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marimosalad · 1 day

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

Ascended Astarion x Female Reader | E | 2K

For @starryjuicebox so he can tuck you into bed

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

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

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#ascended astarion #ascended astarion smut #ascended astarion fic #astarion x reader #reader x astarion #astarion x female reader #astarion smut #astarion x f!reader #aftercare

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marimosalad · 2 days

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I'm crying I love Batstarion!!!!!

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marimosalad · 5 days

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You guys enjoyed Neil as Astarion and Astarion as Neil, so now I bring you…

Silverbough in a Suit

or Halsin in the flavor of Dave Jones @ the BAFTAs. I was SUPPOSED to be doing something else, yet this happened instead.

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marimosalad · 6 days

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marimosalad · 6 days

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Gorgeous portrait by @marimosalad of my durge Kitena with her vampire lord husband 🦇. Isn't he so intimidating? 😍 I love them so much, looks like he's covering her chest :3

#🦇🦇🦇#bg3 art #bg3 durge #dark urge #my art #marimosalad #digital portrait #ych commission #oc commission #portrait commission #oc art #batstarion #digital art #tav art #durge art

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marimosalad · 7 days

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“The Seventh Day:” filled with self indulgent A!A behavior (Astarbation) in “Antics of the Newly Ascended”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 1.9K of Astarion self-love

🎨 by @marimosalad full nsfw on X 🍆💦

Summary: Left behind, Astarion occupies his Ascended self first with some uncharacteristically (selfishly-motivated) selflessness, followed by some self-served reward in anticipation for your return home.

CW: Male masturbation (Astarbation?), panty sniffer/theif, he’s trying to be a helpful (selfishly), self-indulgent Astarion, Reflection Appreciation™️, he would be such a messy partner (in so many ways)

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

The Seventh Day…

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“Oh… darling, I’m hurt. I thought we had something special…”

“You always say that, and you’re always hurt…” you fold your arms and tilt your chin up at him.

“Am not,” Astarion fires back, petulant like a child, until he realizes everyone is watching your exchange. He straightens his spine and picks the pretend lint off the cuff of his sleeve. “You go right along… you’re the leader after all, and if you think you can finish your business without the Vampire Ascendant in your ranks, then go, have fun…”

You level that glare at him that lets him know you see right past his facade to the bullshit underneath.

“No, really,” he purrs, “you go, I’ll just stay here while… you do all the hard work.” He gives you that arrogant smirk and tilt of his head, that makes you war inside whether you want to slap him silly or fuck him senseless. He can see it… in your thoughts, in the way your heart pounds slow and harder as his eyes look down your armored figure. “I’ll just stay here, tend the home fires and find little ways to comfort myself over your absence, darling.”

He flashes his fanged smirk at you, your nostrils flaring wide with irritation and lust. “Don’t make a mess,” you taunt. “Enjoy your alone time.” With that you spin on your heel and your chosen three follow.

Wyll in particular laughs loudest. “Don’t worry, once he finds a mirror, he’ll be entertained for hours, I’m sure.”

The group chortles as they shut the door to their rooms in the Elfsong, but not before you throw one more look over your shoulder at your lover. He’s just smirking, irritated and conflated despite his wounded pride, making a show for you in that one moment of unbuckling his armor to drop it at his feet.

You shake your head and smile, all the irritation you have melted into love as you blow him a kiss. Then you shut that door.

The instant the door is shut, Astarion grimaces and throws the rest of his armor to the ground in a huff. Petulant? Yes, but also hurt. He looks around the empty suite of rooms, collecting his armor, he decides to actually put it away properly for once back in his rooms. Your rooms. Besides, he has no interest in watching Scratch nap by the fireplace, or risk any of the other ‘strays’ who have joined along the way come up and bother him.

With a discontented sigh, Astarion slinks his way into your rooms alone. That open chest for his armor is so close inside the door, but he sets it down on the floor. See how she likes that… he smirks, imagining your usual comments made under your breath about his messiness as you insist on tidying up. You’ll have to step over it when you come back exhausted and bloodied.

A slight pang of guilt tweaks his gut, his eyes settle on it again, that pile of his armor… the stack of messy clothes—yours and his— discarded hurriedly last night before your fucked… A slight disgruntled smile crosses his face. Maybe… just this once…. He could entertain himself in a different way.

