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gingerbloof · 5 months

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red (astarion x fem fighter!tav)

contents: light smut, fingering, tav getting injured, blood, fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of other companions (Halsin, Shadowheart, Lae'zel, Gale), bathing/skinny dipping in a hot spring Astarion being an absolute sweetheart, use of safe word (hard stop), non-sexual intimacy

author's note: gahhh finally i got this request finished! this is a anon request from my smut prompt list (which you can find in my masterlist!) it's more fluff/hurt/comfort than smut, because i wanted to change it up a bit since its been rather smutty on my blog thus far, but regardless, i hope you all enjoy! (image taken from @dailyastarionpics) word count: 3,821

It was yet another excruciating day of traveling Faerun, and unfortunately with no leads on curing your ceremorphosis. You and your party drudged their feet sluggishly back into camp, wishing for nothing but the sweet release of sleep. Even though the sun was already starting to peak over the horizon and morning dew started to bead on each blade of grass your tired feet landed on.

Karlach, half asleep already, started the pointless fire as Shadowheart went around to heal everyone. Once she made your way to you, her eyes widened. She brushed silver bangs off her face so she could look at you clearly. Her face grew with worry as she spoke.

“Tav… How did that happen?” She asked, pointing to your ribs. Your face scrunched up in confusion as you looked down at yourself. You then see a horrific wound that wrapped from the front side of your ribcage that wrapped around to your back. You stare at it wearily, blood dripping down your skin and mixing with the dirt under your feet.

You suddenly grew pale as you felt the adrenaline from your last battle start to wear off. You tried your best to keep your composure. Years as a fighter taught you that there was no use in submitting to any wounds you may have gotten from battle. Lae’zel admired that about you, which is why it surprised you when she looked over from her tent and raised her eyebrows in surprise and rush over to you.

“Tsk’va! Tav what the hells happened?!” She asked, a very rare worried tone in her voice.

You let out a sound between a chuckle and a scoff. “It’s just a… scratch,” The last word was soft and breathy, then you felt your body begin to sway, and your surroundings blur, until darkness clouded over you. The last thing you heard was your beloved fanged partner shout “Darling!” before you submitted to the pitch blackness of unconsciousness.

***

You woke up with a groan, pain shooting through your side. You open your eyes slowly, the world slowly coming back into focus. You were snug in your bedroll, shirtless, and caked in sweat. The injury you got must’ve infected you at some point and gave you a fever, which was now thankfully breaking.

You looked down at your injury and saw that it was quickly healing, probably thanks to the help of both Halsin and Shadowheart. Careful stitches held your broken flesh together, which you knew was thanks to Astarion, whom you barely noticed was right next to you reading a book. You started to sit up as he snapped his book shut and shifted so he was on his side facing you.

“Easy, darling!” He said concerningly, laying you back down slowly. You looked up at him with sleepy eyes as you allowed him to lay you back down. “You’re still in a bit of bad shape, no sudden movement, alright?” He said soothingly, running his slender pale fingers through your hair and laying a kiss on your forehead.

You sighed softly with a bit of frustration, leaning into his kiss. “I’m fine, my love…” You said, your voice low and gruff. “‘Tis but a flesh wound, I promise.”

He rolled his eyes at you. “‘My love, I don’t believe a ‘flesh wound’ would cause you to collapse from blood loss and get… twelve stitches,” He said, glancing briefly at your injury and counting them quickly. “We also had to pull a rather big chunk of metal out of your side…” You sigh again and carefully cross your arms over your chest, pouting at him. “I’ve had a lot worse, you know,” You said in a snarky tone, pointing to the big gash in your face that you had gotten years ago.

He gasped and placed his hand over his chest in a sarcastic manner. “Oh, I’m so sorry! It seems I have forgotten that such a strong bodied fighter such as yourself doesn’t need any comfort,” He said cheekily, the corners of his mouth curving into a smirk as your face flushed bright red.

“I-I didn’t say that!” You pouted even more, turning your head away from him. Regardless of your strong outer shell, he always brought out your very well hidden soft interior. He was the only one who could do it, and knowing that inflated his already massive ego.

He laughed heartily at your reaction, gently taking your chin in his cold hand and turning your head back around to face him. “You are utterly adorable,” He cooed, giving you a quick smooch on the lips. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up, darling. No offense, my love, but you smell like death.”

You frown and sniff yourself briefly, the smell of stale blood and sweat assaulting your nostrils. How embarrassing… You nodded, and he very carefully helped you up. He pulled off his own nightshirt for you to wear, and linked your arm with his so you didn’t stumble.

As you exit your tent, the assaulting rays of the afternoon sun almost blind you. You squint in the light and use your hand to shield your eyes as Shadowheart and Halsin quickly rush over to you both, relief washing over their faces.

“Tav! You’re awake, thank Selune!” Shadowheart beamed, cupping your face gently. You smile warmly at her and chuckle. As your best friend, other than Astarion of course, Shadowheart was always giving you sweet friendly touches. You adored having someone like her around.

Halsin was next to speak, his large frame thankfully shielding the sun from your still very tired eyes. “Thank the Oak Father… We were worried your injuries were far too grave for us to heal alone. Good to see we were wrong,” He smiled warmly at you. “How are you feeling?”

You shrugged as you leaned against Astarion a bit more. “I’m okay, it just hurts a bit. We’re going to the river to clean up quickly,” You respond, reassuring them that you were fine. “Of course if she’s alright enough to do so,” Astarion chimed in, lifting your shirt enough for the healers to take a look at it.

Shadowheart hummed and reached her hand out, chanting a soft “Te curo” as a soft blue light wrapped around your injury. This eased the pain quite a bit, and from the looks of it, her simple healing word seemed to have closed the gash up just a bit more. A sigh of relief left your lips as you said a silent thank you to her.

“I think she will be fine, but I do recommend going to the hot spring, the warmth of the water and the healing properties of nature should make her feel good as new,” Halsin said. Astarion smiled at both of them. “Thank you, we shall take our leave for now, then,”

As you both turn to head towards the spring, Halsin spoke out to you once again. “Would you two mind if I joined?” A small but sweet smirk on his face. Both you and Astarion chuckled. You had both indulged yourselves with Halsin before, so it was always on the table when the time seemed right. Astarion looked to you to silently ask if that was alright, and you shook your head. You just wanted him right now…

Astarion replied on your behalf. “Mmm, tempting, but not tonight, druid. I hope you can understand.” Halsin nodded, fully understanding. “Of course. Enjoy yourselves, both of you.”

