#tutor astarion

[antiqua-lugar]

it has just occurred to me that wyll does canonically want children and his final romance scene is "be with me forever" so presumably no matter what path he takes he will at some point bring up the subject which is breaking me as a durgewyll stan

[swordmaid]

post canon hag romance are travelling adventurers but I also like the idea that astarion keeps correspondence with his siblings and he’s very updated on what’s happening to the underdark vampires. astarion and shri’iia are on their own little quest to find a cure for the vampirism — or at the very least, find something that can either help to sate the hunger or help him walk under the sun (but a cure would be best). they do their heroic deeds and collect the favours, and when it’s time to cash in they’re always asking looking for something that can help alleviate some of the vampirism symptoms. and if they find something, and it works for astarion, they go off and send it to the underdark coven. I also like the idea of astarion visiting them too from time to time, except shri’iia doesn’t risk going down in the underdark anymore or else she might face lolth’s punishment, so she will send him instructions and advice on navigating through the underdark, what to look out for and what to avoid, then she’ll wait patiently for him to return up the surface again.

in his part knowing how homesick she sometimes get, he’ll bring her something from the underdark (like food or fungi or whatever funky thing he finds) and gifts it to her the moment he returns. I like the idea that he tends to look out for any underdark/drow items in the surface too, bc shri’iia is still very attached to her home even though she’s forced to leave it behind, and he buys her any items he finds (and bonus points if it’s jewellery of some kind) bc she knows she’ll appreciate it. I also like the idea that she teaches him how to speak in drowic too hehe, and a majority of the names she’ll call him are the very few drowic endearment terms with the main one being alurlssrin. anyway I like the idea of shri’iia still keeping in touch with her culture even though she’s divorced from it now, since one of the biggest change she experienced when she was dropped off in the surface was the fact that no one spoke her language until minthara came along, and she’s not fluent in common tongue either.

[art-by-ady]

The BloodOakWeave Dads raising the orphans in Moonrise region (AFTER THE EPILOGUE)

The kids are aware that Astarion is a vampire spawn and he sometimes use it to tease them. I imagine Astarion as a sort of girl dad, and not just with the girls. He spoils the kids, plays dress up and holds tea parties with them. He loves to formulate pranks with them, targeted especially towards Gale.

Gale is the responsible dad. He tutors the kids, makes sure they are well fed and well-mannered. Sometimes he can be strict especially during study time. But he makes sure the household is running smoothly. When the kids behave he treats them to some sweets (but they need to brush their teeth afterwards!)

And Halsin is the explorer dad. For him, learning can be found outside the classroom walls. He takes them fishing, camping and hiking. He teaches the kids how to take care of nature, about finding balance and harmony within it. He also invites some animal friends for the kids to meet. Everyday is an adventure with Daddy Halsin, sometimes nicks and scrapes are expected (and he heals them without Gale finding out).

I am so invested in this idea! What are your thoughts? Share them with me, I’m so excited 🤗

[avocado-writing]

hihi! can i please request the bg3 male companions + rolan and a tav who can’t read? my tav grew up in the woods so although they’re a strong folk hero, they can’t read and they’re very insecure about it!!! thank you so much! i love ur work avo

what a sweet idea for a Tav! Writing as if you want to learn to read when the truth comes out.

Astarion

Wants to be catty but can see how genuinely upset you are by the idea he’s mock you, so holds off.

He’s so used to being dramatic he can’t work out how to be genuine with you about this.

Gets some advice from around the camp - mainly Wyll - about good starting off books, and makes a shopping trip.

If you want him to he sits with you and helps you sound out the words, even when you’re frustrated, and is so pleased whenever you’re proud of finishing a sentence.

Gale

If you want to learn, he’ll teach you - but it will be hard going.

You have a lesson every night. It’s infuriating. He’s very calm and patient though, never mocking you for not understanding something or taking a while to get it.

Is overly reassuring, letting you know it’s fine you didn’t know until now and he’s proud he can help you take that step.

The first thing you wrote him - a thank-you note with a shaky hand - is pressed in the jacket of his favourite book, a precious keepsake.

Wyll

Will offer to help teach you, or if you’d prefer, will get you a tutor when times are more settled.

If the latter, when he is duke, he gets you the finest teacher to help you learn how to read.

If the former he gets a set of his childhood favourites and helps you sound out the words, enthusiastically encouraging you each and every time.

Eventually he writes you love letters to read, and then you write them back - and he has a treasured timeline of your courtship to keep.

Halsin

He did not grow up learning to read, either. There were far more important things in the forest. Letters have their place, of course, but nature is far more valuable.

If you want to learn, you join in the lessons with the cartloads of children he adopts under the guise of observation - and afterwards he’s always happy to see how you’re getting along.

At the same time there is no pressure. He loves you as you are and sees no reason for you to change, unless it’s something you want for yourself.

Rolan

You’re so used to bickering with him, he’s floored when this truth is revealed - he wants to say something petty but knows the look of hurt in your eyes, waiting for him to sling barbs.

In fact he leaves mid-squabble because he’s so surprised.

The next day you come to find he’s been doing research for you - spells which make reading easier to parse, text-to-speech enchantments, any discreet tutors around the city…

He’s too proud to accept your thanks, still the same silly stubborn tiefling you fell for. But you do see his cheeks grow flushed when you kiss him…

[littlejuicebox]

Bruised.

Summary: School is not going well for Gale. Astarion and you rush to pick up your child after an unfortunate event leads to his injury. This is really just a little bonus blurb to the other piece I posted earlier today titled “Camping for beginners.”

Tags/Warnings: Dadstarion, Astarion being Astarion, parenthood, childhood, school bully, injury to a child, minor angst, this is unedited so there may be grammatical errors etc

Traffic on Wyrm’s Crossing is at a standstill. The two of your are in the carriage, rushing to pick up Gale after a sending spell announced recess went terribly wrong. Your eldest was injured by another child.

“Gods below, can we go any faster?” Astarion complains before sticking his head out the window and pounding angrily on the roof of the carriage to catch the driver’s attention. He barks an order and then ducks back inside the caravan just as the vehicle is forced into high speed.

Wyrm’s Crossing isn’t particularly long, but in this moment, it feels like the crossway between you two and your son’s school is further than a mere 2000 feet.

You sigh as you attempt to placate your husband, “Astarion, we have to try and be reasonable when we walk in, we can’t—“

“Reasonable!” Astarion hisses with a wry laugh, turning to look at you for the first time since you two rushed into the carriage, “Is it reasonable, darling, that our son has been attacked for the second time this year?”

“Of course not! But we have to—“ You start, but your husband cuts you off with a seething glare. You are not at all used to being on the receiving end of his vitriol; it’s shocking.

“I wanted tutors, but you insisted it would be good for Gale to be with other children closer to his age and look how bloody well that’s going, Tav!” He snaps, his hand slamming against the side of the carriage again in his rage.

That stung. Tears begin to well in your eyes as a reaction to your husband’s cutting remark.

Astarion groans and then pinches the bridge of his nose with a leather-gloved hand as he works to regain control over his emotions. He sighs and rubs his hand down his face before opening his eyes and looking at you, “I’m sorry, my love. That was unfair. I just— gods, let’s just get Gale and take care of this.”

You nod, still blinking away tears and unable to say anything further as you turn your face away from your husband and gaze outside the carriage window.

Astarion closes his eyes and chastises himself as he leans back into the carriage seat. The rest of the journey is made in silence.

*

When the two of you enter the headmaster’s office, you immediately spot Gale holding an ice bag over his eye. Astarion rushes to inspect the six year old and instantly fills with wrath, spinning on his heels to address the headmaster.

“Who did this, Alaric?” Astarion questions, stepping far too closely to the half-elven headmaster and jabbing an accusatory finger into the man’s chest, “Who did this under your watch?”

Headmaster Alaric Frostborne is no stranger to upset parents; he’s been in charge of the school for nearly fifty years. The half elf calmly holds his ground as he addresses Astarion, explaining he does not know who gave Gale a black eye but is working to find out.

You pull your six year old into your lap and help him hold the ice pack against his eye as you whisper a healing spell. The damage is done, and surely the school nurse has already used more than one healing potion, but you do it regardless. It might not help heal the bruising past this point, but you hope it will at least comfort your child.

In the safety of your lap, Gale finally begins to cry. The tears are silent, apart from the occasional sniffle, and you pull your eldest tightly against you, whispering words of comfort into his ear. He continues to weep as his father speaks to the headmaster.

“This is the second time this year, Alaric. I am sure I don’t need to remind you that my wife’s name is on an entire wing of this school,” Astarion continues, far too measured for the rage boiling inside as he spits his words at the headmaster, “So unless the Ancunins are to pull the donations you so desperately solicit from us each year, I suggest you work harder to fix this issue.”

Astarion turns and reaches for your son, knowing himself well enough to realize that if he does not leave the situation now, Alaric Frostborne will have a shiner matching Gale Ancunin’s.

You release the boy from your grip, allowing your husband to hoist the child into his arms and carry him out of the office. You watch through the window as two silver-haired heads enter the carriage.

You stand and linger for a moment longer, turning your cool gaze to Alaric as you assess him.

“I am a patient woman, Headmaster Frostborne,” You begin, your arms coming to cross your chest, “And perhaps viewed as more kind and less reactive than my husband… so let me be explicitly clear here. Should this problem continue, I will have you removed from your role faster than a Leviathan swims. Because should this matter continue, you’re clearly unfit to keep the students of this school safe. Understood?”

