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pursuitseternal · 1 day

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

Ascended Astarion x Female Reader | E | 2K

For @starryjuicebox so he can tuck you into bed

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

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

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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carooosa · 2 days

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Bound by You: Love is Power, Love is Weakness

Part 1: Exposure (rewrite)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Within seconds, Astarion barks an order.

“Stop.”

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

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

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

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

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

Part 2 Here

#astarion smut #astarion fic #astarion x reader #ascended astarion #bg3 durge #fics #ascended astarion bg3 #astarion x you #astarion x f!durge #astarion x f!reader #astarion x female durge #astarion x female reader #my writing

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bellasmumblingsandmusings · 2 days

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Sima and Astarion, when things were good

Artwork created for my new series What Could Have Been

Artwork by the incomparable: https://dafnawinchester.art/

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lynnlovesthestars · 1 day

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Mess.

Pairing: Astarion x oc. genderfluid tav, he/him pronouns.

Genre and warnings: Smut, fluff, trauma talk, body worship.

words: 2k? more? idk

AN: my therapist told me to post everything i finished so here i am

Astarion tugged Lynn with him, despite hating the disaster that his tent was, he promised he'd open up to him, and that included his personal mess. "I apologize for.. what this is" Astarion blushed ever so slightly. "I understand if you don't-" Lynn stopped him, uncaring for the blood jars forgotten in the corner or the ragged baby blanket he kept on top of his bedroll.

"Astarion, I don't care" Lynn smiled tenderly. "My tent isn't any better" He admitted. He was good at hiding what he didn't want anyone to see, and that included his mess of mementos and the fewest belongings he had. "I don't care as long as I can hold you" Lynn gently squeezed Astarion's hand, tugging him towards the bedroll. It was not particularly big, it barely fit the two as they laid close, looking at each other.

They started slowly, with their foreheads pressed together and their hands intertwined. "May I?" Astarion shyly raised Lynn's hand to his lips, while he earn a nod from the changeling, a soft smile curled on his lips as Astarion kissed each knuckle delicately, as if Lynn was made of porcelain.

Lynn couldn't hold back the blush, as Astarion smiled back at him. "May I?" Lynn asked softly, just inches away from his lips. At Astarion's agreement, Lynn leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on Astarion’s temple. Astarion huffed delicately, taken aback. He didn’t expect Lynn to go for his forehead, he was ready to taste his lips, he missed those lips.

It was such a pure moment for the two, their hearts hammering in their chest as they delicately caressed the other, slowly daring to push each other's boundaries and come closer.

They had promised to heal together, to overcome their nightmares, and slowly, they were making it one caress at a time.

“Let me be your mirror again” Lynn gently wrapped his arms around Astarion’s frame, taking him in his embrace, as he noticed the impatience in Astarion’s movements. They ached so much for each other that taking it slow was godsdamned hard.

“Are you going to compliment my ears again?” He rolled his eyes playfully. As much as he wanted to admit the contrary, he had appreciated the way Lynn had complimented those small details, no one ever did, and it felt.. nice.

“I might” He laughed softly. “They look very bitable if you ask me” He leans closer, his breath caressing the tip of his ear, making Astarion shiver under the hot gust.

“Please..” Astarion almost moaned as he curled against Lynn’s chest, as if he tried to hide.

“Please what? Little love” Lynn cooed before kissing his temple.

“Don’t bite my ear, they are sensitive” Astarion quipped softly, glad his cheeks were out of sight, that strangled moan had been enough to reveal.

“I shall not bite them, I promise” The changeling couldn’t help but cradle the man closer, making sure they were both tucked snugly in the bedroll.

“But they are pretty, I don’t know how to explain it” He mumbled as one of his hands gently lifted his chin. “Your eyes though” He hesitated looking for the proper words. There was something about them that made it hard to describe, they were like pools of emotions and Lynn feared Astarion didn’t know how much they reflected.

“What, are they ugly?” Astarion raised an eyebrow both confused and scared Lynn might not like the crimson shade that tinted his iris. He had always been confident, mindless of other’s opinions, yet when it came to Lynn it was different.

“No, absolutely not” He murmured. “They are mesmerizing, and they reveal much more than what you think”

“You think so?”

“Mhmh” Lynn nodded as he caressed his cheek and kissed his forehead again, stealing a little hum of satisfaction from Astarion that was slowly melting in the grasp again. “Sometimes, I could tell when your confidence would falter” He admitted. “Your eyes would tell me if I was talking to you, or to you”

“So obvious uh?” He sighed, not entirely defeated. With Lynn he felt as if those moments where his persona would slip, were not an error, it was natural- between the fear and the growing feelings in his stomach, to the point that now his mask his almost always tucked away when he’s alone with the changeling. He trusted him enough to be his true self, he realized.

“I don’t know, it might be that I stared at them so hard too” He said sarcastically to ease down the mood again. “But to me, they are truly a mirror to your soul” Silence dropped over the two as Lynn gently caressed his cheek, to move to his lips, tracing his lower lip. “Your lips are irresistible” He had to fight the urge to lean in and steal another kiss.

“And your cheeks” He sighed as he admired the way they started taking the almost lovely shade of pink again. “i love when you blush, they take the smallest color and you look so alive”

“Are you implying I look dead the rest of the time?” He joked, this time not hiding the blush but rather flaunt the reddish shade of his cheek.

“No” Lynn couldn't suppress his laugh. “you know what I mean.. cause you feel it too” He closed his eyes, gently brushing the tip of their noses together, followed by Astarion that closed his eyes as well.

“Your neck..” He sighed as he gently cradled Astarion's head, tilting it to the side and exposing his supple neck as if he was the one about to bite. “I wish I could kiss it all day” He left an open mouthed kiss on the exposed skin, and another where his shoulder met his neck. “Your chest doesn’t rise, but it isn’t any less calming” He whispered under his breath, aching to lower himself and kiss his sternum, yet resisting for another moment.

“Your arms” He gently traced the bicep barely accentuated by their position. “You are not that strong, but you hold me so tight sometimes I melt.” He admitted as he brought one of his hands to his mouth. “And your hands” He groaned satisfied just at the look. “They fit so nicely in mine” He kissed the back.

“So cliche” Astarion blushed and giggled as one cute fang was exposed from his lips.

“I might be but they grasp so nicely at my hips, and they cup perfectly my cheek, I might just say they were made for me” He cooed as he kissed each fingertip softly.

“You are going to make me cringe at this rate” Astarion teased with the gentlest smile as he looked away for a moment.

“And yet you are blushing and smiling, If I didn’t know any better..” Lynn trailed off before being stopped by Astarion. “Don’t say it”

“Okay little love, I won’t” Lynn laughed. “But let me just say, right now you are sitting perfectly in my arms, and maybe I don’t want you to ever leave my grasp”

“Lucky for you I don’t want to move from here” Astarion leaned forward to kiss the tip of Lynn’s nose.

They laid like that for what felt eternity, as they grazed and kissed each other skin with fleeting and gentle lips, murmuring sweet nothings as they enjoyed the calm of the night. Lynn didn’t care whether in the morning he was going to regret not resting, but being so close to Astarion, being touched so softly was worth every sleepless second spent kissing. It was almost intoxicating, the grasps and gasps had him high on the feeling.

It was moments later that Lynn shivered. Astarion's finger grazed over his hip instantly having his hands tightened it's grip on Astarion's. "Everything okay, darling?" He asked tenderly as he moved his hand to Lynn's cheek, gently tracing the swell of his cheek.

Lynn nodded as a single tear rand down the peachy skin. "Hips are.. one of my trigger areas, I haven't been touched so softly there ever” He had told Astarion about this past, the four years of confinement and what they made of him, yet he couldn’t bring himself to share the details, where touch would feel like scorching pain and when love would turn to agony.

Astarion moved closer, his body flush against Lynn's, his body heat enveloping Astarion tenderly. The elf's hand reached for Lynn's cheek again, catching the rolling tear with his thumb. "I understand" Astarion pressed his forehead against Lynn's, eyes closed, just their breath mixing in the middle as they held each other. He did understand cause for him it was his scars, he had been terrified of having them touched, sometimes just the thought would make him spiral. He had understood how this worked. “Do you want me to stop” He asked. “We can stop at any moment”

“No, don’t” Lynn urged. “I want you closer, I need you closer” He admitted, this time he was the one blushing

Astarion gently grasped at Lynn's hips again, as he pulled him in a slow and tender kiss, gasping for air whenever they had the chance. Their hands could barely keep in one spot as Astarion's kiss would be dragged back in from Lynn's yearning ones. Astarion gently pushed Lynn down on his back, straddling and towering over the other as he navigated his hands under the changeling's shirt, while his erection was impossible to hide.

Astarion wanted to try, he had missed the way Lynn had wrapped around him, the way Lynn would arch his back, or the way his mouth repeated his name like a plea. He has missed how Lynn- big and buff as he was- would beg and melt under Astarion.

Lynn sighed softly as he allowed Astarion to guide him, wrapping his legs around his hips. "Lynn..' Astarion murmured as they were both breathless and aching.

Gently cupping his cheek and tracing his jaw with his lips.. "divine" He rasped before leaving an open mouthed kiss on his neck .

"I-" Lynn gasped, warmth spreading in his stomach and a yearning feeling pooling in his chest. He needed Astarion closer, his hands on his body, his flesh burning with his heat. Astarion knew from the way Lynn desperately clung to him, pleaded for his lips and how he gasped whenever Astarion would remove another layer of Lynn's clothes. "Please.." Lynn said hoarsely, trembling under him, their naked skin fiery as they kissed.

“Are you sure?” Astarion asked as he kissed his forehead tenderly. “We don't have to do anything if you don't want to” Astarion reassured him. It was ironic how he was the one asking, though appreciated.

“Do you want to do this?” Lynn asked back, tangling his hand with Astarion's.

“My love, can you feel this?” Astarion purred as his hips pressed against Lynn’s tight ring, his hard cock stealing a lewd moan from Lynn's lips. “It says it all” He leaned forward, tracing Lynn's neck with kisses, bites and licks, worshipping his flesh agonizingly slow as Lynn's arms wrapped around Astarion.

The elf reached for the grease bottle that was in his pack, and poured abundantly the liquid on his palm.

“I want you to tell me if I need to stop” Astarion whispered as he quickly stroked himself, coating his length in the substance while he looked for Lynn's eyes.

“I promise” Lynn offered him a small, shy smile as Astarion's clean hand linked with Lynn's, both for support and as a reminder that they could hold on to each other. They had practiced a lot, small things to keep each other in the loop, like holding hands, looking for each other's eyes, like pressing their foreheads together to stay closer.

Astarion lowered again, catching his lips tenderly as he lifted Lynn's legs to help him angle, while the changeling's cheeks flushed deeply.

"I love you" Lynn murmured against Astarion's lips as he closed his eyes while Astarion pressed his forehead against Lynn’s. He slowly pushed himself past his rim with a gasp as Lynn fisted the blanket both in pain and ecstasy. “I love you” Astarion whimpered as all his senses awoke.

Lynn was tigh, clenching around him like madness as his cock was already leaking desperately on his stomach.

"So good for me" Astarion cooed instantly having Lynn blushing and moaning under him. "And so breathtaking" He rasped before he leaned to catch his lips in a kiss again and again. Astarion could feel his body cursing with goosebumps, as he took a moment to focus, squeezing Lynn's hand softly. Lynn shied under Astarion's eyes, his cheeks flushing even more and more as Astarion started moving.

Astarion swore he saw the cosmos as he sunk in the warmth, as Lynn became one with him. The changeling's gasps reminded him he was free, that he was not with one of his victims, but rather with him that had done so much for him.

He had fallen for Lynn, and so much had changed. Firstly he had admitted his- awfully played- plan, and Lynn had forgiven him. Lynn had held his hand while walking down the halls of Cazador's palace and bathed him after they were back at the elfsong tavern and Astarion could barely function. Lynn that held him as he wept endlessly after a nightmare. Lynn had defended him from Araj, Lynn had kissed his scars.

He poured it all with his strokes, making sure they held in them the feelings that he held in his heart. And Lynn wasn't doing any less. Lynn, the man he loved so purely and deeply, was taking him and and loving him with every inch of him. They were not just fucking, they were devoting each other despite their struggles.

“Astarion, you f-feel so good” He cried out as Astarion held him in position, stretching him deliciously.

Lynn was not vocal, his whimpers though echoed in Astarion's brain endlessly as he swallowed him inch by inch.

"My Lynn" Astarion moaned as he reached forward and caressed his cheek. "My lovely lovely Lynn" He panted desperately as he made Lynn melt under his thrusts.

Lynn threw his head back as he arched under Astarion's graze, his body cursing with something new, something sweet he couldn't help but chase as Astarion lost himself in him.

"Look at me" Astarion whispered breathlessly as the slow burning passion was eating them alive. Curses, moans, the sweet sweet sound of their hips meeting and their love overtaking them.

Lynn was his and he was Lynn's, devoting their hands, lips, eyes to worshipping the other. They could read it on each other's face, on the way their eyes glistened, or their lips parted and met, or the way their muscles tensed and everything stopped for a moment. It was just them, framed in time: Astarion cradling Lynn to his chest as he stretched him and loved him, while Lynn was gasping, so full, so soft, whispering Astarion's name like a plea. They were one as they twitched, begged, cried for the other, gushed and slowly, tenderly kissed. They didn't realized tears were streaming down their faces until they came back to their senses, though still breathless, their orgasms spilled on Lynn's chest and leaking from his tight hole. Yet all they cared about was drying those tears with the palms of their hands.

“My love, you alright?” Astarion asked worried , while uncaring for his own tears as he reached for Lynn’s cheek.

“Never been better, you?” He replied weakly as he sat up just enough to tug Astarion in his lap and dry his tears softly.

“Darling I'm home” He whispered as he leaned against Lynn's naked chest.

They laid in each other's embrace, spent, still whispering the other's name as they eased down and tangled back together. The tears that were falling held in years of pain, of wounds and blood, they were the tears of two men that had lost hope, yet found respite and home in the other's care. They were the tears of relief, of love, of belonging as Astarion was resting on Lynn's chest trembling and panting.

"I love you"s under their breath were whispered as they kissed away the tears, as they cleaned each other carefully, as they held on to each other, with just a blanket draped on their bodies, as they kissed, as they caressed. "I love you"'s sworn under the protection of the moon, only for the other to hear.

Lynn pulled Astarion against his chest again once they were tucked in the bedroll, along with the thicker blanket which ended up shielding them from the cold. Lynn kissed Astarion's temple as his arms held him close and he gently ran his fingers down his skin. Astarion sighed peacefully as he curled into the embrace, making himself smaller as if hiding

“Are you okay, little love?” Lynn kissed his cheek.

“I wish we could stay like this forever” Astarion sighed, gently resting his palm on Lynn's heart. “Not a worry in sight”

“I promise you” Lynn placed one hand atop Astarion's hand on his chest. “I'll make sure that this will be our future” He murmured.

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bg3daydream · 3 days

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Wine and Blood (Astarion x Tav)

Astarion x named male Tav (half-drow fighter called Ivar) Fanfiction

Summary: One-shot narrating the first night Astarion and Ivar spend together after the tieflings party. Ivar is already crushing on Astarion and I wan to think there're some feelings flourishing in Astarion too.

Notes and tags: +18. There's blood drinking, sex (thigh riding and oral) and mentions of briefly dissociating during it but it's resolved. Also English not being my first language.

Words: 5k

Ivar smiled as he looked around the camp and the people celebrating. The party had been going for hours now and most people were already in different stages of drunkenness. Everyone seemed to be happy for once, having fun, which was good…

Well… Everyone but one, it seemed.

Astarion was standing outside his tent, looking around with a disdain better suited for a spoiled cat, grimacing as he took sips from a bottle of wine.

