#I’d like to shell Astarion

[aro-tarot]

I stayed up a bit longer since I finally got back to playing my gnome bard, my first character in BG3. Stopped the serial killer first since I heard you have to watch the long rests with that.

But then after I did Astarion’s quest. Stayed up a bit longer because of that.

And like, it’s one thing to watch the cutscenes in videos and to actually, like, play it. Even after seeing all the cutscenes, it still made me emotional watching it all. Can’t imagine how much more it might have been if it was my sorcerer who I’ve been playing more lately, and besides cutting a drow’s head off to deliver to be fertilizer, she’s more softer than my bard that started silly and started growing more caring as the story went on.

#like I literally cried and I was expecting that since I have already seen the cutscenes #but that didn’t change my reaction at all #even grew scared seeing him captured and needing to run over and help him #the DA series is probably my favorite video game series #and though the characters in those games became favorites #I’ve never had such a reaction like that while playing #and now I need to try to sleep since I really need to go to sleep #because I have to make a bag tomorrow #and also my Charm Doll Evan will probably come tomorrow #also like getting a BJD for Gwen is top of my list once I’m able to start saving up #but also I think the next one or maybe right before her #I’d like to shell Astarion #I’d thought about shelling Alistair from DA before and my dwarf warden #but that was a maybe that’s be cool #while Astarion is like no I want to shell him #and maybe figure out which character or make a new one that could be shelled later to be Tav #des says stuff

[vixstarria]

What do you want to do with it?

My headcanon is that over the course of the in-game romance with Astarion, when you stop having sex in Act 2, he still pleasures Tav, but draws the line at himself being touched below the waist directly, gradually exploring and expanding his limits.

Up to you to decide how far in the game this might be appropriate.

18+, smut, Astarion x GN!Reader, Astarion x Tav, explicit, porn no plot, dirty talk, 'use your words', oral sex (male receiving) (kinda?)

Approx 900 words

Tags: @thisisew - I'm not sure this is what you signed up for, but this is what you're getting today.

All under the cut.

Astarion had just brought you to another climax, using his lithe, skilled hands.  

“I love doing that to you... Your moans, the way you arch against me...” He continued to kiss your neck and stroke your body, clearly not content to be finished with you yet. “I can’t get enough of you,” he whispered. You turned in his arms to face him and drew him into a deep kiss. Once he pulled away from you, he gave you an intense and sultry look. He looked like he wanted to say something but was hesitant.  

“Can we try something?” he said, finally.  

“Anything, if you think you’re up for it.” You tried not to sound too eager, your heart suddenly picking up pace again. 

“I thought we could put that tongue of yours to good use,” he grinned.

Oh? Just like that? Now? There had to be a catch, you thought. 

He took your hand and ran it down along his shirtless torso until it rested over the bulge beneath his pants. This was the first time you’d felt it with your hand in what felt like eternity.  

“Feel how hard I am for you? How bad I want you?” he breathed, hoarsely, maintaining eye contact. He held your hand there, letting you squeeze and lightly stroke his erection through the fabric. The material wasn’t nearly thin enough for your liking.  

"Gods, I miss your cock,” you found yourself saying. Astarion just chuckled in response, his lips curling into a playful smirk.  

“What do you want to do with it?” he drawled. 

“Mmm, everything.” You were caught very much off guard, albeit pleasantly so. 

“Be specific.” 

He guided your hand, controlling the pressure with which you groped him.  

Hmm, where should I start... 

“I want it in my mouth again.” 

“Details, darling,” he whispered, rolling onto his back.  

So that’s what it was going to be. Very well.  

“You want details on everything I want to do with your cock?” You flashed Astarion a devilish grin as you hooked one of your legs around his and sank against him, to whisper in his ear. 

“Every filthy little detail, love,” he breathed, pleased that you took the bait.  

“Nothing filthy about making you feel good like you deserve,” you purred. “First, I'd want to take it in my hand and stroke it, while I licked it starting at the base of your balls, tracing that beautiful vein that runs along its length with my tongue.” 

Astarion hummed approvingly. 

“Then, once I worked my way up, I’d lick and suck lightly just around the head.” Astarion laid back and shut his eyes as you continued to whisper in his ear. 

“Tease its underside with my wet tongue until you start leaking precum for me.“ You nibbled lightly on his earlobe as you said this, making him groan. “I'd lick it all up.”  

You were starting to breathe harder, getting carried away by your own imagery.  

“Gods, I want to taste you again,” you whispered, licking the inner shell of his ear. You were starting to grind against his leg. “Touch me,” you pleaded. 

“And distract you while you’re doing such a good job..?” he smirked, his breathing hard too. “I think not. Keep going.” 

You whimpered discontentedly but continued. He still held your hand on his erection, letting you stroke it lightly through the fabric.  

“Then I'd put my whole mouth on it, working it deeper and deeper in, inch by inch, until it hit the back of my throat.” 