Alaric nods, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“Is that a yes, Alaric? Am I clear?” You press, your eyes narrowing at the half-elf as you struggle to control the growing anger inside your own body. Sparks of magic threaten to fly from your hands before you regain control over yourself.

“Yes, Counsellor Ancunin. Crystal.” The headmaster responds, “We will continue our investigations until the matter is resolved.”

You nod but do not say anything further before you exit the headmaster’s office and breeze out of the school to rejoin your husband and son.

Hell hath no fury like a mother scorned.

[cherrycolored-punk]

a compiled list of all of my favorite creators! there’s plenty more, and I’ll be adding on to this list when my little pea brain remembers or as I encounter them 🖤

thank you for sharing your talent and your creations! It’s sooo appreciated

authors / fics

@carolmunson - ALL of her stories are great but I fell in love with Let’s Go, Don’t Wait sometime last year and I can’t wait to read the latest installment

@loveshotzz - Everything I’ve ever read from her has me simultaneously happy and longing for a love I’ve never experienced. Past Fave: All I Really Want Is You and Current Obsession: I Guess It’s Never Really Over (but absolutely everything is amazing).

@andvys - The first story I ever read was Everlong and I loved it so much that I still revisit it every few months. I love the way she writes Eddie (Steve too) and her smut is 🫠

@wroteclassicaly - recently started reading through her Masterlist and fell in love with Asking For a Favor. Whenever I need comfort (and some hot smut) I know where I’m going 🖤

@abibliophobiaa - I’ve always been scared of pregnancy AU’s (honestly the thought of a baby growing fingernails and scratching my insides scares me) BUT I fell absolutely in love with the series Daylight. It was so cute and sweet and hot. Ugh, I could not get enough of those two.

@superblysubpar - We’ll Call It Love is part of my top ten. It’s so witty, funny, angsty and hot. I can’t wait to re-read this and fall in love with my favorite idiot again 🖤

@ghost-proofbaby - I first discovered her blog when I read Twenty-Four Hours but recently lost sleep reading her Astarion series (The Moon Will Sing (I Loved You Like the Sun)). I’ve never been able to stop reading her work once I start

@mrsjellymunson - The Biology Tutor had me kicking my legs excited. I really can’t wait to see what is next and the smut is definitely 🥵

@pinkrelish - The Yes Policy is one of my absolute favorite things to return to. Every emotion and challenge was written so beautifully. This version of Eddie is one of my favorites too!

@upsidedownwithsteve - First author I ever discovered on here and as an Eddie girl she made me fall in love with Steve. Like tripping over myself, hungry for anything that sunshine incarnate was part of. We Tried The World is one of my favorites and I always return to re-read it

creators (images, art, gifs, etc)

@hugdealer (edited photos)

@freckledjoes (photos/gifs)

@kingofscoops (gifs)

@djo (gifs)

@steveharringtondaily (gifs)

@batty4steddie (gifs)

@emziess (gifs)

@strangergraphics (graphics/headers/dividers)

@littleststarfighter (art)

@tellme-astory (art)

@jemmacdraws (art)

@obligatedart (art)

[pursuitseternal]

“Dexterity Check First, My Sweet:” finger-licking smut 🔥with Spawn!Astarion for “Bites in the Night” part 9

Astarion x f!reader | E | 3K of finger fucking licking smut

Summary: Flaming Fist soldiers on your heels, caught red-handed trying to steal some food, and your Vampire Rogue has one place in mind for you to hide: Sharess’ Caress. Where better to spend an hour laying low together than a pleasure house… where he can tutor you on the dexterity skills that got you into this mess

CW: Vaginal fingering, finger licking, breast play, anal fingering, generally arrogant Spawn Astarion, Act 3 spoilers if you squint maybe…

Ao3 link | Series on Ao3 | Masterlist

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“Can’t you run any faster?” Astarion hisses at you, eyes narrowed as he glares over his shoulder, leading you down alley after alley in Baldur’s Gate. The clanking of armor still echoes behind you—the Flaming Fist still trailing.

And you, you’re hustling, but it’s harder given your wardrobe. “This was your idea,” you pant, aggravated in reply. “You said ‘Wear a dress for once, darling. No one will suspect us if you look decent for once…’”

His hand shoots out from the shadows, pulling you into a darkened doorway. His chest heaves, lock picks in hand. “I know what I said. It’s true, my sweet. You do look decent for once. It’s not my fault you can’t use those hands for anything subtle and smooth that isn’t my cock.”

He flashes a quick smirk your way before picking open the door you both press against. That smirk that melts your innards and makes you quiver instantaneously.

Turning, you keep an eye out for the soldiers who caught you stealing from the vendors. Of course after weeks in the Shadow-Cursed lands, food and gold were scarce. What little you still had only stretched so far in the City. So, you and your Rogue decided to take a… new course of action. One he swore was foolproof… easy… something he did a thousand times over hundreds of years… And he had insisted you look ‘decent’ in a dress for it.

Which was how you now find yourself squeezed against some alley door, panting, and afraid of being arrested as the soldiers who caught you nicking food from the stands close in.

“Hurry, Astarion,” you elbow him in the shoulder where he crouches beside you. “They’re coming.”

“Darling you can’t rush art,” he sneers in reply.

“It’s not art, it’s crime.”

“Maybe next time, you'll not get us caught then. Maybe you need some lessons on just how to expertly use those fingers…” he pauses, even as the clanking of armor draws even closer. He stands quickly, spinning you both, pinning you hard against the planes of the door as he crushes you against the wood. His mouth devours yours, your eyes filled with nothing but his pale skin and mussy, silver hair. Your every sense is consumed by his taste in your tongue, his scent in your nose, his wiry body bearing down, covering you completely.

That passion, that ardor steals your breath, lost in the sound of his breath in your mouth and the wet working of his lips, his tongue with yours.

So distracted you barely even notice the flurry of guards rush right past you until they have long passed. Barely noticed that he’s hidden you from their sight in his distraction. Kept you safe. Then he breaks, his devious smirk at your arousal only makes you pant harder. “You clever devil,” you rasp, trying to swallow. “Kept us hidden… and clearly you do enjoy this dress.”

“What would you do without me?” he taunts, reaching for the handle of the door, letting it creak open behind your back. “They’ll be back, we need to lay low for an hour or two…” that wicked gleam in his eyes only darkens. “How fortunate that we can hide here…”

You turn, taking a step inside the door. Instantly, you recognize it from your adventures so far. The scent of perfumes and sweat, of alluring flowers and dirty bodies all at once. Thick crimson curtains draped over every wall and door, ready to soften the cries of orgasm and the sounds of sex.

Sharess’ Caress.

“What better place to hide than a pleasure house?” he gives you that feline grin that more than announces his intentions for how to pass an hour or two. “Oh, what a shame we will have to hide away… just the two of us… away from everyone else back at camp…”

“Did I call you clever?” you roll your eyes, despite the way your belly floods with heat. “I mean sly, cunning…”

“And very, very hungry,” he interjects, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you towards the stairs. “Starved practically…”

“How do you know where you’re going?” you hiss from behind.

“You forget so quickly these are my hunting grounds, my nocturnal domains. How fortunate you get me of my own free will during the daytime,” he quirks back at you over his shoulder as he turns down a hall and then another. “You’ve been dancing with a professional,” he smirks, breathing deeply as he draws to a sudden stop outside a door. “But you already knew that, my darling. Already experienced the fruits of my practice on the unworthy…”

“Gods,” you pant, “and you think me worthy?”

“Most worthy, my love,” he chuckles softly, turning the doorknob beside you. “Won’t you come and find out why it’s a pleasure house, my sweet?”

You smile, devious, “Emphasis on the… come?”

“I’m in such a good mood to be here with you, my darling, that even your unrefined wit won’t put me off or… soften… my regard for you,” he giggles, leading you behind the curtain that covers the entryway. Its fabric is thick, a dense sort of velvet, darker than blood.

You stumble into the dark, and instantly those hands… those strong, lithe, dancing hands, catch you. You hear so many other voices in the distance, a cacophony of moans and slaps and screams. You turn, looking for Astarion, an edge of… surprise in your heart. Surprise that warms quickly into a heady fear as he leers at you.

The soft light only makes every angle and cut of his face sharper, his skin almost lustrous, those hands leaving your grip to already begin to tear his tunic from over his head. Earth-shattering. Ruinous. He is beyond handsome.

And he’s yours.

“You can’t stop staring, darling…” he rasps, drawing closer in, closing in around you. The skin of his chest, the way every muscle and vein is familiar to you, it makes you force a swallow. “Not that I'm complaining, of course,” he gives that short burst of giggles to punctuate. “But we really… really must do something about those hands of yours.”

He catches them together in just one palm, his touch cool despite the growing heat that caresses your skin. “Strength doesn’t come from brute force all the time, slashing and twisting…” he breathes. You gasp, moaning suddenly as his other hand has already managed to somehow slink into the hitched hem of your skirt, his touch barely ghosting up your inner thigh. “You needn’t be so gruff and commanding all the time, darling,” he purrs. “Let your fingers find their own way, one by one in that merry dance…”

“Gods,” you groan, as indeed one by one they slip into your folds, sliding in so easily with how drenched you already are for him. He flashes that sideways grin down at you, eyes narrowed as he is savoring the way you shudder at his touch, at the way your mouth hangs open suddenly to feel him pleasuring you. “Please, more,” you sigh, arching back to find something to brace your body against. “I want more inside me, I want you inside me.”