Ivar rolled his eyes at the sight but couldn't help his smile as he approached Astarion.

“Having fun I see…” He joked and Astarion scoffed.

“Not as much as you seemed to be having with Shadowheart before…”

Ivar should have seen it coming. Astarion was fond of teasing him about what he called his “silly crush on Shadowheart,” and Ivar wondered what would the vampire think if he knew that the silly flutters in his belly when he looked at him were even worse.

He'd tried to ignore it first, then fight it. It made no sense, it was ridiculous. No matter how attractive Astarion could be, he could also be just as mean, Ivar knew those feelings were a bad idea, he knew he shouldn't trust him the way he did.. Yet there he was.

“We were just talking and drinking,” he finally said. “Having fun, like everyone…besides you, it seems.”

“Oh, but I do want to have fun!” Astarion huffed. “But all I got is drunk tieflings and vinegar for wine.”

He gestured around dramatically with the bottle and Ivar reached to take it from his hand, taking a sip of the wine. It was good, Astarion had no reason to complain, although Ivar had a theory that he was not going to share and maybe get a grumpier vampire.

“So, what would you do for fun, then?” Ivar asked. “Drain a couple of tieflings? Kill Gale perhaps?”

“Oh, darling, nothing so dramatic.” Astarion dismissed his words with a theatrical wave of his hand, smirking and looking him up and down. “I just want to have sex.”

Ivar almost choked on the wine. “Oh.”

“With you, I mean,” Astarion elaborated when Ivar didn't say anything. “Hells, you really can be dense.”

“Really?” Ivar gave him a doubtful look… If this was a joke he didn't want to fall for it and make a fool out of himself.

“I'm starting to reconsider, I think I deserve someone with a working brain…”

Ivar huffed. “With you, one never knows when you're serious and when you're laughing at us.”

“Darling, I can do both at the same time.” Astarion chuckled before smirking, giving him a look that made something twirl in Ivar’s belly. “So… Do you want to?”

Did he want it? Yes. Was it a good idea? No. Was he already nodding? Yes.

Astarion’s smirk went bigger, and he seemed so smug and pleased with himself that Ivar was almost tempted to say no. Almost.

“Then I'll see you later, when everyone else is a bit more…mellow. We'll find each other in the woods.”

Astarion waved towards the direction and Ivar nodded, wordlessly, before walking away, wondering if that conversation had really happened.

Ivar looked at the blanket he'd spread over the ground, the bottle of wine, and the glasses… he was already regretting it, why had he done that, Astarion was going to laugh at him…

But if he came back carrying everything after Karlach helped him sneak the bottle of wine from Shadowhear’s good stash, after admitting what he wanted it for, she was going to laugh in his face.

He decided to stop being an insecure idiot and go find Astarion. He didn't need to go far to see him, leaning against a tree. He was only wearing his trousers and Ivar tried not to stare at his body.

“There you are…” Astarion smiled as he approached. “I've been waiting… waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you.”

His speech sounded rehearsed… And odd, considering the first time he saw him, Astarion tried to threaten him with a dagger, without much success. Ivar decided not to comment on that, though, let Astarion have his moment.

“You don't have me,” he said instead, as if that could cover how much he wanted to brush his hands over Astarion’s exposed skin, or the fact that he'd gotten them wine and all.

It didn't seem to sound convincing and Astarion arched an eyebrow, smirking.

“But you're here… And I don't think you want to talk.” Honestly? Ivar didn't think he would mind having a real talk with Astarion, but he kept going before he could say anything. “No. I think that you want to be known. To be tasted…”

The speech was still sounding rehearsed and it was making Ivar feel a bit odd. Besides, he was not the only one there.

“And what do you want?”

Astarion blinked at him, almost as if taken aback, his smile faltering for a second, but then he was smiling again. “Pleasure. Our… collective ecstasy. Isn't that what you want?”

Those words were still so odd and rehearsed, but maybe if he commented on it, Astarion would get upset, so Ivar decided not to say anything about it even if it was making him feel a bit weird.

“I, uh… Yeah but… Just…come here a moment,” he gestured towards where he’d left the blanket and the wine. He'd gone through all the trouble to get it ready and he was going to use it, even if at risk of Astarion laughing at him for that.

Astarion wasn't moving, his smile was gone and he was frowning. “What…where…what are you getting me into now.” He sighed disapprovingly.

“Nothing.” Ivar rolled his eyes. “Come on.”

He began walking and Astarion thankfully seemed to decide to indulge him, following him, and soon the blanket and everything else were on sight.

“Oh… You got us a picnic, how… Sweet.” Astarion’s words were as teasing as his smile.

“Don't you dare to laugh…” Ivar muttered, self-conscious, while he sat down on the blanket.

Astarion laughed anyway, but it didn't sound malicious. “Come on, darling… I think it's cute.”

Ivar scoffed, but he was glad Astarion wasn't openly making fun of the whole thing. As the vampire sat down too, Ivar took the wine and filled a glass, which he passed to Astarion.

Astarion took a sip and grimaced. “And you went to all this trouble to still bring me vinegar. Delightful.”

“This,” Ivar began, taking the glass from Astarion’s hand and sipping the rich wine. “It's probably one of our best bottles. I think it tastes like that for you because you're a vampire. For the blood thing and all that…” He wondered if he was being too blunt. He hoped not.

“Oh…oh…” Astarion scoffed. He seemed upset and Ivar regretted his words already. “Yes, wonderful. Just another thing that was taken away from me.”

“I'm sorry…” Ivar murmured and Astarion just scoffed again, giving him a smile that felt closer to a snarl.

“So, you knew that and still decided to bring me wine I couldn't drink when all I was asking for was sex. You really know how to woo someone.”

“It was just a theory.” Ivar really hoped he hadn't fucked this up already. “And I had something else in mind if it was true.”

He reached for a knife that he'd placed next to the blanket, and Astarion seemed alarmed for a second. Ivar wondered if he thought he might hurt him… The idea tasted bitter in his mouth.

With Astarion watching him carefully, Ivar held the pad of this thumb to the blade, carefully slicing it just enough to draw blood, ignoring the sting.

Astarion seemed confused and surprised, but it was nothing compared to how he looked when Ivar reached to smear the blood from his thumb over the vampire's pretty, plush lips.

In the second that it took for Astarion to react, a million panicking thoughts went through Ivar’s mind. Why had he done that, it was too odd, Astarion was going to think he was a weirdo or worse…

Then Astarion was licking the blood from his thumb before sucking it into his mouth, smiling, and the sight and feeling had warmth pooling in Ivar’s belly.

“Now…that's what I call a nice drink,” Astarion said before giving his thumb another lick, holding Ivar’s hand in place.

He sucked on his thumb again before brushing his lips to Ivar’s forearm. He expected a bite, he'd let Astarion feed from his forearm once after a fight, but instead now Astarion just kissed it, smirking as he looked at Ivar.

Then he let go of his arm and reached to place his hand at the back of Ivar’s neck, pulling him close while leaning to kiss his lips.

Ivar’d be embarrassed to admit that he almost melted at it, hands brushing over Astarion’s cold and soft skin, pulling him closer as they kissed.

Without breaking the kiss, Astarion pushed him to lie on his back, leaning over him, and Ivar felt him smile against his lips at the sound he let out when he pressed his body to his.

Ivar shuddered when he felt Astarion’s cold hand under his shirt, caressing over his stomach and up to his chest, pulling his shirt up as he went.

Ivar broke the kiss just enough to take off his shirt completely, discarding it to the side and letting Astarion push him to the ground again.

He was a bit embarrassed by the sound he let out at the feeling of Astarion’s chest brushing against his own as they kissed, but the thought was soon gone as Astarion moved from his lips to kiss down his throat, his collarbone, his chest…

He almost whined when Astarion stopped, leaning back.

“Let me drink,” he all but purred, eying his neck, his sharp nails caressing it as if there could be any doubt about where he wanted to drink from. “This,” he said as he held his hand, before sucking his thumb. “Was but a tease, darling…”

Ivar considered it… He’d let Astarion drink from him already, even if not from his neck, besides he was the one who had, indeed, teased him by bleeding his thumb, and he was giving him such a look…

It seemed he was thinking it too long for Astarion’s patience, he was already leaning to his neck, and Ivar was about to give him an earful about drinking without waiting for him to say yes, but instead of his fangs, he felt Astarion’s tongue licking a strip up his neck, making him gasp.

“Okay…” He gave in. “But… Ask nicely first.” If Astarion could turn him into a shuddering, embarrassingly needing mess, then at the very least he could try to tease him a bit.

“Oh?” Astarion pulled back to look at him with an arched brow, seeming amused. “And how would that be? Oh, strong warrior, let me drink your delectable blood?”

Astarion really had a gift for making beautiful words sound like he was laughing at you. It was admirable, really.

“I was thinking more about you saying please.” Ivar grinned, enjoying the look of disbelief on Astarion's face, his dignified huff. “Come on…” He stretched his neck, showing off the place where Astarion’s tongue was a minute ago, while his hands caressed his cold chest.

Astarion rolled his eyes with another huff but decided to indulge him. “Please?”

Ivar grinned at the victory, petty or not, choosing to ignore Astarion’s mocking tone. “Go ahead.”

“Cheeky little pup…” Astarion muttered as he buried his face into his neck.

Ivar felt the sharp pain of his fangs, then the blood flowing, but the pain was soon numbed… Yet, he could still feel every lick of Astarion’s tongue, every suck of his lips.

Astarion pressed against him even more as he eagerly drank, letting one of his hands drag down his chest, nails scratching ever so slightly, pressing him to the ground, while his other hand rested on his head, grabbing his hair, holding him in place.

The sounds that Astarion soon began making combined with the feeling of his tongue and lips, his body pressed to him, his hands… It was all going straight to Ivar’s dick and he writhed under Astarion, hips thrusting up helplessly.

When his growing cock brushed against Astarion's leg as he moved, Ivar let out a muffled moan, holding tighter to Astarion.

Astarion noticed and he tore himself from Ivar’s neck to look at him with a smirk. He didn't say anything, though, didn't tease him, instead he shifted to place his thigh between Ivar’s, rubbing it purposely against his groin, his devilish smirk growing at Ivar’s reaction, his moan as he hit back against Astarion’s thigh.

Ivar cursed as Astarion kept the motion of his thigh, tilting his head back, and Astarion took advantage of that to dive back into his neck.

Astarion went back to drinking, but Ivar was sure some of the sucks and licks with which he was lavishing his neck weren't strictly necessary to drink his blood… Not that he'd complain.

Ivar held to Astarion’s shoulder with one hand, the other flying to the back of the vampire's head, burying his fingers in his hair, which earned him an approving sound from Astarion, muffled against his neck.

Ivar didn't care about his own needy noises, grinding against Astarion’s thigh while the vampire responded in kind, rubbing against him.

It was too much, a lick of Astarion’s tongue had him shuddering, just at the same time his thigh pressed and rubbed against his straining dick in a particularly nice way, and before he even knew it, Ivar was coming, fingers digging into Astarion’s shoulder, pulling him even closer, which he let him do, burying his face even more into his bleeding neck.

Ivar panted, torn between enjoying the way he was feeling or trying to regain some semblance of control of himself.

Astarion was still drinking from his neck, but it was slower this time, lazy licks alternated with gentle kisses across his neck, and it felt so good Ivar was tempted to just lie there, eyes closed, and let Astarion do as he wished, but finally, the embarrassment won.

“I, uh…I don't… Don't usually…” He didn't usually what? Come inside his pants? Embarrassingly soon? Let vampires drink from his neck? Come while they drank his blood? Yeah, all of that.

Another lick and then Astarion pulled back from his neck to look at him. His smile was teasing but not mean.

“Darling… I really don't care.”

His lips were covered with Ivar’s blood, dripping down his chin, and it had smeared his cheeks and even nose too from rubbing his face against Ivar’s neck and bleeding wound.

“You're a mess…” Ivar murmured while he reached to train a droplet of blood on Astarion’s cheek. “How do you manage to look good even like this?”

Astarion’s smile grew. “Oh, darling… I always look good,” he purred. “I have to say, blood wasn't looking bad on you either today when you killed those goblins.”

Was Astarion paying him a compliment? Ivar felt like teasing him a bit for it but it wasn't worth the risk of Astarion maybe never doing it again.

He just smiled, cupping Astarion’s cheek, and the vampire leaned down to kiss him.

Ivar didn't care that Astarion’s lips were smeared with his blood. He was a fighter, he didn't mind blood anymore, and he had tasted his own already, from bleeding noses to broken lips. It was much, much better to taste it from Astarion’s lips.

Ivar made himself pull away from the kiss just so he could roll over, carefully dragging Astarion with him so now he was the one on his back with Ivar pressed against him.

Astarion seemed surprised by the sudden movement, his body going rigid, brows furrowing, and so Ivar pulled back to take a good look at him, in case he didn't like the change of position.

“Okay?”

He felt Astarion’s body relaxing under his again and the vampire nodded, sultry smile back on his face.

Before Ivar could ask him if he was sure, Astarion sat up to lick a droplet of blood that had dripped from Ivar’s neck down to his chest, trailing it with his tongue before burying his face in his neck to drink his blood again.

Ivar shuddered with a gasp. This was not what he had in mind, he was supposed to be the one making Astarion moan and feel good, beyond letting him drink his blood.

Ivar pushed Astarion back to the ground, looking at him to try and make sure he was okay with it, and when the vampire looked at him with a smirk and an arched brow, he leaned down, pressing his body to his again.

“Don't get greedy,” he whispered teasingly before kissing Astarion’s lips.

Ivar began sliding down Astarion’s body, hands caressing smooth, cold skin as he went, placing kisses on that chiseled body, over his chest, down his stomach…

“You don't have to…” Astarion murmured.

“I want to,” Ivar replied, looking up at Astarion’s face. “If it's okay. If you want to?” There was a beat before Astarion nodded. “Yeah?” Ivar asked again.

Another nod. “Yeah.”

Ivar went back to placing kisses over Astarion’s stomach, lips brushing down to his belly, kissing until he reached the waistband of his trousers.

“Can I keep going?” He asked, kissing Astarion’s lower belly when he whispered a yes. Another kiss and he pulled back to look at Astarion, hooking his fingers on the waistband of his trousers and underwear. “Can I?”

Astarion nodded, his eyes dark crimson as he looked at Ivar. “Yeah.” He lifted his hips to help Ivar peel both his trousers and underwear off him.

Ivar got situated between Astarion’s legs again. He kissed his thigh, then his hipbone, until he reached his cock, licking the length of it slowly.

Astarion’s shuddered moan as his hips hit up had Ivar smiling. He gripped the base of Astarion’s shaft with one hand, placing the other on his thigh, and he slid his mouth down Astarions cock, which rewarded him with another moan.

He looked up at Astarion’s face as he sucked on his tip and the sight of the vampire, eyes closed, brows furrowed in pleasure, mouth open with another strangled moan, almost made Ivar moan himself.

The noises that Astarion was making as Ivar kept going, mouth sliding up and down his cock, were music to his ears and, in all honesty, to his ego.

One of Astarion’s hands was clawing at the blanket under them and Ivar reached up to hold it, unsure of how Astarion might react and if he might just slap it away.

He didn't, instead, he held it, intertwining their fingers and squeezing his hand.

Suddenly, though, Astarion’s hand went limp on his. The way his hips were moving and even the sounds he was making felt… Different. Ivar couldn't explain why, but something didn't feel right.

He pulled back to look at Astarion, who at first didn't seem to notice but then gave him a sultry smile… It was so different from his face of pleasure before, though…

"Are you okay?" Ivar asked and Astarion frowned.

"Yeah."

"Really?" Ivar didn't want to be pushy or ruin the mood, but still, something didn't feel right.

"Yes… I just got… A bit distracted. Didn't mean to…" Astarion frowned, lips pursed, but soon he was wearing his devilish smile again. "I'm sorry, darling," he purred, sliding down his hand towards Ivar’s groin, but he stopped it.

