#bg3 professor AU

[duskrosecreatesstuff]

A Lesson Learned

As a research assistant at the University, you are determined to take a look at a very rare book in the possession of Professor Astarion. You get more than you bargained for.

So yeah, it had to happen sooner or later, that I'd dip my toe into writing some Professor Astarion smut. Heavily influenced by this delightful piece - and seriously, go follow if you're not already, her Astarion renders are gorgeous!

Professor Astarion / Reader. 2.1k words. Read on AO3.

CW: NSFW, Explicit, Slight power dynamic, Inappropriate use of desk space, Semi-public sex, oral sex, PiV sex

Astarion pushed open the door to his office, and paused as he realised it was not empty.  He raised an eyebrow as he looked at the person standing at his desk, struggling to open a very particular book.  Of course it was that one.  Had Gale really stooped so low in his jealousy of it, that he had sent his research assistant to try and borrow it?  He closed the door behind him with a soft click.

“Did Professor Dekarios send you to snoop at my books?”

You jumped.  You’d been so focused on trying to open the book, you hadn’t heard the door open. Astarion noted with appreciation that in your surprise, you gripped the book tighter, and didn’t let it fall.

“No!  I wanted to ask you about it.  But you weren’t here, and it just-“

“Jumped off the shelf and into your hands?”

Astarion crossed the room, and took the book from you.  He placed it behind him on the desk and turned back to you, resting his weight against the edge of the desk.

He caught himself smiling as he looked at you.  Such a pretty thing, he thought as you stood there, glancing around nervously, with your cheeks flushed and heart racing from being caught. He could have some fun with you.  But first, he needed answers.

“Now.  Please explain to me why you were trying to open this book.”

“I thought it might be useful for my own research paper.  Look, I’m sorry. I was curious, that’s all.  I’ve heard of the power in those pages, I only wanted a quick look at it, I swear!”

“Do you understand what that book is?”

“Yes, Professor. It’s ‘The Necromancy of Thay’.”

Astarion sighed. “And in all your research, you hadn’t learned that the book wouldn’t obey you?  You should know it’s tuned to the one who commanded it first.  And that would be me.”

You looked past him at the book on the desk he was leaning against.  The glowing amethyst keystone on the cover pulsed, taunting you.  Damn him.  Damn his forbidden book, and damn his handsome face staring at you. Damn that fitted sweater hugging his broad shoulders, and draping down to his waist and oh gods please stop thinking about how good he looks, you told yourself.  You could feel the heat simultaneously rising in your face, and pooling between your thighs.

Your thoughts were racing, and you chewed your lip nervously.  Best to get yourself out of this situation, before your body betrayed you. “I’m sorry.”  You repeated. “I apologise for rummaging through your books without your permission.  It won’t happen again.”  You turned to leave.

“Wait.” he stopped you.  You glanced back at him, meeting his piercing eyes as he looked at you thoughtfully.  “Don’t run off just yet.”  You turned back to face him, curious.

Astarion gave another deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “I have no wish to stifle your curiosity.  But there are powers in that book that are beyond most.  Some days it still defies my attempts to read it. But perhaps …”

He trailed off, tilting his head to look thoughtfully out of the window, inhaling deeply through his nose, as if catching a delicate scent in the air.  Your perfume, perhaps.  And … something else.

“Perhaps we could come to an arrangement.  A favour in return for that ‘quick look’ you covet so highly.”  His eyebrow raised as he turned his head back to you.

Your heart leapt as you looked up, hopefully.  “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything.” he repeated, his lips curling upwards, his crimson eyes holding yours. “Well.  You are clearly hungry for knowledge.  I wonder what else you might hunger for.”

He shifted against the desk, widening his stance somewhat, as he dropped his eyes downwards.  Your gaze followed his, and your eyes widened as you noticed the outline of his stiffening cock through the soft fabric of his trousers. You glanced back up at him, lips parted as you realised what he was offering.

“Only if you are willing, my dear.  You can walk away now, and this conversation never happened.”  His voice became soft, sultry. “Or, you can stay, and I can give you a taste of what you want most.”

You ought to have been embarrassed at how quickly you answered.  But he was offering everything you desired.  This was more than temptation.  You wanted this.  You wanted him.

“I am willing.” you whispered, nodding. “Please.”

“Well then,” he purred. “On your knees. Darling.”

You dropped like a stone, as he tugged at his belt buckle.  You reached forward and brushed his hands away.

“Allow me.”

He put his hands up in mock surrender, and gave you a devilish smile.  “So eager.”  He dropped his hands to rest either side of his hips, lightly gripping the edge of the desk, as he leaned back a little, giving your hands all the room you wanted to slide the leather through the buckle.

You leaned in close, breathing in a lungful of that scent that was so specifically him, that you’d been entranced by for weeks now, before pressing your lips against the fabric, a cheeky little kiss.  Your nimble fingers popped the single button, and you tugged the zip, sliding it carefully down all the way, fingertips brushing lightly against his rapidly swelling cock.  You bit your lip as you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his underwear, pulling the fabric down to free him completely.

You gave a small smirk as you looked up, catching his eye as he stared down at you, parting your lips and leaning in close to lick slowly up his entire length.

“Good girl.” he whispered, one hand moving to stroke through your hair.  You licked again, dragging your tongue from balls to tip, pressing your lips to the smooth head in a lingering kiss, as you wrapped the fingers of one hand around his shaft.  You parted your lips and slid your head down, swirling your tongue over him as you opened your mouth wider.  You felt his fingers tighten in your hair and you paused, listening to him panting softly.

You moved your head again, squeezing your fingers around his solid cock, angling him so you could work him deeper into your mouth, sucking on him gently as you slid him deeper and deeper, until you felt him touch the back of your throat.  You pulled back, breathing deeply to calm your gag reflex, moving your tongue over the tip of him again, tasting the salt of his pre-cum.  You shifted on your knees, aware of how wet you were, and how soaked your underwear was becoming, and wondered how it would feel to have him deep inside your dripping cunt.

He gripped your hair, more forcefully this time, and tilted your head back to look up at him again, this time with your mouth wide open.  He moaned at the view of his cock head resting on your tongue.

“Oh, you are an absolute delight, my sweet.  And to think, I underestimated just how hungry you might be.  I think you deserve something more. Stand up.”

You obeyed, and he snaked one hand around your waist, pressing against your back to pull you in close.  The other was back in your hair, pulling you into a crushing kiss, his tongue as deeply between your lips as his cock had been moments before, searching, tasting himself on your tongue.

The hand on your waist drifted lower, lifting your skirt and seeking out your soaked underwear.  You felt him smile against your lips as his fingers brushed against the fabric.

“You know, you’d be much more comfortable with these removed, don’t you agree?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, as he hooked a finger in the waistband and tugged sharply downwards, dragging your underwear down to your thighs.

“Go on. Get those off for me, my dear.”

You dropped your hands to do as he requested, shimmying your hips a little to drop your underwear to your ankles.  You stepped out of them, and kicked them off to the side.

“So obedient.  Such a good girl for me.”  You let loose a small whimper at the praise, and another, slightly louder, as his cool fingers brushed against your inner thigh.  You subconsciously adjusted your stance, parting your legs for him and felt those same fingers press between your slick folds, pausing as they found your entrance.

“Please.” you whispered, your thighs trembling in anticipation.

Astarion smirked at you. “Please?  Please, what, darling?”

Your cheeks burned, and you looked down, unable to meet his piercing eyes. “Please.  Touch me. I need-”

Your voice was cut off by your own loud gasp as he plunged two fingers into you.  You gripped his shoulders to keep your balance as he pumped them slowly out and back in.

“Losing your balance there?  Can't have that, can we.” He pushed himself off the desk and you gasped as he dragged his fingers out of your heated core, grazing them up and over your clit as he stepped smoothly around behind you.  You barely had time to register his hands on your hips, before he gave you a sharp shove towards the desk.  You collapsed forward over the smooth wooden surface, and felt the brush of fabric over your skin as your skirt was lifted out of the way.  You felt his foot nudge against your ankles, a wordless demand to spread them farther apart, and you obeyed.

You felt cool fingers on your ass, spreading you open, and the teasing slide of his cock between your dripping folds, coating himself in your slick, brushing against your clit making you whine.  You felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and you couldn’t stop the whimpering “please” that slipped from between your lips.

“Oh, aren’t you such a needy little treat.  Beg for me again, would you?”

“Please.  I want you.  I want to feel you inside me.”

He rolled his hips, sliding deeper and deeper into you with each thrust, your moans getting louder as he pressed you against the unyielding surface of his desk.

“Like that, my dear?  That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but all that came out was a needy moan, as he pulled back, then thrust deeply into you again, matching your moan with his own.  He picked up his pace, moving his hips faster, the wet sounds coming from behind you filling your ears, the same way he was filling you.  You arched your back to him, and you felt a hand reach around you, searching for your most sensitive spot, drawing a squeal from you as he found it, his fingers rubbing hard, tipping you over the edge.  You put your mouth over your arm, muffling your cries as you clenched hard around him, still moving inside you.  You felt his hips snap against your dripping cunt, as he chased his own release, his fingers gripping your flesh tight enough to leave marks.  With one last drive deep into you, you felt him throbbing against your swollen walls, heard him moan as he released himself deep inside you.

You lay there quivering beneath him, his weight keeping you trapped against the desk as your breathing returned to normal.  You felt him soften and pull away from you, and as you stood up, you could feel your combined fluids dripping down your thighs.  He reached across the desk for a box of tissues, taking a couple for himself and passing the box to you.

“Next time, I want to see your face as you come undone like that for me.”

Your heart skipped at the suggestion that there would be a ‘next time’.  He quickly cleaned himself up, refastening his trousers, looking for all the world like nothing had happened.  He circled around the desk, pausing to scoop up your underwear from where you had kicked it, before settling himself in his office chair, and tucking them away in a drawer.  You opened your mouth to protest, but he interrupted you.

“I’ll be keeping those.  I like you better without them, anyway.”

You closed your mouth again, and grabbed the tissues, doing your best to clean yourself up, as he watched.

“Now.  About the book.”  He leaned forward to pull it to rest in front of him. “You’ve certainly earned that peek between its pages.  Why don’t you have a seat?”

You moved to pull up one of the nearby chairs, but he stopped you with a sound.  

“Ah, ah.”  He curled a finger at you, beckoning you towards him.  “You’re going to sit right here.” He patted his thigh, indicating he wished you to sit in his lap.  You gave a soft moan as you settled yourself, his arms reaching around you to grab the book cover, and his chin resting on your shoulder.

“So, my dear.” he whispered, his lips against your ear, as he opened the book. “Let’s begin.”

[megidonitram]

Everyone's Running From Something (ch. 4)

A Baldur's Gate 3 University Professor AU

Rating: M

Quick Summary: Astarion and Gale are two University English professors precariously mentoring a troubled 19-year-old and falling in love.

