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pinkberrytea · 13 days

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Killing you was the sinful culmination of his undying love, and breathing new life into you, a dowry bestowed upon you out of unconditional devotion.

Memento mori—Remember you must die. Enveloped in memories of her death, the Vampire Ascendant watches his darling consort as she slumbers, lost in dreams of blood and mist. Life is short, and shortly it will end; death comes quickly and respects no one. To death we are hastening, let us refrain from sinning.

An exploration of Astarion's character and his relationship with his Dark Consort following the ascension, from a softer perspective.

Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav (F!Reader)

w/c: 6.2k words . ao3 . spotify playlist . 18+ only . nsfw . dividers

a/n: thank you for reading! this is my first time dabbling in creative writing, and of course my first attempt at smut fiction, but still, I hope it is at least somewhat enjoyable. I would like to dedicate this work to the lovely @locallegume, who was a huge source of inspiration, and also to hismostbelovedspawn over on reddit, for being always so incredibly kind and supportive. I love you guys!

tags: blood drinking; cunnilingus; body worship; light dom/sub; vaginal fingering; mildly dubious consent; creampie; fluff & angst; emotional sex; dry humping; possessive behavior

The beginning of the morning twilight is Astarion’s favorite time of the day, for it feels at once ephemeral and infinite. The wistful silence, broken only by the still timid chirping of the waking birds; the royal blue-colored sky, tinged with specks of the purples and violets of the dawn; the chilly morning breeze, gently rustling the flowers in the garden, pushing the still forming dewdrops off their petals and onto the ground; you, slumbering beside him, pale skin reflecting the dim light of the fading moon, rosy lips slightly parted. Sleeping peacefully like this, you look like a life-sized porcelain doll, he thinks—your unmoving chest betrays your otherwise healthy likeness, as does the unnaturally blanched color of your skin. Your nightgown hangs lazily off your shoulder, exposing one of your breasts, and your undergarments lay discarded on the floor, on the exact same spot where he had tossed them earlier that night. He adores this version of you—so vulnerable, so defenseless, laid open for him, and him only.

Astarion finds it curious, how you seem to completely lose yourself in your dreams, yet he is also greatly perturbed by the notion that there is a part of you that he is still unable to access, to dominate. It feels unnatural, not to be able to control this elusive slice of your essence, but having ever only tranced, it also mystifies him that you’d voluntarily give up your consciousness each night. You were after all ever the trusting fool—from the moment you met, he had lied to you, manipulated you countless times, and each time you fell for it, standing by his side even when the world screamed at you not to. And even now, you give yourself to him, unquestioningly, unconditionally. In all the long years of his existence, there had been none like you, and there never will be again. None as trusting, none as kind, and he both hates and loves you for it. The very notion of you extending your kindness to anyone other than him is infuriating, and makes him want to take it for himself, put it in a glass dome and hide it away in a place where only he can bask in its warmth. He thinks he is owed that, at least; yours was the only hand that ever reached out to him, so he is justified in not wanting to share.

You shift slightly in your sleep, and a lock of your hair that had been trapped underneath one of your arms falls onto your chest. After eyeing it for a moment, Astarion reaches out for the tresses and grasps them between his fingers. Bringing them close to his nose, he takes in your scent, that is now also his. It smells comforting, familiar—it smells like home. The corner of his lips curl into an almost imperceptible smile, and he closes his eyes, letting out a contented sigh. The hushed shroud of the early hours acts as a cloak, under which he is granted a brief respite, a rare chance to let himself be gentle, be kind. Just as you become entirely vulnerable before him in your slumber, he too exposes the soft underbelly of his feelings for you; that chaotic, intoxicating brew, a messy blend of passion, guilt, hurt, longing, and love, endless and unrelenting love.

He brings his elegant fingers close to your face, and ever so gently glides their soft pads across the cold, velvety smooth skin of your cheek. Your long lashes flutter slightly, tickling the sensitive area under your eyes as he lowers the digits to brush the plump of your lips. He admires you for a short moment, taking in your image—his pretty consort, so beautiful, so frail, so foolishly devoted to him. Oh how lucky he is, to have you who would do anything for him by his side; his most precious treasure, the reason why his long dead heart beats inside his chest once more. He grasps your chin, delicately tilting your head upward to face him, and tenderly presses his lips to yours. His other hand moves to your chest, fingers softly caressing the pebbled peak of your exposed breast, his touch so faint that his skin barely comes into contact with yours. As much as Astarion enjoys asserting his dominance over you, making you kneel before him, seeing the dejected yet submissive expression on your pretty face whenever he decides to make a show of his power, it is these moments he values the most. In your intimacy, he may treat you gently, tenderly, and in your state of unconsciousness, by morning his loving touches will be but a hazy memory, securing your place below, but close beside him, from where you shall never leave for as long as he draws breath—which he can now only do thanks to you.

His fingers on your nipple leave it alone for a moment to close around your breast, giving it a soft, gentle squeeze. Moving quietly so as not to wake you, he slides his right leg under yours and presses it against the back of your knee, creating a space between your thighs as he pushes them apart, where he then nests himself, climbing on top of you.

“Astarion…” when you softly whisper his name, his half-smile widens into a grin; how reassuring it is, to know you belong to him even in your dreams. He lowers his head to plant a kiss on the delicate skin of the curve of your neck, and his lips brush against the two small indentations disrupting the otherwise pristine smoothness of your flesh. Instinctively, he brings his hand to the back of your right shoulder, his long fingers blindly searching for the matching set of bite marks. The last of the three pairs adorns your left wrist, for which reason he will ever so often take your hand in his, only to lovingly kiss it and turn it around so he can admire the evidence of his proudest feat—having sired you.

“Oh my love, I’m here. I’ve got you,” Astarion coos, holding your head gently against his bare chest, fingers tangled in your hair as you writhe and squirm in his arms, empty and glassy eyes lost in a hollow stare, seeing nothing but darkness, endless darkness. The expression on your face is at once delirious and vacant—mouth agape and fists clenched, pupils blown wide, eyelashes wet with tears and a thin string of drool coming out from the corner of your lip and trickling down your chin. At least for tonight, you are lost to him, and as he winces at the still foreign sensation of the loud, vigorous throbbing in his head, your own fading heartbeat softens, dying down into nothingness. And right as it is about to fall perpetually silent, he lets his fangs pierce his own tongue, drawing droplets of now living blood; bringing your face close to his, he presses his thumb to your lower lip, and covers your mouth with his.

He loses himself in the memory for a moment, as he so often does. Your peaceful, serene expression stands in stark contrast to the one that had been etched on your face on that fateful night. It feels like a lifetime ago, yet still he remembers the pain, the agony, the relentless fear building up in his stomach as your body contorted and tears glistened in your vacant eyes. Never had Astarion been more afraid of anything than he’d been of losing you, and by his hand no less. Killing you was the sinful culmination of his undying love, and breathing new life into you, a dowry bestowed upon you out of unconditional devotion. You only ever questioned him about what had happened on the evening of your turning once, but it mattered not how many times you asked, for he would never fully disclose the raw truth—how he had cradled you in his arms and whispered sweet nothings in your ears, kissing away your tears; how he had picked you up as you lost consciousness and carried you to your bed, where he would then tuck you in so very tenderly, so very gently, softly patting your hair and holding your hand, sharing his warmth with you as you lost your own; how he would patiently wait by your side, watching as the color slowly drained from your face, his stomach sinking at the thought of you never waking again—only for you to then slowly open your eyes, their hue now a rich crimson, much like his own. No, he would never again allow himself to be so weak, for he was supposed to be your warden, your liege. This pathetic side of him was to be ever hidden from you, only rearing its ugly head during the brief, sleepy moments preceding the crack of dawn.

With his lips still pressed against your skin, Astarion starts peppering kisses down your neck, on the hollows of your collarbone and across your sternum, his hand on your breast fondling it gently, the other still tracing the bite marks on your shoulder. His still clothed hips start lazily, almost imperceptibly rocking back and forth, lightly grinding against your naked thighs; thinking back to the night when he made you his almost inevitably causes blood to rush to his groin, and his body starts unconsciously seeking the sweet relief of the friction between his hardening erection and your supple skin. He moves his hand on your breast to grasp your nipple between his fingers, lightly squeezing it. You involuntarily buck your hips in response, which amuses him greatly as he continues playing with the tender nub. A soft moan escapes your lips, encouraging and emboldening his attentions as they drift away from your clavicle towards your chest. He plants gentle kisses on the plump of your bosom, using his teeth to pull at your nightgown and drag it down, exposing your clothed breast to the chilly morning air. You shiver, and he smiles against your skin, pressing his lips to the valleys of your ribs, the softness of your lower belly, and finally to your bare crotch. With his face so close to your swollen sex, the sweet scent of your essence now intoxicates his senses. He stands back for a moment to admire how it glistens in the faint glow of the moonlight, so deliciously inviting, as your juices start building up and collecting in-between your folds.

Feeling his breath caressing the sensitive skin of your core, you finally start to slowly regain consciousness. Once his arousals were returned to him, Astarion would make a habit of waking up during the night at various times to bury his cock in you, so it takes you but a moment to gather your bearings. Either out of mischievousness or curiosity, you play coy at first, pretending to be asleep still. His soft lips briefly come into contact with your engorged bud, sending shock waves through your body, and you are barely able to keep yourself from letting out a yelp, although you can’t prevent your skin from becoming covered with goosebumps. When his tongue pokes out of his mouth to give it a tentative lick, you know you won’t be able to keep up the charade for much longer. He feels your body tense up, and slightly raises his head to look at you from his position between your legs with half-lidded, lascivious eyes, dilated pupils partially covering the ruby hue of his irises. You’re unsure if he has already caught on to your little ruse, so you try staying as still as possible, which proves difficult with his face so close to your cunt.

After what seems like an eternity he decides to continue, lapping at your clit again and then sliding his tongue downwards, burying it between your folds. He presses it against the outer edge of your entrance, squeezing slick out of you, and as he savors your essence, he can’t help but think that while its sweet tanginess does not compare to the coppery, velvety richness of the crimson in your veins—nothing ever will, for his is the blood that courses through them—it may well be the second best thing he has ever tasted. Gliding his tongue upwards once more, he uses it to gently massage the raw bundle of nerves atop your slit, leaving a trail of saliva mixed with your fluids between it and your twitching cunt, which then dribbles down onto your thighs. Placing a hand on each side of your hips, he pulls you closer to him, and the shift causes his fangs to graze the sensitive skin of your folds, in response to which your eyes water and you clutch the silk sheets under you both. Taking no notice of your desperate reaction, he continues swirling his tongue up and down your wetness, gently suckling on the tender skin, eagerly eating you up as if you were a full-course meal served especially for him, just begging to be ravished.

You feel heat pooling in your lower abdomen, and at this rate it won’t be long before you are brought to the edge. Momentarily forgetting the fact that you are supposed to be pretending to be asleep as you lose yourself in the crescendo of your release, you arch your back, leaning on your elbows to support your weight, and as soon as you do, he mercilessly pulls away from you, leaving your dripping core empty and aching. Eyes closed still, you let out a soft mewl in protest, which you regret as soon it leaves your lips, for once Astarion notices your desperation, you are done for.

Still unsure if he has already perceived your awakened state or if he believes your body to be involuntarily reacting to his touch, you dare not produce any further sounds. Having cruelly left your throbbing mound unattended, his tongue now glides its way up your stomach, leaving a glistening wet mess in its wake. Upon reaching your chest, his lips latch onto your left breast, your perked nub fitting perfectly inside his mouth. He sucks on it ever so tenderly, teasing it with a pointed tongue and lightly scraping the squishy surrounding flesh with his fangs. One of his hands leaves its place on your hip and finds its way between your legs, and you let out a sigh of relief when you feel a long, elegant finger ghosting over your clit. The other hand slides further down to the curve of your ass, and his blunt nails dig into your soft skin, giving it a firm squeeze.

The pad of the wandering digit finally presses down onto the engorged flesh of your reddened knot, massaging it leisurely in circular patterns, and another finger suddenly slides between your folds, parting them gently. Unable to contain yourself, you roll your hips into his hand, which you soon learn is a grave mistake as he tightens his grip on your ass, applying such pressure that come morning, bruises are certain to form on the pale skin, which he will then tenderly kiss better while looking apologetically at you from under thick lashes; and you will forgive him, as you always do. Lifting his head up from your now rouged, swollen nipple, he readjusts his position above you, using his body weight to pin you down and hold you in place. He lets go of your ass, firmly grasping at your jaw with his newly freed hand, and even from behind closed eyes you can feel the intensity of his gaze. This does not bode well, and try as you might you cannot ignore the sickening pinch in the pit of your stomach as his eyes scrutinize every inch of your face—has he noticed? Is a punishment in order? Will he deny you your release?

“Open up, darling. Your mouth.” The commanding tone with which Astarion vocalizes the otherwise unassuming words is all it takes to placate your erratic thoughts, and obeying is for you as natural as breathing—or it would be, if you were still alive. Once you do as he says, you feel his thumb pressing on your lower lip, forcing it further down. He slides the digit inside your mouth, gagging you slightly, and your lips instinctively close around it. “Good girl,” he purrs, and encouraged by the tenderness of his praise, you start lightly sucking on it, coating it with saliva. For a short moment, he becomes entranced by the feeling of your wet tongue massaging his skin, and his mind wanders to the thought of your plump lips wrapped tightly around his cock. This prompts him to once again start bucking his hips, rubbing the now obvious bulge underneath his pants against your stomach, but this time his rhythm is much more frantic, more desperate.

Relief washes over you as you feel the fingers still in your slit resume their fondling, the one on your clit now applying greater pressure, handling it much less gently, yet just as skillfully, his knowledge of all the ins and outs of your body having always been something he prided himself on. The other makes its way down from its place between your folds, plunging into you as soon as it reaches your entrance. Your body jerks in response, and your moan is muffled by his thumb in your mouth—when he then plunges another, stretching you open without giving you time to adjust, you involuntarily bite down on the digit gagging you, sinking your fangs into his flesh. He grimaces, and you can tell you have hit an artery, because the flow of the thick, hot blood running down your throat is alarmingly heavy. However, rather than pulling away, he lets you drink, curling his fingers inside you and massaging the tight walls of your cunt with his knuckles. The rich taste of his crimson lingering in your tongue and spreading inside your body, mixing with yours within your veins and making them pulsate with life—pure, raw, vibrating life—works as a powerful aphrodisiac, heightening all your senses, and the feeling of him fucking you with his fingers is all it takes for you to come undone on his hand, muscles spasming and clenching around the digits, coating them in the sweet nectar of your release.

Just as you reach your climax, Astarion’s own teeth sink into the indentations marking the otherwise smooth skin of your neck. You instinctively cock your head to the side to grant him more access, letting him feed on you as you bask in the afterglow of your orgasm, sucking on his thumb still. His blood flows from him to you and then back to him, and the sheer intimacy of it brings you so close together that it’s as if you have merged into one single being. You can no longer tell where you end and he begins, as your minds touch and mesh and then untangle again, in a sensual, chaotic dance, where you both sway to the rhythm of his heartbeat. And while the connection lasts, his emotions rush through you and yours through him, rendering words meaningless as the everlasting adoration, the inebriating, all-consuming love you share, no matter how tainted, is laid bare before you, in all its wickedness and allure.

“Fear not: you are mine.”

You finally open your eyes, letting go of his thumb, and as the fog from the afterglow subsides you notice his fingers remain inside you still, gliding effortlessly up and down your twitching walls, which are now lubricated with slick and come; your skin tingles from the overstimulation, but the sensation is not unwelcome. With the hand you have just freed, he holds your head in place while he continues to feed, and you both stay like this for a while, his fingers buried inside your cunt and his fangs in your neck, where they rightfully belong. His little grunts as he drinks from you and the feeling of his hardened cock pressed flush against your stomach rekindle the ache between your legs, causing the living blood now coursing through your veins to flow to your tender core.

Having drank to his heart’s content, Astarion pulls away from you, making you wince at the sudden emptiness as both his fangs and fingers leave your body. No longer plagued by the perpetual, agonizing hollowness of vampiric hunger, his only reason for feeding on you still is the invigorating thrill of your taste on his tongue and your blood pulsating in his arteries; you were his first, after all, having offered him the greatest gift of them all when you had no good reason to. Killing you on the evening he first revealed his true nature had never been out of the question, and it puzzles him still why you would willingly surrender this sanguine gift to a vampire stalking you in the night—a pitiful creature, hiding in the shadows, with murderous intent and offering you nothing but pain and misery. He is reminded of your foolishness and naïveté every time he sinks his fangs in your soft flesh, and the familiarity of it is oddly comforting to him.

Not bothering to wipe the red smear on his chin, he brings his hand up to your mouth once more, only this time his digits are covered in your juices. A single look into his crimson eyes, clouded with lust, tells you all you need to know, and you eagerly obey the silent order, wrapping your lips around his fingers.

“Ever so obedient, aren’t you, my sweet?” His honeyed words and impish smile send shivers down your spine, and unable to talk as your tongue flicks and swirls, lapping at your own sticky essence, you look up at him through your lashes with coquettish demureness; his pretty little spawn, always so good to him, so docile, so devoted. The very sight of you makes his cock twitch with desire. “I do find it charming when you play your darling little games. Mostly because you are awful at them. You did know I was aware the entire time, didn’t you?,” although his smile widens, there is a hint of danger in his voice, “That you were awake.”

As his blood within you rushes to your cheeks, spreading to the tips of your ears, Astarion’s expression darkens for a moment, and the lust in his eyes grows wilder, more desperate. There is something endlessly enticing about how bashful and girlish you look when your face is hot and flushed with his crimson, like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar, and it makes him want to devour you whole. He abruptly slides his fingers out of your mouth, and the glistening string of your fluids that forms between your lips and his digits breaks off as he uses that same hand to grab your neck and bring your face close to his. Once you are mere inches apart, he stops for a moment, locking eyes with you, and the proximity between you is such that you can feel his long lashes brushing against your skin and see the flecks in different shades of red swimming in his irises. The stillness in the air makes you acutely aware of the sound of his heartbeat, and it paradoxically both comforts and torments you. Such is the nature of your relationship; yearning and sorrow, worship and regret, lust and greed. The duality of it is not lost to you, but you’re past the point of coming up with justifications, for it is far too late for redemption. You made your choice, he made his, and now his burden is yours to bear. It matters not if outsiders looking in cannot make sense of it, as the bond between you was never meant to be understood by anyone else—however ugly and twisted it may be perceived by those around you, it is undeniably a bond of love, one you are willing to protect even if it costs you everything.

“Until the world falls down.”

When he finally closes the distance between you and crashes his mouth into yours, your mind is wiped clean of any semblance of coherent thought and your senses are filled with nothing but him—his scent, his warmth, his taste. He hungrily parts your lips with his tongue as soon as your skin touches his, your teeth clicking in his desperation, and his grip on your neck tightens. You feel tears well up in your eyes, some spilling through your lashes and rolling down your cheeks, your repressed emotions overflowing as you lose yourself in the fierce intensity of his kiss. You want him, you need him, you hate him; you love him, oh how dearly you love him, more than life itself. He explores the inside of your mouth, wantonly, passionately, only stopping to suck on your bottom lip, nipping it with his fangs and lapping at the droplets of blood blooming from the punctured flesh. Once he pulls away, gasping for air, you are both a disheveled mess, lips swollen and bruised and red. Not yet letting go of you, his fingers wrapped around your throat still, he guides your head back down, laying it on the soft feather pillow, only to then straighten up his torso, hand on your neck holding you in place and darkened eyes looking down upon you. From your position below him, he looks ethereal, almost godly, as the moon casts a pale halo around his frame, shining its light on the naked skin of his upper body.

He holds this position for a while, silently studying your face, and as he does, his intense gaze seems to gradually soften, mellowing out into almost tenderness. You feel the pressure of his fingers on your skin lessen, and then cease completely as he frees you, raising his hand up to cup your cheek. His thumb traces the trail of dried tears, and you lean into his soothing touch, eyes wettening once more. Taking notice of this, he leans back down and brushes his lips against the teardrops threatening to escape from your lashes, drying them before they fall.

“Shh, my darling, hush.” The softness in Astarion’s voice and the gentleness of his caresses as he runs his fingers through your hair are all you ever yearned for, all you ever needed, and yet with every touch your chest tightens and you feel a pang of loneliness and guilt tugging at your unbeating heart, for this is what you want, but not what you deserve. You have failed him, just as he has failed others, and your regrets bind you together for eternity as the thread of your fate entangles with his in a constricting embrace—so is it too greedy, to let yourself be selfish and indulge in his warmth before the sun rises? Is even someone as broken and wicked as you allowed a moment of reprieve, however brief? You know not the answer to these questions, nor do you think you ever will. All you know is that there’s nowhere else you want to be but in his arms, no matter how much it hurts, for you’ll endure the pain as long as you are by his side.