“How fast?” he asked, starting to lightly roll his hips into your hand. 

“Slowly at first, running my tongue all around the head each time I got to the tip.” The look on Astarion’s face was of agonised bliss. “Are you laying or standing in this little fantasy of mine?” 

“Standing,” he whispered, without hesitation. You grinned at the certainty with which he said that. 

“Oh? With me on my knees before you? Is that how you want me?” you teased. 

“On your knees like the good, dirty little devil you are. Keep going.” 

“I’d cup your balls in one hand as I sucked you, playing with them.” 

“Like this?” he asked, guiding your hand lower on the bulge in his pants. 

“Exactly like that. Then I’d pick up pace, sucking you wet and sloppy, humming and moaning around you, until I couldn't do it anymore.” 

“Couldn't do it anymore? You’d give up after all that hard work?” 

“You are a lot of hard work, love. I'd need you to grab my hair and fuck my mouth yourself, as fast and as long as you needed, until you came.” 

“Came where?” his grip on your hand tightened. 

“My mouth, of course. I want to swallow every last drop of you.” Your voice dropped lower as you murmured in his ear: “Do you want me to look you in the eyes while I do it..? I will.” 

He groaned and pulled your hand away, pinning it over your head, as he rolled on top of you, trailing open-mouthed kisses up your neck, over your jaw and up the side of your face.  

“Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?” he growled in your ear. “I’m going to be thinking about that ceaselessly. Until I finally let you do it.” 

“Good,” you said, biting his lip. “Now touch me again. I think I've earned a reward.” 

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed, check out my other work

AO3

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion romance #astarion smut #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 smut

[cassieuncaged]

Price of Compassion - Part 3

NSFW/MATURE/MDNI/18+

Part 1 | Part 2

Astarion x Reader

Summary: You and a certain roguish vampire give into a night of passion.

TW: explicit sexual content, blood drinking, language.

WC: 2.4K

A/N: I posted chapter three awhile ago and decided to finally cross post. One more chapter filled with angst and fluff coming soon!

The next part will officially be my final reader insert :)

Lithe fingers dip between a tangle of limbs, undoing the clasps of your doublet while his swelling groin ruts against your pubic bone. The friction is the most palpable sexual attention you’ve garnered in what feels like a lifetime.

Not to mention the attention of such a talented lover instead of a fumbling novice. His iciness is a strange sensation, pearlescent skin freezing against the warmth of a flushed chest when a ruffled jerkin is finally yanked open. One elbow is braced beside a clothed shoulder as skillful lips lap at the puckered pin pricks marring your neck while one breast is kneaded beneath restrictive smalls.

Despite his condition, Astarion feels so alive as fangs snag against a tender throat, groaning needily as he basks in your warmth. The barrier of a woven brassiere is pushed aside as a skilled forefinger and thumb tweak a pebbled teat. Mewling hungrily at his ministrations, cold breaths spans across the shell of one ear before that velvety voice is cradling your senses in promising words.

“I wonder what delicious secrets this body of yours is harboring.” One thigh presses against a sharp hip as your leg remains hooked across the small of his back. “Shall we discover together?”

“Please…” you whine, arching upwards as he spreads the front of your doublet completely open. “Ravish my needy form and I’m sure you’ll be delighted in the trove of treasures you seek.”

“Quite the poetic bard considering you’re writhing against my cock like a beast in heat.” He grits, feeling his loins set aflame as you stifle a giggle. You ignite something so foreign in him: pure delight mingled with an insatiable hunger. He wonders if he’s ever felt so unrestrained with a lover before his untimely demise but is unable to patch the memories together. He dismisses the thought before ducking down to take a stiff peak between talented lips. Suckling hungrily, you mewl with delight as his tongue flicks across the tip.

“Bend me on all fours and see exactly how much of a beast I can be,” your fingers desperately thread through silvery curls as a deep laugh rumbles against your chest.

“Oh, you are just a delightful little treat,” Astarion groans before leaning back on his haunches, knees pressed again against your clothed mound. Grinding down, you’re desperate for any friction as muscles desperately clench around nothing. “Greedy little thing too.”

“Fuck me into oblivion and I’ll write the most flattering ballads about our debauchery.” You whine, shrugging the unclasped doublet and brassiere off on the forest floor before working at the laces of velveteen breeches. “I find myself to be a rather generous poet.”

“I’m dying to discover just how generous you can be,” the man practically purrs as his ruffled tunic is swiftly removed and tossed asunder. A desperate moan is torn from your throat as wide eyes hungrily assess a beautifully sculpted body. Muscles twitch beneath warm hands, feeling like molten lava against icy skin. Admiring every dip and ridge, your fingers dance playfully across the waistband of his breeches before softly grazing a clothed cock.

