#bg3 fic

[p1nk-b1tes]

Daddy Kink? Embarrassed Gale?

yeah, let's do it.

nearly 2k words of gale discovering he has a daddy kink and being mortified by his new fantasies

Gale might just lose his mind. 

It’s Tav – lovely Tav – who just can’t help but test every ounce of patience and control that Gale is capable of today. It all started when they began their exploration of the blighted village that had been occupied by a never-ending horde of goblins and ogres. And if the arrow that had whizzed past his skull when he’d taken his first few steps past the border wall hadn’t been enough to set his nerves on fire, it had to have been when Tav failed to disarm a simple trapped chest in one of the crumbling cellars simply because they “wanted to try their hand at it.” Their rogue had been there the entire time (more than a safe distance away, understandably) and had nearly allowed Tav to blow themself up before Gale was forced to intervene at the last second before the thing actually went off. He hadn’t meant to yell at them, they were simply trying their hand at an amateur skill, but he’d certainly given them quite the talking-to about allowing Astarion to handle traps from then on out. 

“I appreciate your concern, Gale. I really do. But you don’t have to scold me for it as if you’re my father,” they’d said. 

And that had been the end of that. 

Except it hadn’t. 

Throughout the rest of the day Tav had managed to prove their unique ability to consistently avoid being careful at the worst of times, exhibit their clumsiness at regular intervals, and be generally entirely irresponsible for their own well-being. 

“There he is again – father to my rescue once again,” was their far-too-calm response when Gale politely informed them that they’d nearly set off a pressure plate that had been clearly visible in broad daylight. Astarion had laughed at their sarcasm, and so had Wyll, and Gale had continued forward through the crypt, frowning at the oddly strange feeling in his belly that sidled up to the sourness he felt at their response. He’d only been trying to help… 

And finally, when Tav nearly threw themselves over a crumbling edge into the whispering depths for a useless chunk of agate, Gale would’ve pulled them back to safety by their tunic’s collar if they hadn’t turned to him after he’d practically saved their life and said with their chest heaving from fear and their cheeks flushed crimson from adrenaline, “well shit, that was way too fucking close. Thanks, daddy.” 

Truthfully, Gale doesn’t know why he reacted the way he did. He should have been furious with how the previous hours of their day had gone. They’d nearly walked in circles for hours because of Wyll’s inability to follow a map, and had clawed through miles of cobwebs, dust, and dirt all so that Tav could nearly die three times and so Astarion could stake claim to some stupid dark-magic book they’d found that he knew absolutely nothing about. He should have expressed his discontent, to say the least – or should have shimmied the rest of the way off of the ledge and pulled his companions along with him – but no. Out of all of the things the wizard could have done, he’d frozen in place. Immobile and unable to form a coherent thought with the rest of his companions pressed shoulder-to-shoulder along the crumbling edge of the most terrifying drop he’s ever seen – he’d actually just frozen. 

He could feel his face turn red from the blood and embarrassment that had suddenly flooded into it, and he’d certainly felt it when what remained in his head suddenly rushed right down across his chest and into his dick. 

Tav had only called him daddy – they’d been calling him things like father all day long for his well-deserved scolding and lecturing and that was close enough! So why did that specific word turn his brain to mush and his cock into iron? He realizes with a mortifying lurch that the strange feeling he’d been feeling all day when they’d call him those stupid names wasn’t discomfort at all. He liked it. 

Oh, Gods, no. 

He likes it… 

Poor Wyll had already been shaking in the knees from being so high up above the unknown that loomed below and Gale could barely make out the sound of Astarion giving him quite the ear-full from beyond Tav’s opposite shoulder to “encourage” him to move, but to make matters even worse, Tav reaches out to grab him. They place their hand on his arm first, shaking gently to try and rouse him from his trance, and when that doesn’t work they toss their arm across the span of his chest as if they’re worried that their wizard may just lean forward and plummet all of a sudden. 

“Thanks, daddy…” 

His cock stiffens in his shorts almost immediately, his balls suddenly heavy, and then Gale is shimmying off of that ledge faster than his companions had ever seen him move before like an absolute fool. 

It’s been hours since Tav inadvertently scrambled his brain in the whispering depths and Gale can’t stop thinking about it. How he’d so un-heroically frozen in a terrible position and more so how Tav had allowed that word to slide so easily off of their tongue. They didn’t mean anything by it. It was entirely offhanded and playful, meant to ease the tension of Tav nearly losing their footing on the edge of what would have certainly been death, yet his brain continues to remind him it was anything but.  

Gods above, he can’t get the image out of his head – Tav, breathless and chest rising and falling wildly from the realization of a too-close call, their hand clamped around his forearm as he pulls them back towards the wall to reestablish their footing. And then there it is again. “Thanks, Daddy…” Even hours later his stomach still flips and flutters dangerously. 

Gale’s jaw clenches as he lies back on his bedroll and stares up at the ceiling of his tent. He tries not to focus on what’s happening below his waistband. 

He can’t shake it. His erection refuses to wane. He’s been hard since they uttered the word so nonchalantly and his cock refuses to allow him to forget how it sounded. In fact, his brain has distorted his memory into more of a fantasy. He’s heard Tav’s voice in his head for hours now in every intonation and at varying speeds. Now they’re whispering it into his ear, all slow and sultry like sweet molasses, and Gale is leaking a damp spot into the fabric of his trousers. 

The wizard clenches his fists across his belly and watches the shadows of the leaves as they print themselves into the canvas. His cock throbs. He leaks. He gives in. 

The wizard drops his hands towards his hips to free himself from his trousers and the rush of air that passes through his lips when his flushed, hot length makes contact with the cool air is absolutely divine. 

His companions are not far away. He can hear them as they dawdle around their camp, chatting and laughing about how ridiculously clumsy Tav was today. Someone says their name and Tav begins to laugh. 

“Daddy, daddy, daddy…” 

Gale groans, squeezing his eyes shut as if it’ll block out the noises in his head, and fists the base of his cock, squeezing and teasing himself and resisting the urge to curl in on himself when the pleasure zips up the length of his spine and into his throat. He begins to stroke himself, firmly, slowly, and his knees fall open in a silent invitation to no-one. 

No-one… 

He’s lying to himself again. 

He imagines Tav crawling between them, their hands on his thighs as they descend on his cock with their velvety mouth – that satin tongue… He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth to suppress the noises that threaten to spill from his lips as he wraps his fingers along the bottom ridge of his head and glides the pad of his thumb over his slit. It’s slippery and slick. He drags the wetness down the side of his shaft and continues to pull at himself. 

He’s beginning to lose himself in the pleasure of it all when someone walks by his tent so close that he can hear the crunch of dirt under their boots with every step. He tenses, ceasing in his horrible ministrations as they come closer and closer and finally pass. The breath trapped in his chest escapes him in a quick exhale and he listens as Lae’zel reminds Wyll about some sparring on the edge of camp later. Gale doesn’t care in the slightest about their plans – he wishes that it had been Tav approaching his tent instead, coming to invite themself in so Gale could pull them into his lap and tell them to say that word over and over and over again while they grip at his chest and run their fingers through his hair until he’s begging to allow them to put it inside… 

Gale’s free hand reaches between his legs to cup his balls while his right hand flies over his cock, tugging and pulling wildly as it jerks in his palm and slicks up his fingers. It feels too good to stop now, despite it all being so, so wrong. 

He shouldn’t be thinking like this. Shouldn’t be thinking of his friend in such vulgar terms. Shouldn’t be imagining how they’d look with their lips or their hole around him. And he definitely shouldn’t think about how they’d take it all when he’d cum so hard across their cheeks as they look up at him from the floor with their face beautifully scrunched up in pleasure, cheeks pink and lips swollen. 

“Can I have it, daddy?” They’d say. “Will you give it to me?” 

He’s cumming before he even realizes it, abdomen tense and thighs shaking as he squirts onto his stomach and into the valley in the center of his chest. His tunic is ruined with his cum, but for the first time in hours the fog in his head begins to dissipate. 

And dissipate it does… Quickly. 

The fog clears from Gale’s head and immediately becomes replaced with mortification of his actions. He strips his tunic from his chest, tossing it aside to be cleaned later, and his pants, and quickly changes into something clean of his mess while his sensitive cock deflates. Tav’s voice fades from the forefront of his mind, stored away somewhere secure so that he can function as a normal person again. He pushes away the shame for now and steps out of his tent only to be bombarded by the image of Tav stripped down to their undergarments on the water’s edge, Astarion in similar garb at her side. They’re sprawled on the dirt together, side-by-side soaking in the rays of the sun while their clothes from earlier lay out on the rocks to dry after a well-needed wash. Upon exiting his tent, both of their heads turn to his direction and Gale wants to crawl back in and hide at the slight evidence of a smirk on the vampire’s face. 

“Hey daddy,” Tav says, wholly innocent and full of light. It makes Gale’s stomach churn. “Wanna join us for a bit? We had quite the day today, didn’t we?” 

That smirk grows on Astarion’s face and Gale watches in real time as he catches an elbow to the ribs. 

Tav will be the death of him.

-- i have a ficlet collection on ao3 if you wanna keep up or read more of my stuff

[elinorbard]

A Little Prayer (f!Dark Urge/Enver Gortash)

Enver Gortash's work is interrupted when Ta'av, the Dark Urge, seeks out his help with a new kind of uncontrollable urge. (Rating: Explicit. Word count: 5.8k)

series: sex and violence, one is just the other

“You'll have to wait your turn, my dear. I'm afraid your desires cannot take precedence today.” He felt her nimble fingers beginning to undo the laces of his trousers, and he caught her wrist. With a sardonic smile, he maneuvered her hand to rest against the apex of her legs, his larger hand pressing hers into her leather leggings. “I have the utmost faith in your ability to entertain yourself.” Ta’av was shaking her head before he finished speaking. “No. No. That's not enough; it has to be you,” she insisted. She managed to slip her hand out of his grasp, and Enver inhaled sharply as she grinded down against his hand.  She looked at him with an expression of pure want and frustration that made his pulse quicken.

[sharkboywrites]

Hi, can you do Halsin and Astarion comfort (plus any others you like writing for) x trans reader struggling with top dysphoria, like to the point they actively avoid face to face contact because no matter how well they bind they can still feel them :( I've been struggling a lot (expecially since I can't bind due to health reasons)

Top Dysphoria

Halsin and Astarion x dysphoric transmasc reader

A/N: Really excited to write this bc I know how much chest dysphoria sucks, but I’m actually working on getting a binder now that I’m 18, so this is good motivation to write. Sorry I’m getting to this late, but I hope you feel better anon

Trans male/transmasc reader, dysphoria, chest dysphoria, all descriptions of dysphoria are based off of author’s experience

Halsin

- Halsin is one of those people that can immediately tell when something is wrong

- He could see the difference in the way you started to carry yourself, all confidence gone and making yourself as small as possible

- Your chatter died down, now often becoming completely silent unless you had to speak

- When you’d see up camp for the night you’d quickly retreat to your tent, not fixing up your weapons or talking to anyone else in your party

- He decided to wait until everyone headed to bed to check on you

- When he came into your tent you were just laying there

- You weren’t sleeping, but you weren’t exactly doing anything either

- You were just staring at the wall of your tent, face stained from tears

- He didn’t say anything at first, just sat beside you

- He eventually pulled you into his arms, holding you in a warm and comforting embrace, a bear hug perhaps

- When you felt comfortable enough to start talking, you told him everything

- You told him how you felt, how it was making every single day hard, how it was affecting your mental health

- He listened to you patiently, wiping away any tears that formed

- He assured you that your body does not define you, that it doesn’t change the way he sees you, but that he also understands why it makes you so upset

- He held you until you fell asleep, before laying with you, patting your hair as he drifted to sleep too

Astarion

- Astarion loves to bicker, that’s one obvious thing

- He throws small insults and comments whenever he can find the opportunity

- And you always bickered back

- It was like a game between the two of you, an entertainment of sorts while you had to walk from place to place, fighting monster after monster

- But suddenly, you stopped bickering back

- You were quiet, keeping to yourself

- You almost seemed smaller somehow, like trying to hide yourself from everyone around you

- He’d never admit it, but he missed your friendly fighting

- So, he decided to check up on you

- In his own way of course

- He’s not good at emotions, but he still addresses the problem directly

- He does it in a whiny way of course, while you’re party stopped at an inn for the night

- He companies about losing his fighting buddy, how quiet you’ve become, but beneath all that it’s clear he’s really just worried about you

- But he feels even worse when he sees you start to tear up

- He sits next to you on the bed as you cry out your feelings, telling him about everything

- His comfort comes in the form of a hand on your shoulder and a nod every now and then

- Like we’ve established, he’s not good with emotions, but he’s still there to listen to you

- He doesn’t have a lot to say, but he gives you a few assuring words about how he doesn’t care about those things and your body doesn’t determine who you are

- He stays with you the whole night, helping you stay distracted, and reminding you that he’s here for you

[honeybee-bard]

WIP Wednesday

I took a lil break from posting WIPs/snippets this past week but we're back baybee! This is from the oneshot I'm working on for the Kinktober prompt "hate sex". It's an Astarion POV piece!

“I could kill you,” you growl. “But you won’t,” she says with a shit-eating grin. She’s right. She’s always right, and it’s infuriating. She shouldn’t be able to read you like this. She shouldn’t be enjoying this. She should be scared. She should be absolutely terrified. “I think,” she continues, “that there are a couple of things you’d rather do than kill me. And right now, I’m pinned beneath you, helpless and entirely at your mercy. Nothing is stopping you from doing exactly what you want to do to me.” You can feel it every time her heart skips a beat, every time her pulse quickens. You can feel the thrum of her lifeforce, so strong and so very close. She tilts her head to the side, baring her neck. It feels like an eternity before you let instinct take over, though you know it was likely only a matter of seconds. Her blood is sweet and warm on your tongue, just as it had been the night she let you feed on her before. That’s what started this, started you inexplicably wanting her while still finding her absolutely infuriating. Her insistence on doing good and helping everyone extended to you as well, you had realized that night. She kept helping every godsdamned orphan and refugee you crossed paths with, delaying your search for a cure over and over again. It enraged you. It drew you in. It led you to having her pinned beneath you with your fangs embedded in her flesh and gods, she’s still not scared of you at all, is she? With a dagger to her neck and your teeth in her throat, she’s still not scared.

No-pressure tags: @bardic-inspo @kimberbohwrites @locallegume @pinkberrytea @nyx-knox

[riseatlantisss]

Careful, he bites

Pairing : Astarion x female!reader around 900 words.

morning sex. in bed. with the most amazing vampire. that’s it that’s the plot ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW : 18+, shameless smut, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, tiny bit of fang kink

I love him a completely normal amount

You open your eyes slowly, savouring the blissful, heavy fog of sleep that still weighs on your mind. The voice that greets you is one you’re sure you’ll never tire of.

“Good morning, my sweet”, Astarion whispers against your ear. The bed smells of night-blooming flowers and cold winter air, just like him. His body is a comforting spoon, the nice coolness of his powerful chest sends shivers down your spine.

Your eyelids are still heavy and with a smile, you settle back in and bury your head in your soft pillow, eager for just a few more hours of precious sleep before starting a new day in the underdark.

Astarion, of course, has other ideas. He exhales and you can feel the light puff of cold air against the back of your neck. Icy fingers skate down your bare arm, dragging the strap of your night gown with them. He dips his head and nuzzles the junction of your neck and shoulder. He toys with the hem of your night gown before slipping beneath it to caress the curve of your hip. You revel in his low groan of appreciation as he discovers you’re wearing nothing underneath.

“Gods, the things you do to me,” he growls, voice muffled slightly as he breathes your scent. “Let me take care of you.”

Wordlessly, you nod and he wastes no time. He gives you a sloppy, hungry kiss that is all tongues, teeth and fangs, and then slowly lowers himself. His fangs leave burning trails across your skin, and you love every bit of it.

You can feel his erection grow next to your thigh and you raise a hand forward to touch him but he grabs your wrist and stops the motion. 

“No, darling,” he grins, “it is all about you today.”

“But –” your attempt to argue is cut short as Astarion disappears between your thighs, wraps his wet lips around your clit and starts sucking. You let out an unbelievably loud whimper of pleasure and he smirks against your body.

Pinning your thighs apart, he works his tongue in an up-and-down motion on one side of your clit and then the other. You grind into his mouth shamelessly as his tongue continues working its magic. Without interruption, he slips first one finger, then two inside you, and pushes them up against your G-spot. You’re already starting to see stars as you feel his fangs settle in the soft mound of flesh above your clit. He applies just enough pressure for it to deliciously sting without ever hurting. Those tiny pinpricks combined with the sucking of your clit and the impossible rhythm of his fingers inside you made you cry out.

“Astarion – I’m– “ you try to articulate between two heavy breaths.  

“I’m right there with you, my love,” he mutters and presses his fangs slightly deeper into your skin, as to urge you to stop fighting the wave of pleasure trying to make its way through your shivering body.  

