite—basking in the sun. Not that he would admit it.

He sits against the large window, letting his pale skin soak in the morning sun. Shirtless, just a pair of breeches on his legs, your sunwalking vampire, lets the warmth still thaw the centuries of cold and hurt.

Crimson eyes turn towards you, a knowing grin on his face the instant he hears your breathing change. “Ah, the only thing that sparkles more than the soft light of dawn…” he smirks, that same velvet tone of voice that made you first swoon, “the glint of your own scarlet eyes as you blink the lingering pleasure from your sleep.” You watch his muscles flex as he stretches in that shaft of sunlight from the window. Feline and a tad predacious, he slowly crosses towards you in the bed, a slightly sheepish grin on his full lips, even as his eyes clearly revealed his still lingering desires that had raged in the dark. “I’m… sorry if I was a bit more demanding than usual last night, darling, but you did so well…. My good, sweet consort.”

You give him that look that both provokes and placates, pursing your lips with a hint of a baleful glare from the corner of your eye. He sits beside you, and you keep your distance. Just enough.

“I always know when your negotiations either go horribly wrong or… intoxicating well…” you smirk, rubbing out the lingering soreness in your neck. It aches still, those harder to reach spots down the curve of your shoulder blades the worst from being suspended for so long…

And quickly, his hands replace yours. Those fingers, so strong and deft at picking locks and pleasuring you, knead into the aches and pains you just can’t reach. “So, do you wish to guess if negotiations with the dhampirs in Cormyr went to our advantage?” He purrs, hands still massaging your back as they wander lower. “Be warned, if you guess incorrectly, I'll treat you to more of the same rigorous attentions from last night…”

“And if I guess correctly?” You hum, his hands grasped teasingly around her swells of your ass now.

“Then I’ll treat you to more of the same tender care…”

You cock your brow and smirk, heart pounding for either way, it is always a treat with him.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

How do you guys do the different fonts, symbols and colors?

I understand people will message me or leave notes saying, "Gurl, how do you not know?"

I am genuinely curious, though. My aesthetic is definitely moons, stars, and varying shades of green and yellow. I would love to implement that more in my stories and posts.

The Tumblr gurus, please assist me in figuring this out. I will be forever thankful!

[destructive-poet]

Getting Even

astarion x gn! human tav hurt/comfort (~1.5k words)

This display of tenderness makes Astarion’s innards tremble in a weird, crawling sort of way– foreign enough, but not entirely unpleasant. Despite this, he remains quiet and relaxes his breath instead, deciding he would rather focus on the ugly, tangible sensation of his torn flesh being prodded."

astarion gets hurt. astarion is a moody bitch about getting hurt. unnamed gn tav apologizes by letting him suck their neck.

rating: mature

warnings: slight slight description of wounds

minors dni!

“Astarion?” Came a voice at the draped-down entrance of his tent, accompanied by the sound of distant waters and the crackling of a small fire. Night had long since fallen, and the voices of allies had slowly reduced to only the barest hints of conversations, seemingly muffled by the darkness. “Could I come in?”

The elf grimaces, jaw clenched tight as he lets out a simmering, discontented agreement, narrowing his eyes (though whether this is out of pain or annoyance, he himself is uncertain of). Of course, of all the times they could bother him, the ignorant wretch waits until he is despairing on the wooden plank he calls a “bed,” fists clenching the ragged blanket so tightly the worn fabric is liable to disintegrate, to come knocking at his door. The muscles in his side are wound so tight he fears they may snap. But yes, let’s have a visitor.

They gingerly push the thick tent door to the side, stepping in with caution to observe his state. “Are you okay?” Their eyes scan across him, taking note of the way he breathes, shallow and fast, not unlike an injured animal. Mess is strewn about the tent, and the vampire attempts to mask the obvious pain on his face. Unsuccessfully, but the party leader thinks it a noble attempt nonetheless.

His eyes meet theirs, glowering.

“No, of course I’m okay,” He grits out, “Just nearly impaled a few hours ago! But yes, darling. I’m fine. A mere scratch.” He seethes. They frown, scrunching their brows. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. You know that...” Astarion glares in return, shuffling a little in his spot and then pointedly pouting at the wall.

They settle down onto the floor, pulling a woven bag from off their shoulders and setting it onto the ground, shuffling through it until they retrieve a small jar. “Salve. I went out and bought it for you.” The party leader states, gesturing the product towards him.

The vampire huffs, though shows no reluctance in letting them move closer, before their hands pause at the hem of his shirt, loose and untucked above a pair of cotton pants. “Can I lift your shirt to put it on?” They ask, looking at him. He grumbles out a yes, scoffing. As they shift the cloth up and away, revealing a gruesome puncture wound, he grimaces, moving back at the sensation. “It’s okay,” they say, reassuring, “this should help.” They hold up the salve once again. “It should numb and disinfect your wound. Do you want it?”

He nods, and they take a rag from their bag, gesturing it at him. “Want me to put it on, or do you want to do it yourself?” The party leader looks at him with worn eyes, tired and ragged by the troubles of their journey. Briefly, the elf’s eyes soften in response, before he exhales and mutters a yes. He sighs, “You may.”

They quickly begin their work, trying to apply the medicine as smoothly and painlessly as possible, only resulting in a few, minor winces of pain from the man laying aside them. “My sweet thing,” they whisper, “you’ll be okay.” Their free hand slowly comes to rest on his face, and they briefly rub his cheekbone. “It should be better very, very soon.” This display of tenderness makes Astarion’s innards tremble in a weird, crawling sort of way– foreign enough, but not entirely unpleasant. Despite this, he remains quiet and relaxes his breath instead, deciding he would rather focus on the ugly, tangible sensation of his torn flesh being prodded. When the human finishes tending to him and sets their items back in the bag, he feels relief. Finally, the pressure is taken off of his injury, and is instead replaced by a numb and somewhat minty sensation.

And though the pain is not completely gone, it is much better, and he has the strength now to sit up straighter, carefully observing his human rummaging through that ragged bag again, eyes flickering with reflections of a candle nearby. “Thank you, by the way. Sorry I was being a little bit… Difficult, earlier.” He states, quietly, and they nod it off, continuing to search their belongings, focused. He is about to call their name out again when they straighten up in relief, grabbing a little shimmering object in their closed hand and moving it into his.