“Very,” you practically sing, melodic voice tinkling through the forest. There’s an intrusive thought, a passing consideration that his intrusion will feel like velvet swaddled ice intruding your womb. Clamoring at the thought, one lace is plucked taut as the string of a fiddle. “My mouth has many talents other than singing bawdy songs.”

“I’d rather like to challenge that declaration,” Astarion delights in how pupils dilate like the moon eclipsing the sun, as he pushes shaking fingers away to undo the ties himself. A strangled cry escapes your throat when a long member is exposed to the night air. Long fingers drift down the length lazily before you’re gracelessly rolling to your belly, crawling until the weeping head bobs in front of your nose. “Be gentle. It’s been…a lifetime.”

You realize he’s quivering, nervous to allow another to be in control of his pleasure. One hand eases leather breeches down thick thighs, caressing tender skin as lust filled eyes flicker upwards to meet a heavily lidded pair.

“May I touch you?” it’s not the words themselves, but rather the kindness emitted that steals the breath from his throat. Something so erotic that straddles the line of pure and loving, something the vampire doesn’t remember from his living years. He wants to be disgusted by such sincerity. Yet all revulsion melts away and is replaced by genuine affection.

How strange.

“You may, pet.” Attempting to rebuild his faltering confidence, a large hand plants firmly at the back of your head. A hot and needy tongue laps at his dripping tip, enjoying the salty chill of his essence. Flicking across his slit teasingly is immediately followed by a stroke against a dusky vein. “Oh, hells.”

“What a lovely cock,” you sigh, before the vicelike grip on the back of your head presses him into the cavernous warmth of your mouth. The cold is strange as he settles deeply with a groan, prickling the back of your throat. You’re unseasoned, attempting to relax tense muscles and breathe out of flared nostrils.

“What was that, darling?” Astarion mocks, hissing his fangs before beginning to thrust languidly. “Appears your mouth is rather full.”

Gagging, you adjust to the heaviness settled on the flat of your tongue, bobbing in time with the tempo set. Saliva gathers at the corners of stretched lips, dribbling down your chin. Larger than you expected, the entirety of his length doesn’t fit as firm fingers wrap around exposed base while you dutifully suck and lave at the rest.

For nearly two centuries of seducing others, he can’t remember when someone so eagerly assisted him in seeking his own pleasure. Teeth grind together as a guttural moan escapes perfect lips, fingers threaded through your hair. Practically toppling over from passion, Astarion watches hungrily as one hand dips between covered thighs.

Rubbing your clothed mound in time with his thrusts relieves the taut pressure mounting between your legs. His pace remains slow yet firm, tip pushing ever so slightly down your throat. Attempting not to gag, blunt teeth gently caress the tender member as your fist squeezes the base. Your cunt clenches as another moan escapes him, needy and shallow.

“Please,” yanking you firmly off his length is surprising though appreciated as tears prickle the corners of bleary eyes, “You are absolutely amazing. But I’m not ready to be spent quite yet.”

“Oh?” an icy palm cradles your chin, gently pulling upwards until you’re settled on your knees, hard nipples scraping against his equally bare chest. One ashen brow quirks delicately, studying the debauched sight before him. Your lips are swollen but not nearly enough…

Mouths crash against each other fervently as a muscular arm latches around the small of your back. Tongues messily lance as the heady taste of expensive brandy flickers against sensitive taste buds, mingling with Astarion’s own saltiness that lingers on your lips. The kiss is wilder than the one earlier, something igniting deep in both of your bellies this time. He doesn’t want to admit how perfect you feel pressed against him, how this feels so natural with you.

For tonight, Astarion is no longer a ghost haunting the husk of a man.

A soft hand palms your breast eagerly, freezing veneer relishing the heat you radiate, like the sun calling to the moon. Then he smirks against your lips, brows pressed together as both pant heavily with no trepidation. The sharp curve of his nose nudges your own as kisses are littered from the corner of your mouth down to the hard plane of your jaw.

“Bite me,” you whine, ready to feel that familiar throb heightens between your thighs. While the subject has never been broached, both know exactly what his nightly feedings do to your body. Astarion feels your pulse quicken, smells the arousal on you like the feral beast you are.

“Such an eager treat,” he chuckles against the crook of your neck before gently pushing you onto your back. Your gaze lingers on his cock, still slick from earlier ministrations as he peels his breeches off completely. Then you’re both working at the laces of your own, awkwardly them down bare legs, “But may I taste something else first?”

“I’m liable to sing your praises if you do that,” It’s a playful warning as spread your thighs as spread obscenely wide.

“I hope you do,” his timbre is deeper, dark with lust as wine red eyes drag across your swollen cunt. “I’d like the entirety of camp hear your cries as you come apart again and again.”

“First you have to touch me.” You jest, allowing your knees to splay against the dewy grass.

“Apparently,” One finger swipes down the length of your slit, before his head is dipping down between spread legs. “I don’t. Considering how wet you are from sucking my cock alone.”

