I’m seeing a lot of people saying this post changed their brain chemistry, and as a neuroscientist I wanted to say yes!!! Yes it does!
Wanting something requires dopamine signaling, but liking something doesn’t.
If you have a mental illness/disorder that affects dopamine, you might feel that you don’t want to do the things that you like. You do still like them. You will appreciate having done them.
Let your likes guide you.
(If you want to read more, here’s one experimental paper about it. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC5171207/ This theory called the incentive-sensitization theory was originally created to explain behaviors in addiction but can be applied elsewhere as well)
Rewards are both ‘liked’ and ‘wanted’, and those two words seem almost interchangeable. However, the brain circuitry that mediates the psych
Sakura and Sasuke are my personal favourite couple from canon Naruto. I know that as much as fans love them, there are also plenty which truly hate them together, but I believe that just stems from a lack of understanding of their characters.
Their relationship as a whole is very complicated and if the slightest detail is done wrong, then everything falls apart. However, when done well, they are really quite beautiful.
I've decided to create this list dedicated to them as a pairing. Most (if not all) of these recommendations will be fairly accurate to their characters. Anyway, I'll probably add onto this list soon since I need to go through my ffn favourites.
Started: 2025.04.17
Last Updated: 2025.04.17
note: feel free to check out my master list which has a bunch of Sakura Haruno fic recs (all organized)!
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In due time - plumblossomed || ao3 || M || sasusaku || modern AU || one-shot complete
Sasuke and Sakura meet and fall in love in their 40s.
In Due Time is a lovely modern AU that follows Sasuke and Sakura finding love at a later stage in their lives. With both of them being skilled doctors, love just took a little longer with them being more career focused. It's a very sweet read and I thoroughly enjoyed their ages here. Sasuke and Sakura's relationship feels genuine. It's not about extravagant gestures or lengthy love confessions, but rather just finding someone you can enjoy your time with.
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Approaching Sun - ANerdInAllHerGlory || ao3/ffn || M || sasusaku || blank period || ongoing
After 2 years of traveling on his own, Sasuke returns to the village where friends anxiously await him. Still troubled by the mysteries of Kaguya and his personal guilt, Sasuke is split between friends and his journey. Troubled by rising casualties and international dependence on her abilities, Sakura is torn between her love for Sasuke and her duty to her village. Taking a chance on love, Sakura joins Sasuke on his next mission in his search for traces of the Otsusuki in the deserts of Sunagakure.
Approaching Sun is the ultimate slow burn blank period fanfic!! And when I say slow burn here, I mean it haha. I cannot rave about this one enough because I genuinely think it's so well done. The characters feel very accurate to themselves and the details included are such a treat. For those of you that read the novels, this might be for you since there are plenty of references here. Also, Sakura and Sasuke's relationships with Kakashi is precious. I believe the author is just finishing up too.
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Rays of Spring Sunshine - sparklyfaerie || ao3 || M || sasusaku || childhood friends AU || complete
Sakura had been by his side since he lost his family, following him around since they were seven years old, trying to ease his loneliness in whatever way she could. He didn’t even know why he allowed it. He just silently allowed her to claim the seat next to him at the beginning of every term.
Perhaps one of the most canon accurate depictions I've read of their characters. I will note that things stay pretty close to the manga in Rays of Spring Sunshine, but things definitely get shaken up near the end and for the next in the series. Ah yes, I should mention that this is the first work. Anyway, I highly recommend if you like reading about them during the genin days. Sasuke is rather gruff and aloof, but deep down he does care for Sakura a great lot. Really well written.
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The Long Way Home - thegeneralgirl || ao3 || T || sasusaku || amnesia AU || complete
Sakura finds Sasuke again in Wind Country five years after the war. He's supposed to be dead and she's supposed to be beyond caring, but neither of them likes to live up to expectations.
Sasuke is living the life of a civilian in his state of amnesia when Sakura finds him. Nonetheless, upon meeting Sakura he finds himself intrigued by the ways of shinobi. Loved it!
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Choosing Fate - plumblossomed || ao3 || M || sasusaku || no chakra AU || complete
They married for duty, not for love. She was fresh air and spring breeze while he was scorching flames and summer heat. Still, they’d come to find out they were two halves of the same whole.
In a world without their powers, Sasuke and Sakura are forced into an arranged marriage. I enjoyed how they slowly warmed up to each other. Sakura feels that she's been stripped of her freedom and person, but through small actions on Sasuke's part she is able to find herself once again.
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Synergy - bttrmllw || ao3 || M || sasusaku || Mulan AU || complete
AU. Mulan-inspired. In which Haruno Sakura poses as a man to join the ranks of the Konoha army and General Uchiha Sasuke is very, very confused.
For those of you that love secret identity! Set in a very interesting AU where only men can enter into the shinobi ranks and women are left as medics. Sakura infiltrates, left under Sasuke's command, to save someone precious to her and proves her strength while she's at it. Definitely BAMF Sakura!
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Something Left to Save - helena3190 || ao3 || M || sasusaku || post-war || ongoing
In the aftermath of the shinobi war to save the world, from their own war to save Sasuke's soul, Team Seven adjusts, mends severed bonds, and strives to love.
Something Left to Save is another favourite of mine! Most fanfics that take place after the war are during the blank period; however, this here covers the time directly following. Sasuke isn't quite forgiven and Sakura is still struggling with all of the recent events. There is more of a focus on team bonding than romance, but it's certainly present as well. Such a lovely slow burn and lots of just character healing all around. With that said, don't go thinking that this is fluffy because there is a lot of hurt. Also, Sai and Yamato are included, which makes me so happy!
After the war, Sakura steals the hearts of Team Taka. Sasuke doesn’t know how to feel about this. All about healing and friendship for Sakura and Sasuke (and Team Taka/Team Seven).
Markings is a super cute and fairly short fic that follows Sakura bonding with Team Taka directly after the war. Sasuke gets a little jealous and Suigetsu is flirtatious! I think Team Taka are all super fun characters, so I found this quite enjoyable.
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A Day Apart by rabbitholessk || ao3 || T || sasusaku || orphan AU || incomplete
Sasuke and Sakura go through similar traumatic experiences a day apart from the other. They are placed into a tough situation after their experiences. How will two traumatized eight year olds deal with growing up and their pasts. Canon divergent, slow build/burn. Ratings may change.
Oh, how I hope this gets continued! Sakura and Sasuke both lose their families just days apart and are assigned to live together in a shared apartment. Honestly such a sweet yet sad read. You watch them struggle with their own trauma, puberty (yikes), and how to deal with each other. They slowly warm up and now on Team 7 together they have a new family.
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Changing Chance by DancingInTheDark282 || ao3 || G || sasusaku || time travel AU || complete
Sakura had experienced many weird things in her life. But travelling 17 years into the past, saving Naruto's parents, battling Madara Uchiha, and doing it with Sasuke of all people, had to be at the top of her list.
Ok, so this actually got completed today!! I love time travel AUs and Changing Chance has both Sakura and Sasuke go back together. To make matters even better, Minato, Kushina, and Kakashi are all fairly major characters.
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Hatsukoi - sparklyfaerie || ao3 || sasusaku || gen || non-massacre AU || complete
Sasuke leans away as the girl turns to him, and his mother doesn't need to be any closer to guess as to the expression on his face. The girl's body language changes in an instant, and Mikoto recognizes the posture of a little girl in love. It's kind of adorable.
Probably one of the cutest sasusaku fics I have read as Hatsukoi follows them from genin to marriage! It's told in multiple perspectives and it's full of tooth rotting fluff. You get to watch the slow progression of their relationship over time and how they grow even closer in Naruto's absence. Definitely read is you want something light!
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Louder than Words - SouthSideStory || ao3 || T || sasusaku || non-massacre AU || complete
Sakura hasn’t uttered a single word since the day her family died, but Sasuke is determined to hear her, one way or another. (No Uchiha massacre AU.)
Louder Than Words is another short read where Sakura joins the Uchiha household after Fugaku finds her on a mission. She's non-verbal here, but Sasuke finds a way to make it work nonetheless.
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Hit Me With Your Best Shot - Tozette || ao3 || T || sasusaku || blank period || one-shot complete
Sasuke is actually eighteen the first time he looks at Sakura and realises abruptly that he wants her.
I think we all know by now that Sasuke has always been attracted to strength, power, so why not when it comes to romance? Essentially, one day on a mission, Sasuke discovers he has a strength kink. Watching him continuously get flustered throughout the fic because of his admiration towards Sakura's strength is so entertaining. Really fun read
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Heat - Lady Otori || ffn || M || sasusaku || blank period || incomplete
Sasuke's temperature has always run higher than most, and Sakura has always, always burned for him. Moments of heat, spent together in the time after his return. [SasuSaku] [Blank Period] [Team 7 Friendship] [Slow Burn / Eventual Smut]
This screams summer to me, so I thought it was fitting to recommend Heat considering the time of the year! I love how Sai is included and how Kakashi jokes around with them. Not to mention just general team bonding!! The characterizations are all quite well done and this is just overall a great read.
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Most of these are from ao3, but I have loads from ffn that I read and loved, so I will definitely share at some point. However, I just find it such a pain going through my favourites on that site haha.
DRAMIONE FIC RECS + WHY YOU SHOULD READ THEM — 100k+ words edition
hogwarts: a home by coralcollective — reimagined horcrux hunt. draco is so down bad for hermione and the smut is crazyyy. theo/hermione friendship. pansy is the breakout character and you'll love her. there's nsfw art and inappropriate use of the malfoy signet ring. please check the tags! (it says incomplete on ao3, but it's only missing epilogues so don't be afraid of starting it)
word count: 372,978
chapters: 67/70
the commoner's guide to bedding a royal by olivieblake — god, this fic!!!! it's a modern royal au and the ensemble of characters make this whole world feel so alive. it's inspired by will/kate and harry/meghan and it's sooo cute. theo and daphne were the breakout characters and i love them dearly. if you're looking for a lighthearted romcom-esque, occasionally angsty (because duh!) fic, this is it!!! i probably read this in two days which is insane considering the word count, but that should just tell you how lovely this whole fic was. there's a second part to this if you're itching for more afterwards (and it's just as good!)
word count: 503,570
chapters: 45/45
draco malfoy and the mortifying ordeal of being in love by isthisselfcare — honestly if you haven't read this yet..... this is god tier. a CLASSIC. this should be taught in the schools. hermione's a magical researcher / healer and draco's one of the best aurors out there. he's assigned to protect hermione because she's in the midst of a big discovery. hermione's not happy about it and draco isn't either. slow burn!! idiots in LOVE!! forced proximity!!!!! EMBEDDED ART!!! honestly this is the fic that made me want to learn how to bind which is so serious and if you haven't read this yet you need to.
word count: 199,548
chapters: 36/36
the disappearances of draco malfoy by speechwriter — this is my new canon. it's a deathly hallows rewrite where draco accepts dumbledore's offer to fake his death and go into hiding with the order. enemies to friends to lovers. i honestly can't even remember what happened in canon because this is IT for me.
word count: 289,780
chapters: 33/33
this world or any other series by olivieblake — includes clean (book one) and marked (book two). anything by olivieblake should be a must-read, i swear to god. this one starts as a year 6 slow burn. draco and hermione are assigned partners for potions and it all snowballs from there. olivie writes so beautifully and her characterizations for hermione / draco are so good. slight warning for marked: this destroyed me and i pretend it doesn't exist, but it's still a must-read.
word count: 118,892 & 178,268
chapters: 31/31 & 39/39
rights and wrongs series by lovesbitca8 — you want fluffy dramione? read the first two parts of the rights and wrongs series. you want dark and heavy dramione? read the auction, an alternate universe of the fluffy dramione, where voldemort wins and they all get auctioned off to death eaters. please check the tags for the voldy wins au! all three were chef's kiss and coming from someone who isn't a fan of dark aus, reading the first two helped me get through the auction because you know where draco's coming from / what's in his head. you can just read the auction without reading the first two parts unless you like catching parallels and having more depth / context (which i very much love).
Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels (What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim-inspired); angst, drama, fluff, smut
Series Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)
Word count: 261.3k
Status: Complete
Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You've dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.
Inspiration: Stay by Mikky Ekko
A/N: Hiii I am BAAACK! 🫡 This story is finally seeing the light of day after 3 years. I feel a little rusty, especially this being my first new JK series in 1.5 years! But it's also been a bit rough getting back into writing (and in Tumblr) after so long and after the year that was, so there won't be a schedule for chapter releases and I'll probably be a lot slower than usual. I wasn't sure if I was gonna go back to writing but I realized that I've missed interacting with you guys and screaming about stories so I do hope you give this some love. Fair warning that it's a really slow burn and some scenes are reminiscent of k-dramas. There are also sensitive and triggering topics so please proceed with caution!
And lastly, my biggest love and deepest gratitude to @wonwoonlight who's been the sweetest and loveliest person to talk to about everything, including this story. 🫶🏼 I give her credit for her amazing photos of Seoul (check moodboard) and for being the playlist manager. Please send her love as well!💕
Waaaaaaahhhhh Mimi!!! What a masterpiece! I binged in 2 days, I am demolished, destroyed, ravaged, mind blown, heartbroken and then built back up again WOW.
The way I BOOHOOED MULTIPLE TIMES should be researched.
Yoongi is an A+ solid friend in this. “But it’s not the only thing they can do” that line and sentiment is not gonna leave me for a while or maybe ever.
The slowest of burns in the best way (if you’re into that, i am) and the maddening torture was WORTH IT. I wouldn’t change a thing. These characters story had such rich and complete development, the immersion into the story can’t be avoided - I mean who would want to anyways.
Mimi, you are a gem. I can physically feel the energy you put into this. Can’t wait to see what’s coming next from you.
oh I'd love to provide! these have been my personal favorites so far (also fair warning, I am a solavellan fucked in DAI truther and that is reflected in my choices below so your mileage may vary)
Everything by niceasspavus - especially their fic Servitude which is an absolute masterwork. The prose is succinct but spectacular, the smut is excellent and never feels out of place (smut sometimes can with solavellan okay) and they dig into Solas' mind in a really beautiful way. They also started a modern AU fic and while that's not usually my trope at all, I've actually read what they have posted so far like three times because it's so good. Can't wait to see if they grace us with more.
Fellchaser by @rosieofcorona - Okay make that literally anything Darcy touches I recommend but Fellchaser is...I want to plaster my walls with it. The walls of my mind prison at least. The first time I read it, I literally read it five times back to back to back (I was admittedly very high but that's NOT THE POINT) because I was so taken with the prose and every detail. It is absolute perfection, seriously, the only thing wrong with it is that it isn't 100k words
What He Wouldn't Give by sugarhihello - a devastating take what happens immediately after the Crestwood scene we know and hate to love. I'm scared of writers who can make me want more of a scene like that and yet this fic gives me that
The Waiting by say_lene - solavellan thigh riding, need I say more?
Even Gods Need Miracles by callmebecks - A study of Solas' mindset from DAI to now include the DAV ending.
A Field as Wild as Your Heart by lillith_morgana - An exceptional take on the solavellan ending/post-DAV with gorgeous prose
Dreadful Recollections by @scaryanneee - if you know me from the bg3 era at all, you know Think of Me is a smut of all time so scaryanne joining us in solavellan hell has been SO FUN (for me personally at least eheheh) This little smut is so brilliant because it truly gave me so many ideas to play with for my own ship during this time period while also being so hot??? Also just read the tags on this and you know you're in for a great time
Handle With Care by feynite - I'm sure you've seen feynite if you've looked at solavellan fics because Looking Glass is the biggest one but I think this is just a really excellent little fic of theirs. Sad AND sexy - what every Solas fan is looking for I think
solavellan moots, please feel free to add on - I'm always looking for more and I'm sure others are too! anon - hope this gave you some tasty morsels and feel free to come back if you need more! xoxox
In moments like this I always fall back on the fact that they also aren’t speaking English because they don’t have England or the many languages and conquering peoples that contributed to the creation of the English language and therefore the work musr be a translation into recognizable terms in our world’s terms. Call that Tolkien Brainrot.
This post consolidates all the lists I’ve created so far. I’ll keep it pinned and updated whenever I share a new list.
P.S.: My apologies for delays in responding to asks. Due to various factors, I’m not as active as before. I hope to address each inquiry eventually. For more info, check my FAQ 💬 page or latest update. Thank you for your understanding!💕
Kinktober Day 1 - 'Love' Bites | Overstimulation - Astarion x Fem!Reader
Love bites | Overstimulation | Impact play
Coming out the gates strong with 3500+ words for this man. It has not been edited, I have work in the morning, I'm going to bed.
