#did she have to see my tav look at astarion with so much understanding and care in her eyes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lakefu · 1 month

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A Perfect Warmth 🕯️

Summary: Astarion and Tav take a well deserved break away form the chaos of their adventures at an inn inside Baldur's Gate. They need to clean up and get back on the road but they keep getting distracted. Perhaps plans could be delayed for a night of passion...

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Tags: 18+, Explicit, fluffy smut, brief Astarion trauma response, PIV, erogenous elf ears, scent kink, blood + biting, a bit of praise, a bit of edging... a sprinkle of cockwarming...., these guys are in love...

Word count: 3.5k Note: This was my first fic originally uploaded on Ao3 on 11/27/23, inspired by the patch #4 dev note mentioning adding sponges to clean your companions. I've made edits from the Ao3 post.

“Remind me to sell this junk next time we pass by a merchant, would you dear?” Astarion was seated at the edge of the bed and rummaging through his traveler’s pack, placing various items on the nightstand for further examination. Two silver forks, an old necklace, and a handful of various polished stones ended up on the table before he plucked out an intricate sapphire ring and held it up to the sunlight peeking through the window.

“Good taste,” he muttered to himself. He placed the ring on his pinky finger in amusement and resumed the scavenge.

“It’s going to get difficult sneaking up on people if I have to lug this heavy thing around you know.” He threw over a glance at Tav, who was preoccupied with gathering laundry together in preparation for the next day.

“It wouldn’t be so heavy if you didn’t pocket nearly every shiny thing we came across,” she teased, without even looking over at him.

He gasped dramatically. “Framed by my own lover? Quite the scandal. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the near dozen times you’ve asked me to hold onto your things because your own pack was too full.”

“Hmm. Maybe. I guess that might sound sort of familiar…” She giggled to herself and walked into the bedroom to catch his eye, meeting him with a mischievous grin.

“Why are you such a- oh! Now, what’s this you’re wearing?” Astarion blinked and scanned her up and down, clearly enthralled by the wardrobe change. She stood there in an old linen robe that was yellowed with age, definitely unlike anything he had ever seen her in before.

“Just some old thing I found in the dresser here, isn’t it just fabulous?” Tav's words were dripping in sarcasm and yet she smiled, performing a grandiose little spin in the middle of the room as if she was wearing the most beautiful ball gown in the world.

“I… it’s just so different from your usual armor or that drow nightwear you fancy so much. You look so… domestic.” His eyes were locked onto Tav intensely, with brow furrowed as he seemed to be confused by his own words.

She felt her heart skip a beat and a flush run to her face.

“And you think that’s a good look for me?”

His eyes softened and he paused a moment before quietly answering.

“Yes… I do.”

Tav watched as his smile faded and the gaze of his eyes became increasingly more distant. The atmosphere seemed to shift and a slight panic ran through her body. Did she do something wrong? No... and it didn’t require a tadpole connection to get an understanding for what had brought down his spirits.

Astarion hadn’t considered a comfortable domestic life was possible for someone like him. Even the slightest concept of such a thing had been buried for over a hundred years, and he never expected it to resurface. Was he worthy of such a thing, and was it even possible?

Oh, it was possible. The evidence was standing right in front of him, spinning circles in an ugly bathrobe. He could see glimpses of a happy future that was so close to being a reality he nearly felt nauseous. Not because he was unsure of himself, but because there were still too many unresolved matters they had a duty to attend to. Too many missions and stupid little quests that could now go wrong and threaten this idea of a happy ending he never even knew was possible.

Everything was different now that he realized what was possible, and he suddenly felt an unknown and uncomfortable pressure. All he knew was that he couldn’t afford to lose in the upcoming battles. Battles that some would say were impossible, suicidal even. The thought of loss at this point was beyond unbearable. It was sickening just to think about.

“Hey!!” Tav ran up to where he was sitting on the bed and took his head in her hands. She placed a delicate kiss on his forehead, knowing she had to get him focused on something else.

“Why don’t we go to the shop right now and get rid of that stuff,” she motioned to the collection of items that had been gathered on the nightstand.

“Wouldn’t hurt to get some more coin in our pockets, right?” She looked at him expectantly and felt a huge relief as a light seemed to return to his eye and meet her view.

“Please tell me you aren’t going to wear that horrid robe to see the merchant,” he sighed and looked up at her pleadingly.

“Of course not!! I’ll change and- oh gods!!! We’ve got to get this blood off your face, the merchant is going to think we are trying to kill him!” Tav exclaimed as she lightly shook his shoulders, and quickly began examining his body to see how much cleaning would have to get done before they could leave.

“Blood… on my face?” He raised an eyebrow and brought a finger to his cheek.

“Yeah!! Well, it’s all over you really, dontcha remember earlier today, fighting those cultists?? You sneaked up behind one of ‘em and BAM!!! Just obliterated with a single strike, it was amazing!! You’re so strong…you know.” Her pulse was racing at the mere memory of the event as she delicately traced the side of his face with her fingers and ventured down to his chest.

“Ah of course. That was all so terribly easy I’d nearly forgotten,” he said proudly, adjusting his posture and keeping his eyes on Tav’s hand movements sliding across his chest. Her soft touch was becoming more firm as her fingers made their way toward his arms, giving his biceps a teasing squeeze before leaning her face into his and teasing a kiss.

Before their lips could touch, Astarion wags a finger in between their faces as if to remind Tav of the task at hand.

“Alright my sweet, let’s clean up shall we? You’re my mirror after all. So, go on then.” He took her hands into his own and gave them a kiss before placing them back at her side, encouraging her to go and gather whatever it was she needed to get him cleaned up.

Right, the supplies. It was nearly impossible to remain focused after moments of intimacy with him, no matter how brief they were. She quickly moved into the other room to acquire the washcloths and bucket of soapy water that she was using for herself not too long ago. Hands full, she scurried back to the bedroom to meet her lover, who hadn’t moved an inch.

As she approached him, Tav could feel the tie on her robe becoming increasingly more loose with each step that was taken across the floor. The embarrassment hit her as she realized she didn't have any hands free to do anything about it. She quickly tried to put the bucket down by the bedside, but the bending movement only resulted in the robe slipping off one of her shoulders, exposing a bare breast.

“Oh? You haven’t got anything on underneath?” Astarion cocked his head in amusement, eyes unmoving from the newly exposed skin.

“Ye-yeah that’s the whole point of robes isn’t it? I was doing laundry earlier ya know and umm,” She laughed nervously and started to fix the wardrobe malfunction but was quickly stopped by a hand over her own. Astarion reached out toward her until both hands were around her waist and pulled her in close to his body. Fangs were peeking through his devious smile while determined eyes looked her up and down. With a singular finger he crept over to the loose knot of the robe’s tie and flicked it completely undone with one swift movement.

Tav shuddered and felt her body starting to run warm despite now being suddenly exposed to the cool air of the inn. She was completely revealed to him now, the robe only just clinging to her arms and draped across her backside.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he sighed and began kissing her stomach and caressing the curves of her waist. “Come here.”

Tav gasped as she felt his cold grip around her waist tighten as he expertly lifted her up onto his lap with ease. Pleased at the new angle, Astarion shifted his attention to kissing the crook of her neck and started moving down her chest. He delightfully found her nipple with his mouth in no time, and teased it in circles with his tongue just as he knew she liked it. His gentle sucking continued for only a few brief moments before he suddenly withdrew and cleared his throat.

“Ah, well. You can reach my face better up here I’m sure. For the cleaning of course,” he said smugly. The elf leaned back and admired the view of his lover, nude and flustered, perched oh-so perfectly on top of him.

“The cleaning…” Tav nodded and remembered she still had a warm and soapy washcloth in her hand. The urge to throw the stupid cloth into some unknown corner of the room was nearly undeniable. All she wanted in this moment was for him to take her completely, in any way he wanted, it didn’t matter as long as she ended up getting fucked into oblivion. So fine. On with the cleaning.

She raised the washcloth to his temple and slowly began to wipe away the dried blood by working down his face. His cheeks were a bit sunken as usual but flushed adorably in this moment, clearly enjoying the tender rubs of cloth on his skin. She continued rubbing down toward his chiseled jawline, across to his lips, and back up the other side to repeat the process once more. She ran her fingers through his silver curls and noticed his ears would need cleaning too.

One hand caressed the pointy ear to keep it in place and the other brought the washcloth in for a gentle scrub. A quiet moan suddenly escaped the vampire’s lips.

Oh? She had seemingly discovered a sensitive spot and noted that she would have to continue her work carefully. The scrubbing continued but Tav couldn’t keep her eyes off his face now. His eyes were closed but still noticeably moving behind their lids, and his lips were slightly parted with his breathing becoming increasingly heavier and more noticeable.

Astarion was in his own world of pleasure. What in the hells had he been doing these past weeks, aimlessly scrubbing himself clean alone in the river when they could have been doing this the whole time instead?

He opened his eyes just to make sure it wasn’t all a dream. She was still there of course, diligently and lovingly taking such good care of his body. A wave of maddening lust rushed through his core and he needed her closer. He needed her as close as physically possible and even more so after that.

Their eyes met, revealing intense desires. Tav lowered her hands and she spoke slowly, “Can you take your shirt off? There’s a spot I can’t get to with it on…”

She wasn’t fooling anybody, but he obeyed without hesitation. The shirt was gone in seconds, revealing his pale and perfectly sculpted chest. It was a sight that Tav never tired of admiring, and was in fact the subject of distracting daydreams on the daily. She shifted her body closer to his and continued scrubbing his neck and chest, despite it becoming increasingly more difficult to focus. Deep breaths.

She had always been fond of his cologne that he was quite proud of concocting himself. The scent of aged brandy, bergamot, and rosemary was now forever an Astarion specialty that she could never forget. Even during times of battle or travel, a gust of wind could carry his essence to her and bring along with it a sense of reassuring familiarity. As she continued to wipe him down, however, a different scent began to come to the forefront.

It was something that did not seem completely foreign, but it wasn't immediately identifiable either. There was something about taking it all in that felt forbidden. Tav tried to pinpoint what she was experiencing. He smelled earthy… raw… unnatural… it was without a doubt, the undeath.

An undeniable heat rose through her body as she engulfed herself with this pure scent from her lover. The washcloth, the bed, the entire room seemed miles away, and nothing felt coherent except for a craving to be even closer to him. Nothing else existed except their bodies and her overwhelming desire to-

“Eager, are we?” A sultry voice snapped her back into reality, where piercing red eyes amusingly greeted her return. She suddenly became aware of a presence between her thighs and glanced down, realizing she was sitting atop a clothed bulge. His hands had a firm grip on her backside and his encouraging movements made it clear she had been absentmindedly grinding on him during her trance.

“Shit, I got carried away…” She hadn’t taken her eyes off his crotch and began to notice that her excitement had left a dampness on his clothes. Embarrassment nearly overtook her, but a gentle yet confident hand grabbed her chin and brought it up to meet his gaze. He leaned into her with a grinning open mouth and kissed her passionately, tongues intertwining.

She felt his fangs briefly scrape against her tongue every so often until a metallic taste became increasingly noticeable. She didn't mind the blood, especially since it seemed to enhance his arousal as noted by his hips continuously jolting faster up into her exposed crotch. Tav was soon pleasantly overwhelmed between his deep kisses and desperate hands groping her at every curve of her body. She longed to give him everything; her blood for his hunger, her body for his pleasure.

Tav released herself from the kiss they had been locked into and tilted her head so that her neck became exposed as an undeniable gift. His mouth lunged at the presented spot as soon as it was noticed, fangs immediately sinking in deep. Tav cried out at the initial impact but soon was reveling in the experience. It was a perfect mixture of pain and pleasure that she was only capable of experiencing from him.

He remained on her neck for a while, still tightly holding on to her body and keeping one hand free to reassuringly caress the back of her head. It was only after the blood flow slowed to a near stop did he cease his medley of licking and sucking at the wound. Blood dripped down his chin and onto his exposed chest, but he was ultimately unfazed. He leaned back, clearly happy and mostly satisfied, but there was still a different type of satisfaction he had left to chase.

Astarion's throbbing erection was begging to be released from its clothed restraints. He quickly untied his pants and shifted his underwear to finally free it. He moaned a few incomprehensible words of relief and stroked himself a few times before looking up at Tav for approval.

Tav had been staring at his length from the moment it was exposed, an impressive size for an elf, no doubt. Her eyes fixated on his perfectly pink tip, glistening with precum just for her. She immediately fantasized of shoving him down her throat until she choked and cried, but that was a fantasy for another day. In their current position, they both knew there was only one simple way of how to continue.

“Astarion,” she whimpered. “Fuck me.”

Tav sat up on her knees and positioned herself so that her entrance was just nearly grazing the head of his dick, ready to take him in completely at any moment. She grabbed ahold of his shaft and guided the tip back and forth through her folds until he was covered in her slick. The new sensation of the friction between them left them both gasping and desperate for more.

Suddenly, finally, his arms wrapped around her body as he pulled her down onto him with one firm motion. Astarion grunted through his teeth while Tav moaned unapologetically, focusing on relaxing enough to allow her body to adjust to his length inside of her.

The temperature differences between their bodies only heightened the feelings of pleasure whenever they became one. Her warmness was intoxicating to him, granting a sense of safety and bliss that was impossible to achieve anywhere else. He was already so close to the edge in this moment, but was not ready to give in just yet. He wanted this moment of heaven to last as long as possible.

Meanwhile, Tav was having the time of her life riding her man like there was no tomorrow. She had no intent to slow down until a pair of large hands suddenly gripped her hips in a way that prevented any further movement.

“I’m not done with you yet, love. Didn’t you notice the mess I’ve made after feasting on you?” Astarion took a finger to his chin and smeared a bit of Tav’s fresh blood down his neck.

It was true, he had made a mess. Quite uncharacteristically of him in fact. Tav had assumed he had simply gotten careless in his horny and feral craze but no- it was clearly all calculated.

“Just be still and sit nice and pretty on my cock. Finish the cleaning, then I’ll take care of you myself. How does that sound?”

How does that sound? His words echoed in her head, which was already spinning plenty enough as it was. She was unsure if it was from the blood loss or her seemingly never ending carnal desires, but perhaps it was both. One thing was certain, however, he could convince her to do damn near anything speaking in that low and lustful tone of his. Without uttering a word she slowly brought the washcloth up to his chest.

“Good girl,” he whispered. He felt her body twitch around him in response to the praise, and he leaned back to relax and enjoy these final few moments of intimacy.

It had taken everything in Tav's power to remain still while she worked. It wasn't exactly easy to focus- she was being split in half by a whimpering vampire beneath her after all. Astarion’s skilled fingers had been dancing around her swollen clit the whole time, just enough to keep her stimulated but never enough to let her come.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the blood was all cleaned up. She hadn't even realized when it happened or how he did it, but his pants were completely gone now. She reached over to place the cloth down and awaited her reward of sweet release.

Astarion’s hands moved to the knees that were straddling him and slowly pushed them farther apart, spreading Tav’s legs open bit by bit. She inhaled sharply as she took him in deeper. He opened her up more and more until she lost her balance and fell backwards onto his expectant embrace.

“Relax darling, I’ve got you,” He purred in reassurance.

Astarion took her entire weight in his arms with ease and laid her down amongst the soft pillows of the bed. He nestled himself comfortably between her legs, making sure their bodies were flush with one another. Nearly smothered by his body now, all Tav could do was claw at his back and arch her hips into his powerful thrusts. His mouth frantically traveled across her lips and neck with desperately wet kisses until he settled near her ear with a playful nibble.

“You’re so beautiful…” He whispered tenderly, while the rhythm of his lovemaking became increasingly sporadic. “So fucking perfect… Gods…just for me… I love you… so much...”

“Star, I- ah!” Her words cut short as she felt something snap within her. Pure ecstasy- she was falling and flying somewhere a million galaxies away and never wanted to come back. Obscene noises and curses filled the room as they rode out each other’s high in tight embrace. The smell of sex lingered in the air as their bodies heaved with labored breaths, finally collapsing on each other in exhaustion.

They laid together a while longer, exchanging soft kisses and enjoying the short moment in time where nothing else in the world mattered. Eventually, Astarion rolled out of the bed and stood up to stretch.

“Tsk, looks like it’s my turn to clean you up my dear,” He said with an accomplished grin, eying how her thighs were dripping with his sticky mess.

“I’ll be right back, don’t move an inch. Actually, I doubt you can move at all after that, ahaha!” He laughed and leaned over to brush aside a strand of Tav’s sweaty hair that was stuck to her forehead before walking over to the other room.

“Shut up… dummy…” she smiled to herself and rolled over, feeling at ease enough that the weight of sleep was starting to overtake her.

“I love you too, Astarion.” Her eyes closed as she drifted off into a peaceful slumber, knowing that her lover would soon come back to her side like he always did, and always would.

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nrvcntr · 3 months

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My Lover is Like

hey remember how i said i'd write that fic about tav coming from a noble background and having a riddle that someone has to answer to date her and no one ever gets it right and then years later she tells gale and he knows immediately? anyway here it is

There are certain scents that bring back memories - warm grass on a summer’s day, fresh linens placed on a bed, and of course, the sickly sticky burn of a bottle of plum fizz, shared among friends. Astarion recoiled after he sniffed the open bottle, his nose scrunched in horror.

“You can’t be serious,” He said.

“You’re being dramatic. It isn’t that bad,” You replied.

You had found a crate full of bottles on your last trek and dragged it back to the campsite, anticipating a heroic welcome at your generous haul. It was nearing sunset and it seemed as good of a time as any to see what the contents of the crate were. Upon cracking the crate open, your eyes lit up at the sight of bottles on bottles of plum fizz. This had been the drink that defined your adolescence as a noble in Baldur’s Gate. It immediately brought back memories of revelry, singing songs next to bonfires, and a young Wyll Ravengard throwing up in the street. You pulled out a bottle and handed it to Astarion, who had reacted like a man who never knew the joys of noble debauchery.

“It smells like it could raise something from the dead and then kill it again,” He said, handing the bottle back to you.

“Look, we used to drink this all the time when we were kids. It’s like a rite of passage among children of nobility in Baldur’s Gate.”

Wyll, overhearing the conversation, came over to see what you were so impassioned about. At the sight of the bottle in your hand, he recoiled like someone had just smacked him upside the head.

“No. Get that thing away!” He shouted, shaking his hands.

“Oh, stop it. I remember you used to beg to play fizzy hands when we were younger,” You said.

“Fizzy hands.” Astarion said flatly, “What sort of braindead activity is fizzy hands?”

You raised your brow to Wyll, who explained that “fizzy hands” was the beloved drinking game of your youth, where a small magical seal was applied to two bottles of plum fizz, which an individual would hold. The seal wouldn’t break until both bottles were consumed.

“Fizzy hands leads to fizzy guts, which leads to…a fizzy mess, in the street. You couldn’t pay me to take a sip of that now.” Wyll said.

You looked around the campsite and gestured to Gale, who had been beginning the preparations for dinner so intently that he hadn’t noticed the failing case you were trying to make in favor of plum fizz.

“It’s nice to know that your taste in wine is nearly as bad as your taste in men,” Astarion mused, causing you to shoot him a farcefully menacing look. Your affections for Gale were no secret, and the two of you had shared an intimate moment in the Weave, but you were unsure of your current status, or even whether he really returned your feelings. You had begun to write it off as a passing fancy, something to daydream about during long days of traveling. Though, there was no hiding how much you enjoyed being around the man, your conversations often dragging well into the night after everyone else had fallen asleep. You had never met anyone else who seemed to understand you the way that Gale did, or whose company you enjoyed nearly half as much.

“You’re a man of taste, and you’re knowledgeable about wine. Can you settle a debate for us?” You asked Gale when he walked over.

“A glass of wine sounds delightful this evening. What’s the topic of debate?” He asked.

“Astarion and Wyll may not be as cultured as you and I. Just tell them about the fine properties of this blend,” You said, trying to communicate ‘please, say this tastes good’ in your expression as you poured a glass and handed it over.

Gale swirled the glass and his eyes widened at the scent. To his credit, he took an honest sip and racked his brain for something kind to say about it. “It has notes of…berry. And cinnamon. And…” He couldn’t do it. “Acid. It tastes like it would eat a hole through a table if you spilled some on it. Do the youth of Baldur’s Gate really ingest this willingly?” He asked.

You threw your hands up.

“Poor taste, the lot of you. It cannot be helped.”

After dinner, Astarion sauntered over to you, two glasses of plum fizz in hand.

“A drink together. Sort of a truce,” He said.

You were suspicious, but took the glass in hand. The spicy, bitter, sweet, and confusing concoction ran down your throat and made your stomach feel hot. Astarion’s glass was already empty, and he poured you both another. By the time you realized that Astarion had been pouring his drinks out to get you to continue drinking, you were drunk enough to begin telling stories of your youth in Baldur’s Gate.

“So, after Wyll threw up in the street -”

“Can you please stop talking about that. I have plenty of embarrassing stories I could tell at your expense, you know. Lock.” Wyll said pointedly.

“Lock?” Shadowheart asked.

You covered your face, feeling a burning sensation creep up your cheeks.

“What none of you realize is that our beloved companion here was once the most eligible bachelorette in Baldur’s Gate nobility. Her family was wealthy and she was beautiful, intelligent, and charming…”

“Whatever happened?” You asked, making yourself laugh.

“However, she never took a partner. Singles of all creeds, genders, and races tried, but no one could get through to her. So, she began to be known as ‘the lock of Baldur’s Gate’. And, what opens a lock but a key? And the key to her heart was to answer a riddle,” Wyll explained with a dramatic flourish.

“A riddle? How droll. That’s a little…presumptuous, don’t you think?” Astarion asked. You shrugged.

“Why a riddle?” Karlach asked.

“I didn’t want to end up with someone who was a complete dunce,” You joked. It was a half-truth, since the whole truth would have disrupted the mood of revelry among your companions.

“Well, do we get to hear it?” Shadowheart asked.