After walking for a few meters you found the spring. Neither of you have seen it before, so you both took a moment to soak up the view. There was a beautiful waterfall in the distance that led to the river, and mountains could be seen just beyond it. Moss covered rocks were placed conveniently around the steaming body of water, perfect to sit on to dip your feet in, and the trees hung low enough to lightly diminish the harsh ways of the afternoon sun from your view.

You smiled and sighed softly at the view. It was breathtaking. Astarion, however, was entranced by a different view. You.

You felt his eyes upon you and looked over to him, your eyes immediately locking with his. You tried to play it cool, looking back at the spring before you. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” You asked softly. He stepped closer to you, gently placing his hand on your hip and carefully pulling you closer, minding your wound. “Not as beautiful as you, my love,” He purred softly, placing a kiss on your forehead. You flush deeply, and not just from the steam of the spring.

You both stay there for a moment, enjoying each other’s company. He sighed a contentful sigh as he pulled away from you briefly. “Come now, my love. Let’s get you all cleaned up,” He smiled. You nodded and started removing his shirt from yourself, but he quickly stopped you, taking your hands for a brief moment. “Let me, my dear,” He gently lifted the shirt off of you, careful not to let you lift your arms up too far. The shirt pulled off of you, revealing your bruised and injured body. Crusted up blood flaked over your skin, but regardless Astarion still looked at you like you were the most beautiful being in all the Relms.

Your small clothes came next. He slowly slipped them down around your ankles leaving you bare. Astarion soon followed suit, yanking down his pants and slowly stepping into the warm water. He reached his hand out to you and you took it, following him into the water.

You sigh in relief, the warmth of the water immediately relaxing your tired muscles. You stepped further into the pool, sinking down until the water was just above your breasts. Astarion went back over to the rock he left his trousers on and pulled out a bar of soap, which you hardly even noticed he grabbed. You raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Let me guess… Stolen?” You jabbed, crossing your arms lightly. Astarion half shrugged nonchalantly. “Only from Gale,” He responded with a chuckle. You roll your eyes and shake your head playfully. You weren’t surprised, he always took the opportunity to take anything important as he saw fit, especially if it was from Gale. He made his way back over to you, getting the bar of soap wet and lathering it in his hands. “Turn around, my love,” He said softly, taking your shoulders and spinning you in the water gently so your back was to him.

You comply and briefly dip yourself further into the water to wet the rest of your body. As you stood back up he placed a soft kiss on the nape of your neck and started his work. He scrubbed away the grime and flaked blood off the backs of your shoulders. You hum happily, wrapping your arm around to gently wrap your fingers around his beautiful silver locks. He wrapped his arms carefully around you, pulling you further into him. He placed soft kisses along the shell of your ear as the lather made its way to your chest and torso.

He continued to clean you innocently and sweetly for a few more moments until he turned you around. The way the suds of the soap encompassed your breasts and the golden rays of the sun making your wet skin glow flipped a switch inside of him. You were the most ethereal thing he had ever gazed upon.

You were entranced with him too. The sunlight bounced off of his beautiful pale skin, and he almost appeared to shimmer in it. His ruby eyes glinted as he looked at you, nothing but love and devotion filling them.

“You know…” He started softly, tracing the backs of his knuckles down your arm, gazing down your figure. “I can think of some other ways to relieve some tension, darling,” His voice was a hungry purr now, honeyed words floating sweetly into your ears like a soft lullaby. You nibbled your bottom lip as you watched his movements as his hand creeped down to the front of your thigh. Once again, you tried playing it cool, despite the ever growing heat in your core. “W-What do you mean?” You asked softly.

A low chuckle left his lips. “Don’t be coy, darling. You know exactly what I mean,” A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as his fingertips gently grazed across your folds, making your breath hitch in your throat. “What’s the matter, my sweet? Cat got your tongue?” He hooked his index finger to part your folds and catch against your clit, brushing against it gently.

You grabbed his hand in an attempt to push his fingers against your swollen bundle of nerves more to get some much needed friction. He stiffened his hand, not allowing you to move it. He clicked his tongue in disapproval and shook his head, the corners of his mouth lifting in yet another devious smirk.

“Patience, my sweet,” He purred next to your ear, his other arm snaking around and gripping your ass gently, pulling you further into him.

You stumbled a bit into him, clearly flustered by his bluntness. Uncharacteristic for someone of your class and background, but you didn’t care. Astarion brought a side out of you that you haven’t felt safe enough to channel in years, and you were very grateful for him for it.

He chuckled at your apparent shyness, placing soft kisses along your ear making you shiver. “S-Star…” You whimpered, making him groan. He loved that nickname, and you always knew the right times to use it. “Yes, darling? What is it?” He replied smugly, his feather light touches grazing your folds again, making you tense up.

“Please…” You mumble, making him groan in playful frustration. “My darling, we’ve gone over this multiple times… You must– say it with me now… use your words,” You shyly said those three cursed words along with him. As he said, you have gone over it multiple times, but you were much too stubborn to give in and actually tell him what you wanted. That was, until you were too desperate for him not to care anymore. Just like how you were right now.

“Astarion,” You said sternly, trying to keep up your strong facade. “I want you to touch me. Use your fingers. Please.” The last word you spoke was soft and breathy, your stubbornness bending like a hammer to hot steel. He grinned, his fangs glinting in the glow of the setting sun. Gods, he is beautiful…

“Of course, my love. Whatever you need,” He purred, his fingers finally placing soft pressure against your hard clit. You gasped softly as he used those two slender fingers to massage soft circles into it. You shivered, despite the hot steamy water that surrounded you both, and grasped onto his shoulders, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

He gently ran his fingers through your hair as he continued to stroke the fire in your core. To the innocent bystander, it might’ve looked like you were just having a sweet romantic hug in the water, but down below the surface, he was giving you endless pleasure, quickly bringing you to the point of no return.

With you being inexperienced when you started being intimate with one another, it never took you long to reach an orgasm, especially if he was the one touching you. He chuckled as he felt your body tremble against his. Your blunt fingernails gently dug into his skin as you felt your orgasm creep closer and closer. Normally, he would make you ask to come because he relished in the sounds of you begging. However, given the circumstances, he decided to play nice with you today.

“That’s it, my pet… Let go,” He whispered, kissing along your shoulder gently. His pace quickened, earning him a soft airy gasp from you. Your breath wavered as his fingers continued their quickening pace against your clit, your legs starting to tremble. “A-Astarion…!” You choked out, grasping onto him for dear life. He hummed in approval as his pace quickened once again, making your eyes snap shut and let out a delicious, loud moan.

