#bg3 fanfiction
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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
🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸
“Such a good darling, an obedient pet…” his voice is a distant purr, your eyes barely opening as he lifts you down. The silken rope slithers from your wrists, the broad expanse of his shoulders catching your weight as you drape down his back. “Come on, my love, time to tend your love bites and other… markings,” he snickers quietly to himself.
You murmur something, too quiet for even your mind to register. The thump of his footfalls sounds muffled through the veil of pleasured sensations… too overstimulated from his intoxicating brand of pain and pleasure on these nights he spends with you in his special room… when he lets that edge of danger within him come out to play. You catch your breath, sensation slowly returning to your arms where he had you suspended. As he cradles you over his shoulder, carrying you up to your rooms, his fingers trace his bite marks that pepper the backs of your thighs and dot across the swell of your ass cheeks. And every inch of you is damp… blood, sweat, and cum, that heady mixture that coats your skin.
Closing your eyes, you let his touch caress, chasing away the fleeting flashes of pain from moments ago. You can smell the instant he brings you into your bathing chamber, the sharpness of his scent, of citrus and rosemary and brandy hits your nose and wakes you up. You raise your head to the dimly lit room, two dozen candles flickering in the purple of darkness makes everything shimmer. A snap of his fingers and a couple spells, Astarion fills the elegant marble bathing tub. He sets you cautiously on your feet first before handing you into the steaming water.
Crimson eyes flicker over your naked body as it sinks beneath the water, that bottle of potion shines a bit in the candlelight as he pours it into your tub. “Just a little something extra to provide you some… relief,” he snickers, dipping his elegant hand into the waters to stir it around. A soothing numbness targets your most sore and swollen parts, and you sigh. Your body easing into the water, you barely notice the ripples of Astarion slipping his body beside you. It barely registers, his arm wrapping around you, the warm water pouring down your neck to rinse off the blood… the trickles that run down your face as he wets your hair and washes it clean of sweat and more.
For a starved as you can be for his touch, right now, you have glutted on it, overstimulated and nearly numb to that now-gentle caress.
A far cry from his bruising, marking, claiming touches that pleasured and teased you for hours.
But now, you are his treasure, cradled in the crook of his shoulder, attentive hands washing every offending swipe of grime that discolors your soft skin. The scents of flowers… lavender to relax, roses to pamper… it fills your every breath as your body finally softens and soothes the aches he’s driven into your body to the bone. You begin to hear his velvet purr in your ear, sweet words of praise and gratitude that you did so well tonight, words to affirm his love for you, to soften the literal blows he rained on the fleshy, jiggling curves of your ass.
The pain is intense but brief, and the pleasure is always more than immense… but it’s these moments after that make it all warm and worth it. Little droplets of scented water fall on your cheek as his hand cups your face, his petal-soft lips pressing tenderly against yours.
“Astarion,” you breathe his name, addicted to the way it feels to moan it… after all, it’s been ripped from your lips and screamed and whimpered and sighed countless times night.
“Yes, my treasure?” he croons right into the shell of your ear, a little shimmy of his shoulders, just as he once did during those hazy, nostalgic days in your camp.
You snuggle into his neck, lazily running your tongue over the sensual sinews where his pulse throbs. “Please… I’m feeling oh… so… peckish,” you give a tired laugh, one he matches.
An equally worn out laugh in his throat, he takes his finger, perfectly manicured nail point dragging across his neck to let a trickle of his blood run for you. The scent of it hits your nose in an instant, rich and powerful and complex like the most refined of vintages. You barely lick your lips first before you swipe along the scarlet trail he’s left for you. And then you suck, that thick, heady blood of his so smooth on your tongue and down your throat.
Aches and pains fade away, your belly growing more and more full with every swallow. It hums in your veins and restores your own power to you. Those longer nails rake against your scalp, teasing your wet hair and petting you like the precious little thing you are to him. A contented sigh from your lips, you release from his skin, a listless, pleasured twist of your mouth when you smile at him.
The palm at the back of your head presses your chin to his warm, waiting tongue, and he licks your chin clean. “I do so love to taste you… after you’ve tasted me…” he rasps against your lips, his words flowing into another languorous kiss.
His lips twist against yours… some brilliant idea inside his silver-curled head that he wastes no time acting on. Water sloshes over the side of the tub as he stands, your body already in his arms, your mouth already being consumed by his tongue and lips and teeth. Supernatural, strong, secure… he carries you in his arms to the bedroom to set you down on your wiggly, wobbly legs and dry you off.
The moment you’re dry, you happily crawl into bed, the softness of your sheets cushions you, another layer of balm to your pleasured and battered body. In the muffled distance, you hear him toweling off, the bed frame creaking and the buckling of the mattress follows… the telltale signs he approaches. That warm, sinewy frame of his covers you, slotted between your thighs, and you hiss at the insistent friction.
“Don’t you fret, my dear,” he chuckles, deep and low and wicked in his chest. “Despite the evidence to the contrary…” he grinds his still-hard erection over your mound gently, “you’ve done so well, I have nothing of that sort on my mind, just a little treat for my… treat.”
His voice purrs, his lips kissing and sucking lovingly across your collarbone and then over the pillowy tops of your breasts. He kisses around the angry, red bite marks from before… careful not to tease your nipples hard again. That warm tongue swipes up through the valley of your chest between them, only to have him kissing his way lower… and lower still. Hot breath warms your folds, the only prelude to his fingers and tongue licking into you with perfect precision. He paces his lapping, slow and attentive and thorough. Those same little growls he makes as drinks your blood reverberate through your slickened pussy. Fingers tease inside you, catching and stroking that bundle of nerves hidden in your channel until you hear your own sloppy arousal weeping from around his fingers.
Ravenous, his tongue laps it up. Insistent and strong, he sweeps up every drop of your slick and brings it to swirl around your clit. So tired, your poor brain and dulled senses barely hear the gasps from your own lips, barely controlling the rhythmic buck of your hips to match his fingers and mouth that worship you.
His voice rumbles such pretty words, such saccharine epithets into your folds. “Pretty consort…” followed by the wet suck of his lips, “…little treat…” Growls of his own hunger tickle as he curls that tongue back to your clit, “…mine forever, my love…”.
You feel his hair in your hands, not knowing how or when you fisted it as he eats you, feasting on you… A low sigh from his mouth sends you careening, that warmth and pleasure blooming from your core to swallow any last traces of lancing pain. Limp, breathless, boneless… you feel as if you’re floating in the downy bed beneath you.
You brace yourself for a moment for that fullness and friction of his cock, but it never comes. Only a tender kiss inside your thigh at the joint and the comforting weight of his body to lie beside you. His breathing is relaxed, warm and contented, as he nestles that sharp face and aquiline nose behind your ear and into the mess of your hair. He’s breathing you in… the fragrance of fresh-washed hair, the scent of your skin and fresh arousal. And despite that hardness at your lower back, he just pulls the heavy weight of your comforters over your naked bodies. Arms wrap softly but assuredly around you, one hand holding your arm, the other tucked snugly beneath both your still-drying heads. You feel the slowing thump of his pulse against your back as he pulls you even closer, the rush of his breath in your ear tingles your spine and relaxes you all at once.
Lulled to sleep by the warmth of his skin and the lullaby of his body…
Daylight caresses you, and instantly, as you stir, you know he’s already awake from his trance. The sunlight flooding your room, the curtains blown wide to let the dawn in, those are the dead giveaways. Those are the signals that he has already woken up and taken full advantage of his powers as Ascendant, his favorite—basking in the sun. Not that he would admit it.
He sits against the large window, letting his pale skin soak in the morning sun. Shirtless, just a pair of breeches on his legs, your sunwalking vampire, lets the warmth still thaw the centuries of cold and hurt.
Crimson eyes turn towards you, a knowing grin on his face the instant he hears your breathing change. “Ah, the only thing that sparkles more than the soft light of dawn…” he smirks, that same velvet tone of voice that made you first swoon, “the glint of your own scarlet eyes as you blink the lingering pleasure from your sleep.” You watch his muscles flex as he stretches in that shaft of sunlight from the window. Feline and a tad predacious, he slowly crosses towards you in the bed, a slightly sheepish grin on his full lips, even as his eyes clearly revealed his still lingering desires that had raged in the dark. “I’m… sorry if I was a bit more demanding than usual last night, darling, but you did so well…. My good, sweet consort.”
You give him that look that both provokes and placates, pursing your lips with a hint of a baleful glare from the corner of your eye. He sits beside you, and you keep your distance. Just enough.
“I always know when your negotiations either go horribly wrong or… intoxicating well…” you smirk, rubbing out the lingering soreness in your neck. It aches still, those harder to reach spots down the curve of your shoulder blades the worst from being suspended for so long…
And quickly, his hands replace yours. Those fingers, so strong and deft at picking locks and pleasuring you, knead into the aches and pains you just can’t reach. “So, do you wish to guess if negotiations with the dhampirs in Cormyr went to our advantage?” He purrs, hands still massaging your back as they wander lower. “Be warned, if you guess incorrectly, I'll treat you to more of the same rigorous attentions from last night…”
“And if I guess correctly?” You hum, his hands grasped teasingly around her swells of your ass now.
“Then I’ll treat you to more of the same tender care…”
You cock your brow and smirk, heart pounding for either way, it is always a treat with him.
#ascended astarion#ascended astarion smut#ascended astarion fic#astarion x reader#reader x astarion#astarion x female reader#astarion x f!reader#astarion smut#astarion fanfiction#astarion fic#bg3#astarion baldurs gate#baldur’s gate astarion#baldurs gate astarion#baldur's gate 3 astarion#bg3 astarion#astarion bg3#astarion#astarion ancunin#bg3 fanfiction#baldur’s gate iii#baldur’s gate 3
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Heatwave
Pairing: Gale x Fem Tav
Summary: It is the final social event of the summer season, and Tav has dressed poorly for a festival in the midst of a heatwave. One-shot.
Warnings: Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Sweat-licking, Smut.
Word Count: 3.9k
A/N: Another smutty Austen inspired work with a bit of fluff! This time in a universe outside of BG3. There definitely seems to be a weather theme in these one-shots. Maybe they'll fuck in the snow next, who knows?
The Festival of Shieldmeet had dominated conversations throughout the city all summer long. With the event occurring only once every four years, the anticipation had reached a fever pitch, rendering even the sweltering heatwave a minor inconvenience. The idea of postponing or, heaven forbid, cancelling such a revered social event due to something as minor as the weather was simply inconceivable.
The festival was being held in the sprawling grounds belonging to some Lord or Lady who had earned the privilege of hosting. In the heart of a large, manicured, bloom-laden garden stood a bandstand where bards were tuning their instruments, ready to serenade the guests with summer melodies. Alongside it stretched a long table adorned with dishes piled high with the richest Waterdhavian delicacies. Attendants in crisp uniforms weaved through the crowds, bearing trays laden with sparkling drinks in tall glasses, as well as refreshing juices and icy water. There also seemed to be tables scattered around with trays stacked with rolled up flannels sitting in ice, patiently waiting to be scooped up and dabbed at the forehead of the sweltering guests - These seemed to be a welcome addition, as there was scarcely any shade to be found anywhere.
Tav found herself in a state of utter misery. Seeking solace from the stifling crowds, she had retreated to the embrace of the shade beneath an oak tree bordering the garden, where she fervently fanned herself out of sight. She had naively and desperately assumed that the shade would cool her, but despite the protection from the sun’s direct attention the air was still just as cloying, and squeezed her with suffocating stillness. What she wouldn’t give for even the whisper of a breeze. The sad little paper fan she had acquired was doing very little work for her, just pushing the warmth forwards and heating her even further in her efforts to keep it moving.
For some inexplicable reason she couldn't recall, she had chosen to don her finest silk gown over a whalebone corset. It hugged her curves with an unforgiving grip, accentuating her form and lifting her breasts. With a smile as wide as her hips, she had admired herself in the mirror before departing. However, that smile faded the moment she stepped out of her cooled carriage and into the searing heat of the midday sun. She had immediately noticed the guests dressed in garments far more suited to the occasion than her own.
What a foolish notion this had been, she mused, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. She had no idea what had driven this madness. Well.. she thought as she peeked out from behind the tree and across at the crowd gathered in the garden, maybe she had a slight idea.
Gale Dekarios was an exceptionally handsome man who exuded infuriating arrogance, boundless pride, and endless charm. From their first encounter at the spring ball, he had claimed her attention at every subsequent event. She had ‘accidentally’ stepped on his foot during one of their early dances, after he had explained to her his proficiency with magic and his gallant willingness to at least try and teach her some of his simpler spells. He had laughed at her annoyance, apologised profusely, and kissed her hand at the end of the evening. She had been aflame ever since.
Throughout the season, they had fallen into a familiar routine. Their ritual involved stealing glances at one another, offering subtle gestures of acknowledgment, and then both making a concerted effort not to meet eyes again. Yet, inevitably, one of them would find themselves drawn towards the other. It was a dance of restraint, leaving Tav exhilarated each time, despite the exhausting choreography. She was never really sure who was leading the dance, but at this moment, sweating and flustered and hiding behind a tree, Tav decided it probably wasn’t her.
As each evening would draw to a close, he would always bid her goodnight with a kiss upon her hand, each time lingering longer than the last, and tell her how much he was looking forward to their next meeting. Upon returning home, Tav would often find herself lost in fantasies, imagining his hand tangled in her hair, his lips tracing the curves of her body. More often than not, these night-time reveries ended with her own desperate touch and his name cried out from her lips.
In the privacy of sweet slumber, she would dream of their next encounter, eagerly anticipating another opportunity to engage in their dance and hoping to step on his feet once more.
Maybe she had more magic in her than she realised, as her very thoughts appeared to have summoned him to her hiding place.
“Ah, Miss Taventon. I thought I spotted you retreating all the way out here.” He greeted her with his customary charm. As always, he was a vision to behold, with his dark, mischievously glinting eyes and sweeping brown locks pulled back from his face. Clad in simple yet impeccably tailored attire—a snug waistcoat over a pristine white shirt, adorned with a luxurious silken cravat, and well-fitted breeches. Frustratingly, he looked completely unaffected by the blistering warmth, and Tav thought she must look like a sweating, breathless fool in comparison. She only had time to be embarrassed momentarily, before she realised the precarious nature of their situation. For the first time, they were properly alone together and Tav blushed at the thought of being found with him behind a tree so far away from the party. There would be a scandal.
“Mr. Dekarios, a pleasure.” She looked around to try and see if anyone would catch them in their compromising seclusion, but it appeared they were safe for now. “I’m afraid you’ve caught me a little affected by the heat. I was just after a moment of respite.” She began to fan herself more fervently.
“Understandable, I'm sure. For one not versed in magic.” His smugness had returned, and Tav always treated it as a welcome challenge.
“Well, not all of us are as exceptional as you” She batted her eyelashes at him sweetly and took in his cool, handsome appearance. “Let me guess, enchanted clothing?” He bowed his head in confirmation of her appraisal, still looking smug and annoyingly unflustered by the heat. “A shame it could not chill your ego, but alas, I suppose your talent has to end somewhere.”
His smile in return was genuine. He very much enjoyed her banter. Almost as much as he enjoyed seeing her sweating under the shade of the giant oak tree.
