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brain-rot-central · 5 months

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Unholy Desire

Pairing: spawn!Astarion x female!Tav (the reader is Tav)

Warnings: 18+, religious kink, breeding kink, innuendo, dry humping, mutual pining, reclaiming sexuality through kink, they talk out their feelings

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: Takes place in Act 3, pre-Cazador. You've finally made it to Baldur's Gate. You take time to offer prayers to your God after coming upon a small church on the outskirts of the city. You and your lover have grown closer over these long weeks, healing past wounds within your hearts, minds, and souls. Your desire has grown to become... sinful. You have a choice to consider: your Oath, or your lover?

This is the third camping spot you and your team find on the outskirts of Baldur's Gate. Rotating spots every few days was probably the best course of action, lest the Flaming Fists come to chase you away in the middle of the night.

You find an old abandoned church during your inspection of these latest campgrounds. It has been a while since you had a proper spot to sit and pray. Lathander has been kind in your journey, thus far. You hadn't offered thanks nearly enough for shining light in the darkest depths of the Shadow-Cursed Lands. Despite the challenges you faced, you and your companions arrived safely to Baldur's Gate. You kneel down behind a bench within the church and fold your hands in prayer. You hang your head and close your eyes. The sun begins to warm your skin as it shines through a crack in the church ceiling. A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth; Lathander is receptive to your prayer offering.

You don't recall how long you remain in that position, praying to the Morninglord. When your eyes lift up, you notice that night has fallen. You see a faint glow in the distance, surely that of the campfire. Faint bits of conversation travel along the night air. The conversation sounds jovial; it's probably fine for you to stay here a bit longer.

Astarion stands in the doorway to the small church, eyes fixated on you as you kneel once again in prayer. He'd come searching for you after your companions failed to reveal your whereabouts. He scoffs softly upon entering the abandoned structure. He thanks the tadpole nestled in his skull for affording him the luxury of waltzing straight into a church. Were this a few months ago, he surely would have burst into cinders upon the first step.

You hear a small 'crunch' off to your left; your head shoots up and your eyes settle on Astarion, who is frozen in place. You will your features to soften at the realization it was only your partner, your lover, who came to check on you. "Are you certain you're a rogue?" you speak to him through the darkness.

Moonlight pours through the ceiling and bathes his face as he comes closer to you, now within full view. He looks ethereal in the pale light. The moonlight reflects off his silver hair in a halo. His eyes glint like newly-polished ruby gemstones, his skin glows like the finest cut ivory. You find it challenging at times to believe he is your mate on this journey. Difficult to accept that the two of you had shared a bed on multiple occasions. The thought makes your mouth dry and your head swim. You shake your head slightly, clearing your mind of such perverse thoughts.

"My dear," he begins, his signature posh tone dripping from each word, "if you've truly forgotten just how deft I am with my hands..." Astarion sits next to your knelt form. He drops a hand to cup your chin, gently tilting your face up to meet his, "...then perhaps you need reminding."

You swallow thickly as he holds your face, and watch his eyes begin to hood. A smile graces his lips and he releases your chin. He scans the church briefly, snickering. "What in the hells are you even doing here? It's rather... drab, darling."

You stand up and brush yourself off. You proceed to then sit next to him on the bench. "I'm praying, Astarion." You take a deep breath in and meet his eyes. "Lathander has been most kind on our journey. I haven't given him nearly enough of my thanks."

Astarion audibly scoffs. "Ugh, I can clearly see that. But why, is my question."

"We made it safely to Baldur's Gate," you explain. "That's more than enough to be thankful for."

Astarion suddenly stands up and over you. A scowl graces his visage, "And you didn't think to tell me you'd be here?" He places one hand upon his hip. "No one had any idea where you'd gone!" His face falls and he averts his gaze to the side. "I was... concerned that you were still out in the city."

You chuckle. Astarion has a softer side to him that sometimes slips out of his otherwise gruff facade. It makes your heart sing with delight each time you see it.

"I'm Baldurian, my love. Remember? I know the city streets quite well." You reach out to hold the hand at his side, and his palm wraps around yours. "I also happen to be a Paladin."