“I found this earlier. I thought you might like it.”

In Astarion’s palm, now, is a little ring, embellished with white stones and gold trimmings. He turns it over, feeling the cool weight of it in his palm. His eyes flicker up to them, and he lets out a breathy laugh. A warm feeling settles in his chest, and he swallows it back. “Well, thank you, sweet. You do know just how to cheer me up.”

“No big deal, just reminded me of you. I took it from a skeleton.” They shrug, attempting to play the gesture off as casual, ashamed to admit how much they had hoped he would like it. The vampire hmphs, grinning. “That’s my little scavenger. Always bringing me the prettiest things. This one is almost as pretty as you.”

They smile, humming. “Then it must be impossibly distant from comparing to you, hm?” A blush and a laugh, they move closer to him, reaching back to cradle his face in their hands. “You are my love, much more valuable than any gold. I’m so sorry you got hurt today.” They press a kiss to his forehead, stroking his hair and leaning back, eyes tearing up. 

Astarion looks at them, unsure of what to say, feeling very present in an overwhelming (but not undesired) moment of softness. Away from crypts and castles and temples, rugged stone walls and painful, visceral struggles. Briefly, he lets himself imagine a softer life, made of blankets and forehead kisses, of thick draped curtains over glass windows teeming with morning sun. The human by his side, warmth, kindness, contentedness.

“It’s alright.” He says, reaching to hold their hand, feeling its energy thrum against his own. They sniffle, resting down by his side. “Are you hungry?”

His stomach churns, and he bitterly realizes that yes, indeed, he is. “No, darling, it’s really alright. I’ve got a bottle of something or another around here.”

“Astarion.” They say, unconvinced. “It’s no trouble. I like it.” The vampire smirks, and they quickly backtrack. “I mean— Whatever. You know what I mean. It’s not about that. Not…” They sigh, closing their eyes. “Not like that now.” 

He sighs exasperatedly in return, teasingly. “Well, if you insist… Since it so delights you-” They narrow their eyes at him, huffing. “Apologies, apologies. But yes, My sweet, if you would like to give me such a delicious meal, I would be very grateful.”

“Well, I’m glad you are back to your normal, mischievous self.” They mutter, sitting up to beckon him towards their neck, skin luminous in the dimly lit tent. “Go ahead, I don’t bite.” They say, giggling at their own joke. “As you wish, darling.” He firmly grabs onto them, one hand digging into the soft warmth of their waist, while the other pulls their neck into his jaw. He hesitates, mouth watering at the scent of his beloved companion’s thrumming pulse. “Is this alright?”

“Yes yes, I promise,” A reassuring hand cups the back of his head, “You’re alright, come on.” He hums, pressing an open kiss to their skin, and the human lays a milder one upon his hair, making a breathy noise that jolts into a gasp as his fangs punch into them, and they jerk in his grasp briefly before melting back into him, the teeth quickly replaced by a tongue soothing over the spot. “Thank you,” he whispers, between sucks and licks, drinking in their blood like the finest wine, like the last drops of water in sweltering heat. His human makes a little noise, fingers weaving into his hair and tugging him closer, and he feels them swallow.

He groans, laving against the wound. “Good job, such a good little treat.” They nod, and he continues drinking his fill. Right as they start to feel dizzy, Astarion pulls off, licking his lips and looking up to them, kissing first the holes in their neck, then the edge of their jaw, and then the swell of their lips. 

They meet his kiss before slumping into his arms, breathing slowly, relaxed. “Are we even now?” They ask, softly. “A wound for a wound?”

A gentle laugh and a cool touch pulls them to lay down, resting against his side. “Yes, darling, we’re even.”

[commander-rahrah]

I'm excited to read it too! I'm glad you find it interesting! Don't worry about your post because long! Your thoughts are so interesting!

I agree that Astarion would have to come to terms with Reader/Tav's boundaries too since it works both ways! I definitely feel that Astarion would be too lost in drinking from the blood of a sentient creature to notice the signs.

He would feel ashamed when he's aware of their fear yet they still chose to offer despite that might made him feel like he manipulated them like Cazador did to him 😭

What his excuses are if they try to offer in the early days makes sense! He would be too ashamed & terrified to have such a vulnerable conversation with them yet 😞

He would feel safe enough to bring up their fear after he confessed about everything. He would make it clear to them he doesn't want them to suffer by making them do something they don't want to like he did especially after how much they have helped him & how important they are to him 😭

He would respect their decision if they said it's too much for them. He would support everyone's personal choices & autonomies even though the concept is still new to him 😤

He would need an explanation if they insist on feeding him regardless of their fear. They would explain that not only do they trust him, they love him more than they fear it 🥹

He would only accept if they establish some ground rules 👍 like he did when it comes to physical intimacy & sex which is healthy for both of them!

I know it's unrelated but thank you for adding this because you described me pretty well 🤣 I would definitely react to even the smallest of cuts so Astarion quickly but gently sucking it & giving a small kiss on it would be a fantastic distraction 😳

You're welcome! Thank YOU for entertaining me & sharing your thoughts! I'm glad you enjoy putting Astarion and Tav/Reader in all these different scenarios too 🤍

Here's my idea that I would love to hear your opinion! Just to let you know this is quite self-indulgent XD How would Astarion react to GN! Reader/Tav actually had suspicions that he's using them but still chose to believe that he's not. So when he confessed he manipulated them, they're even not angry at him.

They're sad for how much & how long he has suffered to be the way he is now, but they're also genuinely hurt that he did take advantage of their trust in him. They don't blame him but they admit it still hurts and wants some time alone to process it.

After leaving them be, they would go to him when they're ready to talk to him. They would tell him how grateful they are that he chose to come clean with them despite knowing how it would be easier for him to keep quiet for it, and thanked him for trusting them enough to be honest with them.

What do you think of it? I'm curious :3

Hi Anon! Sorry for the super late response, I let this one stew for a little while in my brain and the other night I had this dialogue idea and couldn’t resist writing a little scene about it tonight! I hope you enjoy ❤️

I envisioned this scene happens half way through his confession, and then imagined the rest of the conversation about intimacy and boundaries would happen afterwards! It’s about 1100 words, and canonical Astarion backstory warnings apply — trauma, dark thoughts, etc.