You leaned back and looked at the faces of your companions. Wyll shook his head, having heard this question lamented among the singles of Baldur’s Gate throughout his youth.

“What is loving Taglath like?” You asked, the question rolling off of your tongue like a well-rehearsed line.

“What a stupid question!” Astarion huffed, rolling his eyes. He had no idea what the answer could be.

“Oh, do you know the answer, then? Since it’s so stupid,” You said, unable to wipe the smirk off of your face. It always delighted you to stump someone with the riddle, and it delighted you even more to watch them struggle with it.

“What is loving like?” You repeated, prodding Astarion for the answer.

“Darling, loving you is like poison seeping through my veins,” Astarion said, pretending to be a romantic poet, his hand gripping his chest, “- and it kills me to be parted from you,” He added, taking your hand in his icy cold grasp.

“Very sweet, but no,” You responded.

Everyone laughed, getting a little chuckle out of Astarion’s foolishness.

“Oh come on, it’s not like any of you geniuses know the answer,” Astarion said, raising a brow to the group. He looked around at their curious faces and wonders aloud, “Do you?”

“Uh, I don’t remember my childhood. Much less silly poems,” Shadowheart said, but thought about it for a moment. “Is it like a rose? Something beautiful out of the dirt?”

You shook your head.

“Chk. This is a waste of time,” Lae’zel said..

“C’mon, Lae’zel, what do you think loving is like?” Wyll probed, the githyanki rolling her eyes at him.

Lae’zel replied, “Like a well-won battle, your enemies dead at your feet.” There is a pause before she asked, “Did I answer correctly?”

“No,” You replied.

Karlach wiped her hands on her pants, not waiting to be asked. “You’re barking up the wrong tree if you ask me, solider,” She said, “But I’ll give it a try. Is it like a cool drink of water on a hot night?”

“That’s sweet, Karlach. It’s own little poem, even. But no,” You said.

“Well what’s the answer?” Astarion huffed, getting frustrated at this little display of ignorance.

“Salamander!” Wyll interjected, snapping his fingers like he cracked the code. This made everyone crack up, to his dismay. “No, because - I mean, uh - well, it’s better than corpses!” He insisted. This only made everyone laugh more.

In this revelry, no one even thought to glance at Gale, who had been watching the scene with a bemused little smile on his face.

There was a lull when the laughter died down, the silence of everyone taking a breath after a hearty laugh.

Through the silence, two words cut through the air like a knife directly to your heart.

“The Sun.”

You gasped (a reaction that, in retrospect, embarrassed you with how dramatic it was). You stared at the speaker, Gale’s dark eyes glinting in the firelight. You felt you must have looked ridiculous, your jaw agape.

In all of the years of telling the riddle, no one had ever known the answer. The key to your heart, you joked. But it had been more serious than you ever let on. As each suitor fumbled through wrong answers, it had only solidified your belief that true love would never be yours. That you would eventually have to settle for someone who couldn’t really understand you.

It was like time stopped, the visions of your companions becoming a blur as Gale came into focus.

Gale, meanwhile, appeared to be blissfully unaware that he had just broken your brain (what was left of it, at least).

“That’s…right. How did you know?” You choked out, hardly above a whisper.

“It’s a very clever riddle. See, most would probably assume that the riddle is about the works of Taglath, whom is renowned as an iconic romantic poet. His works adorn his lover with brilliant metaphors that have captured readers since their inception,” Gale explained to the group, lecturing his never-be students.

“That’s probably why Gef Deldus spent one summer immersed in Taglath’s works,” Wyll recalled, chuckling, “He told everyone that he had solved the riddle. He was convinced you would be his bride by the end of the season. What was his answer?” He asked.

“Love is like a poem,” You replied, still dumbfounded by Gale’s answer.

“The education in Baldur’s Gate leaves much to be desired,” Gale snarked, then continued, “What most people don’t know is that Taglath’s most prominent muse was another poet named Alanis. Unfortunately, most of her work has been lost to history. Almost no complete works remain, and only fragments have been collected for publication. But in her most complete work, she compares her lover to the Sun. It’s a gorgeous poem about loving someone who burns brightly and the fears associated with taking a lover of prominence. Loving despite fear,” He said.

You wondered how it was possible that your body felt like it was on fire but also like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on you. Did none of your companions notice that you were going insane? The realization rocked you like an earthquake.

Gale Dekarios was not a passing fancy, someone to think about kissing when the option presented itself. He was neither a daydream nor a wet dream to pass the time at different hours. He was not the greatest friend you had ever had, the person who you most looked forward to speaking to each morning after you woke and each night before you went to bed. The person who you spoke about nothing and everything with, played games with, or just enjoyed a comfortable silence with. He was not your traveling companion, nor even an ally who had risked his life for you as you had done for him. It was impossible for Gale to be any one of those things because he was all of them all at once and so much more.

Oh, fuck, you realized, your knees ready to give way.

You were in love with him.

The sound of your companions laughing and chattering together mixed together and sounded like ocean waves. If anyone turned to ask you anything you probably would have just stared at them blankly. You attempted to take a step toward Gale and the drinks you had earlier in the night went to your head, sending you tumbling forward and onto the ground.

“Looks like the plum fizz kicked in. ‘Key’, maybe you should take the ‘lock’ to bed,” Shadowheart said to Gale.

You thought that if you closed your eyes, maybe the ground would swallow you up and you would never have to look at Gale again. Instead, you felt him help you to your feet, allowing you to lean against him as he walked you to your tent. You were desperate to know what was going through his mind - did he realize the gravity that he answer had?

“Easy now,” Gale said, helping you down onto your bedroll. He treated you gently, helping you to unlace your boots and get settled in under the blanket. You were sick to your stomach at being doted on by him and kept quiet, trying to focus on anything but the way he looked at you. He left for a moment and came back to bring you some water.

“Is there anything you need?” He asked.

You were quiet for a moment, then spoke.

“Gale?”

“Yes?”

“After we had that moment in the Weave…you mentioned that we shouldn’t talk about it then, with the orb being unstable and everything going on,” You said, then allowed yourself to lean into your own intoxication, asking what was truly on your mind. “Was that really the reason? Because if you don’t see me that way, you can tell me. It won’t hurt my feelings.” The words poured out of you too quickly for you to worry about sounding insecure. It was a lie, of course, that it wouldn’t hurt your feelings. Being rejected by Gale would be devastating.

Gale looked thoughtful, then recited the end of Alanis’s fragments of her poem about her lover.

“My lover is like the Sun, Brilliant and bright He eclipses me And yet I yearn

My lover is like the Sun Blinding and unyielding When he touches me I burn”

He placed his hand on your cheek, his gaze looking through you and into your soul. The two of you could say so much without a single word.

“Am I the Sun, or are you?” You asked.

Gale had loved the poem when he read it as a boy, and later thought of it often when he was with Mystra, trying to make sense of the reality of having a goddess for a lover. He had often wondered if he would ever have an identity outside of being Mystra’s chosen, or whether he would forever be tied to the Goddess. And if that was the case, why did the idea of it make him burn with jealousy?

However, the poem had taken on new meaning since he met you. He felt like the Sun, a ball of fire ready to explode in his chest at any moment. As badly as he wanted to hold you close, he knew that doing so would destroy you. Still, he wondered, might it be worth it to burn if he could have one moment of knowing what it was like to be yours entirely?

Or rather, were you the Sun? He was certainly transfixed by you, drawn to your brilliance. You, a mortal who dared to be more brilliant and enticing than his Goddess. Would following you lead him down the path to certain doom - or worse, would getting close to you lead you to your own demise? It was that thought that kept him up at night, wondering if he should escape in the night. To save you from himself, or at least get you as far away from the danger as possible.

Gale contemplated your question.

“I’m not sure,” He finally replied.

“I don’t know, either.”

You placed your hand on Gale’s, your gaze fixed on each other, searching for an answer in each other’s eyes. Neither of you could find it.

However, there was one thing that was clear to both of you: whether through flames of salvation or damnation, you would burn for each other.

#gale dekarios #gale x tav #gale x reader #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #bg3 gale #bg3 brainrot #gale brainrot

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lendeah · 4 months

Text

The currents of destiny

Chapter 1: The present.

Requested by @tinystarfishgalaxy! Thank you very much🤍🫶🏻

Summary: "I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming." Astarion's life takes a dark turn following his encounter with Cazador, as his lover Tav refuses to help him ascend. Left to face the aftermath of his choices, Astarion seeks understanding in his new reality. In his search for answers, he meets a seer named G'axir, who offers him glimpses into three different paths his life could take: his future as an Ascended Vampire, his future alone, and a future next to Tav. Now, Astarion must decide which path to follow before it's too late. Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader. Word Count: 2.9k Tags: Heavy Angst, Psychological Trauma, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Psychological Torture (kind of), Emotional Manipulation, Verbal Abuse, but just chapter 2, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending.

Next chapter ->

[AO3 Link]

The air reeks of death and blood, the stench heavy and suffocating. Cazador's lifeless body lies in a pool of his own blood, a gruesome sight that only fuels Astarion's anger. His entire body trembles with rage, years of pent-up frustration boiling over.

He had lost everything - the chance to turn the ritual and become the most powerful Vampire, the chance to get back all he lost, the chance to be completely free.

And it was all because of her.

"Astarion?" Her voice quivers with fear as she approaches him cautiously. Turning to face her, his once handsome features contort into a twisted mask of fury.

"You," he growls, his voice dripping with venom. "You betrayed me."

Her body recoils at his accusation, but he pays no mind. The only thing he can see is red, consumed by a blazing fire of betrayal and pain.

"I only wanted what was best for you," she pleads, tears welling in her eyes.

"You had no right!" he bellows, making her flinch again. "This was my last chance!"

"Do you think I wanted to do this?" she cries, her voice breaking. "I did it for you, Astarion. It would have turned you into the very thing you despise."

His lips curl into a sneer and his fangs glint in the dim light. "Oh, spare me your platitudes," he scoffs. "You always did have a way with words, didn't you? You professed your love for me, claiming that my happiness was all you desired and that you would do anything to ensure it. Well, congratulations, now you've sealed my fate with disgrace."

The pain in her eyes fuels Astarion's anger even more.

"Please Astarion. I didn't mean..." she pleads desperately.

"But you did it," he seethes, baring his sharp fangs in anger. "You've taken everything from me."

"Please, let's go home," she begs, tears streaming down her face. "We can figure out a way together."

"Home?" Astarion laughs bitterly. "I have no home anymore."

She flinches at his words and takes a step back, fear evident in her eyes. The pain cut deep in his heart, leaving behind an irreparable wound. How could he have been so naive? To blindly put his trust in someone who would turn their back on him in his darkest hour? The realization hits him like a ton of bricks, shattering the remains of his shattered heart into dust.

"I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming," he spits before walking away, leaving her behind in a pool of regrets and broken promises. He could hear her heart-wrenching cries as he left, but the anger and pain inside of him only led him further away from her.

The moon cast a faint glow over the dark streets of the city as Astarion walked, his mind consumed with seething anger. The sound of his own footsteps echoed through the empty alleyways, mingling with the distant chatter of late-night revelers. People turned to look at him, their gazes lingering on the blood stains that still marred his body. He couldn't bring himself to care, his thoughts completely fixated on the scene that had played out in front of him. He didn't even know how long he had been wandering for, only that the night was growing darker and colder. He had no destination in mind, his feet taking him wherever they pleased as he tried to make sense of what had happened.

Over and over again it replayed in his mind; the knife plunging into Cazador's chest, the man's pained cries echoing in the stone walls of the basement, and the remaining silence after his lifeless body hit the floor. With each repetition, Astarion's anger only grew. How dare he make him feel 200 years of torture, only to feel a mere minute of pain before dying? It wasn't fair. He deserved to feel the pain tenfold, to suffer for eternity just as Astarion had.

As he made his way down the street, his mind couldn't help but drift to Tav. The mere thought of her brought a mix of emotions - anger, hurt, and longing. She had betrayed him, yet her words still echoed in his head, pleading for him to understand. He couldn't deny the love he had once felt for her, but he also couldn't shake the pain she had caused him. Was it all truly for his sake?

Finally reaching a secluded spot on the beach, he sank down onto the sand. It hit him suddenly - he was truly alone once more. There was no one to lean on, no one who could truly understand and accept him for who he was. But he didn't want anyone either. People were fickle creatures; they could betray you in an instant without a second thought.

The waves crashed against the shore, a soothing rhythm that did little to calm Astarion's racing thoughts. He let out a scream of frustration as he punched the sand beneath him. His knuckles burned with pain, but it was nothing compared to the searing rage consuming him. With a groan of agony, Astarion let himself fall back onto the sand. The cold grains offered no comfort as he lay there staring up at the dark sky above. The stars seemed to taunt him with their twinkling, a reminder that he was completely and utterly alone in this vast, uncaring universe.

And then, as if on queue, a figure appeared in his peripheral vision. Astarion's head snapped to the side, his eyes locking onto the man who had suddenly appeared beside him. The moonlight revealed the wrinkles on his face, adding depth and shadow to his features. His long white hair flowed from underneath a robe that reached down to his feet, and in his hand, he held a staff. He exuded an aura of wisdom and age.

Astarion sat up, his hand instinctively reaching for a dagger that wasn't there. Of course he had left his weapons behind. He eyed the stranger warily, his anger still simmering beneath the surface.

"Who are you?" Astarion asked.

"I am recognized by myriad titles... yet for you... 'G'axir' will suffice," the old man replied with a gentle smile. "I have observed your journey... for quite a while"

He narrowed his eyes, wondering if this was some kind of trap. He had learned the hard way to trust no one, especially not strangers who appeared out of nowhere in the dead of night.

"Watching me?"

G'axir nodded. "Your destiny is ensnared in shadows... since you first rose from your grave."

Astarion felt a chill run down his spine. How could this stranger possibly know anything about his past?

"I'm afraid I have little patience for riddles tonight," Astarion said as he stood up and brushed off the sand from his clothes. "I'll be on my way now."

But as he turned to leave, G'axir quickly reached out to grab Astarion's arm. What in the sweet hells?

"You... are a light entering darkness. You... are a seeker of truths. You... are more than you realize," G'axir replied cryptically. "The Seer has spoken it because the Seer knows the fear you harbor."

Astarion's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the old man's words. How could he have secrets buried within himself? He thought he knew himself well enough, especially after living for 200 years.

Astarion couldn't help but roll his eyes in disbelief. "Oh, stop with the theatrics, I don't have any spare money, if that's what you are seeking."

G'axir shook his head. "Your life... is in the balance. Act wisely, act judiciously..."

Astarion yanked his arm away from the old man's grasp. "Must we continue with this tiresome charade? State your purpose and leave me be," he demanded, his voice shaking with fury.

G'axir's expression remained calm and serene, unfazed by Astarion's outburst. "I stand as your guide... offering wisdom to illuminate your path and aid you on your journey..."

Astarion scoffed, his usual sarcastic wit dripping from every word. "Please, I'm perfectly capable of navigating this world on my own. No need for any pesky guidance or assistance," he declared with a sour grin. "I've already had my fill of unwanted help today, thank you very much."

"The path ahead of you... is treacherous and filled with darkness," G'axir said solemnly.

Astarion scoffed. "Well, I've been living in the darkness for 200 years. I can handle it."

"But... can you handle the light... that could await you?" G'axir asked.

Astarion raised an eyebrow at the old man's question. Handle the light? What did that even mean?

"What light?" Astarion asked skeptically.

"The light... of truth and understanding," G'axir replied enigmatically. Astarion felt a twinge of curiosity stir within him despite his reluctance to believe anything this old man said.

"Why should I trust you? You could be deceiving me in an attempt to abduct me, or something," Astarion said suspiciously.

G'axir nodded in understanding. "In the dance of shadows where deceit finds solace, one who has waltzed through its embrace grows cautious of fellow wanderers. Yet, heed my words — I harbor no malevolent intentions directed toward you."

Astarion warily watched G'axir, but as the old man's gentle gaze met his own, he felt himself start to relax. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something about G'axir that made him feel safe and at ease. It was almost like an aura surrounding him that emitted a sense of calmness.

A moment of silence passed between them before Astarion finally spoke up again.

"So what now? Are we having a psychic reading? Should I start handing over my palm and tea leaves for you to predict my future?"

"I do not need a crystal ball to see your future... for it is already written in the stars."

Astarion raised an eyebrow. "The stars?"

G'axir's smile widened. "All things, including yourself... are interwoven within the fabric of the celestial bodies... that have perennially molded the contours of our destinies."

Astarion rolled his eyes, not wanting to entertain the idea that his fate was predetermined by some cosmic forces. "You're telling me that my entire life has been planned out for me?" he scoffed.

G'axir shook his head gently. "Your will remains untethered, and the ability to sculpt your own fate lies within your grasp... The stars merely cast their luminous gaze, imparting guidance... and revealing glimpses of the myriad possibilities that unfold before you."

Astarion mulled over G'axir's words, unsure of whether he believed in them or not. However, he couldn't deny the feeling of intrigue and curiosity that continued to grow within him.

"Let's say I entertain this absurd idea for a moment," Astarion said skeptically. "What do the stars have to say about my bright, shining future?"

"Lay down... Let the whispers of the universe... respond to the questions lingering... in the silence of the night."

Astarion hesitated for a moment before laying down on the ground, looking up at the sky above, where the stars seemed to be laughing at him.

"Shut your eyes and... attune your senses... to the rhythmic cadence of your breath," G'axir instructed, his voice calm and soothing.

Astarion did as he was told, taking deep breaths and attempting to clear his mind. He could hear G'axir's soft chanting in the background, lulling him into a state of relaxation.

As he focused on his breathing, he could feel his body levitating, as if he were leaving this reality. When Astarion opened his eyes again, he found himself floating in the vast expanse of darkness and stars. Panic gripped his chest as he struggled to understand what was happening.

"What is this? Where am I?" Astarion yelled, his voice echoing into the void.

"You are in the realm between consciousness and the stars," G'axir's voice answered calmly.

Astarion turned around and saw G'axir floating next to him. He was still chanting softly, his eyes closed in concentration.

"This is impossible!" Astarion exclaimed, feeling a mix of fear and awe.

Astarion looked around, taking in the breathtaking sight of millions of stars twinkling in the void. He couldn't believe that he was actually flying among them.

"Is this real or just an illusion?" he asked, still not fully trusting G'axir's words.

"It is as real as you want it to be," G'axir replied cryptically.

G'axir's chanting grew louder as he reached out and took Astarion's hand. "There are cities below cities, dreams beneath dreams, the present laying buried beneath the crushing weight of the future... let me show you..."

As their surroundings blurred and twisted, the sky seemed to distort itself and reveal...the Elfsong tavern?

The image of the place had a hazy quality, as if they were viewing it through a smudged window.

"What are we doing here?" Astarion asked, but when he turned to see G'axir, the man was gone.

He was in the middle of the place, so familiar after the many days and nights spent here with his companions. The sound of merry chatter and clinking glasses filled the air, along with the tantalizing aroma of hearty meals being cooked. Astarion stood in the middle of the bar, his heart pounding with confusion and fear.

G'axir's words echoed in his mind... "the present lying buried beneath the crushing weight of the future." Was this a glimpse of the future? Of the present? Or maybe just an illusion?

If this was a glimpse into the present, then his companions had to be... Astarion's heart raced as he quickly climbed the stairs to the grand bedroom where they had been living for the past few weeks. When he reached the top, he burst into the room.Astarion could see his companions huddled together in a corner, but they showed no signs of seeing or hearing him. As he observed them, an overwhelming sense of dread filled his stomach. Familiar faces surrounded him: Halsin, Gale, Wyll, Yaheira, and Lae'zel. They stood in a circle, their expressions serious as they whispered amongst themselves. But one person was missing - Tav. He tried to call out to them, but his voice was nonexistent. It slowly dawned on him that he wasn't actually present in this moment, at least not physically. His spirit had been transported to this place, a mere observer in a realm beyond the physical world.

Suddenly, he spotted a figure huddled separately from the group. His heart rattled in his ribcage as he realized. "Tav?"

Her hair fell like a curtain around her face, obscuring what he could see of her expression. But it was unmistakable - the once fiery and headstrong leader was now slumped onto the cold ground, whimpering into her hands. Underneath a velvet curtain in a darkened corner of the room, she sat, knees drawn up to her chest, tears streaming down her face. Next to her Shadowheart was attempting to offer consolation through soft words.

Even though Astarion couldn't hear what she whispered to Tav, he saw her hand reach out to comfort the devastated woman. But Tav recoiled from her touch like it was a burning ember.

"Maybe if I had done it he wouldn't have left," Tav was whispering between sobs.

"You know that would have killed him on the long run! We did what had to be done to protect him and you know it."

"No, no..." he muttered, "this can't be..."

Astarion felt his own heart shatter at the sight. He took a step towards them but stopped himself, remembering the impossibility of the situation. He couldn't touch her, couldn't comfort her.

"Do you think he meant it?" Tav said, suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"That he hopes I die screaming." Tav's voice cracked as tears threatened to spill from her eyes once again.

Shadowheart's surprised eyes met hers. "He didn't mean it, Tav... You know how Astarion gets when he's upset."

But Tav shook her head, her face drained of color and desperation evident in her tone. "He meant every word," she whispered, barely audible. "I could see it in his eyes." After a shaky breath, she added with a hint of resignation, "And part of me wishes I would too."

Each word she spoke felt like a physical blow, causing Astarion's chest to tighten and his heart to ache. He watched helplessly as her voice cracked with resignation, her head dropping onto his shirt in defeat. His shirt. Shit.

"No, please..." he pleaded. But it was too late, the damage had been done.

Astarion's heart ached at her words, but he couldn't deny the truth in them. He had said some unforgivable things to Tav in the heat of the moment, fueled by anger and hurt. Deep down, a part of him had wished for her to suffer just as he was suffering. But seeing her like this, broken and in pain, made him realize the gravity of his actions. He never wanted for her to actually die. Hells, he was so deeply in love with her that the mere thought of anything happening to her was unbearable.