He starts putting the armor in the trunk piece by piece, and with each one he starts to think about how much you will smile as you see your rooms.

Another piece in the trunk… he can almost feel your blush color your cheeks at his thoughtfulness. Your gratitude will be palpable… and you will want to shower him with affection… willingness… Astarion sighs to think about how you will positively reek of sweat and blood and arousal when you see what he’s done for you, his darling.

He closes the lid of the storage chest with an eager groan, that ache in his groin blooming slightly just at the thought of what will come once you’re home. You’ll positively worship at his feet for taking such good care of you…

That ache burgeons into a full erection at the image he’s conjured in his mind. With one final grunt, he picks up the pile of discarded clothing from last night, setting it properly in the basket, one rumpled thing of fabric at a time in the corner to be laundered later. One hand adjusts his erection, the other holds the last piece of fabric from the floor. Your undergarments.

He pauses, catching your scent in the air just as he wraps his hand around himself…

… he’s just trying to fix that hardness… he tells himself. But he can’t help but give that cock in his grasp a little rub.

He hisses, trying to catch his breath, but his nose only fills with your scent stronger the longer he holds your small clothes in his grip.

“Fuck it,” he growls to himself, unceremoniously sitting himself on the edge of the bed, surrounded by a tidy room. Surely, he deserves his own reward. And your own laziness last night to dispose of your underwear properly has just gifted him with a great incentive. That soft fabric, inundated with your musk, makes his mouth water. He just… has to…

He presses it to his nose, his cock freed from the top of his leathers as he slowly starts to caress it. It feels so good in his hand: the perfect length, the flawless width, the impressive hardness he always gets that makes every vein rise to the surface like marble. The masterpiece of a body that he is, he smirks to himself.

Another deep whiff of that delicious scent, he looks to the side, that large mirror so perfectly placed across from the bed, his idea. His eyes flit between watching his own cock pulse in his fist, staring at the perfection is his own reflection, and closing his eyes to take another deep lung-full of your scent.

Intoxicating, the beat of his own warm hand matches that pulse of his heart, a pounding so insistent in those veins. So steady and growing more pronounced even as he still works himself into bliss. Astarion gives a contented sigh, his thumb catching over that sweet, weeping slit to wet his cock head with early cum.

Indulgent, the way the faded ghost of your musk compliments his own as it grows with every leaking stroke he makes over his own shaft. No wonder you two are so destined for greatness, so perfect together… your bodies made for one another on some primal level, right down to your scents.

A few breaths catch in his throat, the corner of his eye now fixed on that mirror. He pauses to pull his shirt up higher, his leathers down lower, wanting to see more of himself, a body that has ruined so many… Small wonder, he laughs a bit darkly, a bit proudly. The edges of his abdominals protrude, just right, that deep v of his muscles drawing the eye inexorably to that now-glistening cock. Even his balls, so smooth and round and tight now as he feels the pleasure building deep in his core.

For once, now, this body is his to savor, to command and pleasure.

“Ahh…” the thought of reclaiming himself makes his cock leap almost out of his own hand. “Delicious,” he groans to no one but himself. Leaning back, he lets his hips buck into his hand a bit, just for a little extra show… a little more stimulation as his mouth starts to hang slack. He lets that fabric treasure of your underwear slip off his face, just a bit, so he can admire the way his own fangs glint in the sunlight.

Now, those weapons behind his lips, those fangs, those are something just for him, a decadence no one gets to enjoy but you… and himself now of course. With a groan, he longs to sink them into flesh, to feel that first burst of blood as it breaks through skin to coat his hungry tongue. And in his carelessness, he finds it, nipping his own lip to taste his own ascendant blood.

Rich… full… powerful… familiar… he groans. Incredible that you get to drink from him, what a treat for his consort and for himself. The thought of you suckling from his own neck, the play of your breath on his skin as you feed, shivers run down the base of his spine, making his muscles clench and his cock buck harder into his hand.

You’ll be so touched when you see what he’s done for you, his little act of humility to gain your immense gratitude… fuck… it’ll be worth it. The back breaking labor he’s done to please you and make you smile and see his love for you still, even with all he’s become.