The fact that Astarion'd gotten distracted while he sucked his cock was a bit discouraging, but Ivar was most worried about how something felt off.

"Don't be, just… We can stop." He wouldn't mind and he hoped Astarion could see it. "It's okay, I don't mind."

Astarion opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it. His sultry smile was gone, frown on his face, and Ivar was about to move back when he spoke.

“No… No, I don't want you to stop.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Keep going.” Astarion’s hand went back to holding Ivar’s and his hips wiggled ever so slightly. “Please.”

“Okay…okay, just…tell me if I do something you don't like…” It was awkward to tell him that, but it was better than the alternative… Better safe than sorry.

“Wasn't you…” Astarion muttered but he didn't elaborate and Ivar decided not to press the matter more for now.

With his mind set on making sure Astarion was enjoying this, Ivar lowered his mouth to his cock again, eyes on Astarion’s face. He was slow at first, a bit tentative even, waiting to notice his reaction to everything.

As Ivar’s lips slid down his cock, Astarion hummed, eyes closed, his hand holding Ivar’s tighter when he dragged his lips back up, sucking, making him moan in a way that, thankfully, sounded good and real again.

Astarion’s free hand moved to Ivar’s head, seemingly of his own accord, but he moved it away when he realized it. Ivar reached for it, though, taking it to place it on his head again.

He was okay with it, let Astarion show him what he wanted from him, and he moaned on his cock when Astarions’ fingers grabbed his hair roughly.

Ivar kept going, letting Astarion guide him and take from him what he pleased, enjoying every sound that the vampire let out, every soft moan, quiet whimper, and grunt, until Astarion reached his climax with a strangled cry.

Astarion’s back arched up, hand holding Ivar’s head in place but he didn't mind, just swallowed his release as he kept licking and sucking until Astarion let go of his head.

Ivar kissed Astarion’s hip, then his thigh before moving back to look at him. He'd covered his eyes with his arm, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small smile, and he looked damn beautiful as always.

Ivar moved from between Astarion’s thighs to lie on his side next to him. He reached out a hand towards the vampire but stopped, even if it felt a bit foolish to be uncertain about touching him after he just sucked his cock.

“Was it… Okay?” Ivar asked even if he felt insecure and kind of stupid doing so. “Did you like it?”

Astarion moved his arm from his face, turning to face Ivar too. “Yeah…yeah, I actually enjoyed that.”

“You sound surprised…were you expecting me to be bad at it?” Ivar didn't know if he found it funny or embarrassing.

Astarion rolled his eyes at him but didn't say anything.

Ivar sat up, reaching to take a bottle of water he'd brought, besides the wine, taking a big gulp of it.

“What? No drink for me?” Astarion purred, looking at his neck.

“Gluttony doesn't look good on you,” Ivar joked and Astarion smirked.

“Darling, I thought we had agreed everything looks good on me.”

Ivar rolled his eyes again but his smile betrayed him. He looked around the blanket until he spotted the cloth he'd also brought and he picked it up, pouring some water from the bottle on it.

“What are you doing?” Astarion asked.

“Cleaning the mess we are.” Ivar reached the cloth towards Astarion’s face but didn't touch him. “If that's okay.”

Astarion nodded and so Ivar carefully dabbed at the dried blood on his face with the wet cloth, dragging it over his lips and chin, washing him clean, and Astarion let him do it with his eyes closed.

He opened them when Ivar stopped to refold the towel and pour water on it again. This time he reached towards Astarion’s groin, again stopping before touching him, waiting until Astarion nodded.

When he did, Ivar gently brushed the wet cloth over Astarion’s hips and thighs, his belly, his cock, cleaning him of cum and also blood that had dripped from Ivar’s neck.

Astarion let him do it in silence, looking at him intently, in a way Ivar couldn't quite place but that felt… Good.

Once he finished with Astarion, Ivar moved back to remove his own pants and take off his underwear, ruined from when he'd come before… He really hoped he could wash them without anybody seeing him.

Pouring more water on the cloth, he hastily washed his own mess. When he reached to press the cloth to the wound on his neck, though, Astarion stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

“I can take care of that, darling…” He moved to bury his face in Ivar’s neck.

“You're getting so greedy…” Ivar tried to sound teasing but the feeling of Astarion’s lips on his neck had him shuddering, eyes closed.

“Oh, but you like it…” Astarion said against his neck, licking over the wound. It had stopped bleeding but Astarion sucked on it as if trying to draw more blood. “I saw it.”

Ivar said nothing, sure that nothing dignified would make it past his lips, and he felt Astarion chuckling.

He looked up from his neck to kiss his lips again. Ivar wasn't expecting it and he hummed into the kiss, pleased, arms reaching to hold Astarion, who pushed him to lie down on his back on the ground again, with him between his open legs.

Another deep kiss, and then Astarion moved back to his neck, making the almost closed wound bleed again, just slightly.

Ivar fell asleep like that, with Astarion lying on top of him, face buried in his neck, lazily tonguing at the reopened wound.

The sunrise didn't wake Ivar, who was sure never had slept like that, almost like he was knocked out. It was Astarion’s body moving away from him as the vampire got up that woke him.

His eyelids didn't seem to want to cooperate and he had a bad headache but Ivar finally managed to open his eyes. When he tried to sit up on his forearms though the world spinned before focusing on Astarion.

He was facing the sun, body open to it, eyes closed, face relaxed… Ivar wondered if he'd ever get used to how beautiful he was.

There was a scar on his back, big, intricate, almost like some sort of scar tattoo, and Ivar wondered what the hells could it be. It looked odd on Astarion. He wasn't sure how the vampire might react if he asked him about it, though.

Ivar tried to get up but not only did the world spin again, it felt almost as if his head was going to fall off his shoulders. He felt so lightheaded and weak…

Just how much blood had he let Astarion drink from him? He should be more careful next time, or at least bring some scrolls of healing or restoration, maybe something to eat at the very least…

Would there be a next time, though? Was this just a post-party one-night thing for Astarion? Ivar didn't know… He didn't want it to be just that, but he didn't know what Astarion might think or how to bring it up to him.

He groaned, trying to get up again, giving up and falling back down, covering his face with his arm. Astarion heard him and he turned around to face him, arching an eyebrow.

“I definitely let you drink too much…” Ivar complained.

“Oh, way to be dramatic, dear.” Astarion dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Is a fighter not used to a bit of blood loss? ”

Astarion reached to take his clothes, picking up Ivar’s trousers too and throwing them to his face

“Come on, it's past time we left.”

Ivar grumbled a complaint but sat up, squeezing his eyes tight and trying to put on his trousers blindly.

Astarion was already done with his own by the time Ivar was finished, and for a second Ivar considered reaching for the vampire's hand as he tried to get up, but decided against it.

He managed to get up, even if a bit wobbling, the world spinning again, head pounding.

His eyes landed on Astarion, standing closer than he'd realized, beautiful even looking like he was about to laugh at him.

“Fuck, I want to kiss you,” Ivar hadn't meant to say it aloud and he felt like face-palming.

“Oh… Do you, now?” Astarion was looking way too pleased with himself and Ivar wanted to kiss that smug look off his face.

“Yeah… Can I?” Ivar wondered if he should be embarrassed at being acting like that… he wasn't.

“Mmh…” Astarion made a show of thinking it over. “I’ll allow it,” he finally said in a way better suited for a spoiled cat allowing pets.

Leaning down, Ivar kissed Astarion’s lips, in a softer kiss than the ones they had shared last night, deepening it when he felt Astarion’s hands on his waist, holding to him. He could get used to this. He didn't want to think this might be the last time he kissed him.

Astarion was the first to pull back but his hands lingered on Ivar’s waist like a soft, cold touch.

“You know…” Astarion began, looking at Ivar in a way he couldn't quite place. “This was… Not what I had in mind last night. But it was nice. Really nice.”

Ivar wondered if he was smiling like a fool and found that he didn't care if he was.

“Now…” Astarion pulled back and waved a hand toward the blanket and everything else. “You better rush to pick all this up or by the time you get to the camp, hungover tieflings will have eaten all breakfast. See you later, darling.”

With that, Astarion began walking towards the camp.

It’d have been nice of him to offer to help him pick up everything and clean up, maybe offer to bring him some breakfast…but Ivar hadn't expected it.

He watched Astarion until he disappeared among the trees before he began picking up the wine and water, blanket, and everything else.

He wondered if and when he'd get to share another night with Astarion… He wondered too just how foolish his smile looked as he thought of it, but found he didn't care.

Now he just needed to find the right moment to ask Astarion.

NA:

Excuse Ivar sometimes, he just got charisma 8. But he's a sweetheart.

Thanks for taking the time to read this.

If you liked it, please let me know in a comment, and as always, reblogs are more than welcome.

This scene lived in my head and I had to write it, even if I know not many people would be interested in my own tavs. Thanks if you gave it a chance.

If you want to read more about Astarion and Ivar (or any other of my tavs) or have requests for Astarion fanfics, I'm all pointy ears.

Excuse my English, it’s not my first language.

#astarion #astarion fanfiction #astarion romance #astarion x tav #tavstarion #astarion x oc #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate astarion #astarion bg3

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kittenintheden · 2 days

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Not Your Sweetheart Ch 34 - Lavender

Not Your Sweetheart Chapter 34 - Lavender

The one where I absolutely delight in reminding everyone that Astarion has a dead average 10 charisma and an 18 CHA Tav gives him a run for his goddamn money in all the best and most angsty ways.

AKA "gets away with it bc hottie w/a body" meets "wins every social interaction and is also troubled and hot."

AKA the seducer gets seduced and he's mad about it, until he isn't.

But also it's a whole campaign? You know. Do not enter unless you're expecting true-to-life D&D -- everyone hot as hell but stupid as fuck. Get your top-shelf found family and hotties battling for flirt dominance tropes here.

---

We start off with some spicy and end on some sweet and everything in between is incredibly awkward and funny. Read on AO3.

Commissioned piece of the dorks by the fantastically talented @hamrikaa (see the full thing in Ch 10).

---

“Are you cold?” comes a voice from beside him.

He whips his head around to find the tiefling girl peering up at him. When she doesn’t look away, he glances around to see who she was talking to. “What?” he says.

Arabella points at his arm. “I rub my arms like that when I’m cold. Are you cold?”

“No,” Astarion says, forcing his arms to his side. He clears his throat and looks out over the camp until she wanders off.

She does not wander off.

“Sorry,” she says, though she doesn’t sound it. “I just thought maybe some of you were getting sick.”

“Why would you think that?” he sneers down at her, folding his arms in front of him so he doesn’t fidget.

The girl arches an eyebrow at him. “At least half of you were moaning and groaning partway through the night. I thought it was whatever you all ate. I think Karlach may have been hallucinating. She kept talking to someone who wasn’t there. If you’re not sick, then what?”

Astarion stares. The gears in his head turn, click into place, and he takes a sizable step back.

“No,” he says, putting more space between them. “I am not the one for that talk, no. I’m going to go away now. Do not follow me. Ever again.”

Arabella frowns a little at his retreating back before two of the women walk by, each carrying rations and water toward the fire. The tiefling sighs and says after them, “That’s not what you had last night, is it?”

Shadowheart stops and looks around, confused. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“Don’t want to end up with a bellyache. You all were louder than Mirkon’s snoring until late.”

The half-elf goes immediately pink up to the tips of her ears. “We, erm,” she says. Swallows. “No one was sick. The food is fine.”

“Then what in the hells?” Arabella huffs. “No one tells me anything.”

Shadowheart’s mouth works as she tries to formulate a response.

Before she can get there, Lae’zel says, “I imagine you overheard us having various forms of intercourse, child.”

Very slowly, Shadowheart turns to look at her with wide eyes.

#astarion x tav #astarion x original female character #astarion x oc #astarion bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion smut #astarion fic #astarion fluff #bg3 #not your sweetheart

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bloodinwine · 3 days

Text

Until You Chapter 13: Just Fallen

Story Summary: “Maybe what you really need is a friend, not a lover.”

Astarion’s eyes flutter with surprise. “I-I would like that. I’ve held more people than I can count. An infinite parade of lovers. But a friend?” He pauses on the question and his face becomes crestfallen. “I can’t think of a single one.”

He puts his hand out to Effy, to which she happily accepts.

“Until you,” he says with a smile that only she’s ever seen.

Ever since that moment the two remained friends and even got an apartment together in the lower city shortly after the defeat of the Netherbrain. It’s been several months and Effy is happily living with her vampire bestie but Astarion’s been acting different lately…

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. some (more than usual) nsfw content ahead, blood licking/blood kink, reference to cheating behavior, emotional trauma, anxiety, negative thinking

Word count: 11.5 k

Author's note: A story in which Tav has commitment issues.

Until You: A03

#until you #astarion fanfic #astarion ancunin #astarion love #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion fanfiction #astarion fic #astarion smut #a03 fanfic #ao3 writer #effy lovell #astarion x female tav #astarion x female oc

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wolfywolfy · 1 day

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Chapter 8 is posted!

Chapter Summary: What happens the morning after being caught in a compromising position? Nothing good, surely. Especially when you're surrounded by a bunch of tadpole-infested gossips, who may or may not be just the teeniest bit jealous.

Warnings: None for this chapter, but a little angst if you squint! Smut, blood, and some gore for other chapters, though.

Fic Summary:

Primrose is a druid, tree-hugger, and the de facto leader of their merry little band of tadpooled misfits. She's been completely isolated from society, living alone in the woods for who knows how long, and given her naivety, Astarion figured she was raised by wolves. Regardless, being a leader means she is a sturdy foundation for himself to latch on to, if he can manipulate her to care for him. She's prone to waxing poetics and altruistic to a fault, the perfect victim for his ministrations – so imagine his surprise when she turns out to be more complex than he gave her credit for. Why, exactly, has she been hiding from society? Prim carries herself as if she would never do any wrong, but when provoked, she's shockingly deadly. The more time he spends with her, the more he has a suspicion that there's something dark lurking beneath the surface…. Perhaps it's time to find out.

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riseatlantisss · 8 months

Text

Careful, he bites

Pairing : Astarion x female!reader around 900 words.

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

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

I love him a completely normal amount

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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baldursgate3tempobsessed · 7 months

Text

Soft Astarion Jealousy

Now with part 2!

I love Ascended Astarion because he's horrible but the sweetness of the other end of the spectrum is impossible to deny. He's just so in love and grateful I can't 🥺🥺

So here's some jealousy that isn't psychotic. Well it is but not as bad:

Astarion never expected to be the jealous type. He always thought...well. In all honesty he never thought about the reality of having a relationship. He didn't even think it was possible for him, let alone the idea that he would actually want it. Even with you, even after he admitted a fraction of his own feelings to himself, he never thought that he would be so... possessive. Though admittedly, he had very good cause for it.

Because you were frustrating. So, so frustrating. For some idiotic reason, you simply didn't understand how alluring to others you really were. You were a pretty little thing, yes but that wasn't the problem. It was so much more than that. And he knew that the others wanted you. Every last one of them. Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Wyll, Karlach, Gale, Halsin. All of them like moths to a flame. And that wasn't even counting all of the strangers you had met on your journey, the extras that thought they had a shot with your greatness. They all wanted you in ways that made Astarion seethe. And the desire from others wasn't even the kind that he was used to, the kind he understood like the back of his hand. Because you didn't need to seduce to cultivate desire. All you needed to stoke the flames was merely your presence. Experiencing you was all that was required for people to know they wanted more.

Astarion knew that the others weren't just looking for a bedmate, they wanted you for the same reasons he had grown to. Your empathy, your desire to understand those around you. Your fearlessness, your infuriating habit of always trying to do the right thing. They wanted you for your laugh, the way your eyes would crinkle in the corners when your smile was too wide. Your silly jokes, your endless hopefulness for a future. It felt as though everyone around saw you for the gem that you were and it was... concerning. Extremely concerning.

