Second All Of This Fuck Blake

Second all of this 😔❤️ Fuck Blake

Until You: Chapter 18 WIP

When your cock aches as much as your heart. 😔

reblog if u <3 ur moots

Chapter Summary:

What happened five years ago?

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Story Summary:

He’s admittedly apprehensive to approach the lady; they didn’t part on the best of terms. And life changes people, for better or worse. The Bonnie he knew may be lost to a past he would have to mourn in the dust. Was he prepared for that? To slough her from his memory like a rattlesnake sheds its skin. He furrows his thick brows, contemplating if he should leave before she notices him. No, he needs to properly face her. Put things to bed so they could both move on without any lingering questions.

Besides, unbeknownst to her, he’s there for far more than a trip down nostalgia lane or his lust after her crimson draft. Woman has warrants out on her name and a man has a bounty to collect.

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Chapter 1: Goodbye, Little Darlin', Goodbye

Ao3

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Word Count: 7.7k

Pairing: Bounty Hunter/Cowboy Astarion x female western bard OC

CW: Smut, PTSD during sex, language, blood

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Five Years Ago

Astarion never cared much for flowers. Trite growths existing for a short time, only to wither til they’d completely dried out—similar to his mortality that his undeath leeched. Thirty-nine living years stolen by his master’s vampiric kiss. Then, two centuries walking with a husk of his own desiccated blood and organs like the top of some dusty mesa.

But, having Bonnie Sparrows sprawled out on his grave resembling sunbathed petals, shushed those thoughts six feet under. 

A month had passed. The Reverend Szarr was plenty dead, and aside from the compelling power he held over his spawned children rupturing for good, there was no trace left behind. Not even a single speck of ash lay in his wake for them to find. Course, that’s what he had coming to him. Reach too high with the devil’s contracts trying to crow like a rooster, one may be liable to end up as a feather duster.

Astarion and his fellow spawn never found who killed Cazador, neither did they unearth any clues as to what happened to the bastard. Fingers were pointed for a while, but they soon realized none of them really had the means to accomplish such a thing, especially being under his thrall. Szarr’s death meant “The Rite of Profane Ascension” had been halted, with seven-thousand former would-be sacrifices turned loose. The house spawn guided them, feral and bloodthirsty, down into no man’s land of the Underdark, where they worked diligently to give them some sort of new life. 

Seemed almost a waste that Astarion’s plans, created with a bunch of questionable heroes hankering for revenge to end his master’s eternal life, never came to fruition, but then he would have never met Bonnie. His Bonnie. She waited, patient and supportive, while he dealt with the unexpected emptiness scraping at his soul because he wasn’t instantly filled with relief or happiness untethered to his tormentor. Justice that felt unfairly denied that he hadn’t been the one putting the Reverend to a final rest. Eventually, when Astarion was good and ready to seek Bonnie out after he made work out of burning Cazador’s pervertible bordello—prostitution house—down, it finally appeared like he may be a free man once and for all. 

The night sky burdened the Western Heartlands with navy and indigo blues, lush with a shimmering tapestry of white jewels the day Astarion decided he would have Bonnie. He showed up on her doorstep, nervous with mysterious passion in his non-beating heart, and pecked the top of her hand as he asked her to follow him to the city’s outskirts. 

He whisked her away under the bloating moon to a bone orchard long forgotten, save for the occasional preacher man wandering by with prayers to redeem its silent residents from perdition. Most of a sun blanched wooden fence, barely protecting the place, laid helpless in the grass. Engravings on nearly all the headstones had succumbed to algae’s decay, serving them a hearty banquet.

“Here we are,” Astarion said, quickly inspecting their surroundings for any possible interruptions. 

“A graveyard?” she smiled, confusedly scanning the burial sites. “You know, when you asked me to take a walk with you tonight, I wasn’t expectin’ such a gloomy place for our first official outin’.”

“Considering I’m a vampire, I prefer some things to remain classics for a reason,” Astarion chuckled. He anxiously cleared his throat. “I-I actually wanted to show you something. Something I haven’t shown to anyone.”

“Better not be a corn cob hidden in your pants again,” Bonnie teased, “Or any other piece of food for that matter.”

He pulled her into him, resting one hand on the side of her waist as he continued holding onto the other as if they were about to dance. “I don’t remember you complaining.”

She stuck her tongue out. “Cuz I let you get away with it.”

“More than you realize,” he murmured, thinking about the lies he had yet to fess up to her. Lies that took advantage of her good nature to serve his benefit. How does a man turn a blow into a subtle breeze divulging something like that? He didn’t know and it sure as shit didn’t come naturally to him. Tonight though, he would tell her. Clear it all up. She deserved that much…and more. “Come. It should be over here.”

Looming beneath a large maple tree, sat a sole tombstone, fairly tired with age. He brushed away crawling vines and leaves claiming the darn thing, with a sadness striving to moisten his eyes. That tree was probably the only living thing keeping the grave company these days, with no indication anybody visited to put memorial trinkets on it. Astarion was grateful for that in a sense. Coming upon a wilted flower basket may have done more damage than good to what was left of his mental state, having plumb forgotten everyone he used to know. Most of them were probably dead anyhow.

“This tree wasn’t as big the last time I saw it,” he reflected, looking above them to admire its boughs. “When I reached the surface, coughing up congealed blood and dirt, Cazador was waiting with this maple as a ‘gift.’ He told me he planted it so I would never forget that it would continue to keep growing and living on—unlike me. And that’s why I needed him, to guide me in those ways through eternity.” He paused, exhaling a choppy breath. “From that day on, I belonged to him, and became livestock for his needs.”