He took a step closer, wanting to comfort her somehow. But he was trapped in this surreal vision, unable to reach out and mend the shattered pieces of their relationship.

Slowly, the vision began to fade, the colors blurring into the darkness. Astarion felt himself growing lighter, pulled back from the vision.

"No, wait! Tav!"

The Elfsong tavern phased out and he was back in the expanse of starry darkness. His heart pounded in his chest as he processed what he had just witnessed. He wanted to go back, to somehow fix the damage he had caused.

Suddenly, a figure appeared before him in a flash of light. It was G'axir.

"You," Astarion growled as he stepped forward aggressively, "What have you done? Bring me back!"

G'axir held up a hand placatingly. "You have glimpsed... into the unfolding tapestry of the now" G'axir stated cryptically "Behold... now your vision shall traverse the myriad paths of potential futures."

Next chapter ->

#astarion ancunin #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #baldurs gate fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic #astarion x you

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pursuitseternal · 4 months

Note

Hi first of all, I wanted to tell you how much I love your fanfictions I'm always happy to see something new (ascended astarion and astarion spawn stories are my favourites but the others are captivating too). I was wondering if you could write a story where the original Tav dies and is reborn a few hundred years later and Astarion finds her again. Maybe in a more modern setting where the prudery thing isn't quite so… strong

I apologise for my bad English it's not my native language I hope you can understand it anyway

“Mistrial:” a Modern Faerûn AU

Astarion x Tav |E| 2.5K modern au

Ao3 link

Summary: Hundreds of years without her, Astarion still sits on the bench, Justice Ancunìn hear case after case. Until one day, that young prosecutor gets under his skin, until she confronts him after their trial, until ancient memories stir and things awaken.

A/N: Thank you to @myfavouritelunatic and @brabblesblog for their enabling and encouragement.

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“Justice Ancunìn, I have to object,” the little firecracker of a prosecutor ground her high heel into the tile of the courtroom.

Astarion shook his head, tired of her tone already on day one. “You don’t have to, counselor,” he rubbed two fingers against his silver-haired temple, “but given that this is already your twenty-second one today, I can’t say I’m surprised.” She looked at him with sharp eyes and folded arms. The little shit. He did not care for her already.

If this had been in the good old days when Faerûn was at its prime and most debauched, he could have her flogged for her tone and sent to cool in the stocks. And that would have been before he had been turned into vampiric spawn, before he had become hero of Baldur’s Gate with the love of his life at his side. Helping him learn how to hide his immortality and vampirism from the public, learning how to still serve as Magistrate despite his… condition.

That was until time moved on, and his immortality won over the lingering bonds of love. He missed Tav, her brilliance and ferocity, her pointed ears and sweet blood, her passion in life and in the bed.

Like the blink of an eye, he moved on. City to city, career to career as hundreds of years continued their slow grind of time. Until now, now, he stared down from his bench in BGC, new finagled magic in this modern age like cars and electricity and internet. But law was law, and a judge was a judge

It was as if he never left, aside from the new spitfire attorney, just arrived from New Waterdeep, with a ferocity he would have once admired.

He just now found it tiresome. Irritating. He realized after a moment, she had the decency to wait on his final word on her request for objection. He shifted in his seat, narrowing his eyes at her. “Overruled, Counselor Ylfe.” He banged his gavel twice. “In fact, court adjourned until tomorrow,” he stood grumbling to himself. “At least I’ll be spared a twenty-third objection in so many hours…”

His pointed ears picked up on a high pitched scoff. “We shall see,” that lawyer snipped to herself. But that tone, that defiance and jabbing quality… something piqued his interest.

Stirred his ancient memory.

He finally groaned as he rested in his chambers, only moments after shutting the doors and sliding off those scratchy robes. Gods, he missed silks and wigs and velvets. Not this cheap crap everyone wore. He went to his cabinet, taking out a discrete green bottle and pouring himself a mug of its swirling ruby contents. He popped it in his microwave, one improvement on the campfire he would not begrudge using.

Not when it made his stash of blood warm for once.

But even as it hummed, his mind kept rolling over his day. Especially that stubborn, annoying, irritating prosecutor with her defiant eyes and jutting out chin and crossed arms and swaying, perfect hips, and……

“Justice Ancunìn, I figured you would finally have a moment for us to address how to best proceed civilly in your own chambers,” his head shot up, his gaze narrowed as he watched her stride on into his offices.

Her.

“What in the hells are you thinking, Counselor Ylfe?” he spat, fighting hard from baring his fangs at her. A habit eroded from nearly a millennia of practice almost overturned just at the sight of her. “You know any discourse outside of the courtroom can result in a mistrial?”

“This isn’t about the trial, this is about your abject disdain for me, personally, it would seem.” She did it again, crossing her arms and swaying her hips in that tight little black pantsuit of her hers.

Astarion let his eye wander. There was something about her… not many females cut so fine a figure in trousers, or slacks or whatever the fuck they were now.

Not since… her. The other her in his life. His true love. That was the last time he even gave a woman a second glance.

Her hair hung over her shoulder, but now, up close, he could see two pointed ears peeking through her crown of long and flowing hair. Elf. High elf.

He locked eyes with her, that piercing shade… his mind raced and wandered… flying through ancient history for some, the warmest of memories for him. Emerald Grove, Shadow Cursed Lands, the real Baldur’s Gate…

“Didn’t you hear me, Your Honor?” she snapped at him.

Astarion shook his mess of silver locks, smiling in a way that no longer hid his fangs. “I’m afraid I was… lost in the sea of my long and winding memories… darling….”

That made her freeze solid. Her smooth face drew into an inscrutable expression, her cherry red lips parted… “What did you call me…?”

Only then did he realize the slip of his own tongue, how that pet name he vowed never to use flowed right off of it. “D-darling.” He repeated, as shocked as she was at the impropriety. “I’m sorry, Ms. Ylfe.”

“Don’t be,” she instantly replied with a shake of her head. Then she smiled, even as her brows furrowed. She looked at him, at his pale face and silver hair and… dark brown eyes…. “Have you always worn contacts, Mr. Ancunìn?”

“How…” but before he could interrogate that true suspicion, his microwave dinged.

“You better get your drink, Your Honor…” That lilt in her voice was new, he noted.

“I’ll wait,” he shrugged. “I can always reheat it later. First I’ll have to apologize for my… behavior today.”

“I should hope so,” she grinned, walking around and sitting on the edge of his desk. “Treating a lady with such disdain… only to about face and call her darling the next moment… seems something only a true, black-hearted rogue would do…”

“What?” he went rigid. Bending forward, that old instinct to fight or fly racing through his nerves after centuries.

“I’ve never been a fan of contacts,” she smiled so easily as she leaned back against the top of his desk, fingers splayed on his files and papers. “Better if you just showed the world your natural eyes, Mr. Ancunìn….”

His nostrils flared, his breath racing and head swimming. But this time there was no fucking tadpole, he knew that.

“What’s your name…” he hissed, narrowed eyes leveling at her.

“I can tell you, unless you’re bent on letting your stash of blood from getting cold…. Astarion.”

His hand flew to her neck, bringing her up into his face, fangs bared, hackles raised, every long suppressed vampiric sense firing on all cylinders now as he smelled her. “Name,” he commanded.

“Taveria Ylfe,” she swallowed under his hold. “But those close to me have always called me Tav….”

“Tav,” her name was a gasp in his throat.

“And I know you,” she said, breathy and quick. “I didn’t know how… but there was something about you that made me… unsettled.”

“Twenty-two objections later and you call yourself… unsettled?” he smirked, lightening his hold, but stroking his fingers on her skin.

Her skin.

“Well, darling,” she purred, "lifetimes of perfect memory for our kind, and I should have recognized my lover with the crimson eyes and pointed fangs.”

Astarion shook his head, swallowing the rising ball of emotion that caught in his throat. “I’d cry, but it’ll make my contacts hurt,” he gave a wet laugh. His thumb traced on the side of her neck, two circle marks in her flesh, like moles or scars…

“You found them, the brands I’ve have on my flesh ever since you, Astarion,” she added, eyes batting shut under his touch. “I’ve looked for you in every lifetime, my true love with roguish swagger, red eyes, pointed fangs, and massive…”

She paused, pursing her lips.

“Ego?” he offered as an answer, but she shook her head.

“Cock,” she grinned as she bit her lip.

“I was hoping you’d say that… darling…” He hissed as her hand grasped at the gusset between his legs. “Looking for your evidence?” he growled, a roll of his hips into the pressure of her touch. So ancient and familiar. “You’ll get it, darling, if you want it…”

“I do, Astarion,” she sighed, fingers stroking back and forth on the cotton of his pants, feeling that rising erection instantly straining back.

A monsterous growl in his throat, a burning hunger in his belly, he grasped at the back of her neck, pulling her against his lips.

The age-old dance, the same taste. Closing his eyes, his body transported a millennia ago… as if he could smell blood and woodsmoke and magic in the air mixed with her scent. Had he suppressed so much of his senses he couldn’t recognize her scent? Had he ignored the same beat of her heart in her chest, same musical rush of blood in her veins?

He shook his head to let all that go, realizing her hands already tore through her own blazer and button down, clothing now cast to the floor. Already, she had shimmied off the desk, pressing harder into his kiss. He waited for no further invitation, hands instantly sliding her slacks from her perfect curves, his own clothing suddenly feeling too tight and too abrasive.

Astarion only wanted her skin on him now. After so long. He couldn’t move fast enough, his reflexes had dulled from neglect, his dexterity a fraction of what it once was with her. But it, too, slowly crept back, his hands making quick work of his own clothes.

Suddenly, those fingers remembered the smoothness of her skin, rekindled their dexterity. His hand clawed into her hair, the other stroked down her belly, backing her perfect body to perch on the edge of his desk. The gasp he drew from her lips as he sank two fingers into her folds woke something feral in him, something ancient. Vampiric.

“Tav,” he hissed, nuzzing against the music of her artery, rubbing along the stream of her blood in her neck. “May I, please…”

“Mmm, I want to see your real eyes before you take anything of mine, Astarion,” she purred, arching against him. One hand splayed on the desk behind her, she smirked and watched. Never had anyone removed contacts so quickly, so dexterously.

As he blinked, her heart poured open. That scarlet glare, that tilted head, those mussy silver curls. “I can’t believe it’s you…” she sighed.

His eyes went wide, shining in his unshed tears and well of emotion. “I’m so tired of words, Tav,” he replied, voice cracking with that exhaustion and unbridled desire now. “Just give me all of you, to lose myself in, to lose these long and draining years in, years without you.”

Not another word as said, nothing but the groans of their joining once more, the shudder of their bodies as they fucked, the creaking of the wood beneath her as he slammed his hips against it. Cock buried deep in her cunt, fangs digging into her neck.

Both parts of her were hot and leaking. Blood spilled from his mouth once more—warm and fresh and sweetened with her taste. Arousal leaked into the wood beneath them, her musk and sweat the only perfume he longed to smell.

He swirled his tongue over his bite marks, fresh bleeding wounds that swallowed those scars she was born with. A lasting brand on her skin as she had forever been on his heart, his soul.

He couldn’t bring her close enough to him, fingers clawed into her ass to keep her from sliding away with his frantic thrusts. And she had already wrapped herself around his waist, already scratched up the places of his back that weren’t riddled with scars still. Clutching him tightly to never lose him again.

Their lips were sealed together, locked as they sucked and moved and danced in their ancient kiss, the taste of her blood sending them both reeling into oblivion. She keened as her walls spasmed around his cock, that familiar ripple and beat of her climax pressing against his every wild and erratic thrust.

His forehead resting against her shoulder, the scent of her blood there was the last little push he needed, losing himself in the trembling warmth and comfort and pull of her body. His cock pulsed hard inside her, thrumming against her muscles as he came harder than anything for a thousand years. Forcing his head back up, he locked eyes with her, face twisting and arms shaking as he came. Lips pulled back to show those glistening and reddened fangs.

Her hand braced hard at the back of his neck, keeping her with him as his hips thrust, slowing as he emptied into her. At last he stilled, a foolish, young smile on his gaping lips, lips he licked clean.

He would tell her sometime, how she had made his undead heart remember how to beat and love again twice now. How she brought him back to life over and over again. But with that haze in her eyes, the way she clenched still around his cock, he knew this wouldn’t be the end of their reunion.

Thank the gods.

Lips curling as she met her mouth in a kiss, she drew him in again for more. “I have a hotel…” she whispered.

“And I have a penthouse, darling,” came his instant reply between her ravenous caresses.

“Hmm,” she laughed deep in her throat, their kiss still working slowly, unable to break apart once more. “As long as you keep it cleaner than your tent once was, I accept. Someplace for us until the morning when we return to court…”

His fingers, coated in the scent of her arousal, stayed her mouth. “Tch, surely even a young thing like you knows this will end in mistrial now,” he smirked. “Not even I can think of a clause that allows for lost soul mates to continue in court after such…” he glanced at the mess between their legs, “…debauchery.”

“Oh well,” she feigned disappointment, sliding off to retrieve her clothes. “Worth it…”

Suddenly his arms gripped her, pulling her by the swell of her ass, flush against his naked body one more time. “It’ll be days before either of us must return to court… long, exhausting, pleasure-filled days, darling.”

Tav dove up for his kiss, standing in her tiptoes to meet that smirk that haunted her for centuries. “You better hurry me away to your place, Astarion, or someone will find us here making up for lost time.”

Reluctantly and with a deafening sigh, he relented, busying himself to dress again.

“Oh,” she commented, that taunting tone in her voice, “and don’t think I missed how you never answered it your place was still a mess of chaos again.”

He turned, shaking his head as he refastened his belt. “Well, even if you are disappointed in that regard, I can assure you…” he gave her that look, those half-lidded eyes, that sharpened fanged smirk, “you won’t be left wanting in other regards.”

#astarion x tav #modern au #astarion modern au #judge astarion #lawyer Tav #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #vampire spawn #astarion spawn #spawn astarion #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3

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dinoace2 · 5 months

Text

I had a cute little story idea so you all must deal with my sappy ass

This one's just some sweet short astarion comfort fluff bc I need more of that in my life

(AFaB Tav, referred to as She/Her, mention of periods. 575 words)

~~~~~

They were more or less together at this point, mutual pining and spending all their time with one another, though neither said it aloud. Tav let him feed on her neck whenever he needed, though he would only do so if she offered first. This was rarely an issue, however, since she had a tendency to make this offer on a daily basis.

Lately, though, she hadn't. For the last several days, whenever the party retreated to their camp for some much-needed rest, Tav would immediately go straight to her tent and lay down.

Astarion paced outside of her tent, wondering whether or not to ask about it. Was she upset with him? Did he do something wrong? Was she finally fed up with him? No, no, that couldn't be it. Right?

After fighting with himself for a while, he slowly poked his head in, seeing Tav curled up around a pillow, her back to him. "Hello, darling...I just wanted to check in on you. Is everything alright?"

She paused, a low grumble in her throat. "...yeah. just been...I dunno...a bit extra tired. I'm okay."

That didn't sound okay. Tav was usually so strong, so energetic...this definitely wasn't normal.

He cleared his throat. "...does this, perhaps...have anything to do with my, ah...lack of feeding these last few days?" He paused, then shook his head quickly. "I-i would like to be clear, I'm not asking for it at the moment! I was simply...inquiring. Trying to gain an understanding, that's all." He chuckled. "Youre the one who always insists upon honesty and 'no more secrets', after all."

Tav paused then let out a long sigh, sitting up and giving the poor, strangled pillow a break. "...Sorry. I....its really rather silly...perhaps almost selfish..." she turned around, looking up at him from where she sat. "As much as I'd love to share right now, I've been losing enough blood as it is...im not sure it'd end well if I were to give up more."

Losing blood? His face paled, somehow more than usual. Was she injured? She didn't look hurt. He ransacked his memory to try and figure out when or where she could have taken such a hit, all the while looking her up and down for any physical signs of pain.

"I...oh dear...uh...if I may ask, what happened, darling? When did you get hurt? Did you fall? Did someone stab you? Who do I need to hunt down?"

Tav was quiet for a moment then let out a soft chuckle. "Im fine, Astarion...really, it's okay."

She...wasn't hurt? Then why was she...

...Oh.

Oh.

His cheeks flushed as bright as his eyes and he was quick to her side, pulling her into his arms. "Darling, why didn't you say so? I absolutely would have understood. You didn't have to hide that from me." He chuckled. "If anyone here knew a thing or two about blood, it would be me, don't you think?"

His comment drew a giggle from the tired warrior in his arms, and she snuggled up. "Thank you, Astarion."

The following days, the rest of the party noticed that Astarion was especially doting on Tav, (or at least more than usual,) being extra snuggly and, in some particular occasions, downright spoiling her. Despite her insistence that it wasn't a big deal, and he really didn't have to go so far, he was incredibly stubborn to ensure that his darling was as comfortable and happy as possible.

~~~~

Idk how to end it so

Thanks for reading! :]

#bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 fic #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 tav #baldurs gate tav #tav #cute fluff #astarion fluff

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pheonixgrave · 9 months

Text

Need You (18+)

I honestly cannot believe how much the last three have taken off, it's actually fucking mindblowing. Thank you guys so much!!!!!!!

Warnings: Fluff and smut, blood drinking, we love Astarion in this household, mentions of Cazador

He loves her. After everything that’s happened and everything they’ve done, he loves her. They held each other all the way from the cemetery back to the camp. It was truly the best night since being back in Baldur’s Gate for her. They could forget that the outside world existed and just focus on each other. They could forget about her parents or Cazador. There was a peace to the night. There was a peace to them. She had loved him for a while. She had loved him since the first night. And she was content to have him however he would let her. She was ecstatic when he told her he wanted them to be something real. She had always been more than patient with him. She had cried when he said he loved her.

It was a deeply emotional night. They held each other, they cried. Astarion knew he had feelings for her at Moonrise. He knew he loved her when she faced down an Orthon in his name. But he was terrified. And then they stood in Cazador’s palace. She hadn’t hesitated to say he would have killed her if they had met under different circumstances. She hadn't hesitated to shove Cazador off a cliff. He had never known her to be malicious. But he could see the look in her eyes as she went toe to toe with a vampire lord. It was certainty. It was defiance. It was breathtaking.

This was real. He had to remind himself of that more often than not. Tav could have had Gale or Halsin. Mizora or Shadowheart. Wyll or Lae’zel. Anyone. But she chose him. And as she laid before him, her once pale skin now a deep golden and most of the softness in her body gone, he couldn’t help the feeling but to own the rest of her. Something about her made him want to be possessive. Sure, they were in the far corner of the rooms they had rented and had more privacy than normal. But he wanted to make her scream.

He sat on his knees, hands gently stroking her thighs. They hadn’t slept yet and the sun was creeping through the windows. They hadn’t even moved past kissing. Everything felt different now. It felt all the more important. She had the same look in her eyes from the first night. Except there was no hesitation. She loves him. Astarion leaned towards her, hovering over her. Piercing red eyes met blue ones. He didn’t kiss her. Instead he kissed her cheek. And then the other one. And then just below her ear, slowly making his way to the bite scars that finally formed on her neck.

He could feel her thighs tremble just from the brief contact. And the way she bared her neck to him was more than heavenly. But he didn’t bite her. Not yet. This was going to last as long as he pleased. She whined when he only sucked the skin around the scars. “Do you trust me?”

His breath was warm against her skin. She wanted him to take her so desperately and he was only taking his time. It was such a simple question but she couldn’t form the words. She nodded vigorously.

“Use your words, pet.”

She whined again but could barely whisper her answer. “I do.”

He smiled against her neck before taking her hands and putting them above her head. “That’s my girl.” He moved quickly, making her grip the bed frame. “Do not move your hands until I say so, understood?”

Her body shook. He had her pinned underneath him and her clit throbbed. She nodded again.

“Try again, my dear.”

“I-I understand.” He had barely touched her and she already knew that the second he did, she was done for.

He sat back and watched the elf squirm under his gaze. “Gods, you’re beautiful.” His voice always did something to her. But a reverent whisper was more than her body could handle already. Her skin was flushed and her chest was heaving. He trailed his hands from her arms to her waist, fingers barely ghosting her skin.

“Atsarion, please!” Tav could see the hunger in his eyes. It made her weak that she couldn’t tell if it was for her or her blood. She’d give him either.

He smiled at her. There was so much emotion in his eyes that neither of them were afraid to put a name to now. They would never be afraid again. He kissed her. A slow, powerful kiss. He kissed her like he needed her. He kissed her like he couldn’t live without her anymore.

He made his way down her body, peppering light kisses along her neck. It took him ages to get to her breasts. He swirled his tongue around her nipples before biting each one. Not hard enough to break skin but hard enough for her to know he could. Her gasps quickly turned into moans as she wriggled against him. And he just kept going lower, every kiss a small worship of her. Her legs had been spread to fit him between them. He started with her thighs, small gentle kisses while his other hand rubbed circles into the other. First the right one then the left.

She was shaking. A slave to his touch and his touch alone. And she cried out his name as he sunk his fangs into her thigh. He felt her muscles tighten as he drank. He knew this wasn’t supposed to be a pleasurable experience. And yet she seemed to almost crave it. It was intimate and held the building blocks for everything they’ve become. He drank slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. Her grip on the headboard was slipping but she was trying so hard to keep her hands there.

Once he stopped, he let blood trickle out of the wound. Quietly enjoying how easily she had given herself to him. He used his fingers to spread her cunt and watched her squirm even more. She knew he’d give her what she craved but she had been waiting for so long now.

“Eyes on me, pet. I want to see those pretty eyes.” Was the only thing he said before buried his face in her cunt. He's found it hard to have any amount of restraint when it comes to her.

"Gods, Astarion," was all she could moan. Her eyes were half hooded but she tried to keep them on the piercing red eyes staring back at her. She would never understand how he could be that amazing with his tongue and able to focus on her at the same time.