“Stop teasing and-” your words are cut off with an embarrassing sound as soft lips latch against your core. Still retaining the heat from impassioned kisses, he feels like fire against molten flesh as instinct settles in. Lapping at you like a parched man wandering the Anauroch desert, he’s found his oasis. The tip of a skilled tongue circles your clit without directly touching it as you buck against him. Large hands press bare thighs downwards, attempting to keep the wriggling at a minimum before he’s harshly sucking the swollen bud between his lips.

Your own fingers seek purchase in silvery curls, enjoying how the texture tickles your palms. You mewl as that silver tongue suddenly spears a slick hole at a maddening pace. An explosion of stars explode beneath clenched eyelids as pleasure washes over you like a wave, muscles spasming as a chorus of the spawn’s name echoes through the night.

“Minx,” he chides, tearing himself from your cunt before his veins slip into your inner thigh like a blade through sinew. Vampiric venom courses through purpling veins as your head lolls to one side, immersed by a chilling bite as he suckles tender skin. Vision begins to swim again, black beginning to cloud the edges of the night before Astarion pulls away with a pant. “One who tastes sweeter than the finest wine.”

“What exactly tastes so delectable?” you tease before a solid body is slithering up between your legs, pressing a trail of bloody kisses against a quivering mound, a shallow navel, goose pimpled breasts.

“Dare I say both?” Astarion sighs, tongue swiping across one clavicle. “I’ve been with thousands yet I’d travel the across the Faerun twice over to savor something so sweet on my lips again.”

“I thought I was the one supposed to compose poetry.” A sharp nose nuzzles into the hollow of your throat as a talented mouth continues to ghost upwards. Your breathing hitches as his twitching erection prods one thigh.

“You’re not the only one with an affinity for pretty words.” He chides, carefully avoiding your gaze as lips gently glide against each other. Eyelids flutter close as strong arms brace either of your shoulders, chest heaving. There’s a struggle to remain present, to not immediately close his mind off and disappear into its dark recesses. Then your palm flattens against his cheek, pulling his gaze upwards to disarming doe eyes.

Stay with me.

The plea is silent though he can feel the words through the squirming of a tadpole. No one has ever been so cautious with his invisible fragility. You want something more, something that frightens him. Astarion can provide pleasure, a pleasant distraction. How could you ever be anything more than a body to bed?

Then the thoughts fade away as a delicate fingers wind between a tangle of limbs, gently grasping his throbbing cock before swiping the head through dripping folds. His eyes begin to roll back, a snowy ringlet tickling your brow when the bulbous head finally splits you.

“By the gods…” his words are strangled as the he slowly bottoms out. Settled snuggly inside suffocating walls, you spasm uncontrollably as your legs immediately wrap around his hips like creeping vines. You wish to hold him there forever, groaning as an undead heartbeat throbs like a metronome. “You truly were created for my own ruin.”

“I-I…please,” the words are a stammer as lean hips begin to rock slowly before the entire length of him is drawn out and slammed back in with an eager stab. “More…”

“Careful what you wish for, darling,” he purrs before kissing his way to the shell of one ear, “You might just get it.”

Words are lost as a maddening pace is struck, slow yet bruising as each slam grinds pelvises together greedily. You’re convinced nothing has felt as delectable as he manages to find every nerve ending and light them each a flame. Feasting on sanguine blood gives the illusion of life as a broad chest houses a foreign heat. It’s intoxicating, even more so the position suddenly shifts. His strength is impressive as you’re effortlessly pulled into his lap.

Arms are knotted around a long neck as large hands settle upon lush hips, vigorously bouncing you atop him. A string of obscenities leaves swelled lips followed by the incessant chanting of his name like you’re worshipping a god. He'd smirk if his hips didn't begin to stutter, cock jerking as you meet each thrust eagerly, hungrily as you roll against him. Feeling yourself unravel from the inside out, your own release beckons when fangs split the healing wound upon your throat once more. Sucking greedily, your body limply falls against a sturdy chest as he finishes with a few bruising thrusts.

Pulling away from a delicious neck, Astarion says nothing as his fingers dig painfully in the skin of your back. Panting breaths are the only sound in the forest other that the rushing water of the river and the chorus of crickets. You grin against the column of his throat as he tucks you beneath a sharp chin.

For a moment, bloody and spent, it feels like you are truly his.

#astarion #astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #smut #oneshot #astarion x you #reader insert

[squishymochithethird]

Fuck it the companions ranked by how likely they are to beat me at Mario Kart

1. Jaheira

Not only do I think she’s the most likely to beat me, I feel like she would do it without even trying. She’s never played a video game in her life yet she manages to just completely wipe the floor with everyone. Also a great sport about it, 10/10 would let her beat me again.

2. Lae’zel

I think the first couple of rounds I’d have a chance, but she gets so competitive with it so quickly. She NEEDS to be the best damn racer in the room, and will not rest until she’s won a perfect round. Doesn’t miss a speed boost, has great aim with green shells, and always seems to have another banana peel on hand.