“Kiss me,” you quietly plead, your supplication barely a whisper, prompting him to pull away slightly to look into your eyes. He takes a moment to try and read your expression, his gaze sharp, inquisitive, stripping you off all your defenses and laying you bare before him. A short time passes, and without saying a word, he lowers his head down again, lips brushing against yours, their pillowy softness and the taste of your blood still lingering on his skin shrouding your mind in a white fog. You raise both of your arms and wrap them around his neck, bringing him closer as your mouth matches his movements, the desperation of before now manifesting more tenderly, more lovingly, but just as intensely. One of his hands remains on your cheek as he kisses you, and with the other, he finally unlaces his pants, freeing his neglected erection, which by now is slick from the precome leaking from its engorged head. The color of the sky outside slowly begins to brighten, now a beautiful blend of periwinkle and cyan, and as the twilight peaks and starts to reach its end, Astarion decides he has waited long enough—he will take you here and now, before the merciless, harsh light of the sun engulfs you both.

Feeling his hardness against your thigh, you readily comply, spreading your legs apart. You need this just as much as he does; to be one with him, carnally, for your souls have long merged, and there is no you without him just as there is no him without you. As he lines up with your entrance, his lips leave yours and he presses your foreheads together, staring into your eyes with reassuring tenderness. You feel the tip of his cockhead flush against your dripping sex—the reddened, puffed up skin feels warm, and thinking of how it is swollen from his blood in your veins is all it takes for him to finally snap and give into his desires. He slides inside of you in a single thrust, the wetness from your juices facilitating his entry as he stretches your walls to accommodate his large size. You try to bite back a whimper, your eyes once again tingling and prickling with the promise of tears as one of your hands finds its way to the back of his head and your fingers become entangled in his silvery curls. Not moving immediately, he waits a while, giving you time to adjust. You revel in the familiar feeling of his cock stuffed inside your core, the pain and warmth of it, and you wonder if he too can find comfort nowhere else but in your flesh, as it is only when filled with him that you are able to hold together the broken pieces of your descended mind.

The hand that had been cupping your cheek now rests on your waist as he moves his head to nuzzle the curve of your neck, taking in your scent. Ever so slowly he starts rolling his hips back and forth, planting gentle kisses on the delicate skin where his fangs had been buried just moments ago, now stained with patches of dried blood. You close your eyes, still trying to hold back the tears, hugging him as tightly as you can, or as tightly as he’ll let you. His pace is at first languid, sensual, allowing you to feel the entirety of him as he massages your aching, tender walls, still sensitive and spasming from your orgasm. He grunts in your ear, prompting you to start undulating your own hips, doing your best to match his rhythm. Emboldened by this, he moves his hands down to grab your ass, tilting your pelvis up and pulling you closer to him. Just as desperate to feel him as deeply as physically possible, you wrap your legs around his midriff, allowing him to reach the innermost parts of your throbbing cunt. When the tip of his cock brushes against the spongy skin of your cervix, your gut tightens and you cry out for him, unable to contain yourself.

“Astarion…”

The sound of his name in your lips, so very eager, so very sweet, is all the encouragement he needs, and the once languid movements give way to more vigorous pounding, the lewd sound of smacking flesh echoing in the otherwise quiet room as he snaps his hips and buries himself deeper inside your aching core. Your body rocks in rhythm with his thrusts, the tears in your eyes finally escaping your lashes and running down your face, a chaotic culmination of all the pleasure, all the hurt, all the desire and all the devotion brewing deep inside your heart as your raging feelings come to a boil. No one can understand, no one will understand—and yet, as he fucks you senseless in the early hours, pumping his cock in and out of you with lascivious abandon, none of it matters. You hold him even closer, pressing your squishy breasts flush against the sweaty, glistening skin of his chest. He moans at the sensation, intensifying his pace and using his hands on your ass to tilt your pelvis higher, pushing your folded legs, which are still wrapped around him, as close to your upper body as your flexibility will allow it. You feel the muscles in your thighs stretching and burning, but this only excites you further, and the soft whimpers leaving your lips escalate in frequency and loudness alike.

As he continues pounding into you, Astarion’s kisses on your neck become more passionate, more heated, going from pecks, to licking, to sucking, until eventually he gives in and once again sinks his fangs in the bruised flesh. You mewl faintly and your grip on his hair tightens, in response to which he bites down on you harder, nails raking across the skin of your ass as his thrusts grow fiercer, more violent. The message immediately gets through to you—the cheeky little spawn must know her place—so you obediently let go of his curls, although your digits remain entangled in them still; yet he does not slow down his pace, ramming into you with such force that you are afraid you will have trouble walking once he is finished. Be that as it may, one of his hands leaves its place on your ass to hover above your swollen clit, which twitches desperately as his cock resurfaces and then disappears again inside your cunt. He grasps it between two deft fingers, massaging the engorged bundle of nerves as a reward for your obedience, and that is all it takes for tension to again start building up in your groin.

“You have given me everything.”

His digits on your tender bud; your blood running down his throat; his cock slamming into you, stretching open your tight walls—you are so very close to climaxing again, and yet you don’t want the moment to end; you don’t want morning to come, breaking the spell and robbing your lover from you, as it always so cruelly does. The tragic inevitability of it is however unaffected by the infinitude of your existence, a gift that was also bequeathed to you by him, and enveloped by the ice-cold embrace of the memories of your death, your body comes alive as you are pushed over the edge, your twitching cunt fluttering and contracting around him, creaming and squirting your sweet juices all over his length.

As you slump back and go limp is his arms, Astarion unlatches his mouth from your neck and props up his torso to marvel at your image as you bask in the glory of your release—so maddeningly beautiful, cheeks and plump lips flushed bright pink with what remains of his lifeblood within you; his consort, his spawn, his to use as he pleases, his and nobody else’s. While he continues fucking you through your orgasm, all you can hear are his low moans and grunts and the squelching sounds of your wetness as he ruts into you with ever increasing furor. You can tell he is also close by the way he holds your hips with both of his hands, pushing his own against them with almost vicious ferocity while you remain slumped on the headboard, tits bouncing cutely with every thrust. The daylight seeping through the curtains now brightens up the room, and as you look up at him with half-lidded eyes, you notice how handsome he looks illuminated by the gentle glow of the rising sun, sweat beading his temple and dripping down his chin and nose.

“Gods…” he groans, voice raspy with lust, and with one final push he empties himself inside you, filling you to the brim with his seed, which feels thick and warm flooding your tender walls. Still panting and sucking in sharp breaths, he falls on top of you, not bothering to pull his cock out of your still spasming cunt, chest flush against yours and head burrowed in the crook of your neck. Spillover runs down your thighs and soaks into the wrinkled sheets, but neither of you bother cleaning it up, the resulting stain surely to give the maids good reason to blush later.

You bring a hand up to his silky curls once more, gently running your fingers through them as you feel the calming thumping of his slowing heartbeat vibrating against your cold skin. As the dawn finally breaks over the still sleeping city, signaling the beginning of a new day in your undead life—for better or for worse—you find comfort in the warmth of his flesh and the sound of his ragged breathing as it gradually steadies. All your suffering, all your pain; if even your death is required to bring him to life, then so be it. He will live for the both of you, and you will love him for it. Forever—for good.

“Thank you for trusting me.”

#personal #astarion x tav #bg3 #bg3 fic #ascended astarion #lord astarion #astarion #astarion smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #ascended astarion x reader #fic: death and his maiden #my fics

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rawrsatthetree · 4 months

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Ascended Astarion is the kind of ex to just show up on your doorstep at 2am completely wasted at least once a week. You have a 50/50 chance of him either being angry and shouting at you until he eventually breaks down sobbing and passes out or he’s all giggles and smiles finding any excuse to cling to you and gush over you until he breaks down sobbing and passes out. You have no way of knowing which you’ll get until you invite him in and he will keep knocking on you door and yelling until you let him in.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate #ascended astarion #bg3 imagine #bg3 headcanons #ascended astarion x tav #ascended astarion x reader

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bluebells-and-dragonflies · 13 days

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Ascended Astarion who refuses to take your virginity until you're officially declared his consort. He'll kiss you until you can't breathe, leaves bite marks all over your inner thighs, cups your breasts with his hands and rolls your nipples gently with his thumbs. He'll hold your legs apart at the ankles and grind into you, letting you feel how hard he is. No matter how you beg him to fuck you (even with just the tip, anything at all), no matter how you plead and pout and maybe, once or twice, cry for it, he always pulls away.

You deserve something more special than this for your first time, he says. You deserve the wedding, the feast (the food you can't eat and the wine you can't taste). The softest of marriage beds, the sweetest possible claiming. Oh, he wants you, but he wants to give you that luxury more.

And so you wait. You accept the proposal when it comes and show off the ring (golden, diamond-studded, jewels so large you can't begin to fathom the price) to anyone in the palace who crosses your path. Astarion's dressmaker comes to your rooms and fits you for a wedding gown that, when it's delivered, turns out to be less of a gown and more of a negligee, gauzy and light and so sheer that it's see through. When you ask Astarion about it, he only smiles.

The wedding comes sooner than you know and you process almost none of it. At the altar, Astarion looks at you as though he wants to eat you alive. When he kisses you, his tongue slides filthily into your mouth and you nearly bruise him with your grip at the shock of it. It takes nearly half an hour for the heat in your belly to die down. The reception is worse. As you sit at your table at the head of the hall, receiving well-wish after well-wish from a very long line of people you don't seem to recognize, Astarion subtly reaches under the table and places a hand on your thigh. When you stumble on a 'thank you' to the latest guest, he trails his fingers further up your leg, igniting a path of fire on your skin. You are wearing underwear, thank the gods, but you can feel the fabric growing wet between your thighs.

He strokes his thumb over your clit once, then pulls away. When you have the courage to look over at him, he presses the digit to his lower lip and licks it.

By the time he pulls you into the bedroom, you're more than ready to give yourself to him, your husband, your lord. He kisses you hard, clutches your face in his hands, bites your mouth so the blood flows freely between you, coppery and slick, just how he likes. He slams the door behind you and rips the sheer expensive tulle that drapes you to shreds. You look fucking gorgeous, he growls in your ear, all decorated for him, his wife. Oh, he'll give you what you want.

You expect him to slow down at least a little once he has you on your back on the bed, hands clutching nervously at the sheets. You want this, yes, but he had said it would be soft. He had said it would be sweet. And it's only your first time, you with no real idea what to do. You can't keep up with him like this.

Astarion crawls over you and kisses you deep, and it seems like he's good for his word. It's everything he promised, a flick of the switch performed so fast it's like he's reading your thoughts. You help him shed his suit and start to lay back down, but then he tells you to turn onto your stomach. It's easier this way for the first time, he says, and you have no reason not to believe him, so you turn.

When he positions himself between your outstretched legs and cups your cunt, you shudder. He laughs at you, lightly, calls you beautiful, lets his hands roam all over your body. So sweet and soft for him, everything he wanted in a bride. All his, forever. And you saved yourself for him like you knew all along he was waiting. He fits his hips to your ass, lets his cock, hard and smooth on your skin, drag. He's already gotten to claim your life. Your mind. It's a gift to take your body, too.

He thrusts into you without warning, without stretching you, without checking to see if you're wet. The choked sound you make is just as much from surprise from pain. He promised, you think. He promised.

Something tears inside you as he pulls back out, slowly, and you cry out, the pain forcing your body to at least try to fight back. He shushes you, grabs your wrists from behind and pins them on your lower back. He's sorry it hurts, he is, but you do look so very pretty like this, spread out beneath him, his to do what he likes with. Innocent. Fresh.

Just relax, and it'll feel better- he's very, very good at this. Calm down. It'll feel good soon.

His pounding continues, relentless, his cock sawing in and out of you like a blade, and as the tears start to spill down your temples onto the sheets you are truly afraid of him for the first time.

Forever, he whispers into your ear. The word reverberates in your mind, his voice louder and louder until it's all you can hear. The only voice you'll ever hear again. Forever mine.

#astarion x reader #ascended astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion smut #ascended astarion smut #.nsft #mdni #.astarion #tw dubcon #tw virginity #tw general nastiness #girl i want him.

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writeshite · 3 months

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i gnaw at my enclosure everytime you post.

I NEED TO BE FEEEEDDDD AAAAA

— [can i be] 🌎 anon [?]

“You’ve hardly changed.”

Astarion turns in surprise at the sound of your voice; it had been some years since he’d last seen you. He practically beams when he notices you, draping himself over you in glee, though it never quite reaches his eyes.

“And you’ve changed a lot. Did you miss me?” Astarion caresses your cheek, and you resist the urge to lean into the touch like so long ago. Instead, you slap his hand away and hold it far from your face.

“I’m not here for you, Astarion; I was called to Baldur’s Gate to deal with a rogue dryad.” You see the glee vanish and be instantly replaced by anger and jealousy.

“I did not ask what brought you here, I asked if you missed me,” Astarion states.

The ascension had twisted everything inside him, your attention was his and his alone, but unlike before where he’d mock pout, now he’d murder the person that stole your attention.

“I don’t have time for you Astarion,” you brush him aside, and his face darkens.

“Well, make time; I don’t like being ignored.” He reminds you, “Are you with someone? Did you replace me with some warm body to fuck?”

Your lack of response irritates him and lack of engagement in a conversation only prompts Astarion to follow you.

#shitedrabbles #it’s 2am and Ascended Astarion has been on my mind. is he possessive? yes. am I delulu? always 🤡#ascended astarion x reader #astarion x reader #ascended astarion x male reader #astarion x male reader #we’re going to pretend there’s a circle of death for Druids because idk if tieflings actually live that long and it’s 2am #tiefling reader #druid reader #they’re exes your honor 💀#brought to you by Grammarly and 2am gay thoughts #🌎 anon

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dhampling · 1 month

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ivory tower 18+ ASCENDED!ASTARION X AFAB!READER, 4.6K

Something deeply sordid, raw; ungodsly. There’ll be no Lathandrian blessing for your young, no gentle welcome into some family fayre on the outskirts of the city; but you want this.

woah boy! my first ascended astarion piece, so please be kind! dal is back babey! woooo! thank you to @bhaalism and @lipstickghoulie for dealing with me while writing this i love you both endlessly. wc: 4.6k cw: afab reader, female language used. breeding, mind-control, p in v, ascended astarion, public fingering, private banging, great times all round, as always if there are errors no there aren't, creampies, yippee

Baldur’s Gate doesn’t sleep. Not really.

She sometimes slows just enough to find some purchase amongst the muddle, though - tiptoes lazy through highsun in soft linens, the burgeoning swell of soap suds and sunny rosemary through wide open wooden shutters. Lingering - sweat-soaking worn leathers, the sore of the flex in the arch of your foot splayed over cobble. As if to grasp at the memory, your fingers stretch out from your side and on to the dark oak of the armrest, in a moment of sheer jubilance. Summer. The sun. Wide bright mornings. Hopeful and hot as a bated breath.

The city ambles onward this evening, no different despite the inclement weather and the din of an early darkness. Half-lidded through dark streets as rain smatters the roofs with wet, glistening something dozy under the tall oil street lamps and swirls of ever-present heavy fog. Gurgling whilst each drain fills with water and swallows deep into the sewers.

Scatters the hay, bears the slip; sings a slow drunken stutter of thunder-wind whiling at the windows into the small hours. There’s a comfort to be found in it.

The harbour bell will go on to toll for every sail weary ship coming in from the fog; the crescent caress of the Gate’s waiting arms lit low with oily dots of amber. That even this late into the night the bands of trawlers on the dock work crates and barrels into cargo holds with worn hands and ruddy cheeks. The gulls and their scattering squawks. The flapping of their fat feathered wings up into the clouds.

From where you sit in the Ivory Tower you can hardly see anything at all. Fog obscures the streets to a point, other than the light patches under the oil lanterns out on the ramparts. The window runs dripping wet with condensation. Pools under the pane.

A hideaway of sorts within the manor. Newly reclaimed by Astarion in some deal with the quivering council in order to keep him sweet. Not that he has any armies of undead in his retainer to command as yet, but they don’t need to know that. There’s time. You’re still blessedly mortal and able.

Astarion.

He should be skulking the halls somewhere below with that unnerving silent step he’s taken to using. Your cheeks grow warm, the blanket over your shoulders pulled closer into your chest as you allow your mind to run wild; the scald of bliss to your brain like that of some ironmonger’s poker, split straight to the core.

Your love. Your lover.

Amongst his many newfound desires and passions seemingly includes the impetus to redesign a centuries-old palace from scratch, and while you doubt he has the want nor willpower to take the project anywhere near to completion you’re more than happy to indulge him during this burst of creativity. A designer’s eye. Lavish yet not ostentatious, he tells you. Your own private wing of the palace, and one you’ll share together. He has no need for his own private chambers. You’re the only one he wants to be beside. You understand that at its essence, it isn’t even necessarily a want to design for creativity’s sake, it’s important to you both to have every memory of the residence’s former owner gone. Every threadbare tread of carpet, every scuff on the wall; every painting being demounted by workers downstairs and shipped to the auction house first thing in the morning. You can hear them if you still enough, heart still beating in your chest and the low chunter of layman gossip.

The version of him you knew before his ascension was so very scared. Beautiful, but wavering. You loved him of course; and you always will - it was that version of him, the one lost in the wilderness that you fell for, and gods; you fell hard - frenetic and whiny, fleeting as light snow never to settle on the forest floor. Wild-eyed.

But this Astarion - the real Astarion, as far as he is concerned - has you completely and utterly enraptured each day you wake together, the same as ever, from the second your eyes open. Wrapped in those Daerlunian-import plush linens atop your gargantuan newly-installed four poster bed. Face of marble with those cattish dark lashes and eyes of carnelian crush. Enchants every room he walks into, as he always has.

You don’t know he’s with you until a hand ghosts your shoulder, sinewy; with those deft pale fingers deep encroaching on your collarbone in his grasp.

“I didn’t hear you, lover.”

“But I heard you.’

He circles round the velvet armchair, resplendent in his home finery. Not a crease to be seen. Voice soft, yet laced with a bristling concern.

‘Why do you insist on sitting up here?”

You err for a brief moment.

“I can hear the rain on the roof, here. See some bustle when the fog clears. The city goes on.” You shake your head with a smile as he crouches beside you, nestling his head in the crook of your arm.

“But it’s cold. Dark. Come down - I can light the fire in our sitting room if you like?”

“We have so many centuries yet to see together! What sense is there in not observing the world as it is now? Keeping record of the city as we saved it?”

His head lifts and his eyes meet yours, some churlish quirk of a brow in the low light.

“An archivist, now? Is that to be your profession alongside me? Whilst you raise our young?”

“If I wish it to be, yes.”

He laughs, a gentle low hum.

“Then an archivist you’ll be - the most renowned in all the lands. We’ll make it so.’ He stands once more and takes your hands from your lap, bringing them clasped to his lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

‘I’ll begin planning on your archives - I presume you’ll want a library? Or something similar in your wing, maybe even an office. Who knows?”

Astarion looks to the room around you, the shapes covered with old canvas and the rickety floorboards underfoot. Cobwebs in the corner. There’s no grimace nor displeasure. He simply surveys as cool as still water. Objective.

“I’ll have some of the merchants relay their contacts come morning too. If you insist on expanding your territory up here then it must befit you.”

“Befit me?” You grin now. His hold on your hands remains secure.

“If you want me to say it, then I suppose I will. As many times as it takes to get it through that heavy skull of yours.’

His smile reaches his eyes as he circles back behind your chair, fingers splayed over your shoulders once more in a deep round kneading pattern.

‘There’s nothing you won’t have if you want for it. Nothing too good for you to covet, my solace; Saviour to the whole Sword Coast and every plain mite within its bounds.’

There’s a small pause as he bows to kiss the top of your head.

‘And I thank the stars every day that I can provide for you. That you saw the potential in me and lifted me higher, to such profane glory amongst the swill of common man. That my gold, my influence, and terror, and each lift of my blade is at your command and yours alone. That you stayed at my side.”

He doesn’t like to mention the gods, hence the stars. Pointedly brings the grimace back into play, occasionally even furrows with the slightest twinge of anger brewing at his brow. The gods had no role to play in your shared victories. No divine intervention saved him from two hundred years of torment, from certain death after the crash of the nautiloid along that sun-soaked span of rocky beach;-

You did. You with your strange inclination toward the weak man he once was. The shell he lived in like a hermit crab on the shore, nothing more.