Tav was better prepared for him now. She didn't need nearly as much prep as she used to. But her finishing on his tongue? On his fingers? Almost nothing compared to that. Almost. Seeing his cum dripped out of her after he's reduced her to nothing more than a babbling mess? That was truly heaven. And it was Astarion's sole goal right now.

She tried so hard to keep her eyes trained on him. She could barely keep her eyes open as he gave her clit a harsh suck. She cried out for him. Instead of using his fingers to stretch her out, he took a hand and smeared the blood on her thigh around her skin. He made sure to leave his handprint on her stomach. Something about that shoved Tav over the edge. She came with a scream, her body finally finding the release she had so desperately needed. "Astarion!"

He took his hand away, sucking the blood off it. "You taste delectable, pet." He purred before sinking his teeth into her other thigh. She cried out again, her body reveling in the pain. He didn't drink as much, but he wanted to see her bleed. He wanted Tav to know who she belonged to. And she was all too eager.

"Atsarion, I need to touch you." She begged and he was very tempted to refuse her. To make her keep her arms there while he had total control and full reign of her body. But even he couldn't deny how much he loved having her hold him. To feel her wrap herself in him.

"Alright, but I expect you to behave, love." He hadn't moved. Her hands tangled themselves in his curls as he dived back to her cunt. This time, he teased her hole with the tips of his fingers. Her legs wrapped around his shoulders and her back arched as he slipped two fingers inside. The grip she had on his hair was rough. It hurt. And yet, it just made him go harder. She was always so tender with him. Always so careful, almost like he was made of glass. It drove him wild when she lost control and let her body make the rules.

"You're so-Gods-you're perfect." She gasped out and he hooked his fingers inside of her. It wasn't long before he was pumping his fingers in and out of her while tracing shapes on her clit.

She gave his hair a harsh tug, pulling him towards her. She pulled until he was face to face with her again, his fingers still working on her cunt. Now his palm was grinding against her clit. There was a mix of blood and slick on his face. She pulled him in for a hungry kiss. The taste of copper and her on his lips caused her cunt to clench around his hand. She arched towards him, crying out his name yet again.

“Astarion,” she held his face in her hands, “I need you. I can’t wait any longer.”

“After all this time, I thought I would have taught you what patience was.” His forehead rested against hers.

“Stop teasing, please!” She gasped, her body desperately trying to find any source of friction against him.

“Then use your words, pet.”

It wasn’t the first time he had used those exact words. But it was the first time she hadn’t answered. Instead, she wrapped her legs around his waist and managed to flip him onto his back. “I could show you.”

He grinned at her, “By all means,” he slipped an arm underneath his head. He watched Tav realize her position. Her face flushed with embarrassment as she tried to piece together what to do next. If she wanted control, he was more than happy to let her have it. Even if she had no idea what to do with it.

She straddled him, her cunt just a motion away from his cock. Her brain was reeling, was he really just letting her take over? What should she do now? She could take the easy way and impale herself on him. But he had spent so much time teasing her and making her crave him. Maybe she could do the same. She fit his cock between her cunt, not inside. She braced her hands on his chest and started to grind her clit against him.

Needless to say, Astarion was caught off guard. It was finally his turn to start writhing underneath her. It didn’t take long for him to throw his head back. Tav always thought he looked so pretty with his chest heaving and his skin flushed. And he was even prettier covered in blood. The blood from her thighs was a stark contrast on his pale skin. She didn’t consider herself a dark person or someone that enjoyed the darker parts of pleasure. Yet, when it came to him, she craved it.

His hands flew to her thighs to stop her ministrations. He sat up and wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “That’s not what I thought you asked for, pet.”

She moaned as he pushed the tip of his cock inside her. “I-I wanted to-Gods above, Asatrion!” She cried out as he pushed the rest of the way inside her.

“Shh, pet. I’ve got you.” He pulled her head on his shoulder and gently stroked her hair. She wrapped her arms around him, for once not being cautious of the scars on his back. “I’ll take care of you.” His thrusts were slow and deep. He was just enjoying her cries of pleasure and how her body trembled. Suddenly, there was no outside world. No Illithids, no gods. No Tieflings or goblins. It was just them, wrapped in each other like it could be the last time. It was simply Astarion’s quiet worship and Tav’s love for him.

“I love you,” she whimpered into his shoulder. “Gods, I love you.”

His thrusts faltered for only a moment, “Say that again.”

She pulled her head up to look him in the eyes, “I love you.”

Something snapped inside him. He kissed her, gentle at first. Then suddenly rabid. He threw her on her back so fast she thought she imagined it. The slow thrusts suddenly turned into an almost bruising pace. He had never fucked her like that before. Every thrust knocked the wind out of her. His hand grasped around her throat as she came with a silent scream. She dug her nails into his back almost hard enough to draw blood.

It was hard to think, it was hard to register anything but the feeling of him hitting that spot inside her that made her see stars. She could barely make out his whispered groans of “I love you.”

The grip around her neck tightened. She couldn’t breathe but she couldn’t find it in her to care. Her eyes closed as she came yet again on his cock. “Such a good pet,” was all he could manage before his hips lost their rhythm. He couldn’t help but cum inside of her. It was his turn to shake, to tremble in her arms. He didn’t pull out, he wasn’t ready to lose that warmth.

But Tav? Tav saw opportunity. She rolled him over once again. His cock never once leaving her. He was still so impossibly hard and she wasn’t one to let an opportunity like that slide. She remembered riding him for the first time and tried to mimic those movements.

And the vampire spawn was too far gone to do anything but try and meet her hips. His hair was stuck to his forehead and his skin was as flushed as it possibly could be. His nails dug into her thighs. “Shit.” It didn’t take long for him to finish yet again. And she wasn’t too far behind him. Eventually, she rolled off onto the other side of the bed. They laid there, their hands intertwined until the dried blood and cum became far too uncomfortable for either of them.

It was the quiet intimacy of climbing into a cool bath together that cemented what happened. Astarion was truly free of Cazador and he had found someone who loved him simply for being him. It may have confused him time and time again. And as small as she felt when she was pressed against him, he knew he was safe with her. Not just his body, but his soul as well. It didn’t hurt that she was moderately terrifying in battle either. For the first time since the nautiloid, they both felt…At peace.

#astarion #astarion smut #astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #fem!tav #not my gif #brainrot #yet another one of my fics with blood drinking #is this becoming a thing?#Maybe

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tumbleweed-run · 7 months

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Heart Beat

(18+, Explicit) kinktober 2023 Day 13 Heart Beat Bloodweave (background mentions of themxtav)

Gale’s heartbeat had been off-putting at first. Astarion had quickly been able to relegate everyone else’s heart sounds to background noise, except Gale’s. Gale’s heartbeat had been irregular to such a degree that even the constant irregularity hadn’t become regular. It sped up at the oddest times, skipped beats frequently, and when the wizard was at his least stable Astarion had actually become a little concerned he could hear the bomb’s slow detonation. Deep in the night while the others slept, Astarion could only hear the wizard’s.

In an act of self-preservation, Astarion worked hard to try and distance himself.

Even after the tottering wizard had stabilized the orb, it simply wasn’t normal.

It had been jarring when he first arrived in Waterdeep, the absence of chaos in the wizard’s chest. The wizard’s heartbeat had returned to a normal human tone, often syncing annoyingly with Tav’s. And maybe Astarion had spent more than one early morning watching Gale sleep, listening to see if there was any remaining tick. That was for no one to know but him.

Part of Astarion hated how attuned he’d become to Gale’s heartbeat, and through it now his moods. Months ago if he’d imagined which of their bizarre crew he might have allowed himself to be sweet on, well, he would have laughed at his own foolishness. Then he would have chosen Tav.

He was half right.

It was a strange comradery with Gale, one where they still spent the majority of their time arguing. But, admittedly, without the impending death from all sides, the wizard was… likable. Astarion had never been blind and had always acknowledged Gale’s attractiveness but he’d also done that with Wyll and Halsin and Shadowheart… As much as he’d wanted to strangle each and every one of them at times, at least no one could say they were an ugly group. Even the githyanki had her appeal.

He’d just never imagined Gale being someone he’d willingly kind of live with.

This is why when he noticed Gale’s heart rate kicking in a way that normally he’d only associated with Tav he was a bit less than personable when he spat out, “She’s not here you know.”

Gale looked at him utterly confused, eyebrows drawn together.

He didn’t know why the wizard was confused. Tav was… somewhere. Once she’d announced she was leaving for the day Astarion had lost interest. He couldn’t move about in the sun any longer so anything beyond these walls while the sun was out was lost to him. He’d never seen Waterdeep by day and that rubbed him the wrong way. It was best not to think about.

“You’re thinking about her,” Astarion provided once it was apparent Gale was never going to understand on his own.

“I wasn’t, actually,” Gale asserted with a shake of his head.

Astarion huffed, amused that the wizard was trying to lie to him. “Your heart rate jumps when you see or think of her,” he explained, “which it did just now.”

Gale’s head cocked to the side, he looked remarkably like Scratch waiting for someone to throw the ball. “My heart rate?”

“Yes, darling, your heart rate.”

“You can hear it?” Gale questioned, eyes going bright with interest. He leaned forward where he was sitting and his hands folded on his lap. Astarion immediately knew this look was one of academic interest. Mentally, he kicked himself as he realized he unwittingly trapped himself into one of Gale’s ‘curiosities.’

“I hear a lot of things, I’m a vampire remember?” he sounded more irritable than he really was, hoping to deter Gale’s line of questioning with a sour mood.

Gale would not be deterred. “Well, yes but very few vampires have assisted in the books written on them. I had assumed enhanced hearing didn’t go that far. Do you hear other bodily sounds as well?”

“What a disgusting way to phrase that,” Astarion said, “and well, yes, I guess I can. But the heart is more important so it’s something I focus on.”

“Yes,” Gale mused his eyes darting toward his desk as if he were considering jumping up to record these details, “being related to the blood I imagine you would.”

Astarion realized he either needed to distract the wizard, leave, or resign himself to hours of torturous and invasive questions. He didn’t really want to leave, there wasn’t much in the rest of the tower but the questions were also something he wanted to avoid. So a distraction it was.

“What were you thinking about Tav?” Astarion asked quickly as Gale opened his mouth to no doubt ask another series of questions. “I assume it was something filthy,” he drawled.

Gale’s mouth shut. Astarion waited as a myriad of thoughts ran about the wizard’s face. “I wasn’t,” Gale settled on, his tone unusually neutral.

Astarion smirked, wondering what dirty thoughts had been going through the other man’s brain, especially given how hard he was working to cover up that he’d actually had them. He turned and stalked towards Gale, pleased to have been finally given something to torture him about.

Then he heard it. The kick of Gale’s heart once again.

Astarion froze as a realization washed over him.

It hadn’t been about Tav. It had been about him.

Oh, dear.

The way Gale’s eyes widened, he knew that he’d been caught. Curious was putting too mildly a point to Astarion’s feelings. He desperately needed to know exactly what the wizard was thinking.

“So,” he asked as he resumed stalking toward Gale, “if it wasn’t about Tav, what were you thinking?”

Gale clearly knew that Astarion had realized it had something to do with him, but he was sure the wizard would lie. Which is why it came as a surprise when Gale didn’t.

“That you look… nice,” Gale admitted.

Astarion smirked finally coming to a stop in front of Gale. “Darling,” he purred, “you don’t sound like that over nice.” He couldn’t stop himself from reaching forward to thread his fingers through the wizard’s hair, leaning over him just slightly.

A flush rose on Gale’s cheeks, and he cleared his throat but did not answer.

“What,” Astarion gave a little tug to Gale’s hair and his lips dropped open appealingly, “were you thinking about?”

Gale swallowed. “You know I find you attractive,” he was still evading the question.

Another tug, less gentle this time, forcing Gale’s head back so that his neck was arched enticingly. “Yes but what had your heart pumping like that? I don’t think all that blood was going to that giant brain of yours.” He glanced down and proved his point. Gale was hard against the front of his trousers.

Gale’s eyes had gone glassy with Astarion’s manhandling which was certainly a revelation.

“I want to suck your cock,” the words left Gale as if he hadn’t meant to say them. The look on his face confirmed that he hadn’t.

Astarion froze once again.

This was crossing a line that they hadn’t crossed before. Well, it was more like violently catapulting over it. Everything they’d done leading up to this moment had been in front of Tav. This would just be them alone. It removed all sense of security they’d wrapped themselves up in.

Gale was quickly beginning to look worried, “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Shut up,” Astarion growled.

Gale did.

Astarion glanced down at his hand and realized. Realized that he’d crossed the line several minutes ago, the exact moment he’d threaded his hand through Gale’s hair. The wizard of course would let him back out graciously, more than graciously if Astarion never mentioned that he’d actually announced he wanted to suck his cock. It was with trepidation that Astarion realized he didn’t want to back out.

The silence was weighing heavily on Gale, his eyes had begun darting around nervously. No doubt he would have fled from the room if Astarion’s hand hadn’t been keeping him in place.

“On your knees,” Astarion ordered after letting it go on just a bit longer.

Gale moved surprisingly quickly to his knees for someone who often lamented how they hurt. Despite this, once he was there, Gale just waited eyes locked onto the bulge in Astarion’s pants.

“Fuck,” Astarion hissed when he realized what the wizard was waiting for.

This wasn’t just Gale being overly cautious about Astarion’s sometimes panic attacks from certain situations. This was waiting for an order. This was submission.

In the rare moment he’d considered fucking Gale alone he’d assumed they’d both fight for dominance. He’d been almost certain of it after he’d seen how the wizard was with Tav in bed. He’d thought that at best they’d reach and understanding, at worst he’d have to be the one to submit.

Suddenly, the urge to wreck Gale’s composure was all-consuming.

“Take out my cock if you want it so badly,” Astarion growled through clenched teeth.

Gale's hands were quick to follow that order, Astarion didn’t miss the way his tongue darted out to lick his lips. Once again, as soon as he’d completed his task, he waited.

This was intoxicating.

Gripping his cock with his free hand, Astarion brought it to Gale’s mouth. Teasingly, he brushed the tip across his lips yanking, Gale apparently couldn’t resist darting his tongue out for it. Astarion yanked harshly on the hand still embedded in the wizard’s hair, jerking his head back again. The noise that spilled from Gale was more a moan than anything, and his heart rate enticingly sped up with arousal.

“Open,” Astarion ordered, tapping his cock off the wizard’s lips once he regained his balance.

Gale’s mouth fell open, but he did nothing else.

Astarion took the time to engrain this image in his brain, unsure if he’d be treated to this ever again. “Suck,” he said after some time.

Gale drew Astarion’s cock into his mouth, only deterred when his lips met the vampire’s hand. He let go, arm falling loosely at his side. Surprisingly the wizard managed to swallow most of him down before retreating.

At first, it was just as Astarion had expected: eager but skillless. Then Gale grew bolder, licking and sucking with a skill that Astarion recognized as not simply an inborn skill. Sure, the wizard spent a lot of time with his head buried between Tav’s thighs, but men were different. Cocks were different, and apparently, his wasn’t the first in the wizard’s mouth.

He desperately needed to know, having always assumed the wizard as some kind of sexually repressed prude in his youth. Too wrapped up in magic, in Mystra, to have given his body to others.

“And how many cocks have been down your throat?” Astarion asked, fingers tightening in Gale’s hair.

Gale glared up at him. Astarion found he welcomed that defiant spark, the one that fueled almost all of their conversations. But instead of arguing Gale did something devastating with the tip of his tongue against Astarion’s slit.

“Fuck,” Astarion hissed. He yanked on Gale’s hair, pulling him further onto his cock. He hadn’t meant to and was about to actually apologize when he felt the wizard swallow in an effort to relax his throat. Astarion’s eyes went wide, but instead of taking the invitation, he yanked Gale off of him.

“I might like it rough, but I do try not to cause lasting harm,” he warned.

“You wont,” Gale promised sounding very sure of himself.

Astarion studied the wizard’s face for any sign of reservation. He didn’t find any.

“I am going to find every man who’s fucked your throat and write him a thank you note,” Astarion promised.

Gale’s smile was wicked. “You’ll be writing a long time.” Then he greedily pulled Astarion’s cock back into his mouth before the vampire could even think to demand that he explain.

Gale swallowed him down, working his jaw and throat until his nose bumped against Astarion. Astarion let him do this a few times before tightening his grasp on Gale’s hair, a warning.

In response Gale very deliberately wrapped his hand around Astarion’s calf, digging two of his fingers into the muscle. Astarion realized this as the same motion he’d demonstrated to Tav not very long ago.

There was no perception in which Astarion was considered green or inexperienced, yet Gale was leaving him upended. All this new knowledge was seriously affecting the image of the wizard he had created. It was leaving him dizzy and far more aroused than it should have.

Astarion thrust into Gale’s mouth with no further warning, only stopping when he felt the ridges of the other man’s throat. Gale groaned, his other hand moving to hold onto Astarion’s leg for support. There was a soft scrape of teeth when he pulled back, and while Astarion could have ordered him to open wider or even jabbed his thumb into the wizard’s jaw, he relished in the feeling instead. Fucking into his pliant mouth again and again.

Astarion wanted to come like this, to spill down the wizard’s throat. He intended to, but while he was an asshole, he wasn’t cruel.

“I’m not returning the favor,” Astarion warned, “touch yourself.”

He lightened up on his thrusts, doing so shallowly allowing the wizard’s tongue to massage him instead. Gale took this reprieve to pull his cock out and begin fisting it. Seeing it, Astarion almost regretted his proclamation, at some point he did intend to torture the wizard.

“Suck,” Astarion ordered, hand falling to the back of Gale’s head.

Gale did as he was told, sucking even as he had begun fucking into his own hand. He was moaning, the vibrations doing horribly wonderful things to Astarion. His eyes slid shut against his will.

His head was filled with the slick sound of Gale’s hand on his own cocked, the wet moans around his, and the pounding of the wizard’s heart. It’s what betrayed Gale’s orgasm to Astarion. He opened his eyes to watch as the wizard spilled over his own clothing and hand.

Astarion pulled Gale’s head against him as the man went pliant. His jaw relaxed totally, allowing the vampire to fuck his throat once more. Astarion didn’t last much longer, the knowledge of whose throat he was fucking pushing him over the edge faster than just the sensation.

“Shit,” he cursed as he began spilling down Gale’s throat. He gagged now, pulling himself back enough so that Astarion finished in his mouth. Once he’d finished, Gale pulled himself back and held eye contact with Astarion as he very deliberately swallowed.

They remained like that for some time until the wizard groaned and pushed himself up onto the sofa.

“Perhaps some warning next time,” Gale complained.

Astarion didn’t even bother responding, too focused on the words ‘next time.’

#bloodweave #astarion x gale #kinktober 2023 #kinktober 2023 heartbeat #mmm bloodweave #bloodweave x tav #in the background #this goes in the 'all this is connect' file

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madwomansapologist · 3 months

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forever in this twilight

Meet Kind!Druid!Tav | More TiefHusbands | AO3

synopsis: Peace is nothing but a concept for the unlucky tieflings refugees, a sweet dream they can never quite reach. Don't matter how much they run, fight, try: the world wasn't build for them. But somehow, in all this mess, you are the most steady thing on their lives.

warnings: zevlor, rolan x druid!tav. backgroung (arabella, kagha, alfira, volo, astarion). is it too obvious that one of my favorite books is "what we owe to each other"? that my life philosophy is "it's our duty as human beings to care for others"? my tav is a menace. she isn't even a durge. yes, she licked the dead spider. yes, she did it twice. she's just like that. is it too obvious i am the eldest daughter?

Elturel was left far behind, forever in their memories but never again able to reach their bodies, but its fires anticipated their every movements.

It made foes out of strangers, turned welcoming druids into a threatening force, transmuted safe paths until they were nothing but darkness and fear. The world turned its back against those who only asked for help, as if even the blood running through their veins was cursed.

If they were threatening, they could've understand it. If they were warriors, bandits using brute force to subdue and terrorize others. But that's so far away from the truth. There are kids. Cattle. Aspiring bards, studious wizards, naive lovers.

They have souls, goddsammit. Even when some assume they don't. They look different, are different. Does it matter? From where they are or who's blood started their lineage? Where it matters tieflings are just the same. They feel rage, happiness, pain. Have hunger, desires, needs. When a tiefling bleeds, isn't it just the same as any other being?

They shouldn't see you treating kids as kids, instead of beasts as some seemed to agree, and get impressed. Or be surprised that you would ever decide to help them on the way. Druids are supossed to understand that all living beings are just another facet of nature, yet they can only remind that you're the first in a long time to act like it.

It's maddening that you're one of the few exceptions on their path. They shouldn't feel lucky for you being nice. People are supossed to care for others. They are supossed to be nice just for the sake of it. Kindness was supossed to be a convention, not a surprise.

The world is supossed to be a lot of things, the reality is often disappointing.

It can be tiring, exhausting even, to always fight. Constantly surviving, never enjoying peace. Earning a place to exist, but never the happiness it should've bring. Zevlor won't stop trying, but he won't last forever.

He's tired. How long has it been since he started feeling like that? Gods knows it was way before Elturel fell. Leading his people, the last thing Zevlor could do was to stop. There's no one going to save them, so he better act.

Except, there was you.

Eating from the corners, you made a difference in their lifes. At the gates, protecting Arabella, saving Mirkon. You convinced Rolan to stay at camp, discovered Kagha's plans, inspired Alfira.

Your influence over their plans and fears felt too close to hope. Like that brief moment at dawn, when sunlight warms the world and yet stars keep on shining. That moment before the world start and cacophony become norm.

The way you talked like you knew they would make to Baldur's Gate, like they had no option but suceding. As if you already knew their fate.

You were everywhere. When Zevlor sees Umi running around, when Alfira writes another song, when he has time. He saw you in the repentance glowing in Kagha's eyes, on the attacks to the gates getting less usual, on his people.