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨

“I just — I feel awful." Astarion’s throat worked silently, his eyes glancing down to his boots. "Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan — seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. It was easy — instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in." He finally looked up at your face, studying intensely for your reaction. 

“I—oh,” You pulled your hand away from him as uncertainty flooded your features. He saw your eyes dart back and forth, but they weren’t studying him. No, you were lost in thought. “Oh.”

Astarion licked his lips, his hands ringing together in front of him nervously. “You have every right to be angry.”

“I’m not angry. I thought we… I don’t know what I thought.”

The rest of what he had planned to say vanished out of his mind. Instead it started to betray him, a cruel voice whispering about how he knew you would react like this. Did he really think it would go well?

His pink mouth hung open as he scrambled for what to say, trying to think of how to make this better. But he’d done enough already, hadn’t he?

You crossed your arms over your body, your cheeks flushing deeply. “I feel a bit like a fool. None of it was real, the whole time?”

“Not the whole time,” He confessed as soft, vulnerable moments with you flashed in his mind. The very moments that made him start to drop the act. “It hasn’t been as of late, but before… in the beginning, up until recently, yes.”

His red eyes followed your throat as it bobbed up and down before flicking back up to your face. Your eyebrows were furrowed, your mouth a sad pout.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” Astarion whispered, not daring to move forward.

“I’m thinking… I need a moment.” You admitted, already looking behind you and away from him.

His heart sank, but he nodded. “I— okay. Of course.”

And then you were off, your head down as you stalked away from the edge of the beach and back to the warm glow of camp.

He stood there stunned for a moment, before turning around to stare at the dark, choppy waters in front of him. Hundreds of scenarios began to dance in his mind — what if you went back to the camp to tell the others? Would he be met by pointed blades and blazing spells? He imagined being kicked out, staked, cursed, roasted alive with fireballs. Hand delivered to Cazador as extra punishment for his sins. Anything his twisted broken mind could come up with played like a messed up vision.

Astarion didn’t even try to stop the repetitive dark thoughts. It was what he deserved.

Eventually, the vampire slinked back into the camp some time later — once the sky was inky black and the moon was the only light to illuminate the way back to his tent.

“Hi.”

The sound caused his ears and shoulders to perk up instantly. You were sat in the grass and dirt outside of his tent, your arms wrapped around your knees and pulled to your chest.

“Hi.” Gods, he sounded breathless. But he couldn’t see any weapons or angry barbarians or wizards nearby. That was a good sign, right?

“I wasn’t sure when you’d come back.”

He cocked a brow, “I figured you wouldn’t want to see me again.”

A sigh escaped your lips, “Astarion, don’t be dramatic. I asked for time to think — not for you to leave.”

He blinked at your sharp tone, but nodded his head in slight defeat. “You’re right. And you waited for me because—?”

You brushed off your clothes as you stood up to his height, “I would like to finish that conversation, if you’re ready.”

Well, there was no denying the inevitable.

He nodded his head solemnly, stepping forward to open the flap of his tent and inviting you in with a wave of his hand.

The privacy his tent offered was slight, but this late in the night he knew most of his companions would be fast asleep. Quickly lighting a lantern, he joined you on the fabric floor.

His half-dead heart was thundering, the thrumming sound echoing in his pointed ears that he almost missed your quiet voice.

“I understand.”

“What?” His brows furrowed, looking at you with confusion.

“The stories you’ve told me… your scars… I understand why you did it, why you felt the need to do it.” You explained, your voice and eyes tender as you looked at him in the low light. “But you manipulated me, Astarion. You took advantage of me, toyed with me and my emotions to get what you needed. That hurts.”

Astarion’s stomach twisted into a hard knot, “I know.”

“But you also didn’t need to tell me any of this. You could have kept pretending, kept up the charade until we faced Cazador… But you didn’t. Why?”

Now it felt like his stomach was crawling up his torso and into his throat. Gods, what was this feeling? Why did you do this to him. “That’s what I was trying to tell you before. I failed with my plan. It felt apart the moment I realized… that I had fallen for you.” He admitted, but his fluttering heart made more words stumble out of his mouth. “And I know you probably don’t believe me, why would you after everything I just told you. Trust me, nobody feels more stupid about it than I do.”

You cut off his rambling, “I don’t think it’s stupid. I think that’s probably the most honest you’ve been with me since I’ve met you,” You said earnestly. “It would have been a lot easier for you to keep on pretending, wouldn’t it? Pretend I’m just another mark, another means to an end to get through the day.”

“I don’t want easy… I don’t want to just get through the day. Not anymore.” Astarion whispered across the small tent, staring intently at you.

You cocked your head slightly in question, “And what do you want?”

“I want this, I want us — to be real. You deserve something real.”

“So do you, Astarion. You deserve something real.”

Your name escaped his lips as a choked sob as overwhelming wave of emotion settled over him. “I don’t even know what real looks like. How do I give that to you if I—?”

“Do you trust me?”

The vampire nodded through his tears, “Yes.”

“I trust you,” You said softly.

“After everything I’ve done?” He croaked, waving his hands dramatically, “You’d trust a monster—“

You grabbed onto his extended fingers gently, squeezing them. “Yes, even then.”

He looked down at your hands touching, before intertwining his pale fingers with yours carefully. “Maybe you are a fool.”

You let out a breathless laugh, the sound waking up something in him he’d long thought dead. “Maybe, I am. But you fell for me, so what does that make you?”

Astarion’s mouth twitched up until it match your smile, “The luckiest vampire alive.”

[spacebarbarianweird]

Could you please write more about pregnant Tiriel? Your writing about her finding out she's expecting and about Astarion hearing the baby's heartbeat were one of my favorites?

Synopsis: Astarion takes care of pregnant Tiriel.

Tags: dadstarion, pregnancy, fluff

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Waiting

“I think I am going to die in childbirth,” Tiriel says, pressing her face to her knees.

Astarion would sigh if he could. Tiriel sits shoulder-deep in a bath of warm water, as the vampire washes her hair and rubs her back.

“You aren’t going to die. You are a half-elf and I am sure the child is rather small. Look at your belly, you are in your last month and it’s not really showing.”