Your eyes will sparkle, your lips will arch in that come-hither smile you give him… you won’t be able to resist letting him take you right then and there, however he wants…

His eyes flash to the mirror, the paint of blush on his cheeks and tips of his ears…. It makes his fist grip tighter, his hand beat faster to chase that pressure that needs release. The breath catches in his lungs, his teeth gritting as he feels his balls tighten and cock thicken as he strokes faster and faster…

Another glance at his beloved reflection— that slow seep of pearly cum leaking from his cock… perfection, seduction incarnate, he smirks to himself as he arches and his head cranes backwards. Grunting, sighing, he licks his lips as that pressure in his balls bursts at last, a few more erratic bucks into his fist, as he forces his eyes open to watch.

He juts his hips out forward, almost off the edge of the bed, angled just right to watch his cum explode out gloriously. The reflection, the pulsing he feels, the warmth that drips on his hand…

Head hanging down, tongue licking his lips, he watches as his cock twitches a few more times, that release overwhelming him as he huffs with open mouth. Drips of his cum spatter here and there on the floorboards, the few offending signs of…

The door swings open, you stand panting in its frame, a bit bloodied but none of it your own. Your sharp eyes take in the scene… your love panting, cock in hand, rosy post-coital cheeks flaring a hot pink as you catch him in his indulgence. And all you can do is smirk, knowing you have the upper hand on him, shaking your head as he starts to sputter excuses.

Then you notice what he holds in his other hand, your discarded undergarments from last night. Now your cheeks flame so hot, you’re pretty sure even your undead pale skin is blushing. “What…” but you swallow the question. Why ask it… you know full well what he was doing with your intimates. “I’ll skip the question and just point out that I left you alone for an hour… and you’ve made…” you smirk wickedly as you cross to kneel before him, “… such a mess.”

“Actually, darling, you’ve failed to see that I cleane—”

But before he can get whiny and defensive, you silence him, wrapping your mouth around his still, weeping cock. You moan around his length, not giving it lots of force, just a lazy bob of your head, a slow lick of your tongue. A few swirls of your lips laps all the extra cum from his velvety skin. Then you pull off of him, grinning with all your own self-righteous taunting. “That’s… how you clean, my lord.”

#my soul has left my body #rip me i guess #astarion smut #astarbation #ascended astarion #ascended astarion smut #masturbation #Astarion jerking it #self love #can you blame him tho #astarion x reader #astarion fanfic

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marimosalad · 7 days

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More thoughts about Ascended Astarion! (LONG IM SORRY LOL) First off, I love all versions of Astarion. His character is so well written and all of his arcs deserve praise and attention no matter what your personal opinion of them are. The devs did an incredible job. When people go "ugh he's ruined I didn't want this" My dear, with all due respect. This is the dark fantasy romance option. Emphasis on the fantasy. It's not like he's the only option. You chose to romance the vampire. The game warns you of what exactly you're about to do multiple times. You willingly help him murder thousands of people for freedom. A vampire who was a literal slave for longer than he was even alive for just got a MASSIVE amount of power. He has had NOTHING for so long. Yeah, he's gonna be a little weird and drunk off it for a while. AND YET the entire time afterwards, you are still completely in charge. Yes he gets a little dommy but you can walk away at literally any point. He asks you to kneel and obey to establish trust and a dynamic. Then, he gets right down on the floor with you. He's either gentle or rough based on your choice. If you don't like the vibe just break up with him at that point like he literally lets you do. Or, even just reload the damn save. When Astarion ascends, Neil says it best. His mask is off and he's allowed to be at his most terrible with no fear. He doesn't have to perform or be aloof as a distraction from the pain anymore. He was never good aligned. But now, he has the power and ability to give himself and his favourite person the life he thinks they wanted. Otherwise why would you ascend him? His love language becomes acts of service and gifts. He ADORES tav to almost obsession. He's always doting on them and calling them his. The ritual only amplifies that. "but what about what he says if you convince him not to go through with it" OF COURSE he's going to make you feel good about your choice!!! This is a video game where literally everyones life is soley based on your choices. And there is a bit of a bias towards being a "good character" at the current point. I think patch 7 will remedy that a bit with the new endings. And if you do break up with him, he lashes out and says some extremely hurtful things. Because you just broke his heart. It's an extremely normal response to someone being completely blindsided. He thought you wanted this. He justifies things to himself that he will be ok and would have fucked it up somehow anyways so it's for the best. Not even to mention ascended Astarion does not make you just a regular spawn. You quite literally become his vampire spouse. He thanks you for putting your trust in him. Then eventually you become a true vampire with time. He says you will drink his blood. That makes you a true vampire. He wants to make sure tav doesn't lose their damn mind after being turned. If you wanna learn more about vampire spouses in DnD I highly reccomend doing some google searches. It's fascinating. Is ascending him the right thing to do? No. Is keeping him a spawn the right thing to do? NO. He should never have had to deal with this at all. But actions have consequences and choosing the version of him you want for YOUR playthrough should not be frowned upon. The game lets you be evil for a reason. I almost always convince him not to go through with the ritual. But ascended Astarion + durge is a power couple and the vibes are immaculate for when I wanna be a little shit. Just have fun with the game! The devs made all these character arcs for you to explore! Thanks for reading <3