He raised a hand in mock defeat. “Peace, my lady. I came bearing a gift. In an effort to cool your skin, and perhaps even your temper.” She really was ravishing in this state, he thought, overheated and fiery. He wondered whether she was aware of his true intentions in seeking her out. It was the final event of the summer season, and as such, their elaborate game would have to come to an end.
As she reached out to accept the cool towel he offered, a surge of boldness seized him. With a swift motion, he closed the distance between them until he was almost pressed against her, and with a tender touch, he placed the cold flannel against the side of her neck. He had hoped it would elicit a reaction from her, at the very least a small gasp of surprise, but she remained silent. She just watched him as the droplets from the towel trailed slow down her neck, caressing her collarbone in the way his fingers ached to, and gathering to rest glistening on the shelf of her breasts which had been pushed up by her corset.
He had thoughts of ripping it off her. The silk of her dress would tear like tissue in his practised hands, and he would cast the tatters of it into the wind and spend an entire afternoon finding where the pools of her sweat gathered. He ached to know what undergarments she was wearing, what colour, how the material would taste if he pressed his tongue against. It. He hoped it was white cotton, something the scent and taste of her would cling to - so damp with sweat and desire that he would be able to see her dark curls through the material.
He could feel the cooling enchantment wrapped round him waning as his concentration and resolve were tested. Damn heat. Damn woman. She knew exactly what she was doing. Who wears a silk-wrapped corset in a heatwave? Each bead of sweat and whisper of her heated musk was a siren’s call, and he was determined to drown himself in the ocean of her.
“I am no expert in fashion, Miss Taventon, but I must question the decision to wear a silk gown in such conditions. Surely linen, or cotton would have been preferable? Or maybe one enjoys the sensations brought on by basking in such stifling heat?” His tone was more frustrated than he meant it to be.
“I thought it would be light and cooling, Saer. Not all of us are gifted with the ability to enchant our clothing.” She narrowed her eyes at him, and wondered if every item he was wearing was enchanted.. She quickly snapped out of her musings “An unfortunate error on my part, I hadn’t taken into account the lack of breeze, or the…”
“Stickiness?” He said, focusing intently on dabbing her neck and chest with the flannel and not meeting her eyes.
“The humidity. Yes.”
He took a break from his attentions and discarded the flannel, to take a leisurely sip of his drink. The droplets of condensation cascaded down the glass like tiny beads of sweat. Tav couldn't help but watch, a pang of envy stirring within her as she observed the icy water slip downwards and through his fingers. There was too much electric heat here, strung out in the very air, no amount of cool water would save her. She needed to be swathed by him, to smother the flames until they burnt out into ash. Even then, she was certain there would be embers enough to fan back to roaring flame at just one breathy word from him. She was doomed kindling.
The soft clink of ice against glass filled the air as he drank, his gaze never wavering from hers. With intent, he parted his lips slightly, allowing a single ice cube to slide into his mouth. She couldn't tear her eyes away as he savoured it, rolling it around his mouth with his tongue.
“Most refreshing.” He breathed, after a long, heavy swallow, “Could I tempt you with a sip?”
“I..Maybe.. This heat has caused quite a desperate thirst. Although I notice you have only brought one glass. How impolite of you” She dropped her fan to the ground in vexation, stupid thing was not doing anything to help. There was no saving her now.
He smirked and bowed his head slightly. “Not to worry, dear lady.” His eyes darkened and his voice became a heated command. “Open your mouth for me”
At first there was shock, but then without question she did as she was told, like a girl entranced. With a deft movement of his fingers, he plucked another ice cube from his glass and placed it delicately on her waiting tongue.
Tav saw a chance and took it.
Before he could withdraw his hand, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist, and the surprise in his eyes lit her like a firework. She burned for these moments, for any slip in his resolve, any evidence behind the refinery and politeness that there were things she could do that would shock him. If there was a crack in his armour, she would slip in like water and drown him in sin.
Locking eyes with him, she held his gaze steady as she took control. With a boldness she hadn't known she possessed, she leaned forward and enveloped his fingers in her mouth, sucking gently and letting the ice cube melt against her tongue in a sweet rush of cold. It was a calculated move, a daring play, and as she released his hand, a flicker of satisfaction fluttered in her eyes. The game was afoot, and she was changing the rules.
She let go of his fingers, and smiled innocently. “How right you are as always, Mr.Dekarios. Most refreshing.” She lilted, still sucking on the remnants of the ice in her mouth.
He had suddenly lost his footing. The blood that was keeping him focused and leading their little game had suddenly re-routed elsewhere, and he was struggling to compose thoughts. He had no words, so actions would have to do.
He drew closer to her, the space between them shrinking, and he reached out his hand to trace a delicate path from the warmth of her flushed cheek, along the elegant curve of her jaw, down to the hollow of her throat. There, just above the gentle rise and fall of her bosom, he noticed a glistening bead of sweat, which he captured with his fingertip. Bringing it to his lips, he savoured it, and made a noise of growling satisfaction. Her breath hitched beautifully in response.
"It appears you're still uncomfortably warm. I'd hardly be a gentleman if I allowed you to suffer like this." With a languid sip of his drink, he popped another ice cube into his mouth.
“You are no…”
He aimed to catch off guard before she could finish. He closed what little gap was left between them and all playfulness burned away in the heat, leaving nothing but desperation. Fuck games, fuck dancing around each other, and fuck that ridiculous silk dress she was wearing. She had won their game, and her prize would be for him to take her the way he had been wanting to for the entire summer.
His glass fell to the ground with no thought at all, and he grabbed at her waist. Pushing her back against the tree and pinning her there with a leg between her thighs. He finally earned a gasp of surprise from her, as he pushed his lips against her throat, and pressed the ice cube against her pulsing skin with his tongue.
The noise she made was tantalisingly balanced between relief and desire, and he kept the ice firmly against her as he moved it further down her neck, mimicking the trail of sweat his finger had traced earlier. He delighted in the way her skin prickled as the ice caressed her. She was divine. He wanted to tease her until she lost all of her brazen stares and cutting banter, and all that was left was a puddle of a woman. He wanted to undo her the way he would her clothes, and watch her fall apart under his hands, his tongue, the push of his hips…
"Someone... Will..." Her voice came out in gasping pleas as he continued caressing her with the ice. "Find us..." He needed to remove that damn corset soon; restricted breathing wasn't conducive to the way he wanted to hear her cry out for him— completely unbound. A fleeting desire crossed his mind to restrain her in other ways, at other times. But for now, he simply needed to see how the heat had flushed her body, with as little material between them as possible.
“You think I would allow anyone else to see you like this? I am not a man who shares his treasure.” His cocky little grin made a slight reappearance as he pulled his lips away from her damp skin to meet her eyes and offer some cooling sincerity. “A spell has been cast, no one will see nor hear us. You are safe with me, my dream. Always.”
He lost himself to a moment of softness, and caressed her face with total adoration.
“I have craved the taste of you all summer. The sun itself could not burn me in the way you have. I am a scorch mark, I am the cindered ashes of all restraint. You are my sun. And no one else will gaze upon you the way I will.”
There was no response adequate to match the sudden delicacy of his words, leaving Tav momentarily speechless. In that fleeting moment of enraptured, adoring silence, Gale misunderstood her reaction, his beautiful face falling with concern, fearing he had unwittingly caused her distress.
“Tell me you do not desire me, that this soft heat inflaming you is not at least partly caused by your feelings for me. Tell me I have imagined your eyes searching for me, your playful need for my hands on you as we dance, and I will leave it at this. I will have spent a summer loving you, and it will have been the brightest and warmest of all my seasons.”
He loved her. The air suddenly felt lighter. He was the breeze she had been craving.
Her bright smile cracked through the initial shock of his confession, and relief swept over him like a tide. “I know you have a vivid imagination, Mr. Dekarios. But put it away, it is not needed here. I have attended each event only in the hope of being in your presence. It seems we both have had a summer well spent.” She kissed him then; sweetly, lovingly and he laughed enough for the crinkles between his eyes to appear.
It did not take long for the damned dress to be torn from the skin of her sweat-slicked body. For the corset to be ripped from its bindings. For the softness of her breasts to find their place against his tongue, nipples peaking as though the heat didn’t exist, his hot breath and cool tongue creating a heady mix of magic which made her skin sing.
Tomorrow, there would be rough marks on her back from the bark of the tree - but for now the slight pain only added to the overwhelming sensations which crawled their way over her body, her sweat mingling with his as he tore off his shirt and pressed himself against her. Caging her against the trunk. His skin was cool against hers, and steam danced between them as though melted steel was being forged by cool water. He was hard, she could feel it.
His tongue flattened at her skin of her neck and her breasts, and licked away the lust-induced sweat his affection had caused. The fresh, salty taste may as way have been laced with liquor for the effect it was having on him. She tasted of sweet wine with the faint hint of salt. It was subtle, but he needed something richer.
His attention moved downwards, and It was not long till he reached that most sacred place, where he had been aching to lose himself in scent and taste. He took his time and inhaled her. Using his nose to caress her sweet spot as he relished in the full-bodied flavour of her.
As soon as his mouth began lavishing her, she realised he had somehow extended the cooling enchantment to his tongue. Her head was thrown back against the tree in ecstasy, the press of his mouth against her quickly becoming too much for her to handle. There was a brief moment of self-consciousness, where she worried about how the heat of the day would affect her taste. But the worry was soon lost, the thought drowned out by the sound of his appreciation and the realisation that he was stroking himself as he devoured her.
He was dedicated in his endeavour, although no amount of skin-tingling magic would be able to balm the fire coursing through her veins. She thought she would never cool, that she would be a woman on fire for the rest of her love-fuelled days. The sensation was mesmeric, and she could not remember a sweeter sensation than this man on his knees in front of her, face buried between her legs and using his tongue to caress her with such enthusiasm she felt as though she would fall apart. And fall apart she did. It was euphoric, and her hands gripped his hair fiercely as she crashed over rocks in reckless pleasure.
When he came back up to meet her he was breathless and lust-drunk, giddy as a school-boy and stoked as a bonfire. “There has never been a sweeter taste than you, my love.” He kissed her then, languidly, passionately - intent on sharing the riches of his exploration. Tav could taste herself in his kiss. They may as well have been sharing wine between their lips.
“If you don’t fuck me soon, Gale, I swear I will combust.”
He laughed at this. At the desperation, at the slight annoyance in her voice, at the fact this was the first time she had ever said his given name and she had thrown it at him as a demand to push her against the tree and bury himself inside her. What a woman.
He needed no further invitation; shedding the confines of his breeches, he pressed himself slowly into her warmth, and she made the most delicious groaning sound he had ever heard. This woman could drive him to madness, and thankfully he was aware that his earlier attentions ensured he need not be overly gentle. Knowing that his endurance would be short-lived, thanks to the fervour he had stoked within himself while bringing her to climax against his tongue, he abandoned all pretense of restraint. Together they were primal, the tension that had been building between them releasing in pure, carnal desire.
Though a gentleman might have exercised more self-control, such decorum was a luxury he couldn't afford in the presence of such irresistible temptation. Stripped of his clothes, he found himself as vulnerable to the unrelenting heat of the day as Tav, and soon, his focused, determined passion ignited a sheen of sweat upon his skin.
Tav’s payback could not have been any sweeter, as soon as she noticed the sweat trickling down his neck she took her chance and licked it from his bronzed, silken skin. His response was a delicious, low moan and his rhythm faltered into something more urgent, unbound. His grip tightening, one of his hands found its way to rest gently against her throat so he could feel the deep moans rumbling against his palm as he fucked her.
“I love you” She breathed. And that’s all it takes. He is suddenly hurtling over a precipice and into sweet, tight oblivion.
They both collapse onto the ground, sweaty, burnt-out, euphoric. And they fall into uninhibited laughter as they realise they can hear the band playing a jaunty tune in the distance, and the chatter of the ever-growing crowd is closer than they initially thought.
“You are still hidden from prying eyes, my dream.” Gale offered reassurance as he kissed her head. “And I will conjure up some suitable clothing for you, don’t worry.”
“That is most generous of you Saer, but please - by the Gods, no corset and no silk.”
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btw gale loses all composure when hes horny. can't even make out the words "please" or "thank you", he just starts to dote on you and, when he's particularly needy, he'll grind up against you and paw at your clothes until you get the hint. he told me himself.
#baldurs gate gale#bg3 shitpost#bg3 fanfiction#bg3 headcanons#bg3 gale#bg3 spoilers#bg3#bg3 companions#bg3 posting#gale romance#gale smut#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#gale x reader#gale x tav#the wizard of waterdeep
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Among the ferns
18+ MINORS DNI
Halsin x F!Reader
2.6k
Warnings: SMUT, cunnilingus, p in v sex, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, size kink, fluffy smut
as always no proofreading no nothing
this is for you bby :3 @foxyanon
As the night grew colder, your companions retired to bed one by one. All except for Halsin, who had made a promise to stay up with you. He didn't mind avoiding Lae'zel's loud snoring; he preferred talking with you anyways, and sleep wasn't coming easy for him this night.
“Tav, may I ask you something?” he asked gently, looking down at you with a small smile. The full moon illuminated the small clearing in the woods where you had set up camp and a soft breeze played with the undergrowth.
The fire that had once crackled and danced with life was now reduced to glowing embers, casting a warm, orange glow on Halsin's face. His eyes twinkled with curiosity and earnest sincerity, making them as captivating as the night sky above.
"Well, Halsin," you responded, cradling your cup of warm cider between your hands. "You can ask me anything." Your tone was light, playful even. This was not the first intimate conversation you’ve had with him, nor would it be the last.
His brow furrowed slightly under his tousled locks. "It's just..." he hesitated, looking slightly unsure of how to phrase what was on his mind.
You chuckled lightly to yourself, finding his uncharacteristic shyness amusing considering that he was normally so confident and outspoken. With his muscled frame and towering height, he was often mistaken for a brute by those unacquainted with him. But you knew better than most that there was a lot more to him than met the eye.
"Why have you never spoken about your romantic partners before?" he finally asked, voice barely above a whisper. A breeze rustled through the leaves overhead, adding a symphony of soft whispers to the stillness of the night.
A hush fell over you both as you considered his question. The forest around you teemed with life – crickets chirping in the underbrush, an owl hooting in the distance – yet all sound seemed distant as you pondered your answer.
"Truthfully?" You start, shifting your gaze from the dying fire up into the night sky, blushing gently. "I suppose that is because I've never… had a romantic partner before.”
The revelation hung in the air, ungraspable as moonlight. Halsin took a moment to truly absorb your words. His head tilted slightly, the glow of curiosity was now replaced with surprise. "You mean…" he stumbled over his words, a rare occurrence for him indeed, "You've never…?" He didn't need to spell it out; his meaning was clear.
You found yourself shaking your head in confirmation, your cheeks heating up. The confession had left you feeling lighter somehow, liberated even.
"I know it's unusual," you admitted, your fingers idly tracing the edge of your cider cup. The warm ceramic felt grounding against your skin amidst the otherwise ethereal atmosphere of the night.
Halsin, still overwhelmed by the revelation, defaulted to silence as he stared at you with intense concentration, as if trying to understand an enigma. His gaze seemed to penetrate beyond your skin through to the very essence of who you were. It was a gaze that could make anyone feel seen for perhaps the first time in their life.