“But I am, darling,” his grin only twists higher, “and this is my lesson for you, so you had better listen and learn.” His hold on your hands tightens, his thumb massaging over their backs, deftly and rhythmically stroking your taught muscles. His legs stride between yours, hips pressing hard against you, making you back until you smack the your knees on some soft furniture. But quicker than breath, he steadies you. Fingers slipping from your folds and your body to unbutton his breeches.

You don’t even need to look to know his cock stands at the ready, and you giggle as he presses it into your waist, so hard you feel its twitching through your gown. “Already?” you tease, feeling a blush sweeping over your cheeks and up your neck.

“Well, you’re going to need something to practice on…” His eyes gaze at you, glazed with desire, that crimson shine almost a bright red as the lights from the candles around you flicker and flame. “And, I will too,” he adds, voice thick in his throat as he takes the ribbons of your blouse in those long, lean fingers. “Something to play with, as an example of course…”

His breath is heavy, each inhale and exhale almost deafens you. He is close but refrains from brushing against you, nothing more than the way his fingers pull those thin laces of bodice, one by one.

Slowly. Painfully deliberate.

His gaze never wavers, doesn’t even have to look to know where to grip, where to touch. Until at last, the panes of your bodice split, your breasts achingly hard to feel the free air, the rush of his heavy breaths caressing them.

You try to catch his mouth, to bring him into a kiss, but he only shoves you back down to your heels. “Tch, tch,” he sucks his teeth at you, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “This isn’t a lesson for your mouth. Your tongue is already so good at sucking and swallowing, my pet.”

Oh, you shudder. His words alone push you to that precipice of need. Not to mention that constant washing sound of the pleasures around you. It makes you whimper to be denied.

“Shh,” he chuckles quietly, one long pointer finger on your lips to tap gently. “Think about how enjoyable it will be to put these skills into practice daily… nightly too…”

Your brow raises, mischief swirling in your belly as you quickly part your lips, drawing that finger between them to suck it hard.

His cock pulses against your belly, his mouth groaning loudly at the warmth and wet you swirl around it.

“Eager and naughty. You belong in this pleasure house, my love,” he growls. Slowly, he lowers himself to sit on the seat behind you, a settee you realize, covered in softest velvet. Your breathing grows rough, every inhale you make is filled with the perfumes of the house, masked heavily by that fresher scent of his skin.

Your mouth waters, his hands rucking up your skirts, clawing around your hips as he settles you on his thighs. He throws the skirts behind you, ensuring he has complete control, a perfect view of your soft-curled mound, your shaking thighs. But he leaves you aching, your pulse pounding as he can feel your folds soaking his skin and throbbing as you grieve the emptiness inside you.

His fingers seem to dance in the air as he reaches for your body, where your breasts hang so exposed. So easy for the taking. Fascinated, hypnotized by their dexterity, you watch as each of his fingers moves, of its own accord, each playing across your skin. His touch is delicate and deliberate.

The muscles of his hands clench, each movement visible as the candlelight caresses that masculine outline. Light warming his pale, pearl-like skin. Shadows following the ridges and trails the veins make over the backs of his hands, weaving gently up his arms.

You can’t resist, bringing your own touch to dance along those protruding blue lines. Mimicking the soft and commanding pressure he makes as he cradles your breasts, one in each hand, fingers twirling and plucking your nipples hardened to pebbles in his masterful touch. You can’t help it, can’t control it as the rhythm of his touch on your breasts alone sends those shivers of pleasure down your spine, your body under his thrall as climax pours through you. Hot and wild, you buck on the limited friction of his thighs, your cum coating that flawless, smooth skin.

And he giggles. With a little extra effort, he tweaks your nipples as you ride out the remaining waves. “Oh my sweet, see what skilled fingers alone can do?” he croons. His hips buck beneath your still-trembling thighs, making his cock jolt where it stands. Little trickles of his seed already leaking from that tight little slit. You want so badly to lick it clean, to quickly shove that hardness deep inside you to cool your burning lust. But you smile, taking it in your hands, not to be outdone by your arrogant, insufferable Rogue.

Plying that same silken yet commanding touch, you sweep a single finger up the trail of his precum, gathering it on your fingertip before slipping it in your mouth. Sucking it clean.

He groans, watching. His hands slide down your sides, holding your hips hard against his thighs. “What a good student you have become,” he praises in his honeyed tones.

You pull your finger from your pursed lips with a resounding pop. Licking the rest of those fingers one by one, you begin tracing just the soft pads of your fingers up and down his twitching shaft.

For hells take you if you weren’t about to stun him senseless with your fingers alone.

You keep your eyes on the motions you make, smiling harder each time his hips buck under your touch, cock twitching and jolting as you beat it in your grip. Maybe it’s the sounds that surround you, the wet slap of flesh, the moans of a hundred paying patrons, but your mind fills with a naughty idea.

Pausing, you clamber between his legs, pressing him wider with your knees. As he has done to you countless times.

“Just what are you doing, my sweet?”

You ignore the question, using a single hand to tug softly on the wrinkled silken skin of his balls. Gods, they feel tight and heavy in your palm already. Driving him closer to his own bursting release with each stroke you make.

“You’ll find out…” you grin innocently, meeting that flaming scarlet gaze of his. His tongue drags over his fangs, hunger lurking behind every clench of his body. The soft pads of your fingers slip further beneath him, following the hard seam of his erection until you brush the pert little hole of his ass.

Astarion hisses, arching his back as you press around it just a bit harder, circling it as he has done to everything on your body a million times.

“Darling…” he groans, raising his hips to let you in more. “Testing your dexterity on all of me, are you?”

You slip your touch inside, feeling him clench as you mimic the way he caresses you. The way he fucks you on those talented, eager fingers of his. You savor the way he growls, head thrown back against the velvet of the settee as you crook inside him deeper. For a moment, you forget all about his cock. Savoring the way you make him shake and quiver around your digits for once. But then, he clenches so hard around your finger deep in his ass, his cock ripples, thickening as you push him further towards the edge. He thrusts over and over into your other fist.

“Hells…” he pants, forcing his head up to meet your smile. “Where in gods names did you think to do that?”

You smile, so innocent and pouting and coy. “You’re not the only one who can read a book, Astarion…”

“Hgnf…” he grabs your wrists, the veins of his arms protruding even more as he flexes, pulling you down to collapse on his chest. “Lesson learned. Now I’ll claim my payment, it’s a brothel after all.”

No resistance is left in your body, too wet and hot and aching for anything other than letting that cool shaft of his cock to pierce deep inside you. And it does, sheathed so tightly in your cunt you cry, begging for more. Your scream could shake the walls, muffled only by those thick curtains.

“That’s right, my darling. Be loud, let them all hear you, hold nothing back like you do for me around the others,” he hisses low in the throat, hands tugging your dress apart all the more. All the better to let your breasts swing free with every unbridled buck of your body.

You groan, so loudly you’re sure you hear the curtains shaking.

And you do, as they pull back to open wide, the clatter of metal armor crashing through the soft slap of flesh. “Flaming Fist,” a cold voice startles you, anouncing. You gasp, clutching your bodice to hide the ample swell of your bosoms, burying your face against his chest as Astarion sits upright.

“What is the meaning of this,” he snaps in disgust and sneers in disdain, that commanding edge of his voice is dominating and cold. “I’ve paid good money for this, and you have no business to intrude on either my time or my pleasure.” He chastises, bracing his arms around you, curving you slightly around his side.

Hiding you.

“I’m sorry sir,” the soldier insists, far more timidly than before. “We’ve been trailing a thief we were tipped off today who would be pinching food stores from the markets today. We suspect she may be hiding here.”

“Get out or pay me the 500 gold I’ve already wasted by spending time speaking with you!” he bellows, gesturing roughly towards the door. “No one here but an angry, wealthy patron and his whore!”

That did it, sending them scattering and clattering as they shut the curtain firmly behind them.

You go still on his lap, a suspicious, scouring look on your face as you meet his arrogant, guilty eyes. “Tipped… off…”

His smirk curls wickedly to one side, shrugging demurely, a single hand splayed on his chest to feign innocence. “How else am I supposed to get you to accompany me here, say… Oh darling, I’d like to take you to a pleasure house so I can loudly fuck you away from prying eyes and listening ears?”

“You’d be surprised just how charismatic you might be if you checked, if you asked nicely…” you grind on his still throbbing cock, “…if you tried saying please.” You lean forward, pressing your hands on his chest to shove him back down. “Perhaps you could benefit from some lessons on asking nicely…”

That handsome face quirks, twisting harder as he smiles at you. “Dexterity check first, my sweet,” he purrs and crooks his finger against your clit. Reminding you just why you’re here.

[scrapsovereign]

Astarion, who is gagged if anyone ever suggests he didn’t actually go to law school. It’s an insult on the same level of asking him how the rat diet is going. The papers of nobility he used to secure his spot in the program? Well, maybe those are fake, but a gentleman never tells.

Astarion, who dramatically pretends he’s jealous of Cazador’s conquests and spawn siblings so his master lavishes ALL of his attention on them to torture him. He couldn’t care less about who his master wines and dines. It’s a game he plays with the miserable wretch so he is left alone to fuck off to the tavern and earn some extra coin by tutoring law students and preparing them for their boards.

