#f!mc x f!oc

[jerzwriter]

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, and I felt the need for more art for my precious Casey and Jessica. I'd like to thank the lovely @callmebeem for working with me on such short notice and creating this beautiful art! It's exactly what I wanted, and I love it to bits! ❤️Here's a little fic about their day. 😊

Any Other Day

Book: Open Heart (Prequel - Casey's Med School Years) Pairing: Casey MacTavish (F!MC) x Jessica Philips (F!OC) Words: 1440 Rating: Teen Summary: Jessica's not a fan of Valentine's Day, and she's made that pretty clear, but now that the day's up on them, Casey realizes there's more to it than meets the eye. A/N1: Participating in @choicesfebruary2024, Eros

Valentine’s Day was proving to be a challenge.

Just weeks before, Jessica declared her feelings about the holiday after a particularly long night of studying, and they weren’t pretty.   It was ridiculous, a Hallmark holiday steeped in capitalism, and she wanted no part of it. The intensity and randomness of her girlfriend’s declaration left Casey bewildered. It was so far out of left field she thought delirium may have finally gotten its grips on Jess; after all, sleep deprivation practically had her there, too. But she was tired and eager to move on, so she nodded in agreement, and Jessica seemed pleased to find them on the same page, which would have been great... except they weren’t.

Casey loved Valentine’s Day; she loved every single thing about it. A holiday where she could lavish love and attention on her girlfriend? Where was the problem with that? She agreed such things shouldn’t be limited to a designated day, and she ensured Jess knew how much she meant on any day ending in -y. But now that Cupid’s holiday was here, Casey was conflicted. How could she be expected not to acknowledge it? It seemed cruel, but... she had promised... didn’t she? She heaved out a sigh; perhaps their exceptionally hectic schedules would be her saving grace. She didn’t have to worry about celebrating... or not... if they didn’t see each other.

Jessica was assisting first-year students in distributing breakers in the lab. She was TA for an extra class today, as her professor wanted to take the day off to spend with their wife, and Jess felt a twinge of guilt when she agreed to cover. But she and Casey weren’t celebrating; they agreed to that...didn’t they? Casey said she was on board, but Jess would have to be blind to see how blue her normally effervescent girlfriend was this morning, and she couldn’t fight the feeling that she was the reason why.

The truth was, Jessica didn’t hate Valentine’s Day. She didn’t hate it at all. She hated the memories it dredged up and the feelings of insecurity that followed. She hated the ambiguity of the present and her apprehension about the future. The last time she celebrated was three years before, spending the night gazing at the stars in Ammarah’s arms. She never knew that kind of joy, and when Ammarah promised forever, Jess felt her world falling into place. A blissful dream previously unimagined coming to fruition, only to be crushed in quick succession. When Jess’s competition became the hallowed halls of Oxford, those promises were quickly forgotten, leaving Jess heartbroken when she realized she had never stood a chance.

She promised then and there that she wouldn’t fall in love again, at least no time soon. Ammarah prioritized her career, and now Jess would do the same. Love and other silly notions could wait. And that worked for a while, until that fateful day when an adorable giggle pulled her head from her textbook, and she looked up to find a beguiling smile that made her heart skip a beat. They’d only be friends, Jess insisted. That’s all they could be. But then their conversations lasted into the early morning hours, and the more they learned about each other, the more they needed to know. It's hard to be just friends when they're the first thing you think of each morning and the last thing you think of each night. So she had another idea...we’ll just be friends... with benefits, perhaps, but nothing more. Residency was on the horizon, and both women had been hurt before. They couldn’t let it happen again.  

But in the end, they stepped onto the rollercoaster hand-in-hand and fastened their seatbelts with all their might. Within weeks, “I love yous” were exchanged, both knowing they had an expiration date set from the start. It seemed easy when that date was on the distant horizon, but the closer it came, the more that old familiar pain began to seep in. Valentine’s Day: candles, kisses, and promises made again... Jess couldn’t allow it. But when the bell rang, it only took a student hand a rose to another to make her heart ache for Casey.  

She pulled out her phone and smiled at the sound of her voice. Lunch. She offered. She’d like to take her to lunch. Nothing fancy, nothing special, just grabbing a meal together like any other day, but she needed to see her. No matter how much Jessica studied the human heart, she couldn't see how hard hers was working to protect itself. But Casey was on her way, and that was all that mattered.

Casey hadn’t expected to hear from Jess, and it was easy to see her delight as she rushed down the hall. Nothing made her smile more than Jessica’s melodious laugh, and the closer it became, the more her smile grew.  She couldn’t wait to see the radiant smile that accompanied it, and as she stepped into Jess’s classroom, her wish was granted for just a second before Jess’s face fell.

“What... what the hell is that?” she asked, motioning furiously in Casey’s direction.

Casey looked down, perplexed, rubbing her hands along her torso to see if she had spilled something, but nothing seemed amiss.

“What’s what?”

“Your sweater! Why are you wearing that sweater?”

Casey appeared offended as she caressed her favorite cashmere sweater.

“But... I love this sweater! You love this sweater!”

“I do,” Jess sighed. “But not today!"

“It’s the same sweater as yesterday... the same sweater it will be tomorrow...”

“Yes! But yesterday or tomorrow won’t be Valentine’s Day.”

Casey followed the last student to exit the classroom and shut the door behind her, turning on her heel with crossed arms as soon as they were alone.

“All right,” she demanded. “This level of crazy is usually reserved for me, not you... so what gives?”

“We said no Valentine’s Day, Casey!”

“And besides me wearing a pink sweater, inadvertently, I might add... I haven’t so much as said Happy Valentine’s Day to you.  The holiday isn't causing a problem for us, Jess... but your hang-ups about it might be.  What’s going on?” 

Jess took a deep breath and leaned back against her desk, attempting to put her thoughts into words. “To me... in the past... Valentine’s Day was about promises.  Promises I believed in, even if the person making them took them with a grain of salt.”

“Ammarah?” Casey asked as Jess nodded softly.

“It’s scary, Case. It’s scary to know how fleeting love can be, and it's frightening... it’s frightening to think about what the future holds for us. You’ll still be here next year, but I don’t even know where I’ll be... and that... that just....”

Her words trailed as her head tilted forward. She was proud of herself for being strong enough to stop the tears pooling in her eyes from falling, but she could do nothing to stop herself from trembling.

“Jess,” Casey placed a loving hand on her shoulder. “I know you’ve been hurt, and I have, too... but we can’t live in the past, nor can we live in the future.”

“But, Casey...”

“But nothing! Don’t you see what you’re doing? The past was painful, and the future’s unknown, but you know what we have?” She lifted Jess’s chin until she was looking into her big, brown eyes. “We have today. Today is real, and the only thing that can steal it from us... is us... if we let it.  Come on, Jess,” she smiled, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. “Let’s not waste today."

Jess's head tilted, a crooked smile on her lips. She knew Casey was right, but her stubbornness couldn't be destroyed that easily.

“I still hate the commercialism,” Jess insisted, to Casey’s amusement.

“So do I! Come on, I can spoil you a little bit without turning into a corporate overlord, you know!”

Jess peeked up from under her lashes. “You promise?”

“I promise. Now, can we enjoy the day, please?”

Jess hopped to her feet, a bright grin on her face as she fell into Casey’s arms and a warm, lingering embrace. “Well, I invited you to lunch first... so technically, I started the celebration.”

“Oh, no,” Casey chuckled. “You are not getting the credit here! I think your exact words were, ‘It’s lunch, just lunch, don’t get excited or anything!”  

“Yeah, those were the words,” Jess laughed. “But if I’m being honest... I just really needed to see you. I needed to see you so badly.”

“Well, I’m here.  Can we call it a Valentine’s Day date, now?”

“Sure,” Jess blushed. “But I have to stop upstairs to see the Dean before we go.”

“That works for me,” Casey replied. “I have to put my things in my locker anyway.  Can we meet in front of the building in fifteen minutes?”