Your orgasm crashed into you like the waterfall behind you crashing into the river, your whole body twitching and spasming. You almost fell over from how hard you came, but thankfully Astarion’s stiff body kept you upright. He slowed his pace, riding you through your orgasm and whispering sweet praises into your ear. “There you go, my sweet… What a good girl you are,” He peppered kisses along your neck as he slowly withdrew his hand.

You panted as you looked at him. Your face was beet red, and your brow was starting to bead sweat from the heat of the spring and your orgasm. He smiled sweetly down at you and caressed your cheek. “Would you like more?” He asked, as you felt his cock throb against you. You nodded eagerly, slipping your hand down beneath the water to stroke him gently. He took your wrist and shook his head.

“Please, my dear… Allow me,” He purred. He gently guided you over to a nearby rock to the shallower end of the pool. “Bend over here, darling,” He gently coaxed. You were quick with your actions, yet careful. You didn’t want to reopen your wound. You gently bent over the rock, arching your back slightly for him. He came behind you and stared at your swollen cunt, dripping with ecstasy and still twitching from your previous orgasm. He ran his hands across the swell of your ass and down the sides of your thighs, groaning softly. “Beautiful…”

He took his cock and gently pressed the tip against your hole. “Are you ready, my sweet? Are you ready to be stretched by my cock?” He asked, his tone sweet and innocent despite the filthy words. You nodded eagerly, arching your back a bit more in an attempt to push yourself onto him. “Y-Yes… Please, I need you…” You replied, your voice full of desperation.

The eagerness in your words was all the confirmation he needed. He slowly started to roll his hips into you, pressing each inch of his cock further and further into you. You moaned loudly as you stretched around him and clenched. He hissed in pleasure at your tightness as he thrust slowly in and out of you, closing his eyes. You growled softly at the feeling of you. “Gods, Tav… You feel so fucking good,” He said, pressing into you harder, earning a loud yelp from you.

Sometimes, especially in moments of insatiable desire such as this, Astarion could be a bit rough with you. It was almost like he went feral from your sounds and the feeling of you pulsating around him. Thus, you have agreed upon a word that either of you could use if things got out of hand. Neither of you had to use it yet, but if he kept up this harsh, rough pace, you would have to use it.

His speed increased, thus his roughness. The pleasure started turning into a soft, manageable pain as the tip of his cock pounded against your cervix. He must not have noticed your body tense, because he kept going, wrapping his hands around your waist, accidentally touching your stitched wound.

That is what made you say it.

“R-Red!! Astarion, red!”

His eyes snapped open as he stopped, pulling out of you quickly and turning you around gently, his face broken with worry. “Oh, my dear, I am so sorry… Did that hurt? Are you okay?” He asked, checking your wound briefly to see if he had accidentally reopened it. You panted softly, trembling a bit. You winced softly with pain. “I-It was just my injury… I think I’ll be okay,” You reassured him, feeling bad that you had ruined the moment. He shook his head. “No, darling… Let’s stop, I don’t want to cause any more harm to you. I-i don’t know what got into me, I-”

You noticed he started rambling a bit and… Tearing up. You had yet to see him cry about anything, so this surprised you. Your face grew with worry as you caressed his cheek. “Hey… It’s okay, I’m okay,” You said gently. He leaned into your touch and shook his head again. “Gods I am so sorry…” He apologized again, his voice laced with guilt. You kissed him sweetly on the nose and smiled at him. “My heart, I’m okay. Thank you for stopping when I said it.” He chuckled at that. “Of course I stopped. I want nothing more than for you to be comfortable,” He said gently, placing a soft peck on your lips. You kissed him back and smiled warmly. You had never had anyone who cared about your safety and wellbeing as much as he did, nor him with you. You both felt so safe together, and absolutely nothing could ruin that.

He pulled away slightly and took the bar of soap again, coaxing you over with his finger. “Come, my love, let’s finish getting you washed up.”

After you both bathed, you stayed in the spring for a few hours, talking about everything and nothing and enjoying each other’s company. The moon had risen a while ago, bathing you both in its faint blue light. You stared up at the moon as you sunk down into the water to your shoulders. You barely noticed the wound anymore, and you felt relaxed and very well healed.

Astarion had gotten out a few minutes ago to dry off. He stared at you and had a devilish idea. He smirked to himself as he slowly slipped back into the water, trying not to make too much noise. He snuck up behind you, totally oblivious. Just as he was about to splash you with water, you flipped around and got his face and hair soaking wet, making him groan in frustration. “Gahh, my hair! My beautiful hair!” He pouted, making you laugh hysterically. “Sneaking up on a fighter, really, my love?” You said through laughs. He scowled a bit, then started to laugh as well. “Foolish idea, I know…” He admitted, wading closer to you. “But you didn’t have to ruin my hair…” He whined. You grin evilly at him, lifting your hand to his head.

“No, no! Stay back, you!” He shouted as he tried to get away from you. You chased him around the pool for a bit, laughter and playful banter filling the night.

Halsin and Shadowheart were silently watching you both from the clearing just before the pool, smiling sweetly. “She seems to be doing a lot better now, doesn’t she, Halsin?” Shadowheart queried, making Halsin chuckle as he replied. “What can I say… Love certainly is the best medicine.”

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bearhugsandshrugs · 7 months

Note

Ok imagine a sleep talking Tav tells their romance partner “I love you” in their sleep and their partner is just floored at the first time confession in their earnest, too-honest sleep haze and ofc Tav doesn’t remember in the morning

I had to write this for all of them, obviously, because this is so cute.

Thank you so much for this!

Astarion

He scoffs at the confession, taken aback in the moment, defenses rising sky high as he prepares for mockery. When he realizes Tav is half asleep, words tumbling out of their mouth unguardedly, he sits there in the dark, lower lip trembling as he stares at them. The next morning when they’re both awake, he softly tries to get a reaction out of Tav. He wants to, needs to hear them say it again. To make it real. So when the first opportunity presents itself, he jabs a “It’s because you love me, isn’t it” at them, and it’s absolutely not as smooth as it sounded in his head, but Tav stares at him, considering. Then it hits them, that they do, in fact, love Astarion. So when they reply “Yes. I love you”, simply and matter of fact, he can only grin, exhilarated by the repeated confession. “It does sound sweeter when you’re awake, my love.”

Gale

Love who? Gale is confused. They can’t possibly mean him, could they? But then Tav says it again, a soft “Gale” added to their confession, and the wizard’s face burns so hot that a drop of sweat rolls down his forehead. “I love you too” he whispers into the dark, gently placing a kiss on Tav’s lips before nestling his body against theirs. He doesn’t mention it, doesn’t say a thing, a sweet secret that he is happy to hold for the both of them, until Tav is ready.