#ascended astarion #bg3

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marimosalad · 8 days

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WIP game:

Thank you @bardic-inspo and @starryjuicebox 💞💞

{I’m usually horribly forgetful for tag games, but I managed this one!}

Rules: make a new post and share 1-2 sentences from your most recent unposted WIP(s) with zero context – Let your followers guess!

“Insufferable,” you sigh, baiting him as your own hand slips between where he hovers over you to catch those perfectly rounded, smooth and velvety balls of his. “Admit you were… nervous.”

“I’m more nervous now that you’ve got those in your grip, darling,” he gives a pleasured, breathless laugh as you toy with them slowly.

🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒

Tagging for fun: @nyx-knox @marimosalad @brabblesblog @wolfywolfy @charmandabear @tinosawruswrites 💞 if you want to share a baby WIP

#I see balls I reblog #🍒🍒🍒#who doesn’t want to tug those #Astarion’s balls

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marimosalad · 9 days

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@carooosa also provided me with the best reference image I’ve gotten:

The art wouldn’t exist without it 🧀 🩷

Of course, @marimosalad absolutely took my breath away with this NSFW comm (will be below the cut). It’s a snapshot of something in my upcoming longfic about Sungi, and I absolutely cannot WAIT for you guys to read it!!!

#is that a cheese tail #who knows #astarion smut #Astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 durge #bg3 oc #bg3 art #bg3 commissions #my art #marimosalad #art commisions #oc commission #astarion art

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marimosalad · 10 days

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2nd gif here -> Uncensored is here

#halstarion #halsin x astarion #ym523art #husbands #bg3 gif

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marimosalad · 11 days

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“Stealing:” the Raven and the Ascendant at it again in “Our Blood is Thicker”

(Ascended) Astarion x Cordehlia (Tav) | E | 4K

🎨 by @marimosalad full more NSFW ON X and below the cut

Summary: Returning home, Cordhelia gets her hands on Astarion’s old tunic. What better way to tease him, just like she used to… by stealing his stuff.

CW: busty!Cordy, the Raven and the Ascendant’s continuing journey, dirty talk, taunting, and praise, marriage bond flashback, floor riding smut.

Previous ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 22… Stealing

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“Love?” Cordehlia called as she trudged her way up the stairs of the Palace. Her hand left a few streaks of blood on the handrail as she climbed higher towards their chambers. She rolled her eyes as the new colors he had chosen for the Palace, intimidating darks and burning scarlets and burnished golds. Everything the world expected of the Vampire Ascendant as he made his new domain on the ashes of his former Master and tormentor.

She huffed through her nose. The Crimson Palace. Of course he’d take that literally.

Cordehlia couldn’t even look at the massive sprawling portraits of his face that dotted the place. She, more than anyone, knew his ego could rage if unchecked, shaking her head, she recalled all that dripping arrogance as the young lording of their people. Now add wealth, unparalleled power, and the title of Hero of the Gate…. Cordehlia sighed as she reached the master bedroom.

The sunset’s light poured into the room through the colored windows, a wash of blues and greens and goldens like the forests of their youth. For as bloodied as the rest of the Palace had been made, this… this was their sanctum. Their private retreat from the demands of power and expectation. A place where the Vampire Ascendant and his Consort were just… them. Walls, bedding, decor, it all was burnished in golds and colored in verdancy. Airy and light and simple. A breath of fresh forest air in the throes of the City.

“Astarion?” Cordehlia called once more, starting to unlace her bloodied black leather armor. Those Bhaalists had been easy. Too many to dispatch quickly, but easy. She slipped off each piece to set it carefully by the door. The blood collected and dried in the little carved feathers all along her armor. For as fearsome as she looked as the Raven, it sure was hell to clean after each night she went out. Fortunately they had servants now. A palace full.