You follow his eyes as they fall upon the floor. The grip on your hand tightens. "And it's not exactly a daily occurrence to have a blood-thirsty vampiric master hunting you." He sighs, soft eyes regaining their focus on you, "Please, darling, just give me some warning next time."

Ah, he's worried you may have been snatched by Cazador. You stand to meet him and wrap your arms around his neck. "My apologies, Astarion. It was not my intention to make you worry." You bury your face in his neck and breathe in. Bergamot, rosemary, and brandy; his signature scent. You feel your body slowly mold against his as the smell floods your olfactory receptors. There have been many nights you've fallen asleep dreaming of this scent. It was oddly comforting to you. It makes you feel safe and secure.

Astarion rests his hands upon your hips and leans his cheek against your temple. You stand together in the small ruined church, holding one another, bathed in moonlight from the cracked ceiling above. "Do you have any idea how much you mean to me," a low rumble escapes his chest as he speaks. His hands begin to snake up your back, his palms resting on your shoulder blades, "Any clue what I think about when I'm alone in my tent at night?"

You slide a hand up into his hair, twirling the locks between your fingers. You litter featherlight kisses along his jawline, and he tilts his head back to give you better access. The hand in his hair tightens, holding him in place. A soft groan escapes his lips as you lick a stripe up the center of his neck. "I don't think you've ever told me," you say.

He shivers within your touch. You watch his eyes flit to the back of his head as you suckle at the scars upon his neck, "Hells, Tav, I've told you so many times..." his voice comes as a soft whisper into the night air. Astarion's hands slide down your back and to your waist, gripping your hips.

"Remind me," you insist as you watch a purple mark bloom on his neck. His hips stutter into yours, and you feel the hardening length of him ever so lightly brush across your mound. You tilt his head to gain access to the opposite side of his neck, and your mouth descends once more.

Another moan escapes his lips and he lowers his face to your ear. "I..." You feel his hands sink lower, coming to rest on your backside, "I think of you below me." Astarion’s breath is cool yet heavy in your ear as his hips begin to meet yours in a soft rhythm, "Or, bent over, with my cock splaying your darling little cunt."

Your hands drop to his biceps as a shutter passes over you. Your hips involuntarily grind against his, pleasured groans slipping free from both of your lips at the joint friction. His hands grip your ass and he holds you against him. You feel the outline of him press against your sex; your walls clench around the thought of him buried to the hilt inside you.

You lean back in his hold and he dips his face to your neck, nose tracing the outline of your pulse point. You shiver as Astarion begins placing chilled kisses against your carotid artery, and you once again lace your hands through his hair.

"I think about your greedy pussy milking my cock for as much of my spend as it can…" Astarion takes a hand off your behind and guides it to your clothed mound, pressing his fingers slightly upward as he swipes across the general vicinity of your clit, "...until you’re positively overflowing, and my seed weeps down your folds into a pool under us." You buck into his palm at the pressure of his fingers. Your hips grind down instinctively against his hand, and you mewl into his neck.

"Please," you beg, "what else do you think about?" Your voice is airy and ragged. You notice the door of the church is open, meaning anyone could see your current state, were they to come over. You feel a sensual twist in your abdomen, and your hands begin untying Astarion's trousers. You need this man stripped and bare before you, getting caught be damned.

His hands come to rest upon your own. "Oh dear, whatever could I have possibly said to put you in such a state?" he feigns coyness as he takes over for you, undoing the knots to his pants. “Are you certain you can handle knowing more?” You raise your head to meet his gaze and nod, slowly. Your eyes are hooded over in lust and you feel a warm blush begin to creep across your face.

Astarion raises a hand to cup the side of your face in his palm. His lips come to grace the shell of your ear, nipping at it softly with his blunted front teeth. The hand on your cheek begins to slide down to your throat and his fingers wrap around the column of your neck. His grip tightens into light pressure against your throat. “Do you truly want to hear…” his tongue traces the curve of your ear down to the lobe, “how I bring myself to completion…” his teeth tug at your earlobe, “...at the thought of you, swollen, with the ultimate consequence of our couplings?” His voice is a whisper in your ear, and you feel your knees threatening to buckle. You groan and extend your neck, a silent offering to the hand on your throat to hold tighter.