His tongue slips across that one spot on the tip of your clit that always sets you off, and suddenly you are coming on his mouth, grasping fistfuls of his silver hair and moaning and moaning and moaning. He pushes his fangs deeper and deeper into your skin as he rides out your orgasm with you, using his free hand to hold your hips steady. Your core spasms longer than a pulsing heart, each beat making you thrash helplessly on the bed as he pushes his fingers deep. ​​He waits until you come down from your high before slowly sliding his two fingers out of you and into his mouth to lick them clean. The rest of the world begins to come back into focus but you do not care for it. You only have eyes for him.  

​​"You are absolutely exquisite when you come," he chuckles in that ridiculously arrogant way he has.

He licks his lips as he rises, expression as lazy and smug as a contented cat. You haul him up and into your arms and kiss him hard. He wraps his strong arms around you protectively and takes a moment to listen to your breathing, still shallow from the love explosion. He finds infinite comfort in the repeated rise and fall of your chest. It proves to him that you are real, safe and here, right next to him. 

Before you, Astarion had never known true bliss. Sex – even when it’s mindblowing – doesn’t fix the part of you that’s broken. Good sex soothes, but doesn’t cure, and Astarion, who’s been using sex as a valium substitute since he’s been free from his former Master’s control, knows it better than anyone. But with you, it’s not just sex. It’s safety. It’s intimacy. It’s respect. And it’s all he’s ever wanted.

[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

[dancingbirdie]

Okay so on Astarion, I was reading this fic about him not knowing Tavs true intentions with him and it bothering Astarion a lot, so what if he goes to some mage or magic user and asks them to show Tavs true intentions to him, when he does the vision he sees is just... being snuggled. It's Tav on top of him and the both of you are falling asleep, his hands are under your shirt softly petting your skin as your sleepy self is contently snuggled up to him. I just start crying about him finding out that Tavs DASTARDLY and EVIL plan with him, their greatest desire from him... is to simply be held. 🥺

Hi @goblin-creatcher! Thank you so much for this BEAUTIFUL prompt. I, uhh, kind of took it and went a million miles an hour with it. This is honestly one of my favorite things I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it as well! xoxoxo

Something Imagined / Something Real

Word Count: 3.9K

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Warnings/Tags: Brief but detailed description of rough consensual sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst

Suggested Song Pairing: Slow Dancing in A Burning Room (Stripped) - cover by ST LUNA

Summary: Astarion has been suspicious of Tav’s true intentions toward him. He persuades Gale to cast a spell and reveal her motivations. ANGST and FLUFF ensue. A rewriting of Astarion’s confession scene from Act 2.

The sun had just begun to set on the campsite when Astarion decided to put his plan into action. He had waited until Tav departed with some of the other party members before making his way over to the wizard. Gale was too busy reassembling the bookshelf inside his tent to notice Astarion’s approach. It wasn’t until he gave a polite cough that Gale jumped and whirled to face him. 

“No, no, no,” he began all at once, hands raised in a sort of shooing motion. Astarion stared at him in confusion. “I can respect Tav’s indulging in your need for blood, but as I’ve said before: I taste terrible.” 

Astarion scoffed. “Charming. Actually, wizard, I was coming to request your aid in a different, though somewhat related, matter.”

“Really? Care to elaborate?” Gale responded, still somewhat wary. It wasn’t often he found himself alone with the vampire. 

“Testy, I see,” Astarion crooned teasingly. His knee-jerk response to people treating him like a monster, to behave in the most false saccharine sort of way. 

But he drew up short, censoring himself before saying anything else he might regret. He knew he needed to get on the wizard’s good side if he had any chance of getting the answers he sought. 

“I was hoping you knew a spell to reveal someone’s true intentions. Their… motivations for behaving in a certain way, so to speak,” he finished more seriously. 

Gale pondered the question for a moment before answering. 

“Hmm… yes, there is magic to determine that sort of thing… Although it’s been some time since I practiced it…” He trailed off, rubbing his chin in thought. 

“Why are you asking for such a thing?” he asked suddenly. 

Astarion had been prepared for this question, of course. No one did anything for free, no questions asked. He delivered his explanation perfectly, as he’d been rehearsing in his mind.

“One might say our dear sweet Tav and I have been growing a bit… closer these days, but I can sense a master manipulator when I see one. I just simply want to ensure their intentions toward me - toward the party - are true,” he replied with mock innocence. 

“Ah, yes,” Gale nodded. “I gathered as much when the two of you slipped away from the tiefling’s party a few nights ago.” 

“But,” he continued on,”I needn’t think you should worry when it comes to Tav. She seems about as transparent as they come. I’m sure any intentions she has toward you are true.”

Yes, but the best actors always mask their motivations behind innocence and transparency, Astarion thought to himself. I should know. I’ve been doing it for centuries.

After the party’s unfortunate meeting with that Gur in the Sunlit Wetlands, Astarion realized he would have to take potential threats from Cazador even more seriously. He wasn’t about to lose his freedom, not now that he finally had some small taste of it. 

It didn’t hurt to be more suspicious of everyone he encountered, even the sweetling Tav. Anyone could be an operative sent by Cazador, and the best ones would be as skilled as he was in the art of manipulation. It was well-known at this point that the person he’d grown the closest to on their journey was their brave party leader, Tav. Unlikely as it may be that she was scheming for his master, Astarion’s paranoia wouldn’t let him indulge in interactions with her a second longer unless he knew how she truly felt. 

Given Gale’s hesitation, Astarion knew he would have to kick his acting up a notch. Press on that wizard’s heartstrings. Touch the one nerve he knew he was sensitive to.

“Gale, darling, from one literally damaged soul to another, indulge me just this once,” Astarion beseeched him. 

The wizard glared at him a moment, before finally relenting with a heavy sigh. “Fine. Fine. But I want it known that I don’t agree with this so-called solution one whit,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Yes, yes, noted and formally documented, on my word as a former Baldurian magistrate,” Astarion replied cheerily. “So, let’s hop to it then, shall we?”

“What, right now?” Gale asked, shocked. “Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know, a little less conspicuous?” 

“What better time than now?” Astarion responded. “Tav’s out gathering firewood with Wyll and Karlach. They won’t be back for some time. As for Lae’zel and Shadowheart, well…” he paused, gesturing over his shoulder. 

Said two were engaged in a heated sparring session on the outskirts of the camp. Snarls and curses could be heard emanating from both warriors as they tried, and failed, to gain the upper hand against their opponent.

“That lovers’ dance could go on until morning,” Astarion finished. 

“Fair point,” Gale admitted begrudgingly, grimacing at the sound of swords clashing violently. “Very well. Let’s get started.” 

Clearing his throat, Gale began to utter a series of phrases completely foreign to Astarion. He watched as the wizard began moving his hands in a wavelike pattern, forming a circle before them. Suddenly, a mist began to form from seemingly thin air, taking shape according to the boundaries Gale’s hands were creating. The mist grew more and more opaque until it appeared before them like a clouded mirror. 

As the fogginess of the ethereal magic began to clear, the “mirror” became a confusing blur of scenes whipping by, too fast for Astarion or Gale to really comprehend. There were flashes of Tav and Astarion, together and separate, but they disappeared too quickly to ascertain their context. It was as though the spell was shuffling through the entirety of Tav’s thoughts, assessing each one at breakneck speed. 

Finally, the spell slowed to a halt, stopping on one scene in particular. Astarion was struck speechless by what began playing out in the foggy portal before them. So distracted, he didn’t even notice Gale’s tight cough, or how the wizard suddenly became intensely interested in a copse of trees nearby, rather than the revelation the spell was revealing.

Not that the scene was especially profound, objectively speaking. In fact, to anyone else, it might be viewed as the least revelatory thing possible that the spell could have shown. Boring. Inconsequential, even. But to Astarion, it was almost earth shattering. 

He saw himself - he could see his face! - with Tav, lying tangled together in some immaculate four-poster bed. 

That was the first shock that coursed through him, nearly causing his knees to buckle. He was seeing himself for the first time in over 200 years. Or at least, he was seeing himself as Tav saw him. And… the person he saw… Well, he was gorgeous. White blonde locks, curled and tousled in a devil-may-care sort of way. A strong, patrician nose that suggested good breeding. High, sharp cheekbones. Full lips, upturned in a thoughtless grin. Red eyes bordered by long, sweeping lashes. Delicately pointed elven ears. Smooth alabaster skin, without blemish or spot. 

Astarion could scarcely believe his own eyes. 

The second shock to his system was the nature of their activities. He would have been less surprised had the vision shown them fucking. Him taking her roughly from behind perhaps. His name a cry of ecstasy from her lips as he pistoned in and out of her with a feral sort of determination. 

Fantasies of lust, of total domination, now those were things he was familiar with inspiring in the minds of the victims he had taken as lovers. It was what he strove for, in all honesty. Desire like that all but ensured he would capture his prey and live to serve another day for his master. 

But nothing of the sort was occurring between vision-Tav and himself. Instead, they were just… embracing? What in sweet hells was this?

She lay halfway on top of him. Her hair was mussed, perhaps from sleep or perhaps from previous lovemaking. One hand was drawing absentminded shapes across his chest, her lips trailing behind, leaving kisses in their wake. He watched as vision-Astarion chuckled softly, as his hands slipped beneath her sleepshirt to caress her waist, as he placed an innocent kiss on the top of Tav’s head. Eventually, she reached for his hand. They both watched their fingers intertwine, blissfully content.

It was the purest, unadulterated expression of affection that Astarion had ever seen. Something in his heart quaked at the sight of it. He wanted that moment. He envied, he hated, vision-Astarion for enjoying such apparent happiness.

So absorbed in the vision and its implications, Astarion failed to notice the soft padding of feet that indicated someone’s re-entry into the camp. 

“If the two of you are quite finished poking around in my head,” an angry voice suddenly spat from behind them, “I’d appreciate you preserving what little privacy I have left and shutting that damn spell off.”

Mortified, Astarion and Gale turned to see Tav, arms crossed and visibly seething with rage. Gale quickly dispelled the magic with a flick of his wrist. A blush was slowly but surely rising up Tav’s neck to reach her cheeks. Whether from rage or embarrassment, Astarion couldn’t be certain. 

“Tav, let us explain-” Astarion started.

“It was his idea-” Gale blurted at the same time, pointing at Astarion. 

Both paused, glaring at one another. But Tav would have none of their feeble attempts at backpedaling. 

“The explanation doesn’t matter. Whose idea it was doesn’t matter. The fact is that both of you violated the privacy of my mind, which I’ll remind you, has ALREADY been violated by having a bloody tadpole forced inside of it!” Tav shouted. At their words, the camp became enveloped in a heavy silence. Even the crickets ceased their chirping.

Astarion cringed inwardly, knowing the other party members could plainly hear this altercation and had likely stopped whatever it was that they had been doing to listen in. He noted the sounds of swords clanging together had ceased. He was certain Lae’zel and Shadowheart at least were aware of what was happening. Nosy bastards, all of them.

But what disturbed him even more was the realization that Tav’s eyes were welling with tears. She was too proud to acknowledge them or wipe them away. Such was her nature. But they were there nonetheless, and the knowledge that Astarion had brought her to the point of tears was enough to spur a rush of utter self-loathing inside him.

Without another word, Tav turned on her heel and marched stiffly out of camp, toward the direction of a nearby creek they’d identified as a water source earlier in the day.

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to perform that spell,” Gale said as she disappeared between the trees. He dragged his hands down his face. 

“How could we have been so doltish, forgetting that all of our privacies have already been violated with this tadpole business?”

Astarion didn’t have an answer to that. At least, not one the wizard could possibly understand. 

The thought hadn’t occurred to Astarion, he realized, because violations of privacy had been something so intrinsic to his being for over 200 years. He didn’t even recognize it as something abnormal. Like a fish unaware that the water surrounding it is, in fact, water. 

Violations of privacy were a part of life, at least for him. So much so that his request for Gale to perform that magic hadn’t even occurred to him as an overstepping of boundaries. To Astarion, it had simply been a matter of survival. He had needed to know another potentially manipulative person’s true intentions, and so he had found a means to uncover it and maintain the upper hand. 

Belatedly, he also realized that Gale’s hesitation to cast the spell had had nothing to do with being inconvenienced for the evening, but because the wizard had known that it was improper to do to another person. If he had misread that, Astarion wondered, then what other truly benevolent behaviors had he mistaken as pragmatic manipulation?

“I need to go find her,” Astarion murmured, clenching and unclenching his fists in an uncharacteristic fit of uncertainty. 

“Yes, you do,” Gale asserted. “We both owe her a sincere apology… if she’ll even accept it.”

“I’ll see if I can convince her to come back to camp,” Astarion replied, making to leave in the direction Tav had stormed off. 

“Wait,” Gale said, a hand on his shoulder. Astarion turned to meet his gaze. 

“Look, well, I’m obviously not an expert in healthy demonstrations of affection. But I do think it’s obvious from what you saw in that spell that Tav well and truly cares about you. In perhaps the purest way possible. Treat that carefully.”

Part of Astarion wanted to laugh aloud in utter hopelessness at the wizard’s advice. Someone cared for him? Truly and purely? No hidden games, no strings attached? Oh certainly, that wouldn’t be a problem for Astarion at all. Obviously, his 200-year existence as a master-manipulator-fetch-hound for a power-hungry vampire lord had perfectly prepared him to respond to this situation in a healthy manner. Obviously.

But all that was too much to reveal to someone he barely knew and too heavy to say aloud. Rather than giving some smarmy retort, Astarion opted instead to give a stiff nod and continue walking toward the edge of camp. He had no idea how he could make things right with Tav, but at the very least he could try. 

***

He found Tav sitting on a fallen tree near the edge of the creek bed. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she rested a cheek to her knees. In the waning twilight, she reminded Astarion of some misbegotten gargoyle perched on the roof of a temple, solitary and so very sad. 

Her ears twitched as she noted his arrival. Astarion wasn’t trying to be stealthy. On top of everything else, the last thing he needed to do was scare her. 

“Can I join you?” he asked softly, wincing to himself at the awkwardness of the question. 

The reality was that there was no way to broach this conversation without some stilted beginning, and he hated it. Navigating tricky conversations was normally something he excelled at. But as he was quickly finding, when it related to Tav, nothing in his past life had prepared him to respond to her well. 

“If you’d like,” Tav answered tonelessly. 

Knowing it was probably the best response he was going to get, Astarion swallowed thickly and moved to sit down on the log next to her. 

“I… wanted to… apologize for what you saw, back at camp,” he began.

“Apologize for doing it, or apologize for getting caught?” Tav asked as she turned her head to look at him, resting her other cheek on her knees. 

Astarion balked at the question. Her piercing gaze unnerved him. He hadn’t really thought that far. 

“Both, I suppose?” he answered honestly, although it sounded more like a question to Tav. She huffed a laugh.

“You know, part of me really wants to yell at you. Scream in your face. Tell you off proper,” she mused.

“So why don’t you?” Astarion asked, perplexed. 

Tav didn’t respond at first, just sat there studying him. As if by staring at him long enough, she could project the answer into his mind. 

Astarion didn’t interrupt her, much as he would have liked to. Part of him always bristled when people gazed at him for too long. It was unfair that they could study him, when he hadn’t been able to so much as glance at his reflection in over 200 years. 

Finally, Tav released a heavy sigh, her body curling further in on itself. She closed her eyes as she spoke.

“Because then I would be just like every other bastard in your life who’s mistreated you.”

Astarion flinched in surprise. Those had not been the sort of words he’d been expecting. The truth of them cut deeper than had she raged at him like she wanted to. It left him feeling even more vulnerable, and that in turn made him want to retreat into the comfort of viciousness.

“I don’t need you to pull any punches,” he scoffed, glaring at her. “Go ahead and say what you will.”

She straightened up at his tone, opening her eyes and returning his glare. 

“No. I don’t want to,” she said testily.

“I don’t need your pity,” he hissed. “It’s insulting.”

“Gods damn it all, Astarion!” Tav exclaimed suddenly, causing him to jump in surprise. She threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m not doing anything out of pity! I don’t want to rage at you, because I know that whatever I say right now, I won’t mean it come the morning!”

Astarion blinked. Once again he was left feeling flat footed by the turn of the conversation. Sensing his surprise, Tav continued on with her deluge of words.

“You hurt me tonight, and I’m angry at you - and at Gale, for that matter - for what you did. But you’ve shared enough of your… history… with me, that I realize your behavior is just… just a byproduct of centuries of abuse and manipulation you’ve endured! And I won’t be another abuser in your life. I won’t,” she asserted. 

Astarion continued staring at her, as if she were some otherworldly creature that had just wandered across his path. He watched as Tav inhaled a deep breath, releasing it shakily. She turned away from him to peer out into the forest, uncertain. She opened and closed her mouth several times before actually speaking. As if whatever she was about to say was more intimidating to her than anything else she’d said tonight. 

“I… care deeply for you, Astarion,” she said quietly. “You obviously saw that in the vision. I’m not playing any games. There’s no hidden motive. I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

She turned to look at him again before continuing, her breathing a bit unsteady. 

“I didn’t sleep with you that night of the tiefling party as some sort of maneuver to gain your trust. Although I understand if that was your motivation for doing so.” 

Astarion’s expression morphed into one of guilt. But Tav nodded soberly, as if she had already expected it, before continuing on. 

“It’s okay. I’m not angry. But I’m putting all my cards on the table now, so to speak. Actually, your decision tonight forced my hand, but I had been planning on telling you soon anyway. So, there you have it. The truth of my intentions. What you do with that information is up to you.”