Besides, he liked the way she looked in the armor he had bought her, when she was covered in black leather and cape, face half concealed beneath her new helm. His little harbinger of death, his own fierce Right Hand to work in the shadows.

The fall of the Netherbrain had only been a beginning, the rest of those tendrils… or tentacles… of the Dead Three’s power still needed dismantling. By day, they rebuilt the City, funding projects and attending galas, by night they crept in the dark to finish what had begun months before….

When they weren’t here, in this bedchamber, still making up for centuries apart from one another.

She smiled, still looking around the room for any traces he was home. But given the pristine cleanliness, the answer was a resounding negative. His meetings must have run late, she concluded, heading to the bathing chamber to draw a warm bath. Bhaalist blood, she had learned, tasted worse than it smelled, and she was eager to be free of it.

Today had been a special battle, one opportunity to try to cut the Bhaalists off at the root, and it had taken her nearly all day. As she sank into the warm and soapy water, she felt the tension leaving her muscled frame. A few moments to herself sounded like balm to her weariness. After all, if she truly needed him she could simply tug gently at that new bond that connected them mind to mind, not just soul to soul. No, for now, she could enjoy herself alone.

Maybe it was her lost in the scent of the perfumed soaps, of moss and sweet grass and wildflowers that wafted on the steam. Maybe it was her, lost as she wandered through her memories of times before, of their young, carefree and bloodless days.

Whatever it was, Cordehlia’s heart brimmed with nostalgia.

As the sun lowered, it slatted through the cool colored stained glass of their rooms, bathing her in a flood of green and blue light. Cordehlia smiled, remembering the mossy banks of their youth in the forests of the Yuirwood. So far away, and so long ago, she could feel the same longing for nature and the open air. The water had grown cold, the only sign of how long she had been soaking away the sweat and blood of her day. Stepping out carefully, she dried her cool and pale skin, heading into their bed chamber to find something comfortable for the evening.

She took a deep breath as she crossed their large chamber. Her hand ran over the leaves and scrollwork of the patterns on their wardrobes. For all the comforts she had at the tips of her fingers now, she missed those days on the road, fucking in his tent, falling in love with him all over again for the man he was now, the reflection of her own inner darkness made sharper inside him.

The door opened easily, her elegant gowns and lingerie hanging perfectly inside. Such finery. Too fine for her. She glanced at the bloodied leather armor across the room, grappling with that lingering pain in her heart at the darkness she was trying to use for good, for justice… for cleansing the City. Still, her heart longed to go back to simpler days, innocent days. She craved those moments when Astarion was with her, making her heal from that demanding darkness that was her nature.

Her hands searched the bottom of the wardrobe, a pile of their old clothing from their adventures on the road pushed into the darkest, furthest corner. Carefully, she fished out her old flowing tunic, the bell shaped sleeves still forever stained from dirt and blood and Illithid slime. The nostalgia was so great, her heart thrumming with the memories of joy and angst of it all. Another pale, stained linen shirt laid beside it.

Those ruffles, that deep v cut and lacing sent a thrill of recognition instantly to her heart, and her core. Soft as she remembered, she held the shirt in her hands, reverent almost, as she pressed it to her face. Breathing deeply, her heart thumped slowly but steadily with the rush of joy it gave her.

His. His shirt. Old and repaired countless times and eccentric. Just like him.

A tug of a smirk at her lips, and she settled it over her body. She had grown a little rounder, fuller, and curvier since their days on the road and in battle. Well-fed, cared for, adored, her curves strained against the narrow cuts of his shirt. Her breasts nearly poured out from that deep v of his collar. An embrace of his shirt all over her torso.

She smiled. Oh, he would be livid to see her in this, she smirked. Not that she liked irritating him or inciting him to be annoyed. She didn’t like doing that… she loved it.

Just as she was imagining that irritated furrow to his brow and his nasally and whiny voice, his near-silent footsteps climbed up the center stair. Her stomach leapt, oh, she would taunt him mercilessly in this. She glanced over her shoulder, impish as she bent down to rummage more in the bottom of their wardrobe. She made sure the hem of his shirt rested on the crest of her hips as she bent forward.

Giving him a sight to behold as he entered.

