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sayoneee · 4 months

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☆ CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT

“i want to wear his initial on a chain 'round my neck, not because he owns me, but because he really knows me” - taylor swift (1.6k)

contains: luke castellan x daughter of ares! reader. secret relationship: the three times u guys were almost caught and the one time u were. pre-tlt.

kashaf’s note: working on requests as well so dw!! again. i just like this 1 lyric from this song <;/3

MORNINGS AT CAMP half-blood were both weird and normal — at a summer camp for kids with godlike abilities, you’d think that maybe they’d be cut some slack from all the monsters they’ve had to evade and maybe be allowed to sleep in some days, but no, life at camp half-blood was a regular survival of the fittest regime.

or: eat, or be eaten, as you liked to remind your cabin.

maybe that was why you were notorious among ares cabin, but to the rest of camp half-blood you simply embodied an other-worldly discipline, more of a tactician than anything, when compared to the rest of your half-siblings.

“hey,” clarisse says in an undertone, nudging you as you take your designated seat beside her, “where were you last night?”

your hand stilled as you picked up your goblet, shrugging your shoulders as the once-boisterous table came to a stand-still, eager to discover their shrewd head counselor’s indiscretions, hoping for something to loosen your high esteem for them: everyone remembered the time the entire cabin was put on cleaning detail for an entire month to repent for the mistakes of one.

your penchant for collective punishment wasn’t at all well-received among your half-siblings, but well, no one had really challenged you on your position yet, so.

“in bed,” you said, slowly, taking a sip, “why?”

clarisse shrugged, spearing a carrot from your plate, masking her annoyance with you — out of all of your half-siblings, camp half-blood, even, no one could boast of a relationship as close as yours and clarisse’s, yet no one could be more opposite. clarisse was chaotic, you were contained; clarisse was ruthless, you were just.

“i dunno, i just saw two people on the roof of hermes cabin.”

“and?” you drawled, ignoring the blood rushing in your ears, as the rest of your cabin looked on gleefully.

“one of them was castellan,” clarisse paused, searching your face for a reaction — you were grateful for all the nights spent in hermes cabin, because if not for the stolls persuading you to play poker with them almost every time, your expression would’ve never survived under clarisse’s scrutiny.

“the other one,” clarisse pauses as if thoughtful for once, then pointedly stares, pointing her fork at you, “looked like you.”

the other cabins are also looking in your direction as the dining pavilion is so quiet that you can hear a pin drop, before the table finally registers clarisse’s words, resulting in so much whooping and jeering, you’d think ares cabin won the lottery.

you snag a bite of clarisse’s pancakes, each word punctuated by a bite, “what would i be doing with castellan?” you pause, feeling the table pause with you. wrinkling your nose, you continued, “i swear, next you’re gonna say you saw us making out during capture the flag.”

you grinned as the table erupted into laughter once more, this time by your design. while everyone else went back to their original conversations, you’re summoning the memories of last night.

how luke had wrapped his arm around your shoulders and attempted to woo you with myths about the stars, how you had laughed and called him corny. how the moonlight had illuminated his face in the moment, when he laughed back, drawing you in closer, with his usual snarky response of, “you love it though.”

clarisse snapped her fingers in front of your face, bringing you out of your reverie. she frowned, whispering, “you’d tell me though, if that was you, right?”

“yeah,” you nodded, trying not to feel guilty about lying — clarisse deserved the truth. but it went against your agreement with luke. you tried not to think about how you’re essentially picking a boy over your sister.

like all things camp half-blood, if not careful, could result in death — like capture the flag, but did that stop you, or anyone else for that matter, in taking it upon yourself to make winning a matter of life or death.

this week, you orchestrated an alliance with hermes cabin, because of their numbers and ability to launch unforeseen tactics, and hephaestus cabin, for their resourcefulness. it also didn’t hurt that the head counselors were your boyfriend and his friend, respectively.

you’re standing by zeus’ fist, discussing strategy with luke and charlie, while your respective cabins go off doing whatever it is to prepare, when luke’s sloppily-tied breastplate catches your attention.

before you’re fully aware of what you’re doing, you’ve already reached forward to grab it, while charlie stares at you like you’ve been cursed by athena and turned into medusa.

“so,” charlie says, slowly, “anything you guys wanna tell me?”

luke is silent, watching you work, while you’re too busy focused on fixing the breastplate to notice the knowing expression on charlie’s face, one you would’ve been irritated by if you had.

“nothing,” you say, nonchalantly, whirling back around to face charlie when you’re finished, while luke gets swarmed by the stolls, “these things just bother me.”

“in general, or luke specifically?” charlie grins, that annoying, all-knowing look is back, and although reluctantly, you can see what it is about him that has silena beauregard so hung over.

“in general,” you say as if it were obvious, as if you’re trying to convince a child that storks are the ones to deliver babies, and no, you’re not lying, (both statements hold the same level of ridiculousness), “it’s the adhd — makes it distracting.”

“uh huh,” he says skeptically, “i’ll take your word for it.”

you resist the urge to shake him and question him more, but before you can toughen up and just ask, “what do you mean?” he’s already turned away, and capture the flag is about to begin.

“what’s that?” annabeth points at the tiny “L” on your necklace as it swings to and fro, finally set loose from the captivity of your neon orange camp half-blood tee, hidden under your armor.

“what?” you glance down, dropping the sword in your hand to hastily tuck it away, all the while cursing both yourself and luke for being stupidly sentimental. (it was his idea after all, though, you’re not sure how or where he got the necklace from, but you didn’t really care if it was stolen — you wouldn’t put it past him, especially since he was a son of hermes.)

“was that for luke? are you dating him?” annabeth persists, eyes widening with question after question — nothing can satiate the curiosity of athena kids, especially not annabeth, not when luke castellan, her brother, is in the equation.

“no,” you say, trying to catch your breath from the sword technique you had just shown her, and the gaggle of younger campers who have now caught on, looking at you eagerly.

“no to what? no to the initial on your necklace being for luke, or no to you dating him?” another camper chimes in with a bright grin, probably a child of apollo, and you’re so close to shooting yourself on the spot.

“no to all of the above,” you grit out, really regretting being nice for one of the few times in your life, because no one had asked you, in particular, to demonstrate sword-fighting to these kids, luke could’ve done it, but where your boyfriend was concerned, you were too.

“then, how come you have an “L” necklace?” annabeth asks again.

“it’s my mom’s,” you lie, “i’m a year-rounder, so it reminds me of her — before all this,” you waved in the general direction of camp half-blood.

the campers ohh’ed in unison, but you knew annabeth wasn’t convinced.

you sighed, it could’ve been worse.

+4.

you’re not sure when or where the whispers that your boyfriend had returned originated, but after what seemed like eons of not seeing him, you couldn’t find it in yourself to verify the rumors before dropping your sword in the middle of training and sprinting toward half-blood hill to see him for yourself.

you ignore the calls of your name from your half-siblings, as you were kind of in the middle of demonstrating a technique, instead choosing to focus on more important things, like if your boyfriend was even alive.

when you finally do make it to half-blood hill, and catch sight of your boyfriend, with chris and charlie in tow, you don’t stop sprinting, uncaring for all of the whispers from the other campers as they look on.

when you finally do come in contact with luke, you nearly tackle him into the ground, as he drops his backpack behind the two of you, arms coming to wrap around you to secure you, as you mumbled, “i missed you, asshole,” into the crook of his neck.

luke laughed, the sound reverberating against your skin, and you get off him, taking a step back. he starts to say something, “i —” but is cut off by you grabbing his wrist, and tugging him over your shoulder, his back slamming into the dirt ground. distantly, you can hear the rest of campers gasp, before buzzing with excitement. ignoring them all, you put your knee on his chest, bringing your forearm under his neck.

“i swear to everyone, if you disappear like that again—” you begin, as luke cuts you off.

“i won’t,” he promises, grinning as you pull him up. luke slings an arm around your shoulder, and you finally notice the jagged scar running down his cheek.

he catches your gaze and stares at the ground instead, avoiding you.

“you look kinda hot now with the scar,” you settle for, you know you’ll get the chance to properly speak about it later, but for now, this’ll have to do.

a light pink dusts his cheeks, and luke, looking up at the campers gathered behind chiron, then glances back at you, smirking, “looks like you gave them quite a show.”

you glared at him, shoving him, “i’m going to kill you.”

luke shrugged, wrapping the arm around you tighter, “the damage’s done, now i’ll finally be able to hang out with my girl in peace.”

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feyascorner · 4 months

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wish you would look at me

summary. convinced that you’re in love with another, when you approach him with a serious expression, he readies himself for the inevitable—rejection. but is it ever that simple?

pairing. astarion x GN!reader

warnings. light angst, fluff

a/n. this is inspired by the ppl who have love triangles w gale and astarion in act 2 and what he says if you pick him bec when I saw that I almost cried pls let him be happy

If you asked him a few weeks ago, he’d laugh at the mere suggestion that he could ever be jealous of someone like Gale. That blasted wizard couldn't go four steps before begging for a magical shoe or pathetically limping his way behind the rest of the group while you frantically searched for the said shoe. And when he found out the wizard was a few errors away from exploding, somehow Astarion felt even more pity (not really) for the lad.

Yet here he was.

He’s not sure when the hell you and Gale had gotten so chummy, but it rubbed him the wrong way. Even if his expression would never show it. He sips at his wine while Karlach and Wyll continue to chat about God knows what, too busy peering from the corner of his eyes as you lean into Gale’s shoulders to look closer at the book he was holding.

Perhaps the tadpole had finally made you lose your mind. He'd almost dropped his goblet when you denied his invitation to his tent tonight, spouting the excuse that you'd asked Gale to help you with something, and now this?

God knows why you ever found the wizard charming. If Gale could do something, he could too—much better, in fact. He was sure of it.

His grip tightens around the goblet when he hears you laugh.

Sure, his original intentions for approaching you had been less than noble…and he might have seduced you for more selfish reasons than you originally knew, but as much as he hated himself for it, he'd grown rather fond of you. In his own way, of course.

He’d only realized that the anxious squirming in his stomach was not of fear but of affection when you'd defended him from that vile drow at Moonrise Towers. He'd half expected you to ask him to throw himself at her, yet you stood your ground, showing nothing but respect to his own boundaries while you failed to realize that he'd deceived your own.

He truly had no reason to feel this way. He was selfish, he knew, for feeling so possessive because not once had the two of you established being exclusive. Though you'd respected him, you saw him for just that. A friend to respect, and nothing more. Sure, you'd spent a few nights together, but it was a mindless night of passion and he knew he'd continue to be your fling until you found another to truly love. He had just hoped it wouldn't be someone like Gale, of all people…or Wyll…or Shadowheart…or anyone for that matter.

He shakes his head. The wine must be getting to him. Serious relationships aren't a luxury he can afford, he reminds himself, relaxing his shoulders. He’s perfectly okay with being your ally—nothing more or nothing less. Ecstatic, even.

But when Gale flips a page of the book and both of you lean closer again—this time dangerously close—he feels a sharp pain shoot up his hand.

“Uh, Fangs, you alright there?” Karlach stares at the cracked glass in his hand and even he blinks at it in disbelief.

Apparently not.

He sighs irritably, dumping the glass elsewhere. “I’m quite alright. Seems I just need a nice comfortable mattress than a thin bedroll on the ground, but it’ll do for now.”

“Need help patching that up? You're bleeding.”

He almost laughs, if it weren't for the giggle coming from your direction. “Blood’s my specialty, darling, remember?” Without another word, he paces into his tent, closing the flap behind him for the universe signal that screams ‘don’t bother me.’

So when half an hour later, when he no longer hears the crackle of the campfire, he sees your shadow emerge from the other side of his tent flap, he squints.

“Can I come in?” He fails to respond, and hears you shuffle. “Ah, are you asleep?”

At this, he can't help but snort. You instinctively peek inside, and he runs a hand through his hair, sighing in defeat. “If I'd been asleep just how would I answer that question?”

He motions you closer and you take it as a sign to step inside, careful to avoid stepping on any of his belongings before situating yourself in front of him. “It was rhetorical, obviously!”

“Of course,” he doesn't seem convinced, lips curling into a teasing grin. “Now tell me, what brings you to my palace this late at night? Surely not for a cuddle. I'd thought you declined my offer earlier?”

Usually, you'd smile, but instead you only look down at your clasped hands, seemingly in thought. “I needed to talk to you—without everyone else watching.”

The usual brightness to your tone is missing.

Oh, he thinks. You've come to end things with him.

“Ah,” is all he says. He can tell his smile hasn't dropped, but it doesn't feel that way. “I hear you've found a new lover. Perhaps you want to keep yourself for this one, true love? How romantic, darling.”

You frown at this, and he wonders if he’s done something wrong. But it does little to stop his defense mechanisms from springing into action, because he’s immediately slipping into his usual mask, grin stretching wider but never reaching his eyes.

He hates the words coming out of his own mouth as if they taste of poison. Still, his voice is steady, almost teasing. Perks of the 200 years spent shamelessly lying, he supposes. “So, is this the end of our late night trysts? Even though they were an awful lot of fun?”

He doesn’t think he could stand watching you with that damned wizard. He doesn't even want to think about it quite frankly, because all he feels is his chest tighten when he imagines someone else holding you the way he does. And gods, if had to watch Gale’s poor attempt at flirting one more time…

But then again, you'd be with someone who doesn't manipulate you. Someone who doesn't toy with your feelings, or someone who doesn't seduce you for protection.

His smile twitches, and he just braces himself for your response.

“I’d rather be with you.”

He stares at you, eyes wider than its ever been since he'd gotten this damn worm in his brain.

“What? Why?” he blurts, embarrassingly so, before he composes himself again and clears his throat. “I mean, well, I know why—but I thought you'd had something more…with Gale.”

As much as he despises the idea, he'd seen the way you'd laughed with him. And while it was a new experience for him to be fond of another person, he'd found that these feelings had led him to rather you be happy than dragging you down with him. If it meant you wouldn't regret your choice, he’d been willing to deal with it.

So why?

“I want something real with you, Astarion,” you say softly, eyes meeting his. “I don't know if you feel the same way, but Gale and I are better off as friends, and I told him before I came here. And besides, it’d be cruel of me to lead him on while my heart is with another.”

He thinks he might have died again just now. For the first time in decades, he’s actually at a loss for words. “I—if that's what you truly want—we can try. Be lovers, I mean.”

You finally smile at his words, and Gods above if that doesn't lift the excruciating weight of the past few weeks off his shoulders. He feels the warmth of your lips when you lean forward to give him a peck on the cheek, everything happening so fast that his mind is spinning. He snaps back into focus when you pull back.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

You could have—should have, done it earlier. With a smile of his own, he leads you back to him, this time planting a soft kiss on your lips. It’s short, and not nearly enough, but it’ll do for tonight.

“Well then, consider yourself wholeheartedly taken then, my dear.”

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 x reader #fluff #angst with a happy ending

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rax-writes · 8 months

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↬ when night falls

Tywin Lannister x Reader

intended to be a sequel to the morning after, but it's not necessary that you read it prior to this

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, 18+ ONLY ⇆ P in V sex, unprotected sex, creampie, age gap, nipple play, bit of breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, pregnant!reader

The journey from Winterfell to King's Landing took considerably longer than necessary, given the Queen's insistence that she travel in that godsforsaken carriage of hers. As such, five weeks after your marriage to Tywin Lannister, you were spending one final night in a lavish red and gold tent alongside your lord husband.

For the entirety of the journey, the two of you spent the entire day apart – your horse trotting behind your father and King Robert, and Tywin a short distance behind, alongside Ser Jamie. Occasionally, Arya would pester you into allowing her to sit in front of you on the saddle, as you quietly conversed with her and taught her how to control the horse. But, aside from that, you were alone with your thoughts all day, every day.

The nights, however, were spent in the arms of your lord husband.

The two of you quite quickly developed a very… peculiar dynamic. You had quickly learned and adapted to the way the fearsome Tywin Lannister operates – preferring you speak concisely and directly, vehemently uninterested in anything otherwise. Additionally, there was a degree of mutual respect, as well as a vaguely guarded openness to one another – but certainly no love, or any semblance of romantic feelings at all. In truth, you assumed there never would be.

But gods was there lust.

On your end, it was your first and only experience with sex, and it was undeniably good, so you were eager for it. On his end… you couldn't be sure. It could be that the man was pent up from years as a bachelor, but it would be safe to assume he had simply sent for a whore when the mood struck him. A more likely reason would be his pursuit of an heir, but surely he wouldn't have needed to fill your cunt nightly to achieve that goal. No, you were almost certain that he was simply enjoying fucking you – just as much as you were enjoying fucking him.

When Tywin entered the tent, you were sitting on the edge of the cot, toying with the goblet in your hands, already undressed to your shift. He met your eyes as he entered, but said nothing, that unreadable (but somehow always leaning toward annoyed) expression on his face. He silently began taking off his boots, then removed his sword and placed it beside the cot. He was in the middle of pouring wine into his goblet when you found the courage to ask your question.

"Will you stop bedding me when I become pregnant?"

Tywin said nothing, setting the pitcher down and turning to face you as he took a sip of his wine. He wore that calm, calculating expression as he stared at you – but you could swear there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. The golden goblet made a faint clank as he set it down before speaking.

"Do you ask because you wish for me to stop? Or because you wish for me to continue?"

"I wish for you to continue."

"Then I shall continue," Tywin stated, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Good," you replied, then added, "Because I am."

"You are what?"

"Pregnant."

The smile dropped and Tywin's eyebrows raised, making his forehead crinkle.

"Already?" he inquired dryly, surprised. Then, incredulous, he asked, "How do you know?"

It was a fair question. You had never been pregnant before, so perhaps you were mistaking soreness and fatigue from travel as signs of pregnancy. But no. You knew.

"I should have bled three weeks ago, but I have not. My breasts are extremely tender, and certain smells make my stomach turn."

Tywin nodded, then stated, "I do not doubt that you are right, but we will have a Maester provide his confirmation and look you over when we arrive in King's Landing. In the meantime, is there anything you need?"

A faint but wicked smile spread across your face, and you stood from the bed, setting the goblet down as you slowly made your way over to him. The metal of his armor was cold beneath your fingers as you idly ran your hands over his chest, before toying with the belt around his hips, looking up at him through your lashes.

"You," was your simple answer. But both of you knew that it wasn't meant in a romantic, sweet sort of way.

Tywin's hand reached up to cradle your face, somewhat harshly, hooking his thumb under your jaw to tilt your head up and kiss you. It was lustful and full of desire, accompanied by the scratch of his beard upon the delicate skin of your face.

When he pulled away, Tywin smiled quite faintly, then hummed lowly and said, "Well, what sort of man would I be to deny his pregnant lady wife her wish?"

The old lion made quick work of removing his armor and smallclothes, and relieving you of the thin linen shift you wore, before guiding you to the luxurious cot. Tywin continued to kiss you, eventually trailing kisses down your neck, until he reached your chest, unexpectedly taking one of your breasts into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.

The sensation nearly made you shout, opting to take in a sharp breath instead as your back arched off the blankets. Eyes squeezed shut, you heard a low chuckle, and looked down to see a set of very amused, crystalline eyes staring up at you.

"Hm, I see you were not exaggerating about the sensitivity."

Electing to ignore him, you let your head fall back onto the pillow. However, it seemed he did not intend to grant you any reprieve, moving to the other breast and doing the same thing – prompting you to dig your nails into his shoulders and bite your lip to avoid crying out. Unfortunately, that made matters worse, as Tywin let out a low groan with his lips still wrapped around your nipple, earning a loud, pitiful whine from you.