Jess reached over and stuck her fingers through the belt loops in Casey’s jeans, pulling her close. “And Casey?” she whispered, her breath tickling Casey’s ear.  “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

~~~~~

A/N: In my mind, Casey tossed her things in her locker and hightailed it to the corner gift shop. Poor Jess was wondering if Casey had a change of heart as she waited outside when two arms grabbed her from behind. Casey handed Jess the bouquet and yelled Happy Valentine's Day. After a cozy lunch at their favorite local diner, they decided they could skip their afternoon classes and headed back to Jess's place for a much more productive afternoon. 😏

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[fangswbenefits]

Lockpicking

Summary: You ask Astarion to teach you how to lockpick and things get... out of hand.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Fingering. Dry humping. Innuendo. Praise kink. Finger licking.

Word count: 1.7k

You should have known better than to have asked him this.

Initially, he had regarded your request with an entertained scoff and no less amount of smugness.

But Astarion did find enjoyment in showing off his skills whenever the situation called for it.

And that was what landed you on your knees, inside some dingy cave near Baldur's Gate.

“You do need to focus, darling.”

You repositioned yourself and straightened your back to properly eye-level with the rusty chest in front of you, thieves’ tools in hand, prodding the stubborn lock.

Astarion was down on one knee, right behind you, body pressed faintly against yours.

An unwanted distraction, no doubt.

His cool hands gripped yours as expert fingers twisted and turned the sharp tools inside the opening.

He always made it look so easy, unlocking doors and chests in the blink of an eye.

“Maybe the lock is faulty,” you huffed in annoyance, allowing him to guide your fingers. “Should we try another one?”

“You're too impatient,” he said disapprovingly, his voice but a whisper next to your ear. “The lock isn't faulty, but it requires some tender love and caring to pry it open.”

Your brows furrowed as you took a deep breath, taking the reins and twisting both tools to the right.

His fingers gripped yours in an instant, and he took control once again, but all to no avail.

You let out a low growl of frustration.

“Darling, lockpicking is like making sweet love,” he chuckled briefly, fingertips grazing the back of your hand. “You need to exercise patience and focus.” You could feel his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “Just as a lover, you must listen to them and tend to their needs.”

You nearly rolled your eyes. “You did not just make that comparison.”

“You'll find it to be true. Every lock is different and requires not only the right tools but the right amount of dedication.”

An innuendo?

“That is nothing like love-making.”

A metallic click.

“Did I not just describe how I make love to you, then?”

Inadvertently, your heart jolted into a quicker thrum, and heat rushed to your cheeks as his words caught you off guard.

“Must you be so vulgar?”

He rotated the metallic rods in your hands effortlessly, his body pressing further into yours.

“It's simply the truth, darling,” he said with a click of his tongue. “It's not my fault that dexterity comes in handy in various situations.”

This entire ordeal felt strangely intimate all of a sudden, as if you were both dancing to a tune only Astarion was privy to.

The mechanism clicked once more.

“You're doing good.”

Being sincerely praised by him provided the kind of pleasure that you wouldn't easily find anywhere else.

He rubbed the back of your hand tenderly, effectively letting you know you were on the right path.

“Grip it tighter with the tips of your fingers,” he urged before pressing a fleeting kiss just behind your ear. “You must keep a firm grip.”

Shivers spread across your body at the feel of his cold lips caressing your sensitive skin.

You swallowed hard, finding it extremely difficult to concentrate on the task at hand with your lover actively working against you.

Your hands jittered, and you nearly dropped one rod.

“You're awfully distracted.”

The familiar pool of heat in your lower abdomen flared at his taunting words, but you cleared your throat and shoved one of his hands away, wanting to keep your focus and sanity intact.

“I've got this.”

He scoffed. “Have it your way, then.”

You expected a snarky remark and triumphantly smiled to yourself as you were met with his silence instead.

Narrowing your eyes, you kept prodding the opening with renewed focus, following his previous instructions.

You heard a few more clicks, but not the one you were in search of.

And then you felt his free hand grazing the waistband of your trousers, fiddling with the buckle of your belt.

And just like that, your concentration was broken yet again.

“What are you doing?”

Silence.

Experienced fingers pulled on the strap until it was set loose.

Your eyes widened, and the tools in your hands quivered as you came to a halt. “...Astarion?”

He undid the button next and gently tugged on the fabric. “As you said, you've got this,” he whispered dangerously low in your ear. “And I've got you,” he finished before slipping his hand inside.

Your mouth dropped open as his finger trailed past your undergarments and settled between your folds.

Immediately, your hips jerked, and you let out a strained gasp as the throb intensified.

“Focus,” he cooed, rubbing gentle circles. “You're nearly there.”

His other hand steadied your grip around the tool.

“Try rotating it to the left.”

Your hands were getting sweaty and far too jittery, and you nearly dropped the one on your left when he began drawing circles anti-clockwise to match his words.

Words failed you, and you could only gasp, allowing him to take control, using the tool to turn the mechanism.

“Hear that sound?”

You heard a faint metallic pang coming from the opening.

“Focus on the sound coming from the lock,” he said in between kisses on your neck. “Make it sing, and it will open up for you.”

He increased the pace, and you moaned loudlier than intended, eyes fluttering shut as you rolled your hips against him, yearning for more and more friction.

“Hear how beautiful it sounds?”

“Yes…”

At this point, you weren't sure if he was indeed referring to the locking mechanism or to how you kept whimpering under his touch.

He then bucked his hips into you, and you felt the unmistakable print of his strained erection pressed against your lower back.

The motion nearly had you tumbling forward had it not been for his free hand that steadied you.

“Easy now, darling,” he teased, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Maybe you should part your legs. For balance, of course,” he added, but you doubted that was the real motive.

Even so, you quickly shifted your knees apart just enough to grant him further access.

“Good girl.”

You had to bite down hard on your lip to suppress a moan.

One finger circled your entrance, and you felt a gush of wetness spilling from you with each stroke.

Your hands quivered from the stimulation, rattling the metal rods inside the lock.

He brought his hand back to yours, his thumb caressing your unsteady fingers. “You're nearly there… just a little more prodding…”

“Astarion…” you groaned in frustration.

He immediately hushed you. “Careful… we don't want to draw unwanted attention, do we?”

Just as he finished delivering his taunt, he dragged his finger to spread your wetness across the throbbing swell in between your folds.

The overwhelming sensation was too much to bear, and your hand dropped to your thigh, gripping the rod tightly as if holding on for dear life.

He paused his ministrations in an instant.

“You'll need to slide that one inside to unlock it, darling.”

You couldn't care less about the damned chest, as the need for release took over you.

But Astarion seemed to have other plans.

“Slide it in,” he said, gripping your wrists. “Go on… I'll help.”

You slumped lightly against him, enjoying how his cock kept on hardening against you, and how he was beginning to lose his composure, low grunts erupting from the back of his throat.

He lifted your hand, and just as he slid the tool back inside, you felt a finger slip inside your entrance until he was knuckle-deep.

“See how easily it slides in?”

You rolled your hips, wanting to fuck yourself on his finger, riding it desperately.

The increasing pressure in your lower abdomen began to blur your vision as your mouth fell agape, your senses taken over by him.

You were close.

Too close.

Deliciously close.

And he knew it.

Of course he did.

Astarion was a dedicated and devoted lover who didn't shy away from having you come undone for him.

“Nearly there…” he said, rolling his own hips into you.

You kept on riding his finger, the heel of his palm pressing down between your folds, further pushing you over the ends on your sanity.

His free hand still covered yours, his slender fingers fully guiding you, and you couldn't even understand how he was able to keep his focus on the damned lock as you rode him.

Your head fell back against his shoulder, and he seized the moment to tease your exposed skin with his fangs.

Somewhere in the distance, you heard a familiar clicking sound.

“Let go, darling… I've got you.”

His sweet guidance was all you needed from him to finally tip over the edge, plunging headfirst into the blinding wave of pleasure that began tearing through your body like lightning.

He added a second finger just in time, prompting the neediest sobs to erupt from deep within you, and he quickly covered your mouth with his other hand, muffling your cries of pleasure.

“There you go.” He cooed sweetly.

You immediately dropped the tools to the floor with a loud pang and gripped his wrist in the hopes that would be enough to anchor you.

For a split second, you considered biting his hand to suppress the uncontrollable moans but decided against it, enjoying how your voice reverberated across his palm.

And as you began spasming against him, you heard the most delicious hiss spill from him, his strained cock rutting further into your lower back.

You clenched hard and rhythmically around his fingers, riding out your wave of pleasure.

His hand eventually dropped from your face, and he planted the softest kiss to the flushed skin of your cheek.

“Well done, darling.”

You gradually went limp against him, struggling to control your breaths and hearing your heart still pounding hard in your ears.

“Gods… that was…”

The words died in your throat as he slid out of you, earning a whimper from you.

As you regained some of your strength and battled your sore muscles, you turned your head to face him.

“How are you so good with your fingers?"

He chuckled as he tasted your wetness that dripped from his fingers.

“In which way?”

Your gaze was fixed on how his tongue expertly wiped you clean from him.

“Don't play coy. I wish I could be this skilled…"

His crimson eyes narrowed deviously. “I'm sure you'll get there, eventually – well, probably not, though.”

You gave him an offended glare.

He nudged his head to the chest in front of you, and you watched in perplexity as the lid had slightly shifted.

“Not that hard, was it?”

Masterlist

[dark-tides-in-faerun]

Boiling Point (1/2)

Astarion x You!

Your party stumble across a hot spring in the wilds and agree to take turns bathing. It turns out, Astarion isn’t very good at taking turns but is more than happy to share…

🌶️mature🌶️ (fair warning that this chapter is just a little steamy but the next one will be very nsfw!)

You lay on your back in the recently discovered hot spring, eyes closed, basking in the delicious warmth. If this wasn't heaven, you weren't sure what was. The moon lights up the little clearing you’re in, giving everything that it touches a lovely, silvery sheen, and you close your eyes and relax into it, feeling at ease for the first time in weeks.

“Well, hello.”

You almost jump out of your skin.

“Astarion.” You gasp, spluttering up a lungful of water as you quickly sink lower beneath the surface, arms crossing against your chest in a bid to protect your modesty as you twist toward him. The water’s cloudy enough that he wouldn’t be able to see anything, but that knowledge does very little to make you feel less exposed. “What in the nine hells is wrong with you?”

“Nothing that a little dip couldn’t fix.” He quips, lounging against a rock, his face the picture of innocence and your eyes narrow as you notice he’s clutching a crimson towel in one pale hand.

“It’s not your turn.” You warn, narrow eyes meeting his as his carefully blank face looks back at you. You’d all agreed on a schedule for hot spring use and given that he’d already talked you into letting him steal all of your allocated time, it definitely wasn’t his turn.

“Oh, I know that.” He replies, the picture of unaffected grace as he looks at his nails and then back at you. “I just think it’s a little selfish of you to be… indulging yourself with so little regard for other people’s feelings.”

“Is it?” You say, slowly, and his lips quirk up in response. “Or is it a ‘little selfish’ to interrupt someone during the only time they’ve had to themselves in days. Especially when that person in question has already given up every other opportunity to bathe in the hot spring for you.”

“Yes, yes, that was very generous of you darling, but try to look at it from my perspective. You generate your own heat, but what about me? Do you know what it feels like to spend night after night in this frozen and miserable, knowing that there’s something warm and wet that I could sink myself into just meters away?”

His voice is innocent, but as his eyes drop to where your skin disappears beneath the water, the smile he gives you is anything but. It's obvious he’s trying to use your physical response to him to manipulate you, because he's always trying to do that and you flush, desire flooding to your core just as he intends it. But you're not just flushing because of the obscene way he's looking at you. It's because that smile has reminded you of how he looked when he returned from the springs last night. All pink skin and delighted exuberance. He’d been light, playful, exhilarated... Happy. And you knew enough about his past to know that happiness wasn’t something he’d known much of in his long life.

“Why can't you just go and bother someone else for a change.” You grumble, but the delighted shine in his eyes shows you that he knows he's getting his way and you scowl at him. “Gods give me strength. Turn around.”

“Why?” he asks, mouth blooming into a full smile and you can’t help the extra little flip your stomach gives at the sight of it.

“Because I’m naked and I’m not getting out with you staring at me. Turn around.”

“Darling, I’m hurt. Are you really suggesting we can’t share? There’s more than enough room for two.” He pouts, eyes shining as he stares down at you, sparkling with mischief and butterflies flutter to life in your stomach at the suggestion. You know he’s only trying to get a rise out of you but damn it, if it isn’t working. "Besides, I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

You choke back a strangled laugh because it really wasn’t him you were worried about. The butterflies have gone into overdrive just from the suggestion, and you can feel the heat staining your cheeks a darker pink than the warmth of the hot spring. You stare up at him, eyes a little too wide, and he gives you a self-satisfied smile. You can see in his gaze that he expects you to balk. Expects you to surrender the hot spring and slink away with your pink cheeks and pounding heart.