He guides one of your hands between the apex of his thighs and cups his swollen length in your palm. Even clothed, you could feel how hard he is. It sends electric shooting down your spine, resonating as a throb of your sex. He sucks in a breath at the pressure of your hand. A broken moan escapes his lips and he speaks into your ear again, “Have you any idea how terribly my body yearns to breed you?”

Your head swims, slowly losing all connection to this material plane of existence. To carry the child of an undead would be blasphemy; you would lose your Oath and fall out of favor with Lathander. Yet… you breathe heavily at the thought of being pumped so full of cum that your womb no longer has room for it. Your pussy throbs at the thought of falling pregnant from such a situation. You feel wetness gathering at the center of your thighs.

“Wouldn't that be the epitome of a holy offering to your God of life?” Astarion moves to press his forehead against yours, and kisses the tip of your nose.

“He's…” you try to rasp out a reply, but your voice fails you. Your face is burning and your thoughts are a muddled mess.

“He's what, dear?” You can hear the amusement in Astarion's voice, knowing he has gotten you to the point where your mind can no longer form coherent thoughts.

“He's… also the God of birth,” you force out. You feel his cock twitch against your palm as the words leave your lips. A shiver passes through you at the thought of giving birth to an undead child, Astarion's undead child. Would it even be possible?

“My, my…” You manage to open your eyes and catch the devious smirk gracing his lips, “how entirely sinful that would be. Your holy womb, thoroughly disgraced by the planting of my seed.” Astarion's lips form into a pout, his voice taking on a soft mocking tone, “I wonder if your God would forsake you for such a thing?”

You often forget Astarion is an undead; he played the part of the living so well, would easily blend into any crowd. Yet, during times like these, he relished in his unholy attributes. He'd long teased you about your devotion to Lathander, went on long monologues about how the Gods were graceless and inevitably forsook everyone. He'd told you how he prayed to every God he knew of during the year he was sealed in a tomb by Cazador. None had answered him. He was bitter, you knew this. And yet… he was also enamored by your devotion. Jealous, even, that your attention was divided between him, and a God.

Your arms come to rest upon his shoulders once more, and you move your head slightly back from his. Your eyes find one another; you hadn't noticed before, but your chosen conversation is having an impact on him, as well. Astarion's pupils are blown wide, the reds of his irises becoming thin rings. “...Could we even do that?” you question, “Could we actually… could I… Now?”

A chuckle escapes his chest. The corner of his tips turns upward into a smile. “Now probably isn't the best time, my sweet. Unless you'd like an audience.” He nods his head in the direction of your companions sitting around the campfire.

Suddenly, your periphery vision returns to you. You recall you're in the small abandoned church within camp, with your companions mere feet away from you. You'd almost begged Astarion to take you within earshot of your companions… in a church, after having just finished your prayers. A scowl graces your lips at the thought.

“Oh, don't be so sour,” Astarion says, tucking strands of hair behind your ear, “We can always try to make this a reality later tonight?”

“Astarion, is it even possible for you to sire a child?” You watch his lips purse into a flat line with your questioning, obviously offended, “I mean, with your… condition.”

Silence stretches long between you. You watch his gaze fall to the laces of his trousers and he begins to retie the knots. The silence is uncomfortable, and you begin to fear you'd said the wrong thing. Yet, you genuinely did not know. Could it happen? You'd not taken precautions during your past encounters. Could it have possibly… already happened? You shift uneasily and remove your arms from his neck.

“...I read a book while out with Gale one afternoon,” he finally says, grasping your wrists before your arms return to your sides. His fingers weave between your own, joining your hands. “He'd been raving about visiting ‘Sorcerous Sundries’ again. Something about an old, dusty tome of some sort,” he scoffs. “I haven't a damned clue what he was talking about.”

Your eyes widen. “You went out shopping, willingly, with Gale?”