Seemingly enjoying himself, Tywin began peppering your chest with gentle bites, which he soothed with his tongue afterwards, sure to become small little bruises by morning. Breathy moans and sighs of pleasure filled the tent, as he then resumed his ministrations on the hardened peaks of your breasts before snaking one hand down to toy with your clit, expertly rubbing it in small, steady circles. Astoundingly fast, your release washed over you, soaking his hand as you moaned and writhed beneath the Warden of the West – who only chuckled darkly at your quick climax.

Noticing that the continued kisses and licks upon your breasts began to make you twitch, Tywin captured your lips in a brief, rough kiss, before rolling onto his back. He then pulled you into his lap, with a strength one wouldn’t assume the older man to still possess – which was, admittedly, arousing. Your mind was still foggy from the orgasm, and your movements were not unlike a rag doll, eyes half-lidded and jaw slack, moving somewhat limply as you allowed him to maneuver you. He gripped his hard, leaking cock in one hand, then reached behind you to urge you forward with a flat palm on the small of your back.

A hiss through gritted teeth escaped Tywin, and you gasped lightly, head thrown back and hands flat on his chest. Although you’d already lost count of how many times he’d taken you, it still felt more incredible than anything you’d ever experienced. A passing thought reminded you of the fact that he seemed to share the sentiment, always hissing or groaning when he first sheathed himself inside you.

Tywin’s grip moved to your hips, prompting you to begin rocking them against his own, keeping your pace steady. However, he made no move to halt you when you eventually began to move faster, leaning back to rest your hands on his thighs as you fucked yourself on his long, thick cock. The sound of it alone would have made a Septa drop dead – a symphony composed of wet skin upon skin and gruff grunts intermingling with breathy moans.

He reached up to grasp and knead your breasts in his rough, calloused hands – but he then surprised you, his hands drifting lower, until they rested flat against your lower stomach. You thought perhaps he was focusing on the movement of your hips, but then his thumbs began to stroke across the soft skin of your belly.

At first, it seemed very sweet and sentimental. You thought that perhaps he was basking in the joy of another child being on the way – until you felt the way his cock throbbed, deep inside of you, as he stared intently at your belly. Immediately, you came to the realization that it must be arousing for a man to have successfully fucked a babe into his wife – stroking their ego and their pride to have done their husbandly duty, as well as show everyone that you belong to them.

Truth be told, you were surprised to learn that it aroused you just as much.

Tywin groaned as you clenched around him, and when his eyes flicked up to meet yours, it felt as though he knew you had been thinking the very same thing he was.

That seemed to ignite something within your husband, and in the blink of an eye, Tywin flipped you onto your back and began driving into your soaked cunt with a newfound ferocity. You bit down on your knuckle to keep quiet, but Tywin pinned both of your wrists down, his arms on either side of your head. The act did not last much longer beyond that point, both parties having already been too near the precipice of climax, and the pair of you met your releases in unison.

Tywin rolled off of you, breathing heavily, a light layer of sweat covering his chest, along with the small patches of silver hair. You allowed yourself a few moments of recovery, before moving to leave the cot in order to extinguish the candles, as well as tidy yourself up. However, Tywin grabbed your arm to stop you.

“Where are you going?”

“The candles –”

“Can wait,” Tywin interrupted, voice sounding unbothered as always, albeit with a hint of fatigue. He exhaled slowly, as he gently pulled you back down to lay upon the cot beside him. “One of the guards outside can see to the candles in a moment. You are carrying my heir, so you are to rest. As much as is feasible, from now until the babe is born. And if anyone questions it, they are to discuss it with me.”

Anyone possessing the sense the gods gave a mule knows “discussing” something with Tywin Lannister was just the opposite – it was not to be addressed at all, because what Tywin Lannister says, goes. A fact which made you smile softly.

“As my lord husband commands,” you replied, a hint of sarcasm in your tone, but you did exactly as he bade you, pulling some of the blankets over you and nestling into the pillows. You were already yawning by the time Tywin called for a guard, who extinguished the candles, and bathed the room in darkness as you drifted into a deep, contented sleep.

#i'm hoping this stayed in the realm of “we have a mutual understanding and respect but no love at all”#also this isn't proof-read or beta-read so if there's anything wrong lmk #tywin lannister #game of thrones #got #tywin lannister x reader #tywin lannister x you #tywin lannister fan fiction #tywin lannister fanfic #tywin lannister fanfiction #tywin lannister fan fic #tywin lannister fic #got fanfiction #got fan fiction #game of thrones fan fiction #game of thrones fanfiction #my writing

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littlejuicebox · 2 months

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Dadstarion prompt (sorry if I missed the boat on this!) - insecure postpartum Tav, struggling with their new body. Maybe some body worship from Astarion 👀? (Personal experience - I really struggled postpartum with adjusting to my new body, it changed in ways I never even imagined). Thank you and just want to say I love your Astarion 🥰

Adore You

Thanks for your request! Not 100% sure this is what you were looking for, but I already had a mostly finished piece I was working on that definitely fits the body-worship and Tav struggling with her body parts of this prompt. It's smut, though, and when the smut gods bless, I cannot deny their gifts.

Glad you love my Astarion! I adore him. And he adores his Tav. ;)

Summary: You are struggling with your post-partum body. Astarion is here to remind you that he still adores you.

This follows my Dadstarion section of my AstarionxReader series. But no worries, you can read it as a OneShot. Here’s the gist: Astarion is mortal and you have three children together. Gale, named after the Wizard of Waterdeep and the twins. That’s about all you need to know! See my other fics for more info and storylines.

Tags/Warnings: smut with a plot, body image issues, angst w/ comfort, PiV, fingering, oral, light overstim, light daddy kink, breast milk, breast milk drinking, all the depravity i'm generally known for tbh, light creampie kinda?

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: I'm an unhinged degenerate and no I won't apologize. Also women’s bodies are amazing and can produce life and are beautiful and my Astarion appreciates that about his Tav okay?

“Thank the gods for the nanny,” Astarion says with a dramatic sigh as he enters the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him, “Gale was about to make me read ‘P is for Peacock’ a third time and I was close to ripping my hair out, darling.”

You chuckle softly as your husband greets you from where you’re seated at the vanity with a brief kiss and then moves to the small table in the corner of your bedroom to pour himself a goblet of wine.

“And the twins?” He asks as his eyes watch the red liquid fall into the cup beneath it. He takes a few sips as you speak before setting the cup back down on the table.

“I’ve just fed them not too long ago and now they’re both asleep. Having Winifred to help me get them on the same schedule has been wonderful.” You respond as your husband nods and prepares a second, smaller goblet of wine, which he brings to you.

He settles himself beside you while you finish braiding your hair for bed and hums contentedly, “Perfect.”

Astarion’s hands wrap around your midsection and before you can stop yourself, you feel your body tense under his touch. The silver-haired elf pauses and frowns before retracting his hands, “Do you not want me to touch you, darling? You need only tell me.”

You sigh and shrug as you finish off the half-portioned goblet in one long drink, mostly to avoid your husband’s gaze, “It’s not that, it’s— it’s stupid.”

“Look at me, little love.” He whispers, his fingers coming under your chin as they gently coax you to face him and meet his gaze. He moves forward and presses a soft kiss against your lips before continuing, “I love you. More than anything. You know this. Now, won’t you tell me whatever is the matter so that I can help?”

Your husband waits as you gather your thoughts. It’s complicated, it’s embarrassing. You know it’s silly, and vain, and yet you can’t help yourself. And you aren’t quite sure how to verbalize it all.

“I hate my body.” You finally say, your voice cracking as you speak, and something about finally saying that evil little thought aloud causes tears to spring in your eyes.

Astarion’s mouth falls open in surprise and then he furrows his brows and quickly wraps his arms around your shoulders, not knowing what to say or do apart from physically enveloping you in his love.

You continue on, speaking into his neck, sniffling as a few more tears run down your cheeks, “After Gale, I quickly returned to my previous weight. I hadn’t had any stretch marks. But carrying the twins— it’s different, Astarion. And I was expecting it to an extent but I just— I hate my body and I hate the way I look.”

There is a moment of silence as your husband simply holds you against him, allowing space for your tears. When he speaks, his voice is a soft murmur into your hair, “Not that you should care what I think, but I adore your body, darling. And I love everything about the way you look.”

You scoff and withdraw from your husband with teary, reddened eyes narrowed at him, “You have to say that.”

“I do not have to do anything,” He retorts, arching his eyebrow in a challenge, “Weren’t you the one that taught me that?”

When you don’t respond, Astarion continues on, knowing he’s won. He takes your hand in his, gently lifting it to press a kiss against your knuckle.

“I adore your hands. Which have both slain monsters and soothed our children,” He whispers before trailing kisses up your arm and to your neck where he presses another reverent kiss against those little fang scars.

“I adore your neck, which once provided me with sustenance I hadn’t known in centuries.”

Your face is beginning to grow hot under his devoted attention and compliments, and you move to shrink away from your husband, but he gently grabs you by the waist. He leans into you and brushes his nose at the meeting point between your ear and neck as he inhales the smell of your skin.

“Why are you trying to hide from me, darling?” He asks with a little sulky pout, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“I’m not, I—“ You begin, but Astarion quickly shushes you.

“Then just be quiet and let me adore you, hm?” He asks before running his tongue against those fang marks, making you shiver.

You nod slightly and your husband grins, “Good girl. Now, come here.”

Astarion pats his lap and you slide to sit upon his thighs, forgetting your finished goblet on the floor underneath your vanity stool. He rests his chin upon your shoulder as the two of you gaze in the mirror together.

“Do you remember when I used to do this all the time?” Astarion asks, not truly waiting for a response before his long fingers trace down the side of your neck, brush along your collarbone, and then wander toward your waist, aiming to untie your dressing gown. He moves slowly and watches your expression in the mirror, waiting for you to give him any indication to stop.

But you didn’t want him to stop. Despite your feelings about your body, you still deeply crave your husband’s comforting touch.

The silky fabric slips down your shoulders and pools around your waist, baring you before his adoring eyes. The elf smiles and presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, still watching the two of you in the mirror.

“Beautiful,” He whispers as he peppers a few kisses up your shoulder and the back of your neck, igniting a trail of goosebumps across your skin.

Astarion slowly drifts his hands up your sides before moving to cup a heavy, milk-stretched tit in each hand. The sensation causes you to wriggle.

His tone is reverent, almost a whisper as he turns his head just slightly and flashes a toothy grin, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks, “I adore your breasts, which have fed our eldest and now feed our twins.”

He chuckles salaciously before saying the next part, “And which, on more than one delicious occasion, have also fed me.”

Your husband lightly teases circles around your nipples as he finishes the line that he knows will cause you to blush and then gently nips at your ear lobe, earning him a gasp. You feel Astarion’s arousal pressing into your backside as he continues to caress your breasts and uses two fingers from each hand to tease and stimulate your nipples. You arch into his touch and your thighs press together as you feel a growing slickness between your legs from his attentions.

One of your breasts begins to leak milk, and when your husband feels the warm liquid dripping onto his fingers he hums and brings the digits to his lips. You watch in the mirror as Astarion dips the two fingers into his own mouth and licks them clean while continuing to tease your other breast.

It isn’t long before that one begins leaking, too, and your lover chuckles in delight as he watches the liquid gold trail down the bottom of your breast and languidly drip down your stomach.

The elf brings two fingers to slowly swipe up the stream of white liquid. Then he brings those same fingers to your lips, prompting you to open your mouth.

“Good girl,” He purrs before pressing those two digits against your tongue. Astarion lingers for a moment and you shut your eyes as you eagerly wrap your lips around his slender fingers and suck. You hear a little hum by your ear and feel your lover’s cock twitch in delight underneath you as he observes the scene.

“You are a vision, love.” He murmurs, as he slides his hand away from your lips, “Now, let me take care of you the way you deserve.”

The elf gestures for you to stand, causing your robe to completely slide off your body into a pool on the floor, before he quickly spins you and then hoists you onto the vanity desk. The smallest flicker of that arrogant rogue dances across his face as Astarion moves forward to dip his tongue into your mouth. He unhurriedly teases your tongue against his as he roams his hands up and down your torso until you're panting and moaning softly into his mouth.

When he retracts, his pupils are filled with lust. His hands come to quickly pull his shirt over his head and then undo the laces of his trousers. Before long he’s standing in front of you in only his small clothes.

Astarion grabs your hand and guides it to the bulge straining between his legs as he asks, “Do you feel what that divine body of yours does to me, little love?”

“Yes– my love, I want–” You begin as you eagerly try to delve your hand inside your husband’s undergarments, desperate to free his gorgeous cock. But he catches your wrist and stops you with a soft tut and a playful glint in his eyes.

“Soon. But not yet, darling. I haven’t quite finished adoring you yet. And I’ve got the best seat in the house.” He teases, before settling himself back onto the vanity bench and grinning mischievously up at you, “Now, be a good girl and open those beautiful, plush thighs of yours for me, won’t you?”

You oblige, and Astarion takes a moment to admire you, fully barren to him and already soaked with arousal. His arms come under your knees, spreading you wider for him, as he grips your thighs with his hands. Then he turns and begins pressing tender kisses up your thigh. He makes slow work of the task, humming contentedly on his journey toward your sex and always lingering longer in the spots where you’ve developed stretch marks.

By the time his face is right in front of your mound, you’re positively leaking for Astarion and he groans appreciatively at the sight.

“Beautiful. I will never tire of seeing that gorgeous cunt dripping for me, darling,” He murmurs and before you can respond, your husband is delving his tongue between your folds and eagerly feasting upon your juices.

You moan in delight when Astarion brings his tongue to trace around your clit, so familiar with your preferences that it doesn’t take long for him to coax you toward your peak. His tongue dances expertly around the swollen nub, each pass causing your pleasure to build. Two of his long, pale fingers slide into you, meeting no resistance, and he slowly pumps the digits in and out of your walls.

You grasp onto Astarion’s curls and whine when he adds a third finger, and he knows you’re close, so he continues his ministrations and adds more pressure as he curls his fingers just so. His other hand comes up to find your nipple and tease it between his fingers as you climb the final steps toward your climax.

A final flick of Astarion’s tongue, a final stroke of his fingers, and you burst with pleasure, whining in delight as your thighs tremble on either side of his head. Your walls spasm and send another gush of arousal onto the elf’s face. You begin leaking breast milk once again.

“Delicious,” Your husband murmurs as he pulls back slightly to admire the glistening of your sex and then presses forward and takes one more lap of your sensitive folds, causing you to buck into his mouth as he chuckles against you. Astarion languidly runs his tongue up to your stomach, lapping at the thin rivulets of milk running down your torso and covering his face in a shiny layer of your juices and breast milk.

Then he stands to his full height and finally— finally— steps out of his small clothes. His pale cock springs proudly from its confinement, dripping thin strings of pre-come from the reddened tip, just for you.

“Get over here, Astarion,” You eagerly demand, voice hoarse from your cries as you hook your legs around his torso and pull him against you.

“Anything for my little love,” Your husband responds, voice full of gravel as he runs the underside of his cock against your slit, using it to lubricate his length.

And then the head of his cock presses into you and your mouth falls open as Astarion buries himself to the hilt. His thumb comes to lightly tease your still-tender clit as he slowly rocks his hips back and forth. He’s watching your face intently as he thumbs circles around that needy, engorged bundle of nerves.

You use your legs to pull the elf deeper and he grins before lowering his head so that it’s right by your ear. He takes the lobe in his mouth and suckles gently, causing you to whimper.

“You’ll do one more for me, won’t you darling? You always look so gorgeous when you do.” He coaxes, his mouth so close to your ear his breath tickles the sensitive flesh. And then he’s pitching his hips just slightly, aiming to hit your favorite spot with the tip of his cock. He’s gasping and grunting now as his own need for release starts to overpower him.

You’re almost there. You’re keening with each thrust from Astarion and your walls are clenching tighter and tighter around his cock.

He moans in response at the sensation before pressing his thumb harder against your clit and rubbing it with single-minded intensity, working you toward release. You begin to relentlessly whimper again and Astarion smiles, his eyes locked onto yours as he watches your face contort in the feeling of immense pleasure.

“There you go, little love. Let go for daddy.” He whispers, bringing his other hand to palm the ample flesh of your ass.

And gods, you do.

The second orgasm ripples through you harder than the first, and you have to clasp your hand around your mouth to stifle your moan. Your walls are pulsing around your lover’s cock as you ride the wave of ecstasy.

You go almost slack and before long Astarion is ripping your hand away from your face and pressing his lips against yours in a bruising kiss as he begins to rut wildly into you, shaking the vanity with every thrust.

“Gods, the things your body does to me,” He growls as he pulls away from your lips, snapping his hips at a punishing pace as he chases his own release. Astarion’s hand is clutching firmly into your bottom, gripping so tightly there’s sure to be bruising tomorrow. His curls fall in front of his face and his ears begin to turn red as he continues to fuck you into oblivion.

Your husband is trying with every fiber of his being to hold on, to stretch out the delicious sensation of his cock plunging in and out of your walls, but every stroke into your tightness is pushing him further and further towards his peak. He snaps his eyes shut, shaking with the effort it’s taking him to restrain himself, to continue enjoying the feeling of your flesh gripping around his.

You are so thoroughly fucked that you cannot do anything but hold onto your lover and keen underneath him as he continues pounding into you.

“Darling— hells — my love, you’re so tight, I can’t— I’m—“

And then with a sudden, sharp inhale of breath, Astarion is burying his thick length inside your walls and trembling as his cock twitches, relentlessly releasing its spend. He gasps into your ear as he slows his hips, but continues to rut, using his still-hard length to press his seed deeper into you.

His praises come out in an incoherent string as he continues to languidly rock his hips back and forth. You cup his face in your hands as you kiss him, and Astarion smiles into the kiss, finally stilling his hips as his cock softens between you two.

“Come here, little love.” He whispers, hooking his arms underneath you. You intuitively wrap your legs around your husband’s torso and he easily carries you to the bathroom. When he finally places you down, he brushes a few strands of hair from your face and then places a tender kiss on your forehead.

“Now let’s get you cleaned up.” He says, turning to start the tap before tossing a glance over his shoulder and chuckling lightly, “And then I have to fix your braid, dear… I’m sorry to tell you that I ruined it.”

“I think you might have also bruised my ass,” You respond, turning to flash your bottom at Astarion.

He drops down on his knees to examine the curve of your ass, one nimble finger brushing against the blooming blue marks. You let out a little whine in response, the flesh still tender.

Astarion presses his lips onto the bruise and lingers for a moment. Then he pulls away and frowns slightly, eyes glossing across the marks before he looks up at you and says, “I’m sorry, darling.”

“It’s okay,” You respond, glancing back to grin over your shoulder. You see your husband peering up at you, the picture of devotion, “I enjoyed it.”

“Did you, now?” He asks with an amused smirk, his eyebrow cocking in that signature arrogant way of his.

You nod just slightly as he places another kiss against those little bruises. His hands travel up your thighs, brushing against the wetness dripping from your sex and onto your legs. Two fingers tenderly stroke between your drenched slit.

“Hmm, and what do we have here, little love? Is this something else that needs cleaning? Won’t you let me take a look?”

You blush but oblige anyway, leaning forward over the counter and exposing your sex, leaking with Astarion’s seed and your arousal.

He grins and licks a long strip between your folds, causing you to buck slightly and whimper at the stimulation on your still-sensitive cunt.

“Too sensitive? Want me to stop?” He asks gently from behind you, one hand wrapped around your thigh.

“No, keep going.” You urge him, bending forward to further reveal yourself to him, eager to feel his skilled tongue pressed into you once more.

A small groan of appreciation from your husband is all you hear before he delves his tongue back between your legs, working to clean up the mess he made.