Astarion hated thinking about things like this. He loathed admitting the truth to himself even more. But he was...terrified of losing you to someone else. Especially since it could so easily be done. He was so very lucky that you weren't the brightest, or at least not when it came to matters of the heart. You could do so much better than him, a fact that was incredibly obvious to everyone around you. Everyone but you, a luck that Astarion did not take lightly. But how much time did he have before it ran out? Would it ever?

Perhaps it was delusional, but he was starting to think when all of this was over, assuming neither of you perished anyway, that...it could just be the two of you. Living together, exploring the world, even if it had to be under the cloak of night. Maybe... maybe the two of you could even find a cure for his unsavory condition. The thought itself was incredibly stupid, but then again, it was just as idiotic to believe that there was a cure to the Mind Flayer parasite. But here they were, closer then ever. And if that was such an impossibility turned into reality, perhaps a vampiric cure wasn't so impossible. Or maybe even finding an alternative method for immortality for you, without the downsides of his own. Anything that could just keep you both together, for as long as possible. It was an unrealistic dream, that would never come into fruition. If anything it was dangerous, so very dangerous to even entertain the thought of forever. Especially when your connection was so tenuous.

Astarion would never be stupid enough to thank Cazador for anything but...he'd be lying if he said he wasn't appreciative for his own lack of subtly when it came to seducing you. Even if it originally was for distasteful reasons, it still got him ahead of the pack. If he had been less calculating, less astute, there was a sincere chance that you would be warming someone else's bed at night. Callousness would never be without it's uses, even if it led to uncomfortable situations like his current infatuation.

What would he do when you inevitably wanted to leave? How could he survive after having something so...good. Someone so caring, someone who for some very horrifying reason liked being around him. And the sex... it was fabulous. He was a massive fan of your intimacy, when he was capable of participating in it. He adored it, he adored you, your beauty, the sweet noises he could coax from your mouth, the europhia of being inside of you. Then there was the fact that you could be intimate without any traces of it devolving into lovemaking. He had never been gifted with the ability to say no before, so often and so freely without a single fear of punishment. If anything, it felt like he was rewarded when he was honest with you, when he would share his sudden fits of discomfort in his own body, the memories that plagued him and doomed him to staying stubbornly soft. You would never get angry, never even disappointed. You would just listen and smile, always adorable when you would ask, "But I can stay for a cuddle, can't I?"

An extremely silly question, considering the two of you hadn't spent a night apart from each other since you'd made it to the Shadowlands. Yet it never failed to make him melt.

It was getting worse, these feelings. He just wanted you around, by his side, constantly. Constant enough for him to get the ridiculous urge to hiss at anyone else who dared to come near you. He felt an intense need to protect the closeness the both of you had cultivated, the kind that he had never been allowed before. He had no interest in sharing you with your own friends when it came down to it, let alone another lover.

Which is precisely why his original, mild distaste for Halsin turned into a full-blown hatred the night he had the gall to proposition you.

It had felt like a shard of ice going through his chest when you bounded over to him, laughing about one of his greatest fears coming much too close to reality, "You won't believe the conversation Halsin and I just had-"

"Ah, I was wondering when you were going to ask me about that," Astarion laughed, purposefully interrupting you. He had no desire to hear the specifics of that conversation. He didn't even want to be having this conversation, where you were inevitably going to ask if it was okay to explore someone else.

The answer was no. Never would he be okay with it, allowing someone else to be close to what should have been his. But he needed to think strategically here. To say no could be disasterous. If it became a game of choice between him and Halsin... he's almost certain he would lose. Halsin was everything he wasn't; caring, giving, sharing in your worldviews in a way that Astarion never could. He couldn't risk it, he wouldn't. Having you at all was better than nothing.

"But I'd never even consider something like that-"

"It's fine," Astarion interrupts again, the fakest smile he can muster plastered on his face. The pain was worth the risk mitigation, he was sure of that. But... he still had to ask, "But is this because we haven't...y'know, in awhile?"

A sick part of him prays that you'll say yes. Because if that's the reason, he could do something about it. He could force himself if need be to always tend to your needs. Especially if it meant keeping you to himself. It was such a small sacrifice in comparison to the rest of his life. He would do it in a heartbeat if you demanded, anything to just make you stay.

But that was not the answer he received. Instead you frowned, looking him up and down, "What? No, I-Astarion no. Please don't think that. What we have together is so special to me. The physical part of it is lovely, perfect even. But...it's not what we are."

It's almost comforting to hear you say that. But then why did that make the situation feel so much worse? If it wasn't sex you were after then that certainly meant you wanted more with Halsin as well, did it not? But it was too late to rescind it now.

Astarion nodded, a confused mixture of hurt and gratefulness swirling through him, "I just needed to know. But if you're satisfied with me and just want to explore, go right ahead. I'll be here when you're done."

You nodded slowly, brow furrowed when you asked, "So...we aren't exclusive then?"

"No, of course not," Astarion confirmed, ignoring everything inside of him that was screaming for him to take it all back, "We can be as open as you'd like."

"I see..." You said, trailing off with a frown. You coughed into your hand, looking up at him sharply. Sharp enough for him to be sincerely confused, "Does this mean that you'll be speaking to me before you explore your other options?"

"I-yes? If you want?" Astarion answered, a new type of unease settling in his chest. You didn't seem very happy with this conversation, despite his best attempts to give you what you wanted. Where had he gone wrong? Was he already working to throw you into the arm's of another man, without even trying?

You were still frowning at him, your look cold in a way that made him feel particularly ill, "Please do. I'd like to know everything. I'm going to speak to Halsin, get this all sorted. We can talk later."

And then you were spinning on your heel and marching away, like Astarion was the offensive party here. It made no sense. He had done it all right, hadn't he? Agreed to it immediately, didn't make you feel guilty, had tried to be what you wanted. How had he failed?

He didn't wait around to see you go to Halsin. Instead he went straight back to his tent, closing the flap as he laid down. Great. Fantastic. Now he would have to be aware, perhaps even hear you being with another, while simultaneously reliving that horrid conversation in his head for the entire night. The hurt and worry was making his mind wander to uncomfortable places. Perhaps...Halsin could be dealt with in another way if things became too serious between the two of you.

Would poisoning the man be too extreme?

But before Astarion had the time to start thinking of a more detailed plan he was interrupted. Suddnely, moonlight was filling his tent, with your silleoute shining in the darkness.

He blinked up at you, confused, "What are you doing here?"

You frowned at him, looking hesitant in the entry way, "Should I not be? I thought-I can go if you'd like."

"No!" Astarion blurted out, loud and desperate enough to make him cringe. He cleared his throat, trying again, his voice still a touch too pitiful for his liking, "No, no, come here darling. Of course you're always welcome. I just assumed you would be busy."

To his relief you listened, crawling into the bedroll next to him. Astarion didn't waste any time in wrapping his arms around you, relieved to humiliating degrees that you had chosen to come back after the deed. Though...you didn't quite smell as he had thought you would. There were no traces of the floral, woodsy smell of the druid on your skin. Just the sweet, pleasant scent that he had grown so fond of.

You sighed as he tucked you against him, the warmth of you enough to make him relax for the first time that night. You laid together in a pleasant quiet, one that Astarion was actually scared to disturb. Despite the fact that he desperately wanted to know what happened between the two of you.

But you broke the silence for him, muttering into his chest after the two of you were settled, "I'm...sorry for being snappish earlier. I shouldn't have been. You didn't do anything wrong, and I know I don't own you. I shouldn't have assumed."

Astarion frowned, pulling back to get a proper look at your face. You looked hurt, sad even. Like you were the one who had gotten their heart broken. He could feel a curl of distaste settling in his stomach, annoyed that this felt as though the situation was being placed back to him. He had played his part, perfectly. What more could you ask for? What was there to assume?

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean," Astarion carefully said, his eyes fixed on every micro expression on your face, "What did I do that could have been construed as incorrect?"

"Nothing!" You rushed to say, shame coloring your cheeks, "I was being stupid. You never promised me anything. I just...assumed. Wrongly that we were something we aren't."

That didn't-he-what? Astarion frowned at her, his confusion evident on his face, "What did you think we were?"

You looked uncomfortable, avoiding his gaze when you answered, "I thought that we were...together. Alone. Just us. But if that's not what you want I understand. It's fine-"

"What in the hells are you talking about?" Astarion blurted out, his anger and pain bubbling to the surface, "I haven't done a thing. And we were just us before you decided to galivant off with a bear of a man!"

He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. So much for playing things safely. No, he couldn't even have the self-control to stay quiet. He always had to ruin everything.

But surprisingly, you didn't look angry. If anything you seemed just as confused as he felt, "What? I didn't-we didn't do anything! When did I say I wanted to do anything with Halsin? You were the one saying you didn't care!"

You weren't making any damn sense, "Well why else would you ask me about it?"

"I didn't!" You huffed, glaring at him, "All I was going to say was that he asked me. And I wanted your help on how to best turn him down! And then you jumped at the chance to push me onto someone else-"

"I did nothing of the sort!" Astarion seethed back, "If it was up to me you would never look at another man again! Or woman for that matter!"

It was an odd feeling, to be arguing while holding each other so closely. But Astarion had no intention of letting you go anytime soon, even if he could feel you squirming against his ironclad grip when you fumed at him, "Then why would you say it was okay?!"

"Because I don't want you to leave me!" He shouted back, loud enough to snap him out of his own anger. All of his fury was instantly replaced with fear. Gods, why had he felt the need to say that? To lay his biggest insecurity out on the line. Why not just hand you a stake while he was at it, since he was so eager to give you the tools to destroy him.

But you were still seething, hissing back at him, "Why praytell, would I leave the man I've been in love with for months? Hm? Please, explain it to me!"

Astarion couldn't. He was too busy being shell-shocked at the confession, feeling too many emotions at once. Joy, relief, somehow even more fear than before. You so freely said the words that he had done his damndest to bury, to ignore. But now they were out there, filling him with a horrifying joy.

He wanted to say it back. He did. But he couldn't get the wrecthed words out. Instead he was just staring at you like an imbeicle, his mouth hanging opening at the confession.

But his silence didn't make you falter. Instead you looked determined, near fierce as you grasped his face into your warm hands, "I love you Astarion. You don't have to say it back. That's not what this is about. But I want you. And only you. If you want the same of me then you must tell me. Now."

Astarion let his hands flutter over your wrists, humiliating tears prickling at his eyes. But at least his vocal chords allowed him to answer you this time, "I do. So much more than you know. I want us. Just us. No one else."

The words were flowing out of him, too fast and sincere for him to make the appropriate edits in his head. He was saying too much, feeling too much, giving too much. But the way your eyes brightened at his words, the way you grinned at him before pulling him in for a sweet kiss made it suddenly feel like he wasn't giving anything up at all.

As much as he loathed to admit it, Astarion was exceedingly grateful for Halsin's existence after that night. He would never have had the gall to demand you to himself without a trigger, without the anger you both shared at being misunderstood. Because now, you were his. His alone, the proclamation coming from your own lips. And he was free to stop hiding how much he had wanted it. How willing he was to do anything to keep it. He let himself off his own leash after that, leaning completely into the mutual ownership you had of each other. No more would he silently sit back and seethe as a stranger flirted with you. No, now he'd be upfront and center, with a possessive hand around your waist as he glared them down, more than prepared with a confidence-shattering quip on his tongue.

He started to let all of his urges seep through, taking full advantage of your willingness. If Wyll looked at you for too long at the fire, with a touch of something that Astarion didn't like in his eyes, he'd effortlessly pull you into his lap onlookers be damned as breathed you in. If Gale suddenly had a suspect offer to teach you some new magic in a secluded location, Astarion would invite himself, impervious to any glares sent his way. And when he felt as though all of them were being a bit too flirtaious, he was more than happy to put them in their places at night. Spending hours upon hours making you scream his name in bed from pleasure, loud enough for everyone to hear and know exactly who you belonged to.

He couldn't care less if it added to his own unpopularity amongst their merry-band of rejects. Their opinions didn't matter. Not when you were eating all of the sudden attention up.

You let him do it all because you understood him, in ways that no one else had bothered to before. You knew who he was, what he wanted, the extent to how much he craved your attention. And you let it all happened, reveled in it even. The intense shows of affection. Because you loved him. And he loved you. And one of these days he'd allow himself to admit the obvious.

But for now, he had what he wanted. What he needed. And in the first time in his life, even with disgusting tadpoles squirming his his brain, Astarion was actually...happy.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion fic #long fic #you'll pry my long posts out of my cold dead hands #may add a dirty part two here #dirty sweet

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dancingbirdie · 6 months

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Back with another bout of plotless smut. Read at your own discretion and take note of the tags. <333

Like my smut writing? Find more here.

We Have All Night

Rating: MATURE

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader x Halsin

Word Count: 800

Warnings/Tags: Oral sex (fem!Reader receiving), praise kink, hand kink, threesome technically?, mentions of alcohol, pure plotless smut

Summary: You'd been wondering for some time what it would be like to have Halsin and Astarion share you.

*****

You could have easily blamed the events that ensued on the bottles of Blingdenstone Blush you all had passed around camp that evening. But if you were honest with yourself, the position you found yourself in was one you had been fantasizing about for some time.

“That’s it, darling,” Astarion coaxed as his fingers slipped gently through your hair, teasing and massaging your scalp. Your head was pillowed in his lap, pupils blown wide with lust as you peered up at him. He smiled down at you, a wicked, hedonistic sort of grin.

“You so desperately want to hold still for him, don’t you?”

You whined your assent, trying your best to keep your hips from bucking – an impossible task considering the relentless way Halsin’s tongue was licking and circling that sensitive spot at the apex of your thighs.

“Such a good girl. You’re doing so well” Astarion cooed, while Halsin groaned in agreement. The vibrations it created against your skin felt like electricity surging through your limbs.

Your mind was a disjointed haze of lust and alcohol. Totally uninhibited, you keened loudly as the druid suddenly gripped the softness of your thighs and plunged his tongue inside you.

“Shh, shh, shh” Astarion hushed, moving a hand to cover your mouth. “We don’t want the rest of the camp to hear our fun, do we?”

You groaned and shook your head slightly.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join in?” you rasped, your lips moving against his slender fingers.

He gave a mischievous little chuckle. “I’m certain. I’m having a wonderful time just watching,” Astarion returned.

“The night is still young,” Halsin persuaded, pausing his feasting on you to meet Astarion’s eyes. The absence of his mouth left you wanting, aching for contact once more. “If you change your mind, there’s plenty of fun to be had.”

“A tempting offer, indeed,” Astarion smirked. “Let’s see where the evening takes us, shall we?”

You moaned against his hand as Halsin dipped his head to begin circling your clit with his tongue once more. You fisted his gorgeous auburn locks in your hands, eliciting a groan from his mouth that felt absolutely delicious against your hypersensitive skin.

“Our sweet pup has an oh-so-difficult time keeping quiet, doesn’t she?” Astarion crooned, tracing his fingers against the seam of your lips. “You’re trying so hard, darling, I know you are.”

His silken, sinful voice felt almost as euphoric as the deplorable things Halsin was doing between your legs. In a bout of unbridled lust, you opened your mouth to capture Astarion’s index and middle fingers in your mouth.

You sucked down on them, circled them with your tongue, as you imagined having his hard length sheathed down your throat. Your bawdy move drew a sharp breath from the vampire, followed by a quiet groan.

You paused your ministrations, lifting a hand to pull his fingers from your mouth before asking, “Is this okay? Is it too much?”

Astarion chuckled darkly, and you watched as his chest rose and fell with uneven breaths.

“You wicked thing,” he purred. “Yes, it’s okay. And it has the added benefit of keeping you quiet.”

