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lendeah · 3 months

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Three times you get cuddly Astarion and one you do not.

“Don’t look at me like that. With the sweet little ‘disappointed I’m not getting cuddly Astarion’ pout. I can’t take it. I can’t be what you want to see in me.”

Based on this comment!

[ao3 link]

The first time it happened, you had been sleeping together for a few weeks. It seemed like there was an unspoken rule that you would leave soon after sex, giving him his space. You could sense his reluctance to be vulnerable and intimate, so you respected that boundary and didn't push him. But on this particular night, as you lay tangled in each other's limbs, there was a subtle hesitation from him. It was like a whisper of doubt, lingering in the air between you.

"Everything alright, Astarion?" you asked.

He seemed to get startled at this, as if caught off guard by your question.

"Wha- oh! Of course, darling. Everything is perfect."

You nodded, even though couldn't help but feel skeptical about his words. Maybe he needed space again.

"I guess I'll be going then," you said with a heavy heart, slowly rising to your feet.

You got dressed and began to make your way towards the door. Astarion followed closely behind you, his hands twitching nervously.

"Wait." He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned to face him, seeing a hint of vulnerability in his usually cocky expression.

"I...I don't want you to go just yet." He admitted, looking down at his feet.

You could see the internal struggle within him, and your heart ached a bit for him. You walked back towards him and slowly reached for his hand, not wanting to startle him.

"What do you want, then?" you asked, softly.

He looked up at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. There was a raw emotion in his crimson eyes, and it felt like looking into his soul.

"I...I want you to stay the night. If that's what you want, of course." He said, hesitantly.

You could sense the vulnerability in his voice, and you knew that this was a big step for him. Astarion was not one to open up easily, and you were honored that he was willing to share himself with you.

"Okay." You replied, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

Astarion wordlessly guided you back to his bedroll. This was new territory for both of you, but it felt just right. Hesitantly, he climbed into bed beside you and wrapped an arm around your waist. You couldn't help but smile at his nervousness; he was always so confident when it came to flirting and seduction, yet it was cuddling that seemed to make him flustered.

You wrapped your arms around him, feeling the cold softness of his body against yours. It was a comforting feeling, being this close to him. He hesitantly reached out his hand, his fingers trembling as he gently combed through your hair. As you both lay in silence, Astarion's movements became more confident and soothing, his fingers carefully untangling any knots or snarls. You could sense the tension in him slowly dissipating as he allowed himself to open up and connect with you in this intimate way. It was a moment filled with vulnerability and trust, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for it.

"Thank you for trusting me," you murmured.

Astarion stayed silent for a few seconds, before responding. "Thank you for staying."

Another significant moment was when he finally confessed his feelings for you. You had both agreed to take a break from physical intimacy, which you were completely fine with. However, you weren't sure if this also meant giving up your now nightly cuddling sessions together.

Your answer came when that night, as Astarion appeared at the door of your tent, pacing back and forth. You chuckled under your breath as you approached him.

"Do you require my services, Astarion?"

Astarion's eyes fixated on you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "My dear! I've only come here to see you." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "But perhaps we could have a more... intimate discussion?"

You raised an eyebrow in surprise. You thought you had left matters clear that same evening.

"Of course," you replied, stepping aside and gesturing for him to enter your tent. Once inside, Astarion settled onto your bedroll while you sat beside him. He looked at you with a mixture of nerves and determination in his eyes.

"I wanted to discuss what we talked about earlier," he began cautiously.

You nodded, encouraging him to continue. He cleared his throat.

"I... ehm. I know we agreed we wouldn't be intimate, but I was merely wondering if we could keep up..."

"Our nightly cuddle?" You filled in the gap for him.

"Err... yes," he grimaced awkwardly. "That."

You smiled warmly at him, finding his bashfulness rather endearing. "I'm glad you brought it up, Astarion, because I would kind of miss it if we didn't."

Relief shone in his eyes as he gazed at you with genuine gratitude, causing your heart to skip a beat.

"That's...I mean, it's only natural that you would miss it," he responded. "After all, how often do you get the opportunity to cuddle with someone like me?"

You rolled your eyes at his cocky remark, but couldn't hide the small smile on your face.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, just enjoying each other's company. Finally, you broke the silence again.

"I think it's time for me to call it a night," you gave him a pointed look. "Care to join me?"

Astarion's eyes widened in surprise at your invitation, but he quickly composed himself and grinned wickedly. "I would be honored to share a bedroll with you, my dear."

As you settled down into your bedroll, you patted the spot next to you, inviting Astarion to join. He eagerly complied, curling up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. His touch was both gentle and possessive, making you feel loved and protected. He nuzzled his nose against your hair before placing a soft kiss on the nape of your neck. It felt like a promise, and brought a sense of peace as you drifted off to sleep in his embrace.

The third remarkable time happened just before reaching Baldur's Gate, when Astarion was gravely injured in a brutal fight. Your heart raced as you tended to his wounds, frantically trying to heal him as the blood pooled beneath him. As night fell, you collapsed onto the ground next to him, gently pushing away sweaty strands of hair from his clammy forehead.

You felt a wave of relief wash over you before settling down next to him. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, burying his head in your chest. Your fingers traced soothing patterns through his soft ivory curls as he drifted off into a meditative state. After a while, you felt his usually tense muscles relax over your body. He was asleep, or at least in a state of deep meditation. You continued to stroke his hair gently, not wanting to wake him. In this moment, he looked completely peaceful – a stark contrast to the dashing rogue always ready with a witty retort.

"Are you feeling any better?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you gazed at him with concern.

He looked up at you, a weak smile on his lips. "I owe it all to your care."

As you lay there in the quiet darkness, an unfamiliar sentiment rose within your chest, filling it to the brim. You weren't sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, Astarion had become more than just a companion or a lover. He was your partner in every sense of the word – someone who understood and accepted you for who you were. And even though none of you could still put a name to whatever you shared, you knew for certain that this bond was something precious, something to be cherished. You realized in that moment, it was love.

A couple of days later, he met his sibling at a pub in Rivington and you had a disagreement that left a bitter feeling in your mouth. That evening, you waited for him in your sleeping bag, as was customary. But as the minutes ticked by, it seemed like he wasn't going to show up. You began to wonder if he wanted you to seek him out instead; so, you got out of your bedroll and crossed the short distance between your tents.

"I am in love with you," you murmured into the silence. The admission took your breath away as you shivered slightly under Astarion's touch, your heart pounding against his ear. Would he feel the difference in your heartbeat? Could he sense the shift in your feelings?

"Astarion?" you asked upon entering.

He was sitting on his cushions, staring blankly at the wall. At the sound of your voice, he turned to look at you with a distant expression, and you immediately knew something was wrong.

"Are you still mad at me from this morning's fight?" you asked, sitting down next to him.

He let out a sigh and shook his head. "No, it's not that," he replied.

You frowned, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What is it then? You know you can tell me," you said softly.

Astarion hesitated, his inner turmoil evident in the clench of his jaw. After a long moment, he finally spoke. "I can't...not tonight. I need to be alone," he rasped out before turning away, unable to meet your gaze.

Your heart dropped at his words, the worry and concern evident in your expression. You knew that Astarion wasn't one to push you away, at least not without a valid reason.

You didn't want to leave him like this but knew that he needed this space right now, so you gave him a small smile and silently went back to your tent.

BONUS

The next day, you tried to focus on other things, helping the group with their tasks and keeping your mind occupied. But as night fell and you lay in your bedroll, you couldn't shake off the worry that gnawed at your insides. What if this was about your confession? What if you had overstepped ahead of time and he couldn't reciprocate?

You turned over restlessly, unable to find a comfortable position. Finally, with a heavy sigh, you got up to go to Astarion's tent and at least get some answers. But just as you were about to open it, the flap of your own tent was pulled back and Astarion stepped inside, a conflicted look on his face. Before you could even utter a word, he spoke first.

"Forgive me for my odd behavior last night," he began, his voice low and hesitant. "I've been trying to figure out everything."

You sat down in your bedroll again, giving him your full attention as he took a seat next to you. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, unsure of what was coming. He let out a sigh and leaned his head against your shoulder.

"What's wrong?" you asked gently, placing a comforting hand on his cheek.

"I just...I've been thinking about what you said that night," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What did I say?" you asked, not wanting to assume anything.

He took a deep breath before answering. "That you are in love with me."

Your heart skipped a beat at those words.

"Did...did I misunderstand?" Astarion asked hesitantly, looking up at you with uncertainty in his eyes.

"No," you replied firmly, cupping his face in your hands. "I meant every word I said that night. I'm in love with you, Astarion."

He seemed to take a moment to absorb the weight of your words, his eyes blinking slowly as he searched your face. A myriad of expressions flickered across his features — surprise, fear, and finally... sadness.

"I... I am sorry, but I can't fully reciprocate right now, with everything going on," he confessed, his voice strained with an unfamiliar vulnerability. His admission made your heart clench, but before any words could escape your mouth, he continued.

"I've never been in love before. I'm not sure what it's supposed to feel like, what it's supposed to be. But I know I have this...this feeling that keeps me close to you, that keeps my thoughts wandering back to you no matter where I am or what I am doing..." he paused, turning to look at you with a softness in his eyes that made your heart flutter wildly in your chest, "and I hope that is enough for now."

A wave of relief washed over you at his confession and all the worry you have been carrying seemed to disappear all at once. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him tightly, a warmth spreading through your chest.

Astarion returned the hug, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against him. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, just holding each other tightly. It was a mix of emotions, knowing that Astarion was not yet able to return your feelings in full, but at the same time, you felt grateful and content knowing you had each other.

"Thank you for telling me," you whispered against his hair, pulling back slightly to look up at him. "I will wait for you, all you need."

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and you couldn't help but mirror it. Astarion leaned down and pressed his lips to yours in a gentle small kiss. It was soft and sweet, sending a warmth spreading through your body.

You both curled up in the bedroll, Astarion enveloping you with his arms in a protective embrace. And at that moment, you were certain - if the vampire still had a heart, it would be beating for you alone right now.

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

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space-blue · 3 months

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BG3 Fic Feb, comic edition, day 7:

A heated argument with Tav's love interest...

#BG3FicFeb #tav #bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 comic #my art #bg3 fanfic prompt #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #tav/gale #zevlor #bg3 zevlor #tavlor

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dancingbirdie · 5 months

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Idk if you’re taking requests but if so could you do bottom Astarion with an afab Tav?

Hi hi! Thanks for giving me the opportunity to write more plotless smut! Hope you enjoy xoxoxo.

Like my smut writing? Find more here.

Take What You Need

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Words: 1K

Warnings/Tags: top!fem!Reader, bottom!Astarion, penetrative sex, penis-in-vagina sex, soft fluffy lovemaking, plotless smut, sweet domestic bliss

Summary: You and Astarion share an uninterrupted bath time, complete with fluff, smut and domestic bliss.

*****

The bath water had grown tepid, not that either of you noticed. You were too lost in the moment, too love drunk within this brief escape to heaven. How the two of you had managed to carve out such sacred time alone was a true stroke of luck. There weren’t many opportunities these days to spend time like this.

Neither of you were about to waste this gift.