Summary: With the promise of taking you to a quiet little piece of nowhere to forget all the madness of the adventure, Astarion pulls out all the stops to ensure you forget everything, except the pleasure he gives you.
To say you bonded quickly with your party would be an understatement - having the tadpole within your mind and surviving the same crash tends to form that immediate trauma bond. But you and the vampire had formed a deeper understanding of each other much sooner than the others.
That night, so early on in your adventure, when you awoke to the man perched over you, fangs bared and your throat exposed for the taking, things simply couldn’t go back to the status quo.
It fogged your mind the entirety of the next day, the proximity, the adrenaline, the pure, undiluted hunger.
You’ve allowed him to feed from you every night since.
You played it off as trust, at first. Trust in him, a want to have him fully strengthened for battle. Nothing but business.
But it didn’t take long for him to understand your underlying motivation, the reason you allowed yourself to feel drained, exhausted, and weak for each battle moving forward, perpetually distracted by the memory of his lips and teeth at your neck. The memory welcomed the fantasies with open arms, fantasies of his hands wandering as he drank, kissing your lips with your own blood on his own, his fangs sinking into your thighs, before wandering higher…
Still, you were never going to force it.
So, you allowed him to continue to drink, both aware of the growing tension, both refusing to move further.
Until that changed.
When Astarion came to you, offering for you both to find a “little piece of nowhere”, somewhere to “forget all this madness”, you sure as hell weren’t about to decline.
A chance to get him out of your head was exactly what you needed to think clearly.
Night had long since fallen, as you sat pretending to read one of many absurd tomes Gale had collected throughout the journey. A life of adventuring doesn’t make for the most consistent sleep schedule, and as such awaiting for the entire party to call it a night was practically torment as you tried to ignore the growing heat between your legs.
But no amount of pretending to study the Oral Histories of Faerun could distract you from wondering what pleasures tonight would bring.
When finally, finally, Karlach decided to call it a night, you waited a few moments more before creeping off to where Astarion had told you to meet him.
Any other night it may have been eerie, creeping through the woods unarmed as the moon rose high in the sky. But all you could feel was the anticipation growing, humming in every nerve of your body like someone had struck you with a Witch Bolt.
Your heart nearly stopped as movement caught your eye.
There, emerging from the trees, already shirtless, was the vampire.
You had seen him in various states of undress before - curing wounds of various weapons and spells will do that. But there was something different about it in this circumstance, seeing him perfectly unscathed, strong and confident from the weeks of draining your life from your veins, silver hair and pale skin hauntingly beautiful in the moonlight.
“There you are,” he spoke lowly, striding slowly towards you. “I’ve been waiting. Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you.”
While the words themselves made you blush, you couldn’t help comment.
“The moment you set eyes on me you had a knife to my throat.”
“Ah,” he sighed, walking slowly around you, bringing his fingers to lightly trail up your arm. “But if you remember, I did notice then and there what a darling neck you had, I just knew it would be heavenly.”
He closed the distance between you, and you could promptly feel his strong form cold against your back, a prominent bulge pressing into you, and his breath on your neck making you lightheaded.
His hand trailed down your neck to trace the marks he had been leaving nightly. “And I was right.”
Despite how little he had done, you had grown so wound up from the endless fantasies from his nights of feeding that you were already weak in the knees.
His left hand lightly began to caress your thigh, as his right takes to untying the strings of your loose shirt, his mouth never stopping.
“You’ve been so helpful these last few weeks darling, allowing me for the first time to indulge in the blood of a human, giving me strength at your expense. You’ve been so good for me too, holding back all those little sounds you’ve been wanting to make, pretending like you don’t get wet just at the thought of me drinking from you, like you don’t get soaked from the moment my lips touch your neck. Hmm?”
Your breathing was already heavy, your thighs already squeezing together in some attempt for stimulation - it was already too much. All you could do was nod, a breathy “yes” escaping you as your shirt is undone, falling to the forest floor.
His hands begin to explore, lightly tracing up your arms, down your stomach, across your collarbone. “And you’ve been working so hard, haven’t you my love? To keep us alive, to keep us all going. You’ve been so helpful to all of us, to me, I think it’s time I take some weight off of those pretty little shoulders.”
Suddenly, forcefully, he spins you around, steadying you by grabbing your hips. You look into the red eyes that gaze at you intently, with an emotion that is so close to something like love, devotion, but feeling just slightly too forced, slightly too uncanny.
That gaze is a problem for another day, you determine, as he sinks to his knees and gazes up at you, untying your trousers.
After all, the love may not be real, but the lust in his eyes sure as hell is.
He makes slow work of the fabric, speaking up at you the entire time.
“Dearest, I intend to do exactly as I promised. I want to repay you for the kindness you’ve given me, the trust you’ve placed in me. Allow me to please you, to make you forget about everything, if only for a night. Will you allow me this?”
You nodded, mutely, as you stepped out of your pants.
He gazed up at you again, eyes drinking you in, darkening as they travel up your body, stopping at between your legs, your chest, your neck.
When his eyes met yours again, he stood up quickly, cupping your cheek and pulling you into a deep kiss.
You had thought about this moment too often.
What he would taste like, how his fangs would feel against your tongue, how his lips would feel against yours. He pulled you into him desperately, and the sensation of your bare chest against his made your head spin, gasping into the kiss as he took full control, kissing you with such a passion that you might have thought there was more to it than a simple need for release, repayment.
He pulled away all too soon, thumb caressing your lower lip as he gazed at you in that absurdly sultry way of his.
“Before I take your breath away,” he breathed out, pausing to kiss your cheek. “I need to know what you want from me darling.” Another pause, a kiss to the jaw now. “Tell me how to please you.” A kiss behind the ear. “Tell me how to make you scream.”
You were barely keeping it together, eyes already fluttering closed.
A sharp bite to the neck, not enough to bleed, but enough to make you gasp, brought you out of it. His red eyes gazed at you intently, awaiting your response.
“I want you to take control,” you speak, feeling as though you’re giving a confession. “I don’t want to think. I want you to drain me of my blood, of my thoughts. Make me cum, make me scream, make me feel so good it hurts, until I’m begging you to stop, Astarion.”
“Oh, darling,” he nearly growled, his hand caressing your cheek. “I'll do just that.”
He spun you again, once again catching you off guard. Within moments, you feel him press up against you again, this time the hardness of his cock being released from his pants, discarded far into the forest you assumed.
“You mustn’t keep a sound from me, by the way,” he spoke lightly. “I’ll know if you do.”
You aren’t allowed much time to consider that as you feel his lips on your neck, pecking and lightly biting and sucking. His hands trail upwards to cup your breasts, slowly, softly, deeply massaging, as though he’s trying to feel every inch of your skin. His fingers lightly pinch and tug against your peaks, and he leaves soft bites on your neck, never enough to break the skin.
It had only been moments, but you’re whining, and you can feel your wetness dripping down your thigh.
“Astarion, please,” you breathe, hand coming up to lace in his hair in an attempt to force him deeper into your neck.
He just laughed. “Darling I’ve barely touched you and you’re begging. Allow me to take my time with you.”
His left hand stays at your breast as his right once again wanders downward, slowly reaching your inner thigh.
“I can smell it, you know,” he muttered lowly in your ear, and you almost squeak, flushed with embarrassment. “Every time you’re so wet you can barely think, stuck in your little fantasies as I drink from you. You do so well, hiding your wants from me, but I’ve always known, and I’ve always wanted to push it further, to let my hand wander between your pretty little legs and feel just how wet for me you are…”
As he takes a pause, his fingers reach your folds, lightly caressing up and down, circling your clit, and you both sigh.
“Astarion…”
“Hells, you want me so badly don’t you?”
“Please.”
“Oh, I’m not here to deny you, angel. I’ll give you everything you want…”
Without warning, two of his slender, delightfully long digits enter you, and you release a moan louder than you expected.
“Very good,” he praised, fingers thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace, as he resumed his work on your neck. He continued to suck and bite, no doubt leaving a myriad of bruises and marks that you would have to explain away tomorrow.
He growls again, biting a little harder, though still not hard enough to draw any blood, you notice. His fingers within you speed up, spreading in a way that has you choking out another moan.
“I can hear you thinking, darling. That’s not what we want now, is it?”
“No - fuck, there,” you moan deeper, head tilting back as his fingers reach a place in you that is forever out of your reach.
“Oh, good girl,” he purrs, focusing on that one spot. “Good girl, telling me what you want. Focus on your body, darling, not your thoughts. Feel me against you, feel me in you, feel how badly you need that release.”
“Astarion please.”
“Please what, darling?”
“Bite me harder.”
“Oh, not yet my sweet. We have all night for that, and I would quite like to sample the nectar between your thighs before tasting your heavenly blood. But I’ve left such a wonderful piece of work on your neck, now everyone at the camp will know now more than ever that you’re mine.”
“Fuck,” you gasp out, feeling the waves of heat overcome you and your thighs begin to collapse, your release hitting hard and fast at his use of possessive language.
“Very good, darling,” he praised, holding you up as your vision spun. His fingers didn’t cease as you came, immediately riling you back up, moans spilling out of you louder than before. You hadn’t noticed when he had added a third finger, but you felt the stretch as he pushed in, the emptiness when he pulled out.
You needed more, and he was clearly eager to give it to you.
“Lie down, my darling,” he whispered in your ear. “Allow me to worship you further.”
You did so without hesitation, resting back on a relatively flat portion of the forest floor, spreading your legs as Astarion knelt down, bringing your legs up on to his shoulders and staring down hungrily at you.
Despite the ferocity in his eyes, he took his time, kissing from your ankle to your thigh on your left leg, and then your right. The moment you felt your frustration grow to a peak, he bit down, once again leaving marks but never breaking the skin, marking the soft flesh of your thigh.
He teased you for a few moments before the impatience struck him as well, and leaned forward further, licking a long stripe up your folds.
“Oh darling, and I thought your blood was heavenly,” he breathed, and before you could respond, he went to work.
Immediately your hands were in his hair, pulling and pushing in some attempt to regain any sort of sanity in this moment. His tongue worked wonders, knowing exactly how to work inside you before retreating, teasing at your clit, before the vicious cycle repeated. His hands clenched your thighs as though they were a life line, and the moans that left him traveled into the depths of your core.
It didn’t take long, you were already falling over the edge again, now shouting as the pleasure grew blinding.
“I could stay here forever,” you could barely hear him lament, mind fogged. You blinked blearily as you focused on his face that was now above yours, glistening with your release as he grinned ferally, hand briefly coming up to clench at your throat. “But I have more planned for you.”
Despite your exhaustion, you feel the warmth in your core grow, another release of slick as his cock presses up against your folds.
“May I, pet?”
All you can do is moan pathetically, something between “yes” and “please” falling out of you as you weakly nod.
“Darling, you’re a vision,” once again, he strokes your cheek, uncharacteristically loving for the cold vampire. “Completely fucked out, and we haven’t even arrived at the main course.”
With that, you feel him enter you, no resistance give how worked up you are.
You take a moment, joined, as he breathes heavily into your neck and you let out quiet moans, words completely failing you.
“Divine,” he breathes, returning to kiss your neck, the sensitivity of it making you clench around him immediately. “Oh, so divine, darling I could have you for eternity, such a better use of our time than fighting all of these tiresome battles.”
He began to pump in and out of you slowly, your mind spinning from the weight of him on top of you, the sensation of being fucked so deeply, overwhelmed by the afterglow of all that had happened.
And still his words didn’t cease.
“I could keep you forever, a precious little pet, tied to the bed to fuck whenever I wanted. Or perhaps the other way around, I would wait an eternity just for another chance to taste you, to please you. Whatever fantasy you wish darling, we can fulfill it tonight, I swear to you - fuck.”
He picks up the pace as you clench around him yet again, your release not even having a build up, but instead crashing against you like a tsunami. You feel the wetness seep down your thighs, coating where the pair of you connect.
“Ast-ar…” you can barely breathe, and he laughs almost maniacally.
“Very good, darling, just like that. Give in to me. You don’t need a single thought in that head now, focus only on me and let go. You can cum again, you can, for me.”
“Can’t - I can’t…”
“Oh, you can and you will, if you want me to drink from you tonight,” he muttered darkly, and you feel tears prick in the corner of your eyes.
“Astarion.”
“You have to cum again, to get what you want. Just one more time, my darling. One more and you’ll please me so well. You want to be good for me, don’t you?”
You muster up the last of the strength you have, words falling from you without control.
“Yes, fuck, yes please, Astarion, please I want to come, I want you to bite me, I need to be yours, I need you ~”
It was almost as though your last orgasm hadn’t ended, with how quickly this one had began. An endless torrent that had the tears breaking, pouring down your face and into the dirt. You nearly choked out a scream, clenching around him so tightly that you feel Astarion tense, cursing wildly as you feel a warmth flood you.
You take a moment, trying with all your might to remember how to breathe, mouth gaping, expecting Astarion to move from you any moment.
Instead you shriek as he thrusts again, hand once again curled around your neck, stopping any chance you had at catching your breath.
“We aren’t done,” he growled, your own slick and his cum leaking out of you as he continued to fuck you, harder now, less restrained that before, nothing but pathetic whimpers leaving you. “We are so far from done, my love. You’re mine, you’re mine.”
Finally, what you had been begging for all night came to pass, and his fangs sunk deep into that claimed spot of your neck. You felt the familiar warmth and euphoria as your blood drained into his hungry mouth, his moans reaching a crescendo and hips moving at an inhumane pace.
And he was right.
You were his, blood and body and mind, it was all his. He had consumed every inch of you.
It was incredible, it was numbing, all you could think about was Astarion. Every molecule of you was on fire, and screamed to be connected to him, to never leave this moment, to stay in an eternity of this torment, but after four orgasms and on the verge of a fifth, with the ecstasy of his fangs in your neck, you simply couldn’t continue.
“Too much,” you manage to croak out, tears streaming down your cheeks and your entire body screaming. Your hands grip the vampire's arms tightly when he doesn’t immediately stop, nails biting into his skin. “Too much, stop!”
Immediately the fangs retract and he’s gently pulling out of you, red eyes wide with a hint of a rare expression on his face.
Fear.
“Darling I’m so sorry, did I take too much? I felt you going limp but, hells you’re so delicious I must have been lost in it-”
You shook your head quickly, placing a hand on his chest as you tried to collect your thoughts, tears still streaming.
“No, no, no,” you breathe out, still gasping. “Not the blood, you’re alright. It was too much, I really can’t cum again, it's too much. Too much good, I promise.”
The fear melted away to a more familiar expression, a smug smirk.
“Oh darling,” he purred, hand trailing up and down your inner thigh in a soothing but teasing manner. “I don’t know about that, you can still manage full sentences. Clearly too much brain power left…and I could go all night.”
“Astarion.”
A rare, genuine chuckle left the man as he began softly stroking your arm and playing with your hair, easing you down from your intense high.
When your breathing leveled out, he began to stand up, and you nearly whined.
Sensing your distress, he waved lightly. “I’ll be but a moment.”
He sauntered away, and you laid back, taking the moment to look up at the stars, basking in the glow of the orgasms and the moon.
He really had done his job, you had to admit to yourself. You were struggling to form a coherent thought.
When he returned, he had clothed himself, and had a small cloth in his hand. Striding over to you he gently knelt down yet again, running it over the blood stains on your neck, the mess between your thighs.
You stared at him, and he caught your look of surprise.
“What?” he asked, an affronted tone. “I know how to treat my lovers, darling.”
“Hmm,” you chuckle, closing your eyes. “Just a softie, I knew it.”
“Hardly,” he huffed, chucking the cloth off to who knows where and pulling you up against his chest.
He began to play with your fingers, lightly tracing the veins in your hands and up your arms. The pair of you sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, no words passing between you, but a silent understanding growing.
“We ought to go back to the camp,” Astarion eventually broke the peace, smirking at your disappointed expression. His arms encircled you once again, and you tried not to dwell on how good it felt. “Despite your rather loud vocals, I believe the others didn’t hear us, and unless you’d like to explain to them why you aren’t walking properly tomorrow…”
You snort, pushing him off of you. “Goodnight, Astarion.”
“Goodnight, my darling.”
One thing was certain, you noted as you returned to your bedroll, the sun beginning to peak over the horizon.
You’ll need extra healing from Shadowheart in the morning.
Thank you to @flightlessangelwings for their Kinktober list this year!
Summary: You managed to convince Astarion not to go through with the rite of profane ascension. He remains a vampire spawn, and you now offer your blood from time to time to help with his sanguine hunger until a solution is found. Even though you had both decided to stay as friends back in Moonrise Towers, lines begin to blur once more as other cravings come to the surface… and things with Astarion are seldom uncomplicated.
Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav
Word count: 6k
Warnings: 18+. Endgame spoilers. Blood drinking. Mutual pining. Biting. S*xual tension. Mentions of past trauma.
Series masterlist . AO3
"He's upstairs."
You nodded curtly, but before you could turn in your heels and head to the wooden staircase, you felt a hand grip at your arm.
"He hasn't been paying his due," Bork, the proprietor of the Blushing Mermaid tavern, said with a rise of his brows.
"Noble room again?"
"Yes."
As expected. Astarion would sooner be caught dead again than having to stay at a merchant or peasant room.
He adored all things lavish and that extended to his accommodations, naturally.
"I'll cover for it," you said, snatching your arm away. "How much?"
He bared his yellow teeth. "Thirty gold pieces."
You felt Shadowheart's burning gaze on you. She didn't approve of you cleaning after him. Especially since her protective instinct dragged her along with you every single time.
"Very well," you said through gritted teeth, rummaging through your pouch, and handing him the expected amount.
"Good," the older man said with a twirl of his kitchen knife. "If your pale friend does it again, he's done for."
Threats like this would usually warrant you to bare your dagger or cast a less friendly spell, but you couldn't afford to cause a scene.
Not in front of so many onlookers.
You felt Shadowheart briefly tense up by your side. "Do hurry up. I shall wait for you."
Nodding, you gave her an assuring nod before heading up the staircase.
The first floor was reserved for the highest paying customers, and it was heavily decorated and with candles spreading along the narrow corridor.
You paced quickly along the wooden floor, already knowing where to find him.
Room 7.
At this point, you were already over common pleasantries, so you skipped knocking at the door and just barged inside.
You heard a sleepy groan from the crimson bed placed at the centre of the luxurious room.
Astarion wasn't alone.
He was laying on top of the silk sheets, flipping through a book, seemingly undisturbed by your sudden appearance. Curiously enough, he was fully clothed, wearing a frill shirt and his regular trousers.
However, the woman next to him was very much fully naked, with only a blanket draping over her bare torso.
The sight made your stomach twist and turn.
"Hello, darling," he said casually as if you had just walked in on him picking flowers.
She peeked over her shoulder with a horrified look spreading across her pleasant face.
Of course she was extremely attractive.
She let out a shriek. "Do you mind?"
"No," you said dryly.
She immediately rolled out of bed, shooting a murderous glance your way, while scrambling to collect her belongings from the carpeted floor.
The door snapped shut behind her, and you were already pacing toward his bedside table once you spotted his coinpurse.
"Happy, are you? You scared her off, poor thing," he shook his head, feigning disapproval.
"You owe me."
You reached out to grab the thick pouch, but caught sight of the glint of a blade and the cool touch of metal being pressed gently against the back of your hand.
Typical.
"Ah-ah-ah..." he tutted with a click of his tongue. "Where are your manners?"
He seemed very serious all of a sudden, but you knew better. "I'll hex you."
"Faster than me piercing through your skin?" he asked, tapping the flat side of the blade playfully on your skin.
You really did consider hexing him for a split second just out of spite. "You overestimate your abilities."
"And you could have cursed me already, but are too lost in my dashing good looks."
Your jaw dropped in utter disbelief.
"That lovely mouth of yours could never compete with my agile fingers."
The insinuation wasn't even subtle, and it was enough to make your blood boil.
You scowled deeply at him, shoving his dagger out of the way. "Thirty gold pieces."
He slipped the blade under his pillow again with a devious grin.
"Bork was rather eager to have at you, so I just paid him. Maybe next time I won't intervene."
"And what would he do? Kill me again?"
Point taken.
A dangerous smile danced across his lips. "And here I thought you intended to start charging me for our arrangement."
You glared at him intensely, feeling momentarily outraged. "You're the one profiting off of it. Entirely."
"Hmm, debatable."
You narrowed your eyes. "If anything, you should be paying me, no?"
He snatched the coinpurse from your grasp, tugging it open before handing you a few gold pieces.
"Here you go, darling. Sixty gold pieces," he said, voice dripping with amusement. "Buy yourself a new attire, while you're at it."
You glanced down the length of your body, arching a brow and straightening your shirt and trousers. "What's wrong with my clothes?"
Astarion scoffed. "I don't even know where to begin, but do not fret. You could be wearing nothing but a rotting sack of potatoes, and I would still not be deterred from your neck."
You pressed your lips tightly together, and glanced at the gold pieces in your hand. "Your sweet-talking skills have been slightly below par as of late."
He chuckled, crossing his hands behind his head and against the meticulously wooden-carved headboard. "Yet here you are."
Not that you had much of a choice, really.
Halving the sum of money he had given you, you shoved the rest in your pocket while placing the other half on the table.
"Keep it."
"Don't be ridiculous," you groaned.
"Working on your flattery, I see?"
He was enjoying this far too much, and the more you talked back, the more you instigated him to continue.
"Why don't you just pay him when he asks for it?"
"Oh, darling…"
Here we go…
He was casually checking his hands, putting on his condescending demeanour. "Patience is a virtue he clearly lacks. If I'm to live eternally, I might as well teach these commoners some manners."
"Or you just adore getting on people's nerves," you said with a sly smile.
He grinned so wide, you caught a glimpse of his razor-sharp fangs peeking through. "You know me too well."
You used to think so.
Now, you weren't so sure.
Clearing your throat, you looked around the dimly lit room until your eyes settled on the large majestic bed. "She was really pretty."
"You sound surprised."
"Not at all. She does fit your type."
He laughed dramatically, further grinding your nerves. "I have a type?"
You gave him a look.
"You mean outrageously beautiful and undeniably entertaining?" he asked innocently. "Like you?"
Your heart jolted.
His method of seduction was deemed nigh pristine, and a few weeks ago, you would have maybe fallen hard for this level of charm.
But not anymore.
Well, for the most part…
"She was not outrageously beautiful."
He placed on hand at his chest, feigning hurt. "First you rob me, and now you question my taste in beauty. I'm not entirely sure my dead heart can take much more of this."
You huffed, crossing your arms before glancing out the window. The full moon lit up the street below, as the night began to draw out those who preferred to keep to the shadows.
And those who had no choice but to do so.
Like Astarion.
"I didn't do it."
His voice startled you and you stared at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"
He paused briefly. "I didn't do anything with her, if that's what you're thinking. There is an odd comfort in being surrounded by beauty, even if only to glare at, and nothing else."
Your heart clenched at how vulnerable he sounded all of a sudden. His pleasing face held an expression that you'd seen many times before…
Guilt.
The ripple effects of centuries of torture and abuse still slipped through the cracks of his usual pompous demeanour.
"Your personal matters are your own, Astarion. No need to justify yourself."
He stared at you in silence for a moment, and the urge to reach out to embrace him nearly took over.
Until his features began to twist into a light frown. "Don't look at me like that. I can't stand it."
"Like what?"
"That look. Pity. Spare me," he groaned with a roll of his eyes.
You weren't surprised in the slightest that he went into his defensive mode so rapidly.
He would fluctuate so often around you these days, that it gave you whiplash. Some days, he would let his guard down and allow you in, while others were plagued with him having a brick wall up around him if you happened to breathe in the wrong direction.
You had learned how to navigate through his tough exterior when the two of you traveled together, and as he opened more and more to you.
It all culminated when you offered your help against Cazador, and having him make the decision not to go through with the ritual that would doom so many souls – including his own — in the process.
He had thanked you for saving him from himself.
But nowadays, talking to him was like walking on eggshells while simultaneously dancing around his weathervane mood.
It was as if your relationship had somewhat soured over the past few weeks, and all the remnants of a solid friendship were now beginning to crack.
"You know, you don't have to be here," you said softly, trying to disperse the tension. "You are more than welcome to stay with us."
Astarion snickered darkly. "And having to endure that dullard? Please. I'd rather stake myself, darling."
You rolled your eyes and heaved a sigh at the targeted provocation.
"Gale is not a dullard. He is quite inter-"
But he began to part his mouth into a forced yawn. "Boring already! See, this is what happens when you choose to surround yourself with such unstimulating company – it spreads, and you used to be so much fun," he finished with a dramatic pout.
Your heart skipped a beat, and you sent him a death glare. "He's not the only one there."
There was a hint of amusement gleaming in his eyes. "Oh, yes! How could I forget Shadowheart and her magnificent ability to bore me." He swung his feet off the bed, standing gracefully. "Or perhaps you mean Lae'zel? She's clearly in debt to whichever god bestows a sense of humour."
An added layer of defense: sarcasm.
No one wielded it quite like Astarion, which also proved to be a major inconvenience when trying to win an argument.
I'm also there, you wanted to say, but chose to remain silent.
Deep down, you detested how you still longed for his company. Even after so many weeks had gone by. Even when he seemed so averse to it outside of this… arrangement.
Your relationship had been reduced to nothing more than a transaction.
Once again.
Your blood for his hunger to be quenched even if only momentarily.
"Or are you referring to yourself?" he mused, pacing towards you while adjusting his shirt.
It was extremely infuriating that he could see through you so easily.
"Let's get this over with, then," you said, words stinging in your throat.
He offered a faint smile, as he came to stand before you. "I must say, our weekly encounters are nothing short of exciting," he brought his fingers to your jaw, tilting your head gently as his eyes roamed across your neck. "And I am positively famished."
You felt a gentle tug at the collar or your shirt, and glanced down to see him undoing the buttons with just one hand.
All those years of honing his dexterity were bound to come in handy at the most convenient of times, and Astarion would never shy away from displaying his expertise.
Your senses were suddenly hit with the faint scent of bergamot, rosemary, and aged brandy.
His scent.
The same that once brought you comfort through the toughest of times.
But now…
"Which side will it be this time?"
You swallowed hard, shuddering. "You decide."
He caressed your neck tenderly, tipping your head to the opposite side, half-hooded eyes roaming across your exposed skin.
"Ever so generous."
You huffed in annoyance. "Astarion."
He didn't need to be warned twice, and you soon felt his soft lips brush across your skin, as he searched for your steady pulse. The contact made you jolt slightly and he took your hands in his, placing them at his waist.
"Hold on, darling," he whispered, as his breath fanned your flushed skin, before darting out his agile tongue and enclosing his lips around the selected area.
You had let him feed on you many times before, but the flutter was ever present. It wasn't out of fear or concern that he might take it too far. He never did. But the knowledge that you were, once again, involved in something so intimate truly gnawed at your nerves.
As soon as you felt the initial sting, you balled your fists, gripping the fabric of his shirt tight, as you hissed in pain.
He held your jaw in between his fingers whilst his other hand was firmly pressed to the back of your head, making sure you were anchored in place.
Astarion moaned first – a muffled and deep sound that reverberated across his lips with each mouthful of blood he downed.
Your eyes dropped close all of a sudden and he pressed his body against yours, acting purely on the instinct driven by his bloodlust.
And just like all those times before, you began to feel it.
With each passing second, the all too familiar and ever-growing pressure in your lower abdomen became harder and harder to ignore.
He had once revealed how your blood worked like an aphrodisiac whenever he drank from you; how he couldn't keep his body from reacting to it, and, ultimately, to you. After all, you had been the first thinking creature he had ever fed on.
As such, you had grown accustomed to his erection being pressed firmly against you – a constant reminder of how easy it was for him to make you yearn for more.
Whatever pain you had left from the initial bite, had morphed into a very subtle wave of pleasure that spread from between your legs.
You cursed inwardly, tugging harder at his shirt.
You didn't wish for your body to be so… primal.
Even with blood being drained from you, and the act itself being considered so profane, it was still a much welcome moment of intimacy that you had come to embrace.
A soft roll of his hips lulled you into him like a moth to a flame. Your body struggled with fading from the blood loss as well with the increasing throb between your thighs.
At this point, you couldn't help but moan softly as he eased his grip on you until he had fully withdrawn his teeth from you.
Your eyes fluttered open and you had to blink twice to disperse the haziness blurring your vision.
Crimson red tainted his lips, and droplets of the warm liquid threatened to spill over. The sight of him revelling in your blood used to make your stomach turn, but now it had morphed into a habit.
But what truly caught your attention was how he looked faintly… displeased?
He lowered his head, crimson eyes locking in with yours.
"That was quick," you whispered, struggling to ease your throbbing clit, as his erection was still very much pressed against you.
But now he was frowning.
Suddenly, you felt experienced fingertips trailed across your lower abdomen, casually teasing the hem of your waistband.
You sucked in a breath, chills sprawling all over your body, as he began to trace down your thigh, just where your dagger was resting.
"What are you–"
He pressed a long finger to his blood-stained lips and you swallowed, his eyes darkening. "We have company."
Before you could process his words, you felt your dagger being yanked swiftly from its sheath. With a languid shift of his feet, you watched as he threw the sharp blade across the room.
Just as it cut through the air, the large wooden door began to swing open and Shadowheart came into view.
The dagger landed dangerously close to her head, the tip carving into the wood and wobbling faintly.
She frowned slightly. "You missed."
He darted out his tongue to collect droplets of blood. "Did I?"
She looked positively unimpressed by such a display of skill, even one that could have easily maimed her.
But he had deliberately missed.
Of course he had.
You caught a glimpse of Astarion's reddened ears – the ultimate proof that he had recently fed, and one that, somehow, sent a shiver down your spine.
The bloodless effect was also beginning to take a hold of your body, as dizziness spread more and more.
Snapping out of your transfixed gaze, you hurriedly brought the handkerchief in your pocket to apply some pressure to your bleeding wound.
"Stealth was never your forte, darling," Astarion mused, visibly annoyed. "You're about as subtle as a pack of gnolls."
A teasing smile parted her lips. "You have such a way with words."
He grinned deviously. "It's called being eloquent, dear Shadowheart. Not that you'd know anything about that."
"I was taught to converse with others without constantly resorting to sarcasm," she mused, hurling your dagger back at him. "Not that you'd know anything about that."
As expected, he caught it in between his fingers with little to no effort, twirling it easily with the expertise that only centuries of practice could provide.
He clicked his tongue. "No wonder you're so tedious. But… eavesdropping? My, my… how unbecoming of you, darling."
A flash of surprise crossed her face. "I - I was doing no such thing! I merely decided to make sure everything was all right." Her face softened as she turned to you, her usual caring nature surfacing. "Do you need any healing?"
You smiled warmly at her, patting the pouch at your hip. "No need, thank you. Brought the scroll of Lesser Restoration you gave me."
Astarion scoffed.
Shadowheart ignored him. "I ought to go. Gale needs my assistance with some letters he's received from Waterdeep," she said, straightening up to her default stoic pose. "I trust you're quite done here."
You nodded, clearing your throat.
"What, you're not joining us for a nibble?" Astarion pouted dramatically.
"Over my dead body."
He looked as amused as ever. "That can certainly be arranged. Though I prefer fresh blood… right from the source."
Her features hardened once more and you decided to intervene. "Will you stop it? You're like a cat with its claws out."
Astarion snapped his head at you. "Excuse me? Claws?"
"Would it kill you - well, again - not to be so damn abrasive all the time?"
He groaned sheepishly. "She interrupted my feeding. It can be quite hard to resist the urge to behead her."
Shadowheart's gaze dropped to his lower half with the slightest uptick of one corner of her mouth. "By the looks of it, Astarion, you have other hardships to concern yourself with."
A rush of heat spread across your face as you followed her line of sight and were met by the very prominent outline of his erection strained against his trousers.
He turned around, mumbling curses under his breath to adjust himself, and Shadowheart looked at you with a triumphant smile.
It wasn't an easy feat to silence Astarion, yet she had achieved it so gracefully.
"I'll see you later, I suppose," she mused and you nodded. "It was rather entertaining seeing you again, Astarion."
He threw her an infuriating glance over his shoulder.
By the time she had closed the door behind her, you were already taking the scroll into your hands and whispering the incantation, as the paper scroll began to disintegrate itself.
A wave of warmth spread through your hands, before engulfing your body in it. Strength and heightened senses gradually returned to you as the lasting effects of him feeding on you dispersed.
From the corner of your eye, you spotted him glaring at you with a visible sulk.
"I'll come back next week."
"Leaving already?" He asked, fake heartbreak twisting his features and voice. "Was wondering if you could, perhaps, give me a hand."
He handed you your dagger, which you promptly slid back inside its sheath.
Your eyes then widened at his not so subtle suggestion.
Uncertainty boiled deep within you, and you had to muster your will to keep yourself from immediately leaving.
Astarion's healing path had been one he had decided to tread alone. The relationship he had with sex had been the reason you two had decided to be as friends and nothing more. You had fallen hard for him – or his deceit – but you figured what he truly needed was a friend and not a lover.
And so you left your infatuation for him behind.