She turned back to gaze out at their surroundings. Like she was giving him the opportunity to bolt away without her watching him. As if she expected him to flee from her confession. 

But Astarion didn’t flee. He remained seated, staring at her in complete wonderment. 

“Why?” he asked quietly.

She looked back at him again, confusion evident on her face. 

“Why what?”

“Why do you care for me? You’re so… well-adjusted. And I’m well… this,” he finished lamely, placing a hand on his chest. 

Tav pursed her lips. “It would be a mistake to misconstrue my empathy for you as me being well-adjusted. Everyone has their own demons, Astarion,” she murmured. “Mine just look different from yours.”

Astarion mulled her words over in his mind, considering them. He leaned forward to brace his forearms on his knees, his head drooping slightly. 

“I…,” he started, unsure. “That vision… what it implied… You deserve something real, Tav. You’re incredible… truly.” 

Tav closed her eyes, bracing for the fallout. Even though she would accept his decision, whatever it was, she didn’t think she could bear to watch him deny her. It would hurt too much. 

“Look. When we met, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan,” he blurted all at once. Rising swiftly to his feet, Tav watched as he began to pace before her, near to bursting with frenetic energy. 

“Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me,” he counted off, laughing half-heartedly. “It was… easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do… was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he finished, stopping to stand before her. 

She held his gaze, speechless. 

“I want you,” he whispered fervently. “I want what was in that vision… I want us to be something real.”

Never in a million years had she thought he would respond to her like this. She opened her mouth to speak, but Astarion cut her off with another sudden exclamation. 

“I just don’t know what real is,” he confessed, his tone a touch hysterical. Tav knew from his body language that being this transparent was completely out of Astarion’s comfort zone. 

“Being… close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back. For him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust, and loathing. I… I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to,” he finished, staring at her with beseeching eyes, willing her to understand.

Tav rose to her feet, coming to stand before him. 

“I don’t want you for your body,” she whispered. “Or to perform any acts of intimacy. We can be together, without sleeping together, for as long as you need.”

“Really,” he asked softly, his voice pitched low, rough with emotion.

“Really,” Tav asserted, giving him a small smile. “Would it be all right if…” she paused, conflicted. He eyed her curiously.

“Could I hug you?” she whispered.

The fact that she asked before doing so caused a well of emotion to spring up inside him. Eyes watering, Astarion nodded. 

Slowly, Tav moved forward to wrap her arms around his waist. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck and shoulder. A perfect fit. He felt her exhale a deep sigh.

Tav hugging him was a sensation unlike any he had ever felt. At least, any he could remember feeling. The act of being touched, embraced, without any desire for something more. She just wanted to hold him, feel him close to her. It was incomprehensible to him, but utterly enjoyable, at the same time. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Astarion raised his arms to return Tav’s embrace. Drawing her even closer, he bowed his head to rest his cheek against her hair. It was soft, like the finest silk. He closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, appreciating her sweet, floral scent.   

She made to pull away after a moment, not wishing to overwhelm him. But Astarion gripped her more firmly, a silent urge for them to stay that way a little longer. 

“This… this is nice,” he whispered. 

He both felt and heard Tav hum contentedly in response. 

It wasn’t identical to the vision from Tav’s mind that he had seen, but Astarion reveled in their embrace nonetheless. It felt like the beginning of something new. And for the first time in his very, very long life, Astarion felt excited at the prospects of what would come next. 

[cammys-imagines24]

°•Astarion Being Touch Starved•°

The dastardly rogue would scarcely ever admit it- not in a thousand years.

But the sensation of your touch sends a thrill through his heart so loud, so potent, that sometimes he swears it still beats.

Beats only for you.

Sure by the light of day Astarion has a devil may care attitude and more sass than anyone really ought to.

And though you've both voiced your sincere affections to each other, he is never shy to continue with his playful flirtations towards you.

But that does not mean he views your relationship as a trifle. As something to play at.

You are the first person he's cared for in hundreds of years. The first he's opened himself up to. The first to show him that he can be free.

And with that long sought after freedom he wishes to spend it with you. For as long as you'll allow him the gift of your presence.

But though Astarion is unshackled now, the hauntings of Cazador never leave his mind. Not entirely.

On more times than he'd like to acknowledge, he has awoken from horrid nightmares of his past enslavement.

Cursing himself for even bothering to close his eyes in the first place considering he doesn't actually need to sleep.

But then there you are, right beside him.

Warm and vulnerable. Slumbering soundly and oh, gods, does he love your warmth.

The chilled Vampire would bathe in the heated feel of your skin if he could and often while you're tucked in the crook of his arm, dreaming away, he takes small liberties.

Letting just how starved he is of gentleness be shown.

Brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, kissing the column of your throat, breathing in your scent.

Admiring your beauty. Committing each freckle, scar and feature to memory.

Dining on the feel of your form close to his and relishing in the company of one who truly, faithfully loves him. Just as he is.

So reverential of your body. Savoring the perfume of your blood, the thump of your heartbeat. Your every breath a hymn to his ears.

Of course you know how starved Astarion is. You can read him like a book.

But his yearning for tenderness is an unspoken truth between you two.

So you attend to it in your own subtle way.

Holding hands with him while around camp. Sitting next to him beside the fire. Your thighs touching. Placing your hand between his shoulder blades while walking.

Your gaze never straying from his for too long. Your medicinal touch the one to mend his wounds after a rough fight.

He thinks of you as a goddess. Your warmth a healing balm and he thanks his lucky stars everyday he met you.

The feel of you beside him is enough to make him enjoy living again.

Astarion's love for you eternal and ever growing.

[reobsessed]

Unfamiliar Waters

Pairing: Tav X Astarion, Reader X Astarion. Gender neutral. Content: Bathing, kissing, hair washing, fluff, comfort, slight conflict that gets resolved immediately, no sex, minor mention of torture. 1500 Words. Summary: You were in dire need of a bath after a harrowing fight outside the inn you were staying at. Unfortunately you find the tub already occupied by Astarion. In an attempt to bond with and get him out of there, you offer to wash his hair. Another short Astarion fic I started a while ago. Wanted to do something fluffy and intimate without any sex. Thanks again to Suri for edits and help with lines and the title!

You flung open the wooden doors, uncaring as wood chipped against lavender painted walls. Just as you were halfway through discarding your shirt, an indignant cry caught you off guard.

“What in the sweet hells, do you mind?!” The towel and toiletries fell from your hands. You’d never been very perceptive and today was no exception. Already fully submerged in the tub was Astarion; chest bare slumped over the side, a dripping copy of the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette in hand.

“Astarion?! I haven’t seen you in hours, is this where you’ve been?” You spluttered. “We really could have used your help. There was a fight right outside the inn. There’s absolutely no way you didn’t hear the commotion.”

“Some of us take pride in our appearances and besides, I needed time away from that festering group of ingrates.” As if to emphasise his point he shuddered. “You know, you could all learn a lot from me, starting with regular bathing.”

“And how exactly are any of us meant to bathe when you’re in the bathroom four hours every day?”

“Oh I don’t know, Baldur’s Gate has plenty of scenic rivers and lakes. I’m sure the bear has no problem leading each of you to nature’s finest bathhouse.”

You rubbed your temples with a freehand. As much as you loved this man, he could really start to grate on your nerves after a while. You scooped up your belongings and made your way over to him, arranging your towel neatly on the floor beside you.

He looked up from the paper disinterestedly. “As much as I love your company, dear, I hope you’re not planning on joining me. I hardly think this,” he gestured disapprovingly at the tub, “can fit us both.”

“Astarion, if there’s anything I can do to cut this exceedingly long bath short, I would be more than happy to assist.”

His eyes widened momentarily. How stupid of you, you hadn’t considered the implications of what you’d said. 

“No, no, that's quite alright. I’ve still got my hair to wash and that’ll take at least another half an hour.”

Perching yourself on the edge of the tub beside him, you began rolling up your sleeves.

“Then allow me.” You smirked.

He flung the sodden paper to the floor and stared at you dumbfounded. “You mean you- wash my hair. I’m sitting here naked, dripping and gorgeous and all you want to do is ‘wash my hair’?”

“Couples do things for each other. Things outside of sex and combat, I might add,” you sniped back. Using your fingers, you began combing through his dampened locks.

“Without the sex, I suppose that leaves only the one thing we do together then.”

“That’s true.” His body tensed. “No, no wait- '' Flustered, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your forehead against the back of his head. A feeble gesture, intended to soothe him and buy you enough time to explain.

“Just kidding,” you could hear the smirk in his voice, but you knew it wasn’t genuine.

“I like doing other things with you,” you mumbled into his curls. “I don’t care about the sex.” You relaxed your hold, allowing him to turn around to face you. Delicately, you reached out and wiped a stray piece of hair from his forehead. As you did so, his unnaturally pale cheeks took on a darker hue, perhaps from the heat or from your touch, you weren’t sure.

He cleared his throat and turned away again. “I see then. Well, this is as good a time as any to try something new.” 

“Really?!” your head perked up. “I’m so excited, haven’t washed anyone else's hair since I left home.” You began swirling a hand in the tepid water, carefully choosing a spot faraway from where Astarion sat. “Did you and your siblings ever do this for each other? Like my family did,” you asked without thinking.

He shot you an incredulous glare, which soon contorted into sarcastic glee. “Oh, of course we did! And then in between our torture sessions we’d paint each others’ nails! What good fun it was.” His smile dropped and he fell backwards into the bath, splashing you in the process.

You scratched the back of your head. “Sorry I-”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Leave it, my love. No use dwelling on all that now.” You nodded your head in agreement, not that he could see you. “Come now, we don’t have all day.” 

You hummed in agreement, looking over the various bottles that sat on a shelf beside the bath. Astarion was a very particular man and you didn’t wish to upset him by, god’s forbid, using the wrong fragrance. You gestured towards the selection of shampoo. “What’s your poison?”

“Hmm, I think today I‘m in the mood for jasmine- no wait- night orchid and ginseng- actually, that honey shampoo sounds positively delicious.”

“Might net you some unwanted attention from our camp bear,” you joked, hands sifting through the knots in his hair.

“Fair point. Alright then, I think I’d like to try that raspberry one, the one you got from that dear little market stall.” 

The same one you liked to use.

With a gentle firmness you cupped the sides of his head. You hoped it was enough to stop him from turning around and seeing the pure glee etched onto your face.

“Alright, I need to get it wet, lean back,” you instructed, as you scooped up a handful of water.

He did as he was told and reclined backwards, eyes closed and squinted, anticipating the stream of water. Doing this for your brothers and sisters had been easy. Hells, you could get away with lobbing them in the river and they’d be just fine. Astarion, on the other hand, required a more delicate touch (even if he’d never admit to it) and you were more than happy to cater towards him.

With slow precision you poured the cooling water over his scalp, immediately pushing back any stray drops that threatened to drip down into his eyes. 

Gods, how was it possible for such a man to be so beautiful and how was it that such a man had chosen you as his partner? Your hands stopped and your gaze lingered, as you took in his picturesque features.

An eyelash heavy with steam peeled open, giving you an inquisitive look.

“Enjoying the show, darling?” A thick, humid heat bloomed across your cheeks. “By all means, keep admiring me.”

“Shut up and close your eyes!” You grabbed the bottle from the side and began lathering it in your hands. The familiar fragrance filled your nostrils and despite having grown accustomed to having it as your own scent, you were looking forward to how it smelt on him.

You rubbed the foam through your fingers, fully enveloping his hair in a thick mousse. As your nails dragged across his scalp you heard him moan. 

“That feels positively wonderful.”

“Oh yeah, like this?” you asked, repeating the same motions as before. He mmm-ed softly, sinking further into your hold. You paused for a second, this might be the most satisfied sound you’d ever heard coming from his lips, not a bad thing of course, given his past experiences. 

His eyes were open again, staring up at you, face awash with bliss. 

“Itching for a taste are we?” he goaded lightly.

There was no use dignifying that with a response. You brought your lips down upon his, his head still clasped in your hands. It was brief and sweet, reminiscent of those first kisses you’d once shared with young lovers. Unthinkable that such innocent yearning could be reclaimed so late in life. 

Reluctantly you broke the kiss and pulled away.

“I do rather like that, you know…”

“I know and so do I.” You beamed. “Okay now can you please hurry up so I can have a bath,” you pleaded, peppering his mouth with more kisses.

“Always so demanding,” came his curt reply (the audacity). Nonetheless, he complied and finished up. 

A deep sigh of relief escaped your lips after finally lowering yourself into freshly ran water. About halfway through wetting your hair, a freezing pair of hands on your shoulders caught you off guard.

“Astarion!” you shrieked. The little rogue had snuck up behind you.

“Oh, do be quiet, and don’t splash me. Wouldn’t do to get me wet again.” You watched as he rifled through the shampoo bottles disapprovingly. “We must go to the market together again soon, darling, just the two of us. I know just the product that’s perfect for your hair type, might do something about that helmet musk too.”

You opted to ignore that last dig, instead choosing to relish in the satisfaction of a warm bath and your lover threading his fingers through your hair. “I’d like that,” you hummed happily. 

A contented silence descended over the room. You felt at peace and when you saw him hovering above you with that serene grin on his face, you knew he felt the same.

[pinkberrytea]

He had tasted you once; now, he craves every inch of your being, his hunger insatiable.

Little death—a gift he bestowed upon her, and which she bestows upon him in turn. As her lifeblood touches his lips, Astarion reminisces about the fateful eve when he first sank his fangs into her pretty neck.

Come, gentle night; and when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars.

Astarion x Tav (F!Reader)

w/c: 3.1k words . ao3 . spotify playlist . 18+ only . nsfw . dividers

a/n: I can't be the only one who is convinced my man is down bad since the very first bite, right? he is so interesting to me! I wanted to explore this idea further, hopefully I did it justice. thank you for reading!

tags: blood drinking; fluff & smut; possessive behavior; masturbation; body worship; mildly dubious consent; dry humping; somnophilia

“Later on, when we are at rest, I will eat you right up. Just enough to give me strength, and just enough to leave you wishing for more.”

Footsteps. You hear them approaching, although in your half-unconscious torpor, you can’t tell if they’re near or far. You’re likewise unsure of what has disturbed your sleep, even if as of late, nights have been restless and plagued by nightmares, the worm etched in the recesses of your brain a constant, unforgiving reminder of your plight. Your mind is still hazy, fragments of your dreams clouding your thoughts, so you rely on your primal instincts instead—you smell nothing but the crisp evening air, feel nothing but the cool breeze caressing your warm body, see nothing but endless darkness from behind your closed eyelids, but your ears don’t fail you. You instinctively hold your breath, muscles tensed, staying as still as possible as if playing dead; the footsteps are now almost upon you, the crunching of leaves growing louder and muffling the noise of the crickets singing, and your skin becomes covered in goosebumps in anticipation, the pit of your stomach twisting and turning. Whoever it is, you seem to be their intended target.

Suppressing the mounting panic rising within your chest, you try to gather your bearings and make sense of the situation. You know where you are—Elturgard, or more specifically, a camp in the wilderness, somewhere between Elturel and Baldur’s Gate. Finding a cure for the parasite wriggling in your head is the reason you’re here, and the companions with whom you’re sharing your camp are afflicted by the same condition. Ah, your companions—the footsteps must belong to one of them, surely. The soothing heat of the campfire has significantly dwindled compared to how it was when you turned in, its crackling so low you can barely hear it, and the night is sufficiently chilly that your bedroll fails to offer enough shelter, so you wonder if they are about to tend to the dying flames, or maybe ask you to help them do so. You wait expectantly, pricking up your ears, but suddenly, the crunching sounds come to a halt, and you sense a presence looming over you. A shiver runs down your spine, and your heart starts beating faster, thumping so loudly you’re afraid it may give away your awakened state. The presence silently kneels down beside you, crawling even closer, too close for comfort; and then, you feel it—cold digits ghosting over your cheek, their featherlight touch almost tentatively soft.

Astarion.

Now you remember. You offered to let him feed on you earlier, a habit which you’ve unexpectedly picked up in recent days, although the reason for such eludes you. Perhaps it was his pained expression when he asked you the first time, or maybe something else—you’re not entirely certain, but the fact of the matter is, he is here, except unlike other nights, you are fully aware of your surroundings. Not only that, it has been no more than a fortnight since your little tryst in that pretty clearing, which it seems both of you are intent on pretending never happened. You more so than him—it would be insincere of you to claim you haven’t noticed the dangerous glint in his eyes, how he leans closer when you talk, the cunning smirks and wistful glances. Truth be told, you’re still unsure what to make of it all; none of it is how you expected it would be, not your time together, and certainly not the aftermath. Him, too—though it may be bold of you to assume so, you can’t help but think that his show of vulnerability, however brief, had not been intentional. Ever so often you idly muse over the raw perplexity etched across his face when you invited him to drink from you then, how he looked at you in utter disbelief, letting the mask of a debonair lover slip for a split second; how his kisses became more fervent, his touches less calculated, the confusion never truly seeming to leave him until you were done. And then, the morning after—the hurt in his voice, the complex feelings he appeared to be trying to suppress seeping from every word, as if he had been prepared for anything and everything but genuine yearning, and you ruined it all for him.