Straddling Astarion between your thighs, you had an incomparable view of his delicate, pointed features. His lean, muscled chest. The sharpness of his jawline. His beautiful carmine eyes, how they darted about, taking in every inch of you poised above him. You marveled at how the water drops, peppered throughout his dampened curls, glistened in the dancing candlelight. He was stunning, in a tragically gorgeous sort of way.

“A copper for your thoughts,” he murmured, lifting your hand from the water and drawing your wrist to his lips. His nostrils flared slightly as he breathed in your scent, felt the thrumming of your pulse beneath the thin skin.

“Are you sure you want to know?” you smirked, watching him lavish open-mouthed kisses against your wrist. “They’re rather lascivious.”

You felt him twitch and begin to harden beneath you once more. That burning desire deep within you didn’t need rekindling, but his subtle movements caused the blood in your veins to quicken nevertheless. Your hips answered him with a gesture of their own, canting down to rut against him.

“Again already, darling? Greed is a deadly sin, you know,” he crooned, dipping his other hand beneath the water to touch you where you so desperately craved. His thumb easily found that sensitive spot at the apex of your thighs and caressed it with a deft stroke.

“And I’m your supplicant, begging for absolution,” you breathed, rocking yourself into his hand.

His throaty chuckle at your retort had goosebumps skittering across your exposed chest. You let loose an unabashedly loud moan as he leaned forward to capture your breast in his mouth. He sucked, hard, as his other hand released your wrist to capture your other nipple between his thumb and finger. Between that and his continued ministrations beneath the water, you couldn’t help as your head lolled back, mind inundated with the luxury of Astarion touching you everywhere, everywhere that mattered.

He released your breast with a soft pop, lifting his head to take in your now fully-bared neck.

“I adore when you get this worked up. You look delicious enough to eat,” he breathed against your chest.

You knew what he was asking without really asking. You were all too happy to comply.

“Use me,” you whispered, eyes clenched shut as his thumb continued to flick against you, maddeningly slow. You could feel the blunt tip of him poised at your entrance, just barely parting your folds. “Take what you need.”

Astarion laughed darkly at your wanton reply. “So charitable. I could say the very same to you.”

You lifted your head up to stare at him, confused.

Giving you a devious little grin, he guided one of the hands you had braced on the side of the tub down beneath the water, to where his length stood at attention.

“Take what you need,” he parroted your words, although they sounded so much sweeter coming from his silken voice.

Needing no further encouragement, you repositioned him beneath you and speared yourself atop him. Both of you groaned at the sensation of him stretching you once more, that delicious tightness giving way to the even headier sense of absolute fullness.

Your hands came to rest flat against his chest as you began to move, rocking up and down atop him. Your thighs burned after a few moments, exhausted from your earlier travels, but the dull ache only encouraged you to piston your hips harder.

The rhythm you had found almost toppled as Astarion pulled you in closer, mouth descending upon your neck as his fangs broke the delicate skin there. That familiar icy feeling flooded your head and upper torso, the perfect contrast to the growing heat pooling in your stomach. You lifted a hand to cup the back of his head, keeping him close as he fed from you.

In your lust-dulled gaze, you registered the ripples your movements were creating in the water. It was a marvelous sight. An echo of your lovers’ embrace. A dance made possible only through the two you, joining and parting, joining and parting, over and over.

“I want to taste you as you come, darling,” Astarion murmured against your neck, breaking your focus on the rippling water. He paused his feasting long enough to slip a hand between you and resumed playing with your clit.

The added sensation all but overloaded your mind. You whined out a garbled reply, your hips bucking with even more fervor. He met you swipe for swipe, matching pace easily as he bit down once more on your neck.

You knew you wouldn’t last long. It was futile to resist that call to unravel, to explode, to freefall. With a final, frenzied jerk of your hips, you stuttered to a halt as your release barreled through you, taking with it any sense of time and spatial awareness.

You barely registered Astarion’s euphoric groan as he took in the taste of your blood, as his hands clutched at your hips, hard enough to bruise. Pumping into you once, twice more, he found release of his own and clutched you tightly against him. You were a boneless thing, slouching atop him, fingertips grazing the surface of the water.

After a few moments of blissful silence, Astarion began to stir beneath you. Gathering you in his arms, you could feel his preparation to stand.

“Going somewhere?” you murmured sleepily.

“Taking you to bed, darling, before you fall ill in this cold bathwater,” he returned, kissing your temple and rising from the water with ease.

“After all that transpired here, it would be a heavenly way to die I think,” you yawned, wrapping your arms and legs more tightly around him.

His laugh, true and full and delightedly boyish, was the last thing you remembered before falling into a peaceful sleep.

#astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #dancingbirdiewrites #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion fic #astarion smut #astarion x f!reader #astarion baldurs gate #tav x astarion #astarion fanfic #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic prompt

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viennacherries · 2 months

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Prompt suggestion <3 Rolan/Tav NSFW. Tav really likes it when Rolan speaks to her in infernal. She doesn’t understand it, but it doesn’t change the fact that it turns her on. He starts to notice her subtle reactions to when he curses or something in infernal. Which leads to bedroom shenanigans lol. My username is the same on A03 ^^

this has taken me a minute, mostly because i had to spend some time literally making up the infernal language for the purpose of this fic LMAO. if you're interested in my process it's in the end notes on ao3.

i changed the prompt a little though; rolan doesnt notice because he's very silly and keeps failing the perception check. lia notices immediently.

NSFW read on ao3 here

~~~

The first time Tav hears Rolan speak infernal, she doesn't even register it as a word. It slips past his tongue and it's all consonants and noises that she's not sure she could emulate properly with her non-tiefling tongue.

"Zurgan." He mutters it under his breath as he drops a pile of books.

Her quill stops midair where she's busy writing up an inventory of magical items they've found. With everyone else busy or gone from the city, she offered to help Rolan with organising the tower. It's been a nightmare, frankly. The previous tower master (she wont do him the privilege of speaking his name, the bastard) had apparently spent the last who-knows-how-many years stuffing things into random shelves and boxes.

She frowns as she tries to repeat the word, "Zu- Zurgan? What's that mean?"

Rolan jumps, clearly having forgotten she's in the room, "not zurgan, zurgan. It means- well, I don't know if it translates literally to common. It's... an expletive, I suppose ."

She laughs, "so it means 'fuck'?"

He huffs, and rolls his eyes, "I suppose that's a close enough approximation, yes."

"I don't think I've ever heard you swear before."

"Well," his brow is furrowed as he thinks, "I suppose I try not to, really. It's not becoming."

Tav snorts at that, "Gods, how old are you, 150? Besides, how is swearing in tiefling any different?"

"The language is called infernal, you uncultured swine. I'm a tiefling, I speak infernal."

"You speak something alright. Usually a crock of shi-"

"What did I say about it not being becoming, hm?"

She rolls her eyes at him, "so sorry, Master Rolan, please accept my humblest of apologies for disgracing your presence in such a regard."

He rolls his eyes at her, but she hears him snort and sees the quirk of his lip. "I suppose as far as apologies go, that one will suffice."

~~~

Several weeks later, Cal shouts through the door to the study where they're cataloguing evocation books, "Rolan! Lia and I are heading to the market, do you want us to pick up more of the wine you like?"

He laughs, which is rare enough in itself, and leans out the door to reply.

"Fazit drakon'ziz orum?!"

She hears Cal's responding cackle from down the hallway. "alright, alright, little drakon'ziz. I'll get 2 bottles, 'cos I love you."

When Rolan comes back in, chuckling to himself, Tav doesn't say anything. She wants to ask what it means, but she's... distracted.

Something about the way the words sound when he says them is... enticing. She's not sure if she could repeat them without butchering them, but even if she could she's sure they wouldn't sound as delicious as when they come from him. It's something about the rich tone to his voice, which she's always liked, coupled with the harsher edge it takes on when he speaks the foreign language.

Gods, she's been spending far too much time with him,

She clears her throat, "drakon'ziz?"

Rolan turns to her, still smiling, " drakon'ziz , but close. It means dragon."

His lopsided smile, aimed at her, coupled with the gruffness of the unknown word, is a little bit intoxicating.

"What about the rest of what you said? Fa- Fazit something?"

"'Fazit drakon'ziz orum?' It means 'does a dragon want gold?' It's a tiefling saying, basically means 'yes, obviously.' It just sounds better in infernal."

Tav agrees. It sounds rather lovely in infernal, in fact.

When Tav doesn't reply, he raises an eyebrow, "I could try and teach you some? Infernal, that is. If you'd be interested. Tell me something you want to be able to say, I'll try and teach you how to say it."

She thinks for a moment.

"What if I want to call someone a shit-head?"

He barks out a laugh as he rolls his eyes, "of course you'd just want to know how to insult people. I think the closest translation would be uzterku'zereb. That means 'shit-for-brains'."

Despite the small jolt her stomach gives as he utters the phrase, she starts cackling. "That's even better!"

~~~

It's been about a month and a half since they started cataloguing everything in the tower, and it's basically become a nightly occurrence that Tav stays for dinner with them. Rolan has finally sat down at the dining table, after bringing all the dishes and cutlery through, and right as he hits the chair there's a sheepish voice from beside him.

"... Rolan~" It's Lia, in a singsong voice, and he huffs.

"What do you want?" It's a question, but it sounds more like an admonishment.

"How could you?! Assuming I want something from you. My beloved big brother. I look up to you so much. Also I left my drink in the sitting room."

You and Callum both laugh, and he makes a very dramatic show of pushing his chair back out with a huge sigh.

"You're such a..." He flails for a moment, as if the word in common has escaped him, "an uztanatez. Next time, you're getting it yourself."

She laughs, "My dear brother, I would fall on my sword for you."

"Mhm." He grumbles, " gladiz zurzum kuluz ..."

Cal nearly falls out of his chair laughing as Rolan trudges from the room, and Lia has a grin on her face from successfully riling him up and getting what she wanted.

Tav is blushing.

"What did he say?" She feels hesitant to bring attention to herself when she knows she's bright red, but she's also too nosy for her own good.

Lia looks at her and opens her mouth to answer, but pauses as she takes in Tav's face. Cal, blissfully, doesn't notice.

"Well the first bit was him calling her a suck up," he laughs through his explanation, "and the second bit was him telling her exactly where she could shove her sword."

She laughs, and thanks him for telling her. Lia is still looking at her. Her face warms more.

"What?"

"Hm." Lia smiles in a way that looks slightly threatening; the way Tav imagines a shark would smile at a seal before taking a huge chunk out of it. "Nothing, really. Only, you weren't that flushed before Rolan spoke in infernal. Got a thing for the devil's tongue, have you Tav?"

Cal furrows his eyebrows in confusion, before his eyes widen and his mouth drops in an 'o' of understanding.

She's about to deny it but she can feel that she's even redder now, so instead she buries her face in her hands. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare say anything!"

"Say anything about what?" Of course Rolan would walk back in now. He places Lia's cup in front of her and turns to Tav expectantly, but Lia speaks before she can.

"Tav is just embarrassed because she didn't understand what you said, she felt left out."

His face breaks into a look of confusion, "You shouldn't be embarrassed by that, Tav, you don't speak the language. Uztanatez-" Tav sucks in a breath, and Lia snorts, "means 'bootlicker'. Gladiz zurzum kuluz means... well... 'shove your sword up your rear'."

Cal and Lia are both sporting shit eating grins. Tav thinks now is a good time to pick a God and pray.