3. Wyll

Probably exclusively played Nintendo games growing up. That being said he’s likely semi-familiar with some of the courses. Sometimes purposely throws the match. True gentleman behavior.

4. Halsin

I think he’d also be surprisingly good at Mario Kart provided I could convince him to actually sit down and play. He won’t be winning every round per say, but he can usually hit the top 5. The controller is a bit small for his hands though, so he’ll be complaining about cramping after just a few rounds. If you’re lucky you might hear him humming some of the music when he thinks no one is listening.

5. Karlach

Plays for fun more than competition. She loves hitting tricks but often lets the extra speed throw her off. Has no idea how to break and therefore crashes into every other wall. Her favorite course is waluigi pinball and she’s correct.

6. Shadowheart

Not super interested in playing, so she tends to hang back a bit. Not enough to place last, mind, she still has a reputation to keep. At least 75% of all blue shells thrown came from her, and that is accomplishment enough.

7. Gale

Would pick rainbow road because it’s pretty and reminds him of the weave. Would immediately regret picking rainbow road. Prefers to watch tbh.

8. Astarion

Not only is he bad at Mario Kart but he low key sucks to play with. He’d gas himself up before the first round. He’ll win, darling. It’s so easy, just watch. He immediately places last and refuses to play anymore. Yells and complains so loudly anytime he falls or gets hit by something.

#excluding Minsc because I still haven’t recruited him yet I’m sowwyy #also minthara I’ve never played with her either :/ #bg3 #bg3 headcanons #astarion #laezel #shadowheart #gale of waterdeep #wyll #karlach #halsin #jaheira #mario kart #shitpost #sort of

[justcallmefox89]

Gnome Troubles - Chapter Seven (Wicket's POV)

Astarion puts his new plan into motion.

“Darling it’s a celebration, not a funeral.  If I can manage to feign having a good time, surely you can as well.” 

“Hm.”  I flash Astarion a half-hearted smirk and motion for him to join me.  He moves next to me, and I fill his goblet from the only half-decent bottle of wine I’d scavenged from the druids. 

“So why are you brooding over here in the shadows when you could be celebrating?”

“Did we really give them anything to celebrate?”  I shrug and take a drink, the heavy, rich red wine rolling over my tongue.  “We cleared one obstacle for them but there’s another twenty for them to clear before they get to Baldur’s Gate.”

“Gods,” Astarion groans.  “Is it too much to ask for just a little bit of fun for one night?  A bit of excitement?”

I glance over at him from the corner of my eye, choosing to remain silent and continue drinking.

He leans closer to me; close enough for me to smell the fresh scent of the soap he used to wash up with earlier, and the warm, slightly spicy scent of his perfume.  “You know, we could always make our own entertainment darling.  Get a little closer, so to speak,” he murmurs, his voice low and sultry.

I start at the blatant proposition, spilling a little wine onto my trousers.  Astarion gives me a cat-like grin and tilts his head to the side, waiting for my answer.  I restlessly tap my fingertips against the stem of my goblet, ignoring the burn in my cheeks as I consider the elf’s offer.

On one hand Astarion is objectively beautiful, and it’s been longer than I care to admit since I’ve enjoyed the touch of another.  On the other hand, he is a vampire and I’ve already betrayed my oath by allowing him to live this long.  Accepting his proposition would be akin to daring Kelemvor to smite me.

I am so godsdamned tired.

I swallow down my nerves.   “What did you have in mind?”

“Find me after the other have gone to sleep,” he purrs in my ear.  “And we’ll have a more… private celebration.”

I shiver at the feel of his warm breath against the shell of my ear, tantalized by the prospect of his fangs scrapping against my skin… the feel of his lips against mine…  I nod in affirmation, not trusting myself to speak.

“Then I’ll see you later tonight, my dear.” 

#bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fandom critical #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion ancunin #astarion romance #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion x male reader #astarion x male tav #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #astarion x gnome tav #astarion ancunin #astarion and tav #baldur's gate #baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate tav #astarion brainrot #m!tav #tav x astarion #baldurs gate 3 tav

[warrior-of-light-is-my-boo]

I had thought today and it was about which of origins + Halsin(I haven’t recruited Minthara and honestly I don’t know if I want to) would react to the Cruck from NADDPOD.

Personally I think most of them would Iike it. Wyll and Karlach for for how free and open and kind the Crick elves are (during the events of campaign one. I’m not caught up with campaign three and the all the drama with the dragon elves). They would probably love it there. I could see them easily becoming Cricks themselves. They would not eat the crawdad shit and that would be the major cultural hurdle. Wyll would be a little overwhelmed by how spicy the food is but Karlach might not notice. She spent 10 years in hell and the foods probably wild down there.