It was better off this way.
But now… watching him fall back to his usual charming advances made you somewhat wary. Was he back to forcing himself to seek intimacy with his body, because he still couldn't do it effectively in any other way? Was he simply feeling more at ease?
You met his sultry gaze and cleared your throat. "Well, I'm sure you can ask that outrageously beautiful woman to help you out, if that is what you truly seek."
That seemed to have caught him by surprise, and he cocked his head. "What?"
"She seemed positively distraught for having to leave your company so early," you said, dragging the handkerchief down your neck to wipe off the trail of blood.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Do I detect a hint of jealousy, darling?"
"Delusion does not suit you, darling."
He took a few steps towards you until you could see the crimson of his eyes flicker as they studied your face.
Your stomach turned.
The proximity made you feel vulnerable and you immediately felt naked under his burning gaze.
Astarion had over two centuries of practice when it came to reading others. It wasn't an easy feat to deceive him, and you were no exception.
"We traveled together for so long and I can safely say I never took you for a liar – perhaps too soft-hearted for my liking, but not a liar."
"I did not lie," you shot back, lifting your chin in defiance. "I can offer you my friendship and even my blood, but I'm not so sure about anything else."
He heaved a deep sigh.
"I just fed on you and the bloodlust can be quite… overwhelming," he confessed. "I usually take care of it myself, but you did taste absolutely exquisite tonight, what can I say?"
That caught you off guard.
"What do you mean? Take care of…" your voice trailed off as realization hit you.
Oh.
Oh.
Astarion clicked his tongue. "Don't act so surprised. You can feel it whenever I'm feeding, can't you?" He took another step back and only came to a halt once your back was pressed against the carved-wood wall. "There is only so much I can withstand with your delicious blood coursing through my body, darling."
You swallowed hard.
He was being particularly firm on his advances tonight. You were used to his occasional flirtatious remarks whenever he fed on you ever since the arrangement took place. However, this was bringing things to a whole new level.
One that you hadn't expected you'd reach ever again with him.
Somehow, you managed to find your voice. "Maybe you should stop feeding on me, then?"
A weightless taunt, obviously.
Crimson eyes darted all over your face as if studying you. He remained silent for what seemed like an eternity, before the corner of his mouth curled into an intriguing smile.
He had seen immediately right through it.
"If that is what you wish, then so be it," he said in a rather dismissive tone, but still towering over you.
You arched a brow. "That's it?"
"Darling, as immortal as I am, I do not beg," he continued, now tracing around the fresh bite marks on your skin with uncharacteristic tenderness. "I will surely find other exquisite necks to sink my teeth into."
His words carried a hint of a threat, which unsettled you.
"That was not the arrangement, Astarion," you said with a scowl. "It's either wild animals or my blood."
His fingertips paused at your pulse point, and you were certain he could feel the throbbing increasing rapidly. "How possessive of you, my dear," he mused playfully. "Although, I am quite sure you are aware that many do carry fantasies with vampires."
You pressed your lips together in a silent reply.
A man as attractive as Astarion was bound to allure all sorts of attention. When passing through Moonrise Towers, the drow Araj had tried to have him bite her in exchange for a rather powerful potion, but you had assured him that you did not demand anything against his will.
The memory still left a sour taste in your mouth.
But he did have a point.
Vampires could be regarded as a taste of the forbidden, and he could certainly deliver it.
"That was not the arrangement," you repeated through gritted teeth, deciding to ignore his previous remark.
His eyes narrowed dangerously in an instant.
"'The arrangement'," he mocked, inching near and pinning you frozen against the wall with the weight of his burning stare. "Does dear Wyll know that I haven't been exclusively feeding on wild animals? Because that was the arrangement, darling," his face drew closer and his cool breath fanned your skin.
Upon becoming Duke of Baldur's Gate, Wyll had agreed to allow Astarion to reside within its walls, but not without assuring he posed no danger to others.
But then you decided to volunteer in aiding him until a solution to his vampiric condition could be found. Hopefully, it wouldn't take too long to find something useful.
Your research had led to a couple of enchanted items, but those were rare to come by. A wish spell seemed to be the easiest way, but even as a sorcerer and with Gale's help, it would be extremely challenging.
You swallowed the lump in your throat. "He does. He knows blood from thinking creatures sates you more effectively, so he allows it for the time being."
He scoffed, dropping his hand from your neck. "How very thoughtful of him, indeed."
"This is what friends do."
He sneered at you. "Friends do not hand out ultimatums. Care to revive my memory?" His lips almost brushed against yours and you didn't dare take a breath. "I am to wag my tail like an obedient pup as I wait for a solution to this minor inconvenience, all the while enclosed in a golden cage."
Impatience gripped your nerves ferociously. "These things take time, Astarion."
"Oh, my darling… I have all the time in the world, but you only have a limited supply of blood," he whispered softly and you could almost taste his taunting words.
He drew back slightly, his glare so intense you felt yours waver and drop, catching a glimpse of his sharp canines. "We are actively looking for a solution. Gale is also making some progress-"
He pressed a finger to your lips, effectively silencing you.
"Do not make the mistake of thinking I am faulting you," he said, his face suddenly softening, as he caressed your lower lip. "If anything, you are the only reason I was ever able to kill Cazador."
He was being sincere, and that was what made your heart drop to your stomach.
"You have my eternal gratitude."
You shuddered under his touch, feeling your breath quicke, as his other hand trailed down your neck until it was resting just above your left breasts and beating heart.
He was too good at this…
Unfairly so.
"Wyll ought to allocate more of his resources into aiding me, don't you think? After all, you are the one at risk here," he continued. "I know he cares not for me, but I could have ascended and bent Baldur's Gate to my will… if not for your intervention."
"I'm not at risk," you said with a roll of your eyes. "And if you drink more than what you need, then you know the consequences."
His eyes dropped to your cleavage as he began to caress the flushed skin. With each deep breath you took, you pushed more of your breasts into him, further igniting the heat between your legs.
"Promises, promises… unfortunately for you, darling, your words don't match your body."
Fuck you. "You're impossible."
He slowly dipped his head until his lips grazed yours. "You would stake me?"
Never.
"I would."
He chuckled. "You would stake me as I sink my teeth into your darling neck and feast on your divine blood?"
No. "Yes."
But his smile only widened as amusement settled on his face. "I can't think of a better way to part this world for good."
Your mouth parted slightly in surprise, and he rolled his hips into you, earning a soft gasp.
You half-expected him to finally take your lips, but he tilted his head instead to press a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth.
And your body nearly imploded as old sensations resurfaced.
Fuck.
"You're so sweet…" he whispered with a sigh, as he began to graze along your jaw, taking your hands in his and planting them on his waist. "So warm… the gods above could never do you justice." He continued in between light kisses with his hips matching the pace.
As your eyes fluttered shut, you lost track of how eagerly your hands tugged at the hem of his shirt, fingers brushing impatiently against the waistband of his trousers.
Astarion groaned softly, helping you with the inconvenient lacing at the front. "And here I thought I was the starving one."
He always talked way too much and had a natural talent for doing so at the least opportune time.
"Can you shut up for once?"
"Gladly," he said as he quickly took your lips in his, muffling your groan of protest.
Reason told you to halt everything once. That you were taking things too fast, and that there was no need to indulge in such depravities.
But you had missed this.
You missed having him so close that he completely overtook your senses.
The kiss turned rougher and his tongue soon found yours. Instinct guided you as you succumbed to the vicious grip of desire, and you pressed yourself further into him.
It was almost embarrassing how wet you already were and how intensely your swollen clit was pulsing. Your body was already readying itself for him to be buried inside you, and you shuddered at the prospect of it.
Your tongue darted into his mouth and your eagerness had it glide across one of his sharp fangs, and you felt a sting of pain as you accidentally drew blood.
"Fuck," you grumbled, breaking the kiss at once.
The familiar taste of metal began to pool in your mouth, and you felt gentle fingers grip your jaw tight, as he titled your head back.
"I would apologise, but it was your own doing," he said with a smile, hunger in his eyes. "So let's not allow it to go to waste, hm?"
And then he pressed his lips against yours, immediately parting them with his experienced tongue, in search of the warm liquid he so badly craved.
The cut wasn't deep or wide enough to cause much to spill, but it was certainly enough for him to let out a beautiful moan of delight, as he lapped at your blood.
Your hands gripped the front of his trousers, the lacing now undone and offering you the opportunity to feel him, and he was kissing you so ardently, that your mind was completely clouded by all of him.
Testing the waters, you caressed his cock through the fabric.
He immediately parted from you to let out a delicious hiss, as he rolled his hips into the palm of your hand.
Astarion was incredibly hard, but just as you were about to slide it inside to grip him, he caught your wrist and held it firmly in place.
And everything halted all at once.
Your eyes found his, and he seemed… distant.
Concern washed over you. "Astarion?"
He was frozen, eyes fixed on the floor.
As he eased his grip on you, it became apparent that he wasn't listening to you.
Fuck.
You brought one hand to grip his shoulder. "Astarion…"
He shook his head lightly. "Give me a moment, darling."
The way the last word drawled out of his lips, made your heart clench violently. It was so instinctive for him, that you doubted he even realised he had uttered it.
You stood still, unsure of what to do to help.
The two of you remained silent for a few moments. You kept your hold on his shoulder, gently caressing it in an attempt to bring him some comfort.
Then you felt rage swirl in you.
Cazador had warped him in such a way and for so long, that the ramifications of his abuse on Astarion seeped so deep and gripped him so tight, causing you to feel nothing but anger.
You took a deep breath, and carefully placed your hands on either side of his face, slowly guiding him to meet your eyes.
He looked broken.
"I apologise."
You caressed his cool skin with your thumbs, shaking your head. "There is nothing to apologise for. Ever. Do you hear me?"
He tilted his head until his forehead touched yours. "I really wanted this."
Even though the two of you had grown apart over the past few weeks as he had distanced himself, you couldn't think of anyone else who had such a hold on you.
With one hand drifting along his soft curls, you pulled him further into a hug, which he promptly embraced, lacing his hands behind your back.
This was your Astarion.
The one who made it so easy to love and care for him.
"Sometimes what we want is not what we need."
His cheek was pressed to the side of your head and you heard a faint chuckle. "So poetic. I reckon Volo has competition."
"Your mind goes to Volo when holding me? Is there something you wish to tell me, Astarion?" you teased lightly.
He patted your back twice before letting go.
"Guilty as charged," he mused, slipping back into his usual antics.
He crossed the room, tying the laces of his trousers before plopping himself on the bed with a stretch of his arms.
"I'm sure you're exhausted. Maybe you should go back to that dullard friend of yours," he said with a sly grin.
His words hit you hard and your face dropped. "I can stay a little longer…"
He picked up the book next to him, examining the cover. "Whatever for? I'm perfectly fine, darling."
Now, this was not your Astarion.
Cold. Distant. Impenetrable.
The one who pushed you away whenever you attempted to bridge the gap that had come in between you two.
He focused his attention on the book in his hands and you swallowed the lump in your throat.
"Very well."
You composed yourself, and headed to the door, not even bothering to exchange another look.
"Thank you for the meal, and for… well, you know."
You nodded, feeling the overwhelming urge to just leave. "See you next week, then."
He didn't reply.
You rushed out of the room, feeling the familiar prickle of tears in your eyes, and you tried to convince yourself it was better off this way.
That he needed time and space.
That he didn't need you.
By the time you crossed the crowded lounge of the tavern, you crossed paths with that woman again.
She locked eyes with you, a faint smile curving her lips, as she rose to her feet from her chair, probably heading back to him.
She truly was a sight to behold, no doubt.
But what tore your heart was realising that, even after everything you'd been through with Astarion, he still favoured her company over yours.
If you still want Astarion requests, I’d love to see something with a Tav who’s really nervous to let Astarion bite? 🥺
Positively Starved (Astarion)
Pairing: Astarion x Reader [Baldur's Gate 3]
Summary: In spite of your nerves, you invite Astarion back for a bite; admiring the trust you've put in him, he promises to be gentle (Act 1 spoilers).
A/N I wrote this in under an hour as I wanted to play around with some requests! Let me know if you'd like to see more of these off-the-cuff oneshots! (Also, slight mention of blood in this one).
Masterlist
"You can feed on me tonight... if you'd like."
The words sprung from your mouth. They lingered in the air, each syllable punctuating over and over—ringing out through your shared connection.
You felt a cringe.
Where in the seven hells did that come from? Was one near-death encounter not enough?
Before you could attempt to splutter out any sort of explanation, you were met with Astarion's laugh. "How very generous, my dear! I was starting to wonder when you'd invite me back for a bite."
Blood pooled to your cheeks; you could feel it—see it in the way his eyes turned them a similar, darker shade.
As you ruminated on his words, your heart hammered in your chest. The silence was palpable. But just as you were about to open your mouth to dismiss the idea completely, the man was roused into action.
"You know... I never expected you to be so eager," he finally said. Your embarassment swelled tenfold. "Tell you what, when the others have turned in for the night, I'll come to your bedroll."
Immediately, your breath caught in your throat. You glanced around—far less subtly than you would have hoped. To anyone in earshot, it would have sounded like Astarion was propositioning you.
Well, he was, you quickly realised. Just for blood over sex.
"Right—okay," you stammered back. You hated how weak your voice sounded, so you took a moment to make it stronger. "Come find me later then," you told him, before returning to sifting through your supplies.
You tried to calm your nerves, but as you turned to leave, you did not miss the way Astarion's fangs poked through his grin, nor how his eyes trailed your neck. Your legs almost buckled.
◤━━━━━━━━━━━◥ ◤━━━━━━━━━━━◥
As night fell, you found yourself, and your bedroll, tucked away in a small stone outhouse on the edge of camp. You'd discovered it earlier in the day, when looting storage boxes for odds and sods. It was cold, and damp—but at least it wasn't dark.
Amber glow lit up the space; you'd illuminated it with a few low-wicked candles as you waited for Astarion. In this warm light, you tried to make yourself comfortable on your bedroll.
"Setting the mood are we?"
Astarion's voice echoed through the outhouse. Although you tried not to acknowledge it, your heart immediately quickened in response—as did your mind race.
Your eyes followed him as he came inside, closing the old oak door behind him. "I must admit, I didn't expect this..." He waved a hand before him, inspecting the dripping candles, and your poor attempts at cleaning the place up.
"How come?" you asked.
His smile sent a shiver down your spine. "Well, aside from me getting a tad carried away the first time we did this... I could also feel your thoughts."
Even in the dim light, you could see his half-lidded expression, as though he was reliving the moment behind tired eyes.
He went on, "Excitement, yes, my dear. But also flighty as a bird."
Your brows furrowed. Part of you felt indignant, craved to prove him wrong by baring your neck without an ounce of apprehension. The other part wondered how he already knew you so well.
You tried to muster a reply, but it was Astarion who spoke first. "As much as I appreciate the offer, you don't have to do this, you know."
In that moment, everything seemed to still. You could only imagine the state of disbelief painted on your face. Throughout your time together, that must have been the most selflessness Astarion had ever strewn into a sentence.
But now was not the time to comment on it.
"I know," you said instead. "And I won't lie to you. I'm not sure exactly why I sought you out."
You sat up and reached for Astarion's hand. Something flashed over his face, but even so, he allowed you to guide him down to your bedroll.
"Perhaps you were right. Perhaps there is a spark of curiosity in me—excitement, even." His eyes widened, set alight by your confession. "Or maybe, and I know you won't like it..."
With a raised brow, he coaxed you, "Go on."
"When you told me about Cazador—" You paused for Astarion scowl, watching the lines materialise on his porcelain skin. "Well, I just thought how horrible it must have been to be constantly..." You sought out the word. "Hungry."
Astarion's lips parted ever so slightly.
Are you hungry? You shared the thought with him.
"Positively starved," came the reply.
Then he leaned in, casting shadows over your candle-lit skin. To any onlooker it might appear he was preparing for a kiss. But you weren't that naive.
"Not—" Your hand found his chest, the exposed skin peeking out of his shirt collar. "Not too much," you whispered.
Your eyes caught his in a silent plea. Astarion answered by taking your hand and pressing it into your bedroll. "No need to worry, my dear," he said, hot against your ear. "I promise to be gentle."
Your breath hitched. That wasn't the first time you'd heard those words spill from his pretty lips; you just hoped he'd be true to his word on this occasion.
You kept your eyes tightly shut as Astarion found your neck. As his fangs scraped your skin, you took a fistful of his hair between your fingers.
He bit down.
You tried not to cry out. The sensation was one you could hardly describe: a sharp sting followed by... euphoria?
No that wasn't right.