~~~

" Pulch'zer."

He says it as she walks through the door to the study one morning.

"Sorry, repeat that?"

His eyes widen, and his face flushes a deep crimson colour. She's never seen him blush before, or at least she's never noticed because of his skin's natural shade.

"Sorry I was just..." He averts his gaze, looking back at the paperwork he's working on, "I was just thinking out loud..."

She chuckles lightly. "Ah, that text will be kicking your ass then. Pulch'zer. What does it mean?"

He looks up at her again. His eyes lock with hers.

"You're close, it's not pulch'zer, it's pulch'zer . You have to put more emphasis on the 'Z' sound."

Gods, she needs to stop asking. He always ends up correcting her, and she always ends up going bright pink. He pronounces the words more precisely when he's teaching her how to say them, it drives her insane.

"Pulch- Pulch? Pulch'zer."

He chuckles, stands and walks over to her. "You're close, but now you're putting too much emphasis on it." He's only an arms length away from her now. " Pulch'zer ."

She gulps. He needs to stop repeating it.

"P- Pulch'zer." She can't tear her eyes away from him, she stares right into his gaze as she repeats it. He sucks a small breath in, so small it's barely noticeable.

"Yes. Very good."

There's a pause.

"So. What does it mean?"

He's flushing again. "It... Well. It..."

She raises an eyebrow, "that bad huh?"

"... it means 'beautiful'."

Tav's face twists in confusion. "What about your book is beaut-"

Rolan surges forward and plants his lips on hers. She gasps into it, the rest of her words swallowed by her inhale and his tongue. She sinks into it. His hands fall onto her waist, and he uses them to drag her closer, pulling the whole length of his body against hers. When he pulls away it feels far too soon, but in his defence he's breathless. He only leans his chest away, his hips still against hers.

"I wasn't talking about the book."

The look in his eyes is vulnerable in a way she's never seen him before. As though he desperately wants her to understand, and yet is terrified that she will. Like he's scared to fracture whatever comfortable thing they've fallen into together.

"Well..." She takes a deep breath, rests a hand on his chest. "Then I'd like you to know that I think you're very pulch'zer."

He sucks in through his teeth and lets out a single disbelieving laugh. "That sounds ridiculously good when you say it, you know."

She snorts, dismissive, "please, it's far better when you say it. I love when you speak infernal."

He stares at her.

She feels her eyes bug out of her head as what she said hits her. "I mean! Not that- I don't mean that like-"

"You love it? What does that mean?"

She can feel the heat in her face. Suddenly everywhere he's touching her is too much, she needs to fall through the floor to a new realm and start her life over with a fake name.

"I don't- I didn't mean-"

As she fumbles over her words, Rolan's face starts to lift into an understanding smirk. "Oh. I see. You love it."

He leans forward towards her, and his lips brush her ear.

"Tibiz plazet link'zon mezoq ?"

She shudders, "Rolan, I have no idea what you're saying."

He chuckles lowly against the shell of her ear. " Zedzit'n, nul'umne? Zede illizquit diko ."

Gods, it's torturous. He's dropped his voice an octave, giving the already heavy words an even more gravelled tone. Her breath is coming out in pants and she whines. The way it's affecting her is ridiculous.

He doesn't stop, " morentez me'zam? Notzo'illi ."

"Rolan, please."

He grins against her, and she feels his length pressing against her body through his robes. " Quid plaket, dilekt'miz ?"

" Rolan , common tongue, please . I want to know what you're saying."

"I said 'please what?'"

Tav huffs in irritation, "I don't know."

He brings his lips up to brush hers, smiling against her as she tries to pull him closer.

"Do you want me to kiss you again?"

She swallows hard around the lump in her throat and nods.

"Mhm. Ask me nicely."

The noise she lets out is embarrassing, a high pitched whine that she couldn't stop if she tried, but she feels his breath against her lips as he exhales in excitement.

"Kiss me, Rolan. Please."

His smile is wide against her, "as you wish, pulch'zer."

When he kisses her, his lips are gentle against hers. Soft and pliant, eager but restrained. When he parts them slowly, she responds in kind and finds his tongue with hers, and he rewards her with a deep, sensual moan from low in his throat. His lips are warm and soft, his mouth tastes of spearmint, his breath flows through her. She feels her small-clothes growing damp.

As he deepens the kiss his movements grow more insistent, more intense, and he squeezes her hips as he grinds her into him. She moans in response and the noise flips a switch in him. All of a sudden his lips are frantic, the kiss turning messy and needy, and his hands are running up and down her body as thought they don't know where to settle.

He pulls back enough to speak, his breath dancing along her lips, his voice barely above a whisper. " Nezkiz quid'mih fakiaz. Volui'illi tamd'umne ."

Tav moans, long and slow as the words rush over her skin, "Gods, Rolan. I wish I knew what you were saying. Fuck ."

He chuckles quietly, "perhaps I'll teach you Comprehend Languages. Then again... Forzit adv'illi."

She groans. "Rolan, please ."

He grins, grinding his length against her, "please, what?"

The huff she lets out is impatient, "you know what."

His mouth traces the shell of her ear again and she shivers. "Perhaps. But tell me anyway."

She groans, "please fuck me, Rolan."

He needs no further invitation. Rolan undresses them both rapidly, swift and efficient just as he treats his work, and they're both bare before each-other in a few moments.

When he looks over her, sweeping his eyes across her form, he lets out a low noise of appreciation. "Hells, Tav, you're beautiful."

She feels nervous, all of a sudden, bare before him, but she smiles despite it. "So are you."

He's back on her, trailing his lips along her throat and collarbone, leaving teasing bites and grazes with his canines. She's a whimpering, writhing mess beneath him but she doesn't care. She can feel his length pressed against her stomach, can feel the grooves of the door on her back, and she's absolutely aching with need.

"Is this okay? Are you comfortable?" His questions make her chest ache with a different kind of need to the one pulsing through her core.

"Yes, Rolan. Please, for the love of- fuck me against this door."

His moan in response to her words is loud and wanton. " Hells , Tav. Lift your leg for me."

She does, and he grabs under her knee, lifting it up so it wraps around his hip, the heel of her foot against the base of his tail while her other foot stays planted against the floor. His other hand comes between them, grips the base of his cock and rubs it against her folds. She throws her head back as she keens, and at the same time he lets out a groan closer to a growl.

"Fuck, you're so wet. Is- This is still okay? You want this?" His voice wavers with lust.

Hearing him curse is almost as incredible as hearing him speak infernal. "Yes , Gods if you don't-"

He's sliding himself into her before she can finish her threat, and the rest of her words fizzle out into a high pitched moan as she throws her head back. His length is ridged and she can feel every notch as it slides into her. He works his way into her slowly, thrusting only an inch at a time until his pelvis comes to rest against hers, and he folds over to rest his forehead against her shoulder.

His first half of his sentence is muttered, the second half directed at her, "Tam strikta , fuck. Ita infek'tum strikta. Tell me when you're ready, dilekt'miz."

"I'm ready, please, fuck me."

He silences his own moan by clamping his mouth over the meat between her neck and shoulder, and begins thrusting shallowly. The slide of him inside her, the ridges on his shaft dragging against her walls, has her tightening her leg around his waist and dragging him closer. He grunts through his mouthful of her skin and starts to pick up his pace, until he's thrusting hard and fast into her.

She's a mess, and she knows it, but it doesn't matter. She's digging her heel into his ass and arching her hips away from the door to get closer to him, head thrown back and eyes wrenched shut. It's too much, but it's not enough. She grabs his hand that isn't holding her knee up and places it round the back of her other thigh. He's a quick study as always, taking a firm hold on the back of her leg and hoisting her other leg up around him, so she's held up against the door by just his weight against her and his bruising grip. It changes the angle, he drives deeper into her, and they both moan in tandem.

He's speaking again, infernal dialect spilling from him freely into her skin, " Nezkiz. Nezkiz quam di'tez vellem. Quamdiu korpuz tuum'kontraz petivi. Vid'tez habzeq. Miz'tib animez'umne ." He speaks the words with a reverence that that has her keening, clenching around him.

"Rolan, I'm so close, fuck don't stop."

He shakes his head, thrusts into her harder, "Hells, I won't, Tav. I won't, I won't, adv'illi, adv'illi -"

The utterance of more quiet infernal words against her tips her over the edge, and she finds her release around him. His movements become stuttered, desperate, " Tez amorez. Tez amorez taz'multo. Perfik'miz. Amaz, amaz, num'quam latuz dezeraz. Morent'illi anim defendam."

He follows her over the precipice and empties himself inside her. She tightens her hold on him with her legs and kisses his neck as his hips twitch through his release, and as he stills they both try to find breath against each-other's skin.

"Gods, Tav." His voice is hoarse, "you- that was- I-"

She chuckles, which makes her walls clench and his hips stutter as he gasps at the feeling. "That was amazing, Rolan. What... Um. What were you saying?"

She pulls away to look at him, and his face is incredibly red. His freckles are barely visible through the violent blush. "Oh, um. Nothing- Nothing, really. Nothing important. Just... babbling. You know."

She laughs, slowly lowering her legs to the ground, both shuddering as he pulls himself from her. He mutters a quick incantation and they're both clean.

"You're going to have to teach me Comprehend Languages, now. I'm far too nosy to leave it at that."