Well fuck him.

You force a sweet smile, feeling a thrum of satisfaction at the slight widening of his eyes as instead of moving toward him you wade to the far edge and turn around. For a long moment there’s nothing and you wonder if he’s even still there.

“Well? Are you getting in or not?” You demand, proud that your voice is only a little shaky, and he lets out a laugh. You swallow, focusing on trying to keep your heart rate level as you hear the sound of rustling fabric and then the water ripples around you as he slips in behind you.

“You can look now, darling, I assure you I’m quite decent.”

You turn around and immediately regret not getting out when you had the chance.

There is nothing decent about the way he looks right now.

The moonlight floods the broad expanse of his naked chest, staining it an ethereal, shining white, and he looks like he was carved from marble. The steam from the water has already tightened the hair at the nape of his neck into little curls. He’s stark and beautiful in the silver moonlight, but it’s not even that, that’s most striking.

It’s his expression.

His eyes are closed, head resting against the grassy bank behind him and the little smile that plays at the edges of his lips is a million miles away from his usual shit-eating grin. It’s small and soft and decidedly content and you swallow. It’s the full force of the little smile you’d seen at camp. It’s true happiness, you realize and it makes your heart pound and ache in equal measure to acknowledge that you’ve never seen that particular smile before.

He shifts, lifting his arms from the water and resting them against the rocky edge of the pool, blinking up at you and that little smile dissolves into something darker. Water streams from his skin, running between the dips and crevices of his muscular biceps and you shrink into yourself a little, sinking into the water until just your chin hovers above it. There’s nothing you can do about your heart now, it’s pounding against your ribs like it wants to escape from your chest and his crimson eyes are fixed on you as you try your best to keep yourself in check.

“Happy now?” you ask, and though your voice is a little breathy you feel like the fact that you’ve even gotten the words out is a feat of heroic proportions.

“Very.” He replies closing his eyes, and you can’t help but smile at that. He looks more content than you’ve ever seen him and that thought triggers a reaction in you that’s so strong that you suddenly realize that you can’t stay here. He doesn’t deserve to be ogled like this, when he’s just trying to relax. From the little snippets he’s given you from his past he’s had enough of that to last several lifetimes.

You clear your throat and he opens his eyes again, one eyebrow raised questioningly you swallow, gesturing at him to swap places with you. He sits up at that, a surprised smile on his lips and you shake your head, not wanting him to get the wrong idea about your intentions.

“I’m going to leave you to it.” You say, your words only catching a little in your throat as he cocks his head to the side, looking at you thoughtfully.

“Leave me to what, exactly?” He asks, voice low and teasing, and heat rises beneath your cheeks as steam curls up in silvery tendrils around his chest.

“This. Warming up.” You manage, trying not to look at him as you edge your way around the to the other side of the spring, nearer to the grassy knoll, but you really need him to move out of the way if you want to make a graceful exit. “I’ll see you back at camp.”

“I can think of better ways to warm up.” He says, voice a little too innocent, and your gaze flicks to him before you can stop yourself. His eyes are fixed on you and the look in them is dark and predatory and you falter, heart in your throat. You’ve seen that look before, and you swallow as his gaze slips to your neck, the hunger in it apparent.

“I-I-“ you start, but your words die in your throat. The way he’s looking at you has melted your insides into a puddle of lust and your really, really need to get yourself under control. You take a breath. Blood. He means blood. You try to distract your pounding heart by thinking through the implications of what he’s asking. You’re no cleric, but surely bloodletting in hot water wasn’t the best of ideas... “Is it safe?”

He frowns at that, cocking his head to the side as if trying to work out your meaning and you swallow and touch your neck.

“Is it safe to feed in the water?” You say, again. He freezes for a second, and then some unreadable expression passes over his face before he quickly looks away. If you didn’t know him better, you’d have said it was disappointment.

“Of course.” He says, seemingly to himself, and when he looks up the expression has been swallowed up by his usual confidence. “Don’t worry, my sweet. I’ll take very good care of you.”

He holds out his hand and you bite your lip, hesitating for a moment. It’s not that you don’t trust him. If he says it’s safe you believe him, but you’re just suddenly very aware of your lack of clothes. You shift uncertainly, edging a tiny bit closer to him and a slow smile spread over his lips.

“I think you’ll find you need to be a little closer than that.” He says in a voice that spreads beneath your skin like treacle, and for the second time in one night you regret not leaving when you had the chance.

You shiver despite the heat as you place your hand in his and he wraps his pale fingers around yours, tugging you gently towards him. For one panicked second you think he's going to pull you onto his lap, but he stops when you're a few inches apart. You put your free hand on the grassy bank to steady yourself as he lifts your hand to his mouth, rotating it so that the soft skin of your wrist presses gently against his lips. He's fed from you before but, other than the very first time when he almost lost himself, he’s been almost clinical in his approach. Careful to only touch as much as he needs to.

This is not that.

You watch, dumbstruck, as his pink tongue slips out from between his lips to swipe a cool stripe across the overheated plane of your wrist. Your breath catches, a small hitch at the back of your throat, but he catches it and drowning crimson orbs flick up to meet your startled gaze. He does it again, staring at you darkly from beneath his eyelashes and licks another tortuously slow line across your aching skin.

You try not to, but you can't help but gasp, hand gripping tightly into the grass, and his pupils dilate with bloodlust as his fingers tighten against your skin. Gods.

“A-Astarion.” Your voice is breathy and tight, barely audible and you feel almost drunk from just this small amount of contact. He closes his eyes at the sound, a pained expression passing over his face as a shudder runs through his body, and then, before you can say anything else, his fangs sink into your wrist.

[thingsmaygetalittlecrazy]

So I am veery late to this fandom, whelp.

Mostly here to love on y'all more active/dedicated creators 🫶 you are all so talented and kind.

My life is (happy) chaos right now, but I got so deep into reading fic's, I just had no choice but to seek out community around my HL brain rot. Lol. So I am here. This is my first offering lol

Please accept my humble contributions of art.

Disclaimer: I have no clue how to create digital art, so let's just ignore all my errors/my lazy decisions to leave less detail hehe I drew this on my phone with the inspiration from @myokk ! 😍 You're such an angel.

I think I'll figure out Seb's hair one day.....😵‍💫

[dragonsfictavern]

In The Wind 

Astarion Ancunin X Reader

a/n: This came to mind specifically because of the scene in 2005 Pride and Prejudice where Bingley is trailing after Jane and touching the ribbon on her dress. So keep that in mind bc it haunts me in the best way

summary: After your tunic gets torn in battle, you and Astarion head to a shop to get materials to get it fixed. Astarion, trapped in thoughts surrounding you, decides to do something to properly show his appreciation

word count: 2k

The day was cool, the breeze blowing through the opened door of the fabric store you and Astarion currently walked through. The others were Gods knew where but Astarion didn’t particularly care where they were. His thoughts were on you. More and more he found that his thoughts always came back to you.

Baldur’s Gate was loud. It has always been loud. Something Astarion remembered specifically. But he found the sound drained out as he stared down at a beautiful ribbon. At first he couldn’t exactly say what about it had caught his attention. What kept it. But upon reflection he noted how it reminded him of your eyes.

Cursing himself under his breath, Astarion threw down the ribbon and glanced away from the pile of fabrics. But just as his eyes lifted from the box, they fell right onto you. You who stood right in the sunlight, whose hair flowed through the wind that passed through the store.

He couldn’t look away from you, once again not really believing that you somehow cared about him. You were so… good. It was honestly almost nauseating. But it was also something he admired about you. It made him want to be better. To be better than what he was before. Most importantly for him. But he couldn’t deny he also wanted to be better for you. To be someone you could be proud to love.

Astarion walked around one of the makeshift aisles of the store. You were busy as you looked over some of the patches of fabric while Astarion was busy as he watched you. He didn’t blame you for not having noticed his stare. You were on a mission after all. Your tunic had been badly torn in your party’s last battle. The tear could easily be mended by you and the enchantments on it could be replaced by Gale if he was going to actually be helpful today.

But Astarion knew you weren’t the most gifted tailor. At least, not better than him. He could do a fine job, he’d been doing it with his own clothing for longer than he’d care to admit. A rare warmth spread through his chest as the idea came to him. When you least expected it, he’d take the fabric from you and fix your tunic before you even noticed it would be missing.

Something in him told him he just had to do this. To show you he cared, at least enough to do something as little at this… and to show you that you weren’t making a mistake as you stuck by him. Astarion closed his eyes as he shook out those unwanted thoughts. Not wanting to think about any of that or what it meant.

When Astarion opened his eyes he’s met with you walking away, a long piece of fabric hanging from your belt. A brief shot of panic ran through Astarion as you walked away, only deeper into the store to pay for fabric. Yet that didn’t shake away the fear. Astarion cleared his throat in order to push down the panic and put it with the rest of his emotions he was ignoring before he headed after you.

He doesn’t say anything, knowing he doesn’t need to. He knows you know he’s there. The wind blew through the store once again and your scent wafted straight into Astarion’s nose. He closed his eyes as he continued to follow you. He relished in the way you smelled. Focused and memorized it, knowing he could pick it out of an entire crowd of people. Aware of the fact that he could find you in an instant if needed. But still he preferred to remain close. Have you stay in his sights.

As he opened his eyes and looked back upon you, his eyes moved down your form. Not stopping until they halt at the fabric on your belt. He hand reached out and lightly fiddled with the end of it that flowed in the air after you. Neither of you have stopped walking, Astarion not thinking as he walked behind you. His attention completely focused on the fabric and the way it hung off of you. On how beautiful it would look on you.

He then noted how soft the fabric was. How easy or difficult it could possibly be to work with. A plan already had formed in his head at how he’d stitch it into your tunic. It would be flawless, just as all his other work had been prior. Just as his thoughts shifted into imagining your reaction, your voice broke him out of it.

“Are you trying to pickpocket me?” You ask softly, not having bothered to check back and glance at him. Astarion blinked back, hand still gripped onto the fabric, though his eyes found their way to the back of your head. Before he realized what he’s done, an easy grin was on his face and a joke had slipped from his lips.

“You, my darling? Never,” Astarion jested, both of them keenly aware of the fact. He gave a little tug on the fabric for good measure and was rewarded with the sweet melody of your laugh. You shook your head as you both turned a corner, seemingly in search of an attendant.

“Oh, don’t give me that. No one is safe,” you teased right back but for some reason Astarion felt his grin drop a little. His brows furrowed as he quickly thought over your response. The word ‘safe’ having run repeatedly in his ear. He wanted you to feel safe. With him. He wanted you to know that you were safe from him. Whatever that meant he didn’t exactly know but it was what he felt. From what he could pin point.

He debated even telling you all this. To have allowed himself to randomly unleash his soul to you in the middle of a random shop in a city that held so many memories for him. But then he started to think about what you’d say in response. How you would react. Emotion begun to rise within him at the idea of admitting any of that to do. So instead he simply continued the light and fun banter.

“Well now I suppose I must for fear that I have something to prove.” Astarion gave another tug to the fabric, though this time a little bit lighter in order to have kept up the playful atmosphere. As your laughter echoed throughout the store due to his actions, all those pesky emotions subsided.

You lightheartedly pranced forward a few steps in a weak attempt to get your fabric out of his reach but Astarion followed right on your tail. Both to stop you from getting away and to stop any other displaced emotions from coming forth from your distance.

“Or you could simply not steal my fabric from my person,” you responded with laughter still in your tone. Astarion tsked as he shook his head at you. He picked up his pace, walking closer to you now. He adjusted his grip on the fabric, getting ready for his next move.

“No, darling, I’m afraid that doesn’t seem to be an option,” he said smoothly before he harshly tugged on the fabric for the third time. It slipped from your belt with ease and curled right around Astarion’s hand. You immediately felt it and a gasp ripped from your throat.

You turned around, finally facing Astarion since you both walked in here. You looked breathtaking. Astarion could marvel at your beauty for hours. At times he’d almost swear it’s greater than his own. Almost. But he especially thought your beauty shined most spectacularly in the sun, and it had hit you just right in this moment.

“Ah, Astarion! Why must you do this?” You asked with a light grin on your face. Astarion mirrored it, holding the piece of fabric slightly above his head as he knew you wouldn’t be able to reach it. That didn’t stop you from trying as you stepped up to him to try and reach for it. Your body pressed against his and instead of feeling like he needed to back away, not wanting to be touched, Astarion found himself leaning into you.