💖Main Pairing : BloodWeave,(Astarion/Gale) 💕Side Pairings: Shadowheart/Nocturne, Karlach/Dammon, Wyll/The Dark Urge, Tav/Tav 💔Past Pairings: Gale/Mystra, Astarion/Sebastian, Astarion/Tav

<=Previous Chapter | Master List | Ao3 | Next Chapter =>

**Please see Master List Entry for Full Content Warnings**

⏰Chapter Warning⏰ None

The all-hands meeting for the beginning of the semester went the same way every all-hands meeting at the beginning of semesters go. Every professor and TA in a humanities field got squeezed into a conference room that wasn’t quite big enough, had a powered sugar donut or a couple cubes of assorted melon with half a Styrofoam cup of burnt coffee, and listened to the departmental dean give an un-rousing speech about being on the same page with the other departments. Then he talked at nauseam about school policies and ran a quick training session over a new time-tracking software that would be implemented in 3 weeks’ time.

Gale scribbled down notes on a big yellow legal pad and tried to ignore Jen and Astarion, making faces at each other as he wrote. He’d been in academia long enough to know they’d both be crying to him in a few weeks when they messed up their timecards.

As the meeting drew to a close, a dapper man with slicked-back chestnut hair and a car salesman smile stepped into the room. Astarion went stiff like a cat puffing up to defend itself. The dapper man just gave him a plasticky, knowing smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The dean perked up a bit as he noticed the man lingering in the back of the room. “Raphael, what a pleasant surprise! I had no idea you would be joining us,” he exclaimed, “We were just finishing up. Are there any words of wisdom you’d like to impart to our humanities faculty?”

“Oh, nothing so important,” Raphael said, and suddenly Gale understood why Astarion was so on edge. Everything about the man oozed with a disingenuous charm that made Gale’s hair stand on end. “I just realized I forgot to send out a notice about the upcoming donor gala the next coming Friday. I realized you were all in a meeting right now, so I thought I’d pop in and remind you in person.”

Raphael’s eyes landed directly on Astarion as he spoke his next sentence. “There is a reasonable expectation that faculty attend these events.” Out of the corner of his eye, Gale saw Astarion’s expression go steely. “After all, we want to show up and show out for the people who allow us to do so much.”

“Of Course!” The dean chirped. “I know I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The meeting adjourned, and Astarion immediately made a break for the door. Gale hurriedly gathered his things in one arm, instinctually following after the only person in the room he really knew, like a baby duck.

Raphael stepped into Astarion’s path before he could get out of the meeting room. “Ah, we meet again, Dr. Ancunín!” Raphael’s voice dripped with sugary contempt. “I will see you at the donor gala, won’t I?”

“Perhaps. Are you thinking about calling in that favor I owe you?” Astarion’s voice was clipped, his face unnervingly blank.

“I think I’d like to wait on that a little longer, but I would like you there in case I change my mind.” Before Astarion could respond, Raphael’s gaze slid off him and onto- “Dr. Dekarios! Wonderful to see you. Are you settling in well?” He reached out a hand to him.

Gale stuffed his legal pad into his work so he could shake Raphael’s hand. “Exceptionally well!” he replied. “Everyone’s done their utmost to make me feel very welcome!”

“Oh, you don’t have to fib on your new colleagues’ account, Dr. Dekarios. I’m more than familiar with how surly certain members of the English department can get.” Raphael laughed congenially, but Astarion shot him a poisonous look.

“I’m not lying to you, sir,” Gale replied. “Astarion’s been nothing but professional.”

“Well, perhaps he’s going a bit soft.” There was a flash of something dangerous behind his eyes. He turned to Astarion. “I shall see you next Friday.” It was a command more than a farewell, but he walked away all the same.

Astarion muttered under his breath. Gale didn’t catch what he said but could make an educated guess. Astarion exhaled a deep breath like he was equalizing pressure.

He turned to Gale and said, “Thank you.”

Gale blinked. “Of course.”

Astarion opened his mouth to say something else, but the words couldn’t or wouldn’t form.

Shadowheart stepped in between them, too concerned with responding to a text message to notice the weird tension. “Karlach wants to get drinks.” She said. “She got stuck in traffic and doesn’t want to drive all the way down here for nothing.”

“Roveer’s?” Astarion asked, a very weary resignation in his voice.

“Yes, probably.”

“Nothing like running into your students at a sports bar a week before classes start…” Astarion grumbled. “Fine. Let me finish here, and I’ll meet you there in, oh… 15 minutes.” He turned to Gale. “Are you coming?”

“To the office?”

Astarion gave him a perplexed look. “To the bar.” He clarified. “You should take the opportunity to meet Karlach.”

Gale could feel himself going bright red as Shadowheart snickered. “Right. Yes. I would love to.” He replied.

“I’ll let Karlach know you’re coming. She’ll be thrilled.” Shadowheart replied, giving Gale a warm smile. “I’ll go lock up. See you in a bit.”

“Come on then.” Astarion replied, nodding for Gale to follow him.

***

The all-hand meeting was on the third floor, so by the time they’d returned to the basement and back up a floor to leave, Gale was starting to fear his knees wouldn’t survive the week- let alone the semester. “There has to be an elevator in this building.” Gale huffed and puffed as he hoofed it up the last flight of stairs. He didn’t want his new colleague’s first impression of him to be of him on his hands and knees wheezing. “I can’t take much more of this…”

“There is, but personally I don’t like chancing it unless I really don’t want to be in a meeting.” Astarion slowed to a stop at the top of the stairs to wait for him. He didn’t seem any worse for wear, but he also seemed much trimmer than Gale was- or at the very least, his shirt accentuated the pleasing nip of his waist. Gale wondered if Astarion was a swimmer. “A history adjunct got stuck in it overnight a few years past, and it still reeks a little bit when it gets hot enough.”

Gale laughed, but Astarion very pointedly did not.

The conversation lulled a little bit.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Gale asked.

“That entirely depends on what you want to ask.” Astarion stepped into the hallway, taking a moment to slip into his grey wool peacoat before they ventured outside.

“Raphael, is he always…”

“Such an ass?” Astarion finished his thought. Gale wouldn’t have used such a strong word, but Astarion had gotten the spirit of the question right, at least. “He’s usually much worse.”

“Oh?”

“He’s a glorified middleman with too much power and time on his hands.” Astarion scoffed. “He enjoys putting things in people’s way and watching them try to wriggle their way out of problems he created. My advice is to deal with him as little as possible.”

“Is he who you went to talk to earlier?”

Astarion gave him a poisonous look that only confirmed Gale’s suspicion.

They walked across campus in uneasy silence. The bitterly cold wind whipped and whistled, tossing the last remnants of fall leaves across the concourse. The few student residents who’d gotten in that morning had either decided to hold up in their rooms or were enjoying their free time in more exciting corners of town. Gale found himself wondering what Xenia was doing... He hoped she wasn’t all alone in an empty dorm.

“Does Xenia have many friends?” Gale asked as they approached a crosswalk leading to the block of shops across from campus.

“Hm?” Astarion tapped the pedestrian-call button, which commanded them to ‘wait!’ in a mechanical voice. “I think she probably has more friends than she realizes she does. Kids like her tend to think they’re alone in everything.”

“Poor kid… Seems like she’s been through enough.” Gale sighed. There was something heartbreaking in the phrase ‘kids like her.’ It was sad to think that there were more 19-year-olds out there carrying emotional burdens far too heavy for their age- sadder still to think that if there weren’t, then Xenia would be alone.

“She’ll figure herself out eventually. She’s not like…” Astarion paused, seemingly a little shocked by what he was about to say. He leveled a wary glance at Gale. “She’s not a quitter, I mean.”  

“I’m sure she’s not. I just hope she doesn’t run herself ragged.” The walk light flashed, and they hurried across the street.

***

They were comedically out of place in Roveer’s Roadhouse. A group of grown adults in Oxford dress crowding around a sticky Bud-Lit branded high top surrounded by a bevy of flatscreen monitors playing every sports broadcast under the sun. Shadowheart was already nursing a syrupy cocktail out of a chipped margarita glass.

An extremely tall woman with a red tipped mohawk and smiling eyes bounded over to Gale and clapped a firmly friendly hand on his shoulder. “You’re the new Adjunct, I take it?” She asked. “I’m Karlach, Professor Cliffgate, if you’re nasty.”

“Gale Dekarios.” He reached out to shake her hand. She fist-bumped him instead, and Gale got a glimpse of a nasty burn scar peeking out from the sleeve of her jacket. “It’s a pleasure!”

“Aw, I have a great-aunt named Gale!” Karlach replied.

“I get that a lot…” Gale sighed. “I like your hair!”

“Thanks!” Karlach tussled her own hair. “Told my kiddos they could pick what color I dyed it if they all passed their benchmarks.”

“Does Balduran give benchmarks?”

“Oh, no. Teaching university is my side gig,” Karlach replied. “I’m actually a full-time middle school teacher.”

A spindly girl with bleach-blonde hair pulled into space buns sidled up to the table, clutching a notepad. “Can I take your order?” She seemed quite put upon being asked to do actual work on a slow day.

“Vodka Soda,” Astarion replied, holding his ID out to the server.

She took it and dropped it in her apron, jotted something down on her notepad, and turned to Gale with an expectant look.

“I’ll, uh, take a Corona,” Gale replied. He’d never ordered a Corona in his life, but it seemed like an acceptable ‘getting drinks with colleagues’ kind of an order.

The server stood there staring at him a moment long before she asked, “ID?”

“Oh, um…” Gale patted for his wallet and realized he left it in his desk drawer. “I didn’t realize I would need it…”

“You didn’t realize you’d need an ID at a college bar?” Astarion asked dryly as he turned to the server. “Just put it on my tab.”

The server nodded and walked away without asking if they needed anything else.

“Wow Gale, just one day on the job, and you’re already bumming free drinks off the department chair.” Shadowheart teased. She took a sip of her drink crinkling her nose at the taste.

Gale flustered. “I-I was going to pay with my phone, I swear! I wasn’t planning this.”

“Relax. We’re not so underpaid that I can’t afford to buy you one beer.” Astarion rolled his eyes. “You can return the favor when you get your first paycheck.”

Gale blushed. “Alright.”

The server brought them their drinks without another word, then plopped down at the end of the bar to scroll on her phone. Gale pushed the lime through the neck of his beer bottle and watched it fizz as it sank to the bottom of the dubiously golden liquid.

“So, did I miss anything important at the all-hands?” Karlach asked idly, stirring her bourbon and coke.

“You know you didn’t,” Shadowheart replied. “We’re changing timecard systems, and Raphael and Astarion are in another one of their weird power struggles-there, I saved you an hour and a half.”

Karlach’s eyes lit up, and she turned towards Astarion. “Before the semester even starts?” There was a conspiratorial glee in her voice. “What the fuck could he have possibly done this time?”