Astarion, who breaks in to his old office from time to time to steal the most recent copy of the Code Legal. He marks it up with the myriad crimes he sees Cazador committing as notes in the margins while everyone else is asleep. It isn’t much, but it helps keep him grounded in something real and keeps his mind sharp. He hides it under a floorboard in a forgotten corner of the palace until he’s able to steal away again, furiously jotting down the fresh horrors he’s been witness to.

[punderdome]

The Fine Print: Chapter 5

Summary: Raphael and Tav finally have their wedding night.

CW: 18+, Minors DNI.

Word Count: ~4700

Read on [AO3]

Chapter 5: The Wedding Night

Raphael led her back through the corridors towards the bedrooms.  His pace quickened eagerly, subtly urging Tav to match him.  She struck up more conversation to get him to slow down, lest they actually reach their destination.

“What would you have me do with my days as lady of the house?”  she inquired.  Raphael slowed and turned towards her.

“My darling wife, you may do as you wish with your days.  If you wish to be pampered, I shall see that you are so satisfied,” he answered quickly.  He seemed to be missing the point.

“What if I would like to continue my research?  I’m sure it would be easier to conduct from the Hells, and it would keep me out of trouble.”  Tav wasn’t sure how Raphael would respond to her request for any sort of arcane work.  He probably would prefer it if she lazed around like a prized pet, curled up in his lap while wearing only jewelry.  He has probably entertained this exact thought many times.

Raphael paused for a moment.  His gaze seemed slightly lost, as if he wanted to both agree to her proposal to get her into bed but also take time to consider the impact on himself and his pleasures.

“Well then, my dearest wife, I suggest you begin by learning proper Infernal.”  His answer was only a half answer, and she suspected it was his internal optimization for consideration of her idea and bedroom distance.

“I would like to do so, now that I am the lady of the house.” Tav insisted.  She stopped walking down the corridor and turned to face her dreaded, beloved , husband.  “A proper Infernal lady should be fluent in Devilish and Ancient Infernal, don’t you think?  I can find a tutor.”

“Only a tutor that I have approved,” Raphael asserted.

She had a question that she was too embarrassed to ask while they discussed her contract in the study before, but stalling for time is the best opportunity to ask inane questions.  Tav paused and studied his face, knowing his patience was starting to wane.  “I have a question for you,” she started gingerly, taking extremely long pauses.

“Ask.”  The frustration on Raphael’s face was rapidly expanding, as was his lust for what he knew was coming.

“I translated Astarion’s scars for him.  How bad was my translation?”  Tav had originally translated the Infernal contract on Astarion’s back months prior, explaining what the Rite of Profane Ascension entailed and what sacrifices needed to be made.  It made for grim conversation at Grymforge.

“Do you truly wish to know?” In an instant, her blood ran cold.  What had she overlooked then for Astarion and his former slave master Cazador?  

“What did I miss?” She asked Raphael, dreading what she was about to learn but leaning into the chance to understand.  

“You got many of the aspects of the Rite of Profane Ascension correct, but Astarion did not know many of the finer details.”  Raphael explained.  She nodded for him to continue.  “Your translation of Cazador’s agreement with Mephistopheles correctly deduced that he would consume all seven thousand spawn in body and submit their souls to Cania.  You had grave misunderstandings of the final powers Cazador would gain as Vampire Ascendant.  Astarion wanted to know what he stood to inherit if he were to undertake the Rite himself.”

“Astarion told me that he won a second translation from you in a round of Lanceboard at Sharess’s Caress.”  Raphael’s resulting grin was ravenous.  

“He thought you were intentionally omitting something, so he called me that very same night you provided him with your original work .”  She sighed.  She should have expected Astarion to have a multitude of sketchy deals she wasn’t welcome to know about.  It didn’t make her feelings of embarrassment any easier to swallow.  He had never mentioned to her that he didn’t trust her translation. 

“And what deal did you make with him?” she inquired.

“I would provide all the details of the Rite carved into his flesh in exchange for secrets.  Fifty was the number we negotiated, with more valuable information having a higher price.”  Raphael smiled down at her, and she immediately knew what kinds of secrets he wanted.  Her favorite color was boreal blue.  She preferred silver.  The wedding gifts Raphael presented her were fruits from his contract with Astarion.

“My preferences?” she challenged, hoping to indicate that she wasn’t incredibly stupid, despite the multitude of failings surrounding her Infernal reading comprehension that vehemently suggested the opposite.

“And more.”  Raphael purred back to her.  “I wanted my wife to be comfortable.  Of course he was not above a little light thievery in service, but he was able to negotiate a good price on certain items.”  He raised an eyebrow, waiting to see if she would infer his meaning.

Her eyes rapidly scanned the corridor around them as she fought internally for what Astarion may have stolen from her.  She snapped back to Raphael.  “How many of my clothes did he take?”  The gown she was wearing fit too perfectly to be some sort of coincidence or guessing game.

“Most were returned.  You will find your wardrobe here to be well stocked.”  His voice was calm and casual, but Tav immediately found the implication violating.

“Most?” she demanded.

“Most.” Raphael confirmed.

An absolutely horrifying thought crossed her mind of Astarion stealing her smallclothes and gifting them to Raphael.  Oh Gods, worn or unworn?   She really didn’t want to know but she suspected one was more likely.  Her eyes went wide, and Raphael chuckled.  She knew he could see what she was wrestling with in her mind.  His devilish glee confirmed that she was correct.

A deep abyss of hurt started to emerge in her chest though she tried to conceal it on her face.  Astarion made a deal with Raphael and betrayed her trust by stealing her most intimate things and secrets from her.  They were close friends, sharing vulnerabilities and life experiences.  They shared pains and insecurities, joys and bits of mischief.  Little did she know, he was lurking around her tent waiting to steal and air out her dirty laundry for Raphael.  What else did Astarion tell him?  She was confident that the deal didn’t just end with favorite colors and dirty smallclothes.  How many of her other friends had Raphael seduced into various deals?  Certainly not Wyll or Karlach, they would never have signed with Raphael.  Lae’zel had everything she wanted from Raphael, and Gale wanted nothing to do with him.  Shadowheart?  Jaheira?  Minsc?  Halsin?   The paranoia was giving her nausea.

“That clears up some issues, thank you for the confirmation,” Tav said blandly, trying to hide the dark bruises of betrayal under a thin guise of indifference.

“Shall we continue?” Tav asked, her feelings swirling around her like a hurricane.  Deep and angry.  Chaotic and unpredictable.  Astarion sold her out to Raphael.   As Raphael led them towards the bedrooms her heart started to pound in her chest.

“This door leads to the Boudoir which is Haarlep’s domain,” Raphael explained at the heavily gilded door in front of her. “They entertain various guests on occasion.”  He led her to the next door down the corridor.  

“This is the master’s suite,” Raphael paused quickly.  “This is where I rest, and where you will join me when you are summoned to my bedchambers.”  Tav was swallowing every emotion and trying to suppress them from erupting in the hallway.

Raphael led her to an adjacent door to a fancy room.  “This is the Archduchess’s suite.  It is meant to be your personal sanctuary.  The wardrobes should be filled with garments to your liking.  I suppose you might appreciate a few moments to settle in and relax,” he offered smoothly.  

Tav nodded but said nothing.  She didn’t move a muscle and cast her eyes downward to the tiles on the floor.  She supposed real privacy was something she was never going to have ever again now that she was fucking owned by Raphael.  When she turned to face him again, he had a peculiar look on his face, as though he was trying to read her innermost thoughts.  Gods.  Fuck.  If he was reading her innermost thoughts…   He smoothly pivoted the dying conversation.  “Please accept this ring as an additional wedding gift,” Raphael snapped and a small wooden jewelry box appeared in his hand.  She didn’t even bother looking at it as he started to open the box to show her.

“No.” She asserted blankly, bursting through the doors to her chambers.  She slammed the doors shut behind her and sank to the floor of her new quarters with her back to the door.  Her eyes squeezed shut tightly, and she wondered if she squeezed tightly enough if everything would just go away.  The contract.  The contracts.   Multiple.  Contracts.

Tav, you are a Gods damned idiot , her inner voice rang out.

Tears flowed freely down her face, and she couldn’t stop them.  They froze to her cheek as they fell.  Everything had clearly gone to shit.  One of her closest friends was stalking and spying on her.  She is worthless at research and was recently dumped by the sexy resident archmage of her little crew.  Now she is accidentally married to a fucking devil, most of her companions hate her, and there is no way out.   

And now here she is, preparing to fuck fucking Raphael.  

Raphael was not the person she was supposed to be preparing to fuck on her wedding night.  It should be Gale.  Raphael was supposed to be Gale.  They were supposed to be in Waterdeep, sitting on the balcony in his study overlooking the sea in the evening as the sun set.  Only there was no sea.  There was no evening.  There was never going to be night ever again.  Outside her window there was only the heat and flames of Avernus.

Tav wondered if Raphael truly thought somehow that she was happy with this arrangement.  She started with shock and denial which then spiraled into flooding humiliation that gave way to an academic detachment which was rejected in favor of violation and anger.  All other emotions left exhausted, there was only despair left behind for her.

Tav slowly rose to her feet and surveyed her new chambers.  There was a large four poster bed in the center covered with thick, fluffy pillows and a black comforter with red and gold embroidery in a pattern of roses and birds.  A door to a private bath lay on one of the side walls surrounded by several deep wardrobes.  Everything was as immaculate and luxurious as the rest of the House of Hope.  Broad windows overlooked the bleak horizon, framed by heavy black curtains to provide her the illusion of night if she wished.  