Crossing Shadowlands, at the very first moment, Zevlor asked himself what you would do in his place. He followed you, even now that you were long gone. Until the moment he started to question if you were everywhere, or just on his eyes.

Were people always talking about you, or did he only paid attention when they did so?

Lost in the dark, your voice came to him. With his eyes closed, Zevlor allowed himself to wonder about the last good moment he had on his journey. His people celebrating, their heroes being salute, good wine on his cup. And you, beside Zevlor, shining on him.

"And did he," Zevlor gazed at Volo. That man didn't look like a doctor. Or someone sane enough to be allowed near sharp objects. "Got the tadpole out of you?"

"Nah. Just my eye." You took a sip from the bad wine. Astarion warned you about it. "It hurted like hell, but I must say that this new one he gave me is way better."

"You let a bard experiment with your eye?" Zevlor was still in shock about this. "A bard?"

You shrughed it off. "I got curious."

He never laughed so hard. His belly ached, his cheeks were about to fall apart, no air made to his lungs. What a wonderful thing you are. How could you made him forget about all the things going on and just laugh? A real, deep laugh.

A beacon surrounded by darkness, that's what you were.

Your presence was a antidote for some, and for others it was worse than poison. It was a reminder of what happened and what could've. A neon sign of their mistakes and regrets. Of what they could've be and what they should've.

Rolan hated that you continued to smile. That you said you were sorry when he treated you like shit. That you didn't fought him back. That you didn't tried to embarrass or humilliate him.

Or maybe he hated how you had hound dogs following you around all the time. The fact people seemed to enjoy your presence. Don't they see you were the reason why they're here? That you were the one trying to change everyone's mind? That his brothers might die and it is all your fault?

And there was also your talent to hate. The fact nature gave in to your commands. That you could control it, even when darkness seemed to want nothing but kill everyone there. That you were taught, properly.

Or how it would be so much easier if you didn't continue trying to look like someone good. If you didn't opposed the Absolute, if you haven't promised to find his siblings, if everyone else around him didn't seem to idolatred you.

Or maybe Rolan just hated that, doesn't matter how much he tried, he couldn't just hate you.

It wasn't really your fault. He knows that. Shadowland was here, and it would've affect his plans of running away faster just as easily.

But damn, he wants to hate you. It would be so much easier if he did. He wants to have something to direct his anger. Someone that he could see hurt. Someone to blame for the rest of his life.

If they die, if that ever happens, what will be of him? The death of parents is expected, a lover can be forgotten or replaced, even a child lost would hurt him less. Who could ever grown him new siblings? Who could ever replace his mirrors and opposites? They are one and the same.

Would he even be able to call himself a brother? Who lost a husband becomes a widow, who lost a parent becomes an orphan, but what do you call someone that lost a sibling?

Rolan acted as if you hadn't just sat beside him at the bar. Maybe that would make you go away. If you're denied of attention, you probably will look for someone willing to lick your boots to prove their gratitude.

Of course he was wrong.

He just didn't expect to you to not say a single thing. You didn't even looked at him. You just stayed there, drinking something that smelled horribly, until the bar closed. When it did it, you headed back to camp.

And you kept on doing this. You sat there with a drink your hands. Rolan kept on being quiet, only moving to get something else to fill his cup. Days passed, and no words were exchanged between you both.

He was the first to break the untold law shared by you. "What are trying to do, oh hero?"

You finished your beer, then looked at him. Sarcarm, wow.

"Why?" He tried again, this time less inquiring. If it was even possible.

"You look lonely," you answered. "And I need silence."

Rolan tried to think of something else to say, but no words made to his mind. "Why?"

It took you another glass to answer him. "I don't think I will make it out of here. This place is... hungry. I feel like being a bug inside a monster's belly. Nothing I do is enough."

Rolan reached for a drink on the higher shelf. Even its bottle looked like it would be enough to kill someone of drunkenness. He filled your empty glass. "Don't be stupid."

Damned be you. Now Rolan needs to find someone else to hate.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR’SGATE3TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

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teaffrogy · 1 month

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Hi! I saw you were looking for ideas so I'm going to submit a couple if that's okay! Feel free to ignore if not lol

First idea is for Gale (he needs more attention in this fandom!!) Tav who's kind but completely oblivious when it comes to flirting getting hit on and just not picking up on it, how would Gale react or not react? Would his reaction be different if he saw it from afar, up close, or just heard about it? Can be pre-relationship or during :)

Second idea can be for any or all companions (personally tho I think it'd be interesting for astarion, halsin, and gale) Their reactions (separate) to Tav realizing there's mutual attraction so they take them aside and nervously confess that they're asexual and would understand if they don't want to be partners after knowing this about them and that they wanted to tell them before things got serious.

Sorry for rambling in your inbox but I hope this was atleast somewhat helpful :D

Omg yes both I love sm omggg okay imma work on one first then the other. And I totally agree! Gale deserves more attention! I adore that man sm😭❤️ also so sorry it took me a while I have been taking care of my cat who got surgery

Oblivious Tav

Gale x Reader(Tav)

I honestly believe Gale immediately Knew Tav was super oblivious to people Flirting on them And he first found out About it when Lae'zel made the first move. Instead of falling for her words, you just gave her a puzzled look. “I'm sorry Lae’zel. I don't want to fight with you.”

The second time he saw it was with Astarion at The tiefling party. Of course he put his Vampiric charms on you but it just flew past you. And Astarion had this look on his face that made Gale burst out laughing. Some of the tieflings gave him a puzzled look.

Another interaction was when a tiefling was flirting with you. She rubbed your hand up and down softly that he himself even felt the shivers. She had tried to tell Tav how gorgeous they are and how even better they would look under her. But that left you confused. “Why do you want me to lay down?”

Like always, he found it funny because what you say and the other is the person's reaction. But Gale wouldn't lie, he had fallen in love with you the day he taught you how to cast spells just so you could feel what he feels, the magic of it. It was just the way your eyes shined as you looked around you. The moment you Two had made him realize how much he wanted you in his life, read a book beside you, be on his balcony, have a cup of tea or coffee, whatever you like to drink! And just read a book with you, watch the sunset, see the boats sail away, watch the waves of the sea. And just be with you. He loves you.

After that, he did try to make some moves.

Gale didn't know if he should feel bad or

embarrassed for you.

No matter how many times he tries to flirt, it simply just flies Over your head. You two were in the shadowlands and he took so much time and dedication to say those words to you that it simply flew past you. Astarion couldn't help but let a Laugh. Shadowheart was holding hers in. He knew you were obviously but not that much!

He tried it again, a small pick up line and you just stared at him and gods he loves you but oh my god he also is embarrassed when you simply don't get it. He had to actually say those three words.

“What I am trying to say is that I am in love with you. I love you.” Gale says and your eyes go wide at those words. “And I have been trying to make you get the hints that I am really in love with you but it just flies by you. I was thinking it was the tadpole wiggling those words out but that's just how you are.” He says and you feel embarrassed. “Oh.” You say and Gale holds your hands. “I'm in love with you Tav.” and he brings your hands close to his lips, kisses each one hand and looks up at you. “I love you too Gale.” You say and he's more than happy to hear those Words come out.

And even now that you two are together, it simply flies by you. From times you do get his little pick up lines, but there are those other times where it flies by.

But Gale loves that about Tav and finds it cute.

#bg3 #bg3 tav #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #bg3 gale #gale x reader #gale dekarios #gale x you #bulders gate 3 #gale romance

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charmandabear · 6 months

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Leather and Lace

Summary

Lady Estelle wasn't expecting to fall for her tailor, of all people. But with everything under her control during the day, she's more than content to cede control to him at night.

Pairing: Astarion/F!OC Rating: E Word Count: 5.7k Tags/Warnings: unprotected sex, orgasm denial, safeword discussion, light bondage, d/s dynamic, p in v sex, vampire sex, biting, vampire bites, blood drinking, sexual tension, casual classism, AU, (sorta, you can make an argument), praise kink

Read on AO3

Something in me turned feral when I saw Hamrikaa's tailor!Astarion art and I needed to get this out of my system. It doesn't help that I work with costumes irl and I suddenly got a lot of opinions about Astarion and sewing.

I have more thoughts on this relationship, particularly with the class difference and power dynamics. I also really want a story with a plus size protag since I'm really tired of feeling like the implication is that all Tavs/OCs are the type 1 body. So let me know if that's something that appeals to you, or if you're interested in a longer version with more than just sexual tension and smut, lol.

Fucking Arfur.

It’s sundown on a Saturday and Lady Estelle Rosewinter is traipsing through the Lower City looking for a tailor. Arfur Gregorio had shown up to her masquerade several hours early already intoxicated. While trying to shoo him off the grounds, he had stepped on her gown, ripping the seam of the thigh high slit to a nearly obscene height. Now, as guests are beginning to arrive, she isn’t there to greet them and is rather passing shop after shop putting up their closing signs.

She could have just chosen a different gown as her handmaiden Celia had suggested, except that it took her so long to get into the damn thing. She thought that getting it fixed would take but a minute. It did not occur to her that, given the hour, finding an available tailor would prove so difficult.

Estelle is about to give up when she sees a dim little shop out of the corner of her eye. It’s not on the main drag, but rather up a quiet alleyway. But there’s no mistaking the sign.

Threads of Starlight

The door to the shop is clearly open, so she rushes in, desperate to speak with the proprietor.

“My apologies, I know you’re probably about to close, but I have an emergency, and I promise that I’ll pay handsomely for the inconvenience–” she cuts herself off as the tailor walks out from the back. He’s so much more attractive than she would’ve expected from someone of his station. His clothes are humble but understandably incredibly well-fitting, his trousers gently hugging his lean legs and the sleeves of his light linen top rolled up above his elbows, revealing pale, slender forearms. His silvery hair looks windswept and effortless, although Estelle knows it takes a practiced hand to get one’s hair just right like that. There’s a measuring tape slung around his neck and he looks briefly startled by her appearance before a practiced charm takes over.

“No need for apologies, Lady…” he leaves a gap in his speech for her to tell him her name. His voice is melodic.

“Estelle. Lady Estelle.” She tries to match his honeyed tone but her mouth has suddenly gone dry. He takes her hand and gently presses his lips to her knuckles.

“Lady Estelle. The pleasure is all mine,” he coos and a shiver goes up her spine. What on earth would a tailor need with this much charisma? Without letting go of her hand, he gracefully leads her up onto the fitting stand in the middle of the shop. She has danced with the finest nobility in Baldur’s Gate, and none of them were even half this elegant.

“Now please, tell me what I can do for you. I hope there’s nothing wrong with this beautiful gown of yours. Is it one of Galwen’s?” The way he looks at her makes her feel exposed, almost naked, despite the conversation literally being about her clothes. She clears her throat in an attempt to regain some composure.

“Yes, I’ve been going to her for years, but she’s tragically unavailable this evening.” Not that Estelle didn’t try. She sent three messengers and finally went to Galwen’s door herself, but she refused to open back up. Pity, since it looks like she’s lost Estelle’s business for good, especially if this one turns out to be as good as he looks. And gods does he look good.

“All the more fortunate for me that I stay open late,” he says in a low tone, and gooseflesh breaks out over Estelle’s arms. “Now, tell me darling,” he coughs at letting the casual pet name slip out, “pardon me, my Lady, how can I be your gown’s savior this evening?” Estelle hadn’t heard the rest of his sentence because her ears started ringing at the “darling.” Normally she would not take too kindly to someone in the working class speaking so informally to her. She’s beginning to feel lightheaded. Has she been hexed? Does this happen to any who cross his threshold?

“It’s torn,” she says in an uncharacteristically small voice. “Right here.” She lifts her skirt at the thigh slit, threads popping out of the seam. In an instant the tailor is on one knee, examining it closely. With him suddenly this close, all of her symptoms dissipate and are replaced by just one: desire.

She tries to shake herself out of it. Not only would anything of the sort be wildly inappropriate - given her status in Baldur’s Gate, an affair with a lowly tailor would be splashed all over Baldur’s Mouth within hours - this man is a consummate professional, and she’s certain that he would never return her affections. He must look beneath dozens of hems a day, this is nothing out of the ordinary for him.

He touches the fabric as he studies it, cool fingers lightly grazing Estelle’s skin. She gasps at the sensation, and he looks up at her sheepishly.

“I’m terribly sorry, I have poor circulation. My touch is always something nasty, I’m afraid.” Estelle shakes her head and finds anywhere to look but into those piercing red eyes.

“It’s fine, really. I have an important evening planned, so I’m a bit jumpy,” she lies through her teeth. He steps away to pick up a needle and thread from behind the counter. While his back is turned, Estelle takes the time alone to wipe sweat off her brow. This man is making her burn up inside and out.

“Oh really?” he sings as he’s back down on his knees, dangerously close to her upper thigh once again. “And pray forgive me, but I must reach up slightly in order to make this repair, if that’s alright. I promise, I’ll be the picture of a gentleman.” He looks up at her, waiting for her consent before touching her further. Estelle, worried what might come out if she opened her mouth, just nods.

He slides his hand between the fabric and her leg, pulling it out slightly so he can tuck his needle into the underside of the seam. Estelle bites down on her tongue to keep from moaning. She knows that she’s touch-starved, it’s been far too long since anyone has warmed her bedsheets. Between running a household, meeting with politicians and nobility alike, and her position in the Baldur’s Gate arts council, she hardly has the time. But this is ridiculous. A gentle caress from a man should not elicit this much heat between her thighs, and yet here she is, keeping them pressed together tight, the slight pressure her only relief.

His fingers move deftly, pulling the needle through the fabric with ease. He’s focusing on his work so intently, and Estelle watches him almost like he’s a dream. He begins tying off the thread, and before he’s complete, his eyes flick upward to meet Estelle’s.

“All finis-” he begins, but Estelle is so startled by the intensity of his gaze that she jumps, causing him to prick his finger with the needle. A tiny droplet of blood lands on the pale pink silk. The tailor jumps back, horrified, and immediately starts apologizing profusely.

“Oh gods, Lady Estelle, I’m so terribly sorry, look at what a clumsy little fool I am, gods on such a beautiful dress, too,” his words tumble out of him, all composure that was once there, now gone. She’s finding this flustered side of him possibly even more appealing than the cool and collected version. Her lady-of-the-house instincts kick in, and she addresses him like a new maid who has accidentally broken china while transporting it to the kitchen.

“Darling,” she breathes and lifts his chin with a finger. She can finally look into those crimson eyes, feeling herself regain the poise she’s accustomed to. “It’s nothing to worry about. Just a speck.” She swears she can hear his breath catch, but maybe it’s just wishful thinking because he recovers quickly.

“Perhaps, but I still feel terrible. This mend is on the house, as well as any alteration you might need done on another garment. And, ah. How to say this.” He looks flushed again, despite the paleness of his skin. “There is a foolproof way of getting one’s blood out of fabric, but it’s not the most, er, refined shall I say.” This piques Estelle’s intrigue.

“Really? And what way is that?”

The tailor shifts nervously, and she positively relishes in the trade in demeanors.

“This only works if it’s the one the blood belongs to, but if you can catch it straight away, then, erm, saliva will do the trick,” he says with a chagrined smile. Whatever Estelle was expecting, this is not it.

“Oh,” she responds, and suddenly she’s back to that lightheaded feeling. What is he proposing exactly? Whatever it may be, she’s certain it will involve his mouth in some way and she’s not sure how she’ll handle that.

“The next five alterations are free, I’m so very sorry, this is very uncommon while working on a garment. At least, I’m usually better at catching myself,” he adds with embarrassment.

“Uh, yes, whatever- whatever needs to be done. Thank you.” She peers down at him, willing herself to find somewhere else to look but unable to tear her eyes away. He pops a thin, pale finger in his mouth and swirls his tongue around it. She swallows loudly as he takes his finger out and dabs it on the slit of her dress, still achingly close to her thigh. He rubs at the spot, but evidently it’s not enough, because he then brings his lips to her dress and lightly rubs his tongue on the silk.

“Oh gods,” she can’t keep this moan from escaping her lips. If he can hear her, he doesn’t respond, blessedly. He pulls away from her, silver hair ever so slightly disheveled, and rubs at the spot with a handkerchief to dry it.

“Apologies again, my Lady,” he says with a frown, examining the spot for any remaining blood. Then he stands and they’re face to face, the few inches of pedestal putting their eyes at the same height. “I hope this doesn’t make you think any less of my skills as a tailor.” She briefly wonders what other skills he might possess before banishing the thought from her head.

“Not at all, er,” she falters, realizing she never asked his name, which is unlike her, she usually tries to learn the names of all of the people she contracts to work for her.

“Astarion,” he says with a bow.

“Astarion, yes,” she repeats breathlessly. “Well, Astarion, you came to my aid in a time of desperation, and I suppose there was a blood price to be paid.” He lets out a startled laugh, clearly not expecting her to make such a joke.

“That’s very clever, Lady Estelle,” he says, his eyes sparkling. “You were a pleasure to have on my fitting platform, I do hope to see you again soon. At least to make up for my absolute buffoonery.” He’s back to the confidently poised man who first greeted her when she entered the shop, and he plants another light kiss on the back of her hand.

“I assure you, the pleasure was all mine,” Estelle murmurs, almost hoping that he doesn’t hear her. “Oh, and Astarion?”

“Yes, my Lady?”

“Please. Call me Stella.

***

Several tenday have passed since Stella’s first meeting with Astarion, and she had visited his shop nearly every evening. It didn’t take long for her to admit her feelings; she couldn’t hide them even if she wanted to. Even when Astarion confessed his status as a vampire spawn, she wasn’t deterred. If anything, it aroused her all the more. Something happens to Astarion when he drinks her blood. The humble and subservient tailor disappears, and in his place is a self-assured and dominant man. Stella is more than happy to relinquish control over to him. She’s responsible for so much during the day, making decisions, telling people what to do, so there’s an appeal to having someone else take that role for once.

The moment she walks into the shop she’s met with the graceful gentleman. No matter how many times she sees him, that wicked smile sets a small ember in her belly that quickly spreads. Each point of contact lights on fire despite his chilled skin. A spark in her fingers as he pulls her forward, a flame on her cheek as he strokes it gently. In an instant he shuts the door and flips around the open sign. With the darkened windows and the door now closed, they’re plunged into semi-darkness and Stella feels a chill go up her spine.

Astarion wastes no time in pushing her against the door and kissing her deeply. He presses his body up against hers and she gasps into his kiss as he pulls her in closer by her waist. He slides his knee between her legs and she lets out a whimper. Astarion chuckles in her ear.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he coos, lifting her slightly with his knee putting a delicious pressure on her mound. She clutches the back of his neck and hair, wrapping her leg around him to get even closer. He hikes up her skirt to her waist and scoops her up so both of her legs grip his midsection. Keeping his lips locked on hers as she continues to devour him, he carries her through the shop and to one of the adjacent rooms where there’s a bed and two untouched glasses of wine sitting on a side table. The tailor’s quarters.

He throws her down on the bed and she looks up at him, cheeks and lips flushed, eyes glowing. Her typically neatly coiffed hair is mussed and strands splay out beneath her head like a halo. Astarion straddles her waist, pinning her in place, as he strokes her face.

“Tell me what you want,” he breathes, looking down at her with heavy lidded eyes. She grabs his shirt and pulls him in close.

“You know what I want,” she smirks, gaze flickering between his eyes and lips. He laces his fingers through her tousled hair and gently grazes his fangs over her neck, eliciting a sharp gasp.

“And you know I like to hear it,” he murmurs into her neck, and another full-body shiver goes through Stella. His breath feels chilling against her warm neck, blood pumping eagerly through her arteries. She grabs his face and forces him to look her in the eye – the last bit of control she has before she cedes it completely.

“Astarion,” she says slowly, measured and teasing, “I would enjoy it very much if you bit my neck, drank my blood, and then had your fucking way with me.” He chuckles darkly.

“Well,” he grins, a mischievous glint in his eye, “since you asked so nicely.” Stella lets out a moan as his fangs sink into her skin, the piercing pain soon giving way to a throbbing ache. His lips close around the wound, drinking in her delicious warmth, leaving her feeling blissfully lightheaded. She hums with pleasure as she curls her fingers into his silvery locks, hips unconsciously rolling into his, hungry for more contact. She can feel him growing stronger as her blood flows into him, his thighs tightly gripping her hips, keeping her locked into place.

Astarion pulls away from her before going too far and Stella lets out a small whine at the loss of contact. He’s out of breath, chest heaving as he licks the last of her blood from his lips. He presses two fingers to the wound on her neck to stanch the bleeding as she looks up at him, pupils blown wide with lust. Once he can feel that the blood is no longer flowing freely, he takes his fingers away and hovers them centimeters above Stella’s lips.

“Open,” he commands, and she dutifully obeys. She takes his fingers into her mouth and sucks on them lasciviously, the metallic taste of her own blood filling her mouth. It’s one thing to prick her finger and to suck on it to make the bleeding stop. It’s quite another to lap her blood of Astarion’s fingers, languishing in the vulgarity of the taboo. She yearns to hear his breath hitch as she works her tongue over their length.

He slides his fingers out of her mouth and grabs her chin, reversing the roles from moments before. He examines her face, turning it this way and that, like he’s inspecting a prized golden retriever at a dog show.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he lets out in a low tone. “Trapped underneath me, open and wanton, ready to let me do whatever I want with you. To you,” he adds on with an impish grin, and Stella squirms with anticipation. He swings a leg over her and stands by the edge of the bed, towering over her.

“Up now, on your knees,” he instructs and she scrambles to sit on her knees, still looking up at Astarion with lust-filled eyes. He reaches behind her and fully releases her hair from its loose braid letting it fall down the length of her back. He runs his fingers through her hair, humming as he does, “Good girl.” Her chest swells with the intake of breath as she leans into his touch even more.