But all you could confidently say was that Asatrion's body lay hot over yours, and his lips were soft, but not quite as gentle as promised.
As he drank from you, you saw stars behind your eyes.
Your body thrummed as he suckled on the tender skin of your neck. The sounds he made were nothing short of sinful; they elicited a strained sort of moan from behind your own lips.
You felt Astarion's hand tighten over yours. He took more from you, worrying your skin between his teeth, coaxing more of your gasps to surface.
Pleasure mingled with pain coursed through your shared connection—a deep longing on either end. You cried out, and quickly, Astarion pulled away.
Feeling the loss of warmth, you opened your eyes. You were dazed, but even then, you noticed his cherry-red lips, tinted with your blood.
You blinked, trying to rid your vision of its blurred edges.
"Are you alright, my dear?" Astarion asked. He sat up immediately, inspecting your neck and overall complexion. "You're looking a little... flushed," he concluded.
A tired laugh escaped you. "My blood runs hot," you managed to say.
"Indeed it does," he agreed. Then he promptly stood up and dusted himself off.
A pang of hurt struck you.
It must have been strong enough to have travelled through your shared connection, since Astarion glanced back almost immediately.
"Don't look at me like that," he said, exasperated. "I'm just going to fetch some water. Try not to move until the dizziness passes."
Your mouth fell ajar. A wave of shyness overcame you. Had it been that obvious you wanted him to stay?
Apparently it had, so you tentatively rolled over, hiding your face from the man. "Thank you," you mumbled into your bedroll.
You heard the door creak open, and Astarion's footsteps damper. "No, my dear," he replied. "Thank you."
rating: explicit | word count: 2k | status: ongoing
themes/tags: vaginal sex, feelings realization, denial of feelings, light smut.. for now, and a whole lotta angst, will add more smut tho in the next chapters, soulmates, fluff, written as a glimpse into his mind during each act
———–
Astarion would never tell you, though - it was his little secret, one he hid away just for himself.
In other words: A delve into Astarion's thoughts, starting with the day he met you.
*will update description at some point.
———–
A/N: i wrote this as a peek into Astarion's mind throughout Act 1. plan to continue as i progress throughout the game. lmk what you think and if you like this style!
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Grief had a penchant for wearing different masks.
Phantom faces that slithered through shadows, white-hot wrath that clawed at the throat, an endless gnawing that swallowed one whole: all faces of a primordial monster that had existed before time itself.
Astarion knew all this.
He had met them all – intimate with its simplest form, a cold polarizing solitude; a loyal companion for two centuries, teaching him to lick his wounds with malice. Others had taken everything from him, or they were too weak to lift a meaningful finger. It took several lifetimes to finally mend his precious pride back together. Why should he practice mercy when no one had shown him any?
And by some stroke of luck, he was free – at least for now. Opportunity had fallen before his feet; he could chase after power, clutch revenge in his pale fingers, walk amongst the sun. Red eyes clung to the light glimmering across the water and wavering leaves. A desperate urge pulsed up his spine, insisting he memorize each saturated detail before it faded away like the most ethereal dream. The exhilaration rose wildly before plummeting to the pits of his stomach.
Huh, that was odd. It had never dawned on him that grief could also bloom in the slow, golden sunlight.
Languid beams washed against his flesh and through the faint hem of his shirt. Every fiber of his skin ached, dull and shallow, at the sacred warmth that had been a stranger for so long. He felt this haunted and holy gift – the vigor of life from each ray of light running over his fair face. Reunited once again, like long-lost lovers.
It was the sound of boots thudding against dirt that pulled him back into the world, on the ravaged beachfront.
With straight posture, a hollow smile painted itself across his lips.
==
“You have your mother’s eyes, you know.”
No, he didn’t know.
Quiet was this small voice that, for some odd reason, had grasped onto his conscience the night he died. It had sung loud in the beginning, but now it was just a whisper. Everything else had reduced to dust, long-buried beneath the cold earth.
But if he could conjure the ghost of his mother, he couldn’t be bothered to. Astarion envisioned a sharp tsk , a scowl dripping with disgust if she could see the creature he was today: a thrall to his own hedonistic desires, wielding manipulation and seduction as an instrument. A vampire , taking solace amongst the shadows and draining the life around him.
Maybe he was the same, just calloused and rearranged by the fate spun for him.
However, there was no need to exhume the past. It proved futile anyway; he couldn’t even recall the previous hue of his eyes, much less run his hands over his reflection. The only thing worthy of concern was survival. Memories had been shrouded by the same pivotal virtue, the one that carved the habit to become shapeless – to cater to every impulse and whim of those who could serve useful. Those who could protect him, at least for the time being.
And that was exactly what he tried with you, as his breath was inches from your slender neck and your eyes widened in hazy alarm, catching him by surprise.
“Shit.”
You scuttered to your feet in the frantic silence, dozens of excuses fluttering to Astarion’s tongue. The fatigue of bloodthirst hindered his wit, but he raised his palms in reservation.
He had already taken note of your misleading presence – you were small, but heavens , would you put up a fight. Other companions had already turned towards you for guidance the past few days, and you were carved with a beauty that could intimidate. Though, there were cracks underneath that facade – ones with darkness in between.
Peering into these cracks was his only outlet to earn your trust; after all, it was paramount for survival.
“I – I wasn’t going to hurt you,” exasperated breaths pushed from his throat. “I just needed, well.. blood.”
Basked in the dim firelight, your wary gaze studied him for what he really was: a vampire, a slave to sanguine hunger. He caught the stutter in your furrowed brows before they eased. Smug delight settled in his nerves when you, although with apprehension, allowed him to taste you.
Astarion eagerly obliged, immediately losing himself in the euphoria– the sweet vigor of your blood, how silky and rich. A low hum vibrated in his throat, and he barely registered when your palms pushed his broad weight off of you. Lush satisfaction that quenched his blood-thirst still coursed through him like a stimulant, but he still caught the tail-end of your groan.
“I don’t care that you’re a vampire. Just –,” you paused briefly to reel from your daze. “We’re all a team now, so I have to have some trust in you. Just ask next time.”
He felt happy, more alive – not only from the fresh blood still lingering on his tongue, but that you trusted him. Maybe not entirely, but the anchor had already been dropped; one step closer to wrapping you around his finger, even if you weren’t entirely flexible. He could feel it in your gaze, in the little quivers that rolled through you while his fangs sunk into your soft skin.
Once you had returned to sleep and his frenzied nerves quelled, he mulled over your parting words. You weren’t phased’ that he was a vampire, instead placing emphasis on trust. You were full of surprises – especially when the entire world met him with repulse.
Something that had been fossilized inside him tremored, as if it began to thaw.
==
There was a thin chill in the evening air, in the way nature prepares for a new season. And he hated you.
Well, he didn’t hate you – frankly, he couldn’t get enough of you; that was the issue.
You plagued his thoughts like a helpless addiction, better yet like a mirror; one he had repeatedly peered into, struggling to find the right angle and when he did – he was left staring at you.
Those careful eyes – a mocking reminder of everything he could have been. So different, so resilient, so disgustingly kind.
Since the day he laid eyes on you, he was the first to glimpse at your secret hidden in plain sight. Your habit of hiding yourself from everyone you came across, retreating behind stone-bared walls and tailoring a facade just enough to avoid drawing attention. Reserved lips were a mere confirmation you sealed away a vault of grief that you didn’t want – or need – clumsy, temporary hands to pry open.
That discreet resolve particularly made you the sour dagger twisting between his ribs. Grief had been your companion as well, but its mark never trickled from anywhere else – not a warbled voice or frustrated bout. It was only noticeable through a fleeting glint in your eyes. Meanwhile, he had made this medley of rage and anguish his armor. It had fused to skin, and he no longer knew how to scrape it off. Astarion dedicated decades to cursing the Gods. You ignored them.
He knew he should despise you and eagerly await the day he could shatter this mirror you were – but all bitterness dissolved in your presence. You had become his wonderfully terrible affliction; withdrawals could damn near kill him if they were to happen.
Ribbons unraveled from his chest with each conversation, whether it pertained to the graveness of the journey or a simple ‘good morning’ from your lips. Strange yet blissful, he could feel himself surrendering every bitter pang for the peculiar sensation of… comfort .
Once laced with such harshness, his mind eased with familiarity. An interesting chord of harmony, he thought, the two of you. From the start of the journey until now, you shared an enriching balance. He would encourage you to be more outspoken, while you stirred him to be authentic and soft – even if you weren’t aware.
You were stable like bedrock; never once expecting to be selfless or pious, instead only demanded transparency – at least to the extent he was willing to concede. Aside from the occasional brow-raise or retort, judgment never twisted your face. Respect was a new sensation to him, as you gave him yours.
This dynamic, this balance ; it was irresistibly and invariably warm.
==
The rendezvous sort of just fell into habit.
Every night he would savor the ambrosia from your neck, and one evening tension gave way to carnal desire. Whether it was a simple cathartic release or not, he didn’t care; tender moments bathed in amber firelight or the hush of the night had always left him craving more.
“You’re such a tease .”
You’d whisper those words every so often those sacred nights, and a rakish grin would slide across his face without fail. Lust gripped him, but never once weaved with routine; the way your legs parted to invite him in left Astarion with an insatiable urge to indulge in everything you were willing to give him. He could spend the entire evening with his head between your thighs, cold hands steadying your quivering legs as his tongue lured you to new heights of pleasure – giving you exactly what you needed.
When he was with you – skin pressed together, desperate hums like honey – he began to relish in taking things slow.
He preferred the nights where your bare body writhed beneath him and melted against his, while he eagerly coaxed wispy whines from your lips. No matter how wet and ready you were, his girth always met resistance as he parted your warm, sensitive walls. Your skin buzzed at the sensation of his cock splitting you open, like every time was the first you’ve been touched.
Desire laced every word he whispered into the curve of your neck, each encouraging and soft. His pace was slow, pushing into the depth of your core, buried deep enough to kiss your cervix with each thrust. Low, guttural grunts left his throat as your body’s natural instinct clenched around his throbbing cock.
Despite his centuries of experience, he found himself struggling to restrain from succumbing to the all-consuming euphoria of it all: your lashes wet from your tears, precious gasps warm against his skin, the desirous ache to fuck you the way that pretty face beckoned to be fucked.
The unbridled intimacy – which felt so real and tender was enough to send him over the edge. His veins hummed with yearning as he drank in the vision beneath him; your skin flushed, shaky whines that sung his name as he pushed you to pleasure. And when you wrapped your legs to press him deeper – he surrendered to the white-hot bliss.
Although Astarion would never tell a soul, his most treasured moments were spent after desperate breaths calmed and the entire world stilled.
It was never long before you lulled into sleep, and your weight slacked against his broad chest. He lingered over each detail with softer eyes; the gentle curl of your lashes, a freckle he had missed the last time. Peace graced such beautiful features, ones that were usually still with resolve. There had never been another face quite like yours in the two centuries he had lurked amongst the earth.
Your chest rose and fell slowly before you would eventually fidget, still deep in slumber, to slink an arm over his waist. His gentle hand grasped the one that rested against his chest, careful not to stir you, as he ran his fingers over your silk skin. Such delicate hands, he mused, that had to grapple their way through life.
He pressed a silent kiss against the back of your palm before laying it back on his chest.
In the silence, something washed over him – that rousing feeling that he never knew quite what to make of.
His eyes swept once more to watch the shuffle of your face, buried now against his side. Your hazy sighs warmed his bare skin. Astarion could almost laugh, imagining your face reddening if he ever shared how affectionate you were in your sleep.
Though he would never tell you – it was his little secret, one he hid away just for himself.
rating: explicit | word count: 3.7k | status: complete
themes/tags: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, creampie, feelings realization, denial of feelings, light angst at the end, you know the sex scene after the tiefling party?, yeah so this is it, with astarions pov, already catching feelings smh, smut is halfway through, just skip to after all early dialogue
Little did he know that evening, that was the beginning of his simple plan crumbling apart.
In other words: Astarion has been struggling to balance century-long instincts with newfound feelings, an undeniable connection. He carries out his simple little plan as intended, but meets complications he didn't quite expect.
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A/N: so i hung up my cod medals of honor to write this.. i've been playing for a month now. originally posted without proofreading, but its now edited for grammar and some terms
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It was hard not to have fun around you.
Something of a child-like giddiness would buzz through his nerves whenever you sauntered over, his marbled red eyes wouldn't dare to miss a beat of the vision you were. Swaying hips and that deceivingly coy face. Of course, you were strikingly beautiful – a wickedly delectable sight – but that wasn’t the only source of his carnal anticipation.
It was just you, the enigmatic little thing you were.
Admittedly, Astarion believed he had read you like an open book the moment he laid eyes on you. It was an instinct of his: gathering a cerebral repository of notable ticks and body language, facial twitches, and octave changes in those around him. Watchful, constant observations.
He had chalked you up to a sort of stoic character at first. Graceful, to a degree, in your manner of subtly balancing the world around you. A stable composure, quick and quiet without brash or idle chatter.. unlike that Gale. You were a less flagrantly repulsive hero-type crafted in his mind – but he had still expected you to be oh-so predictable with a shallow drive for self-emaciating ‘justice’. Whereas the others wore their baggage like a garment, you held your cards close to your chest – like a chameleon suddenly thrust into the spotlight.
Yet the sun rose and fell two or three times around the wilderness of Elturel, when he found himself pleasantly contradicted. He normally didn’t dedicate much attention towards someone he believed he so easily pegged, but his interest began to pique. Just enough to leave him sitting with an edge and a consuming desire to peer in closer.
Maybe it was the way your mouth twitched into a quiet smile during his verbal antics on the road or the firm passiveness you held from the blighted village to the drama of Emerald Grove; an intoxicatingly confusing blend of traits you harbored. The closer he watched you, the less blurred you became. You didn’t fear being authentic and enforcing boundaries to those who attempted to use you – but you weren’t cruel; you met the world around you just as it was, without discrimination. No unnecessary harm, no free handouts either.
Or perhaps it was your sarcastic remarks that stirred what little glee he had in him; an especially delicious and refreshing insight into your humor. While he could care to give a critical note or two on your lack of blatant cruelty, Astarion respected your compelling demeanor; he witnessed how all these companions turned their eyes so frequently to you with decision.
But what he did know for sure was the eye contact.
Gods, the first time your heads swiveled mid-strife and your gazes locked with a rich crackle – the memory alone was enough to stupefy him! Something strange stirred, something that didn’t sit comfortably. He didn’t know what to make of it.
With all this said, that same sensation boiled inside his stomach as he mulled over his every interaction with you. He recalled that moment of midnight – when all was still and you had caught him prepared to taste your throat. Your wary stare pierced through him, washing away briefly the desperate pangs of blood-thirst and left him feeling.. nervous.
Ugh, how he despised the feeling.
He was sickened when all those ledgers of observations caved in on himself, caught in his pale throat. He had taken such an overwhelming liking to you – to the extent, he had realized, that he was drawn to your guidance, your approval; a repulsive frustration at the time enough to coil through his cold veins. Without much to say, however, he was adamantly relieved when you conceded and soon regularly allowed him to drink from your slender neck.
His trail of thoughts glossed over your stifled grunts onto the following morning: when you came to his defense as everyone felt the need to chime in with their unfettered prejudices. And how his ease, his excitement around you became persistently potent – a fresh energy that filled him as you spurred on his teasings and whims. Astarion noticed your subtle release of your ever-strong walls, just enough so he could relish in your humor and affable side.
There was always a hesitation at doting on the sensation that rose inside him at these thoughts of you. He surmised he was merely back in the practice; where he spun honeyed words and charmingly guile eye contact, to wrap his target around his finger. Any little edge of control he could grasp onto, the familiar taste of influence he used to know so well. These habits of two hundred years were kicking in. He’d play the part and – sooner or later – this eagerness to please would be reversed onto you.
Whether it was his own willful denial or the culmination of fate’s ever-spinning thread, the first crumble began the night of the tiefling party.
.
Cool and clear was the star-freckled night. Everything was too merry for him: the wide-toothed grins of the tieflings, sharp strums of the lute, the chatter. Even the wine was downright awful, pungent and tart like vinegar.
Astarion would’ve normally indulged in his bitter mood, but it was the sight of your drunken smile that diffused his prior desire to complain.
How interesting, he thought as his eyes lapped up your squinted grin and eased laughter. It was helplessly infectious to see you so earnest, casually prattling on in conversation throughout the camp.
Red eyes followed while you made your rounds, encouraging the tiefling’s dancing lights spell and conversing with the bard. Astarion even raised a brow at the playful expression that washed over your face as you spoke to the hulking druid by the name of Halsin. When you strolled over to Shadowheart and he caught that carefully provocative glint in the raven-haired cleric’s eyes – a chord of jealousy grew taut inside his chest.