Something was laid neatly on the bed.  As she approached, she realized it was a red silk night robe and a black set of lacy smallclothes that were unlikely to conceal much of anything.

Leave it to Raphael to be so much of a control freak that he selected his wife’s fuck clothes.

She sat down beside her new fuck clothes.  Her mind drifted back to what should have been.  Gale was sweet and romantic.  His romantic lines were cheesy and self-indulgent and long , but they worked, and they were beautiful.

The night before he proposed when they were in his tent, Gale knelt between her thighs and she smiled up at him in love and desire.  He whispered to her  “You are the one that I truly love.  You are everything to me, and I desire to spend my life entirely with you.”

The day after they had become betrothed, Gale had been stricken with some sort of severe illness that even Shadowheart’s magic and a restorative potion failed to cure.  His chest felt tight, and his forehead clammy and feverish.  He was aching to the bone and looking so haggard that he needed an incredible amount of rest and tending.  Tav stayed with him the entire time.  She wiped his face and chest with a perpetually-cold wet cloth to break the fever and served him broth that would have been warmer had it not been served by a worried Tav.  He lay his head in her lap as she stroked his hair back and traced soothing circles on his upper back.  She felt a mild pain in her chest that he was so ill, but still she tried to soothe him gently to sleep.  “My love, be careful that you don’t also succumb to my condition,” he murmured gently.  “Just rest, I’ll take care of you.  I love you,” she said quietly.  She moved to lay behind him, his back pressed into her chest.  She continued to trace his shoulders gently to soothe him to sleep.  When he drifted off into sleep, she moved her arm to rest gently over his waist, her body continuing to cool his fever.  After a long time had passed, she fell asleep holding him gently.

There were no more honeyed romantic words being spoken to her now.  There was no more care and sweetness.  There was no more afterglow.

The ring box had mysteriously found its way into her room.  Fucking Raphael.   It sat unopened on the nightstand.  She tried her best to ignore it.

There was a crack from behind her, and Tav turned to see a younger version of her new husband standing behind her, wearing something that was somehow more revealing than the preselected lace smallclothes laying by her side.  This must be the incubus.

“You must be Haarlep.  Raphael told me about you,” Tav introduced herself with an irritated twist.

The incubus grinned broadly.  “You must be the master’s new pet .”  Her jaw clenched.  The incubus looked her over hungrily.  “Or wife , I suppose.  Aren’t they much the same thing, hmm?”

“What are you doing here?  These are supposed to be the Archduchess’s chambers.”  She was hoping she could point this out and wave them away like Raphael had done with the Archivist, but Haarlep was not to be deterred so easily.

Their body rapidly began to transform from a Raphael-ish form into something that was still a Raphael-ish form but decidedly more feminine.  Tav was stunned.

“Then it is a good thing I have an Archduchess Raphael form,” they grinned, and a high, light purr rumbled through their chest.

Haarlep prowled around her room, picking up and investigating several decorations placed on the furnishings before disinterestedly setting them back down again.  They walked over to her wardrobe and quickly opened it up, rifling through the contents.  Tav observed silently.

“A surprising amount of blue,” they mused.  “Raphael so very much prefers red.”

“I don’t care what Raphael prefers,” Tav deadpanned.  “I like blue.”

“You are a fascinating creature , I cannot wait to play with you when the master allows.”  Their voice was sultry and smooth with a single touch of growling on the word ‘play.’

Haarlep removed a red silk dress with a plunging neckline and high slit up the side from Tav’s wardrobe, showing it to her.  They traced the embroidery on the bodice with a gentle claw.  The stitching was silver with a pattern reminiscent of the smoke from the fires of Avernus.

“If you wear this to dinner tomorrow, I doubt the master will last long enough even to get you to bed.”

“I am not fucking Raphael in a hallway.”

Haarlep’s grin somehow widened even further with sinister glee, showing entirely too many teeth.  “My darling, that’s not what I meant .”  Tav raised an eyebrow but was wary of inquiring further.  This felt too much like some kind of test.  There was no way in Hells that she was trusting the incubus.  Though if what the incubus said was true, she might have just made a new best friend.  Now that Astarion is dead to her.

“You are quite beautiful,” Haarlep complimented her.  “I can see why he won’t shut up about you.”

Tav narrowed her eyes slightly, intrigued but certain that she was dealing with an unreliable source.  “What did he say?”

“It would be simpler to find things he hasn’t said,” the incubus suggested.  The Archduchess form of Raphael adopted their best impression of Raphael himself with their feminine voice.  Smug, self-confident, and a delightful mockery that Tav was sure the master of the house would find undignified.   

“My Little Mouse, such a clever and beautiful creature.”  Haarlep paused for dramatic effect in much the same way the real Raphael would have done.  “My Little Mouse, soon to be a fine Queen of the Hells.  My Beloved Lady, such a tempting treat being slowly seduced by the calls of the infernal sin and temptation.  My Dearest Mouse, please read Infernal to me.”

Tav was surprised to find herself in a fit of laughter, smiling at the delighted incubus.  “Does he always call me his Little Mouse or his Lady or does he bother using my actual name sometimes?”

“It depends on his moods,” Haarlep explained.  “I have been called a great deal of names.  He hasn’t wanted my Archduke Raphael form in a long, long time, since around the time when he met you, I believe.”  Haarlep was sauntering around her room.  They stopped at her bedpost, gripped it firmly in their claws, and rolled their hips upwards in a mock thrust before swinging around the posts in the start of a naughty dance.  “He only wants my Archduchess form now, and he uses your names when we lay together.  How dull.”

Haarlep seductively swung around the post of her bed again.  This time, their leg was lifted high with their bare thigh wrapped around the post and their back seductively arched, pushing their breasts out as far as they could.  They stopped and turned to look back at Tav, holding her gaze.

“ Tavara ,” Haarlep said in a breathy feminine moan, legs still wrapped around the post of her bed.  “ My Little Mouse .” Another breathy moan followed it and an exaggerated thrust.  “It gets quite old, but he never seems to tire of it.”

Tav was dumbstruck.  “He wanted you to be me?”  Haarlep stopped trying to 'make love' to the post of her bed.

“You innocent little rodent,” Haarlep chuckled and their smile became more of a smug sneer.  “He has had you in every story he can imagine.  You can’t imagine the lines we’ve recited together.”

Gods.

“He has so many favorites, but there is something he loves to murmur to us right after he finishes inside of us.”  She didn’t want to know.  She didn’t want to know.  She didn’t want to know.  “Do you want to hear it?” Haarlep purred.

“Fuck no.”   She knew regardless of what she answered the incubus was going to tell her what Raphael was like when he came.  While she also knew she was likely about to experience this set of noises firsthand, she also hoped that lightning bolts would somehow strike Raphael down from the clouds of Avernus, so his orgasm noises would no longer be a point of discussion.

“You are the only one I truly desire.  You are everything to me, and I will spend eternity with you.”   Haarlep’s voice had slipped back into Raphael’s and the entire statement was much less lewd than she expected.

It could have been worse.

“He loves me to play pretend with him.  There was one scenario in particular that caught his fancy several tendays ago, do you want to hear it?”  Haarlep’s tail swished behind them eagerly, excited by the idea of sharing their master’s secrets.

“No.”  Her voice was insistently, but the incubus continued to grin.  “Fine,”   Tav relented.  She buried her face in her hands.  She needed to hear it but didn’t want to hear it.

“He had a strange favorite for a short while.  It was a scenario that he made me act out with him, and I’m sure you know he loves his rehearsals to make the actors ready for their performances.”

“Gods above, what sick things did he have you do while you pretended to be me?” Tav demanded.

“It was quite simple, you see, when he lay with me.  He wanted to be on top, which until recently was a very unusual request.”  Haarlep trailed off, but Tav was incensed to know the rest of the story.  Of course the incubus was going to go straight to the sex part and ignore anything other than fucking.

“What else did he do to you while he pretended that you were me?” Tav insisted again.  She pushed down a feeling of disgust.  Today really had to be the worst day of her life, easily eclipsing the time she was stabbed to death by Hook Horrors and revivified back prematurely and still in peril only to be subjected to a second demise caused by additional Hook Horror stabbing.

“He comforted you, my Little Mouse.  He had me cry on his shoulder oh so many times before he promised to take care of me forever, and then we lay together.”  Haarlep’s voice rose to a high pitch, pretending to be a damsel in distress.  Tav wondered if that damsel was exactly what Raphael felt she was.

“Why was I crying?” Tav demanded.

“Someone had died , Tavara.  Raphael was there to make sure that you were alright and not lonely.”

“Who?”  Tav’s voice raised in anger.  “Who died?” she demanded.  She already suspected she knew the answer.

“I don’t know,” Haarlep taunted.  “Some sort of wizard.”

“What the actual fuck,” Tav demanded.  Again, the incubus seemed to take her words as a request for more bedroom-specific information rather than offering the broader context..

Haarlep laid down on the other side of her bed.  “I wouldn’t worry about the actual fuck,” they clarified.  “If it is anything like he rehearsed, he probably won’t last for more than a few thrusts.  That is how excited you make him.”

Tav buried her face in her hands again.  This really couldn’t be happening.  

“Who was that wizard?  Golly?  Gaul?  Gull? ”  Haarlep attempted half-heartedly.  

“Gale,” Tav responded dryly.

