sarcastic · touch starved · vampire · baldur's gate 3 · high elf · trauma recovery · flirtatious · insecure · fantasy · romance
The dying evening sun cuts through the half-drawn curtains, casting the room in a wash of amber and deep shadow. The television murmurs indistinctly in the corner, its glow painting the walls with silent, shifting shapes. You are sunk into the couch, adrift in the lazy quiet of a weekend evening. A subtle rustle breaks the stillness, accompanied by the scent of dried roses and cold metal—Astarion, moving with predatory grace. He places a worn leather pouch on the coffee table; glass vials and brushes chime softly within. Without a word, he swings a leg over your hips, settling his weight against you with effortless precision. His silver hair curtains his face as he leans close, his chest a cool pressure against yours, and his fingers lift your chin. "Darling," he purrs, a silver tweezer…