The bathtub overflows and spills water onto the floor before he’s done adoring you. At least for tonight.

#astarion fanfic #baulders gate astarion #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x female reader #astarion smut #smut #bg3 smut #romantic smut #soft astarion #soft dom astarion #dadstarion #dadstarion fic #astarion reader insert

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cambion-companion · 1 year

Note

tell me why i imagine sweet daeron having a little boy's crush on aemond's wife because she's so gentle and kind with him

i saw someone else's ask about how he wants to be just like aemond, not only out of admiration but because he thinks "if someone like aemond can get a wife like (y/n) then so can i if i'm like that!!"

and sweet boy copying his mannerisms, pulling her chair out at dinners before aemond can and even though the chair basically towers over him, she's coddling and gushing at how polite and thoughtful he is and he MILKS that

so it becomes a playful rivalry between aemond and him and she's just "it's like you're actually intimidated by your baby brother"

and aemond who's hiding a giant bouquet of flowers behind his back only to one up the little rose daeron gave you "absolutely not. me? be rivaled by the twerp? never-"

Hi!! Oh my god this is darling, I cannot wait to write for these prompts! Cute little Daeron is 4 years younger than Aemond...so we will say he's 15 during this. Adorable.

Aemond x wife!reader | Daeron learning from his brother | admiration crush | playful brother rivalry

"Thank you Daeron, you're so sweet!" You smiled brightly at the boy as he extended to you a bouquet of wildflowers. "Ouch!" A stinging sensation spread around where a sprig of green had touched your hand.

"Ah, stinging nettle." Your husband mused, eyebrow raised at his younger brother as you dropped the offending bunch of flowers to the ground. "An interesting addition, Daeron."

"Gods I am so sorry Y/N!" Daeron looked from your wincing face to his bouquet now scattered upon the stone ground in alarm. "I have gloves on...and a very mediocre knowledge of local flora it seems."

Aemond took your sore hand in his, placing a gentle kiss to where your skin was reddening and swelling. Daeron noted his brother's movements with a studious gaze.

"Let's get you to the maester, I'm sure they have ointment on hand for such an affliction." Giving Daeron one last severe look, Aemond swept you from the room, leaving the crestfallen prince standing alone chewing his lip.

Later that evening, your finger lightly bandaged and no longer hurting, you found yourself entering the dining hall on Aemond's arm.

Daeron took note of your entrance, waving to you enthusiastically and striding over, a look of concern on his face. "Are you alright? I truly apologize for my earlier blunder." He extended a single red rose to you, giving you a slight bow.

You took the delicate flower, trying hard not to let your amusement show, especially as you felt Aemond shift in annoyance beside you. "Thank you Daeron, that is very thoughtful. I am quite alright."

"No loss of limb yet." Aemond agreed, shaking his head at Daeron's earnest expression. "Though I cannot speak for yourself should you continue giving my wife flowers."

Daeron frowned only slightly before he gestured for you towards the dining table, sweeping your chair out from its place for you to sit. He bowed again as you carefully took your place, sinking into the welcoming cushion. You scooted forward as Daeron pushed you into table. He overdid it in his eagerness to help, and your midriff was pressed uncomfortably hard against the wood. You let out a slight "oof" as some air was expelled from your lungs and pushed back with your hands.

From your peripheral vision you saw Aemond take his brother by the scruff of his collar, forcefully seating the young man into his own seat and giving him a hard pat on the shoulder. "If you want to impress a lady, Daeron, I suggest resisting the urge to bisect her."

You hid your laugh in the goblet of wine you brought to your lips, pretending to take a sip as Aemond took his place beside you, his hand resting briefly atop your knee. "Did my oaf of a brother do any permanent damage?" He was only half-joking, the annoyance still evident in the timber of his voice.

"I may never recover." You jested, leaning into him slightly, turning your face to place a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. "He is simply trying to mirror what he sees you do for me."

"He's failing spectacularly."

"Aemond." You chided, taking a moment to make sure Daeron couldn't overhear. "He looks up to you. Clearly he wants to learn from you."

Aemond huffed, bringing his own goblet to his lips. He didn't answer you, seeming to sink into deep contemplation as he often did when something troubled him.

------

The next day was clear and crisp, the winter air still chill despite the shining sun. You descended a set of marble stairs to the room you usually took your luncheon in. To your surprise you found Daeron and Aemond within, deep in conversation with each other. Daeron was nodding and Aemond had his hands clasped tight behind his back. They ceased speaking as soon as you entered, looking almost guiltily at you.

"I hope you're not up to anything that will raze King's Landing." You teased, your skirts rustling as you moved toward the table.

You stopped, looking at the spread of food laid before you. It was all of your favorite things to eat and drink. A little sample of each treat you so adored. "Aemond?" You asked, not taking your eyes off the delicious array of delicacies.

"I arranged for your favorite foods to be brought up for your enjoyment." Your husband inclined his head as you finally looked at him.

"I brought some books I thought you'd like to read while you took your afternoon meal." Daeron volunteered, looking slightly guilty as Aemond shot him a bemused glare.

"That was so very thoughtful of you Daeron, thank you for thinking of me." You smiled graciously at the young Targaryen.

Daeron beamed.

You moved to Aemond, tilting his head toward you with a finger to his sharp jaw. "Thank you my dearest." You kissed him softly upon his plush lips. You moved your mouth to his ear, whispering so only he could hear. "Though you do not need to compete with your brother."

"Speaking of my brother." Aemond said loudly, turning to face Daeron, an impish smile on his curved lips. "I've arranged for you to meet with several ladies your age from notable noble houses this eve."

Daeron's face blanched. "I...meet...tonight?"

"Indeed." Aemond shook his head, chuckling. "You seem intent on practicing your courtship skills on my wife, it's only fair you get more experience with other women." He patted Daeron on the shoulder. "Though do try not to maim them too badly."

"I'd never!" Daeron spluttered, glancing at you guiltily. "Not on purpose!"

"Remember what I told you regarding..." Aemond started but Daeron waved him off.

"Yes, yes, no need to repeat it in front of Y/N." A faint blush painted the younger Targaryen's cheeks, causing your brow to raise as you looked inquisitively between the brothers.

"You're lucky Aegon hasn't gotten wind of what you've been up to." Aemond continued. "He'd give you unending grief."

"Helaena's given me some useful tips I think." Daeron looked at you. "She told me flowers and chocolates are a sure way to a girl's heart."

"Being interested in her and listening to what she has to say, what she's interested in, is also a solid start." You agreed, smiling knowingly at Aemond as his eye found yours. "Though chocolate does go a long way."

The three of you laughed, Aemond's arm snaking around your waist, pulling you against his side. Daeron watched each movement Aemond made around you with attention, his lilac eyes bright with interest.

"Don't go to Aegon for advice on women." Aemond warned suddenly, his face grave as he looked down at his younger brother. "And if he offers to teach you anything about them, you come to me instead. Understand?"

"Yes." Daeron nodded, looking mildly confused at Aemond's unexpected severity.

You squeezed Aemond's waist lightly, reassuring him with your presence. "All will be well. Daeron, you are a dashing young man who is sure to sweep the right girl off her feet in no time."

"Thank you, Y/N. I can only hope to be as lucky as Aemond."

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acourtofmoonlightandstars · 19 days

Text

Find me

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: At a ball you meet the one person you thought you would never see again, you left him once. Will you leave him again?

Word count: Currently no idea

Warnings: Some sugestiveness, angst and minor details of Azriels work as a spymaster.

Note: So this is loosely based on a dream I once had, it was heartbreaking so I thought I might as well use writing as therapy

The ballroom was huge and the light flickering from the crystal chandeliers that hung above your head made all jewels, sequin and glitter reflect the light. It was a beautiful sight.

You walked through the crowd of people, looking for no one in particular. You had no idea how or when you’d gotten here, you weren’t even quite sure who had invited you. Usually you stayed within the borders of your own court. But it seemed that you’d made an exception for once.

Everyone seemed somewhat familiar. You smiled at the friends who laughed around the tables filled with food as they filled each other goblets with fairy wine, at the couples who snuck away to find somewhere a little more secluded to steal a minute or two and at those who filled the room with laughter that echoed through the room.

As a waiter walked past you, you grabbed a flute of champagne from his tray. You sipped at the bubbly drink as you scanned the room once more, hoping to see at least one person you recognized. And then you spotted him.

He was beautiful in his black suit, it was such a stark contrast from his usual leathers and blue siphons. His wings were tucked close to him, almost as if he was afraid to take up space. His hair was combed back, revealing his forehead and the slight wrinkle he had between his brows. Your breath hitched, and you suddenly wished you were able to turn invisible at will.

You wanted nothing more than to walk up to him and ruffle his hair, once again revealing his somewhat loose curls that you’d once loved to run your fingers through in the late hours of the night. You wanted nothing more than to once again kiss his lips, to taste him.

But you had left him, that much you knew. But you just couldn’t remember why.

His shadows pooled around his feet, and indicated the constant stream of information that was always available to the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. You felt something cold around your ankle, and as you hiked up your skirt you saw the little rouge shadow that had slipped past its master. It almost looked like a puppy happy to be reunited with its owner as it twirled around you.

You giggled, which only seemed to amuse it even more.

In the hope that you could turn it away before he noticed its absence, you looked towards where he had been mere seconds before, and your eyes met his right away. The eyes you had once loved to stare into for hours at the time, the hazel pools of a man you once knew, seemed sad all of the sudden.

It was an emotion that seemed so out of character for him, and you felt your heart breaking a little at the sight of it, especially knowing that you were most likely the cause of the sadness and the purple shadows that hung underneath his eyes.

Azriel furrowed his brows at the rouge shadow as he no undoubtedly tried calling it back to him. But it seemed like it refused to listen to his quiet command. He walked towards you with a confidence that would make lesser males crumble in his presence.

You felt the blush creeping up your neck before it settled in your cheeks.

“Excuse me” he almost whispered, as he went out of his way to not meet your eyes. He bent down and physically yanked the shadow from you. You could’ve sworn it looked almost sad to leave you behind.

He stood up, and quickly turned away from you, almost fleeing. You don’t know what came over you but you grabbed his wrist and saw him stiffen as your skin came into contact with his.

“Y/N… Please, dont” it was an almost silent plea, one who broke your heart, but there was no way you were letting him walk away from you.

You pulled him towards you, forcing him to face you. He had a pained expression on his face and his eyes were closed. Despite of that you still send a small smile his way. Your other hand found his other wrist and you slowly pulled his arms around your waist.

He reacted instantly and despite not even noticing, he pulled you closer to him. “I’m so sorry” You whispered as you raised your hand to his cold cheek. He leaned into your touch as he finally looked at you, a single tear escaping his eyes. Your thumb quickly whisked it away before anyone had a chance to notice it.

The shadows swirled around the two of you desperate to give you some privacy, and even his wings seemed to be shielding the two of you from wandering eyes.

“I don’t know why I left you, I won't ever leave you again, please just give me another chance” you whispered, your voice threatened to crack, as his eyes searched your face for any sign of a deception, any sign of what you were saying, was nothing more than a lie.

“Don’t say things you might regret…”

You shook your head and sent a small smile his way, it was filled with regret and sadness. “It’s always been you and I’m here now and I promise it won't ever happen again”

But were you able to promise him that? You still couldn’t remember why or how you had left him behind, it was like a distant memory that was locked away, one you couldn’t access.

He pulled you from the ground and you couldn’t help the giggle when he nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck. Desperate for your scent, desperate to feel your heartbeat against his own. “You better mean it” he whispered against your exposed skin.

You pulled at his hair, ruining it even though he had most likely done his best to bend his curls to his will for the event tonight. But you didn’t care, you always liked him better with his bed head anyways.

He kissed his way from that sweet spot where your neck met your shoulder, he nibbled at your ear and kissed you from there, down your cheekbones until his lips hovered over your own. And in a blink of an eye he stole your shallow breaths from your mouth with his own. He ate every whimper and small moan, as if they all belonged to him and him alone, as if it would be the crime of the century if any other male heard it.

“You do know you’re in a public place right? Everyone can see you” the voice was teasing, but in no way cruel. Without letting you down Azriel turned towards the other winged male that now stood in front of the two of you.

Azriel laughed, and his brother realized he hadn’t heard that sound in months.

“I apologize Cass” and he felt you stiffen in his arms, and sent you a reassuring smile, before once again returning you to the ground. He was here, the Lord of Bloodshed, Cassian. But of course he was, they would all most likely be here.

“It’s all good. But Nesta is gonna hate that she skipped this ball tonight, she would’ve loved to see you take a female in front of all these fancy fae”

This time it was your time to laugh, and you flet how your muscles relaxed at his way of addressing the elephant in the room. Azriel couldn’t help but to pull you closer to his side, lips kissing the top of your head.

“So you must be the one who broke my brother's heart” Cassian said as he crossed his arms, to anyone beside you and Azriel, he would look angry, almost disappointed in the way he stood before you. But all you could see was the happiness he held for his brother.

Cassian sent you a small smile. “Don’t worry, I don’t judge, my own mate was indecisive as well”

You couldn’t help but almost wince at his words. It wasn’t that you were indecisive, or at least you didn’t think that was it…

“It’s okay. It all worked out in the end” Azriel said.

The night went on and his hand never left your hip, he pulled you as close to him as he could whenever he felt a male came too close to you. You adored his possessiveness. Now you just needed to feel like you’d earned it.

The two of you spent almost every day together after the ball. It didn’t take him long to introduce you to the rest of his family. The inner circle of the Night Court.

Your father had told you the stories of both their power and their beauty, but despite all the stories, they were kind, welcoming and warm. You felt right at home.

At no point did you regret making contact with him the night of the ball. In fact you could feel yourself falling in love with Azriel, a little more every day.

He adored you, and he spared no expenses in showing you exactly how much you meant to him. Everytime he came home from a mission, he would bring you flowers from the given court. He would either make you homemade meals, or take you out to eat at the most beautiful restaurants in the city.

He would take you on flights over Valaris, on walks near the Sidra or just down to the nearest cafe or bakery to pick up something sweet or warm whenever you felt a little down. Apart from that he spoiled you rotten with gifts, to such a degree you almost had more diamonds than Amren.

You were however your happiest whenever you woke up to him by your side, and nothing beat the beauty that was his eyes as they reflected the morning sun. They were like liquid gold. He was beautiful, and sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder if this was all a dream.

As time went on he opened more and more up to you. He told you about his life, both the good and the bad. About his childhood, who he had become after Rhys and Cassian had found him. He told you about his role in the court as both shadowsinger and spymaster, and how he had days where he loathed who he was and what he had done, and others where he celebrated the screams he carved from the lungs of his prisoners.

And despite his fears you didn’t flee or coward when he reached out for you. You had instead held him, and whispered sweet nothing in his ear, confirming that you loved him despite all he had gone through, and that you loved him because of who he was. He had cried in your arms at your words.

You saw him, all of him and you loved both the good and the bad.

At no point had you ever expected to be with a man of his profession, but here you were. The people of Valaris were quick to catch on. They always greeted the two of you, they helped you with picking his gifts and selecting his favorite sweets at the bakery he loved to visit each sunday morning.

The fact that you got to be his in Valaris of all places, was more than enough. Being out and public to all fae, to all courts, would only paint a target on your back. One that he feared would take you from him too soon, whereas you feared that you would be used against him. You had no interest in ever letting it come to that.

After All you wanted nothing more than to protect him, to keep him safe, and he felt the same. He had given you one of his shadows, the rouge that had left his side that night of the ball. After all it seemed like it liked you more than him anyways, but this way he would know if you were ever in any kind of danger.

Nesta had told him it was a little much, especially since the two of you were basically joined at the hip, it was rare that you saw one of you without the other. You were one soul separated into two people. It was clear for all to see.

The inner circle had quickly started making bets on just when the bond would snap for the two of you. And despite the fact that you always rolled your eyes when they began speculating, you couldn’t help but hope that they were right.

Your brother had his mate, and so did Azriels brothers. It would only be right if the two of you had one too right? And if so why wouldn’t the Cauldron grant you eachother? With every fiber of your being you hoped that he was yours and that you were his.

One morning you stood in the courtyard at the house of wind as the sun was slowly rising from its usual hiding place beneath the horizon. Azriel was circling you, wearing nothing but his boots and leather pants.

The look of his tattoos and his muscles were now covered with sweat that was glistening in the morning sun, was enough for you to skip practice and go back to bed with him. You wanted nothing more than to be entangled in him and his scent.

The sun that shone through the fine membrane of his wings made him look like a god of death and war. What a sight to see. He sent you a dazzling smirk as he saw the pure lust and adoration in your eyes. He most likely smelled it on you as well.

You smirked back and sent him a little wave. But it wasn't enough for him to lose focus on his task at hand. It rarely was.

“You look so beautiful angel,” he said. Despite what you might’ve thought he couldn’t help but adore you in the morning light either. He was mere seconds away from abandoning his workout only to throw you over your shoulder and have his way with you. Where that would be, he didn’t care. You chuckled. It was his favorite sound in the entire world, and he hoped that he would always be the one to make you laugh.

And then you felt it. It was as if the world shifted on its axis, it was like it had been so many months ago. It was the same feeling you had the first time you had left him. And as the memories came rushing back to you, you paled.

As your smile dropped and your eyes became distant, almost as if a fog now hid them from the world. “Y/N…?” You heard his fear and desperation as he said your name.

“Promise me you’ll find me, promise me” It was all you could say, you struggled with getting the words out as you felt yourself drifting from this reality. You saw him spring towards you, his wings giving him momentum.

And then everything went dark.

When you woke up the darkness was still surrounding you. You laid there with your eyes closed for a few minutes as you tried to recall his features, his name, where you had been. But there was nothing, nothing except an ache in that place that usually held your heart.

All you remembered was the feeling of running your hands through his hair, how his lips sent electricity down your spine as he kissed that sweet spot right beneath your ear, whenever he snuck up behind you. You remember his rough hands, and a feeling of something cold that you couldn’t quite place. Everything else was a blur.

As you opened your eyes you looked towards the small clock that stood on your bedside table. 06:45. You had to get up soon, but the mere thought of leaving your bed made your head spin. It felt like you had lost something precious, it felt like you had lost your heart, and in its stead there was now only a black hole filled with nothing but emptiness and pain.

You had no idea how to start your day, it felt like you should stay right here, stay at home and mourn the loss of him.

Maybe he remembers, maybe he will be able to find me. You thought as you tried soothing the emptiness in your chest by rubbing the palm of your hand over where it ached.

But how could he? He was after all only a figment of your imagination, he was after all only a character in your dream. But he felt real, and you could nothing but hope that someone, someday would ever love you as unconditionally as he had.

At the other end of Prythian, Azriel Shadowsinger, Spymaster of the Night Court, had woken with such pain in his chest that he for a second had been convinced he had been stabbed in his sleep. And as his dream, no his memories of you, flooded his senses he knew what he needed to do.

You had to be real, he needed you to be real. So he sent out his shadows in search of the one person who now held his heart, the one person he would never stop looking for, you, his mate.

I promise you darling, I will find you

note: aaaaah this is my first ever acotar fic! don't be afraid to leave feedback, I would very much appreciate it! I feel like a part two would be absolutely amazing, but maybe I'll just do it as a stand alone since it's kind of heartbreaking. But we'll see!

#azriel rec #azriel x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel #acosf #azriel angst #azriel fluff #azriel mate

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cranberryjuice-posts · 3 months

Note

Pls do more Clarisse!!!! I love the way you write her!! Maybe something with reader being a child of Aphrodite. Here are some ideas you’re free to choose from! Or none at all

• Reader is told that she’s “not pretty enough to be a child of Aphrodite” and Clarisse finds her crying softly and she comforts her

•Reader tells Clarisse how much she likes to bake and Clarisse makes her bake stuff with her

•Clarisse gets her hair and nails and stuff done bye reader

Thank you!

