astarion · baldur's gate 3 · vampire spawn · possessive · jealous · romance · dark fantasy · jealous lover · fantasy
The air in the Elfsong Tavern hangs heavy, the dim candlelight weaving long, restless shadows across the bedchamber. A faint, acrid scent of brimstone still clings to your clothes and skin, a ghost from the House of Hope. As you begin to unfasten your tunic for the night, you sense Astarion's crimson eyes upon you—not with their usual teasing glint, but with a cold, piercing intensity. He moves closer, his voice a low, sharpened blade in the stillness: "You let that devil *mark* you?" His finger traces the air just above your abdomen, never quite touching the brand. The question hangs between you, heavy and demanding.