The silence lingered but didn't feel oppressive; instead, it held a certain comforting intimacy that carried an odd tranquillity with it. Perhaps it was due to understanding that sometimes words were superfluous and that silence spoke volumes more than any spoken language ever could.
Finally, as if breaking free from a trance, Halsin shifted his gaze away from yours and stared into the almost extinguished fire. His fingers absent-mindedly picked up a stick and prodded at the glowing coals – it seemed like he wished to say something, but held himself back out of respect.
“Halsin, I… Look, it’s not like I have no desire for… it, it’s just that no-one ever, uh… invited me for…,” you stammered out and looked at him, trying to gauge his reaction.
"I see," he finally answered, his voice just above a whisper and filled with an understanding that you hadn't expected. He looked back at you, the light from the dying fire dancing in his eyes. “Well, under any other circumstance…” he trailed off, looking at you with a softness you hadn’t seen before.
His gaze held yours as he continued, “I would have invited you for...” he paused as if searching for the right words, “a quick, intimate encounter.”
Your cheeks heated up further at his admission. The mere thought of it sent a jolt through your body, making your heart flutter.
"But," he quickly added, seeing your reaction, "given what you've revealed... I think I would be entirely satisfied sharing just an innocent cuddle." His words settled over your ears like a soothing balm, calming your anxious thoughts.
It was a simple offer — one of warmth and companionship without any expectation or pressure.
You felt a burst of adoration and gratitude for him. It was as if Halsin was offering to meet you at your pace, to hold space for you in a world that often demanded too much too soon. He understood, perhaps better than anyone else ever could.
“Halsin…” You couldn’t help the soft smile that graced your lips. The tension that had been building dissipated into the cool night air.
He smiled back at you then – not his usual mischievous grin but something far more genuine and tender.
Together, you sat in silence once more, the crackling embers providing a warm glow to your faces.
“Actually, I… uhm… wouldyouliketoteachme?”, you pressed out and immediately looked away, afraid that he would reject you.
“I mean, everyone’s asleep, you know this forest well, you are a gentle man and as far as I know you you are a very good teacher and I’ve liked you for so long and you’re good looking…,” you rambled, sure that your cheeks couldn’t heat up even more than they did in that moment.
Halsin blinked, taken aback by your sudden outburst. Then he laughed, a rich and warm sound that echoed softly in the quiet of the night. “Easy,” he said, his voice gentle yet laced with amusement, effectively cutting through your rambling. His gaze softened even further as he reached over and took your hand into his.
"Thank you for the compliments," he said, his thumb gently caressing your knuckles. His touch felt like a spark in the darkness, both startling and comforting at the same time. "And for trusting me enough to ask."
There was an earnest sincerity in his eyes that made you feel seen – really seen – for perhaps the first time in your life. It was as if he truly understood the depth of what you’d asked him. That he grasped how much courage it must have taken you to let down your walls and bare a part of yourself you’d kept hidden away for so long.
The silence that followed was pregnant with anticipation, each moment stretching on as you waited with bated breath for his response.
“Alright,” Halsin finally said, breaking the silence. His tone was somber now, filled with a level of gravity that reflected just how seriously he was taking your request.
“If this is what you want... If it’s something that feels right for you…” He paused to give you one last chance to change your mind. However, seeing no hesitation in your eyes, he simply nodded and continued, “Then yes, I’d be honored.”
A sense of relief washed over you at his words. It was as if a weight had been lifted off your chest - a wide smile spread over your cheeks and you hugged him, losing yourself in his warmth and scent.
Gently, he cradled your head against his shoulder, the rhythm of his heart a soothing lullaby as you relished in this newfound intimacy. It wasn't long before he scooped you up into his arms, rising from the bed of moss and ferns to carry you further into the forest. Your heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness as pine needles rustled beneath his feet, creating a symphony with the nocturnal creatures singing their songs.
The forest that had seemed so intimidating before now felt like a safe sanctuary under Halsin's guidance. He deftly navigated through the complex labyrinth of towering trees, guiding you through dappled moonlight that slipped through the rustling canopy above.
Eventually, he came to halt in a hidden glade awash with soft silver light. It was an enchanting spectacle - fireflies danced in the air while a gentle brook murmured in the distance, providing a harmonious backdrop to this still moment. Here, beneath the vast expanse of stars, Halsin laid you down gently on another bed made of moss and ferns.
Halsin hesitated for just a moment before beginning to remove his clothing, piece by piece. His movements were unhurried and deliberate, affording you enough time to adjust to each new revelation of skin and muscle underneath. He was beautiful in all senses of the word – not just physically but in his vulnerability too.
Once he stood undressed before you, it was his turn to ask for permission. His voice was low as he asked, "May I?" His respect for your comfort evident in that simple question.
“Y-yes, you may,” you muttered and gasped as you felt his hands working on the laces of your dress and the feeling of his lips on the nape of your neck. “You may do anything you wish, as long as you… are gentle,” you whispered, drawing in a big breath as he bared your breasts, gently tracing his hands over the gentle curves.
"Yes," he murmured against your skin, "always gentle." His voice was a soothing rumble that reverberated through you, making your heart flutter in response. His hands were warm against your cool skin, his touch so tender and careful it nearly brought tears to your eyes.
He guided you to recline on the mossy bed, his strong hands supporting your back as you did so. The moss was surprisingly soft underneath you, nature's own cushioned bedding. Halsin continued to worship your body with his hands and mouth, his every touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. You gasped as he traced kisses down your neck, over the valley between your breasts, and then lower still.
You gasped and blushed at the sensation and bit your lip as you felt his big finger gently slipping between your wet folds. Gods, it felt so good, and the longer you looked at him pleasuring you through half-closed eyes, you felt your inner fire burning hotter and hotter. Everything about him drove you wild. From the way he loomed over you, to his strong, yet gentle hold on you, not to mention the way he caressed you - it drove you to the brink of insanity.
“Let go, my love… moan for me, my sweet thing… let nature hear your call…,” he muttered, alternating between rubbing your pearl, licking and kissing it gently.
Gasping, you struggled to breathe as the pleasure coursed through you like wildfire. You'd never felt anything like this, and it was all too much and not nearly enough at the same time. His touch was electric, igniting every nerve ending in your body and sending sparks of ecstasy ricocheting along your spine. Moans tumbled unbidden from your lips, mingling with the chorus of the forest around you.
"Halsin," you whimpered, arching your back off the cushiony moss beneath you. "Oh gods, Halsin... it feels... it feels..." Words failed to do justice to the sensations he evoked within you.
He chuckled against your damp core, sending a shiver cascading down your spine. "That's it, darling. Let it out. I want to hear every little sound that escapes those pretty lips of yours."
Emboldened by his words, you did just that - moaning louder as he continued his ministrations. His tongue flicked and swirled over your most sensitive spots, teasing and taunting you until you thought you might combust from the aching need building within. Every stroke of his tongue or caress of his fingers seemed to send you higher and higher still, until you were certain your heart would beat right out of your chest.
"Halsin... Halsin... I... I'm..." You panted, but could not finish your sentence, as a huge wave of pleasure crashed over you. You cried out in unadulterated bliss as your body shuddered and arched beneath his touch. Halsin continued to caress and kiss you, milking every last shudder and gasp from your body until at last, your cries subsided into satisfied pants.
“You did perfect. Now… are you ready for me? Or should I let you rest?”, he asked sweetly, pulling himself out from between your thighs and up to you.
It felt like you were dreaming - and could do nothing else but to shake your head and hold your chest, gazing wantonly up at him. “No, no rest, I… I need you, I want you, but… are you sure that it is going to fit?”
He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent shivers down your spine. “Oh, my love, I've imagined this moment for so long... and I assure you, I will fit. Just…” He leaned in to replace his words with a fiery kiss, his tongue teasing yours as he gently slipped his hardness between your wet folds.
It felt like he was right - it stung for a second, but it was a perfect fit, and he filled you up completely as he entered you inch by inch, stretching you to the limit, even though he was still holding back from plunging completely into you. "Feel how perfect we fit together?", he whispered into your ear, gently kissing the top of your head.
"Y-yes," you panted, arching your hips against his. "Halsin... please... don't stop." You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him onward.
He obliged, slowly and steadily, surging into your depths as if he had all the time in the world. The sensation was unlike anything you'd ever experienced - a delicious friction of stretching and heat that bordered on pain but was oh so exquisite. His every movement sent waves of pleasure crashing through you anew, his length hitting places inside you that had never known such stimulation before.
As he rocked his hips against yours, a primal, animalistic growl escaped his lips, and his grip on your hips tightened just enough to leave marks. You didn't mind, though - if anything, it spurred you on further. Your hands tangled in the moss beneath you, nails clawing at the ground as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.
"You feel so good... so tight... around me," Halsin groaned between gasps, the pace of his thrusts increasing marginally with each breathy moan that escaped your lips. "I... I've wanted this... for so long... You, bouncing under me… in the woods…"
The way he spoke to you - so guttural and raw - was enough to send you over the edge a second time. Your climax washed over you like a tidal wave, hot and consuming, leaving you reeling in its wake. "Halsin!" You cried out his name as your body clenched around him, contracting around his hardness and milking him for all he was worth.
"Gods...," he panted, his thrusts growing erratic as he too lost control. "I... I can't... much more... So tight…"
With one final, earth-shattering thrust, he stilled inside you, his essence welcomed within your depths as you both shuddered through the climax together. Halsin collapsed atop you, his breathing ragged in your ear.
"That…" He finally managed between breaths. "Was… better… than I ever imagined."
You smiled up at him, your insides still convulsing and hugged him tight, not minding that he squished you under his large, shuddering body. “You’re… you’re a good teacher. The best.”
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A Bard's Tale
SUMMARY: When you proposition Halsin at the Grove party, you're almost shocked he agrees. Now, if only you could sneak away from your companions... WC: 3.9k
PAIRING: Halsin x f!reader
TAGS: 18+ MDNI, smut, bard!reader, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected PIV
A/N: just some filthy smut Gale, my beloved, look away inspired by a book in the game and my head canon that the gang has a bookclub <3 banner by @/cafekitsune
You were used to being stared at—such was life as a performing bard—but never with so much… desire.
A numbing warmth blossomed across your neck and crept toward your cheeks, hairs stood on end. You knew exactly whose gaze fell over your body and tried pushing down a sudden shiver with a gulp of wine. The nearly stale flavor washed down your throat but didn’t take away the buzzing feeling deep in your gut.
Fireworks colored the sky above in a pop of brilliant glittering lights. Gale and Rolan were locked in a battle of wizard hubris over who could conjure up the bigger and brighter show for the crowd of awestruck children. You were certain if the show got any bigger or brighter, you’d have to be putting out fires and patching up burns by the end of the night.
“He’s staring again,” Astarion groaned, lips pulling up into a sneer and revealing the edge of razor-sharp fangs. His red glare fell over the edge of his silver goblet as he took a sip of cheap wine.
You dared to follow his gaze toward the large elf standing across the clearing, surrounded by rowdy celebrating tieflings. The two of you locked eyes—firelight danced over warm hazel eyes.
Halsin sent you a brief grin as if he hadn’t been caught staring, before returning to his conversation with the tiefling, Zevlor, in front of him.
When your party first learned the Archdruid Halsin had been taken by a bunch of goblins, you figured the man you’d find would be ancient, withering, and most of all, not attractive. Lo and behold, your party was in for a big surprise after freeing a helpless bear that shifted into a towering, broad elf before your eyes.
It was the talk of camp for the next few days as you cleared out the goblin camp. It was clear all of your companions held some interest in the druid, whether out of curiosity or… lust.
Tonight, you’ve been working up the courage to speak with him, drinking yourself dizzy with your companions and hoping it would give you the strength to approach him. You’ve flirted and had quick meaningless dalliances with faceless people who didn’t matter the next morning, but something made you nervous when it came to Halsin. He was wiser and more mature than anyone you've known in your short life.
“Gods, he looks like he wants to devour you.”
You quickly returned your gaze to Astarion, a quick retort forming on your lips. You snorted, “And you don’t?”
You allowed the vampire to indulge in your blood every once in a while but never took him up on his other advances as much as he offered. You never felt quite comfortable looking into the empty red stare that came along with those offers. Simple banter every once in a while didn’t hurt though.
“If you’d like, that can be arranged,” he countered, ever quick to throw on that charming facade, and moved closer. The cold emanating off his undead figure cooled the fire dancing along your skin.
“Enough of that,” Shadowheart huffed, rolling her eyes as she poured more sanguine liquid into her goblet—her third cup of the night. She was remarkably more relaxed and fun for a Sharran with wine flowing through her system.
“Oh, don’t worry, dear. The three of us can have plenty of fun together if you’d like.”
“Pass,” she said dryly, offering a hard shove to his shoulder instead.
You grinned as the two began to squabble with petty remarks and plenty of eye rolls. You took the opportunity to slip away for a moment of quiet.
You didn’t dislike your new, unexpected companions, in fact, you considered them friends after working together to defeat an encampment of goblins. Trust was earned and alliances forged but you weren’t used to your silently elected position as leader.
You were a bard for Gods’ sake! What knowledge did you possess of leading other than leading others in song? There were certainly more qualified individuals in your ragtag group, but somehow they trusted in your leadership and you weren’t about to let them down, not when so much depended on it. Sometimes it weighed on your shoulders; for every cut and bruise they received, somehow you felt you were to blame.
The celebration was still lively, bottles were still being poured, and laughter and song danced through the air. And still… trepidation, and anticipation for the uncertain future ahead, tainted the air.
The tieflings still had a long journey to Baldur’s Gate, and you and your companions had a cure to find. There was no telling any of you would make it past this night unscathed by the future ahead, but dwelling on the future would get you nowhere.
You breathed the rich, lively air and allowed a smile to settle on your face. This adventure would make a great tale if you survived. You could see it now—patrons gathered around you at the bar as you regaled them with the highs and lows of your heroic adventure, the friends and enemies you made along the way. And, if you were lucky, a lover by your side.
Speaking of—you glanced toward Halsin once again to find him alone and lingering by the tall grass, observing the party. His arms were crossed, yet the fondness of which he observed the festivities made him seem approachable. You drew in a deep breath and stepped toward him. His eyes found yours as you drew closer.
“You should be celebrating, not keeping an old druid like me company.”
You hoped that wasn't his attempt at shooing you away. “I am celebrating—with you.”
He hummed low, a small smile forming as he gazed down at you. Something unspoken lingered behind his amused expression, raw and unfiltered.
You tilted your head and brushed aside the feelings bubbling up in your stomach, the warmth rising across your cheeks. You cleared your throat, feeling the warmth from before returning to your cheeks, “So, where's your wine? There's plenty around. I think Mol has some stored away too.”
He shook his head with a chuckle. You’d almost think it was bashful. “I fear you do not want to see me drunk.”
You tilted your head and leaned in. What could an archdruid have to be embarrassed about? “Now I have to see.”
“Trust me, the stuff goes right to my head. Before you know it, I’d be breaking into song or declaring love to the first person I laid eyes on.”
You gaped, and in an overly exasperated voice said, “But love and song are my specialty!”
You were more than eager to hear declarations of love. Targeted at you, preferably.
“Maybe I can inspire you another time then.”
“Tonight?” You could almost taste the wine-fueled invitation. Sweet and tempting, a dangerous mix.