“I believe you practically asked me to do this, love. Begged me to almost as much as you beg for my attention,” he boasted, his expression smug as you continued to try and grab at the fabric. He’d lower it briefly just as you’d reached for it but then quickly bring it back up. You laughed again, shaking your head at him. Astarion didn’t realize until that moment that he had been counting the number of times he had made you laugh. The revelation sent a tremor through his chest that he’d rather just ignore.

“My dear Astarion, I think that tadpole in your mind has finally driven you to insanity,” you said with a light scoff. Astarion’s face dropped into a deadpan at that, though he couldn’t help the quirk of his lips still present.

“Dear me, how humorous you are, darling,” he responded back flatly, though a teasing note was still clear through his tone. His attention zeroed in on you once again as you snickered back at him. Astarion fell deeper into his focus, his ears ringing till he felt a deep pounding surrounding him. He didn’t realize before it was too late that he had focused on your heartbeat. It sounded light. Happy. Because of him.

While he remained distracted, his body sagged in place, not paying attention to his momentary lack of posture. You don’t hesitate to use that to your advantage as with it he had lowered his arm that held the fabric. You reached up, your arm having stretched as far as it could go before you swiped up the fabric right from his grip. A noise of victory left your lips and it effectively alerted Astarion. He blinked back, breaking out of his thoughts. It only took a couple of seconds for him to realize he didn’t have the fabric anymore. He met your smug look with a bit of disbelief as his eyes connected back to yours.

“I try,” you replied playfully to his previous comment as you winked at him. Astarion stood there frozen for a moment before he added another mental tally as you laughed once more. You strode off to barter with the owner as Astarion stood off to the side while he waited for you.

He couldn’t understand how easy this all was for you. How open with yourself you had always been. Especially toward him. He… didn’t know how to do stuff like that. To let you in so easily. But stitching this for you, even without your initial knowledge, that he could do. It was the only way he knew how to express what you meant to him. It was all he was ready to do. For now anyway.

So as you walked past him after you purchased the fabric, Astarion stayed particularly close. As you both entered the hustle and bustle of Baldur’s Gate’s streets, there were a lot of things around you both that served as proper distraction. Astarion struck when the time was right, just as another vendor started a loud argument with a customer, you looked over and that’s when Astarion reached out and slipped the fabric off of you with the lightest touch he could have managed.

He gazed down at it with a smile on his face and a sense of victory in his heart, his thumb brushed over it lightly as he reminded himself of its softness. But when you started to turn your head back to him, his eyes jerked up and the fabric disappeared within the confines of his inventory. You snorted as ruckus that continued off to the side and as you looked at him, Astarion plastered on another one of his signature grins.

It was only after you chuckled at him and looked back forward that Astarion found his grin had softened. He looked toward the streets just as you had as he counted down the minutes till you both got back to camp and he could get started. He wondered if you’d like it and what you’d say when you found out. Most of all though he wondered if you’d know what it meant. If you’d see through him as you always seemed to. Strangely, this time around he kind of liked that thought.

[brabblesblog]

Read everything on AO3.

My socials and fanart gallery: Carrd

AO3

A series revolving around the life of one Vampire Ascendant and his consort. The road to hell is paved with good intentions; the road to heaven is paved with bullshit and busy work. Astarion and Ban navigate the world post-ascension. The journey to healing is never linear, and this series chronicles moments in their life eternal. My ascendant Astarion fics are a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. The series includes full length fics and oneshots.

Tumblr | AO3

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A reimagining of my tav (Ban) and Astarion's relationship, set amidst a bleak futuristic landscape inspired by Cyberpunk 2077 and Westworld.

A lonely heiress to a modest fortune spends most of it on the perfect "companion" - Astarion, a custom bot created to her specifications. Just how much of him is real - and how much of it is her deluding herself? The questions of what makes us real, and what constitutes the human condition and the human soul, are issues she has to tackle along the way.

Tumblr | AO3

Oneshots that exist within the "If I ascend" series.

Astarion (Spawn/Pre-Cazador Mission) x Tav

Older works, written in second person.

Massive, super big kissy thank you to @bhaalism for the headers and dividers!

Cover art by Leira Art

Banner art by Emy San Arts

[lovelybluebirdie]

The pale chef

Astarion x f!Reader

Summary: Astarion attempts to cook for you, but things don’t go as planned.

Word Count: 1,7k

A/N: I got the idea that Astarion naturally struggles with preparing food, so I had to write some fluff about it! Hope you enjoy :)

[ AO3 ]

Astarion stirred the pot in concentration, holding a wooden spoon in his hand and wondering what exactly he was doing here. 

This whole endeavour resulted from your constant need to be nice to him, he thought with a sigh – apparently it made him want to be nice as well. 

It started the other day when you mentioned how you would kill for a mushroom soup. At first he thought nothing of it, but for some reason the idea stuck to his head, so Astarion decided to roam the forest and gather some mushrooms. Unfortunately it turned out rather quickly that he lacked essential knowledge on the matter, so he had to consult Gale of all people. 

Putting his pride aside, he asked through gritted teeth which ones were edible and which to avoid, since he had no desire to poison you by accident. Due to Gale being Gale, the wizard not only lectured him on different kinds of fungi, he had also given a detailed instruction on the soup’s recipe.

Astarion chuckled at the absurdity of the scene. He had never thought that one day he'd voluntarily prepare food for another person – and yet he found himself bending over the hearth and mixing different ingredients, hoping for the best.

He even wore an apron borrowed from said wizard, therefore he was more than glad that his companions had left for a supply run, while you were waiting in your shared tent so he could attempt this little surprise in solitude.

Gale's voice echoed in his mind: Chop the mushrooms, add them to the broth, stir until thickened, season with salt and pepper and sprinkle a few herbs on top – that’s it! Absolutely foolproof, even for someone who prefers to appease their hunger solely with blood.

The mushrooms had been the easiest part. His dexterous fingers cut them into perfectly bite-sized pieces, but Astarion bloody forgot how long the meal should rest on the fire.

Suddenly a burning smell lingered in the air, and he sensed in horror that the soup was boiling over.

“Fuck!” He grabbed the pot with haste and put it away from the heat.

Well, he thought as he gazed at the bubbling mass, that probably meant it was done.

With utmost care not to spill more of his precious loot, he grabbed a ladle and filled a large portion for you. If he already took the effort for such a novelty, you should at least get your belly full.

Astarion slipped out of the apron and made his way back to you. He assumed you were already growing impatient, as this entire affair had consumed far more time than he had anticipated.

“Hello, darling,” he purred when entering your tent, skilfully balancing the bowl in his hand. 

“Finally! I thought you'd kept me waiting all night – wait, what's that?” You put the book you were reading aside and eyed the dish in his hands.

“I’m not quite sure myself, but according to Gale's recipe it should resemble a mushroom soup.”

Your eyes lit up. “Hold on – you prepared this for me? You know that’s my favourite, right?”

“I suppose I do.” Astarion offered you the soup with a coy smile. “Although you should remember that I’m not particularly versed in the culinary arts, so it might be best to treat this with caution.”

You took the bowl from his slender fingers. “Hah, let me be the judge of that! Besides, it was about damn time you returned the favour of feeding me for once, hm?”

“I couldn’t try it myself for obvious reasons, but I doubt that this could compete with your delicious blood,” Astarion replied jokingly and sat next to you, curiously watching as you sniffed the soup.

“Smells not bad…” you affirmed while blowing on the steaming broth resting on your spoon. “Now comes the delicate part – the taste test.”

The spoon disappeared in your mouth, and suddenly your face twisted into a grimace. You swallowed hard, a cough forcing its way through your pressed lips.

Astarion couldn’t help but snort over your clumsy attempt to keep the soup inside. “So – I sense I failed you miserably?”

“What? No – I mean, it’s not… terrible,” you stuttered. “It’s… Well – did you let it burn by chance?”

“Maybe.” He dragged out the syllables dramatically and shrugged. “Be honest, my dead heart surely can take it – shall we save this mess for Scratch and the owlbear?”

“Of course not!” you exclaimed with widened eyes. “I’m not hesitant to share, but not something you specially made for me. Also, some things tend to get better once you get used to the flavour, you know.” 

Before Astarion could intervene, you put another spoon to your mouth and eagerly gulped it down, followed by a second and a third. 

“There’s certainly room for improvement,” you eventually muttered with full cheeks, “but it’s not that bad.”

“I’m afraid you’re a poor liar, my love.” Astarion gently grasped your wrist to prevent you from taking another mouthful. “So please let me stop you right there, before you seriously upset your gut. I’m sure we can get you something more nutritious for the evening.” Then he took the spoon from your hand and put the bowl aside.

“If you insist,” you said with fondness in your eyes while wiping soup from the corner of your mouth. “But honestly – thank you, Astarion. This was… unexpectedly sweet.”

Heat rose to his ears as he rested his hand on your stomach, starting to draw circles. “Well, let's just hope my failed culinary attempt won't kill you tonight.”

“I guess in that case Lae’zel would avenge me, so you’d better start preparing yourself.”

“Mh… You think she’d stake me?” Astarion questioned and continued to caress your belly.

“Who knows what her creativity will lead to in the end. Knowing Lae’zel, she’d probably come up with something worse,” you pondered while tapping your chin. “But I guess you wouldn't let your preferred blood supply die that easily after all, would you?”

“Oh, don't sell yourself so short,” Astarion countered in feigned bewilderment. “You know that you mean way more to me than that.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, you also keep me warm at night, sparing me the coin for a thicker blanket. You know how expensive those things can get.”

You playfully raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with his response. “And if you had to give a genuine answer this time?”

Astarion clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “I thought my sentiments were rather obvious by now.”

“And yet I don't seem to tire of hearing your appreciation for me,” you teased.

“Getting greedy now, aren’t we? Fine, you're ... quite decent. Despite your constant need to do something heroic, of course.”

You poked his shoulder and turned away with an exaggerated pout.

Astarion chuckled, before he cleared his throat. “Alright – perhaps you’re more than that.” 

He drew you in his arms and breathed against your cheek. “One might also say you're the first person I truly came to care about. Deeply.”

Your lips brushed over his contours, searching for his own until you kissed him tenderly. “See? Wasn’t that hard, was it?”

Astarion rested a peck on your forehead and embraced you closer, a pleasant flutter spreading in his chest. 

You were right, he thought as his lips curled into an affectionate smile – with you, everything seemed surprisingly easy these days.

*

The next morning Astarion woke to a rumbling. He opened his eyes and could only make out your silhouette as you hastily rushed outside, leaving the flap of your tent wide open.

“Love, are you alright?” he asked in concern and immediately got up to follow you.

“Don't worry, I’m fine,” you huffed under your breath.

Astarion knelt beside you in the grass and frowned. “Are you sure?”

“I said… it’s alright…” You gagged between your words. “But perhaps the soup… Ugh–”

“Don’t be stubborn,” Astarion said softly, when he noticed that you were still wearing his shirt from the other night. “And for the love of the gods – please be careful not to stain my clothes.”

“That's what you’re most concerned about right now?”

“No, of course not! But – That’s my favourite,” Astarion mumbled while he reached for your hair, smoothing it back over your shoulders.

“FANGS, what did you do to her?!” Karlach’s voice erupted like a thunderstorm from the other side of the camp as she spotted the two of you.

“Nothing – I only prepared some soup for her last night!”

“Shadowheart! Hurry up, we need you – Astarion poisoned our leader!” Karlach was already marching in the cleric's direction.

“What – no!” You both spoke almost simultaneously, causing you to laugh.

“I seem to have a sensible stomach,” you managed to add before retching again.

Astarion turned serious as he rested his hand on your back. “I'm terribly sorry, my love. That wasn’t meant to happen at all.”

You offered a weak smirk. “I know, and I appreciate the thought. Besides, that means your next dish can only improve.”

Astarion gazed at you in disbelief. “You’d consider letting me cook again after this entire debacle? Those mushrooms must have gone to your beautiful head.”

“Well, on second thought–” You couldn't finish your sentence as your stomach’s content finally emptied onto the grass.

Astarion felt a twist at his ribcage seeing you like this. “We’d better make sure I haven’t actually poisoned you, shall we? – SHADOWHEART! Get yourself over here – now!” 

“I'M ON MY WAY!” Shadowheart shouted from afar.

“I think the worst is already over–” you began to explain, when another voice cut you off.

“Tsk’va! What is going on?” Lae’zel poked her head from her tent, obviously annoyed by the sudden tumult.

“Please, don’t let her stake me,” Astarion whispered and continued to stroke your back.

“Be glad that I love you, otherwise I’d probably let her get away with it this time,” you replied mischievously.

Astarion’s chest filled with warmth as he grasped for your hand. “My sweet, I truly am.” Then he bowed his head to place a kiss on your hair. “And I love you too. So much in fact, that I might consider forgiving you for ruining my shirt.”

You squeezed his hand and grinned. “Prick.”

Astarion returned your grin before his expression turned soft. “But honestly, I promise I’ll make this up to you.”

Next time he would surprise you with something less nauseating, he thought as his fingers entwined with yours – a safe choice like bringing another stray to your camp, or a nice perfume perhaps.