Halsin

A small smile flashes across his face, but gets replaced by furrowed brows as Halsin softly strokes Tav’s hair. Love. A feeling, no, a concept, that is so deep, so complex, that he’s glad for his partner’s quiet breaths as they fall back into a deeper sleep. Does he love them? Deep in his heart, he knows. Has known for a long time, as their presence brightens all colors, heightens all senses, like a beam of sun breaking through a cloudy day. Still, the confession hits him unprepared, and he sighs as the meditation does not come easily that night, his heart stumbling over itself again and again as the memory of Tav confessing their love for him takes hold. The next day, he asks his lover on a walk, gently breaching the subject and telling them about their words, in the candid and tender way they’ve come to love him for. Sensing his struggle, Tav pulls him into a hug, whispering the confession into his ear again. Yes. It does not feel wrong, merely unfamiliar. Smiling down at them, Halsin finally responds: “I did not expect to go on yet another adventure with you, but for what it’s worth, this might be the sweetest one.” He isn’t ready yet. But he will be.

Karlach

“What?!” Karlach’s voice is loud enough to startle Tav, pulling them out of their dreams. “You what?” Slowly coming to, Tav rubs their eyes as they try to comprehend what has their beloved tiefling in such an outburst. “What’s wrong?” they ask groggily, but Karlach shakes them awake, beaming, grinning, giggling. “Say it again”, she demands, and Tav is too tired to understand. “Say what again” they ask, fumbling for Karlach’s face to caress her cheek. “You said you love me, you dumbass”, Karlach chuckles. “Which is good, because I love you too, and you know what they say about the drunk and the sleepy: they don’t lie.” Tav chuckles nervously, confused but not opposed to the sudden declaration. “I do”, they eventually sigh, and Karlach’s face lights up, even in the dim light. “I love you.”

Lae’zel

“T’chk”, the githianky scoffs, shoving her elbow into Tav’s side. “Don’t mock me with such foolery.” When she realizes that Tav’s asleep, unable to defend themselves (or reassure her), Lae’zel rolls her eyes and pulls the covers over her shoulders. “Stupid”, she curses under her breath, and it’s unclear whether she means Tav or herself. The next morning Lae’zel pulls Tav aside, a worried expression plastered across her face. “The tadpole seems to be messing with your head”, she says, eyes skeptical and alert. “Otherwise you’d hardly confess your love to me in your dreams.” Tav stares at them, then chuckles softly, touched by their lover’s particular way of expressing concern. “I’m fine, Lae’zel”, they insist. “Loving you is not a weakness.”

Shadowheart

Her small gasp surprises even her. Then, the pain follows. The white hot flash in her hand brings her to tears, and Shadowheart is glad that Tav is sleeping, oblivious to what has happened. Loving them should not hurt, but Shar keeps her brutal grasp on her. The next day, Shadowheart keeps looking at Tav, trying to gather the courage to tell them, but each time, the pain takes her breath away. When Tav ultimately notices, they pull her into a calm embrace, rocking her slowly until the cleric confesses. “I love you”, they repeat, kissing Shadowheart on her forehead. Suddenly, she feels safe – cradled and protected, belonging to them as they belong to her. The pain fades. Shar has no power over her heart. Not while she’s with Tav.

Wyll

When he hears Tav mumble the declaration in their sleep, he rolls over, facing them. Looks like he needs to speed up his plans – he’d been wanting to tell them that he loved them for days now, debating with himself if it was too much, too soon. Tav’s confession eases him. This is good. The next day he takes them to a secluded spot, flowers upon flowers decorating a small picnic blanket. “What’s the occasion?”, Tav asks, and he smiles, he already knows, so nothing they can say will deter him. “Oh, nothing”, he teases, “just that I love you.” Tav’s surprised, or relieved, maybe both, and they giggle with joy as Wyll pulls them in for a kiss. “I love you too”, they sigh, eliciting a knowing grin from their partner. He will never tell. Some things are sweeter left in the dark, quiet nights he intends to share with them, every night, for the rest of his life.

#astarion #halsin #karlach #shadowheart #gale #wyll #lae’zel #i don’t know shit about minthara so i’m skipping her #should i add gortash and raphael???#my writing #thank you for this prompt it’s so wholesome #please send me more stuff like this

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leighsartworks216 · 7 months

Text

A Spawn Could Get Used To This

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Wrote this on 1 hour of sleep. I did proofread it. I am so so sleepy. I'm going back to bed after this

Warnings: embarrassment

Word Count: 1,163

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First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

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In the few weeks he’d been traveling along with this not-so-merry band of weirdos, Astarion got used to a lot of things very quickly. Gale loudly explaining anything at the drop of a hat, Lae’zel and Shadowheart fighting, the smells. Some things were positive, too. The sun was always nice and warm, and the odd sort of comfort being with a group of weirdos brought was nice. And, of course, some things were neutral.

One of the neutrals he’d adjusted to came in the form of you, their leader, and in fact the forms you could take on. He wasn’t sold on the whole druid thing before - all of them were tree huggers who cried over a crushed blade of grass - but, well, being romantically involved with one came with some quirks.

Quite often, almost any time you weren’t busy exploring or risking their lives, you would transform into a cat and go about the camp. If Scratch and the owlbear cub were any indicators, small fluffy things raised morale. Most everyone would scratch along your spine or behind your ears, all their woes forgotten for even a brief moment. It became rather commonplace. Mundane. What an odd thing to be called mundane.

Along with this came another little quirk.

After you did your rounds, getting pets and listening to their smaller issues, you’d come back around and rub against his leg. This very quickly became a way of asking for him to pick you up. You rather enjoyed being close to his chest and purring as loudly as possible.

Today was just like any other. You’d come back with a sack of stolen goods and bloody armor, drop everything unceremoniously in a pile, and transform to make your rounds. Well, he assumed that’s what you did. He was a little preoccupied when you disappeared, but he didn’t think much of it when a cat started wandering around the tents.

So he stood and flipped through his book and busied himself, waiting to drop the act and pick you up and cuddle. It was a rather good act, he thought. He’d furrow his brow or lightly chuckle, and become so engrossed in pretending to read he stopped noticing the passage of time, until something small and fluffy rubbed against his leg.

He closed the book carelessly as he looked down at his feet. Sure enough, a cat rubbed its cheek against him, already starting to purr. He grinned, though not too wide, lest the others begin to think he went soft. “Hello, my love,” he cood. “Want me to hold you?”