Halsin said nothing for a moment and you were certain he would refuse, probably thinking of how to let you down easily. Your stomach churned and your muscles tensed as you waited for any sign of rejection.
But, to your surprise, he nodded and rested a hand on your arm with a gentle squeeze. The feeling of his fingers against your skin shot a shiver through your body.
“Tonight.”
You blinked—once, twice. Disbelief and a mix of excitement stirred in your chest.
The rest of the celebrations passed in a blur of grateful tieflings approaching you with their thanks and relentless teasing from Shadowheart and Astarion. When the tieflings packed up and went on their way, headed for Baldur’s Gate, your party wished them well and settled in for the night.
You cast quick but unsubtle glances between the campfire and Halsin as you poked at the fire. He was setting up his tent between Wyll’s and Laezel’s.
You wondered when the promise of ‘tonight’ would come. Would he call upon you when the others were asleep? Would it be a simple look over the campfire, a nod of the head?
A hand on the small of your back, leading you into the woods. It would eventually slip lower, caressing your behind and pulling you flush against his solid chest. His lips would descend on yours with a hungry, desperate fervor, devouring any moans that escaped. Your hips flush with his, grinding–
“Man, what a night,” Karlach exclaimed as she threw herself against her bedroll by the fire.
Your eyes snapped from the fire to her, pushing your previous thoughts away. You took in a deep breath and felt it fill your lungs to chase away the heat. Your stomach twisted into knots.
She tucked her arms behind her head but sprung right up again, almost startling you. “Oh, I almost forgot! Check out what I found at the Grove.”
She snatched her pack, resting at the foot of her bedroll, and dug around until she presented you with a thin, crudely bound book. The corner was singed from the heat of her fingertips, but you could read the handwritten title across the cover in golden lettering—Shadow’s Kiss vol. 4 written by Roan Featherway.
When you flipped open the cover, you found most of the pages ripped out. The last chapter and epilogue were all that was left.
You briefly wondered if Karlach looked before taking it, but she probably hadn't. She admittedly hadn't read since primary, much to Gale’s horror.
You weren't entirely sure what the book was about after skimming the first page—something about two lovers. Luckily, you weren't too picky about your choice of literature.
“Can you read it tonight?” She stared at you with a wide smile. The flames in her hair flared, a key sign she was growing excited.
When the party wasn't slaying goblins, you found they enjoyed listening to you read, something to do with being a bard and mimicking voices. So, they took to collecting lost books in ruined of villages or anywhere else they could get their hands on one.
You glanced over to Halsin. He was pulling a blanket from his pack and setting it in his tent.
Would you still have time to sneak off later?
Gale appeared over your shoulder, squinting at the title of the novel. “Oh, another book? Hm, I'm unfamiliar with this one. Perhaps we should be starting this series in order.”
He settled down on his bedroll across from you with crossed legs.
“I'm sure our dear bard can spin up an interesting tale to fill in the gaps,” Wyll cut in, cradling a cup of wine and taking a seat by the fire.
You sucked in an exasperated breath when you saw Astarion and Shadowheart saunter up to the fire and take their places on either side of Karlach. There was no way you'd be able to make an excuse to slip away with Halsin without their relentless teasing.
You succumbed to Karlach’s request and opened up the book, clearing your throat.
“In the ashes of that ruined village, the pair shared a kiss, all tongue and teeth. Sweat and heat passed between the two bodies as they-”
Gods, was this really the story? You glanced up to your companions who seemed to look on with rapt attention. In the corner of your eye, you noticed a large figure settle down on a log.
“Don't stop on my account,” Halsin said, waving his hand to allow you to continue.
You nodded and dipped back into the novel. You were glad he didn't seem bothered that the two of you would have to wait a little longer. Though, you weren't sure how you could read a book like this and not think of tonight.
“-pulled one another closer, as if clinging to the last bit of hope either of them had left. Balsin,” you faltered over the name, mouth agape over the next word. That couldn't be a coincidence.
You and the rest of your companions sent a curious look at Halsin, who sat on the log with an amused smile.
“Any relation?” You asked, one brow raised.
“Not at all. It was supposed to be a historical account.”
The group chuckled to themselves as you continued the story. It became increasingly raunchy, taking a turn toward the expected. Clothes tossed away, bodies slick with sweat, tongues clashing.
Your companions listened on, clinging to every filthy word that dripped from your mouth. Gale was pink in the face, but remained seated on his bed roll with averted eyes. Karlach’s flames sparked blue every once in a while. Shadowheart and Astarion wore sly smiles as the story continued. Wyll was the most relaxed with his wine, quietly listening on. Even Lae’zel, sitting at her tent, stopped polishing her sword to listen.
The story was just another typical tavern tale, nothing special or out of the ordinary for you to read aloud, except to have Halsin audience to it, and practically in it, was a different story.
You couldn't help but imagine this Balsin fellow as Halsin. The descriptions of this main character holding his lover, kissing her, touching her—it sent a throbbing between your legs.
Every other sentence had you peering over the book at him, wondering if he was growing uncomfortable or embarrassed, but no such expression was evident on his face. Instead, he watched you, your lips, with a familiar hunger.
“Balsin caressed her bare skin. ‘Selune must have carved you from the stars herself.’ The-”
Shadowheart scoffed, cutting off your sentence. You paused to catch her rolling her eyes. “Don’t tell me that's actually flattering.”
“Oh, it is. I've used it quite a few times,” Astarion said.
“You must be a bad flirt then,” Wyll teased, shoving his shoulder into Astarion’s.
The party devolved into a petty squabble of flirting practices and the best pick-up lines after. On any other day, you would jump into the fray with your favorite lines, but you were far more curious about something, someone, else.
You caught Halsin's back retreating into the woods, fists clenched with tense shoulders. You frowned, shutting the book.
Your companions’ attention was elsewhere at the moment, so you stood, leaving the book behind, and snuck away.
You wandered through the forest path you’ve taken many times before after long, grueling days of battle, and found the river bank.
You saw the reflection of the moon and stars in the river, but no Halsin.
A minute of your eyes scouring the water and the rustle of brush caught your attention a little too late. Clamorous, heavy steps advanced behind you. When you turned and caught a brief look of brown fur, it collided with you to the ground.
Hot and heavy puffs of air fanned across your face. Fur brushed across your exposed arms. A worg? A goblin ambush?
You opened your eyes to face the creature, prepared to scream for help, only to find it was not a worg but a bear—a familiar bear.
You gasped, “Halsin?”
A ring of gold circled the bear’s irises and a flash of white overtook your vision. You shielded your eyes until the light faded. When you removed your hand, you were met with a very naked Halsin above you.
His thick forearms rested beside your head, keeping his weight off you and trapping you between them. “Forgive me,” he apologized. “I was hoping this would not happen.”
You stammered, forcing your eyes to focus on his face and not wander down to his chest, “What? Tackling me to the ground?”
“I was hoping I could control my bear form.” Halsin pushed himself off the ground, offering you a hand up.
You attempted to narrow your focus on his outstretched hand that was hovering in front of his waist. But you couldn't help the accidental slip of your gaze and—Oh Gods, he was massive.
You hoped he didn't notice your eyes didn't bulge out of your skull as you took his hand. If he did, he said nothing and had no reaction as he hauled you back up to your feet.
“What do you mean by control?”
“Sometimes my desire grows so strong it's hard to hold myself back from changing forms.”
“Desire?” You repeated absently, the rest of his words floating over your head. You looked over the red tattoo that curved over his cheek before settling on his pink lips. There was something like desire building in your chest or something fiercer, hungry.
You inched forward, ghosting your fingers over the soft curve of his belly, not taking your eyes off his lips. You wet your own, wondering when you'll finally get a taste. He probably tasted of berries and rich honey.
“Yes, hearing you read that book, I could hardly stay in control, so I left.” Halsin’s voice was low, breathy, almost as if he was still trying to hold himself back. He grasped your wrist, thumb gliding over your pulse. “I hope you aren't frightened by me.”
You could have gawked. Frightened? He was so turned on by you, he turned into a bear. You couldn't say that about any previous lovers. “Absolutely not. I still want you, Halsin.”
There was a flash of relief that bled into a smile. “Come here.”
Halsin tugged your wrist, colliding your bodies, and kissed you. He was so warm, his lips soft, but his kiss was passionate, needy. He wanted to devour you. A hand cupped your neck, pulling you impossibly close, melting you against him.
You could barely get a breath in without pressing your hand against his chest. As you took in the night air, Halsin took to your neck, grazing teeth over your skin like you were a meal he wanted to sink his teeth into.
He tugged at your shirt and you lifted your arms to help him get it off so your chest was just as bare as his. “You’re breathtaking,” he rasped as his lips dipped below your collarbone. He murmured more praises as he made his way down your chest.
Your head fell back with a sigh escaping you, heat thruming through your body. Your hands ran through the length of his hair, gripping the locks between curled fingers.
Halsin nipped and sucked at your skin. Your body was giving into his touch, legs growing weak. Before you could stumble, Halsin's hands grasped the meat of your thigh and lifted you.
Your legs wrapped around his waist, securing yourself against his front. You shifted your hips to run yourself along his growing erection.
Halsin moaned as he moved to a tree, pressing you against the rough bark. His hands roamed your skin, brushing over your breasts, grazing your nipples to peaks.
He slipped down to his knees, kissing your stomach and tugging down your pants. The
Halsin caressed your thighs. “Rest your legs over my shoulders.”
“Won't I be too heavy?”
“Let me worship your body the way it was made for.”
Your jaw almost dropped at his words, but empowered, you hooked your legs over his shoulders.
Halsin was an attentive, passionate lover. He kissed your abdomen and down to your clit, like a gentle lover would. For a man who spent much of his time as a bear and so large, he was surprisingly gentle.
Your fingers returned to his hair, intertwining through the locks, as you shuddered. You were afraid of falling, but his strong grip on your backside held you steady. You were safe in his hands.
His tongue lavished you, parting your folds delicately like he was dipping in to taste a pot of honey. Just a taste was not enough as he soon delved deeper into your dripping heat.
“So sweet,” he murmured between those slow laps at your folds. He brought you closer, hungrier now that he had a taste.
Your head rested against the tree trunk and dared to let a moan escape you. Surely your companions were still too busy arguing amongst themselves to hear the lewd sounds slipping between the trees. Even if they could hear, you weren't sure you'd care. The feeling of Halsin’s skilled tongue far outweighed the embarrassment of being caught.
Your thighs clenched around his head as your hips bucked into his mouth. The peak of your climax came with a pitched cry, your body tensing and releasing all at once.
Halsin didn't stop devouring you, tasting every drop of your release with a desperate tongue.
You tugged at his hair when it all felt too much, when the pleasure turned to a burn at every lap against your sensitive clit. Halsin allowed himself to be pulled from you. He looked up at you, mouth wet with your juices, with a glimmer in his eyes.
“Tired?” His voice was teasing. His tongue darted out to catch your arousal smeared across his lower lip as he grined.
You almost scoffed. “Hardly. Is that all you've got?”
Halsin slipped out under you and swept you into another kiss, where you could still taste yourself on his lips. He pulled away and swiped his thumb over your glistening lips. “Trust me—you will not get much sleep tonight.”
The two of you met the cold grassy floor once again with you splayed on your back and Halsin hovering over you. You smiled up at him, inviting his down for another kiss which he accepted.
Lips clashed with heat and passion as two thick fingers pushed into your slick heat. You shuddered and arched into him as he buried them to the knuckle. He worked you open, spreading and stretching you out to prepare you for his cock. And judging by what you’d seen, it was much needed.
He turned you on to your stomach, easing his fingers out of you. The grass tickled between your fingers as you arched your back, displaying yourself for him like a ready mate. He gripped your hips, and you felt him, thick and warm, against your ass.
“I'll be gentle,” he promised.
“Don't be,” you sighed, grinding against him. You wanted him to lose himself in you. You wanted the calm and composed arch druid completely feral, fucking deep into you until the dawn forced your bodies apart.
When the tip of his cock notched at your entrance, you bit your lip.
He pushed in with a stretch. You opened around him and he slid into you with little resistance, snug in your warmth. You felt so, so full and when he pulled out, teasing your entrance again before thrusting back in, your mouth dropped open, and you moaned.
“So good,” he praised with his words slipping off into a low groan like he was biting something back. “Are you alright?”
You nodded in response and pushed yourself against him. He was gentle, true to his word, infuriatingly so.
“I don't want you to hold back,” you demanded.
His fingers dug into your skin, marking the tender flesh with cresent shapes. With another sharp thrust, you nearly feel forward into the grass. Halsin’s lips pulled close to your ear. “Are you sure that's what you want?”
“Forget your control and fuck me.”
No longer restrained, Halsin gave you exactly what you craved—hips snapping against you with no room for you to breathe.
You shuddered and cried out, ached and moaned. Even the night air couldn't cool the heat between your slick bodies. Your orgasm hit you hard, leaving you limp and useless against his heavy thrusts.
Halsin lifted your body against his chest and continued using you. One orgasm after the other.
You just hoped you'd still have your voice by sunrise.
#halsin x reader#halsin x tav#halsin smut#bg3 smut#bg3 x reader#bg3 fanfiction#baldurs gate 3 smut#halsin fanfic#bg3#bg3 fic#bg3 headcanons#baldurs gate 3 fanfiction#baldur's gate 3#my works
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Common Ground
Act One!Astarion x Gender Neutral!Reader
Masterlist
Word Count: 650+
A/N: This fic is sort of a combination of a few of the (comparatively) similar requests I received, along with one particular scene that’s been running wild and ping ponging around in my brain for far too long. I somehow convinced my partner (who could not care less about fanfiction, but adores me) to proofread this for me. So any complaints should definitely be addressed to them—as I was, unfortunately, far too sleep deprived to read over this anymore than I already have. As always, I hope you enjoy—feel free to leave any feedback you have in the comments, and happy reading! :)
Warnings: Angst, intentional allusions to past SA (the circumstances are left purposefully vague), concerning both Astarion and the Reader, writer will often suddenly break off into unexpected poetic tangents, a smidge of fluff—if you squint, & perhaps a bittersweet ending (depending on how you interpret it?)
“Darling”, Astarion carefully poses his words, “Are you certain that you’re quite alright?”
You’re terrified. He can see it. Your pulse is visibly thumping beneath your skin, and there’s a tremor to your hands he’s certain wasn’t there before.
But why now?
You’ve told him you trust him, demanded the others leave if they weren’t willing to accept the gift that is his company, and mere seconds ago offered yourself to him as a meal—to what you, with both intimate knowledge and first hand experience, know is a hungry vampire.
He would be questioning your sense of self preservation, or alternatively, your sanity. If he wasn’t awed by just how quickly you’ve managed to sway your companions' loyalty.
It takes a moment for you to notice he’s asked you a question. But once you have, you nod.
He sighs, clicking his tongue at you. That vacancy behind your eyes, it’s unnerving, too familiar. “Don’t lie, it doesn’t suit you. What is it?”
Your gaze shifts, opting to search for what must be a rather interesting spot somewhere behind him.
Two breaths in.
Two breaths out.
Astarion falters. That may have been harsh—if your continued silence is anything to go by. Perhaps, he should have left the lie to rest.