Masterlist

[sloanesallow]

He glances at Sloane again and it’s so easy for him to imagine living his life like this every day. Just…peeling potatoes in an old family house with the woman he loves by his side.   Sloane finally notices the way he’s staring at her and a soft blush dusts her cheeks the same time a tiny grin pulls at her lips. She quietly laughs. “What?”   Sebastian’s heart leaps like it’s the first time he’s seeing her smile all over again. The thought that crosses his mind isn’t a new one, but certainly something he hasn’t voiced out loud before.   Until now.   “I’m going to marry you one day.”  

Had the chance to commission the lovely @vienguinn and just look at these two in all their domestic bliss, just being cutie patooties (potatoes) thank you so much!!!! 💛💛💛✨✨✨

[morelikeravenbore]

Love.

Deep in the catacombs beneath Feldcroft, blazing in the heat of battle, fighting off Inferi and fire, grappling with life and death, Sebastian thought about love as he forced his uncle back with a well-aimed blasting spell.

In that singular moment, Sebastian's choice was simple: Anne or Solomon, love or hatred.

Sebastian chose love — he always did.

'I won't let her suffer!'

Love bolstered his hot fury as the Inferi stumbled and Solomon's counter-spell missed its mark; love warmed his cold fear as his wand — aspen wood and dragon heartstring — seared hot in his palm, as eager to attack as the lethal creature its core had been taken from; love was the driving force as the relic whispered in his ear: Do it. You know the spell. He deserves it.

Nobody loved like Sebastian loved.

Across the room, Solomon seemed to realise his fate at the same moment Sebastian decided it, and when the rushing green light hit him squarely in the chest, and the life fizzled from his eyes, and his face went wonderfully slack, Sebastian smiled.

Nobody loved like Sebastian loved.

Nobody.

— How to Make a Villain, chapter twenty-five. [wattpad | ao3]

Warning: this chapter contains the biggest twist in the entire book so don't read ahead if you don't want to spoil yourself!

[faustinio27]

BONNIE HUTCHINSON - Character profile (HL OC)

GENERAL

Full name: Bonifacia Wilhelmina Hutchinson

Nicknames: Bonnie, Bonnie Minnie

Age: 15 (5th year)

Gender: Female

House: Hufflepuff

MBTI: ISFJ (Defender)

Blood status: Pure-blood

Social status: Aristocrat

Wand: Unicorn heart

Patronus: Bat : "The bat Patronus is representative of rebirth, honesty, and empathy. Though a bat commonly represents fear, the casters of this Patronus understand that facing your fears is what helps you grow as a person."

Animagus: Swallowtail butterfly (non-registered)

Boggart: Her disappointed mother

Amortentia: Vanilla, petrichor, gardenia

Favorite class: Herbology

Favorite teacher: Professor Garlick

Least favorite teacher: Professor Howin

APPAREANCE

Old Disney princess energy

Hair: Type 4a, black

Eyes: Droopy, black

Skin tone: Deep dark

Height: 1m72 (5'6)

Distinguishing features: Teeth gap, mole under her right eye, thick eyebrows

Clothing style: Classy, Princess, Cottagecore aesthetic

Elegant and always clean-cut. She doesn't wear the robe of her house, just the puffy shirt and long black skirt, with the characteristic yellow Hufflepuff ribbon. With the uniform, she always has a pair of earrings that can vary, and her frizzy hair is tied back with a pastel-colored ribbon. She wears almost nothing but dresses or skirts. Outside school, she wears luxurious outfits. Although she likes to dress in pastel colors, most often yellow, green and white, she sometimes wears gloomy black and purple outfits, the colors of her family. She loves to wear clothes with plant, flower or butterfly motifs, and has a soft spot for ribbons. She has a lot of body hair and shaves regularly.

PERSONALITY

Bonnie is a very gentle and sweet person, like a calm sun. She lights up the surroundings with her smile and optimism. Pacific by nature, she always chooses kindness and belief in others, which can make her seem naive. But she remains strong for her ability to choose peace when she has the capacity to hurt. Very popular for her beauty and gentleness, everyone has a crush on her. She's very sociable and is friends with everyone, but has few close friends. Only they know about her teasing side, which she hides, because it tends to bewilder others. You'll never see her get angry, unless she catches you mistreating plants or other harmless creatures. Coming from a good family, she's well-bred, polite and courteous. She can also be "appreciated" for her beauty and status alone, and faces many hyporcrites.

Bonnie is passionate about herbology, and confident in her abilities. Plants are her whole life, and she cherishes them as if they were her own children. She doesn't like when people see them only as tools, whereas she treats them as living beings. Many people think she's only good at looking after flowers and other pretty but useless plants, but what she prefers are dangerous and venomous ones, which tend to surprise people when they find out. Moreover, she has an attraction for all things normally repulsive and frightening: spiders, Sombrals, trolls, toads… Which makes her open-minded and not judge people by their appearance. But she tends to hide it, so as not to be linked to her family's dangerousness and to be feared. It's hard to scare her, as she keeps her composure, and she may appear reckless in dangerous situations. The Hufflepuff spends most of her time in the school greenhouse taking care of her plants, or can be found in the forest.

We might think that Bonnie lacks of ambition, because she doesn’t aspire to much. If she has to take over the family business and become a ruthless businesswoman, she dreams of a simple life, where she would live with her wife and children, and would take care of her plants in a small cottage. She has resigned herself to such a life and blindly follows the orders of her family, but still hopes to find the strength to break free from them. A certain Slytherin could help her…

Traits: kind, patient, romantic, calm, sociable, sensible, empathic, peaceful, naive, passive, idealist but tend to be fatalistic

Likes: plants (Tentacula venenosa are her favorite), tea parties, picnic, sweet fruits, wake up with the sun, Sombrals, spiders

Dislikes: gossip, close-mind and hateful people, dark arts, being seen as a fragile and defendless things

Good at: herbology, potions, singing, dancing, playing a harp

Bad at: defending herself, Quidditch, not being pretty

Hobbies: taking care of her plants, flying with Imelda, walk in the wild

Fears: losing Imelda, disappointing her parents, fire

RELATIONSHIP

Partner:

Imelda Reyes: The two students didn't get along at first. Imelda saw Bonnie as a silly girl, living only in her haughty little artistocrat world, and Bonnie saw her as cruel and contemptuous for her own pleasure. They spoke little to each other, had no friends in common, no shared passions, and tolerated each other for classes. Still, Imelda was stung in her ego that the Hufflepuff who liked everyone didn't like her, and Bonnie was vexed that she didn't reciprocate the kindness she showed. And so the years went by, Bonnie ignoring her and Imelda sparring, until Imelda came to her with a request for a potion to help her improve her Quidditch performance. From there, an exchange of favors between the two teenagers led to them spending more time together, learning more about each other, and growing fonder of each other. Until they fell in love.

Bonnie is the calm sunshine and Imelda the grumpy storm. Despite appearances, Bonnie loves to tease her girlfriend by flirting with her without warning, even though she knows it's unladylike. They support each other in their respective passions, even if they know nothing about them. Imelda appreciates her gentleness and optimism, while Bonnie appreciates her honesty, bravery and admires most of all her self-confidence. Both have learned to see beyond appearances: Imelda learns that kindness is an act of courage and use her strong personality to help her girlfriend, and Bonnie learns to stand up for herself and not let others do it to her while keeping her convictions. Bonnie confided to Imelda her secret of being an animagus, encouraged by the latter to show her true strength. Imelda gives her the confidence to assume who she is. The Slytherin loves her for who she is, not for how rich she is or what she's asked to be.

Fiancee:

Ominis Gaunt: Ominis and Bonnie were engaged as children. The Huntchinsons want to mingle with the Gaunts to rise socially, and because it's an honor to link up with such a powerful and noble family. Especially because of their shared pure-blood ideology and hatred for the Muggles. Fortunately, the two children get along well and have become friends, and Bonnie's mother is counting on this alliance to rebuild her daughter's reputation. The children support each other through the difficult times caused by the toxicity of their respective families.

Now teenagers, the two don't talk about their union at school, which no one (except Sebastian) knows about. Although friends, they suspect that neither is in love. But they don't think they can escape an arranged marriage, and prefer to get married with a friend, rather than separate and risk having to marry someone they don't like. Until Bonnie fell in love with Imelda. Ominis found out, and encouraged her to follow her heart and defy her family, giving him the courage to do the same. They remained on good terms for the rest of their lives.

Friends:

Adelaide Oakes: One of her roomates. They hit it off right away, with their calm, warm personalities. It was when Bonnie saw Adelaide persisting in her studies and her hobbies that she realized the gap in wealth that separated them: Bonnie's future was assured (if she decided to follow the path set out for her), but her friend had to fight to be able to have a decent life. Nevertheless, there's no jealousy between the girls, and they enjoy gardening together.

Samantha Dale: She and Bonnie got on well together, thanks to their passion for botany and their qualifications for potions. Samantha is a great talker when they're together, and likes to discuss anything and everything - classes, boys, fashion, etc.- when it's not about herbology. Bonnie wishes her friend were a Hufflepuff so they could spend even more time with together. They regularly form a trio with Adelaide around their passion for plants, and are known to be Professor Garlick's favorite students.

Natsai Onai: Bonnie is the first student that Natsai went to see when she arrived at Hogwarts, thinking she was also an African student. Although this was not the case, they became friends and she helped him quickly integrate into school and Scottish society. In return, Bonnie often asks her to tell stories about her home country, where she has lost its customs. Natsai tells her everything with pleasure, and wants to help her learn their language, as well as handle magic without a wand. Bonnie admires her bravery and determination, which she lacks of. She would like to be able to tell her that she is an animagus to fly with her, but hasn't told her. Bonnie is worried that some members of her family are taking a little too close interest in Natsai, being a pure-blood witch with her father killed from a muggle hunter, and to corrupt her with their anti-Muggles ideas.

Leander Prewett: Like her other friends, Bonnie and Leander have bonded over their shared passion for botany. He enjoys her company, not least because she's not stingy with compliments, and he finds himself invigorated after spending time with her. He also has a crush on the Hufflepuff that everyone seems to see except her (or she deliberately ignores him, because it's not mutual). Even if Bonnie is often asked why a girl as popular as she is spending time with such a loser, she simply replies that she enjoys his company, which is true. She doesn't regard him as a nobody nor with pity and defends his honor with composure, resenting anyone putting down her friend, even more if it's supposed to "compliment" her.

Family:

Mother Wilhelmina (animagus: black widow): Wilhelmina is a cold woman who could easily be nicknamed "Lady of Steel". She never smiles, and keeps her family under her thumb. Nothing is more important to her than the honor of the Hutchinsons and keeping her daughter in line with tradition. Wilhelmina has often been envied by those around her, especially her younger brother Augustus who envies her position as heiress, and who has passed this resentment to his sons. When Bonnie was born, she decided to not have another child, to avoid the same jealousy as her brother. But this puts even more pressure on Bonnie to live up to her expectations, as she is the only direct descendant. Wilhelmina loves her deeply as a child, especially as she had difficulty getting pregnant, and wants to keep her away from the toxicity of her relatives. Nevertheless, she fears her daughter's recklessness and raises her firmly to force her to toughen up. She's stingy with her compliments, but reminds her that she's doing all this because she loves her, and to protect her from their family of vultures. Unfortunately, Bonnie seems to prefer empathy to severity.

Their relationship has worsened with each passing year, first after the discovery of her daughter's butterfly animagus, then her entry into the Hufflepuff house, which has brought her ridicule among her own kind. Seeing that the situation is not improving, and that the whole family is beginning to think that her daughter is not fit to lead them and does not deserve her status as heiress, Wilhelmina is torn between her duty as family leader and her love for her daughter. Unfortunately, it's the former that takes precedence over the latter, and their relationship deteriorates to the point of toxicity.

Bonnie loves her mother deeply but is dependent on her and her opinion, finds it hard to assert herself and is afraid of disappointing her more than anything else in the world. She'd like to find a situation where she can live the life she wants, without it causing a rift between them. She would later talk about her relationship with Imelda, naively hoping that her mother would accept her daughter's pure love. All she received was anger and disappointment. Two main problems: Imelda is half-blood with a pure-blood mother and a muggle-blood father, and she couldn't have biological children with her (not to mention that the Reyes were neither wealthy nor influential). Wilhelmina tried to work out an arrangement, such as letting Bonnie take Imelda as her lover as long as she married Ominis, but her daughter remained adamant about a love marriage, causing an even greater rift between the two.

Father Lawrence: Bonnie doesn't have much of a relationship with her father. While her mother looks after their manor house and family business in the surrounding area, her father is busy expanding their market to Scotland and even the world, leaving them little time to see each other. Lawrence is a quiet, serious man, as is Wilhelmina. Both know that their marriage is about business, not love, and that he was chosen because of his pure-blood status, his disdain for the Muggles, and his business acumen. It was his wife who decided to take charge of their daughter's education, and he relies entirely on her. He hopes that Bonne will follow the path that seems so clear to her.

