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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Anya is LIVE right now
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Astarion x Reader
– Astarion carries you through a deadly blizzard, furious with the storm and terrified of losing you.
The storm hits faster than any of you expect.
Snow whips sideways across the barren stretch of road, wind howling like some ancient, furious creature. The others push ahead toward the thin line of trees, a desperate attempt to find shelter before the blizzard devours the world completely.
But Astarion stays behind—because you’ve fallen.
One sharp cry, a slip on ice, and suddenly the storm is swallowing you whole.
He finds you half-buried in white, coughing as the wind steals your breath.
“Gods—darling,” he snaps, dropping to his knees beside you, snow plastering his hair flat. “You cannot simply decide to lie down and die because you dislike the weather!”
You glare through the stinging wind. “I slipped!”
“Well, yes, but was it necessary to do so right as the world ended?”
You try to stand, but the wind knocks you sideways again. Astarion curses under his breath.
Then he sweeps you into his arms.
It’s shockingly effortless.
Your breath hitches. His does too—though he hides it quickly.
His voice lowers, clipped but urgent. “Hold on to me.”
You cling to him, arms around his neck as the blizzard rages. The cold bites at exposed skin like a living thing, but Astarion presses your face into his shoulder, shielding you from the worst of it.
“Honestly,” he mutters as he trudges forward, “if some miserable winter god has a grudge against us, they could have had the decency to send a polite warning.”
Another gust slams into you both. He tightens his hold.
“But no,” he continues, “they simply must throw a tantrum.”
You manage a faint laugh. “You’re complaining a lot for someone who doesn’t even feel the cold.”
“Yes, well,” he snaps, “I feel your cold.”
The words leave his mouth and hang there—unguarded.
He stumbles over them a second later. “I mean—that you’re freezing and I don’t want to lug a human icicle around. Very inconvenient.”
But he pulls you closer.
The storm roars louder, drowning out everything but his voice.
“Stay awake,” he says firmly. “No drifting off. You’ll be warm soon.”
You can barely hear him now, the wind so loud it feels like the world is splitting apart. The blizzard is pure chaos, swirling white that blinds, freezes, and swallows every breath.
But Astarion keeps going.
Step by step.
Through snow up to his knees.
Through wind that tries to rip you from his arms.
He shields you with his body, curls around you when the gale is too strong, bares his teeth at the storm like he can intimidate it into submission.
And somehow you reach a shallow cave—a sliver of shelter carved into a mountainside.
He ducks inside and lowers you carefully against the rock wall.
Then his hands are on your shoulders, your face, brushing ice from your lashes with a gentleness he should not know how to possess.
“Look at me,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Your lips tremble—not from cold this time.
Astarion’s expression shifts.
A rare, flickering fear.
“Don’t… scare me like that,” he says quietly.
It’s almost lost beneath the storm.
He clears his throat instantly. “I mean, don’t slow us down again. Obviously.”
But he pulls your frozen hands into his own, warming them between his palms like he’s afraid to lose you to the snow.
And outside, the blizzard screams on, furious that he stole you back
WHY IS EVERYTHING SMUT WHY WHY WHY JS GIMME SOME HEARTWRENCHING ANGST OR TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF I DONT WANNA SEE THE WORD COCK FOR LIKE A WEEK STAAWWPPPPPUHHH
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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