Bonnie gasped, swiftly lowering herself to her knees to place a hand onto the cool stone. The date of his passing and name were read aloud, as she swerved a finger into the elegant markings. “Hang on a tick…this is your grave?!”

“Yes, it is.” The pale elf sat beside her. “There’s nothing inside except for a vacant coffin,” he sighed dolefully, running a hand through those silver locks. “The man I was has laid here, dead and buried. I can barely remember who he used to be aside from some greenhorn magistrate who’s name is carved here under a tree that was meant to be a mockery of me.”

Couple of minutes passed in silence. “I-I’m so sorry, Star,” she whispered hoarsely, balling a fist against her chest. “I don’t know what to say.”

What he failed to mention, was that he didn’t take her there for her to pity him. No, he brought her there because he didn’t want at least one person to forget he lived. Really lived. And Bonnie constantly jabbered away at him like she was grateful he was there at all, even as a sanguinary vampire spawn. Nobody had ever cared about him in a way that made his belly ache with confusion and a longing for their presence. 

He hooked a finger below her chin, urging her to face him. “You have nothing to be sorry about, my dear. In fact, I should be thanking you.” 

“Thankin’ me? But, why?” she inquired, canting her head. 

“For the last six months, you’ve stayed by my side through all this anguish—this horror—foolishly trusting and caring about me, even when your life was put in danger.” Astarion sweetly caught her wrist, grazing her fingertips against his lips to peck. “You feel like home. A safe home where I feel seen,” he answered, fidgety nerves biting like minnows at the back of his throat.

Hindsight being what it tends to be, it was hard to believe Bonnie was the same woman he almost led to her demise half a year ago. It’d been a time since he went after a beautiful victim to bring to Cazador—typically sticking to drunkards and petty criminals since they were idiotic enough to manipulate—but then she came galloping in on that spotted horse of hers through the city, with a sabre at her hip and a long barrel peacekeeper aimed at those who were doing wrong. Though she was part of some fearless vigilante gang called “The Balladeers”, he had never met someone so tough and as gentle as a babe in his entire life. 

Astarion had followed her to some forgettable hole-in-the-wall saloon, desiring a vixen instead of pests to stave off his usual boredom, and wasn’t prepared for Bonnie to give him a run for his money. She’d been eyeing him the whole evening until she mustered up the courage to buy him a drink. He’d turned up the dial with his flirting, using his best lines and all, but she just wanted to get to know him. Come to find out, she liked people. Genuinely, liked them, giving them proper dignity and a listening ear where it was due. And that’s why that drop of honey in a world full of bad seeds had so many fluttering to her.

Eventually, he learned that Bonnie wasn’t the type to sleep around with just anyone, making it impossible to lure her back to the bordello. She liked that sorta “getting swept off her feet” romance that was a slow burning fire between two individuals. So, when she denied his advances during that initial encounter, his curiosity eventually turned into a side project to scheme and work her into helping him escape his master’s clutches. 

Then, he fell for her. A falling star smacking right dab in the middle of a solar globe.

“Don’t sell yourself short! I just happened to be rollin’ on by wishin’ to offer some kinda hope that you didn’t have to go at this alone.” A rosy blush bathed her cheeks. “You,” she began, turning his hand to peck his knuckles in return, “are one of the strongest men I know and I admire you for that. You strove to keep goin’, even when our plans to kill the Reverend were at a dangerously critical point of bein’ found out.” She pointed a finger, booping his nose. “‘Sides, turns out I winded up fancyin’ your sophisticated ass.”

“My ass is sophisticated, isn’t it?” Her wrist found a kiss pressed into it, as he mischievously found her gaze under his dark lashes. “Tell me more.”

A dainty sigh left Bonnie’s lips. “Fishin’ for vanity?”

“Always,” he admitted, smirking into her skin. “I do love hearing about me after all, but if you’re feeling a bit envious, I suppose I could pay you a few compliments in return.”

“Lords have mercy, I’m not feelin’ envious!” she cackled, jokingly sniping her hand back. 

He caught her by surprise when the pin in her hair fell unceremoniously to the ground after his lithe hand snuck to remove it. A coppery dawn just for him to marvel as her mane settled around her shoulders. “No? So, it wouldn’t make you feel good if I told you how ravishing you look with your hair down?”

She reached out to brush her fingers along his crow’s feet, intently staring into his garnet irises. “Only about as good as me tellin’ you that your piercin’ eyes make me feel both intimidated and shy.”

“I like making you feel shy,” he said, tucking strands behind the pointed tip of her ear.

“D-do you now?” Bonnie stuttered, blood swelling her lips.

“Very much so. Especially when your lips are flushed as they are now.” Astarion licked his thumb, swiped it across her lips, then put it back into his mouth to briefly suck on it. “Mmm. Sweet.”

Oh, but that wasn’t the only thing that was sweet: Bonnie was dripping for him. 

He had a mind to tell her how delicious her pussy smelled, let that demure reaction consume her entire body for him to gloat about. But, before their first time, there was a certain innocent doting he wanted to preserve for a little while longer that was frequently seen in new lovers. The kind where anticipation produced excitable giggles and nose rubbing kisses. Small affections he never experienced with anyone prior to her.