The cat meowed, head butting him. He chuckled and tossed his book onto a pillow, before bending down and lifting the darling creature - his darling creature - into his arms. It flipped to its back to be cradled like a baby in the crook of his elbow, paws stretching out and claws latching lightly to the fabric of his shirt. It purred so loud he was sure everyone else for a mile could hear it.

Unusually, it didn’t seem to like when he tried stroking its belly. He thought, perhaps, you just didn’t want that kind of contact today. He’d been getting used to the boundaries touch should have, and the fact you would respect them. It was only natural to have the same grace in return.

“Awe, you got yourself a little friend!”

Astarion startled at the voice, jostling the cat slightly, who mrowled at the movement. Sure enough, standing beside his tent toweling their hair dry was his beloved druid. Not in cat form. He gaped in confusion and awe.

“Darling, don’t take this the wrong way but, where the Hells were you?” The cat rolled to its side to knead biscuits into his chest. He barely felt the pinpricks of nails.

You gave him an odd look. “I went for a wash. Our battles were a bit bloodier today, and while you may like the smell of blood, I, personally, don’t. Especially when it’s up my nose.” You scowled, rubbing your nose at the memory. “Why? Did something happen?”

His frown didn’t disappear as he slowly replied, “No, nothing at all.”

You gave him another odd look. “Are you alright?”

He blinked, shaking himself out of his dumbfounded stupor. “This is going to sound ridiculous, but…” He looked down at the cat in his arms that seemed to settle down and prepare for a nap. “Well, dear, I thought this was you.”

The laugh bursts out of you unbidden, and Astarion glares embarrassed at you. You try to bite down the giggles trying to escape. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It’s just,” you giggle and step forward to pet the cat. You have a bubbly sort of mischief in your eyes. He prepares himself for the worst. “You can’t tell the difference between us?”

“I didn’t think I had to memorize the precise hairs, no,” he bit. “It looked like you - why would I have any reason to believe it wasn’t?”

“You don’t need to be defensive,” you assure sweetly. “It’s cute! And it seems to like you.”

He huffed and looked down at the creature. The points of its fangs peeked out as it drifted off into sleep. The purring persisted, now almost reminding him of snoring. He pouted, though he hated when you called it that. He preferred the term brooding. “Yes, well, I was rather hoping it was my darling druid come to join me for a lazy evening.”

You chuckled and kissed his cheek. “I can do that. But I don’t think your new friend is going to want to leave you alone.”

He peeked at you from the corner of his eye. “I could be persuaded to share myself with both of you.”

“What if I turned into a cat and purred, too?”

He hummed, pretending to consider the deal, but the slight lift of his mouth gave it away. “I don’t know, darling. You know how much I simply loathe sharing. I think you can do better than that.”

You smile. “Okay, what if I throw a kiss into the mix?”

He grinned, the points of his fangs peeking out just like the cat’s in his arms. “That might even it out.”

You do your best to avoid disturbing the cat as you lean in to catch his lips. You taste of fresh spring water and the barest hint of a health potion. And he loves it. The kiss doesn’t last nearly long enough before you pull away and kiss his cheek. “Get comfortable. I’ll be back in a moment.”

“I’ll count the seconds,” he teases, though there’s no hint of a lie in his voice.

You chuckle and walk away, back to the pile of stuff that Wyll and Gale are already sorting through, counting 1, 2, 3, 4… And 97 seconds later, when you and this stranger cat are both laying atop him, purring incessantly, he finds he could get used to it.

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars

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rosieofcorona · 6 months

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All We Do Not Say

Hi beloveds! I have crafted a soft little Gale fic for you because it's my firm belief that everyone's favorite wizard deserves all the warmth in the world. 😌 Also on AO3, if you prefer. As always, thank you for reading. 💕

There was a time in his life that Gale could sleep anywhere, provided he had a good book and a space to sit down.

In Waterdeep, he might wake in his armchair or on his balcony with the weight of an ancient tome still resting in his lap, or at his desk, his cheek pressed against parchment. The smell of it, of ink and lignin, would bring him back to his senses before his eyes were fully open, and he’d recall what he’d been studying, and begin reading again.

At home, in his tower, he could do this night after night and still feel mostly rested come morning.

But he is far from his tower, and farther each day.

Perhaps it is the orb that keeps him up as of late, with its insatiable, unnatural hunger, or perhaps it is the tadpole that wriggles and pulses impatiently inside his skull. Or it could, he supposes, be the simpler and less curable matter of aging– an affliction that seems, on occasion, more frightening than either of the others.

Whatever the cause of his recent insomnia, it pulls Gale into a rather distressing cycle– he cannot sleep, so he cannot focus, so he cannot read, so he cannot sleep.

Instead, he finds himself offering to keep watch over camp in the evenings, if only for the distraction. The far-off gibbering of a newborn gnoll, the crunch of foliage under goblin feet, an animal scream– each night a fresh and distant horror calls his mind away from greater threats, from illithids and tadpoles and gods.

It’s an odd remedy, he knows. But the alternative is lying awake in his tent, turning death over and over in his mind until the thought is worn smooth as a river stone.

It works well for a time, keeps his mind on the present and off of some vague, future doom.

That is, at least, until they reach the Underdark.

Deep beneath Faerûn, there is something profoundly disturbing about the lack of…well, everything. They find no grand cities or quaint little villages, few animals and even fewer people.

No trees, no light. No sky.

Most nights spent underground are so quiet that Gale may as well stay in his bedroll, staring up at a canopy of fabric, dark as the velvet earth above them.

He thinks, It is like being buried alive, without even the stars to bear witness.

On these nights he can feel the stones in his head turning over.

Even so, come the evening (or what he guesses is evening), Gale volunteers to stand sentinel for the fifth time in a tenday.

He always asks them after dinner, when his companions are most likely to agree, after his cooking has warmed them and filled their bellies and made them want nothing more than to close their eyes and dream of somewhere, anywhere else.

Tav is the only one who protests with any frequency, the only one who seems to notice that the circles under his eyes are half a shade darker than they were yesterday, when they were half a shade darker than the day before.

Even on nights when she convinces someone else to take his place, he will relieve them after Tav has gone to sleep.

It starts the same way every time.

Gale walks the perimeter in an infinite loop, looking for life in the darkness, illuminated only by the fire in the center of their camp. It makes him feel like a distant planet, nearly untouched by the sun. How strange to think that he’d once felt like the sun itself.