“Why spoil the mood by ruminating on that rat bastard?” Astarion said. He picked the lemon slice out of his drink and laid it on a napkin. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Fair.” Karlach shrugged. She turned back to Gale and fixed him with a warm smile. “So, Gale, what brings you to the wonderful world of higher education?”

Gale had thought a lot about what he would tell people when they asked him why he wanted to teach college. He’d written little speeches in the shower about the joys of teaching language and the satisfaction of helping students reach their goal, but sitting in a group of other English professors, that suddenly all felt very trite.

“I was a public librarian, but I had to step away from my last position when I got divorced.” He admitted. “I found a job at a community college teaching database management, and I realized I’d just always missed teaching.” He took a long pull of his beer. The sour of the lime battled with the bitterness of the beer on his tongue.

“Library science might be a harder industry to break into than academia. It must have been tough to leave that behind.” Astarion mused.

“I do miss it terribly sometimes… but my ex helped me get into graduate school and got me my first library job. If I stayed, I would never be able to make anything that was truly mine.” Gale sighed. He could see the wheels spinning in Shadowheart’s head as she tried to figure out his age.

“You talk like you’re as old as this bag of bone,” Karlach pointed a thumb at Astarion, who glared daggers at her. “But there’s no way you’re that old.”

“I’m 35.” Gale clarified.

“That’s a little bit older than I thought, but still nowhere near as old as Astarion,” Shadowheart said.

“You are barely two years younger than me.” Astarion snapped.

“Barely a decade older than Gale, too.” Shadowheart shot back.

Astarion rolled his eyes and muttered something into his drink. “Did you go to get your master’s straight out of undergrad?” he asked.

“Yes, why?”

Astarion shrugged. “That’s just quite young to be with someone that well-established in their field.”

“Oh, we didn’t get together until I graduated.” That wasn’t entirely true. They didn’t get together publicly until he graduated. He didn’t know why he was still defending Mystra. It wasn’t like any of his new colleagues would ever meet her.

“I wasn’t trying to imply anything…” Astarion lied.

“Of course not.”

They both took a sip of their drink, holding awkward eye contact.

“Well, here’s to making something for yourself then,” Shadowheart said, holding her drink out to Gale for a cheers.

Gale clinked the neck of his beer bottle against her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

[papercutstoday]

Silly hairs 🪮🩸🧶✨

Bonus professor doobles + practice

The Bully Gale hours are strong we be trying to get consistency

[tee-dohrnii]

POV: You suddenly bumped into the infamous troublemaker of Blackstaff Academy as he's running off with the Blackstaff he stole

[hwathwugu]

Gale Dekarios

Gunsmith and sharpshooter. Wanted by the patent office for Breaking and Entering, Intellectual Property Theft, and more.

[junocornkiwi]

"... You're confusing the concepts a little. Focus, please."

another professor gale comm for sweet sunshine @kittencombat ^-^

[mostwantedpotato404]

Professor Dekarios

[arczism]

ehhhhhhhh i am in love with them

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Six

Summary:

Astarion surprises you with a night at the theatre that doesn't go quite according to your plan.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.7k Tags/Warnings: rough/angry sex, hair pulling, emotional manipulation, dubcon, bad BDSM practices, angst, daddy kink, reminiscent of Ascended!Astarion, discussions of domestic abuse (in Taming of the Shrew)

Hi. Hello. My sweets. My darlings. This is it. The chapter where you absolutely must mind the tags. Just know that I won't take you anywhere that we won't be able to come back from. Know that I, too, am an absolute baby when it comes to intense subject matter in fics. But I want you to take care of yourselves and your hearts. As always, shoot me a message if you'd like more specifics.

Photo credits: Zaria for Green Pussy Suit Astarion and Nephi Garcia for the incredible dress.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

“In the library? Babes, are you insane?” Shadowheart's voice reaches a pitch you’re fairly sure only dogs can hear. You curl your knees into your chest and cover your face in your hands, feeling the exact appropriate amount of shame.

“I know, I know. All logic goes out the fucking window around him. All I can think is ‘mm, good dick makes brain go brr.’” You let out a frustrated sigh into your hands.

“Do you want to get fired?” She pulls your hand from your face so you can't hide from her pointed stare.

“Oh trust me, I ran about forty different scenarios of that happening through my head on the drive home.”

“Did you, now? And in how many of these did he also get fired?” Shadowheart presses, knowing how your anxiety can get out of hand.

“Like, two,” you groan and drop your head back onto the couch cushions. “I don't know what comes over me. I feel like I can't tell him no.”

“Wait, wait.” Shadowheart grips your knee, suddenly worried. “You can't tell him no as in it feels too good to stop? Or as in it doesn't feel safe to say no?”

“Nine hells, no, the first one!” you respond, horrified. She squints at you and you squirm under her gaze until you’re finally more truthful, both with her and yourself. “Well, I mean, mostly. Like it's not like that. But like also not not like that, you know?”

“I can assure you I do not,” she says in a flat voice, not interested in joking around. You sigh dramatically, trying to find the right words to describe how you feel.

“Like. Okay. Am I fully consenting to everything we do? Yes. 100%. Oh gods, yes.” Your cheeks tinge pink even thinking about it. “But like… am I going against my best judgment? Do I feel like I should say no? Does part of me kinda wish I would say no? Like… maybe?”

“Tav, that's not okay. You need to talk to him about this.” Shadowheart’s voice is soft with genuine worry. Which is ridiculous, because she’s focusing on the wrong thing.

“No, see, that's the thing. It's not actually a him issue, it's a me issue. Like there's something wrong with me, I see his most toxic traits and suddenly I'm like a horny teenager!” Your voice increases in pitch as you grow more hysterical. “How am I supposed to call him out on it when the only words that will come out of my mouth are ‘yes daddy, more please’?”

“Is there anything redeemable about him at all? Besides being good in bed?” She leans back, taking a sip of her wine and fixing you with an incredulous look. 

“I mean… yeah. He’s witty, and bantering back and forth with him is fun. He’s incredibly smart, as loath as I am to admit it, and I like hearing his ideas on things, especially his interpretation of Shakespeare’s text.” You don't even notice the smile growing on your face, but Shadowheart does. “And he’s got this unexpectedly soft side. Like he seems cold and aloof on the outside, but he cares, deeply. About his students, about his cat, about-”

“About you?” she interjects, and your smile falters.

“I don't know, Shade,” you say quietly, almost ashamed to look her in the eye. “I think so. I hope so. But it's not like we've been seeing each other for that long, he’s under no obligation to feel anything.” You practically swallow the last sentence, a truth you're reticent to voice. 

“And you?” she asks softly.

“Man, I don't fucking know. I just want to keep getting laid and not catch feelings, is that so much to ask?” you whine. She laughs, but you can tell that she's only humoring you.

“For you? Probably.”

***

It's been several days and your busy schedules have kept you and Astarion apart for most of it. Save the occasional tension-filled passing in the hall, you've barely interacted at all. You're almost beginning to believe that your whirlwind affair has come to an end when you find a mystery package at your apartment door.

It's made out to you with no discernable return address. You bring the box into your apartment while examining it, trying to ascertain its origin. It doesn't even really look like it was sent through the mail, it looks like it was dropped off.

You take out your phone and call down to the front desk. It rings a few times, then a somber voice answers.

“What dost thou require?” His voice is deep and crackled, like some ancient eternal being.

“Hi Withers, it's Tav in 3C. Do you know anything about this package that was left at my door?”

“I have inspected it, and determined it safe for you to open. It was brought by someone claiming to be a friend.”

“Can you tell me anything about this someone?”

“No.”

And the line goes dead. You laugh and shake your head. If Withers says it's safe, then it probably is. You’d trust that wrinkly old man with your life, honestly. You cut open the tape sealing the box shut and lift off the top.

Inside is something wrapped in tissue paper with a note stuck to it in Astarion's immaculate handwriting. 

Tomorrow evening The Rosewood Seven o’clock Wear nothing underneath

You let out a small involuntary moan when you read the last three words. You carefully unwrap the tissue paper to find a fabric that looks like it's made of starlight. You pull out the midnight black dress and go slightly breathless when you get a good look at it. 

It’s a backless dress with a sweetheart neckline and intricate gold embellishments that almost make it look like armor. It has a lavish gold neck piece attached by several gold chains that drip over the skin. The skirt is made of a weightless black fabric that shimmers with gold as you move it in the light. It almost appears to be cut into two panels with dual hip-high slits.

With a dress cut like this, you wouldn't be able to wear undergarments even if you wanted to.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you think about what he might have in store for you. You're not even sure what's running at the Rosewood right now, but it could be complete trash and you wouldn't even care. You probably won't even be able to pay attention, too distracted by Astarion sitting next to you for two hours.

You feel a pulsing between your legs at the thought. You think of his hand sliding up your knee while you struggle to keep a straight face. Or him reaching an arm around you, gently sliding his fingers into your hair before giving it a sharp tug.

Another moan works its way out of your throat and you follow it up with an annoyed groan. You can really get swept up at the most inconvenient times. It’s not like you don’t have any work you need to do or anything. You roll your eyes as you stalk off to draw a bath.

***

Waiting in the lobby of the theater, you’re feeling surprisingly nervous. The dress, though beautiful, is not particularly comfortable. With all of its various chains and pieces, you needed Shadowheart’s help just to put it on. It helps that she’s also incredibly talented when it comes to hair and makeup, so in truth you feel positively glamorous. 

When you see Astarion, however, everything goes silent. You’re certain that he’s posing for you the way he’s stopped to adjust his cuff. The cut of the suit he’s wearing is exceptionally flattering and you imagine running your hands all over the emerald velvet. His crisp white button down is almost sheer and you desperately want to pull him into you by that forest green silk tie. 

But you can’t tear your eyes away from his face. This is the first time you've seen him wear makeup, and the simple smokey eyeliner look makes his red irises pop. He’s decided to forgo his glasses, presumably opting for contacts instead to show off the makeup. He’s also swapped out his standard silver hoops for little daggers with a red rhinestone glimmering at the hilt. 

He looks up at you the moment you lay eyes on him, or more specifically, the moment your heart starts to beat out of your chest. He flashes you a devastating smile before striding up to you and pulling you into a deep kiss. You can’t even be bothered to care that the other patrons are probably staring as he slides his hand onto your bare lower back, his cool touch sending a shiver up your spine.

He pulls away from you just enough to breathlessly ask, “Are you ready to sit down?”

“Huh?” You’re distracted, too busy plotting a mental path to the bathrooms to fuck him. He lets out a winded chuckle.

“The play. House is open, would you care to find our seats?” His palm is still pressed against your back and you can barely form coherent thoughts. You still don’t even know what play you’re here to see. You just want—no, need—to be near him.

“Um, yeah,” you respond, still trying to get your bearings and remind yourself how to be a person. You let him lead you into the theater, and only once you're in your seats do you realize that neither of you grabbed a program. You pull out your phone to see if you can look it up, but service in the Rosewood is notoriously bad. Instead you just need to sit still next to Astarion, who looks like a dream and smells even better. 