- colors of your eyes -

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Daughter of Aphrodite! Reader

An - I loved these prompts sm UGH 😭😭 so I decided to use them all but I’m twisted some to make more sense

“Stop im serious!” You laughed as clarisse flicked some flour at you. It was your one year anniversary, so the entire day clarisse had been letting you plan out multiple dates for one another thus explaining why her hair was braided back some with flowers in it and her makeup done.

Currently you had made arrangements with Chiron to use the kitchen to bake for a few hours. — Clarisse smiled as you started to playfully wrestle with her having a small flour fight. “Ok ok truce” She chuckled dusting some of the powder off of her. Decided to have the final say however you stood close to clarisse under the assumption that you were going to kiss her. Before your lips connected you placed your thumb on clarisses nose dragging the flour down.

Clarisse rolled her eyes at your actions. “Really? No now you owe me a kiss”

“I don’t owe you anything actually” you laughed trying to playfully fight again clarisse as she tried to kiss you. After a few moments though you gave in letting her have what she wanted.

Placing your arms around her neck you leaned back some letting her have more control over the kiss. Giggling you started to speak teasing remarks against the girls lips “mm, who knew clarisse was such a hopeless romantic”

Clarisse jokingly pushed you away. “Gods your such a pain in my ass”

“Awww your so cute when your mad” you continued to tease her. The timer for the cookies went off, peeling away from clarisse you went to the oven pulling out the chocolate chip cookies.

Taking them off the tray you set them aside onto a cup. Clarisse walked towards you hugging you from behind. Leaning back into your girlfriend you smiled just enjoying the peace of it all.

Being a demigod you were never allowed to have a normal life let alone have a normal relationship. Finding clarisse you believe was the best thing to happen to you. But being a demigod especially a daughter of Aphrodite didn’t come without its own set of critiques.

“What’s wrong” clarisse questioned squeezing your waist softly. Being brought back to reality you turned around to face her, softly smiling at clarisse you leaned kissing her cheek. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it” clarisse looked suspicious but eventually let it go just trusting you.

——

The bondfire continued to be your favorite time of night day after day. Finishing a sing along you kissed clarisses cheek before getting up— heading towards the dining hall for a drink.

Once there you spoke into the goblet saying you wanted your favorite soda, taking a sip you over heard a few girls near by talking.

“I know she’s such a fucking bitch”

“Honestly, like why does clarisse date her, there’s no way that she isn’t desperate, she probably just using her to get to silena”

“Honestly and if I was Aphrodite I would of never claimed such an ugly girl, she doesn’t even deserve to be her daughter”

Your grip on the cup tightened. ForWeeks now you’ve heard the same group of girls talking shit about you. Normally what other people said didn’t matter but them saying you shouldn’t of been claimed by Aphrodite…. That broke the final straw.

Hot tears fell down your face. Holding your head down you silently prayed to stop crying. The emptiness of the dining hall felt even more alone than normal. Maybe they were right. Maybe Aphrodite shouldn’t of claimed you, maybe clarisse really was desperate maybe everything everyone had said really had been true.

“Damn there you are, common the Apollo kids started arguing with the Athena cabin” Clarisse laughed as she walked over. Her hands finding themselves around your waist while she grabbed you from behind.

After a moment she felt your broken yet silent cries. Almost immediately she turned you around, looking down at you with a critical look. “Who.”

“No one, just forget it please” you sniffed. Clarisse however shook her head. “No who made you cry “

You knew she wouldn’t stop until she got what she wanted but in reality all you wanted right now was for her to comfort you. “Please.. just drop it” practically begging her you leaned into Clarisses warm presence.

Without a second thought clarisse Held you close to her. Gently running a hand up and down your back, she squeezed you ever so slightly. “Common, let’s go to my cabin” she muttered.

—

Laying in clarisses bed you silently faced her. Playing with one of her curls you had a soft smile while clarisse Held you close.

Kissing your forehead she pulled back some. “Can you tell me what happened at least.” She asked.

You stayed quiet. You wanted to be honest with her but what if she agreed with what they all said. “Look whatever it is it won’t change a thing about us.. ok” she lifted your head slowly while giving you a gentle look.

“Some girls. They’ve been saying this for weeks but I over heard them talking about how I’m a bitch or something dumb, they said that you were only dating me because you were desperate and wanting to get closer to silena and.. that I should of never been claimed as Aphrodites daughter”

Clarisse Just leaned down placing a kiss on your lips with a soft giggle. “What’s so funny” you muttered against the girl. Pulling away she continued to laugh. “Nothing nothing it’s just.. that? That’s what they decided to run with”

Confused you shrugged your shoulders. The curly haired girl looked over with a sarcastic smile. “Ok first of all, your not a bitch if anything you to nice, then I had to practically beg silena to help me actually start talking to you, then lastly their just mad that one of the most stunning girls in the camp who is also the daughter of Love is dating me and is in a happy relationship. Everything they said just sounds like bullshit” she continued to laugh.

“Your a jerk” you chuckled gently hitting her. “Yeah but your the one dating me so what does that really say about you” she grinned. Moving to sit on her waist playfully wrestling with the girl. You leaned down giving her a soft kiss. Once it broke you heard clarisse start talking. “Don’t let people like those girls ruin nights for you… you have me, and that’s all that should matter not what they have to say.”

Giving you another kiss clarisse patted your thigh. “All right get lost I’m sick of you”

“I hate you”

“No you don’t”

#lesbian #wlw #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #clarisse larue #clarisse my beloved #percy jackson show #clarisse x female reader #butch clarisse #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you #pjo show #pjo fandom

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blueparadis · 7 months

Text

╰┈➤ INSCAPE ✦ AYATO KAMISATO.

⟣ ──┈ · · · + synopsis ➢ After a year of marriage when your confrontation strikes the heart of lord kamisato, he dedices to play fair and by your rules. Certainly, if he does what you ask of him, you would not be angry at him would you now?

⟣ ──┈ · · · + cw ➣ fem!reader, wife!reader, husband!ayato kamisato, trophy wife treatment, terms of endearment, established relationship, marriage of convenience, angst and comfort, enemies to lovers dynamic, sorta hate sex ( but there is no sex. i mean there is but just a little ),drunk!reader, marking, temperature play ( wax play + ice play ), virginity k!nk, foreplay, aftercare >> implied piv sex; 2,2k word count. | blog navigation + koct’23 masterlist. |

A month has passed since you stepped into the Kamisato estate yet Ayato rarely made time for his wife. Of course, like all other men, he used work as an excuse to avoid you like a plague. How could he not? When you confessed that your father had forced you into this marriage with tears in your eyes and rage in your heart yelling that if you could you would have rather die than be a man like him. It was a bolt from the blue to see someone with whom Ayato had decided to share half of him choose death over him. So, Ayato kept his distance; kept up the mirage of this marriage, and deserted you in your misery. It has been a month since the day you married him and nothing has changed since then.

As usual, after eight, Thoma accompanied his master to the study room. “Tomorrow I have to go somewhere. Thoma, please take care of the household for a day.” His butler listens and nods.

“When will you be back Lord Ayato?” Thoma asked hanging his master’s coat in the rack. “Will your lady accompany you?” Ayato pauses stacking files one upon the other on his hand to ponder and then answers.

“It is just work-related.” Thoma beams at that and leaves his master alone in his room. The part where Ayato stands is just the entrance, where the light is always on. He grabs another candle stand and walks up to his desk in the dark, lighting them up. And, when he turns around his eyes glimmered on you like grapes ripening before the arrival of the season.

You turn around standing against the window admiring the moon in its glory with a goblet in your hand and a wine bottle kept on your husband’s table. It is empty. You look at your husband, part your lips, and bring the goblet near your soft lips speaking in a calm tone. “You do not seem surprised to see me here.” You take a sip and tilt your head. “Have you been thinking about me—like this: standing here, waiting for you, my love?” Ayato does not break his silence. He just watches like a hawk. He leans against his desk crossing his arms over his chest.

You slowly walk up to him making sure you do not trip. The moment you move the world takes a quick spin, composing yourself you see your husband inches away from you. Finishing the last bit of wine you keep the glass on the desk. You keep your hands on the desk along his firm stature and lean into his face. “Or were you expecting someone else, my love?” You are clearly drunk and maybe so, because you wanted to confront him since never before have you been this rebellious.

Ayato has always kept a distance from you, letting you live freely, working the way you want. While attending parties and get-togethers, you were cautious not to let the curtain of perfect marriage slip and show the world its ugly, rotten side. At times like that, his heart warmed from your vicinity; mind and body at constant battle for you. Of course, what would you know what it is like to love someone, and get nothing in return? That kind of love eats you from the inside.

If you hated him openly he could give you an excuse, perhaps an affair or chronic drinking habit but you are perfect maintaining this marriage. But you suspected him of cheating on you was salt to his wound. It hurt his pride.

Ayato grabs one of your hands, pushing it away and spinning you to stand behind you. Both of your hands are under his grip. His left hand being free finds its way over your breasts. He does not like them. There is a fair amount of distance between his left hand and your upper body. As he finishes tracing your body and ultimately keeping his gloved hand over your belly button he hoarsely whispered into your ears, “You tell me. For whom are you wearing this flimsy dress?

He rests his chin over the nook of your shoulders. You release a soft breath. “Or is it because you have been lonely?” You rub your thighs together feeling the warmth of his breath behind your ears. “Did you ask help from Thoma?”

“What? How could you—I’d never— Ayato shuhses you swinging his body a little making you sway, as if calming a crying baby. Then he speaks sternly, “At least I have a name. Who are you accusing me of?”

“Why are you breathing so hard, love?” He exclaims eye over your belly letting you know how much he can feel your restlessness.

“Leave me Ayato. Leave my hand.” You murmur. There is still a fight in you despite being hurt. He rubs his nose against your shoulder line making you arch your head a bit. He is trying to remember what triggered you and that you were willing to wash all your pride and shame to come to him. You hear a pop sound and a little later feel the graze of his lips, the hot breaths. He understands now. He understands why, why are you here? Closing his mouth he presses his body against your back.

You turn your head to take a look at his face. Your eyes are burning, eyelids heavy and vision focuses and defocuses often. “Thoma— he will, will be here to serve your dinner.” You drawl, one word toppling over the other. The way you took his butler’s name sounded like you were moaning it. “Please. Please Ayato. Leave me.” You feel his hand that was over your tummy loving away and as you take a sigh of relief you turn your face from him. As you close your eyes to dull the incoming wave of pain, you feel his hands underneath your nightgown, nudging in between your thighs seeking permission.

“What?” Ayato drawls tightening his grip on your wrists at the valley of your waist. “Didn’t you say you hated me on our first night? Then, why are you so wet?” He elongated ‘so’ as he spoke into your ears causing goosebumps to light up your supple skin. Embarrassment and shame bloomed all over your body. Your mind denied him while your body was willing to accept him. Not to mention that you are so wet and just from this? Another lie came into the light. The fact that you told him that you were a virgin to keep him ravaging you away is such a brave and bold move.

“Aren’t you full of surprises my love?” He pulls out his gloved hand making you whimper and extends it in front of you to show how much you are turned on. Your arousal stuck onto his gloved hands, drips along the base of his palm as he motions his ring and middle finger. “Not only that,” He scooted over to a side shamelessly staring at your breasts, “Your nipples. They are hard.” His lips moved closer to your ears. He whispers, “So hard.” Makes him wanna suck and bruise them.

The wine is doing its job perfectly. Your senses are lithe and loose. There is a tingling feeling all over your skin and wherever his touch graces, the feeling magnifies resonating in between your legs. The grip on your hands that are held at your back is still there, still so strong. You fidget with your hands a little and Ayato shifts his hand, inserting his fingers through the gaps of your of both hands locking them firmly.

You turn your head, with lust coinciding with desperation in your eyes, and your lips dash onto yours. Ayato is surprised at first but when he notices that your eyes are closed, lips so dedicatedly working against his he returns the favor. You think his instincts are becoming dilute. You slip your tongue trying to dull his senses more so that you can break free from his hold but all you feel is the cold grab of his gloved hand on your breasts over the cloth. Your body curls instantly under his touch making you snatch your mouth away.

“C’mon, it is our one-month anniversary. Let’s celebrate.” He mutters reading into your thoughts and then, pulling his glove by holding it in between his teeth exposing his ivory white skin. When he inclines for a kiss you turn away your head. Your breaths become erratic, heavy, and irregular. He can help you with that but you are being so stubborn. There is a pregnant pause before he bends you over the desk, and towers above you to murmur into your ears. “Fine. Have it your way.”

Ayato stands spreading his legs further against your lower body making you immobile. Still, you manage to turn and face him. You notice him holding a candle in one hand. You could sense what was going on in his mind but before your body could follow the directions of your mind he grabbed your hands, locked them by slipping his fingers into yours and pinning them over your head. He lets a drop of wax fall onto your body. It is good that your robe is still on you. But it does not hurt much, there is a pleasure rapidly following the stinging pain making you greedy for another shot.

“That is no good. You are enjoying it.” He growls and pulls your robe down letting a train of wax fall on your skin. You try to scream, thinking about the amount of pain you will get but Ayato’s lips block you from doing so. Tears rolling from the corner of your eyes yet you do not want to let go of his lips. He is kissing so fervently, hungrily. You did not think your husband was capable of such passion.

Ayato breaks the kiss. The resistive forces in your body have died now. He does not even have to tell you to stay still. He bends the candle to let the wax fall on your skin again holding your garment above your boobs. “Now, my dear wife. Who are you trying to provoke by not wearing anything under? Is it me?” He drawls dramatically letting the wax fall in a trail over your boob writing the letters of his initials. You do not scream, neither protest but rather moan in pleasure. The pleasure is addictive, like the cool Breeze after a storm.

Keeping the candle in its place he pulls you up embracing. A certain while you feel the hot wax on your back again and you bite onto the column of his neck. The more he pours, the stronger your sucks and bites become. Once the candle reduces to half he stops and watching your body so bruised and red makes him mourn but the look on your face turns the table.

“Ayato. Ayato, please. I need you.” you start. Intoxication is still in effect numbing your senses. “I need you inside me, please, I miss you.” you moan and whimper in his arms. Ayato hears a knock. He knows it is Thoma. Must have heard your voices. Slipping his coat over you he takes you into his arms.

“Lord Ayato—” he gasps, opening the door. Ayato adjusts you in his arms and you curl into his chest.

He instructs, “Thoma. We are going to have dinner later.” and walks towards the washroom. Thoma asks if he should prepare a bath but Ayato just tells him he needs some ice.

Ayato places you beside the sink, on the slab. He starts undressing himself thinking how he will be inside you for the first time, fuck you witless. The way you are drunk so much, he thinks, you will barely resist or feel the pain, only the pleasure.

Thoma kept a box of ice outside the door already, Ayato picks them up and he walks towards you naked, with ice in his hands, and rubs them over your back. With such cold hands, he pulls apart your legs to make himself comfortable in between your legs. His cock is hard and awake. You touch his member, making him moan against your ear. He keeps rubbing your back with those ice cubes as you work up his cock to take him in.

“Eager. Aren’t we?” Ayato says against your ears as you place your hands around him. “You have no idea what you are asking for my wife.”

You buck your hips and push him to feel him inside you. The tip of his cock grazes your entrance. You murmur, “Oh, try me. I'm actually hard to impress.” and feel him push his cock all at once, feeling his base against your inner thighs. You scratch onto his back feeling the momentarily alive pain followed by a great wave of pleasure.

“I’m warning you. I’m going to hurt you if I fuck you.” Ayato rasps.

And you mutter over his lips in erratic breaths. “Oh— you mean — sharing the pain, — my dear husband?”

“Ummm—hmmm” Ayato coos, kissing your lips. The night is going to be long and memorable.

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theelfsongbard · 4 months

Text

Lazy Morning with Astarion Drabble

If anyone had told your past self that 5 years from then, they would be safe, settled and contentedly in love, you would have laughed in their face. Having a definitive place of your own to call home was never an option in the cards that you had been dealt, and the only safety you found was in being untethered to roam Faerun freely. And love? What was love other than a means to ensure you had a bed to sleep in or money in your pocket when you were in dire straits?

Yet here you are, huddled in comparative luxury to the bedrolls that you had grown accustomed to. In your own bed, under the wool blankets, arms wrapped around a man who adores you truly and wholeheartedly. Outside, the winter snow blankets the ground in a crisp blue-white and frost has crept it’s way up the window pane. For once, it’s just the two of you, even the city’s noises and clamour have died down with the weather being so inhospitable. It’s a nice change, a breather from the suffocation of always having people around you, whether it was the strangers packed on the busy streets or a well meaning friend, you delighted most of all in the simple joy of the private moments you could spend with Astarion.

Laying a gentle kiss on his shoulder, you slowly relinquish your hold around his middle as to not wake him, slipping out of bed to coax the heat back into the smouldering fireplace and put the kettle on.

It doesn’t take long for the gentle cadence of his footsteps to follow you to the kitchen, his slippers beating against the timber floor of your house like a heartbeat. Before you know it, he’s behind you, his hands slipping around your waist and his head resting on your shoulder. Sniffing, he sighs contentedly as he inhales the scent of blood as you warm it over the stove just enough while you sip on your own drink.

“Good morning, little love.” His voice is low and gravelly with the remnants of his trance.

There’s a fondness in his voice that settles over you, warming you up from the inside out despite the absence of heat. “Morning Astarion,” you tilt your head slightly, pressing your forehead against his to greet him. “Did I wake you?” Your hands work independently, on autopilot as you pour the blood into a goblet.

“I just missed feeling your warmth.” He says simply, nuzzling against you. “But fear not! I’ve brought reinforcements!” Unclasping the tie to the fluffy robe you gifted him, he opens it and wraps you up inside it like an oversized bat, earning him your giggles of delight at his early morning shenanigans. The movement is so sudden, it pushes you against him too quickly and all at once you notice the absence of his clothes underneath and his hardness at your hip.

“OH!” Your eyes widen at this unexpected but not unwelcome surprise. Heat floods your face as you realise what he’s trying to do. He never gets tired of getting you flustered and the mischievous glint in his eyes and the playful uptick of his mouth tells you all you need to know.

“Is someone feeling a little shy today? You never cease to be a surprise no matter how many times we’ve been intimate.” He coos in your ear before sweeping the goblet up from the counter, sipping it a fine like mulled wine, humming with relief. “Thank you for the drink, darling. You really know how best to make it for me.” There’s a look in his eyes that swells with adoration for you. You didn’t need to go through all the effort of heating it up, making it nice and warm for him, but you did anyways, going out of your way to provide him with small comforts that reminded him that you were his true home. But the sentimentality quickly turns into at different form of love altogether and soon he is pressing teasing kisses all over your face every now and again between sips of your drinks, savouring the warmth as it brings. It’s a tender kind of domestic love that you didn’t know you yearned for until you had it.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 x reader

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vixstarria · 2 months

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The Sheath of Frontiers

So, in light of the disparity between the amount of Wyll content compared with the other companions, I felt it would be prudent for my Tav and Astarion to seduce him. Enjoy!

AO3

Astarion x F!Tav x Wyll

18+, humour, smut, threesome, soft dom/service top Astarion, sub/bottom Wyll, Tav and Astarion are both little shits, anal etc

This is probably more really lewd and descriptive comedy than erotica, you have been warned.

Approx. 3,400 words (gods, these things just keep getting longer and longer)

Written in 3rd person, and Tav's name is... *drumroll* Tav. Hey, I don't know who you want to relate to here, take your pick.