On bright days, you thank him for giving you time.

Time to live, time to breathe with full lungs. Time to allow you to burn your eyes in the beating sun with a silver pot of fresh coffee and whatever ridiculous spew the papers hold between the pages today.

You know as you sit in comfortable silence that your time dwindles, and that your turning is inevitable. Your eternal wedded bliss is to be alongside him and will be as vivid in nature as all the colours of the astral plane, if he’s to be believed - and there’s no reason not to see his word as gospel. You can see each moment as crystalline as sea glass on sand. Forever with the man you love more than you’ve ever felt inclined to love anything. The bridal ceremony is but a drop in the vast ocean of your lives together.

He thanks you too. Often alongside you with eyes closed in some dozy recline, forearm hanging lazily whilst he takes the sun on his skin like a blessing. A loose linen shirt akin to the one he wore back at camp at the start of your journey together, strings wide open, a blaze of blinding flesh at the corner of your eye each time he shifts.

The veranda on a clear day. Astarion has assured you he’ll never take this from you. He’ll never take anything that you don’t willingly give him with a clear heart - and why would you give him your ability to bask in the sun, like a street cat in days-warm dust? What purpose does that serve either of you, beyond making you a less useful weapon in his prized arsenal?

At one point, all you wanted was to talk to him - and it rings true even now. The want to be the bearer of all his tales. To learn about him, to be close to him; to hear him tear the world apart with that dulcet snarl, walking alongside each other on the barren dirt trails out in the wilderness. Hop-skipping to keep up with his quiet gait. Giving him back as good as you got. The glimmer of his hair in the sunlight, the way he’d sometimes just stop.

Close his eyes. Feel the heat. The gentle burn of highsun on tender flesh. A soft inhale.

That morning out in the clearing after your first night together. Arms outstretched in a welcome to the light. It had taken a few minutes for it to click as you’d silently watched on, why his sun salutation was so fond. So open.

It’s to be a long engagement with regard to your transformation whilst the manor undergoes renovations. Reason after reason as to why now isn’t the ideal time to commit you to eternity. You know why he wants to keep a hold on your precious mortality for the time being, of course; and that keeps you from the forever embrace of his Dark Kiss. It never changes.

You’ll allow him to sire your children. You want him to. Crave it. Him.

Your very own lineage together, he whispers; frenzied by your ear as his fingers crawl the bare span of your thigh. He can breed you full like fate intended and you’ll have something - besides him - that’ll also last forever. Something of your own surpassing the death of all of your contemporaries. The Vampire Ascendant and The Saviour of Baldur’s Gate, flesh-on-flesh, skin smacking skin; his debauched groans and lewd whimpers as he buries himself inside you, your cooing breaths;-

You’ll wed normally too, for the interested eyes of the city. Some dull ceremony with the elites adorning all tables as gilded pieces might some decorative chess board, deceptive vows. Legally it makes things easier should anything befall either of you but the hassle almost makes the whole thing undesirable - gods, especially because he already treats you as some smitten newlywed might. Adores you. Follows you around the manor, stalking; like some wolf cub after its mother. Carries you to bed each evening and ploughs you senseless, until spit gathers in the corners of your wet, wanting mouth and you can’t see straight through grey-blear eyes.

He likes the idea of you taking his name by law. Melds with your own like it were meant to be, from the starter threads of whatever cosmic tapestry pulled you together, the marriage of your first name to his last, interwoven by a scholar’s hand in gold-shining delicate point.

Ancunín. The House of.

Tapestries. Large, spanning the halls. The Sarsantyr's over in Waterdeep - they’ll be able to create what you’re picturing.

A familiar gaze meets yours. It’s then that you realise you aren’t alone in your mind once more

“If you want tapestries, you only have to ask.”

“In fairness - you didn’t give me a chance to.”

He hums, tilting his head a little in the sun’s glare.

“I’ll send for them. The Sarsantyr's, yes? Have them pack up all their little-’

He pulls a face and lifts his hands in some kind of puzzled shake.

‘Sewing bits? Textiles? I’ll send carriages. They can come and stay in the lower rooms. Create the masterpiece you envision.” Astarion sniggers a little at the thought of putting them in the old dormitory while you remain lost in thought.

“Okay. Check them through first though, yes?

The real event - the wedding - will give you total ecstasy beyond your wildest preconception, you know this. Unfettered and euphoric. Books and books on the topic stacked clumsily beside your bed, reds and greens; the turning of a vampire bride in leather bound prose. You know what to expect in florid detail. You know to trust your lover, that the rabid creature you’ll become is only a temporary mental state precursing an eternity alongside him.

And yet, you wonder about the children. They’ll be here by then. However many he decides is enough, naturally; assumedly under the care of some hired help whilst you engage in your thoroughly bastardised pastiche of a wedding ceremony. You laugh now. He’s still in your head, mulling over your thoughts as soon as you can think them.

Will you miss them? Will they be your last thought before you pass away; Astarion unable to complete this ritual alone as he was unable to before? Will your death lead to his, leaving your dhampir offspring to ravage Baldur’s Gate unsupported by the windfall of knowing parents? There’s still no hesitation, though. You will bear his young. You want to. The consequences either way are vast and long-lasting, and you’d rather be at his side than facing his ire-

“Love, what are these thoughts? What on earth is going on in that very pretty head of yours today?” His voice is a low drawl, pitying yet laced with affection. He sits straight in his chair whilst a hand lazily searches for yours atop the sun-warmed table; beyond the scope of the ramparts wall the low meander of city life continues on.

“Mulling things over.”

“You don’t need to do that, pet. Come now.’ He beckons you onto his lap and wraps his arms around your middle, hand searching for the soft pillow of your chest as your ass backs up to his abdomen.

‘You want me to make it better?”

You nod gently, the sun catching your eye in a particularly bright beam and making you squint.

“Please.”

“Poor thing. It’s okay.” As he coos; one hand finds the curve of soft flesh at your chest, holding the weight of your breast firmly as he starts lightly thumbing at the nipple through your nightshirt.

“There, now. Good girl.” Your head falls back onto his shoulder, a deep sigh as he lulls you into a new state of calm astride him. Birds sing overhead whilst you nuzzle his neck.

“I will miss this warm flesh of yours, you know. Terribly so.’ His other hand moves to your nightskirt, gently hitching the material bit-by-bit up your thighs until you sit exposed to the air. Nobody can see you from here - the faceless crowd little but colourful dots below; Astarion giving a small tense laugh as he feels your pulse quicken against him.

He toys with your skirt, edging ever nearer your exposed cunt; and your eyes flutter closed.

‘But the greater purpose… I just can’t let it go. Us. Our lives together. I sincerely doubt you want to wither away to age; to lose your extraordinary beauty-’

A gentle groan as he feels your warmth.

‘Do you, my most precious flower?”

“Of- Of course I don’t. I want to be with you, as we are; forever.”

“Then we’re going to need to make a concerted start on the only thing setting us back, are we not?” His fingers gently tap on the crux of your pubic bone, threateningly close to your clit. You feel the familiar seep of your slit leaking onto the bunched skirt fabric and you think of honey. Some kind of sweet glaze.

“Yes.”

As you sink further into him his fingers move down just a little to meet your clit; and in response to your delighted sighs he very lightly begins to stroke either side of the engorged flesh. There’s no urgency to his movement nor his demeanour; just a treacle-thick teasing grin as he turns his head to kiss your blazing cheek.

“Good.”

There’s something borderline celestial about the gentle way he touches you, coaxing more of your slick from you with every gentle jerk. He deftly motions ‘come hither’ with a soaking middle finger dipping lightly at your hole then brings your arousal up to wetten your clit once more.

“You want this, don’t you?” A finger slips down to your cunt, this time slipping and nestling deep inside as you feel yourself writhe on him. One arm scrambles around the back of his neck to support yourself while he begins to curl at your spongy spot, and the anchor of your arousal shifts free.

“I’ve been rifling through that glorious mind of yours these past few days and I see you now. You want comfort. To comfort. To seek shelter in those warm lights on the horizon, to know you aren’t alone in the late hours.”

You nod furiously, wincing, desperate to feel him deeper. Thicker. You need more, your fox-eyed paramour giving only the barest minimum he can do to watch you squirm.

“You, with my babe in arm;- oh the image alone does things to you, doesn’t it?”

It’s as if he’s creating the visions in your head as he speaks them, bringing them to the forefront of your mind in hushed coos and silent gasps. As if by magic, the only thing on your mind is a primal need for him to fuck you full. Nothing else, no mind for coffee nor completed manor renovations.

You will be round. You will brim with life before he turns you, and you’ll take to his seed the minute he offers it to you. You’ll accommodate him like no other across Toril could hope to. You wonder if he has the power to decide how many, as he adds another finger to your unbridled torment. If he could choose to speed the process up with a celebration of twins, triplets. An heir and two spares. Maybe he’d wait instead until the first was born, just to ensure the viability of his bloodline. A test.

He’s doing this; you become starkly aware as he withdraws his fingers, spiderwebs of glistening drool clinging to your inner thigh as he brings them between his lips and suckles. He’s giving you these ideas of grandeur because he can. Because you are his. Because you wouldn’t want to belong to anyone else, to be tied to any other notion of whatever a fulfilling life is, if it weren’t one shared wholly by him. With him.

“Let me take you inside, sweet one. Let’s take care of you properly, shall we? Curb this fever, hm?”

Please, you think. Please take this burning hole in my womb and make it full with you. Extinguish the flame with your unholy spend and give me children. Give me oud and orchids and a life of warmth, however long we both may live.

“Use your words, my love. Tell me you want this.”

“I want this. Please.”

On the bed you now lie, the room cool and dark; balcony doors open wide with light-billowing curtains. Sweat consumes you as your thoughts run wild, the smell of your arousal, clammy hands and deep breaths in the low light. Astarion approaches like something from a dream, shirtless now; smirk plastered cheek-to-cheek as he leans over your trembling form with confidence - your lust-addled fingers reaching for his steady form like a ship to harbour.

“You want to feel it, little dove? Feel how you set me alight?”

He pries your wrist from him with gentle urgency, taking your hand under his and skating both downwards; down the plane of his tight torso, slowing to a stop just above his pelvis.

“Tell me - do you want to feel it?”

A small smirk plays at the corner of your lips, but he doesn’t seem to notice - watching the way your hand twitches under his.

“Hm?”

His groan is guttural. Thick. He doesn’t even try to mask it, eyes wide as his hand shifts yours just a little further down and over the blistering burn of his heavy cock through loose linen trousers. A hazy sigh as he moans a small whimper at your touch.

“Please, Astarion. I beg you.”

It’s like his fingers are enchanted, the way they reduce you to this sodden mess. Unable to think unless guided delicately by his superior whim.

“I need to bury myself inside you fully for this to take. I need your full attention, submission; your devotion to our lives together. Do I make myself clear?”

He’s giving you one final chance to withdraw. Your head clears for one sweet moment and you can do little else but stare at his bulge with heavy lids and your mouth agape.

“Crystal. I ache for you. Please, give this to me.”

You lift to meet him in a soft kiss, jaw slackened and cunt ablaze. Nothing else matters, no complications, nor possibilities of horribly mangled spawn from your womb as a result of your copulation. This scalding stupor that sends you insane won’t go away until he quenches it with his seed.

Your response has satisfied him, if the way he stands sharpish and unties his trouser laces is anything to go by. The glassy head of his cock stands purple at his stomach, leaking wild at the slit and red-hot as your hand reaches blindly for him in your hunger.

He gently taps you away and back down onto the sheets.

“Magic?” You hear yourself mumble, still amazed at how surely swollen he must feel with how sore he looks. Has to be.

“Just me.”

There’s a tenderness in his eyes as he crawls back over you, legs instinctively parting and lifting at the knee to accommodate him. Something that compels him to hold your face in the hand that isn’t supporting his weight and just look at you, fondly; for what feels like an age.

Then he shifts once more to angle himself, decidedly spending no more time on preparation. The heat of his cock against your slit is unlike anything you’ve ever known, dizzying yet pleasurable; hard and yet still yielding, and as he thrusts a shallow dip into your core you swear you see angels overhead. Yes, you’re ready. You’ve never been more ready for anything than you are for the sheer ecstasy you know he’s about to give you, and he’s going to give you it in droves. Seismic tremors as he shifts a little and you adjust to him once again.

He nods. He hears you.

Then, he snaps once more; and he’s lost.

Each glub of his cock meeting your spill as he ruts into you; the way you feel it running downward in long dribbles, with each and every mindless hump of his hips eking more honey from your cunt in spades.

You hear the sounds of your shared carnal pleasure and it makes you clench around him in some kind of self-perpetuating cycle. Groans and whimpers and moans and hisses and the frequent egregious slaps to your thighs whilst he chases his high.

He’s perfect like this. Halo of curls above you, voice silken as he calls you every pet name under the sun, his, always. Your legs ache already from being wound so tightly, interlocked around him, and you think of the prespill inside you already. How each fangy showman’s smile means he’s twitching at your cervix and leaking molten gold inside you with every thrust.

It’s not until he nuzzles down to your neck that you remember to offer it, potentially for the last time on this mortal coil.

“Are you asking?”

“Well, you didn’t offer.”

The immediate pang is one of violent nausea, subsiding quickly into a wooze coating the bottom of your stomach in black tar as he fucks upward. Unease. There’s something in his spit, you assume. Something that makes the gaping wounds a little more bearable, a little less raw as he kitten-licks the flesh between swallows. Ice courses your veins with adrenaline as it always does.

Astarion chokes down his first sip with an eager cough. The burgeoning panic wracking your limbs turns into a numbed haze as your lover feasts, big neat gulps whilst he clutches at your ribcage with fingers splayed deep and cock buried to the hilt, like a man starved. His hair tickles at your jaw, the smell of something herbal. Slightly lemony.

He splutters that he’s close and you feel yourself nearing your peak too.

There’s a profane desecration in what he’s doing, painting your walls in an attempt to get you pregnant. Something deeply sordid, raw; ungodsly. There’ll be no Lathandrian blessing for your young, no gentle welcome into some family fayre on the outskirts of the city. No villages to raise them, no cards nor flowers from friends or family; but you want this.

You want him to taint you in his particular shade of crimson, visibly; so the realms know who made The Saviour of Baldur’s Gate come to heel. The man who compelled her through sheer love alone and to whom she gave everything. The indomitable force for whom you’ll die, only to resurrect forever as his.

Visions of your turning don’t scare you - all lightning and thunder, the cries of your dhamplings in some nursery down the towering halls of your palatial wing; and yet you’ll be safe in his caress. He wouldn’t let a single thing happen to you. He won’t.

And as he cums; he calls your name.

Some rhythmic prayer over and over again; and with each kick of his cock he loses some of his bedroom charm and hurtles back to earth, humbly enraptured. More candid. His weary muscles tighten as yours threaten your own release around him.

“Cum for me, now. Milk me.” in a heavy whisper whilst he strokes the soft flesh of your cheek; and you do. You cum harder than you can remember ever before. Each wave of sheer pleasure some blackout tidal wave as you writhe, staccato in his arms.

If you die during the ceremony, you’ll die happy. Should the younglings bite their way through your womb, it won’t matter.

You’re loved. He loves you, in soft kisses and gentle arms carried all the way to the waiting washtub. In the way he sponges your aching shoulders and brings a washcloth to your dazed face.

Baldur’s Gate doesn’t sleep, not really.

But tonight it will, in the patient, visceral bliss of calm before a summer storm.

#my writing #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate astarion #ascended astarion #ascended astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion baldurs gate #astarion bg3 #bg3

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faerievampling · 3 months

Text

An Unexpected Visitor

Summary: Ascended!Astarion and Tav have been together for thousands of years. One day, an unexpected visitor shows up, reminding them of their past and offering them a new adventure.

Word Count: 4k

Here's the link to AO3!

Pairing: (soft) Ascended!Astarion x Female Tav

Warning: 18+, Explicit. PiV. Oral Sex. Light bondage. Light dom/sub.

A/N: This is going to be a multi-chapter story I will be posting here and on AO3. Largely but not entirely based on my headcanons for Ascended!Astarion that you can read here: Part 1. Part 2. (Not necessary to read first!!)

I hope you enjoy!

You wake up with a strong sense of unease. Astarion, your creator and husband, picks up on it immediately, of course. The two of you are so profoundly connected, your minds nestled together; he knows that you do not know the ‘why’ for these feelings.

Astarion kisses and cuddles you good morning, as he always does, but he holds you a bit longer this time, not wanting to get out of bed with his consort feeling this way. His hold on you is tight as he buries his nose in your hair.

Alas, Astarion has work to do, including ensuring the protection of his territories and assets, especially at a time like this.

The war, my darling. The war. Astarion reminds you again. You hadn’t been affected by it at all, and didn't really care. And Astarion really didn’t care that you didn’t care. He only wanted your happiness and wellbeing, and had worked hard to keep you away from it all.

But he feared that maybe you could sense it, or were beginning to. His weariness, his stress; those feelings he did his best to guard you from.

Astarion cradled you to his chest, one arm on your naked back and the other nestled in the root of your hair, giving you gentle massages as you listen to the thump of his ever-beating heart. After a while, Astarion repositions the two of you so that he may offer his neck to you. He knows this is your (second) favorite place to feed, because you can feel the beat of his heart and drink in his scent.

He also knows you’d rather like to feed from the inside of his thigh, but now was not the time for that. Well, maybe it was, but the two of you were already late for court.

As you sup of his blood, you moan with pleasure - there is nothing better to a bride than the blood of her creator, and Astarion was a very generous master.

“Your master adores you, my little darling,” Astarion whispers in your ear as you feed, his hand moving to caress the back of your head. His teasing words cause you to grind into his hips, and you can feel him beginning to get hard.

“Enough, my pet,” Astarion says as he pulls you away, detaching your fangs from his ivory skin. As he meets your gaze, the memories of your days of madness wash over him like the shock of ice cold water.

Long ago, Astarion insisted you feed on him and only him. There was danger in this, a bride feeding too much from her Master. This, Astarion knew, but his mind was shrouded with paranoia.

In another land, one of the brides of vampire master Geldon Moth was poisoned and killed. Once Astarion heard the news, he came to a quick decision.

Believing his blood to be the safest for you, you were to feed on him and only on him. After months of letting you gorge, Astarion saw the bridal madness for the first time.

Astarion is quick to push the memory away. Before he does, you catch a glimpse of the scene: you’re inconsolable, starving, horny as a bitch in heat, and as violent as ever. Astarion is crying, begging you to come back to yourself.

Astarion no longer remains your only food source. He is your primary one, indeed, but the essence of others is to be drunk from a goblet, not from lips to skin. That is reserved for you and your creator.

Thou art mine. A thought rings in your head.

You help Astarion dress, as you have for the past…so many years. Astarion dismissed his footman so long ago, preferring to do the work himself with the help of his consort. His aversion to touch, anyone’s but your own, was an ever-growing symptom of the choices the both of you made so long ago.

Astarion plants a tender kiss on your lips before he goes, and your own maid comes in to help you dress and take care of your hair. She wants to put it in an updo of some kind, so that you match with the other ladies of the court.

But you’ve been feeling rather rebellious, and Astarion sat on the throne, so you could do whatever you wanted. And so you did.

You keep it long, like a curtain, and now that Astarion had finally moved on from his insistence that you wear something low cut, you choose a dress that is modest, comfortable, but regal enough. You ditch the shoes. You’ve been alive for nearly two millenniums. You know your beauty is already unmatched, and you needn’t worry yourself with discomfort. Your feet rarely touch the floor, anyways.

But your current maid doesn’t seem to agree, and always argues with you about the fucking shoes. Before she even begins, you hiss at her.

This maid, Bethild, is one you’ve had for a while now. First joining your service as a young woman, Bethild was now rather old and round, you think. She tuts at you for hissing before crossing her arms, ready to give you a lecture.

“It’s not befitting of a Lady in your position to be hissing,” Bethild addressed you in ways others would die for, but you rather liked her, and Astarion did too.

But before she could continue, you use your vampiric telepathy to force your way in. THE DRESS IS LONG ENOUGH. NOBODY WILL SEE. You scream this into her mind, trying to cause her a bit of pain, maybe some nausea.

Bethild knows when she’s lost a battle, and she murmurs something about your Master hearing about this as she bumbles her way out of your room.

You roll your eyes at her as she leaves. Why must we do this everyday? You reach out to your husband. But he doesn’t immediately respond, because he already knows your grief: it is simply becoming increasingly difficult for you to tolerate mortals.

We can get you a new maid, my consort. Or we can get rid of them all together. Whatever it is you want, it will be yours. Astarion reaching into your mind is always comfortable, and the contact sends a shiver to your core.