“I know,” he sighs, “rather unbecoming of me. Though, I often have reasons for my madness.” He raises one of your joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of your hand, “One being… us. And what our future could be.”

“Astarion…” It dawns on you: he took the afternoon with Gale to research this very topic. To find out if this could ever be a reality for you both.

He unlaces one of your joined hands and brings his palm up to hold the side of your face. “As it turns out, so long as you keep me well-fed, that of which you already do…” a genuine smile graces his lips, “this could very much be a thing between us.”

You smile and raise your hand to cover the one on your cheek, turning your face into his palm. You kiss the inside of his palm, “I think it's best we return to everyone else, lest we get tempted again to start.”

“Of course, dear. I would have to agree,” Astarion turns toward the doorway of the abandoned church, holding out a hand toward you. “Our chosen company of weirdos may turn up with pitchforks should I not return with you in tow rather soon.”

You place your hand in his and follow his lead toward the doorway. “Another night, then?” you suggest.

“No, my sweet,” he says, kissing the back of your hand once more, “tonight would make a lovely opportunity to start.”

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion/reader #astarion/tav #inspired by ruby #thank you ruby #your writing is always *chef's kiss*

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hwajin · 7 days

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#! — [ never enough ] hwang hyunjin

— fem!chubby!reader // nsfw // not per se a bathtub hyunjin fic but this is very wet and messy and carnal and there's hints of cannibalism if you squint and it's all very romantic and horny and ygm (also not proofread at all <3)

"I love you."

Against heavy breathing and the repetitive drops of rain against grey aspahlt and wettened flowers by the windowsill Hyunjin's voice sounded quiet and undisturbing, taking form in the room between you, hushed, hastened words against your lips. You mewled in reponse - couldn't do much more, for Hyunjin's mouth took liberties with yours again, swallowing you whole, not giving you as much a second to recompose. Not that you needed one - you let him drown you in himself, gave your body up to him.

And your body, was, almost, his - it seemed that way, at least, for outsiders would surely be unable to tell the two apart, tangled in each other so tightly you were only limbs on limbs, melted into one, morphed into the same. Hyunjin's hands groped on your figure, squeezing your every bit closer to himself, his palms heavy and firm on your curves, the full dip in your waist and the plum in your hips, the whole mounds of your breasts. His hands were everywhere, at once, hungry, always hungry for more. He pulled you closer, pulled you further into him by your bottom, hands full of flesh before he squeezed at it, making you whine out in unison, your breath hitched in your throat.

"Love... love your body."

The words were spoken against your neck, their volume swallowed by your skin, the kisses Hyunjin planted onto your sensitivity right after. Deep kisses, sore kisses - he bit without knowing he was biting you, always needing you closer, always something so carnal within him when your body was in close proximity. When your body was as near to his own as it was now - your arms caging him in, sweat-laced palms upon his back, by the small of his neck, playing with his outgrown, messy hair, on the skin of his shoulders, firm and flexed. He saw only you, smelled only you, a view and scent so rich and deep only aquired after hours upon hours of desire, of loving the other with a vigour bordering on animalism. And he loved it. Hyunjin loved the way you tasted when he kissed and nibbled on your neck, salty and musky and entirely you, loved the way your breath never seemed to slow in the depths of your lungs, your chest, which he journeyed down to, always rising and falling, in anticipation, in exhaustion, in contentment. He loved, after looking up at you from beneath his lashes, eyes glassy and full of adoration, full of you, the way your hair fell a mess, how your pupils blew out in pleasure, how you bit your swollen lip with every kiss and bite Hyunjin planted onto your skin. Your sensitive nipples, perked up and hard, wet from his tongues' ministrations, eliciting a whine when Hyunjin blowed on them, softly. He loved the way your body reacted to him - sounds escaping your pretty lips, your fingers finding his hair, squeezing at the tiniest bit of pleasure, your muscles spamsing where he touched. He could spend hours within you, and never grow tired.

"So pretty."