However, Astarion couldn’t stop Bonnie propelling herself forward, finding his lips to knead and desperately relieving some of that heated tension that had been baking for months. Her hands twisted into his shirt, preventing him from flying off if he got it in his head he needed to scoot. Tender kisses led to hazy seconds slipping on, until she lightly sucked on his bottom lip as a promise for more. An electric bolt shot straight to his groin when the tip of her tongue accidentally bumped his fang, him wondering for the millionth time if her blood tasted as sugary as he fantasized. 

“S’rry,” she panted against his mouth, loosening her fists to slightly lean away. Could her embarrassment be any more adorable thinking of his comfort first and foremost? 

Astarion cupped the fullest part of her cheek, softly prodding her to look at him. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

An unbridled exhale from her nose warmed his face when he closed the distance to slot his lips against hers, mouth all but begging to be ravaged. His eyes shut, honing in on her delightful mewls she tried to hold back that only incited him to continue. She gripped his elbow, using him as a pillar to steady herself from probably melting in a puddle—which he understood because he felt it too. Astarion poured everything he wanted to tell her into those kisses. Every lie. Every emotion. Every undead and human part of himself. Capturing her breath over and over to suck her living spirit into him. It didn’t make sense how damned perfect their lips fit together, only that his need to wholly have her was increasing by each beat of her heart drumming in his ears.

Lingering kisses soon turned into satiny ticklish pecks, slowing their tempo enough for him to playfully shove her giggling form backwards to the earth. He seductively climbed over top of her, a hemovore beelining it for his prey, wedging himself in the middle of her partially spread legs. As he hovered above her flustered body, eyes flickering to her plump, swollen lips that were happily smiling at him, the vampire thought about how smitten he’d become with Bonnie. When did he start to really notice those first niggles turning his sentiments underside? The turkey vulture hunts? Their first kiss in the corn field? Or maybe it happened eons before, fate wiggling its way in the first night they met.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Bonnie asked, frosty eyes concerned. 

He lowered himself to kiss her forehead, her eyelashes. “It’s only that sometimes when you smile at me, it’s hard to believe I may be the one bringing that about.”

Her stare became magnifying glasses, rummaging through the meaning of his affectionate admission. “I lov—” she began to mouth, then stopped herself as if it weren’t the right moment. Her arms vine crawled behind his neck, instantly toying with his baby fine nape hairs. “Kiss me again and maybe I’ll consider allowin’ you to keep on doin’ so.”

Astarion quirked his brow. “What were you going to say?”

“Oh, um,” she hesitated, “I meant to say that I love spendin’ time with you. Fangs and all!” 

Cute.

The side of his mouth curved up, decidedly searching the shell of her ear. “You make me want to devour you.”

Bonnie squeaked when he pecked her lobe then affixed his wetted lips to her porcelain neck, sucking a purplish bruise into it. She reflexively tangled her digits in his curls, tugging him closer. The tip of his tongue slithered out to run down her cerulescent jugular vein, worshiping her pulsating crimson he had yet to indulge. 

His hand reached her thigh, hooking her leg around his slender waist so he could give her one very languid hip roll showcasing how absolutely hard his erection was. He grunted into the crook of her neck, prompting her to tremble into the dirt beneath her. 

“Hngh. Astarion, wait,” she whimpered as he kissed the column of her throat. “Are you sure about this?”

At the apex of her thighs, he prodded his aching cock against her again. “Darlin’, can’t you tell that I’ve been dying to have you.”

She shifted under him, pushing at his shoulder. “No, need you to look at me.” He craned his neck to provide eye contact. “Do you want this? I’d like a solid answer and not just some of those honeyed words you use.”

Bless her for asking, truly. Bonnie knew about his past dealings as a sex slave and the autonomy refused to him. Didn’t change her mind about sticking by his side, but she nevertheless made it a habit to search out every nook and cranny regarding his true feelings about whatever the subject may be. 

Astarion did want to have sex. And a gal like Bonnie was more to him than a one nighter that’d never see the light of day again. There was a knowing that sex would reshape their relationship, moving from a forbidden courtship they had to sneak around with like youngsters, into something more tangible. Nothing strange about that, was how all real couples connected on a deeper level, but he desperately wanted to give her this part of himself he hated. It was the only way he knew how to prove he could be with her, to demonstrate the yearning he’d felt for months. The allure of it all was enticing in a way that made him feel possessed.

He truly held onto the belief that if her faith in him miraculously led to Cazador’s death, it could also heal his mutilated soul.

His softened eyes met hers. “Yes, I want this. With you and only you.” Honesty. This was honesty. He was ready. He had to be ready. With her, anything was possible, right? Had to be. 

Bonnie blew on a stray curl that fell into his eyes, maintaining her goodness for him even during such a serious discussion. “Keep in mind we can stop at any moment, no questions asked. You start feelin’ discomfort, that’s that. Same goes for me. Y’hear?” 

Astarion honored her sympathy with a kiss. “Thank you.” He clutched the meat of her thighs and impelled his iron rigidity into her writhing physique, earning him choked expletives from her mouth. “Now, where were we?”

“Do we need…ahh, gods…to worry about anythin’?” 

Halting his dry-humping into her clothed center, he reluctantly lifted himself up on his elbows. “I assume you mean diseases or getting pregnant?” 

She nodded fast. “I don’t mean to make this unromantic, but…”

“Somehow it coming from you, is romantic.” He gingerly kissed her, quelling her concerns. “But, to answer your question, we both have nothing to worry about. Perks of my affliction is that I can’t get you sick and vice versa.” His hand slid down to roost on her belly. “As for pregnancy, my seed is dead. So, no surprise dhampirs crawling after my boots.”