Uncle Augustus (animagus: onychocerus beetle): Augustus is Wilhelmina's youngest and first brother. He's charming and charismatic, serious and implacable. Augustus has always been jealous of his older sister, believing himself to be better than her in every way, and more capable of leading their family to better days. He thinks it's unfair that she should be the heiress only because she's the eldest, whereas he thinks he's more competent than her. He works with her in their family business despite their tensions. He only wants one thing: to see his sister and daughter fall so he can take over the family business and make his sons the heirs of the Hutchinsons.

Aunt Ahutiare: Ahutiare was a gentle, kind and cheerful Tahithian by nature. She had fallen head over heels in love with Augustus during their time together at Hogwarts, as he was a popular, wealthy, charming and gentlemanly student who promised her the world. Ahutiare had little confidence in herself, coming from a wealthy family of purebloods fresh to London, and that was exactly what interested her lover: a docile, submissive woman of pure blood like his own. They married soon after graduation, and she became pregnant not long after her husband insisted on having children as soon as possible. Little did she know that his sole motivation was to have heirs before his sister did. Year after year, the mask crumbled and Ahutiare caught a glimpse of the narcissistic pervert she had married. He took her children away from her and raised them with the help of a wet nurse. Ahutiare became a shadow of her former self, receiving no affection from her husband after giving birth, only luxurious jewels and fine clothes to show her like a trophy to his relatives. She blindly follows her husband and agrees with everything he does and says. She spends most of her time at home, and only goes out if he forces her to. Her zest for life died a long time ago.

Cousins Ambrose and Archibald (animagus: bullet ant / harvesting ant) : The Hutchinson twins take after their father, who taught them and instilled his values. They are two years Bonnie's senior, and will soon have completed their studies at Hogwarts, during which they have given their cousin a hard time. Despite being the oldest of their generation, they think it's unfair that Bonnie should be the heiress. To say they despise her would be an understatement. Ambrose and Archibald are brilliant, charismatic boys who are cold, ambitious and ruthless. They're very popular, especially among the Slytherins, who rally to their cause rather than to the Hutchinson heiress, not to mention the support of their own family. The twins are never without each other, but their friendship hangs by a thread, as they would be ready to kill each other to define who would take over the family. One of them seems to have a particular interest in Natsai…

Uncle Hugh (animagus: scolopendra millipede): Hugh is the youngest of his siblings. When he entered Hogwarts, he was to have been sent to Ravenclaw, but begged the Sorting Hat to send him to his family house, even though he didn't have the values. Being the youngest, he knew he'd never have a high position in the family and didn't seek it, fleeing the rivalry of his elders. Hugh is a coward, a man who prefers to run away from conflict to be safe and go with the flow. Nevertheless, he's an inquisitive scholar who thrives on science and books, although no one has ever had anything to do with his shyness. Lacking business acumen, he is relegated to the background of the family business, but has an equally important role: inventing new formulas for their potions and poisons.

Aunt Vera: Vera is the daughter of a bourgeois family who married Hugh for no other reason than to rise socially in the sphere of nobility. She loves him only for his status, and would have preferred to marry his older brother Augustus, whom she finds more charming, more ambitious, and closer to becoming heir to the Hutchinsons. Vera is eager for power, not to rule, but to take it easy and find a comfortable situation where she has nothing to do but flaunt her wealth and gossip.

Cousin Eugenia (animagus: giant silk glass caterpillar) : Eugenia was born a few months after Bonnie, and they're both in the same class. Eugenia is terribly envious of her older cousin: she envies her position, her talent for potions and herbology, her beauty… Although Eugenia has nothing to be ashamed of, she does her best to be noticed, but she lives in the shadow of her cousin, who is the heiress to their family. As a real pest, she doesn't hesitate to slander and gossip about Bonnie, finding comfort only in putting her down. She's shallow and hopes to find a good match, as her father is only the youngest of his siblings, so she knows she can't hope for a better position in their family.

Cousin Basil (animagus: bee) : Basil is an 8-year-old boy who loves his cousin Bonnie. He's not interested in his family's stories, and prefers to concoct a new prank to play on them. Energetic and mischievous, a future Slytherin with a big heart, he's tireless and loves to involve Bonnie in his games. His big sister Eugenia often chases him away because "she's too old for these pranks", and they spend their time bickering. Basil is the fresh air Bonnie needs in her toxic family, and she cherishes him with all her heart.

HUTCHINSON'S STORY

The Hutchinson crest. The apple for freedom, the castle for wealth, the sun for their superiority, and the scorpio for their ancestor's animagus.

The family's most distant recognized ancestor was called Ousmane. He was an African wizard who was captured and sold as a slave to a wealthy white master in Scotland in 1675, to work on a tobacco plantation. Like all slaves of the time, he was mistreated and lived in atrocious conditions, which marked him forever. He refused to use magic, terrified of being discovered as a wizard and killed. But as the years passed, his anger only increased, and he decided to devise a plan of escape. One night, he entered his master's home as a thick-tailed scorpion, his animagus, and stung him. His deadly venom killed him, and Ousmane took the opportunity to steal his fortune and escape before dawn. As a runaway black slave, he hurried to the Scottish wizarding world to seek refuge, unconcerned about the fate of the slaves left behind.

From that day on, he rebuilt his life. He decided to stay in Scotland and used his former master's fortune to live a comfortable life, raising himself to the rank of aristocrat. He specialized in poisons and venoms of all kinds, and was particularly appreciated by the dark wizards for this. By frequenting them, he came to share their anti-Muggles ideas, to whom he dedicated a hatred without name. He accused them all of being slavers, not only against the Blacks but also against the wizards they hunted and burned. He never returned to the Muggle world because he didn't belong there due to his skin color and magic, and his descendants would never mix with them or with wizards of Muggle or mixed blood. They'll all become Slytherins, and it's frowned upon to come from another Hogwarts house.

The Hutchinson family became known for being a refuge for Black wizards who wanted to settle in Scotland, but they had to submit to their conditions and ode of thought, such as muggle hatred. She is also known to free all the house elves she buys, due to her trauma of slavery. Thus, all house elves are free servants, paid and treated well, who can stay and work for them or leave if they wish. The family is criticized for this, especially by dark wizards, but the Hutchinsons remain faithful to this rule. Denying one's Black roots is frowned upon, such as straightening one's hair for girls.

Nevertheless, to better integrate into Scottish life and aristocracy, Ousmane abandoned his African surname, native language and traditions, except for one that has become the family mainstay: becoming an animagus. All direct descendants are known to be venomous insects, the most distant being deadly (but not venomous) insects or venomous animals (not insects). The business of poisons and venoms is passed down from generation to generation. The eldest child becomes head of the family, regardless of whether it's a boy or a girl. Spouses are not required to be animagus or Slytherin (or to be Black), but it's always appreciated. They must, however, take the name of their husband or wife to keep the family heritage, whether they are men or women.

BONNIE'S BACKSTORY

Bonnie came into the world with one goal: to be the heiress to the Hutchinson family, and to take over as head of the family when the time came, with the duties that go with it. Despite these demands and a strict upbringing worthy of a young noblewoman, her early years were quite peaceful. She took part in all her chores without complaint, and her particular interest in herbology delighted her parents. If her peaceful nature didn't worry them more than that, everything changed at the animagus ceremony when she turned 7. The family gathered to celebrate the animagus of a new child in the family -and here, being the heiress, the interest was more than special. Only her parents could witness her first transformation, before it was revealed to the rest of the family. Bonnie knew she came from a line of animagus insects, so when she transformed into a beautiful yellow butterfly, she was delighted. Until she became human again and found her parents astonished. Not only was she not a venomous insect, like all the direct descendants of their distant ancestor, she was just... a harmless insect. With the animagus representing the personality of the wizard, she would be directly labeled pretty, but useless. It was such a shame that her parents preferred to reveal that she hadn't succeeded in her transformation, hoping to gain time to help her become another animal. Even so, it was a laughing stock for her family, who already saw her as unfit to rule them if she wasn't able to reveal her animagus. Since then, Bonnie has been strictly forbidden to speak to anyone about this event, and to transform herself, making her feel as if she were being restrained not fully herself. Her parents were convinced that they had been too gentle with her and that this had an impact on her animagus.

From then on, although they were already strict, they became nothing but cold to their daughter. They tried their best to instill hatred, ambition and firmness in her, but Bonnie only thrived on empathy and love. Despite her efforts to compensate for her perceived weak personality, she redoubled her efforts to appear perfect in their eyes: she studied poisons with more interest, took her lessons in good behavior to be a respectable girl, maintained her relationship with Ominis and the Gaunts, but could not adhere to her parents' hateful ideas. When she was taken out to Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin, she ended up sobbing, knowing that she had disappointed them yet again. Which she did: it was yet another reason to prove to the rest of her family that she wasn't worthy of being the Hutchinson heiress. Her parents wanted to take her through the Sorting Hat ceremony again, but it refused.

Bonnie finally found a place that accepted her for who she was. Although she had difficulty making friends at first due to her status and to the Hutchinsons' ruthless reputation, her sociability and kindness helped make her popular, especially as she grew older. The people around her at school reinforced her peaceful values, but she felt torn between her morals and her duties. She had accepted her destiny as an heiress, until she fell in love with a half-blood and found a reason to fight for what she wanted.

FUTURE

At a family dinner near the end of her fifth year, Bonnie's mother was given a choice: leave her place as heiress to her brother and sons, or use any means to force her daughter to take her role seriously. Bonnie was unaware of this deal, and announced the breakup of her engagement to Ominis (absent that evening). With a heavy heart, Wilhelmina tried to cast an Impero spell on her daughter, but Basil narrowly warned her, and she could dodge it. Bonnie fled, her whole family on her heels to catch her, some to hurt her, others to prevent her from leaving. It was then that she was able to jump from the 4th-floor window. Her family exclaimed in terror, thinking she was going to kill herself, but she transformed into a butterfly and flew off, making everyone aware of her previously hidden animagus.

Bonnie fled to Imelda, who took her in with her parents. Her parents already knew her and welcomed her happily. Unfortunately, Wilhelmina tried to force her daughter to return home by getting Headmaster Black on her side, and threatening to remove her from Hogwarts. Bonnie took her aside and threatened her in turn, encouraged by Imelda, to reveal all the darkest secrets of their dark wizard family to the Ministry of Magic. Indeed, some time after running away, Bonnie secretly returned to their home to retrieve some of her belongings, as well as compromising documents, with the help of a house elf. Her horrified mother left her alone and disinherited her, and Bonnie was able to live with the Reyes in a warm cocoon. For although Bonnie lost her inheritance and her wealth, she found true love. She felt infinitely indebted to the Reyes, yet worried that her family would try anything against them. Fortunately, they were happy for her to disappear, leaving them free to designate a more worthy heir.

After Hogwarts, Bonnie and Imelda married. They live in a cottage in the middle of the forest, surrounded by nature. Bonnie works as a seller of plants of all kinds, spending her time pampering them and selling them to enthusiasts. She encourages Imelda in her career as a professional Quidditch player and is her greatest supporter. The wives adopted two children:

The first, a young disabled witch and future Gryffindor, is forced to stay in a walking (not rolling) chair because she can't use her legs. She has a strong personality and dreams of becoming a Quidditch player like Imelda, who encourages her to do so, and inherits more of her traits. Turbulent and hyperactive, she thrives only on sport and sweat, and hates magic theory. After Hogwarts, she was refused entry to all teams because of her disability. Not content to take it lying down, she went on to create the highly successful Parasports Quidditch, helped by Imelda.

The second one is a young werewolf whom Bonnie finds wounded near their home in the forest. He has been disowned by his pack of werewolves who live apart from the wizards because of the lack of wildness in him. The boy is physically imposing, but very shy and has trouble with social relationships. He will be homeschooled and Bonnie will take care of his education. Although his sister and mother encourage him to take advantage of his body to play Quidditch, he will thrive on quiet activities and prefers to spend time in Bonnie's garden. She will accompany him to the forest every full moon as a butterfly, and tries her best to make his situation as pleasant as possible.

Bonnie may have cut ties with her family, but her cousin Basil, now grown up (whom she hasn't seen since she finished her studies at Hogwarts), found her and they renewed contact. He tells her that since she left, Ambrose and Archibald have been fighting a mortal battle day after day to see who will become the leader of their family, splitting it into two distant clans in the process. He keeps his distance from the toxicity of their family, and is happy to meet Bonnie Reyes' new family. He will always be welcome and will visit them regularly.