Reckless, mischievous, Cordehlia held her breath to savor the sounds of him. The click of the door, the sharp inhale into his undead lungs, the softer gritting of his teeth and racing of his pulse as he took in the display of his Bride as she presented herself so… lewdly. So perfectly.

“My…” he couldn't even get out a pet name without his voice cracking at the sight of her bent over like that. He could smell her bloodied, discarded armor beside him as he closed the door. “A successful raid against the Bhaalists, it would seem, my little Raven.”

Cordehlia smirked, her face the perfect picture of startled and breathless. Too perfect. “Oh, my love,” she turned completely around and stood strength, a hand on her heaving bosom as if she had to catch her breath. “I didn’t know you were home…”

His eyes narrowed, an irritated smirk on his thick and sensual lips. “Yes you did, my little minx,” he rasped. “You’re senses are too sharp for that excuse, they always were,” he grunted as he crossed to her. Crimson eyes scanned her body, taking in the sight of her shirt.

His shirt.

“Where did you find these old rags?” he purred, that privileged, judgmental tone cooling his voice as he crossed over towards her. His finger picked at the ruffles as if they offended him. “I’ve bought you dresses, exotic silks and shifts and gowns for the bedroom, and this…” he sneers a bit naughtily, “you pick my old shirt?”

“I did,” she smiled back, so haughty and taunting. “For as… nice as your gifts are…” she trailed off, making her eyes big and innocent and teary, “they just don’t smell or feel like you against my skin…”

His eyes dilated as he watched her hand against her skin, watching as she teased his shirt over her body. “It’s a little snug, however,” she chuckled, picking at the collar that her breasts were positively spilling out from.

All fangs and breath, he kissed her, consuming her. Hands clawed at those full and supple breasts she couldn’t stop mentioning. His fingers squeezed like a vice, a moment of aggression followed by long and sensuous caressing. Cordehlia groaned, arching against him, trying to lift the shift from her body.

“Ah, ah,” he tutted in mock chastisement. “You made your choice of apparel. And I must say, I might even look better on you than me, my love. But now, you’re going to have to live with the consequences of your choice.”

“You mean, getting fucked is the consequence of my choice, don’t you?”

Astarion only gave that low, reverberating chuckle. “Now, I liked the sight of you before, why don’t you bend over again, my bride, and I’ll give you what you were clearly seeking?”

She looked so innocent as she smiled up at him. As if she hadn’t just been bent over to taunt him, as if she hadn’t been caked in the blood of their enemies before that. “I don’t know what you mean, she replied so calmly. “I was just looking for a little something comfortable to slip into.” She tried to back away, eyes darting as he started to unfasted the clasps of his ornate jacket before it landed on the floor for him to step over. “You’ll never believe…” she smirked, impish as she backed up some more, “I thought it was my tunic, it felt so familiar until I put this old thing on.” Letting out a small giggle, she only smirked harder as he closed that distance she kept insisting on making.

His ravenous smirk only widened. “You always did like games of chase as a girl,” he replied, voice like gravel from his growing desire for her. “And you always were such a tease and a horrible liar.”

Cordehlia let out a giggle as she turned to dart away. But he was all the faster, too many decades of these same kinds of games to not know her every next little move. Swiftly and suddenly, her vision was filled with bright blues and greens of the stained glass windows as he caught her and pinned her tightly beneath him. “I think I’ve won, my darling,” he rasped in her ear, his body pressing against her back and his hands running up and down her bare legs.

“For now…” she purred as she pushed away from the window just a bit.

“How about, for now, you let me enjoy the sight of you in my shirt, you adorable thief,” he chuckled, a hand reaching around her waist, the other pinning her hands above her head and against the cool glass of the windows. The bare skin of his chest radiated heat, his temperature seeming to burn hotter the more his hand slunk over her belly, the more it teased the ancient fabric of his old shirt. “Little light fingered Cordehlia, always getting in trouble…”

She huffed a laugh, hiding the groan in her voice as his fingers found their way between her legs. “Usually getting caught because of something you made me do with you, little lordling.” He tried to lift her head away from the window, but his hand just squashed her harder, pressing her breasts against the cool glass harder, making her shiver where her skin touched it from the cut of his shirt.

“Now, now,” he groaned, grinding his hardened cock against her bare ass, “you got me into trouble just as much, from what I can recall.”