He continues in his orbit until the subterranean cold gnaws at his limbs. It bites down hard on his nose and ears and fingers, chases him back to the fire, back to the light.

Hypnotized by the flames and their radiant warmth, he does not hear the quiet stirring in the tent beyond his own, doesn’t hear the soft approach of nimble feet.

A voice comes to him out of the darkness.

“I hope you’re not keeping watch again.”

“Mystra,” Gale gasps, startled, the goddess’s name invoked in equal parts a prayer, a curse.

“Forgive me,” Tav says, through a laugh she cannot help. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” If it were anyone else he might be annoyed, or even a little embarrassed– but the sound of her laughter bubbles like seafoam over sand, rushes over and around him. Coupled with the relief that she is not some dreadful creature of the Underdark, he finds it difficult to feel anything besides affection.

“It’s quite alright,” he recovers, with a shake of his head. “You surprised me, that’s all.”

“Then I really hope you’re not keeping watch.”

She is teasing him now, just lightly, a familiar spark of warmth behind her eyes.

It is the same look she gives him when she brings him a new book, or when he cooks for her, or when he tells her about Waterdeep. It is the same look she gave him earlier in the day, when she had offered to brew him a tea that might help him to sleep.

Gale has trouble remembering the last time another looked at him this way, so interested and inviting and earnest.

Perhaps, he thinks, another never has.

“Are you alright?” Tav asks, when he’s been quiet for too long.

“Of course,” he says with the sincerity of a promise, offered with a smile that he hopes will be convincing. “Just lost in thought.”

There is a part of him that doesn’t want to leave it there, that wants to share his every thought with her, his every terror, every dream. She must know that there is more to it, must’ve learned by now to recognize when Gale isn’t telling her everything, but he is grateful that she doesn’t press him, never presses him.

Instead she breaks into a grin and says, “You’re lucky I’m not a bulette.”

“I’m lucky they’re not so light-footed. What are you doing up, anyway?”

“The cold always wakes me, sooner or later,” Tav sighs. “If I’d known it was so godsdamned frigid down here, I might’ve nicked a fur or two from the Zhent.”

It’s Gale’s turn to laugh, though she’s only half-joking.

She’s drawn near to him, to the flames, her palms outstretched, her fingers spread wide as if to grab hold of as much warmth as possible.

“But it’s alright,” she continues, “So as long as I’m close to the fire.”

“Any closer and you’ll be in it, I’m afraid. Perhaps I can help.”

Tav tilts her head and quirks an eyebrow in a curious little expression. “Can you?”

“If you’ll allow me.”

Gale turns to face her fully, and she mirrors him out of instinct.

“Hold out your hands to me,” he says. “Palms together, just barely. Like you’re praying.”

“Like this?” “Like that.”

The spell is one his mother taught him, among the first he’d ever learned.

He still remembers that winter in Waterdeep, when the snow fell hard and fast. When the ice in the harbor kept the ships at arm’s length and the frozen streets shone like glass. He was young then, six or seven, but even now he can feel his small hands in Morena’s, warmed by a word and a touch.

Warm and fed, she used to tell him. That’s how you show someone they’re loved.

Gale cages Tav’s hands lightly in his own, the way he might hold a butterfly. He pushes all thoughts of winter away and calls to mind the rippling heat of summer, an orchard grown fat with peaches, the silvery shimmer of sweat on skin.

The rose-petal flush of a cheek cradled in a hand, her cheek, his hand…

“Calor aestas,” he says quietly, when the image comes into clear view. He feels the cold melt from her fingers, hears the comfortable sigh that follows. “Better?”

“Yes,” she murmurs. “Much.”

She is looking at him now with an intensity he has not seen since the night he first showed her the Weave, all that time ago. The night he saw her thoughts laid bare, had all but felt her lips on his.

Had she seen them now, the visions he had conjured? Had she felt him pull her close in his own mind?

Tav clears her throat softly and he comes back to himself, his heartbeat thrashing wildly in his chest. He realizes with some urgency that he has not let her go and pulls back suddenly, but not without reluctance.

“I hope,” he swallows, trying to compose himself. “I hope it helps you sleep.”

“Do you want me to stay up with you?”

Yes, he thinks selfishly, Yes. Stay up with me, stay close to me, always.

He shakes his head instead. “You should rest while the spell holds.”

“And how long is that?”

“As long as I’m able to concentrate.”

He will think of her hands and their pull on a bowstring, their pluck of a lyre, their grip on a sword. How they weave her own magic, how they cradle a book. How they felt clasped in his, soft and cold.

A focus worth holding, at last.

“Only if it’s no trouble,” she says.

“None at all.”

Gale is grateful that he manages to stop himself, for once, from saying the rest of the thought as it enters his head. I would think of you anyway, magic or no.

Tav takes his hand in hers again, this time to squeeze it fondly.

For a moment, he feels that if he were to die just now– from the orb, from the tadpole, in the jaws of a hungry bulette– it would all have been worth it, for this.

“Thank you, Gale.”

Her smile is warmer than any summer he remembers, brighter than any star he can name.

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fl3shm4id3n · 8 months

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ₛwₐₙ ₗₐₖₑ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟. 𝐄𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐲 𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴀꜱᴛᴀʀɪᴏɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ꜱʜᴀᴘᴇꜱʜɪꜰᴛᴇʀ! (ᴛᴀᴠ?) ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: Cursed reader, nosy Astarion, slightly jealous Astarion, nudity, shapeshifting.

A/N: I had finally come up with something to write about for my beloved vampire boyfriend. I really like swans and swan lake. I might write a version of this but with Halsin.

Masterlist

Every full moon you'd vanish into the woods, no one in the party knew why you did. They didn't want to be nosy and pry in your business. Except for Astarion, he wanted to know why you'd go away into the woods every full moon. He thought about what you could possibly be doing the woods, were you doing some kind of magic spell? Where you mediating. Or were you secretly a werewolf? That was impossible, he'd smell it on you. Or... What if you were seen someone?!

That had him thinking, a lot. What you and him had meant nothing to you? Who was this person you were seen?! Gale? Wyll? ShadowHeart? Karlach? lae'zel?!.. No, maybe it was Halsin, Astarion saw how you and the giant druid got along as if you were close, perhaps to close. This curiosity was eating him up, he couldn't sleep properly just thinking that you and Halsin are sneaking around. Specially if you didn't let him join along. He was going to find out what it was that you were hiding.