"Hm. We'll see."

~~~

Translations:

"Tibiz plazet link'zon mezoq?" ("You like when I speak to you in my native tongue?")

"Zedzit'n, nul'umne? Zede illizquit diko." ("But you don't care, do you? It's not about what I say.")

"Morentez me'zam? Notzo'illi." ("Moaning for me already? Aren't I lucky.")

Quid plaket, dilekt'miz?" ("Please what, my beloved?")(he lies and tells her it means "please what?")

"Nezkiz quid'mih fakiaz. Volui'illi tamd'umne." ("You have no idea what you do to me. I have wanted you for so long.")

"Then again... Forzit adv'illi." ("Then again... Perhaps I won't.")

"Tam strikta, fuck. Ita infek'tum strikta. Tell me when you're ready, dilekt'miz." ("So wet, fuck. So tight and wet. Tell me when you're ready, my beloved.")

"Nezkiz. Nezkiz quam di'tez vellem. Quamdiu korpuz tuum'kontraz petivi. Vid'tez habzeq. Miz'tib animez'umne." ("You have no idea. You have no idea how long I've wanted you. How long I've craved your body against mine. I have dreamt of having you like this. My soul burns for you.")

"adv'illi" ("I won't.")

"Tez amorez. Tez amorez taz'multo. Perfik'miz. Amaz, amaz, num'quam latuz dezeraz. Morent'illi anim defendam." ("I love you. I love you so much. You complete me. Please, please never leave my side. I would protect you to my dying breath.")

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 requests #bg3 tav #rolan x tav #rolan bg3 #bg3 rolan #rolan #holy rolan empire #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii

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ellnick · 3 months

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"I wish someone would write a fic where-"

Gimme. I'll do it. Send me asks. I want your headcanons. I want so badly to write and my brain is so fuzzy that I can't think of anywhere to start.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #baldurs gate romance #gale of waterdeep #bg3 writing #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 fanfic idea #bloodweave #halstarion #halsin #halsin silverbough #astarion ancunin #gale dekarios

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seiless · 10 days

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how would romanced astarion & gale handle finding out that someone made tav cry?

(I kept busy so this didn't get posted as quickly as I wanted it to, but... here it is!! Shed tears to be dried by a pair of hotties U V U)

Gale: Like any decent partner, Gale is immediately stunned and heartbroken at the very sight of it. This is of course mixed with disbelief; it was the first time he’d ever seen you in tears.

The leader of their little band of fearless weirdos was crying in their shared tent. He did what made the most sense in that moment; crossed the space in two strides and was right beside you, drawing you into his arms.

Not a word was said. Your hands curled into his tunic, your face pressed to his chest in an attempt to stifle the emotions that overwhelmed you. It troubled him deeply, feeling how fragile you were in that moment.

Always independent, always capable and unwavering…you were the rock that kept everything together, and the one that the others would look to for the next steps. It was easy to forget that you were still a person. You were still fighting your own demons, even if you put the others’ first.

“It’s alright…” His voice was hushed, a low murmur that rumbled in his chest. You shook your head, fingers clenching tighter. “All is well, my love.”

A bitter cough that he was certain was meant to be a laugh escaped you, but you stayed rooted to the spot.

“You don’t even know…what I’m upset about.” Your words were hoarse and trembling. Gale smiled all the same.

“That may be true, but I can assure you there is nothing you are struggling with that cannot be defeated. At the very least, not when I am at your side.”

He gently pulled you back, thumbing away the tears that slipped through your defenses. It was hard to see you in such a state; to be so fragile, and vulnerable.

It was certainly mortifying in your mind, of which there was no doubt in his. Whether you’d ever admit it or not, he found it adorable to see such a pout on your lips.

You pressed into his embrace, your nose as close to his heart as you could possibly be. Gale enveloped you in strong arms, questioning nothing and worrying little.

Whatever it was, you could figure it out together.

So instead he guided you to the bedroll, and drew you into his lap, refusing to let you go for a single second until you were ready to tell him everything.

It was frightening to see your emotions so raw and upset, but relieving to know that his very touch was what could remedy some of your tears. At the very least, he found it a small comfort that whatever had your tears spilling over didn’t seem to be anything life ruining.

That evening would result in your crying yourself to sleep, though the tears had long been reduced to sniffling and the odd hitch of breath. So perhaps tiring yourself out was a better explanation.

Gale kissed your forehead, settling into the thin blankets and holding you beside him, never once letting your form slip from his warmth.

He would gladly accept the role of your champion of comfort; especially knowing you would be the very same for him during his own times of crises.

That night, you dreamed of pompous but precious wizards..

Astarion: To be fair, he doesn’t mean to barge in when you’re in distress. Rather, he’d heard the soft sniffling from across camp, and when he went to investigate, he found that the tent flap wasn’t latched.

So when he passed through, he felt slightly bad when he saw how your shoulders jumped at the sound of him.

Though that was immediately overrun when the red around your eyes and the tracks of tears became visible.

Astarion’s gaze darkened.

“Who did this?”

“Asta-”

“Who did this to you? I want names.” He crossed the tent and came to his knees before you, grasping your shoulders when you started to sit up.

“No one did a-anything. Not on purpose.” You shook your head, biting down on your lip in an attempt to stifle another sob. You held up a piece of parchment. A letter.

Astarion glanced away from you and took it, quickly skimming over its contents.

“What is this, some sort of threat? What fool would dare send such a thing to my-”

He paused.

‘With deep regret, we inform you that your mother passed away on the evening of Eleint 5.’

The rest of the language was blurred away, blots of tears evident that quickly turned into smears from your fingertips.

“She was ill.” You pushed your tears with the heel of your hand, revealing the missing black ink that was wet along your fingertips. “It’s…one of the reasons I w-was found by the Illithid at all. I was trying to find…t-trying to find a cure.”

“Dear.”

Astarion set the letter aside, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You shook your head, lips pursed against the threat of another cry.

“I knew…I k-knew she didn’t have much time left. We both did. She thought it foolish to try and find the medicine. She wanted me to stay with her instead. Enjoy e-every moment. But Father would be there, so…so I-I didn’t think…”

“May I hold you?”

You trailed off at his question, nodding weakly. Astarion did not find hesitation in his movements when you fell into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist. He drew you into his lap, cradling your head gently as he shifted, propping himself against the chest filled with humble belongings.

Astarion didn’t remember his parents. He didn’t know if they had a strong bond. But you had spoken enough about your own that it was clear your relationship with yours was deep and loving.

To not be there when your mother passed…surely, it must have been devastating.

“I should never h-have left that house…I never should’ve left my mother behind, she…I didn’t even get to say goodbye-”

“I’m sorry.” He spoke into your hair, holding you as close as he possibly could. He could offer very little more in the way of comforting words.

What was he supposed to say? Were there any words that could soothe your broken heart (let alone words from his mouth that would hold any meaning).

It was impossible for you to even formulate a response, anymore. You shook, silently, fighting the urge to out and out bawl. Not here. Not like this.

And so he held you. Astarion squeezed you close, refusing to let you go. It wasn’t going to happen.

He didn’t know how long the two of you remained there; he lost track of time. Eventually, your breathing fell into an uneasy, but mercifully slow, rhythm.

You’d cried yourself to sleep.

The vampire was at a loss; it was hard enough to navigate a grieving partner when the other had emotional intelligence enough to handle such difficult things.

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do beyond offer condolences and some sort of physical comfort.

You hadn’t turned him away yet, so…perhaps he had made the right call. He would hold you until the wee hours of morning, when you finally came back to life from crying yourself to sleep.

Of course, you made sure to give him positive reinforcement with a tender, trembling kiss that morning.

It was exactly what you needed, you promised, and you were beyond grateful that he was by your side while you processed everything to come.

Not that he needed the praise…he would remain at your side regardless…no matter what would come.

#astarion #gale #baldurs #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate tav #baldurs gate gale #astarion x tav #gale x tav #astarion ancunin #gale dekarios #fan fiction #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 fanfiction

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dragonagitator · 6 months

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surely someone out there must have written a fanfic in which Gale and a Sorcerer!Tav get trapped alone somewhere together before Elminster has stabilized Gale's orb, and when the Arcane Hunger hits they realize that the only Weave-infused substance they have available to stave it off is Tav's come?

if not yet then please consider this a prompt lol

#hornyposting #live from the gale dekarios sex research institute #BG3 #Baldur's Gate 3 #Gale #Gale of Waterdeep #Gale Dekarios #Gale BG3 #BG3 Gale #I love him so much #magic boots aren't the only thing he likes eating if you know what i mean ;)#bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 fanfic idea #fanfic authors pls #fuck or die

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charlarl-charlathanofarlathan · 19 days

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Please can someone write a Gale x Fem!Tav fic where Tav, Tara and Morena (Gale's mother) go wedding dress/other wedding attire shopping for Tav. No specific details for the prompt, any race for Tav or just “reader” but preferably half-elf (Dragonborn would also be fun to read).

I got this idea recently and I can’t get rid of it, but my writing skill is very poorly. 😭

#bg3 fic #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #gale x reader #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 fanfic idea #bg3 fanfiction

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ebar · 20 days

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Something just popped into my head. Spawn Astarion picking back up his magistrate mantle and convincing the court system to allow him to hold court in the evening hours.

Baldur's Gate Night Court.

Out of the 7000 sacrificial lambs, tell me there isn't one or two that he could use as Bailiffs or other court workers.

Imagine getting pulled into the courtroom at like 2am, tired, it's dark, and you look up and the judge sitting slightly shadowed has glowing red eyes. You turn to the bailiff and see more cold, glowing red eyes. The hot stares make you squirm, your guilt rising in the back of your throat.

Judge Ancunin has the highest rate of confession in the history of Baldur's Gate. Every criminal begins to fear being judged at night.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 fandom #astarion love #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion

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mahiiimahiiii · 2 months

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bg3 pairings!!

hello all! i wanted to do something silly for once, so im opening up pairings, mainly so i can get experience in writing for a variety of characters!

heres what ill need from you!

age, myers briggs, likes, dislikes, your favorite feature about yourself, a mini description of you, gender and how you identify, favorite color, favorite food, a song that would describe you, and 3 interests or hobbies.

thank y'all!! im excited to write lol.

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lendeah · 3 months

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Three times you take care of Astarion and one time he takes care of you

[ao3 link]

You were a caring person. That much was clear from the first moment you let him drink off you, almost to death. It was also clear when you tried to cool Karlach down with a rainy spell so you could hug her. Or give Gale every piece of magic item in your inventory so he could eat it. You enjoyed taking care of people.

However, taking care of Astarion wasn't an easy task. As much as you wanted to be there for him and help him, the vampire was a difficult person to handle. He was like a wild animal, constantly on edge and ready to lash out. It soon became clear that Astarion wasn't used to being on the receiving end of caring. Wasn't used for someone to care at all.

So you went little by little, as to not startle him. You started by simply spending time with him. Patiently listening to his endless complaints and blatant flirting, offering a sympathetic ear and a playful response, respectively. It was clear that Astarion enjoyed your company, even if he didn't always show it. He would often make snarky comments or sarcastic remarks, but you could tell that deep down, he appreciated having someone around.

Of course, you let him drain you dry every night, which honestly left you sick and tired through the day, but it was worth the glint in his eyes and the way his cheeks seemed to light up as if he was alive again.