He had half the mind to feel insulted that you hadn’t wandered in his direction yet, but that was quickly dispersed when he noticed you dismiss yourself and head towards a wooden crate near the riverfront.
Almost like a shadow, Astarion swept in your direction. Whether it was to merely take in your smile up close or to put his plan in motion, he settled on the latter. You were rifling through the crate that held what could barely pass as wine, muttering a quiet curse about the little tiefling probably pocketing a bottle or two.
“Here’s my little treat with her cheeks all flushed,” the words dripped from his mouth with a sweet cadence. “You will come to my bed tonight, won’t you?”
You swiveled at the sound of his voice, raised brow accompanying your hazy smile. The influence of wine lowered your usual wariness, and he caught the realization flutter across your face; there was no constitution in attempting to act reserved, especially with the rapport you two had grown. Amusement was written all over your face, hardly concealed – you had decided to play along.
“A little treat? You can do better than that.”
“Oh, I certainly can. It would be my pleasure.”
He leaned closer, half-lidded eyes darkening and breath heavy with a mischievous delight. You watched him expectantly, reveling in what would pour from his lips.
“How about this one,” he loosened his posture, as if you both were stowed away from the entire world instead of dawdling along the outskirts of the shoddy camp. “All these accolades from the tieflings are nothing compared to the sound of my name, cried from your lips.”
Astarion watched the smile further spread across your soft lips, the wickedly sweet crinkle in your eyes while you crossed your arms. An exhilaration rose underneath his suave demeanor, even the bemused snicker invigorating.
“Is that the best you can do?” came your quick quip.
“Hmm, let me give it another go,” his voice was thick with arousal, a hungry glint in his eyes. “Every part of your perfect body whispers temptation – it’s as if the Gods made you just to ruin me.”
His words clung to the air for a moment. The deliberate onslaught of poetic pleasantries laced with such ardent lust, the hum of the wine – Astarion studied your face swirling in thought. Heat had built up from the lower half of your body up to your cheeks, a quiet neediness wavering in your stance and threatened to boil to the surface of your skin.
Gods, you were thinking, it had been the longest time and you’ve been touch-starved.. more so under the urgency of all the trouble you had been thrust into. You never trusted a pretty boy, but you'd be damned if his flowered prose didn't stir something in you; you had never been the subject of such pursuits, real or not. Desire rushed through you, coiling in your stomach.
There was a beckoning in his eyes as they clutched onto yours, imporing you to draw closer, and his boyish features were even more alluring when caressed by the moon’s glow. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to trust those flowery words. They were tinted with an air of rehearse.
“Did these really work on Cazador’s targets?”
“Well, they’re working on you, aren’t they?”
A mild bashfulness buzzed through the warmth on your cheeks, as you couldn’t really deny it.
“How about if I said these little words… everyone’s favorite,” Astarion continued, pausing for effect.
“I love you.”
Sly amusement colored his face. He had succeeded in riling up the intrinsic urge, no matter how much you tried to conceal it. How adorable you were when your gaze fluttered briefly.
“Having fun, are you?” you observed, smile holding on your lips.
As he had mused earlier, he was. It was hard not to whenever around you.
.
Festivities settled down, the entire camp fast asleep once the wine crate had emptied and bellies were full. Only the chittering of crickets could be heard amongst the trees.
The forest, usually dressed in potent darkness, stilled beneath the moonlight. A serene, subtle beauty of the night – one Astarion was very accustomed to knowing, to living . He had done this so many times it had become second nature – the salacious rendezvous, the secrecy and fleeting thrill of them all.
He had contemplated before, the image of you melting in the throes of pleasure. He wondered whether you preferred his hands gentle or rough, what sounds would dribble from your lips – if they sounded as sweet as you tasted.
Though nothing could prepare him for the reality, which far surpassed fantasy; the pretty little thing you were, bare figure caressed by the lowlight, slowly making your way towards him.
“There you are. I’ve been waiting.”
You offered him a coy smile, cheeks still warm and rosy. An ache rushed between your legs at the sight of him sauntering forward, his well-formed broad physique. Lean, yet muscular – and the soft details of his appearance; the crease of laughter lines, the curl of his lashes. Just the anticipation of it all served enough to make you wet.
“Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you,” he leaned closer, desire coating every syllable.
“You don’t have me yet,” you matched the pulse of his words, emanating a playfulness to goad him on further.
Greedy lips suddenly met yours, and you were pressed against the tree trunk. His palms gripped the back of your thighs, swift dexterity almost catching you off guard. You instantly melted, like a puddle, in his grasp; your soft lips just as eager, skin aching and impatient for his touch. You never realized how sensitive you were, how truly touch-starved until you fought the gasp that escaped your throat.
Astarion didn’t waste a beat, carefully laying you onto the grass below while he drawled slow kisses along the curve of your neck. Fervent yearning permeated from your skin; you wanted more, and he was prepared to give you everything .
He drank in the sight of your arousal, eager to please you yet potently roused from the position he was in: you were such a delectably pretty thing sprawled beneath his weight, completely bare and vulnerable. Wide eyes bashfully beckoning him to just taste you.
“Part those precious legs for me, beautiful.” He directed, his voice less of a growl this time – instead more sweet. Soft.
You could feel your face heat up further at his words, following his command without hesitation. Tender hands trailed along the soft skin of your thigh, his intense eyes briefly leaving yours to watch his fingers lingered over your folds – you were glistening with slick , fevered arousal.
“Oh my, you’re already so wet for me.”
His voice was almost a whisper now, as a keen excitement rushed through his veins. A twitch pressed against his briefs, his cock already hard and eager especially when his eyes darted towards your rosy. So willing, ready to indulge his every whim. For a moment, he settled in your vulnerability – a sight he didn't expect to see. You were always full of such delicious surprises.
He shook the thought from his mind, allowing a sly smile to return to his lips.
“Who knew you were so needy?”
Your cheeks flushed, timid lips scrambling to form a defensive retort before he slipped two fingers inside. Only a quiet gasp left your mouth as your soaking warmth struggled to adjust, tightening around his digits. You were barely able to comprehend the words he said, instinctively bucking your hips.
“ Astar ..” your breath hitched before you could even finish, when his fingers began a slow pace. Teasingly slow, you would beckon, but there was nothing you could even fathom whispering anymore. Your walls began to clench, eager to receive his unwavering attention.
Hums of pleasure pulsed through your every nerve, rapidly as he fastened the curling pace of his fingers. Every hitched and quiet whimper encouraged him, his palm soaked with your slick. He relished the sight of your round breasts rising and falling feverishly, your heat clenched around him – his cock further hardened, precum no doubt pooling on the fabric of his briefs.
All you could manage was to focus on the pleasure mounting between your legs, thighs now quivering with anticipation. His thumb slid up to your swollen clit, never breaking pace, to draw teasingly slow circles. He adjusted his weight to lean closer to your face, the sudden attention causing an overwhelming shyness to press your eyes shut. Your thighs trembled more now while his fingers beckoned and lured your pleasure to spur closer and closer.
“Look at me,” he whispered, his voice the gentlest you’ve ever heard.
He couldn’t place the sensation – of feeling entranced in a sense, when whimpers of pleasure fumbled from your beautiful lips. Astarion almost felt lost, nearly mesmerized, when you kept those pretty eyes trained on his. He could feel his eyes soften at your vulnerable stare, and all at once everything inside him craved to slide into your warmth. To feel you melt into him, to hit every right spot to make you sing, for every sweet prayer cascading from your lips to be for him.
“Mmf..” You were left in a sudden foggy haze, a mix of pleasure and confusion when he abruptly withdrew his fingers. You couldn’t fathom any words to speak, only furrowed your brows in a hazed and disorientated manner.
“I’m sorry, love.” His breathless laugh seemed dazed before the low, heaviness returned to his tone, “You were practically just begging with those lovely eyes of yours.”
He leaned downwards to plant soft, reassuringly delicate pecks across the nape of your neck; each a mantra to affection, leaving a buzz in their wake. Carefully he peeled down his briefs with a wasted moment to rub his eager cock against your slick warmth.
Your moans sounded even sweeter closer to his ear, and a delighted sigh pressed from his lips onto your skin. His throbbing cock was met with some resistance as the length and girth was suffocated by your tightening walls, warm spasms at the sensation being filled.
A guttural, low moan hummed from his throat. Fuck, you were so perfectly tight.
His cock pulsed at the sudden attention, aching with pleasure and a warm buzz radiating through his skin. He paused for a moment, needing to relish every second it felt to be now pressed so deep inside you. The softness of your skin, delicate cues of pleasure washing over your face, how your warm walls enveloped his cock.
You moaned as he pushed more of his length inside your needy warmth, tears beginning to well up in the corner of your eyes. Pleasure and slight pain blurred, the tip of his cock almost pressed against your soft cervix and a rouse of heat traveling up your spine.
His hands gripped the globes of your ass to adjust his leverage, slowly but deliberately digging his hips against yours with each thrust. His body was achingly ready, alive with frantic urge. He was incapable of any pretty words to whisper, tangled groans replacing his usual velvet tongue.
As he pounded quicker into your warmth, your pulsating soft walls sucked his cock tighter and deeper with each buckle. He nestled his head into the nape of your neck. Sweat formed on his pale forehead as he wrestled with his restraint, his cock stroking in and out, hitting pleasure points you never knew existed and relishing in your shameless cries – desperate for him.
Soft, warm pleasure unraveled across you in hot waves. If you had the mind, you could only hope that no one could hear you two – the sounds and wet smacks of his skin colliding against yours – but all you could do was turn your pleasured cries and whimpers into soundless gasps.
Your lips parted, hips bucking before your back arched from the ground. Every fiber of your body attempted to get closer to him, and his to you. Of some act of grace, your hand caressed his face, lifting him to face yours.
Oh, how he wanted to melt right there.
Eager eyes met each other, brows furrowing together into a soft, tender stare. Astarion’s hips began to buck erratically for a moment as he struggled to regain his resolve. Once steadied, he continued to bury deeper into you in every perfect way. You were clenched so tightly, so divinely around him while his name trickled as a whisper from your lips.
“You – fuck .. “ you couldn’t be bothered to form a proper sentence, every whim of comprehension overwhelmed by new heights of white pleasure. You were lulled into a stupor, and his grip tightened at your garbled pleas.
“Thaaat’s it,” Astarion practically begged, voice ragged, his eyes never leaving your beautiful face as it twisted with sweet expressions. An eagerness gnawed inside him, to push you to the edge of your pleasures. You were so perfect while you cried his name, taking all of him so well.
“Come for me, sweet girl –” Hushed and delicate was his tone, only causing you to surrender any inhibition.
Heat wound tightly in your abdomen, lashes wet with the tears trailing down your warm face. Every nerve was wound so tight, finally snapping into a rush of white hot pleasure that left your skin flushed and tingling. You tried to whine out his name, but it spilled out into broken gasps as you reached your fingers to grip his silver curls.
His hips began to stagger, riding out your pleasure until he could no longer postpone the succumb to pleasure. They lost their rhythm, and a low moan rumbled from his throat as he surrendered to the overwhelming sensation of your tightening walls, pressing into you.
You could feel his cock throbbing in you, as your nerves are slow to fizzle from the glowing buzz, and it swelled. Your slick walls were overstimulated nearly by his desperate, choppy thrusts before a cry escapes his lips – his cum flooded into you, thick and hot. He felt waves of warmth, so real and alive. So helplessly right.
The air was silent, as you both collected your breaths in hurried gasps. Astarion peeled his weight off of you only to roll onto his back, by your side. Your body felt light and completely slack, almost boneless as you sunk into the earth underneath you. Aftershocks of pleasure still rippled throughout your nerves.
Both of you laid sweaty, flushed, exhausted, lacking the energy to care. You broke the silence with a wobble in your voice.
“Fuck, you came inside me..” you stated the obvious, reeling from pulsing nerves and vision hazy.
“I’m sure the druids have something that’ll take care of that..” Astarion said breathlessly, extending an arm to wipe the sweat glistening off his forehead.
He waited for a quiet laugh or a retort, but neither came.
Turning his head, he was met with the vision of your exhausted figure fast asleep. Slowly your chest rose and fell, face at ease – a vulnerability he had only seen when you were in deep sleep, if you weren't tossing and turning.
The quiet sat with him while he attempted to gather his thoughts, his experience. He had seen an entirely different side of you – exposed delicate. Part of his conscience pooled with guilt.
He had a plan. A nice simple plan. It wasn’t foreign to casually bed strangers, seducing and manipulating them into following his every whim. Hells, this had been routine for two hundred years . The count was lost on how many nights he spent using people like ragdolls, only to be lured back into the hands of Cazador.
Astarion returned his gaze to the stars glistening above, attempting his best at reducing it to the odd circumstances or perhaps he was simply out of practice.
Regardless – even if it was more than a fluke – he had already fucked things up. The thought felt tainted now, uneasy and riddled with remorse.
Little did he know that evening, that was the beginning of his plan crumbling apart.
She usually only lets Astarion feed on her while she is asleep. Not that she has any problem with Astarion, the case just is that him feeding from her while she is still conscious is profoundly intimate and she can’t really be sure if Astarion has noticed or even if he particularly cares, about how quickly her heart races when he does it. So while she is asleep is better, it's much better.
But she can't get to sleep tonight, so she is just going to have to make do.
Contains: Fem Unnamed Tav, Explicit Sexual Content, Blood stuff (comes with the territory)
Word Count: 5,143
Read on AO3
Astarion has been feeding on her almost every night for the past month now. Most nights while she is still asleep, though he is always surprisingly insistent about obtaining direct consent before she moves to her tent for the evening, by this point she has just assumed that the agreement is mutual and that there is little need for him to keep asking. Though she doesn't have it in her to be upset about the courtesy.
She generally prefers that he drinks while she is sleeping, only knowing that it happened when she wakes up the next morning with a dull throb in her neck and Astarion giving her a knowing smirk from across the camp.
Not that she has any problem with Astarion, the case just is that him feeding from her while she is still conscious is profoundly intimate and she can’t really be sure if Astarion has noticed or even if he particularly cares, about how quickly her heart races when he does it. So while she is asleep is better, it's much better.
Being the vampire’s resident midnight snack does occasionally earn her some uncomfortable looks from other members of their little group. Especially after one of the few nights she had been awake for the ordeal and the feeling of his hand moving to her hip caused her body to jolt so intensely that Astarion accidentally tore her throat up with his fangs. Shadowheart dutifully healed it, but gave her a stare so oppressive that even a slight uptick of the half-elf’s judgemental eyebrow would surely have killed her on the spot.
Astarion did apologize, but then quickly switched to insisting that she needed to let him know next time she decided to experiment with interpretive dance while he was firmly latched to her throat.
That was the night they both agreed, it might be better if he only feeds while she is out cold.
This night, however. Sleep will not come. She knows that it has been nearly a day and a half since Astarion has last eaten, any and all the fighting that took place today in the dark remains of Shar’s gauntlet were against foes severely lacking in the blood department, and tomorrow will likely be the same. To be honest, they were lucky at all, to find somewhere safe and quiet enough to camp in this miserable place.
She rubs her eyes, still sitting upright in her tent despite all efforts to lull herself to sleep. She sighs heavily, tucking her knees up and wrapping her arms around them, usually a long day like this tires her out completely, and she is a very heavy sleeper, but today’s journey has left her so exhausted that even sleep evades her.
The rustling of her tent flap nearly has her topping over with shock, hardly expecting any visitors after the terrible day they had all endured. The realization hits her when Astarion climbs in.
“Oh.” He says, freezing halfway into the tent, “Apologies, you are not usually so…well, conscious, at this time of night.”
She had agreed to him feeding on her again this evening, assuming that she would be well asleep by now like usual. She sighs and gives him a wan smile, “Sorry, I can’t sleep.”
“I suppose dinner is off the table then, isn't it?” He replies, wearing a smile that seems far tighter than his usual lazy smirk.
“No!” She says quickly, “Gods no, there’s nothing else for you to eat down here and it’s been almost two days.”
Astarion frowns, suddenly becoming very interested in his fingernails, “I can always go back to eating rats if I must, there is certainly no lack of them in this miserable place.” He tries to maintain a casual air, but there is venom behind those words. His voice does return to being playful when he says, “Or, should the situation become incredibly dire, I’m sure that our resident hero would let me have a bite if I asked very nicely.”
For some reason, the thought of Astarion feeding on Wyll instead of her causes a thick cloud of jealousy to build behind her ribs. She ignores it, “Just come inside, we’ll figure something out.” she says, shuffling backward a little to give him more room, “And close the front of the tent, please.”