“This isn’t about hunger. It’s about pleasure.”

The digits on your cheek slide downwards, gliding across the curve of your jaw and towards your slender neck, where they stop for a brief moment, only to then press down on it, feeling around as if searching for something—an artery, pulsing so very tantalizingly with your precious crimson, a feast set out entirely for him. With his other hand, he gently runs his fingers through your hair and brushes it behind your shoulder, exposing his prize, and repositioning himself to straddle you, he lowers his head until his mouth is hovering right above it. He stays like this for a while, and your blood runs cold as it dawns on you that he may have noticed you are not asleep, but before long, his skin finally comes into contact with yours—however, rather than the sharp pain you’d been expecting, you feel only the pillowy softness of his lips; a tender kiss, which is then followed by another, and then another. One of his hands stays tangled in your hair, cradling your head, and he splays the other on the ground beside you to support himself. His fangs lightly graze the throbbing vein with each peck, almost teasingly, until finally, he sinks them into the sensitive flesh, carefully and steadily so as not to wake you. The uncomfortable sensation is not foreign to you, although it is clear he has become more accustomed to this, even if you have not; his technique has significantly improved, and after the initial stab, it hardly hurts anymore, other than a dull ache every time he swallows, which he does quite enthusiastically.

“Just you and me and—well, maybe a little death?”

Letting out low grunts and guttural moans as he drinks, Astarion sucks ever so vigorously, seemingly more at ease due to your apparent lack of consciousness. Your face gradually grows warmer as you notice tension building up low in your stomach, the noises he makes and the feeling of his plush lips and wet tongue against your skin causing your body to react with pathetic wantonness. You try to stifle the impending arousal, doing your best to remind yourself that he is only feeding, nothing more, nothing less; until you notice the hand on which he had been leaning make its way from its place on the ground to rest on your waist, gingerly moving upwards until his long fingers brush against the plump of one of your breasts, almost as if by accident—it is, however, no accident when two of them then pinch a pebbling nipple through the thin fabric of your nightshirt, delicately massaging the pert nub while the others knead the squishy surrounding flesh. The ache between your legs swells with desire, and you flusteredly bite back the whimper threatening to escape the confines of your closed mouth; believing you to be deep in slumber, he has no reason for such restraint, and his vocalizations increase in frequency and volume alike. 

Having to now use his upper body strength to keep himself propped up, he decides to instead gently fall on top of you, momentarily unlatching from your neck to then slightly push you to the side and press his strong chest flush against your back, one hand woven in your hair and the other cupping your breast still. With almost desperate keenness, he hooks one of his legs over yours, shoving his crotch against your rear, and immediately you notice the rock hard bulge nudging the space between your buttocks. The tips of your ears burn bright red at this realization, making you wonder how common of an occurrence this must be; as your mind wanders to the night when he first bit you, he sinks his fangs back into the bruised vein, and your eyes water a little due to the sudden pain, which you quickly forget about once you feel his hips start almost imperceptibly grinding against your own. Wedging the bulge deeper within the valley of your ass, he moves it to and fro, almost in rhythm with his sucking of your blood, the digits on your bosom earnestly playing with your nipple and those in your hair tenderly caressing the tousled tresses. 

“Hm—hnng…” Astarion groans lewdly, lasciviously, making suggestive wet sounds while sensually lapping at your crimson. No longer satisfied to feel you up through your clothes, he sticks his hand under your shirt, and his cold fingers quickly resume fondling the soft skin of your breast, in response to which shock waves shoot up your legs and arms. Freeing the digits tangled in your hair, he brings them to your ribs, sliding their pads along your navel and down towards your groin, where he then firmly grabs one of your supple thighs. That’s when it occurs to you how unlike your night together he seems to be acting—eagerly exploring your body with almost adolescent clumsiness, his movements sloppy and impulsive, he appears to be entirely focused on taking rather than giving; having no reason to try to impress you, he acts greedily instead, intent on achieving his own personal ecstasy above all else, a fact that doesn’t bother so much as instill in you a puzzling sense of relief.

Increasing the pace of his thrusts, he tightens the grip of his leg around yours, and for a short while you all but forget that your crimson is running down his throat still, unable to focus on anything but the heat irradiating from his skin as it becomes ever warmer the more he feeds. When you notice you can no longer feel the tips of your toes, it is far too late—a tingling sensation spreads across your heavy limbs due to the loss of blood, and holding onto a single thought proves far too difficult, your mind now a messy whirlwind of memories and abstractions. Your arousal persists even as your conscience starts to wane; slick soaks through your underpants, the sweet scent of which causes Astarion to immediately stop moving, freezing as if caught with his fingers inside the cookie jar. After what seems like an eternity, both his hands and fangs leave your helpless form, and he shuffles behind you, presumably looking for something—before you can even begin to wonder what, you feel him press a soft piece of fabric against the fresh set of bite marks on your neck, which he uses to gently wipe the thick red blooming from the small wounds. 

Worried that any further stimulation might disturb your sleep, he decides to attempt a less bold approach instead, pulling away slightly, although your legs remain twisted together. Barely awake now, the echoes of the forest reach your ears in hushed, distant hums, but you can still hear him as he brings the bloodstained cloth to his nose, taking in your scent deeply, eyes closed and a libidinous moan falling from his pretty lips. One of his now freed hands hastily makes its way to the waistband of his pants, only to then slip under it, and as soon as his elegant digits brush against the velvety crown of his cock, he wraps them around its engorged girth, squeezing lightly and drawing pearly droplets of precome from the weeping slit. 

“Mngh…” he croaks, his voice raspy and hoarse, and you can’t tell for sure, but a whisper that vaguely sounds like your own name wafts through the air and vanishes into the evening sky as he starts sliding his hand up and down his length, smearing the clear liquid seeping from the leaking tip all over himself. Prior to your night of passion, this is how he would choose to relieve the painful erection inevitably provoked by his daily feedings, only he would retreat to his tent then; once you became more intimate, things changed, and raw eroticism would percolate into every session, images of your moments together sweeping through his mind and springing his aching sex to life with each gulpful of your lifeblood. The instant you offered him your neck, all he had ever known suddenly came into question—drinking from you while balls-deep into your tight cunt was an experience unlike any other, to the point of almost completely resignifying the concept of pleasure for him. By owning your body, he had made you his, even if only temporarily; your blind trust was something he had never before experienced, and not once had he felt so powerful as with you squirming under him, completely submitting to his whims. 

“Astarion, please…” he recalls you whimpering, the sound of his name on your pink tongue so enticingly sultry, stirring up in him all sorts of conflicting feelings; lust, infatuation, guilt, anger, all blended together and indistinguishable from one another. How beautiful a vision you had made then—such a pretty, luscious thing, flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes glinting with coquettish longing. The more he finds himself caring, the more he hates you for it; the more his hatred for you grows, the more he wants you by his side. Choosing to manipulate you into a tactical alliance was the culmination of careful and meticulous deliberation—at once deadly and most pleasing to the eye, yet seemingly unaware of either fact; a naive, kind fool, lost and alone, his perfect target from every angle, you were the obvious candidate. He had no way of knowing at the time—how you would unwittingly beat him at his own game and steal your way into his undead heart, without even really trying. 

While pumping his now glistening cock, your precious face is all Astarion can think of, every detail of it perpetually burned onto his retinas—long, thick lashes, curtaining doe-like eyes; sweet little freckles speckling the bridge of your nose; smooth waxen skin and plump rosy lips, so soft and kissable. And your scent, oh, your scent—delicious and intoxicating, such a lovely, delectable bouquet. Although now warm, his hand could never compare to the feeling of your slickened walls clenching and fluttering around him, and no amount of pressure would ever be able to replicate the sensation of stretching them open, coaxing yelps and cute whiny pants out of you with each nudge of your cervix. He wonders for a moment what other expressions he has yet to witness you make; in what other manners he has yet to take you, in what other positions he has yet to watch you come undone. Maybe on all fours, that round ass of yours sticking out so very invitingly, begging to be devoured; maybe on your knees, darkened lips wrapped tightly around his cock, eyes watering and drool dripping down onto the swollen peaks of your perky breasts as you accommodate all of him like the good girl you are. Each idea is more enticing than the one before, and the very thought of acquainting himself with all the ins and outs of your body makes him feel alive, bulging veins and tumid cockhead pulsating madly against his sweaty palm as he goes over the endless possibilities. He had tasted you once; now, he craves every inch of your being, his hunger insatiable. 

“Mine…” he growls possessively, picturing your tits bouncing and the rouged knot atop your dripping core throbbing for him as he feels his climax draw nearer, rubbing the cloth sullied with your crimson against his nose, your taste still fresh in his mouth and a trail of red running down his chin. You are not his, not yet, but although he curses himself for it, he would bring his simple plan to fruition, for all the wrong reasons; he wants you, he needs you—his own little bundle of joy, his light in the darkness, his glimmer of solace, his, his, his, and his alone. He won’t share your kindness, not with your companions, not with anyone, and he cares not if his greediness makes him unworthy, for he never deserved any of it in the first place; regardless, you’d still extend a hand to the wretch who put a knife to your throat, toyed with your emotions and sucked you dry, in more ways than one. You may not realize it, but in sharing your life essence with him, you breathed color into his world, roused within his soul a vital spark he’d long forgotten had once ever been there. He may not be entitled to it, but he’d still have it all—he’d still have you, to the bone and beyond.

“Oh, gods…” With one last stroke, Astarion empties himself on his hand and stomach, legs convulsing and hips stuttering, letting go of the cloth to then nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, lips pressed against the bloodied gashes maculating your otherwise flawless skin. The inside of his pants is now covered in come, yet even as the thick fluid runs uncomfortably down his thighs, he feels strangely at peace—happy, even. His softening cock twitches and jerks still, but fearing that his luck may soon run out, he lets go of it and wipes his fingers on the hem of his shirt, which he learns is also stained with his seed; once they’re sufficiently clean, he wraps both of his arms around your waist in a tight embrace, focusing on the gentle raising of your chest as you inhale ever so softly, finally at rest. 

“This is a gift, you know.”

He won’t forget it. Regardless of what may lie ahead, he won’t. Warm flesh, beating heart; as your crimson courses through his veins, the thread of life now connects you both, your fates forever intertwined. When morning comes, all will be back to normal, but for now, he shall hold you, cradle you, as he would a lover. A true lover—though what would that be, if not prey that wakes by his side once the dawn breaks? Disturbing as that thought may be, it is of little import for now; basking in the clarity of death, he allows himself a moment of reprieve, for your time together is far from over. What treasures will the future bestow? Why—finding out is but a matter of waiting.

[deadly-diminuendo]

Sweet Dreams, Darling

a spawn astarion x fem!tav reader oneshot / nsfw / ~4.1k words

Summary: An evening spent reading a racy romance novel awakens a fantasy you never knew you had. The thought of your sleeping body becoming a thing to be used for someone else's pleasure brings you an unexpected thrill. Of course Astarion catches you in the act and of course he cannot resist teasing you. But he is willing to indulge you.

Tags/CW: somnophilia, consensual non-consent, tadpole mind sharing, vampire bites/blood drinking, kink discovery, piv sex, late act 3, mostly smut with some fluff

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Or read below...

Never has a collection of words upon a page enraptured you quite like this.

You could have spent hours perusing the diverse collection of books in your private suite, but the second you spotted this particular title, you simply could not resist plucking it from the shelf: Dusk’s Dark Desires. A steamy vampire romance novel taking Faerûn by storm, or so you have heard.

Whether it proved to be a well-written escapist fantasy capable of stimulating your senses, or a disaster full of laughable euphemisms and wild inaccuracies—something you and Astarion might enjoy ridiculing together perhaps—you thought you made the perfect choice for the night. Little did you know just how entirely it would captivate you.

After all it is certainly not the first time you have read something of this nature—erotic literature has long been a guilty pleasure of yours—but the book in your hands describes in riveting detail a fantasy you were not fully aware you had until this very moment.

A hazy notion of it would flicker through your mind whenever you would wake to find Astarion lying atop you, your blood such an aphrodisiac to him that he could not help but to succumb to carnal instinct, hands wandering, hips rolling, his arousal anything but subtle. His need for you never failed to ignite your need for him. All it would take was a word, a nod, a look, and then it would begin—your lips colliding, your clothes shedding, his cock sliding into your mouth, or plunging into your cunt, whatever suited the two of you best. You never felt more wanted, at least in those early days.

Even the times you did not wake thrilled you. You both treated your arrangement as your little secret, only acknowledging your intimate exchanges in knowing smiles and seductive whispers. All the nights you offered him your neck and sealed your promise with a kiss, all the mornings you awoke smiling as you felt fresh puncture marks in your skin, wondering if the act filled him with as much desire as it always seems to.

Wondering if he wanted to take more from you than your blood while you slept.

You flip a few pages back, eager to reread the passage that inspired your lecherous thoughts. Again you absorb the tantalizing prose and again the delicious encounter described plays out in your mind’s eye. A chamber cloaked in darkness, the only light a sliver of moonglow peeking in through the window. The protagonist, a mortal woman, alone and asleep upon a luxurious bed, unaware of what is soon to unfold. The vampire, graceful and silent as he enters the room, here to claim her blood—and her body.

Astarion here to claim you.

Your longing pools between your legs as you picture yourself and your own lover recreating this scandalous scenario. You imagine Astarion losing himself in your neck, lifting the hem of your nightdress, easing his way inside you, your body wholly ready to accept him even while unconscious.

What began as a tiny spark of curiosity has developed into overwhelming want. You want to wake to him indulging in your sleeping form more than he has ever dared before. Or not to wake at all, to discover in the morning that he’d had his wicked way with you while you were none the wiser.

You continue to read, immersing yourself in both the enticing words upon the page and the intoxicating idea of Astarion using your body for his pleasure. So lost in thought are you that, when the door creaks open, you jump.

Really, you should not be at all surprised. You knew Astarion would eventually be joining you tonight. Since your party began its stay at the Elfsong, the two of you have often spent your nights in this room, away from the prying eyes of the others. A cozy place for you to converse and cuddle in comfort—or, since that unforgettable experience you shared over his grave, to make love.

Your journey has held many surprises for you, but none more unexpected—and more welcome—than falling in love. Together you’ve formed a deep emotional connection founded on mutual trust, respect, and adoration—and your physical connection is all the better for it. You truly enjoy each other in every way.

And you would very much like to enjoy him tonight.

Astarion regards your flushed face with a touch of suspicion and a great deal of amusement, the curl of his lips hinting at the barrage of teases likely coming your way. You shut your book closed too quickly, too guiltily, you think. He knows he has caught you red-handed, and now you are red-faced to match it.

He takes a step closer to the bed and closer to you, a little thrill rushing through you as his gaze drops to the low cut of your chemise—but then you realize he means to glimpse at your novel, discern its title, uncover a clue to the mysteries held within. You hug the book tighter to you, not willing to give up its secrets this soon.

“Good book, I take it?”

You shrug, though you know your grin is likely giving you away. “It has been a pleasant enough diversion thus far.”

“Oh, I think it’s much more than that, darling,” he insists, sauntering closer before halting at the foot of the bed. “It must be quite an… intriguing read to bring such a pretty blush to those cheeks. Here I thought only I was capable of that.”

“Maybe I was thinking about you,” you admit with a flutter of your lashes.

“Like always, then?” He chuckles as heat again darkens your cheeks. “You do fluster so easily in my presence. Still a little shy even after all this time. How sweet you are, my dear.”

You can’t help but notice how his fingertips run up the bedpost, and you find yourself wishing those hands were all over you instead.

“Or maybe you are not as sweet as you seem, hmm?” His voice is low, sultry, the way it always is when he means to seduce you.

As if you needed seducing.

Your breath catches in your lungs as the mattress sinks beneath his weight, your body deathly still but for the pumping of your heart and the throbbing of your cunt. Eagerly you await his next move.

You watch his slow, measured crawl towards you, his hungered stare suggesting his need to devour and ravage you—but he stops, resting his chin in his hand as he lies there looking at you.

“What devilish thoughts have been going through your mind, I wonder? Dreaming up all the sinful things we might do together, perhaps? Wishing I was here with you? Touching you? Inside you?”

“Maybe,” you tell him with a coy smile. He does not yet know the depths of your depravity, but perhaps you might yet let him find out.

“And now that you have me…” He smirks, running a thumb across your parted lips, knowing he has you right where he wants you.

You cannot resist. You never can.

So you steal a kiss—and he snatches away your book.

You expected it to happen, really. It was inevitable. And though part of you is mortified that you have allowed him this much ammunition to tease you with—the other part of you wonders if he, too, just might like what he reads.

“Well, what have we here?” Astarion settles against the pillow to your left, looking all too pleased with himself as he begins to inspect his prize. “Dusk’s Dark Desires?” He sounds skeptical as he reads out the title, and though he flashes you an unimpressed look, you can detect a glimmer in his eyes. “Let’s see what dark desires have that sweet heart of yours beating so fast.”

If he had not guessed it already, he discovers it immediately upon opening the book: “Vampires, darling?” He tuts at you with mock disapproval. “Oh, my love. I should have known.”

You do feel rather embarrassed, knowing so much about the true horrors of vampirism, horrors he has had to endure—and yet the first night he bit you was a carnal awakening. A world-shattering, life-changing experience for you both.