Gale would like meeting them and being around the crock elves but have a mental break down when he finds out almost all of are illiterate. Moonshine would be like “we’re an oral society” and Gale would be like “okay but reading is great??? Help.” I think he’d get over whelmed by how the Cricks do not give a shit about privacy. Like what do you mean you’re going to sleep in my tent please leave. Would 100% get bullied for being wizard. Also would not eat the brown from the crawdads and would be fun of for it.

Astarion, Shadowheart and Lae’zel would hate the crock. The Crick always want to be in their business, they’re too nice, they’re annoying. Astarion also hates nature so he would hate having to sleep in a swamp. I could see Shadowheart warming up to them though the Cricks just have to break through that defensive shell. Lae’zel would start to enjoy it once she realized their legal system is mostly wrestling based. None of them are eating the crawdads. Both Shadowheart and Astarion will die from how spicy the food is while Lae’zel asks for more.

Halsin is in his element I feel like. He’s surrounded by other druids that don’t want to completely disregard the outside world, the animals can talk on their own, and everyone is just vibing with nature? Sign him the fuck up. Would love to be everyone’s daddy (not sexual. The Cricks don’t place a lot of stock on father’s figures as a maternal society). Plus he is free from capitalism. Gets high with Ol’ Cobb and Jolene the Green before turning a bear and taking a nap. Would find it weird that the Crick eat crawdad shit but would be too polite to say no and eat it anyway. Can not handle how spicy the food is but you wouldn’t be able to tell until you looked him in the eye and saw him holding back tears from how spicy it is.

I don’t know a lot about Jaheira and Minsc but I think the Crick would love them. Jaheira would vacation there as she might find them a bit annoying? But that might be me not knowing a lot about her (i have not played BG1 or 2). Minsc would be adopted as a Crick in heartbeat.

If you’re a fan of NADDPOD and BG3 let me know what you think. Or if you have thoughts of the Tadfools in other actual play worlds let me know. I don’t listen to a ton of actual plays but I’d like to hear people’s thoughts.

#naddpod #The crick #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #the tadfools #not going to tag everyone because I do t want to bother their fans with this

[teamdilf]

I'm posting a day early but I couldn't sit on the final chapter of Lost Souls Like Us any longer!

Astarion takes Petra to his grave and talks about a decision he made while they were adventuring together three years prior.

“I wrote to Gale and asked him for a recipe that you’d enjoy, and he wrote back with a 20 ingredient recipe written out over three whole pages that required something called a ‘roux’, and ‘thyme’. What’s thyme and who do I need to kill to ensure the assortment of tavern-related puns do not ever escape containment?”

“Darling, thyme is an herb. A very pleasant one that does not deserve your revulsion,” she teases.

“Agree to disagree,” he cuts in.

“Also, there was a shell of a tavern called ‘Closing Thyme’ in the shadow-cursed lands and if it ever re-opens I’d love to dine with you there.” She grins as the expected scowl slides onto Astarion’s face - mostly in jest.

“Gods, I regret this relationship. One good thing about being a vampire is that I do not have to eat at ‘Closing Thyme’; I merely have to watch you degrade yourself by doing it.”

#astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #tav x astarion #oc x astarion #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #j's fics #bg3 spoilers #astarion bg3 #Petra Silverscale

[timeforelfnonsense]

His Hero

Criella x Wyll (ft. a little Dafni x Astarion) || M || Ao3 ||  Ko-fi ||  Let me write you a story? || Want to know what Dafni & Astarion got up to?

Criella looked absolutely radiant. Her long straight lilac hair hung loose and lovely down the long line of her back. Her spiraling, rosewood colored horns dressed in chains of silver and charms of luminous crystal. Her slender arms were free of their normal leather coverings revealing a tattoo of elegantly scrawled infernal that pulsed with arcane iridescence. 

Innovate 

A fitting descriptor.

As striking as she was it wasn’t her beauty alone that drew him to her. Rather it was the cocktail of boldness and brilliance she had exhibited in their short acquaintance. Her mind was sharp and quick to collaborate. In the heat of battle, her voice never wavered. He had watched in awe as she conjured roaring thunder and icy lighting. Weaving each spell together in a fearsome tempest. Raining down elegant destruction on Ragzlin’s perverse throne room. Ending the leader’s tyrannical grip on the coast with one precise strike of crackling electricity. 

“Enjoying your evening?” She asked, handing him a tankard of honeyed ale.

“There she is- the woman herself.” Let us raise a glass! Wyll chuckled, clicking the edge of his cup with her own goblet of red wine, “To freedom from tyranny! May we hew a path for the downtrodden to travel. To you a legend in the making! And of course to us. May our bond only grow stronger.” 

“Quite the toast.” She stated, casually bringing the silver goblet to her soft, quirked lips, “Are you coming on to me, Wyll?”

Wyll shivered at the feeling of the heart-shaped tip of her tail training up his spine. The curing white lines of her facial tattoos crinkling as she arched an expectant, manicured brow. 