You didn’t understand how Astarion could handle it so well. So much better than you. You were thankful that he could, of course, but you just didn’t understand.

You’re perfect the way you are, my consort. You don’t need to be like me. You are mine, and I will always take care of you.

Once you’re ready, you float to your throne, making a bit of a scene because of your tardiness. Astarion doesn’t care; the subjects can wait, especially for you.

As you take your seat, Astarion holds your hand, idly (and a bit anxiously) playing with your fingers as he handles business. He likes to look at them as he mulls over the proceedings in his mind; he plays with your rings, twisting them around your fingers and sometimes switching them between digits. Every day, he looks forward to seeing what choice of jewelry you will make. It makes him feel tremendous pride to see the beauty of your soft and smooth hands, and to see the decadent jewels on your pretty fingers.

Whatever business Astarion is handling today is, frankly, totally lost on you. If something important happens, something you need to know, Astarion will tell you.

So, you lose yourself in the folds of you and your eternal lover’s mind. You always enter this vampiric trance during court. You needn’t speak, because you trust your beloved creator to speak for you.

After a few hours and a few dealings later, something briskly breaks you out of this trance. That unease.

Astarion squeezes your hand to draw your attention to him. You meet his gaze, and you see a lot there: love, need, possession, inquiry, frustration. You’re having a hard time parsing through it, but what you gather is you are making Astarion extremely uncomfortable.

We’re almost done here. After court, you will be sequestered away until I know you are safe. Is all he communicates with you.

It’s just a sense of unease, my love. Please just stay with me, you are all the protection I need. Don’t lock me away. You are practically begging at this point, but your face gives nothing away. You are dampened by your curse. Rather it be the vampiric curse or the curse of time, you aren’t sure. You are still you, but your light shines dimmer.

Astarion narrows his eyes at you. Your foresight has been right before.

You shake your head at him. Now, you’re both starting to lose your poker faces. The mortals murmur around you, but the two of you exist only with each other at this moment, and the rest of the world is diminished.

This is different. It’s just a feeling, nothing more. I’ve had no visions, Master. You call him this to soften him up; it makes Astarion’s cock twitch just to hear you say the word.

As Astarion’s thoughts turn lewd, a servant approaches him, informing him of the next visitor to be heard. You feel Astarion’s mind slip away from yours as he focuses on the world around him.

But the words of the servant are tumbling around in his head. Scary, strange looking elf.

What? You ask, probing into Astarion’s mind.

He looks over to you, his handsome features and lustful eyes (he’s still having some lewd thoughts) causes your breath to catch and sends your second heartbeat to race. He said the visitor knew us, and was a terrifying, strange looking elf.

A picture has already formed in Astarion’s mind of a strange green egg that was briefly in your possession during your adventuring days. Still holding each other’s gaze, you both silently acknowledge that the ‘strange elf’ is in fact, not an elf.

The two of you further slip into each other's minds, a feeling so familiar by now yet no less pleasurable. The folds of your waking mind are fondled by his, and as he is weaving through you, he finds a memory he cannot ignore: that pretty clearing. His own version of the memory rises within him, meeting yours halfway. He is focused on that first kiss, that first taste of you, your folds, the taste of your sweat…

You can’t help but smile as you hear Astarion’s heart racing. The passage of time is cruel and has taken many things from you and Astarion both. But neither of you could ever forget that first night.

Focus, my lover. You poke at him.

Astarion smirks. It must be a githyanki. We fought many of them, remember, little love?

You remember, only vaguely. Astarion’s memory was much sharper than yours, due to his ascended state.

Deciding to give it no more thought, you drift off into your trance again, and Astarion lets you. You needn’t care about this mysterious visitor; you had other things to worry about, like drinking blood, striking fear into the hearts of mortals, and how you were going to convince your darling husband to get on his knees and put his pretty lips on your glistening, swollen sex later tonight.

You glance at Astarion as he’s listening to one of the servants. You focus on his pretty lips, and how perfect they look around your nipple, or your clit.

You think you’ll start by wearing a low cut dress to dinner - yes, that would be the right move. He wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off the plush curve of your breasts, especially if you could manage to wear a corset. You’re also thinking you’ll skip the panties, because surely you can goad him into putting a hand up your skirts. Maybe you’ll invite him to feed on your inner thigh; he loves that tender spot so much, he likely wouldn't be able to help himself to having a taste of you —

“I see your union has stood the test of time,” The sound of the woman’s voice snaps you back into the present with a whirl. You know her voice. You know her face, even: pretty, green skin, orange hair, she even looks rather young, still.

“It is good to see you both. You look….well.” The githyanki says. She is wearing armor, and has a long sword sheathed on her back. She looks at you uneasily, but you see a fondness in her eyes and a comfortable sense of familiarity.

Lae’zel. Astarion tells you. She was once your lover. You can feel Astarion seething at the reminder that once, you were not his. You don’t really know how to respond to him, because you do remember your time with Lae’zel, but it was so long ago it is literally ancient history.

You knit your brows together as you take her in. Her coming must be that feeling of unease. And Astarion tells you as much as he converses with Lae’zel. She wants something, he tells you. Despite his broiling jealousy, Astarion keeps a cordial, straight face as he converses with Lae’zel.

She has been in the Astral Plane, a place outside of time and space, fighting a seemingly never ending war with Vlaakith. And she has come to her only living allies on the mortal plane, the Ancunins, for help.

Lae’zel and Astarion come to an agreement for a private meeting on the morrow. Astarion’s emotions are all over the place; he ends court early, deciding to sequester you to the bedchamber early.

As he marches you to the boudoir, hand on your wrist as you’re barely keeping up with him, Astarion is stopped by a servant. Whatever message Astarion receives leaves him feeling desperate - his mind was disarranged, his face twisted in grief.

Parsing through his mind, you can’t even manage to make out a few words - whatever has happened, Astarion is either hiding it from you or still trying to process it himself. Likely a bit of both, you decide.

But once the two of you reach your bed chambers, he becomes a single minded man.

Astarion grabs both of your wrists with one hand and has you bent over the bed before you can even register your own movement. With his other hand, he is pushing up your skirts, finding his way to your naked sex.

“How ignorant of me to believe all of your past lovers were dead,” His voice escapes through gritted teeth, low and raspy. Astarion maneuvers you on the bed so that you are now on your knees with your ass in the air, hands still being held behind your back. With no way to support yourself, your head rests on the bed.

So much for your plan of getting Astarion on his knees for you.

Astarion’s grip on your wrists tighten as his other hand grazes your exposed labia, caressing the lips of your cunt with his dexterous fingers before sliding a finger inside of you until he is knuckle deep.

“Do you remember your time with her, my consort?” The sensation of his finger being dragged against your slick, spongy walls send you rolling your hips into his hand, desperate for more.

Yes, you think desperately, even though he already knows the answer. He’s surely searched your mind already, probably long ago.

“Say it. Use your words,” His tone is harsh, but his fingers gentle as he slides another into you with little resistance.

“Yes, I remember,” You say, the words feeling odd in your mouth. You realized you hadn’t spoken aloud in quite a while.

Astarion lets go of your hands and brings his arm around your front, a hand gripping your neck and bringing you upright, so that your back is to his chest. His two fingers are still buried inside you.

“I am forever yours, Astarion,” His grip on your neck is gentle, and you’re able to turn your head to look at him. His ruby eyes bore into you, such a perfect reflection of your own.

His own eyes are pleading. Tell me. Please.

You brace yourself. Not because you don’t mean it, but because you know you will never hear the reciprocation spoken aloud.

“I love you, Astarion,” You supplicate.

His eyes are wet, just for a moment, and then his lips crash into yours, his hand trailing up to grab your jaw, to guide you to him. He relinquishes you from his fingers and quickly removes his clothing, not wasting any time to put himself between your legs.

Your dress is long gone by the time Astarion lines his cock up with your entrance, eyes locked with yours in an intense gaze.

“Say it again. For your Master, spawn,” He growls. You knew this was merely just a part he wanted you to play sometimes, but it hurt all the same. He knew this. But he needed this from you.

“I love you eternally, Master,” You speak with a soft voice barely above a whisper as Astarion rubs his swollen tip against your puffy folds.

His ruby eyes bore into you as he pushes into you slowly; a moan escaping his pretty lips once he’s bottomed out, balls deep inside of you. He leans over and plants a kiss on your forehead before meeting your gaze again.

“You are my everything, Tav.” His voice is raw, and this is all he can manage before his lips meet yours again. You clench around his cock as he begins to set a slow, steady pace.

That tiny longing inside of you vanishes, and you know that you are his everything. You tangle your hand in his hair and deepen your kisses; Astarion whimpers at this, and when he quickened his pace, your cunt is making lewd, squelching noises at the power of his thrusts.

“Gods above,“ Astarion breathes against your lips. He begins to play with you, adjusting his pace until he finds the perfect rhythm to exuberate the lewd sounds of your desperation.

Bringing himself upright, Astarion watches you; your lips are parted, showing off your beautiful fangs, which he loves so much. He admires your smooth, unmarred skin, as he was careful not to leave any scars on your body. Sure, he had wanted to permanently mark you, but he thought it cruel and pointless: you are his, and nothing will ever change that.

As Astarion slides his cock along your walls, you can’t help but clench around him as you eye your gorgeous husband.

Astarion’s beauty was that of literal legends; as you eye his disheveled curls, the cut of his muscles and jaw, and you know that every ballad, every poem, every story of the beauty of Astarion the Decadent, Hero of Baldur’s Gate, is true.

Astarion needs to taste you now, and he slowly pulls his cock out from your desperate cunt, causing you to whimper from the loss. Astarion lowers himself between your legs before examining your sex.

“I’ve made a sloppy little mess of you, haven’t I?” Astarion smirks at you, his pupils blown with lust. With his fingers, he spreads your folds, eyeing you as your anticipation grows. He swipes his tongue from your entrance to your clit before he wraps his lips around your swollen, glistening clit and begins to suck; his tongue is so soft, so gentle, and the steady circles he is making with his tongue have you trembling beneath him.

“Perfect…” He murmurs against your sex, the vibration of his silky voice causing you to whimper. “You’re so…” He can’t even finish his sentence as he begins to devour you, and he is desperate to taste you as you come. He has you screaming his name in mere seconds, and you are putty in his hands as he brings himself back up to his knees and rams his cock in you.

You’re so wet, and to your surprise, Astarion inserts two fingers inside you along with his cock; the stretch makes you groan, and he smiles wildly as his other hand grasps your jaw, pulling your head aside to expose your neck to him.

Mine. Mine. Mine. To do with as I please. Body, blood, and soul. You’re mine to fuck, to stretch out, to eat, to use, and you can never leave me. This scares you, but you can’t deny your increasing wetness for him. And you can’t deny the truth of his words.

Astarion slides his fangs into you, making you shudder as he moans loudly; he is so deep inside you, you can feel his swollen tip hitting your cervix, and you claw at his scalp and his back as he drinks you in.

After just a few sips, Astarion is coming undone, and his arms are around you now, holding you so tightly to him that you can’t breathe. You can feel his balls contracting against the curve of your ass as he spills his seed inside you. He trails mindless kisses on your skin as he comes down from the high of his orgasm.

He holds you to him for a while, cock still inside of you, and you can feel the decreasing thump of his heart against your chest. Eventually, he rolls over, and when you’re released from his cock, you feel his seed spilling out of you, dripping down your slick folds and pooling at your pert asshole.

“I’m going to commission a painting of you, just like this.” He says as he examines the damage. “I’d have to gouge their eyes out after, of course.”

Of course. You reach out in agreement with a smile on your face.

“Speak, my darling. I want to hear your pretty voice.” Astarion gathers you between his legs, your back to his chest as he wraps his arms around you and cradles you to him. He’s still trailing kisses wherever he can: your neck, your shoulder, your cheek, your ear.

“Sorry. Habit.” It was a habit, but nowadays, it was more of a preference.

“You needn’t apologize, lover,” Astarion rests his head on your shoulder, breathing in the scent of your skin. “I’d like you to attend the meeting with Lae’zel with me.”

You needn’t be anywhere but right by my side. Lord Moth’s estate was attacked again. A few of his spawn were killed.

Well, that is far better than being locked in the boudoir, you think. “Of course I’ll come with you.”

After a moment, you speak again. “I can’t believe she’s still alive. I thought all our past friends were dead.”

“Me too. From what I can recall about Lae’zel, it was ignorant of us to think that woman could ever die.” The two of you giggle as you reminisce on old adventures, the ones Astarion is willing to dwell on, to enjoy.

Astarion doesn’t mention his jealous feelings about Lae’zel’s sudden reappearance, but you feel it in his actions as the two of you spend the rest of the day in bed; he takes you again, biting you in places he had never before, coming in every hole of yours that he could, until you were well and truly taken and used.

Eventually, the two of you drift off in each other's arms, as you always did. But your lasting thoughts are not on blood, fear, or Astarion’s cock (well maybe a little bit), but on the ‘why’ of Lae’zel’s return. Astarion shares in your anxiety, but assures you to be patient, as all will be revealed on the morrow.

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5. Chapter 6.

Masterlist

#ascended!astarion #astarion smut #astarion bg3 #Ascended Astarion x reader #Ascended Astarion x tav #Ascended Astarion x you #astarion x female tav #lae'zel is also here lol #soft ascended astarion #lord astarion #spawn tav #astarion #vampire tav #ascended!astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #Killing Time

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thewritetofreespeech · 1 month

Text

Astarion x Reader

words: 2.6K

rating: E

pairing: Ascended!Astarion x Tav (female)

tags: heterosexual sex, fingering, sex on a table, vampire nibbles, soft ascended!astarion (sort of), cazador servants

summary: why do formal tables have to be so long? luckily they are also sturdy. [x]

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He’d been lost in the halls of the palace for hours. Though he had lived here all of his undead life, 200 years of being trapped in these walls, Astarion had never been allowed to roam free. There were still secrets to the palace left to unlock. Secrets that Cazador had kept from them, far worse and far more subtle than the grand temple he had built in the ‘basement’.

Now that it was all his, Astarion felt this incredible urge to leave no stone unturned. Partly to understand his new home. Mostly, just to spite Cazador still.

“Master Astarion.” He turned around fast to see Vilhelm standing there. Still getting used to his new role and that he could be here in the library as he wished. The human, for his part, seemed perfectly comfortable in his new role. Funny how a tenday ago he would have spit on his shoes should they pass in the hall. Now he was quick to lick them should Astarion ask. “Dinner has been served and the mistress is waiting. But if you would like! I can have it sent back to the kitchen and await your orders.”

“No, no.” He tutted at the man. Who seems an odd combination of relieved and terrified at being corrected. “A gentleman never keeps a lady waiting.”

He had no idea that dinner had even been prepared. Nor that that was something to be expected. Now that he had ascended, the hunger that tormented him for centuries had finally been sated. He wondered, as he walked the halls with Vilhelm just behind him, if he could ever be hungry again. Would ever be hungry again.

The doors to the dinning room open for him and Astarion stepped in to observe the marvelous setting. His beloved at one end of the table while candles, silver chaffers, and decorative fruits littered the mahogany all the way to the other end. “Are we expecting royalty?”

“The master…I mean…the old master preferred a formal setting when he supped.” Varderola explained. A fact that Astarion would never know because he had never been in this room to eat, only to be paraded in front of Cazador’s guest before being shunned off to dine on his dinner of rats. He truly never even knew that Cazador ate anything. “But if the master would prefer-“No.” Astarion cut in quickly with a wave of his hand. “No. This is fine.” If it was good enough for Cazador, certainly such effort was good enough for him.

He walked over to Tav and gave her a kiss on the cheek, before going to his seat at the other end of the table. Less impressed with the table setting now that he was at one end of it and her at the other. Astarion could barely see her through all the candles & greenery.

“How was the tour of the palace?” He looked up when Tav spoke. Syrin poured her wine while Vilhelm on his left did the same. “Find any bodies stuffed in a trunk somewhere?”

Astarion chuckled. “No. Not yet.” This all felt so straight.

A few months ago, he would never have dreamed to be sitting here. He would have been absolutely terrified to even consider it. Now, here he was. Free, all powerful, the people who once shunned & ridiculed him waiting on him hand and foot, richer than probably any noble in Baldur’s Gate, beloved by the most beautiful woman in the realms. Things he had dreamed of when he was shackled below, where just one of them seemed out of reach. Now he had it all.

“Is everything alright?” Tav’s voice broke him out of his thoughts again. Speaking of so far out of reach….

“Yes, it’s just…you’re so far away.” Though it still seemed strange, the comedy of all this being for just the two of them was starting to sink in.

“Oh. Well. That’s a quick fix.”

Practical, yet as impulsive as ever, Tav simply picked up her wine and her plate at walked over to his end of the table. The servants seemed mortified, but Astarion was grinning ear to ear. Of course, a simple solution.

A new chair was brought up for her and she sat down to continue their meal. As if she hadn’t just broken probably 14 etiquette rules with her stunt. “I’m glad you liked your tour. I was nervous you might have found it…overwhelming.” Her concern for his well-being, even as he was all powerful now, made his chest feel tight and his cock hard. “But I had a thought. What if we redecorated this place? Made it our own?”

Astarion sat back in his seat and sipped his wine. Leaving his rare meat untouched. “Hmm…I suppose. Cazador always did have the most abysmal taste.” He could say that out loud now. “I don’t think one thing has been updated since I was here. And that’s saying something.”

Tav scoffed. “I’m sure it will take time. And money.”

“Which is no object now.”

“And of course I would want your opinion on things.”

“Of course you would darling.” Astarion replied with his standard, jovial way. “We certainly can’t have your design expertise lead the way. The whole place would be swords, pelts, and big shiny rocks you’ve found.”

“Ha ha….” He tried to hide his grin in his wine glass. “Besides that, I wasn’t sure if there would be anything you’d want to keep. Something….sentimental?”

“You could literally pack up everything in this place and throw it into the sea for all I care.” Sentimental. What a disturbingly odd word for these walls. “Honestly, do whatever you would like. Fill the ballroom with peacocks. Paint the walls whatever color you wish. Tear the walls down if you would like. Just, one thing I do ask,” he sat his glass down and took Tav’s hand in his, “you leave the bedroom design to me.”

He kissed her hand and watched her face flush. Suddenly he was very hungry. But it wasn’t for food.

“Get out.” He heard the shuffle of feet around them, but Astarion wasn’t looking at anyone but Tav. Once he heard the doors close and latch, he surged forward. Ensnaring them in a brutal kiss. Hot and heavy. Intoxicating as much as the wine on their lips.

The hand still wrapped around Tav’s held tighter and pulled forward. Jutting her out of her seat as he fell back. Making her a new seat in his lap. Astarion grinned, all teeth, against her lips as he nipped at them. His hands all over the soft silk on her hips and back as she sighed breathless into his kiss. He’d have to remember that she needed to breathe more than him now.

“Where did you get this lovely dress?” He asked as he gave Tav a chance to do that, but still peppered kisses over her chin, neck, and delicious neck.

“I uh…Syrin found it for me….” Her responses were staggered. He had to assume that it was hard to think in the fog he was creating. “Said I should dress for dinner.”

“You needn’t do anything you don’t want to, my treasure.” Astarion told her. “If you wish to dress down, or simply be naked, then that is what you will do. Personally, I would prefer the former. Though I doubt either one of us would get anything done in a day if this perfect body was on display all the time.” The only thing they would ‘get done’ was each other. “However, I just wanted to make sure this wasn’t one of your favorites as, although it is lovely, it’s in my way.”

The silk stood no chance against him as Astarion gripped the fine material and under tulle and ripped. Tav let out a gasp as he broke her dress skirt free. It didn’t sound like one of alarm or shock, but one of arousal. One that was quickly confirmed when she rolled her hips against him. “Astarion….”

He felt that hunger grow in him again and he pulled Tav down for another long kiss. That perfect body that had slayed goblins, monsters, undead, and near gods, writhing & quivering against him in desire. It was truly more than a man could dream of.

Holding onto their kiss, Astarion blindly fumbled behind them against the table. Then, with one sweep of his long arm, sent his dinner, her dinner, the cups, the silverware, and napkins all tumbling to the ground. All of it made a horrible racket of shattered glass and broken plates, but Astarion couldn’t hear anything over Tav’s panting and the soft moan she made when he lifted her up and sat her down where all of it once was.

He pulled back to look at her. His beautiful consort. Laid out on the table on display and the picture of want. The only meal he was interested in now. “You’re radiant my treasure.”

Tav gasped. A soft sound past her lips as his cool fingers ran from them down her bodice, fingers flicking over the gold, before slipping under the edges of her torn skirt. Her shoulders lifting off the table a little with another soft gasp when he touched her entrance.