You were beyond laughs and jokes. Hearing his consent, you drew his fingers back down to your mouth and resumed your sucking. You moaned your approval as Astarion pistoned his fingers deeper into your mouth at the same time Halsin inserted two fingers inside you.

You knew you wouldn’t last long. Not with the way the druid was fucking you with his fingers at the same time his tongue was circling your clit. Not with the way Astarion was trailing one hand delicately across your exposed skin while you worshiped the fingers of his other hand with your tongue and lips.

Every nerve within you was alight and thrumming with barely-restrained energy. You could feel yourself climbing higher and higher, your body preparing for the sweetest freefall that would soon ensue. Your heels dug into Halsin’s muscled back as you tensed, one hand still clenching his hair while the other held desperately onto Astarion’s thigh.

“Yes, darling, yes,” Astarion kept coaxing as your body drew more and more taut. A bowstring desperate to be released.

“Let yourself come, you know you want to,” he added in a soft whisper.

It was too much.

Those words, and a final flick of Halsin’s tongue, had you shattering into a thousand pieces. Your cries were barely restrained by the fingers still occupying your mouth. You were lost in pleasure, awash in the tingling aftermath of your release.

Chest heaving, mind reeling, you could barely find words.

“That… that was…” you wheezed, before letting loose a giggle. “Everything I’d imagined it would be.”

“You’d thought about this before?” Halsin grinned, wiping his mouth clean against his forearm before leaning down to plant a reverent kiss against your lips. You could taste yourself on him. It gave you more satisfaction than perhaps it should have.

“My, my. What other sort of depraved carnal pleasures are bouncing around in that head of yours, I wonder?” Astarion added, helping you sit up so that you were lounging between the two of them.

You shared a conspiratorial grin with both elves. “We have all night, if you’d like me to show you.”

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angelltheninth · 7 months

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Astarion Getting Aroused by Your Blood

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, kissing, blood sucking, neck bites, creampie, rough sex, semi-public sex, feral!Astarion

A/N: Not immune to sexy blood suckers.

It was happening before your relationship was official too but he was more subtle about it at that point

The last thing he wanted to do was to make you think he was a pervert

Well he was but even he knows that there is a time and place

It would make him seem a little odd, you bleeding and him with a boner, so he would always run off into the forest to take care of himself

Your blood almost made him lose his mind with lust, just the sight of a single drop made his mouth water and his cock harden

The first taste of your blood, the first bite that you allowed him made him cream his pants, an incident you won't ever let him forget

His pupils dilate when you cut your thumb and move it in and out of his mouth, rubbing the blood all over his tongue, making his hips hump air, his cock begging to feel something around it

Multiple times in the day he will ask to kiss you, and then he will bite you as well, joking how he's oh so tired from the fight, he needs just a little boost

That little boost will give him more then just energy for the day

You haven't been caught fucking in a shady alleyway yet but the amount of times he will get horny from the taste of your blood is enough to drain you, his fangs aren't even needed

When he's thrusting in and out of your pussy and he sees you offering your neck to him he takes the opportunity, coming as soon as your sweet, metallic taste hits his tongue

His mouth may be full of your blood by your pussy is full of his cum

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bellasmumblingsandmusings · 2 days

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What Could Have Been

Chapter One

Previously: Prologue Tumblr Link for Prologue

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. NSFW, Ethical and non Ethical BDSM, noncon, some allusions to sexual violence, attempted sexual violence, dubcon, blood licking/blood kink, reference to cheating behavior, emotional trauma, group sex, sex, smutt, anxiety, negative thinking, sexual trauma, recovery, healing, angst,

Word count: 6.6K

Status: Ongoing

Author's note: A story about two broken people making mistakes, not being heroes and yet trying to find a way to love themselves and each other.

Song for this Chapter: Yearning Hearts - Forgotten Odes - Eternal Eclipse : Spotify Link

A03

Entire Story Link on AO3

Spotify Playlist

Chapter One

The Ancunín Estate played host to a lavish ball, its opulent halls filled with the elite of Baldur's Gate and beyond. Astarion, draped in his most resplendent attire—a meticulously tailored white brocade shirt, its fabric whispering against his skin, embellished with intricate gold embroidery that seemed to dance in the flickering candlelight. Long sleeves adorned with delicate ruffles gently caressed his wrists, while his trousers, fashioned from the darkest of cloths, hugged his form with a sleek elegance that bespoke his aristocratic bearing. His polished boots clicked softly against the marble floors as he moved through the throng, every step a silent proclamation of his presence.

Radiating an air of amusement and aloof confidence, Astarion surveyed the festivities from the fringes of the ballroom. Though surrounded by a sea of faces, he stood apart by choice, his demeanor a careful blend of poise and concealed intensity. In the depths of his crimson eyes, a faint glimmer of darkness flickered, a silent promise of the secrets he held close to his heart.

As his gaze swept over the transformed Ancunín Estate—a place once shrouded in shadows and despair under the cruel gaze of his sire’s control, now bathed in the soft glow of candlelight and laughter—Astarion's thoughts turned inexorably to his beloved, Sima. In the midst of the glittering crowd, he longed for her presence, a beacon of light in a sea of pretense and artifice. Yet, beneath his suave exterior, a torrent of emotions churned—a potent mix of desire and determination, longing and regret.

With each polite exchange and forced smile, Astarion concealed not only his emotions, but also the true purpose of this grand affair: to reclaim Sima's heart and soul, to draw her back into his embrace. As he navigated the intricacies of courtly conversation, his mind whirled with plans and strategies, each one crafted with meticulous care to ensnare her in his web of desire and control.

While his desire to reunite with her burned fiercely, he acknowledged the potential necessity of prolonged seduction. Should his former companions dare to impede his designs, he would confront them head-on, employing any means necessary to remove the obstacles obstructing his path. Their tacit acceptance of his ascendancy, coupled with his consummate manipulation and surveillance skills, rendered their opposition insignificant.

The decision to initiate her into full vampirehood weighed heavily on his soul, a testament to the depth of his commitment and the gravity of his desires. Though he recognized the looming shift in their power dynamic, he remained steadfast in his conviction as her eventual master and sire, his resolve unyielding in the face of uncertainty.

Amidst the façade of polite society, Astarion’s now-warmed veins filled with fierce longing, his every thought consumed by the woman who held his heart in her hands. With each passing moment, his anticipation grew, a silent countdown to the moment when he could finally claim his desired prize—Sima, once and for all, by his side.

In these quiet moments between dull conversations and cutting dressing downs, Astarion's mind wandered to the past, a haunting echo overshadowed memories. For all he had gained, the absence of Sima made his triumph incomplete, a bitter reminder of the one thing he desired most but could not yet possess.

The downfall of the Nether Brain marked Astarion's ascension to prominence in Baldur's Gate, a victory that solidified his dominion over the city's underbelly. Freed from the shackles of his former master's influence, he now reigned supreme, his authority unassailable by mortal standards. Through a web of bribery, blackmail, and subterfuge, he exerted his control over the city's key figures, safeguarding his domain and advancing his clandestine agenda. Though the city's rulers tread cautiously around him, recognizing the peril of antagonizing the enigmatic vampire lord, Astarion's pact with Duke Wyll Ravengard ensured his continued autonomy, provided he operated from the shadows.

Astarion was only broken out of his reverie by the announcement of the chamberlain noting the arrivals of heroes of the realm. As the companions made their grand entrance into the hallowed halls of the Ancunín Palace, their camaraderie palpable, Astarion's gaze lingered on Karlach, Gale, and Shadowheart. Intrigued by their seamless bond, he couldn't help but marvel at their unique talents and indispensable roles within the team. Despite his confidence in his ability to best them, the courage and loyalty they displayed to one another was undeniable.

The music swelled in the grand foyer, amplifying Astarion's impatience with every passing moment of delay. In a darkened corner, he found himself pinching the bridge of his nose. Though surrounded by the opulent crowd, he watched the clock with a silent urgency, his eyes scanning for Sima's familiar figure amidst the throng. Frustration mounted with each fruitless glance, uncertainty clouding his mind as the night stretched on. Leaning against a wall, he engaged in conversation with an elder spawn, detailing Sima's appearance in hopes of spotting her. Disappointment gnawed at him as the minutes stretched into hours, his irritation simmering beneath the surface. With the looming threat of losing his prize, he sipped from his wine goblet through pursed lips, and his mind turned to prior failures.

Since assuming mastery of the palace, his spawn had multiplied under Astarion's command, a reminder of his past and a reflection of his power. Despite his efforts to train them, each encounter served as a painful reminder of his abuse under Cazador's rule, deepening his unease.

Despite his efforts, Astarion had not succeeded in erasing Sima from his thoughts over the past year. Not even close. He had tried with various lovers, both men and women, and had even attempted in some desperate moments to find solace in the company of his spawn, but they only served as painful reminders of his past abuse at his sire's hand. Each entanglement and empty carnal release deepened his sense of longing for Sima, intensifying the void she had left behind. None could match her beauty, her wit, or her intelligence—none could hold his interest as she had. His frustration and self-disgust clawed at him, his inability to replace her driving him to lash out cruelly at those who sought to fill her void. He was even disgusted with himself for not being able to find anyone better.

The spawn he had sent out to survey slinked back to Astarion, its demeanor anxious. Frustration and worry gnawed at the vampire lord, his jaw gritted and tense as the possibility of her non-arrival cast a dark cloud over his thoughts.

"What now?" Astarion snapped, his annoyance thinly veiled. "She still hasn't shown up?"

The spawn shifted nervously. "No sign of her, Master. We've looked everywhere."

Astarion rolled his eyes, a sneer playing on his lips. "Of course not. Why would she make things easy?"

The spawn swallowed hard, clearly fearful. "Sorry, Master. We've tried our best."

"Clearly not hard enough," Astarion muttered under his breath, a derisive chuckle escaping him. Louder, he said, "Keep looking. And if anyone gets in your way, deal with them. I don't care how."

The spawn nodded frantically. "Yes, Master. We'll find her, I promise."

Astarion waved a dismissive hand. "Just go. I've got better things to do than deal with your incompetence."

As the spawn hurried off to resume its search, Astarion's irritation simmered beneath the surface. The thought of Sima's continued absence grated on his nerves, threatening to ruin his plans. But he refused to let it derail him. Not when he was so close to getting what he wanted.

As the chamberlain's booming voice once again filled the grand hall with its announcement, Astarion's attention snapped away from his swirling frustrations. "The heroes of Baldur's Gate have arrived!" The words echoed through the opulent chamber, drawing everyone's gaze toward the entrance.

His heart lurched as Sima glided into view, her graceful presence accompanied by the towering figure of Wyll, now Duke Ravengard. Astarion's breath caught in his throat, caught off guard by their unexpected arrival. The sight of them together stirred a tempest within him, threatening to engulf him whole.

Surprise gave way to a surge of jealousy and resentment as he watched them approach. The image of Sima by Wyll's side fueled the flames of insecurity that smoldered within him. Despite their truce, Astarion couldn't shake the gnawing suspicion that lingered in the depths of his mind. Was this mere coincidence, or had Wyll orchestrated this meeting deliberately to rattle him?

Standing by the grand staircase, Astarion's grip tightened on the polished railing, his knuckles turning white against the ornate gold and white finery he wore. His narrowed gaze followed Sima and Wyll, his chest tight with the fever of rage which made him feel choked. The thought of them together, of Wyll stealing her away from him, ignited a fierce blaze so profound that he etched its evidence into the wood beneath his nails.

But Astarion was a master of disguise, a performer on life's grand stage. With practiced ease, he forced a mask of indifference onto his features, concealing the storm raging beneath the surface. His jaw clenched with determination, refusing to let his vulnerability show, even as the weight of his emotions threatened to crush him.

This would not be his moment of weakness, not in front of the elite of the Upper City. Astarion straightened his posture, as he suppressed the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He tightened his grip on the goblet in his hand, the nails clinking hard against the delicate crystal. He would not allow Sima, Wyll, or anyone else to see him falter. Not now, not ever.

Across the mass of the prestigious assemblage, Sima battled down her surging fear.

Her heart raced as she descended the ballroom steps, Wyll's reassuring presence by her side. Despite the ornate decor disguising the past, the echoes of betrayal lingered, too close for comfort. Her ebony curls shone like polished silk, and her dark brown eyes betrayed no hint of intrigue. Her mahogany fingers trembled slightly as they brushed against the intricate fabric of her black gown, the memories of past pain still haunting her every step. Yet, she had made a promise to Shadowheart, a promise that compelled her to confront the past, no matter how painful.

As they descended onto the ballroom floor, Sima glanced at Wyll, his steadfast support bolstering her resolve. She offered him a grateful smile, her eyes reflecting a mixture of uncertainty and determination. His reassuring squeeze on her hand sent a wave of comfort through her, easing the tension coiled in her chest.

"So, still up for being my buffer tonight?" Sima asked Wyll, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness beneath the determined facade.

Wyll nodded, his expression filled with concern. "Of course. Whatever awaits us, Sima, I'll stand by your side. I'll shield you from harm, even if it means bearing it myself."

Sima's shoulders relaxed slightly at his words, a brief moment of solace amidst the swirling chaos of emotions. She leaned into Shadowheart's embrace, exchanging pleasantries with the rest of their companions. Each hug, each shared glance, served as a silent reassurance, a reminder that she was not alone in this battle.

Across the room, Astarion's eyes followed Sima's every move, his gaze lingering on her with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. She felt his gaze like a physical caress, stirring a heady concoction within her—anger, longing, and a hint of fear.

When Lord Crane, a tiefling nobleman, approached her, Sima accepted his invitation to dance with a bright smile. As they glided across the floor, her movements graceful and fluid, Astarion's gaze bore into them with palpable fury.

As Sima danced with Lord Crane, she exchanged playful banter with him, her movements fluid yet guarded. She chuckled inwardly, desperately hoping that Astarion's attention was diverted elsewhere, perhaps with a newfound companion. His cutting words echoed in her mind, a painful reminder of her perceived expendability. Reflecting on her journey from Amn to Calimport, where she’d honed her skills as a bard while delving deeper into witchcraft and sorcery, she considered offering Lord Crane a tarot card reading. The occult intrigued him, but she remained cautious despite his seemingly benign demeanor.

As Sima exchanged pleasantries, even briefly with Lord Crane, the rampant indignation caused Astarion’s veins on his neck to spike, and he couldn't bear to watch any longer. With a surge of jealousy burning in his chest, he glided through the throng of ball attendees, cutting off Lord Crane and placing a possessive hand on Sima's arm.

"Sima. Might I steal this dance from you?"

Sima felt the sudden warmth of his touch, a stark contrast to the chill of his former embrace as a spawn. She tensed instinctively, her body stiffening under his grasp. Meeting his crimson eyes, she saw a hardness that hadn't been there before, a distant glimmer of something she couldn't quite place. Sima managed a thin smile. "If the Lord Ancunín insists."

As Astarion led her onto the dance floor, she couldn't shake the feeling of being ensnared in a trap of his making.

Astarion responded with a thin smile, his eyes betraying only the briefest hint of hunger. Every word he spoke felt like a half-truth. Despite the changes in him, he still felt an unexplainable pull towards her, a magnetic force that defied logic. "You honor me with your grace," Astarion replied, his voice smooth but strained slightly on the edges.

He guided her into the dance, his touch firm yet oddly chilly. Despite his efforts to maintain a façade of civility, there was an unmistakable edge to his movements, a hint of restraint that belied the intensity of will to possess his former love.

Astarion understood that their bodies could tell a story of their own; their dance held an undercurrent of something darker beneath the surface—a predator sizing up their prey. He drew Sima closer with effortless grace, dancing as he always had, yet there was a subtle shift in his demeanor that felt like a hunter poised to strike.