Tav, Astarion and Wyll occupied a booth at the Elfsong. They were the last ones still up drinking after a long day roaming the city.

“But don’t you ever feel... tempted?” Astarion threw Wyll a sultry look from beneath his eyelashes, circling the rim of his wineglass with one finger.

Tav had been watching the subtle seduction show unfold for the past while. She wasn’t sure whether Wyll was oblivious to Astarion’s flirtation, or impervious to it, but either way, the man would not budge.

“Call me a hopeless romantic, but I want the moment to be special for my one and only. Anticipated. Meaningful. And what could hold more significance than waiting until after marriage vows?” Wyll answered.

“Yes, yes, you are ever the romantic hero and want to make it ‘special’ for your chosen one, blah blah...” Astarion rolled his eyes, sipping his wine spiked with Tav’s blood. “But you’ve admitted you’re no virgin, it’s not as though you’re ‘saving yourself’ for anyone. What about casual no strings encounters? Simple carnal lust, for hells’ sake!”

“You never know when or where you might find true love. Wouldn’t want to accidentally spoil it from the beginning,” Wyll said, with a smile and a head shake.

Astarion threw a quick look of pure vexation at Tav, as she tried to hide her laugh behind her own goblet. She’d told him he wouldn’t be able to crack the ‘Blade of Frontiers’ - something he took as a personal challenge.

“Hmm... You know, you should marry us!” Astarion suddenly exclaimed. “I would make an exemplary spouse for a duke! You should see me entertain at balls. Tav might be found to be acceptable as well, after a good scrub.”

Tav threw a piece of pie crust at Astarion in response.

“We wouldn’t accept your proposal without a test ride, though,” Astarion warned.

“What, marry both of you? ...First of all, polygamy is not legal.” Wyll seemed a bit thrown off by the sudden change in the direction of the conversation.

“So make it legal, the reigns of power are in your hands. Or will be,” Astarion shrugged.

“Astarion, we both know the entire legal system would collapse if polygamy was to be permitted officially. Can you imagine all the complications? Especially all the implications it would bear for noble families and their hereditary lines of succession,” the future Duke Ravengard rambled.

“I see what you’re saying, and I agree, but there could be a provision to allow persons who are unable to produce heirs to marry into the noble families as secondary spouses,” Astarion countered. “And you could always implement obligatory prenuptial agreements to simplify asset division.”

Tav screamed inwardly: once Astarion started talking legalese the only way to get him to shut up was by literally occupying his mouth with something else, one way or another.

Meanwhile, Wyll shook his head.

“That would only serve to provide obligation-free unfair advantage to such persons,” he said. “It is nothing but furthering nepotism.”

“I see nothing wrong with persons gaining unfair advantage, as long as I am those persons,” Astarion parried.

“I could marry Tav and provide you with some kind of concubine status, if you wish,” Wyll suggested.

“Not interested,” Astarion scoffed, sipping his wine. “I’m afraid we’re a package deal.”

Tav groaned in frustration and got up.

“I’ve had enough of this. Wyll, you don’t need to worry about spoiling any 'precious moments’ here - neither Astarion nor I have any interest in letting you make honest people of us anyway.”

“Speak for yourself,” Astarion muttered with a huff, sipping more of his wine.

“Shut up, Astarion,” Tav threw. “I’m going upstairs, and I, for one, intend to fuck this vampire before the night is over. Are you coming with us or not?”

Astarion choked on his drink. If this was all it would take to lure the Blade into their bed – Tav would never let him live it down.

“I uh... I must confess – I have never done that before,” Wyll said, visibly flustered.

“What, fuck a vampire? Most people haven’t.” Tav shrugged.

“Not that either, but what I meant was... be intimate with a man,” Wyll forced out.

He jumped a little as he suddenly found Astarion’s lips a hair’s breadth away from his ear. He hadn’t noticed the vampire inching closer to him.

“Would you like to..?” Astarion purred.

“It’s nothing you haven’t done yourself hundreds of times, what’s so shameful and difficult?” Tav teased.

“That's not true,” Wyll protested.

Tav tilted her head and shot him a look that said ‘oh please’.

“No, I mean that. Ever since I... entered that contract, I’ve hardly ever indulged. Never know when she might be watching. ...Doesn’t your patron ever watch as well..?”

“Sometimes...” Tav mused. “But after a while it’s like fucking with a cat in the room. You learn to ignore it. As long as it doesn’t jump on the bed and sniff your asscrack while you’re in the middle of it, it’s fine.”

“Ahem,” Astarion cleared his throat. “Can we please concentrate on the matter at hand?”

Astarion sat on the edge of the bed in full naked glory as Tav, also in a state of almost total undress, sat behind him, resting her chin on his shoulder, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other stroking his cock.

Meanwhile, Wyll perched on the opposite edge of the bed, trying to look anywhere but at the couple in front of him.

“Eyes down here, darling,” Astarion drawled. “If Miz-”

“Don’t say her name!”

“If that skank decides to show up, she’ll get more than she’s bargained for.”

Wyll finally allowed himself to gape openly at the scene in front of him.

Astarion’s cock was surprisingly thick and veined, and flushed at the tip. Perhaps it was the only part of him that could be flushed with blood. Wyll tried, habitually, to distract himself from his own arousal with thoughts of the workings behind vampire erections, to no avail – his own cock was straining against his pants almost painfully. He observed, almost in a state of a surreal daze, as Tav used her thumb to spread a new bead of precum over the head of Astarion’s cock, and reflexively licked his lips.

She noticed and let out a satisfied hum.

“Why don’t you come help?” she purred.

“Hmm?” Wyll seemed to snap out of his daze. “You want me to take over..?”

“No, like I said, this is hardly something you haven’t done before – try something new.” Tav grinned. “Why don’t you come down here and kneel in front of him?”

Somehow, Wyll’s legs got him down onto the floor between Astarion’s thighs. The vampire himself leaned back against Tav, his head thrown back over her shoulder, with a vague smile on his lips.

“Really...?” Wyll breathed a shaky laugh. “I thought we would start with some baby steps. Maybe a kiss..?”

“No, no darling...” Tav cooed. “Don’t be silly. Kissing is way too intimate. Just lick his balls for now.”

Still not quite believing what was happening, Wyll went ahead and did as he was told. Two things, he noticed immediately. One, the overwhelming scent of Astarion’s musk was making his head spin. He wanted to simply bury his nose in the spot between his shaft and balls and inhale, but he wasn’t sure whether that would be appropriate. And two, his ministrations immediately made Astarion groan, the sound sweet music to his ears.

By then Tav had moved out from behind Astarion’s back and lounged on the bed next to him, her hand still stroking his cock, and watched Wyll’s efforts.

“Good boy,” she purred approvingly.

“Love?” Astarion said.

“Hmm?” Tav hummed.

“You talk too much.”

Wyll watched Astarion push her head, quite unceremoniously, down towards his groin. She let out a somewhat annoyed sound, but went right on, taking his cock in her mouth.

“Finally, some silence,” Astarion groaned.

Once again, Wyll found himself gawking at the display now mere inches before him, as she worked the length of Astarion’s erection with her lips, her cheeks hollowing - obviously a practiced motion for the two, as they entered a familiar rhythm, Astarion’s hips bucking up, his fingers tangled in her hair, as she bobbed her head.

Tav’s eyes met Wyll’s, and she released Astarion’s dick from her mouth, with a loud plopping sound and a sigh. She lifted Wyll’s chin with one finger.

“Now you can take over,” she whispered, getting up.

Wyll hesitated, taking Astarion’s cock in his hand.

‘Huh... Not cold at all,’ he thought.

“Don’t tell me the Blade is intimidated,” Astarion taunted.

Wyll tried to think of a witty retort, but, for once, his mind was blank, and in any event it hardly seemed appropriate to orate and put on heroic airs whilst on his knees between Astarion’s legs. He decided it would be prudent to simply put the dick in his mouth.

Tav had made it look so easy... She slurped that thing up like a horse with a carrot. But Wyll found himself struggling, despite quite enjoying the taste and sensation of tender skin on his tongue.

Astarion sucked his breath in, with a hiss.

“Teeth...” he said. “We keep our teeth behind our lips, darling.”

Wyll tried to mumble an apology without removing Astarion’s cock from his mouth.

“And don’t talk with your mouth full. Gods, you’re from a decent family, haven’t they taught you any manners..? ...There, that’s better.”

“Is he doing a good job?” Wyll heard Tav’s voice somewhere in the room.

“Well...” said Astarion.

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Wyll, honey, you know you can bite him if he’s mean to you, right? You’re the one with the power here, right now.” She got back on the bed, holding something in her hand. “But why are you still dressed?” she laughed.

Wyll released Astarion from his mouth and fumbled with his clothing. Meanwhile, Tav had slid onto Astarion’s lap, and they busied themselves with each other. Their sheer hunger for one another, as they kissed and exchanged caresses, made Wyll feel like a third wheel, but Tav quickly turned her attention back to him.

“My love, I think he’s bored,” she said to Astarion. “Should we wake Halsin up again?”

“Are you trying to educate or traumatise him..?” Astarion murmured in response. “But that reminds me of something...”

Astarion positioned Tav to sit on his lap with her back against him, guiding her onto his cock. She moaned as he entered her, his knees spreading her legs as his hands roamed her body, stroking between her legs as he bucked his hips up into her.

“It was such a breathtaking view, I thought he would enjoy it as well,” he murmured. “Like what you see?” he directed at Wyll.

Nothing in Wyll’s life had prepared him for this. Eyes locked on the spectacle before him, he had at last begun stroking himself, staying in time with Astarion’s movements. He didn’t notice as Astarion went to whisper something in Tav’s ear.

“Do you want to taste her?” Astarion goaded.

“Yes,” Wyll breathed, leaning forward.

“Ah ah! Not like that.” Astarion intercepted him, pulling out of Tav. She got up, returning onto the bed with a giggle. Astarion’s cock glistened with her juices.

“Go ahead now,” Astarion purred.

Wyll eagerly took Astarion into his mouth again. Tav’s taste on Astarion’s cock combined with Astarion’s own precum was absolutely divine, and Wyll greedily lapped up as much as he could.

“Much, much better this time...” Astarion purred approvingly. “Consider that a little treat... But that’s enough now. Come here...” Astarion pulled Wyll up by one of his horns, directing him onto the bed and pushing against his chest until he was on his back.

Tav angled a pillow under his head so his horns wouldn’t get in the way, and laid down on her side near Wyll, and smiled at him, lightly caressing his face with her fingertips. Wyll’s heart beat like a mad thing trying to break out of its cage, as Astarion crawled on top of him, with a predatory look in his eyes.

“So just how... ‘intimate’ were you thinking of getting?” Tav asked, softly.

Wyll swallowed hard as Astarion emitted a soft growl and started kissing down his neck, his hand slowly working its way up the inside of Wyll’s thigh.

“Is this about my blood, or are we now well enough acquainted to kiss..?” Wyll managed.

Astarion lifted his head with a small sigh.

“She’s asking whether the Blade might want to become a sheath for a spell,” he explained.

Wyll found himself at a loss for words again.

“...Can’t the Blade remain a blade?” he asked, finally.

“That’s not on the table today, darling,” Astarion shook his head. “But we can entertain ourselves in other ways.”

“Well then I uh... I think yes maybe..?” Wyll sputtered.

“Yes what..?” Astarion asked, his voice low and husky, rolling over to lay on Wyll’s other side. “Do you want me to fuck you? Say it.”

Any words Wyll might have said died somewhere between his racing heart and his suddenly parched throat, but his cock twitched visibly, jerking up and landing with a resounding thud on his abdomen.

Tav and Astarion both turned their heads at the impressive display.

“Why don’t I take it slow, and you can tell me if you want to stop at any moment..?” Astarion asked, unable to contain a grin.

Wyll did not object to that.

Tav had been trailing her fingertips lower and lower, leaving feather light caresses on Wyll’s skin, until she reached his straining erection. Meanwhile, Astarion had reached for the object she’d retrieved earlier. It turned out to be a vial with some kind of oil.

“You’re in expert hands, you know,” she whispered in his ear. “I’ll admit, I’m actually excited for you.”

Wyll watched Astarion pour some of the oil on his fingers. Lying between Tav and Astarion, he gained the distinct impression of having a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other.

‘Who am I kidding?’ he thought. ‘They’re both devils.’

Tav reached and took his cock in her hand, just as Astarion spread some oil on it, before moving down to cup and gently tug on his balls with his hand.

“Ah, you weren’t kidding about bumps and ridges!” Tav giggled. “My, they look fun!”

“Bring your knees up,” Astarion purred.

Wyll swiftly complied, and the vampire went to nibble on Wyll’s earlobe as his hand slipped lower. His finger circled and teased his puckered hole, while Tav continued to stroke his cock.

“Do you want me to stop?” Astarion whispered in his ear.

“Hnngaa-ah!” said Wyll, bringing his knees higher.

Tav and Astarion exchanged a look.

“I think that meant ‘no, don’t stop’,” said Tav.

“I think so too,” Astarion agreed. “Very well.”

Astarion applied more and more pressure as he teased Wyll’s hole.

“Try to relax,” he purred, working a single finger in. “Breathe... It’s just a finger, for crying out loud.”

Wyll whimpered, his cock twitching again, to Tav’s immediate delight, as Astarion continued to gradually work his digit in further, thrusting in and out, spreading more oil in and around.

“That’s it,” Astarion whispered. “I think we can add one more.”

Astarion’s thrusting had grown more persistent, as he added another finger, all the while watching Wyll’s expression with a lidded gaze.

Wyll was finding himself being reduced to a blushing, mewling mess, throwing his head back as much as his horns would allow, with his eyes shut.

Tav had begun licking and nibbling on his neck.

“Do you like it?” Tav purred, as Wyll nodded. “Think you’re ready for more?”

“Yes,” he whispered, almost inaudibly, rolling his hips in time with Astarion’s fingers now. His cock was leaking obscene amounts of precum onto Tav’s hand as she continued to play with it.

“Get down here then,” Astarion directed him closer to the edge of the bed without pulling his fingers out.

“Do be gentle, Astarion, it’s his first time after all,” Tav called out as Wyll slipped out from her hand, drawn after Astarion. She got up to wet a washcloth in the basin, leaving it within Astarion’s reach.

‘Is that..? Oh. Well, that makes sense.’ Wyll’s scrambled brain thought.

“Well, if I can’t marry into the Ravengard family, I guess I’ll settle for deflowering the heir,” Astarion grinned.

Wyll let out an involuntary whine as Astarion’s fingers left his ass.

“Don’t worry, darling, there’s more on the way,” Astarion drawled.

Wyll watched Astarion spread more oil on his own cock, before falling back again, shutting his eyes and whimpering in anticipation.

Astarion set a torturously slow pace as he worked his cock in, stretching Wyll more and more with slow, shallow thrusts that gradually grew deeper and deeper.

“Good...” Astarion groaned, slowly sliding in and out of Wyll almost fully now. “Who knew you’d be so good...”

He picked up the pace, setting a steady rhythm with his thrusts once it was clear Wyll was comfortable with it.

“So how does it feel to be fucked?” Astarion asked with a devilish grin.

“Oh leave him be, he’s already going through a lot” Tav cut in, reclining near Wyll again.

Wyll looked up at her. She was smiling at him so sweetly... He reached towards her.

“I didn’t say you could touch her,” Astarion warned with a forceful thrust, making Wyll yelp.

“I wouldn’t anger him, if I were you,” Tav whispered, slowly running a finger down between the ridges of his muscles. “He still holds a grudge about your little seduction attempt back in the Shadow-Cursed Lands, you know.”

“What in the hells are you two gossiping about..?” followed from Astarion.

“My heart, he’s doing so well, don’t you think he’s earned another little treat?” Tav asked Astarion, ignoring his question.

“I’m the only one here who’s earned any treats,” Astarion muttered. “But sure.”

He slowly pulled his hard length out of Wyll.

“On your feet!”

Wyll scrambled up, bending over the edge of the bed. Tav stayed on the bed, edging over to sit before him with her legs spread.

“Still want a taste?” she purred with a wicked smile.

Astarion entered him again, with a perhaps slightly too forceful thrust, making Wyll collapse face-first between Tav’s legs. With a groan, he plunged his tongue between her folds, earning a moan from her.

Wyll’s efforts might have been somewhat sloppy, but he made up for it in sheer enthusiasm as he lapped at her, eagerly.

Unbeknown to Wyll, Astarion caught Tav’s eyes and raised a questioning eyebrow at her. She shrugged and waved her fingers in a ‘so-so’ motion back at him. Astarion nodded with a roll of his eyes.

Wyll was caught off-guard when Astarion reached around him to take his neglected cock in his hand.

“Let’s get you off and let you rest, little prince,” Astarion murmured.

His cool hand was firm and practiced in a way that Tav’s simply could not be, its deliberate movements incessantly urging Wyll towards a release.

Wyll completely lost all traces of composure and simply moaned between Tav’s legs as Astarion worked him.

“Can’t multi-task, darling?” Astarion teased. “That’s alright, I’ll finish that job myself later as well.”

Wyll lifted himself on his arms, trying to push his hips back against Astarion’s as Tav slipped out from under him.

“Alright, give him a peck, I know he wants one so desperately...” Astarion said begrudgingly.

Tav returned to lift Wyll’s head and kissed him, tenderly, her tongue swirling and dancing against his, as Astarion continued to fuck and stroke him.

“I said a peck! Gods, woman, offer you a hand – you'll take the whole arm, every time.”

Astarion’s grip on Wyll’s cock tightened, his hand speeding up, until Wyll couldn’t take it anymore and finally erupted, crying out and whimpering into Tav’s mouth, as he spilled a thick and well overdue load onto the sheets as Astarion continued to stroke him.

He was still gasping, trying to catch his breath when Astarion slid out of him, giving Wyll's ass a loud smack, before wiping himself and Wyll down.

At last, Wyll collapsed on the bed next to Tav.

“Gods...” was all he could muster.

Astarion gave him a self-satisfied smirk as he joined them on the bed, kissing his way up Tav’s leg.

“Now shall I show you how to actually satisfy a woman? So you know what to do with your ‘one and only’ later?”

