A jujutsu sorcerer’s growth curve isn’t necessarily a gentle slope. With a strong foundation and a little bit of sense, it just takes the slightest trigger to change a person.
His teeth grazed your most intimate areas, almost a threat, causing a tidal wave of fear and shameful arousal. You couldn’t say with any certainty that he’d hold back the impulses you knew he held as he roamed your body; if you failed to ask him to stop, you’d likely be dead by morning. You couldn’t blame him. The hunger was his nature, and his desire for your blood would always be stronger than that for your flesh.
Warnings: Brief mention of blood/hunting, shameless flirting and a smidge of fluff
WC: 500+
A/N: Continuing the trend of naming my Astarion fics after Hozier songs because the combination is ✨chef’s kiss✨ As always I try to keep reader gender neutral but as I haven’t proofread this one particularly well please let me know if there’s any slip ups!
You enter the firelit camp after your evening bathe in the nearby river, glad to have washed away the intense grime of the bog you’d been traversing for the last few days. You cast your gaze over to where Astarion lounges against a log, wine bottle in hand, his crimson eyes already fixed on you with a mischievous glint.
Laying together with Astarion after a long, hard day was a different kind of bliss for you
Mostly you stayed awake until everyone fell asleep because then Astarion would finally move. He would crawl out of his bedroll to slowly walk towards you, quietly laying down behind you.
And every god damn time a sigh escaped your lips as you could feel his cooler body sliding in your bedroll behind you.
“Hi.”, you quietly murmured as you felt a breath tickling your sensitive era. Even though you couldn’t see him, you could feel his smirk as he gave your ear a quick kiss, noticing your shudder.
His arm would circle around your middle part, pulling you closer to him.
It was a nice contrast. The cool body of Astarion behind you, while the fire before you warmed your face.
“Everything alright?”, a quiet question but both of you did not answer to that. It was after all another day without process.
You really wanted to talk with him. It was always different, when you two were finally alone and you could talk about topics you didn’t mention in the presence of the others.
But alas, your eyes grew heavy as his slender fingers stroked your stomach after they sneaked under your loose shirt.
“Sleep, my darling. I will watch.”, he reassured you, his deep, drawling voice lulling you into dreamland.
TAGS: 18+ sexual content (eventually), slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, contains Baldur’s Gate 3 spoilers!
AUTHOR’S NOTE: While this originally started as a one shot for @inklore’s Haunted Hoedown, it has since turned into a mini series for the same writing challenge. I’m going to try and post every day but considering the state of where I live I might not finish the challenge on time. Regardless though, I will be finishing all twelve days! :)
tbh I guess I love Astarion that much bc he doesn’t really treat sex as something sensual
I just point at him and Look it’s me, me, he’d understand that
I - sadly - got used to be humiliated when ppl only talked about my body and not about me - me so seeing firsthand relationships being built with hugs and reassuring means a lot, really
Imagine Astarion getting cozy with the most unlikely party member. A short innocent elf girl who is unsure of herself and has a terrifying journey ahead of her.
It begins with teasing. Astarion finds it so hard that a darling who shies away when spoken to and blushes at the slightest acknowledgment is the one that everyone goes to answers for. You feel his tadpole worming its way into your mind, just so that he can have a peek at whatever you may be thinking about. He shoehorns his way into your life, acting as if you belong to him. When you talk he steps in front and speaks on your behalf instead.
He fantasizes about feeding from your neck, more often than he should for a man that doesn’t even know if you like him at all. How easily his fangs could piece your flesh in your sleep, how you squirm and whimper but unable to wake as he drains just enough of your blood to stave off his hunger, how adorably dazed you are from his antics and confused given you didn’t know of him being a vampire yet.
Imagine Astarion developing an urge to protect you because of your reserved nature bc he believes that only he is worthy of such a task. Can’t have anyone else stealing his little juice box away. Not in 200 years has he been able to taste something so exquisite? He wants so badly to become a true vampire so that he can make you a vampire too. You notice small bite marks on your body and your actions become more and more sluggish. Out of guilt, he comes out about being a vampire.
“There’s something about me that I might’ve forgotten to mention.”
He expects you to be angry, livid almost for him feeding without consent but he couldn’t help it.
Instead, you gave him permission.
Now, he needed to pursue you.
Imagine Astarion using like his stress toy, wallowing in self-pity about his imprisonment with Cazador before he’s pushing cock into you. It takes everything out of him to not bite you in the midst of his strokes. It begins with him being gentle, reassuring, and almost witty with his words that make you blush. Once he’s close to climaxing, you feel fangs dig into your neck. You would expect him to feed on you, draining not just your innocence but your blood too…
He did not. He marked you. Making you his for as long as you walk beside him—and beyond. He would be the only vampire that could indulge in your blood.
SUMMARY: At the tiefling party, Astarion uses his Illithid powers to offer you another memory.
PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader
WORD COUNT: 2,771
WARNINGS: Unresolved sexual tension, heavy petting, Illithid abuse at it’s finest. Sort of contains spoilers for Act I?
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hi, welcome to day three of Haunted Hoedown! The prompt I chose was why do you keep following me? but I used it pretty loosely to be honest, so… whoops?
The inner parts of the grove are bustling. Filled to the brim with celebratory bodies, everyone’s huddled up in their respective groups, talking amongst themselves over endless sloshes of ale that dizzy your brain.
As the bonfire burns, you and the rest of your group glance around with interest. On either side of the party, merchants stand alongside tables of trinkets, grinning and guiding heavy pockets to their nicest wares, while, in the centre, a group of bards play joyous songs, singing along with a group that glides around in circles, dancing in patterned steps that onlookers like you can’t help but watch.
“Gods, it’s such a rarity.” Pulling your attention from the dancers, Astarion sips a bottle of wine, turning to face you with a grin. “The whole… heroism thing.”
Narrowing your eyes, you give him a curious look, watching the way his gaze shifts between you and the bards, his lips only extending their excitement. “I guess being helpful has its benefits.”