You couldn't help but notice; he always had a book in his hands. Whether you were at camp or out on an expedition, he was constantly reading. So you began collecting every book you stumbled upon and leaving them on his bedroll for him to find when he returned to his tent. No matter the genre- whether it was a history book, poetry or even erotica- you always gifted them to him.

The first times, he would search around the camp in confusion, wondering who had left them there for him. But after the fifth or sixth book, the vampire's expression would light up with a secretive smile as he eagerly flipped through the pages. It warmed your heart to see him so engrossed in a story, his curiosity evident in his shining eyes. However, you kept your identity hidden: if he knew it was you leaving the books, he might become wary again and you didn't want to risk it after coming this far. This went on for a few weeks until one day, as you were leaving another book, a voice called out from behind you.

"Well, hello there. I suppose the game is up."

You froze, the book still in your hands, as you turned around to see Astarion standing with a sly smile on his face.

"I... erm, I just found these books lying around and thought they might be yours," you said lamely.

He smirked, eyes narrowing as if he saw right through your excuses. "Funny, I don't recall owning any of these books you are holding."

You blushed, avoiding his gaze. "Oh...I must have made a mistake then."

But Astarion just shook his head, walking closer to you until he was within arm's reach. "You think I don't know what you're doing? You haven't exactly been subtle, sweetheart."

You felt your face heat up even more, the blush reaching your ears.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably as your voice came out a little squeaky.

Astarion chuckled. "Well, if I didn't know any better, I might suspect that you were trying to seduce me. If you wanted to come into my tent, all you had to do was ask, my dear."

"I-It... It's not like that!" you sputtered out, trying to avoid eye contact with him. "I just thought... you like reading."

"Oh, I do," Astarion said in a low voice. "Among other things."

You swallowed hard as your mind raced. Had he just... Was he implying what you thought he was implying?

"I-I should really get going," you said quickly, turning away from him and almost tripping over your own feet.

But before you could run off, Astarion's hand closed around your wrist, pulling you back towards him. "Wait," he said, his eyes locked onto yours. His expression was a bit serious, a stark contrast to the playful persona he usually wore. "Thanks for the effort. It's almost sweet, doing all this for me."

The two of you stood there for a moment longer before Astarion spoke up again.

"Perhaps we could have a little fun and read them together sometime?" he suggested with a raised eyebrow.

You smiled shyly at him, feeling butterflies in your stomach at his offer.

"I... I would love that," you said, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice.

Astarion's smile widened and he released your wrist. "Wonderful. I look forward to it, my dear. And I do hope the next book is a good one."

You walked away from his tent, trying to convince yourself that the thumping of your heart was simply due to your love for taking care of others.

With each passing day, your meetings with Astarion in his tent became a familiar routine. You allowed him to feed on you, then spent time reading together from the books you had collected for him. It was also a chance for you to study him closely, searching for any other way to care for him. One night, as he read aloud to you, the soothing sound of his voice lulled you into a peaceful slumber, curled up on his bedroll next to him. The next morning, as sunlight flooded the tent, you woke up to find Astarion already awake, holding a book in his hands.

"Good morning," you said, rubbing the sleep off your eyes. "Sorry I fell asleep here."

Astarion raised an eyebrow at you. "No need to apologize. I must say, you look quite lovely when you're sleeping. Although you do not sound that lovely, but well, we can't all be perfect."

You rolled your eyes, then sat up stretching your limbs. As you glanced around the room, your eyes landed on the book in his hand - the one you two had been reading last night. It was almost finished now.

"Wait, you haven't slept?"

He let out a soft laugh.

"My dear, I am an elf. We do not sleep; we trance. And to answer your inquiry, no, I did not partake in that either. It's not something I typically find enjoyable."

You looked at Astarion with confusion and concern. "But... why? Don't you need to rest?"

He gave a casual shrug. "If I enter into a trance, the only memories accessible to me are my own life experiences. And let me tell you, those are not pleasant memories."

"But isn't there a way for you to... just rest? Without the memories, I mean?" You asked.

Astarion smirked, his eyes still fixed on the book in his hands. "Why bother learning how to sleep when I can trance instead?" he quipped "Trancing has always been my preferred method anyway."

You couldn't imagine what it was like, being forced to relive your trauma over and over again every night.

"I’m so sorry, Astarion," you whispered, your voice barely above a hush.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Oh well," he said, "It's all in the past now, isn't it? Just another part of who I am."

You nodded slowly but you couldn’t shrug off his words as easily as he could. You recalled the way he looked when he was trancing - peaceful and unguarded. It was hard to imagine that behind those serene features he was being haunted by his memories.

The day was a blur, as you struggled to maintain a cheerful facade and engage in small talk. However, Astarion's words continued to haunt you. As the evening progressed and you both followed your usual nightly routine, you made a decision to do something.

"Astarion." He turned to you, a curious look on his face. You took a deep breath, trying to gather your courage."I think we could try something different tonight. Do you trust me?"

Astarion looked at you as though surprised by the question, a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes.

"Trust is a strong word, darling," he replied, a smirk forming on his lips. "But yes, I suppose I do trust you."

"Good," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart.

You cleared your throat as you settled into the bedroll, signaling for him to join you. Astarion raised an eyebrow but followed your lead, settling into the bedroll beside you.

"Rest your head on my lap," you instructed softly

Astarion's eyebrows shot up once more, but then he shrugged and followed your instructions. He cautiously rested his head on your lap, surprising you with his compliance. Sensing the tension in his body, you refrained from touching him yet, and instead reached for your bag. He watched you curiously as you took out a small jar.

"What's that?" he asked, his eyes glinting with intrigue.

"It's a special blend of herbs and oils that I use to help me relax and sleep better," you explained, opening the tub and taking out a small dab of the mixture. "Can I touch you?"

He seemed to hesitate for a few seconds, before he answered, "Yes you may."

You rubbed the mixture between your fingers before gently massaging it onto his temples and forehead. You could feel him tense under your touch, probably not used to this kind of contact.

"Does it help?" he asked quietly, his eyes closed.

"It helps me," you replied honestly. "I'm not sure if it'll have the same effect on you, but I figured it's worth a try."

He nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," you replied, smiling back down at him. "Now just close your eyes and try to relax. Let your thoughts drift you away."

Astarion blinked, his long lashes fluttering against his pale skin. He looked at you with a mix of surprise and skepticism, clearly hesitant to follow your lead. But he didn't protest, didn't push your hands away. Instead, he nodded slightly, closing his eyes once more.

You watched him closely, noticing how the tension in his jaw gradually subsided and the creases on his forehead smoothed out little by little. You continued gently massaging his temples, the rhythmic movements soothing both of you.

The change in his demeanor prompted a fluttering sensation in your stomach that you hastily shrugged away, reminding yourself not to read too much into it.

Eventually, you started running your fingers through his hair and Astarion let out a contented hum, adjusting himself slightly in response. You could have sworn he was purring, and it seemed like he had fallen into a deep slumber.

By the end of the night, you were asleep with your hands still gently stroking his head.

From that moment, a subtle tension seemed to linger between the two of you. It was unspoken, but present every time you were alone together. Astarion would ask for your help to fall asleep each night, and without fail, he would drift off quickly and sleep soundly. You loved watching him relax under your touch, feeling his body go limp and his soft sleepy sounds. But more than that, you enjoyed drifting off with your fingers tangled in his soft curls, your heart feeling light and at ease in his presence.

However, the perils of your journey became worse as your party reached the Underdark. Your main concern became avoiding attacks from shadow monsters, leaving little room for any attention to whatever connection was building between you two.

One night, as you approached Astarion's tent, you noticed him sitting cross-legged in front of his small mirror. His brow was furrowed and his expression was one of deep contemplation. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should disturb him or not.

"Looking at something?" he suddenly asked.

You jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, not expecting him to break the silence.

"How did you see me?"

"The only benefit to a mirror when you have my condition. It doesn't quite make up for the lack of a reflection, mind you."

And then it clicked. He couldn't see his own reflection. Why hadn't it occurred to you before?

"Do you miss it? Your own face, I mean."

Of course he did, what a stupid question.

"Preening in the Looking Glass? Petty vanity?" Astarion scoffed, "Of course I miss it."

Astarion's tone was bitter, his gaze fixed on his reflection-less face in the mirror. You sat down next to him, mirroring his position.

"I've never even seen this face not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red"

So he hadn't seen his face in over 200 years. You couldn't imagine what that must feel like. To not have seen your own face in over two centuries. To be unable to remember how it even looked like.

After your conversation, ideas began to circulate in your mind. You considered asking Gale to use his magic to transform your appearance to match his, but that would only be temporary. You wanted something more permanent that would allow him to admire his own face whenever he pleased. The thought of enchanting his mirror so that it would reflect his image crossed your mind. Surely there had to be a spell for that. However, time was limited and you were unsure how much you could dedicate to the task anyway. Then, an answer presented itself at the Last Light Inn when you encountered an artist on your way.

"How long would it take for you to paint a portrait?"

"Like, a month?"

"I will pay you triple if you finish it in a week."

Although the artist was hesitant, the promise of triple payment was too tempting for him to turn down. And so, a week later, you returned to Astarion's tent with a canvas in hand. He arched an eyebrow in question.

"What is this?" Astarion asked, gesturing towards your offering. "Another gift? At this rate, my tent will be overflowing with your generosity."

You grinned and gently set the canvas on the floor in front of him. A delicate, sheer fabric covered its surface.

"This is a special one, though."

His eyes glossed over with a mixture of curiosity and amusement as he leaned forward to unwrap it. An expectant silence filled the tent, the only sound being the rustle of fabric as he carefully lifted the veil. The sight that greeted his gaze left him momentarily speechless - an exquisitely painted portrait of a man, elegantly handsome with sharp, angular features and piercing red eyes.

"What is this?" Astarion asked with a chuckle, clearly admiring the artwork."You've given me a portrait of a handsome stranger? How thoughtful, dear. But the quality could be better, honestly."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you whispered, "That's you," holding your breath for his reaction.

There was a tense moment of silence as Astarion stared at the portrait. You couldn't quite read his expression, and your heart started to race with anxiety. Had you made a mistake? Was he displeased with the gift? Maybe you were intruding too much in his personal life...

After what felt like an eternity, Astarion finally spoke. "This is... me?" His voice was barely above a whisper, almost disbelieving.

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes.

"Yes. I wanted you to have something that would allow you to see yourself again, so I asked an artist at the Last Light Inn to paint you."

His fingers traced over the painting, brushing lightly over the likeness of his own face, his own eyes - red now - but still his. He took a step back as if he'd been hit, staggering slightly. There was a moment where he just stood there, staring at the man in the portrait - at himself.

"Is this... is this how I look now?" He asks, voice barely audible.

You swallowed hard and nodded, "Yes."

"I..." he started, then stopped. Shaking his head, he turned towards you with a conflicted look in his red eyes. "I... don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," you told him reassuringly, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

He looked at you for a long moment before nodding and squeezing your hand back. A tear trickled down his cheek and he quickly wiped it away, but not before you saw it glistening in the dim light.