“Okay, good.” Bonnie grabbed his collar, yanking to crash her mouth into his. She parted her lips, inviting his tongue in. “I need you,” she wheezed.

Course, who was he to deny such a tantalizing request?

He gave her lower vermilion a precursory lick, then tunneled his deviant tongue into her open orifice. Their tongues intertwined, eagerly discovering a lazy rhythm that he knew made her cunt gush. 

She wrapped her other leg onto his lower torso, grinding herself against his dick to stimulate her core. “Please,” she begged, “Please. Pleasepleaseplease.”

Her pleas went straight to Astarion’s tip, precum gathering in preparation. Something about having a morsel of control over her pleasure, tightened his balls, and he almost threw away his gentlemanly manners to bury himself in her straight away.

“I know, my sweet. You’re being such a good girl for me, but I need you to hold out for a while longer. Do you think you can do that?” It was such a simple request coming from him, but the power it had over her was a sight to behold.

Bonnie flashed him a lustful gaze under her furled lashes. “Yes. I’ll do anything for you.”

To reward her, he coolly pecked the corner of her lips. “There is,” he started, brushing the backside of his fingers on her jaw, inching them just so to skim her exposed collarbone, “a question that has been bothering me for months I’ve needed an answer to.”

“Yes?” she clasped his forearms, giving them a meek wrench as she waited for him to answer. 

Her breathing sped up as Astarion nestled kisses into her clavicle hollow, winding a trail to the roundness of her heaving bosom where her clothing interrupted him. Bonnie donned a corset cover buttoned up past her cleavage with feminine lace sewed into the thin arm openings. Usually, it wasn’t proper for a lady to walk about sans multiple layers exposing so much skin, but she didn’t care. Woman was an unconventional rarity, but Astarion liked that about her. That edge she possessed, that somehow demanded respect from even the most religious of men, had him sickeningly enamored with her.

The cover’s buttons popped open one by one until her corset was unveiled. Pretty thing was teal, constructed with cotton and a busk for easier removal. He carefully unclasped the busk, taking his time to enjoy her erratic breaths fanning out in patient fervency. When he folded back the garment on either side, he grinned at her pebbling nipples curiously seeking attention through her chemise. His index finger circled a clothed bud and she hissed, arching into his touch.

Sensitive minx.

Bowing his head, Astarion’s teeth seized the lace chemise’s neckline, dragging it southwards to reveal her torso’s nakedness. What met him were two mouth-watering tits that caused his shaft to strain against his trousers. Breasts weren’t normally his favorite feature on a person, but hells, Bonnie’s came bouncing out practically demanding to be bitten.

“Mm.” He pinched her nipple, salaciously witnessing a flurry of goosebumps invade her flesh. “Pink. I wondered what color they were,” he reported.

She watched, half-lidded and unbearably aroused, when his tongue darted out to swirl her peak. He gave it one obscene suck that hollowed his cheeks and released it with a lewd pop. Heat sweltered throughout her pores as he suctioned his chill plush lips around her nipple to savor it with modest nibbles, her cry rapidly forcing its way into the universe. To soothe her, his tongue kitten-licked her raw teat, humming as he coated it in his spit.

Noticing he neglected to tend to her other breast, he started fondling it in his free hand, struggling to fit the mass of it in his grasp. He squeezed it, areola puckering from the applied friction belonging to his palm. 

“Ngh,” she fidgeted, winded from his mania on her tits. “You’re makin’ me crazy!” 

He nabbed her waist, suppressing her need to squirm. “Keep moving around and I may accidentally bite you,” he warned in a low growl. 

Bonnie’s hands sailed to the crown of his head, casually massaging his scalp. “I-I wouldn’t mind if you did,” she bashfully offered.

Man almost came in his pants right there. 

Now, drinking from Bonnie had nothing to do with a lack of an actual want on his behalf, but everything to do with not being permitted to sup from humans by his former creator. Was one of the cocksucker’s commandments that all vampire spawn had to abide. Break those rules and the next year being “pampered” with torture devices became a regular routine until the offender was broken in well and good. 

Still, Astarion lusted in his daydreams after that first burst of thinking creature blood hitting his gluttonous buds, wondering if the gaminess he tasted in smaller animals was replaced by a delicacy more refined. And Bonnie? Gods, he couldn’t even fathom what her life essence might resemble. Perhaps some combination of sunlight and the floating heavens. 

“A-Are you sure, darlin’? I’ve never done this before—with a thinking creature I mean. You would be my first.” He couldn’t help but be in awe of this woman, never ceasing to surprise or revoke her trust in him. 

“I trust you,” she reassuringly smiled.

A bout of thrilling unease jumped into his larynx. “I know where to bite, so you won’t be harmed. It’s only that my practice has been limited to—”

“Hey,” she poked his cheek, “said I trust you.” 

Astarion swallowed, brushing his fingers along the velvety span of her neck. “Would your neck be okay?”

“I think so? Yes?” she tittered. “Won’t really know until we get to that point, but I’ll tell you if it becomes too much.” Suddenly, her hands were scritching at his shirt. “Can we take this off? I want to feel your skin on me while we do this.” 