“Undress. Quickly,” he demands. Her skirt is already up around her waist so she peels the rest of her dress off in a fluid motion. The corset provides a little more resistance, but even with fumbling fingers she manages to untie the laces and undo the hooks, letting it fall behind her. The sudden exposure to air makes her nipples go hard. Astarion smirks and cups one of her breasts in his hand, stroking her tit with his thumb. Stella bites back a cry.

“Shh shh shh. Not a sound,” Astarion whispers as he puts his lips close to her ear, continuing to fondle her. “I don’t want to hear you make a single noise, understood? Not until I say so.” He pulls away and locks his crimson eyes on her brown ones. Stella trembles, but nods silently.

“Good,” he breathes and slides her forward so that she’s sitting on the edge of the bed with her toes lightly touching the floor. He then lowers himself to one knee between her legs. He kisses up her thigh until he reaches her panties. He looks up at her mischievously as he hooks a finger in either side of the waistband, and he slips them off in a single fluid motion. Stella shudders with anticipation for what he plans to do next.

Astarion parts her legs and she can feel the cool air on the slickness between her thighs. He leans forward and takes her nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue lightly over the tip. She takes in a shaky breath, but she manages to keep any noise she might want to make under wraps. He looks up at her while continuing to work his tongue. She clenches the sheets as jolts of white hot electricity shoot through her body. He pushes her legs apart even further and leans in, the ties from his frilled shirt lightly brushing against her folds. She gasps and shifts her pelvis, simultaneously trying to get less and more contact. He grabs her waist forcefully to hold it in place. He snakes his way up so that they’re face to face, lips a hair’s breadth apart.

“Ah ah, no moving either. Are you going to be good for me? Will you be silent like I’ve asked?” he says in a light, sing-songy tone. Stella keeps her lips clamped together as she nods.

“And what will you give me if you can’t obey?” he purrs, brushing his lips against hers as he runs a thin, cool finger along her slit.

“Ah-anything,” Stella moans, turning her pleasure sound into a response. Astarion lets a smug grin play on his lips.

“Either way, I’ll get what I want,” he intones, and mercifully pulls his face away from hers. She releases a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. But it’s still only the beginning.

He lowers himself onto both knees and places a delicate kiss on her labia. She squirms but remains silent.

“My, you could drown a small army down here,” he says with an amused smile, and Stella just continues to breathe heavily, her chest rising and falling as she gazes down at the head of white curls between her legs. He runs the tip of his tongue along her folds, hands pushing out on her thighs slightly as he does. As he parts her legs further he exposes more of her, letting his tongue explore the newly uncovered skin. A cry catches in Stella’s throat and she slaps a hand over her mouth. His scorching gaze fixes on her and she lets herself fall back on the bed. If she watches she’ll be done for. Then again, not being able to anticipate his next move might be even worse.

Not being one to let her escape his torment, Astarion grabs Stella beneath the legs and yanks her toward him, letting her legs fall onto his shoulders as he continues to lap up her sweetness. She chokes down a whine, her breath quickening as she desperately tries to control herself. His tongue plunges into her and she bites into her hand with a hiss. With her pelvis rolled up so that he can get the best angle, he continues fucking her with his tongue, getting deep enough that the tips of his fangs press into her ever so lightly.

That’s what sets her over the edge. The smallest pinprick of pain along with all of the filthy things he’s doing to her with his tongue tears a scream from her throat, muffled by her hand. He stops and stands over her, backlit by the low lighting, her wetness reflecting off his devilish smile. He then grabs her by the throat, not enough to constrict her breathing, but just enough to pull her face up to his.

“What was that, my sweet?” he growls dangerously.

“N-nothing,” Stella stammers out, but Astarion just smiles.

“I don’t think it was ‘nothing,’ darling,” he breathes, acid in his voice. “I was very explicit in my instructions, was I not?” His hand tightens around Stella’s throat and she lets out a choked sound. It’s not a sound she usually makes. Astarion pulls his hand back slightly, concern creeping into his eyes. Stella looks up at him and nods.

Keep going.

They have a safe word for a reason, but if anything unexpected happens, Astarion still prefers to check in. He’s mentioned before that sometimes he’s worried that he’ll lose control, especially right after drinking her blood.

Stella finds the danger absolutely thrilling, but wants him to feel just as safe as she does.

Astarion drops her throat and pushes her down so her back is flat against the bed. Still between her legs, he pushes his pelvis against hers, pinning her wrists above her head. He’s still fully clothed, and the leather of his pants feels deliciously cool against her wet pussy. He puts one knee up on the bed, pushing her right leg up higher and spreading her even further. As unphased and indifferent as he seems, Stella can still feel his erection pressing into her, and she shifts to feel it more.

“You said you’d give me anything if you failed, correct?” he murmurs against her lips.

“Yes,” the word escapes on a breath.

“Then hold still.” Astarion stands and the sudden loss of all contact elicits a small whine from Stella. He flashes her a playful smirk as he walks over to the bedside table and pulls out two long strips of cloth. He climbs on top of Stella again, straddling her hips and squeezing lightly with his thighs.

“Wrists, please,” he commands almost nonchalantly. Stella immediately puts her wrists together and holds them out to Astarion.

“Good girl,” he coos and the praise makes her lightheaded. He tenderly wraps her wrists up in the silk cloth, making sure it's tight enough to prevent escape but not enough to cause any lasting damage. He then takes the other strip of cloth, a sturdier cotton broadcloth, and holds it to her lips. He ties it tightly behind her neck, keeping her from being able to open her mouth at all.

“Since you can’t control yourself enough to stay quiet,” he purrs, low and dangerous, “maybe this will do it for you. And I think,” he stands and walks over to the bed stand. He looks over his shoulder and orders in an apathetic tone, “Up dear.” She scrambles to her knees, wrists falling limply in her lap. He continues, “I think you need one more thing to remind you to whom you belong.” He pulls out a fine leather collar with a silver O-ring in the middle. Stella’s excitement mingles with genuine admiration for the craftsmanship. He turns around and lovingly closes it around her neck. He then slips one slender finger through the ring and pulls it up so her head is tilted toward him.

“How does that feel, good?” he asks lightly, and she nods, still desperate to please. He lets go of the collar and strokes her jaw. “Good,” he breathes, and she can see the self-control in his eyes. He wants to fuck her just as much as she wants him to, and it’s taking everything in his power to hold out. He leans into her lips as though he’s about to kiss her but stops just short of making contact.

“Now, before I decide precisely what I want to do with you,” he hums into her lips, “I want to make sure you can still tell me if I need to stop or slow down. If it ever becomes too much, I want you to snap your fingers, understood? Show me now.” Astarion keeps his lips achingly close to hers, but she does as he says. When he hears her snap, he grabs her face in his hands and kisses her roughly, sliding a dastardly knee between her legs once again. She longs to reach for him but keeps her bound wrists dutifully in her lap as his lips continue their assault on hers.

Once he breaks the kiss, he remains close and slides his hands behind her head and into her hair. “Good girl,” the words rumble low in his throat and Stella is grateful for the cloth that muffles the obscene noise she makes. He steps away and she’s finally able to see all of him as he pulls off the tunic, revealing his porcelain chest. She yearns to run her fingers along it, tracing the outlines of his muscles, but instead she just grabs a fistful of sheets beneath her hands. He pulls down his trousers, letting his already hardened cock free, and her pussy twitches in anticipation.

Astarion saunters back up to her and touches the front of her gag where a small wet spot is forming with her desire for him. He smirks and pulls her face down to his cock, running the tip of it along the broadcloth. She can feel it brush against her lips, and she again moans in anticipation.

“Don’t you wish you could take me in your mouth?” he breathes, and Stella presses her tongue against the inside of the gag, trying to make even minimal contact. He laughs cruelly. “Gods, you’re desperate,” he scoffs. “It’s a shame, because if you had been able to follow my instructions, I may have even let you ride me on top.” He pushes the tip of his dick into the gag one more time before pulling away, leaving Stella to squirm achingly.

“But instead,” he forcefully pushes her back so that she’s once again lying on the bed with her legs spread open for him. He crawls on top of her and teases her opening with his tip. She mewls in desperation. “You’ll have to contend with me doing whatever I want to this beautiful body of yours. I can slide in,” and he pushes into her, wrenching a gasp and whine from her mouth, before pulling out and letting his tip tease her again, “and pull out on a whim. You said I could do whatever I want.”

Stella is beside herself with lust. Unable to move her hands, she writhes her pelvis, trying to get even the slightest bit of contact. Her pussy is starting to burn from the pent up desire and she’s genuinely unsure of how much longer she can last like this. Astarion grins widely and his fangs sparkle in the low lighting.

“Shall I give you what you want, darling? What you so fiercely crave?” His slick tip is still dancing around her cunt and tears are starting to form in her eyes as she nods. He thrusts into her again and rips the cloth from her lips before whispering sharply into her ear.

“Then I want to hear it all,” he hisses. “I want you screaming my name as I fuck you.” With his permission, she cries out, all of her stifled energy finally releasing.

“Oh gods, Astarion, fuck me please,” the words spill from her mouth uncontrollably. He starts pounding into her and she knows after all that time teasing her, she won’t last long. The heat of him sliding in and out, the stretch with each thrust, fills her with a fire that threatens to turn into an explosion.

“Fuck, Astarion, please,” she whines, moments away from climax. She wraps her legs around his waist to get him in deeper, and now it’s his turn to let out a low moan. He continues to slam into her, the sounds of their mutual pleasure mounting.

“Look at me,” he growls, and she struggles to keep her gaze locked onto his crimson eyes. He looks so beautiful above her, silvery hair getting slick with sweat, panting as he continues his smooth rhythm. She can feel her orgasm building as her cries grow louder. He knows she’s close, too, and once again he flashes a fang-bearing smile.

“Come for me, darling,” he groans, and that sends her toppling over the edge.

“Gods, Astarion, yes!” she screams as she comes, and his follows shortly after. With a final thrust, he releases into her, his cock pulsing exquisitely. He looks down at her with an uncharacteristically shy smile and kisses her as he pulls out.

Both of them are out of breath as he collapses onto the bed next to her. Stella’s limbs feel light as though she just downed an entire bottle of dream mist. She rolls onto her side to look at Astarion, who appears to be equally intoxicated. Without a word she holds her wrists up, and he laughs lightly.

“Ah, yes, you might want those back,” he croons, and uses his teeth to pull out the knot, and the silk falls away in one fluid motion. Her hands are so close to his face that she cups his chin gently, just content to look at him.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, and he turns a kiss into her palm.

“I could say the same thing,” he purrs as he looks up at her through his lashes. “Tea?” He pulls up the plush blanket that had been folded neatly at the end of the bed and wraps it around Stella’s shoulders. She snuggles into it and pulls it closed around her, then nods. He plants a quick kiss on her forehead and walks over to fill the kettle hanging above the hearth. Stella admires his silhouette, backlit by the light of the fire. He’s lithe and sinewy, his sculpted muscles built for dexterity more than strength. Her eyes rake over his broad shoulders, the dip of his lower back, the curve of his bare ass. He turns his head to look at her over his shoulder.

“Yes?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Nothing,” she hums, “just enjoying the view.” He smiles as he leans over the blanket cocoon she’s swathed herself in and kisses her lips softly, gently. He’s always particularly tender with her after a session like that, and Stella is grateful for it. She loves being able to see both of these sides of Astarion. The affable tailor eager to serve, and the dangerous dom claiming his power. Her fingers lightly dance on the collar he put on her. She likes the idea of belonging to him. A pity she couldn’t wear something as conspicuous as a leather collar in her daily life.

Astarion returns with a steaming mug, and as though reading her mind, pulls a long jewelry box from the drawer of the bedside table.

“A companion piece to your collar, if you so wish,” he says in explanation. “You’re under no obligation to wear it, of course, but I thought you might like a little reminder of me everywhere you go.” She opens the box and nestled in the satin is a delicate silver chain with a small ring in the center. Her jaw drops slightly as she marvels at its beauty.

“Astarion, how did you–?” she begins, but he cuts her off.

“It pays to be a well-connected artisan, darling,” he says with a shrug.

“Will you put it on me?” Stella asks in a light voice, and he looks delighted. She lifts up her hair so that he can unclasp the leather collar and replace it with the silver necklace. His fingers brush against her neck, lingering on the puncture mark he left earlier.

“Although perhaps you might want to sport high-collared dresses for a bit,” he admits with an apologetic grin. Stella turns and kisses him, cupping his face and gently running her thumb along his jaw.

“Well thank the gods I have a tailor who can make me new gowns in all the latest fashions,” she smirks. He climbs on top of her to kiss her more deeply, their naked bodies touching in a way that’s intimate, but not sexual. She could melt into his flesh, his kiss, his breath, and never want to change a thing.

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freestyle-crocodile-trashpile · 4 months

Text

Mother's love

Summary:Raphael makes a deal, but you can't believe him

Type:Scenario:Angst:Raphael & M!Reader

Version:Bg3

"There you are! I was worried you wouldn't show up," Raphael stared down at you, smirking at the glare on your face.

You frowned, knowing why he summoned you hear. He wanted to make a deal, he must have a proposal if he summoned you hear all of a sudden. But, at this point, their might be nothing that could convince you, right?

"What do you want, Devil," You spat out harshly, not truly caring what he wanted.

He tsked at your words, shaking his head at your impatient. But his grin came back, more devilish than before.

"I have a proposal, you get me the Karus crown. And I'll get you what you most desire in return" he stepped closer, a knowing look in his eye

You huffed out a laugh, rolling your eyes at his confidence.

"Really? And what would that be? Some coin won't cut it either," Raphael grinned even wider, stepping closer

He chuckled darkly, the look on his face sending unease down your spine.

"Well...there's a few things. I could kill your worst enemy, I could finally show you what true love is....or" He tapped his chin like he was in thought.

Rolling your eyes you mocked him with your hand, mumbling out blah blahs before crossing your arms.

"Oh please, I don't need a devil to do that for me, your just wasting my time" As soon as you turned to leave he spoke up.

"Or! Your mother's love, didn't you always want to feel her warm embrace? Her soft touch and motherly love?" His words taunted you.

Your companions glared at Raphael, only Astarion noticing how you froze, your eyes wide with regret and fear.

"You were so jealous of your sister you grew to hate her, hated her so much you tried to kill her. Did you not? I could give you her place!" His arms shot up as if he won you over.

"Oh please, Devil. Tav is better than that, he's not gonna get you the crown for that!" Wyll shouted out, he was mad, everyone could tell.

You were still frozen. Astarion was tempted to help you, but he couldn't bare to get close. The look in your eyes devastated him. Raphael snickered darkly, pushing your companions away to get to you. His hands grabbed your shoulders, leaning down to whisper to you.

"Think about it...You'll get your mom, and she'll get her son. Imagine it, you'll feel her love, and she'll feel your grief" Raphael smirked, knowing he was only rubbing salt into the wound.

Promising the impossible. Your companions tried to get closer, but only got their feet chained to the ground by a burning chain so he could taunt you more.

"No...s-she'll never... never love me again" Your head dropped, your body shaking with grief, but also desperation.

Raphael moved to stand infront of you, causing you to instinctively look up at him as he leaned down again to hold you eye contact.

"Oh but she will, all those night you dreamt of hugging her rather than yourself, feeling her tuck you in, have brunch, have that family meeting in school." Raphael grinned, knowing he was getting under your skin.

But he was right, you spent sleepless nights begging, praying, pleading for your mother to forgive you for whatever you did. Begging for you and your sister to swap places. Jahire was probably the closed person you've seen like a mother. And it hurt having a mother figure but no mother. No one to write to, no one to cry to, no one to hug you and comfort you through things. Everytime Gale talked about his mother it hurt you. And when Shadowheart reconnected with her mother you only wished you were her. You and Wyll understand eachother, not like he knows. No one does.

"Come on now, all those tears, pleads, jealousy, grudges. They'll all be gone, just sigh the contract. And you'll know what it feels like to be welcomed into a mother's arms, your mothers arms" The paper formed in his hands.

And as you read it, the more you wanted to cry. It said he'd do it, but can a devil completely change the views a person sees? You highly doubt it. A faucet seemed to turn in your head, your shaky hands tried to shove him away as tears flowed down your face. Quickly backing away wasn't a smart chance, all it did was land you on your butt. You couldn't stop the tears, sobbing into your hand at his promise. It held so much truth, or maybe you just wanted to see the smile on your mother's face when she looked at you, rather than fear or a scold. All you could imagine was her arms wrapping around you, holding you close, and it was actually Astarion and Wyll. Pulling you to your feet as Lae'zel stood infront of you, ready to attack the devil.

"We're done here, send us back now you devil!" Wyll shouted.

"Think about it, tav. I'll be there when you make up your mind" Raphael laughed loudly as he snapped his fingers.

The moment you got back to camp you collapsed. All your other companions rushed over to you. All raphael did was remind you of your mother. The last moment she hugged you, and smiled at you, and even looked at you. You couldn't stop the way your body shook. Your mother broke you like no other, she's haunted you since you were a child. And yet, even now, when you think she's gone, someone has to bring her up.

"What happened?"

"Soldier! Hey, we're here. Don't cry"

"Oh my...Tav? Hey, Tav!"

"Tav! Shit! Tav!"

Your companions voices were drowned out as you started hyperventilating. Raphael was abusing your mind, his laugh echoing through your mind, sending flashes of promises and lies, the promises that'll break you like no other. Or maybe you just finally hit your breaking point, you could only handle so much stress. Hands grabbed your from all over, but it ended so quickly as your vision blurred and your senses froze. Your body hit the ground from the overwhelming feeling moving throughout your body. So many emotions and feelings going through you at once, your body couldn't handle it. The last thing you heard was Gale screaming over everyone else, and Jahire ordering people around. Maybe when you woke it'd all be a dream, or even better. Silence, it'd be better than your companions screaming at you.

[A/n:I'm debating if I like this. I hope you enjoyed]

#x male reader #x reader #bg3 x male reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 raphael #bg3 wyll #bg3 x you #baldurs gate 3 raphael #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate wyll

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moyashidoodles · 4 months

Text

Tiny doodles of Pidge (my Tav) from act 1 and early act 2. Her hair changed for each act so it’s easy to tell where they are in their journey by how disheveled she looks.

Pidge is a wild magic sorcerer with an affinity for soul magic. She can see the color of others souls (I don’t consider this game breaking, but also it’s my brain baby so idc if that’s possible in the 5e rule set) there are some supplemental fan spells and materials for adding soul magic and flavor and there’s the soul knife subclass rogue which I think was a Critical Roll addition? Ugh, look at me spreading misinformation on the internet.

OC lore below the cut.

Content warning: abusive relationship discussion (parent and child), implied sexual and physical abuse.

Anyway, Pidge grew up Rapunzel like with a very controlling and narcissistic “mother knows best” mom. The only reason her mother even had a child was to be a “spare” body for when her mother succumbed to a fatal illness (and to help her mother transfer souls into soul coins and gems to be bartered in the 9 hells. Lots of devil’s work)

Pidge’s mother is controlling to the extent that Pidge was not allowed to learn anything about her wild magic and spent much of her life warded to keep her from accessing the weave. “For her own safety,” of course. The only magic she was allowed and praised for learning was soul magic, and this was to help her mother with her research into immortality and with business ventures.

Pidge was also used as “entertainment” for her mother’s important guests. Basically anything that her mother could get from Pidge, she would try to use to her benefit.

About 3-5months before the beginning of the game, Pidge escaped and crafted an amulet to protect her body and soul from being hijacked by her mother.

She is the only member of the bg3 origin crew who did not lose skills when she was infected by the tadpole. She didn’t really have skills to begin with. Much to Gale’s dismay, she learns basically on the fly and does a lot of “firebolt first, ask questions later.” To her, practical experience is much more important than book learning. Really she has adhd and can’t rote memorize for the life of her.

She identifies with Karlach early on as they both have had dealings with the hells, although Pidge is just beginning to understand the ramifications of her mother’s hellish business of soul coin forging.

Pidge is also very afraid in act 1 of Gale finding her out as she was told to keep her soul magic affinity secret by her mother. In truth the stigma for soul magic is not so bad, but it was a manipulation technique to keep Pidge from explaining to any magic practitioners what they were working on and how her mother planned to use the research to steal Pidge’s body.

Her mother is still hunting her down, so Pidge needs a permanent solution or soul barrier to keep herself from her mother “living vicariously” through her.

Bodily autonomy is stupid important to her. She rejects the Emperor the moment he tells her to “embrace her ilithid potential” for fear of losing herself. She is self conscious to the extreme and keeps notes on her newfound companions likes and dislikes so she can keep them happy. She had a legitimate panic attack when both Gale and Astarion wanted the necromancy of Thay because, according to her calculations, they would disapprove if the other was the recipient.

She fell for Astarion after rather disliking him for a good ten day or two. He won her over by being actually reliable in scrapes and being really funny. She can’t remember the last time anyone made her laugh, so she loves the feeling. They are the two smooth brained members of the group. Similar brain cell count.

This ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would be. If you made it to the end, then you will have made it to the end! *salutes in Barcus Wroot*

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kaermorhenatnight · 8 days

Text

Something real

Astarion x Tav, Tav is afab, she/her pronouns

word count | 2.5k

warnings | act I spoilers; conversation about SA; mentions of the previous sexual encounter, story seems to be going towards another but it doesn't; drinking blood.

A/N | This fic takes place somewhere in the act II, Tav and Astarion had their little hook up after the tiefling party. I see it as another version of the unprompted confession he makes/the talk after meeting Araj Oblodra. I just think that the game focuses on the romance progressions too much and feel like there were things that should have been said (he jumps into being okay with having sex again without any real discussion about boundaries or about what he says in the unprompted confession - or at least it didn't happen in any of my playthroughs) so I wrote this to kinda fix that in my head. I know a lot of people who experienced SA still want intimacy and a healthy sexual relationship is important to heal, but I felt like a lot of discussion was missing in the game (which is understandable, they cannot elaborate on everything)

Read on Ao3 here

As he takes a step towards Tav's bedroll, she raises her head and tenses, but quickly relaxes again when she sees his silhouette.