But you fell in love with Astarion for the man he is, not the vampire he happens to be.

“It is, admittedly, a new fascination of mine. All because you are a fascination of mine. And so much more than that.”

You smile at each other, and your worries fade.

Though it soon becomes clear he intends to keep you blushing.

“My, my,” he remarks, clicking his tongue as his eyes scan the text in front of him. “Is this now a fascination of yours, too?” He begins to read aloud: “So serene did she lie beneath him, so scrumptious did she taste, so submissive was she in slumber, that he knew he must take all of her, inch by precious inch.”

This is all rather foolish, you think.

Yet to hear such words spoken in his irresistibly seductive timbre renders you speechless.

So he makes the obvious choice to keep going.

He rolls to his side, half hovering over you as he skims the rest of the page, skipping ahead a few lines: “Fear rattled her when she awoke to find him within her, fangs in throat, cock in flesh. Yet a rapturous need blossomed in her core, obliterating all rational thought. When she cried out at last, his mouth met hers with a ferocity beguiling and obscene, consuming her whole. She enfolded him into her arms and surrendered.”

A pause. The air feels electric between you as Astarion studies your face. Whatever conclusion he comes to makes him grin. “You filthy little degenerate. This really turns you on, doesn’t it?”

You are still quiet, so he persists.

“You like the thought of it, don’t you? You, lying here lost in your sweet dreams, while I take whatever I want?”

Somewhere within you still resides a shame that prevents you from confessing outright. You try to downplay it. “It’s just a silly little fantasy.”

“Is that all it is?” He lets the book fall to the bed as he moves to straddle you. “Oh, no, my love. I know you too well to believe that. Your body betrays you.”

“Does it?” you ask innocently, but you know full well it does. Lust already blazed within you before he’d even entered the room, and now his every touch fuels the flames.

“Hmm, let me see…”

His palm cups your chin.

“Pupils dilated.”

Lips inches from yours.

“Cheeks reddened.”

Fingers trace your heart.

“Heartrate accelerated.”

Then graze your breasts.

“Nipples hardened.”

Lower, lower, lower.

“Cunt soaked.”

Mouths crash together.

No more words pass between you as you lose yourselves in your fervent worship of each other, though your fantasy is far from forgotten.

Not by you.

Not by him.

+++

“I would not mind indulging you. In fact I would rather like to try it myself.”

Those were his first words to you in the morning when you awoke entangled in his arms.

You were elated. You admitted how badly you wanted it—wanted him to take and take and take from you while you sleep. Wanted to be nothing more than his personal plaything for a night.

And tonight you will put your plan into place.

You are alone. You are restless. You are wide awake.

And so you are grateful for the little gift Astarion left out for you on the desk.

Together you decided upon two key conditions to be met for your end of the bargain before he could proceed with his. One, you would remove your smallclothes. Two, you would drink a sleeping draught—and the perfect concoction is now conveniently laid out before you.

He wanted you to know you could still change your mind—but no. You are sure of what you want, and you trust him completely.

You slip out of your smallclothes, kicking them aside as you make your way forward. You take the tiny bottle in your hands, twist off the lid, and swallow the works of it down. You settle into the plush comfort of your bed, and moments later, you drift into the world of your dreams.

+++

Sweet are your dreams of Astarion.

Foggy and fleeting though they begin, little details stick with you—the melodious rippling of his laughter, the heady scent of bergamot and rosemary, the feeling of cool skin against your heat in a spellbinding dance of ice and fire. Every one of your senses recalls all the happiest moments you have shared, envisions all the precious memories you have yet to create.

Whether it is a matter of minutes or hours, you are not sure—but, in time, the nebulous becomes lucid, the vague becomes vivid.

The picture so clear before you now is you. Your chest rises and falls with the gentle cadence of your breathing, your nipples peeking through the thin fabric of your nightgown. Your hemline hiked up high, your head atilt upon your pillow, your lovely neck ready for the taking. A vision delectable and divine.

Delectable… An imagining of yourself through Astarion’s eyes, then. How curious.

Your thoughts are no longer your own, but his, or at least what you fancy his to be. How pleased he would be to learn your dreams filled with love and longing inspired the warmth of your smile, how thrilled he would feel to feed upon your sleeping form, knowing how much the notion arouses you, how much of you you’re willing to let him take.

Astarion stalks towards the bed, eyes ever watching you, drinking in every detail of your alluring figure. He cannot deny how adorable you look in your frilly and feminine little dress, but, as he often reminds you, it’s your skin that suits you best. How he would love to strip you bare, have you nude beneath him, so sweet and soft and utterly helpless. The bed creaks when he joins you upon it, the mattress dipping as his knees settle on either side of you—he freezes, but then remembers having spotted the empty vial—he need not be too careful tonight.

You will sleep very, very well.

As for his other little suggestion… Gods, he must know. His hands venture under your skirt, and when he feels the skin there—silky, smooth, shamelessly bare—he grins.

Both your blood and your body will be his tonight.

Such a generous little thing you are, always eager to be seduced, to be used, to be conquered. What luck to have found such willing prey, a perfect vessel to fulfill the needs of his empty stomach and his already hardening cock. The steady rhythm of your pulse and the heat emanating from your skin only heighten his ravenous desire.

You can almost feel him at your neck.

A delicate touch. A gentle kiss. A sharp bite.

Astarion sinks his fangs deep into you, and your blood, so rich and so decadent, fills his hungry mouth, a heavenly reprieve from his eternal curse. The taste of you is pure perfection, an ambrosia more divine than the finest wines, more filling than the grandest feasts. It’s invigorating. Exhilarating. Arousing.

He gulps you down greedily, the temptation to drain you dry ever present, but his ardent need for you ever more consuming. Unaware as you are, your body still reacts, still shivers and shakes against him—not unlike how you shudder in ecstasy when he fucks you, your self-control hopelessly lost as you come undone in his arms. His lust for blood shifts into lust for you, every drop of you he drinks seemingly travelling right to his cock.

A feeling he wanted to fight, once. To physically crave anyone, even if instigated by the act of blood-drinking, was truly shocking. Beyond what he could handle, at first. He tried to ignore it. And then he couldn’t ignore it, stealing away to the woods, or to the privacy of his tent to play out his fantasies, chase the euphoria of release. Giving into it when you would wake, sometimes even wanting you to wake so he could have you, take pleasure in you, empty himself inside you.

Now it is a feeling he has been learning to embrace.

And tonight with you—in you—he will embrace it fully.

Instinct guides his hands to grab at your gown, bunching its cloth into fistfuls and gathering its hem to your waist, exposing your gorgeous curves and your pretty little cunt. He dares run a finger along your entrance, so warm and, oh, so deliciously wet for him. A wonderful surprise to find you this receptive, this ready for his use. His cock aches to spring free, to indulge in your slick heat.

To fuck you like this, plunge into you hard and fast, eat up every last bit of you—the pleasure of it all would be immense—but your gifts to him are precious, something to be cherished, to be handled with care. As much as it is a challenge to maintain his control, to pull himself from your luscious neck, he does.

It helps to know the night will not end here. He readies himself for the delights yet to come, strips off his trousers and smallclothes, coaxes your legs apart with one hand as he strokes himself with the other.

To savour you will be so sweet.

Astarion rubs along your folds—a tease that so often has you begging for more—but now he is the impatient one. Your charming smile, your radiating warmth, your ready body, so slick with unconscious need, invites him in. The tip of his cock slips inside you and you welcome him with astonishing ease.

Pleasure—whether his or yours, you can’t quite tell—floods your mind, intensifying the otherworldly sensations of your dreamscape. The way he fills you, the way you surround him entrances you in equal measure, immersing you into a haze of languid euphoria as he gradually, gently works you open.

How cute that you cannot quite comprehend this. But, oh, you feel it, don’t you?

His thoughts again dominate yours as he buries his full length inside, relishing in how easily your body accommodates his size, how good it feels to pull away and push back into you. Gods, you look so beautiful and blissful in your oblivion. Still your body answers to his rhythm in ways subtle and sweet—a touch of colour on your cheeks, a slight quickening of your heart—but nothing gratifies him more than discovering the stirrings of pleasure swirling about your sleeping mind.

A conflict begins between his crumbling resolve to take his time and his growing urge to thrust into you mercilessly. He manages to compromise with a moderate pace and a thorough exploration of you, pressing in as deep as he is able while his hands roam across your skin. Your every curve and contour have long been mapped out in his mind, but still he touches you with a reverence befitting a first time.

How surreal it is to know this stunning, trusting, loving woman in his arms is all his. It still feels like a sweet dream from which he will one day wake.

But you are real—and you give yourself to him so freely.

Astarion continues to rock his hips against yours, moving faster now, taking full advantage of your kindly offering. You feel delicious wrapped around his cock like this, your body perfectly conforming to his shape. He does miss your adorable little moans—you have always been enthusiastically vocal for him in bed—but he must admit the endless creaking below and the wet slapping of his flesh meeting yours make for pleasing sounds in their absence.

Barely a second passes before a pretty noise escapes your open mouth—only a faint whimper, but it makes him throb with the feral need to fill you. You little minx. Even in your sleep you know just how to rile him. Well, if you are to tempt him with such provocative encouragement, then he has no choice but to fuck you harder.

He abandons all restraint in his haste towards the end, the pleasure tingling your slumbering mind enhancing his own. But, gods, what he would not give to feel all your delightful spasms and shudders as you shatter for him.

Maybe, just maybe…

You feel it. You have this whole time, really, but the waves of pleasure are far stronger than before. Each and every sensation amplified, pushed hard into your mind as he plunges hard into you. How much pleasure he takes in enjoying your body. How blissfully lost he is in his sweet addiction to you. How near he is to tumbling over the edge of ecstasy.

And he wants desperately to take you with him.

Euphoria wracks through him and through you. With a few final thrusts, Astarion pumps you full of his seed, your rhythmic pulses drawing every last drop deeper inside you.

He collapses, basking in afterglow, heart brimming with affection as he admires you. You are still sound asleep, oblivious to the waking world, that same cute little smile upon your pretty face.

Gods, could you be any more perfect?

Before he separates from your body and mind, before all fades to black, he plants a single kiss upon your soft lips, whispering one last message into your ear.

“Sweet dreams, darling.”

+++

Your eyes flicker open. You squint a little as you adjust to the shock of morning light streaming in through the crack of the open window, but you soon welcome your favourite sight: Astarion lying by your side. You are usually the type to grumble as you pull the covers over your head, chasing the often vain hope for another hour of sleep—but today you simply smile. Perhaps waking up every day next to a partner you adore just might yet make a morning person out of you.

He looks beautiful like this. Relaxed, content, transfixed on a book. He fails to notice your stare—or at least he pretends not to. Eventually you scooch closer, and at last he acknowledges you. “Good morning, my dear. I trust you… slept well?”

Something signals to you that this is not quite a normal greeting. Something you can’t quite pinpoint. He looks… exceptionally smug, even for him. He sounds… expectant, maybe?

You struggle to recall whatever it is you are supposed to know. But then you recognize the book in his hands as he slams it shut. And then you remember.

Oh, gods. Your racy novel. Your little fantasy. Your erotic dreams.

Your hand snaps to your neck, your fingers finding two distinctive punctures in your skin while he watches you with his fanged grin. He drank from you, that much is certain, but did he…? You reach your other hand to examine a far more intimate place.

Oh.

Oh.

“That,” you begin breathlessly, hazy recollections of your dreams returning to you piece by piece. “That was all real last night, wasn’t it?”

“If you are referring to the little show I gave you, then yes,” he confirms, his grin spreading wide. “Was it everything you ever wanted?”

His flirtatious drawl is full of bravado, as it always is, yet you think you can detect the tiniest hint of uncertainty behind it.

Oh, you will make sure you leave him with no doubt.

You practically pounce on him, smothering him with a flurry of little kisses. The way his laughter bubbles out of him makes your heart sing. “Shall I take that as a yes?”

“Of course,” you assure him. “And it’s like I’ve told you before. I trust you with my body.”

You plant a kiss on his forehead.

“My mind.”

And the tip of his nose.

“My heart.”

Both his cheeks.

“My everything.”

You press your lips to his, and the two of you melt into each other. Astarion holds you tight even as your lips break apart, a whispered “I love you,” filling the shell of your ear. You repeat the words back to him—and before you lavish him with the full extent of your affection you tell him only one more thing.

“You have given me the sweetest dreams I will ever have.”

+++ Thank you for reading!

If you enjoy my work, you can find more on my AO3. Additional cross posts for Tumblr and masterlist coming soon + more oneshots in the works! UPDATE: Here is the masterlist!

[bloodlust-1]

Would you be okay with writing something with a Tav who is a virgin that is kind of scared of sex but still desires Astarion?

Totally! I imagine Astarion to be completely shocked, but relieved. Why? Tav would never have to experience the sexual abuse he had. Some lovey-dovey Astarion, anyone?

Hope this is good enough anon! <3

˚ ° A purity like yours ° ˚ part 1

Astarion x fem Tav — fluff, Explicit 18+

Summary: Tav has a secret that’s been heavy on her heart. Her virginity was a topic she ran away from, but it’s time for Astarion to know the truth.

Notes: I LOVE making companions in love, it makes me whelm all up inside🥹 Not exactly smut, but talks of explicit topics. Part 2

Tav sat quietly, her eyes focused on the floor as Astarion licked the last of her blood from his lips. Tav was unusually silent and he wasn't sure what was bothering her so much of lately.

He paused and narrowed his eyes, "You're rather quiet this feeding, my sweet. Is something wrong?"

Tav lifted her head slightly and looked up at Astarion. "I'm just...thinking," she said softly.

To Astarion, Tav was always thinking of lately. Especially when he's done feeding from her. He was confused if maybe he had done anything wrong? Was she having any doubts about their relationship?

Astarion brushed Tav's hair away from her eyes and smiled. "About what?"

Tav looked away again, her brows furrowed in concentration. "Just...us, and our intimacy." She shook her head, pushing away the thoughts. "It doesn't matter. I'm alright."

Astarion cupped Tav's face in his hands and looked into her eyes. "It does matter. Tell me, what's wrong?"

Tav sighed. "I feel so...embarrassed." She mustered any courage to finally look at him, her eyes glistening. "I feel like there should be something more to this. W-When you feed from me, I mean."

Astarion tilted his head confused, "You're embarrassed because you want to do something more?"

Admittingly he was blank. But when Tav opened her mouth his eyes widened in - anticipation. Even his ears pointed up with shock.

Tav didn't know which stung more, the fresh punctures on her neck or her confession.

"I just want to make you feel good and I want to have sex with you but-"

Tav bit down on her lower lip, she could feel the heat running into her eyes as her vision became blurry. "I just don't know how...I've never had sex before."

Tav finally allowed the emotions that had been building up inside her to come pouring out. She felt a deep sense of relief, but at the same time, a wave of shame washed over her. She felt embarrassed for even having to ask Astarion for sex, feeling naive and inexperienced.

At the same time, Tav felt so inadequate when it came to physical intimacy; Astarion was the only one who had any sort of skill in that area. And it made her feel so small.

Astarion's expression softened as he realized what Tav had been hiding from him. "...No -...you?"

Tav wiped away the single tear, nodding.

Astarion felt his face burning as his heart raced and his palms grew sweaty. Tav was absolutely stunning and he had been wondering why she had grown so flustered and shy when her body trembled and begged for him. Now it all made sense.

"But..." Astarion cut himself short in the midst of his thoughts, overwhelmed by the magnitude of her offer.

He was taken aback by her beauty, her inexperience, and her willingness to give him something so special, something so treasured and valuable.

But Astarion felt undeserving - he couldn't help but feel guilty. He knew she deserved much better and that her virginity was too precious to give to someone like him.

He chuckled softly and scratched the side of his head, "I am the worst person for this." Meaningful sex? This was completely foreign to him. How could she even ask him that? Of course, he wanted her more than anything.

He leaned over and with the pad of his thumb, he wiped away Tav's damped cheek, "Now, now, little love." His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer until she sat on his lap. "You should not feel ashamed of something like this. I mean, look at me."

Astarion's ears lowered in shame as he half smiled, "I can't remember half the people who used my body. I wish I knew a purity like yours." He rested his head on Tav's shoulder, "I'm just relieved you will never feel what I've felt."

Astarion felt protective towards Tav more than ever, he wanted to keep her safe. No harm would come to her as long as he was there to watch over.

Tav threaded her fingers between his white curls, sniffling away the embarrassment, "I want to feel you in every way possible, even if you think you're unworthy." Her lips connected with the skin of his forehead. "You were always special to me, Astarion."

He shifted his head up, catching the glisten in Tav's eyes. She chose him and still continues to each day. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?" He scuffed sarcastically before pulling Tav into a kiss.

His hands gently caressed her spine down into her back dimples. Astarion felt Tav shudder under his hold. She started to breathe heavily into the kiss, "I want you to know how much I love you..." Her eyes locked with his.

"Darling, you don't need to prove yourself with your body." The tension around them went soft and he held tightly onto her body, laying them both down against Tav's bedding.

Astarion cuddled Tav closely against his chest in an embrace. "On a perfect night, when the sky is clear and the environment is forgiving, I will take you into me and make you feel things you've never felt before. Ecstasy, my love."