Guilt weighed on him like a horseshoe as his thoughts trotted to and fro. He needed to confess his sins to her before they continued. Make good on his silent promises to this angelic savior. As their intimacy was increasing fourfold,  Astarion recognized that biting without sapping her dry would be a sensual experience that most vampires didn’t share with mortals. Engaging in something so special without first clearing his slate, wouldn’t be fair to her. 

What minute color was left in his face, drained out. “Bonnie, we need to—” 

A finger tapped against his lips. “Shh. Unless you need to stop, whatever you have to say can wait. I’m not goin’ anywhere,” she spoke softly. “Promise.”

He had to believe her, right? She wasn’t one to regale him with tall tales and dishonesty that was unbecoming. In the end, his bucket of dayshine would be there for him. Waiting. Always waiting for him to fall into her arms.

“Right, well, I—ahem—don’t want you thinking I don’t care about you is all. Because I do,” he sheepishly averted her sight. “Quite a lot, in fact.” It may not have been the agonizing truth he wanted to tell her, but it was a truth nonetheless. And if presumably his sincerity was by chance remembered in a compassionate light later on when he did get the opportunity to spill the rest, all the better for him! 

Blossoming red patches splashed her entire self. Dew glazed a thin veil pane across her eyes that Astarion was wanting to get lost in. “Feels like I’ve been waitin’ a lifetime to hear that from you.”

He pecked her palm several times, cherishing her good heart. “I wanted to take my time with you tonight, give you as much pleasure as time would afford, but I don’t think you understand how long I’ve wanted this—wanted you.”

She invitingly bit her lower lip, moving to untuck his shirt out of his pants. “Then, have me.”

Buttons on his shirt loosened as he facilitated her movements. He chuckled at her serious expression when she endeavored to unstick a button and shooed his hand away when he tried to aid. A simper adorned her as she took her time, intentionally appreciating his abs contracting with titillation as her knuckles scraped against them.

“Enjoying yourself?” he teased, finally shimmying out of the shirt.

“Damned right I am!” Bonnie gawked indecently at his planes of lean chest and ab muscles. His skin virtually glowed in the moon’s beams as he canopied her figure. “You’re so handsome…“

Astarion distracted her with a roguish kiss, moving to wrangle her skirt and petticoat past her thighs. Suffering with her blood singing a hymn to him through her vibrating vein thumps and his need to have his cock inside her tightness, he was becoming desperate to move their interlude forward. 

“What are you doin’?” she puffed out.

A fang arduously clipped her lip, all but drawing blood. “I thought I would make this enjoyable for us both. Do you object?”

“Touch me,” she ordered, legs inherently spreading wide to his predatory touch.

His hand drifted up Bonnie’s quivering inner thigh, her hurriedly babbling a prayer when he reached the section where her thigh met her outer lips. “Gods, you’re bare,” he noted, purring low into her ear discovering she had foregone her under drawers. “Can I check?” 

“Check what?” she rasped into his ear as he left a brisk kiss on the side of her neck.

“To see how wet I’ve made your pussy.” Astarion didn’t wait for the wood elf’s reply, instead he ran his index finger in a straight line down her folds, drenching it in her sopping juices. “Oh, darlin’, is this what I’ve done to you?”

Bonnie shook her head to affirm, hands finding respite on his shoulders. She must’ve remembered him confiding to her that he didn’t quite like having the scars on his back touched because she never let those kind fingers of hers cross his invisible boundary once. He was grateful, cadaveric heart swelling at her consideration for him even during such a carnal moment.

Astarion’s finger soared to her clit, mindful of his claw-like nails harming her by mistake. He found her nub swollen and enlivened as she contracted her slit. His finger traced a halo, circling it, paying blissful tithes to the rapacious spot. The way she moaned his name made him bask, pride filling his ego as a man that could confidently brag he brought satisfaction to a woman like Bonnie. Then, his digit stroked her clit directly, spreading her slippery labia to ensure that little bundle of nerves got the attention it deserved. 

“Oh my gods…right there!” she wailed, sweat beading on her face.

“You’re doing so good,” he praised, compressing his stiff dick into her thigh for relief. 

She shivered when his weight pinned her tits to his naked chest and he began to hump her thigh in succession with every pass he made over her throbbing clit. He bit back a filthy grunt as he chased after his ecstasy on her leg, images of that depraved mouth of hers gorged with his rock hard girth. 

“I want you to make me cum,” she deliberately whined, tongue dipping into his mouth to twirl round the tip of his. He presumed she must’ve gotten a taste of the mint leaves he chewed earlier because she crept her tongue further in and massaged along the topside of his tongue with an audible “mmm.”

“When I do,” he roughly hissed on a notable buck into her thigh, letting her catch her breath, “you’re going to look so exquisite coming undone on my fingers.”

The tip of his finger edged along her whetted inner lips until it found her gaping pussy hole. He inserted an inch into her, testing the scalding snugness. A tight fit, but he already knew she would take his cock so well when the time came. He groaned, practically drooling when she automatically clenched onto him. Bonnie sobbed, positioning those hips to rock further on the inches he had yet to stick in. 

As he sensed her climax growing closer, he skirted his razored cuspids across her taut neck, signaling he was going to asphyxiate his fangs in her blood. Bonnie smirked and angled her head for him to settle his mouth onto his preferred area. He licked a particularly salivating region, marking the balmy pastel blue vein frantically chirring.

The pallid elf nuzzled his lips into her, aware of her nervousness. “Breathe,” he cooed. 

Drawn out deep breaths puffed from her puckered mouth one after the other until she shut her eyes. “R-Ready.”

