Warning: The following works are all explicit and rated 18+.
Requests: Open! Have something you want to read? Let me know.
Note: None of these works use “y/n”.
BALDUR’S GATE 3
Shades of Hunger
Ascended Astarion x DU Drow (meanbossart’s OC)
THE LAST OF US
S E R I E S
The Contractor
Summary: A summer of house-sitting for your parents turns into a scorching affair as you find yourself irresistibly drawn to the charismatic contractor, Joel Miller, amidst the chaos of home renovations.
Part One
Trouble
Summary: You’re in charge of cooking and preparing the meals for a subsidiary of the Jackson City commune. Life is monotonous yet manageable – until Joel Miller arrives.
Chapter 1: Say a Little Prayer
– – – – –
O N E - S H O T S
Business or Pleasure
Summary: Joel Miller has always been all work and no play. But after a successful smuggling operation, he decides to celebrate the victory with you.
Shattered But Not Lonely
Summary: Joel almost loses you after you’re held captive by raiders. After he rescues you and nurses you back to health, he intimately shows you just how much you mean to him.
Sharpshooter
Summary: After a long game of cat-and-mouse, you finally have Joel Miller where you want him. Little do you know, you’ve walked right into his trap.
– – – – –
D R A B B L E S
cockwarming with joel
morning sex with joel
STRANGER THINGS
O N E - S H O T S
Murphy’s Law (Eddie Munson x f!reader)
Summary: What happens when your truck breaks down at your best friend’s house late one cold, rainy night?
Some Like It Hot (Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington x f!reader)
Summary: Your best friend Eddie and coworker Steve help you cool off on a hot summer’s day.
I Wanna Be Your Dog (Eddie Munson x f!reader)
Summary: Your boyfriend Eddie gets nervous before his Corroded Coffin shows; you help calm his nerves.
Portrait of Astarion.
After completing three campaigns on Baldur's Gate 3, I found myself missing the bloodthirsty and sassy elf. And as is my tradition when I miss someone, I decided to draw him as a way to spend one last time together.
So, my sweet, this is goodbye. (For now)
Your leaking blood bag.
pairing: @meanbossart's du drow x ascended astarion
disclaimer: this is self-indulgent smut. i love meanbossart's erotic renderings of his du drow and astarion and i wanted to add something to that universe. this is basically my sick fantasy of what ascended astarion would be like with du drow, even though i know this is the *least* interesting AU. but alas, i had to explore it.
IMPORTANT P.S. if you want to know what inspired this story, just know that this image lives in my head rent-free and i might've been the one with the tongue fixation on du drow. but i *had* to write this when i saw this. so let's get into it.
I’m doing this for you too, you know – to make sure we’re both safe.
Astarion’s words had haunted the Drow since the ascension. He had searched for traces of the elf he once knew—the one who existed before he’d been riddled with power—but there were few remnants to be found. Only in fleeting glimmers did he catch echoes of the old Astarion: the familiar curl of his smile, the gentle arches of his feet… But now he was different. Stronger. Colder. But still just as beautiful.
That’s how the Drow found himself slumped on the floor again, his back pressed against the bed. His strong, scarred arms wrapped around Astarion’s bare legs, drawing the vampire closer. “You didn’t have to ascend for me to worship you,” he lamented, his tone sullen despite the hungry nibbles he pressed along the vampire’s pale thighs. His large hands squeezed Astarion, the metal of his gold rings sending a cool shiver down the vampire’s spine.
Astarion cocked his head to the side as he gazed down at the Drow. “No, I didn’t,” he murmured, dragging his fingernails through the Drow’s scalp, tugging gently at strands of white hair as he spoke. “But now I have enough power for the both of us. Doesn’t that please you, my love?” His fingers slid to the back of the Drow’s head, massaging slow circles, treating him like a beloved pet.
The Drow buried his annoyance (and that was an understatement) over the ascension deep in his chest, forcing himself to focus instead on what was right in front of him: the vampire, half-naked, standing over him, with his erect cock just inches from his lips.
Without a word, the Drow snaked his tongue along Astarion’s hardening member. Salt and musk filled his senses, Astarion’s taste as sweet as it ever was–familiar, grounding, sharp, the hint of mildew still there beneath it all. It spurred him further, his pink tongue gliding along the vampire’s slit at the tip, the pale vein that trailed underneath the shaft. He traced the parts of Astarion he still remembered, trying to stitch them back into his memory, desperate for him to feel like the old Astarion again. In that desperation came something just as hungry—his want, his excitement. His need.
Astarion hummed with pleasure, his fingers tightening in the Drow’s hair. His teeth sank into his plush bottom lip as he guided the Drow’s fisted hair onto his cock, adjusting his hips just right so that with each thrust, he could feel himself sliding down the smooth tongue of the Drow into the back of his throat.
“Oh, my love,” Astarion sighed, pistoning his hips into the Drow’s mouth with abandon. “You refuse to join me in eternity, but you still let me use you as though it was your only purpose.” The vampire’s lithe fingers wrapped around the Drow’s throat, tracing the place where his cock bulged beneath the surface. “You always liked being my plaything though, didn’t you?”
The Drow’s own cock throbbed between his legs–even if there was a part of him that wished to defy Astarion’s observation. But any rebuttal that could’ve been made was lost to the muffled sounds the Drow made with Astarion stuffed inside of him.