As Sima danced with Astarion, she felt a broiling fever across her skin—a mixture of rage, betrayal and anxiety. With each step, she fought to maintain a semblance of composure, her movements fluid yet guarded. She glanced at him briefly, then looked over his shoulder, carefully considering her next move. She tried to maintain a distance between them in the dance, but with every subtle attempt to pull away, he gracefully and unwaveringly drew her closer, his grip allowing no refusal.

Astarion pulled her in again, drawing her closer until they seemed to share breath. He could feel her resistance, but he kept his grip, remembering her penchant for these little games. He offered her a half-grin, his eyes glinting with a hungering gleam as they locked onto hers. Despite her attempts to hide it, he could see the fear lurking in the depths of her gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the power he held over her.

As if she could ever forget how his body made her feel. Sima considered that the sheer proximity of him made her recoil and mourn in equal measure. But fancy footwork couldn't mask cruelty, malice, or arrogance. She reminded herself of this, realizing she had to be extremely cautious. He wasn't a spawn anymore; even her thoughts were not safe from his reach. While Shadowheart may have cast Protection from Evil and Good on her, shielding her from compulsion and charm, she understood she had to guard herself vigilantly tonight.

She remained deliberately silent, recognizing that the stakes of this perilous game had escalated. In this delicate waltz, speaking first meant relinquishing the upper hand.

Astarion took another step, drawing them even closer, his hand clutching her waist. His movements became subtly more aggressive, reminiscent of the deliberate strides of a stalking wolf. His gaze remained fixed on her, and in the lingering silence, she felt his lips caress her neck, his voice barely a whisper.

"Careful , darling. I could be tempted to mistake your silence for acceptance and think you enjoy being this close to me," Astarion warned, his tone laced with amusement.

Sima sharply turned, resisting his lead but managing the step gracefully. Only a master dancer could discern her attitude from the footwork.

"Oh yes, I forgot; deference is your preferred state for all your interactions now, my lord, " she retorted, her tone sharp with sarcasm.

Astarion's eyes narrowed ever so slightly at her comment, his grip tightening on her abdomen. He knew her defiance was just a game, a part of their twisted foreplay.

He smiled at her, his darkening red eyes dangerously glinting. "Perhaps, perhaps not. Would it bother you so much if you found yourself in a state of deference to me, little love?"

Sima practically clawed his shoulder and locked eyes with him as she hissed the words, "I'd rather die, my lord ."

As he’d expected. Disobedience was the essence of Sima; without it, she wouldn't be herself. He could already see she would be an intriguing mate, and her challenge promised to delight him in every way.

Astarion chuckled at her words, squeezing her the curve of her waist harder and pulling her closer to him. He felt the heat of her anger fueling those words. There was a fine line between genuine rebellion and play, and he relished dancing on that edge. Despite her anger, she seemed so vulnerable in his arms. How could he resist playing with her?

He responded with a seductive smirk on his lips, his body tightening against hers.

"And what if I were to command you?"

Sima turned with him hip to hip in a circle, her eyes burning into his, her body graceful and yet cold towards him. "I'd like to see you try your tricks on me. Perhaps I have a few tricks of my own now, my lord ," she growled back.

Every word of dissent from Sima was a powerful turn-on for Astarion. He enjoyed the tension that came with her fighting back so fiercely.

Astarion pulled her into his hips hard for a moment, then pressed his stiff cock against her, as from his lips danced hair's breadth away from her pointed ear. He crooned the next words.

"What if I were to pin you against the wall, my sweet darling? My powerful hands holding you against it, my chest pressed against yours, while I whispered sweet nothings of domination and punishment. That must sound enticing." His voice softened, and his eyes were full of promised intent, yet there was an underlying tenderness to his words. He was enjoying this.

Sima's sigh spoke volumes, her eyes locking onto Astarion's with a mix of boredom and disgust, her body language radiating a sense of readiness. "The greatest mistake you made was thinking I was beneath you. So no, it is decidedly not."

Astarion paused for a moment, genuinely considering her words; his eyes turning into brief slits as he did so. She was not in the slightest below him, and yet the act of her being so defiant made him feel as though she were. At the same time, he was genuinely thrilled to have someone he could play with who was really playing back for once.

"I should hope you don't think I was underestimating you. But very well. Challenge accepted. I look forward to finding out just what your tricks are, sweetheart ."

As Sima continued to follow his lead, her brown eyes glinted with veiled intent. She had a plan, unlike him, and she had no intention of waxing poetic about it. That ridiculous soliloquy after he ascended still lingered in her memory. Perhaps he was intoxicated by power at the time, but who could tell? She smiled, sharp and cold, like a dagger concealed beneath silk.

"Be ready for disappointment."

Astarion's response was immediate. He erased the distance between them, his presence enveloping her. His eyes held hers with an unwavering stare, his breath ghosted against her skin.

As the dance came to an end, Sima's gaze met his, the promise of a contest passing between them. "What is it you used to say during battle? Your rapiers held high, right… Shall we dance ?"

Astarion's eyes flickered with recognition. This was more than just a dance—it was a battle of wills. He no longer sought to woo her; his desire was to possess her, to see her submit to him. His words carried a hint of threat, his arousal fueled by her defiance.

With a wolfish grin, he replied, "With pleasure."

As he pulled her back into his arms, leading her into another dance, this time the intense volta, Sima countered with, "Terms of engagement?"

"My terms: Sima Shoker must submit to Astarion Ancunín and accept his terms of complete submission. If she wishes to be my equal after such a state of complete submission, she will earn it by proving her devotion to me as such. All other terms are non-negotiable at this stage in our relationship."

Sima scoffed as he tightly held her by the waist, guiding her through another turn to maintain appearances. "Spoken like a true former magistrate. Tell me, is there an acre of land, or is there a allotment of chattel? How boring. Let's make it interesting, shall we? You show me all your cards, and I'll show you mine."

Astarion snickered. "If you wish us to be upfront about our intentions, so be it. But if you have no chance to win, don't play at a game . You are mine in every way, my love. A mere mortal with a pathetic few levels of arcane study has no chance against a centuries-old, experienced vampire. You have only two cards to play: to submit or run. Which will it be?"

Sima's smile was sharper than ever before. She had been very busy this year. Very...very busy. She leaned in close to his ear, her lips barely brushing it. "I choose to fight."

Astarion let out a dark chortle.

"Oh, darling... You've made a truly fatal mistake, haven't you? You think, maybe in your hubris, that you can fight me ? I would drink you like milk from a chalice . Your little tricks won't work on me. I know far more secrets and have experienced far worse than you ever could. I know how to fight dirtier than you ever could. Now..."

He whispered with a drawl in her ear, the promise of pleasure hinted.

"Come on. Submit."

As he turned her and dipped her, Sima retorted again, "Now, you played your cards. Let's go back to the terms. Compulsion? Command? Old hat really , but whatever you like. Ahh..one question..very important..your misguided calls for me to submit are what? Prelude to a turn? Is that it?" She leaned into Astarion's pointed ear, each word laced with venom and anger.

"Old hat?! " Astarion replied, the mask of charm falling from his features and anger flashing in his crimson eyes. For the briefest moment, Astarion's fangs revealed themselves before disappearing again behind his lips.

"My terms have not changed, mortal . You will submit to me utterly and completely. And yes, in time, I would turn you into my equal. My beloved. My beautiful, sweet, and powerful vampire consort. But right now...

Astarion leaned close to Sima's ear.

"...You submit. Then you earn it ."

Sima nodded, his words a testament to his changed nature. "So, the same lies as before. Let me guess: I submit, and you turn me into a spawn and then a true vampire. So much for learning from your mistakes. So much for loving me. But that was the real lie, wasn't it?" As she seared the words through pursed lips, he spun and pulled her in, facing him with their arms entangled.

"Let me be clear: I will turn you into a vampire . You will be equal to me. I truly and deeply loved you." Astarion leaned close to Sima's face, his features softening just slightly as his eyes trailed to her lips.

"But I will not let you take advantage of my feelings for you. I need to know I can trust you, Sima. You also need to be able to trust me. And so, we have the terms. You submit first, and then we earn each other. Fair, no ?"

Sima pulled up her chin, defiant and proud. "My, my , you really have everything figured out, don't you?"

Astarion pulled her closer and whispered directly in her ear. His tone was a sensual hiss. " My love, you've no idea ."

Sima grasped Astarion's hand harder as they continued to dance in the ballroom, their tête-à-tête as masterful as any dancer's footwork. "So then, let the games begin. You try to use your tricks on me, your spells, and your vampiric charms. And if I lose, I suppose I lose. Now, let's discuss when I win . I've heard your terms; now hear mine."

Astarion smiled as he spun her into another dip, his eyes flashing with amusement as he trailed his nose over her cleavage, inhaling her jasmine scent. His demeanor was flirtatious, and his grin was devilish. He spoke with a breathy murmur, leaning down to whisper into her ear. "And what terms would those be, my darling?"

As he pulled her back up with a snap, a smile that would shame any devil and wither any cleric was on Sima's lips as she whispered in retaliation, "If I win, you'll let me change you back into a spawn."

Her eyes locked with his, and Astarion could tell behind those chestnut eyes she was completely and brazenly honest.

Astarion's lips parted in a cruel, mocking smile. The challenge was accepted, and the terms were set. There were nothing but the slightest of pauses in between, just long enough to savor the moment.

"Then it would appear that we have ourselves a little bet, my darling . If you manage to truly best me and take all my tricks off the table, then you may try to make me a spawn again, and I will abide by your terms."

Sima smirked. "And if you win, then you can expect me to, in time, accept true vampirism. You did say I get an adjustment period. How merciful of you ."

"My mercy knows no bounds, love." Astarion dipped her once more, only wanting to inhale that sweet scent again, his lips trailing over the swell of her bosom that he desired to devour. The game had begun.

As he raised her up, Sima let out a haughty breath and looked out to the garden. "How about the hedge maze? See if your charms are up to snuff there. As good a place as any and away from prying eyes."

Astarion nodded, a faint, secretive grin tugging at his lips. His eyes gleamed with wicked fervor. "That is indeed a lovely idea. Come, we'll take a stroll, and then we'll see just how powerful a witch you are."

Sima recoiled from Astarion's touch the moment the dance concluded, as though his grasp had scorched her flesh. She had to bite back on the wrath that welled in her. No, no, she had to be calm . So she smiled slyly and picked up the skirt of her gown.

"After you."

Astarion's smile held firm, a veneer of charm masking the tumultuous sea of emotions churning within him. His grip on her hand tightened, a subtle yet unmistakable assertion of possession as he led her beyond the ornate doors, onto the expansive, well-tended lawn that stretched before them. Bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, the manicured grounds of the estate unfolded like a canvas of natural splendor.

In every direction, the gardens sprawled in a tapestry of colors and scents, each bloom murmuring secrets of forgotten romance and whispered promises. Flowerbeds burst with vibrant hues, their petals unfurling in delicate homage to the night. Pathways meandered through the verdant expanse, inviting exploration beneath the starlit sky.

Towering trees stood sentinel along the perimeter, their branches reaching skyward in silent supplication. The gentle rustle of leaves overhead provided a soothing backdrop to their clandestine journey, yet beneath the tranquil facade, a sense of latent danger lingered in the air.

Amidst the evergreen beauty, the maze beckoned from its corner of the estate, a labyrinth of greenery waiting to ensnare the unwary. Though they had yet to enter its twisting passages, its presence loomed large in the moonlit night, a testament to the intrigue that awaited within—a dangerous game of wits and wills, where every step held the potential for betrayal or triumph.

Sima surveyed their pending battlefield, then turned her gaze to Astarion as she retrieved her bag of holding.

"I do hope you don't mind. I'll be ducking behind that hedge to make a change. Running in a gown is l ess than a fair sport ."

In response, Astarion smiled at Sima and spoke with a taunting murmur. "A woman after my own heart."

He released Sima's hand as she dove behind the hedge to change. Astarion leaned against a tree and crossed his legs, his expression relaxed and confident, seemingly content to allow Sima the chance to prepare for their game.

Shortly thereafter, Sima emerged again, the faint rustle of her attire marking her return. Clad in sleek black leathers that hugged her frame snugly, she appeared with an air of quiet confidence. Her laced boots and gloves matched the dark ensemble, while her long, loose black curls danced gently in the breeze. Astarion recognized the outfit immediately—the one she wore on the night they defeated Cazador during his Ascension. Sima raised an eyebrow, a silent gesture of challenge.

Astarion smiled with a hint of amusement at the outfit. The familiar pang of memory from the ritual was unmistakable, but that did not dim the spark of desire that flared in his eyes at her body. He glanced away and spoke with an air of detachment. "I must admit, darling, that I have missed the sight of you in this outfit."

Sima gave him a sharp smile. "Fitting, don't you think? I find it poetic, considering once I win, you'll be going through another change tonight by my magic, per our terms."

"A fitting bit of theater, in truth. One to show how the tables have turned and how the mighty have fallen, " Astarion quipped with unveiled snark as he approached her and cupped her chin, tilting her head up towards his own. His dark red eyes glinted with a certain cruel amusement, as well as lust.

Then his hungry gaze traced the contours of her body, his fingertips lingering tantalizingly close to her skin, as if savoring the anticipation of touch. With a hesitant caress, his hand followed the curve of her neck, the slope of her shoulder, and the line of her arm until it hovered just shy of her elbow, before gently cupping her cheek.

Sima recoiled from his touch once more, as though acid poured from his fingertip, a palpable tension simmering between them. "Shall we? Use your powers to try to ensnare me as I run through the maze. If I resist and make it through the maze, I win. Understood?"

"As you wish, darling." Astarion's gaze burned with a volatile mixture of malice and desire, undeterred by her evasive maneuvers. His confidence radiated in his stance, an aura of arrogance underscored by the promise of challenge.

"Ready yourself. I shall give you a fair warning; I shall not go easy on you."

Sima met his gaze with unyielding resolve, her eyes reflecting a steely determination. "Five-minute head start?"

"Five minutes is fair, I suppose. A sporting headstart for my bride-to-be. I'd suggest using your time constructively" Astarion quipped, his arrogance and pettiness unwavering in the moment.

Sima turned without a word, but as she reached the frame entrance of the maze, an unusual sincerity colored her tone. "Do you remember when I told you that you deserved better after 200 years of torment? Do you remember when I told you to do the ritual, thinking that was freedom?"

A hint of tenderness softened Astarion's expression as he listened to her words. "I do remember, yes. What of it?"

Sima's gaze softened, revealing a depth of emotion. "I was wrong."

A flicker of surprise crossed Astarion's features. "Wrong how, darling?"

Sima's eyes seemed to penetrate his soul. "You're not free; you're not even trapped. The ritual destroyed you. So, I was wrong."

Astarion's expression contorted with scorn and frustration, the weight of her words bearing down on him. Despite knowing the truth in her words, he couldn't afford to falter now. Amidst the tempest of emotions, the ember of his resolve burned brighter. "So...how do you solve this paradox of logic, darling? What would make me whole? What would solve the mystery of me, oh wise and powerful witch ?"

"What I promised, once I win, of course. I could even bring you mortality, or just reverse this mess. Like I said, it's been a very long and busy year." Sima adjusted a glove, as if the answer was more than evident, even with an air of nonchalance.

"And when you lose, will you allow me the same opportunity to fix you ?" A glint of defiance flashed in Astarion's eyes as he spoke, his tone laced with determination. The prospect of defeat was one he couldn’t allow in his mind.

"You wanted a true vampire and an equal. The terms are set... Not having second thoughts, are we ?" Sima cooed, the words a reminder of that fateful night, so long ago when he had tried to coerce her into becoming his spawn. Stung by the memory, Sima gritted her teeth.

"Absolutely not. And I have a feeling that neither of us is bluffing, are we?" A wry smile played on Astarion's lips as he watched Sima disappear into the maze's depths.

"I'll see you in 5 minutes."