Astarion’s jaw unlatched and his icy teeth sank and sank and sank into the delicate peel of her flesh. At that precise moment, he had two revelations: thinking creature’s blood had to be the most addictive substance in the world and Bonnie’s cunt was as greedy to be fucked as his need to feed. 

Was there ever a lovelier sound than her gasping when he plunged his fangs and fingers into her at the same time?

Syrupy nectar flooded his mouth and he could have sworn he was already intoxicated off a singular gulp. His five senses sharpened, two hundred years worth of forced malnutrition morphing into what could only be described as happiness. That crimson combusted throughout him, igniting his body with heat. He proved himself wrong believing his shaft couldn’t fatten anymore than usual, but gods, one sip from her and it was viciously tenting his trousers.

Yet, somewhere in the crux of his ravenous appetite being sated, he thought he heard a shrill voice echoing mummified orders. Astarion tepidly retracted from his feast, unconsciously lazing his lunges into Bonnie’s wetness. Blood dribbled down his chin like some famished mongrel as he adjusted his hearing to zone in on the sounds.

He peeked at her face, lost to the throes of pleasure. Didn’t she hear it too?

“I’m going to cum soon,” she cried out high-pitched, snapping him out of his thoughts. Bonnie’s vaginal walls were quaking, fixing to orgasm the instant he crooked his fingers.

“Hmm? Yes, darlin’, cum for me,” he replied, struggling to redirect his salient thought-wandering.

Vulgar words exited her mouth while he burrowed his fingers inside her, ushering her pressuring climax. Canines latched back onto the wounds he created and nursed a few more mouthfuls of blood. His fingers pumped at a slightly faster speed while gently thumbing her clit, rising from her neck only to sweetly encourage her. And when her pussy convulsed, she sang his name and praises with a prolonged moan that accompanied the torrential liquid bombarding his fingertips.  

Admiration for Bonnie’s form in his arms as he roused her orgasmic glow, should have filled him with a kind of joy bringing about an otherwise loving experience for the woman he’d fallen for, but instead, he felt nothing. He quickly blamed it on that distracting muffled voice stagnating on the precipice of his tried and true fears, hellsbent on giving himself a fair shake to try sharing pleasure with her again.

Astarion slid his soaked fingers out as her intensity subsided and eased her to sit upright. “Did that feel okay?”

Gradually, her vision refocused, tremors reducing to mini bouts of gooseflesh. “Are you kiddin’? I don’t think anyone has ever made me cum that hard in my life!”

He clicked his tongue. “I guess they weren’t trying hard enough.”

She tousled his snowy waves, amused at his brief frown mussing up his coif. “Or maybe it’s because it was you.” 

“They ain’t call me the ‘Buckin’ Bronco’ fer nothin’, lil’ lady,” he jested in a fake thicker accent.

“Literally no one calls you that,” she snickered, rolling her eyes. “And if they did, you’d knife them.”

He kissed her temple, snorting into her hairline. “I hate to admit you’re right, but gods, it is rather awful, isn’t it?” 

Bonnie stretched to tickle his chin, drying blood adhering to her nail. She ironed it between her inquisitive finger ends. “Oh! Hold on.” Collecting a bunched portion of her skirt hem, she spit on it, proceeding to dab it on his chin. “Blood smears.”

Lines crumpled his browline. He cautiously pawed at the puncture marks. “Speaking of, how bad did it hurt?”

“Would you think me a freak if I said it felt sorta…nice?”

A dramatic hand flew to his chest. “Bonnie Sparrows, did you just admit to being turned on by being bitten?!”

For a beat, her suggestive glance flitted to his deviant smugness. She vacuumed in her lips to wet them, mindfully resuming her labor on his chin. “I sure did.” Wanton thing couldn’t hide her desires even if she tried—which she wasn’t. 

The bulging outline in his trousers was still firm when he navigated Bonnie to stall her caretaking to caress it. “Aah. You’re certainly not the only one,” he replied with a pained exhale.

A flush plagued the expanse of her décolletage as she gave his erection feather-light pats, obviously unsure of how he liked to be touched. Hiding his increasing impatience, needing friction like something fierce, he kissed her, bowing her back as he coaxed her to lay onto the grass once more. Bonnie balanced herself onto her forearms, bare breasts shuddering with anticipation. 

Astarion sat back on his knees and unbuttoned his fly, accidentally ripping one of the buttons clear off in his jittery haste. “Hmph. Guess I won’t be needing that,” he acknowledged lightheartedly. 

Double bouts of barreling laughter conjoined, temporarily breaking the ice. 

He sighed. “You would think I’ve never done this before.”

“Well, you haven’t with me.” She squinted at him, scanning his expressions. “Um, do you still want to—?”

Bending to grab her knee, he pecked the inside. “I need to. I want to.” He needed to be healed. He wanted to feel different.

Trousers lowering to his hips, he winced as his pre-cum covered swollenness bobbed out. Cock head was a feverish pink, warmed by her blood coursing through. He spit into his palm for extra lubrication and stroked his tip a few times, boastfully smiling as he watched her study his impressive member. 

Stars were higher in the sky by now, the lulling breeze grazing their bodies seemed to cradle all their dreams and fondness for each other on its gusts. He lined himself up to enter her, gripping his shaft to impeccably angle it into her on that first thrust. They pressed their foreheads together, Bonnie arcing herself onto his shoulders, and moaned in unison as his crown stretched her inch by agonizing inch until he was fully rooted inside. 