"Thank you," he said finally. It's quiet, almost lost in the silence of the tent, but the sincerity in his voice is unmistakable. You smiled at him, feeling a wave of relief and happiness wash over you.

"You're welcome," you whispered softly.

Astarion's crimson eyes shimmered with tears as he gazed at the painting, struggling to maintain his composure. You gave him a reassuring smile before turning around to give him some space to process his thoughts and feelings. But just as you were about to leave, he reached out and took hold of your hand, stopping you.

"Don't go" he said solemnly. "Please don't go... I'd like to... I want..." slowly, he stepped closer to you and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug.

You were taken aback for a moment but then quickly melted into his embrace. After a moment of silence, the vampire spoke softly, his voice raspy.

"I don't know... how to repay you, I..." he murmured into your hair.

"You don't have to," you whispered back, feeling overwhelmed by his sudden display of emotion.

After what felt like an eternity, Astarion finally pulled away slightly so that he could look into your eyes. His eyes were moist with tears, but they also held a glimmer of hope, happiness. You couldn't help but smile back at him, feeling a wave of warmth spread throughout your body from the simple touch. And in that moment, you realized just how deeply you had fallen for this man. It wasn't just a matter of caring anymore; you were deeply and irrevocably in love with him.

And you would tell him, you decided. You would let him know that he didn't owe you anything because you had acted out of love. Your heart pounded in your chest, adrenaline rushing through your veins. His eyes were still on yours, searching, questioning.

"Astarion...," you started, your voice soft and filled with emotion, "I need to tell you... I..."

However, just as you were about to spill your heart, the sound of someone calling for you pierced through the quiet atmosphere of the tent. With a sigh, you reluctantly untangled yourself from Astarion's arms.

"I'm afraid that's my cue."

He gave a silent nod, his eyes reflecting a mix of conflicting emotions.

"Sure, sure. Wouldn't want to interrupt your exciting duties as our esteemed leader."

You rolled your eyes with a small smile and got out of the tent. However, there was a feeling of disappointed and regret for not being able to express your true feelings to him. You made a mental note to tell him later when you had the chance.

But that night, Astarion didn't come to his bedroll. Nor the next one. Or the one following. You sensed he was putting some distance between you as if something had changed. He continued with his blatant flirting and sly remarks, of course. They just seemed... mechanical. Every time you tried to talk about your feelings, he would deflect or change the subject. Days turned into weeks and still nothing changed between you two. Astarion remained distant and aloof while you struggled with your own emotions, feeling confused and rejected.

One morning, you woke up with a heavy weight on your chest. You initially dismissed it as the usual feeling of sadness that had been lingering for a week now. But after a whole day of choking on your own breath and dizziness, mixed with a deep pounding in your head, you knew this wasn’t the case. Despite your condition, you pushed through the day, determined not to be seen as weak or unreliable by your group.

However, as time passed, it became increasingly difficult to hide your worsening state from everyone else. Your coughing spells were becoming more frequent, and your body was weakening rapidly. You could sense Astarion's worried stare on you from time to time, but he never approached you to inquire about your condition.

That all changed one morning when you couldn't even muster the strength to get out of bed. Your entire body was in pain and your fever was soaring. You heard footsteps approaching your bedrolls and prepared yourself for one of your companions coming to check on you (or more likely, tell you off). However, it was Astarion's smirking face that came into view.

"Well, well, well," he said with a teasing tone, "Seems like our fearless leader is not feeling so fearless anymore. Feeling lazy today, are we?"

You managed to roll your eyes, laying your arm back over them to shield from the morning sunlight peering in through a hole in the tent. "If by lazy you mean sick, then yes." Your voice was weak and raspier than usual. You coughed into your arm, the action causing your body to shake and shudder with discomfort.

"Hmm..." Astarion's voice was no longer teasing. "That doesn't sound good, darling."

His gaze was intense when he leaned down to press his hand against your forehead. You suppressed a shiver at the unexpected coolness it brought and tried to turn away from him. He didn't let you, pushing your hair away from your face with his other hand.

"You're burning up," he said, moving away from you but not before you saw the worry flash briefly in his eyes. He stood up abruptly and started pacing around your bedroll, "What can I do?" He asked more to himself than you.

"Nothing… I just need… rest..." You managed to respond before another coughing fit washed over you.

Astarion shook his head "I'm going to get Shadowheart and Halsin. They will know what to do."

Astarion hurried out of the tent, and surely a few minutes later he came back bringing your two companions. As Halsin handed you the potion and Shadowheart casted her healing spells, Astarion's hand brushed against yours briefly before pulling away.

"Thank you," you whispered weakly before passing out.

A few hours later, after resting and drinking more disgusting beverages than you could count, your fever had finally subsided a bit and your coughing fits were less frequent. Astarion stayed by your side through the whole ordeal, a comforting silhouette against the flickering candlelight. You closed your eyes and felt his cold hand soothingly stroke your forehead. The cool, comforting touch of his skin against yours was a relief from the fever heat radiating off your body.

"Feel any better?" Astarion asked, raising an eyebrow.

You attempted a smile, "Well, I'm not dead yet."

His lips twitched in response, a semblance of his usual smirk flickering across his handsome face. "Good. That would be inconvenient for my dietary needs."

Despite feeling weak and exhausted, you couldn't help but chuckle. It was a welcome distraction from the constant throbbing pain in your head and rattling chest.

He shifted awkwardly on his seat next to you, looking almost hesitant, before he started speaking again. "I... I was scared of losing you," he admitted, "And I have to confess something."

His usually confident and cocky demeanor was replaced with an almost childlike uncertainty.

"What is it?" You asked, your voice still weak but full of concern.

He sighed heavily before meeting your gaze.

"I had a nice simple plan; to manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn on me. And honestly, I thought it would be so easy, with you being so open, so eager to care for everyone..." He frowns, "But that is the thing. You are so kind, so thoughtful. No one's ever cared for me the way you have. And... I don't know how to handle it."

You reached out and grasped his hand, squeezing it gently. "I understand," you said softly. "It's not easy to let someone take care of you, but you don't have to push me away. You deserve love and happiness just like everyone else."

He nodded, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "I want to try," he said, determination flickering in his gaze. "I want to let you take care of me. And I want to take care of you, if you let me."

You smiled at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words.

"Of course. But first, I feel like I need to tell you something too." You took a deep breath before continuing, "I...I think I'm falling in love with you."

He looked at you puzzled, before letting out a loud laugh.

"Oh, my love. I already knew."

You were taken aback by his words. "What? You did?"

He rolled his eyes "Dear, you were hardly subtle about it. A portrait? Essential oils? Come on..."

You couldn't help but laugh at his response, feeling relieved and embarrassed all at once.

"I guess I'm not as sneaky as I thought," you said, shaking your head.

"But I'm not better." He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "I've been falling for you since the moment you started leaving books on my bedroll."

With that, he closed the distance between you and pressed his lips against yours in a soft kiss. It was like a spark igniting, sending waves of electricity through your body. In that brief moment, all the emotions and tensions that had been building between you seemed to dissipate into thin air. The softness of his lips against yours was like a warm embrace, melting away any doubts or fears you may have had.

When you both pulled away, you rested your forehead against his and whispered, "You are going to get ill now."

He chuckled, "How fortunate I am already dead then."

Yet, in that moment, the gleam of his eyes made him seem more alive than you had ever seen him.

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

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space-blue · 3 months

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BG3 Fic Feb, comic edition, day 10:

A hard kiss before battle...

I didn't even know about Raphael's ascended form until after I first finished the game. It is glorious and I will be sure to experience it in my Durge game. Anyway, Nia wasn't into Raphael much, but she would have gotten new sympathy for him, I think, if she understood how desperate he is to hide his true appearance. His personality SUCKS, mind you, but he deserves a kiss and to be told the monster fuckers over on tumblr would adore him.

No wings for my sanity's sake.

Kawai version for my freaky mutuals below the cut

Maybe after the challenge is done I might try and colour it. Maybe!

#BG3FicFeb #tav #bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 comic #my art #bg3 fanfic prompt #baldur's gate 3 #raphael #bg3 raphael #ascended raphael #raphael the cambion #not so cambion after all #kiss #raphael/tav

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dancingbirdie · 4 months

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Hi hi! I absolutely adore your astarion smut and I saw you were looking for ideas sooooo, how about reader being distracted watching him work with his hands?? Like he could be sat fixing his shirt with a sewing needle, flicking book pages or lockpicking- whatever- but it has an effect, his nimble, veiny hands being just soo good at things that he can’t help but notice just how zoned out and squirmy they get.. some teasing and loving jokes about it ensue until maybe one thing leads to another and he’s sat behind his pretty tav fingering them, bringing them to the edge over and over, whispering and nipping, carefully mocking them about somthing as simple as his hands getting them going.. just making them melt.. idkkkk man it gets me just thinking about it pahahah

Hi, anon! This was a WONDERFUL prompt to get me out of my smut rut. Hope you enjoy! xoxoxo

Like my smut writing? Find more here.

A Lesson in Lockpicking

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings/Tags: Hand kink, praise kink, semi-public sex, mild exhibitionism, teasing, vaginal fingering, smut with a little plot

Summary: Astarion notices you watching him pick some locks. He offers to give you a lesson you won't soon forget.

*****

It was unfair, really. No one should have hands as lovely and dexterous as he did.

You were practically salivating, watching Astarion’s nimble fingers pick lock after lock in the underground bank vault that you and the party had happened to stumble upon. While the others were far too distracted by crates of silks and gold troves, you had eyes only for Astarion. Or, more specifically, Astarion’s hands.

The others were slowly pilfering their way around the cavernous room, pocketing what they could without encumbering themselves. But not you.

No, you were too entranced by the movements of the rogue before you, as he worked to release the heavily rusted lock on one of the many jewel-encrusted chests scattered about the vault. You bit your lip, studying the way the tendons in his hands flexed and relaxed with every twist and fidget of the wrench and pick he held. His long, slender fingers balanced the tools with a graceful sort of ease that you knew could only come from years of practice. And the way he curled his wrist while manipulating those tools, it was almost too much to bear.

You blushed as you realized you had subconsciously clamped your thighs together, your body desperate to relieve some of the growing tension within you.

Gods above, you hoped that if anyone – especially Astarion – noticed your intense gaze, it could be chalked up to your excitement over another chest opened. Surely that made sense given the circumstances. Right? It was embarrassing enough to catch yourself squirming over just his hands doing some mundane task, let alone having someone else realize it.

Within seconds, Astarion had the lock released. Tossing it carelessly to the side, he heaved open the lid of the old chest to reveal the contents within. Another heaping mound of gold and jewels, same as the rest. Clearly unimpressed, he rose from his crouch and slunk over to the next locked chest, beginning the process again.

Gods, you needed some air. Needed to be anywhere else but watching him pick another lock open. With a tight cough and shake of the head, you mumbled a “nice job” as you skirted by him, desperate to put some distance between yourself and those mesmerizing hands of his.

*****

He had known why you were watching him so intently earlier in the day. Of course he had known. Even without his heightened sense of smell alerting him to your arousal (thank you elven heritage and vampiric consolation prizes), your expression in his peripheral vision told him everything he needed to know.

You were coveting. But not for the gold in the old chest he had popped open in record time.