Tiriel turns away. Well, to call her belly small would be an underestimation – her slim body is currently betraying pregnancy. It’s covered in stretch marks that won’t disappear, ever. But again, Astarion has seen many pregnant human women in Daggerlake within the last five years and Tiriel has definitely been spared, carrying someone who takes after their elven ancestors.

But once Astarion thinks he’s managed to cheer her up, Tiriel sniffs.

“What if something is wrong with the baby? You are a vampire! I love you and all that, but you are still undead! What am I even carrying inside? And what if the child is sick? Or deformed? Or…What if it is going to kill me?”

“I can promise you, if something goes wrong, we are saving you,” Astarion splashes water on her hair.

“Thank you.”

He kisses her shoulder. “Don’t worry that much, the last thing you need is to cause a complication.”

Tiriel touches his fingers. 

Astarion adds more soap to the tub. The scent of vomit and sweat still lingers on Tiriel’s skin and Astarion takes a clean piece of rug.

Tiriel has been feeling so bad in the last few days she barely left her bed. Her legs hurt, she couldn’t eat without vomiting, and she hardly slept because of back pains. She finally made herself go out that evening to eat properly, but, the moment Tiriel finished her dinner, she felt nauseous and everything Astarion had cooked for her ended up on her home shirt.

That moment, Astarion had enough of that and carried Tiriel to the bath. 

“I'm sorry,” she says.

“What for?”

“I look disgusting.”

“Nothing is disgusting about a pregnant woman,” Astarion says, rubbing her left ear. “Besides, I’ve seen and done much worse things than giving a bath to someone I’ve knocked up. Your condition is my fault and I am taking full responsibility! Now, let me wash your front.”

Tiriel presses her back against the tub allowing Astarion to get to her belly and legs. Astarion smiles seeing the visible bump and carefully rubs the skin.

He is so close he can hear the second heartbeat. 

It is not clear to him when the child is going to be born. Elves are pregnant for two years, but Tiriel’s body is hardly capable of doing so. Humans need nine months for the same process, but Astarion has learned from the healers in Secomber, the closest big town to Daggerlake, that it’s never clear with half-elves. And it also depends on the child – Astarion tries to think about the baby as an elf with just a bit of human ancestry (still enough to fuck up the gentle elven biology).

But in reality…

The child is half-him, half a vampire anyway. And that should bother him.

He is afraid of that moment. He waits for that moment to come. And he also misses Tiriel in sensual terms. He wants her blood (which is out of reach for him till she stops breastfeeding), he wants her body (they haven’t had sex ever since she got pregnant). 

And he wants her to stop being in such pain daily.

“I look ugly,” Tiriel chuckles. “Don’t try to say it’s not true.”

“It's not. You are beautiful!”

Suddenly Tiriel flicks his nose. “My eyes are here.”

Astarion realizes he’s been staring at her swollen breasts and small droplets of white liquid on Tiriel’s nipples.

“Stop all this nonsense, Tiriel!'' Astarion takes her leg and stretches it to wash it better. “I like caring about you. I like how you look. And I absolutely love that it's me who did this to you. It all feeds my vampiric possessiveness, after all!”

“And I love that it was you who did this to me,” Astarion feels Tiriel’s fingers on his cheek.

“Now, get out of the water before it gets too cold!” Astarion brings towels. “Is food still out of the question?”

“I want something hot to drink.”

“I will make you herbal tea, then.”

Astarion, after making sure she is dry, carries Tiriel to bed.

He looks outside. What he loves about his house in the underground part of Daggerlake is the big windows. There is no point in hiding from the sun, and Astarion can enjoy going outside whenever he wants. Besides, the biggest part of the town is underground too, and Astarion also doesn’t feel like an outcast.

And his neighbors have seen much worse things than vampires who know the law.

Suddenly Tiriel yelps. He turns to her and notices the night shirt she’s put on is wet. 

But wasn’t Tiriel's skin dry when he took her from the bath?

Tiriel hugs her belly and lets out a cry of pain. 

��Tiriel…” Astarion rushes to her. No, not today. He still needs time to get ready.

Tiriel grabs his shoulder. “Go to the healer… I am.. Gods…”

The child has decided to be born today. ------ You can read what happens next in Little Bundle of Darkness --

@tugoslovenka  

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@vixstarria 

@not-so-lost-after-all  

@marcynomercy  

@theearthsfinalconfession 

@starlight-ipomoea    

@micropoe10 

@astarion-imagine-archive  

@veillsar

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@dajeong

@wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

Somethin' Stupid - A.A.

Pairings: Astarion x Fem!Tav/Reader (Bard)

Warnings: BG3 Act 3 Spoilers! Fluff! Use of Frank Sinatra’s “Somethin’ Stupid” lyrics, Tav gives off Disney Princess Energy, Astarion is stuck in a rut but you help him out, Insecure!Astarion, Spawn!Astarion

Wordcount: 1,182

Summary: You’ve had your eyes on Astarion for a while, but lately he seems distant. You take it upon yourself to brighten his day, with the use of what you know and love. Music. And of course, a goofy smile.

A/N: Thank you @ditzdreamweaver for this prompt for Y/N serenading Astarion! I think it was an absolutely adorable idea, I definitely went a bit angstier with it but there's still a bunch of fluff/cuteness.

Ever since the party had defeated Cazador, Astarion seemed down. He chose to free the thousands of spawn that were kept in captivity into the Underdark. And yet, he struggled. He slightly regretted his decision not to ascend. He felt that he could have been a much more powerful asset to the team. In short, his insecurities were eating at him, and he couldn’t stand being around the rest of the group. Not for long, anyways. He could only uphold his confident aura for so long. Especially with you. You would never judge him, you had seen him covered in blood after stabbing Cazador, and you were the one who took a damp towel to wipe off the blood he should see or reach.

You and Astarion had grown fairly close, even with the heartache everyone in the party suffered. But lately, he felt distant. Typically, he would spend most nights chatting with the party, then you two would continue conversing into the late hours of the night. Astarion, was of course, a vampire elf, and you were a bard who was a natural night owl from the late nights playing in the taverns. Despite this, and the pull he felt to continue those late nights with you, something within him inhibited him from doing so.

“I’m heading to bed” Astarion muttered, before puttering off towards his tent. It was merely a few moments following your return to camp, and the sun had not yet set. Gale had begun to prepare a meal for the rest of the group, the glistening fire flickering below a large pot, which he intended to fill with a stew of sorts.