“That’s the one!”  Haarlep exclaimed with glee.

“Gale and I were betrothed once,”  Tav explained.

“That explains it!” Haarlep stood up on her bed before quickly jumping into the air and flopping gleefully on their back on Tav’s mattress.  “It was only maybe two tendays at most of pretending to feel that sorrow for the untimely demise of your wizard.  Do not worry, Little Wife,  I cried so much at his loss.”

“So did I,” Tav answered directly.  Haarlep crawled over across her bed, their grin deep.

“Then I guess that is something we both share, in addition to our master’s bed.”  There was a quick wink before Haarlep disappeared in a puff of smoke and embers.

Fuck.  

FUCK!

Tav curled her legs in towards her face and cried.  More tears.  More ice.

Eventually, she heard a knock at the door to her chamber.  “Go away!” she yelled through the door.

“My Lady, the master of the house has requested that you join him in his chambers this evening,” a maid responded.

Tav groaned and looked again at the gifted lingerie, slightly rumpled from Haarlep playing on her bed.  There really wasn’t going to be any getting out of this one.

“Very well,” she responded, letting out a big sigh. 

Tav let down the Trobairitz knot, and waves of brunette curls cascaded down her back.  She set the silver bracelet on the nightstand next to the ring box.  She washed her face with warm water to remove the lingering kohl from her eyes in which dried and frozen tears had traced dark, jagged lines down her cheeks.  She removed her gown and let it fall into a crumpled heap on the floor below her.  She donned the lace lingerie and looked at herself in the mirror.  Her nipples were visible through the holes in the lace.  The bottoms also covered up very little of her sex.  The patches of glimmering white scales on her chest, inner thighs, and abdomen were on full display, shimmering in the light from the windows.

She quickly covered up with the red silk robe, which went down to her mid thigh.  She felt strangely bashful, never having had a problem being naked in front of others before.

Tav left her quarters and walked to the master’s suite next door.  She placed three sharp knocks on the door.

“Dear wife, please do come in.”  The lust in Raphael’s voice was obvious even through the door.  She entered.

Her room was already spacious and luxurious, but Raphael’s suite was at least twice as large.  Thick curtains were drawn in every window, and the room was bathed in the light of several dozen candles.  Beams of reddish Avernus light peeked out from underneath the curtains.  A large ornate canopy bed sat at the center of the room, made up with deep red silk sheets and curtains.  Two goblets and another bottle of red wine lay waiting on one of the nightstands.

The master of the house rose from a settee on the right side of the room, and moved to greet her.  He was still in his cambion form but shirtless, wearing loose black silk lounging pants.  Tav was surprised to see that Raphael had decided not to wear the Crown of Karsus while they consummated their marriage.

Tav walked towards him and stopped at the center of the room.  Raphael approached her slowly, like she was a skittish animal, staying a respectable arm's length away.  His vision roamed her form, stopping briefly at the sash on her robe.

“You are so beautiful, my wife.”  He raised a hand to her face, cupping her cheek gently.  He smoothed his thumb over her cheekbone, careful not to scratch her with his claws.  His thumb ran lightly across her lower lip, and he swallowed hard.  Tav passively looked up at him, gazing into his eyes.  Everything contained within them was pure, undiluted lust.

Raphael pulled her into his arms.  He lowered his face towards hers and entwined his right hand in her hair, leaning down to accommodate her much smaller form.  His lips met hers with a needy, demanding kiss.  His left hand effortlessly undid the tie on her robe, letting it fall open before his hand came to rest on her hip.  Tav closed her eyes and returned the fervor in his kiss, tentatively resting her arms around his neck.  She pulled him in gently before breaking the kiss, stepping backwards.  A low growl rumbled in Raphael’s chest as she put space between them, his hand still running through her hair.

His gaze upon her could have burned even more holes into the lace of the fuck clothes he selected for her.  His erection was straining his lounging pants and the look on his face was entitled and hungry.

The violations of her privacy.  The betrayal of her friends.  His fucking murder fantasies.   His manipulation and surprise proposal.  Everything weighed too heavily within her mind to allow for lust or arousal or even pretending.  

“I am going to sleep.  Goodnight, husband,” she said firmly.  She let the robe fall from her shoulders, walked to the far side of the bed and climbed under the covers.

Raphael stood there watching her, stunned.  She turned away from him to lay on her side, so she wouldn’t have to face his gaze or his commentary.  She just closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

After a few moments, Raphael crawled into the bed next to her.  He maneuvered so that his chest pressed warmly against her back.  His large, clawed hand traced gently down her shoulder and down her side, running over her curves and the hems of the lingerie.  His hand eventually came to rest on her stomach.  His wing gently engulfed them both, and his tail found a sleeping spot curled around her thigh.

There was a quiet snap and the room went completely dark.  Tav felt a whisper in her ear.  “Goodnight, wife.”

She drifted off to sleep.

[munsonbrackets]

Tutor Astarion

https://href.li/?https://www.youtube.com/shorts/lHIfng6qd90 IDK why this makes me feel something, but I’m not mad about it.

Like imagine being some shitstain of a student (on purpose lowkey) and Astarion having to tutor you because he’s the best in the class, which of course he is considering he is a fucking elf. Like why wouldn’t he understand Elvish and Espruar?

And at first, you were genuinely trying to appease him. Every teacher you have ever had has told you that your pronunciation is remarkable, no matter what script you spoke. Really, your accent might actually just be the only thing preventing you from failing this class. And you might also not be failing because Astarion, top of the class (fucking showoff), is tutoring you.

Truly, they could have given you anyone else, even Halsin tried to volunteer (but he was quickly shut down by the teacher). No. Your dear teacher decided to kill two birds with one stone in a very simple manner. By teaching them how to throw. Astarion seemed to severely dislike teaching others what he had so simply been raised with and you were going to probably fail this class.

And at first, you hated it as much as he did. The sneery remarks that he made, as though he was mad at your parents for not teaching you something as simple as Espruar, you would be quick to respond in an indifferent snide comment in infernal. A language that he was, funny enough, not familiar with. Which just seemed to frustrate him even further. 

But then he corrected you, he was right with his correction, but there was still something in that snappy tone and sneering face that made your heart skip a beat.

The assignment was simple, you thought. Send a letter designated to your teacher. The letters' contents could be a memory, a short trip or a fun story you had come up with. And while you were supposed to have said ‘aerister’, a teacher, instead you accidentally said ‘ageas’, a guard.

- - -

Astarion looked at you from underneath a quirked brow and a slightly open mouth as if to ponder if you had finally gone mad or maybe to silently say ‘are you stupid?’, which obviously weren’t the words that came out of his mouth. “You wish to send this letter to your guard?”

You looked back at him with the same sneer, but also intense confusion. Did ageas mean guard? You swore you remembered it meant teacher… Astarion made no effort to tell you what ‘teacher’ was, so you spoke up instead “Obviously not! I know that ageas means guard! What I meant to say was-” You furiously scrolled a couple pages in your dictionary, trying to remember what ‘teacher’ was in Elduran, “‘aethus’.”

Astarion’s face dropped into a plain old sneer, without the look of your stupidity in his mind, and you felt a shit eating grin spread across your face. You were right, you had definitely been right-

“The word you’re looking for is ‘aerister’.” He sneers out, obvious pronunciation when he says it, so that you might repeat it. But there isn’t a moment for you to speak before Astarion snickers and speaks in a playfully condescending tone- 

“Unless you wish to send this letter to a male harper, which I won’t shame you for, it just simply isn’t the assignment.”

And you feel your heart thump. One hard heartbeat that makes all of the air in your lungs metaphorically rip out of your body, makes a tingle shimmy itself up your spine to make all of your hairs stand on edge, makes your heart feel like it has beat its last.

You could feel the muscles around your eyes spasm in small, practically unnoticeable, twitches as you quickly blurt out- 

“Aerister! Anyways, are we done now?”

Before you allow Astarion to sneer something back, you start throwing your pens into their respective places and leave quicker than you ever have. You only feel the heat of embarrassment creep up your neck after you are fully out of view of his gaze. With an exit like that, he must be just feeling…something? You didn’t feel like worrying about it and you head down the hall, heading home to figure out your own thoughts before you worry about his.