And with every of his word, you grew a puddle in his hands. Hands which never ceased to dote on you, hands which gave an oath to praise, hands which promised to never stop showing love, showing his hearts' desires. His fingers dipped into your body, so deep into the full flesh of your thighs as if it was feathered pillows, as if there was no end to the depth at all. His mouth swallowed you as it went, down from your chest to the plum of your stomach, biting there, too, softly, teeth grazing your skin in a matter so delicate you couldn't help but fall further victim to Hyunjin's antics. Warm kisses placed atop forming bruises right after, and your lover pulled your body ever closer to his own, arms wrapped around your legs in hints of thirsty posession. You were almost painfully close to him, his face hovering over the heat of your sex so very near that the distance was barely measurable in inches, yet it was never enough him, never enough for you. No lack of distance would ever be lack enough, no amount of closeness would ever be the right one - both of you would always hunger for more, thirst to drown further in the depths of the other.

Your thighs had never had the chance to heal the love bites Hyunjin had left there days upon days ago before he planted new ones onto them already, though you couldn't complain. You liked it; you enjoyed seeing the faint, old marks, so different in color to the new, blooming ones. Purple and red and blue, you enjoyed seeing Hyunjin's love painted all across your body as though flowers, soft petals of the softest plants whenever you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror each morning. You enjoyed, too, how much he enjoyed it - you shivered under his tantalising gaze whenever he eyed his artwork the next day, flames burning up within his eyes and igniting your body within.

You mewled out, a whine cutting through the dimmed room as Hyunjin's mouth found itself on your sex, suddenly, without as much a warning. You were sensitive, and you tasted like him - it hadn't been two minutes since his release had filled you up, had mixed with your own. You sighed out, and Hyunjin moaned into your heat - it was erotic, purely, the way you smelled and tasted and looked, the way your combined cum lingered on his tongue. Sweet, salty, so carnally you, so carnally him. It was the base in everything the both of you were - and he lapped it up, let his tongue graze upon your slit, flat and heavy; though didn't dare to swallow. He looked up at you - lost in bliss, eyes closed, hands searching for his own. He got up, mouth full of you and him, body so close to your own as he moved to hover over your figure. Your eyes prowled open, a sultry look within, half-hooded, glassy. Your breast, full and heavy, spilled out your body as Hyunjin's hand found home on your face, fingers grazing your jaw, softly, his thumb playing with your lower lip, bitten, swollen, scarlet red. Your face was fleshly beneath his touch, your body pressed against his own the same, spilling all around him, dipping and curving into waves deeper than he'd thought he'd ever fall - he would never get enough of you.

It didn't require Hyunjin words - though he was incapable of them, anyways - nor much movement, altogether for you to understand, for you to obey. His hand, sweat-laced and warm, only had to snuck around your chin, squeezing at your jaw, barely any pressure - and your mouth slacked open, tongue lapping out, ready for aything Hyunjin would give you. Looking at him with eyes hungry, curious, chest heaving in agitation underneath his hold - and he let the perly mixture trickle down, past his lips, letting the liquid curve over the plush of his mouth and down into yours. Drop after the drop, and when the sweetness met with the taste buds of your tongue, red and ready, you couldn't contain the moan which left the depths of your throat. It wasn't the taste alone, a mixture of you and Hyunjin, everything you were - it was the way he looked at you. Hand yet on your jaw, never forceful, always soft but with a fervor so great it made you shiver in his hold. His eyes those of a siren but blown out, pupils wide, scared to miss a single movement of yours. He was barely blinking, held you captive in his gaze. His hair was wet, raven around his face, falling in messes into his eyes, though it didn't bother him. And you arched your back into everything that was him, couldn't not, when he gave you everything he was. When his arms and hands, wrapped and snuck around you, longed to hold you against him forever, when his eyes, dark and deep and salvating waters, promised you to never let you go. When his body, pressed against your own, hungered for your flesh, when his heart, beating against your own in its' confines, beat only for you. When his lips, messy and perly and white and scarlet red, found your own ones now, as messy as his, as perly and white and scarlet red, as sweet and salty and tasting of you and him, when he kissed you with a fire so bright it blinded everything that wasn't him.