Astarion looks around to check if the rest of the camp is surely asleep before swiftly sneaking into Tav’s tent. She told him he can come by to drink her blood tonight, so he was going to do exactly that, but he would still prefer their companions didn't know about their little agreement.

“Hi.”

“I thought you’d be asleep by now. Did I wake you up, darling?”

“No, I couldn’t sleep. A lot is happening around us, you know.” She rubs the corners of her eyes.

“I guess I understand.” He shifts his weight nervously. “So, can I still…?”

“Sure, I said what I said. Just please, be quick.”

“Of course, dear, I wouldn't want to take too much of your night.”

Astarion kneels next to her, one hand slipping under her neck to hold her head still, gentle fingers grazing her skin. His other arm reaches to her side to stabilize himself over her. As he does that, his fingers drag, probably accidentally, against her stomach towards her pubic bone. Even through a shirt, his touch burns, sending shivers through her skin. His closeness, his touch, his smell, stir feelings inside her that she is only recently becoming brave enough to admit.

Tav remembers how they sneaked out after the celebrations with Zevlor's people. How ridiculously good Astarion looked in the moonlight, leaning over her, how he whispered sweet praises in her ear while he fucked her numb. When she didn’t even know he was a vampire and he gently nibbled at her neck, grazing it with his teeth. Now she knows he was showing a lot of restraint that night. Restraint, she almost wishes he didn’t have.

And now he was over her, fingers twisted in her hair, face reaching towards her exposed neck, the memory of pleasure he gave her and yearning for a pleasure he could give coursing through Tav's entire body and forcing a sharp inhale as she tenses to hide the excitement and warmth accumulating in her abdomen.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, his lips curving into a smug smirk.

“Yes, just get on with it.” Tav's hands form into fists to focus some of the tension and blush of embarrassment creeps on her face.

“Darling, what did I do to excite you so much?” His hand slips from under her head and he playfully strokes her increasingly red cheek with his thumb. She doesn't have enough willpower not to lean into his touch, feeling more and more blood just flooding her face and loin. “Are you so eager to have me bite into that darling neck of yours?” He chuckles. “Or maybe it’s something else you want from me?”

He moves from her side, grabbing and decisively moving her legs to place himself between them and wrapping them around his waist as he leans over her. “Maybe, since you were so kind to let me... dine with you… And we are in a rather intimate setting,” –he glances to check if the flaps of the tent are enough to obscure them from prying eyes of their companions should they wake up– “I can do something to make it worth your while.” He rolls his hips gently, putting pressure between her legs, right where she needs it.

A sigh that Tav tries painfully hard not to turn into a moan, stumbles from her mouth. She looks up at him.

He is just… so pretty. His hair, in a seemingly chaotic disarray, that he in fact spends a lot of time combing it into and securing with some kind of magical cream. It's truly impressive he learned to do that without any mirror. His eyes, burning red, glistening in the dim light of the singular candle in her tent.

His eyes.

There is sadness and a silent resignation in them that wasn’t there just a minute ago, when he was leaning down to bite her. He was flamboyant, relaxed, and a little bit excited. Now he is looming over Tav, his growing erection pressing against her and yet he seems… defeated.

He doesn’t really want it. He is just afraid she will punish him, even if just by rejecting him, if he doesn’t do it right now.

“You know you don’t need to do this?” Tav slowly gets up, forcing Astarion to sit back on his heels.

“Oh, but I want to.” He gently caresses her cheek, thumb dragging down her bottom lip. “I want your pretty mouth to scream my name.” Now that she knows what to look for, she can see how forced his smile is. She moves back a bit, so he's not between her thighs anymore.

“Do you? Or are you just afraid of what would happen if you say you don’t? I didn’t offer my blood to you to get something in return. I did it because I want you to feel strong. And comfortable.”

Astarion looks at her with visible surprise and confusion like he never imagined the possibility of anyone doing a nice thing without expecting something in return. Or, more specifically, like he never imagined anyone doing it for him. And, like no one ever made sure he actually wanted to be intimate.

“Look,” Tav presses her fingers to her eyes, to ground herself a little and focus on forcing all of the remaining arousal out of her body and mind. “I don’t want you to fuck me because you think you have to. I offered to let you bite me tonight, so let’s do just that. I’m sorry for my reaction earlier, I–” She takes a deep breath. She needs to choose her words carefully. Astarion looks at her, tense, brows furrowed. “In other circumstances, I would love to share a bed with you for the night… but not like that. Not with you feeling forced to do it. You should never feel forced to do it.” She grabs his hands and gives them a sympathetic squeeze.

His eyes wander on her face, trying to read her, like he is trying to figure out where’s the trick, what is she trying to achieve, in what way is her kindness just a decoy. It’s Cazador, still whispering into his ear. That he’s not a person. That his wants don’t matter. That he cannot say “no” and he can never refuse.

“Come on now, Astarion.” She lies back down, turning her head slightly to expose her neck. She really wants to make him understand that he does have a choice. He is free now. And she will not reject him or change her opinion on him for setting a boundary. Because despite his meticulous attempts at being an unbearable asshole to everyone around, she cares about him. She can see his trauma. And she is not going to contribute to it. “I invited you to eat. So eat. We can have sex another time. If you want to.”

“I–” he starts, but his voice seems to get stuck in his throat. “Thank you,” he says finally, his shoulders relaxing, his face softening.

He resumes his position at Tav's side, and bites into her neck. A familiar sharp cold pain hits her and weakness swirls in her head. After a moment he lets go of her, and sits back. A drop of her blood dribbles down his chin. He shoots her a charming smile and licks the corners of his mouth, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

"Delicious as always."

"You know how to make me blush," she says breathlessly, knowing well that right now her body doesn't really have enough blood to spare some for her cheeks.

She expects Astarion to say his goodbyes and leave but he just sits there, staring at her. Maybe he still worries that I expect something from him, she thinks. She needs to let him know he can leave, nothing is expected or required of him.

"I think I will have an easier time falling asleep now, feeling a bit dizzy and all. So goodni-"

"Can I stay?" he interrupts. Eyes wide, mouth slightly open, like a lost puppy. "Just stay in your tent. I don't want to be alone."

"Of course." Tav smiles and wants to reach for Astarion's hand, but stops half way. "Do you… want to cuddle?" He doesn't sleep, really, so she's not sure what exactly he wants to do. Maybe just sit in the corner, reading a book.

"Yes, please." He whispers and without further encouragement crawls onto Tav's bedroll throwing his arm around her to pull her down with him. "Goodnight, Tav."

"Goodnight, Astarion." She rests her head on his shoulder and quickly drifts away.

"Hey, Tav, Gale made killer eggs for breakfast, better hurry if you want–" Karlach pushes away the flap of Tav's tent and stops in her tracks as soon as she sees Astarion raising his head, before Tav shakes off the rest of sleep to sit up. "Oh, shit, sorry. Erm, didn't mean to interrupt. I– will leave now." She swiftly backs out, but pokes her head back inside for a moment just to add: “Nice!”

"Well, good morning, Astarion" Tav laughs, and stretches her arms.

"Did you sleep well?" He stays down, head propped up on his elbow, with his usual flirty smile.

"Very well."

"Glad to hear it."

They just look at each other, smiling, breathing in this intimate moment.

Suddenly, Astarion sits up, puts his hands on Tav's cheeks and places a gentle kiss on her lips.

“I wanted to thank you,” he says, pulling away.

“For what?”

“For last night.”

She understands, even if he doesn't know how to vocalize what he means exactly.

“I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do.”

“It's a novel concept, I admit. And a little intimidating. I wasn't entirely honest with you. That night, in the forest. You… you asked what I wanted. And the truth is, I wanted protection.” His posture goes back to the carefully curated smug, confident one, to mask the vulnerable position he is putting himself in. “People don't usually trust vampires, perhaps understandably, so I needed someone on my side. And seducing you was easy, frankly. So imagine how stupid I felt when I started to… genuinely… feel something for you."

Tav bites her tongue to not show that she is sincerely hurt a little by that confession. She knows where he is coming from, she knows his history, but it still stings.

“Trust me, I was not happy about it,” he continues.” You're a… complication, I didn't see coming. And yet…” He pauses for a moment. “Last night was the first time I was told I don't have to do something I don't want to. Especially of sexual nature. I really appreciate that.”

Tav touches his hand gently and he immediately tangles his fingers with hers.

“Cazador has no power over you now. It's not fair how many things you were forced or pressured to do. I care about you. Deeply. And I would love to have something more with you. More than friendship. But if our nights together was something you had to endure and not something you really wanted, then I regret it ever happened.”

“Well, it's not really nice to hear you regret having sex with me.” Astarion tries to laugh off the seriousness of the situation, but fails, as his voice breaks a little. “I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my master. What I wanted, how I felt about what I was doing… it never mattered. And… being close to someone, any kind of intimacy was something I performed to bring people back for him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don't know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I'd like to.”

“I want to be intimate with you, Astarion. But only you if you really want it. Not when you do it out of fear.”

“I– I would also like that. But… I don't think I'm ready yet.”

“Of course. And just so you know, it's also okay if you're never ready.”

He looks at her surprised.

“Would you… Really? You would still want to… have something more with me, if sex wasn't even on the table?”

“Of course.” Tav smiles and strokes his cheek.

“Why?”

The confusion on his face seems sincere. Not because he wouldn't want to be with Tav if she didn't want sex, but because he can't really see himself as worth more than what his body can offer in the end.

“Because” –she leans closer, taking his hands into hers, gently tracing patterns on his palm with her thumb– “as gorgeous as that body is, it's not all that you are. You are intelligent. You are funny. You are sensitive. I love being around you. You are curious and you want to live. And I want to help you live. And live with you.”

Astarion just looks at her, processing what she just said. He swallows loudly, pressing his lips tightly together to hide the tremble of his chin.

“And you shouldn't have thanked me for what I did,” she adds, firmly. “Asking for consent shouldn't be something you're grateful for. It's the bare fucking minimum, okay?”

He nods weakly. She can see he doesn't fully process it and doesn't fully believe it yet. But she hopes one day he will.

“But surely you–” he shakes his head, still not grasping at what she is trying to say. “You still have your needs. I wouldn't be offended if you wanted to take another lover–”

“Astarion. I am not a wild animal. My genitals don't dictate what I think or feel. I think with my brain. And feel with my heart. And my heart is yours. If you'll have me.”

“I–” he pauses for a moment, staring at the ground and then raises his head to lock his eyes with hers. There's hope in his gaze. Warmth. Adoration. “I would love that. I would love to have–” he pauses, scrunching his face, as if the phrasing bothers him. He quickly corrects it. “For us to have each other. To have something real.”

She leans forward and pulls him into a hug. Just a hug. No hands wandering around looking for sexual pleasure, no lips searching for his lips, no tension. Just a warm, soft hug. He is slow to reciprocate it, his hands just frozen in air, but when he does, he holds her tight.

When Tav finally pulls away from the hug, Astarion seems to tremble a little, reluctant to let go. She stands up and offers him her hand. “Let's go before they eat all the eggs.”

He accepts her hand and lets her help him get up. He doesn't let go of her, until they sit down at the campfire and she needs her hand back to hold a spoon.

#astarion ancunin #astarion #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #no beta we die like men

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lumienyx · 6 months

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bloodless much?

I see @spacebarbarianweird's excellent point on Tav being unable to give Astarion blood that often since it would deteriorate their health.

But also listen.

One thing I love about DND sorcery is metamagic. At its most basic, it's ' twisting and adapting your spells to suit your needs.' Sure there are the canonical effects, but thinking outside game mechanics—technically as a sorcerer you can tinker with spells however you damn well please.

Which is what my Tav does when he makes a scroll that replenishes his blood faster than is humanly (or, well, half-elvenly) possible.

Astarion ends up drinking the extra blood, leaving Tav with just enough for him to function normally and go about his day as usual (something to be definitely included in touch too much ehehe)

Which means:

A totally valid canonical reason for Tav letting Astarion drink from him daily, sometimes several times a day, i.e. Astarion never has to go without a sentient creature's blood ever again and is always well fed

I'd assume the first times Tav attempts this don't go over that well and that makes his blood cells multiply a bit too fast. He ends up going over to Shadowheart, thoroughly embarrassed and asking for a complex healing session for the Serious Condition he really could not have ended up with that quickly, having to painstakingly explain to her what the hells even happened (spoiler: she is Not Impressed. “You’re seriously making me waste a day’s worth of energy fixing you up because you wanted to become an infinite blood bank for your thirsty vampire lover?”)

Alternatively, and this fits EVEN BETTER (thanks to @satanicspinosaurus for pointing it out), the excess number of red blood cells is called erythrocytosis, which is what Tav would accidentally end up with as he experiments. And one of the primary treatments for this is LITERALLY phlebotomy, i.e. removing blood. So Tav explaining the whole situation to Astarion would probably go somewhat like this...

“Uh, Astarion?” “Yes, my sweet—” Astarion frowns after taking one glance at Tav’s face. “What is it? You look a bit feverish. Is something the matter?” Tav bites his lip, feeling his cheeks grow warm as he speaks, “Well. Yes. And no? Kind of.” “Eloquent.” Tav heaves a deep sigh. “Anyway. Shadowheart sent me. She can’t heal this… disease I have—or, well, she can, but she actually said the best treatment is something you can do for me. And we need to get to it fast, otherwise I’ll die, so. Here.” Tav extends his wrist, bared and ready to be drunk from. Astarion only blinks at him, zero understanding in his eyes and now quite a bit more concern. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific, love," he says. "Why exactly did our resident healer send you to get healed by me? Especially since this is serious? My talents lie in stealth, trickery, and necromancy as of late—and you still look very much alive.” “Blood,” Tav grits through his teeth, looking anywhere but Astarion’s face. “You need to drink my blood. A lot of it. I completely fucked up the strength of a spell.” “What spell,” Astarion demands, “would lead to you needing to lose blood?” “I wanted to create one that would increase the amount of blood I have by speeding up the body’s natural blood replenishment speed,” Tav explains to the clouds he’s distinctly observing. Anywhere but Astarion’s face. “And well. I ended up with far more of it than I need. It’s my first attempt, all right?” He forces his head to turn to look Astarion at last, who’s still staring at him blankly, with slightly parted lips. Probably thinking Tav is a massive idiot. “You can drink just about a quarter of my blood at this point," Tav offers weakly. "With no consequence.” Astarion doesn’t react at first. At all. Simply stands there before Tav, looking at him long and hard as if waiting for more words that never come, as the weight of embarrassment blocks all of Tav’s attempts at further explaining himself. “Well, darling,” Astarion finally says, taking the couple of steps that separate them—and suddenly, Tav feels Astarion’s hands on him, locking him in an embrace he’s happy to be captive in. Tav melts into it, mesmerized by the hungry look in those red eyes, as always comforted by the coolness of Astarion’s skin as he leans in to place a kiss on Tav’s neck. “How could I say no to such a delicious treat?”

Astarion gets his treat every day from now on. He is very happy with the arrangement

The result of Tav’s experiments is a Scroll of Blood Replenishment that I imagine Tav would stylize to look quite cool, red parchment and all. But since he would be making those scrolls on the daily, I guess the red would be a bit overkill to do that often and it ends up looking like any other scroll, much to Tav's dismay, but he needs to keep things efficient for his lover

In time, Tav learns to cast the spell sans scroll (does Gale help him out with it? sorcerer-wizard buddies ftw??) So, Astarion can just slide up to him, pull a Puss in Boots look, and Tav would just have to whisper a few words, his body instantly providing a filling meal for Astarion whenever and wherever they are