The candlelight flickered across her face in a mesmerizing dance as he continued to toy with her. “Astarion….”

“Do you like that my love.” He leaned over them to give Tav a soft kiss. To be that much closer when he whispered. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you.” Simple. Practical.

“I know you do my sweet. And you have me. As I have you. Aeterna Amantes.” He had meant what he said. They would be together forever. Gods willing, even after that. Surely there was some method to his new power that would make it so. But, for now, “I want you to tell me what you want. Right now.” Tav let out a sharp gasp when he ran his thumb over her clit and curled his fingers inside her the way she liked. “Let me feast on your words.”

“I want you to fuck me.” Astarion smirked. What a vulgar little kitten. Gods how he loved that something so beautiful could be so….dirty. “Fuck me Astarion. I want to cum on your cock. I want you to cum inside me. I want to feel you inside me when you cum. Fuck me right here on this table.”

“My sweet, sweet treasure.” He pulled his fingers free from her cunt. Her thighs quivered a bit at the loss as he undid his trousers. “How could I say no?”

He stripped out of the rest of his clothes quickly. Like a new alabaster statue for the dining room. Then he gripped Tav’s hips and yanked her to the end of the table. She made a surprised sound but bit her lip seductively right after and spread her legs wide. ‘That’s my good girl.’

Astarion lined up and thrust forward when she opened her legs for him. His treasure let out the most delicious moan when he filled her. Her back arching high off the table. Hands scrambling for purchase on the wood as she tried to anchor in the wave of pleasure. He himself felt a bit overcome, and just had to take a moment to hold still and run his thumb over the soft embroidery of her bodice with his hands still at her waist.

With his newfound abilities, his senses were also sharper than they had ever been. Even sharper than when his treasure first let him start feeding on him and he knew what feeding on thinking creatures was like. It was like the world had gone from being in a fog or dim torch light in a cave to bright, vibrant display all around him. All the colors. All the sounds. All the tastes and touch. He wanted to explore all of it. And, especially, explore all of that with Tav right now.

His hips pulled back and he thrust into her again. She called his name, and he did it again. Over and over until he was pistoling his cock into her. Much to her delight, apparently, as Tav moaned and squealed and panted beneath him.

Astarion grinned wickedly as he watched his beloved and the city’s hero fall apart under him. Beautifully taking his cock. Thrusting up to meet him in perfect unison like the perfect pair they were. That wonderful look of agonizing ecstasy on their face.

The vampire lifted one of Tav’s legs wrapped around his waist up to his shoulder. The change in position lets him thrust harder, deeper and they cry out louder for him. He kissed the inside of their ankle and gave them a brief glance before he sunk his teeth into it. “Ah…Astarion….” His beloved fell back against the table. Nearly liquid as he drained hers from her body. His thrusts slowing from a hard fuck to something more sensual.

He felt a little drunk. All parts of him consumed in this moment as he literally consumed Tav. Body and soul. Astarion’s fangs release from her flesh and his treasure let out a little whimper when he did. “That’s it my sweet. Let it go.” He reached down between them to rub her clit. A set of sharp inhales following as Tav seemed desperate to get air in her lungs to withstand this pleasure. “You wanted to cum on my cock, right? Feel me cum inside you? Well, as always, I provide. Cum for me, my treasure. Break open for me.”

His words and touch seem to do the trick as Tav’s walls were quickly seizing around his cock, while screaming out in pleasure from her orgasm. Music to his ears.

Astarion continued to thrust through her orgasm but quickly followed. Spilling his seed inside her, as requested, before he collapsed in his chair from exhaustion soon after. From this angle, he was greeted with a perfect view of her cunt. Red and swollen. Wet from her juices and his cum. He was tempted to lean forward and taste it. Dessert after his meal, if he could only get out of this chair.

The moment past though as Tav quickly sat up on her elbows and closed her legs. Spoil sport. “We ruined dinner.”

“So?” Actually, he had had his dinner. In case she forgot.

“But they worked so hard on it. I feel bad we wasted it.”

Astarion scoffed. Of course his beloved would feel sorry for the servants. She had a big heart for the less fortunate. Like him, or who he used to be. “Their job is to work. Not be appreciated.” He told her.

Getting a second wind, Astarion stood from his seat again and wrapped his arm around Tav as he stood between his legs. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure some of it can be saved if you want a nibble later. I know I will.” He loved the sound of her giggle when he nipped at her ear. More music from his precious consort. “But, for now, let’s retire to our chambers and let them clean this up. We can discuss how to improve them. I’m thinking gossamer curtains, a four-post bed, and a mirror above it now that I can see my reflection with you in it.” Tav laughed as if it were a joke, but it wasn’t.

He would let her know about that later. Right now, he wanted to go back to the bedroom and sate this hunger that was still inside him.

His hunger for blood may have been sated with his ascension, but hunger for sex & Tav seemed stronger than ever now.

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annikin-annotates · 5 months

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Family Ties

Hi hello, good morning friends. I’m giving you a steaming serving of Ascended!Astarion x Spawn!Tav to soothe (or anger?) your souls. I hope you enjoy this one shot as much as I did writing it. With that being said, I’m not paying for ya’lls therapy bills. I don’t think this one is too traumatic, if anything, it’s tame.

TW: Gore, Recapping of the ritual, Ascended Astarion being his bastard self, brief mentions of birth and pregnancy, having to give up a child (for their own safety).

Word Count: 2.6K

‘I’m doing this for you, too, you know. To make sure we are both safe, forever.’

She watched on in silent horror as the scene played out before her. “No, no. No healing sleep for you. Wake up!” Astarion hissed, as he ripped Cazador out of his coffin, his body splaying out awkwardly on the floor.

“Get your hands off me, worm,” Cazador spat indignantly as he pushed himself from the floor to a kneeling position, still reeling from the force of being thrown.

Astarion laughed heartily. “Hah! I’m not the one in the dirt,” his eyes darkened, a smirk curving the corners of his mouth, for the first time in two hundred years he held all the cards, he had the upper hand; and it felt good. He stared Cazador down, his body coiled like a snake ready to strike. “I am so much more than what you made me,” he looks to her, a silent plea in his eyes, “I can do this, but I need your help.”

There was no question that she would help him, she would have done whatever he had asked her to do, “All right, what do you need me to do?” she asked him, her fists clenched at her sides. Gods, she would have set the world ablaze if only to see him smile.

“I need your eyes,” he paused for a moment, the air was so still around them that it was almost suffocating. “Use the parasite - link your mind to mine so I can see the scars on my back and copy them onto his.”

“You would not dare!” Cazador seethed, though his voice betrayed him - that self-righteous air he had traded for something more human, fear.

“I would, and I will,” his voice was laced with fury. Two hundred years of suffering surfacing, she could see it in the way his hands shook as they held the knife. His eyes softened as they found hers again. “Help me do this, please.” Astarion looked to her pleadingly, crimson eyes glassy and full of desperation - he needed this. He needed her.

They recoiled slightly as their minds melded together, becoming one as the pain subsided and the world came back into focus once more. The weight of the dagger felt heavy in his hand, she could feel his fingers shifting nervously along the hilt. She could see Cazador from his perspective, cowering on the floor before Astarion, his hands raised in front of him; as if a pleading look would put the pain of the past to rest.

She could feel how Astarion hungered for power, and it was all within his reach, wealth, power, freedom - it was intoxicating. She trusted him, trusting him was the right thing to do - helping him achieve the only thing he wanted was the right thing; if it was the right thing to do, then why did it feel so wrong? Why did standing idly by and watching a man be carved apart to feel the pain that he inflicted upon so many feel so wrong?

And so the cycle would continue.

—

He was not hers anymore, that much was clear; Astarion had changed beyond recognition. While yes, he looked like Astarion and most certainly sounded like Astarion, he was not him, not in the way that mattered. Loving gazes now traded for looks filled with hunger and thirst, for both more power and blood. The man she had fallen for on her unexpected journey was as good as dead, a colder - crueller thing having taken his place. No, the Astarion she loved was nothing if not merciful.

For a time she had lulled herself with a false sense of hope that once the power became less novel, he would return to her. That his softness would begin to peek through again, he would smile again, that’s all she wanted. He had become a monster disguised as a dashing prince, but he was the very thing that mothers warn their misbehaving children about. The dark shadow that stalked pretty maidens and handsome young men down dark alleys, draining them of all they are - of all they could be.

With the same hands that gave him freedom, he sentenced her to a fate worse than death, an eternity of servitude. The worst of it all was that she did it, she helped him with her own two hands, she allowed him to ascend. And when his greed came again, all hungry eyes and jagged teeth; she gave herself to him, and he took from her, hungrily and without mercy, the choices she could have made, ripped away.

He hid her true position with flowered words, ‘My Dark Consort,’ his honeyed voice would whisper to her in the cover of darkness. The words sounded as wrong now as they did back then. Though she supposed it didn’t matter now, the die was cast and she had no choice but to lay in the grave she had dug.

And what a grave she had chosen.

She was glad she could not see herself in the mirror, what would she see? The sadness that clung to her eyes, or the bloodthirsty beast that now wore the skin of a woman long gone. She wasn’t sure she would even recognise the person staring back at her, a hollow husk of what she once was. She had sharper reflexes, eternal life and beauty, all the jewels and dresses she could want, and yet there was an ever growing emptiness that made home in her.

What good was eternal life if you couldn’t live for yourself?

—

Silence usually blanketed the palace, a quiet so thick it felt as though no creature could break it. The sort of quiet that told you to run and never look back, that made your ears ring, a bone chilling, deafening silence. A blood curdling scream tore through the stillness of the palace, the usual quiet that the night brings becoming forfeit.

Her hair clung to her forehead as she hissed and groaned through the pain, bringing life into the world felt as painful as taking it. It felt as though a wild animal was fighting to stay within her, its claws digging into her, like it knew the type of environment it was being brought into. She couldn’t blame it, though it did not have a choice. She gasped as relief washed over her, chest still heaving from exertion.

That eerie stillness came crashing back down on the palace, hanging in the corners of the room like an unwanted voyeur. With the quiet came a familiar feeling that wrapped its claws into her heart and squeezed, dread. There was no noise coming from her child, why was it not crying? Her baby should be crying, there should be an ear splitting wailing filling the room; her eyes began to water, a lump forming in her throat.

She could not bear to put another loved one in the ground.

A shrill cry tore through the room, forcing the silence back into exile once more, as if the small thing now in her arms had heard her prayers. It was a little girl, a daughter, and she was perfect in every single way that mattered: ten fingers, ten toes and a beating heart she could feel thrumming beneath her fingers.

Had she always been this cold? Is this what she used to feel like to Astarion? Warm and soft, and so fragile.

She held the babe close to her chest, taking in every inch of her; her sweet, sweet little girl. Her finger shakily stroked the softness of her cheek, her breath hitched in her throat as her little eyes opened - two green irises stared back at her. Her long, dead heart fluttered in her chest, tears pricking the corners of her eyes; those green eyes were his, a little piece of the man she loved. From that moment on she vowed that no harm would befall her little girl, her sunlight.

It was hours before Astarion entered their shared chambers to meet his daughter, the bed sinking slightly the only thing that pulled her from her loving trance. She angled her body slowly towards him leaning into his form, she felt him go rigid at the contact - she did not care. She couldn’t take her eyes off the sleeping child in her arms, this tiny thing gave her eternal life new meaning. “Meet our daughter, my love,” she whispered, softly brushing the edges of the soft blanket she was swaddled in away from her face.

She tore her gaze away from her world to look at Astarion, whose eyes had softened a small bit; before turning steely once more. “A daughter? Does she have a name?” he asked with raised brows, his voice too loud, too cocksure. He reached for the child, taking the babe from her arms before she could protest. Little brows furrowed and she let out a small whine of disapproval before settling into her fathers arms; she could have ripped his throat out for disturbing their child’s rest.

She shook her head. “No, but I think the name Juniper suits her,” she paused for a moment, imagining what her life would have been like if none of this had happened. Would she have returned to the grove where she grew up? She cleared her throat softly, “It reminds me of the berries that grew by my home as a child.”

Astarion scoffed at the suggestion, it made her blood boil with contempt for him - a feeling that had become all too familiar over the last two decades. “My dear, my - I mean our daughter needs to be named something strong, fearsome, something like…” he paused for a moment, looking deeply into the eyes of their daughter. She hoped that when he looked at her that he saw the ghost of himself, she prayed it would make him rethink the person he had become. “Maitenirr. Now that’s a name fit for an Ancunin, isn’t it my darling?”

A scoff threatened to fall from her lips, she swallowed both the anger and vitriol that rises in her throat. How dare he? How dare he snatch her child from her arms and name her. How could he not see that he held the sun in the crook of his elbow? Did he not understand that the small bundle was hers and hers alone? She nodded in agreement, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes tugging at her lips. She knew better than to go against his judgement. “Of course my love, what a lovely choice.”

Astarion had taken the privilege to name their daughter, it made her heart twist to hear a name with such a dark meaning put to a child. Bringer of Death, he told her that she needed a name that was as strong and as fearsome as the family she was born into, the throne she was now heir to. But her child was the embodiment of the sun, if holding her was as close as she would get to feeling the sun's rays on her skin, then that was okay with her.

With each passing day, she wondered how someone like Astarion managed to have a hand in creating something as perfect as their daughter. She could see so much of him in her already, they had the same noses, they shared pointed ears, she smiled in her sleep like he does; like he used to. The more she grew, the more she realised they had the same mannerisms too, always quick to fuss and even harder to soothe.

The more Maitenirr grew, the more things became apparent about her; she loved the darkness and it seemed to like her too. She would reach out to shadowy corners while in her mothers arms, babbling away to them like they could hear her - like they were sentient. It was a secret best kept between herself and the shadows, for as long as possible.

She couldn’t keep Maitenirr’s ability away from her husband for much longer, she had begun to conjure things - beings not of this world, from the shadows. She needed to devise a plan to get her daughter to safety; she would never forgive herself if her guiding light was dimmed by her fathers hands. She would protect her child if it was the last thing she did, from everyone; including Astarion - especially Astarion.

If she was to expedite her daughter somewhere safe, she would need to be cunning about it, she would need to outfox a fox. It consumed her every waking moment, numerous plans scrapped; she almost thought about calling in a favour with Raphael of all people. There was one person in Baldur’s gate that she could trust to get her Juniper to safety, she prayed that they would do this act of kindness for her.

—

"Please, take her. Take her to safety, do not tell me where. If he comes to me I will have no choice but to tell him. Please, he will ruin her if he finds her gift," she pleaded, pushing the bundle into his arms. Giving Juniper away felt like ripping her heart from her chest, exposing the softness of a person long dead, Juniper was a weakness she couldn’t afford to have exploited.

“You don’t understand what you’re asking me to do,” he told her, taking a step back, his hands coming to gently push the child away. She could smell the fear that came off him in waves; she could see it in his eyes.

She looked at him, her eyes full of terror and sadness. “I do, Wyll. Of course I do, but it needs to be you. If he looks for her, which he will; I cannot know where she is. I will be the first person he comes to,” her voice shakes. “I know I ask a lot of you, but please, protect my daughter. Give her a fighting chance, Wyll.”

He sighed, taking the child into his arms. “I will make sure she gets to safety, you have my word,” he swore, his voice solemn. The moment he took Juniper into his arms, she had to fight the urge to snatch her back from him, it took everything in her not to scream: she is the only good I have found in this world, please don’t take it from me. She blinked back her tears, no, this was better. She would not sit idly by and watch another innocent suffer at the hands of a monster that she created.

“Thank you, Wyll. you have no idea what this means.” Her child would have a fighting chance at a life untainted by cruel hands. She turned away slightly, drying the tears that had begun to spill. Now was not the time for tears, she would have eternity to shed them, now was the time to dig deep - to be strong, one last time.

“Her name is Juniper, if there is one thing from this life that I can give her - it's her name,” she added, backing away from the both of them. Small hands reached out towards her, a dissatisfied grunt tumbling from tiny lips. She looked around nervously, she didn’t have much time, she rushed to the child one final time, pressing a kiss to the patch of white amongst the rest of her dark hair. A small piece of him.

“Your mother loves you, more than you will ever know. Giving you up is my greatest sacrifice, I love you, my Sunlight,” she whispered into her hairline before stepping back several paces, she looked to Wyll once more. “Get her out of here, Wyll.” She made her way up the main staircase, away from the door, she dared not look back.

The vipers fangs have bared, she must protect her brood.

Thank you for reading, Please take a moment to comment or reblog my work, it really brightens my day and gives me the boost to keep creating!

Beta read by the lovely: @arcielee and @amiraisgoingthruit

#astarion x reader #astarion romance #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader #astarion my beloved #baldurs gate astarion #ascended astarion #astarion x tav #ascended astarion x reader #f!reader x astarion #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin

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pursuitseternal · 1 month

Text

“Seek Me:” naughty Hide and Seek for you and your Vampire Lord in “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3.4 K of predator/prey, hide and seek double smut

Summary: To fight the impending ennui of politics, you play a game, just a simple hunt, a sort of dark and perverted hide and seek. Winner claims the spoils, and the spoils are always… delicious.

CW: predator/prey dynamics, perverted hide and seek, slight exhibitionism (twice), rough sex, possessive sex, double cream pie, (surprise) carriage sex

Ao3 link | Astarion fic Masterlist

Chapter 11… Seek Me

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Shadows stretch across the palace halls, bending and misshaping anything familiar. That creeping memory of sneaking in here years ago to stop the Rite that made you and your love what you are still niggles in your thoughts and nightmares sometimes.

Times like this, you wonder why Astarion insisted on living in such a place of past torment. Even though the decor was brighter and the crimsons more vibrant, it didn’t matter in the dark.

All looked the same cloaked in shadows and covered in night.

Your undead heart pounds, it's slow and hard as your breasts rise and fall rapidly with your breaths. Why… why did you agree to let him go first? Some little game to break the ennui. A simple game of hide and seek. But you should have known, hiding and seeking was more than that in an ancient ancestral, vampiric palace.

And it was always more than that with Astarion, your love, your sire, your husband.

You keep your eyes open for his glowing red gaze… your ears train the ground for his near silent step… he’s far more practiced at all being a vampire entails. He can hold his breath, slow his heart, move like death incarnate.

Your only advantage is that you know the palace better. All these days spent overseeing renovations as he attended council meetings and travels, you had more than a few tricks up your sleeve. As long as he didn’t catch you first.

Darting onto the balcony, you keep to the shadows and hug the wall. If you can just make it inside the hall, you’re sure he won’t find you for quite some time.

After all, it’s just a little game to play while your guests are still departing, admiring your new palace. It’s only a matter of time now before you both need to leave for some grand soirée, another of many evenings wrapped up in tedium and the boring banter of politics and power. This game is to spice up the evening ahead. And instead, it just makes your heart race.

Winner or loser, you know you’re just going to end up split on his cock, gasping and pleasured wherever you are. Wherever it is he finds you.

You just hope it’s not within earshot of these nobles…these poor, pathetic souls who wander to look at your splendorous home. You hear their voices from down below, lightening your step to go unnoticed. Muffled noises grow closer. Hands shaking, you know that hidden door is here… behind this panel, your hands skim over the ornate wallpaper, searching with fumbling touch for the switch. Noises grow louder, and suddenly you’re aware of the milling crowd on the other side of the railing. They can just catch you from the corners of their judgemental eyes, their ears just within reach enough to hear you if you were to make enough noise…

You wonder if they can also hear those footsteps approaching. Astarion. Hunting you down, seeking you in your fun and twisted game.

Trembling, ragged breaths come from your mouth as you finally hear the click of the hidden switch, the panel shifting in the wall to reveal total and utter darkness. You smile, relieved….

Until two glowing crimson eyes open to look down on you from within. Quicker than breath, he’s turned you around, dagger to your throat and arms pinning you against his chest as he laughs so quietly in your ear. “Shhhh, not a sound… my treasure.” He grinds his prominent erection on the curve of your ass through your thin silken gown. “Not if you want those Patriars and Council members to hear how much of a slut you are for your lover…”

You swallow the sound that longs to break from your throat. His hand, the one that isn’t skating the blade of his dagger tantalizingly over your neck, skates up your thigh, rucking up your skirts to reveal your bare legs and curves. Just the way he likes you.

“You want that, want to show off how much I crave you, don’t you…?” you hiss the question, pulling at his arm enough to free you, but he only retaliates with a smile on his lips.