He glances at you as your heart quickens again and his lips curl into a smile. He slips his hand behind your neck and lightly runs his finger along the seam between the golden collar of the dress and your flesh, sending goosebumps down your arms. He leans toward you until his lips are almost brushing your ear. 

“You look absolutely ravishing, my dear,” he whispers, his breath tickling your earlobe. You turn your face toward him on instinct, your chest heaving as you try to steady your breathing. Your lips hover inches apart, anticipating the kiss, when suddenly a throng of noisy actors come barreling down the aisles. You snap away from Astarion as the cacophony of their shrieks of laughter, calls across the audience to one another, and drunken banter fill the house.

One of them clambors onto the stage and shouts, “For God’s sake, a pot of small ale!” He’s dressed in rags and appears by far to be the drunkest of them all. Three servingmen swarm him with various shouts of, “Will’t please your honor?” He shoves them all away and proudly takes up space center stage.

“I am Christophero Sly! Call not me ‘Honor’ nor ‘Lordship,’” he bellows as the rest of the players make their way onto the stage.

Christopher Sly… you’re wracking your brain to remember which play he serves as a framing device for. Most productions cut this scene because it’s long and completely irrelevant. You just can’t for the life of you remember which play he appears in.

The scene continues with their drunken antics and slapstick comedy as the players address Sly as “my noble lord,” making him believe he’s a king that they’re about to perform for. Eventually they carry Sly out on a makeshift palanquin as the “play within the play” begins. Two handsome young men in preppy clothes enter, holding a book and wearing glasses that aren’t too dissimilar from Astarion’s round metal ones. The one without the glasses speaks first.

“Tranio, since for the great desire I had to see fair Padua…”

Tranio? Isn’t he one of the characters in Taming of the Shrew?

He knows you don’t like this play.

Well, if it’s all that’s playing at the Rosewood right now…

But if that’s the case why not just, like, see a movie?

You shift uncomfortably in your dress and cast your gaze towards Astarion. He smiles, taking your fingers and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles before turning back to the stage. He keeps your hand in his, absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. 

You can feel your heart pounding in your ears and you find yourself wondering what’s running through his head. Just when you think you have him figured out, he does something to surprise you. And honestly, not always in a good way.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. You know the creative team at the Rosewood wouldn’t pick this show if they weren’t going to try to do something with it. 

But even still… is this text even redeemable?

You sit through the entirety of the show cringing as the audience around you laughs at flagrant displays of domestic abuse. The actors, several of whom you’ve worked with before, are trying their hardest to make the lines playful, but some things just can’t be recovered. Between the forced starvation, physical intimidation, and gaslighting, you wonder why companies even bother performing this play anymore. No matter how witty the writing is, it’s just too out of date to be a good season choice.

When the time comes for Kate’s final monologue, you watch in pain as the actress tries to wink-wink-nudge-nudge her way through lines like “place your hands below your husband’s foot.” She’s young, and you wonder if this is one of her first professional gigs. You get a little sad knowing that she’s probably just desperate to do anything, even if it’s trash.

Maybe you’re being a little harsh. All of the individual elements of the show—the acting, set, costumes, direction, lighting—were quite good. You just can’t get over how irredeemable this text is. Worth teaching, yes, and maybe even taking Act II out of context just for the fun banter and clever wordplay. But professional theatre companies should really just retire this one.

In the Lyft back to your apartment, you decide to get Astarion’s take on the matter.

“Do you think it’s possible to redeem a text like Taming in a modern age?”

He pauses for a moment, continuing to look away from you and out the window.

“I do, yes,” he finally answers. “I think it takes a skilled hand, but it can be successful when done well.”

You sit on his response, chewing it over. You decide to take a different route.

“I guess a better question is do you think it’s worth trying to? Like, what are we getting out of it anymore?”

“Is entertainment not enough?” he says with a laugh. You wrinkle your nose at him.

“Sure, if you’re a basic ass bitch. But I want my art to mean something. And I can’t think of what this play can possibly mean if it’s not ‘shrill women are annoying and should learn their place.’” You cross and uncross your legs, trying to keep yourself decent.

“Last I checked, you enjoy being put in your place,” he says in a low hum and your pussy betrays you with a clench. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, and you’re grateful that the dark car hides your reddening cheeks. “It’s different.”

“Is it, though? Ultimately it is a text about two dysfunctional people finding comfort in one another.” His sincerity catches you off guard, and almost makes you angry that he’s been taken in by the propaganda.

“That’s only a valid interpretation if you ignore half of what happens in the play. They’re not equally dysfunctional, Kate literally gets beaten into submission and pretends to be happy about it. Petruchio is exactly the same from the start to the finish, he has no fucking character arc.” Your hands start to shake as you try to keep your cool. You’ve had this conversation far too many times with men who think they can interpret out the sexism by simply glossing over Kate’s abuse.

The Lyft stops in front of your building and you thank the driver as you get out. Astarion follows you, and you’re not even sure if you want him to accompany you upstairs. But you remain silent as you walk past Withers and into the elevator.

“You’re overreacting,” Astarion says once the elevator doors close. “People are drawn to this play for a reason. The text is excellent, and no one truly thinks of Petruchio as an abuser.”

“Are you joking?” Your voice gets shrill and the similarity to Kate isn’t lost on you. “The whole thing normalizes his abuse. The fact that people don’t think of him as an abuser is the problem.”

“It’s a slapstick comedy,” he snaps, his voice growing stern. “Are you going to tell me that we need to cancel the Three Stooges because it promotes violence?”

“Don’t be fucking condescending,” you spit. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

“How is it not the same? Suddenly because it’s a woman in the role it no longer counts? Are you implying that women should be barred from certain types of performance because of their gender?” He walks past you into your apartment and you throw your keys and bag on the counter, not even bothering to see where they land.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying, now you’re just twisting my words,” you grumble, more frustrated than ever by your inability to match his eloquence.

“So use your own words,” he sneers, whirling around to face you. “How is it not the same?”

“It’s because- well, I- It’s different, just- argh!” Your head is clouded by your attraction to him, which has annoyingly only grown over the past few minutes of shouting. You’re suddenly reminded of the smug arrogant bastard that you first met. He lets out a jeering laugh.

“See? You can’t even defend your own point.” 

His sardonic cruelty sets something off in you and you angrily grab the lapel of his green suit. Your intentions are a complete mystery even to you, because as soon as you’re within inches of one another, instincts take over. You crush his lips into yours and pull him backwards until you thump against the door behind you. He paws hungrily at the dress, sliding his hand under the slit and around to grab your bare ass. You gasp into his touch, feeling equally frustrated and aroused that he even controlled what you wore tonight.

Your fingers make their way into his hair and you pull hard, breaking the kiss and leaving his mouth open, panting. His eyes are sparkling with a fire that you haven’t seen yet and a low growl manifests in your throat. He smirks and buries his teeth into your shoulder, something he usually asks bespoke permission for. You cry out in response, twisting your hands tighter into his silvery locks.

He unlatches from your shoulder and pushes his knee past the front of your skirt and up onto your bare cunt. You grind wantonly against the velvet as he kisses you with bloody lips. He grabs hold of the delicate chains of the dress and yanks, detaching them from the collar and making the entire bodice crumple and pool around your waist. Your nipples immediately harden at the sudden exposure to cold air and he pinches one sharply between his fingers. Your hips roll into his leg as you groan, fully ruining his pants. He continues to bite around your neck and shoulders, placing little puncture wounds in his path, marking you as his.

You grab onto his tie and push him away so you can shimmy out of the rest of the dress. You’re now down to just the gold collar of the dress and your heels, a look you wish you could hate but don’t. You pull him across your living area and toward your bedroom, shoving him down onto the edge of the bed. 

“Thou hast hit it, come, sit on me,” he says, quoting Petruchio with a sinister grin. Kate’s retort falls out of your mouth reflexively.

“Asses are made to bear, and so are you,” you hiss as you straddle his hips, wrapping his tie around your hand until you’ve gripped it up to the knot. Your other hand violently unbuckles his belt, yanking it through the loops with a snap.

“Women are made to bear, and so are you,” he says with a caustic laugh, digging his nails into your ass cheeks. You tug sharply on his tie, bringing his lips close to yours.

“No such jade as you, if me you mean,” you snarl and silence him with an angry kiss. You don’t want to encourage his idiotic behavior, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said this wasn’t a fantasy you’ve had before. You fumble with the buttons of his suit jacket, trying to get him undressed as quickly as possible. You’re not sure if you feel more vulnerable or more powerful being undressed while he’s still fully clothed, but either way you want him naked, now. You get about three buttons into his shirt before you grow impatient, ripping it the rest of the way open and sending buttons flying. 

Good. Let him need to repair his clothes for once.

You push him flat onto his back and descend onto his chest, alternating kisses, licks, and bites. Your dull human teeth don’t have nearly the same effect as his fangs, but it just means you get to bite twice as hard in order to leave a mark. He writhes beneath your touch, and you feel a twisted satisfaction at the quiet little grunts and gasps you’re finally pulling from him. He’s rarely this vocal during sex, and it’s only serving to spur you on more.

His groans build until you capture his nipple in your teeth and bite down, causing him to shout and buck his hips up into you. In a flash he flips you around onto your back and he bears down on you, eyes dangerous. 

“Little love, do you think you’re in control?” he asks in a low growl, his hand gripped around your jaw. You sneer and slide your leg against the strained bulge in his pants. He hisses and your smile widens.

“Right now? Yes,” you coo, continuing to press your calf against his velvet-covered cock. You grab the tie still hanging around his neck and pull him close. 

“If you want it back, fucking take it.”

If I put my hands around your wrists, would you fight them?

He kisses you roughly, catching your bottom lip in his teeth biting hard enough to puncture the skin. He pulls back slightly, a drop of your blood running down his chin and a snide grin. He makes like he’s about to kiss you again but shoves your face away before your lips make contact.

This is the worst you’ve ever seen him—the most arrogant, the most condescending, borderline cruel even. And you have never been more turned on.

If I put my fingers in your mouth, would you bite them?

“Is that all you’ve got?” you taunt, licking the blood from your lips. “Go ahead, choke me, daddy.”

The feminist in you is horrified, but the little gremlin controlling your libido is having the time of its life. It squeals with delight when his hand closes around your throat, just barely constricting your breathing. 

“You insolent little brat,” he breathes into your ear, pulling up on your jaw. “I will absolutely ruin you.”

And there will be no tenderness, no tenderness.

“Do it, coward,” you spit, and he lets go just long enough to finish undressing from the waist down. He grabs your still heeled ankle and presses your leg up by your shoulder, stretching you wide enough to take him without any prep. You gasp as he fills you, the stinging pain outweighed by the gratification of finally feeling him inside you.

The only thing that I ask, love me mercilessly.

He sets a punishing rhythm, one knee on the bed and the other foot still firmly planted on the floor. He bottoms out with each long thrust and you grab hold of his hair to brace yourself. He winces with the pain but doesn’t slow down, and your moans grow high and loud as he continues to furiously pound into you. 