No, your eyes had been focused singularly on him. On his hands. And sure, knowing this, perhaps he had embellished his movements a bit more than necessary. Perhaps he’d slid his fingers across his tools with a more lascivious flourish than lockpicking ever required. And perhaps he’d curled his wrist suggestively as he released the tension from those over-wound lock pins. But, oh, the way you had squirmed and clenched your thighs together as he did so was worth every second of that exaggerated performance.

So enamored with his hands, you’d neglected to see the smirk ripple across his features as the lock opened with a muted snick.

All the better for him, though.

Your starving expression had produced so many entertaining ideas in his mind while he worked.

And what made those ideas all the more enticing? You had no idea of the plans he had in store for tonight.

*****

It was late. Everyone else had retired to their tents for the evening, but you had volunteered to take the first watch. Like most nights, it was fairly quiet, nothing but the sound of crickets chirping and owls hooting in the distance.

You were stoking the fire with fresh tinder as you caught sight of Astarion reentering the camp. He was whistling some bawdy tune you recalled from the pubs of Baldur’s Gate while he sauntered toward you, tossing and catching some metallic thing that flashed in the firelight.

“What’s that you’ve got?” you whispered as he drew closer, mindful of your sleeping compatriots.

“Practice lock,” Astarion replied, tossing you the object. You turned it over in your hands, noticing its striking resemblance to one of the locks he’d picked earlier in the day.

“Why are you giving me this?” you questioned, eying him warily.

“I caught you watching me today, darling. I assumed you were too shy to ask for… lessons,” he supplied.

He had an innocent-enough tone, but still, it had you gulping audibly. Did he intend a double meaning to his words, or were you just desperately lusting after him? You couldn’t be sure. It certainly meant he had noticed your staring earlier, but far be it from you to correct the narrative he had formed in his mind. You would rather be buried alive than admit the truth to him right now.

No Astarion, I couldn’t give a damn about lockpicking. I just can’t stop watching your hands and thinking about all the ways I’d wish you’d use them on me. Even the idea of that confession caused a blush to bloom across your neck and cheeks.

You cleared your throat and nodded. “Right. You’re right. Thank you for offering.”

His smile widened. “Of course. I was thinking,” he began, as he circled around you, graceful as always. Like a feline cornering their dinner.

“We could have our first lesson tonight. Right now,” he continued.

You shivered, unable to see him any longer, but feeling him close behind you.

“Isn’t it a little late for that?” you asked weakly.

You both felt and heard his chuckle by your ear, his breath blowing tendrils of your loose hair into your periphery. He’d gotten so close without you even realizing. His preternatural stillness was always catching you off guard.

“Oh no, darling. It’s the perfect time for it, I think,” Astarion murmured. You shivered again as his nose traced a path up the column of your neck. “Let me show you.”

“All right,” you whispered, desire choking your voice into some muted, demure thing.

You clenched your jaw, commanding yourself to remain calm, as you felt him settle around you. Felt his body press snugly against you. You watched as his long legs stretched to bar you in while he circled his arms around you, resting his forearms on bended knees. His chest was flush against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder. You knew if you turned your head, your lips would be close enough to touch.

You were effectively caged within his embrace. Even fully clothed, it felt electric, everywhere his body touched yours. It took everything within you just to maintain your breathing.

Your eyes tracked his every move, as one hand moved to pluck the lock still clutched in your fingers, while the other hand revealed a simple lockpick – a long metal stem with a tiny curved hook at the end.

“It’s simple, really,” he murmured. “Do it once, and you’ll never forget.”

“Is that so?” you replied.

“Mm, quite so,” he crooned. You could hear the grin in his voice.

“Watch me,” he continued, as he held the lock in one hand and inserted the pick with the other.

You obeyed, taking in every minute movement of his fingers as he twisted the pick this way and that. This close, you could truly appreciate his beautiful porcelain skin. The way the blue-gray veins underneath snaked around each knuckle of his hand, a delicate webbing that came alive with each fidget of his fingers. The dance they performed against the tendons in his hand, as they rose and fell while he continued to work.

A quiet snick, and the lock handle popped open in his palm.

You blinked, impressed by how quickly he’d managed to free the pins within.

“See? Simple. Now you try,” he whispered.

You felt your stomach drop.

Fuck. You were utterly, completely fucked.

You hadn’t been watching the actual pick at all. You hadn’t the slightest clue how he’d maneuvered the tool. Once again, you’d been far too distracted by his hands.

You remained still, hesitating to accept the lock and pick he now offered.

“Is there a problem, darling?” he crooned after a moment’s pause. You could hear it again, that grin in his voice.

You turned your head slightly to take in his expression. There was mischief in his eyes, that much was unmistakable. Whatever game he was playing with you, you could tell he was enjoying it immensely.

“I, um… I think I may need to see you do it again. I’m not sure I’m ready,” you confessed in a hoarse voice.

“Oh, but you were watching my hands so intently! I doubt you missed a thing,” he chuckled, his eyes alight with amusement.

Gods damn it all, you thought to yourself, eyes roving across his face. Taking in the telltale signs in his expression.

He knew. He’s probably known this whole time.

You sighed, surrendering to the heat of the blush that was now coloring your entire face and neck.

“You know I haven’t been watching the pick, Astarion,” you murmured.

“Whatever do you mean, darling?” he gasped in mock surprise. “What could you have been watching then?”

You rolled your eyes, turning away from him to face the campfire once more. “You know already, you ass,” you grumbled.

“Tsk, tsk. Evading my questions and now name calling? Honestly, darling, I thought we had something special,” he pouted.

You groaned, smacking one hand against your forehead. His teasing would be the death of you.

“I was watching your hands,” you groused.

“My hands? Whatever for?”

“Gods damn you, Astarion. You’re really going to make me say it?” you snapped, whipping your head around again to glare at him.

“Oh, I really am,” he chuckled. His shit-eating grin did little to lessen your embarrassment.

“Fine. Fine!,” you spouted, exasperated. “I like watching you work with your hands. It… gets me… excited. And then, I start thinking about all of the other things I’d like you to do with your hands…” you paused.

“And?” he prompted. His teasing expression was gone, replaced with something more akin to what you had been feeling for him all day.

“And… and I think about how I’d like you to use your hands on me,” you finished in a whisper, mouth watering at the look of anticipation on his face.

“All you had to do was ask, darling,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss you as his hands slipped down to the front of your breeches. With deft hands, he loosened the knot there and pulled the strings free from their bindings, jerking the leathers down past your hip bones.

You gasped and keened back against his chest as you felt his fingers slip beneath the fabric, skimming past the tuft of curls to brush against your swollen clit, slick with arousal.

Astarion groaned. “Fuck, you’re absolutely drenched. Is this all for me?” he asked, as his fingers drew slow, languid circles against you.

You mewled a pathetic “yes” as your hips subconsciously rutted up, pressing yourself harder against his fingers.

“Just from watching my hands, darling? Just from watching me pick a rusted lock?” he teased.

You huffed and nodded your assent.

“Naughty thing, you,” Astarion chuckled, trailing the fingers of his other hand against your entrance, barely entering you with one finger before removing it entirely.

You whined your disapproval, inching yourself forward in an effort to communicate how much you needed those fingers inside you.

“Shh, shh,” he admonished, kissing your temple. “We don’t want to wake the others, now do we?”

“No,” you breathed, burrowing your face into his neck to muffle your noises. “I’ll be quiet.”

“That’s my good girl,” he cooed, slipping two fingers inside you. The sudden fullness caused you to groan desperately against his skin, becoming a long, drawn-out noise as he began pumping them with sure, deft strokes.

“No, we can’t have them see you getting finger fucked by the rogue in the firelight,” he whispered, working you now with both hands. “Although, I think the wicked part of you likes the idea of getting caught like this, hmm? Part of you wants them to see how I’m taking you, so easily, right under their noses? In the middle of camp? You want them to see how well I fuck you into oblivion with only my hands. You want them to hear and see how I make you moan.”

With his fingers on your clit and three knuckles deep in your cunt, you were far too gone to form an articulate response. His voice, so alluring it was sinful, only stoked the growing inferno within your lower body.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cried against the column of his neck, both an admission and a plea. “Yes, Astarion, yes.”

“I know, I know. You naughty, precious thing. My sweet girl. My wicked one,” he cooed, planting kisses along your cheek and temple. “You’re doing so well. Making this so easy for me, love.”

You whined at his words, relishing the sound of his voice as it uttered the sweetest and most deplorable things. You nearly saw stars as he slipped a third finger inside you, thrusting into you harder as his fingers drew tighter and tighter circles around your clit.

“You can’t last much longer now, can you, darling?” he whispered. “Not when I’m fucking you like this, hmm? Tell me. Tell me how much you want to come.”

“Please, gods, please, Astarion. Let me come,” you pleaded, covering your mouth with your hands now to try to quiet your noises. It was becoming almost impossible to keep quiet. You could feel your release barreling through your body, desperate to spring free.

“I want you to. I want you to, my sweet one,” he responded between kisses. “I want to feel you clamp around me, knowing it was my hands that turned you into this pliant, mewling little thing.”

“Yes,” you moaned in agreement. “Yes, please.”

“Take your hands off your mouth, darling,” he whispered hoarsely against your jaw as his fingers ratcheted up their pace. “If you’re going to scream for me, I want everyone to hear it.”

It was the last push you needed before freefalling into ecstasy. Your climax rocketed through your body as his name burst from your lips, your hands freed from your mouth to clutch his thighs in a vice-like grip.

You were so lost to the sensation, you couldn’t tell how loud you had cried Astarion’s name. You simply melted back into his embrace, absorbing the aftershocks of your release while he held you snugly against him.

“Good girl. So good for me. So very good,” he whispered praises while his hands trailed errant patterns across the goosefleshed skin of your arms.

“Did anyone hear us?” you whispered after a while, blinking open your eyes to take in his expression.

He laughed, causing you to bounce lightly against his chest. “Oh, I’m sure they did. You sang like a songbird for me, darling.”

You huffed in annoyance, too relaxed to drum up much more irritation.

“If anyone complains, I’m going to tell them it was your fault,” you grumbled.

“I suppose that’s fair. I’ll apologize to them on behalf of my hands, since that’s what started it all,” he smirked.

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viennacherries · 1 month

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I encroach upon ye with a request

Zevlor breeding kink with like, his long term partner who can’t get pregnant for one reason or another (whether you write them as amab or an afab person who is sterile/lacking a functional uterus is up to you)

Zevlor deserves to be really a little bit feral about his partner yk?? Let the man loose himself, it’d be good for the self-loathing imo (/hj)

hi bestie!! my first time trying to write zevlor so i hope u like it! mwah

CONCEPTION

Zevlor/Tav | NSFW | 2,898 words

Summary:

“Tav…” He can hear the grumble in his own voice, watches as it washes over her and she shivers. “Come here.” She shakes her head slowly, a teasing smirk flitting across her face. When she speaks, it's a breath. “Come and get me.” ~~~ Tav and Zevlor want a baby, but things are rarely that simple.

Read it on AO3!

How long has it been now? Several months, at least. And yet he can't give her the one thing she yearns for more than anything. The gift of motherhood.

Zevlor is certain it’s something wrong with him, because of course it must be. Perhaps it’s a punishment from the Gods for his failures against his kin. Perhaps they’ve deemed him unworthy and made him barren as penance for his sins. Him, an oath-broken paladin who couldn't resist the call of a false deity and sacrificed his people in his hubris, and her, the Hero of Baldur’s Gate who had been ready to sacrifice everything for a whole city of people she owed nothing to. He is broken and flawed in every way she is perfect and faultless.

And, Hells , does it hurt. Because there's nothing he wants more than to make her happy. There’s nothing he wants more than to start a family with her, to see her hold their child in her arms and to place a kiss to both of their foreheads. There’s nothing more that he wants than to be a father and navigate the turmoils of parenthood with her by his side.

And yet he keeps failing her.