With a determined stride, Sima silently ventured into the darkness of the hedge maze.

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littlejuicebox · 3 months

Text

You'll stay still, won't you, little love?

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Reader/Tav

Summary/Setting: Sometime in the beginning of Act 3; you and Astarion are exploring intimacy/sex

Rating/Warnings: M+ / 18+ only please/ Smut with little to no plot / Light BDSM / Soft Dom Astarion vibes / Some mild in game spoilers / PiV / CW / fingering / teasing and overstim if you squint / not beta read or edited too much

Word Count: 2.2K

A/N: I'm a degenerate, idk what else to tell you guys. I’m shocked this came out of my brain, but here we are. Enjoy or be totally flabbergasted or avoid it entirely I don’t know about you all but I simultaneously want to do all three. 💀

-----

You suspected Astarion enjoyed exploring intimacy with you, perhaps more than he thought he would. The first few weeks after his confession at Moonrise Towers resulted in a rather chaste arrangement between the two of you. Days were filled with stolen pecks and occasional hand holding between missions; nights were spent mostly cuddling half-naked or sometimes simply making out.

When a situation became particularly heated, he would always break away, panting. The flush on his face and the thrumming of his undead heart told you he enjoyed these moments, and his erection pressing into you always became quite the distraction.

Gods, how badly you wanted more. But you had to force yourself to pull back and allow him to take the lead, never pushing further than he was willing to give.

For a few weeks, a bit of grinding and caressing above the waist was as far as Astarion would advance. But shortly after leaving the Shadowlands, something within the silver-haired elf changed. He’d become quite intent on exploring your body almost every night, putting his masterful fingers and tongue to work, almost desperate to watch you come undone.

“You don’t have to, Astarion,” You pant one evening, after a few weeks of nearly daily interactions quite similar to this one. The rogue was working his nimble fingers inside the edge of your small clothes, aiming to delve into your already soaking folds. The bulge of his cock, barely covered by his own underwear, pressed against your rear as he slowly rocked his hips into you.

“I know, my love,” He murmurs, removing his mouth from where it had been tenderly suckling your neck. The vampire licks along the fresh love bite, eliciting a little whimper of pleasure from you. And then he smirks as his fingers find the already engorged bundle of nerves between your legs, causing you to instinctively buck toward him with a whine, “But I want to. I quite like the pretty little sounds you make for me, you know.”

He continues his ministrations for a few moments, reveling in your desperate keens. Nothing else stroked Astarion’s ego quite like this.

“Darling, I’d like to try something different tonight, if you don’t mind.” He purrs as his fingers change their rhythm from the languid circles over your clit to gentle, teasing strokes between your folds. The rogue’s hand dips just enough to tease your entrance with two digits before he retracts again, leaving you mewling in frustration.

You need more. He knows it. And he aimed to give you more tonight, but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to toy with you for a moment or two.

“What is it, Astarion?” You ask breathlessly, as he pauses his movements entirely. You whine again and then turn your head to look at the rogue, where he is smirking down at you, clearly enjoying the desperation he’s elicited from his lover. You are caught between his cock and his hand, slowly rolling your hips back and forth, practically begging the silver-haired elf to fuck you with his fingers.

“I want you to come on my cock tonight.” He responds, arching his eyebrow just slightly, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes, “If that’s what you want, my sweet.”

Your eyes widen in shock, and you swear you feel yourself grow more slick at the mere suggestion. You lick your lips, attempting to moderate your own excitement, trying to avoid making him feel obligated in any way. Astarion’s fingers have resumed their teasing movements, and the newly found wetness causes the vampire to chuckle in delight.

“Judging by the slickness of your perfect little cunt, that certainly is what you want. Am I correct, love?” He purrs into your ear, fangs grazing against your lobe as he rolls his growing erection toward your ass once again.

“Y-yes,” You gasp, and as soon as you do, Astarion rips your underwear from your body before tossing the ruined undergarment across the tent.

“Then you will get what you want on one condition, darling.” He continues, and you feel the engorged head of his cock stroking between your folds from behind. The sensation makes you shiver in delight; you desire nothing more than to have him buried inside you.

“What is it?” You ask, instinctively rolling your hips back against him again, moaning when his length rubs against your clit.

Astarion grabs your hip firmly, digging his nails into the side of your ass and ceasing your movements entirely. You whine and then he’s practically laughing in your ear, you can feel how entertained he is by your predicament. He places a tender kiss on your neck before he purrs, “You aren’t allowed to move one bit, sweet girl, or else I will pull out and leave you with nothing.”

You groan in dismay at this stipulation, “Astarion! I don’t- I don’t know if I can hold still.”

“Oh but my love, the choices are simple,” He continues, his voice playfully condescending as his other hand wanders up to lightly tease a nipple, ripping another little moan from you, “You can either be filled by my cock or by my fingers. So which will it be?”

You whine as the male elf uses one hand to stimulate your breast and the other to barely plunge into your sex again.

“Your cock!” You cry, unable to contain yourself any further, “I want your cock.”

Astarion chuckles, quite content with this response. He slides his erection between your folds again, using your arousal to lubricate his length, “And you’ll stay still, won’t you, little love?”

“Yes, I won’t move,” You agree, and this earns you a delighted groan from the vampire. He reveled in the power dynamics of your coupling, and your willingness to surrender control in the bedroom.

“Good girl,” He coos, and then he’s pressing himself into the entrance of your sex. You moan as the head of his rock-hard cock stretches your cunt; there is a bit of resistance at first; it’s been several weeks since more than two fingers have been inside you, after all.

He takes you inch by inch, slowly dragging himself along your velvet walls. Before long, Astarion’s length has filled you completely, and you’re basking in the sensation of being stretched by your lover.

His breath is ragged behind you as he struggles to remain in control, almost entirely overcome with the desire to simply have his way with you. But that’s not the game tonight, he reminds himself.

In one swift motion he’s rolled you both so that you are straddled over him, your back pressed to his chest. He uses his knees to spread your legs wide, fully opening you up for his seasoned hands to explore. His long fingers drag over your stomach and then travel down between your legs, where they easily find that sensitive nub.

“How does it feel to be sitting atop my cock, darling?” Astarion asks as he slowly, teasingly strokes his slender fingers up and down on your drenched folds. You are seeping arousal at this point, coating him with his well-deserved reward. His cock throbs at the thought.

“Wonderful,” You respond, honestly but breathlessly as you struggle to keep yourself from rolling your hips at all. Your legs are positively shaking with the effort to exert such control, and the little tremors running along your spine are urging the vampire on.

Astarion guides your own hand up to your breasts, where he urges you to tease your own nipple. He palms the flesh of the other breast in one hand as he continues to drag his nimble fingers around your throbbing bud.

You are instinctively clenching around him now, your body desperate to milk every ounce of seed from the vampire. Astarion himself is shaking with the amount of restraint it’s taking him to not lift his hips and fuck up into your warmth.

You cannot restrain yourself any longer, your hips buck and you’re instantly rewarded with the delicious sensation of Astarion’s length running against your walls. But then a sharp, stinging smack singes the side of your ass, and a shocked gasp escapes your lips.

“What did I say, darling? Be a good girl and hold still. Try that again and I will pull out.” The rogue warns while speeding up his efforts on your clit.

You sharply pinch your own nipple, trying desperately to keep yourself from moving any more. But gods, how badly you want to. You’re so close. Your walls are clenching tighter and tighter, and the sensation is causing Astarion to grunt in response. He’s trying just as desperately to hold back as you quiver around him, tempting him to do the exact opposite.

His hips buck just once before he regains control and stills himself, but gods the walls of your tight pussy wrapped around him felt divine. The sharp thrust made you moan loudly in delight, and your entire body was shivering from the self-control you were using to hold still. He felt you standing on the precipice of pleasure, so close to the edge. You just needed a little push to fall into a world of ecstasy, and that, he could provide.

“Let go, little love. Come for me,” He whispers hoarsely, and the command sends you tumbling over the edge. You feel the wave crashing over you, rippling through your sex and up to your spine. You clasp your hand over your mouth as you whine, signaling your release.

You are mid-orgasm when Astarion roughly grabs both sides of your hips and hisses, “Fuck it.”

And then he’s thrusting upwards, repeatedly burying himself inside you, intent on fucking you through the second half of your orgasm. You cry out in pleasure as the vampire moans into the side of your neck, continuing to piston himself into you as he chases his own release.

Once again, his fingers find their way to your over-sensitive clit and he’s working at it frantically, in the practiced motion he knows to be your favorite. You keen and try to clamp your legs shut; the sensation is almost too much. But Astarion growls and forces your legs open with his knees as he quickly brings you to the edge of another orgasm.

Your lover is panting with exertion as he holds back his own release. Through gritted teeth he urges you on, using the hand not playing with your clit to grab your hip and slam you down to meet his thrusts.

“One more, darling. You can do one more, can’t you? Let go, I’ve got you.” He coaxes, his voice near breathless but filled with gravel.

“Oh, fuck!” Is all you can respond as the second orgasm rips through you, stronger than the first. You’re seeing stars as your pussy throbs around Astarion’s shaft, rewarding his efforts with a deliciously tight grip and another gush of your delectable juices. The high-pitched, uninhibited whine that escapes you while you’re drowning in ecstasy is music to the rogue’s ears.

As your greedy cunt clenches around him again during that second wave of pleasure, Astarion emits a strangled moan of his own.

He buries his face in your neck as he soon struggles to buck forward, shakily dragging his sensitive, swollen length in and out of your walls just a few more times before he buries himself balls-deep. Thick ropes of his spend shoot up into your warmth as he groans, consumed by his own euphoria behind you. His cock continues to pulse for a few moments longer, urged on by the relentless spasming of your sex around him.

Both of you are heaving and shaking slightly once he finally relaxes his legs. You’re still laying atop him as he slowly roams his hands over your body, idly stroking your curves in soft, soothing motions.

“I thought you said we couldn’t move,” You finally say, voice completely hoarse from the cries of ecstasy you uttered moments ago.

“I said you couldn’t move, darling. I didn’t say anything about me.” The vampire responds with a self-satisfied smirk as he playfully nips at your earlobe, “Are you truly complaining that I did all the work?”

“No,” You respond, finally pulling yourself off of the vampire, releasing the slick combination of your respective arousals as it drips between the two of you. “But at some point I’d like it to be me making all that effort to bring pleasure to you.”

He pulls you down beside him with a little hum. You pull the blanket over the two of you. No other words are exchanged as you drift to sleep, thoroughly exhausted by the events of the day and this satisfying but unexpected evening. Astarion watches you sleep, and for the first time he allows himself to acknowledge that he might also like to let you have a bit of control in the bedroom… perhaps next time.

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lovrspell · 2 months

Text

First time

Pairing: Astarion x Gn!Reader.

Summary: a little throwback to when Astarion received aftercare for the very first time — from you.

Warnings: Fluff. Suggestive. Mentions of abuse/trauma. Inability to manage displays of affection. Vampire bite. Blood sucking. Aftercare.

Word count: 2,3k

Masterlist.

Looking back in time and examining your relationship with Astarion now and several months ago, you realize how much progress you have made together. Astarion, especially.

Now, he trusts, loves, and cherishes you effortlessly, finding comfort in the familiarity of your presence. Your intimate moments are a source of joy, marked by the tenderness of your comforting kisses and caresses. He's accustomed to it all.

But... Before, things were different.

Sometimes you recall the times when he shamelessly hit on you, and you're surprised that you deluded yourself that it was real interest, at least in the beginning — he used it as a defense mechanism, it was something rooted in him.

As for your first night together, it was... Well, it was definitely memorable.

———

“...Are you okay?" you asked, still out of breath from the passion you two just shared. The air in the tent was humid — you had quite the experience.

He turns to you, that usual smirk of his playing on his lips. “W-.. A-ha! Why wouldn't I be okay? I could finally taste you. Of course I'm okay.”

You gave a slight nod, lying down again. Astarion had already sat up, and in that position you could capture even the smallest details of that huge scar on his back you noticed earlier while you undressed him — but you didn't dare to ask about it yet.

In a brief spell of silence, you found yourself teetering between the realms of dreams and reality. The tranquility was interrupted by the sound of a forced cough. Abruptly, your eyes opened to the sight of Astarion staring down at you, fully clothed, wearing a somewhat snarky expression.

He looked anxious. Not his usual self, for sure.

In your half-asleep state, seeing him like that worried you. Were you talking in your sleep, by any chance? Were you drooling?

“What's— What's wrong?”

He raised an eyebrow, shifting his weight from hip to hip.

“It's kind of late, darling.” his tone had something almost impatient about it.

“I guess it is.”

Poor, oblivious you.

In that moment, you witnessed such confusion in him that it made you blink a few times; you couldn't wrap your head on where he was trying to go with that.

Parallelly, he couldn't understand you. Usually he offered his body, the other person took advantage of it and then… They left. But you? You were still there. And you hadn't even bothered to get dressed.

It was natural finding it a bit peculiar to see you still in his tent several moments after your climax. Was there a silent invitation for another round lingering in the air? Was he supposed to read between the lines?

A few moments of silence lingered as he gazed at you, perplexed. You returned the same gaze until a subtle shift in your expression hinted a realization –

Perhaps he sought some personal space.

Feeling a tinge of embarrassment, you blushed, not wanting to come across as intrusive.

“You want me to go?”

He's lost in his thoughts and, very unlikely of him, at a loss of words, apparently. It seems like his brain was trying to process too many informations at the same time, resulting in him going silent.

But you, at the time, as accustomed as you were and still are to gentle kissing and lingering caresses after the thrills of sex, recognized his behavior as annoyance towards your presence; therefore feeling unwanted you took it personally. Still, you didn't want to be on his tail.

“...Alright.”

You began to gather your clothes rather quickly, which were scattered here and there around the tent. As you absentmindedly buttoned your shirt, his gaze was fixed on you.

“See you tomorrow, Astarion. Thank you for... This. Good night.”

The fact that you thanked him for having sex with you baffled him enough, but never as much as the little kiss you planted on his cheek before leaving his tent. Simple and tender.

The tent flap swayed back and forth gracefully, following the lead of the gentle wind on a quiet night. His gaze lingered on the space where you had just been, right in front of him.

What was that?

He tried to think clearly.

During this shared night, he found no compulsion to wander far, to delve into the empty, dark yet strangely comforting realm he usually retreats to in moments like these — while to no one's surprise he effortlessly entered that familiar mental space without conscious effort.

He had sex with you because he knew no other way to gain your trust and protection. That looming, self-loathing sensation is still there, clawing under his skin and nibbling at his self respect with a trillion sharp teeth — but that kiss... That simple kiss on the cheek made him feel something he can't quite define. It's new and scary.

He wondered if it was really necessary to do all this to have your support in this journey.

He was too accustomed to the life he led under Cazador's command — seducing to survive. You're the first person he's willingly had sex with since escaping Cazador and he wasn't even fully into it; the thought upsets him.

Perhaps he's overthinking a simple kiss on the cheek.

But was it that simple?

The thoughts reached a deafening crescendo, and, as if emerging from a dream, he blinked several times and looked around, dazed. He needed to rest.

———

It's been a while since your sexual encounter. Astarion has not failed to make some teasing remarks about it every now and then, alluding to a second chance to indulge in each other again.

That second opportunity occurred, but several days after the first. It happened when you told him that he could feed on you that night and agreed that you would meet at your tent.

Astarion came to visit you late in the evening, when almost everyone had already retired to their tents. He found you reading a book, lying on your stomach.

“Hello, darling.” he greets you, his voice a sound that wakes you from your trance from the huge book you were absorbed into.

“Hi,” you reply distractedly, turning quickly towards him and taking the opportunity to stretch. You pushed the book aside, closing it.

It seemed that over the course of the day you had forgotten that you had proposed him to feed on you — the look of surprise on your face that dissolved rather quickly gave it away. You were visibly tired, he noticed. However, as soon as your eyes met his, you offered a gentle, sheepish smile — the kind reserved for moments when words become wearisome.