"What if I don't know what to do?" Tav nervously glanced up at Astarion, who was quietly gazing out into the distance while gently stroking her hair. He was trying to be patient and not pressure her into making any decisions.

He wanted to take her under a bed of stars, and tonight he just wanted to hold her in his arms. Shield her from anything like he wished someone did for him. He would be that somebody he needed so long ago.

"I'll teach you, of course." He reassured her softly, still stroking her hair.

"You're not the only one who would be learning something." He peeked down at Tav, a smile tugging on his lips smugly.

"What, how?

Astarion's hands ran down Tav's side. His touch was gentle yet confident as he moved lower and lower. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, telling her how beautiful and perfect she was. "I need to learn what gets you hot - "

Astarion smiled slyly as he felt her body react to his touch, knowing that he was driving her wild. His hands moved with a sensual grace as if they had done this many times before. "Where you shiver - "

"Where it hurts - " his hand gripped Tav's ass firmly, making Tav blush and squirm. Astarion continued to fondle Tav's ass, enjoying the feel of it in his hands and the way that the heat from Tav's skin seemed to seep into his own.

He leaned over Tav's ear, whispering teasingly, "Where you would want me to cum. Inside your tight cunt, or outside your soft stomach…"

Tav's body grew hot and her heart raced as Astarion's hand explored her body. She gazed up to look at him, her eyes wide with surprise and pleasure. Astarion smiled and leaned in to kiss Tav, their lips lingering together as he continued to caress Tav's ass. Intertwining their tongues together in a harmonious dance. She felt herself melting into his embrace, her body trembling with pleasure.

After what felt like an eternity, Astarion finally pulled away, and a satisfied smile tugged his lips. Tav blushed deeper, wondering what Astarion was thinking.

He chuckled, leaning in to kiss Tav's cheek. "You're so beautiful," his voice low and husky. Tav felt the aching between her legs, but she smiled, feeling her heart swell with happiness instead.

Sex was a scary thing for Tav. However, Astarion made her feel safe and seen, so maybe it was all in her head. She looked forward to when Astarion would take her as his.

They lay there in each other's arms for a while, their bodies intertwined in a peaceful embrace. Love was more than just sex, and it proved a hell of a point to them both.

Part 2 here

Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

[brabblesblog]

I hope you die screaming.

One-shot, angst/comfort, astarion/f!tav

After you refuse to help Astarion ascend, he leaves you with a venomous goodbye. Unfortunately the vampire has to come back to get his things.

The idea was to mix up the warding bond rings, Astarion’s final words if you refuse to help him, and Tav suffering and dying (not permanently!) in his absence.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

It had been a miserable few days of being alone in Baldur’s Gate, without most of his possessions, but Astarion was loathe to go back to the Elfsong. For one, he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d be there to do. To grab his things and go? A possibility, but not what he would rather do. To get on his knees and ask you to take him back? What he really wanted to do, but the chance of you forgiving him was slim, and he couldn’t face that rejection. So he stayed near the tavern, torn between showing himself and walking away yet again, when the ring on his finger pulsed with a strange magic and the ward protecting him dissipated from his body.

He had known you were still protecting him through the paired rings even as he stormed out of Cazador’s palace. The soft, pleasant feeling of the ward had not disappeared at all, and it had proven quite useful once or twice when he inadvertently offended someone enough for them to attempt to stab him. He didn’t get a lot of injuries - only minor cuts and scrapes - so as much as he felt guilty he figured you would be more than capable of handling it. In any case, should you want, you could just take off the rings, he reasoned.

So when the ward fell away right now, he huffed a bit and took the ring off. You must’ve finally remembered he had the other one, and there was no longer any point protecting him, after everything.

After what he said.

He entered the tavern and sat in a corner, waiting for your group to come back. He’d decided to come get his things. Without the ward’s protection, he would need his potions and armor to survive solo.

Soon enough, the door burst open and Gale came stumbling in. The gore and blood on his robes was normal enough, but his expression wasn’t. The man looked ashen and pale, and he immediately ran to the stairs. “Shadowheart! Come here. Now!”

Before the vampire could even put down the goblet he was holding, Halsin came in, something bundled in his arms. The air that wafted through hit Astarion, and he almost choked on it: blood. Your blood. A lot of it. He watched with wide eyes as Halsin carried the bloody bundle in his arms. It was a body, that much was obvious, but they had wrapped it in blankets. The fabric was stained everywhere, but it pooled the most where the chest would be. Halsin dipped his head and gently placed a kiss on the head of the body, and as he did so the blanket covering the face fell away. Astarion’s heart, if he still had one, would have stopped as he saw the face underneath the blankets. Yours.

He immediately stood up, heading towards Halsin. The larger elf saw him and let him approach, his expression one of sorrow.

“Halsin? What- is she…” he closes the distance. Your eyes are closed, as if you were sleeping. He knows it, knows he can’t hear your heartbeat and can’t see you breathe, but he still reaches out to cup your cheek. Cold, as cold as his hands were. He chokes back a scream that threatens to bubble from his throat.

Halsin moves, slowly climbing the stairs. “Come, Astarion. I shall explain.” As he made his way to your bed, he talked. “She hasn’t been well since your departure, but that is to be expected. We had a fight with the Steel Watch. She was a little too slow, too tired, and they won.”

Astarion growls. “You should all have protected her! Did you all cower when-“

“No.” Halsin rounds on him, eyes glinting with what was almost like anger. “We all have our injuries. We all tried our best. We weren’t the ones who left her.”

He laid you down on your bed, grabbing a wet cloth to clean your wounds. Astarion gripped the elf’s wrist. “Why aren’t you using a scroll to revive her?!”

He sighed. “You might not remember, Astarion, but the scrolls were all in your bag when you left.”

Shit. He had forgotten. He quickly rummaged through it, finding one. He saw Shadowheart approach and asked her for some healing potions as well. While everyone was preparing, Halsin kept cleaning your body up. Astarion scowled and grabbed his own wet towel, gently trying to clean around the hole in your chest. He winced at the amount of blood he saw as he tried to peel off the bloody shirt, then paused as he realized it was his camp shirt. Biting back the urge to scream, he kept working.

Shadowheart came back with several bottles of the potion, and they got to work. Halsin used the scroll, and as he did the vampire began pouring the potions down your throat. It didn’t take long for him to hear your heart start to beat again, and he exhaled roughly as he poured more bottles, just to be sure. He watched the color flood back into your face as you healed, unable to stop some tears from falling.

A hand gripped his shoulder and he turned to see Gale. The wizard sighed. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he said dryly. “Seems like you got your wish,” he said bitterly, gesturing to you.

Astarion bared his fangs and got up, ready to tear him from limb to limb. Halsin barely had enough time to stand between the two men. “There is no point to fighting each other. What’s done is done. And she’s doing better now.”

Gale sighed. He nodded at Halsin, then at Astarion. “I suppose the druid is right. You’ll still have some explaining to do, but it can wait.” He leaves to see Shadowheart to tend to his own injuries. After a moment, so does Halsin, squeezing Astarion’s hand in solidarity as he left.

Astarion continues his ministrations, weeping openly now that no one was here. He leaned forward, kissing your forehead. When you were clean, he puts you in your nightclothes, then wraps you up in his blankets. It doesn’t escape his notice that you’ve moved into his bed, his things still there, as though you were waiting for his return. He sleeps there that night, wraps himself around you, the sound of your soft breathing something he sorely missed.

You wake up a few hours later. Your head pounds, but when you open your eyes, it is blessedly dark. The last thing you remember was a steel watch monstrosity’s blade coming straight through you. You take a breath, nuzzling the blankets. They still smell like him, and you worry that soon the smell will fade. Then there would be nothing left of the man you loved. Well, other than his clothes-

Wait. His clothes. You run a hand down your chest, wincing at the movement. You realize you’re in your own camp clothes. It must’ve been torn in the fight, ruined by the gore. A soft cry escapes your lips. It felt all too much like losing him again. You whimper, helpless. Every movement was pain, but the most painful thing even now was your heart.

You suddenly realize you’re not alone on the bed. An arm sweeps across, wrapping securely around your waist. Someone nuzzles you, shushing your cries. In the darkness you can barely see, but the scent and the temperature of said arm hits you.

“As-Astarion?”

He swallows nervously. “Darling. I… I’m here.” He can see your face in the dark, eyes wide and afraid, and then a glimmer of hope as you realize who he is.

“You came back,” you manage to croak out. Your hand finds his, and he squeezes it tightly.

“I did. I-“ the happiness in your face stuns him. You should hate him. He doesn’t deserve to be welcomed back with such open arms.

“I was in the Elfsong to gather my things.” Before you could get the wrong idea and get hurt, he pushes on. “But I think I knew even as I walked in I’d be here to beg you to let me stay.”

“There’s no need to even ask, love.” Your hand moves to his hand, feeling for the ring. It isn’t there, and you feel a small pang of sadness. “You took it off.”

“Only today,” he says. “The wards fell. I thought you got rid of it, but your ring is still on your finger. I guess it just stopped working when you-“ he swallows past the lump in his thoat. “You- you know.” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Noticing his distress, you move your other hand to cup his cheek. “I’m sorry you had to see this. I got clumsy. I was… I wasn’t at my best.” You look away, embarrassed to admit how much you missed him.

“Darling. No,” he turns your cheek to meet his gaze. “I left you. I broke your heart. All because I was too afraid to see the right path to take. And I wished… I said terrible things. I would take it back, all of it back. I regretted it as soon as I left the dungeons. But I didn’t think you’d let me back in. If I stayed, maybe you’d be alright. You’d be-“

His words are broken by soft lips that press against his. It was tender, and he couldn’t help but lean into it, kissing back carefully and gently. More tears fell from him, and you thumbed them away. Pulling back, you offer him a kind smile. “I forgave you as you left, love. I get it. It’s just that I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too.” With those words Astarion finally breaks down, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. He didn’t deserve such tenderness, such love, after what he did. He vowed to do better with your heart, to give what you deserve as well. Not for any other reason than that he wanted to.

He meets your eyes, and he finally lets the words that had been sitting in his chest for ages out. “I love you. I have loved you for a while, darling, I just didn’t know how. I’m not good at this, obviously. I choose the wrong words, do the wrong things, and you still let me back in.”

You chuckle a bit, hands carding through his hair. “That’s because I love you too, idiot.”

You’ve told him that for some time now, accepting that he couldn’t say the same yet. But every time you say it his heart still soars. He captures your lips in yet another kiss.

“Forgive me?”

“Of course. You’ll have to put your ring back on, though. Maybe when I’m more healed, on second thought.”

You bite your lip, frowning.

“Oh. And I might have ruined your camp shirt. Could you fix it for me? Please?”

He puts on a show of pouting and sighing. “If I must. What would you do without me, hm?”

You roll your eyes and tug him close to you. All too quickly, you drift off, finally having a good night’s rest. He watches your face become peaceful, noting the huge bags under your eyes.

Astarion holds you through the night, vowing to never leave your side ever again.

[littlejuicebox]

Astarion talks in his sleep.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader/Tav (Shadowheart is our lovely supporting role though.) Summary/Setting: 6 months post BG3, "good/spawn" Astarion ending, all fluff Rating/Warnings: PG / Very mild if any game spoilers but nothing related to major content or scenes Word Count: 900+ Notes: Inspired by this post here!

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Astarion talks in his sleep. It’s something you’ve never mentioned to him, because it’s mostly when he’s having a nightmare about Cazador or some other horrid trauma from his past. You'd quickly determined it not worth bringing up, for fear of embarrassing him. Plus, if you were being honest, part of you found it rather endearing... especially the lighter drabble that would escape his lips. Delighted giggles, little purrs... it could be overwhelmingly adorable, on occasion.

In fact, the first time you ever heard him say he loved you was in his sleep. Then you'd waited weeks… anxiously, impatiently, unbearably for the revelation to come out while he was awake, under his own terms.

But tonight, the talking and tossing isn't cute. The vampire writhing in bed disturbs you, and your eyes flutter open, catching the smallest glimpse of daylight between the thick, tightly drawn curtains and shuttered windows of your bedchamber. You'd just fallen asleep, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't the slightest bit annoyed.

You idly try to figure out the date. Adjusting your schedule to the night life was… difficult; you often lost track of dates nowadays. But somehow you manage to remember that it's been nearly six months since you all saved Baldur's Gate; six months since Astarion had been returned to a creature of the shadows. Six months you've been in the house provided by the city as you two adjust to whatever normalcy you are able to conjure up and figure out your next steps. You were a strong proponent for the Underdark; Astarion was not quite sold.

At first you think the silver-haired elf's tossing and turning is a night terror… it’s been nearly two weeks since the last one. He’s overdue. You ready yourself to pop out of bed and grab your calming herbs to steep a quick sleeping draught. But then you hear him, soft and garbled, laced with thick strings of sleep.

“Will you marry me?”

You turn to stare stupidly at the elf, eyes piercing through the blackness of your room; his face is obscured, you cannot tell if he’s awake. “…what did you say?”

Silence. A long, unbearable stretch of silence where your heart is pounding into your throat, practically rattling around your chest cavity at the sudden shock. And then he’s snoring again, and you’re left with your brow furrowed and robe half pulled onto your shoulder. Well, so much for your sleep.

You meander down the hall to the kitchen, where Shadowheart has several jars and plants strewn across the table. She’s practically taken over the kitchen since Gale left, not that you particularly mind, since she’s also taken over the cooking.

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep right now?” She asks, spotting you out of the corner of her eye, not lifting her focus from the mortar and pestle in her hand.

“You won’t believe what Astarion just said in his sleep.” You murmur in dazed response, walking over to the cabinets and rummaging through the contents. You grab an old kettle and fill it with water, turning to look at the cleric.

“Gods, what was it? I’m quite thankful to be out of the camp... his night terrors woke all of us up at one point or another. It's no wonder you’re struggling with the schedule adjustment.”

“He said, ‘Will you marry me?’” You respond, almost giggling at how silly that sounds in retrospect, as you place the kettle on the stove.

Shadowheart pauses. One, two, three beats of silence. “Shit… well, I guess the cat is out of the bag now.” She murmurs with a shrug, before returning to grinding her herbs.

“Wh-what?!”

“Oh, come off, don’t be daft! You had to expect it would be coming sooner or later. Gods, your love is almost sickening… it was sickening, having to hear it all the time... once again, so thankful for the separation of these walls.”

You are frozen, your hand still holding onto the kettle as you appraise your friend. Shadowheart is right. You knew a proposal would come sooner or later… you just figured it would be much later. Astarion was still struggling; more often than not you woke to him in tears or in the throes of a sleeping fit. Countless calming elixirs and teas had been drawn up by you and Shadowheart in the last six months. Truly, you hadn’t thought he was thinking that deeply about it... you hadn't been, if at all. Gods, you two still didn't even know where you were headed after leaving this city-supplied house... the lease was up in a few weeks' time.

“I guess… well, I suppose I didn’t think he was ready.” You sigh, lighting the stove and sitting across the table, watching the cleric as she works.

“Oh, trust me, he’s ready. And he's certain. Perhaps not about anything else... but definitely about this. He's been writing to Gale for weeks trying to source a particular ring." Shadowheart responds, now pouring the contents of her grinder into pouches. "Just promise you'll act like it's a surprise when the time comes... he's been talking about it for a while. He's put a lot of thought into things."

"When will it be?"

Shadowheart laughs, the edges of her eyes crinkling as she flicks her gaze toward the ceiling. She’s now cinching the sachets and sorting them all into a nearby basket. "Now that I'm not telling you. I've already given away too much."

You try for a few more minutes to pry the information from your friend, but she remains tight-lipped. You even threaten her with detect thoughts, though you both know you'd never go through with it. Finally, a whistle from the kettle beckons you back to the stovetop, and the conversation is halted as you ready your tea and aim to go back to bed. You might not know when your love is going to pop the question, but you do know that when the time comes, your answer will be a resounding yes.

Click here for Part 2

[reverieblondie]

Desperate for HCs for the men with a "crybaby" SO (in the nsfw sense)

Okay this prompt turned out to be way harder than I thought it would be, so I tried my best! Thank you so much to @savriea for your help with the Gale part! What you wrote for him was the best and I am so grateful for your help! I hope you enjoy!

Rolan, Raphael, Halsin, Astarion, Wyll, and Gale!

Rolan

Rolan isn't quick to warm up to strangers, so of course, he kept his distance, but something about you did make him curious. Strong, heroic, pretty, and stoic compared to the others in your group. For the first time in a long time, was Rolan taking an interest in someone? Of course, he didn't want to make it obvious, but he found that when you were in the grove, his eyes were on you, trying to learn about you from afar. However, on the inside, it was gnawing at him to get to know you better and talk to you. It was the day of the grove party, and even though you were the night's hero, you still insisted on helping carry supplies for the party. As Rolan was in the storage shed, he was trying to find food that would be decently tolerable when he heard a loud crash. Quickly, Rolan turns the corner to see what had happened when he locked eyes with you holding a crate with no bottom, and bottles of fine wine crashed and staining the ground. Rolan goes to say something to you when he finally notices your face, red and streaming with tears. Looking back at his shocked face, all you could do was tremble out that you were sorry. Shocked was an understatement; he thought you were the tough badass, but you are crying over a simple mistake. You felt like a complete failure; you ruined the good wine, and now we're expecting a verbal thrashing from Rolan, who, based on what you observed, was not afraid to speak his mind. Then, he starts to laugh… Rolan couldn't help it, and it made you tear up more. With a snap of his fingers and a mutter of a spell, Rolan cleans up the mess you had made. Rolan gently touches your shoulder, "You shouldn't cry, and I don't mean to laugh. I'm just…surprised by you. I thought you were emotionless, but you're actually secretly a crybaby. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me." Then he flashed you his sharp-toothed smile, and you couldn't help but smile back. You didn't realize he had such a pretty smile. Later at the party, as people grimaced while they drank the cheap wine, Rolan and you shared a look and a smile as he pressed a finger to his lips. 