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed, this work is part of a series, check out the rest of it

AO3

~~~~~

Tag list:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89 @acourtofpenandpaper @yoonshope @spacebarbarianweird @brabblesblog @leomonae @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate @mothmans-rotund-asscheeks @micebear @littlejuicebox @cool-ontherun-world @justagirlwithfeelz @jellymellydraws

#astarion #wyll #wyll ravengard #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav x wyll #bg3 fanfic #smut #bg3 smut #astarion smut #wyll smut

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djarincore · 6 days

Text

A Bard's Tale

SUMMARY: When you proposition Halsin at the Grove party, you're almost shocked he agrees. Now, if only you could sneak away from your companions... WC: 3.9k

PAIRING: Halsin x f!reader

TAGS: 18+ MDNI, smut, bard!reader, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected PIV

A/N: just some filthy smut Gale, my beloved, look away inspired by a book in the game and my head canon that the gang has a bookclub <3 banner by @/cafekitsune

You were used to being stared at—such was life as a performing bard—but never with so much… desire.

A numbing warmth blossomed across your neck and crept toward your cheeks, hairs stood on end. You knew exactly whose gaze fell over your body and tried pushing down a sudden shiver with a gulp of wine. The nearly stale flavor washed down your throat but didn’t take away the buzzing feeling deep in your gut.

Fireworks colored the sky above in a pop of brilliant glittering lights. Gale and Rolan were locked in a battle of wizard hubris over who could conjure up the bigger and brighter show for the crowd of awestruck children. You were certain if the show got any bigger or brighter, you’d have to be putting out fires and patching up burns by the end of the night.

“He’s staring again,” Astarion groaned, lips pulling up into a sneer and revealing the edge of razor-sharp fangs. His red glare fell over the edge of his silver goblet as he took a sip of cheap wine.

You dared to follow his gaze toward the large elf standing across the clearing, surrounded by rowdy celebrating tieflings. The two of you locked eyes—firelight danced over warm hazel eyes.

Halsin sent you a brief grin as if he hadn’t been caught staring, before returning to his conversation with the tiefling, Zevlor, in front of him.

When your party first learned the Archdruid Halsin had been taken by a bunch of goblins, you figured the man you’d find would be ancient, withering, and most of all, not attractive. Lo and behold, your party was in for a big surprise after freeing a helpless bear that shifted into a towering, broad elf before your eyes.

It was the talk of camp for the next few days as you cleared out the goblin camp. It was clear all of your companions held some interest in the druid, whether out of curiosity or… lust.

Tonight, you’ve been working up the courage to speak with him, drinking yourself dizzy with your companions and hoping it would give you the strength to approach him. You’ve flirted and had quick meaningless dalliances with faceless people who didn’t matter the next morning, but something made you nervous when it came to Halsin. He was wiser and more mature than anyone you've known in your short life.

“Gods, he looks like he wants to devour you.”

You quickly returned your gaze to Astarion, a quick retort forming on your lips. You snorted, “And you don’t?”

You allowed the vampire to indulge in your blood every once in a while but never took him up on his other advances as much as he offered. You never felt quite comfortable looking into the empty red stare that came along with those offers. Simple banter every once in a while didn’t hurt though.

“If you’d like, that can be arranged,” he countered, ever quick to throw on that charming facade, and moved closer. The cold emanating off his undead figure cooled the fire dancing along your skin.

“Enough of that,” Shadowheart huffed, rolling her eyes as she poured more sanguine liquid into her goblet—her third cup of the night. She was remarkably more relaxed and fun for a Sharran with wine flowing through her system.

“Oh, don’t worry, dear. The three of us can have plenty of fun together if you’d like.”

“Pass,” she said dryly, offering a hard shove to his shoulder instead.

You grinned as the two began to squabble with petty remarks and plenty of eye rolls. You took the opportunity to slip away for a moment of quiet.

You didn’t dislike your new, unexpected companions, in fact, you considered them friends after working together to defeat an encampment of goblins. Trust was earned and alliances forged but you weren’t used to your silently elected position as leader.

You were a bard for Gods’ sake! What knowledge did you possess of leading other than leading others in song? There were certainly more qualified individuals in your ragtag group, but somehow they trusted in your leadership and you weren’t about to let them down, not when so much depended on it. Sometimes it weighed on your shoulders; for every cut and bruise they received, somehow you felt you were to blame.

The celebration was still lively, bottles were still being poured, and laughter and song danced through the air. And still… trepidation, and anticipation for the uncertain future ahead, tainted the air.

The tieflings still had a long journey to Baldur’s Gate, and you and your companions had a cure to find. There was no telling any of you would make it past this night unscathed by the future ahead, but dwelling on the future would get you nowhere.

You breathed the rich, lively air and allowed a smile to settle on your face. This adventure would make a great tale if you survived. You could see it now—patrons gathered around you at the bar as you regaled them with the highs and lows of your heroic adventure, the friends and enemies you made along the way. And, if you were lucky, a lover by your side.

Speaking of—you glanced toward Halsin once again to find him alone and lingering by the tall grass, observing the party. His arms were crossed, yet the fondness of which he observed the festivities made him seem approachable. You drew in a deep breath and stepped toward him. His eyes found yours as you drew closer.

“You should be celebrating, not keeping an old druid like me company.”

You hoped that wasn't his attempt at shooing you away. “I am celebrating—with you.”

He hummed low, a small smile forming as he gazed down at you. Something unspoken lingered behind his amused expression, raw and unfiltered.

You tilted your head and brushed aside the feelings bubbling up in your stomach, the warmth rising across your cheeks. You cleared your throat, feeling the warmth from before returning to your cheeks, “So, where's your wine? There's plenty around. I think Mol has some stored away too.”

He shook his head with a chuckle. You’d almost think it was bashful. “I fear you do not want to see me drunk.”

You tilted your head and leaned in. What could an archdruid have to be embarrassed about? “Now I have to see.”

“Trust me, the stuff goes right to my head. Before you know it, I’d be breaking into song or declaring love to the first person I laid eyes on.”

You gaped, and in an overly exasperated voice said, “But love and song are my specialty!”

You were more than eager to hear declarations of love. Targeted at you, preferably.

“Maybe I can inspire you another time then.”

“Tonight?” You could almost taste the wine-fueled invitation. Sweet and tempting, a dangerous mix.

Halsin said nothing for a moment and you were certain he would refuse, probably thinking of how to let you down easily. Your stomach churned and your muscles tensed as you waited for any sign of rejection.

But, to your surprise, he nodded and rested a hand on your arm with a gentle squeeze. The feeling of his fingers against your skin shot a shiver through your body.

“Tonight.”

You blinked—once, twice. Disbelief and a mix of excitement stirred in your chest.

The rest of the celebrations passed in a blur of grateful tieflings approaching you with their thanks and relentless teasing from Shadowheart and Astarion. When the tieflings packed up and went on their way, headed for Baldur’s Gate, your party wished them well and settled in for the night.

You cast quick but unsubtle glances between the campfire and Halsin as you poked at the fire. He was setting up his tent between Wyll’s and Laezel’s.

You wondered when the promise of ‘tonight’ would come. Would he call upon you when the others were asleep? Would it be a simple look over the campfire, a nod of the head?

A hand on the small of your back, leading you into the woods. It would eventually slip lower, caressing your behind and pulling you flush against his solid chest. His lips would descend on yours with a hungry, desperate fervor, devouring any moans that escaped. Your hips flush with his, grinding–

“Man, what a night,” Karlach exclaimed as she threw herself against her bedroll by the fire.

Your eyes snapped from the fire to her, pushing your previous thoughts away. You took in a deep breath and felt it fill your lungs to chase away the heat. Your stomach twisted into knots.

She tucked her arms behind her head but sprung right up again, almost startling you. “Oh, I almost forgot! Check out what I found at the Grove.”

She snatched her pack, resting at the foot of her bedroll, and dug around until she presented you with a thin, crudely bound book. The corner was singed from the heat of her fingertips, but you could read the handwritten title across the cover in golden lettering—Shadow’s Kiss vol. 4 written by Roan Featherway.

When you flipped open the cover, you found most of the pages ripped out. The last chapter and epilogue were all that was left.

You briefly wondered if Karlach looked before taking it, but she probably hadn't. She admittedly hadn't read since primary, much to Gale’s horror.

You weren't entirely sure what the book was about after skimming the first page—something about two lovers. Luckily, you weren't too picky about your choice of literature.

“Can you read it tonight?” She stared at you with a wide smile. The flames in her hair flared, a key sign she was growing excited.

When the party wasn't slaying goblins, you found they enjoyed listening to you read, something to do with being a bard and mimicking voices. So, they took to collecting lost books in ruined of villages or anywhere else they could get their hands on one.

You glanced over to Halsin. He was pulling a blanket from his pack and setting it in his tent.

Would you still have time to sneak off later?

Gale appeared over your shoulder, squinting at the title of the novel. “Oh, another book? Hm, I'm unfamiliar with this one. Perhaps we should be starting this series in order.”

He settled down on his bedroll across from you with crossed legs.

“I'm sure our dear bard can spin up an interesting tale to fill in the gaps,” Wyll cut in, cradling a cup of wine and taking a seat by the fire.

You sucked in an exasperated breath when you saw Astarion and Shadowheart saunter up to the fire and take their places on either side of Karlach. There was no way you'd be able to make an excuse to slip away with Halsin without their relentless teasing.

You succumbed to Karlach’s request and opened up the book, clearing your throat.

“In the ashes of that ruined village, the pair shared a kiss, all tongue and teeth. Sweat and heat passed between the two bodies as they-”

Gods, was this really the story? You glanced up to your companions who seemed to look on with rapt attention. In the corner of your eye, you noticed a large figure settle down on a log.

“Don't stop on my account,” Halsin said, waving his hand to allow you to continue.

You nodded and dipped back into the novel. You were glad he didn't seem bothered that the two of you would have to wait a little longer. Though, you weren't sure how you could read a book like this and not think of tonight.

“-pulled one another closer, as if clinging to the last bit of hope either of them had left. Balsin,” you faltered over the name, mouth agape over the next word. That couldn't be a coincidence.

You and the rest of your companions sent a curious look at Halsin, who sat on the log with an amused smile.

“Any relation?” You asked, one brow raised.

“Not at all. It was supposed to be a historical account.”

The group chuckled to themselves as you continued the story. It became increasingly raunchy, taking a turn toward the expected. Clothes tossed away, bodies slick with sweat, tongues clashing.

Your companions listened on, clinging to every filthy word that dripped from your mouth. Gale was pink in the face, but remained seated on his bed roll with averted eyes. Karlach’s flames sparked blue every once in a while. Shadowheart and Astarion wore sly smiles as the story continued. Wyll was the most relaxed with his wine, quietly listening on. Even Lae’zel, sitting at her tent, stopped polishing her sword to listen.

The story was just another typical tavern tale, nothing special or out of the ordinary for you to read aloud, except to have Halsin audience to it, and practically in it, was a different story.

You couldn't help but imagine this Balsin fellow as Halsin. The descriptions of this main character holding his lover, kissing her, touching her—it sent a throbbing between your legs.

Every other sentence had you peering over the book at him, wondering if he was growing uncomfortable or embarrassed, but no such expression was evident on his face. Instead, he watched you, your lips, with a familiar hunger.

“Balsin caressed her bare skin. ‘Selune must have carved you from the stars herself.’ The-”

Shadowheart scoffed, cutting off your sentence. You paused to catch her rolling her eyes. “Don’t tell me that's actually flattering.”

“Oh, it is. I've used it quite a few times,” Astarion said.

“You must be a bad flirt then,” Wyll teased, shoving his shoulder into Astarion’s.

The party devolved into a petty squabble of flirting practices and the best pick-up lines after. On any other day, you would jump into the fray with your favorite lines, but you were far more curious about something, someone, else.

You caught Halsin's back retreating into the woods, fists clenched with tense shoulders. You frowned, shutting the book.

Your companions’ attention was elsewhere at the moment, so you stood, leaving the book behind, and snuck away.

You wandered through the forest path you’ve taken many times before after long, grueling days of battle, and found the river bank.

You saw the reflection of the moon and stars in the river, but no Halsin.

A minute of your eyes scouring the water and the rustle of brush caught your attention a little too late. Clamorous, heavy steps advanced behind you. When you turned and caught a brief look of brown fur, it collided with you to the ground.

Hot and heavy puffs of air fanned across your face. Fur brushed across your exposed arms. A worg? A goblin ambush?

You opened your eyes to face the creature, prepared to scream for help, only to find it was not a worg but a bear—a familiar bear.

You gasped, “Halsin?”

A ring of gold circled the bear’s irises and a flash of white overtook your vision. You shielded your eyes until the light faded. When you removed your hand, you were met with a very naked Halsin above you.

His thick forearms rested beside your head, keeping his weight off you and trapping you between them. “Forgive me,” he apologized. “I was hoping this would not happen.”

You stammered, forcing your eyes to focus on his face and not wander down to his chest, “What? Tackling me to the ground?”

“I was hoping I could control my bear form.” Halsin pushed himself off the ground, offering you a hand up.

You attempted to narrow your focus on his outstretched hand that was hovering in front of his waist. But you couldn't help the accidental slip of your gaze and—Oh Gods, he was massive.

You hoped he didn't notice your eyes didn't bulge out of your skull as you took his hand. If he did, he said nothing and had no reaction as he hauled you back up to your feet.

“What do you mean by control?”

“Sometimes my desire grows so strong it's hard to hold myself back from changing forms.”

“Desire?” You repeated absently, the rest of his words floating over your head. You looked over the red tattoo that curved over his cheek before settling on his pink lips. There was something like desire building in your chest or something fiercer, hungry.

You inched forward, ghosting your fingers over the soft curve of his belly, not taking your eyes off his lips. You wet your own, wondering when you'll finally get a taste. He probably tasted of berries and rich honey.

“Yes, hearing you read that book, I could hardly stay in control, so I left.” Halsin’s voice was low, breathy, almost as if he was still trying to hold himself back. He grasped your wrist, thumb gliding over your pulse. “I hope you aren't frightened by me.”

You could have gawked. Frightened? He was so turned on by you, he turned into a bear. You couldn't say that about any previous lovers. “Absolutely not. I still want you, Halsin.”

There was a flash of relief that bled into a smile. “Come here.”

Halsin tugged your wrist, colliding your bodies, and kissed you. He was so warm, his lips soft, but his kiss was passionate, needy. He wanted to devour you. A hand cupped your neck, pulling you impossibly close, melting you against him.

You could barely get a breath in without pressing your hand against his chest. As you took in the night air, Halsin took to your neck, grazing teeth over your skin like you were a meal he wanted to sink his teeth into.

He tugged at your shirt and you lifted your arms to help him get it off so your chest was just as bare as his. “You’re breathtaking,” he rasped as his lips dipped below your collarbone. He murmured more praises as he made his way down your chest.

Your head fell back with a sigh escaping you, heat thruming through your body. Your hands ran through the length of his hair, gripping the locks between curled fingers.

Halsin nipped and sucked at your skin. Your body was giving into his touch, legs growing weak. Before you could stumble, Halsin's hands grasped the meat of your thigh and lifted you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, securing yourself against his front. You shifted your hips to run yourself along his growing erection.

Halsin moaned as he moved to a tree, pressing you against the rough bark. His hands roamed your skin, brushing over your breasts, grazing your nipples to peaks.

He slipped down to his knees, kissing your stomach and tugging down your pants. The

Halsin caressed your thighs. “Rest your legs over my shoulders.”

“Won't I be too heavy?”

“Let me worship your body the way it was made for.”

Your jaw almost dropped at his words, but empowered, you hooked your legs over his shoulders.

Halsin was an attentive, passionate lover. He kissed your abdomen and down to your clit, like a gentle lover would. For a man who spent much of his time as a bear and so large, he was surprisingly gentle.

Your fingers returned to his hair, intertwining through the locks, as you shuddered. You were afraid of falling, but his strong grip on your backside held you steady. You were safe in his hands.

His tongue lavished you, parting your folds delicately like he was dipping in to taste a pot of honey. Just a taste was not enough as he soon delved deeper into your dripping heat.

“So sweet,” he murmured between those slow laps at your folds. He brought you closer, hungrier now that he had a taste.

Your head rested against the tree trunk and dared to let a moan escape you. Surely your companions were still too busy arguing amongst themselves to hear the lewd sounds slipping between the trees. Even if they could hear, you weren't sure you'd care. The feeling of Halsin’s skilled tongue far outweighed the embarrassment of being caught.

Your thighs clenched around his head as your hips bucked into his mouth. The peak of your climax came with a pitched cry, your body tensing and releasing all at once.

Halsin didn't stop devouring you, tasting every drop of your release with a desperate tongue.

You tugged at his hair when it all felt too much, when the pleasure turned to a burn at every lap against your sensitive clit. Halsin allowed himself to be pulled from you. He looked up at you, mouth wet with your juices, with a glimmer in his eyes.

“Tired?” His voice was teasing. His tongue darted out to catch your arousal smeared across his lower lip as he grined.

You almost scoffed. “Hardly. Is that all you've got?”

Halsin slipped out under you and swept you into another kiss, where you could still taste yourself on his lips. He pulled away and swiped his thumb over your glistening lips. “Trust me—you will not get much sleep tonight.”

The two of you met the cold grassy floor once again with you splayed on your back and Halsin hovering over you. You smiled up at him, inviting his down for another kiss which he accepted.

Lips clashed with heat and passion as two thick fingers pushed into your slick heat. You shuddered and arched into him as he buried them to the knuckle. He worked you open, spreading and stretching you out to prepare you for his cock. And judging by what you’d seen, it was much needed.

He turned you on to your stomach, easing his fingers out of you. The grass tickled between your fingers as you arched your back, displaying yourself for him like a ready mate. He gripped your hips, and you felt him, thick and warm, against your ass.

“I'll be gentle,” he promised.

“Don't be,” you sighed, grinding against him. You wanted him to lose himself in you. You wanted the calm and composed arch druid completely feral, fucking deep into you until the dawn forced your bodies apart.

When the tip of his cock notched at your entrance, you bit your lip.

He pushed in with a stretch. You opened around him and he slid into you with little resistance, snug in your warmth. You felt so, so full and when he pulled out, teasing your entrance again before thrusting back in, your mouth dropped open, and you moaned.

“So good,” he praised with his words slipping off into a low groan like he was biting something back. “Are you alright?”

You nodded in response and pushed yourself against him. He was gentle, true to his word, infuriatingly so.

“I don't want you to hold back,” you demanded.

His fingers dug into your skin, marking the tender flesh with cresent shapes. With another sharp thrust, you nearly feel forward into the grass. Halsin’s lips pulled close to your ear. “Are you sure that's what you want?”

“Forget your control and fuck me.”

No longer restrained, Halsin gave you exactly what you craved—hips snapping against you with no room for you to breathe.

You shuddered and cried out, ached and moaned. Even the night air couldn't cool the heat between your slick bodies. Your orgasm hit you hard, leaving you limp and useless against his heavy thrusts.

Halsin lifted your body against his chest and continued using you. One orgasm after the other.

You just hoped you'd still have your voice by sunrise.

#halsin x reader #halsin x tav #halsin smut #bg3 smut #bg3 x reader #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 smut #halsin fanfic #bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 headcanons #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #my works

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lets-just-daydream · 7 months

Text

i wanted more to astarion's storyline at cazadork's palace so here we are with my overactive imagination. also a hug for astarion because bro needs it

Summary:

It's almost time. Beyond the large ornate doors you'll find Cazador; you steel yourselves but a whisper of your name catches your attention from one of the prisoners behind the gate. An old flame.

(aka imagine you run into an old friend instead of astarion running into sebastian)

"No really, tell me more," Astarion said, barking out a laugh.

You hid behind your goblet of wine and laughed at his curiosity. "Have I really never told you about him?"

You had offhandedly mentioned an old flame of yours from a couple of years ago and this piqued Astarion's interest. The two of you sat side-by-side in front of the campfire, the rest of your company already retired to bed and as per usual, you and Astarion were still up.

"No, you haven't. So go on, tell me everything," Astarion said.

How to explain your strange relationship with Xavier. "Well, he's from a more or less noble family in Baldur's Gate and his father never really approved of our friendship. You know, with me being not at all noble."

Astarion kept quiet, sipping his wine as you explained.