As Astarion’s tent completely secluded him from the rest of the group, you finally decided you had had enough. You would not let him suffer alone. You trotted over to your own tent happily, grabbing your lute from the corner. It had been a while since you played for an audience, but you needn’t worry about your abilities.

“I know I stand in line” You sang. “until you think you have the time”  Astarion listened intently to your melodic voice, which easily had the capacity to draw him in. He hadn’t heard it since the very beginning of your journey together, but the strength of your voice hadn’t faltered. In fact, it sounded even more powerful than before. “to spend an evening with me…” You continued singing, dancing around the camp, with your typical goofball smile along your lips. The others reciprocated your happiness. Wyll, Karlach, Shadowheart, and even Lae’zel danced along the perimeter of the camp with you, Scratch and the owlbear cub clearly enjoying the music as well. Gale swayed as he was cooking, his feet pitter-pattering to the sound of the beat coming from your lute.

“Then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place and have a drink or two” you sang, dancing towards Astarion’s tent. Your voice radiated outside of the tent, steadily ushering him towards you. He wondered if you were a siren in your past life. “And then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin’ stupid like” with that, Astarion approached the edge of the tent, his fingers pulling the flap of his tent so he could view you just as you sang “I love you.” He watched as your pupils dilated as he came into your visibility, and he felt like you truly meant the words you were singing. The goofy smile plastered on your face was enhanced even more, and Astarion was able to smile for the first time in several weeks.

“I love you too, darling.” In all honesty, Astarion couldn’t remember the last time he spoke those words truthfully. You continued strumming as you ushered him to follow you over to sit on a log with you under the shade, a little further from camp. The rest of the group had disbanded to allow you your time together. As you began to slow the song down, some of Astarion’s insecurities began to plague him once more, but you tugged him past them. “Talk to me, Star” you prompted, pulling your lute off of your lap and opting to place it up against the tree next to you.

You turned towards Astarion, granting him your full attention. He looked at you with saddened eyes but couldn’t bring himself to look away. “I should have done it, Y/N.” He stated simply. A puzzled look came upon your face, and you reached for his hands to place in yours. He granted you them, then shuttered with pleasure as you softly ran your thumbs up and down the back of his hands. “What should you have done, Astarion?”

“I should have ascended.” Instead of acting flabbergasted, you remained calm, looking at him with gentle eyes. “Why do you say that my love?”

Gods, Astarion could barely take when you spoke those words to him. You were so gentle with him, which he was grateful for, but on the other hand it made him feel weak. He didn’t want to need to be taken care of.

“I want to be stronger for you. To protect you. To protect the party. To have the power to ensure that none of you ever get hurt again.” He spoke, and you felt your heart palpate against your chest. “Star…” You spoke, gentle eyes looking at him yet again.

“Do you realize how strong you are?” You questioned, with little response from him, merely a glance from his glossy eyes. “You have traveled far and wide for all of us here. You defeated your sadistic master, you helped us through the Gauntlet of Shar, through the Creche, through Grymforge, through Moonrise Tower! You learned how to stand up for yourself and what you wanted! We’ve saved people, and brought others to their demise, deservingly so!” You exclaimed, nearly standing up and lecturing him. “You’ve learned more about yourself in these past few months than you have in the rest of your lifetime, Astarion. Do you know how much you have to be proud of? I’m glad you didn’t ascend, Astarion. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t. Ascending would have been the easy choice. The easy way out. A way for you to continue Cazador’s pattern of torture. But you decided to do better for yourself! You are one hundred percent the strongest man I’ve ever met, Astarion. And I’m not going to sit here, and let you tell yourself other-” with that, Astarion placed the gentlest kiss upon your soft lips.

Your eyes widened upon impact, surprised by the pale elf’s action. After a moment, you pulled away, simply stating “uhm- wow. That was really nice.” Next, you felt Astarion’s arms wrap around you, nuzzling into your neck. You allowed one of your hands to trace on his back, while the other played in his hair. “Thank you, darling.” He mumbled into your skin. “Of course” you responded, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to just be there with him for a while. It was what he needed, after all.

[beautifulbows924]

Common Ground

Act One!Astarion x Gender Neutral!Reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 650+

A/N: This fic is sort of a combination of a few of the (comparatively) similar requests I received, along with one particular scene that’s been running wild and ping ponging around in my brain for far too long. I somehow convinced my partner (who could not care less about fanfiction, but adores me) to proofread this for me. So any complaints should definitely be addressed to them—as I was, unfortunately, far too sleep deprived to read over this anymore than I already have. As always, I hope you enjoy—feel free to leave any feedback you have in the comments, and happy reading! :)

Warnings: Angst, intentional allusions to past SA (the circumstances are left purposefully vague), concerning both Astarion and the Reader, writer will often suddenly break off into unexpected poetic tangents, a smidge of fluff—if you squint, & perhaps a bittersweet ending (depending on how you interpret it?)

“Darling”, Astarion carefully poses his words, “Are you certain that you’re quite alright?”

You’re terrified. He can see it. Your pulse is visibly thumping beneath your skin, and there’s a tremor to your hands he’s certain wasn’t there before.

But why now?

You’ve told him you trust him, demanded the others leave if they weren’t willing to accept the gift that is his company, and mere seconds ago offered yourself to him as a meal—to what you, with both intimate knowledge and first hand experience, know is a hungry vampire.

He would be questioning your sense of self preservation, or alternatively, your sanity. If he wasn’t awed by just how quickly you’ve managed to sway your companions' loyalty.

It takes a moment for you to notice he’s asked you a question. But once you have, you nod.

He sighs, clicking his tongue at you. That vacancy behind your eyes, it’s unnerving, too familiar. “Don’t lie, it doesn’t suit you. What is it?”

Your gaze shifts, opting to search for what must be a rather interesting spot somewhere behind him.

Two breaths in.

Two breaths out.

Astarion falters. That may have been harsh—if your continued silence is anything to go by. Perhaps, he should have left the lie to rest.

“Dearest”, he works to intentionally soften his tone, shoving past the honeyed lump that rises in his throat, thickly coated with syrup. This little manipulation won’t be ending in a hand naively held between his as he leads you down unassuming crypt steps.