“Gods, fuck, Astarion,” you keen, your desire coiling in your belly and threatening to explode. “Keep going, daddy, fuck me please.” He grunts with the effort and your dirty talk seems to be having an effect as his pace falters. You jerk your hips up into him, chasing your orgasm, until finally it barrels through you like a runaway train. You pull on his hair as you come and that sets off his, his pulsing cock pressing against the clenching walls of your cunt. 

He stays deep inside you as the aftershocks reverberate through both of you, until the only sound remaining is your heavy panting. He drops his forehead to touch yours, a pleasantly tender moment after some of the roughest sex you can recall having. He starts to giggle and you follow suit, suddenly giddy. He pulls out of you with a squelch and walks to the bathroom to get a towel to clean up the mess you’ve left behind. He wipes you down gently, a surprising bit of aftercare you’re not accustomed to with him. He plants a tender kiss on your lips and you feel dizzy with affection for him.

You settle up against the headboard of your bed, his arm around you and both of you looking at your phones in a companionable silence. After a moment, he lets out a small chuckle. 

“What?” you ask, turning your head towards him quizzically.

“I’m just shocked that worked, is all,” he laughs, shaking his head. Your confusion grows and you furrow your brow.

“What worked?” you laugh with him, but something doesn’t feel right.

“The whole night, taking you to see Taming, getting into just enough of a fight to result in,” he vaguely waves his hand, gesturing to the edge of the bed, “all of that.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean?” You pull away from him and your stomach drops. Surely he can’t be suggesting what you think he’s suggesting.

“You get riled up so easily, I thought this might be fun.” He still doesn’t seem to have picked up on your heart pounding in your ears, which is frankly unusual for him.

“Are you saying… Wait, are you saying that you planned that fight? So, what, we’d have angry sex?”

“Of course, you don’t think I actually believe anything that I said, do you? Taming of the Shrew might be well-written, but it’s a rubbish play to produce.” He finally turns to you and sees that you’ve gone white as a sheet. “Oh, darling, don’t take it like that, you’re positively adorable when you’re angry, I couldn’t resist.” He tries putting his hand to your cheek but you flinch away like he’s burned you.

“Get out,” you say in a low voice, unable to even look at him.

“What?” He’s still laughing. He doesn’t get it. “My sweet, didn’t you-”

“GET. OUT.” Your voice has a venom in it that even shocks you. He stares at you in horror until you shoot him an icy glare. “Now.”

Without a word he stands and quickly puts his clothes back on. You stay in your bed, naked and curled under a sheet, until you hear the front door of your apartment slam. With shaking hands, you call Shadowheart.

“Moonmaiden’s delight, did you enjoy yourself? It certainly sounded like you did.” The sound of Shadowheart’s bubbly laugh usually makes you smile, but right now it seeps into your skin like poison.

“Shade, please come over,” you whimper, and the second the words leave your mouth, the tears begin to fall. You don’t hear her hang up, but you do hear a muffled, “I’m going to fucking kill him!” through the wall. You pull your knees further into your chest and sob.

[dark-and-kawaii]

༺ 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇’𝓈 𝒫𝑒𝓉 ༻

Au Professor Raphael

Summary: Your grade depends on your willingness. Professor Raphael misuses your body well, and you can’t help but to come undone under his touch. Does your grade even matter at this point?

Note: I saw this gif and went absolutely feral.

Age Gap - Professor/ Student relationship - Vaginal Penetration - Creampie - Handcuffs - Slight Voyeurism - Tav is 18

You told him you’d do anything to raise your grade, begged him not to flunk you because your parents would be so disappointed in you… Now, as you bounce up and down on your professor's lap in his car you wonder how they’d feel if they found out about this instead…

The thought of being caught has your tight young cunt gripping his cock like a vice. Your hands struggling to find their way into his lucious brown hair, but the cuffs he placed on your wrists bind them behind your back. You feel his lips kiss down your neck, nibbling softly against your skin, his glasses grazing you just as well and the sensation nearly makes you cum right there. His cock feels like it was made for you, each ridge and vein caresses your walls and drives you crazy.

“Professor!”

Raphael, your professor, loved to fill you up before school started, loved knowing your young cunt was carrying his seed throughout the day. He knew you’d struggle to keep it all inside you, your skirt doing little to conceal it if it were to find its way dribbling out of you.

The windows in his car fogged, “S’good! M-more!”, your ass jiggled each time it slapped his thighs. Raphael grabbed onto your waist and started moving you even faster.

You felt him grow and swell inside of you, knowing he was getting close to his limit. He was going to make you take it, was going to fill you with more than enough for your womb.

“Let’s hope that your little birth control pill is still working,” he chuckled darkly, “what a shame it would be to find yourself carrying your professor's bastard child.”

Your eyes widened, the thought hadn't occurred to you. You weren't even sure the pill would do much after how many times he’s cum in you this week already. You started to slow your hips, unsure of what to do. Did it even matter at this point?

Raphael tightened his grip on you, forcing your movements to stay steady, his own hips thrusting up into you at an unrelenting pace.

Your thoughts trailed off, biting your lip at the thought about just the other day…

He kept a nice little bullet attached to your clit, waiting for you to enter his class before he could start his little game. A game, that’s all this was to him…

Raphael would wait for the room to settle down, wait for him to turn his back on his class so he could write on his board, book in hand concealing the little remote in his hand. When the moment was right, your cruel professor would switch the bullet on medium speed. You’d never see the devilish smirk that danced across his face as you squealed in your seat, your body jolting up as you tried to contain yourself.

“Quiet now, it’s rude to disturb the class while I’m trying to teach.” Your cheeks burned as you fought the urge to squirm and grind against the chair. Raphael would look at you every few moments, making sure you were obeying his rules. You could barely focus as the pleasure built up inside you. Raising your hand, you’d ask to excuse yourself, but of course he’d never agree to it, “you’ll have to wait until after class.”

You wanted to scream at him, but the fear of failing his class kept you from speaking out, not only that but the other student’s that were watching. So you sat there, legs clenched together and toes curling into your shoes as you fought to control the sensations that would wrack your body.

With your head laying on the desk, your legs shaking, he’d turn it off, “See me after class Tav, your behavior has been unacceptable.” He’d tell you to see him after class, that he needs to discuss your poor behavior in class, that you distracted far too many other students.

When your professor, Raphael, asked you to stay after class, you knew you'd end up splayed out on his wooden desk, hands clenching the edges to hold on.

"I do remember you saying you’d be willing to do anything to raise your grade up, right?" his fingers trailing over your ass that peeked from your short skirt, “so start being an obedient little pup.” ~Whack, Raphael would smack your ass hard enough to leave his mark.

He’d flip up your skirt to reveal the full extent of your pink lace panties, before he slowly pulls them down to pool at your feet. His fingers teasing your core and you twitch in response. You’d whine, embarrassed that you’ve allowed this to happen with your own professor, but even more embarrassed that you’d look forward to him sliding his much older cock inside you.

"How about we change that test score of yours from the other day into an A, princess." he said as his finger found your clit, slowly rubbing circles over the sensitive bud.

“P-please, I need to pass.”

He’d remove his finger, and you always felt a bit disappointed, but his fingers always found their way to your mouth, “Open.”

Your eyes flicker to his, questioning his intentions, but the look he’d give you told you not to ask questions. His thick digits slid into your mouth, pushing the salty taste of your cunt against your tongue. The sound of his belt unclasping and his draws falling to the ground as he positioned himself behind you.

"Now let's see how much you want that A." he would say before he slams his cock deep inside your wet folds.

The feeling of your walls stretching and clenching around his girth was something you still weren't quite used to, but the feeling had your eyes rolling. You’d push back into him, words of encouragement slipping from your mouth, “please use me! Fill me! Do whatever you want to me, Raphael!”

He was older, probably not one that should be fucking such a young thing like yourself, but here you were. His thrusts would be slow and deep, filling you in the way you always needed. He was unlike the other guys you’ve been with. He knew how your body worked.

"You're such a good girl, taking my cock so well. Maybe I should keep you on the edge of failing until the school year ends.” He’d grip your chin and forced your head to the side so he could lock his lips with yours, his tongue demanding entrance.

His free hand traveled between your legs, finding the little toy that rested against your swollen clit.

"Don't you dare cum yet." He told you before pressing the button, forcing the vibrations to start up again.

You were in a state of pure bliss. You knew that you shouldn't be here, that you should’ve studied like any other student, but all you could think about was how much you needed your professor to ruin your cunt now. That this was the only way to pass.

"Such a needy little thing aren't you." he would tease.

"Please!" you'd beg, "please, I need it. I can't fail this class, Raphael."

He'd groan, his pace increasing.

"Please Professor, I need it."

He loved to hear you call him professor. It was so taboo, and the thrill of fucking a student was a fantasy he was happy to make come true.

"Oh god." you'd cry out as the orgasm built inside you.

"Don't."

His hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed.

"Cum."

His hand squeezed tighter, your eyes widening.

"Not."

The sound of the door opening, and a female student entering would have both of your heads snap in her direction.

"Until."

You'd try to close your legs, your face burning, but his cock never left your heat.

"I."

You were so ashamed.

"Give."

But he never stopped pounding into you.

"You."

He was determined to finish, and that was it.

"The."

The other student looked just as embarrassed as you.

"Authorization."

The door closed and you heard a little laugh, “what a slut!”

What a perfect time, Raphael told you, “Cum for me, my good little pup.”

Your eyes closed, and you'd bite your lip, moaning at his command. His cock hit that special spot, his fingers rubbing your clit to completion.

"Yes! Oh God, I'm cumming!"

"Good." he'd hiss, his seed painting your walls, a sight he wished he could see.

When the two of you finished, he cleaned the mess he made and help you get dressed, his lips brushing over yours as he whispered, "see you in class, tomorrow- on second thought, come early. I’d like you to meet me by my car."

Which is exactly what you did…

[distracteddivination]

Short Prompt: Gale coming out of an early retirement to teach at Baldur's Gate University. The silk slipped through Gale's fingers like water, the shimmering fabric a slipping between the texture of his mildly calloused fingertips. It had been a long time since he'd worn a tie, the formality of Blackstaff Tower a distant memory. Balder's Gate University had a more relaxed dress code, but the first day of a new semester demanded a certain level of decorum.

Gale stood before the mirror, the reflection of his lean form distorted by the antique glass. His eyes, the color of a dark honey ale, flickered over the fine lines etched around his mouth, a testament to years spent studying arcane lore. With a sigh, he lifted the tie to his neck, the cool silk a stark contrast to the warmth of his skin.

His fingers, nimble from years of weaving spells, worked with practiced ease, forming a perfect Windsor knot. The act was a familiar one, a ritual he'd performed countless times before. Yet, today, it felt different. The tie was not just a piece of cloth, it was a symbol of a new beginning, a fresh start at a new university.