That night was just another night, a full moon. Most of the party members had gone to sleep, except for you. Once you saw that everyone was deep in slumber, you sneaked into the woods as quick as you could. Astarion had been faking to be sleeping, he waited a couple minutes for you to go, then he got up from his bedroll. Expecting how everyone was sleeping, even Halsin was in his small tent he made out of leaves and twigs, interesting. Afterwards, he went into the woods to find you.

As he walked into the dark woods, he was silent as possible, following your scent. All he could hear was the sound of the forest. The wind hitting the tree leaves together, crickets playing their small chirps, and along other nocturnal animals. He followed your scent into a lake? He hid behind a giant tree and peaked out to see if he could spot you. He didn't see you, but he saw your clothes neatly folded together on the mossy floor. Were you bathing?! Why didn't you invite him?! He felt hurt in some kind of water.

Then he saw a swan, a swan? The swan was flapping its feathers and dipping its body upside down. That's odd, he normally sees swans together in small groups. Were their other swans around? Besides, swans don't really go out at night. But for some reason, the more he looked at the graceful feathered being, he smelt your scent. Did you own a swan? Did you befriend the creature and didn't tell him? Was that the reason you'd sneak out of the camp to hang out with your little feathered friend? He couldn't stop thinking.

A couple hours passed, yet no sight of you. He only watched a swan swim around the lake, drinking water and doing flips. But that didn't really matter to him, where were you?! He had not seen you this last couple hours, he was wasting his time watching a swam dancing in the lake. Finally, the swan walked out of the water, ruffling its feathers dry and kicking its little feet. It approached towards your clothes. This made Astarion even more curious to see what the swan will do? Will it steal your clothes? Will you be walking around naked in the camp? He would not mind that not one bit, except if it was only the two of you.

Then he watched how a soft white liquid began to wrap itself around the feathered body. Astarion watched in awe, seen what was happening. The liquid had morphed into a little bubble, then it extended itself, the bubble then bursts open. Revealing that it was you. This made his jaw drop, you were the swan that he had been watching for hours swimming. So this was your little secret? He couldn't help but let out a small, cheeky like grin.

Now, that you were back to your original form. Astarion made himself presence. "So, this is where you've been going now, darling?" he asked with a smirk, making you jump and hide youself with your clothes. "Astarion!? What are you doing here?!" you asked him, breathing a bit fast. "Why, I wanted to see why my precious treasure was sneaking off into the woods on a full moon, and here I thought you were a werewolf." He admitted, with a grin still panted on his lips. "Oh come on, as if I haven't seen what's under those clothes before." He teased, making your face turn hot.

"Why am I not surprised, you've seemed like the nosy time." You jabbed at him, putting your clothes back on. "Oh! I wouldn't say nosy, I'd say, I was just curious where my love was going!" He said to you. "Like they say, curiosity killed the cat." You mumbled as you finished lacing your boots up. "So love, why didn't you tell me about this? Are you a druid as well? Or a shapeshifter?" he asked you, he really wanted to know why you could turn into a swam.

"No... I'm actually cursed.." you admitted, there was no hiding this, he'd just go on and on until you'd tell him. "Cursed? Who on earth would curse you?" he asked, placing his hands on his hips, paying you attention. You only sighed. "Many years ago, I refused the marriage of this sorcerer, so as a 'punishment' he cursed me into turning into a swam every full moon." You explained. Astarion could only nod in response, listening to you on why you had this curse. He somewhat knew what he it was like to have a curse on him. "Hm, are you able to break this curse?" he asked, raising his brow.

You nodded. "Yeah, it can be broken, Only true love from a man who has never promised his heart to another." I repeated what the sorcerer told me many years ago. "Oh! Would that man be me?" he asked you, with a little smirk. "Maybe." You only responded, teasingly and flirtatiously then began to head back to the camp sight with Astarion. "I have a question, if you were to get pregnant would you lay eggs and make a nest for those our children? Will they also turn into swans too? I can just imagine them as little ducklings. All small and cute with gray feathers." He said, as you both walked back to the camp. You couldn't help but slightly giggle by his goofiness. "I just imagine you carrying all our children on your back in a lake, how cute would that be?!" He added lastly.

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x y/n #astarion x fem reader #astarion x tav reader #astarion x shapeshiter reader #astarion fic #female reader #female y/n #tav reader #tav y/n #shapeshifter reader #shapeshifter y/n #swan reader #swan y/n #cereza's writing #Cₑᵣₑzₐ'ₛ wᵣᵢₜᵢₙg #𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔷𝔞'𝔰 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤

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thecampjuicebox · 5 months

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I always wondered how the romanced companions would react if Orin kidnapped the player character. Any thoughts?

Be prepared for some angst because PHEEEEWWWWW

Astarion

At this point in the story, romanced Astarion and Tav are very close. He even states that Tav is the only person he's ever cared for, so I can imagine he'd be devastated if his beloved was taken by Orin. He'd take a relatively unhinged approach to saving them, running in with fangs bared. Daggers swinging. He'd make quick work of Orin, slicing and dicing to save his love. They've always done so much to save him so he'd feel it was his duty to do the same in this instance. Once he's able to hold them in his arms again, he'd allow himself to cry. Sob, even. He'd hold them close, smooth their hair back, bury his face in their neck to deeply inhale their familiar scent, but not until telling them how stupid they were for allowing themselves to be kidnapped by the shape-changer in the first place.

Karlach

Tav is Karlach's first taste of intimate touch in YEARS. Her first taste of love for as long as she can remember. When she finds out Tav is the one taken by the shape-changer, it would break her. Shatter her into a million burning pieces. Her engine would run hotter than the searing fires of Avernus. She'd yell and spit and grab the nearest bludgeoning object she could to absolutely decimate Orin where she stands. The pale eyed woman has caused enough problems and with Karlach's already crushed morale after seeing Gortash again, she'd go absolutely ape shit. She'd fall to her knees in front of Tav. Hug their legs. Cry as she rubs her nose across their thighs. Cling to them like a child. "Don't ever leave me again, Soldier. I can't bear it."

Wyll

First and foremost Wyll, I think, would be the most level headed in this situation. He'd quickly devise a plan to save his love. The Blade of Frontiers or the Blade of Avernus, either way, he'll prove his heroism and his devotion to Tav. No one lays a finger on his prince/princess. Their Devil in shining armor. He'd make an entrance similar to when Tav first encounters him in the Emerald Grove. Bold and brave, ready to dominate the fight. And once Tav is assured safe, he'd sweet them off of their feet. Shower them in love and praise of their bravery during this traumatic event.