Cordehlia gave that low and musical laugh, her mirth broken by a few pants as his fingers determinedly sought out her clit. “From what I

remember, you loved it…”

Astarion hissed, his cock aching to be so confined, but that feeling and scent of her own arousal was too delicious to pull away from. Closing his eyes, he felt her mind, her memories tickling in his own brain, an invitation to join her. The blue and green light of the room faded from reality, the sun of the Yuirwood bathing their youthful faces as her memories came to life….

“You give that back!” Astarion’s voice called after her, that red-haired terror he loved to be around. Loved to be around… until she did something utterly irritating, like stealing his new book from his mother.

“I’m not going to break it,” she taunted back over her shoulder, her rosy lips turned in a teasing, impish grin. “Not like you need another book for your massive collection, Astarion, you spoiled brat.”

That made him grind his teeth and sprint all the faster after her. Reaching one hand, he caught the trailing ends of her hair, pulling her up short and making her tumble into the mossy forest floor.

“Fuck you!” Cordehlia hissed, barely breathing as the wind got knocked from her lungs. Astarion towered over her, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

“Doubly naughty,” his voice creaked from thirst and exertion. “Stealing my book,” he snatched it from her hands as she laid in the dirt, “and using such foul language for a she-elf of breeding.”

She sneered a smile, her fist landing at the back of his knee making him crumple to the dirt beside her. Swift and graceful, she pinned him down. “You’d think you would know, by your age, I am not just some she-elf of breeding…”

“By our age, you should know that it’s unbecoming and unattractive to steal things from your closest of friends. We aren’t just little elflings anymore.” He grunted, his face growing pink as he fought against her hands that braced his fists at his side, as he tried to throw her off from how she straddled him.

“You know I hate when you do this?” He spat.

“Do what?” Cordehlia pouted, holding on to him tightly. “When I beat you? When I outsmart you?” She taunted, reaching for the book from his side to flaunt it in his face.

“I hate when you pin me like this, like some little brat of a she-elf,” he grumbles. But Cordehlia only held on harder, pushing him to the earth more beneath her legs. She moved to toss the book away when…

“Astarion, is something the matter?” She looked at him, his eyes were dark, his face was flushed. “You don’t look right…” As she moved to set the book down, she felt something under her. “Something wrong with your stomach? You have a bump…”

He hissed and threw her off. “I said I don’t like it,” he grumbled, grabbing his book and holding it over his lower stomach. “Stop taking my things, Cordehlia, and maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll share them with you instead.” He sniffed and turned to stride away.

Her laughter broke the spell, their memories fading as the palace’s walls and colored windows took shape again. She rammed him backwards, sending Astarion flying most ungracefully to the carpet behind him. Sprawled out, he caught his breath, opening his eyes to see her feral, cunning leering face descend on him to pin him down. “Little did I know then just how much you actually loved when I was pressed against you,” she purred, sitting astride him the same as in the past, her hips grinding down on his confined cock, hands splayed on his bare chest.

He groaned under her, teeth bared and hands tight on her hips.

“Don’t look so cross with me,” she panted, grinding her slick folds on the velvet of his breeches. “How can you be angry when I look so adorable in my purloined shirt?”

“Because…” he grunted, “one, it’s my shirt, and two…” he slid his hands to the band of his trousers, forcing them down to let his cock finally free, “if I don’t do now what I wanted to do with you then, I’m afraid you’ll find me far worse off than… cross…” he smirks up at her, fangs glinting with mischief.

“Oh, you can be so much worse than cross,” Cordehlia teased, “spoiled for instance, annoying…” that smooth, hard skin of his cock pressed deliciously beneath her, and biting her lip, she tilted herself to catch it. Sinking on to it, groaning to be finally filled and satisfied to have him under her power.

Astarion bucked beneath her, a pleased, arrogant grin on his lips as his eyes closed. “Well, at least I’ve learned over the centuries how to play nicely with one person.”

“Ha! Barely,” Cordehlia scoffed as she slowed down on him. Sitting perfectly, frustratingly still, she teased his shirt on her body. Her strong and lithe fingers brushing her skin where her breasts pushed up through the cut of his collar. Lifting up its hem, she brought that ivory fabric to her face and breathed in deep. Astarion’s eyes went wide, dark and dilated as he watched her own pale belly and the curves of her breasts slowly come into view. Every breath she took, he could feel her muscles expand and relax around his cock. And then she sighed, “Still smells like you, my love. Like your salt and sweat and musk… like how you smelled after a long day of fighting and killing and…” she dropped the shirt and grinded on his length again suddenly, “fucking.”