Clutching you all the harder, he spins you both into the wall to press you into that elegant wallpaper. That dagger blade is stowed away, replaced by his hand at your neck. His laugh is laced with pure devilry—he lives for this. That hand returns to hiking up your skirt until you feel nothing but the fine, supple leather of his trousers grinding against your ass. “You question if I’d like the powerful men of this city to know that its Hero against the Netherbrain whimpers for me almost every hour of the day?” You feel his hands quickly, dexterously unlace those leathers. That thick, hot head of his cock teases against your ass, slipping beneath your thighs as he spreads you wider with his knee. “You wonder if I’m proud that my beloved longs for me always, and I for her?”

You stifle your groan against the rich and ribbed texture of the wallpaper. That cock head teasing into your entrance just enough to make you shake, to make you press against the wall harder to lift your hips more for him. A low growl shakes against your sensitive ear as he approves, that cock teasing inside you just a little bit more. “Tell me, my treasure, how hard did you try to hide from me? That couldn’t have really been your best…” he taunts you, both with that hot and blunted head in your folds and his words in your ear. “Once I’m finished claiming my victory this round, you’ll just have to try again you know…”

Shivering, you nod, your cheek rubbing that expensive paper, its lush colors too bright to have your face shoved against it. “Oh no, I was barely trying, my love,” you lie just to taunt him all the same. “I just wanted you to claim your victory, worried you’d take too long for how badly I need you.”

“Such pleasing words from my lust-driven consort,” he chuckles, quiet enough for your ear alone. “Such a slut, just for me, is that it?” he rasps as he shoves himself deep into you at last, fangs sinking into your neck all at once. “What kind of lover would I be to deny you that?”

He sucks harder at your neck, hips pistoning against your rear deliberately and smoothly. You physically bite your tongue and cheek to keep from moaning, the hard won prize of this game going to both of you, that desire flooding your bond. Thighs shaking, you know you won’t last much longer, not with the thrill of being just out of eyesight from the dozen or so guests that still mill around. “I look forward to you trying to beat me again,” he growls in your ear, words staggered and stuttered with his thrusts. “But we better finish this round before anyone suspects the Vampire Lord and his Consort of being so madly in love they can’t keep their hands or sexes off each other, hmm?”

A small whine escapes your self-imposed gag on your lips, and it makes him laugh low and dangerously in his throat. “What a good little consort,” he nips at your ear. “Just can’t help yourself. So clever to get caught…” he groans. With that thickening inside you, that gravel in his voice, you know he’s growing close.

The thought alone makes you come undone, back arching, your fangs breaking your own lip’s flesh. It takes every ounce of self-restraint to keep yourself from mewling and screaming as you burst in heat. And all the while, he’s groaning and rasping in your right ear. Shivers run down your back as he grunts harder in that sensitive spot against your neck. Erratic, hard thrusts jab deep inside you, his cock twitching as it pulses and fills you.

“That scent will make it harder for you to hide this time, you know my treasure,” he emphasizes with a deep breath right against your neck. “Your blood, my cum, your arousal… You’re such a mess, marked so well. There’s nowhere inside this palace I won’t be able to track you down, you know…”

You smirk, spinning in his arms to rest your back against the wall. “We’ll see about that…” you tease, breathless and overconfident. He just smirks, that edge of arousal and intrigue darkening the deep crimson of his narrowing eyes.

“I’m sure you’ll do your best, my darling little vampling,” he kisses your lips longingly, a little playful nip at the end, the mingling of iron on your tongues from your blood. He breaks away, eyes wide, frightening as he wraps his hand around your throat, your skin still slick from blood. “We have half an hour before we must depart for the evening, my pet. You had better not delay us, you know.”

“You wish me to let you win in that time so we remain… punctual?” you tease.

“I’m just stating the obvious,” he shakes his head very slowly as he smirks wide enough to bare his fangs, “I won’t be pleased if I have to leave without you just because you decided to be clever.”

“I… am… clever,” you taunt, tapping him on his nose with each insolent word.

Astarion pulls his hand away from your throat, eyes glinting, breath still. “Then I’ll let you get a head start, my clever girl…” he leans his fanged face into yours, “so you had better run.”

You stumble away, thighs slick as he watches you break out into the evening on the balcony again. He just laughs, your scent too strong in his nose. Voices from below call up to him, those guests wishing to impart a few more good wishes to their host before their departure for the next gathering. Astarion shoves his cock back in his trousers, perfecting his appearance before leering down at the nobles form over that thick railing. Those mortals so literally far beneath him. “A fair evening to you,” he calls with a flourish. “My lady and I will see you at the festivities anon. A few matters of home to wrap up before the evening, I’m afraid.”

He sniffs the air, the stink of these guests cloud his senses. Striding down the stairs, he tries to pick up your scent, but there are just too many bodies, too much stale wine and general stink. Once the door is shut to the palace, once he is truly alone, he tears through room after room, searching and sniffing. His mind tugs against yours. “Where are you… darling….?” he growls down your bond, but you know better than to answer. “Trying so hard to be clever, is that it?”

He sneers to himself as he sweeps silently through bedchambers and ballrooms and galleries. He presses against the walls at cracks and hidden doors to scent you within the tunnels. The clock starts to chime, and Astarion hisses in frustration. He hears the carriage rumbling outside the main doors.

“On the gods, darling,” he hisses outloud and down their bond. “If you don’t come out right now, I will be sorely disappointed.” He huffs, grabbing his gloves and cane perched neatly in the foyer. He pauses for a moment, tilting his pointed ear to listen to his palace, scanning his domain for her. “You think you’ve won?” he snips, irritated and irked as he starts out the door towards the waiting coach. It’s black paint trimmed with gold shines in the torchlight as night falls. “I assure, my darling, if you don’t come this moment to the coach for the evening’s gathering…”

He lets the threat hang in the air. Not even a tremor of a laugh from her end of their bond. Teeth grinding, he launches from the door into the gathering dark of night. He opens the carriage door with a shout for the driver to make haste. Before the door has even shut behind him, his team of raven black mares is off through the Upper City.

Astarion flops down on the elegantly cushioned seat of his coach. His cane in his hands nearly breaks in the strength of his angered grip. “How dare she…” he hisses into the dark as the carriage bumps and sways over the streets. That little window lets the wind whistle in. Usually he enjoys the breeze on his face, but now, tonight, it annoys the hells out of it. He slams it shut

Suddenly, without that breeze, a scent reaches his nose. Blood… arousal…

“Oh… my love…” your voice tickles his mind.

The couch sways around a corner, something shuffling near his feet. A hand shoots up to grab the hem of his jacket, yanking him towards the floor.

“Darling…” he purrs down at you as your eyes lock into his, your fangs must be glinting in the dim light in the carriage.

“I win,” you gloat, your body pinned beneath him on the floor of your carriage. His legs are already spreading yours, hands already roughly pulling your skirts up to your waist, yet you feel like the victor. The prey finally catches the predator in her neat little trap.

“Clever little consort, setting her snare so neatly for me to wind up between your legs…” he rasps, his body bumping and swaying against you in time with the movements of your coach. But then he begins to add a few more deliberate thrusts of his clothed and hardened cock against your already used and soaking folds. “What is the prize you wish to claim, my treasure?”

“You know my favorite prize,” you purr, catching the edge of his pointed ear in your mouth for a suck, one that deafens him for the moment from the rumble of your coach. A moan slips out from his lips far louder than would be dignified.

His ear slips from your mouth as he turns his head, a snarl in Astarion’s throat as he catches your chin. “Then it is everything you shall receive…” he growls, “when I decide to finally give it to you…” he teases you darkly, those hips grinding against your folds mercilessly. He’s heavy on your core, the bumping and jostling of the carriage stealing your breath as he sometimes times his thrusts with the unpredictable up-down. It only makes him laugh harder and capture your lips in his when he squashes you so completely.

“Maybe if you had just played the game properly, you wouldn’t be feeling so trapped like the little prey you are for me, my little treat…” he nips into your neck, just a small bite. Enough to draw blood by the mouthful for him to feast on.

“I did play, and I won,” you chuckle low in your throat, reaching between our hips to blatantly touch myself. “Maybe it’s time you paid respects to the victor this round?” You tease him, acerbic and haughty as he hears your fingers toying through your own slick.

Astarion gives that low and wicked laugh, relishing your defiant spirit. “I don’t think you want anything respectful done with you…. Do you my treasure?” He can’t stiffle a groan as he teases his own cock head through your sopping seam. Over the rattling of your wooden coach cobblestones, you hear the wet sounds of him playing inside you. It sends shivers down your spine and makes you bite your lips enough to draw your own blood to paint your lips scarlet.

You groan, the carriage lurches around a corner making you both roll to the side. A wicked laugh in your throat, you take full advantage of the surprise. Momentum swings you around, until you are the one on top, in a second, a little rise of your hips, and you sink his cock deep inside you.

Astarion bares his fangs and hisses at the sudden warmth and wet that sucks him in, his head now bouncing on the floor. You ride him mercilessly. “Such a good prize you are…” you tease him, gripping his chin to make him look at you. “Nothing like having the Vampire Ascendant at my mercy for once,” you flaunt your victory.

“You think yourself so clever and….” he starts, but you press a finger against his mouth before sticking two of them inside his mouth as you shush him.

“Hush,” you smirk, glowing in your moment of power. You swirl your fingers around his mouth, grazing over his wet and sucking tongue, pricking your skin on his razor-fangs. “Just let your clever Consort have this victory once,” you smile, pouting down at him a bit as you pull your fingers from his salivating lips.

“Very well, my darling,” he growls, “but at least you could let your loving Ascendant lord sit up so his head isn’t addled by the roads.”

You snicker, “Of course. We wouldn’t want to have your mind any more befuddled by my glorious win.” Your smirk is feral and arrogant. You ease off of him, watching with a knowing and careful eye as he slides himself up to rest against the door of the carriage.

He tosses his head, your bodies still joined perfectly, the coach still rocking with that extra, insatiable friction that moves your sexes on their own. He smirks as you ride over a massive bump, one that fairly throws you into the air to slide down his cock with more force than you can give. You gasp as it makes you land squarely on him, cock head slamming your cervix.

The grin on his face grows delightfully sadistic as it twists those sharp features. You see his ears twitching as he listens closely to the rumbles of the coach, smirk winding higher as he lifts you up in time with the coach to slam you back down as it falls….

You grit your teeth and scream through them with a smile as he fills you, sharp and suddenly. “Get riding, my clever treasure,” he chuckles as he pulls you in for a kiss, “or these roads and I will do it for you.”

You give him a glare, more amorous than angry, your mouth slack as you buck your hips with abandon. You bite your lip as you move, the vibrations of the coach send you barreling towards your bliss so quickly. Hard and fast, your hands grip into the stitching of his jacket, his breath hot at the base of your neck. His gaze burns your skin, watching the way your breasts jiggle and move right before his eyes as you are thrown around, at the mercy of the coach’s movements.

He groans, the pressure so great inside you both, you feel it searing between you and crashing down your mental bond. With one breath, you clench around him, his hands grip into your waist to keep you steady as he tries to snap his hips. It bursts inside you, the pressure and pleasure erupting through your core as you reach your peaks as one. He places a breathless kiss on the soft skin of your bosom. “I do so love when you win too, my perfect prey and equal hunter…” he pants against your flesh. “I’ll gladly let you claim your victory from me…” his left brow arches rakishly and teasing, “but only when you’ve earned it, my darling…”

“Hmmm,” you hum, irritated and yet shivering in pleasure. “Just admit, I’m just as good…”

Suddenly the carriage rumbles to a stop, and you lock eyes with Astarion. Voices approach from behind the door, and your two sets of crimson eyes flare wide a moment before the door pulls open behind him.

He grunts as he spills backward, unceremoniously dangling out the door. His head hangs over the edge of the coach, his fanged smile wide and grinning as he stares into the crow upside down, while your hands grabbing furiously at your skirts to hide your sexes still throbbing and intertwined. He laughs that low and rumbling giggle, quite the sight as other guests pause to stare at the Vampire Ascendant indulging within his own private coach. “Well,” he chortles, sitting up to give a bit of privacy as you slide off his lap, “there isn’t any use hiding our love any longer…” Astarion nips at your neck playfully as he refastesns his trousers. “If they sought a glimpse into the loving depravities of the Ascendant and his consort, they certainly found it.”

You giggle, the rush of being so on display racing through your nerves. Carefully you follow him out of the coach, both of you straightening your clothes as if nothing happened. “And you wanted to play your games thinking tonight would be boring,” you rasp into his ear.

He stops in the middle of the grave path and pulls you hard into him, his kiss all lips and fangs and tongue down your throat. Hiding nothing of your passion from the spectators. “Nothing is boring when I’m with you.”

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vibingandsimping · 6 months

Note

Ayooo for that ascended astarion and timid reader, would you be able to write how he takes her. Idk why i never thought of that combo but dayum. Fire.

LMAOO. This request made me giggle when I first read it. Took me awhile to get to these requests but I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN!!

Whether or not you were a virgin didn’t matter to Astarion. He’d treat you like you were, anyways. His brain wouldn’t wrap around any experience you had. A little thing like you needed some guidance; a little confidence. He has you sat on his lap. Thighs wrapped around him as your knees pressed into the plush of the bed (nothing short of exquisite). You’re clad in very little, in fact, only your lower garment. Skin and breasts on display for a man who observed you like the finest meal in Faerûn. You were sure this wolf was going to eat you whole, actually. The bated silence was broken by him looping his fingers around your wrist and resting it upon his chest. The bastard was still dressed with the exception of his shoes. He rests your fingers on the lace of his shirt.

“Now, if you ever want to seduce a man, my darling. It’s all a dance between the two. Not that i’d ever let hands on you besides my own.” That last sentence sent shivers with the way it’d been spoken. His voice dropping an octave becoming a near growl. You tremble a tidbit as you began to unlace his shirt and slip it off his pale body. You’d seen him shirtless a couple times from your shared bed. This was entirely different- he intended on showing you this skin with an carnal intimacy. To make you lust after him as the way he’s lusted after you. He watches in anticipation and you swallow shakily, fingers skimming his skin. The muscle’s flex at the touch and he draws in a breath. You have a sense that he’d been imagining this long before he event officially met you. He releases your wrist in favor of holding your hips. The added weight closes any distance between your crotches. The firm outline of his erection in his clad trousers sent shivers up your spine. A whine choking in your throat. You hated the effect he had on you throughout your time with him.

His lips drawl into a wicked smirk as his fangs peek. You’re acutely reminded of his nature. A demigod creature of the night preparing to claim you as his. Eternity or not it was a big step in whatever this relationship was. Which, seems to be his consort or lover? He was fiercely protective of you but gave it no true label. You felt more like property than any sort of a mutual. He takes another deep breath and his pupils dilate. His enhanced senses must be telling him of your state. Surely you seeped onto his pants by now. Nails trail your hip as he moves it between your thighs. Sliding past the thin fabric to slip his fingers in-between your folds. Astarion lets out a soft sound of satisfaction finding you wet. The pads of his fingers pressing against the bud of your clit before he pulls away entirely. He makes a show of cleaning his fingers off while moaning at the taste of your cunt. “Delicious. I’m positive it’s even better straight from the source, though. Don’t worry, pet. We have all night to explore. I’ll teach you everything.” You shivered and nodded sheepishly. This life of luxury was alien to you but it was something you could eventually adapt to. It’s not like you had much of a choice for a commoner.

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vampiric-hunger · 2 months

Text

𝕙𝕚𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝕔𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤

pair: Ascended!Astarion x female! spawn !reader

tags: no y/n is used, rating - E, kneeling, fingering, teasing, semi-public sex, creampie, praise kink, vampires being vampires

summary: why Astarion woke you this early you don't know and he doesn't seem in a mood to give you answers, not right away at least. so you walk with him through the streets of Lower City, wandering what is so important. the Elder Brain is still a threat, everything else can wait, surely? but it looks like Astarion has a goal in mind today and it might not be all that serious in the end.

word count: 6,624

a/n: a little late but happy patch 6! kisses, kisses, kisses! writing about them is just as fun as seeing them in game! enjoy <3

for @mist1e <3

The day was almost disgustingly bright. Despite attack plans being prepared by rest of your companions, today it seems that you have a free day. Saving Faerun can wait, can it not? But why in hells Astarion decided to wake you so early and drag you out of bed to accompany him – you have no idea. You tried asking but it’s like he has something on his mind that is more important than answering your questions. Such you walk by his side, wondering if you should try taking his hand in yours. Neither of you are big into holding hands, but things change. He changed. And so have you. Not so long ago you had warm blood in your veins, but you submitted that to Astarion freely, exchanging the warmth of your flesh for the heat of his touch.

“We’re going to the Counting House, dear.” he speaks up and your eyes snap to him. You have to squint just a little, the early morning sun is bright and his hair is reflecting it in a way it’s almost difficult to look at, like a halo of icy fire.

“What’s in the Counting House?” you ask, forced to turn your eyes away from his face in favor of watching where you step and you hear an annoyed sigh by your side which makes you frown. He was the one to drag you out of bed, now he’s annoyed you’re asking him what was the reason?

“Cazador’s vault. That’s why we’re going there.” Astarion’s tone feels snippy and now you start becoming annoyed in turn.

“Any specific reason we’re going to check it today?” you know your voice betrays your emotion and there’s a brief moment of silence while you two weave among the people hurrying with their own lives.

“I want to know if he had any more secrets I should know about. After all, if Cazador hid the entire dungeon from me and rest of his wretched spawn, what else he could’ve kept from me?” annoyance in his tone again, but this time you realize it’s not about you. Your shoulders relax, you nearly started picking a fight with him.

“Why now? Can this not wait?” you give him a short glance, noticing how his face is as serious as tadpoles in your heads, his crimson eyes focused, his eyebrows slightly furrowed – a man on a mission.

“I see you don’t understand.” Astarion looks at you for a moment, your eyes meet, then you both look ahead once more, avoiding bumping into people or stepping on wayward children.

“No, I don’t, care to enlighten me, oh lord almighty?” you tease him and you can sense rather than feel his smile at your words.

“Anything else I should care doing while I explain the grand plan of mine?” you feel a gentle smack on your rear and you break into a smile of your own, giving him another short look. Yes, indeed he seems more relaxed now, happier.

“Just tell me why you’re dragging me to the Counting House this early in the morning, hm?” you ask and realize his palm remains perched on your rear, then he pulls you a little closer to his side. It doesn’t hinder walking and Astarion’s touch is warm, even through the clothes you wear. Little gestures like that, you know what he’s doing – announcing to the world you’re his.

“You’re such an impatient little brat.” Astarion says and with a corner of your eye you notice his smirk. “But fine. You ask why now? Because I don’t want any nasty surprises after the Brain is gone. Once that is done, I want to proceed claiming my rightful place. Replacing Cazador is not going to be simple, there will be questions, I want to have answers. Mostly I want documents of Palace’s ownership and all other valuables he ever had. They are mine now, after all, by right.” a small chuckle escapes his lips. By right of murder, he meant and you smile at that.

Not like you can argue about that either, it’s just the thought that what was Cazador’s will now be his is a little bit daunting, because it means it will be yours too, but you haven’t even thought about this until now. Yet Astarion did.

“We don’t even know if we’re going to survive the fight.” your voice is hushed when you say that but also glummer and Astarion catches onto that.

Suddenly he stops, stopping you too with a quick grab of your waist and you turn to him, meeting his eyes with yours. You don’t know what you said to make him stop so abruptly and you look at him with a puzzled expression.

“Darling.” your Vampire Lord begins with a self-assured smirk, his hand is still on your hip. “Together united we can beat any obstacle. And I suppose we have those… friends of ours too, to give us a boost if we need it.” Astarion sounds so confident in what he’s saying and you try your best to believe him but the anxiety is still there. What if he is wrong? What if neither of you survive?

You are sure he can see doubt in your eyes so you don’t hesitate.

“A kiss might make me feel better, don’t you think?” you ask almost sheepishly, but you feel like you need it right now - a comfort of his lips, of his arms, of his presence, of him in his entirety.

Astarion pauses, then his confident smile widens.

“But of course, darling, I can’t deny you anything.”

You step towards him with a smile appearing on your face because you’re relieved to have been granted comfort but then his hand leaves your hips and stops you. Palm flat, right in front of your face. Confused you look at him, then his fingers curl and point to the ground.

What?

The look on his face clearly tells you he has something on his mind but surely he is not asking you to kneel in the middle of the city with all these people around you? Right?

Yet his hand does not move and you glance to the ground, uncertain about what to do but you feel your knees bending already. They bend because you trust him just like you trusted him with your life and you know can put that same trust in him right now too. So you kneel and his pointed finger follows your journey down. Before you can ask why he’s making you do this, he suddenly grabs your throat and you gasp. Your eyes widen in shock, you forget everything around you – the people, the noises, the street, the city itself. Astarion’s expression is a mischievous smirk, but your rising panic stemming from your confusion makes you blind to this, and your earlier anxiety only makes you scared.