And I just think that’s neat, thanks for coming to my BloodTed Talk.

~~~

requests open

tag list (comment or dm to be added)

@spacebarbarianweird @satanicspinosaurus, @tallymonster, @tragedybunny

#astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion headcanon #i just thought SO WHAT IF i'm bloodless after every long rest #Astarion is thirsty for Tav's blood and Tav is thirsty for his happiness #that's it that's the hc #astarion romance #astarion ancunin #tavstarion #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3

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pengychan · 1 month

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[Baldur’s Gate III] A Deal in Three Acts: Act II

Title: A Deal in Three Acts Summary: Weeks since Raphael took temporary residence at Sharess’ Caress, Haarlep is bored. Still waiting for Tav to take him up on his offer, Raphael is frustrated. Tav chooses an interesting evening to show up with a counter-offer. Characters: Raphael, Haarlep, Tav. Rating: Explicit Status: Complete

Act I here Also on AO3

*** Sometimes nice simple plans fall apart, but they can be salvaged with an incubus on your side. I think. ***

When Tav had left Elfsong Tavern to head for Sharess’ Caress, she had a plan.

A nice, simple plan, as Astarion had called it after they’d spent hours going through every detail of their counter-offer to avoid every possible pitfall. Two centuries since he’d last donned a magistrate’s robes, he still had plenty of insight to give when it came to binding contracts.

“I think I would have hated dealing with magistrate Ancunín,” Tav had muttered. Sitting on the tavern’s terraced roof to bask in the rays of the dying sun, a leg dangling off into the air, Astarion had laughed. He laughed a lot more lately, and it was good to see. In the days after they’d cut down Cazador Szarr, he’d seemed to emptied out that everyone at camp had worried. Now, finally, it seemed to have truly hit him - that the monster who’d taken everything from him was gone, and could never hurt him again.

Tav hoped to feel like that, too, and soon.

“Oh, most people hated dealing with this menace,” Astarion had said, gesturing to himself. “And our friend Raphael will be none too pleased by our counter-offer, I bet, but you must not yield an inch. He’s desperate for that crown, and while we have a backup plan, he does not. Our little, shall we say, requests are just trivial matters to the bearer of the Crown of Karsus. He has nothing to lose and everything to gain by accepting.”

“I suppose the clause binding him to limit his rule to the Nine Hells of Baator may be the main stumbling block.”

“Ah, but he already said he’d do that, didn’t he? He cannot refuse to put it on paper without admitting he lied. Of course, we’ll need the entire contract in a language we understand . And a copy for ourselves. I really can’t believe so many people keep doing that. Signing contracts in some language they don’t know, without even their own copy. Wyll was incredibly lucky we found a way to break his contract and save his father.”

“Not everyone’s a magistrate, magistrate.”

“That’s bloody common sense, darling. Now, let’s go over this again, just to make sure you didn’t forget anything…”

They did, and she hadn’t. Tav left the tavern before the last rays of sun disappeared beyond buildings, taking care to speak with no one else. She knew all too well that most of her companions would disapprove, to say the least - Karlach and Gale most of all. But this was for their sake, too.

If everything went as planned, if she could get Raphael to accept the counter-offer, they would both be free of the ticking time bombs in their chests. And of course, Tav would get a shot at seeing an Archdevil die.

The Hells were the Hells; it did not matter to her what devil ruled supreme over it all. She’d gladly hand Raphael the crown and all her own magic on top of it, if it meant she could see Zariel dead and broken, a charred husk among ruins like… like…

“I’m not going to give you a lecture about revenge, because you deserve it as I deserved mine,” was the last thing Astarion had told her before she left. “But they’re dead and you’re alive. Take the blood you’re owed, but keep your life.”

“Is that a very long-winded way to tell me to be careful?”

“I say it a lot better than you do, my friend. If you’re not back by morning, I’ll come looking. You can be certain I will. But I’ll be cursing you the entire way there and back.”

Tav, who’d planned to be back long before morning, had nodded. A simple goal, a simple plan. Nothing was going to throw her off course; she told herself as much while going up the stairs, opening the door, and stepping in the room.

Then-- well, for all her grim determination, the sight had sort of thrown her off. You can never be completely sure of what you’ll see when walking in on a devil, but Tav had no trouble admitting that ‘Raphael fucking himself in the most literal sense possible’ was not among the possible scenarios she’d thought up. She hadn’t meant to make noise, either, but she had and all things considered, it had been a blessing in disguise.

Had the incubus not helpfully introduced themself to her, she might have assumed that the Bhaal cult’s shapeshifters were taking an entirely new approach since Orin’s demise, and she might have attacked. Needless to say, it would have made the situation quite awkward.

Well. More awkward.

“Why don’t you join us, little mouse? Get up close and discuss to your heart’s content. I won’t interrupt. I’ll just be doing my thing.”

“Haarlep--” Raphael tried to speak, his voice strained in a way Tav had never heard it, and even that attempt broke up into a groan when the incubus thrust upwards. It was, pun intended, one hell of a sight: Raphael’s naked body on the lap of an incubus who looked almost exactly like his cambion form, his thighs spread open and chest heaving with ragged breaths.

And Tav she knew a chance when she saw it. She couldn’t have dreamed up an occasion like that, with Raphael that vulnerable, barely coherent . Plus, no matter what Astarion said - she was very much not made of wood. When she met his eyes, clouded with lust as they were, her next words came out in a husky murmur. “May I, Raphael?”

A wordless groan, all his eloquence gone, but it was the only answer she needed. His chest shuddered under her touch and oh, he was feverishly warm, skin glossy with sweat. Beneath her palm, his heart thumped wildly. Tav leaned in, and pressed her lips against his throat. She felt him swallow, and smiled. Her own breathing came a little faster, too. “Tell me what you want.”

“The crown--” he tried, only for an especially clever twist of Haarlep’s hips and to turn the words in a whine. The incubus caught Tav’s eye over his shoulder, and grinned. If they knew what she was trying to do, one thing was clear: they had no intention to stop her.

Good.

Tav pulled back, and tilted Raphael’s chin up. She ran her thumb across his lips, her other hand trailing down his chest, down his stomach, coming to rest on a trembling thigh. “Yes,” she said. “It would look good on you. I want to give you that crown. So you can see all the devils of Baator bowing to you - that’s what you really want, isn’t it?”

“I--” he groaned, dropping his head back against Haarlep’s shoulder at a well-timed tilt of their hips. His hands clenched on sheets. “Yes,” he breathed. There was something else to his shaky voice, a need, a hunger that could never be sated. It sent a shiver down Tav’s spine, more heat pooling in her loins. It was getting really, really warm in that armor.

“You want to see them kneel, don’t you?” she whispered, and finally took his cock in her hand, her touch light, to trace a vein with a nail. “You want to see everyone kneel.”

Raphael’s hips shuddered, and he couldn’t bite back a cry. “Yes,” he managed, and Haarlep laughed.

“Oh, this one,” they said, grinding up into Raphael. “I like her.”

Somehow, Raphael managed a scoff. “You like-- everyone, you insatiable--”

“That’s patently untrue, my pet. I don’t like you, for one.”

The response made Raphael scowl, and wrinkle his nose. He wrinkled his nose a lot when annoyed and it made it somewhat difficult to take him seriously, power of the Hells and all. Tav smiled, and leaned in, almost close enough to kiss him. She did not have Yurgir’s keen sense of smell, but there it was, just like he’d said - the scent of cherries and musk beneath the lingering sulfur. Her voice had always been a little too rough to sound truly sweet, but she did her best to soften it. “Do you want me to kneel for you, Raphael?”

He didn’t answer, not with words: he tried to lean forward instead, to catch her lips with his, to grab her and pull her closer. Tav was fast enough to pull back, though, and the incubus’ hands grasped Raphael’s wrists, snake-quick. Haarlep laughed at the frustrated noise that got out of him, and thrust upwards into him sharply, biting into his shoulder in the same motion.

“Behave, little brat,” they purred against his ear. “She asked you a question, it’s only polite to answer. With words. Do you want her to kneel for you?”

If Tav could bottle the moan that left Raphael then, and sell it, she’d be able to buy the Gate and everyone in it ten times over. Maybe there was a way to do that, really, but working it out would have to wait. Right now, she had a more urgent matter to take care of.

Well, two urgent matters. There was the contract, too. She probably shouldn’t forget that.

“What did you say, pet? I couldn’t hear a yes or a no.” The incubus grinned, delighted, and bit into his shoulder again. Raphael cried out, wordless, but he managed a nod and Tav supposed she could go with that. She placed a kiss on his shoulder, just below the bite mark, and knelt between his trembling thighs. Up close, she noticed the ring at the base of his cock for the first time. She tilted her head, running a finger down the length.

Well, look at that. He wasn’t getting to come anytime soon with that thing on.

“Believe me, you’d have missed all the fun if I hadn’t put that on,” Haarlep almost sing-sang, and let go of one of Raphael’s wrists to grab his face, forcing him to look down. Tav lifted her gaze to see his eyes on her, his lips parted and face flushed, Haarlep’s claws pressing mercilessly into his cheeks. The incubus in question smiled over his shoulder.

“Do you know what he sees when he looks at you? He’ll never tell you, but he told me. I can make him tell me everything,” they cooed, and silenced Raphael’s attempt at a protest with two fingers in his mouth, pressing down his tongue. Raphael made an indignant noise, but his body remained flush against Haarlep’s chest, his eyes still fixed on Tav, wide and dark and hungry. “Can you guess?”

Great, so this was a guessing game now. Tav raised an eyebrow. “A rodent of small size?” she ventured. The incubus’ smile widened.

“His kingdom, that’s what he sees. He looks at you, and he sees his crowning glory.”

Well, fuck. That sure did something to the pit of her stomach and a little below that too. Gods was it hot in there. “Ah,” Tav said, and her voice cracked just a touch, but she managed to catch herself. She had to keep some measure of control if she was to negotiate, because Raphael’s helpless state would do her no good if her brain also turned to mush. So she steadied herself, and locked eyes with him.

She was beginning to feel decidedly overdressed, and her own face was burning, but she held his gaze as she took hold of his cock and leaned in to press her lips on the side of the shaft in a soft kiss. Raphael keened around Haarlep’s fingers, hips shuddering and back arching. The incubus laughed, and thrust up again - hard - to tear another cry from his throat.

“Ah, now we’re talking. You’re so much more fun than usual, my little brat,” they said, soft, almost affectionate. They snuck their free arm around Raphael to pull him back against their chest, pinching a nipple. “But oh, aren’t we terrible hosts. I should have told you to make yourself at home, little mouse. Feel free to slip out of that armor. It looks so uncomfortable.” A pause, a tilt of their head. “And unflattering, if I may.”

Tav allowed one more kiss on the inside of Raphael's thigh and stood, just a little unsteady. She began undoing the clasps with a huff. “The point of an armor isn’t to be flattering,” she muttered, letting the parts drop on the floor and trying not to look in Raphael’s direction just yet. “It’s to keep pointy things from skewering you.”

“Oh, then you should definitely take it off now.”

“... Guess I walked into that one.”

The last of Tav’s underclothes were dropped on the floor, and only then did she look back at Haarlep and Raphael. The incubus had pulled their fingers out of Raphael’s mouth and was smiling, eyes running over her body. Not a lot there for them to see, to be entirely honest; she’d always been about as shapely as a wooden board.

On one of the last nights they’d spent together, Misza had joked that she had curves enough for them both, and pretended to smother her against her breast. They had laughed like idiots, and that was when Tav had decided she should put a ring on it, before someone else snatched her up. And she’d been snatched all right, but down, down into the Hells along with the entire city and--

A lump threatened to form in her throat and Tav forced it away, pushing memories of better times in the back of her mind, where dead things lingered amidst the ruins of Elturel. Dead, charred things. Her mother and father and all her little siblings, and the woman she’d wanted to propose to once she returned from her time in the countryside, where she had gone to learn how to better control her wild magic.

But she’d returned to find a crater where Elturel once was; while the city re-emerged from the Hells in the end, many of its inhabitants didn’t live to see the sky again. She had buried the only body she could recognize, her youngest brother with his owlbear plush toy still in his arms. Then the ring meant for Misza had been sold for passage to Baldur’s Gate and she’d left, long before the surviving citizens cast out all remaining tieflings among them.

“Are you well, little mouse?” Haarlep’s voice snapped her out of it, and they spoke slower, their gaze more focused, a hint of a frown across their features.

Tav met their gaze, and smiled. She had plenty of reasons to smile. They were all gone, but she was still around and so was Zariel, who’d had the city dragged into Avernus. Zariel, who would never surrender her throne without a fight. Zariel, whose days as archdevil would be numbered if Raphael got his way - and he would, as long as she could secure a few clauses. She’d happily be the key to Raphael’s future kingdom, then.

After all, he was her key to Zariel’s bloody demise. It was a fair exchange. He just didn’t need to know that.

“Just admiring the sights,” she said, and looked back at the devil she was getting to know a damn lot better than before. Raphael had shut his eyes, brow furrowed and breathing fast, clearly trying to regain some semblance of control. And that, she knew, would not do. The less in control he was, the more chances she had to turn the negotiations her way.

So she pushed aside hesitation, strode to the bed, and tilted up Raphael’s face. He blinked his eyes open, as though startled by the touch, and swallowed. “The crown,” he breathed, and Tav smiled. Her other hand went down to her folds, two fingers slipping in and coming out slick and glistening. She pressed them to Raphael’s mouth and he parted his lips to let them in, eyes falling shut with a shiver. His tongue felt too warm, too, and Tav licked her lips.

“Yes,” she rasped, pushing him against Haarlep’s chest. The incubus leaned back, arms braced on the mattress behind them, and Raphael could only tilt back against them, groaning at the shift of the cock inside him. Tav straddled him, letting his erection barely brush against her labia, just enough to let him feel how warm she was, and how wet. His breath hitched, eyes fluttering open, and she smiled again. “Let’s talk about the crown I’m going to place on your head. I’d like to see you with that on. Just the crown.”

A hand through his hair, the press of lips against his own, and Raphel’s hands gripped her sides hard enough to bruise, pulling her flush against him, chest to chest. She blinked, taken aback, but then she felt him part his lips to let her tongue in and ah, may as well. She kissed him, more roughly and a good deal more enthusiastically than she had originally planned.

“I think he likes us,” she recalled Astarion saying, and she recalled her reply just as well.

"I like him too, but I'd never say it to his smarmy face."

Well. She was not saying anything of the sort, and he didn’t look all that smarmy anymore, so her point still stood. She heard, dimly, Haarlep’s throaty chuckle.

“This one’s eager, pet. Didn’t even need my saliva to help along.”

There was something that sounded very much like a growl deep in Raphael’s chest, and he pulled away from Tav’s mouth to turn and snap at Haarlep to be quiet. Or try to, because it took the incubus only a jolt of their hips for his words to turn into a moan.

“You be quiet, little brat. You’re no one’s master tonight, remember?” they whispered against his ear, and smiled at Tav over his shoulder. “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, by the way. I’m always telling Raphael he should introduce me to his friends more often. Alas, he expressly forbade me to play with you. Never seen him get this jealous.”

“That’s not--” Raphael gasped, and Haarlep silenced him with a few swift thrusts. Still straddling Raphael, Tav grasped his shoulders to avoid being thrown off; his cock rubbed against her folds, only for a moment, but it tore a gasp from her and a moan from Raphael. He dropped his forehead against Tav’s shoulder, gasping, and Tav cupped the back of his head without thinking, stroked down the back of his neck before she finally, finally , allowed herself to sink down on him.

“Oh…” A sigh, and she closed her eyes, taking a moment to savor the feeling, the stretch. She was wet and he slid in so easily, so deep. Was it supposed to feel that warm? Was it a devil thing? Did it matter? Probably not; it felt good either way. Against her skin, Raphael let out an incoherent noise and grasped her again, pulling her close.

Don’t worry, I’m going nowhere, she almost said, but what left her mouth was quite different.

“This is going to be quite a tale,” she groaned, her voice rough, and rocked her hips. “That I bedded the archdevil supreme. No one’s going to believe me.”

A shudder, and there was no telling what had caused it - the heat of her around him, her movements, or her words. Either way, he pulled back enough to look at her. There it was, in the midst of pleasure - that hungry look again. “You shall give me the crown,” he rasped, and Tav smiled.

“I want to give you the crown just as much as you want to put an end to the Grand Design. But like you, I have conditions.” A kiss, deep, a slow tilt of her hips. Haarlep moved again beneath them, inside Raphael, and somehow it was easy to match their movements, find the right rhythm. Raphael’s breaths came in shuddering gasps, but he did not call for either of them to stop. “So I have come with a counteroffer.”

A scoff. “There is no counteroffer to be-- made,” he groaned through clenched teeth.

A smile, a kiss. “You forget,” Tav whispered against his lips, rocking slowly, “that I have a backup plan, and you do not.”

“Trusting-- ah-- an Illithid is no plan. It’s sheer-- ngh-- idiocy.”

“Ah, but I thrive on idiocy. Idiocy got me this far.” She stilled, clenched around him, and muffled the noise that got out of him with another kiss. “It might just carry me a little further. If the Emperor can help us destroy the Netherbrain, with or without Orpheus - and you know he can - then we’ll have no reason to give you the crown. Why risk it all without hearing me out?” A light bite on his lower lip. “You’ll find my requests more than reasonable.”

Raphael scowled, but he tilted back his head against Haarlep’s shoulder, and closed his eyes. When she leaned in to nip at his throat, she felt him swallow. “... What are your requests?” he finally groaned.

Well, this is it. Best to start small.

“There are two requests that you can satisfy with little more than a snap of your fingers, I’m sure. Two of my companions carry their doom in their chests. I know that with the Crown of Karsus, you can remove the orb from Gale quite readily - and without harming him. And someone capable of creating the Orphic Hammer surely knows how to fix an infernal engine so it can work on this plane without killing its bearer.”

A low, breathy chuckle. “Of course. These will be trivial matters to me.”

“So is that something you’d be willing to add to the contract?”

“Consider it done. Will that-- ah-- ” Raphael trailed off for a moment, trembling, before he caught his voice again. “Will that be all?”

“Not quite. I want to make it clear that no soul but mine will be involved.” She ground against him, hard, and grasped his chin to make sure he’d look at her. His eyes opened, wide and dark, to meet hers. “The crown for the hammer, and for your help for Gale and Karlach, with my soul - mine alone - as the collateral if I fail to deliver the crown. If I deliver it to you, as I intend to, my soul will remain my own.”

Tav watched Raphael’s brow furrow, watched him think it over with as much difficulty one can experience while being fucked by an incubus and a woman at the same time, and finally watched him jerk his head in a nod. “Yes, that is-- ah-- reasonable,” he panted. His hands ran down her back, down her sides, and stopped on her thighs. “Will that-- be all?”

“Not quite.” A kiss, rough. “Another collateral seems fair. You said you’ll limit your rule to the Nine Hells of Baator.”

“And I shall,” Raphael replied, trying to bite her lip, but she was too quick to pull back. She smiled, brushing a hand down his chest, down his stomach, almost to the point where their bodies joined. Her fingers brushed against his shaft, causing him to shudder.

“I want that in writing, binding you to relinquish the crown’s ownership to Mystra if you break the clause.”

As she had very much expected, Raphael stilled beneath her. He glowered, anger crossing his features even through the daze of pleasure. “No,” he all but growled, and seemed about to add something - but Haarlep rocked into him harder than before, Tav clenched around him, and his voice broke into a groan. Haarlep winked at her; it cost Tav some effort not to openly smile back.

If she succeeded in her mission, she would probably owe the incubus a favor. Oh well. Something could be worked out, surely.

“No?” she repeated, all fake innocence. She cupped Raphael’s cheek, looking at him in the eye. Her thumb brushed over his lips. “But you have already pledged to keep to the Hells. Putting that in writing should be no trouble at all. Why would it be?”

Because he’d had no intention whatsoever to be true to that pledge, was the obvious answer, but it wasn’t something he could admit without showing his hand. She knew it, he knew it, and he was livid about it.

… Not livid enough to push her off him, however. She took note of that while waiting for a response. She watched him clench his jaw, then make an effort to smooth his expression.

“It rather hurts,” he rasped, voice so low, “to see my word doesn’t carry enough weight for you.”

Tav couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “No one’s word does.” She leaned in to kiss the bridge of his nose. “ Verba volant, scripta manent. You of all people would know what that means. You’d be a poor devil indeed, not to take advantage of the lack of a written clause. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t at least try, and you have never disappointed so far.”

He still scowled, but when she pulled back he reached to grasp her head, to pull her mouth back on his. It was a rough, devouring kiss - the first such initiative from his part - and she yielded to it immediately. She sighed into his mouth, wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her hips again, pressing him down on Haarlep with her meager weight. She swallowed his groan, and shuddered when he bit into her lower lip - not hard enough to draw blood but oh, almost. For a few moments all she could hear was his panting breath, her own thumping heart, and the slick noises they made as she rocked against him again.

And then, finally, a groan. “... Very well,” he rasped. “It will be clearly stated in the contract--”

“Which will be written in common tongue,” she cut him off. “For me to ready before I sign. With a copy for me to keep.”

This time, she felt the frustrated growl in his chest more than she heard it. His hands, which had been going down her spine, stilled. “Infernal contracts,” he bit out, obviously short on breath, “are meant to be written in Infernal. It’s very much in the name, little mouse.”

Tav leaned her cheek on his shoulder, and bit at his earlobe. “A certified translation, then, with witnesses,” she panted. He felt hot to the touch and so did she, unbearably so, skin slick with sweat. Still she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. Cherries and musk, yes, and despite the lingering sulfur it was sweet, sweet, intoxicating. Pressure was building up, white-hot. She had to bite her lower lip not to moan. “A-- and a clause that makes the contract null and void-- if the translation differs in any way,” she managed.

Another groan, part frustration and part arousal, as he shuddered beneath her. “This is-- not the norm, with any contract--”

“But this isn’t any contract, Raphael.” She pulled back, despite the tight grasp around her, to press a kiss against his lips. “This is the one that will make you the archdevil supreme of all Baator.”

“I’ve extended-- more than enough grace--”

“I only want guarantees for what you already promised.” Tav cut him off, and smiled against his lips before pulling away, arching her back. To her satisfaction, Raphael had to bite his lips to silence a moan. She placed both hands on his chest, and rocked her hips. She was close - Gods, was she close - and he was still hard within her, so warm, unable to finish.

“Contracts can be changed, if both parties agree,” she managed through ragged breaths. “The ruler of all Hells may yet convince me to revise it.” Absolutely not, but you’re welcome to try. If I truly can take that crown from a Netherbrain I’ll be able to take it from you, if I must. “And you’ll have plenty of time to do so. I’ll come to the Hells and join your war.” Let me be the one to cut down Zariel, and I’ll follow you to the Ninth. “We can make-- a separate contract, if you like. I won’t leave until I see you sit on Asmodeus’ throne.”

For a moment, Raphael truly seemed at a loss for words. He stared, eyes wide, as though struggling to make sense of what he’d just heard. Even his grip on her hips slackened. “You-- I--”

“Oh, please let her come over. She’s fun. We could use some fun.”

Haarlep’s voice caused him to recoil, as though he’d somehow forgotten about their presence despite the cock buried inside him. Though come to think of it, Tav hadn’t felt Haarlep move for… several minutes, at least.

“You-- this is none of your concern, incubus-- and why did you stop? ” Raphael bit out, turning to glare at the incubus in question. They were leaning back on their elbows, head tilted, and grinned widely before thrusting upwards in a smooth motion. Raphael shuddered, and pressed his mouth against Tav’s shoulder to muffle a groan.

“Ah, my apologies. The two of you were such a fun spectacle to watch,” Haarlep muttered, and sat up, chest once again pressing against Raphael’s back. “You want to finish, don’t you, little brat?” Another upward thrust, another moan against Tav’s skin. “Then wrap up the conversation, pet. It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting for an answer.”

A growl, and Raphael lifted his head to look Tav in the eyes. Shortly after their first meeting, she recalled Gale claiming he’d seen a spark of Hellfire in his eyes. She’d thought he was just being dramatic at the time, but now, up close… oh, she could see it too, and more than a spark. It made her breath catch, pleasure coiling in her loins. Her grip on his shoulders tightened when he spoke, his voice low.

“... Very well. But you will get me that crown, little mouse. If you refuse, I will have your soul. If you fail to get it for me and die, I’ll still have your soul. Am I clear?”

A nod, a shuddering breath. “Yes,” she managed. “That sounds-- ah-- fair.”

“We have-- a deal, then,” Raphael breathed, and Tav claimed his lips again. Negotiations concluded, she could finally let go of the last shreds of self control and ride him in earnest, grinding hard against him. Her ears were buzzing and all her limbs felt so heavy and so light all of a sudden, her body flushing hot and cold at the same time.

Distantly, she heard Haarlep laugh, and Raphael cry out. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how that had to feel for him, with both her and Haarlep moving fast and hard, around him and inside him, keeping him trapped between them as they took their pleasure, unable to move and helplessly feeling it all.

Later, Tav wouldn't know for how long it went on. Too long, probably. Not long enough, surely. She teetered on the edge of orgasm and she was sure she’d break, but she did not. Or at least, she was not the first to break.

“Haarlep--” Raphael cried out against Tav’s neck, and something suspiciously like a sob wracked his body; the face pressed against her skin felt too wet for it to be just sweat. The incubus let out a low, rumbling chuckle. Tav felt their hand slip between them, down Raphael’s stomach and then lower, the back of it barely brushing against her as the fingers toyed with the ring at the base of Raphael’s cock.

“You want it off, don’t you, little duke?”

“Yes-- yes-- ”

“Beg.”

Another sob, and something dripped down Tav’s neck, down her shoulder. Raphael’s arms were gripping her tightly, as if he was desperately trying to ground himself to something. “Please,” he choked out, and somehow the desperation in his voice was what finally pushed Tav over the edge.

The orgasm was almost blinding, mind-numbing in its intensity, wave after wave of pleasure up her spine. She clenched around him and shuddered hard enough she almost thought, for a moment, that she might seize and die. What a way to go, she thought, barely coherent, holding onto the only Raphael for dear life. A hell of a way to go. If her heart stopped now, she wasn’t sure she’d have complaints.

She never had to find out, though, because her heart did not stop. It kept beating wildly in her chest when her shudders died down and she went limp against Raphael, panting, head spinning. Against her ear, Raphael keened.

“Please!”

A chuckle, and now even the incubus sounded breathless. “Good boy,” they said, and reached down again. Tav did not see or feel what they did, but suddenly the ring was gone and Raphael muffled a cry against her, his entire body shuddering. And maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her, but Tav could have sworn even his come felt warmer than it had any right to be. She clenched around him reflexively, still mostly spent, and Raphael trembled before he, too, went limp.

“There, little brat. Take it,” Haarlep was murmuring, and thrust their hips upwards one last time before stilling and closing their eyes with a long, pleased sigh. “Oh, this was so much better than usual…”

They said something else, probably, but Tav was beyond hearing it. She must have blacked out, or something like it, because it felt as though she’d only blinked and then she opened her eyes to find herself leaning on her side on the bed, empty and panting, a sticky and cooling mess on the inside of her thighs. She was vaguely aware of the fact Haarlep was sitting at the foot of the bed, saying something about the pool in the next room; but she didn’t look up, couldn’t lift her head.

And neither, it seemed, could Raphael. He was still holding onto her, face wet and burrowed against her throat, breathing ragged. His frame trembled; she reached to brush his hair back without thinking, nails scraping gently against his scalp. She wasn’t sure how long she did that, mind empty of all thought, but eventually their breathing slowed, his trembling subsided. Her fingers tangled once more in Raphael’s hair and did not move again. He remained still, too, his breathing slow and steady against her skin.

Tav closed her eyes, and let herself fall into nothingness. Somewhere in that darkness on the brink of sleep she saw the Crown of Karsus on Raphael’s head, saw Zariel’s broken body at his feet, saw her head in her hands.

And she smiled.

***

[Back to Act I]

[On to Act III]

#bg3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #bg3 raphael #bg3 haarlep #tiefling tav #female tav #raphael bg3 #deal in three acts

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