He knows that.

“If you’ve suddenly changed your mind about”, he gestures vaguely between himself and your neck, “I’m sure I can make do with whatever animals find themselves unluckily situated in this part of the forest.”

Humble or selfless certainly isn’t his favorite role to play, but if he wants you to be his personal guard, it seems he may have to make an exception.

“No!” You blurt out, swallowing thickly at the raised brow he sends in your direction, mouth suddenly very dry, “I—It’s not that. I swear to you.”

He tuts, “Ah, but it is something. Hmm?”

You nod again, frustrated tears building in your eyes as each attempt at an explanation falls flat.

“No, it couldn’t—it”, Astarion makes a rather exaggerated motion with both of his hands, clutching his chest in theatrical shock, “Was it Gale?”

You huff, but it’s more exasperated than annoyed.

The left side of his lips lifts.

You drag your own roughly between your teeth.

“Earlier, you made a comment about being quiet, not wanting to disturb my rest”, unsteady hands bury themselves in the fabric of your pants, “Those words, the sudden realization that someone…anyone could have access to my body like that while I slept”, your head slumps forward, “The last time—I can’t.”

Two breaths in.

Two breaths out.

Astarion’s fingers slot into place beneath your chin, tilting it upwards to look at him.

And suddenly all you can see are the differences.

Everything he is appears less forced. No longer are you merely an audience and he an actor, but equals. Those that have found a common ground built upon the cruelty of others.

Far too accustomed to it.

There’s a raw familiarity held within your expression Astarion can’t quite discern.

Perhaps, in another life, someone cared for him. Once. To look at him with such fondness.

He wonders if he deserved it, then.

He allows the hold he has on you to become lighter and lighter, until his arm returns to hang at his side.

You hear a weary sigh, then, gently, “For what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry.”

A small smile flutters across your lips, light and without expectation. It’s a kindness he hasn’t yet learned how to navigate—and certainly has not earned, but he yearns for it all the same.

“Thank you, Astarion.”

BG3 Taglist: None yet!

[ancuninfiles]

More amazing @bloodoathlilith art 🥵

(Full version on Twitter)

[thewritetofreespeech]

Astarion x Reader

words: 1.02K

rating: T

pairing: Ascended!Astarion x Spawn!Tav

summary: after seeing their friends for the first time in a long while, Tav has a request for Astarion for them to come live at the palace.

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

The party is in full swing. Or…as full of a swing as this lot could get.

Astarion had to admit, for a dried-up old skeleton, Withers could certainly put on a show. He wondered how the old pile of bones managed out here in the middle of nowhere, looking like….that. Perhaps he’d summoned those hirelings to go fetch the party favors for him.

His attention turned from his wine to Tav as they came close. Calm, smiling, happy. He hated it. Not that he has any doubts that they are happy in their life together, and they are wonderfully content in being his consort. He just doesn’t like that other people are making them happy. “Hello, my treasure. Miss me already?”

‘Of course. When we’re apart I miss you terribly.’

Astarion barked out a laugh. Not sure if they were being sarcastic or not, but chooses to believe that they would be desperate without him. “Of course you do. And? How have our dear friends been without us to guide and protect them?”

‘They’re great-everyone seems so happy.’

“Really?” He was taken aback by that. “Are you sure? I was half certain they’d be half-dead and begging us to take them back.”

‘Well….there is one….’

“Really? Well…I’m not surprised.” Astarion’s interest was piqued now. Certainly it was no surprise to him. Who wouldn’t miss all of this? How helpless they all would have been without the faithful stewardship of his love and his clever resourcefulness to see them through. It wasn’t a surprise that one of them would crave that guidance again.

‘I have a request.’

A request? How odd, Astarion thought. Though they were bound to one another, and he was their master, he was true in his words that he wanted Tav to be his consort, not his spawn. The others he would command as his leisure, for their own good or his amusement, but Tav was free to do as they liked. As long as they were with him. It had been a while since they had made a formal request of him. So this must be serious. Though he can guess what it was.

“Name it darling and it is yours. As always, you can ask me for anything.”

‘I want them to come live with us.’

Bang on the money.

He guessed correctly that that was their request. Nothing else would require his permission in a formal way like that. It filled him with glee that they would ask though. Come crawling in to ask for his permission. And, more than that, do it on behalf of another who would soon be crawling in for his permission as well. “Of course you do my love. You always did have a soft spot for the weak and unfortunate. It is one of your more disgustingly cute qualities.” He told them. “So, who is it? Halsin? Shadowheart?”

Astarion had to assume it was Halsin. He’d already propositioned them once during their travels. Why not try it again? Although, he couldn’t see the big lug willingly spending time in the city. Or giving up on those brats he was so fond of. He hoped it was Shadowheart. Though he had chosen Tav, and correctly, there were times when he’d look at the little lost convert when more than just hunger for her blood. A look he knew reciprocated by her to his future consort when she thought no one was looking.

‘It’s Scratch.’

His fantasies on which of their companions were begging him to take them back and what he would do with them came to a screeching halt when they revealed their intended. “The dog!” Were they really asking him to take in that mangy mutt into his grand palace?? Where it would probably….shed and dig up every potted plant in the house.

‘The Owlbear too.’

“Oh good Gods, now you’re just being ridiculous.” Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose. This had to be some horrible waking dream he was having. Since he didn’t sleep anymore.

‘You said I could ask for anything.’

“Ask! Not make these insane requests!” Tav gave him one of those stern looks. One that would have made his old self buckle instantly. But he was an all powerful vampire lord now. Their powers wouldn’t work on him anymore. “Don’t look at me like that. You know it’s insane to have animals running around the palace. Where would we even put that behemoth of an Owlbear in the first place?”

‘I seem to remember that there was a very large room under the palace he could stay in. With a little sprucing up.’

Astarion growled in his throat. “No.” They crossed their arms and stared at him, and once again Astarion told them, “No. And that’s final. I won’t have wild animals running around my palace. Ask me for anything else my love, but this is too far.”

Tav uncrossed their arms and their shoulders fell. A sad look on their face that was not quite a pout because they were too grown up for that. They turn to leave and go back to the party before Astarion told them, “Fine.” They perked up and looked over their shoulder at him. Hopefully. “I will…think on it. But I will need some concessions for even considering putting up with this. You may get what you want. But, I get what I want.”