He sat up with so much strength, wrapping her body in his arms, face nuzzled into her shoulder. His breath flowed over the crook of her neck, sending shivers to scatter down her spine. “Honestly, darling, now it smells like you… mouthwatering and fresh and fierce.” He smirked at her, slowly lifting his head to brush noses with his love. “And I think I like it better that way…”

Fangs sank gently into her neck, making Cordehlia buck erratically on his lap, the sudden movement making him pull away quickly with a snarl. Blood on his chin, dripping down her neck, he looked her over with lust-blown eyes. Lips pressed against his gently, her breath sweeter than meadowgrass as she slowly rode him. A steady tempo, a rocking of their union as she took her sweet time to buck on his cock. Craving every inch, every ridge and vein of him single her, she wanted to feel, to remind her that they had made it.

They had won.

Her undead heart palpitated in her chest, or maybe it was his own heart beating so hard beneath his ribs it resonated in her very bones. He bent in worship of her, giving her the very air from his lungs and blood from his veins to sustain her as they moved like water over rocks, so pure and fluid. Warm touch and strong fingers clung into her hair, tugging her head back, angling her mouth just right for his tongue to delve deep inside, to skate over her fangs and feast on her taste. Breath growing short, her aching muscles flooded with the need to finish, to chase that release he always, always gave. Arms hugged her tight, a gesture that was once so innocent between them now something so full-blooded and thick with heavy desire. Her own two arms, capable of so much violence and strength, clutched around his neck, pulling his mouth to fasten against her own.

The fading daylight bathed them in the softer blues and greens through the windows of the palace. It warmed their skin from without, even as the slow friction of their coupling warmed them quickly from within. His breath grew harsh and stilted, his teeth biting hard on themselves, jaw tight, and every muscle drawn tense; it was enough to shove Cordehlia into her own wave of climax in the same breath as him.

Her lungs burned as all the air disappeared, her aching muscles bunched and fluttered, all she could do was gasp to fill her empty lungs with air. Every breath was laden with his scent, ancient and familiar from his shirt caressing her body, and that all-too-familiar perfume of elegance, of citrus and herbs and brandy.

Catching her breath, she felt his head fall against her bosom, the Ascendant laid low as he caught a second wind cradled against his love’s body. “To bed?” he whispered softly. Drenched, Cordehlia slid off his lap, locking eyes with him as looked up at last.

His eyes might have been kohl-lined now and crimson, his teeth like weapons, and his back forever scared by his torment, but in the bath of blue-green light, he stole her breath. This mighty Ascendant, and yet still the same cocky elven boy who smirked, stealing her heart… he looked up at her with wide loving eyes.

Astarion, even more lithe and sleek since his ascension, stood and pulled his trousers all the way off. Without warning, he swept her in his arms, catching her back in his grip and her lips in his kiss. Their bed caught her as he slipped in beside her, on her, everywhere at once.

Attentive, lusty, and passionate—just as he always had been since he first laid claim to her heart, and then her body, and now her future. Finally.

The room darkened as the sun set, verdant greens and lush blues turning to black again as night fell outside their little haven of a bedroom. But they were far from finished.

Pants and sighs and the slaps of flesh filled their room for hours, but even the undead eventually end up collapsed in a pile of bliss. Resting her head on his chest, the pounding of his heart was her lullaby, that ancient pattern that had soothed her to sleep for years, and Cordehlia drifted off into sleep, still hugged tightly in his old shirt.

Hand in hand, he held her body, not just in his arms in their palace, but in their minds. In their dreams, he found her, bathed in the real soft greens of the Yuirwood. Her confident face looked at him with all the love she had preserved for him for centuries, her eyes a mix of silver and crimson, the oneness of who she had always been and who she was now. His bride, his beloved, and his Raven. Bringing her dream-lips against his, he could taste her breath again on his real tongue.

Lost in his touch, Cordehlia clung to his body and soul. For that moment, even among the dream-like trees, she could smell him, feel him, that boy that stole her and became her everything.

💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

Just a bit nsfw… so we post it here, by @marimosalad

Hope you loved these menaces 💞

#happy tiddy tuesday #busty Tav #astarion fic #Astarion smut #our blood is thicker #astarion x cordehlia #astarion fan art #my art #marimosalad

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