For just a split second.

Then Astarion leans over you and his lips connect with yours, making the irrational fear melt away as if it was never there to begin with. You respond to his passion with yours, feeling that fire in your stomach burn hotter than the kiss itself. You remember how he made you kneel on the night of your becoming. It tied you to him for eternity, and many nights since then you felt this same familiar grip on your throat as he fucked you silently but relentlessly in that small tavern bed while others were asleep.

And then it’s over.

Astarion pulls back, a smirk on his face but you just look at him with disappointment. That’s all? You wanted more. Then his grip leaves your throat and you feel a push on your chest, making you sit on your heels. This time you frown instead, annoyed that he’s playing bedroom games with you with no intention of continuing them. Not that he should, at least not here.

When you rise to your feet and dust your pants Astarion looks triumphant, his grin wide enough to show his fangs.

“You always taste so sweet.” he exclaims with pride but you’re not as joyous as him. He got you worked up and for what?

“You made me kneel in a middle of this shitty street for this?” you complain and Astarion’s expression changes subtly, now he doesn’t look so sure that you enjoyed what just happened.

“Darling, I just wanted to remind you of your familiar position. On your knees in front of me.” he teases and you would blush if you could. Instead of that you pout.

“So that was your goal? To turn me on only to disappoint me?” you cross your arms on your chest but Astarion steps closer and sneaks an arm around your waist. His confident smile tells you he’s happy with himself after all.

“Distracted you from the worries of the Brain, didn’t it?”

This smug little shit.

“You better make up for this or else.” you grumble again and Astarion laughs loudly, unapologetically.

“Don’t I always make up to you, love?”

You give him a pointed look but Astarion either ignores it or does not see it as he resumes walking, making you walk with him. Out of curiosity you glance around, discretely of course, and notice quite a few residents of Baldur’s Gate watching you. Some of them are even whispering to each other.

“Did you just make me do that so that others see I’m yours?” you whisper to Astarion while still painfully aware of all the eyes on both of you. Astarion just laughs at your words.

“No, little love, I did it because this whole city is mine now. Or will be, once we are done with the trifling matter of the Brain. Why should I hide from the eyes of the masses? I can finally exist without fear. And they will witness me.”

You can’t help it. You laugh.

“Calm down there, big scary Lord.” you glance at him and Astarion smiles at you.

“You like it when I’m a big scary Lord. And that I’m yours only.” he teases and you roll your eyes but can’t help your smile widening at his words.

“So this vault. We have a key for it?” you try to distract yourself, if not him, from what just happened and how it made you feel. And the truth is it made you feel aroused, that’s for sure. Even if it was for a fleeting moment in that small yet confusing play he put on, you still find your underwear clinging to your folds with uncomfortable wetness.

Damn him.

“Yes. We found it in Cazador’s coffin, remember?” yes, you remember and Astarion scrunches his nose at the memory of the blood, the bodies but most likely the smell that was left after the Ritual of Profane Ascension. You can almost read it in his mind - he plans to clear that area the moment he seizes legal ownership of the palace.

You simply nod in response and having nothing else to add you just walk by his side, feeling the reassuring grip of his hand on your waist, watching Counting House getting closer. You wonder if you will find the documents he needs in the vault or not, but above all you are just enjoying the walk with Astarion, letting your mind drift with his words of ruling this city alongside him. It makes you smile. After all, now it makes all the more sense to save Baldur’s Gate – why would you let something rightfully belonging to you be destroyed.

With your hands clasped in front of you, you let Astarion guide you through the streets, enjoying the little display of pride he’s performing right now while you smile to yourself that seemingly such simple things make him happy. And he does look happy. That’s all that matters to you. Better yet, you get to share that happiness with him forever. No - you get to be the source of his happiness forever. He told you as much and you’re not going to doubt his words.

“Ugh, do we really have to stand in line?” you hear Astarion say and that snaps you out of your thoughts. You haven’t even noticed that you’re at the Counting House now, being led over the stone bridge to the open main door. You see many people inside and you sigh.

“We better not. I’m not in the mood for this.” you complain and Astarion gives your side a playful squeeze.

“What are you in the mood for then?” he smirks and you give him a warning glare.

“Don’t start it now, you know very well what you did back there.” you say in a tone that was meant to warn him but instead only makes him chuckle.

“Maybe I do. But if you’re going to be a good girl, maybe I will reward your patience. Just pout a little less, it does not suit you, darling.”

You give him another glare but say nothing else as you both pass the guards at the door and enter the building. The sounds of shuffled papers and people chatting echo off the walls, making you want to leave. This feels like a rat nest and you realize that this is exactly how Astarion feels about the Counting House too. You can sense his tension and annoyance. This place is below him, below you both.

Finally he lets go of your waist and steps forwards, cutting the line of at least six people and walking towards the dwarf manning one of the counters.

“Sir, you cannot-“ the man begins but Astarion just leans on the counter with a single elbow and smiles.

“I need to enter the vaults. You wouldn’t want a man like me kept waiting, would you?”

Something is not right. It’s more than just his regular charm. Your brows knit while you try to comprehend what’s going on. The dwarf relaxes, his shoulders slump and it looks like he cannot peel his eyes off your lover.

Ah, he got Charmed.

Wait, when did Astarion learn to do that? Your eyebrows rise with your surprise while you watch the scene unfold. Astarion telling the clerk that he lost the bank pass and the dwarf giving him a brand new one, behaving as if he’s in a beautiful dream. Other patrons seem not to appreciate being cut off but nobody raises their voices to complain. You can’t help but chuckle and try to silence yourself with your palm over your mouth.

When at last Astarion returns, he looks satisfied with the result and takes your hand, walking you the short distance towards the entrance to the vaults. Showing the guards standing there his freshly inked paper, the vampire opens the door and you both start descending the stairs.

“What was that?” you chuckle while glancing back at the guards like you’re waiting for them to rush after you and stop you but Astarion just smiles.

“Did you really think that it will take me forever to learn some new tricks?” he glances in your direction and you roll your eyes with a smile on your lips.

“Don’t have to show off like this, you know.”

“My treasure, if it were you in these vaults I��d wait even less than what I did just now. Now hush, let’s find where this key fits.” Astarion says, producing the key out of his coat pocket and handing it to you. You take it and inspect it only briefly because it does not stand out in any way.

Stairs and more stairs, more guards, you barely pay them any mind, you just feel your hand in Astarion’s and follow his lead until you’re there, among the rows of vaults. Now you begin paying attention. Some guards are there who look bored out of their minds and another dwarf, standing by the desk and scribbling away with a lengthy quill.

Once more Astarion approaches the clerk and they chat in hushed voices, then you watch the shorter man point at the vault to his right and Astarion returns to you with a smile.

“Lead the way, little love.” he gestures for you to walk in front of him and with only a moment of hesitation you do as he wishes, walking up to the vault door and inserting the key you kept thumbing all the way down here.

The lock is oiled and turns with ease, echoing a satisfying click when the mechanism moves to allow access. You glance at Astarion over your shoulder who’s standing just behind you, suddenly feeling nervous. What if the documents aren’t here? But your lover just nods in encouragement and you pull the door open.

You peer inside, unsure what to expect. At first glance it looks half empty, a bottle of wine or two and rolled up gazettes. Your doubt overtakes you and you look back at Astarion with questions in your eyes.

“Just look inside, maybe it’s somewhere at the back.” he gives you a shrug as if unsure too and you shrug back then get closer, leaning into the maw of the iron cage. It’s dark in there and the candlelight doesn’t reach deep enough to illuminate the back of the vault. You reach with your hand, feeling around with your fingers and then stop immediately.

“Astarion, what are you doing?” you ask because suddenly you feel his hand begin to rub lazy circles on your ass. A subdued chuckle is heard behind you.

“You just keep looking for the documents, dear. I’m sure they’re there.”

You bite your lower lip, trying to decide what to do: maybe you should stop him after all, but the ache you felt in that moment when he made you kneel returns and you just lean even deeper into the vault, your shoulders now passing the frame and you use your palms to search for papers of any sort.

“That’s a good girl, I am confident they are there.” you hear Astarion’s soothing voice that makes your desire rise its head like a snake preparing to strike and you feel his warm fingers trail up to the waistband of your pants, then pull at it.

“Astarion!” you hiss at him and nearly bump your head against the ceiling of the vault but he just smacks your rear with his other hand.

“Quiet now.” he curtly hushes you and you stifle a frustrated moan.

“Really?” you whisper and hear him chuckle, but you can’t even look back at him because vault walls are restricting you.

“Shh.” another soft command and you finally relent, staying as you are, bent over and partially leaning into the mouth of iron. If he wants to tease you this way, well why in the hells not, you deserve a little treat, do you not.

Astarion’s hand slips past your waistband onto your bare skin, getting lower, feeling the curve of your ass and when he pauses for a moment you hear footsteps, but then they echo away and his hand dips even lower, nearly pulling your pants down with it. And then-

“Astarion!” you hiss louder this time but then have to stifle a moan immediately after because his finger dips inside of you.

“Oh you were not lying, my sweet. You truly got in the mood back there, didn’t you?”

“Shut up.” you shoot back, making your lover chuckle. His digit leaves your entrance and you feel it sneak lower again, beginning to rub your clit in almost lazy circles while his finger is still slick with your arousal. “People will see.” your last protest is responded to with a push on your swelling nub that’s growing increasingly more sensitive.

“Do you really want me to stop?” you hear Astarion’s voice closer to you, bent over you like a shadow and you notice the edges of his cloak in your peripheral vision. At least there’s a bit of privacy.

“No, but-“ his finger makes you moan into the vault chamber before you can stop yourself and you hear him chuckle once more, he’s enjoying this maybe a little too much.

“Then try to be quiet, little love. We don’t want people interrupting our fun, do we?” a whisper disarms any other argument you could’ve had because he’s right, the thrill is intoxicating and his finger working in pleasurable rubs makes you want, no – need for him to continue.

You press your palms to the bottom of the vault and close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the feeling that is starting to send shivers down your spine. Astarion’s warm fingers continue rubbing in a pattern he already knows makes your knees weak and you press your lips into a tight line, not wanting to make a single sound.

“Finding those documents in there, darling?” Astarion asks in a louder voice - of course he’s keeping up the charade of nothing suspicious happening and it makes you break into a smile.

“Not yet, but there’s so much in here.” you respond while trying to keep your voice steady and have to immediately swallow another moan when Astarion leaves your throbbing clit alone for the moment and moves his hand slightly up, only to carefully insert two fingers into your cunt. “Fuck…” you exhale to yourself in a whisper, finally letting your head drop in an attempt to make your panting sound not as loud.

“Oh I’m sure there’s a lot in there.” your Vampire Lord teases and you hear a grin in his tone. That cheeky bastard, you’d hate him if you didn’t love him so much.

Your thighs tremble as you press them together but nothing saves you from the feeling of pleasure beginning to wash over you when Astarion begins moving his fingers. Your pants restrict his movements quite a bit but he compensates by gently exploring your core with his fingertips, looking for that sweet spot that makes you shout and your toes curl.

No, he can’t do it here, you don’t know if you can keep silent, not when he’s doing such sweet things to you.

“There’s a good girl, stay just like this…” you hear Astarion croon behind you and you bite down on your lip, trying to keep your voice inside your chest, trying not to move.

It’s difficult and then it becomes impossible. You moan when Astarion finally finds what he’s seeking and it makes your knees buckle, yet miraculously you remain standing. Quickly you clasp a palm over your mouth and tremble at his touch, almost forgetting where you are, nearly succumbing to the pleasure that is now increasing by the moment.

“Are you finding everything you need?” suddenly you hear an unfamiliar voice and your eyes snap open but you are too afraid to move.

“But of course!” you hear Astarion reply with an easy, casual chuckle all the while his fingers don’t miss a beat. You would be impressed if you weren’t trying your best not to react in any way.

Near impossible. His fingers curl and tease, press and slightly circle, not relenting, not giving you a break and you close your eyes again, bowing your head low enough so that your forehead rests against the cool iron. With your palm still on your mouth, you fight with everything within you to not make a sound.

But what a thrill it gives.

You barely hear the rest of this short conversation because you stop paying attention. You are too far gone to care in this moment, your only focus being just on keeping silent and letting the sensations overtake you.

“You did so well, darling. Now for the grand finale.” you hear Astarion whisper again, you can feel his presence bent over you once more and you whine ever so slightly.

His fingers inside of you curl again and you feel the palm of his other hand press between your shoulder-blades, keeping you in place while he works you towards your bliss. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to keep your legs straight but even this is becoming harder by the moment. Suddenly Astarion pulls out his fingers out of your drenched cunt and returns them to your clit, rubbing faster and faster with each small circle. You can’t help it, you mewl louder and bite into the flesh of your thumb, sinking your fangs just to keep yourself quiet. You’re so close, so so close, you can feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

And next moment your world explodes. Your orgasm overtakes you and you shudder, your body trembling with pleasure and you squeeze your thighs together even harder. Your nails scrape the iron of the vault while you try to keep yourself up and you bite down even harder, tasting your own blood now, pain giving equal measure of satisfaction to your bliss. Oh it shouldn’t feel so good.

Your body spasms once, twice and after few more seconds your mind returns to you, but not before Astarion’s fingers give one last touch to your overstimulated nub, making your body respond with a jerk. Finally, with a satisfied chuckle he removes his hand from your pants but you remain still for a moment longer, trying to recover and to catch your breath, then finally release your hand from your bite. It throbs with aching sensation.

“Come here, love.” Astarion coos softly and you move to do just that before you realize that you are gripping a cylinder in your other hand. You must’ve grabbed onto it during your rapturing delirium and you hold onto it as you step a shaky step back, then another.

“Ow.” you murmur while rubbing your lower back. Being bent over in this kind of position and for this long made you sore.

Astarion helps you stand straight and you hope that once the tadpole is gone your full vampiric powers will eliminate such mortal pains as this. Finally you turn to him and look your lover in the eyes. You see pride, satisfaction and mischief in them. Oh he is happy with himself about what happened, of that you are sure.

“I think I fou-“

“Hm?” Astarion interrupts and makes a show of holding eye contact with you while raising the same two fingers he used as beautiful weapons against you. They are still slick with your arousal and he puts them in his mouth, sucking them slowly, then pulling them out with a loud pop and a satisfied sigh loud enough to echo through entire chamber. “You were saying?”

You glance at him, feeling slightly embarrassed but say nothing. Instead you show him the cylinder you found in the safe and Astarion’s eyes widen slightly.

“May I?” he extends the same hand he just licked your juices off, his fingers still glistening from his own saliva and you place the metal tube into his waiting palm.

Quickly Astarion opens one end of the cylinder and pulls out a rolled up thin parchment. He tucks the tube under his arm and unrolls the document beginning to read it. You step to his side with curiosity, feeling calmer now after what happened just earlier and eye the text yourself.

“Kozakuran?” you raise your eyebrows and Astarion frowns.

“Of course. What a bastard.” he grumbles but then closes his eyes for a moment and lets out a deep sigh. After he calms his sudden annoyance, Astarion rolls up the parchment and stuffs it back into the cylinder, closing it. “Does not matter. We have the dictionary, we can translate it later. But I’m sure it’s what I wanted.”

Vampire Lord shoves the cylinder in his pocket and finally looks at you, his unhappy expression immediately changes into a smile.

“Look at you, precious thing. Even with all of that being done to you, you still manage to do your task beautifully. I’m lucky to have you as my consort.” Astarion’s eyes sweep down your face and your breath catches in your throat. A feeling of anticipation takes a hold of you. And then he suddenly grabs your jaw with a familiar grip.

“Astarion…” you whisper softly. You’re not scared of him, but you don’t want to cause a scene when you just barely avoided getting caught with his fingers in your pussy.

However, Astarion doesn’t seem to be in a mood to listen to your gentle protests. He turns your face to the left, his eyes greedily devour the eternal bite marks he left on your neck on that faithful night, after a moment he makes you face him again, a smirk pulling at his lips.

Then he presses his lips against yours, deeply and passionately. You grab onto the front of his coat, leaning into the kiss eagerly. This alone is enough to rouse your passions again and you slightly open your mouth, touching his lips with the tip of your tongue, wanting to make the kiss deeper. Yet your Vampire Lord has another idea. Suddenly you feel him bite your lower lip and your eyes snap open in surprise, then you feel his fang break the skin and you begin tasting your own blood. Of course.

You relax again and close your eyes, then with a small smile you kiss him again. He’s done this before, this isn’t new. It’s like he’s addicted to you, to your blood, and when Astarion’s desire arises to taste it – he does so no matter where you two are. Seems this time it simply happens to be the underground vault of the Counting House that becomes the stage for his display of love.

You feel your lover pull back and you look at him, immediately noticing the blood trickle on his chin and begin feeling the stirrings of desire even stronger, you are sure your feelings are reflected in your eyes and maybe that’s why Astarion now playfully shoves your face away with a grin.

“Naughty. I see how you look at me. You want more, don’t you?” Vampire Lord quickly wipes away the blood trickle from his chin with a finger and licks it, his eyes not leaving yours. “You think you deserve it?” his tone of voice is suggestive and you don’t need to feel him up to know that he’s hard for you already. Most likely have been hard before he even slid his hand down your pants.

“I found what you were looking for, didn’t I?” you smile to him and gently tug at his coat. “Come on, didn’t you just say you’re lucky to have me? How about making me feel lucky to have you?” you tease and Astarion raises an eyebrow at you.

“Perhaps I will. But not here.” he smiles and raises his hand, this time wiping blood from your bottom lip too, making sure you’re presentable before the eyes of strangers can find you, then he offers you a lick.

You don’t look away from his eyes when instead of giving his thumb a lick you take it into your mouth and suck on it, slowly moving your tongue around it. You feel pride when you see a moment of surprise on Astarion’s face but it quickly gets replaced by a smug smile.

“Ah, I see how it is.” he pulls out his thumb from your mouth and you let him, enjoying the sensation of him rubbing your bottom lip with the same digit. “Let’s go. I think a reward is in order after all.” Vampire says calmly but you recognize the look in his eyes – passion and need. And that need is for you only.

Quickly now Astarion closes the vault, locking it and pocketing the key. He takes your hand and begins walking towards the massive steel door leading outside of the chamber. As you walk by you notice the clerk eyeing you both, and some guards seem to give curious looks as well but that only makes you want to giggle before you realize Astarion’s steps are becoming faster, yet you easily keep up with him.

Your footsteps echo off the walls as you both hurriedly get up at the stairs and you can’t help but break into a smile. Here’s that feeling of anticipation again and you feel the fire burn hotter inside of you. You need him, want him, as soon as possible and from how Astarion nearly drags you after him, rushing to the massive steel door, you know he feels the same.

He pushes the door open, just enough for you both to get outside and you pause, letting him push it closed, then turn and keep going but only for one step. You feel Astarion tug at your hand and with a graceful twirl you are spun around, forced against the door and being kissed passionately.

Your response is immediate. You kiss him back with everything you have, pushing your fingers into his silver locks, tasting his tongue on yours, feeling your body heat up from the sheer idea of having his cock inside of you. When Astarion pulls back he can see your dazed eyes and the lustful craving etched in your face like a beautiful picture. It makes him swear under his breath.

“Fuck. I can’t wait any longer.” he whispers before his fingers trail down your stomach to the laces of your pants.

“Here?” once more you are not sure if you two should be this intimate when you can get caught any moment but Astarion doesn’t seem to care in the slightest.

“Here. Or else you’ll be responsible if I stain my pants, darling.” Lord’s eyes are focused on his fingers that are hurriedly pulling at your laces and you can only slowly exhale in response. He wants you this badly. It turns you on more than anything else could in this moment.

So you follow his lead, glancing down to find the laces of his breeches and you swallow hardly because you can see his erection stretching the fabric so tightly it must make him uncomfortable.

“Less staring, little love.” Astarion’s words are snippy, he’s impatient and already done with his task. He pulls your pants down your hips and with two fingers he reaches between your thighs to rub your cunt, exhaling. “You’re so ready for me. Delicious.”

“So are you.” you whisper back with a smile after your put your hand down his pants and pull out his already weeping erection. You give it a few slow strokes and Astarion’s eyes rise to meet yours.

“Turn around.” he commands and you smile wider, not moving just yet but he gives you no choice when Vampire Lord’s hands move to your waist and turn you around with ease.

He presses you chest-first against the door and with your cheek you feel the steel. Astarion pulls at your hips just enough to get your body at an angle he desires.