They beam at him, and don’t even consider what he might ask in return as they dash over and kiss him on the cheek as a thank you.

Astarion sighed. “I’m going to stay here and think on this. But you should go – mingle, chat, laugh. Have fun my love. And if our friends drop any interesting secrets, bring them right back to me. Until then, I’ll be here. But don’t fret, I will be watching. I am always watching.”

And he did watch them go. Return to conversations with Shadowheart and Laz’el projection, giddy and happy again. Although he knew it was his doing this time. So he was less annoyed than before.

He then turned to look at the dog and owlbear playing by the bank. The ground literally trembling under the overgrown cub’s feet. Astarion pinched his nose again. He decided it would need to be something very, very, very good if he was going to allow this to happen.

[carooosa]

Bound by You: Love is Power, Love is Weakness

Part 1: Exposure (rewrite)

Word count: 1.5k Rating: Explicit Pairing: Ascended Astarion x AFAB Resist Durge/Reader Warnings: 18+, exhibitionism, ear play, violence against an NPC AO3 link: Exposure

Summary: Astarion can exert his control/power as he maintains composure while fucking you, and while he may not be as strict with his council when doing so, the harshness behind his actions is still there. But when you torture him by making him moan in front of everyone who is beneath him? Not only will it show him weak, but it’ll show his weakness.

It’s another boring day as a consort while you sit on your lover’s bare lap, slowly rolling your hips into him. Ever since the ascension, Astarion has refused to let you out of his sight for too long, always wanting to have some part of him touching you. It upset you, at first, having to sit in on all of the dreadful conferences and dull discussions. But as always, Astarion made sure that it was worth your time.

He’s droning on about some inaccuracies in recent reports he’s received and his fingers dig into your hips as the proprietor of the counting-house stumbles out an excuse. You can’t help but giggle when you picture the proprietor trembling as he tries to talk his way out of this mess. You remember his name being quite the joke as well, something like Sparkleboard or Glimmerbrook.

“Rakath Glitterbeard,” Astarion barks at the dwarf before berating him for his inadequacies. He shoots you a mischievous glance, confirming that he too is bored with this meeting, so much so that his mind had wandered into your own.

Of course the poor sod’s name was something ridiculous. If he was going to have a name as awful as that, he should just change it to Goldcoin or something similar. At least then it’d have relevance to his job.

Astarion pinches your hips in an attempt to stifle any laughter that may come out, and you yelp in surprise. You look at your lover and notice the slightest crinkle in the corner of his eyes. The ramblings from Rakath stop, and Astarion’s head snaps towards him. “Have you run out with excuses already, Glitterbeard? Or have you simply come to your senses and decide to own up to your shortcomings?” Astarion says with a growl.

You turn your head as well, excited to see what’s about to unfold. The dwarf readjusts his collar before clearing his throat, and the idiot decides to speak up against your Lord.

With the arrogance of a little kid, he says, “No, Lord Astarion, I just noticed that you seem to be preoccupied and thought I would wait until you regain focus.”

Astarion scoffs and you feel him grab onto your ass with one hand as he stands up and kicks back the chair he was sitting on. With his other hand, he pushes off all the paperwork that lay strewn about the desk. He sets you on the edge of the table before pushing you down so that your back is against the hardwood. He stares directly at that insufferable banker as he begins to thrust into you – hard.

“What was that about losing focus?” Astarion says with a crazed look in his eyes.

Rakath’s face turns bright red as he tries to stammer out a response, but it’s no use, as Astarion has already made up his mind.

“Silence. Pick up those documents and put them back on the table – in their correct order. After that, you will redo all of this week’s reports, as well as the last 4 month’s as well.” Astarion is interrupted by a noise of disapproval, his frustration reaching its highest point today. “I said silence. Perhaps you’ve forgotten how that tongue of yours works, shall I cut it out and show you?”

Rakath drops to the floor and begins frantically gathering the papers, all the while Astarion continues to slam into you with reckless abandon as he addresses the rest of the meeting attendees. 

“Do I need to remind everyone that you’re in the presence of the Vampire Ascendant? I am more powerful than you could possibly comprehend, yet you wager your lowly lives just to make some ridiculous point. I could replace you with the snap of my fingers and no one would even care. I keep you around because I couldn’t be damned to get rid of you – however, give me enough of a reason and I’ll put the dungeon to use.”

You weren’t sure exactly how or when it started, but whenever Astarion would get annoyed or pissed off during a meeting he would yank you closer and begin to fuck you, right there, in front of everyone. Somehow he was able to maintain composure as he catered to your needy whines, asserting his dominance over the room while he dominated you. He always took care of you, and one day, you got the brilliant idea to care for him in return.

You’re once again sat on your lover’s lap with his cock buried deep inside you. His nose is deep in a document, a contract with an architect from Neverwinter, and his shoulders are tensed. You delicately reach your hands behind his shoulders to start massaging the knots. He doesn’t acknowledge you save for a quick twitch in his ears, so you push harder, hoping to alleviate some of the stress the Vampire Lord must feel. Moving up to his neck, you meticulously knead every knot you find, humming a soft melody as each point of tension slowly comes undone. When you finish giving him a massage, one of your hands slightly brushes against his ear, causing a shutter to ripple through Astarion.

You quickly look at his face and notice his lips part, a silent moan leaving them. Interesting, you think to yourself, and you slowly reach out to stroke his ear.

You watch as Astarion gasps, eyes fluttering closed in contentment, the contract falling from his hands. He desperately tries to regain control by focusing on his breath. You caress the helix of his ear and his breathing hitches before a pleased sigh escapes his mouth and he leans into your touch. His hands move to your back to stabilize you as he begins to roll his hips, ever so slightly fucking you.

He looks so beautiful like this, you think to yourself. Astarion’s eyes are hooded when he opens them again, and if your heart was still beating, you’re positive it would’ve skipped a beat.

You can tell from his posture that he’s about to move your hand away, and the mind-link connection you share confirms that. The Vampire Ascendant has an image to upkeep, and he can’t show any vulnerability outside of the bed chambers. He starts to shift in his seat when suddenly, you take his ear lobe in your mouth. He mindlessly bucks his hips forward and grasps the armrests of his chair, splintering the wood. You nibble on the lobe, pressing and flicking your tongue against the soft skin.