When he turns back to her and takes a seat on the hard ground, she can’t help but notice just how etherial he looks in the soft orange glow of her lantern. Even on the nights when she does sleep, she prefers to keep the lantern on, both because the darkness makes her uneasy, and because (even though she knows he can see in the dark) it feels like common courtesy to leave a light on for Astarion.
“So.” He says
“So…” she replies
Astarion sighs, “Look, darling. If you are simply too delicate for me to have my meal while you are awake, I’m sure that I can find a way to occupy myself for now.” He levels his gaze with her, “Something more entertaining than just staring at each other.”
She bristles, “I’m not delicate, I’m just-” she can’t finish the sentence. She’s just what? Too shy, embarrassed maybe, certainly nervous, “I’m fidgety.” she lies, “and I don’t want to cause another…incident.”
He laughs, “Oh yes, not willing to suffer another of Shadowheart’s glares, are you?”
“No.” She begins, averting her eyes as she feels her cheeks burning, “Not at present.”
“Then what do you suggest? Since you don’t seem to be planning on getting your beauty sleep anytime soon.”
She chews on a knuckle, mulling it over. There’s no way she could handle him leaning over her like that again, his scent surrounding her, one of his hands cradling the back of her head as he finally sinks his teeth into the side of her-
“It might be better, if i’m sitting upright.” She offers.
Astarion blinks, “Upright?”
“Maybe. I think.”
It would at the very least, be far less intimate, more clinical.
Astarion hums to himself, “As you know, i don’t have all that much experience in the matter, but i can hardly see how you would expect to stay upright and the last thing we need is you cracking your skull open on the ground.”
“Then I would just need something to lean against.” She says quickly, “I just think I would be far better at sitting still this way, that's all.”
“Well, I’m right here, darling.” He says, almost dismissively, upset that she wouldn’t consider it herself, “You could always lean against me.”
Her eyes widen. That would defeat the purpose of this whole exercise, but she can’t very well tell him that.
“As long as it wouldn’t make things more difficult for you.” She begins, choosing her words slowly and carefully, “I would at least be happy to try.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that.” He says, leaning backward a little and letting his thighs fall open, “The last thing this could possibly be for me is difficult.”
She stares down at him, eyes wide as she realizes that she has only managed to make this situation worse.
“Oh….kay” She says, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. In the end she opts to face away from him, sitting cross legged between his legs and shimmying backward until she feels his chest pressed up against her back. She sucks a difficult breath in through her teeth and though he isn’t warm, he might as well be, the way she immediately breaks out in a nervous sweat.
“Come come, my dear.” He says, his tone hushed as he carefully draws her hair away from her throat, “I’ve had plenty of time to practice being gentle all those nights you were asleep, no need to be so nervous.”
She’s more than a little embarrassed at how instinctively she tilts her head to the side for him, almost beckoning him to bite down. It’s not that part that makes her nervous, not at all. It’s that she recalls a conversation, brief and quickly dismissed, that the two had by a campfire many nights ago.
A mention of disgust, words spat like bile about the man who forced him to use himself night after night. A disgust of her own, when she remembered how many days she’d spend staring at him, nights under his body as he fed, wishing and wanting for him to touch her.
She had been far too forward that night, prodding where she shouldn't. Astarion had just laughed, dismissed her concern and refused to elaborate.
“I trust you.” She whispers when she feels the ghost of his breath on her neck.
Astarion tenses behind her, and she closes her eyes as he descends, waiting for the bite that never comes. His lips press against the side of her throat, softly, lightly, the way a lover might kiss. She gasps aloud, and quickly covers her mouth with a hand, trying to hide the sound.
One of his hands wraps around hers, gently removing it from her mouth, “No.” he says, pressing another kiss to the cut of her jaw, “Let me hear you.”
A whimper climbs its way up her throat when he wraps a possessive arm around her, his thumb gently brushing across the lower swell of her breast. She feels his teeth against her neck, not biting, gentle and tantalizing.
This is what she had been afraid of, that she would encourage something like this and then lack the restraint to tell him no. Her head inclines backwards, resting on his shoulder and releasing a keening moan when he sucks on her pulsepoint.
“Astarion-” she tries, breaking off into a moan when he slides his hand up and squeezes her breast in his palm.
He chuckles against her throat, “I do so love hearing you say my name like that.” he croons into her ear, his hand sliding down the collar of her loose linen shirt to cup her breast directly, “Say it again for me, would you?”
“W-Wait, please” She forces out, trying to ignore the growing warmth between her thighs, and the cool press of his palm against her breast.
At her words, Astarion freezes completely. She can barely even feel him breathing anymore.
“Yes, of course.” He says quickly, too quickly, there’s something that sounds like panic in his voice, “I- well, I hope i didn’t misread the situation.”
“No! That’s- that’s not what I meant, it’s just-” She reaches her hand up backwards until she finds his face, cupping his cheek in her palm, “Astarion…you don’t have to if-“ if you don’t want to, if it doesn’t mean anything, if it hurts too much, or Gods forbid if you think you owe me something.
He stays still for long enough that she begins to worry she said something wrong, that she overstepped a boundary and he was just going to laugh dismissively again. Instead, he turns his head so he can lightly kiss the palm of her hand.
“I know.” He breathes, and it somehow soothes all her worries at once, “I know I don’t have to, but I do want to.” She can almost hear his smile when he says, “That is, of course, provided that you don’t want me to stop.”
“Gods no…” she exhales, leaning back against him, “That’s the last thing I want.”
“Good.” He nearly moans, his hand jumping to the laces at the front of her shirt and quickly undoing them until it hangs wide open all the way down to her sternum. It surprises her a moment, how familiar he seems with undoing her clothes, but then she remembers each morning, waking up with a bite at the join between her shoulder and neck. A courtesy, so none of the others would see it, but he would only be able to reach that low by loosening her shirt.
She feels herself growing warm at the thought, smirking when she asks, “You’ve undressed me before, have you?”
Astarion huffs, licking a stripe up the side of her neck, “Nothing more than was necessary to get at your shoulder, darling.” his cold hands grab both her breasts at once, and he groans, “I was trying to save you from any judgemental stares.”
Her head lolls backward and she moves her hand to his hair, tangling her fingers in tight. His hands are cold against her bare skin, but she is already so warm all over that any reprieve from the heat is a welcome one.
“Is this why you could never sit still while I was feeding on you?” Astarion breathes, one of his hands sliding down the front of her torso to rub over the front of her woolen breeches, “Because you couldn’t stop imaging this?” his hand slips beneath her breeches and into her smalls, “Gods…” he hisses through his teeth, “You’re so wet and I’ve barely even touched you.”
“Don’t act so coy.” She replies, gasping aloud when his talented fingers dip inside her just enough that she is quivering in anticipation for more, and when his thumb reaches up to circle her clit, she whimpers desperately, “You have all the clarification you need right here.”
“Do I?” He asks slowly, fully removing his fingers from her cunt and resting his hand on her hip, “What if I want to hear you admit it?”
She whines, missing his touch already, “Please…”
“No no no, you know what you have to do.” He murmurs, breath ghosting across her neck as he presses another kiss to her skin, “You did lie to me about it earlier, don’t I deserve to hear the truth from your delectable lips?”
“F-Fine.” She mutters, shame dissolving into something far more sinful as she finally confesses what she is certain he already knew, “The real reason I asked you to only feed while I was asleep, was because I-” his free hand joins the other on her hips, slowly edging her breeches and smalls down over her thighs, “Because I didn’t think I could control myself.”
He laughs warmly against her skin, fingers just barely skirting around the thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs, “My my, with talk like that, you’d think that it is I who should be afraid of you.”
“Maybe you should.” She says, trying and failing to maintain a casual air even as his fingers slowly descend, “After all, who knows that I might- nhg!”
“Hm? Sorry, what was that?” Astarion asks, two of his fingers now knuckle deep inside of her.
“I’m h-hardly in a state to offer much witty banter, Astarion.” She stammers, barely even able to speak as his fingers start moving, slow and precise, like he is savoring it.
“But I do so love when you try.” He smiles against her neck, a third finger easily wriggling in alongside the other two. She goes practically boneless against him, unable to keep her hips still as he curls his fingers upward just right and when his thumb teases another utterly devious circle around her clit she feels herself tightening around his fingers. Astarion groans, hiding his face in her shoulder and grinding himself against her lower back, “Hells, darling, you are perfect.”
One of her hands moves to his thigh, struggling to find purchase as she completely loses herself to the pleasure. If the full weight of her body essentially collapsed against him gives Astarion pause, he doesn’t show it, his fingers never falter. The pace he maintains is utterly languid, slow and warm and wet, fast enough that she wouldn’t call it teasing but like he wants to work for it, to enjoy the luxury of taking his time with her.
She moans when his other hand returns to her breast, rubbing addictive circles around her nipple with his thumb. Everything starts to turn hazy at the edges, her body is twitching and desperate.
“Gods…” She hisses through her teeth.
Astarion chuckles against her throat, “Come now, darling. There’s only one god here.” she feels the light graze of his sharp teeth, “and he’d much prefer you call him by his name.”
“Astarion…” she tries, “Please.”
He exhales a shaky breath, but otherwise maintains his composure, “Please what, my sweet?”
She’s on the exhilarating precipice of her climax, barely even able to speak, her body feels so hot that Astarion’s hands nearly burn in their coolness and she can scarcely imagine a world where she doesnt have them pressed against her. Whimpering and mewling under his touch and so unsure of what it is she even wants until: “Bite me!” comes bursting out from her mouth.
Astarion chokes on a breath, and she feels the soft lick of her tongue over his pulsepoint, “Are you sure?”
“Yes!” She hisses, practicaly fucking herself on his fingers now, “Gods yes.”
She feels more than hears the rumble of his moan, “Do try to stay still.” he purrs, and then sinks his fangs into her throat. The immediate pain feels almost electric jumping from her throat, to her fingertips, to her toes, a quick sharp jolt that is near instantly replaced with a nauseating bliss.
Her head lolls to the side, relishing in the feeling as he begins devouring her. The beat of her heart is loud in her ears, and the pump of his fingers is no longer so tender, with each movement his thumb brushes firmly against her clit and her whole body tenses. He curls his fingers upward, and her hips cant forward violently.
Unlike last time, Astarion is quick to pull his fangs from her throat, before any real damage can occur, “You really can’t sit still, can you?” He groans in her ear, his voice void of any of its usual musicality as he grinds himself up against her in time with his fingers.
A bubbling laugh escapes her mouth as she revels in the feeling of his length pressed firmly against her lower back, at the way his own hips don’t seem to want to stop moving, “N-Neither can you.” she says through her moans.
“What can I say?” He murmurs, mouth slowly returning to the open wound on her neck, “You are positively delicious.” He does not bite again, instead lapping and sucking at the blood as it flows freely out of her. She can barely breathe, lost in utter exhilaration as the lightheadedness takes hold, his fingers curl and thrust inside of her, skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat as she finds herself completely unable to hold back her whimpers and moans.
Astarion completely covers the bite mark with his mouth, sucking with true fervor now as she teeters closer and closer to her climax. Her eyes squeeze shut, and she frantically grinds herself against his awaiting fingers, the warmth builds and builds in her belly until she feels like she is about to turn to lightning in his arms.
“A-Astarion, I-” Her words collapse into a desperate, aching moan as she tumbles over the edge, the world turning white behind her eyes and the heat rushing out from her core all the way to her fingertips. The euphoria is so encompassing that she nearly sobs as his fingers begin to slow their movements within her.
He has the sense not to say anything, at least for a moment, and she can scarcely imagine how she looks right now. Her hair clings to her forehead with sweat, tears are beading in her eyes and- oh gods had she been drooling? She quickly raises a hand to wipe her mouth, and as she is doing so, she turns her head to look at him and oh.
Astarion blinks down at her, and the look in his eyes is heady and lust drunk, but there is something else to it as well, bordering on reverence. His cheeks are flushed, and she knows that can only happen when he has just fed. She swallows thickly at the red colouring of his lips, where her own blood is currently spread. Curiosity does something sinister to her, and she wants to taste it herself.
His eyes go wide when she kisses him, and wider again when she darts out her tongue lick over his teeth. Astarion’s chest is heaving when she pulls back, his red eyes watching cautiously, as though unsure of her next move. She reaches out and takes his cheek in her palm, his skin is warmer than it was before.
“Your turn.” She whispers, trailing her hand from his cheek, down his sternum to the waistband of his breeches. She looks up at him quickly and is emboldened by the desire she still sees in his eyes, untucking his shirt and pulling it up over his head. He’s all perfect, smooth, porcelain skin, but her eyes can’t help being drawn to the way her rough undressing has left his hair disheveled. She tangles her fingers in it, smiling at how boyishly handsome he looks with his hair in disarray.
“If it’s all the same to you, my dear.” He breathes, beginning to sound impatient, “I’ve waited for you long enough.”
She laughs, edging his breeches and undergarments down over his hips, “So impatient for someone with your lifespan.”
He frowns at her, but she is surprised to find how easily she can tell he doesn’t mean it, “If anything, that should speak to just how much I crave you.” He croons as she swings one leg over his hips, hoving just over his lap, “You should be flattered.”
“I am.” She replies with not a hint of irony, “I consider myself incredibly lucky.”
Astarion reaches up to her face and tucks some of her hair behind her ear, “As do I.”
She wraps her arms around his shoulders to steady herself as she slowly lowers herself down, stutting a gasp when the head of his cock meets her entrance. It’s as cold as the rest of him, and she has to bite down on her lower lip to keep herself from crying out when she takes in the first inch. She’s still incredibly sensitive from her first climax, and the coolness of him feels so alien and utterly addictive that she is already panting and whimpering by the time he bottoms out inside of her.
Astarion lets out a shaky moan when she finally sits down fully, his hands jumping to her waist and his head falling to rest on her shoulder. They stay like that for a moment, just clinging to each other, no sounds but their breathing and the rapid tattoo of her heart.
When he looks up at her again, Astarion’s smile is utterly salacious, “You have me now, darling.” he whispers, pressing a cool kiss to her shoulder, “Perhaps it would the perfect moment for you to show me some of those, things you have been thinking about doing to me all this time.”
Astarion isn’t usually that much taller than her, but even still, there is something addictive about their current positioning and the way he has to peer up at her. She tilts her head to the side, taking in the sight of him, his blood flushed cheeks and the glint of his teeth behind his wide smile.
“Would it be…strange-” she begins, tangling one of her hands in the back of his hair, “-If said that i had often imagined biting you.”
“Hah!” Astarion exclaims, grinning broadly, “Well, it would be hardly fair for me to ask you to keep your teeth to yourself, wouldn’t it?”
Her brows pull together, “You can say no, Astarion.”
His eyes go wide for a moment, and his face is awash with a sudden vulnerability, “I- Yes, I know that I can.” His smile returns, but now the look in his eyes is warmer, softer, “But I don’t want to.” He inclines his head to the side, exposing the length of his throat, “Go on, darling. Let me know how I taste, would you?”
She leans into his neck, breathing in his scent as she presses a soft kiss to his skin. He makes a noise, a startled intake of breath, his hands on her waist gripping tighter and she opens her mouth and bites. Astarion cries out, and his hips stutter his cock deeper inside of her. She moans against his skin, grinding her hips down to meet his and languishing in the feeling of just how well he fills her.
Her teeth are far blunter than his, and actually drawing any blood would take a considerable amount of force and cause a considerable amount of pain, but even without the taste of blood in her mouth there is still something so delectably perverse about biting down on him, about burying her face in his throat. She moans, kissing from the base of his neck and up to the curve of his jaw, sucking gently on the skin there and smiling when she pulls away to see purple marks blooming on his pale skin.
Astarion’s breath is heavy when he looks at her, but his eyes are soft and relaxed, “Admiring your handiwork, are you?” He laughs a little, peering up at her coquettishly, “Does it suit me?”
She traces a finger over the crescent shaped bruises left by her teeth, smiling at him as she whispers, “Very much so, and now I believe we are even.”
“Are we now?” Astarion replies, a mischievous look crossing his face as his hands move down to her hips, “Because as far as I can recall, only one of us has seen stars this evening.”
“We’ll need to rectify this situation then, won’t we?” She says, her breath quickening as she grinds down on him.
Astarion’s grip on her hips grows tighter and he chokes on a groan, “You look beautiful up there, my dear.” he thrusts up into her, slowly and deeply, “Sitting pretty on my lap, just for me.”
Her head lolls forward, whining as his cock brushes against that perfect spot inside of her.