As Gale adjusted the knot, his fingers brushed against the pulse point at his throat, the steady thrum of his heartbeat a reminder of his mortality. He was no longer a young prodigy, eager to prove himself. He was a seasoned mage, his power tempered by experience and wisdom.

He looked into the mirror, his eyes meeting his own reflection. The image that stared back was not that of a weary scholar, burdened by the weight of his past. It was a man, ready to embrace a new chapter in his life. With a final tug, Gale straightened his tie, a small smile playing on his lips. He was ready to face the day.

[velvolktra]

𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙤𝙧 𝙎𝙯𝙖𝙧𝙧

[megidonitram]

Everyone's Running From Something

(ch. 5)

A Baldur's Gate 3 University Professor AU

Rating: M

Quick Summary: Astarion and Gale are two University English professors precariously mentoring a troubled 19-year-old and falling in love.

💖Main Pairing : BloodWeave,(Astarion/Gale) 💕Side Pairings: Shadowheart/Nocturne, Karlach/Dammon, Wyll/The Dark Urge, Tav/Tav 💔Past Pairings: Gale/Mystra, Astarion/Sebastian, Astarion/Tav

<=Previous Chapter | Master List | Ao3 | Next Chapter =>

**Please see Master List Entry for Full Content Warnings**

⏰Chapter Warning⏰

Mentions of Child Abuse | Discussion of a Past Suicide Attempt | Implied Eating Disorder

The first day of class was overcast. Astarion woke up at 5:30 am and ran through his usual morning routine: make the bed, hot shower, work out- Mondays were endurance days: planks, crunches, lunges, and a 2-mile run-, cold shower, get dressed, morning coffee- one sugar, one stevia, no cream.

The mornings were when Astarion missed Lydia the most- not necessarily the banal domestic conversation, but the commotion of her in his house. Her inscrutable taste in music and the sound of her knocking around in the kitchen filled the void of silence in a far more alive way than the soft whisper-drone of NPR. It was also harder to fall back into old habits when someone else was there watching him.

His phone buzzed as he was finishing his coffee.

Speak of the devil, and she shall appear.

L: Hey, probably a stupid question.

Her name was still in his phone the way she’d saved it when they first met, as ‘Lydia 🖤😈’ and Astarion thought, as he did every time she reached out for something, that he should probably change that before the wrong person saw it.

L: Is there a purple and white cabochon earring lying around your bedroom somewhere? L: The last time I can remember wearing them I ended up at yours.

Astarion picked up his phone and typed a reply.

A: I know I have one of your earrings in my car cupholder.

A: I keep meaning to get it back to you. I’ll send it along with Wyll if you’d like.

She replied a few minutes later.

L: Absolutely do not do that. L: I’ll just run by your office L: God. L: You’re going to make the kids think I’m having an affair.

 Astarion read the text and put his phone down, intending to end the conversation, but then something clicked in his mind.

A: Hey. A: You worked at a DSS to put yourself through medical school, didn’t you?

L: ooOOOoo

L: You must REALLY need something if you’re willing to admit that sports medicine is real medicine😏😏😏

A: Answer the question, Silverwarden. L: I did. L: But I was an admin not a coordinator, so my knowledge is limited L: You might be better off talking to Isobel

L: She’s very nice! I can introduce you if you’ve never met! A: I’m an English professor, I’ve met the ADA coordinator. A: I need your discretion. A: Can you tell me why a student’s mental health deferment might get rejected? L: Is this about Xenia? L: It’ll be easier to explain if you call me.

Astarion checked his watch before he clicked on her contact information to call her. The phone rang a few times before she picked up. He heard a squawking toddler and the last snatch of her previous conversation: ‘…It’s just a student thing… Alright, see you tonight. I love you.’

“Hello, Mr. Goodman! Are you going to Vemo me a dollar, or shall I?” Lydia had an unhurried lilting voice, with a touch of a southern accent that made her swallow her ‘o’s and ‘t’s.

“What?”

“It’s a- never mind!” she huffed. “Have you consumed a single piece of media produced in this century? You fucking crypt keeper.”

 “Sometimes I have to review Jenevelle’s assigned reading choices for appropriateness.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He could tell she was nodding the way she did when he missed her point. “‘And so I Anal Douche While Kesha’s ‘Praying’ Plays From My iPhone on Repeat,’ I remember. She scandalized half the football team with that one.”

“The American Football team could stand to get scandalized more,” Astarion replied. “How are your little brats doing?”

As if on cue, there was another toddler squeal in the background. “Ruby took her first steps last fall, and Clem’s learning how to crawl exceptionally early, but I suspect you don’t actually care.”

He didn’t dignify that with a response. “Why would the DSS reject Xenia’s deferment?”

“So that’s the thing: They wouldn’t. The DSS covers ADA accommodations for students with documented disabilities; a sudden injury would not be under their purview,” Lydia explained, putting on her lecture voice. “The decision to defer a student’s financial aid awards would go to the university’s finance board—I think? It may go to the board of directors.”

“That’s not what Raphael told me.” Astarion pressed his tongue against his canine until it started to sting.

“I know you're not going to like to hear this, but Raphael may genuinely not know,” and she was quite right; Astraion was going to be pissed if he found out he'd been bluffed into his current predicament. “Disability services is an incredibly complex field- both necessarily and unnecessarily so. It’s still pretty unusual for a student’s medical deferment to get rejected… Can I ask what your interest in this is?”

“I’ve found a channel to contest the decision, but I want to make sure it’s at least a somewhat viable option before I drag Xenia into more bureaucracy.”

“hmm… I knew you two would get along.” Lydia replied, quite satisfied with herself. “You have a very similar energy.”

Astarion sighed. He knew someone had referred Xenia to his sophomore survey class last semester; he'd just never figured out who. “I suppose we both have that ‘father used to beat me’ twinkle in our eyes.”

“Don’t put those words in my mouth!” Lydia exclaimed. “I meant you both have a similar…” She groped for the right words, “…surviverly quality about yourselves.”

“Will to survive?” Astarion corrected her.

“Whatever!” She snapped.

“Do you know why Xenia might have been rejected?”

“Speculatively?” Lydia asked.

“No, I’m asking you to read someone’s mind.” Astarion quipped.

“I answered your call in front of my husband for this, you know?”

Astarion sighed again. “If he’s not comfortable with you talking to your exes, he probably should not have married someone who fucked their coworker.”

“Do you want my help, or did you call me just to snipe?”

“Fine… please speculate. Why would someone’s medical deferment be rejected?”

“Well, if I had to guess… Xenia was sort of a high-profile get for the university. And given her history, I think it’s pretty safe to say that incident-” she paused as if she wasn’t sure she was allowed to say the next part. “-I think that incident last fall was probably a suicide attempt.”

There was a beat of grim silence. When the news came down, everyone had made that assumption, but no one was brave enough to put words to the thought.

Astarion hummed in acknowledgment. “So, you think the school rejected her medical deferment over bad publicity?”

“I think it would turn into a massive media circus if that got out, yes,” Lydia replied. “They may be trying to push her into dropping out.”

“Do you think it’s worth it to challenge?” Astarion asked.

“I don’t know,” Lydia sighed. “At the very least, it would probably be good to have as a precedent if she ends up having to sue the school… You could always just ask her what she wants to do. Poor kid might be too tired for all of this.” 

“Fair.” Astarion pondered her words for a moment.

“Can I help you with anything else?” She asked.

“That’s all for now,” Astarion replied. “…Thank you, by the way. You don’t have to stick your neck out for me anymore, you know?”

“I know,” Lydia replied. “I did this because I wanted to. You’re still my friend -despite everything, I care about you.”

She hung up. Astarion’s phone screen went black. The house was silent again.

***

Gale got stuck in horrible traffic on his first day and ended up arriving 30 minutes late for his morning office hours. He skipped past dropping his lunch off in the breakroom fridge and rushed straight to the office, absolutely mortified that he was so late for his first proper day of class. He was so frazzled he had to double back to grab his coffee from the car.

It wasn’t like there would be anyone there waiting on him- a grand total of one student who knew who he was-, but it certainly made a bad impression to show up late on the first day of class.

Astarion was both bemused and incredibly entertained as he watched Gale flit around their office like a very flustered tornado, trying to cram one hour of planning into the thirty minutes he had remaining.

“You’re going to be fine.” Astarion had assured him. “It’s syllabus week, no one’s expecting Judith Buttler.”

Gale still left for his class 10 minutes early -just in case his classroom had teleported to a different dimension since he last visited it. It hadn’t. It turned out the room was exactly where he’d left it at the end of a strange little corridor in the library, and in fact, there were already two students waiting for him.

Xenia sat near the back of the classroom, wearing the facial expression of a kitten that was being petted too hard, as a pinch-faced, red-headed young woman combed her fingers through the knots in her hair.

“I can’t believe you’re not embarrassed to go out in public looking like this.” The pinch-faced woman scolded.

“It’s ha-ard to brush my hair with my non-dominant hand…” Xenia’s eyes bulged out of her head as the woman pulled her fingers through a particularly difficult knot.

“Chk. I’ll put it in a braid then, so you aren’t struggling to brush it.”  She started dividing Xenia’s dark hair into sections no more gently than she’d detangled it.

“Hello Xenia, It’s good to see you again. How are you doing?” Gale asked as he set his satchel down behind the podium.

“Oh, I’ve been worse… I’ve also been better- Lae’zel, that hurts!”  She squealed as the pinched-faced woman, Lae’zel apparently, tugged the braid tight.

“Then sit still so it will end faster.” Lae’zel scolded her. “I have younger siblings that squirm less than you, and they’re still in diapers.”

“I guess you’ll have to work on instilling more terror in my heart then,” Xenia replied. She gripped the edges of her desk with white knuckles as Lae’zel wrenched her head back.

Lae’zel hummed as if that was a legitimate suggestion. “Yes, I think we would have a much stronger working relationship if you feared me just a little more…”

Lae’zel finally let go of Xenia, who let out a breath like she’d narrowly avoided being hit by a bus as she pulled a few face-framing pieces from the clutches of her new French braid. Lae'zel turned her sights on Gale- though he desperately hoped it wasn't because she was planning on braiding his hair, too. “You must be the new English adjunct.”

“Yes, I’m Dr. Dekarios!” Gale replied. “You must be Lae’zel? The athletic director speaks very highly of you.”

“As he should.” Lae’zel nodded like he’d just given her the correct answer in an oral exam. “You should know that I designed to take this course this semester because I thought it would be taught by Dr. Ancunín rather than Dr. Shadowheart. I will be quite displeased with you if your teaching methods are as frivolous and unstructured as Shadowheart’s.”

Xenia’s eyes went wide, and her mouth formed a silent ‘Oh’ sound as she looked back and forth between Gale and Lae’zel.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching Dr. Shadowheart teach, so I don't know how our teaching methods compare, but I will not deign to be frivolous or unstructured.” Gale laughed nervously.