He can vaguely see in his peripherals the guests from Neverwinter glance at each other and shift in their seats. One of them clears their throat and Astarion tries again to regain his poise but all he can think about is your lips on his ear. You roll your hips and gingerly reach out to his other ear, pinching and rubbing the tip. A quiet moan starts in the back of Astarion’s throat as you coo at him, telling him that he’s such a good lord, so strong, incredibly smart, your love. All the meeting attendants can do is watch as the Vampire Ascendant comes undone beneath your touch.

Astarion is panting as you whisper sweet nothings in between giving attention to his ears. You bite down on the flesh in your mouth – harsh enough to draw blood – and moan from the sweet ichor that flows into your body. The nobility that would usually cower at the mention of the vampire lord’s name now sit watching, unable to do anything in fear of retaliation. One of the younger nobles, the son of the architect, begins to slowly stroke his fingers against his strained trousers.

Within seconds, Astarion barks an order.

“Stop.”

You pause, concerned that you may have gone too far. Before you can ask if you did something wrong, you’re sat alone on the chair while Astarion is on his feet and holding the young man by his throat. He raises the boy above his head and dangles him above the table, his claws piercing into his flesh. The architect starts to get out of his seat but a nearby guest stops him.

“You fucking degenerate. How dare you please yourself while looking at my consort,” Astarion bellows.

The boy is unable to respond as blood fills his throat, causing him to suffocate. Astarion slowly closes his grip around his neck, watching as the architect’s son struggles to pull his nails out. The boy stops thrashing, the life drained from his eyes as his body goes limp.

Astarion continues to hold the corpse in the air as he addresses his room. “Leave. Now. And if so much as a word of today’s events is whispered outside of this room,” he pauses, throwing the body onto the table where the group congregates, “I will personally hunt each and every one of you.”

A few days later, a rumor silently spreads across Baldur’s Gate. Astarion, the unforgiving and merciless Vampire Ascendant, has a weakness. While many laugh and make jokes about how the powerful tyrant gets turned on with the touch of his ears, a resistance group takes note of his true weakness, and their key to his demise: you.

Part 2 Here

[destructive-poet]

I just think that astarion deserves to be treated softly. I just think that astarion needs to cry in tav’s arms . I just think that he needs to be held and loved and adored. is that so bad

[dervampireprince]

ASMR | Baldur’s Gate 3 - Astarion x Listener SFW Astarion Comforts His Good Puppy

[M4A] [Established relationship] [Comfort] [SFW pet play/pet regression]

This is the 200th public audio I've recorded?? Crazy how time flies. Thank you guys so much for supporting me. Based on requests from my Patreon members.

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Old public spicy audios on sound gasm (link in pinned post). 2 Exclusive spicy audios on Patreon every month. I also stream on Twitch every week @ dervampireprince . [minors + ageless blogs dni. this blog is for 18+ only.] [do not repost/reupload/edit any of my content]

[brain-rot-central]

Sins of the Father

A/N: Basically a short little drabble focusing on vulnerability issues. Anger issues. Self-indulgence. I'll let you guys decide which Astarion this is and if it's Tav/Durge.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader (gender-neutral) Words: 607 Warnings: hair grabbing, physical abuse, threats of violence, angst, emotional incompetence, unhealthy relationship, A has (surrogate) daddy issues, boy ain't ok, angst angst angst, i-went-to-the-family-reunion-and-all-i-got-was-shitty-generational-trauma

The hand in your hair tightens and whips your head back with a quick jerk. A man stands before you, looking down to meet your widened gaze. Distain is written clearly across his face. His eyes flare red hot; molten lava threatening to erupt through his rapidly crumbling resolve. “I could kill you, you know,” he spits through clenched teeth.

The corners of your lips turn upward in a coy smile. “I know,” you answer, “you've told me before.”

His chest rises and falls rapidly now, frustration mounting. “And yet you still test me? Does my darling have a death wish?” He cocks his head to the side in question.

You huff out a laugh and he grips your hair tighter, pulling your head back further. He's baring your neck to him. “You wouldn't harm me.” Your eyes flit closed as you feel the cool puffs of his breath against your throat. The warm spice of his cologne assaults your senses. A rippling flush of warmth rushes through you. “You never do.”

The vampire groans low in his throat. You can't see it, but you know his fangs are out. Poised above your pulse-point as he wrestles with his willpower. Every instinct he has screams at him to sup, to drink of you until he's had his fill and then some. Until your body grows cold, lifeless in his lap. Until he's destroyed you. 

All for the simple crime of seeing him.

For loving him.

In an instant, he retracts. The hand slips from your hair and you feel his presence removed from yours. You open your eyes to find him standing before you, chest heaving, lips drawn into a tight line. “I told you you're no monster,” you say softly to him.

Slowly, he raises his hands above waist level, bending at the elbows. He turns over his palms multiple times. You can't help but notice how terribly his hands tremble. “But I want to,” he admits quietly, continuing to inspect his hands. “I… want to. So badly.”

“To me, or yourself?”

The question leaves your mouth before you have a moment to consider. A slight panic begins building within you, but it's quickly extinguished as a ragged cry breaks free from the vampire elf’s throat.

He sinks to the ground, jamming the palms of his hands into his eye sockets. Another yell, this one more existential than the last. You kneel next to him and place a comforting arm around his shoulder. He takes this as an invitation to melt into you, and you adjust to accommodate his presence.

“You are not your past,” you tell him, soothingly combing a hand through unruly silver locks. “You are not him.” He tucks his head further into your chest, body quaking as the dam finally breaks.

Clinging together, you sit on the ground, holding him as he screams. The sounds are muffled, as they always are. But you stay, because you know that these moments are breakthroughs. Shedding more of the skin to his past. 

When he resurfaces, he'll need you. As he always does, with desperate fervor. The need to be accepted. That this new form hasn't dissuaded you, that you still want him.

Once more, you'll open your arms, part your legs, and bare your soul to him. You'll rock gently with him until his skin grows back over, culminating in one final climax.

For now, you'll stay on the floor, where he needs you. Down here, with him, as he navigates the depths of his despair. And you’ll gladly do this over, and over. As many times necessary, until the sun itself melts.