It happened again; a simple mistake had you in tears behind the inn, away from prying eyes. When Rolan sees you, he is quick to kneel by your side. According to you, there was a blunder at camp, and you managed to burn a hole in Lae'zel's tent; they would be returning soon, and she is not one you want to make angry. As you explain your story, you feel yourself getting worked up again; your chest starts to feel tight, the lump in your throat returning, and fresh tears threatening to spill; but before you can, you feel a comfortable warmth wrapping around your leg. Then, a calm hand on your shoulder; you're unsure why, but you feel more at ease already. "If you like, I can help you fix the tent; you won't believe how many times I've had to mend burned clothes. There is a reason why Lia isn't allowed to cook anymore." you two share a quick laugh, and you find yourself leaning into him. "Thank you for offering to help me…" Rolan laughs, "Considering everything you have done for me, it's the least I can do. "You two stay there for a while longer, neither of you ready to leave the comfort of this moment. You hope that if you both make it to the city, you two can continue to help each other, even in small ways.  

The more time you spend with Rolan, the more you learn about him. Not only is he intelligent and a bit cocky, but he's also a bit of a tease. Of course, this fact about him didn't appear until you two started dating. You had been helping him in the shop, and for some reason, it must have just been the god's cruel joke to have everything that could go wrong at work happen to you today. Trying to avoid crying on the floor, you hid away in the storage room in the back. Rolan, busy with demanding customers all day, was ready to slip away for a break; as he goes into the dark storage room, he runs into you. Thanks to his dark vision, he sees you all ready and on the verge of tears. Rolan grabs you close and asks what he can do for you; imagine his surprise when you tell him you want a kiss. Of course, he agrees eagerly, though he did not expect your kiss to be so hungry and your hands to cling so desperately. You feel Rolan smile through the kiss, causing you to break away and look into his glowing eyes. Though he is a faceless shadow to you, he can perfectly make out your flushed cheeks and tightening thighs. Rolan grabs one of your hands and drags it down his body as he whispers in your ear, "Want me to help you, Tav…Make you feel good…" Your hand touches his hard length, and it takes everything in you not to whine out your yes. Rolan licks your neck, making you moan as you both eagerly start to undo your bottoms. "Poor thing is messing up all day… all because your feeling so fucking needy… don't deny it, I can smell on you." The best thing about Rolan is that he always follows through when he teases. 

He's completely overwhelming, and you just can't get enough…His smell, warmth, his breath cascading over your sweating skin, his hand holding your hips so tightly you feel his nails digging into your skin. All this you can handle, but when his rich voice coos in your ear… that sets your nerves on fire. You feel Rolans forked tongue slide against your ear as he shoves you down on his cock deeper, The full feeling making your body tremble. "You're taking me so well. I'm proud of you…" Rolan purs in your ear that addictive praise that always makes your stomach flip. It was only a matter of time before he found out about your kink, but you didn't expect him to abuse it as much as he does. Rolan arches your hips up, pushing his length to hit your G stop, nonstop ramming into it, making you clench on him with a moan of his name. Rolan rubs his hand on your ass before squeezing to cause more moans to fall from your kiss-bitten lips. Rolan relishes in the noise, rolling his hips deeper, watching your blissed-out face with a lazy smirk, "Those are such pretty sounds. Keep them up for me." his voice is a mixture of sweet and mocking. You can't help how the intensity always makes your eyes tear up in the pleasure of all he's giving you; it's just too fucking good… 

Raphael

You are an adorable sight that Raphael can not help but lick his lips at. You have been a delight since the first moment he saw you. Your body trembling from his true form, hopefully look in your wide eyes as you take in his words, then the delish tears that fell when you took his deal to give him the crown. So innocent and eager to please all you meet, the best part? That sweet innocence, any bickering, teasing, bullying, and your face was welling up in hiccuping tears. It takes everything for him to not break his regale physode and lick up your tears as they fall. Raphael can't, not yet, at least. He needs to have your trust, and then once he is sure he has you where he wants you, he will be sure to take what he wants. You, on the other hand, can't help but fall for his charm. He's a devil, sure, and maybe you're just hopeful and naive, but something about him makes you trust him… You have seen his house…heard the tortured souls, and shed tears from what you witnessed, but when his hot breath caresses your skin as he thanks you for his crown, you're flooded with things you have never felt stir in you before. Tears can't help cascade from your eyes as you flush from the welling of tears… Raphael's golden eyes take in the delicious sight. He feels something pring in his chest as your trembling hand softly touches his face. "will…I ever see you again…" your voice shakes. That feeling of devouring you changes to one of protection. Raphael wraps his arms around you, letting you cry into his tunic as a smile stretches to his lips. Innocent little mouse… you're his now, forever.

You're crying again…why the hell are you crying again…you had shown up here sad and down-headed, muttering something about you and your companions getting into an argument or something. At the time, you insisted you just need time to calm down, but now, as he is trying to review contracts, all that he can focus on is your cries ringing in his ears.  However, Raphael is shaken up by something…he thought that he would be here growing annoyed with you, but he has just grown concerned. Instead of wanting to stop your cries because he doesn't want to hear you sad…he can't stand it. Before he knows it, he is standing up and marching over to your slumped, sniffling form. As you open your mouth to apologize, you're being silenced by a tight embrace and kisses to your temple, "I, you're crying… I'm sorry," Raphael rubs his hand softly on your back, slowly settling you…" Tell me what happened; let me help you." Raphael, usually selfish and arrogant…until it comes to you…maybe it's just a phase of something different that will blow over, or perhaps it's love…

You swear you have never been so embarrassed, but you missed Raphael and couldn't help yourself anymore….Tears threaten to fall, and the tightening in your stomach gets tighter and tighter. You move your hand faster, but then a disapproving tsk makes you pause, "Slowly…move your hand slowly, mouse…" You flick your eyes over to Raphael, where he sits watching you with a smirk, "I want you to build it slowly…till you can hardly bear it.." with a trembling sigh, you slow your hand, the feeling in your stomach feeling like it burns as your mind clouds. Raphael had caught you touching yourself while you waited for him to get back from a meeting. Instead of taking over for you or letting you finish, he pulled up a chair, and instead of instructing you, he told you it would feel so good…and it does…Raphael taunting and teasing controlling everything you do to yourself. It feels like you have been edging yourself for hours, your hot tears slipping down your face, and he was relishing in it, at his innocent mouse being so naughty… Raphael leans back, watching your quivering sex, licking his lips. "Does it hurt mouse?" You can hardly contain your quivering sob, "Y-yes…" his eyes clouded as he licks his lips, "What do you want…" you hesitate to answer, being too shy to say, it is so embarrassing… "Mouse?" His stern voice shoots a shiver through you, "To cum…" "Oh, that's very naughty…do it, make a mess on my sheets…let it wash over you…let the ecstasy take over." You start to move faster, moaning louder, the feeling reaching a mind-numbing peak. A blissful tear falls as you get closer and closer. A finger wipes away the tear, and you look up at him as he stands next to you now, a cocky smile still on his handsome face, "I wanted a closer view…"  

"Raph-Raphael-" a careful hush eases your hiccuping. Raphael brings his large hand to rub up and down your waist as the other digs into your hip, making you let out a whiny gasp. Raphael's hand comes up to tweak your nipple, making your body jump and a sharp cry fall from your swollen lips. His hands are mind-numbingly hot as they overwhelm you. "So sensitive mouse… you have only taken the tip." Raphael sinks his cock in deeper, your entrance stretched taught from his devil-form cock, your insides trying so desperately to accommodate to his textured girth, hot and throbbing as it drags across your insides. "It's too much!" another moan rips through you as he bullies in deeper, sinking in with more force than slowing up for you to accommodate and catch your breath. You can't help the tears that start to fall from your burning cheeks. "Shh… you're doing so well for me, mouse, crying so beautifully…" Raphael leans down, dragging the tip of his hot tongue over your tear-soaked cheek, then a sweet, chaste kiss to still your trembling begs. Right as you start to adjust, he pushes in roughly again, the pain swirling with pleasure as he overwhelms you. "You're so close to taking it all, my pet…are you ready?" He chuckles. "Might hurt for a moment, but then it will be pure bliss…" His sultry words are a sweet promise. You look at his beautiful face, which is slightly shining from sweat, the fires making him look like he glows. "Yes…" Raphael smiles and cups your cheek…it feels so tender…Then he snaps his hips, hitting that spot within you that rips out a scream…" Oh mouse, your cries are delicious." his pace quickens, "Give me more…" 

Halsin

It's incredible the kinds of people you will encounter in a lifetime, especially 350 years of life, but none of them have stirred anything in him like you have. Halsin doesn't know if he wants to hold you close and smother you in kisses or take you over his knee and give you a firm spanking. You're a brat, and the cherry on top is a crybaby, too, one that pouts and huffs with irritated tears when you don't get your way. Most couldn't handle someone like that, but Halsin isn't like most. Typically, Halsin is one to bow at a person's whims, but he likes to challenge you and work you up to a tissy. You're willing to go round and round with him, sometimes going against him to just get a reaction from the patient druid. Halain knows your game and is unwilling to give in to you so easily. Finally, after you're in irritated tears and groaning, you nest your head into his chest as he gently rubs his hand along your back. "Halsin, I thought you liked me…" you say through sniffles, "I completely adore you…but you lost the bet, and I can't just let you go back on your word." You pout at him with a huff, tears pooling in your eyes. "You're just going to let Astarion take my favorite ring." Halsin chuckles and pinches your cheek. "You lost the bet, and fair is fair, my brat, now stop pouting…or else…" he teases, and you bite your lip, looking up at him with mischief…" is that so…" such a brat.  

Sure, considering how much your always throwing fits, you would think that Halsin would be desensitized to your crap, but without waiting every time you're upset, there he is right next to your crying side, letting you cry it all out. It's best to not bottle up your emotions. He is always so charitable and calm, and you… you're a crybaby brat… you know deep down he deserves better than you, but you're too selfish to let him go. It was another one of those days where you let your emotions get out of hand, and instead of being an adult and dealing with it, you're lurking in your tent. Halsin comes in and sees you facing the corner; he knows not to lecture you. You hear him sigh and rummage around; before you know it, he's sitting next to your crying form with his wood carving stuff laid out, ready to be at your side till you're ready. Halsin pats his large hand on your head and places a quick kiss. He whispers something in elvish you now know means, 'I will wait for you.' He's just too perfect… its not an hour later you two are wrapped up in a tight embrace as you give him a thousand sorrys with a thousand kisses.  

It's torture, complete and utter torture when he does this to you. Halsin has fooled everyone except for you… and that's exactly why he does this to you… Adjusting yourself, you can't help but shudder at the feeling, your mind sparks, and all you can muster is a whimper. Halsin chuckles as you squeeze his shoulder, your face a contortion of pleasure and desperation…His large hand pats your back as the other keeps busy with the letter he has been writing for what feels like hours now. "Try not to stir my heart…it only makes it worse…" his husky voice makes you dig your nails into his muscle, "Hal-H-Ah-Halsin, please!" your whining makes his cock throb within you…the sensation makes you move up and down impatiently, wanting to feel the friction against your walls. You have been cock warming Halsin, it was the only way he could convince you to let him finish his work, but you know deep down he just likes to make you whine. That bratty crybaby nature, he loves to fuck out of you to submission, only for you to keep acting up for him to do it more. Right as your body is feeling some relief from your grinding on him, Halsin brings his hands to still you; the tears can't help but start to pour from your frustration. "Damnit Halsin! Why?!" Halsin places a finger on your quivering lip to silence you, "Don't be so quick to anger…I promise once I'm done, I will reward your patience…" As he says, he rolls his hips, making you throw your head back at the feeling of his mass so deep, "Now quit being a brat…"  

You had been acting up all day, and despite his warnings, you just wouldn't stop with your attitude…well, now you're in for it. The first chance he got, he was dragging you away from camp and bending you over, your hands braced on the tree in front of you, and a wide smile on your face…Halsins hands roam over your ass, teasing you further, "I told you to stop being a brat…You ready?" With an excited yes, you're being spanked by a powerful hand. It stings as he punishes your ass over and over again; your hands tighten against the bark as that pain mixes into pleasure. For someone trying to teach you not to be a brat, he sure does reward you for it. After the nth time, Halsin hears a shuddering gasp, giving him pause. Halsin is quick to gently turn you around and is horrified to see your face red with tears cascading down your cheeks. Halsin is a slew of apologies as he holds you close. You hold him closely, then using surprise to your advantage, push him down to the forest floor. Halsin looks at you in surprise as you straddle yourself over his strained cock, "Is that all you got, druid? I was expecting…more." oh, now you're really in for it. In a few more moments, you cry out to every deity you know as Halsin as you ride his cock at a bruising pace. When will he learn you are a glutton for punishment? 

Astarion

Astarion is not a man known for his patience, especially when it comes to crybabies. In Astarions' opinion, he is the only one who gets to whine and cry about anything. It's not that he would actually be sad; he's mainly just irritated. What was the point of wasting tears on things someone can't control? Then you joined their merry band, and he started to figure it out. You, the dazzling hero of the day who would do anything to help, hells Astarion, were sure you would give the armor on your back if you thought it would help someone. How irritating… You have always been a compassionate soul, and when you would see anyone in need or when others cried, you found that you felt it deeply, and then the tears would fall. Never bumbling or hiccuping, just tears that would glisten from your eyes to streak your cheeks. Astarion remembers when he first saw this from you; at the grove, as the refugees lamented their troubles to you, he saw that you started to cry from their pain. Part of him wanted to roll his eyes at you, but then you swore to help them with an unbreakable resolve in your eyes, and something in him stirred. Your tears became a regular thing on your adventure together, and though he would never say it out loud, he found something beautiful about it. As you two grew closer and he told you about his past, he saw those shimmering tears again, Astarion hadn't shed a tear, but it was like you felt his pain…someone saw his hurt and wanted to cry for him. Astarion couldn't help himself, his cold hand whipping gently at your tear-stained cheeks, "I wish I could take away that pain…" Your voice quivered, and then his lips kissed you sweetly. Just being there and trying to understand him helped ease his pain. 

Today, you had seemed quieter than usual, and Astarion couldn't help but take notice; he found that lately, he started to take notice of you more and more. Your routines, your attitude. It was late, and everyone else had turned in for the night. You stayed up watching the dancing fire. Clearing his throat to get your attention, he finally saw those glittering streams running down your cheeks. Shit… Astarion, not exactly the best at consoling people, did the only thing he could think of, "Would you care for a walk?" with a slight nod, you and Astarion took a walk through the quiet wood. The crisp air and the sounds of the whispering animals were soothing. Then there was Astarion just silently walking beside you. Though he didn't say it, you knew that he would listen to you should you decide to speak…but talking about it wasn't what you needed. All you needed was his calm presence next to you, there just in case. When you two finally return to camp before Astarion can slip back to his tent after your silent walk, you grab his hand suddenly; he looks at you confused before you smile and thank him. Him just being close always makes you feel better.  

It's no surprise that though you might be more sensitive than most, Astarion never passes on the chance to tease and taunt you. You know, this is just how Astarion shows his affection for people. Sure, it's a little unorthodox, but that's Astarion, and you can't bring yourself to mind it. Today, he was taunting you and your bleeding heart. You yet again find yourself helping another helpless soul. So, while you are packing up his things to join you, "I swear you will just say yes to anything a person asks of you now." Astarion says with a smirk. "Well, Astarion, have you ever thought I might like getting myself in trouble." Astarion looks at you confused, "You? Enjoying trouble?" it was just too easy…you walked over, placing a hand softly on his chest, "I do enjoy being around you…and you're definitely trouble. In more ways than one…" Astarion looks at you confused before he smiles, "Are you trying to act like me right now?" you smile and pat his chest, "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Thought I should tease you more, Wada think?" Astarion pinches your nose, "I think you need practice, but I'm more than willing to give you some tips."  

Could it always be this soft…this gentle… your lips meet his in a slow, controlled kiss. Your warm hands cupped his face, telling him you're here, not leaving, that you care. Your tongue is slow and timid as it asks for his lips to part. Astarion almost wants to laugh at the timidness of it; here he is naked with you, rutting slowly in between your legs, and you're scared that your tongue in his mouth will be too much. Astarion loves that about you; you're so caring and soft, even to someone like him. Astarion sinks in deeper, and you let out a groan from the stretch, your body covered in a light sheen of sweat, your body covered in a light sheen of sweat that Astarion just can't stop kissing. Your hands carefully holding onto him tighter, but nothing to mark him…he's been marked enough for a lifetime. Softly, you coo his name breathlessly, and he never loved the sound of his own name so much; you're just… everything to him. Astarion brings his lips to your ear, gently easing you till he can't help himself anymore, "I-I love you." he feels you stop moving, and for a second, he thinks he might have been wrong, but before the doubt can manifest in him, he hears a sniffle. Leaning back, he sees your eyes shining in tears and a wide smile; you look beautiful…" A-astarion, I love you too. He leans to kiss away your tears, so this is true intimacy. 