His jaw and lips were bombarded with an onslaught of kisses, babbling endearments that made him dizzy. He slowed his undulating hips, allowing her pussy’s creaminess to smother him as she adjusted to his girth. 

“Ungh, Bon…B-Bonnie…so tight and,” he warbled, taking half of his length out and shoving it back in, “deep.”

She kissed his brow above his right eye. “Are you…okay?”

A blissful shiver crawled down his spine. “It just…ngh…feels different. Fuck, it feels—” 

“Beautiful” was what he wanted to say. What an odd word to describe how their intimacy felt, like it was a sensation he was being introduced to for the first time. Yet, to him, it was perfect.

Astarion glued his eyes shut, there was no bile wanting to spew from his stomach pit nor were there those loathful drudgeries digging holes into brain. Being inside her, connecting in this manner, was pure delight. 

“Feels different…haa…for me too,” she said on a jagged intake of air.

Astarion couldn’t comprehend what she meant by that. She wasn’t a virgin, having taken some men and women into her bed during her one hundred and forty-five year lifespan. Could have been the sex itself and finally having each other. But, when he chanced a peer into those white water blues, he thought he saw a glimmer of an unconditional emotion woven into her irises that filled him with a percolating doubt.

To rid himself of his ideations, he nested into the crook of her neck, bathing in the scent of soapy remnants on her flesh, and drove into her a few more times to evaluate her comfort. She reacted with more clamoring sobs, embracing his prick with her hot slit. Then—

“Yeowch!”

He immediately ceased. “What’s happened? Are you alright?”

“Stop for a minute. I think a stick is tryin’ to make its way into my butt,” Bonnie giggled. She reached behind her naked ass to pluck out the offending intruder. “Aha!”

Taking the stick from her, Astarion tossed it in a direction he wasn’t paying attention to. “Hopefully that will be the last interruption because,” he wreathed her legs around his waist, tenderly kissing her breast valley, “I don’t think I’m going to last long.”

She beamed at him, as innocently as she could pretend, running a finger along his ear’s helix. “You can cum inside me if you’d like.”

“Gods…” His dick flexed inside her, spurred on by her treacherous invitation. He was damned near ready to explode as it was, but hearing her utter such a shameless appeal made him want to fuck her as hard as she’d allow. 

His thrusts began anew, this time going quicker than previously. Astarion glided his hand between his thighs, giving her over sensitive clit a gentle swab. Bonnie’s walls quivered as he filled her, a stocking ungracefully sliding down her leg while her heels dug into his lower back. She wailed when he found her nipple once more, heartlessly punishing it with added suckles. 

“‘Starion?” Bonnie implored, legs shaking like a leaf. 

He led a crusade of kisses to her mouth, all the while pounding in smooth drawn-out propels as her hands scrambled for purchase in his hair. Sweat pooled in the tragus above her plump lips, tresses wild with tangles from rubbing against the earth. Her skin was a bright red, freckles standing out as teeny brown constellations inked across the sky that was her face.

Bonnie cupped his cheeks, shifting her eyes back and forth, and Astarion knew what she was going to say before she said it. “I-I love you, Astarion.”

He’d seen that exact phrase swirling around her pupils like a dust storm earlier, unable to properly prepare himself for it. But, did he love her? Could he unabashedly admit that he loved this woman named Bonnie Sparrows that treated him as an equal and someone worthy of love in every imaginable way possible? Had everything they went through led up to this finite moment where he realized that he felt love for another person again during these unending decades that he spent in misery and isolation?

Yes. Astarion was, without a doubt, madly in love with Bonnie.

He stared back at her, leaning to mouth his confession against her lips. “I lo—”

“Boy, you are a fool,” a piercing tone shot through his thoughts. “She doesn’t love you. She loves what pleasure your cock can bring to her.”

“No. No. NO! You’re dead! You’re fucking dead!”

“Insolent boy! When will you learn that no matter if I am dead or alive, I will ALWAYS be with you,” the Reverend’s voice stated. “How about you slice open that pretty neck of hers so I can see how much she bleeds! Ahahahaha.”

Despite Astarion’s liberation, he still had a distinct fright of what lurked beyond the shadows.  Incanted sordid commands and rotsome hands pushing him ‘neath dark waters that were likely a trick of the mind. Cazador was as dead as a doornail and whatever hubbub his psyche was muddling his head with, Bonnie wasn’t for his master, she was for him! 

Red. Red. Red. Everywhere red. Bonnie’s throat slit. Bonnie a corpse at Cazador’s feet. Himself fucking every dick and cunt between here and there. All for the master. Kennel chains rattling. Starvation. Weakness. Torture. He wasn’t free. HE’D NEVER BE FREE!

Astarion wished to tell her what was going on, bade her to run, but the words wouldn’t come. They were lost to him, as lost as his autonomy remained. 

That numbing dysphoria he’d grown accustomed, dispersed into his pores, shielding him from his stressful visions. He autopiloted, elevating his lover’s lower half so he could fuck into her at a speed that would make him cum and end it all. 

Bonnie gurgled out more “I love yous” as he rammed into her, tits barbarically bouncing. Damned woman was a half-wit! It wasn’t true. She could never love a damaged man like him. He was beyond repair.

She screamed his name and he screamed inwardly. Then, he came, groaning and stuttering his hips as his release emptied inside of her.