“I hadn’t imagined myself so subtle?” He said, glancing up at her over the foam of his ale. A subtle grin curling across his lips, eyebrows ever so slightly raised, “Or to put it another way: yes.” Criella’s tail wrapped itself loosely around his waist a coy smile of her own working its way across her stunning features. Her silver eyes were nearly opalescent in the warm, gingery fire’s glow. Wyll pressed his lips to the slightly angled shell of her ear, speaking in a voice smooth as silk, “Your heart beats strong, friend. The Blade rarely seeks partnership.”

Criella’s hold on his midsection tightened as the warmth of his breath sent a shiver down her spine. The timbre of his voice felt like a hot beverage on a cool morning. Warming her from the tips of her fingers to the depths of her belly. It had been ages since she’d felt that sort of pull towards another being. Her heart dropped a bit as the memory of standing beside Zoria in a Neverwinter temple entered her mind. She had looked so beautiful, dressed in her gown of chiffon and net. The Ivory fabric standing in perfect contrast with her violet skin. 

Criella had been profoundly hurt when her best friend announced she was not only to be wed to her latest sweetheart but that she’d be leaving Waterdeep with her. It had felt like a betrayal. They had built something special together. Something so unique that Criella had sacrificed her own desires to pursue something deeper to preserve it. And Zoria was going to throw it all away. Yes, she had been mad but that all fell away when she saw the love Zoria had for her bride. She loved Zoria and loving her meant wanting to see her happy even if it was with someone else. The passage of time had softened the sting of losing her. It became easier and easier to write to her in the past few years. She even had begun to enjoy hearing about her wife and the sweet life they had made for themselves in Neverwinter.  

The experience had stung but it had taught her that hiding her feelings away was not necessarily the best course of action. Who could say if things would have worked out differently had she voiced her feelings? Regardless, it was not a mistake she’d be making twice. Wyll was a good man. She admired his tactical mind. His plan to take on the goblins had been clean and clever. He had fought for people whom he had no loyalties or connection to . Not because they had offered him gold or glory, but because they needed help. A fond smile played at her lips as she pictured Wyll with his tiefling charges, so gentle and patient. She’d practically melted on sight when she found him sparing amongst the children. 

Wyll was the sort of man she’d imagined into fairy stories as a brave king or gallant knight. An uncharacteristically wistful sight fell from her lips, causing her baby pink cheeks to grow a deep strawberry. Gods he was handsome! With a strong, noble countenance. Yet, there was a bit of ruggedness to his stubbled jaw that added a certain something to his charms. 

“Are you propositioning me, Blade?” She purred careful not to bump him with her horns as she placed her head on his broad shoulder. 

“If I were?” Wyll asked. 

“I would be incredibly flattered.” she assured, tilting her gaze up at him, “And happily accept.” 

“In that case, I reckon our union might continue to your bunk tonight.” Wyll beamed placing a feather-light kiss on her temple. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he added, “ Or I suppose we could just start out here like those two.” Wyll nudged her hip with his own, pointing a discreet finger towards their elven compatriots. 

“Now that is an idea!” Criella laughed. However, her amusement curdled as she watched Dafni’s hand travel ever closer to the front of Astarion’s breeches, “But, I think we’d best spare these poor people another...display.”

“You’re probably right.” He agreed, his hand reaching up to stroke the delicate line of her cheek, “But, I’d like to kiss you. Something to tide me over until the party winds down.” 

Criella lifted her head from his shoulder with an eager look. Wyll took her chin between his sword-calloused fingers, tilting her rosy face toward his lips. The moment their mouths brushed the world spun to a halt. She tasted of cherry wine and rosewater. The tip of her tongue sliding across the inner edge of his lip coaxing a soft gasp forward. Wyll wrapped one hand around her waist, his fingers gently pressing into her hip. The other laced through the waterfall of lavender hair, soft as satin as in his grasp. His heart thumped loudly in his own ears at the feeling of her warm palms sliding against his chest. A dull ache began behind his eye. A flash of bronze hair and moonlight skin tearing through his mind. 

Wyll stumbled back ending the heart-stopping embrace, “Pardon, just a bit woozy…”

“That’s alright. Do you still want to meet later?”

“Definitely.” Wyll nodded twirling a stray lock of hair around his index finger, “I’ll meet you at your bunk when you’re ready. I trust I won’t have to wait long.”

As soon as the party dwindled to its embers, Criella practically skipped back to her tent, a smile fixed on her face. As she pushed the heavy lavender canvas back she took a quick stock of her surroundings. She kept her quarters tidy enough but spick and span did not necessarily correlate with romantic. Perhaps she could light some candles? Criella’s lower lip caught in her sharp teeth. It wasn’t like her to feel like a giddy green lass! She was a woman of confidence and ambition. Her affections had always manifested as quite longings rather than whimsical, girlish fancies. Then again, she’d never been kissed in such a breathtaking manner before.