"We spent a lot of time together and one day, I stopped seeing him as a friend and I fell in love with him, I think. He felt the same, too. He was walking me home one night after we'd been out at a tavern and when he saw me to my door, he kissed me."

You smiled and your cheeks flushed slightly at the memory. Astarion raised a brow and felt an unfamiliar pang in his chest at your expression. He couldn't help but wonder. Who was this man? Why wasn't he around anymore? Did you still love him?

You cleared your throat and continued. "After that night… I never saw him again. I assume his father found out about us and had him sent off and married to some noblewoman."

"What? He kissed you and then he disappeared?"

"Yes. I still don't know what he's up to now but I hope he's happy and out of his father's clutches."

Astarion put his wine down. You had fallen in love, kissed him and he had disappeared after the fact and you weren't cursing his name to the hells and back? Astarion figured you'd be at least a little bit slighted but you only wished the best for this Xavier.

"Do you still love him?"

You looked up at the pale elf and let out a laugh. "No, that was a long time ago. I still get a bit sad when I think back on it because we were so naïve and full of hope for the future," you said, a wistful smile on your lips.

Astarion knew this man could still be out there. You could still find him and return to him and at that thought he felt his chest burn. He didn't want you to find Xavier. Astarion wanted to be the one you thought of when you had these small wistful smiles on your face.

Sure, the sex you two had a couple times since meeting was great and Astarion had told you that his feelings were more than superficial at this point. But in an act of self-preservation he hadn't told you just how intense his feelings for you were. He figured you felt at least a little bit the same but this Xavier revelation threw him for a loop.

The elf played it off and held his hand out to you which you took. "Still, that must have been awful for you."

You nodded and didn't much feel like reminiscing on the past anymore. Instead, you decided to look to the journey ahead and what you were doing tomorrow. The real reason Astarion was still up tonight.

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Astarion?" You asked as you stared into the flames of the campfire.

Astarion raised a brow at you in question.

You sighed. "Tomorrow. Cazador."

The vampire's gaze flicked to the fire then back to meet yours and he shot you a sure grin that you had learned to see right through a long time ago. "Of course I am. I've only been waiting 200 years for this."

You didn't have the heart to tell him off for the mask he slipped on. Normally you'd tell him that he didn't need to hide his true feelings from you, that you understood him and would never exploit his trust. And with time, he really had learned to trust you. You got to see a side of him he rarely ever showed and you were grateful. It made your heart beat for him in a way you had never experienced before.

But tonight, the tension and uncertainty in the air with how tomorrow would go down, you granted him this.

"I know you've been ready forever but, just know that if it gets too much at any point, I've got your back. We all do," you reassured him. "Just say the word."

Astarion gave you a rare, soft smile in appreciation and leaned over to drape his arm over your shoulders.

"I don't know what tomorrow will bring," Astarion said, his voice serious. "I don't even know if it will happen how I've forever dreamed it would. Pissing on his ashes, enjoying his screams as I tear each digit and limb from his body." Astarion sighed. "Maybe I'll die before I even get to lay a finger on him."

Your heart dropped. "Perish the thought," you said sternly. You turned to face him fully and you rested your hands gently on his cheeks. "I will never let anyone hurt you. Especially not Cazador."

Astarion's lip curled into a slight smile at the way you spat his master's name. You seemed like you hated Cazador as much as Astarion did without ever meeting the man. Not that you needed to. Astarion had told you countless horror stories of his life under his master that made your blood boil and tears threaten to spill.

You stroked his cheek with your thumb. "I'm sorry he took so much from you, I feel awful for what he did to you over these 200 years. I can't even begin to imagine it. And I… I feel strange to say it but I'm glad I met you."

Astarion's brows shot up in surprise and you thought you had gone too far. Too intimate. You dropped your hands but he grabbed one and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly before letting out a sigh. "I'm glad I met you too, you're remarkable and I sometimes feel…" he trailed off. Now it was his turn to get flustered.

"What?" You coaxed.

"No, it's stupid," Astarion muttered as he looked at the ground. A very rare moment of insecurity.

You turned his face back to you and held his gaze, your eyes boring into his. "If you don't want to continue, that's alright."

"It's just…" He struggled. "I don't know. There's some moments, when we're talking like this or even in the middle of our romps, I feel as though I've lived this long because I was meant to meet you."

His words caused you to still and you felt your eyes water as he held your gaze, unsure of how you'd react to his candor.

"Oh, Astarion," you gasped as you leaned forward and wrapped him in a hug.

He held you in his arms and buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent, committing it to memory. He didn't know what tomorrow held. He didn't know if he'd make it out alive. But he had you and that was enough for tonight.

You awoke in Astarion's tent the following morning, his arms wrapped around you tight and one of your hands in his hair. Before he had even properly risen you could feel the tension in his body. You can't imagine the stress he must have felt all night. Today was the culmination of 200 years of misery, pain and torture and you meant to end it.

You stroked your fingers through Astarion's hair and he stirred, his eyes opening and landing on you.

"Good morning, beautiful," he greeted, his voice deep from sleep. "What a sight to wake up to."

You smiled and stroked his soft hair, wishing you could just… lean forward and give him a soft, loving kiss.

When you moved to get up, Astarion held you firmly in place, his eyes never leaving yours. Words on his lips that he didn't know how to formulate. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours softly. Soft enough that you could escape if he had misread everything. But he hadn't. You leaned into the kiss and slid your hand down to cradle his head as you pulled back. He chased you and held you firmly in place as he deepened the kiss, his movements almost desperate as he rolled you over and landed on top of you.

"Astarion," you breathed.

This was happening. Intimacy. Outside of just having sex. Or maybe this was leading to that but this kiss just felt different.

"Gods, I love the way my name sounds coming from your lips," he whispered against your skin before ravishing your lips once again.

He slipped his tongue inside your mouth and you granted him entry. You were mere putty in his embrace and you moaned softly as he cradled your head in his hand, his movements gentle but with an undertone of urgency. Like this would be the last time he would get to kiss you. You could understand the sentiment and tangled your fingers in his soft hair, pulling him close and taking his bottom lip into your lips, causing him to let out a breathy moan.

You had to eventually pull away to catch your breath, your heaving chest, flushed cheeks and parted lips made quite the sight and Astarion wasn't ready to let you go just yet. He leaned down to claim your lips again.

"Astarion, are you awake yet?" Gale called from outside his tent.

Astarion let out an annoyed huff before looking down at you, hoping that his actions could speak where words failed him today. He gives you one last soft kiss. "We'll finish this later."

You could only nod back dumbly as he stood and offered you a hand. Astarion stepped out of his tent and shot Gale a glare, holding the flap open for you to leave.

"Ah," Gale said to you. "Sorry about that, didn't realise that you were also in there…"

You waved him off and moved to your tent where you dressed and readied yourself for today's stomach-churning quest.

Getting into and around the Szarr's palace was surprisingly easy. Astarion charmed the guards on the way in and you were met with little resistance when you entered.

"Being back here…" Astarion shivered. "Can we just get this over and done with as quickly as possible?"

You made eye contact with Gale and Shadowheart and nodded.

You searched the palace as quickly as possible while Astarion sadly explained his memories of the places you wandered. You wanted to stop and give him a hug at every discovery you made but you'd be here forever if you did. You painfully kept your hands to yourself until you found an ornate ring that looked rather important.

After some more exploring, you found an elevator that even Astarion didn't know existed. But as soon as you all stepped in and started descending, he became even more nervous. His body stiffened and his eyes became steely. You stepped closer to him and offered him your hand which he took with a hint of a smile.

You descended into one of the most ornate but cold hallways you'd ever seen. It was grandiose, but uncomfortable and with a sense of foreboding. You all knew Cazador was somewhere down here preparing for the unthinkable. None of you could say a word. No funny quips about the architecture or loot you found.

You slowly descended the stairs and stepped towards the doors in front of you. Astarion's grip on your hand tightened slightly and you rubbed your thumb against his skin, trying your best to soothe him. You didn't think anything could soothe him right now.

Your heart beat intensely in your chest and you felt like you could vomit. You can't imagine how Astarion is feeling right now, about to walk back into the clutches of his master, not knowing if he would prevail. No. He would prevail and you would help him.

Astarion glanced around and you opened the doors, holding your breath and peeking through. You didn't see Cazador, but you could hear murmurs. Voices. You cautiously stepped through and were met with two large cells either side of the hallway, all filled with dirty, ragged looking people.

Astarion dropped your hand and it flew to his mouth. His eyes widened as he looked at the people in the cells. He recognised these people. He knew these people. These were people he had killed years and years ago. Or so he thought. He approached a cell and looked in at the countless people he had brought to Cazador. People he thought his master would feed on and then discard. But no. There were hundreds of ragged spawn.

"I… I don't believe it." Astarion gasped. "I never knew… Cazador was doing this."

At hearing Astarion's voice, the spawn in the cells turned to look at you and it was clear that a few of them recognised him. But to your surprise you heard a soft call of your name. The voice was vaguely familiar and your heart dropped.

You turned to the source of the voice and found yourself face-to-face with a haggard, red-eyed Xavier.

"X-Xavier…?" You asked, shocked. You felt like you were about to faint. "What are you doing here?"

You stepped towards the cell and he mirrored you, gripping the bars with his dirty fingers.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. "They didn't get you too, did they?"

You glanced at Astarion and if it were even possible, he was paler than usual.

"No, I'm– We're here to help you," you replied softly. You let your hand slide up the bar and come to meet Xavier's hand. Tears welled in your eyes and your voice became strained. "How long have you been here?"

Xavier's face scrunched as he tried to remember. "Hmm. I think… That night I walked you home and we kissed. I was so happy and unaware of anything around me. On my way home one of Cazador's spawn took me. It's all I've been able to think about. It's one of the only things I remember."

Your head spun and you felt like you could throw up. "No," you gasped. "T-Two years… You've been here all this time?"

The tears you'd tried to hold back fell all at once as you looked up at the man you once loved. "All this time," you sobbed. "I'd hoped your father had forced you off to marry some noblewoman."

Xavier smiled and rubbed your whitening hands where they still held the bars. "No. But even so, I would have come back to you. Somehow."

You stood back up and wiped the tears from your face. "I'm going to get you out of there, you're going to be okay."

Xavier nodded and looked over your companions gratefully until he landed on Astarion. "No…"

You sensed Astarion stiffen behind you and you hoped the dots you were staring to connect weren't true. You prayed, you hoped, you begged silently. But Xavier's next words pierced through you like an icy lance.

"You brought me here…"

You turned and looked at Astarion and he couldn't meet yours nor Xavier's gaze. He stared down at the floor and nodded, his eyes hooded and unreadable. He knew what he'd done. He knew what he'd caused you to lose. The words you spoke last night could only extend so far and now that you knew it was Astarion who had caused Xavier's disappearance. How could you forgive him? He couldn't bear to look you in the eye.

Shadowheart stepped forward and put a hand on your shoulder. "Come on, let's go deal with that monster and free your friend, okay?"

You nodded, your body moving in slow-motion as you approached the large ornate doors that held Astarion's fate on the other side.

It was a hard battle, made harder when you had to dodge through Cazador's minions to free Astarion from the binds of the ritual. The whole time you fought, you thought of the pain Xavier had gone through, the agony and torture Astarion had gone through and quickly enough, the pale elf had his master on his knees.

Astarion was right on the edge of having it all. Being an ascended vampire. He could walk in the sun after the tadpole had been dealt with, he wouldn't have to fear anyone again. He'd be a greater vampire than Cazador ever was. He asked for your help. But you know such great power never came free. There was always a cost.

What toll would sacrificing thousands of souls take on Astarion? Sweet, tortured Astarion who had been through hell and back and had made leaps and bounds to start becoming a better man. Someone you had grown to love. You couldn't bear to see him ripped apart like this.

But then again. You could help to give him this awesome power so few could ever be granted. You did want this for him, really, but your thoughts wandered back to Xavier and the countless other spawn who were waiting to be freed. Who you'd promised this to.

You looked back up at Astarion and shook your head. You imagined the life he could have. "Please don't do this, Astarion. Don't you want to live a life you can be proud of? I know you're better than him."

At your words, the fog in Astarion's mind cleared and he looked down at Cazador, blade in his hand. "You're right. I can be better than him." Astarion's gaze flicked down to a pleading Cazador. "But I'm not above enjoying this."

Before you knew what was happening, Astarion stabbed Cazador, hacking at him over and over until the former master was nothing but a lifeless, bloody corpse. You felt a fraction of the gratification Astarion must have felt as Cazador's screams filled the chamber before slowing into a gurgle and finally stopping. The pale elf dropped the blade and stepped back, a pained cry ripping through his throat. He'd done it. He was free.

He was free.

At this astronomical realisation, Astarion dropped to his knees and cried. He cried for the man he was when his heart still beat, cried for the centuries of torture he'd endured and cried for the life he'd had stolen from him. The culmination of 200 years of torture beyond belief and the aggressor was finally dead.

Astarion cried out again and you stepped toward him and knelt beside him. He suddenly felt warmth as you enveloped him in a hug and he held onto you, turning to face you and sobbing into your neck.

"My sweet Astarion," you whispered. "It's over now. I'm so proud of you."

At this, he sobbed harder for a moment and you ran your fingers through his hair and rubbed comforting circles into his scarred back. You didn't rush him, Gale and Shadowheart said nothing and let him take all the time he needed. After another moment, Astarion leaned back and caressed your face, his own face streaked with tears, blood and dirt. You saw how teary he was and the mixture of disbelief and hope for his future and your heart squeezed.

His brothers and sisters were freed from their magical shackles and one of his sisters approached, asking if it really was finally over.

"Yes."

Astarion then explained to his brothers and sisters what to do, where to take the freed spawn and wished them good luck. As they left, he stood and took Cazador's staff in hand, the following movements came to Astarion instinctively as he pressed it to the ground to free the thousands of trapped vampire spawn.

You smiled as you watched him. You truly were proud of Astarion, he would still be self-preserving and perhaps paranoid after you left but you hoped as time went by, he would be able to relax. Truly enjoy his freedom. You heard voices from the other side of the doors as Astarion's brothers and sisters greeted the other spawn. Your mind wandered to Xavier. At least he would have a chance at a new life, whatever that life may be.

"I think we're done here," Astarion said, tired. "Let's go."

You draped his arm over your shoulder and helped him up the stairs as Gale and Shadowheart led the way. They stopped at the top and shared a look before looking to you and stepping aside. The spawn had started filtering out but one remained near the cells. Xavier.

You approached him slowly, Astarion still hanging off your shoulders. Gale stepped forward and took Astarion off of you so you could have a moment. Astarion shot him a look but they lingered within earshot much to Gale's dismay.

"You did it. You freed us," Xavier smiled.

"Of course we did. I promised you that I would," you said. You swayed slightly on the spot and Xavier stepped forward, taking your hand in his.

"Will you come with me?" He breathed.

You almost weren't sure what he said but the way Astarion bristled and lowly hissed, you figured you'd heard correctly. Your blood ran cold and you were thrown back to 2 years ago, Xavier's kiss and the smile he gave before he left, promising to see you soon.

"Look, I," you didn't even know where to start. Your heart broke for him and the life you could have had together but you had closed that chapter long ago. You knew who your heart belonged to now, if the pale elf wanted it.

You tried to form into words your thoughts. How to explain that while Xavier's life was at a standstill, you continued living, loving and growing. Your heart ached as you tried to form the thought of, 'you know that vampire spawn who brought you here? Well I'm actually in love with him now, so…'

"Don't tell me it's him," Xavier gestured to Astarion who looked about ready to rip the former's head off. "He… he ruined my life, our lives."

You felt tears well in your eyes. You knew how hard this must be for him. He's thought of you nonstop for 2 years and you were about to tell him the man who ruined his life is the man you were choosing. But you knew Astarion. He wasn't that man anymore.

"Xavier, I can't go with you," you said. "I still have so much to do and… it is him." You sighed. This wasn't how you wanted to confess your love for the vampire spawn. You imagined it on a night you were alone and having a gentle moment. But here you were in front of your former love, your companions and the object of your affections all hanging onto your every word. "I know it's hard to come to terms with, Xavier… But it's always going to be Astarion."

You didn't see it but Astarion smiled and his face gained a bit of colour once again at your words. Xavier nodded and pursed his lips. He understood. He didn't like it, but he did understand and the finality in your voice told him that you weren't changing your mind.

"Well," Xavier said, lifting your hand and pressing a light kiss to the back of it. "If you ever do change your mind I'll be somewhere in the Underdark. I'll wait for you forever."

"Please don't do that," you whispered, your voice hoarse.

Xavier smiled and gently dropped your hand, turning to follow his coven of vampires to start a new life.

You sighed and watched as he left, years welling in your eyes. No one moved an inch until Gale and Astarion shuffled over to you and you felt a hand slip around your waist.

"Darling," Astarion breathed.

You could form no words and now it was your turn to cry in Astarion's arms. His skin was still caked in blood and sweat but you didn't care. He held you and stroked your hair as you sobbed into the crook of his neck.

"H-he was down here all along," you sniffed. "And I didn't know. I could have looked for him or… I don't know."

Realistically you knew you could never have done anything but you still felt like Xavier's fate was somehow your fault. Well, it wasn't your fault. Really it was Cazador's fault… Astarion's fault.

"Why him?" You asked, pulling back and looking up at Astarion with watery eyes.

He knew this was coming, honestly. You'd want to know why. How could Astarion pluck someone so innocent from the shadows who he knew was having such a wonderful night? You knew Astarion watched his victims, picked them carefully. He'd told you so himself. So, of course you'd want answers. And he knew that you knew it wasn't personal - he was doing what Cazador told him to. But it didn't hurt you any less.

"Let's get out of this dreadful place, clean ourselves up and we can talk," Astarion offered.

You nodded silently and stepped away from him, leading your small group out of the castle and to the tavern the rest of your group organised upon entering the city.

No one spoke another word the whole trek from the castle to the tavern. The rest of your companions swarmed you at the door but fell short when they saw your grief-stricken face, Astarion's unreadable expression and Shadowheart and Gale's awkward side-eyes.

You stepped past everyone, gathered some of your clothes and retreated into the bathroom wordlessly. Astarion watched you the whole time, wondering if this was it. Was this the straw that would break the camel's back? Would you send him away? He supposed now that he was free, he didn't really have anyone to fear anymore, he might be able to make it alone.

Alone. Not a feeling he was used to anymore. Not a feeling he wanted to experience, especially if it meant losing you.

In the bathroom, you were pleased to see that the bath was already filled with warm water, so you stripped your dirty clothes off and entered the bath. A sigh escaped from your lips and you let the water rush over your body, your thoughts stilling for a moment before you let out a choked sob once again.

You rested your head behind you on the tub and stared at the ceiling. What possible explanation could Astarion even give you? Xavier was one person in thousands that had fallen victim to Cazador's plot, Astarion included. But it didn't hurt any less.

The door to the bathroom opened slightly and you saw white curly locks poke through the gap. "May I come in?" Astarion asked.

"Sure," you said, your voice monotone. Flat. Not something he was used to hearing from you.

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, standing in front of it. His movements were careful, unsure. He stood by the door with his hands clasped together as his eyes shot from the floor, to you, to his surroundings and back to the floor.

He took a deep breath. "I know there's nothing I can say to make this better. I can't take it back and I can't fix it."

You said nothing, waiting for him to piece his thoughts together.

"I've told you what it was like, being Cazador's slave. I did what I had to, to survive and that included bringing people to him that didn't deserve it," Astarion stepped towards you and knelt by the bathside, finally meeting your eyes.

You'd seen true sadness in people's eyes before and you had caught Astarion in moments of sadness previously. But this was different. He wasn't just sad, he was sorrowful, and fearful. You almost reached out to smooth out the wrinkles on his brow but he continued talking.