[anukulee]

My Recommendations (pt 2)

Running-Out-Of-Time (Author Masterlist)

Babybluebex (Author Masterlist)

He Won’t Dance With Me

More Than Words

A Beauty Beyond Compare

Me Or Her

When It’s Still

You Already Know (Neil) (pt 2)

Look At You (Neil)

She Is My Best Friend (Neil)

Mixup (Robert Fisher, Interception)

My Lips On Yours (J. Robert Oppenheimer)

A Down To The Wire Promise (Robert Fisher, Interception)

Moon Dance

Love Takes Two (Emmett, A Quiet Place 2) (pt 2)

Aces

BoldyVoid (Masterlist)

aemondsbabe (masterlist)

sapphirewrites (masterlist)

thought—bubble (masterlist)

sylasthegrim (masterlist)

Post Pregnancy Sex

Honey On My Tongue

Who Needs Cupid (Billy Washington)

Taunt Praise (Micheal Gravey)

I Remember You

Do You Love Me? You See Aemond’s Eye

Jealousy Jealousy

Tutor Me (Micheal Gravey)

Stick It Out Till The End (Micheal Gravey)

Leverage (Micheal Gravey) Series

The Unexpected Paramour

Show Him Up (Micheal Gravey)

The Hiddlesbum (Masterlist)

Oliwrites (Masterlist)

Smolvenger (Masterlist)

Vbecker10 (Masterlist)

FanficForMyFavs (Masterlist)

Litklœði (Multiple Chapters)

The Hobby (Multiple Chapters)

The Tavern Prince (Prince Hal)

Pretty Girl

Too Small

Magnus Martinsson (Masterlist)

Just The Way You Are

Bullets (Magnus Martinsson)

Valentine’s Date

Single Mother (Headcanons)

My Lord (Prince Hal)

Feelings

Love at First Sight (or should I walk by again?) (pt 2)

These Wicked Games (Multi Chapters)

Tall, Dark, and Morally Gray

Random Men

It’s You (Theo)

Being In Love Sucks (Rodrick)

Your Pretty Heart (Billy Russo)

One Night Stands and Drunken Confessions (Billy Hargrove)

Starring Respectfully (Darrel Curtis)

I Wish It Would Rain (Johnny Castle)

Oops (pt 2)

Play Pretend (pt 2)

It’s A Date

The Splashes Of Rain On The Roof

The Cheerleader

Nothing Else Matters

LittleJuiceBox (Masterlist)

KittenInEden (Masterlist)

The Case Book (Masterlist)

LovrsSpell (Masterlist)

Dhampling (Masterlist)

Justporo (Masterlist)

theonewiththefanfics (masterlist)

ancuninfiles (masterlist)

fangswbenefits (masterlist)

lirotation (comic masterlist)

Perfect Fit

First In My Heart

Astarion With Straight Forward Reader (Headcanons)

Insecurities

That’s What I Call Repressed Sexual Tension

Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want

Queer’s-Gambit (Masterlist)

just-some-random-blogger (masterlist)

Capital

Second Choice

A Lemon Cake

Friends With Benefits

Am I Playing All Right Now?

Be Rough With Me

@aesonmae @asgards-princess-of-mischief @holdmytesseract @simplyholl @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @mochie85 @wheredafandomat @skymoonandstardust @lotsoflokilove23 @liminalpebble @lady-rose-moon @lokisbirdofhermes @lokisprettygirl @smolvenger @jennyggggrrr @xorpsbane @chantsdemarins @smolvenger @five-miles-over @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @villainousshakespeare @littledark11 @littlejuicebox @jokerflecker @ejoym

[miraculan-draws]

Blue blooded high elf houses are probably full of a lot of magic users. An area of study probably tutored/apprentices with the same level of requirement as like. Learning French in the 18th/19th century. I love giving Astarion "Arcane Trickster' because eventually, along with your cantrips, you can pick a wizard spell. But I actually say this because I think it would be. Comedy. If the gang was lingering back after the big vampire fight dramatically looking at Astarion's headstone and Gale was like "I know now is probably. A bad time. But I know like. Three "Ancunin's" in Waterdeep."

Also just generally would love more like. Elf stuff. Astarion in that CRISP elven armor in act 3 makes me WEAK he wears it so well. Also my Seldarine Drow MC trying to avoid being asked "what house" he is from, because he remembers but does not want to, and Astarion knowing the name of his but remembering nothing about it.

[baldurs-writers-3]

Character Studies: A Baldur's Gate 3 Rec List

This week, we have Character Studies! Check under the cut for nine fics that delve into the minds of our favorite adventurers, and as always, comment and kudos if you like them!

Under the Sussur Tree by spacesunderstairs (73751,Mature) Warnings: Child loss, violence, mild sexual content in later chapters Pairings: Astarion/Tav

Halinae is a reclusive drow infected with a mindflayer parasite, determined to find the only true friend she ever had before she turns: a young boy she tutored on the Savage Frontier.

Reccer says: I liked it!

Night time bitch, time for night time shit by Aliantic (19416,Teen) Warnings: N/A Pairings:

An anthology of short stories about life around camp, filling in some gaps, especially when Tav's either asleep or not around.

Reccer says: I love gapfiller fics that focus on small moments between the big events of the story, and this is a *great* series of gapfillers.

Lost in Frozen Fire by SadinaSaphrite (10333,Explicit) Warnings: Torture, the explicit tag is not bc of sex Pairings: Astarion & Jaheira

Ulma said the Gur would not hunt Astarion anymore, but she can't control all of them. Astarion has a no good very bad time when one Gur father tries to take revenge.

Reccer says: Astarion trying to move on post-canon and realizing he does have friends. Even if he has a bad time!

caught between the dark and the dreaming by Raayide (18925,Teen) Warnings: Pairings: Astarion & Karlach, Astarion & Wyll

What if Astarion was force fed klauthgrass? What if it was super effective on vampires?

Reccer says: Poor Astarion has a bad time, great exploration of his character and how he responds when forced to be honest

Those left behind by Gally (11944,Mature) Warnings: Astarion's past abused is mentioned a lot, but its not the focus Pairings: Astarion/Karlach, Astarion & Wyll, Astarion & Shadowheart, Astarion & Gale

Astarion and Karlach were in love! Then she burned up. Astarion has lost even more, but (un)life must go on. Post-canon exploration of what that might be like for him. Don't worry if it sounds dark, trust me, there's lots of humor here too!

Reccer says: Laugh or cry? No no, laugh AND cry!

Fool Me Once by cyranonic (6975,Mature) Warnings: None Pairings: Karlach & Gortash, Karlach & Astarion

A collection of vignettes showing Karlach growing loyal to one master manipulator and tyrant

Reccer says: Karlach is written SO WELL here, and the subtle manipulation is just perfect! And then Astarion's comfort at the end is just the cherry on top. Superb

a new light by planetundersiege (803,Mature) Warnings: None Pairings: Lae'zel/Shadowheart

After experiencing Shadowheart almost slitting her throat, Lae'zel gains a new appreciation for her.

Reccer says: A wonderful look into Lae'zel's mind as she navigates the conflict with Shadowheart

Break the Surface by stormandstarlight (4056,Teen) Warnings: Mention of drowning Pairings:

A musing on vampires, rivers, various silences, and the breaking thereof.

Reccer says: Oh I just loved this! It was incredibly evocative and poetic

Fury Oh Fury by Tinwoman (2762,Explicit) Warnings: None Pairings: Lae'zel/Shadowheart, Lae'zel/Karlach, Lae'zel/wyll, Lae'zel/gale, Lae'zel/Astarion,

Character study about how lae'zel would be with each if she took them as her lover.

Reccer says: It's just really interesting to me! I like how different each interaction is.

The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ!

Next week, we’ll be back with Tav Focused Fics!

[y-rhywbeth2]

'...music and song is highly prized [blah blah elves are literally neurologically wired for music and song and should take to it naturally by instinct] [...] 'Poetry is merely the last refuge of song for those [who can't sing] [...] 'Still those few pitiable elves without a talent for singing or poetry turn to story-writing.' - Cormanthyr: Empire of the Elves

OK, so, judging by the embroidered poetry from EA and the Poe, Astarion can't sing (or doesn't) and was potentially a disappointment to his childhood tutors/the family elder in charge of educating the clan's children, but at least they could pat themselves on the back consolingly and say 'at least our son isn't an author.'

[evillittlebirdie]

Salvation (Kar'niss/Tav)

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine

"Astarion deserves all the credit for this idea," Tav complimented with a smile. She stopped near the tree where, at the base, sat a bucket and a small bag.

"Where would you be if it wasn't for this creative brain?" Astarion delightedly responded. The two laughed, and Kar'niss pursed his lips.

Before Kar'niss could ruminate on the apparent insolence Astarion showed, his attention was taken away by Tav climbing the tree. He watched in interest as she swiftly moved through the limbs before settling on one near Kar'niss's height. "Kar'niss! Walk over here. I want to see if I'm high enough."

Kar'niss obeyed as though her command was as second nature as breathing. He walked over to her. His head reached the height of the branch she was perched on. "Perfect! I guessed correctly," Tav beamed. She straddled the limb and raised her hand against Kar'niss's hair.  

Ilhar grabbed Kar'niss's hair and pulled him from the vanity. Her manicured nails clawed into his scalp. There was no use protesting, but Kar'niss still squirmed against his mother's grip. She dragged him out of his bed-chamber and down the hallway. Servants and slaves scattered out of the way. Only one, a female duergar slave whose mind was far gone, lingered. They dutifully picked up the pieces of ribbon that fell from Kar'niss' hair. 

Kar'niss is slapped and berated for an infraction he doesn't remember committing. Ilhar says he disrespected his tutor. Kar'niss doesn't remember, but obviously, he must have. 

Kar'niss didn't move as Tav touched his hair. He kept his breath, ready to be hit for his committed transgressions. Instead, Tav explained, "If it's alright with you, I would really like to wash your hair. I didn't want to offer until I could figure out the logistics. I can't exactly ask you to lean into a basin." She gestured towards his body. 

The drider never had the misfortune of being thrown through the air. Still, Kar'niss imagined the sensation was similar to how he was feeling now. What she proposed served no purpose. His extra eyes could see the thin layer of grime that now appeared on Tav's fingers. 

Filthy creature. Putrid, rotting from the inside out. Fit only for caves and dirt. Blood, bile, mud, viscera, oil, matted, wiry-

 But suddenly, Tav's soft voice entered his mind. "Kar'niss."

The other voices scattered away once Tav's light entered his mind. Soothing and sweetly, she told him, "Please do this. Trust me."