The worst part is, he’s fucking enjoying it. Laying with her every night, pumping his seed into her while she begs him to fill her. His infernal hindbrain lavishes in hearing her plead for his spend, in holding her down and filling her repeatedly, in watching his cum spill out of her and fingering it back inside her cunt to make sure not a drop is wasted. Some nights she’ll beg him to fuck her again and again, over and over until they’re both sore and exhausted, and he fucking loves it.

But other nights, he’ll wake while the sky is still dark to a cold bed, and hear her sobbing in the other room. He’ll reach out his hand and be met with a small damp circle in the centre of the sheets, and he’ll know her cycle has come again. He’ll rise and find her, holding her while she sobs, and wonder how much longer he can stand to see her like this.

And then they do it all again.

He’s training in the low sun of the afternoon when she finds him, he feels her eyes on him and catches her leaning against a post from the corner of his vision. She looks radiant as always, wearing her favourite blouse and a skirt he doesn't recognise.

He usually trains while she runs errands. It’s nothing as intensive as when he was a Hellrider; his joints complain far more these days. A young man he is not, but he still tries to keep himself in shape. Tav can more than hold her own, but he prides himself in feeling able to protect her, needs to know he’s strong enough to keep their family safe. So, when she travels into town for groceries, or visits the children at school to teach them about the Battle for Baldur’s Gate, he takes himself to the drill field on the outskirts and sharpens his sword.

They’ve made their home in the burgeoning community Halsin has built in the Reclaimed Lands, and she’s absolutely thriving. Retirement from the adventuring life suits her. That's not to say she’s idle, but seeing her able to relax and travel for pleasure rather than a need to outmarch death fills him with joy.

It’s been a few days since he’s seen her, her trip to the Grove taking longer than usual on this occasion. He’s a soldier, though, so of course he finishes his set before he turns to her (plus it sends a thrill through him, knowing she’s watching him, though he won't ever mention that to her). He wipes his brow along the back of his arm, spears his sword into the earth, and opens his arms wide to her. She giggles as she throws herself into his embrace and he swings her around in circles. That’s the other benefit to keeping up his training, being able to lift and carry her and hear the elated squeals she lets out. It makes him feel a far more youthful man than he is.

Before he can ask how her trip went, she's kissing him deeply and smiling against his lips. Yet another way being with her makes him feel young; the way her every touch sends heat through his body as though he’s a virginal adolescent. Hells, he loves her so much.

When she pulls away she’s grinning, and he can't help but return it. “Good journey, I take it?”

She laughs, and the sound is so weightless and musical it makes his head spin.

“ Great trip! I have something for you - for us!”

He raises an eyebrow in question. She often brings him back little trinkets and treats from the Grove but it’s rare she’s this excited to give him them.

Scratch bounds up to her before he can ask any questions and practically clings to her, and her beautiful laugh is back again. Whatever queries he may have had are forgotten as she kneels, cackling as Scratch smothers her face in sloppy kisses.

Usually she’ll bring back a brace of rabbits or pheasants that she’s hunted on the trek back, but she tells him excitedly as she brings out the meat for dinner that she managed to snag a deer. She stopped at a small trading post, where they butchered it for her and she traded them everything that wouldn't keep. She holds the venison steaks up proudly and he applauds her as she takes a deep bow, laughing her way through it. She also foraged some fresh herbs and wild garlic, and the traders gave her some asparagus and carrots in return for the doe.

As usual, he offers to cook, and as usual he’s swatted out of the kitchen, so instead he vows to do the dishes and takes the time to set the table. He feels so lucky to be privy to the mundanity of domestic life with her, so he takes pride in setting their cutlery and placing the table mats down. He lights a few candles, too, because he’s nothing if not a romantic. Tav deserves candlelit dinners.

He’s still not used to the way she looks after him. A lifetime of bachelorhood and swordsmanship doesn’t prepare a man for gentle touches and lovingly cooked meals. Zevlor considers himself a reasonably talented chef, and he’s not some invalid that never learnt how to do his own laundry, and yet Tav always insists on doing these things for him. He’s quite sure he’s never known a love like it. He’s so used to being relied on, and it took a long time to wrap his head around the idea of letting Tav carry some of his burdens. They lean on each other, they give each other balance and stability.

Still, it’s always a competition to see who notices the washing on the line is dry first, and they’re often racing one another to take it down.

Dinner is delicious, as always. The vegetables are roasted in honey and garlic, and she’s cooked the venison in butter which has it tender and flavourful. She even pours them both a glass of wine, and it pairs beautifully.

When they’ve both eaten, the dishes washed and the candles extinguished, she’s practically vibrating with excitement.

“My dear,” he says at last, as he watches her shuffling from one foot to the other, “are you going to tell me what has you so agitated?”

She grins and grabs his hand, standing in front of him, and the words burst from her almost immediately.

“It’s me, Zev. I’m the problem.”

He feels his face twist in confusion and sorrow. It’s not hard to deduce what she’s talking about, but he’s not quite sure why that fills her with such glee.

“Tav… I’m sorry, I-”

She interrupts him with a finger over his lips. “No, no you don't understand. I spoke to Nettie. She says I can have children, I just don't ovulate at regular intervals. She said the reason we've not been able to conceive is because I have a hormone imbalance, not because either of us are sterile.”

He lets her announcement wash over him. The thought that all of their issues have been poor timing and unfortunate happenstance is… Almost unbelievable. He’d resigned himself so fully to the idea that he was the issue, finding out that isn't the case makes his heart stop in his chest.

“How do you-”

She interrupts again, “Nettie gave me a brew when I arrived, to balance my hormones. It’s why I stayed in the Grove a few extra days, so she could test them for me. She says everything is as it should be now. She says…” A blush rises over her cheeks, though the ecstatic smile over her features doesn't falter. “She says if we try now she suspects we’ll have no problems.”

He feels his own blush rising to his face, mostly due to the fact that Nettie now knows far more about his sex-life than he’d hoped to share with anyone ever . He opens his mouth to speak but she’s talking again before he can.

“And, just to be safe, she brewed me a concoction with Mandrake. She said it tastes foul, but that it boosts fertility.” A smirk rises on her face, and she rises on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. Her breath is warm on his ear and he shivers. “I mixed it into my wine.”

The groan he lets out is involuntary, and it resonates low in his chest like a purr. The sudden switch from confused and sad to elated and turned on has his head spinning, and as she walks him backwards towards their bed he feels his cock rush to attention.

A single hand in the centre of his chest pushes him back and down, and he sits staring at her from the mattress. She takes two steps backwards and slowly begins unbuttoning her blouse.

“Zev…” His name on her tongue is like honey. He’s certain she does it on purpose and it drives him wild. “I want you to breed me, darling. Want you to fill me with your babies.”

He clenches his jaw and digs his nails into his thighs. He knows exactly what game she’s playing. She loves to unravel his sensibilities until he’s squirming - until he can't help but rut into her like a wild creature. She knows just how to toy with him to bring his infernal heritage to heel til she gets exactly what she wants.

She chuckles at his reaction, because obviously she does. “You want that, love? Want to mount me and fill me up?”

The noise he makes at that is closer to a growl than anything else, and he nods tensely. She giggles and lets her blouse drop from her shoulders, and hells, of course she isn't wearing a brassiere. The realisation that she’s been planning this, waiting for this, drives him insane. Suddenly the new skirt makes far more sense. It takes all of his restraint to stay seated where he is.

Tav brushes a thumb over each of her nipples and lets out an exaggerated keen, which has his cock twitching and straining against his trousers.

“Tav…” He can hear the grumble in his own voice, watches as it washes over her and she shivers. “Come here.”

She shakes her head slowly, a teasing smirk flitting across her face. When she speaks, it's a breath.

“ Come and get me .”

Every shred of control he has snaps and he’s on her in an instant, pulling her against his body in one long stride. He hikes her legs up around his waist and holds her there, drawing her as close to himself as he possibly can and bringing their lips together in a bruising kiss. She tightens her legs around him and moans into his mouth and, fuck, he wants her so badly. He spins and drops her down onto the bed, and she gasps as she lands on it.

She looks a picture like this; skirt sitting high on her thighs with her tits hanging heavy on her chest. An image of her sitting like this, round and full with his child, fills his mind. He imagines her breasts full, imagines her body swelling with pregnancy, and Gods if it doesn't make his cock ache.

“You…” His voice comes out strained, gravelled and thick. “Are such a tease . I try to be polite and you push…” He moves to stand closer, her head level with his stomach. “... and push…” He puts one hand on her shoulder, easing her backwards and hovering above her. Her legs fall open and he stands between them. “... and push …” He rolls his hips against her core and she throws her head backwards with a moan. “... until I can't help but fold you over, hm? Is that what you want, my love? You want me to use your body til you’re good and bred?”

Hells, she’s making so many needy noises and he’s barely touched her yet. She nods hurriedly, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning up to suck a bruise onto his neck, and fuck he loves when she marks him. He moans and tips his head to give her better access, and he feels Tav smile against his skin as she nibbles at him.

He slips a hand under her skirt and moans at the realisation that she’s not wearing underclothes either.

“Hells, Tav, you’re so needy for it. You sat there like this the whole time we ate, desperate for me, hm?”

“ Yes , Zev, Gods . Need you.” Her voice is breathy.

He wants to be teasing, wants to wind her up the way she does to him, but he’s not strong enough. Hearing her beg for him has his face full of heat and has his head swimming. “Can I taste you, love?”

She starts to give her assent, but he’s dropping to his knees before she even finishes getting the words out, lifting her skirt and burying his face in her core. The scent of her drives him wild, and the taste of her musk on his tongue as he drags it through her slick has him moaning into her. Her hands lace into his hair as he sucks her clit between his lips, teasing and tasting her until she’s writhing and keening and cumming into his mouth.

She drags him back up, kisses him deeply, and the feeling of her tongue massaging against his is so erotic that he can't help grinding against her again. He can feel the wet heat of her cunt leaving a damp patch on the front of his trousers and he knows he can't wait any longer to have her.

He manages to pry himself away and strips unceremoniously, letting himself languish for a moment in the heated way she stares at his body. The scars and infernal ridges littering his body have always, to him, been unattractive, but she looks at him every time like she can't bear to look away. No one has ever looked at him the way Tav does, and it lights his whole being on fire.

There's no more conversation needed. He lays himself over her, folds her legs up towards her chest and sinks deep into her heat, and she throws her head back and whines as he fills her. With her legs pushed up like this he can fill her entirely, and the way she clenches around him has him gritting his teeth and grinding deeper into her body.

“I’ll keep you here all night, if that's what you want, love. Fill you til you’re certain you’ll burst. Can't wait to see you full with my child.”

She tries to reply, but he chooses that moment to fill her with a deep thrust from tip to root, and her eyes roll back into her head as she frees a leg from his grip, digging a heel into his rear and pulling him deeper. With every thrust of his hips she keens, louder and louder until her cries reach a crescendo, and then she’s sobbing her way through her second orgasm and clenching her walls around his cock.

The wet, tight squeeze of her cunt means it doesn't take long for him to reach his own end, spilling himself inside her just like she asked, kissing her lovingly through it. Every twitch of his cock makes her sigh and clench him harder, milking him of every drop of his cum until he’s laying boneless over her.

Their heavy breaths mingle together as they share deep, meaningful kisses. When he tries to remove himself from her, she wraps her legs around him and shakes her head.

“You said you’d keep me here all night. I hope you intend to keep that promise. I want… I want you to stay inside. I want to feel you get hard, and then I want you to fuck me full again.”

And hells, her words have his spent cock twitching valiantly, aching to take her again despite it being too soon, so he tells her yes as he leans in to kiss her again.

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