The modest family will live happily ever after.

[fangswbenefits]

Questions

Summary: Your curiosity drives you to ask Astarion a very unexpected question, and he's more than happy to give you a proper reply.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Astarion's POV. Innocent/inexperienced Tav being a tease. Precum. Praise kink. Oral sex (mild). Edging. Body worship. PiV. Creampie.

Word count: 2.7k

“What does an erection feel like?”

Astarion nearly dropped the dagger in his hand.

He was effectively caught off guard in a way that made him blink.

Twice.

“What?”

“What does an erection feel like?” 

You were smiling so sweetly and innocently that to an outsider, it might seem you had just asked him to fetch you a cup of tea.

He was officially stunned into silence and not many could take pride in such an accomplishment.

But you.

You had a way with words that could have his head throb from annoyance as well as his cock throbbing from lust.

Your hands were laced behind your back as you took sure steps in his direction with a sweet smile dancing on your lips.

He glanced around the forest clearing, quite taken aback by your sudden bluntness in such matters.

“And what prompted such a thought in that pretty little head of yours?”

With your smile spreading wider, you came to a full stop in front of him just as he sheathed the dagger at his hip once again.

“I was just wondering,” you said with a mere shrug. “I mean, I already know how it feels when… when we…”

“Fuck?”

Astarion would seldom be this forthcoming with you, but he truly enjoyed how you’d fluster so easily for him and from his choice of words.

You nodded.

Gods. 

He would never tire of how adorably oblivious you could be to your effect on him. 

“So you want to know how it feels for me, is that it?”

You nodded again, rooted in place as he began circling you like a predator studying its prey. Such an intrusive yet unbelievably arousing question had him almost salivating for the tease he was about to shower you with.

“As selfless as I am, darling,” he began with a tut, inching closer and closer to you. “I would like to know what I’d get in exchange for this delicate information.” 

He saw you swallow, still holding a sweet smile. “What would you want?”

Feigning pensiveness, he cleared a few specs of pollen that had gathered on your shoulders. “A kiss.”

“Where?”

Astarion would love to immediately sink you on your knees and have you plant the softest kisses along his cock.

But he would have to start slow with you, so he could revel in your inexperience.

He tapped his cheek twice with his finger, now close enough that he could feel your warmth. 

“So… a kiss for each piece of information?”

He grinned approvingly. “Lovely idea, darling.”

You closed the gap and moved to press your heated lips on his cheek.

It came as no surprise that he began to feel the faintest stir down below, letting him know just how weak he was to your sweet advances. But what truly made his cock harden even more was knowing you weren’t actively trying to seduce him.

You were too innocent to think a simple kiss to his cheek could turn him on.

So he’d let you know.

He’d show you.

“It feels very, very distracting,” he started, already mourning your warmth when you pulled away. “Especially when it’s due to sexual arousal.”

You blinked, waiting for him to go on, but what you didn’t know was that Astarion wasn’t one for charity.

Even when it came to you.

“Well? How about another kiss?”

You flinched. “Oh! Right… where?”

Oh, you were making this so easy for him. 

He would be fully hard in no time if he played his cards right with you.

So, he tapped his lips.

And you didn’t even hesitate to press a fleeting kiss on them.

But before you could move away, he gripped your wrist. “Ah-ah-ah,” he tutted, holding you in place. “A proper kiss.”

“That was a proper kiss.”

“Not if I can’t even taste you,” he said with a dramatic pout.

You nodded, promptly taking his lips in yours in a rather chaste kiss, and then Astarion went in for the kill.

He could always taste the inexperience and hesitancy whenever you gave himself to him like this. Masterfully, he parted your lips with his skilled tongue, and nearly groaned from how receptive you were to him.

The familiar lull of a throb around his cock was almost too distracting and he had to fight back the urge to immediately pull your body fully against his, so he could grind on you.

Surprisingly enough, and before he could tease your tongue with his fangs, you broke the kiss.

“Astarion, you’re not playing fair,” you said with that adorable pout that always made him want to have you on all fours for him.

But besides that, Astarion was not one to play fair, yet he’d make a single exception just for you and this specific moment.

He was too eager to entertain your unexpected curiosity.

He smiled innocently. “I do apologise for getting ahead of myself. It’s hard not to with you…”

And he truly meant it.

You were an exercise on self-restraint and he wished he could lavish you in bliss whenever possible. But he also knew you needed your space and to also be the one to take initiative, so he’d often patiently wait for your move.

And what a move this was.

His trousers felt too tight already, and he had to adjust his growing erection with one hand, which evidently caught your eye.

“Are you hard already?”

Already?

As if it was a hard feat with you being such a tease…

“I will show you if you give me your hand,” he proposed deviously. “It would be easier for me… and you.”

You gave him an adorable wicked smile as you placed your hand in his. “Surely you must remember how it feels without having to have one.”

What a tease.

Your words sent a couple of jolts of pleasure straight to his swelling cock, intensifying the pulsing.

He guided your hand to his crotch, and couldn’t hold back the grunt that rumbled in his chest as you gave him a tentative squeeze.

You delectable little minx…

“How does it feel?” you said, smile never wavering.

“Extremely distracting… and pleasurable.”

Another squeeze.

“What else?”

He would come undone in his trousers if you kept pushing him like this. 

“I feel the urge to be inside you.”

Your eyes widened. “Does it hurt?”

He shook his head, feeling his cock twitch under your palm. “No. But I would very much like to press you up against the nearest tree and slide it inside you.”

Maybe he wasn’t as patient as he thought he was.

Maybe he didn’t really have time to play his cards right.

He was so incredibly turned he thought he could easily die again just from the tease and frustration.

Unexpectedly, you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his other cheek.

“Can I… touch it? Will you tell me how my hand feels?”

Astarion nearly froze at your seemingly innocent suggestions.

Perhaps his love for debauchery was contagious and you were catching up and learning from him. Not that he was complaining, but his endurance might be at stake should you continue to further edge him with your sweetened words.

“You can do whatever you want,” he simply said, driven by the lust and agonising need for release.

And then you did something that nearly made his eyes bulge out.

You kneeled in front of him.

Gods above…

Eyes fixed on his as you struggled to undo the lacing at the front of his trousers.

The first beads of precum had already begun to drip from his tip.

He hurriedly helped you, fingers quickly loosening the fabric and creating an opening for you to take the next step.

And you did.

With another sweetly innocent smile, you pulled his trousers down just enough for his cock to bounce free, earning a sigh of relief from him.

Your fingers wrapped around him and his hips instinctively bucked from the sudden squeeze.

“How does it feel?”

Astarion wasn’t a man to be at a loss for words, but he couldn’t bring himself to string a couple together to answer you.

A single string of precum dangled from the tip and he now knew he needed to feel more of you or he might lose it.

“A kiss…” he said almost pleadingly, placing one hand in the back of your head.

You offered him a pout. “Where?”

He closed his eyes and let out a growl, rolling his hips as he fucked your hand.

“Gods…” he moaned aloud when your warm lips touched the swollen tip of his cock.

This had his eyelids snap open at once just so he could marvel at the sight of his precum dribbling down your chin.

But the near blinding pleasurable sensation came to a halt as you pulled back, darting your tongue along your lower lip.

“Tell me…”

Then you were on your feet again, but never letting go of his cock.

“I really want to ravish you…” he said impatiently, slowly taking a few steps into you, so you would walk back.

“Why?”

He wanted to fuck you.

No.

He needed to fuck you.

“Why what?” he growled, removing your hand from his throbbing cock, which earned a whine from you. “You keep touching me like that and teasing me with your words, and I will not last.”

In fact, he had lasted longer than he had expected, given the torture you were submitting him to.

“Was that your plan all along, my sweet?”

You shook your head, nearly tripping on a single twisting root that emerged from the ground.”No! I - I was simply… curious…”

Oh, he was going to adore making you sing for him. 

“Were you really?” 

Your back was soon pressed against a large oak tree and the most devious of smiles crept into his face.

He had you just where he wanted.

“You wanted to know how an erection feels, did you not?”

You bit your lip with a curt nod.

“I can tell you how it feels inside you,” he taunted, lips close to your ear and cock pressed against your shirt, staining it with precum. “Would you like that, darling?”

Your reply came in the form of a gasp that he quickly swallowed with a kiss, gripping your chin in between his fingers and applying enough pressure so that you’d part your lips for him.

You quickly caved in with a strained moan and his tongue slipped inside so he could taste your innocence.

Dexterity wasn’t a skill for everyone, but it was one he had harnessed and honed over centuries, and it came in handy in a vast array of situations.

Being able to undo your trousers with the fingers of a single hand was the one he was most proud of.

He felt you melt into him as he tugged at the tight fabric before yanking them down, and all of this without breaking the hungry and urgent kiss.

With a single finger he realised just how soaked you were for him, which was to be expected. Your body reacted to him in a way that further reinforced his devotion to you. It stroked his ego in the right places and tugged at the frayed ends of his sanity.

This time, he was the one pulling away, so he could drop on both knees as if readying himself for a prayer.

Your eyes were half-closed and heavy with the overwhelming weight of desire when you stared down at him.

With two fingers, he parted your folds and saw the delicious throbbing swell inviting him in.

And who was he to deny such invitation?

He leaned in and pressed a soft and lingering kiss on it, proud to earn the most adorable whimper from you as your hands flew to tangle in his curls.

“Astarion…”

He would die a thousand times over just for your praise and for your pleasure.

Nothing made him harder than your sweet cries as his name rolled out of your tongue.

He pressed two more kisses before raising to his full height again and chuckling in your ear. “You’re ready for me.”

You nodded eagerly.

Your despair was so adorable he could come just from how you were desperately grinding against him, the lower half of your shirt drenched in his precum.

With one hand, he pulled your leg up and apart just enough to grant him full access to you.

With the other, he angled himself at your entrance and was met with barely any resistance as he slowly pushed inside, grunting as you immediately began to tighten around him.

“Do try to relax, darling… allow me to at least bury myself fully inside.”

But he knew all too well it was merely wishful thinking.

He was getting undeniably closer to the point of no return.

You did try to comply with his request, lopping your arms around his next for added support as he pushed further inside. However, he was aware you couldn’t fully help but to instinctively clamp around his cock, squeezing his bulging veins and welcoming his precum.

His lips were on your ear once again. “You feel divine and I don’t think you need my words to know that.”

The first thrust dragged a soft mewl out of you and he held your leg in place, knowing all too well your knees would soon buck under you from the sensation of being fucked so deligently.

At this point, he was edging himself once he managed to set a steady pace, wet and sloppy sounds filling his ears.

You always took him so well.

He glanced down just so he could witness your wetness coating his cock each time he pulled back, only to ram it back inside with a desperate grunt.

“So… i-it feels really good, right?”

His eyes met yours and his rhythm faltered momentarily as he was surprised you were still trying hellsbent on getting your question answered.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he growled, his balls beginning to tighten as he reached the edge. “It feels ridiculously good.”

You immediately clenched.

Of course you did. 

You adored being praised and being shown you were taking him so well.

Not wanting to reach his peak himself as your contractions would aid him reaching his, he pressed the pad of his thumb against your pulsing swell and rubbed measured circles around it.

“Let go, darling,” he urged, his voice strained as he struggled to keep his focus. “I’ll catch you.”

He quickened his pace, entering the final stages of his insenset climb to the height of his bliss. His hips snapped more vigorously, the lewd sounds that he drew from you further testing his sanity.

You came first as intended, squeezing so hard around him he could no longer keep his eyes open and having to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

His name spilled from your lips like a broken prayer that any self-deserving God above would be a fool to ignore.

Someone this divine deserved to be heard throughout Faerûn and Astarion took immense pleasure knowing he was the source of your immeasurable pleasure.

As your contractions caused you to squeeze tightly around him, he felt himself let go and immediately felt his own bliss wash down over him, his lower abdomen rhythmically contracting and his balls rise up as the first ropes of cum began to shoot inside you.

He let out a guttural groan as he stilled as deep as he could, eager to feel his cum begin to slide out.

He would always come too hard and too much for you.

The amount of cum always surprised him, but he had grown to accept he was meant to fill you to the brim with his seed.

Surely enough and your contractions began to subside, he felt a few droplets drip out.

He pulled his head back so he could see just how flustered and out of breath you were because of him.

“Did that answer your question?”

Your laboured breaths were too endearing and he smiled proudly.

You swallowed hard. “You cheated…”

He gasped dramatically, still buried inside you. “I did no such thing. I simply found a better way to satisfy your mind, darling.”

Masterlist

[writing-intheundercroft]

When We're Older // A Birthday Present

Artwork by: @ravenbronze

“So why is Ominis an option over me?” Sebastian inquired.

Theo shot him a cheeky grin. “Well, he’s certainly more handsome than you. Much more well groomed.” she rustled his hair.