You arched your back into him, wanting to be closer, needing to be nearer. You felt his hands ravel all across your body, roaming, searching, pulling and groping - never enough. His fingers found the warmth of your sex, wet as ever and hot, fluttering and hungry, playing upon your clit in movements so messy, so careless they ought to be useless, though it never was with him. Your body was a synergy to his, burning when he ignited it, and your thighs spasmed around his waist, albeit his messy fingers, his movements uncontrolled. It was his mouth which captivated you, his wet and sloppy kisses which drove you further to the edge, so close you dared to fall, if Hyunjin gave you the last push - and then he bit your lower lip, sighed out in unfettered pleasure, in crystallined satisfation, pulled you closer with a strong arm, breathed your name against your lips and increased the speed of his fingers against your heat - and you were a victim to the fall he set you off to. You fell without the ground beneath you, fell into waters that were him, and he let you. Kissed you feverishly, kissed you deeply, bruised you further.

And none of you would ever get enough of it.

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sublimefacedgentleman · 2 years

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A place of shared passion

A month ago my life consisted of a singular routine. Go to school, eat the meals, do the homework, go to the trumpet lessons. Not one day fell out of this routine. I felt stuck and was bored to death but then one wonderful day my school, the most boring, unexciting and stable school in the area decided to take part in musical competition. I assume they didn't do it for the student's benefit, god beware, they probably sought after the prestige it brought.

Normally I would despise such a cause and would fight it with every fibre of my being. But on this day in this incredibly boring math class, I didn't fight. My brain was too drained by the unambitious minds around me. And from lack of anything else to do I decided to compete, to finally have something to focus on again.

Two days later I walked into my school's bare music classroom, where I found the only other two competitors. I knew them and had been forced to work with them before. And please don't misunderstand my words those two are kind and pleasant human beings, but their ability to create enjoyable rhythms and calming melodies is not yet well established.

Therefore my chances at winning the role of the school's representant were high. If I'm honest, at that point I didn't even know what this competition consisted of. I had no details and only competed to be excused from the horrible hours of torture they call school. The only thing I knew was that after this first round there was to be another in the next biggest city. But I didn't think it would go on long after that, maybe a third round but nothing more.

Oh I was wrong, very wrong.

After winning the joke of a first round and the second round, rather surprisingly. I was requested to go to another two competitions all over the country. In that small amount of time I travelled more than I ever had before. I met interesting people, saw amazing architecture and the breathtaking beauty of nature's best pieces of art. But then I was invented to be shipped to the southeast coast to play on the last stage of the competition. This last stage was essentially just a big reward for the winners of the prior competitions. The goal of this meeting wasn't to estimate who is the best at whatever instrument but rather the chance at playing in an orchestra possibly for the first and last time.

I myself had the first three days to myself because these days were dedicated for the string section.

And of course I used this time. I made fast friends with my fellow wind players and played beachvolleyball for three days straight. It was amazing. I never knew I liked volleyball because I never got the chance to try it before. I was limited in so many areas. A shame really.

After this physical excess I returned to the musical arts with an ache in my muscles which accompanied me for a week and a half. But it was worth it.

On the eighth day the orchestra was first put together.

The violins moved the blood through my vessels and my heart mimicked the drum's steady beat. I never experienced such a feeling before.

It was one of companionship, of belonging and pure passion.

Before it had always been me and my trumpet. The music separated me from my fellow classmates, it made me different and unapproachable, lonely at times. Alone in a world full of football and cheerleading. Everything else was strange and too different. It didn't fit into this small world. I didn't fit.

But at this moment I felt a strong connection with the other musicians and the songs soul, it's voice, it's meaning.

On this weekend I decided that I shall never restrict myself by routine and and boredom ever again. I will find this connection again. In music.

I will play till my lungs burn and my brain is dizzy, because this rush is worth everything. I will put in all the hard work necessary to find a place for myself. A place where routine consists of change, new experiences and focus. Where like-minded people come together to create a beautiful composition of passion. I will find this place and I will thrive in it.

Of that I am sure.

#short story #music #passion #new home #adventure #new experiences #brain drain #i was bored #journey #of a full blooded musician #dear diary #storytelling #first person narrative #oath

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