Allowing him to feed on you even when it seemed that all you wanted to do was rest stirred a semblance of life in his chest.

You sat up, adjusting comfortably. “I’m ready.” you informed him, moving the fabric of your clothing away from your neck to expose it to him.

Astarion stared at you, and for a moment he didn't say or do anything. He wanted to do something different this time, not just bite you, suck your blood, and then return to his tent. No, he wanted to try something new.

Instead of bringing his mouth to your neck, he brought it to your lips. He kissed you slowly, introducing his tongue in your mouth tentatively — but when he felt the natural tension vanish from your body, he brought his hands to your waist and deepened the kiss.

Astarion felt you melt in his arms, remembering how you had let yourself go the same way a few nights before.

Your hands came up to rest on his shoulders; Astarion leaned towards you until you were laying down. His lips separated from yours with a pop and only then did he place them on your neck. But even there, before sinking his sharp fangs into your skin, he planted a few kisses here and there.

He persisted, leaving a trail of kisses that moistened your neck. His lips traced a path to a point just under your ear, where he planted an open-mouthed kiss. Suddenly, you experienced a sharp, dull pain spreading rapidly in that spot. You hissed, clutching his shirt tightly and exhaling sharply; you heard a soft hum coming from him as he immediately began swallowing mouthfuls of your warm, succulent blood.

That little kissing ritual was to thank you, in a way. You were and have always been available to him, despite his bad temper and grumpy tendencies.

As he fed, the movement of one of your hands moving from his shoulders distracted him.

Next, he felt the touch of a gentle hand running through his hair.

He was so focused on sucking your blood that he didn't even notice for the first few seconds. Accordingly, he felt the distinct touch of your warm hand move across his cheek and cupping it.

What are you doing?

Your tender touch left him puzzled. Akin to a feather's caress, it cradled him in a way that stirred a desire more profound than any teasing or vulgar contact could evoke.

You felt him grunt against you, the guttural sound vibrating through your being.

Those touches reminded him of that kiss you had printed on his cheek after your night together; his stomach twisted in contrasting sensations.

He pulled away from you after a few seconds, but your caresses didn't stop. Your blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, his hair disheveled as a result of your fingers combing through his curls.

“What's up?” you asked, trying not to giggle at the fact that he looked like he had just woke up. You reached an hand in his hair to fix some wild curls back in their place.

He didn't answer at first, but then he shrugged slightly.

“Nothing.” he muttered softly, his body moving in your direction almost without his control. He was experiencing new things within himself, things he had never felt before.

A desire. A genuine desire, nothing that had to do with that of a few evenings prior. Despite his less-than-noble intentions previously, he openly acknowledges being drawn to you. However, unlike before when intimacy served a strategic purpose, this time things are different.

He craves you spontaneously, yielding to the impulse of the moment. While leaning in for a passionate, bloody kiss on your lips, he pledges not to flee from this moment or from you. No mental refuge exists now, just two bodies entwined and two souls merging into one another.

The tenderness of that kiss amazed you.

You feel his arms wrap around your waist to lift you up in his lap, kisses trailing down your neck to suck briefly on the holes he left in it.

One thing led to another and a few minutes later, you were both naked and nestled into each other.

Astarion was thrusting his hips into you breathlessly, continuing just to try drawing another orgasm out of your guts before you pull apart. This has been going on for a while now; he has absolutely drained you. In every way.

You had noticed a certain vigor in him, which was not given solely and exclusively by the fact that he had just made an excellent reserve of blood. He felt alive, present, current. He was there with you, made a puddle in your arms while you cradled each other through your collective ecstasy.

If the first time his gaze seemed empty and absent, often far from yours, now it was bright and lively, never too distant from your own. It was impossible not to notice the difference.

When the rush of pleasure died down, he pulled away from you slowly, almost reluctantly. He came down from above you to lie next to your body; both sweaty and out of breath, you remained silent for several minutes.

You anticipated for him to leave as soon as possible, given the discomfort he displayed that evening when you prolonged your stay just a bit, expecting to spend some time together after your sexual activity.

But he remained there, next to you, his expression thoughtful but relaxed. You assumed he didn't want to leave just yet.

However, just as that pleasant, inviting thought etched itself into your beliefs, he sat up and reached for his undergarments dispersed around the tent.

You frowned, sitting up and reaching for his arm without even thinking twice.

“Wait, wait... Why don't you stay?”

You didn't fail to catch him off guard this time, too. Your voice had such a sweet, pleading edge to it.

“We can talk, we can... We can even just be silent together. Do you want to?”

He guessed it couldn't hurt to try.

He lay down again, putting his clothes aside. He saw you smile from the corner of his eye as you did the same, this time lying on your side.

One of your hands carefully came up to caress his chest tentatively. The tips of your nails scratched his skin deliciously, sending shivers down his spine. His eyes fluttered and he looked up at you; he was confused, disorientated.

“What are you doing?”

“Do you not like it?”

“...I do.”

“Then just enjoy it.”

He followed your advice.

In that instant, he embodied a certain beauty that surpassed his usual charm. Surrendering to your soothing enfolds, he reached a blissful state, breaking down every wall and baring his soul to you. Every muscle in his body eased into relaxation. He scoots closer until he's basically all curled up in your arms, melting against your comforting heat.

That night, he shared a peaceful slumber with you, and to this day, he never ceases to express his profound gratitude for the invaluable gift of your love.

You made his dead heart start beating again.

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lovelybluebirdie · 4 months

Text

Something to care for

Astarion x f!Reader

Summary: Astarion seeks comfort when he is terrified of losing you to his former master.

Word Count: 2,1k

hurt/comfort, angst and fluff

[ AO3 ]

Fleeting glances across the tavern, jovial laughter followed by a touch to his arm, and Astarion has exactly what he needs. Your trust builds fast over his charming words, so you agree to accompany him to the mansion without doubting his intentions.

Astarion dissociates, follows his usual routine as he has done for over hundreds of years by now, while you remain blissfully unaware that you are already caught in his trap.

The scene feels painfully familiar, and yet it doesn't at all.

Uneasiness spreads over him.

No, this doesn't seem right.

Why are you here?

The next moment you lie on his old master’s bed, your eyes closed and shallow breaths emitting your lungs. A dark silhouette is bending over you, its mouth glued to your neck.

Cazador.

Panic creeps down Astarion's spine.

No, this isn't right at all.

His thoughts start to race. He needs to free you from this monster's claws - now.

Cazador looks up as his lips form a hideous grin, blood running from his chin and spluttering on your motionless body.

“A very pleasant bouquet you have brought to me, boy. But you know of that already, do you not?”

Astarion freezes.

The malice in his voice shatters his ribs with the blow of an axe.

He wants to scream, to get you away from here, but his body doesn’t respond.

Suddenly the whole scene shifts and Astarion finds himself with his fangs buried deep inside your neck, warm liquid pouring in his mouth while your hand rests loosely on his nape.

An unbearable dread rises in him.

He desperately tries to tear himself away, to stop feeding on you, but an invisible force holds him down, leaving it impossible to let go.

He must be going mad.

“You sought out to drink from thinking creatures, did you not? Go on then, lavish yourself on her blood! Bleed her dry.”

Cazador’s command unleashes like a fist to his skull.

Astarion knows that he is enjoying this, and it makes him sick.

He concentrates back on you, frantically looking for a way to get you out of this.

“It's alright, Astarion…” you whisper. “I know this isn’t… you.” You seem on the verge of fainting, the hand that rested in his hair slipping, your pulse weakening.

The fondness in your words almost breaks him.

He wishes to plead, to offer himself - to give Cazador everything he demands, if only he would allow you to leave unharmed, but he can’t speak.

Instead, he feels Cazador’s violent grip push him down, ramming his teeth deeper in your neck.

Astarion’s eyes wet and his body trembles while he’s obliged to swallow more of your blood. The thick liquid spills over his lips onto your neck, drips to your hair and paints the collar of your blouse.

Astarion knows that he’s hurting you, killing you, yet he has no control over his own doing. He can't stop, even if his whole body longs for nothing more than to release you.

His senses start to dull, colourful dots exploding before his eyes, while he’s unable to form a single coherent thought anymore, entirely helpless to this monstrosity he inflicts on you.

“What’s the matter, boy?” his former master taunts with a malignant chuckle and positions himself so that Astarion has to look at him. “Isn’t this what you craved? To be free of me, to do as you please?"

His laugh evolves to a gruesome crescendo, echoing through the dreary halls that Astarion once called his home - mocking him, a punishment for his disobedience.

Astarion summons his remaining strength to banish Cazador from his mind and fixates back on you.

He must save you, now, otherwise you will -

Astarion's lungs are on fire. His fangs ache, and his chest is bursting.

He grasps his throat and chokes as he remembers the taste of your blood in his mouth.

Gods, what has he done to you?

He takes a moment to perceive his surroundings.

This is not Cazador’s mansion, he realises, but your shared tent in the camp you made near Rivington.

The essence of his nightmare returns with agony: his fangs piercing your neck, Cazador’s order to bleed you dry, while you were completely defenceless against his torment. The image is almost too much to bear.

With haste, he begins to fumble the woollen fabric of his bedroll in search of your warm body. He has to ensure that you are alive - that he didn’t hurt you.

Then his hand finds your wrist and he stops in his motion. He pushes the fright that shrouds him aside and feels for your pulse, careful not to wake you. There it is - a constant throb at his fingertips.

Despite the evidence that the violent scene was nothing more than a figment of his imagination, he can’t bring himself to fully accept that there wasn’t an actual threat - that you are safe. Yet he has no desire to worry you with his musings, so he starts to slowly pull his hand away, before he notices that it’s already too late. You sit up beside him, rubbing sleep from your tired eyes.

You look so adorable that his chest grows tight.

“Astarion? Are you alright?” Your brow furrows when your gaze meets his, concern lingers in your voice.

Astarion opens his mouth, only to press it shut again as he feels hot tears forming in his eyes. He swallows hard. He wants to reassure you that it’s nothing, to tell you that you should go back to sleep, but the ferocity he committed in his nightmare robs him of any speech.

You give him an understanding expression and lift your blanket. “Do you want to come over here?”

He nods and shifts towards you.

You wrap your arms around him and pull him into a tight embrace. Astarion sinks his head onto your chest and listens carefully to your heartbeat - to make sure you are truly unscathed. That he didn't kill you, didn't bleed you dry - that he has not become like Cazador.

The pulsing sound flows in a soothing rhythm.

He closes his eyes and inhales your familiar scent. The weight that is crushing his lungs slowly begins to dissolve.

You are so warm, he thinks, so comforting, always so affectionate.

“It’s alright,” you breathe and rest your lips at his temple. “He can’t hurt you now.”

There is no need to ask how you know what haunts him, you simply do, and Astarion buries his face deeper in your chest, grasps the fabric of your tunic and lets out a deep sigh. A few silent tears he has tried to hold back spill from his eyes, dampening your clothes.

Your hands draw circles on the small of his back, up to his shoulder blades, until they move to his hair and tenderly stroke along his ears.

He concentrates on your touch. You are here, with him, unharmed - he didn’t hurt you.

A calmness enfolds and for the first time since he woke he allows himself to relax.

Astarion suddenly wonders if he ever had something like a home, a real home, somewhere he felt safe - not Cazador’s mansion, the place from his nightmare, where he endured nothing but torture and cruelty.

Something he could choose for himself - willingly. Not something he was forced to, but something he wanted.

For centuries he was used to the pain he suffered under Cazador’s rule, but you've proven how different his life can be. Through the time he spends with you, he's learned that he is valued as a person. You make him feel seen - show him compassion and patience, despite him missing the words at times.

You give him honest, loving affection, without any vile intent or in expectation of getting something in return.

You are the only one who is like that. Who genuinely cares for him, who loves him. No one was ever kind to him, only you. No one has a heart like that.

Maybe a home isn’t a place, he thinks, but a person.

He feels your fingers twisting gently around his curls, while he listens to the sound of your beating heart, and wishes to never let go of you.

But there is still Cazador and the Rite of Profane Ascension to overcome, and his mansion is barely a tenday away from now.

Astarion wants to shove the thought aside, but knows he can’t. Not when there is so much at stake - when you give him so much to care for.

He envisions the ancient ritual Cazador has planned.

If he was to complete the rite himself, would he become even more powerful than his old master? Would this newfound power offer you protection - keep both of you safe?

But what if you came to harm once you entered his residence? Hells, what if it would be his fault?

The fear of losing you clings its relentless hooks back to his core.

Astarion sinks deeper into your arms and sighs.

No. He cannot lose you - not to the Absolute, not to Cazador or any other madness you have to encounter along your way.

His shoulders tense, leading you to squeeze them fondly.

“He won’t win, Astarion,'' you vow with the determination that Astarion knows too well by now. “We will beat him.”

At first he wants to scold you, point out how naive you were to think it would be an easy task to confront his past tormentor, but instead he pauses to consider.

He remembers the foes you've come across on your journey. There have been gruesome, vigorous creatures among them, and yet you were able to vanquish them in the end.

Have you gathered enough strength to destroy a powerful enemy like Cazador, though?

For a second, Cazador’s liveless body appears in front of Astarion’s inner eye.

Maybe, there was a real chance…

After all, to ensure that both of you will be safe - truly safe - Cazador must be ended, one way or another.

“Is that so?” Astarion clears his throat and frowns. “Well, when you sound so resolute I find myself actually imagining us succeeding.”

Your features soften as you lean forward and put a kiss to his brow.

“I know we will,” you reply confidently. “Besides, for some reason I was declared the leader of our little group, so I'd suggest you better put some trust in my word.”

“I’m afraid being the leader of this group full of weirdos is hardly something to be proud of, love,” Astarion murmurs against your neck.

“That’s rich, coming from the weirdest of the bunch,” you tease as you tousle through his curls. “You’re a rogue who’s terrified of clowns - shall I go on?”

Astarion snorts at your remark. “I'm not terrified of them!” he protests with a pout. “It's just.. They make me uneasy, alright? And they're not original - or funny. Honestly, I’d rather witness a goblin mating ritual than any of those wretched clown shows again.”

He removes your hand from his hair to intertwine your fingers with his. Then he recalls the image of the clown you visited at the circus the other day and his face turns into a grimace.

“Keep telling yourself that, but I know for a fact that you were absolutely petrified the moment you saw Dribbles.”

“That wasn’t even a regular clown - that beast was also a shapeshifter!” Astarion exclaims in feigned bewilderment.

You raise an eyebrow and wait for a moment, leaving Astarion curious, until you pin him down to tickle him all over.

“Stop it, you cheeky thing!” Astarion presses between his laughs while he tries to shelter his most sensitive parts from your ruthless fingers.

When he eventually manages to roll on top of you and grab your wrists, you look at him lovingly and catch your breath. He feels the remaining knots in his chest come loose.

Then your face turns serious again. “I promise you, we will beat him.”

“Stubborn as ever,” Astarion states and clicks his tongue, before his lips curl up to a genuine smile. “But perhaps I’ll remind you of that promise when the time comes.”

“By all means, I hope you do,” you assure and return his smile, your thumb softly brushing his cheek.

You have a rare talent to relieve the tension, he notices. To make him feel light - to make him laugh even, a real, honest laugh, despite the horrors that linger on his mind of late.

Astarion kisses the tip of your nose and lifts from your chest, resting his body against your back and draws you in a close embrace. Then he buries his face in your hair and presses a kiss to your neck, relishing your pleasant warmth.

A sudden fire rises inside him.

The thought of facing Cazador remains scary, terrifying even, but somehow with you, he senses there is a viable chance to defeat him at last.

You give him something to care for, and he will do everything in his might to protect you - both of you, his home.

He won’t lose you, and he won’t lose this.

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