Sebastian’s jaw dropped, scoffing as she laughed. “You’ll pay for that!” He growled, splashing water at her.  Theo kept laughing, splashing water back at him. She shrieked as he launched himself, grabbing her waist to slam her under the surface.  When they emerged to the top, both gasping for air, Sebastian kept his tight grip on her waist. 

Mine, his heart screamed again. His eyes dipped to her lips, slightly parted. 

His head said otherwise. The worst idea he’s ever thought of.  The worst he’s ever dreamt up. Just like Theo had said, it would ruin everything.

“Seb,” Theo said gently. “Let me go.”

His grip only tightened.  It would be doing her a service, he thought.  Nothing more, just a first kiss between best friends, no harm done.

Sebastian half expected her to pull away, but she didn’t. Her arms, which had been down awkwardly at her side, were now wrapped around his neck.  “Sebastian,” Theo  whispered. Her tone was different, no longer joking with him. There was a neediness to it, breathy as her eyes looked down at his lips.

“Happy birthday, Theo.” Sebastian said softly, pressing his lips to hers.

A/N: I love this little community and how it has connected me to some of the most talented people I've ever met! @ravenbronze you are so amazing, and I can't thank you enough for capturing one of my first and favorite moments for Theo and Seb.

Back to writing my long fic, When We're Older - I just shared chapter 28 on AO3!

[celestial--sapphic]

girlfriends.

that's it, that's the post 👭

[chaoticbardlady99]

Rhea’s mom has got it goin on 🥵😍

@preciouslittlebhaalbae thank you for all your support and love for Mind Games! I don’t know if I would be confident enough to post without you so thank you for all you do and are! 🖤

Millie and Astarion are about to have a misunderstanding in Mind Games that I’m very excited to flesh out 😈 I am so obsessed with Millicent and I adore her. She is so just herself and good and she is like the personification of unconditional love. I adore her as much as I adore Imogen!

I also think that this fic is really healing my inner child cause like my step dad was really awesome to begin with and then quickly became the demon in the house that traumatized and scared us all so Astarion as a healthy loving step dad feels like healing to me I guessss

I’m also torn on having Cazador make a reappearance either through

A. Astarion didn’t kill him thoroughly the first time

B. A cult? I mean the man does have mortals who love him and I could see a generational nonsense thing happen

C. Reincarnation cause the silly goofy true vampire lord is also an elf

Either way- there is gonna be a few odds and ends happenings and I have crimes to write so chow!

Add on:

This is Quentin for anyone wondering what Rhea’s dad looks like. He will be making his first appearance soon.

[brabblesblog]

The Mirror.

Ascended Astarion x my tav (Ban). Second person.

A small drabble that is set after the ‘Whither’ series. Plot relevant to the sequel fic.

Astarion fucks you in front of an ornate mirror. A reversal of the more common ‘Astarion doesn’t have a reflection but you do’ trope.

Soft!Dom Ascended Astarion Full art here by @CrlNsfw on X

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

“Even for you, this is a bit much.”

Behind you, Astarion laughs. You watch him through the mirror as he comes closer to you, dragging a chair with him. He plants it directly in front of the mirror and sits on it, his reflection’s knees and his own knees almost touching.

“I didn’t buy this from your family, if that’s what you’re so concerned about. And-“ he makes a show of leaning forward and admiring his own reflection, tilting his face to see better. You can’t help but watch him as well, entranced by those handsome features you knew like the back of your hand.

His eyes flick to yours and he leans back on the chair, spreading his legs.

“Sit.” He taps his right thigh.

You don’t need much convincing. You move over, climbing over his leg to do so as there was little space between him and the mirror.

Both of you stare at the mirror, at the crease your ass makes on the fabric of his pants. Astarion breaks the silence.

“It would be interesting, don’t you think, if we could see how my cock looks like buried inside you?” he begins, his one hand wrapping around your waist. The other palms his cock through his pants.

You smirk. “Maybe.” Your eyes are glued to that growing bulge between his legs. He smiles at you impishly through the mirror and spreads his legs further, an open invitation for you to do whatever you wanted with him.

You move to kneel between his legs, hands immediately going to the laces of his trousers and undoing them. You tug them low enough to just free his cock, and your mouth waters. He’s not fully hard yet, but a small amount of precum is already collecting at the tip.

You close the distance, your tongue licking off that wetness, tasting him. He hisses, his eyes boring into yours for a second before he stares back at the mirror. You wrap your hand around him at the base, and you lean forwards and take the rest of his cock into your throat.

His own reflection stares back, cock growing hard inside seemingly nothing. You let his head hit the back of your throat, and without further hesitation you begin bobbing your head.

Astarion growls and shifts more forward in the chair, hips thrusting upwards to meet your mouth. He’s all too willing to fuck your mouth hard, knowing you can take it. With each thrust you can feel his cock get harder, slamming against your throat. You swallow past the discomfort, letting him in deeper.

“Ban.” His voice is a low growl, and he stills his hips. He repeats his earlier command. “Sit.”

You reluctantly release his cock from your mouth, missing the velvety feel of his skin and that wonderful saltiness on your tongue. As you pull away his precum dribbles down your chin, and a string of it connecting his tip to your lips stretches.

“Gorgeous,” he says. His hands urge you up on your feet and turn you around, so you can face the mirror too. He then uses a hand to grip himself, aligning himself with your entrance as you move to sit down.

For a moment he doesn’t push in. He just rubs his pink, swollen tip across your entrance and folds, rubbing it against your clit. You moan in response, and he can’t help but laugh.

“So wet for me already,” he says. And without another word, he lines up and his other hand guides you down to fully sit flush on him.

His cock stretches you, but you’re already so wet and ready that there isn’t much resistance. Astarion groans at the sensation of being inside, and as you clench around him in response he has to fight the urge to just rut and chase his orgasm quickly. He wants to take it slow, to watch himself inside you.

Eyes looking past you to the mirror, he begins to thrust, his hips rolling at a languid pace for now. Your eyes join his, and you both watch his cock plunge into you again and again. You can see his tip leaking, can see where your walls press against his length.

“Fuck,” he hisses behind you, and you feel him thrusting harder, hips no longer rolling but just pounding. The image of his cock in the mirror becomes almost a blur as he rams himself inside you again and again, your walls clenching harder and harder as you approach your own climax. You slip a hand down and rub your clit to help yourself along.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he can’t help but say as he watches his cock go in and out of you. He’s getting close. He wants to tip his head back and just enjoy the sensation, but the view of his cock inside of you was something he wanted to see as he came. His hand reaches down and moves your own hand off of your clit, replacing it. He rubs it with an insistent touch, flicking it with just the right amount of speed and pressure.

“You like seeing this?” He asks. “My cock, just burying into you? Fucking you?”

You nod, whimpering as you two both watch the mirror. Your pussy is so slick and warm that he knows it won’t take long for you to come. And try as he might to hold on, he knows he won’t last either.

He lets go of what little restraint he had, hips hitching up hard, thrusting into you mercilessly. His eyes bore into the image in the mirror, just staring. The sight of himself so deeply impaling you is intoxicating.

You whimper his name, warning him, and he nods, his fingers on your clit increasing to a frenzied pace. “Come,” is all he has to say, and you do so at his command, your pussy clenching hard against his cock. He pumps into you hard as you ride out the waves of your orgasm, his hands and hips keeping up the punishing pace.

The feeling of your walls squeezing all around him makes him finish as well, and he groans as he stills his hips, watching his cock begin to shoot thick ropes of his seed inside you. You both see him fill you up, the come filling your channel, some of it beginning to drip out.

You sit there for a moment longer, wanting to just keep seeing him inside you, his seed kept inside of you by his cock.

Astarion smiles.

“The mirror wasn’t such a bad idea, was it, darling?”

Taglist: @elora-the-slutty-songstress @tragedybunny @spacebarbarianweird @ayselluna @enterthedreams @coltaire @qiific3 @misscrissfemmefatale @vixstarria @eatyourheartoutmylove @linllewellyn @battisonsgf @micropoe10 @thegoodwitchs-blog @akirahime @velcyrptr @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account

[daytaker]

i have come back with more questionable mc behaviours as a treat

mc who’s a LeVeyan satanist, that or another idea of a similar variety which is when mc gets teleported they were wearing a “hail satan” shirt

also i loved the creepy scientist like mc (๑>◡<๑) - clown anon

Clown Anon MCs - [ Clowncore MC | Death-Fixated Science Geek MC | LeVeyan Satanist MC ]

I want to own a Sheep MC plush that wears a Hail Satan shirt. I want that to be among my possessions when I die.

That out of the way...

(cw: references to drug use, references to sex, this is the church of satan. sex drugs and rock n roll. this gets extremely silly towards the end.)

Satanists Don't Believe in Satan

You were vibing to Eurythmics, sitting cross-legged in your bedroom and trying to meditate while your Snake, Dr. Faust, wound his way around your arm. And then, suddenly, you weren't. The shag carpet was replaced by a hard wood floor, and the warmth of your bedroom was replaced by the cool draft of a large assembly hall with windows. And some punks in military academy uniforms were scowling at you.

"What the fuck? What gives?" You were really confused. Did you already hit the acid and you're so high you forgot? You stood up and looked down at yourself. You were still wearing your CoS shirt and pink pajama shorts, and you still had on your fluffy slippers.

"Welcome, uhhh...." A big guy in red squinted at a piece of paper, then looked at me. "Is your name actually Omen LeVey?"

"That's what it says on my driver's license, bitch." Dr. Faust wound his way up your arm and into your shirt. He clearly didn't appreciate the change in temperature either.

"It's not too late to swap them for someone else, is it?" whispered a dark haired man to Big Red.

Big Red ignored him. "Welcome, Omen, to the Devildom! I'm sure you're very confused, but everything will make sense soon. You have been chosen to participate in an exchange--"

"Where do you think you're going?" The dark haired bitch cut off Big Red as I walked to the door.

I turned around. "Uh, out?"

"Out where, exactly?" asked the bitchy one.

"Out of here? I'm not sitting around waiting for you to go through some sort of timeshare presentation with me. However I got here, I'm sure I'm high as fuck, and I'm not going to spend my time high as fuck getting talked at by this dude. No offense, Red."

Ten minutes later, you were tied to a chair in the middle of the assembly hall. Big Red, the bitch, and three other guys stood around you, unsure what to do.

"Is this, like, an ex of yours or something, Satan?" one of the extras asked another. They were both twinks, and they were also both quiet up to this point, so you couldn't really think of how to differentiate them on the fly.

"No? What are you talking about?"

"Their shirt!"

All five guys stared at your graphic tee, which was black with white splatter text that read:

"CHURCH OF SATAN "DO WHAT THOU WILT SHALL BE THE WHOLE OF THE LAW" - SATAN PROBABLY"

"I can't believe Satan has an entire church dedicated to him! I wonder if there are churches to me," Twink 1 said with a sigh.

"That's not a church dedicated to me," replied Twink 2. "Their entire doctrine is a repudiation of my very existence. You should educate yourself, Asmodeus."

"Helloooo? Excuse me?" You wobbled in your seat, trying to get their attention. "Since I don't have any choice but to listen, I'll allow you to go ahead and tell me what the fuck is going on."

Big Red sighed at began to explain again. "You've arrived here in the Devildom as an exchange student from the human world. For the next year, you will be living here in the Devildom with us demons, attending the Royal Academy of Diavolo, or "RAD", we we tend to call it."

"...Okay, so clearly this is a bad trip, so I'm gonna politely ask if we can skip to the part where I'm finished having sex with my downstairs neighbors and I turn into a ball of energy? Like. C'mon. Chop chop."

"I am Diavolo, acting lord of the Devildom. And this is Lucifer, my right-hand demon and confidant." He gestured to the bitchy one.

"Charmed," you said in a voice saturated with sarcasm. "What about those three?"

"Ah," Diavolo said, nodding. "Those are Asmodeus, Satan, and Beelzebub. They are Lucifer's brothers."

"This is so wild. So Satan and Lucifer aren't the same dude?"

"Careful what you say," said Twink 1--or Asmodeus, as you now knew him to be. "You'll make Satan angry!"

"Sorry bro. Look look look, though, I'm in your fan club." You hope your shirt with Satan's name on it will butter that one up--Satan is Twink 2, as it turns out; a skinny blonde kid with a yellow bow tie. You aren't sure how to feel about that, exactly. You'd always pictured him as a cartoon goat-man, more or less.

"Do you really think you can butter me up by claiming that the Church of Satan is my fan club?" He scowled at you, looking indignant. "Didn't you hear me earlier? I'm aware of what your so-called 'church' teaches, and while I'm not opposed to the ideology in a broad sense, I can't support a group that considers my very existence to be a joke."

"Hey, hey, it's not a joke," you said soothingly. "You're just the theological equivalent to the Queen of Engand. Powerless, probably fake, definitely dead, but you look good on merchandise."

"Do you want to die?"

"Sometimes."

"Omen, you will be living with these four and two of their brothers for the next year." Diavolo smiled at you, apparently choosing to ignore every word you've spoken.

All four of the brothers looked crestfallen.

"Oh, yeah, I feel real fuckin' welcome. Roll out the wagon, why don't ya?"

"Is your name actually Omen LeVey?" asked Big Red again in a murmur, looking at his sheet with as mystified an expression as ever.

Dr. Faust, still coiled around your arm, peeked out at the world again and flicked his tongue. Asmodeus screamed, and Lucifer pointed at you and demanded, "Diavolo, swap it for a different one!"

---

Epilogue.

Eight months later, you and Satan marry. Dr. Faust officiates. Together, you have three children, all of whom refuse to acknowledge their fathers' objective existence.