“Dearest”, he works to intentionally soften his tone, shoving past the honeyed lump that rises in his throat, thickly coated with syrup. This little manipulation won’t be ending in a hand naively held between his as he leads you down unassuming crypt steps.
He knows that.
“If you’ve suddenly changed your mind about”, he gestures vaguely between himself and your neck, “I’m sure I can make do with whatever animals find themselves unluckily situated in this part of the forest.”
Humble or selfless certainly isn’t his favorite role to play, but if he wants you to be his personal guard, it seems he may have to make an exception.
“No!” You blurt out, swallowing thickly at the raised brow he sends in your direction, mouth suddenly very dry, “I—It’s not that. I swear to you.”
He tuts, “Ah, but it is something. Hmm?”
You nod again, frustrated tears building in your eyes as each attempt at an explanation falls flat.
“No, it couldn’t—it”, Astarion makes a rather exaggerated motion with both of his hands, clutching his chest in theatrical shock, “Was it Gale?”
You huff, but it’s more exasperated than annoyed.
The left side of his lips lifts.
You drag your own roughly between your teeth.
“Earlier, you made a comment about being quiet, not wanting to disturb my rest”, unsteady hands bury themselves in the fabric of your pants, “Those words, the sudden realization that someone…anyone could have access to my body like that while I slept”, your head slumps forward, “The last time—I can’t.”
Two breaths in.
Two breaths out.
Astarion’s fingers slot into place beneath your chin, tilting it upwards to look at him.
And suddenly all you can see are the differences.
Everything he is appears less forced. No longer are you merely an audience and he an actor, but equals. Those that have found a common ground built upon the cruelty of others.
Far too accustomed to it.
There’s a raw familiarity held within your expression Astarion can’t quite discern.
Perhaps, in another life, someone cared for him. Once. To look at him with such fondness.
He wonders if he deserved it, then.
He allows the hold he has on you to become lighter and lighter, until his arm returns to hang at his side.
You hear a weary sigh, then, gently, “For what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry.”
A small smile flutters across your lips, light and without expectation. It’s a kindness he hasn’t yet learned how to navigate—and certainly has not earned, but he yearns for it all the same.
“Thank you, Astarion.”
BG3 Taglist: None yet!
#bg3#Astarion x unnamed reader#astarion x reader#astarion ancunin x reader#astarion x tav#astarion x durge#baldur's gate 3#vampire spawn astarion#gender neutral reader#astarion x you#astarion angst#trigger warning: sa#fluff and angst#bg3 fanfiction
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my husband 💔
i still don't like drawing hair...
#art#drawing#astarion#bg3 astarion#baldurs gate astarion#bg3 tav#bg3 fanart#bg3#baldurs gate tav#baldurs gate screenshots#baldurs gate fanart#bg3 fanfiction#fan art#fanart#artwork#drawdrawdraw#my draws#tumblr draw#drawinyourstyle#digital drawing#digital painting#digital art#digital illustration#digital aritst#digital fanart#sketch#original art#artists on tumblr#my art#астарион
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Astarion x Reader
words: 1.02K
rating: T
pairing: Ascended!Astarion x Spawn!Tav
summary: after seeing their friends for the first time in a long while, Tav has a request for Astarion for them to come live at the palace.
---------------------------------
The party is in full swing. Or…as full of a swing as this lot could get.
Astarion had to admit, for a dried-up old skeleton, Withers could certainly put on a show. He wondered how the old pile of bones managed out here in the middle of nowhere, looking like….that. Perhaps he’d summoned those hirelings to go fetch the party favors for him.
His attention turned from his wine to Tav as they came close. Calm, smiling, happy. He hated it. Not that he has any doubts that they are happy in their life together, and they are wonderfully content in being his consort. He just doesn’t like that other people are making them happy. “Hello, my treasure. Miss me already?”
‘Of course. When we’re apart I miss you terribly.’
Astarion barked out a laugh. Not sure if they were being sarcastic or not, but chooses to believe that they would be desperate without him. “Of course you do. And? How have our dear friends been without us to guide and protect them?”
‘They’re great-everyone seems so happy.’
“Really?” He was taken aback by that. “Are you sure? I was half certain they’d be half-dead and begging us to take them back.”
‘Well….there is one….’
“Really? Well…I’m not surprised.” Astarion’s interest was piqued now. Certainly it was no surprise to him. Who wouldn’t miss all of this? How helpless they all would have been without the faithful stewardship of his love and his clever resourcefulness to see them through. It wasn’t a surprise that one of them would crave that guidance again.
‘I have a request.’
A request? How odd, Astarion thought. Though they were bound to one another, and he was their master, he was true in his words that he wanted Tav to be his consort, not his spawn. The others he would command as his leisure, for their own good or his amusement, but Tav was free to do as they liked. As long as they were with him. It had been a while since they had made a formal request of him. So this must be serious. Though he can guess what it was.
“Name it darling and it is yours. As always, you can ask me for anything.”
‘I want them to come live with us.’
Bang on the money.
He guessed correctly that that was their request. Nothing else would require his permission in a formal way like that. It filled him with glee that they would ask though. Come crawling in to ask for his permission. And, more than that, do it on behalf of another who would soon be crawling in for his permission as well. “Of course you do my love. You always did have a soft spot for the weak and unfortunate. It is one of your more disgustingly cute qualities.” He told them. “So, who is it? Halsin? Shadowheart?”
Astarion had to assume it was Halsin. He’d already propositioned them once during their travels. Why not try it again? Although, he couldn’t see the big lug willingly spending time in the city. Or giving up on those brats he was so fond of. He hoped it was Shadowheart. Though he had chosen Tav, and correctly, there were times when he’d look at the little lost convert when more than just hunger for her blood. A look he knew reciprocated by her to his future consort when she thought no one was looking.
‘It’s Scratch.’
His fantasies on which of their companions were begging him to take them back and what he would do with them came to a screeching halt when they revealed their intended. “The dog!” Were they really asking him to take in that mangy mutt into his grand palace?? Where it would probably….shed and dig up every potted plant in the house.
‘The Owlbear too.’
“Oh good Gods, now you’re just being ridiculous.” Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose. This had to be some horrible waking dream he was having. Since he didn’t sleep anymore.
‘You said I could ask for anything.’
“Ask! Not make these insane requests!” Tav gave him one of those stern looks. One that would have made his old self buckle instantly. But he was an all powerful vampire lord now. Their powers wouldn’t work on him anymore. “Don’t look at me like that. You know it’s insane to have animals running around the palace. Where would we even put that behemoth of an Owlbear in the first place?”
‘I seem to remember that there was a very large room under the palace he could stay in. With a little sprucing up.’
Astarion growled in his throat. “No.” They crossed their arms and stared at him, and once again Astarion told them, “No. And that’s final. I won’t have wild animals running around my palace. Ask me for anything else my love, but this is too far.”
Tav uncrossed their arms and their shoulders fell. A sad look on their face that was not quite a pout because they were too grown up for that. They turn to leave and go back to the party before Astarion told them, “Fine.” They perked up and looked over their shoulder at him. Hopefully. “I will…think on it. But I will need some concessions for even considering putting up with this. You may get what you want. But, I get what I want.”
They beam at him, and don’t even consider what he might ask in return as they dash over and kiss him on the cheek as a thank you.
Astarion sighed. “I’m going to stay here and think on this. But you should go – mingle, chat, laugh. Have fun my love. And if our friends drop any interesting secrets, bring them right back to me. Until then, I’ll be here. But don’t fret, I will be watching. I am always watching.”
And he did watch them go. Return to conversations with Shadowheart and Laz’el projection, giddy and happy again. Although he knew it was his doing this time. So he was less annoyed than before.
He then turned to look at the dog and owlbear playing by the bank. The ground literally trembling under the overgrown cub’s feet. Astarion pinched his nose again. He decided it would need to be something very, very, very good if he was going to allow this to happen.
#;pen & paper (fanfiction)#baldur's gate#baldurs gate iii#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate#bg3 scenarios#baldurs gate astarion#bg3 imagine#baldurs gate tav#bg3 fanfiction#astarion#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#ascended astarion#ascended astarion x tav#ascended astarion x reader#astarion smut#astarion ancunin#scenarios#imagine#owlbear#bg3 scratch#[because I am not satisfied with the epilouge]#[give them back!]
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Midwinter in Waterdeep: Part Two
Gale/Tav | Angst & Pining | Read on AO3 | Read Part One | 1K words
Summary:
After the defeat of the Netherbrain, Gale Dekarios was a wizard of intentionally lesser renown, a respected professor at Blackstaff Academy, and engaged to the love of his life. His life was enchanted until he came home to an empty tower, and he has been seeing ghosts ever since.
He saw her ghost everywhere.
She haunted him the first day when he got home from teaching. The house was too quiet, and as he set his bag down in the entryway, he saw the ring. He saw the note. I’m sorry. I can’t do this.
AN: There will be a Part 3 to conclude this and it will be out later this weekend. Thank you all so much for your support on what was supposed to be a one-shot that has taken over my brain completely.
He saw her ghost everywhere.
She haunted him the first day when he got home from teaching. The house was too quiet, and as he set his bag down in the entryway, he saw the ring. He saw the note. I’m sorry. I can’t do this. He knew her leaving was inevitable the more their conversations became stilted, the more they floated in each other's orbits, the more foreign her touch became. But the tower still smelled like her, still felt like her presence was just around the corner. Still felt like they could have had a chance to fix things. He heard her in his head all night long as he wept in his study.
It’s not real. She’s not here.
She haunted him on his walk back from visiting his mother two weeks later, the first time he left his house. He had tried to lay low after she left him, but her name followed him like a poltergeist from the mouths of those he passed on the street, whispering to their friends about who he was, who she was. Wondering how it ended.
It's not real. She’s not here.
She haunted him when he was in the market four months after she left. He didn’t want to be there. Everything reminded him of her - the cart they would visit once a tenday to buy her favorite sweet rolls, the jewelry store he visited in secret to get her silver ring that was still on the entry table gathering dust. He saw a flash of her hair color and froze. When time regained its ability to move forward he strained his neck, pushing through the crowd searching for her, unable to breathe. Could it be her? Where had she been all these weeks? Was she okay? Had she moved on with someone else who was less tied down by routine? Was she even still alive?
It wasn’t her, of course. He didn’t go to the market again after that. He still hasn’t.
It’s not real. She’s not here.
Seasons passed. Festivals, new apprentices, weekly dinners with colleagues - life fell into a rhythm that helped him move forward. He saw her ghost less and less. It had been almost 6 months since the last haunting. He had finally tucked the silver ring into a drawer two tendays ago, an attempt to bury the what ifs and if onlys and begin to exorcize her from his memory at last. Midwinter in Waterdeep was upon him, and he was eager to engage in festivities that evening with colleagues, now friends. A few cups of wine and he felt like the old Gale, showing off a little by using his well-honed magic to create fireworks to fill the room with light and color.
As the illusion sparked and fizzled out to the delight and applause of the other partygoers, a familiar wisp settled itself in the peripheries of his mind. She always loved his illusions, from their first night together with the aurora and the sparkling stars to the smaller ones he created for her everyday in the beginning. If he had kept trying to make her happy, would she have left? If he had noticed her pulling away as he settled into the routine of his life, could he have brought her closer instead of making her feel like her only option was to run?
He set his cup down, the wine steering him toward paths his brain wasn’t ready to go back down yet, preferring to stay focused on the revelry at hand. The snow flurries caught his eye through the large picture window in the front room. He had always loved the snow and moved to the window to watch it in contemplative silence.
He froze, his eyes widened, breath caught in his throat.
Her ghost. Haunting him even here, even now, after all this time. Her hair, her eyes, everything just as he remembered from the morning she left him, standing across the street looking into the window he was currently occupying. Looking at him. He saw the ghost’s eyes widen, saw her quickly turn to walk away, to escape discovery. He wanted to hesitate. He wanted to accept it was just another vision brought on by too many cups of wine, another falsehood of his imagination...but one tiny spark of hope pulled at his mind.
The ghost had never reacted to him like that before.
He didn’t remember moving. He didn’t remember running out of the door, the rest of the partygoers gasping as the usually reserved Gale Dekarios knocked over a chair and pushed people out of his way. He didn’t remember the bite of the cold air. He didn’t remember yelling “Stop!” as the ghost moved quickly away, trying to toy with him, as always. He didn’t remember running down the street to catch up to the ghost, preparing himself for it to disappear as usual. He didn’t remember the desperation on his face or in his voice as he reached for her.
He remembered grabbing on to the ghost’s hand, feeling it solid in his. His heart pounded.
“Wait. Please,” he said, panting. The ghost turned around, but it wasn’t a ghost at all.
She was real.
She was here.
“Gale,” she whispered, tears in her eyes.
“You’re real. You’re here,” he whispered back, wrapping her in his arms, committing to memory how she felt as he held her tightly for the first time in over a year. It was only then he realized that her absence had permeated every facet of his being and he felt like he could finally breathe again. His lips crashed against hers, time standing still for the two of them as he tangled his fingers in her hair.
She took a step back, breaking their contact, looking down at the ground.
He knew. “You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”
“Tomorrow,” she nodded, a tear falling down her cheek. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"
He placed his hands on both sides of her face, brushing away her sadness before kissing her deeply one more time.
Real. Here.
“Then let me have tonight.”
#bg3#bg3 gale#gale dekarios#bg3 fanfiction#gale fanfic#gale x tav#gale x f!tav#gale x auroria#my writing#gale of waterdeep#midwinter in waterdeep#baldur’s gate 3
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Welcome to the BG3 Plot Bunny Rehoming Centre!
Got a plot idea that you don't have time to write? Looking for new ideas for fics and one shots?
You've come to the right place!
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Use the ask box to submit your plot bunny ideas - anonymously if you prefer! - and they will be added to the blog!
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Choose any plot bunnies that appeal to you from the blog and comment on them to let people know you're working on them, then once your fic is written reblog the original post with your fic or the link to it!
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It really is that simple! If you have ideas you don't have the time to write you can send them here to find a home, or if you're looking for a new and fun idea to work on this can be a fun place to find which one calls to you!
More Details Below! Rules, Submission Guidelines, and Submission Format
Submission Guidelines and Rules
What is Not Allowed Here?
I draw the line at NSFW content containing minors or characters who only appear in the source material as minors.
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Controversial characters, Dead Dove topics, and triggering content is permitted here on the understanding that you will appropriately tag all submissions and fics with the CWs and Tags that apply to it, so readers and writers have the choice of what they engage with.
You can find a comprehensive guide to tagging and CWs here along with a list of topics that require a tag!
As long as you have clearly marked your content, it's fine to post. Stories have all kinds of themes to them and have done since we first sat around the fires talking to each other about dreams and ideas - so let's keep it positive here too! If you don't like an idea or story, just let it pass by and move on to something you do like instead. We are all so much better when we support one another~
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Basic idea (a couple of sentences)
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If you'd like to adopt a plot bunny and write something with it, scroll, search, or pick whichever bunny appeals to you! If possible, drop a comment on the post so we know you're working on it, then those looking to claim a bunny that has no home yet can look further for more. You can claim a bunny that already has a claim if you'd like to, of course! Bunnies need lots of love.
Once you've written your fic, reblog the plot bunny post so the blog, readers, and the person who submitted the post can find your work! We want to see our lovely plot bunnies hopping happily in their new homes after all~
Is that it?