“Look at me.” Astarion whispers, and she tilts her head up to meet his eyes. His breath stutters when he sees her expression, desperate and adoring, “I want to see your face as I’m fucking you, darling.” She giggles shyly, resisting the urge to hide her face in her hands and Astarion smiles, “Good girl.”
He uses the grip on her hips to lift her up and she whimpers as his cock leaves her, only to cry out when he drops her back down. Shifting her weight to her knees, she follows his lead bouncing on his cock to meet him on the upstroke. He never breaks eye contact, staring as her breath leaves her, watching reverently as she pants and moans with each of his movements.
“A-Astarion…” She moans, leaning forward and pressing her forehead to his, “You’re so good, you feel so good.”
He laughs breathlessly, “Would you believe that you feel even better?”
One of his hands moves from her hip around to her front, his talented fingers rubbing encouraging circles on her clit. She keens loudly, digging her nails into his shoulders, “Didn’t I say it was your turn.” She forces out, “You really don’t have-”
“You greatly underestimate just how much making you climax arouses me, my sweet.” He groans when he rubs her a little faster, feeling her walls clench around him in response, “I have been thinking about it, constantly.”
She can feel her orgasm building again, the combination of his fingers and his cock driving her absolutely wild. He’s so warm now, her own growing heat slowly warming his cold skin over time, she wants to grab onto him and never let go. His hips are losing rhythm beneath her, driving his cock up into her with short, stuttered thrusts. Gods she can feel him throbbing.
“I’m-I’m close again.” She breathes.
He groans at even the thought of it, “Good. So am I.”
“Fill me, Gods, Astarion- please” She moans, tightening her arms around his shoulders, pressing him flush against her.
His own arms wrap tightly around her waist as he fucks up into her at an utterly desperate speed. His breath coming quick and fast, he buries his face in her shoulder, mouthing at the side of her neck, waiting as always, for her permission.
“Fuck! Yes, Please, bite me!” She cries out, feeling the warmth of her oncoming climax already blooming in her belly, “Gods, Astarion, I am all yours.”
His breath hitches at that, the frantic movement of his hips stopping for only a moment, “Mine…” he breathes, and then sinks his fangs into the side of her throat. She can barely comprehend what she is feeling, him all around her, inside her in more ways than one. She’s open, vulnerable, yearning and Astarion is all she ever wanted.
Her second climax of the night is louder, twitchier, her whole body quivers as it feels like she is shoved over the precipice, her insides clenching desperately around him and her hands digging into his hair as she howls into the open air.
“H-Hells!” He stammers at the feeling of her coming undone around him, clutching to her as tightly as he can before emptying inside of her.
There’s warmth, for some time, as the two of them return from the white hot afterglow. She gently runs her fingers through his hair, and Astarion softly laps at any of the mess left on the side of her neck before kissing tenderly over the bite mark left behind.
“Would you stay?” She whispers, hiding her face in his shoulder, nervous for his answer.
Astarion chuckles, “Are you that insatiable, my dear? Can’t get enough?”
She shakes her head, “No, I mean it. Stay with me until morning, we can talk, or sleep, I don't mind.”
His breath is shaky now, and one of her hands comes up to rest on the back of her head, “I don’t really know what we are doing.” he breathes, “But I’d like to try, with you.”
She sits up a little, meeting his eyes. There is apprehension there, yes, but more than that there is something warm and real. She smiles, “I guess we’ll have to figure it out together.”
His smile is lopsided and effortless, “Though I’m sure Shadowheart will have something entertaining to say, come morning.”
She laughs, “I’ll have to get used to withstanding her glare, I think, as I plan to make, well, whatever this is, a regular occurrence.”
Neither of them feels a need to define what they are feeling, or even what comes next. But she smiles when Astarion presses a kiss to her temple, and decides that for now, it hardly matters. They’ll figure it out eventually.
Pink locks and green apple eyes torment his mind at all hours of the day, when all he wants is to wipe them from his memory. And yet it seems the more Sasuke tries to forget about her, the more he can’t bring himself to.
It’s been three weeks since he returned from his journey of atonement, and in that time frame Sasuke came to wish he hadn’t returned at all.
Immediately passing through the village gates Sasuke makes his way to the hospital knowing Sakura would be there. Having sensed her chakra he’s able to deduce where her office was and knocks on her window. Sakura was the first person he wanted to see, and when she lifts the glass for him to enter Sasuke is greeted with an excited smile and a joyus “Welcome back, Sasuke-kun!”
However, his elation would be short lived when a man whom Sasuke does not recognize, with floppy brown hair and dark eyes, knocks on her open door to announce his arrival while he and Sakura are catching up.
“Sakura,” he says, looking between the two of them. “Are we still on for lunch?”
“Is it that time already?” she briefly glances at the clock on the wall. “I suppose it is. Keita, this is my good friend Sasuke-kun. Sasuke-kun, this is Keita, my…um…well we’ve been going out lately,” Sakura confesses without looking Sasuke in the eyes.
Sakura is dating someone?
Part of him feels as though he should respect that she’s choosing to put her own desires first, but the other part is hurt, angry even. Did she not understand what he meant by poking her forehead back when he left? He’s finally willing to open up and return her affection, and she chooses to find comfort in someone else? Just who is this man anyway? And why did she never mention him in any of her letters??
She stands up, “Anyway, we have plans for lunch,” she tells Sasuke. “Do you want to join us? I would love it if you two could –”
“Actually,” Sasuke interrupts and stands as well. “I should let Kakashi know I’m back.”
“Oh, then I guess I’ll see you around?” she asks.
“Hn,” he grunts. Sasuke honestly just needs to get out of that room, away from her and this newcomer so he can process what’s happening, ensure he didn’t get caught in some weird genjutsu. Walking through her office door, he passes by Keita, glancing at the man who’s roughly a few inches shorter than himself. He offers a nice smile to Sasuke, but the Uchiha doesn’t return the gesture as he continues to walk past him and down the hallway.
After meeting with Kakashi and cornering Naruto later that day, Sasuke learns that Sakura and Keita have been casually seeing each other for about a month, not long after she sent her last letter, and were set up by Ino. Of course Ino would have a hand in this, granted he knows she was only being a good friend to Sakura but that fact didn’t ease his crumbling heart. If only he had returned a few weeks sooner or sent any of those damn letters which now feel heavy in his pouch.
In the beginning Sasuke tried to act as if he’s unbothered by the knowledge Sakura is dating someone who isn’t him, going to the Team 7 reunion, training with her and Naruto, but the truth of the matter is that it does bother him. Everytime he looks at her, thinks about her, it feels as though his heart is shattering. Sakura is the only one he’s ever wanted to be with, to be by his side, and now that’s not an option.
The following days Sasuke did his best to avoid Sakura, keeping their meetings and conversations short, but he can see the hurt in her eyes when he suddenly announces his departure, declines invites to hang out, and doesn’t return her greetings.
He should have known better, he thinks, than to assume she’d wait until the end of time for him to get his shit together. It’s unfair to her, truly, to waste her youth on someone like him. Sakura deserves to have a partner who will make her happy, never make her cry or hurt her like he has. He needs to stop being selfish and consider what would be best for her.
Naruto invites Sasuke to train on grounds 3 on a Saturday evening, but he’s not into it today and the dobe can tell. “I can’t handle this anymore,” Naruto tells him. “You need to talk to her.”
“And say what?” Why didn’t you wait for me? I thought you would always love me, and I’m sorry I took that for granted. “Sakura has already moved on.”
“Listen, I think it’s more complicated than that,” Naruto sighs. “You have to understand that Sakura-chan hadn’t heard from you in over two years and didn’t know when you’d be returning. None of us did, Teme. Just be honest with her, tell her how you feel.”
“I can’t,” Sasuke shakes his head. “If she would rather be with someone else, then who am I to intervene?”
“Do you love her?” The dobe questions.
He glances at the ground with lips pulled into a frown, unable to answer, but it’s obvious isn’t it? Otherwise Sasuke wouldn’t be avoiding her this adamantly. He loves her, been in love with her for longer than he’s willing to admit, that’s why this hurts so much for him. And yet despite all of it, he’d still do anything for her.
“Teme!” Sasuke looks up at the blonde only for a fist to connect with his face, catching him off guard.
“What the fuck!?” The Uchiha seethes, ready to retaliate.
Naruto shakes out his hand. “Shit, you’ve got a hard face!” he quips. “I think I might’ve broken your nose. You should get Sakura-chan to fix you up, she should still be at her apartment.”
“And what about you?” Sasuke asks, wiping the blood dripping from his nostrils. “Your hand looks bruised.”
“Yeah but I got Kurama, and unless you want to wait at the hospital I suggest you pay a visit to our very own medic.” Naruto exits the training grounds with a smirk, leaving his friend behind. In his mind Sasuke knows Naruto is right, he needs to talk to Sakura and clear the air between them. His feet start moving on their own, in the direction of her apartment.
Knocking a few times he flares his chakra to let her know it’s him, and hears a bit of shuffling from the otherside. The lock clicks and the door swings open, revealing the pink haired kunoichi staring at him with disbelief. She’s wearing a red long sleeve, off the shoulder top which stops just above her belly button and tight black pants, her hair is curled at the ends and make up is kept light and looks almost natural. She looks beautiful, and he would consider saying so if his breath wasn’t caught in his throat. But then realization hits him, she’s going on a date tonight.
“Sasuke-kun! What happened?!” she pulls him, lending him down the hall.
“Was training with the dobe,” he tells her.
“Ugh, you two always have to take it too far,” Sakura sits him down on her couch with her taking a seat on the coffee table in front of him. “If you look like this, do I even want to know how Naruto is?” She places her palms on his cheeks, leaning forward to examine the damage.
“He’s fine. A little bruised, but he made it out mostly unscathed.”
“Well your nose is definitely broken. It’ll only take a few minutes for me to heal,” pressing one hand delicately on the bridge, a light green glow begins to emit. “You might feel a bit of pressure.”
She’s so close that he can smell her strawberry perfume, finding the smell almost intoxicating. His eyes gaze into the jade he’s missed so much, watching her as she fixes him up. He’s an idiot, he believes, and needs to talk to her, apologize for avoiding her and clear his conscience, then no matter what her answer is he’ll accept it.
Sakura moves her hand away once she’s finished, “There. All done,” with the other still on his cheek, and Sasuke finds himself leaning into her touch. His eyes lower to her soft looking lips, wondering how they would feel pressed against his own, and it’s not until he hears her breath hitch does he realize he’s inching closer, stopping once their noses touch. “S-Sasuke-kun?” she whispers, his heart beating loudly in his ears that he almost doesn’t hear her.
Almost like she snaps out of her daze, Sakura pulls back, a rose tinted blush visible across her face, and stands. “I need to head out,” she says. “I have a date with Keita and I’ll be late if I don’t leave soon. I’ll walk you to the door.” Stepping away, she stops when his hand wraps around her wrist.
“Can we talk, please?” Sasuke quietly asks, looking up at her.
“I’m sorry, but I really need to go. Some other time?” Sakura pulls away from him and stands by the hallways leading to the door. “It was really nice to see you again though, we should get together sometime and –”
“Why didn’t you wait for me?” he blurts out.
Head tilting slightly to the side, she seems taken aback. “What?”
“Why didn’t you wait for me to come back?” Sasuke repeats himself. He stands up and takes a few steps towards her. “I just – I thought –”
“You thought what?” her tone is sharp, borderline insulted. “That I would wait around forever?” Sakura raises her brows and scoffs. “Sasuke-kun, I know your journey was important to you and I respect your decision to travel alone, but was it so hard to respond to even one of my letters? For over two years I waited for you to walk through the village gates again. For all I knew, you could have found someone else and I would’ve never known.
“So when Ino mentioned she knew someone who was interested in me and offered to set us up, I agreed, figuring it’s about time I finally let myself move on. That I at least tried. And guess what? I like Keita; he’s nice, respectful, and treats me well.” Sakura looks up at the clock on the wall. “I seriously need to go. Maybe now that you’ve decided to stop avoiding me, we can finish this conversation later,” she turns to walk down the hall, but halts at his next words.
“I came back for you,” Sasuke interjects, needing to get the words out in the open. “I came back to be with you. I never responded to your letters because when I tried, all I could write about was how I saw you in every little thing, and it was so overwhelming I didn’t know what to do. Trust me when I say I’ve never wanted to be with anyone who isn’t you and I never will.”
From where he stands Sasuke sees Sakura bring a hand up to her face, tremors running through her body, and hears small sniffles. She’s crying, the last thing he’s ever wanted to make her do again. “Sakura, I – I’m sorry,” he says in earnest.
“You need to leave,” she tells him and this time he does without hesitation.
He should’ve never listened to Naruto, Sasuke thinks laying in his bed and staring up at the ceiling two hours after leaving Sakura’s apartment. He should’ve kept bottling his feelings because now he’s made his situation with Sakura even worse. Perhaps he should’ve never returned, let her believe he moved on so she could’ve done the same, like she was trying to do. Maybe he should leave again, he considers, since he seems to be so good at it. Even if he never stops caring for Sakura, if he leaves the village then he’ll never have to hurt her again. She would probably be glad to see him go this time.
There’s a few knocks on his door, making him groan and roll his eyes at the thought of it being Naruto. Who else could it be at this hour? The hard taps persists, forcing him to get up with the intent of telling the dobe to fuck off because he’s in no mood to entertain him. However when he gets closer to the door the chakra signature on the other side isn’t Naruto, but someone he never expected to visit him especially after what transpired earlier.
Opening the door Sasuke finds the pink haired woman standing there, puffy eyes and still wearing the outfit from before, hating himself for still thinking she looks ethereal, and causing him to wonder if she came straight here after her date ended. He opens his mouth to ask why she’s here but Sakura brushes past, the sound of her heels clack against the floor, and walks into the main room of his place.
“I don’t know who you fucking think you are to just show up at my doorstep after weeks of ignoring me, knowing I wouldn’t turn you away because you were injured, and just drop all of that on me out of no where,” she starts chastising and swivels to face him, crossing her arms. Sasuke stops a few feet away from her, wanting to apologize for everything but lets her keep going uninterrupted. “I honestly believed I could finally move on. I thought I could grow to love Keita as much as I do you,” her voice begins to waver, losing the edge from earlier.
Sasuke feels guilty knowing once again he’s made her upset, but also catches the tense she’s using. “…you thought?”
“I ended things with him tonight,” she confesses. “I didn’t think it was fair to keep seeing him when I’m still in love with you. At least he seemed understanding.” Sasuke’s eyes widen, heart swelling at the knowledge she feels the same. Yet Sakura looks the opposite, dejected that after all this time she can’t move on from him. “Pathetic aren’t I?” she says bitterly, shaking her head. “Ino is going to give me an earful when she hears about this.” Tears start rolling down her face, Sakura bites her bottom lip and glances away.
Sasuke’s body instinctively moves on its own, wrapping his arm around Sakura and pulling her into his chest, his hand rubs small circles between her shoulder blades trying to bring some comfort. “You’re not,” he whispers into the crown of her hair. “You’re anything but pathetic.”
Hearing a muffled “annoying”, he narrows his eyes and looks at her.
“What?”
Jade irises meet onyx and amethyst, Sakura repeats herself more clearly, enunciating each word. “I said, ‘you are so annoying’.” She grasps his shirt and pulls him down, their lips crashing together. Once getting over the initial shock, Sasuke closes his eyes with his hand moving down to the small of her back feeling her smooth skin against his calloused fingers, and angles his head to deepen their kiss.
And over all too soon when she pulls away, letting go of his shirt to rest her hands on shoulders. Sasuke opens his eyes and it met with her flushed cheeks, as he assumes his are too, their panting breaths intermingling together in the aftermath. Pressing his forehead against hers, Sasuke kisses Sakura one, two more times before telling himself to be patient.
“I should probably go home,” Sakura breaks their silence. “I have work in the morning.” He nods in agreement, but doesn’t want her to leave just yet. He has lost time to make up for.
“Let’s go on a trip together, just you and me,” he says.
“Huh?” she pulls back to look at him fully. “What brought this on?”
Sasuke shrugs. “You used to talk about wanting to see the world, let me show you.”
“That was when we first became genin. You remember that?” she says with astonishment, and he nods.
“I didn’t act like it, but I was always paying attention to you,” Sasuke tells her.
“I-I don’t know what to say,” she’s blushing a little harder, and he can’t help but fall a little more for her. “I’ll have to talk to Tsunade-shisho and Kakashi-sensei about getting the time off.”
“You focus on Tsunade and I can talk to Kakashi.”
“Alright then,” Sakura smiles, a genuine one reaching her eyes that he hasn’t seen since he first came back to the village. She wraps her arms around him. “I missed you, Sasuke-kun.”
“Ah,” his lips curve up. I missed you too.
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