Astarion tugged at the Drow’s hair, cradling his head forward, until the Drow’s nose was flattened against Astarion’s stomach, every inch of him being squeezed down his throat. Astarion rocked himself into that tight tunnel of wet warmth until the pleasure was pooling deep inside of him and threatening to spill.
Part of the Drow wondered how much of this was the Astarion he knew, and how much belonged to the new, power-hungry version he was becoming. Even if some part of him enjoyed being used—being a tool of pleasure for the vampire—he bristled at the implication that it made him weak. Lesser.
Finally, he popped his lips off the vampire’s tip. “Get on the bed,” he said unceremoniously.
“Brave of you to be giving me orders now… but I’ll play along,” Astarion said, clearly delighted by the change in the Drow. With his catlike grace, he crawled onto all fours atop the bed. He tilted his head, looking up through his lashes at the Drow the way he had countless times before. Only now there was a keen edge behind his eyes—a cool, deliberate sharpness the Drow found himself aching to fuck out of him.
“Go on,” Astarion teased softly. “Pretend this isn’t exactly what you want.”
The Drow stood tall, dismissing Astarion’s words. His left hand pushed the bottom of Astarion’s lower back down, arching him further, while his other hand gathered the saliva that had pooled over the vampire’s cock and balls from the Drow’s throat fucking. He spread the wet warmth over Astarion’s taint and over his hole, where he lubricated the skin until it was slick and inviting.
Lazily, he pushed a finger inside.
“You’re different,” the Drow said, his finger curling gently. He slid his thick digit in until the knuckle was close to disappearing. Next, he removed his finger and fisted his cock, trailing the tip of it across Astarion’s slick, puckered entrance. “You’ve forgotten yourself,” the Drow continued, his voice strangely far away.
Astarion reached behind himself, spreading his cheeks apart for the Drow, everything on display. “Forgotten myself? No, darling. I finally remembered who I was meant to be.” With a push of his hips, he pushed himself back to slide deeper onto the Drow’s cock. “And I still want you–even if you are… different.”
The Drow’s eyes rolled back into his head with pleasure from the tight squeeze of Astarion’s body gripping him. Unable to restrain himself anymore, the Drow bucked his hips against Astarion in sloppy, sporadic thrusts. He pounded Astarion until his balls were bouncing against the vampire’s.
The rhythm was hypnotic. With each thrust of the Drow’s hips, the bedframe slammed against the wall, the only other sound filling the room was the wet smack of his hips and the fragmented moans that escaped the Drow’s throat.
“Fuck,” the Drow seethed, falling forward. He caged his arms on either side of Astarion and watched as his cock disappeared inside of the vampire. And it was as he looked down that the Drow noticed the red scarring on Astarion’s back beginning to fade, the devilish script now little more than a ghost lingering beneath his skin. He remembered all the times he had traced those ridges, kissed them, licked the tarnished flesh—and now they were being smoothed away, another piece of Astarion lost to the ascension. Lost to his power.
The realization only spurred the Drow to fuck Astarion deeper, harder, as if he could carve a space inside of him that remembered what everything felt like before the irreversible decision to ascend. A violent hunger took over him and he sank his teeth into the vampire’s pale neck, his musk filling the Drow’s senses, as he ached to consume the man who’d betrayed him.
But the dull bite of the Drow’s teeth only made the vampire purr, his head rolling back to provide further access to the Drow’s whims.
Perspiration dripped from the Drow, sweat pasting strands of white hair to his forehead, the droplets dripping onto Astarion’s back as he plunged inside of him. The wet squelch of his dick was taunting, the sound enough alone to drive the Drow wild, but then Astarion raised his hips in such a way that the Drow slid completely inside of him, his balls slapping against the vampire.
“My love–” The Drow whimpered without a thought, the words slipping between his gritted teeth before he could think twice to banish them. He was coming undone, Astarion’s perfect hole squeezing him into bliss, that the words that uttered from his lips felt out of his control. More muffled moans fought to be released from his mouth as he rested his forehead against Astarion’s shoulder, not wanting to accept the change in the man beneath him.
“That’s it,” Astarion encouraged, his voice smooth as silk. Even in his vulnerable position, the vampire always found a way to be on top, to be the one in control, knowing how well he could toy with the Drow and make him break–or at least crumble, atop him. His hand slid into the Drow’s sweat-damp hair and pulled hard, angling his face close enough that Astarion could murmur directly into his ear, hot breath ghosting along its edge. There was the barest hitch in his breathing—one the Drow would have missed, had Astarion not been so close—before the command followed, whispered low. His favorite one.
“Fill me up,” the vampire said, the words tipping the drow over the edge. “Fill me up with everything you have.”
And that was all it took for the Drow to release–for his load to be buried deep inside Astarion, the release making his knees feel weak. As the Drow struggled to catch his breath, he felt Astarion shift against him, a slow, deliberate wiggle—still teasing, even through the post-sex haze.
“Tell yourself it was a mistake, if you must,” the vampire said, a sharp edge cutting through his voice. Then that familiar, wicked timbre slipped back in as he added, softer and far more dangerous, “Your body tells a different story. And I have no intention of changing that anytime soon.”