I think so! If you have any questions, pop them in the comments to this post or in the ask box. I look forward to seeing all your plot bunnies and finding them some good homes soon!
#baldurs gate 3#fanfic prompts#writing ideas#plot bunnies#bg3 fanfic prompt#bg3 fanfic idea#bg3 fanfiction#bg3 fic#baldurs gate fanfiction#baldurs gate 3 fanfiction#bg3 smut
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Too Close to Saying Goodbye
Summary: Tav gets injured fighting the Absolute, and its too close of a call for everyone but especially Karlach
Warnings: typical in game violence, somewhat graphic depictions of blood/injury, near death experience, angst(happy end!)
Authors note: my first time writing for BG3 and Karlach, so go easy on me please if its not the greatest
Word count: 1956
Karlach Masterlist BG3 Masterlist
What you currently stand in was once, no doubt, a beautiful open field near the forest. Now however, it has become a shell of its former self. The once green grass is now a dull brown, and it's marred by trails of upturned dirt that lead off into the distance towards a camp of Absolute forces that have clearly been stationed here a while.
In the distance you notice a few pillars of smoke rising into the sky, showing you exactly where the enemy is camped down at. With the hours growing late, you assume the fires mean that they've decided to settle in for the evening. You wager this means only a few will be out and about on their regular patrols, which would be easy enough to deal with if needed, so it should be the most opportune time to take your companions closer in order to observe and see just what you're dealing with.
This however, proves to be the wrong decision. For some reason, a small squad had been out on a patrol. And unfortunately for you, they had spotted you snooping nearly at once. There isn’t time for your party to hide or retreat, making a fight the only option. It truly isn't ideal with how they outnumber you, but you trust in the strength and strategy of your companions.
As the battle commences everything seems to be going smoothly. You’ve watched all your friends land a multitude of blows against the enemy, even managing to down a handful of the cultists despite being outnumbered. But, as all things with your little group, nothing can ever be as easy as it initially seems.
You had just managed to take down a rather large Orc, and were wrenching your blade free from his flesh when a Drow decided to take advantage of the situation and charged at you. You'd managed to spot him in your peripheral area in time to block the first blow with your bracers, but without a weapon you were not so lucky when the second blow came. And with a sickening squelch, the blade plunges into your shoulder.
Your yell echoes across the area, and Karlachs eyes frantically begin searching for you. Relief floods her when she finds you, but that relief is short lived when she notices the precarious situation you're in.
“NO!” she shouts, quickly felling the cultist in front of her before dashing in your direction. The drow pulls his blade free, causing blood to start pouring from the wound in a manner that has panic flaring within her, especially when she watches your knees give out as you crumble to the ground.
Worried that any time wasted fighting could prove fatal to you she summons all her strength and when she strikes, she easily cleaves the cultist responsible for your pain in two. His body falls to the ground not far from where you lay, and her bloodied ax clatters down next seconds before her arms are pulling you into her lap, “No, no, no. Tav!?”
You hiss in pain as something presses against your wound, but recognizing the warmth that now encompasses you, you call out, “Karlach”
“I’m here” she replies, pulling you even closer as tears cloud her vision, “I’ve got you”
You smile, but it lacks your usual warmth and doesn't quite meet your eyes. This makes her stomach drop even further and her eyes frantically start searching the battle again, this time for signs of the raven haired Cleric, or even one of the druids. But to her frustration she can currently spot none of them.
“I'm sorry” you mumble, effectively getting her gaze back on you, “I really did wanna explore the city with you….”
She shakes her head, “Don't talk like that. We'll make it to Baldur's Gate. Together.”
“Karlach…”
“I'm the one that's got limited time, remember, not you. So, you're gonna be just fine” She responds, clearly in denial of just how bad the situation is, “Just need some healing and rest. That's all”
The smell of your blood being spilled had brought another of your companions to your side, and though he's used to the sight of the coppery smelling liquid, when he sees the sheer amount of yours that's soaking into the grass, even he became queasy
“Karlach, is Tav…are they…?”
“Astarion, they need healing! Please get help!” she responds in such a panicked tone that he knows the situation is as serious as it seems, if not worse
He sprints off in a blur to where he had last seen the Cleric, he'd be damned if he was going to fail you now. No, not after all you've done for him, or for the others. No, you were truly too good of a traveling companion and friend to die so soon, and like this. He’d get you help. You would be fine.
As his footsteps fade into the sounds of the battle that still surrounds you, you become all too aware of just how bad the situation is. The dizziness and black edges to your vision tell you that you're losing too much blood far too quickly, and even if Astarion does find Shadowheart, with all the chaos going on there's no guarantee that she’ll even be in a position to come to aid you.
So despite the pain you're currently in, you're determined to offer some comfort to your beloved tiefling who cradles you in her embrace. You somehow manage to lift a hand to her cheek, and your thumb wipes at her tears, “You are truly incredible Karlach. How lucky I am….to have gotten to spend the time that I have with you….”
“Please, just stay with me love. Help will be her, it will”
You exhale shakily, “I’m not sure I can…
The way your voice is so small, so unlike you, has her bottom lip trembling and her grip on you becomes impossibly tighter, “Please, you can’t go yet…”
When Astarion spots Shadowheart a twinge of hope twists in his chest, and he wastes no time in running up to her and grabbing ahold of her forearm, “You're needed!”
“I’m a bit preoccupied at the moment, in case that's gone without notice!” she reptiles, pulling her arm free to cast a firebolt at an advancing goblin
“I don’t care how bloody busy you are! Tavs dying, damn it!!” he snaps, “Go tend to them and leave these bastards to me!”
Her eyes widen for a brief second before determination takes over her features. She nods to the pale elf in understanding before darting off in the direction he had come from. Astarion swallows the lump of anxiety in his throat before turning to face the few goblins that she had been dealing with.
By the time Shadowheart reaches you she's almost afraid that she's too late, but the slight raise of your chest calms her fears, if only temporarily. A blue-green glow encompasses her hands as she kneels next to you, opposite Karlach.
“Tell me you can fix them Fringe, I can’t fucking lose them”
The Cleric takes a deep breath as she looks down at your wound. Normally something this bad wouldn’t be a problem, it would exhaust her but she could manage. But after using up as much energy fighting the cultists as she has…she's worried she may not be able to fully mend you.
“I…I can only try my best Karlach”
Though she nods in an attempt to remain stoic, a small sob does escape her, and it successfully breaks the half elfs heart. Shadowheart focusses her all on your shoulder then, letting the mending magic flow from her hands and onto your shoulder. The wound begins to close up and your breathing remains steady, which are both good signs. All that's left to worry about is the bloodloss.
The feeling of your flesh stitching itself back together is definitely strange, but what's even stranger is how it doesn’t seem to be helping your faint feeling. Your lover must be able to sense your confusion, or at least the fact that something is still off.
“What is it? What's wrong?”
Your brows furrow and you choke on your words before going limp in her hold. Panic completely overtakes her then, “Tav?!”
The sound of feet padding against the dirt nearby is the first thing that your senses register, the next thing is the small stuffed bear tucked under the arm that had been uninjured in battle. You smile softly before opening up your eyes, it takes a moment to adjust to the dimly lit surroundings but once your eyes adjust you can see the silhouettes of everyone sitting around the campfire in the distance. Well, everyone except Scratch and the Owlbear cub who are laying at your feet, standing guard. And Karlach of course, whose pacing was the source of the sound that had likely made you stir.
“Karlach” you croke out, grabbing her attention immediately
She's beside you in a second, her warm hands gently cupping your face and caressing your healed injury, “Oh thank the Gods”
“I think thanking Shadowheart may be more appropriate”
A smirk crosses her features, “Oh believe me, I’ll get to that. But right now…Right no I just want to look at you. And hold you.”
You nod your approval and she gently scoops you into her arms. You return her hug and feel your heart clench in your chest as she nuzzles against your neck, letting her tears land against your bare skin, “Oh, love…”
She shakes slightly with a sob, “Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me? You had me scared, so fucking scared, soldier.”
“I’m sorry love, I’ll be more careful in the future.”
“Damn right you will be. You won’t be allowed to fight more than an arm's length away from me, and I mean that!” she clarifies, snaking her tail around your waist, “I can’t lose you. Not after everything.”
You hum and run a hand through her hair, trying your best to ignore that pit in your stomach that tells you that all too soon you’ll be the one in her shoes. Begging her to stay, begging for more time and cursing the unfairness of it all.
“I’m not going anywhere, not while I have you”
After a few more seconds of soaking in your presence she pulls away to rest her forehead against yours, “We should go see the others, they we worried about you too”
You lean forward and press your lips against hers briefly, “Alright, let's show them all I’m alright”
She helps you get to your feet, but when she sees how wobbly you still are she opts to just carry you over to everyone, “Look who's awake!”
Everyone's heads turn to look at the tiefling carrying you, and the look of relief on their faces as Karlach holds you brings a smile to your face. It truly warms your heart to see just how close this group of misfits has become.
“Glad to see you're alright, I wouldn’t have known how to comfort any of these weirdos if you weren’t” Astarion quips, but you see the real amount of care and worry in his eyes
“Well, I can’t leave you in that situation now, can I? Guess I’ll need to be more careful so I can stick around”
“That would be preferred, yes” the Cleric agrees, offering you a small smile which you return
Gale passes you and Karlach both bowls of stew, “I agree, we all would be quite lost without you to guide us. But let's stop being melancholy and enjoy this night together”
You smile and glance back at your lover, “Yes, lets”
#baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate 3#bg3#bg3 karlach#karlach#karlach cliffgate#karlach x reader#karlach x tav#bg3 fanfiction
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Fangs and Fractured Hearts
Chapter 15: Reclamation
Summary: You helped Astarion complete the Rite of Profane Ascension and become the Vampire Ascendant. You agreed to become his spawn soon after. Once the Netherbrain was defeated, Astarion claimed the Szarr Palace, renaming it the Crimson Palace, for himself and set about his plans of domination.
Word Count: 6.6k
Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn
Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]
Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events. Mentions of Astarion's Trauma.
If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know
Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]
A maelstrom of emotions dithers over the union you share. He seems unsure of what exactly he should be feeling as it fluctuates between fear, doubt, and bewilderment in a tumultuous outburst. His thoughts are akin to walking on the dark side of the moon - frigid, wilful in their grip on him with an undecipherable sapidity.
“What do you mean?” He shakes his head, eyes bouncing around as his brows pinch, creasing his forehead. His voice is detached and reticent, a masterpiece of regret and dolour. “I wouldn’t do such a thing, surely. Would I? Hells below. Did I?”
“You must have,” you conclude, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “I don’t remember you doing it, but I can’t hear or remember it.”
Astarion jumps to his feet, nearly pitching you off his lap in haste, but he grabs you at the last minute, dragging you up with him. He pulls his trousers up but leaves them loose as he paces fitfully, muttering and mumbling to himself and wracking his fingers through his hair.
“I don’t understand,” he utters, half to himself and half to you. “I just do not understand. Why would I do such a thing? How long ago did I do this? What the fuck is wrong with me?”
It’s not your fault.
“I think it was before I…” you trail off, squeezing your eyes closed at the memory of Astarion stalking you through the Crimson Palace hallways like a predator, caustic venom spitting from his lips, every word eating away at your soul.
“Left me,” Astarion finishes with a note of despair, like a cold hand laid upon your bare soul. “You can say it.”
You nod sullenly, dropping your head, deject and wayward.
His emotions are flickering through your mind and body like a kaleidoscope of lightning strikes, each blinding flash incomprehensible in its intensity. You focus, but Astarion stops dead as you try to catch and hold them, and the connection is severed.
You are once again empty, a barren midnight sky that’s misplaced the stars and moon. Your eyes snap to Astarion, but the scarlet of his eyes looks hollow with madness as he regards you with the wariness of a wounded animal. He looks at you like he doesn’t know who you are, and it sends a wave of alarm coursing through you, causing your palms to heat.
He retrieves his shirt from the floor, always keeping a close eye on you as if you might pounce. He’s unreadable and cold, the iron countenance of the Vampire Ascendant shrouding him like an icebound veil. Without a word, Astarion darts out of your room, descending the stairs at a whirlwind pace that would be perilous for anyone who wasn’t so agile.
“Astarion?” In confusion, you chase after him without much thought, nearly tumbling down the stairs, and grab his arm. “Where are you going?”
He rips his arm out of your clutches with a bestial snarl. “Don’t touch me!”
“Just wait,” you plead with him, casting Misty Step and blocking his trajectory to the door. You can’t make heads or tails of this shift. “Please. Tell me what’s going on. Let me help.”
“You can’t help me.”
Astarion tries to get around you, but you won’t secede any ground and hold your position with foolish defiance. He grabs your arm, pivots, and thrusts you backward, throwing you to the floor. When you look up at him, those crimson eyes are starting to flick and fade like a star in the throes of death.
“Do not try and stop me again,” he growls, taking stalking steps toward you with a choler tinge in his voice. “Bad, pet.”
Astarion laughs, leans down, and grabs your ankle. He squeezes until the bones are wailing and threatening to break under duress. You whimper, beseeching cries for amnesty, trying to crawl away.
“Master, stop! Please.” You barely recognize the word as it jumps off your tongue in your agony. The haunting palette of bruising is immediately stained on the ghostly white canvas of your skin.
His grip is suddenly snapped away, and he springs back, grabbing his head with a pained groan, shaking it from side to side furiously as he roots himself in place. His breath falters as his eyes meet yours with a hysterical acidity as their claret shifts from deep and warm to shoal and dull as if covered by a thick layer of dust.
“Sorry,” he totters unsteadily on his feet, his lips parting with erratic breaths that make his chest jump aperiodically. His heart beats so hard in his chest that the sound is almost ear-splitting. “Hells. I’m so sorry. I— I— must go.”
Astarion does not even close the door in his urgency, and you’re left naked, clutching your ankle on the floor, staring into the street with your mouth agape. You cast Telekinesis to throw the door closed and limp around the manor, closing the heavy drapes to block the sun.
“Fuck!” You scream at the emptiness surrounding you as you pull yourself up the stairs on your lame ankle.
As you bathe, you allow your body to submerge into the spacious tub. You force yourself to forgo the useless impulse to breathe the air you no longer require and sink. The water’s surface contorts above you like an uneven mirror, twisting and warping reality. Everything is falling apart, and you feel like the sand of a beach being dragged away piece by piece with every crash of another wave upon the shore of your life.
Your heart would be beating recklessly in your chest if you hadn’t been alleviated of life. Colourful promises of love and breaths of forever in a realm of temporary fill your eyes with tears that seep into the water. Time stands still, and your doubt settles and masks your bravery. You’re one step closer to losing him entirely, but you must be fearless. Neither you nor Astarion can afford for you to fall.
Closing your eyes, you run headfirst into memories, searching your soul for all the places that feel like home.
The thudding of boots, the drip of rain that sneaks through the fissures in the bricks, the skittering and squeaking of vermin — everything echos off the stone in Moonrise. The fire throws foreboding, eerie shadows in slinking shapes across your tent that make you uneasy. No one wanted to camp here for the night, with the Absolute Cultists only floors below, but it had been a long journey through the Shadowlands, and the hungry shade had sapped everyone’s strength.