They laid in silence. Astarion stared unblinking at Bonnie while she herded away each wiley clump of curl that clung to his forehead. She didn’t look disappointed he didn’t tell her he loved her in return—maybe giving him a berth to chew on it—instead humming to herself in a state of joyful tranquility oft seen after sharing intimacies and all. 

“That was nice,” she whispered, blushing up a storm. “Did you feel okay during all that?”

He finally blinked, masking his sorrow with enthusiasm. “It felt wonderful! You are wonderful, darlin’.”

Astarion guided out his limping cock, putting it behind his trouser’s fly. Unable to do anything more than a clinical cleaning, he used his shirt to clean her whole body down from head to foot, dusting sweat and wiping away mixed bodily fluids. He was downright ashamed of himself, barely able to look at her.

Bonnie clasped her corset, adjusting its cover with concentrated effort in lieu of the yawns now seeping out. She threw her arms round his middle and squished him tight. “Love, I think I am all tuckered out! Mind if we rest here for a bit before that sun starts rising?”

He kissed the crown of her head, cradling it into his chest. “I’ll stand guard in case any hooligans wander by. Trance for a while. I’ll wake you when it’s time to head out.”

After those subsequent yawns, it didn’t take much until she was snoozing peacefully in his lap. He let the clock tick away hour by hour for as long as he could, imprinting her scent and slumbering noises into his memory, until he reckoned he should get a move on. 

He wasn’t certain if he was making the right choice, but he knew it was the compromise that may save them both. Didn’t matter how far he was willing to go to prevent it, Bonnie still became a victim—an unknowing victim to his trauma at that. And through that sickness that struck him, Astarion was all too aware that he could probably never provide her with the life she deserved.

He shepherded her head to lay on his crumpled up shirt and gave her a tearful kiss on her hand, a hushed ode to love murmured into her skin. “Ai armiel telere maenan hir. You hold my heart forever, my love.”

When he glanced back a final time at that orange chrysanthemum in the shape of a woman he cared for, laying exposed as a vulnerable lamb in the chill air, he knew their delicate feelings that brought life to his grave for one night had been love. 

The phantom of Cazador Szarr may consume that same love he felt for her, but his leaving meant his master couldn’t consume hers too. And the only kind of love he ever deserved, would always be at the end of a whip.

Potion studies

THIS MF EVERY DAY–

(Yes I let him.)

Sorry I finished working and drew this to relax maybe I shoudn't have it's 3 am here

With Stars to Fill My Dream (7) - From Now Our Merge is Eternal

I'm releasing chapter 7 early!!!! ❤

Please have my girl in her new hard af fit, about to be traumatized next chapter. Lets goooooooo.

I'm setting up Ofelia's and Astarion's relationship, just the bones, it's so hard to write these two idiots sometimes. Forgive any grammatical errors I really tried to proofread this a billion times first. :")

Thank you guys!

Summary: A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid? Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 8,238

Opening below the cut!

Sparks of red and gold flash behind his eyes as Astarion sits against a tree, the breath that fills his lungs and pushes outward again makes him feel almost alive. Every scent feels more powerful- even his sight is sharper. He can see the individual feathers of a hawk circling above, looking for its next meal.

He’s chosen a view of the sunrise today, and whether it's his freshly sated appetite or something else, it looks more beautiful this morning than ever before. Granted he hadn't had the chance to see it before these last few days in as long as he can remember, but still… Ofelia’s blood has made him feel like himself again. Maybe more than he has since he’s been dead.

No flush colors his cheeks when he thinks of their union- he does regret the intimate nature of the bite, but even knowing its troublesome side effects, he’d have done it all again just the same, perhaps aside from not properly asking her first.

She’d been so willing, and that fact wasn’t lost on him. Why? He can’t fathom it. No matter how hard he pours over her every word and subtle expression, he doesn’t know why she’d said yes. Stupidity? Curiosity? Some strange notion of compassion? Pity?

He grits his teeth, though he can’t find it in himself to stay irritated. He can’t stop thinking about the taste, the warmth in his skin now, all of it. How can he secure this strange partnership between them? She isn’t like his usual marks. She’s intelligent but stupid. Kind, but petty. Soft, yet tough. She doesn’t seem to be receptive to his more flirtatious remarks, but perhaps he isn’t trying the right kind. All he’d had to do before was bat his lashes and flatter his prey, but with her it’s different. Her keen eyes search for something deeper- a connection.

The kind she looks for isn’t something he has. Mutual trust? Banish the thought. He’d sooner flee their odd little group of misfits than confess to Ofelia a genuine emotion of his. Or thought. She’d find some use for it, no doubt- keep it stowed away for her benefit someday. She’s just enough of a wildcard that if he yields a sliver of control to her, she may see the opening and go for his throat. He’s smarter than that.

Perhaps he’ll manufacture lies for her? Pretty ones? She’s young and impressionable- perhaps she’ll be swayed by them. He can feed her some truth, just enough to gain her trust, and perhaps secure future feedings and a warm bedroll. Astarion’s nothing if not a master of deception- the scores of victims trailing behind him speak for themselves. He’ll resort to the one thing he knows best- luring with his looks to keep her hooked so he can stay fed and safe while he figures out how to remove his old master from the equation.

After that’s through, he’ll be rid of her and the parasite.

He ignores the odd little twinge in the back of his mind- likely the worm. When he stands, his limbs stretch, and his muscles flex, the breeze coming off the river balmy and carrying the promise of another hot day. He’ll go find her and thank her, see if he can begin this dance he’s set out before himself.

And hide her marks from the rest of their companions…