“You’re so bratty. If I didn’t need to fuck you right now I would keep you wanting until you’re silly with lust.” you hear Astarion mumble behind you and feel the heat against your inner thigh where the tip of his length presses for a brief moment, then gets aimed at your drenched core, nudging your folds. “Now be a good pet and take my cock like I taught you.”

You smile and with your palms pressed against the cold door you remain still for him, just like he wants you to. You let out a small gasp when you feel his dick slide into you with ease and you can’t help but moan loudly when he thrusts himself into you completely, claiming his rightful place.

“You’re going to alert everyone.” Astarion snaps at you with frustration and he pauses, rummages in his coat’s pocket then takes out the cylinder out of it. It comes into your vision when he presents it for you. “Bite onto this and don’t let go.” he instructs and you don’t argue, opening your mouth and letting him place the tube between your teeth horizontally. You bite down.

Without another word your Vampire Lord begins thrusting, his fingers gripping your waist to keep you steady while his hips snap against you relentlessly, already powered by his desire to cum quickly, before anyone interrupts. You close your eyes and try not to moan. You thought you had enough practice already by secretly doing this same thing during all those nights at Elfsong, but it doesn’t seem to get easier for you. Yet you try, not letting your moans leave your throat while Astarion grunts behind you, his cock easily filling you with every push, stretching your walls in a way that makes you dizzy. He’s perfect.

Then you feel a bite on your ear that makes you gasp and nearly release the cylinder from your lips. Astarion nibbles for a bit, his pumps not slowing even for a moment and you hear him panting heavily.

“I’m so close already, fuck, you feel too good, my love.” his whisper is strained as if he’s trying not to moan himself and you mewl silently because he’s driving you crazy. Your pleasure is building fast too, what he did earlier was not enough for you. You hunger for this sensation of fullness that only he can give you.

As soon as Astarion leans back from your ear you hear him let out a muffled groan and his thrusts change from controlled to increasingly erratic as he chases his orgasm and you’re not far behind him. You try to breathe through your nose and it’s becoming more difficult by the second since your own bliss begins to quickly overtake you.

Few more pumps, deep and driven by passion, are what it takes to make Astarion bite down a moan that you hear so clearly. That’s enough to make your body spasm in response to your orgasm. Couple more thrusts while your cunt clenches around his cock, milking him for all he’s worth and you feel Astarion’s fingers dig deep into your soft waist until he finally stops.

For a moment you both remain like this, trying to recover but you feel the cylinder being tugged from your mouth and you let go with relief, finally being able to breathe through your mouth, although for a moment you forgot you were even biting onto it.

“We should go.” Astarion mutters and pulls out of you, then gives your bare ass a playful smack. “Come on now, little treasure, I can’t let anyone see you like this. You’re mine to enjoy.” Vampire’s voice is playful and you smile, gathering yourself from against the door and you pull up your pants. With him filling you so thoroughly as he did just now the walk back to Elfsong is not going to be the most comfortable one, but oh was it worth it.

You spend only a short time to make yourselves look presentable and when you lift your face to him Astarion surprises you with a kiss. You smile against his lips and he pulls back with a smile of his own.

“Let’s not idle.” he gently brushes a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead and you give him a short peck on the lips then nod.

“I’m sure you’re eager to see what’s in that document.” you say and Astarion offers you his hand. When you take it he begins to lead you out of the vaults.

“Maybe. Or maybe I’ll allow you to distract me again.” a short glance from him is all what it takes for you to want to be his biggest distraction.

“We’ll see.” you smile while walking with him and Astarion sighs loudly, happily.

“Maybe I don’t dislike Counting House after all.” he says and you both laugh in unison.

#baldur's gate 3 #ascended astarion #lord astarion #bg3 #astarion x reader #ascended starion smut #ascended astarion x female reader #ascended astarion x reader #astarion smut #x reader #reader insert #female reader

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xythlia · 4 months

Text

— FALSE LIFE ˎˊ˗

› ascended astarion x f! spawn tav

› word count : 2k+

› sorry but his ascended lines do something to me >.< & I finally felt brave enough to post this after my 200+ game hours (also im open to astarion requests btw :3)

warnings : mdni. compulsion. noncon elements. posessive behavior. angst ish. fingering. toxic relationship. reader has hair long enough to brush off shoulders. reader wears a revealing dress. pet names (dear, darling, little love, ect.). oral f receiving. he calls you dinner sorry lol

This is the first time he's ever done this, compelled you.

If heat could still pool beneath your skin, anger more akin to molten lava beneath the surface, surely it would have. He broke his promise to you, the small thread of security that allowed you to go along with becoming a spawn. You also want to weep, wish tears could well freely in your eyes and track down your cheeks.

But even that is denied to you. Instead you're rooted to the spot, the marble flooring devoid of any echoing footsteps and the air hanging thick with frightening anticipation.

You can't reflexively jump when his lithe fingers move your hair from your shoulders, brushing your own equally icy skin. Much of your body is routinely on display for the vampire ascendant, something else you've always swallowed your displeasure on. There is also the absence of a gasp as his hand grips the back of your neck, an odd pantomime of a mother cat carrying its kitten by the scruff.

"Tell me," he asked, "do I not give you a life of constant pleasure?"

The words slip from your mouth unbidden. "Yes."

"Haven't I made sure you want for nothing?"

Again. "Yes."

His grip tightens, forcing your head to the side a bit and you wish you could wince.

"Then why, my little love, are you so insistent on acting like an ungrateful brat?" He spits out the question, forcing you to meet his ruby gaze by turning your head himself. You've never felt more doll-like, a petulant child.

"You compelled me. Forbade me from going outside the palace bounds. It upsets me that I cannot see our friends and companions. It upsets me that you broke your promise." Your affect couldn't be flatter, a dizzying contrast to how much pain you truly felt inside, a cruel effect of compulsion.

The dining room is quiet, thick with tension as he seemingly takes in your reasoning in silence.

The laughter that bursts from his lips is harsh, not because it's forced or hollow, but because it's real, legitimate laughter. He releases you to cross his arms, chortling so much tears well in his eyes. It makes something absolutely hideous twist in your gut, watching his display as if your feelings were nothing but the realms crassest joke.

All the while you stand statuesque, frozen and seething as your lover mocks you.

"Don't be stupid, darling. You're mine, remember?" Astarion caressed your jaw, positioning himself front and center in all your senses. "Your future has been mine to decide the moment that little worm was ousted from our heads."

Your eyes catch the scar on the side of his neck, bite marks like a twin to your own. Something else inside you is dying, a slow march, and soon the Crimson Palace will be more like your mausoleum than your home.

"Yes."

"Good," he pauses, seemingly sizing you up for reasons unclear, "Sit back. On the tabletop, darling."

Your movements are automatic, body and mind completely untethered from one another in terms of control. An anxiety grips your mind, sharp fingers digging into your brain and you perch on the vast, ornate table.

"Mhm, you know, I didn't get to finish my meal since you decided to spoil dinner with your silent sulking." His smile is a wicked thing. "But I do think we should move on to dessert now anyway."

One hand slides up the revealing slit of your dress, icily fondling your flesh and slowly inching upwards before his fingers are brushing along the seam of your underwear. All you can do is remain frozen, legs spread, as if you were a plaything for him to pose and contort any way he pleased. You suppose that's all you might be now.

"How about an... even trade, of sorts? In exchange for forgiving this little trespass with no punishment, you agree not to question my decisions."

Its not fair, the answer isn't truly your own. "A deal, yes."

A contented sigh leaves him as his index finger rubs up and down your clothed cunt, but his eyes are sharp and you know it's not lost on him how damp your underwear is. When he grins again those fangs are on full display, exaggerated by the shadows cast from the flickering candlelight.

It breaks your heart that he's as beautiful as ever, that still the baser parts of you can't help but desire him.

His plush lips find yours with comfortable familiarity, the perfect genius of their synched movement a testament to how much time he's spent mapping your mouth, committing it to memory. As you slip your arms around his neck you realize the compulsion is gone, but desire keeps you rooted in place, enjoying the feeling of his wandering, groping hands.

Forcing yourself to forget for selfish pleasure is surprisingly easy, a skill you've cultivated the past few months.

You gasp into his mouth as his fingers slip past your underwear, swiping through your wetness before lazily circling your already aching clit. The stimulation makes your hips jerk, chasing his hand for more friction but his other presses firmly against your hip to keep you still.

"Don't be gluttonous dear. I'm the one who didn't get to finish my dinner." He whispers against your parted lips, trailing sloppy open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, the exposed tops of your breasts, until he's sunk to his knees in front of you.

As he lifts the skirt of your dress you lay back against the heavy polished oak table, and if your heart could race it would be galloping out of your chest in anticipation. Thankfully Astarion doesn't keep you waiting long, he was true to his word that there was no punishment this time as he pulled down your underwear and trailed chaste kisses from your calf, your thighs, all the way to your soaked cunt as you squeezed your eyes shut.

"My delicious little treat," he murmured, his breath fanning across your skin, making you clench around nothing right before he placed a kiss to your clit.

The smallest of moans escaped you and it was enough to encourage him, tongue swiping through your arousal as his fingers prodded at your entrance. When he sucked against your clit your back arched off the table and every noise became amplified: the way you were panting, the slick slurping sounds of his mouth working against you, the squelching as two fingers slid inside you to start scissoring against your spongy walls. The cacophony was enough to make your head spin as your hands flailed downward, looking to grasp any part of him you could reach.

Grasping at his alabaster hair you cry out his name, with the same reverence one would use to call out to a god, and it only spurs him on. He groans against you as your hips start to rise, chasing the stimulation from his tongue and feeling the first embers of climax catching in your abdomen.

"Please -" tears slip down your cheeks as his fingers increase their pace, his tongue devouring you ceaselessly and you nearly choked on your own cries as your thigh muscles tense impossibly tight.

Your legs shake against his shoulders as your fingers scrape against his scalp, the embers now transformed into a roaring pyre, burning you from the inside out as the edges of your mind start to peel from the internal heat and pressure. You squirm recklessly, mouth hung open in a silent cry as your upper half rises off the table.

Slowly you lay back, struggling to control your muscle tremors and with one final kiss to your throbbing clit, that makes you yelp, Astarion pulls back, draping your skirt back in place and slipping your underwear in his pocket.

"You see, I can be quite forgiving darling. Just don't push it in the future."

#꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ kita writes #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion smut #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate smut #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #ascended astarion x reader #ascended astarion smut #bg3 smut

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ddarker-dreams · 5 months

Note

begging on my knees for u miss ddarker dreams to give us some yandere astarion fiction we deserve please please please 🙏 😔 😢 😞 😫 😭 🙏 😔 😢 😞

back when astarion was what he'd describe as a 'lowly spawn,' he still had possessive tendencies. he fought hard to suppress them and had relative success. according to him, that is. he existed in this self-contradicting limbo of thinking himself unworthy of you yet wanting to be the constant center of your attention. he'd glower at the other members of your ragtag group should they made you smile too much or laugh too hard. for a while, he couldn't place why it bothered him so.

if anything, it should come as a relief to know you're that easy to please. a few frivolous tales from gale or off-color remarks from lae'zel have your eyes scrunching up in delight. and gods, he could do far better than that! his place in this eclectic bunch with you as the de facto leader should be secured until you're of no further use. this sweet sentiment turned sour as your journey went on. he agonized over your perception of him for reasons other than self-preservation.

ultimately, he never acted on the little whispers spurring him on to hinder your autonomy. astarion allowed for a wry comment directed at an overfriendly companion here and there, but the thought of actively meddling in your relationships didn't sit well with him. he could suck it up and stomach anything, so long as you weren't obviously uncomfortable.

after his ascension, however... he's inclined his ear toward those little whispers, heeding their counsel. what brilliant advisors he'd been ignoring! astarion decides he refused to act on these impulses because he was weak, incapable of fully seeing them through. now, though? what was once a farfetched dream could enter reality should he will it. he spurns the thought of physically restraining you — such brutish behavior is below an individual of his standing, unless you really pushed him to that — but words? words can bind better than chains. they're less obvious, too.

so he'll tailor his in a shape that fits you perfectly.

#questionable white-haired men have me in a death-grip rn.#i'm out here fighting for my life!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#i have a type and it's so obvious good god #ascended astarion x reader #astarion x reader #honestly i just consider ascended astarion to be yan by default #concepts #answered #Anonymous

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chloedrewitt · 5 months

Text

My Tears Ricochet - Ascended!Astarion x Reader

summary: You helped Astarion ascend, not knowing what consequences this would have for your future together. After the changes become more and more noticeable, you realize you have to undo this mistake

pairing: Ascended!Astarion x Reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: angst, light gore, major character death

a/n: I am back from the dead with an Astarion story <3 At the moment, I won't be taking requests so I can focus on my bachelor's and family as we're going through a bit of a rough time, but I will be uploading a Taylor Swift series here and there. Essentially, I'll write multifandom one-shots inspired by Taylor's songs to get back into writing. When my situation improves, I'll open my requests again! And don't forget to join my Discord server if you wanna be kept up to date with my writing

Masterlist - Discord Server - Request Info - Taylor Swift Series

We gather here We line up weeping in a sunlit room And if I'm on fire You'll be made of ashes, too

You stared at your hands. Your skin was dry were blood did not cover it, your nails dirty. There was a faint scream in the distance, but all you could hear was the loud ringing in your ears. It felt hard to breathe, as if you had to force out every single breath and keep reminding your body to suck the air in and push it back out of your lungs. It smelled metallic, and it made you sick.

The clock to your right ticked away time you forgot you had. The ticking was, in fact, the only thing reminding you that time was still passing. Your muscles were frozen, unable to move as even the slightest twitching of your fingers felt stiff and forced.

The shutting of a door made you jump, and you instinctively wrapped your hands around the armrests of the chair you were sitting on, smearing blood all over the dark wood. You looked up in the direction of the sound, and found your lover entering the foyer, humming a triumphant tune as a thin trail of blood ran down the corner of his mouth. When he spotted you, his lips formed a grin.

“My love,” he said, flashing those pointy fangs at you. Astarion raised one hand toward you, a silent order for you to stand up and take it, but you remained seated, hands still wrapped around the chair. Silently, you looked at him.

He waited a few seconds, his gloved fingers flexing in annoyance as you did not comply. “My love,” he repeated with a more assertive tone this time, and when you still did not react, his red eyes narrowed.

“Get up, dammit,” he said through pressed teeth, emphasizing every word while his outstretched hand took on the form of a claw. You felt your breath quicken, something he no doubt noticed as well.

You tried to ignore the shiver that ran down your spine as you stood, wiping your hands on your trousers while you approached him cautiously. Keeping your eyes locked with him so he wouldn't notice the way your hand shook, you placed it into his and withstood his gaze with a raised chin.

The moment your hand landed in his, he abruptly pulled you towards him, digging the fingers of his free hand into your shoulder. His lips were near your ear, and you could smell the same metallic scent tainting his breath which had invaded your nose as you looked at your hands before.

“You come when you are called,” he hissed, digging his fingers deeper into your flesh. “How does it look to our subjects when I cannot even control my consort?”

You swallowed, only barely managing to meet his gaze when he pulled away, keeping his hand wrapped around yours. You forced a smile, your eyes glassy.

“Of course, beloved. I apologize.” Your voice did not shake, and you were proud of that, yet you could not help the faint jump as Astarion took a strand of your hair and twirled it between his fingers.

“The fishermen have sworn their loyalty to us,”he proclaimed, any hint of anger gone from his voice. “I only had to drain three of their blood for them to comply, but I believe it certainly left an impression.”

“You always had a thing for theatrics,” you replied, your voice void of emotion. “If it is one thing you know how to do, it is how to leave a lasting impression.”

Astarion laughed at that, briefly touching your cheek. It was a soft gesture, almost as soft as he had been with you that night after Moonrise Towers when you were badly injured and he had tended to your wounds.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to suffocate the memory.

“I am an expert in quite a lot of things, my dear.” He laughed again as he turned his back on you, finally wiping the blood from his chin. He tasted it once more, reveling in the sweet taste. It made you sick to know this was the blood of innocents.

“Tomorrow night you will know the sweet taste of blood. You will drink from my wrist as if it were the most precious goblet, carrying the most exquisite of wines. For a moment, you will know no greater luxury,” he proclaimed before his voice dropped an octave and he turned back around, wrapping an arm around your waist. “That is, before you taste yourself on me, of course.”

Weeks ago, this would have excited you. But now, knowing that you had little choice in the matter, it turned your stomach. You stared into his eyes, a shade of crimson that you had learned to love in the most unconditional ways, and yet now their weight seemed to almost crush you. There was no spark of the man you once knew, he merely bore his face like a mask, grotesque in the way it gives you comfort while stripping you of it in every way.

“I should rest,” you said, laying your hand over his in an attempt to break physical contact, but still trying to make the touch feel loving to him. “Today tired me. I don't have the benefits of vampiric endurance yet.”

“Emphasis on yet. Soon, you will.”

You smiled faintly. You saw in his eyes that he thought you were merely saying goodbye to your mortality, but you would never think of it. You would rather flee this palace and Baldur’s Gate and never return to this wretched city. Your Astarion, the old Astarion, would have never expected you to become his spawn, not after the pain he had experienced as a spawn himself. How it had made him a puppet, ready to do his master’s bidding at any given moment. This was not love, and though it was hard to accept, you recognized it now; it was obsession.

You brought yourself to plant a soft kiss on his cheek, inhaling his scent as you closed your eyes and pretended you were still in that camp, celebrating your victory for the tieflings, with wine and laughter at every corner. It was the first night you had spent with him, reduced to a bittersweet memory that had burned itself into the back of your mind.

That night, you waited in your chambers on the bed, the soft silk sheets beneath you feeling luxurious and comforting. A single flame danced between your fingers, which you had produced to warm yourself. The Szarr palace was not doing much to shield a mere mortal like you from the coldness of the night, but you knew how to help yourself. Magic had never failed you before.

Your gaze fell upon the window in front of you, pressing your lips together in a fine line. It would have been easy to break it and flee, but he was not easy to trick. He would hunt you down, you were sure of it.

Without warning, he entered your shared chambers, sighing deeply as he shut the door behind him. Astarion was wearing a dark red bathing robe, and his silver hair was slightly wet. There was no sign of blood when he let the robe fall to the floor, and an image of the red liquid forming tendrils in clear water crossed your mind, but you only blinked the mental picture away.

When his eyes locked with yours, he smiled as if you were a special dessert he had been looking forward to all day. Astarion crawled on top of the bed before he came to a halt before you. Though he was kneeling on the sheets, you still felt smaller than him. You knew that to him, you would always be just that.

“There you are, darling,” he said in a low voice, pulling you closer towards him as he buried a hand in your hair, softly massaging your scalp. “My little treat.”

You blinked the tears away and tried to ignore how fast your heart was beating as you placed a hand on his cheek, cold skin meeting your palm. “Hello, Astarion,” you whispered, smiling at him as tears blurred your vision.

“Do not be afraid,” he reassured you, but it did not sound sincere. His hand dropped from your hair to your chin, where he trapped it between two fingers and forced you to look at him. “You will awaken as a creature of the night. Mine and mine only.”

You sniffled, brushing a strand of hair out of his face, eyes flickering between his. In his irises, you saw the blood of those brave enough to withstand his tyrannical reign. You could have sworn they had deepened in color, too.

“When I asked you if you were still the same Astarion, you said that you were,” you began, and the grin faded from his lips. “But that is not true. You changed. I wanted to give you everything you ever yearned for, I wanted to give you the whole world. But I failed to see that what you wanted would ruin you. I should have believed that I was enough to make you happy. I wish I could have believed that.” Your voice broke, but you saw the anger in his eyes, so you quickly continued. “You already had a dream. I only wish that instead of his power, that dream would have been me.”

Hot tears fell down your cheeks as you finished, and before Astarion could even reply, you stood and spoke the words you would regret for the rest of your life. Almost immediately, a ray of light so bright appeared, that you had to shield your eyes for a moment. His screams penetrated your ears as the smell of burned flesh forced its way into your nose. You lowered your arms when your eyes got used to the brightness, possibly only thanks to your affinity to magic, and you immediately regretted having looked at him; his wide-eyed stare was fixed on you, and his face turned into a grimace of pain and agony.

You sank to your knees on the floor as you watched him get weaker and weaker until the screaming stopped and his body lay motionless on the floor. He had fallen from the bed when he tried to get away from you.

It was now your screams that filled the room, pressing your hands to your heart as you felt it physically ache. You had just saved countless lives and kept families together who would never thank you or even know about this sacrifice. And yet, it felt as if you had killed a part of yourself in the process.

You had to kill me but it killed you just the same Cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet

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