Criella brushed the tips of her index and middle fingers across the plush flesh of her lips shivering as she felt the ghost of Wyll’s astounding kiss. He tasted of ale and smelled of campfire and sweet earth. Criella had been a firm believer that first kisses were more often than not dreadfully awkward but he had proven her dead wrong. She could have even been coaxed to reconsider her stance on public displays of desire, were it not for the strange sharpness that pried them apart.

She felt a phantom throb behind her eyes. Who was that? She’d caught the glimpse of a face in Wyll’s mind as their thoughts slipped together. Bronze hair glowing in a fiery halo, flawless skin the color of the moonlight, her lips impossibly pink but the finer details of her appearance remained obscured by a fog of uncertainty. After a moment of concentration, she came to the conclusion that It didn’t matter who she was. Criella had never been the jealous sort and she had no intention of starting now. Wyll was a charming, attractive gentleman; she hadn’t deluded herself into thinking his affections had never belonged to another, nor did she mind that they had. What mattered was the here and now. And in the here and now Wyll wanted her. 

With that sorted, she shifted her focus to the matter at hand. She kicked off her boots before peeled away the soft leather of her leggings carefully folding and tucking them away. She loosened the laces of her green blouse allowing it to hand loose and casual from her narrow shoulders. With a stylish flick of her hand, she projected her mirror image. She shifted her weight to her right foot, her hip popping out slightly as her hand came to rest on its peak. 

“You are still glowing from battle. On my honor, you’ve never looked more beautiful.” Wyll’s warm voice filled the tent wrapping around her half-dressed body like a lover’s embrace. He approached her with slow, sure steps but his eyes flickered with a gentle want that set a fire between her thighs. 

Once more, Wyll pulled her close, their lips meeting in a deep sensual kiss. Criella’s palms pressed against his firm chest taking up a handful of his dark cotton shirt as she pulled him closer. His fingers found their way to her hair, his nails skimming lightly across her scalp. Criella cupped his cheek, thumb running along his scarred cheek. 

Wyll winced, pulling back from her kiss once more. Before she could ask what was wrong the needling pain behind her eye retired once more along with the mysterious woman. Her dazzling smile turned razor-sharp. Horns pushed their way through her ginger hair. Her creamy complexion shifting to a steely blue as two great, leather wings spreading out from her proud shoulders. 

A Cambion.

There was no mistaking it. This woman was Wyll’s patron, she was certain. Criella tried to hold her image in her mind, searching for any defining features or giveaways of her nature but Mizora’s wicked grin cut through her thoughts like a knife forcing her to look away. 

“Damnit. Must she ruin everything?” Wyll muttered bringing his palm to his stone eye to rub away the discomfort. “I’m sorry it's not supposed to be this way.”

“That was her, wasn’t it? Mizora.” 

Wyll’s shoulders slumped, hand still guarding his eye, “Yes. Wherever she’s gone she still haunts me. A ghost in all but name. Sometimes I swear I can smell her- sulfur and orchids. Stops my heart just to think of it. I thought I could forget Mizora. Just for one night. Gods, how wrong I was. “

Criella’s lips turned up into a soft smile as she pulled Wyll’s guardian palm from his face. Her voice was warm and sure as she spoke, “I understand Wyll, as well as I am able at least. Why don’t you spend the night beside me? No sex just sharing each other's company, hm?”

“I’d like that.”

Criella guided him down to her woolen bedroll by the arm. Wyll’s head came to read against her chest as she gently rubbed the tension from his strong, reliable shoulders. He let out a sigh as her nimble fingers worked at a perpetually tight spot near his collarbone. 

“I’d forgotten what it’s like to feel safe.” He confessed, warm whisky brown eyes meeting her’s. “I’m used to being the hero. Not so used to needing one.”

“It must be hard,” She mused in a musical tone, hands still working the stubborn muscle, Looking out for everyone else all the time. Devoting yourself to helping others. That’s a heavy burden for one man to carry. You are allowed to have a few moments for yourself. Besides, you’ll always be a hero to me, Wyll.”

“It means so much to hear those words from you.” He sighed, warping his hand gently around her wrist, I wish I could give you something more in return. My flesh at least. Something deeper were you to ask it. But only a free man can give himself fully. Until my pact is broken... I’m never free.”

“You will be rid of her one day. Sooner than you might think too.” She winked, tossing her loose hair with a flick of her tail, “You have my aid now after all! I’m somewhat of an expert on the Hells, Cania in particular, but I have a fair knowledge of the other eight as well. I’m no stranger to the politics and schemes of devils and there is nothing I can’t do once my mind is set to it. “

Wyll pressed his lips in a soft kiss to the sensitive skin on her inner wrist before pressing her palm to his steadily beating heart. “You are a blessing, Wit.” 

#elf writes #wyll #astarion #Criella Wit #dafni of gwynneth #bg3 oc