“I think she is perfectly competent as a professor of literature, but she does quite poorly with the more structured elements of the genera. Dr. Ancunín does not fare much better, but he is preferable to Shadowheart.” Lae’zel explained as if Gale had genuinely asked her option. “You should know that thus far, you have not made a positive impression on me… you were quite late posting the syllabus.”

“My apologies, Lae’zel,” Gale replied, hand on heart. “I got let into my faculty account one week before the semester began.”

“Hm, yes.” Lae’zel considered his response. “This school does have abysmal technical support, so I shall let it slide this time.”

By that time, a few more students had filed in, and it was about time for class to start- or Gale was desperate not to hear any more unsolicited criticism of his colleagues. Astarion was right. The class went perfectly fine. He explained the structure of the course, and had everyone introduce themselves and state their major (he found out Xenia was there because she was a phycology major), before he explained the purpose of taking an upper level grammar and style.

“The purpose of learning advanced grammar is not to improve your everyday language… If the person you are talking to understands what you are saying, then there is nothing wrong with your grammar… Language should evolve to fit the speaker, the speaker should not evolve to fit the language… However, if you are going into a field like law or communication where you’ll be expected to use very precise language…”

It went by in a flash, and Gale could hardly remember if he got everything that he needed to into the lecture by the time class ended, but if anyone was unclear about anything, they didn’t let him know at the moment. He barely registers Xenia darting out of the room before he finishes saying, “Have a nice rest of your day.” A few people lingered to give him the heads up about things in their personal lives that might interfere with class, and one student wanted to know if he’d receive their letter of accommodation, but before long, there was a small congregation of people forming at the door waiting for Gale to leave so the next class can take over the space.

He walked back to his office with a spring in his step. He didn’t even mind that much when it started to pour rain, and he realized he had forgotten his umbrella in the car.

***

It wasn’t much dryer in the humanities building. Gale dodged around liner-less trash bins set up under bulging ceiling tiles dotting the hallway. In the break room, Karlach was holding a bookcase steady so Shadowheart could climb on top of it.

Gale paused and walked back to the breakroom to make sure he saw that right.

He did.

“Do you… need help with something?” he asked sheepishly.

“Nope, I think we’ve got it!” Karlach replied, ducking out of the way of one of Shadowheart’s heels. “Water pools in AC vents when it rains, so we have to bang on them a couple of times to make sure it doesn’t collapse.”

“O-oh?” Gale looked up and realized one of the panels of the overhead duct was swelling dangerously. “Shouldn’t we put in a work order?”

“Be my guest,” Shadowheart said. She precariously balanced on her knees, and Gale held his breath as the bookshelf wobbled underneath her. “But maintenance won’t get to it before the break room floods.”

She reached up and banged on the ductwork above her head, and the vent in the middle of the room started dribbling yellowish-brown water. Suddenly, there was a strange gurgling noise, then a thunk! as the panel popped back into proper shape.

“Great work, Jen!” Karlach whooped, holding out a hand to help Shadowheart jump down. They high-fived, and Shadowheart went about smoothing out her clothes, grumbling under her breath when she realized there was a massive run in her tights.

“This kind of thing happen often?” Gale asked.

“Only when it rains!” Karlach chirped. She checked her watch and immediately started towards the door. “Well, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got to get to my day job.” She gave Gale a friendly pat on the shoulder as she passed him. “If the vents start to flood again, it’s your and fancy pants’ turn to fix it!”

“I don’t know if that bookshelf will support either of our weights…” Gale balked.

“Not with that attitude, soldier!” Karlach called as the stairwell door swung closed behind her.

“You can poke it with a handle broom until it corrects; it just takes longer,” Shadowheart assured him. “I’ve got to go switch tights before I get to my next class. I don’t know if you’ve had the displeasure of meeting her yet, but God forbid Lae’zel catches me with a run in my pantyhose.”

“Oh, so she does talk like that to your face then?” Gale replied. “I didn’t know if I should-”

“Talks like what- never mind, don’t tell me!” Shadowheart huffed. “I swear, after everything I’ve done for that girl- I’ll talk to you later!” She turned on her heels and followed Karlach up the stairs.

Gale sighed in relief, ready to hold up in his office for a little while. He reached into the front pocket of his satchel for his keys only to find it empty. Cursing under his breath, he thumbed through the things in the main pocket, hoping he’d accidentally mixed them in with everything else- nothing. Finally, he pulled out his phone only to find a series of texts from Astarion.

A: You left your keys.

Then, a little while later.

A: I’m going to be out of office when you get back. A: Ask Mizora on the second floor for the spare key, good luck.

[papercutstoday]

His night course🫵🏼🤓🩸🧶🌌

there were supposed to be more panels but what's the point if you only focus on the webcam

[darcydekarios]

Ending this Sunday evening with a glass of wine and getting caught up on one of my favorite fanfics by @auroraesmeraldarose 💜

I’m seriously obsessed with your writing and with Helene and Gale 🥹🫶🏻

[moonselune]

Adore you | Part Five

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Teacher!Minthara x Obsessed!Student AU

NSFW | MDNI | Modern AU

Part five to these parts: part one , part two, part three, part four

CW: SMUT SMUT SMUT, minthara making it up to you, Orin gets her own content warning,

⋆.˚✰ Minthara ⋆.˚✰ <- Masterlist

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara's apology had been so heartfelt, so raw, that you couldn't help but want to do something special for her. She had laid herself bare, and now it was your turn to show her just how much she meant to you. As the evening approached, you sifted through your wardrobe, finally settling on a daring lilac dress that clung to your curves in all the right places. The color, Minthara's favorite, would be sure to get her attention.

When the clock struck seven, you were ready, your hair and makeup perfectly done, and your confidence at an all-time high. You heard a knock at your door and felt a flutter of anticipation. You opened it to find Minthara standing there, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit that accentuated her strong frame. But it was the look in her eyes that made your breath catch—a mixture of awe, desire, and something deeper.

"You look… breathtaking," she managed, her voice husky with emotion.

"Thank you," you replied with a coy smile, enjoying the way her eyes roved over you. "Shall we go?"

The car ride to the restaurant was charged with electricity. Minthara's hand found yours, her thumb gently caressing your skin. She kept stealing glances at you, as if she couldn't believe her luck. When you arrived at the restaurant, she was the perfect gentlewoman, helping you out of the car and guiding you inside with a hand at the small of your back.

Dinner was a sensory experience. The food was exquisite, but it was Minthara's attention that you relished most. Her gaze never left you, her eyes filled with unspoken words. Under the table, her hand found your knee, squeezing gently, her touch sending shivers up your spine. You responded in kind, your own hand brushing against her thigh, feeling the muscles tense under your touch.

"You're driving me crazy," Minthara whispered at one point, her eyes dark with desire.

"Good," you replied with a wicked smile, your voice low and sultry.

By the time dessert arrived, the tension between you was almost unbearable. Minthara paid the bill quickly, her hand once again finding the small of your back as she led you out of the restaurant. The moment you were in the car, she pulled you into a searing kiss, her hands roaming over your body with a hunger that matched your own.

"Please," she murmured against your lips, her voice a desperate plea. "Let me take you back to mine."

You pulled back slightly, your eyes meeting hers. "You really want me that badly?" you teased, your fingers tracing the line of her jaw.

"Yes," she breathed, her hands gripping your hips tightly. "I need you, Y/N. Please."

You smiled, savoring the power you held in that moment. "Beg for it," you whispered, your lips brushing against her ear.

"Y/N, please," she repeated, her voice trembling with need. "I want you so much. I need to show you how much I love you. Please, come back with me."

You let her words hang in the air for a moment, enjoying the way she looked at you, her eyes filled with a mixture of desperation and adoration. Finally, you leaned in, kissing her deeply before whispering, "Take me home, Minthara."

The drive to her place was a blur of heated kisses at stoplights and wandering hands. As soon as you arrived, she practically dragged you inside, her lips never leaving yours. The door barely closed behind you before she pressed you against it, her body flush against yours as she kissed you with a fervor that made your knees weak.

She practically devoured you, needily gripping your hips and biting your bottom lip. She needed you, needed to be with you, be one with you. You couldn't help but melt under her touch. She is what you wanted, she is what you desired, needed.

You gripped the back of Minthara's hair and pulled her close to you as she continued to bully her tongue down your throat. Her hand quickly snaked under your dress and toyed with your panties, a finger dipping in and out of them. She was waiting, waiting for your approval. You couldn't help but smile and you pushed her away.

She groaned and rested her head against your chest, whining slightly. She just wanred to feel you. "Come on, love, cryso,"

"I don't know, I was pretty upset.." You chuckled, Minthara caught your lips in a hot, passionate kiss, her desperation clear.

"Please, let me make it up to you," she whispered between kisses, her hands trembling slightly as they held you.

You decided to give in, leaning back against the door and pulling her closer.

"Alright, Minthara," you murmured. "Show me how much you care."

With a relieved sigh, Minthara guided you - although practically dragged you to the bedroom, her hands never leaving your body. She undressed you with a reverence that made your heart race, her lips worshipping every inch of exposed skin. She took her time, catering to your every need, exploring your body with a mix of tenderness and passion that left you breathless. Her hands traced the curves of your body, and she kissed her way up your thighs, her breath hot against your skin. She reached your hips, her fingers gripping you with a possessive need, and looked up at you again.

"Sit on my face," she whispered, her voice trembling with desire. "Please, Y/N, let me worship you."

The raw need in her voice made your pulse quicken and you submitted to her demand instantly - it may have sounded like a plea but you knew better. You positioned yourself above her, feeling her hands guiding you as you lowered yourself onto her waiting mouth. The first touch of her tongue against your most sensitive spot sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you couldn't help but moan.

Minthara's tongue worked skillfully, her hands gripping your hips firmly as she devoured you with a fervor that left you gasping for breath. She alternated between slow, languid strokes and quick, flicking motions, her eyes locked on yours, watching every reaction. You felt a wave of intense pleasure building, her name escaping your lips in breathless whispers.

She didn't stop, her tongue and lips working in perfect harmony, driving you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel your muscles tensing, your breath coming in ragged gasps, and just when you thought you couldn't take any more, she sucked gently, pushing you over the edge.

A powerful orgasm ripped through you, your body shuddering with the intensity of it. Minthara held you steady, her tongue continuing to lap at you gently, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. When you finally collapsed beside her, breathless and sated, she pulled you into her arms, holding you close. Though she wasn't done with you yet.

She wasn't done with you; her need to show you how much she cared was insatiable.

Minthara began to kiss along your jawline, her lips soft but insistent. She moved slowly, savoring every moment, her breath hot against your skin. You shivered, feeling the familiar stirrings of arousal starting to build again.

She shifted, straddling your thigh, her body pressing against yours. You could feel the heat radiating from her, the evidence of her own arousal slick against your skin. Her hands moved with purpose, caressing your sides, her fingers dancing across your ribs, sending shivers through your body.