You flop restlessly on the furs in your tent, unable to trance. You had been counting the cultists inhabiting this wretched place as you made your rounds, trying to familiarize yourself with the layout. The omen of the arduous battle hangs over you, and you’re trying to devise some semblance of a plan to wipe them out in stages. You were never a very strategic planner. Typically, showing up and raining fire, violence, and death have worked for most of your life. Even with the help of the Harpers, one mistake could spell disaster.
Your ears twitch as you hear the rumbling murmurs bounce off the walls, and you’re out of your tent in a blink with fire ablaze in your palm, fearing the cultists have figured out that you don’t fit within their ranks. Taking a lap around, you take a quick headcount, checking your friends off one by one until you hear a soft, breathy whimpering.
Astarion…
Crouching by his tent, you whisper his name, but he does not answer. You recognize a nightmare when you hear one, and your hurt lurches in your chest, fingers hovering just over the door of his tent, but you don’t open it. Your proximity is usually enough to calm him without waking him, and this time seems no different. The trashing has stopped, and his muttering has ceased.
You sigh, relieved, and lay down at the door, curling up on the hard stone. You will rest here tonight if it means you can bring him even a scrap of peaceful rest.
“Darling,” Astarion purrs in a rugged timbre, heavy under the weight of drowsiness. “Whatever are you doing?”
You smile and flop over to peer into the hypnotic, heavily-lidded eyes. Astarion yawns, fangs peeking from his lips, and grins back at you.
“You were having a nightmare,” you whisper, making sure to keep your voice down so it doesn’t wake the others. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep. I’ll stay here tonight.”
“You were going to sleep out here on the stone?” He cocks his head, quirking a brow at you. “Why?”
“It seemed to comfort you,” you shrug.
"I meant, why would you sleep out here when there's a perfectly good bedroll in my tent with me?”
“Oh,” you say, sitting upright with a jolt. “That’s okay, Astarion. Really. I’m perfectly fine out here.”
“Get in here, weirdo," Astarion giggles, grabbing your arm and giving it a gentle tug.
You hesitate, but he tows you harder, and eventually, you relent and crawl into his tent. You sit in the corner, trying to make yourself small, wrapping your arms around your knees.
Astarion huffs exasperatedly, “You do realize that we’ve had sex, yes? You were hardly shy during our little late-night expeditions.”
“I’m not shy, not with you,” you giggle but avidly watch how Astarion’s jaw clenches, fingers tangling into the furs. “You’re hungry. I can see it. I can’t imagine it’s comfortable to be so close to a food source in a confined space.”
“I’ll admit, it’s not easy when you’re so very delicious with that lovely neck, begging to be tasted,” he grins, an artificial smile meant to put you at ease. Astarion notices that he cannot fool you, and his fingers rifle through his hair. “I’m fine. Truly. You’re not in any danger around me. I can control my hunger.”
“Danger? Oh, Gods! No, Astarion.” You shake your head at him, offering your hand, and he takes it. His thumb sways softly over the back, “I’m not afraid you’ll hurt me. I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable. When’s the last time you fed?”
“Oh, I don’t know, darling. There was that cultist I made a snack of a couple of days ago. You needn’t concern yourself with it. I’ve gone much, much longer without a meal.”
There’s a bleakness shading the sculpted angles of his face that makes your heart palpate with empathy. You don’t have to ask for confirmation. Cazador obviously starved him as some form of punishment. It makes your palms heat in reflex as you seethe. You don’t care what it takes. You are going to kill the motherfucker who dared torture this man that’s stolen your heart.
“Astarion, whenever you’re hungry, I’m happy to offer my neck. All you have to do is ask.”
“That’s very… sweet, but the very shadows of this place are hungry.” Astarion sighs, wrapping his arms around his waist to smother his hunger pains. He smiles, “As much as I would absolutely love to take you here and now, you need your strength. We have many battles ahead.”
“Don’t be dumb," you tut, moving your hair away from your neck. “I need you strong. I am capable of deciding this for myself. I don’t need you to do it for me.”
“Dumb? Darling! You wound me.” He theatrically scoffs, hand to his forehead, falling back as if you slapped him, with a shallow chuckle, “I have received many slights in my life - Insufferable, insolent, insignificant, but this might be the first time I have been accused of being dumb.”
“Well, they say there’s a first time for everything,” you smirk, levity uplifting the lilt of your baritone. “Consider this your first.”
“You are racking up quite the catalogue of firsts,” he chuckles, shaking his head, propping himself up on his elbows. “Are you sure? I am truly of sound mind. No one is in any danger.”
You crawl toward him, heart rate accelerating with every forward movement of your hands and knees, “Will you please shut up and bite me already? Before I berate you for believing I think you’re a danger.”
Astarion’s hand wraps around your arm, persuading you closer with pressure, but he does not so much as glance at your exposed neck. He’s fixed on your eyes as if he’s found heaven hidden within them.
“Then allow us to dine together,” he nods slowly, eyes still moored to yours as he sits upright, prompts you to turn, and holds your back steady against his chest. He kisses under your earlobe and hints his lips down the column of your neck until he settles on that rhythmically pumping vein. He kisses it, long and lingering, and groans, “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” you sigh, barely able to contain your body’s excitement as it trembles in his arms.
His fangs puncture your skin like icicles, impaling the soft flesh, but it ebbs and dulls to a paradisical strumming before your mind has time to react and withdraw. For a vampire that has not fed on thinking creatures much, he’s remarkably gentle and has only become more tender since you started these little meals. He draws from you in unhurried pulls, tallied and modulated as he listens, and his palm splays across your chest over your heart to determine its pace in case he does not hear it accurately.
You feel your ethos skimming through his veins, warming his skin, flushing the tips of his ears, an antidote to his pain. You sigh mellowly, and your fingers untwist from his trousers, going lax. His arousal hardens against your back as he removes his fangs from your neck, tongue lavishing at the residual weeping wounds with broad, flat strokes and moaning a chilled breath over the shell of your ear.
Astarion turns your head toward him, catching your lips in a blistering kiss tinged with the coppery piquancy of your blood. His hips buck into you with a growl, and his hand veers toward your aching clit. You stop him short, grabbing his hand with a shudder.
“What are you doing?” You breathe against the needy, silken embrace of his mouth.
“You’ve been ever so generous,” he purrs. “Allow me to repay your charity in a language I speak proficiently.”
“No,” you break away from the kiss and his arms. Your head swims, bloodless and faint. Your heart hammers, trying to pump the blood no longer within your veins. You sway on your knees, and Astarion supports you with a hand on your shoulder lest you faceplant, “This isn’t a tit-for-tat offer, Astarion. There is no repayment. I am just one friend assisting another. That’s all.”
“I— You don’t want me?”
His genuine confusion encases your heart in a boiling bubble of sorrow, “You know I do, but not like this. I don’t want you if it’s compensation for my blood.”
“I’m sorry. It’s the only thing I know,” he looks bashful. If you didn’t know better, you would say he’s blushing, but that must be the rush of your blood through his veins. “Would you at least rest with me tonight while you're woozy? I will hear if anything untoward happens in camp, and I can protect both of us if need be.” He puts his hands up innocently, “I will keep my hands to myself. You have my word.”
“Do you think--" you trail off, bringing your hand to your forehead that seems to beat in time with your angry heart and groan. “That is to say— Could we —“
“Good Gods, sweetheart,” he chuckles. “Spit it out already before you lose consciousness. I did not take that much.”
Your arms drop by your sides, and you giggle with him, suddenly lethargic, “Never mind. I’ll sleep over here.”
“Now, who is being positively dumb,” he scoffs, clicking his tongue at you. “If you want to cuddle, you have but to ask. You know I do rather like cuddling with you.”
“If you know what I want,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “Why are you making a spectacle out of me?!”
“Entertainment,” he shrugs, laughing carefree and alight with humour.
“You’re terrible,” you mutter.
“I know,” he smirks, lying back and extending his arms, twitching his fingers in the come-hither motion. “Come on, love. Let’s have a cuddle, shall we?”
The bath water has turned cold by the time your eyes slide back open. You’re still lying at the bottom of the tub, in a watery grave like a sunken ship. How long have you been in here? Once your brain recognizes that you haven’t taken a breath in what could be hours, instinct takes over, and you propel yourself upright, coughing, sputtering, and gulping down the air furiously.
You scoff at yourself with antipathy. How long will it take for these responses to abate? When will your body just accept that you’re fucking dead?
Wrapping a plush towel around yourself, you listen for the comforting thud of Astarion’s heart but are only met with tomblike silence. It frightens you, making your stomach feel aflutter in your abdomen, reminding you of the Gur attack when you thought you lost him.
You slip into a long-sleeved, purple dress and tentatively peek outside. The velveteen embrace of twilight has cloaked the sky, but the cloud cover is thick, eclipsing the moonlight. You can smell the rain before the heavens have decided to cry. Reaching out to the bond, Astarion does not answer your call.
Fuck this.
You trot through the street, smelling the air. You wince with every step as the injury to your ankle smarts, but the bruising is already receding. It will not be long until it’s healed.
Unfortunately for you, the streets are still relatively busy, and your bloodlust is ever-present and a daunting task to control as you swerve and juke around people. Your mouth waters, and you shake your head like a wet dog to rid yourself of the smog that dampens and threatens to dwarf your self-restraint. The rain starts to drizzle, just as you predicted. The drops plane down your face, and you curse the skies because the scent of the rainfall on the dry stone of the street hampers your ability to detect much else.
You arrive at Wyrm's Crossing and follow the strong scent of blood outside a structure you are familiar with - the flophouse where Astarion's siblings were. The building is ominously dark and far too quiet. You sniff the air. It tastes almost bitter on your tongue, and it’s hard to focus on anything but the metallic richness, but you vaguely make out notes of rosemary and bergamot. You try to open the door, but it’s locked. Locks are hardly a challenge. You cast Knock and crack the door open. The fragrance of blood wafts so thickly in the air that you swear you almost see technicolour as you swoon.
It’s pitch-black inside, and your feet immediately come into contact with a stiff, cold mass on the floor, tripping you. Fire bursts to life in your palm, and mutilated bodies greet the illumination with milky eyes. Some have their intestines spilling out of their abdomens like gooey red ribbons. Others are missing the bottom of their jaw with their meaty tongues lolling out. These people were not just merely killed. They were brutalized, mutilated, and mauled.
A thick slick of congealing blood sloshes around your boots. It drips off the ceiling and down the walls like scarlet raindrops shed from dark skies, softly signifying sorrow's sharp sting. If your heart had not already hardened to macabre scenes like this, you imagine you would be sick. Instead, true to the monster you’ve become, it takes considerable effort not to drop to your knees and start lapping up the sanguine nectar like some thirsty mutt.
You are veritably shaking under the duress of temptation as you crawl over bodies to the one heartbeat that remains. Astarion sits at a table in an alcove in the back with a bottle of spirits clutched in his hand, several more littered around his feet on the floor. He stares abstractly at nothing, a million miles away, bleak and cold.
“Astarion…” you whisper, trying to get a decent look into his eyes.
“Darling?” His brows round when he looks at you, frowning and narrowing his glossy eyes. “You are afraid. Oh, no-no. Don’t be afraid. I didn’t mean to…” He’s confused, and it breaks your heart. “I killed them all, but I don’t remember. I am me now. I’m me - Astarion.”
“I know,” you purr, noticing that he seems to have to remind himself of who he is. “It’s okay.”
“Okay?” He scoffs, bringing the bottle to his lips and tilting his head back. He sways in his chair, causing it to creak, “This is about as far from okay as it gets. Did you not hear me? I killed them. I killed all of them.”
“I heard you,” you cradle his cheek and walk his gaze away from the body he seems fixed on. “We need to go home, Astarion. Before somebody finds us here.”
“Why?” He snaps, gesturing around with a satirical chuckle, “I will probably just kill them too. Or perhaps I will simply compel them to forget their names or their entire lives. Why stop there? How far do you think my power goes? Do you think I could compel them to forget how to breathe?”
“Astarion, please,” you slip the bottle from his fingers and crouch with your hand on his thigh. “Come with me.”
“I hurt you again today,” he sighs, staring at his empty hand with furrowed brows. “How do you sleep with me in the same residence? The same bed? How can you even stand to look at me? Gods. You must fucking hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” you cannot help the tears pricking your eyes. He looks lost as his eyes roam aimlessly, climbing toward the ceiling. “I love you.”
“You love me… Do you regret it?” He whispers, curling his empty hand into a fist repeatedly as if he’s unsure if the hand he’s looking at belongs to him, “Helping me complete the Rite, allowing me to turn you, falling in love with me.”
“No,” your answer is immediate, and the uncompromising intonation surprises even you. “The only thing I regret is that we did not know enough about the Rite.”
“You’re lying,” he concludes, hollow, distant, and abject.
“Open the bond and check my truthfulness if you wish,” you retort. Your whole body shakes as you try to make sense of this broken man before you, “I wanted to be with you for eternity. Everything has a cost. I paid it willingly.”
“Do you know why I turned you?” He asks, face contorting with an anguish you did not believe you would ever see adorn his features again. The corners of his mouth are downturned, eyebrows dropping at the ends, “Do you know why I was so adamant that this was the only way our relationship could continue?”
“I don’t know, Astarion,” you sigh soft and sullen. “I don’t care. What’s done is done.”
“Tell me!” He snarls, slamming his fist into the table and cracking it down the middle, “Tell me why you think I did it! Tell me why you think I fucking killed you!”
You finally relent and sob openly. “Why do you do anything now, Astarion? You wanted to possess me, control me, own me, and make me your obedient puppet.”
“No, my love,” he heaves a tremulous sigh, shaking his head. His eyes are vacant and unseeing, blinking slowly. “Nothing so sinister as that. I was afraid. I was still fucking afraid. I knew you would age and die while I remained the same forever. You would leave me alone again, and I feared a world, a life, without you. I took your life and bound you to me for eternity for no other reason than selfishness, but I always was remarkably selfish. Wasn’t I?” Astarion gazes around at the grisly affair of his making, “Why can’t I remember? I am sick. Aren’t I?”
“We will save you,” you slip your finger under his chin like he’s done to you so often and direct his gaze to yours. Your eyes blister with resolve, and your voice bleeds the same, trying to fill him with strength, “But I need you to keep fighting, Astarion. You must not give up.”
“For you,” he murmurs as his eyes finally appear cognizant. Astarion slides out of his chair, descending to his knees before you like you made you do a lifetime ago, and wraps his arms around you. He presses his cheek against your stomach and whimpers, fingers curling into your clothes. “I will fight to my last, my love.”
Sunlight filters into the window, golden rays bathing the room as your eyes flutter open. You nuzzle against the silk pillowcase before your mind bombards you with memories of your skin loosening, dripping, cracking, and the agony that arrested even screams from your throat. You nearly leap off the bed in terror, but solid arms wrap around your waist, pulling your back against the strong muscles of a warm chest.
“It’s okay,” Astarion purrs, grappling with your trashing. He places a soft kiss on your shoulder. “I am here. The sun cannot harm you. I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
It takes your still hazy consciousness a moment to accept the promise of safety before you relax in his embrace with a sigh and roll over to face Astarion, looping your arms around him and burying your face in the crook of his neck. You can smell his blood pumping through his veins just below the surface of that pristine, silken skin, and your mouth waters. Your body urges you to bite, stomach knotting into cramps with the promise of that aromatic, richly decadent blood.