Wyll

Sometimes, you seem unreal; you're the kind to take on a whole goblin camp and fight for justice, but the simple sight of a meowing kitten or an old couple holding hands and sharing a tender moment will have you blubbering in tears. You're a complete sweetheart and a bit of a crybaby, but Wyll can't help but find it endearing. You're like a breath of fresh air after being on the road for so long. On the road, people act so tough and hard, never giving away any emotion, but not you; you're so honest about how you're feeling, willing to shed tears at anything that pulls at your heartstrings and that pulls at his. Cute and sad things were not the only things to make you cry. Wyll found that any sweet romantic gesture would make your eyes well up in happy tears. First, Wyll started out by giving you a flower; it was a casual gesture of affection for your relationship getting stronger, but the way you started to shed tears, it was like you received bad news. Through your sobs and hiccuping Wyll asked if you didn't like flowers, his consideration of your feelings made you cry more and fling yourself into his arms. "I love flowers; it's just so sweet of you to offer me one." You hug him tighter, feeling his heartbeat racing in his chest. "Thank you, Wyll. For being so sweet to me." Wyll wraps his arms around you tighter, already planning his next sweet gestures. Asking you to dance, making you a meal, working up to sharing a kiss… and one day bringing you home a kitten.  

Most people would find this annoying, but Wyll can't help himself. Your kindness and soft heart know no bounds, and Wyll feels that by the day, he is falling more and more enamored with you. You smile through your tears as you watch the celebration; everyone seems so happy and relaxed that they can finally continue their journey. Lost in the rejoining of the party, you fail to see Wyll come to your side; how he learned to be so quiet to sneak up on you, you will never know. Wyll gently brushes his finger to wipe away your tears. This instantly makes you apologize for crying again when it is not justified, but Wyll just wraps an arm around you, letting you lean into his surprisingly comfortable body; you would think for his physic, he would be uncomfortable to lay against, but… he's so warm, and comfortable… "Don't ever apologize about who you are." you let out a laugh, "so you don't mind being around a crybaby?" Wyll just shakes his head, "No, I don't mind drying your tears; it's nice being around someone so in tune with their emotions." Wyll squeezes you tighter, "Maybe if I'm around you, it will show me how to be more honest with mine." The rest of the night was spent with you two sharing small talk, curling further into each other's embrace.   

Wyll tries his best not to tease you. He is a gentleman, but sometimes he just can't help himself from a little playfulness, and yes, you will admit that it makes you pout (but you love this side of him). Wyll knows to be careful not to push you too hard because of your soft nature, so he got creative on how to get you to adorably pout. As you're sitting by the river trying to scrub the blood out of your clothes from today's battle, your mind wanders to Wyll and how he hasn't flirted with you today (how dare he!). Quietly, Wyll makes his way to you; he decides to play, which he thinks is a funny trick. He taps on your left shoulder as he gets close before quickly darting to the right. It never fails that you look to the tapped shoulder to then audibly groan his name, trying to hit him. Today, though, you take the chance to splash water on him, causing the start of an impromptu fight. Of course, Wyll is winning by having you laugh to the point of tears as he avoids your hits. Then you both pause… he looks down at your face, smiling gently as he wipes away a tear from your cheek. Wyll leans in, and you close your eyes, ready for this to finally happen…" Tsk, could you two resist procreating in the middle of camp. Disgusting…” You and Wyll quickly separate with a sigh… Lae'zel strikes again, but she's not wrong; maybe you can ask him to come to your tent tonight…

The tears couldn't help but flow out of you. Everything is so sensitive. Everything feels like, at any moment, you could burst into flames or burst into more tears. Your only saving grace is the soft kisses Wyll leaves on your body. "Just a little more; hang on a little longer, my love." His words drive you to hold on through the overstimulation about to reach your third mind-melting orgasm. Wyll is constantly pushing your body to its limits. You two had waited to be intimate, and Wyll assured you it would be well worth the wait. Of course, he was right about it. Now every night since Wyll has fucked you to incoherent whimpering and blissed-out tears as his length drives deeper in you, making that tight coil in your stomach snap for the fourth time now. His stamina is unrelenting as you coat him in your arousal. The crying of his name from your swollen lips drives him for one more, "One more, one last one, for me, baby…"

Gale

(This first bullet point was written by the amazing @savriea they are truly amazing and this snippet inspired me so much! huge thank you to them!)

Gale was captivated by your bravery at the grove. You stood tall against the druids, your determination making a difference for the tiefling child. It was a rare sight to see someone so unyielding yet so compassionate, and it had left a profound impression on him. He decided that he wanted to share a piece of his world with you, so that night he set up a small area away from camp and invited you over. He watched you intently, admiration in his eyes as you prepared to learn the basics of magic. Your initial attempts were clumsy, your fingers fumbling over the components, and your words stumbling over the syllables. Gale instructed you patiently, demonstrating the precise motions and enunciating each word clearly. But despite his guidance, the spell fizzled out for the fifth time, leaving a faint shimmer in the air before dissipating entirely. Frustration welled up inside you, the weight of repeated failure pressing down on your shoulders. The dam finally burst, tears spilling from your eyes as sobs wracked your body. Gale's eyes widened in panic, his usual composed demeanor faltering as he scrambled to salvage the moment. "No, no, no... hey, it's okay," he murmured, quickly moving to your side. His hands gently grasped yours from behind, his comforting warmth seeping into your back as he pressed his cheek against yours. "We'll do it together." With Gale guiding you, your hands moved through the motions again. He spoke the incantation softly in your ear, his voice a soothing melody that calmed your racing heart. You repeated the words, feeling the magic flow through you, unable to hold back a smile. The weave opened up to you, and for the first time, you felt its power caressing your skin. You laughed, a wet sound through your tears, your cheeks streaked and eyes glassy. Gale smiled, a mix of relief and pride shining in his eyes. "See? You did it," he said softly, his voice filled with admiration as he wiped your tears with his hand.

You felt ridiculous... you had decided to buy this outfit as a sexy surprise for Gale, but now your nerves are getting the better of you. Right as your about to change scraping your idea entirely Gale is walking through your tent, right on time as usually. Gales eyes widen not only from seeing your beautiful body on display but he also is feeling concern seeing your eyes starting to well up. Gale is quick to come to your side and hold your tightly, his large hands rubbing slowly up and down your back gently. Waiting till your calm Gale finally decides to ask you what's wrong. you explain how you wanted to wear something sexier for him and you started to second guess yourself, Gale can't help but smile. "You look completely beautiful not matter what my love, though I can't say I am not flattered..." Gales hands start to wonder making you laugh as he buries his nose in your hair taking in your sent that only spurs him on more... "Why don't we give you an actual reason to cry?" Of course you couldn't deny him. Gale knows exactly how you like it, he has made studying how to get you off his top priority these days. Gales lips caress your hips as his hands squeeze gently against you ass, coxing you to wrap your legs around his head so he can start tasting you. His tongue licking long strokes playing with your most sensitive parts before he is wrapping his lips around is and sucking softly. Gale drinks in your cyprine as your hands grip onto his soft locks. This only fuels him to drive into you more as hot tears of pleasure fall from your eyes and you moan and roll your hip against his face, not at all minding the beard.

[fuzybby]

Baby Fever

Halsin x F!Reader

Synopsis: Halsin wants a baby with you so bad, and who are you to deny him?

CW: BREEDING!!!, the word daddy is used once, rough-ish sex, lovey dovey shit

Life after the Elder Brain was strange in the way that it was comfortable. Instead of going back to your old life, the one you had before you were forced onto the Nautiloid ship, you decided to follow the love of your life. Halsin.

You went with him to go look after the bundle of kids whose parents had passed from the attack. Thaniels realm, otherwise used to be known as the Shadowcursed Lands, looks much better than when you left it. Now that the curse was lifted, the lands were no longer drenched in shadows and fog.

There were, however, many little feet running around the sanctuary you had made. There were a few little cabins for some of the kids to sleep, along with you and Halsin having one for yourself. Outside the cabins, tents and campfires were set up everywhere. Some of the kids enjoyed sleeping outdoors, saying that it brought them comfort to sleep under the stars.

As you tucked the final kid into their bed in one of the cabins, you tried to exit as quietly as you coud. When you came to be outside, Halsin stood next to your own cabin door, waiting for you to come to bed.

You chuckled to yourself as you stepped around the tents and the kids personal belongings, walking to your cabin. Halsins eyes fell onto the way your body moved, smiling to himself as he wondered how he got so lucky.

“Surprised you're not already in bed.” You joked in a whisper once you were close enough for your giant lover to hear.

Halsin opened the door and let you step inside first, before following and closing the door. He swiftly locked it behind him. “I wanted to talk to you about something.” He responded, the grin never leaving his face.

“Mhm?” You stepped over to your dresser, pulling out a tanktop and some shorts to sleep in. Halsin came up quickly next to you and put your clothes back into the drawer.

“I want a baby.” Halsin said. He was blunt, it was something you loved about him. Always getting to the point.

“We already have, like, twelve children.” You chuckled awkwardly, trying to pull your clothes back out of the drawers.

He was quick to put them back into the drawer, and even closed it too. “I want another one. Made from both of us.”

“Halsin..” You started, looking up into his eyes. It was something you had talked about before, being a mother wasn’t not off the table, you just didn’t expect it to be so soon. You loved the little ones you were taking care of. Adding another was definitely something that you wanted.

Without a second beat, Halsin smirked. “This also means I could fuck my cum into you every night, multiple times a night, until your pregnant.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Halsin had always asked to cum inside you, and there were only a few times you had agreed to it. He was always so sweet about making a day after potion for you, even if he was sad it wasn’t time yet. But now, he wanted it to be time. And so did you.

“Yeah..” Is all you could say, a big goofy smile plastered on your face. “Yeah.”

“On the bed, my heart. Let me grab the bottle.” Halsin said, the same kind of goofy grin on his face too. You didn’t think twice, immediately jumping into bed. You debated if you should take off your clothes, knowing Halsin would rip them off and most likely tear them.

Before you could really get your hands even on your clothes, Halsin returned next to the bed with a bottle of lube. Handmade by him, of course.

“I don’t understand why we still need that stuff. I take you just fine.” You sighed, looking up at your elf with puppy eyes.

“Sweetheart, it takes me almost an hour to prep you properly. And I don’t feel like waiting tonight. It’s necessary.” Halsin laughs, moving down to press a kiss to your lips. His lips are soft, and both of your tongues move to reach each others. It’s messy as much as it is passionate, and yet it doesn’t last long.

He pulls away and moves to sit on his knees in front of you on the bed. Hiking his hands up your shirt to cup your breasts. His hands are rough and large, but he touches you like you're made of glass. This is his pattern, be extremely gentle with you at the start to rile you up before he completely ravages you for all you are.

He takes his time, pulling off your shirt slowly so he can admire your entire torso. He presses the faintest of kisses against the skin of your breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth. His teeth just barely graze your pointed tip, his tongue working in circles to swirl around your entire areola. Before long, he switches to the other nipple, continuing the same ministrations on that breast instead.

He works slowly down your body, too slowly for your tastes, and you're tempted to beg him to hurry. Halsin hooks his pointer fingers into the waistband of your pants, quickly pulling them down along with your underwear. Throwing them into the corner of the room.

“Fuck,” Halsin growled, grabbing the backs of your knees to spread you open. “I love you.”

“I love you t-” You go to reply, but before you can even finish the sentence, Halsin licks a strip up your cunt. Swirling his tongue around your clit, much like he did with your tits. He moans into your heat, trying to bury his face as much as he can into you.

It felt glorious, his tongue was so warm against you, and so soft. It felt like fucking heaven. You moaned loudly, and had to cover your mouth to not disturb anyone outside. You could feel your wetness travel down onto the bed, or maybe it was some of Halsins saliva? Who knows.

Your legs shook, but his hold on them made it so your whole body spasmed instead. Arching your back up into the sky in hopes his tongue would reach deeper. Travel inside of you and ignite a flame of ecstasy.

You could feel a sweat break out against your skin, and suddenly everything in the room became too hot. Your body felt on fire as your lover devoured you.

“Almost..” You moan out, moving your hand down to hold onto his hair. You didn’t tug, holding it merely to try and keep you grounded.

Halsin didn't stop, instead opting to suck and focus on your clit as he entered a finger into you. It didn’t take too long for him to enter a second one, and then a third. You were wet enough for them to slide in easily. The feeling of being so full set you on edge, and you suddenly came with a cry. Your body shook, and you gripped both the sheets and Halsins hair in a death grip.

Halsin relented and pulled away, a line of his saliva stayed connected from his lips to your clit. He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, immediately putting them into his mouth to clean them off.

“Grab me the bottle my love.” Halsin huffed once he finished sucking on his fingers. You stretched your arm above your head to grab the bottle of home-made lube, and tossed it to your lover.

Halsin grabbed it and set it down on the bed next to him, it was now his turn to strip. Throwing off his shirt and trousers quickly. His cock sprang out of his pants and smacked against his abdomen. He was a big man, in all ways possible. He grabbed the bottle again and poured the smallest amount on his hand, and gave his cock a few pumps in order to coat himself.

He then drizzled a small amount onto your mound, and it made you jump as the cold liquid met your clit. He made sure to rub it everywhere, but made sure the most to finger you a little bit more while his hands were coated in it.

“Ready?” The giant had asked you, and you nodded.

He positioned himself first, pushing in only slightly so just the top of the tip was inside before he moved his body to hang above you. His free hand now came to grab the sheets next to your head for stability.

And then he started to push in more.

The first few times you ever had sex with Halsin, it took a while. Back and forth between trying to enter you and making you cum on his fingers. He never wanted to hurt you, and continuously tried to stretch you open enough on his fingers so that you could take him fully.

Now that you were more experienced with his size, it was easier to take him. But, that doesn't mean sometimes it didn't hurt.

The initial stretch is the worst, no matter how much prep work is done it'll still never be quite enough. But you always enjoyed the small thing of pain. Enjoying the way you hugged his walls, silently asking for him to never leave the warm space between your legs.

And god, the look on his face was everything. The scrunch of his brow, the way he wanted to bare his teeth like an animal, the moan he lets out when he first comes into contact with your warmth. It’s absolutely divine.

His hand that was holding his cock now comes to hold your face. He is so close to you, you could purse your lips and reach his own.

“Fuck, you feel good.” The druid growls, his mouth stays open in a silent moan.

Before long, he finally is able to push in all the way to the hilt. You can feel his heavy balls rest against your ass. You could probably feel them twitch if you concentrated hard enough.

“Fuck me already.” You beg, moving your hands to hold his thighs. Your fingers knees into his flesh, hoping to guide him to move.

Halsin smirks. “You know I love it when you beg.”

He doesn't wait a second more before he starts moving. He doesn't start with a slow or gentle pace, it's straight to rough and hard. The sound of skin hitting skin is all that can be heard from the room.

Whimpers and whines leave both of your lips, not wanting to be any louder in case to wake anyone nearby.

You felt so incredibly full, only for that fullness to leave momentarily and then come back full force inside you. Everything felt beyond amazing, your lover always knowing how to fuck you good.

You never relented on your hold on him, wanting to make sure he never pulled out.

Your sweat hadn't let up either, and everything around you was wet. The skin from your elf had the same sweat on him too.

Your brain had started to turn off, consistent quiet rambles fell from your lips. “Fuck a baby into me daddy!” and “I love you so much!” were one of the few sentences that Halsin could make out.

Halsin quickly grabbed onto the headboard as he pounded you, now not so close to your face either. His arm flexed as he held onto the piece of wood. The bed frame that he made with his own two hands now felt like it was going to snap and break from his constant thrusting.

“M’ gonna cum,” He moaned. The hair on his forehead bounced against the movements he was making.

“Inside!” You squealed, moving your hands to grab onto his lower back, intent to make sure he didn't pull out last minute.

Halsin smirked for the final time that night, “That's my girl.” He said quietly into your ear before slamming into you one final time.

The force of his orgasm caused your own cord to snap too, feeling his seed drench your walls as your own ecstasy covered his lower abdomen.

You both lay there for a minute, taking a breather. Watching one another with that same goofy grin on each other's faces.

“Melody if it's a girl.” Halsin said breathlessly, moving his body to lay on top of you, never pulling out.

“We're gonna make a list.” You laughed, holding him close to you. You felt hot as he lay against you, possibly almost too hot. “I need a cold bath.”

“Me too.” The giant agreed. “I can get one started for us.”

“Sounds lovely” You hummed, running your fingers through his hair. “Maybe have another round while we bathe?” You joked.

“Don't threaten me with a good time.” Halsin laughed.

Neither of you moved just then, continuing to stay there together. Entangled in eachothers arms as you both relax, hoping to Silvanus that no one woke up from the sound of you two lovebirds.