Her lips traveled lower, placing bruising kisses along your neck, each one more intense than the last. She bit down gently, sucking on the tender skin, marking you as hers. You gasped, the sensation a perfect blend of pleasure and pain. She moved to your shoulders, leaving a trail of hickeys that would serve as reminders of this night.

Minthara's mouth found your breasts, her tongue flicking over your nipples, making you arch your back in response. She sucked on each one in turn, her teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pleasure straight to your core. Her hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer as she began to grind against your thigh, her movements slow and deliberate.

You could feel her wetness against your skin, the rhythm of her grinding becoming more urgent. She kissed her way down your body, her lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She paused at your hips, her teeth grazing your skin, and then she moved back up, her mouth finding your breasts again, sucking and biting with renewed fervor.

Minthara's moans grew louder, her movements more frantic as she rode your thigh. The friction against your own arousal was maddening, each grind sending waves of pleasure through you. Her fingers dug into your hips, her nails leaving marks as she lost herself in the sensation.

"Y/N," she breathed, her voice heavy with desire. "I need you. I need this."

You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer, encouraging her to move faster. Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, each thrust and grind bringing you both closer to the edge. Her lips found yours in a searing kiss, her tongue demanding entrance, her need evident in every touch.

The pleasure built to a crescendo, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. You could feel the tension coiling in your belly, the impending release just out of reach. Minthara's movements became erratic, her moans turning into cries of ecstasy as she ground against you with increasing desperation.

Finally, the wave of pleasure crashed over you both, your bodies trembling with the intensity of your orgasms. Minthara's cries of release mixed with your own, the room filled with the sounds of your shared passion. She collapsed against you, her body slick with sweat, her breathing ragged.

You held her close, your hands gently stroking her back as you both came down from the high. She looked up at you, her eyes filled with a mix of love and satisfaction.

"You're incredible," she whispered, her voice hoarse from the intensity of her pleasure.

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "So are you, my love. So are you."

Minthara leaned upwards and pressed a sloppy kiss to your lips, you held her close, not wanting to let go of her, deepening the kiss. You needed her, wanted to become one with her. She was yours and you were hers. Eventually Minthara pulled away, the two of you panting, swollen lips just touching each other.

The night continued in a blur of intense passion. After your shared climax, Minthara's desire seemed insatiable. She kissed and caressed you relentlessly, drawing you into another round of heated lovemaking. Her hands and lips explored every inch of your body, her touch a mix of tenderness and raw need that left you breathless and aching with pleasure. You lost count of how many times she brought you to the edge and beyond, her stamina seemingly endless as she worshipped your body with a devotion that made your heart swell.

As the hours passed, the room filled with the sounds of your shared ecstasy, each moan and cry echoing off the walls. By the time you finally succumbed to exhaustion, the night had given way to the first light of dawn, the soft glow filtering through the curtains and casting a warm, golden hue over the room.

You woke up feeling achy, every muscle in your body pleasantly sore from the night's activities. You stretched lazily, feeling the stiffness in your limbs, a satisfied smile tugging at your lips. The bed beside you was empty, but you could hear the sound of running water coming from the bathroom.

Curious, you slipped out of bed, wrapping a sheet around your naked form as you made your way to the bathroom. You found Minthara standing by the bathtub, her back to you as she tested the water with her hand. The sight of her, so serene and beautiful, made your heart skip a beat.

"Good morning," you murmured, your voice still husky with sleep.

Minthara turned to you, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Good morning, love," she replied, her eyes softening as they took in the sight of you. "I thought we could both use a relaxing bath after last night."

You couldn't help but chuckle, the memories of the night flooding back. "I think you're right," you said, stepping forward to kiss her gently. "A bath sounds perfect."

She helped you into the tub, the warm water enveloping you like a comforting embrace. Minthara slipped in behind you, pulling you back against her chest, her arms wrapping around you as you both settled into the soothing heat. You sighed in contentment, the tension in your muscles slowly melting away.

For a while, you simply lay there in silence, enjoying the feel of her body against yours, the gentle rise and fall of her breath. The steam from the water rose around you, creating a cocoon of warmth and intimacy. It was a lazy, blissful morning, and you reveled in the peace of the moment.

"Last night was incredible," Minthara murmured after a while, her lips brushing against your ear. "I never want to forget a single moment of it."

You smiled, tilting your head back to look at her. "Me neither," you replied softly. "It was… perfect."

She kissed your forehead, her lips lingering there as she held you tightly. "I promise I'll always make it up to you...I care about you deeply."

You smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment. It wasn't the three little words you had been daydreaming about ever since you had set eyes on Minthara but they would do. "I care deeply for you too, Minthara."

"I never want to lose you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I know I’ve made mistakes, but I want to be better for you. Will you… will you be... oh my gods this sounds so foolish, but will you be my girlfriend?"

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. You leaned in, and giggled, like a giddy school girl, "Yes, Minthara. I'll be your girlfriend. But I would have appreciated it if you passed me a note in class and let me tick a box.."

"Oh shut up you," Minthara laughed splasing water at you, though her eyes lit up with joy, and she turned you around pulled you into a tight embrace, her lips finding yours in a kiss filled with adoration and promise.

Eventually, the water began to cool, and you both reluctantly decided it was time to get out. Minthara helped you dry off, her hands gentle and caring as she wrapped you in a fluffy towel. You returned to the bedroom, where you dressed in her overshirt and climbed back into bed, snuggling close under the covers. Minthara had lightly rolled her eyes at the sight of you, muttering how she was going to get no work done today but she nevertheless joined you

As you lay there, Minthara's arms around you, a thought driftend into your mind.

"Minthara," you began, your voice soft and sweet. "You know I've missed a few classes because of everything that's been going on. Maybe you could… help me out a bit with the credits I need?"

Minthara raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on her lips. "Oh? And how do you propose I help you with that?" she asked, amusement dancing in her eyes.

You traced a finger along her collarbone, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. "Well, I could put in some extra work, Dr Baenre… if you know what I mean."

Minthara chuckled, shaking her head. "You're ridiculous," she said, her tone affectionate. She leaned down and kissed your forehead, her fingers gently stroking your hair. "I have faith in your skills and abilities, Y/N. I know you can catch up on your own."

You pouted, hoping to persuade her, but the resolve in her eyes was clear.

"But Minthara," you whined softly, giving her your best puppy dog eyes. She laughed, a genuine, warm sound that filled the room.

"No pouting," she said, brushing her thumb across your bottom lip. "You're more than capable of handling your coursework. And besides, you wouldn't want me to play favorites, would you?"

You sighed, knowing she was right. "Fine," you conceded, a small smile tugging at your lips. "But you have to admit, it was worth a try."

Minthara pulled you closer, her arms wrapping around you protectively. "It was," she agreed, her voice softening. "And I appreciate your creativity. But I believe in you, Y/N. You can do this."

You nodded, feeling a sense of pride at her confidence in you. "Okay. Fine. I'll catch up."

Minthara pressed a tender kiss to your forehead as you sighed but as you lay together, wrapped in each other's arms, you felt a sense of finalised peace. With Minthara by your side once again you felt complete, happy. And that's not just because you had entier folder on her ex and a way to make her... move on.. if needed. No, not at all, it was all about the trust you had established between each other.

A few days later, you find yourself navigating the bustling corridors of the university, the air thick with the scent of academia and the sounds of students chatting, laughing, and rushing to their next classes. You had settled back into your routine, the memories of that passionate night with Minthara still fresh in your mind, a secret smile often tugging at your lips.

As you rounded a corner, lost in thought, a firm hand suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you into an empty classroom. You stumbled slightly, catching your balance as the door slammed shut behind you. Dr. Orin Dered stood before you, her eyes cold and calculating.

"Dr. Dered?" you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "What is this about?"

Orin’s lips curled into a tight smile, but there was no warmth in it. "I think you know exactly what this is about, Y/N," she said, her tone dripping with condescension. "Your little affair with Dr Baenre, or considering we are all on such intimate terms, Minthara."

You blinked, feigning ignorance. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Orin stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. "Don't play dumb with me, little girl. I know everything. And I'm here to tell you to break things off with her. Now. Minthara deserves someone of her standing, not a horny university student looking to get her blood pumping."

You rolled your eyes and scoffed as you crossed your arms, trying to project confidence. "And why, exactly, would I do that?"

"Because," Orin replied, her voice low and threatening, "if you don't, I'll go straight to Professor Dekarios about it. Do you really think he'll allow such an illicit relationship to continue under his nose? You're a disgrace, Y/N. I'm sure he had such high hopes for you as a promising student, but now look at you—caught up in this… this scandal."

Her words stung, but you refused to let her see how much they affected you.

"I really don’t know what you’re talking about," you said, but your heart was pounding, and you knew Orin wouldn’t back down easily.

Orin sneered, stepping even closer. "You think you can play innocent? You're a naughty student, Y/N. Throwing away your future for some fling."

Something inside you snapped, was it the not-yet-healed wounds associated with that word or was because of the sheer audacity of Orin to encroach on something you cultivated and coveted so dearly? You didn't know. What you did know was that Orin wouldn't relent, and if she went to Professor Dekarios, it could create all amounts of trouble for both you and Minthara. But you were no fool, no starry-eyed worshiper who had hots for teacher -or at least you weren't entirely that. You were something much darker that Orin had clearly not recognised.

"Do you think you’re in any position to lecture me about morality?" you said, your voice icy, your expression twisting from one of doe-eyed shock to gleeful venom. "What about your illegal experiments, Orin? The ones that resulted in the deaths of three test subjects? I'm sure the board would love to hear all about that."

Orin's face went pale, her eyes widening in shock. She took a step back, her bravado faltering. "How… how do you know about that?" she stammered. You stepped forward, your confidence growing as you saw the fear in her eyes.

"Oh I know a lot of things, Orin. Kids these days and their internet!" You laughed before dropping it and immediately going back to glaring at her with an unnerving calmness. "Oh Orin, I know things that could ruin you if they came to light. I won't even go into your missing older sibling, and the family fortune." Orin visibly flinched, like prey trapped under the predator's claw. "So if you keep trying to interfere with my relationship with Minthara, I will make sure everyone knows just how far you've gone to further your career."

Orin's bravado crumbled, and she took another step back, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "You wouldn't dare," she whispered, but there was no conviction in her voice.

"Try me," you replied, your voice low and firm. "If you want to see just how much of a 'naughty student' I can be, keep pushing. If I lose Minthara, get expelled, I lose it all. And I will not hesitate to drag you down with me. But if you value your career and your freedom, you'll stay out of my business."

Orin stared at you for a long moment, her face a mask of conflicted emotions. Finally, she seemed to deflate, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Fine," she muttered. "But this isn’t over."

She turned and hurried out of the classroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You took a deep breath, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away. You knew Orin wouldn't give up easily, but for now, you had the upper hand.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

In this blog we hate Orin <3

Hope you all enjoyed this, gods was it cathartic writing that Orin bit. And missing older sibling? Durge where you at babe your little sis is acting cringe af.

Let me know what you think down below ! - Seluney xox