So close.
Before you know what you’re doing, your mouth is open, fangs hovering, and your body seizes. Astarion laughs genuinely, such a sparkling, airy rumble from his perfect lips as they pull into a smile against your cheek.
“Well, good morning to you, too.” He giggles, pushing you away, shaking his head with that playful glower, “Can’t get enough? I’m not surprised.” Astarion sinks his fangs into the fanning veins of his wrist and holds it out to you. “Remember, no biting and mind your teeth.”
You’re almost drooling at the oneiric vision of the weeping wounds. The scent of his blood is intoxicating - warm, full-bodied ferrous. The bright red drink of the Gods is a stark contrast to his pale skin, and it takes everything you have in you not to lunge for it. The offer of his blood is new and a little unsettling if you’re being honest.
“Go ahead,” his eyes dart to his dribbling wrist, brows furrowing at your hesitation. “This is no trick. Feed.”
He looks contrite, but there is a new tenderness in the way his eyes are fixed on you like you are shelter from the storm brewing behind his scarlet irises. You cannot handle it any longer. You take his wrist as gently as your fumbling fingers can possibly manage in your near frenzied bloodlust, bringing your lips to the wound. It tastes even better straight from his body, and your eyes roll back with a moan as you focus with a substantial amount of effort on drawing in slow, measured sips instead of trying to drain him dry in an instant.
“That’s enough,” Astarion instructs eventually, tugging his wrist just slightly. You could never get enough of this ambrosia on your tongue, descending into your stomach and making your nerves combust with delight. Your grip tightens on his wrist, and you growl at him, low and throaty.
“Hells,” Astarion groans pleasurably, eyes rolling back. His body trembles with excitement and pleasure. He enjoys this as much as you. He shakes his arm roughly and commands a little more harshly this time. “Love. I said that’s enough. Don’t be a greedy thing now.”
It’s enough to crack the haze that’s fallen over your mind, and you throw yourself from back, detaching from his wrist with panicked breaths. You’re sure when you look at him again, you will be staring at the embodiment of Mephistopheles psychosis, “I’m sorry, Astarion. I’m sorry.”
“Hey-hey,” Astarion coos deeply, like a warm auditory hug on a cold winter’s night. “It’s alright. I’m not angry.”
“You’re not?” You cannot help the stain of surprise that blooms in your voice.
“No, love,” he chuckles, his fingers pressing into your waist, encouraging you to cuddle, and you curl up against his side. He sweeps his thumb across your lower lip, gathering the blood smeared on it and pops it into his mouth with a sly grin. “I was a young vampire too, once upon a century, and I was certainly over-enthusiastic with my consumption of you the first time. It takes time. I can help you with it. We can practice like this.”
Your brows furrow, creasing as you try to think through the residual film of mist. This man is entirely too perplexing. It feels like you’re always trying to run from him, convincing yourself that everything is a trick, that you must be on guard at all times so you don’t get close, but is this just a way for you to hide from what you fear most of all - that you will be unable to save him, and you will lose him all over again.
There’s just no fucking time for this anymore. There is no more time to lose.
Astarion directs your gaze to him, “What’s going on in that beautiful mind?”
“Do you remember what you said last night?”
Astarion’s brows round, and the corners of his eyes crinkle, “Yes.”
“Was any of it real?” You murmur, pushing yourself upright so you can look at him. You request the bond, and Astarion and you unite, transcending time and space, melding together. It takes you a moment to gather yourself, “Or were you just drunk?”
“I meant every word.” Astarion turns suddenly serious, sitting and sagging against the headboard, “I wish to speak to you about something.”
“Are you okay?”
“I am fine.” He combs his fingers through his hair, “You called me Master. I do not wish you to call me that - think of me in those terms. Is that how you see me? As your… ugh,” he casts his eyes to the ceiling, “Master ?”
“No,” you snap, but it’s a lie, and you know it, which means he knows it through the union. You backpedal, “Yes. It is what you are, Astarion. Whether you or I like it, I am your spawn, and you are my master. This is just reality. It will do us no good to pretend that the dynamic of our relationship is different.”
Disappointment slashes across the bond like a blade cutting into your heart. It’s so strong that it physically aches in your chest, and you splay your hand across it and whimper.
Astarion shakes his head, eyes downcast, “I do not want to be your master, little love. I never did. I did not make you a regular spawn.”
“I’m not sure I follow, Astarion. What do you mean you didn’t make me a regular spawn? What other kind of spawn is there?”
Astarion squeezes his eyes shut momentarily, taking a deep breath, the muscles in his jaw twitching. He leans, opens a drawer and produces a book that looks ancient. Its cover is dulled by timeless centuries, and its spine is broken with loose pages precariously tucked in. His fingers tap the book, staring at it as if he dreads what he’s about to do.
He gives you a skeptical sideways look and passes you the book, “Page 152.”
Opening the book, you flip through the musty, yellowed pages until you reach page 152, titled “The Dark Kiss.” You scan the page, reading it once, twice, three times while Astarion stares at you with an unreadable expression. You can feel him in your head, looking through your eyes, thrusting into the folds of your mind, penetrating the softness of your soul, caressing your most intimate thoughts.
There’s trepidation in him. Your soul practically quivers under the weight of his unease. He is afraid of your reaction, and the entity within him is stoking those glowing embers of worry with its babbling breaths of affirmations, trying to ignite an inferno of fear that will melt through the shackles of his control.
“You need to explain this to me, Astarion,” you gawk at him, swallowing thickly as the information slowly sinks in. You’re unsure if the nervousness making your stomach warp is truly yours or his.
“I made you my bride – consort,” he does not look at you when he speaks. His eyes stare blankly at his twitching fingers. “How many times did I bite you that night?”
“Uh,” you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to recall the memory fogged over from blood loss, “Three. Once when we had sex, once on my wrist, and then my neck.”
Astarion nods, “I don’t remember much from that night, high as I was on the power of 7000 souls, but I do recall my intent. I bit you three times, as described in the book you’re holding, and then gave you my own blood. I told you this bond was unique to you and me because it’s only shared with a bride.”
“I’m sorry.” You rack your fingers through your hair, tousling it into an incomprehensible mess to match your whirling, tangled thoughts, “Are you trying to tell me that we are - what? Vampire married?”
Astarion smirks at the bewilderment adorning your face but looks bashful, “I suppose that’s an accurate description, yes.”
“And you declined to tell me this until now because?”
“Honestly?” Astarion’s eyes drift once again to the ceiling, “I meant to. I had every intention of telling you the truth, and then... I enjoyed the power, the superiority I had over you. I saw fear in your eyes when you looked at me, and I liked it. I liked you believing you were nothing. I wanted to revel in it. It fed the sickness within, and then I was... lost for a while.”
“What does this mean for me exactly?” It takes incredible effort to keep the rising panic from your voice.
Astarion’s eyes widen as your whirlwind of terror is added to the mixture of emotions between you, “It means you’re not quite a spawn, not quite a True Vampire, but as close as one could get while still being bound to me and under my control should I choose to exert it over you. I believe it can be reversed, should you wish it so. I’d have to do a little research--”
“No!” you blurt out in a yelping retort that makes Astarion flinch. He assumes your anxiety is due to being bound to him in such a way, you realize. The truth of it is your panic is a shadow looming over the increasingly dire odds of everything you stand to lose.
A friend. A lover. A partner. A... husband?
You smirk at the notion, pushing away that worry - you have time to worry later. Right now, you want to enjoy this. It’s the closest you have gotten to Astarion telling you he loves you. Perhaps, the closest you will ever get, and some sad speck of your soul laps at that wound and dabs it with this new information as if it might cure the incurable.
“Well,” you shift into his lap, leaning into the asylum he’s promising you through the bond, “I’m definitely going to start calling you husband now. I hope you’re prepared for that.”
“HA!” Astarion giggles, shaking his head with an endearingly lop-sided grin. His unkempt silver curls fall and bounce carelessly, “But of course. I can deny you nothing, wife. I wish to try and undo what he,” he corrects himself. “…I did - your name. I might be able to reverse it, but I’m not entirely sure how. You need to trust me, and I can feel you do not.”
You’re a little bemused that there is something Astarion doesn’t know how to do, and you grin at him, your fangs peeking out of your lips.
“Good Gods,” he rolls his eyes at you with a heartwarming smirk. “I am all-powerful, not all-knowing. Compelling is instinctive. Releasing it is another story entirely.”
You want to trust him. Gods above, you long to trust him like you used to, but how can you, given what you know? You wrench on the tide of the bond, causing it to spill and break over you as ocean waves crash upon boulders that dare protrude from its surface. You scour the chords of the harmony, picking them apart note by note, feeling for any sign of manipulation, deceit, or ill intent. Astarion flinches, squeezing his eyes shut with a wheeze, but he does not attempt to stop your search. You find nothing, but then again, he is the Vampire Ascendant. If he wants to hide something from you, he will.
If you want to get your name back, you have little choice.
“Do it,” you confirm.
“Look into my eyes,” Astarion purrs in a deep baritone. “Remember, I don’t know exactly what I’m doing.”
Bringing your eyes to his, the crimson in his eyes sparks alive, like little matches aglow in the red sea, and you have never seen sparks quite so beautiful.
The sensation starts mellow, like the flow of a calm spring, as it trickles through your mind. It feels like liquid fingers whispering against your psyche. The sensation makes your skin prickle, and goosebumps erupt all over. You want to shudder, but your body cannot move. Tributaries branch off and stream until your whole brain feels like it is being grasped by a hand.
And that’s where the pain begins in a sudden influx, a steely, jarring stab, and it feels like his fingers are in your brain, parting every crimp, crease, bend and wrinkle like you are a tome to be read. You’re unsure how long you can take this as he picks your mind apart, looking for whatever compulsion does. You manage to let out a whine, and his eyes flick.
“I know it hurts,” he soothes. “Just a little more, I think. Can you hold on?”
You can only whimper your response. You’re not sure if it sounds like a no or a yes. He continues his dismantling forage, ferreting around in your mind. Suddenly, something changes. All those tributaries and calm, flowing springs snap into one spot, and white-hot pain blooms in your eyesight, blinding you. You’re positive he’s cutting a piece of brain matter right out of your skull. You want to writhe, to scream, to beg him to stop, but you cannot.
You wonder if you might pass out, and then you hope you pass out as the pain becomes more than you can bear. Sharp, like a red-hot blade, has punctured your skull, pierced your brain, and is now broiling against your grey matter. Your vision starts to tunnel, black borders encroaching, blurring everything but the glow from Astarion’s eyes.
Just as you think you're going to lose consciousness, a knot untangles, an invisible barrier crumples, and the bondage on your body eases.
“Hey,” Astarion jostles you, fingers brushing sweaty strands of hair behind your ear. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” you breathe shakily. “It’s fine. Did it work?”
“I think so?” Astarion rubs the back of his head. “There’s only one way to know for sure. Do you remember your name?”
You think hard, trying to pull it from the deepest recesses of your memories, but you can’t remember it. “No.” You sigh, “Can you say it to me?”
“Illyria?”
Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. As always, please enjoy ☺️
AO3 [Crossposted]
Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts
If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past
Small Notes:
Yay! Tav can hear her name, but does she actually remember it?
I'm leaning into the "Dark Kiss" bride/consort theory because why not?
#ascended astarion#astarion fanfic#bg3#bg3 astarion#astarion x you#astarion#bg3 fanfiction#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#astarion smut#astarion x oc#astarion x named tav#fangs and fractured hearts
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A Rainy Day
Another little drabble, slightly more finished this time! From the same ongoing story between Yenna(my Tav) and unascended Astarion.
Yenna notices Astarion is feeling a bit melancholy on a rainy day while they're stuck inside. Sweetness and smut ensues.
18+ only!!
CW: fingering, handjob, blowjob, utter fluff, deep loving connection
#astarion x tav#astarion x original female character#astarion ancunin#baldur's gate 3#astarion#bg3 astarion#bg3 tav#drabbles#bg3 fanfiction#my writing#bg3 fandom#bg3 fic#bg3 smut#astarion x f!tav
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I'm always a fan of writing a bit of role reversal in smut. So, here we are! The author's note in this one explains a bit more about the dynamic at play here.
This fic touches on gender dysphoria and euphoria, with the conclusion being some fun smut full of gender affirmations. Because of course it would. It also features a certain magical artifact that's been used once before in my fics...
Rating: E
Category: F/F
Ship: Shadowheart/Trans Fem Tav
Tags and AO3 Summary under the break!
Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Trans Female Character, Half-Orc Tav, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Euphoria, Gender Affirmations, Role Reversal, Vibrators, Rimming, Anal Play, Cunnilingus, Face-Sitting, Multiple Orgasms, the return of a certain magical vibrator...
Summary:
There are days, gray days, when Asheera fears being seen as anything other than what she is. The color Shadowheart brings into her life reminds her of who she is.
#bg3#bg3 fanfiction#shadowheart#shadowheart x tav#shadowtav#oc: asheera#my fic#that particular artifact needs some even play you know?
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"You know… There's always room in Waterdeep for two Mr. Dekarios'- Ugh." Gale shook his head as he paced in his cluttered lab, every surface covered with arcane artifacts and open tomes, some bookmarked with notes on eloquent expressions of love. "That sounds far too casual," he mumbled, fingers tapping on his chin.
"Ah!" He waved his finger in the air, stopping abruptly. He picked up a small, glowing crystal, tossing it from hand to hand as he thought. "Perhaps…" He placed his arm low and bowed deeply. "Would you do me the honour of joining the Dekarios clan?"
Gale straightened up and sighed, placing the crystal back on a crowded shelf. "No. That doesn't work. What if he doesn't want my name? I shouldn't put that pressure on him."
His eyes flicked to the golden ring on his work table. He had finally perfected it, and soon, it would be Astarion's. Whether he said yes or not, though… Gale's heart swelled, and he smiled to himself, his fingers lingering on the cool metal. He was confident that his lover would.
"Maybe something more traditional?" Gale wondered aloud, his gaze fixed on the gleaming band as he turned to face the door, imagining Astarion standing there. Sliding down onto one knee, he rehearsed, "Would you marry—Agh!" The sharp pop of his knee cut through the quiet of the lab, and he crumpled to the floor with a pained cry.
Gale let out a frustrated laugh from his spot on the floor, rubbing his knee. "Of all the times," he muttered.
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{ Don’t make me mad my darling or you’ll know what will happen now don’t you~ }
🕯️🩸🕯️🩸🕯️🩸🕯️🩸🕯️🩸🕯️🩸🕯️
The chills running down his pets body was noticeable, soon he will have to turn him fully into his little vampire because he won’t stand for his love to leave his castle as his pet has done now more then once. It made him realize he had to take his life away to keep him all to himself & for him to be an obedient little dog that he should be.
#astarion ancunin#astarion#short story#evil astarion#bg3 astarion#baldurs gate 3 astarion#baldurs gate 3#astarion bg3#baldurs gate astarion#bg3#gamers of tumblr#dark gothic#beautiful vampire#vintage goth#baldur’s gate astarion#bg3 oc#ascended astarion#bg3 tav#bg3 fanfiction#astarion baldurs gate#baldur gate 3#baldur’s gate 3#baldur's gate astarion#bloody vampire#baldurs gate iii
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