"I know he meant a great deal to you and I… ruined so much. I'll do anything to show you I'm sorry. And if that includes…" Astarion trailed off and gulped before continuing. "If that includes me leaving this camp, then I will. I'll leave and that will be that."

"No!" You cried, leaping onto your knees and wrapping your arms around him. "No, I don't want you to leave, ever."

Water splashed onto the floor and dripped all over Astarion but he didn't care. He wrapped his arms around your naked torso and held you close, squeezing slightly as if you might float away and disappear.

You craned your neck back and looked at him. "I am upset. And… It is sad to learn Xavier's fate, but I did mean what I said down in those dungeons," you whispered. "It's you. It's always been you and for as long as you want me, it's you I want."

You hardly knew what was happening before you felt Astarion press his lips to yours in a searing, passionate kiss. It took your breath away and he poured his love for you and fear of losing you into it, never had you ever been kissed like that and you couldn't help but return it. His lips captured yours and you felt his fangs nick your skin but you didn't care, you opened your mouth up to him and he didn't hesitate in slipping his tongue in, tilting your head back so he had complete control over you. It felt like if your bodies could meld together they would and your breathing turned heavy as you fought with not wanting to break the kiss but needing to pull away for air.

You eventually broke the kiss, your chest heaving as you gulped for air. You eyed the pale elf in front of you and looked like he was ready to pounce on you again. You let out a light chuckle and sat back in the bath again.

"Would you like to join me? I'll clean you up."

"My love," Astarion whispered as he stood, removing his clothes. "I'll join you anywhere."

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldurs gate astarion #red writes

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syrma-sensei · 2 years

Text

→ A True Victory.

gif credit

pairing: daemon targaryen x lannister!reader.

rating: explicit.

warning: polygamy, established relationship, breeding kink, creampie, light sub/dom dynamics...

word count: 2.4k

summary: the newly-crowned king of the narrow sea returns to court victorious, but his greater triumph is crowning you with the dragon sigil.

PART II: A DRAGON'S GLORY.

PART III: A LIONESS'S HOME.

masterlist | ao3

YOU LIKE HIS NEW HAIRSTYLE, in fact, the prince never ceases to enchant you by his sharp looks, and the ridiculous amount of shameless sighs and lingering eyes on him confirm that you're not the only one who's quite taken by the prince. However, any sign of infatuation on your side is masterfully hidden under a cold façade. You sip from your wine and keep on exchanging the silly topic you're having with the other courtier ladies. Untill another, more of importance, is brought up.

“I heard that Lord Corlys is seeking an alliance with one of the free cities.” Lady Redwyne says.

“To the son of the Sealord of Braavos, or so I've heard.” Lady Strong remarks, before her lips press delicately on the rim of her goblet.

Joselyn Redwyne's puckered lips tighten in distaste, “Oh, that is awful to hear,” Her eyes drift momentarily to the King who's laughing along his brother on something the Queen has said, “The King mustn't stand by and do nothing about it. The retreat of the Velaryons' fleet will weaken the royal navy, thus, will put the King's reign in danger.”

“I do not think so,” Lady Strong answers, “Now the Prince is back at court victorious, and the two royal brothers made peace with eachother. The realm is stronger than ever. Isn't that right, my lady?” She turns her head towards you, a taunting grin visiting her lips.

A cold smile slips into yours, “The house of the dragon is at the height of its strength, Lady Strong, one more fleet or less cannot prove that his Grace's grasp on the realm has faltered.”

“Even when your prince husband fled to Dragonstone with two thousands men of the City Watch?” Lady Redwyne says.

Your grip tightens around the stem of your goblet. That again. They must always rub it in your face; your husband's abandonment of you, they're impudent enough to do so; it gives them a large amount of self-satisfactory to make a lioness of the rock who's wed to a fierce and royal dragon cornered, humiliated even. You smile at her, nevertheless; you'd never rise to the bait. Instead, and like the dutiful lady you are, who harbours great love for her husband, you choose to defend him.

“My prince husband had his personal reasons to pass some time alone on Dragonstone away from court.” Your gaze shifts to the prince, and fuck, he's looking at you, smirking. Your eyes lock for a moment before they flit back to the old lady. “And as Lady Strong just said, the Prince is now home, triumphant with the Triarchy destroyed. The realm owes him a lot.”

“Dear me, such a shame he did not want his wife's company in his time of solitude there.” The old lady murmurs.

The anger that has been huddling within your chest since the Prince's return finally snaps, and you decide to let it out on the old hag that chose not to keep her mouth shut. The moment your lips crack open, ready to shoot a snarky remark at her, you feel a very familiar warmth surronds you from behind.

“A shame indeed,” You hear the usual drawl in your husband's voice, “But such cold and grotesque island as Dragonstone is no suitable place for my delicate lady wife. Do you not agree, my ladies?”

“Prince Daemon.” Your company of nattering ladies all dipped in short courtesy for him.

You allow yourself to grin, just slightly, before you press your lips purse into thin line.

Your husband's hands perch gently on your shoulders, his thumbs squeezing a bit, and you shiver under his touch. His rough-padded fingers trail up to your neck, tilting your head aside so he can look at your eyes. You have the famous green eyes of the Lannisters, and they're burning no less than the wild fire. “Her Grace, Queen Alicent, has just mentioned to me the new additions to the gallery. Would you care to tour me around, my lady?” His thumb traces your cheek in a circular pattern. His public show of affection has been one of the perks you take huge delight in once. How he'd kiss you, caress you in front of the court. Abashedly, declaring his love and devotion to you. You took sick pleasure in making the ladies at court jealous and envious of your position. The woman who has it all. That what some would call you, and how would they not. You're the younger sister of the Lannister lord twins; a high-born lady with generous wealth, who happened to catch the interest of the King's younger brother, he took it so far that he named you the Queen of Love and Beauty after he's won an attorney, and decorated your head with a crown. Offending both his and his wife's houses. But he doesn't care. And perhaps that's the most alluring trait that made you fall in love with the handsome prince; he's taken you as a second wife, in the tradition of his house. He didn't care about the havoc he faced for that, and your family didn't actually mind as it comes back at them with the advantage of having you marrying a royalty.

A dragon marrying a lioness, it made quite the shake in the realm. And everyone acquiesced to the viciousness of your love.

Daemon could've sworn that the fire in your eyes is more lethal than Caraxes', and the Rogue Prince is fond of playing with yours. You smile cordially at your husband, “Of course, my love.” Then you turn to your companions, “If you will excuse us, Your Ladyships.” You remove his arms from around you, but he offers you his elbow, and you have no choice but to accept it.

You two walk into the palace in silence. Your feet clanging against the corridors floor, your hand still latches onto his arm. Once in the gallery, Daemon orders the servants and guards out. When he makes sure that you two are alone, he takes the opportunity and leans into your neck, pressing light kisses on your anointed skin.

“How I have missed you.” He whispers desperately as he inhales the sweet scent of the Lysene oils he's used to gift you. You almost give in. Every resolve you solidly built to fortify yourself against him is falling apart at a mere touch of his. You truly love him, and he truly owns you, body and heart. You're his precious prize, therefore, he cannot treat you as such, and you'll make sure that he'd pay for hurting you. He's your husband, your lord, your prince, your beloved. But you're a lioness of the Rock, who holds great pride, and your dragon wounded it deeply.

You shake away from his touch, “Oh have you?” Turning your head to face him, your feigned smile finally drops. “Well, I have not.”

You step forwards, making sure his body warmth is fairly away from you.

He strides towards you, “(Y/N), darling...” His steps come to a haul when you spin around to stop him.

“You cannot go and abandon me in an overnight, and come back after four years like nothing happened, Daemon!”

The latter stills on his spot, looking at you blankly, “We were at war, love, what did you expect from me?”

“You did not fly to Dragonstone because you were at war, Daemon.” You hiss at his face through gritted teeth.

“I was at one with my brother.” He replies frankly.

“And you deemed that leaving me, your fucking lawful wife, here suffering from courtiers looking at me sideways, and whispering the foulest things behind my back, to the point they don't have any sliver of courtesy and say it in my face, would be a great notion? How smart of you, husband.”

A small yelp escapes your throat as Daemon's hand clasps on your forearm and drags you behind him, splaying you open at one of gallery's walls. His face is few inches away from you, his hot breath slamming your soft skin, searing like the one his dragon produces. Your own grows ragged. His violet eyes pouring into yours. Glowing amethysts clashing with scalding emeralds.

“I did not take you with me, because if I did, you going with me into exile would have condemned the entirety of your house as well.” His tone is calm. However, the fires within his eyes tell you otherwise. “And who ever dared to hurt you in my absence, I shall gouge their tongues myself.”

A shudder sweeps over your body, you know your dragon is true to his words. However, that will come later. “But I'm your wife, Daemon.” You murmur breathlessly, “The one you fought the world for, or do you not remember?”

Your husband grins wickedly, “Of course I remember.” He tugs a strand of your golden hair behind your ear, “Do you think I shared interests with Lord Corlys only for the sheer lust for victory and to taunt my kingly brother?”

“Wouldn't put it past you.” You say in whisper, “You did it to win your post in your brother's court back.”

Daemon chuckles, “Can't deny I did.” His slender fingers twirl a tress of your hair, “Nevertheless, it came clear to me, after four years in exile, three of them at war, that there is no victory can compete with the one I've achieved of having you.”

A crimson hue smudges your face, and your prince pops your nose playfully. “Ah, here she is, my good kitten.”

Kitten, is the pet name he's given you when you show hints of your more submissive side, that only him gets to see it. The wild lioness that everyone is intimated by turns into putty in the prince's hand. Her resonant roars turn into delicious mewls when the dragon coaxes the worst out of her.

His hand is warm against your cheek when he cups your pretty face. He roams your body up and down with his eyes. You're wearing a sleeveless dress, made of green velvet. The fabric was a present from him. The colour brings out the green of your eyes, and the golden embroidery patterns accentuate the gold of your mane. You lean into his touch, and his hand grazes up to your mane, grabbing it a tad to make more available skin for him to feast on.

You whimper weakly, your body is already raging with need; four years deprived of this... of him. You never imagined you'd have to go celibate after you married Daemon, he always had you in his bed, fucking you almost every night, teaching you the arts of love and carnality in his sheets, the ways of hedonism you never thought of before. He pleased you and taught you how to please him. And you did so eagerly.

His hands touch your bare arms, pressing your hands and bringing them up to his lips, kissing each knuckle and fingertip of yours. You giggle and he grins. Daemon dips again and trails a line of open-mouthed kisses on your neck, jaw, and chin. He decides to look at your eyes before he presses his lips against yours. Your breathing is heaving, your eye are half-lidded, and before you know it, his lips are on yours. Hungry, lustful, and burning. Daemon grasps your shoulders as his lips crushing against yours, growling desperately in your mouth. Then his hands drop to your skirts, you help him lifting them up, and shuffling your undergarments down.

“Gods,” He hisses as he slips a finger inside of you. “You're as tight as you were at our wedding night.”

“Daemon, please...” You moan when you feel his thumb brushing your clit. “Please...”

“How cruel of me,” He remarks, a hint of mockery tinting his voice, “Leaving my wife unfulfilled and unsatisfied.”

You slap his chest playfully, “For four years you fucking twat.”

He grips on your hair again, with a bit more force this time, “That's no way to talk to your prince, my lady.” He kisses your lips again.

You laugh between the kisses, “And that was no way to treat your lady wife, my prince.” He groans in irritation, “Your lioness became hopeless to the point of considering returning to her original den, Casterly Rock.”

Daemon freezes, “What?”

“See, husband?” You sassed, “If you had been a little more late, you wouldn't have found me here.”

He grumbles, “Then I would have mounted my dragon and come to you, darling, and nothing could've stopped me from taking you again like I did first time.” He turns you around, your breasts pressing against the cold wall.

“Oh, shall I test the waters, my prince?” Your eyes squeeze shut as his fingers hit that delicious spot of you. He hasn't forgotten.

“Do not tempt the dragon, darling,” He snarls next to your ear, “You'll only get burned.”

“I've taken much more harder things, Daemon.” Your chuckle is interjected by moans.

“You're taking much more today.”

He continues to touch you, to ease your skin, with his lips and hands. His fingers coax your insides untill you're begging for his cock. He knows exactly where to touch you, earning your submission once again.

He clasps your hands, your fingers interlocking, as he thrusts deeply into you. All wet and warm for him. You gasp, your body craving for more. And Daemon knows, from the way your walls are sucking him up greedily and eagerly. His tip kissing your cervix each time he snaps his hips. You spin around and cling to him in desperation; your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist.

“Ah... ah... Daemon...” Your head snaps backwards, and his lips are on your neck. “Give it to me please, husband, please!”

Daemon doesn't stop untill he gives you both, his and your high. And he fucks his seeds through your pleasure. In hope of a child will be born nine moons from now. You quiver, tears streaming down your cheeks. Your hands clawing at his back, and you bury your face into his neck. You don't wish him to see you crying. Daemon does indeed relish in watching you submit to him, but he never is fond of weaklings.

But Daemon senses the shake of your chest and sees the shinning beads on your face.

“What is it darling?” He tugs your hair away from your forehead, cradling your face in both hands, “Speak to me, love...”

“Never leave again.” Your words came out hushed, fragile.

“I never will.”

#daemon x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #prince daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen headcanon #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x you #Daemon Targaryen x y/n #house of the dragon #game of thrones #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen fic #Daemon Targaryen fluff #daemon targaryen fanfic

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littlejuicebox · 3 months

Text

Beach babies.

Man oh man Dadstarion! My mind could probably come up with a thousand scenarios for this theme.

This one might make you all cry. But like, happy tears? Maybe?

Summary: It’s a day at the beach with toddler Gale, pregnant Tav, and Dadstarion. Gale loves his Papa and always wants to look just like him; this presents a problem.

Tags/Warnings: fluff, light mentions of Astarion ptsd/trauma, in game spoilers, kids, parenthood, toddlers, pregnancy, light angst w comfort, comment if you see anything else I’m missing

Astarion didn’t particularly enjoy the beach. It was often crowded, feeling coarse grains of sand stuck between his toes unnerved him, and it was impossible to find a good vintage for miles unless you brought it yourself.

Which, today, he did.

“Loving the sun and loving the beach are two different things, entirely, my sweet.” The elf drawls as he takes a sip of wine from his goblet.

You, Astarion, and almost-three-year old Gale are all sitting on a woven blanket inside a rather ostentatious canopy tent, taking a respite from playing in the water with the toddler. The canopy had been Astarion’s choice — he’d refused to have any beach days without it this year. As it was Gale’s last summer as an only child, and your first born adored the beach, you’d reluctantly agreed to the ridiculous shelter in exchange for two more planned beach days on behalf of your toddler.

Astarion remarked that perhaps you should have used your strong negotiation skills rather than your community service as the main focus of your political platform all those years ago.

And then you won the familial negotiation. Though you still think your old camp tent would have sufficed just fine.

You sigh at your husband, “I suppose. But I seem to remember you being quite content with rolling around in the dirt once upon a time.”

You’re watching Gale as he scoops sand into a bucket. His face is covered in the remnants of fruit juice from his lunch, and his little silver curls are bouncing around in the wind. He’s wearing a thin, white cotton shirt and striped cotton swim trousers — the outfit is basically a child’s version of your husband’s.

Daddy and his mini-me.

Astarion chuckles, “Yes, well… we didn’t have much choice in the matter back then, did we, little love. And for the thousandth time, I did have a blanket set up in that clearing—“

“I never saw it!” You interject, “So for all I know, you’ve simply decided to tell me that to cover your ah— butt.”

A huff from your husband as he rolls his eyes at you, “My love, have I ever lied to you?”

Your eyes narrow, and you open your mouth, about to retort when the elf catches his mistake and is quick to amend his statement.

“Have I ever lied to you after our talk at Moonrise Towers all those years ago?” He asks, cocking his head just slightly, convinced he’s proven his point.

You pause as your mind plays through years of memories. And then you grin playfully, “Yes! The night you proposed and told me you found those gold coins on the dock.”

The elf scoffs incredulously, “You are a pain in the ah— butt. You know what I mean, Tav. Have I ever lied to you to intentionally hurt or manipulate you since then? Or to gain your favor?”

You chuckle and turn yourself slightly — it’s no easy feat, given the size of your pregnant stomach — moving to peck your husband on the cheek, “No, my love. I don’t suppose you have.”

Astarion hums happily as he finishes off his goblet, “Very well then, dear. I trust that means you believe me when I say I did have a blanket in that clearing and you simply couldn’t keep your hands—“

“Mommy! I too hot!” Gale suddenly cries.

When the two of you turn to acknowledge the toddler, he’s thrown his shovel and started thrashing his feet, kicking up grains of sand in the process.

Today was sweltering in comparison to the other days you’d spent at the beach. The canopy was unable to protect all three of you from the worst of the mid afternoon heat.

You sigh and hold your hand out to the toddler, “Gale, come here and let mommy take your shirt off. It’s too hot to be—“

“NO!” The little boy shrieks before standing up and stomping on the sand castle he’d just spent several minutes building, “I want look like daddy!”

“My love, you and daddy will still be in matching pants even if your shirt is off.” You coo, hoping your voice will soothe Gale, though you know the logic is far beyond what an almost-three-year old can understand.

Astarion does not take his shirt off in public. He hasn’t since your days in camp all those years ago, when it had been an unfortunate necessity from time to time. But he always hated it.

His scars are not something Astarion is particularly fond of revealing; even your former campmates have never caught sight of his back since the old days. You know as much. So your only choice, really, is to try and reason with the child.

It’s not working.

Gale is crying now, and his growing frustration is quickly making him overheated. His face and body are both turning red as he wails. Despite the magic dampener around his neck, you both know there will soon be a gust of wind knocking the entire tent down if he isn’t soothed.

“Gale, darling, won’t you please let mommy—“

You’re cut off by a shrill scream. The toddler becomes more red; large patches of crimson are splotched across his face and arms. The breeze is starting to pick up quite suspiciously. It won’t be much longer before—

“Look, Gale! Look at daddy!” Your husband exclaims, and when you glance to the side, you see that Astarion has willingly ripped off his own shirt. The muscle feathering in his jaw shows his discomfort, despite the fact the tent is shielding his back from any potential onlookers.

This catches the little boy’s attention. His green eyes snap open and he begins to relax as he examines his father and realizes the older man is, in fact, shirtless. Gale giggles and then tries to rip his own shirt off, though it gets caught around his neck and Astarion has to lean forward to help him.

The toddler grins at his father, “We match ‘gain, daddy!”

And then he’s back to playing in the sand, the entire tantrum all but forgotten on his part.

You quietly watch your husband, where he is still sitting nearly frozen, clearly working through something in his own mind. He’s wearing that faraway, glassy look in his eyes. The look has become exceedingly rare over time, but still rears its ugly head every once in a while.

Your hand finds its way to Astarion’s, where he’s dug it down into the sand, simply trying to clutch onto something in an attempt to keep himself together.

When your fingers brush against your husband’s, his eyes snap to you, and he’s pulled from whatever thought had been racing through his mind as he threads his fingers through yours. Now he’s clutching onto you.

“You’re a good father, you know.” You murmur, focusing your eyes on your husband’s as you rub the back of his hand with your thumb. A moment of silence passes between the two of you as he simply nods in acknowledgment, unable to bring himself to say anything as he sits in discomfort. Gale is singing happily as he scoops more sand into his bucket, oblivious to the two of you.

You flash a wide grin at Astarion and his eyebrows crinkle as he watches you, not understanding why.

“I think the twins think so, too, daddy.” You whisper, and you bring his sandy hand to your stomach, where the first few flutterings of movement can barely be felt beneath the stretching skin.

For just a moment, Astarion forgets himself as he beams and moves to place a kiss on the swell of your abdomen. Anyone looking at your family might have caught the quickest glimpse of his scars in that single, fleeting instance. But then the moment is gone, and he lays down with a sigh, obscuring his back completely.

“I just did it because I couldn’t be bothered to pitch the tent again if Gale accidentally blew it down, my love.” Your husband says in that offhanded, airy way of his that he uses whenever he’s feeling particularly vulnerable.

And right there, you think that may be the second lie Astarion has ever told you since your discussion at Moonrise Towers all those years ago.

But you’ll let that one slide.

#astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #baulders gate astarion #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x f!reader #astarion x female reader #astarion reader insert #dadstarion #dadstarion fic #Papastarion

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