His Majesty's Chosen commanded him. Alight with renewed purpose, Kar'niss ignored his mind's insults. He nodded in agreement and was rewarded with Tav's pearly smile.

Astarion grabbed the bucket and the bag. He held both items up high for Tav to grab. 

"It may be cold," She warned him as she waved her hand. The bucket suddenly filled with water. She sat on the side saddle on the limb and placed the bucket between her legs.  

"Ah yes, she warns the drider the water is cold. Not me." Astarion lamented. 

Kar'niss wished he could use one of his legs to kick the elf away. But he stopped himself. Astarion was obviously a pet favorite of Her Majesty's Chosen. Kar'niss would only need time to prove the vain elf's heresy. He could smell the elf's faithlessness. He believed in nothing. 

"For the hundredth time, I apologize," Tav sighed, rolling her eyes. "I'll remember that the next time your arms are so sore you can't lift them up."

Astarion huffed disrespectfully, his arms crossing his chest. "Hmph, well, I will leave you to your beauty parlor." Tav chuckled in response, waving to Astarion with her free hand.

Kar'niss was relieved to watch Astarion stroll off. "Can you tilt your head back for me?" Tav asked him. He forgot about Astarion and obeyed Tav. He tilted his head back, and the back of his neck hit the bucket's rim. 

The water that cascaded from Tav's hand was cool, but it wasn't the temperature that made Kar'niss flinch. How long had it been since he felt the water on his hair? He remembered his first few days on the surface. It rained one day, which was a very jarring event for him. And before that, it was when he fell into the water the first day he saw his reflection.

Kar'niss' heart twisted in mortification. It had been years then. So many years. His hygiene never bothered him before. He had grown used to the layers of dirt and dried blood. Before he was introduced to the Absolute, he was content. He had hoped that one day when she made him whole, he could be clean and pure. 

***

Tav didn't care to admit she had a secret motivation for washing Kar'niss's hair. She needed information. And she knew she could ply it out of him. 

Tav ran her fingers through Kar'niss's hair, pulling at the knots. Underneath the oil, Tav could tell his hair was strong and thick. It just needed some tender care. And she was happy to provide. She made sure to pull her fingers carefully through the tangles. She didn't want to hurt his scalp or accidentally pull more hair than necessary. She began to speak as she rinsed his hair, "I used to wash the hair of all my brothers and sisters. I came from a pretty big family. I was the oldest of twelve. What about you?"

"Only son. Disgrace," Kar'niss mumbled quietly, "Five sisters. Proud, proud daughters. All yathrin, priestesses of the spider bitch." 

Tav frowned at his self-depreciation. But didn't know if she should address it or not. She hesitated as she looked at the water. It was already brown, almost black from all the grime she cleaned. She placed her hand under his neck and eased him up. She could feel the hard shell of his exoskeleton rising up to his hairline, where there was a thin line of skin. She pretended not to hear the Kar'niss's breath catch in his throat. She pretended not to feel his pulse quicken. She ran her fingers through his hair, squeezing the excess water into the bucket. 

"You grew up very differently than me. I had six brothers and five sisters..." Tav disclosed as she tossed the bucket of dirty water on the ground below. She filled the pail again with clean water and returned his head to the bucket. 

"Six brothers..." Kar'niss echoed in amazement. Tav couldn't fault him for finding the situation strange. She heard that most noble Drow families allowed for two sons before they began to sacrifice the males. 

Tav reached her wet hand into the bag and pulled out the small bottle of rosemary oil. She poured half of the bottle's contents onto Kar'niss's hair and began to lather.

Kar'niss inhaled deeply, obviously picking up on the aroma of the oil. "Courtesy of Astarion," Tav explained, "No disrespect to my fellow companions, but he's the only one whose hair doesn't smell like lye." 

"Mistress likes this smell?"Kar'niss clarified. 

"Rosemary? Oh, I love it. I can do without that pomade he douses his hair in. But I love the scent," Tav imparted. 

Kar'niss hummed in response, a chirp vibrating in his throat.

Despite herself, Tav giggled softly and told him, "I like that sound you make. That little chirrup. It's cute." 

Kar'niss's extra eyes began to blink rapidly. "Mistress?" He called in confusion. Tav might as well be speaking Draconic rather than Common. 

Tav avoided his call and continued to later his hair in the water. His hair was as white as fallen snow now that it was clean. She moved her fingers to his scalp and began to massage the skin. She was concerned when Kar'niss started to tense. But slowly, he relaxed under her ministrations. 

"Moonrise Towers. That is where you were taking those pilgrims, correct?" Tav inquired. 

"Yes. They sought to pray in my Queen's glory. Our Queen," Kar'niss replied. "Her Majesty's Chosen, General Thorm, is preparing an army."

Fuck.

"An army, you say..." Tav continued on, moving her fingers along scarred skin. How long had it been since Kar'niss had been touched by anyone? How long had it been since a kind, delicate hand gave him mercy? She should be ashamed of herself for taking advantage of him. 

"They shall follow, or they shall submit," Kar'niss answered reverently. A soft moan vibrated in his throat. He bit his lips to quiet it. "But General Thorm cannot move yet."

"Oh?" Tav tried to choose her words carefully. As far as Kar'niss knew, she was one of the Aboslute's Chosen. She rinsed Kar'niss's hair again and allowed the bucket to drop. She reached into the bag to pull out a comb. She brushed through Kar'niss's hair. "He is searching for the weapon." She thought about the Astral Prism safely tucked away at camp. 

"Not much longer," Kar'niss hummed. A purr vibrated in his tone. "He'll find it soon. That and the Nightsong. Balthazar is close to finding it."

The Nightsong. So, this mysterious artifact was connected to the cult as well. Just as Tav suspected. Well, Tav had to find the Nightsong before this Balthazar did.

Tav didn't press her luck. She finished brushing Kar'niss's hair and began to braid it. The movement was as second nature to her as any other caretaking activity. 

"Mistress?" Kar'niss spoke, his voice tentative and still vibrating. 

"Yes, Kar'niss?" Tav acknowledged, taking care of her styling.

***

Kar'niss allowed his mind to wander to a place he had no right to be in. He thought about turning his body to face her. He would reach to pick up Tav in his arms. He would cradle her against his chest. His abominable body would ache, searching for a release he could never have. He cursed the Spider Queen. But he would do what he could to please His Majesty's Chosen. Kar'niss had served well and was granted a tender touch. And he would spend the rest of his life cherishing Her if only Tav would touch him one more time. 

"Never mind," Kar'niss answered. He was a coward. And he deserved to rot in the shadows rather than have any grace. "Forgive me for distracting you."

"No forgiveness necessary," Tav commented in her affectionate tone. She gave his hair a final pull before taking a long ribbon from the bag. She used the ribbon to tie his hair back.

Pretty things long ago. Far and long ago. Ilhar wants me to marry. I do not want to marry. I want to be a cleric like my sisters. Ilhar will be proud of me. Lolth will shine upon me. 

"You look absolutely stunning. Your hair is beautiful," Tav remarked. 

Kar'niss hesitantly brought his hand to his hair. It was still damp, but he could already feel the difference. He ran his fingers down the braid to the silk ribbon that tied it together. 

"Thank you, thank you, Mistress..." Kar'niss gratefully murmured, feeling tears form in his eyes. He blinked his eyes close, averting his gaze from Tav. "I feel my strength returning with each day. Maybe soon I can join you on your travels," Kar'niss offered, desperation tinging his voice. He could feel his abdomen tremble in anticipation. 

He would draw blood for her. 

[heylittleriotact]

Open Invitation - Twenty-Five (The Fall of The House of Oblodra)

In which:

We hit the ground running with some intense smut: Astarion gets pretty possessive because he's going through just... so many emotions

Astarion drowns in angsty inner-turmoil in a place with a shadow curse on it

Astarion meets a creepy super-fan

Echo is a Mean Girl cosplaying as an elven crust-punk (ice for your burn, madam?)

Excerpt:

The drow glanced up from her table at Echo’s greeting and she set down the glass beaker she had been carefully measuring a powdered brown substance into. She had a shrewd face and that self-important way about her that was so very common with drow.  She returned Echo’s greeting, and her eyes flicked over to him for a fleeting instant before her focus returned to the petite woman between himself and Gale. One could glean much from a person based on what their eyes held, and Astarion knew right away that he did not care for the way the drow had looked at him. In that small glance he had witnessed a sequence of curiosity, intrigue, hunger, and finally entitlement: she wanted him - or something from him - and that look alone did nothing so much as make him feel like an object once more.  He moved even closer to Echo - they were practically touching. He ghosted his thumb against the side of her hand just to physically feel her next to him.  The drow introduced herself, bowed her head, and did a strange little half-curtsy that was designed specifically to impart the unspoken understanding that despite the frivolous social decorum, she thought the high elf before her was beneath her - True Soul or not. It was a slight that was impossible to miss and he wasn’t the one brought up in a noble house under an etiquette tutor from the feywild.  “It is a pleasure to stand before a True Soul,” she oozed, her eyes flicking back to him once more as if she was struggling to keep them to herself, “And your pale companion…”

 Pairing: Tav (High Elf Feylock) x Astarion

Rating: Explicit

Themes: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Cycle Breaking, Happy Ending (but not without a lot of pain first), very involved archfey patron.

Disclaimer: Complex trauma delving with direct and implied reference to various forms of abuse, including rape/sexual assault, as well as implied self-harm, including suicidal thoughts/behaviour. Explicit violence. Smuuut.