Shadowheart

Shadowheart is very reserved and quiet about her feelings and thoughts. If her love was taken by Orin, I think she'd play calm about it while absolutely losing it inside. She's mentioned previously that she isn't one for romances, more just short lived flings. With Tav, however. It's incredibly different. She'd rally the other companions and rush into Bhaal's temple to find Orin. Slay here right there. And then take Tav into her arms and check them other, make sure the shape-changer caused them no serious harm. If she had, Shadowheart would heal them. Make them feel safe once more.

Lae'Zel

Lae'Zel's love of Tav goes from 0-100 real quick, and hearing that Tav was taken by an enemy, I think she'd LOSE it. Lae'Zel has not known love like her love for Tav. Tav showed her freedom and no one is going to take that away from her now. She's not known to show very intense emotions, but I think she would let herself cry this time. Lae'Zel is trained in combat so taking Orin down would not be a difficult feat with the help of the other companions. Once Tav is safe, she'd embrace them with all of her strength. Hold them close to her as she mumbles softly in their ear "Zhak vo'nfynh duj. Source of my joy."

Gale

Gale is such a soft lover. His prior relationship with Mystra caused a lot of trauma and I think his romance with Tav is his key to being happy again. With himself and in general. Even the threat of having to blow himself up is softened by Tav's presence. "One moment with you could sate me for a lifetime, and prise the fear from my heart." Once he learns that Tav was taken, I know for a fact he'd go into bad bitch mode. He'd storm his little wizard self right into Bhaal's temple and fireball the hells out of Orin before she could get a word in edgewise. Where'd all this courage come from? The lovely idea that after all of this is over and Tav is safe, they can return to the illusory scene of his tower in Waterdeep and reside there whenever the feeling arises. Not without a lecture on why it wasn't the smartest idea to get kidnapped, though.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 headcannons #companion headcannons #gale dekarios #karlach #astarion #wyll ravengard #shadowheart #lae'zel

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myers-meadow · 3 days

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Foolish Gratitude (Rolan x Tav)

Pairing: Rolan x Tav

Summary: After you saved Rolan from the shadow people, his mood worsens. It's up to you to make him feel better. AKA Rolan hatefucks you <3

Warnings: smut, 18 +, dub-con, penetration, (mild) spanking, degrading language, fem Tav (she/her and vulva used), submissive tav, no aftercare shown in the fic, no discussion of kinks or consent, Tav is into it though ^^.

Word count: 1767

This is my first ever foray into writing Rolan 💞✨, please be nice. Reblogs and comments are very appreciated (please feed my brainrot i beg). Proofread by the very kind @gauntermetaverse - thank you! Divider by saradika-graphics.

Rolan is taking his loss hard. After that drunk night, he turns mean - doubly so after you save him from the darkness the next day.

The Last Light Inn is pleasant tonight. There's some gossip, some small hopes and dreams shared at a table, and some tears. At least there is still warm soup, you think to yourself as you sit down at a small table with a bowl full. It warms you in just the way you need it to. The rest of your companions are around, resting, playing board games, reading. Lae'zel is armwrestling whomever dares. Gale is talking to Halsin about the nature of the shadow curse. A quiet evening. Your bowl is empty, and you stand to return it to the bar.

"There we have her; our beloved hero," It could've been Raphael if it wasn't for the cruel sarcasm dripping from his every word. Rolan. "Come to the inn to gloat? To rub it into my face how much better you are?"

He's not even that drunk, but his anger is something fierce. In the past, you were understanding, kind. The man has been going through a lot. But now... Even you are losing patience in the face of his barbed words.

"Rolan," You start, your tone soft, not wanting this to escalate. "I know you're-"

He cuts you off. "No, you don't know. But I have something better in mind."

He grabs you by the fabric over your shoulder - you're in your camp clothes, no armour to protect you here - and drags you past the bar. All the while, he's hissing things at you like a cat who had her pride hurt.

To avoid escalation, you follow him willingly. Then, the door of a small food supply closet shuts and the lock clicks shut. The key clatters against the ground as Rolan drops it over his shoulder.

"A hero who doesn't know her place, that won't do..." He muses as he stands over you. A cruel smile licks at the corners of his mouth. "How fortunate I've always been a good teacher."

His tone is startling. He doesn't even seem drunk. "Rolan, that’s-"

He clamps a hand over your mouth. He's so close that you feel his breath on your cheek as he turns your head to the side. He breathes deep. "You think you can solve everything." The grip on your cheeks is hard enough to make you feel he's gonna leave a bruise.

Your muffled sounds go ignored. Rolan chuckles, and it sends a weird tingling sensation through your lower belly.

"You're gonna have to be quiet for this lesson," He says, and with a dizzying movement, he turns you to face the wall. A warm hand gropes at your ass, through the thin fabric of that cute skirt you found in a chest at Sharess' Caress. His nails dig in. How good it feels, startles you. None too gently, he bends you over - still keeping his hand over your mouth.

"You're nothing more than any other adventurer in this inn. Yet you think you're owed all this gratitude, all this praise..." His voice curls meanly at the end. "You need to learn. To really feel where you belong."

In his groping, he moves your skirt up and tucks in the waistband so it stays. The first slap, hard, short, without warning, has you twist against his hold, and with a muffled shout to match.

Rolan tuts. "Now, hero, is that how you take a little spanking? I would've thought you could take more. This is a disappointment, really."

The second slap lands on your other asscheek, just as stinging as the first. The third deepens the sensation. You don't struggle out of his hold, instead, you lean into it. After the fourth, he soothes your sore bum with strokes of his hand. That's far from the end, though. A fifth, a sixth, the heat increases, the stinging takes longer to leave after each slap. Seventh, eight, and you lose count. His speed increases, and your shouts of pain turn to whimpers as he tires you out.

He seems barely out of breath as he speaks again. "And that is the hero against the Absolute. Pathetic. Look at you. Whimpering after just a few meager slaps." Another sharp one lands, your whiny moan of pain punctuating his words. You're not sure you're hearing it right through the ringing in your ear, but it almost sounds like he moaned.

His hand lets go of your face, instead he pushes two fingers in your mouth. "If you can barely take a spanking, I'm not sure how you'll take this, but you owe me more than some pain."

The nails dig into your tongue, but you wet his fingers a bit too eagerly. "You want to help others, right? To serve them. You'll call me 'master', understood?"

You nod, but it's not enough. He jerks your head to the side by the fingers now hooked in your cheek.

"Yes," you manage to get out.

"Yes, what?" he grits his teeth. Another slap on your ass that feels like it's on fire.

"Yes, master." After you said it, you sigh in something close to relief that comes from the depths of your chest.

"Good. Finally you're beginning to understand." He lets go of your face fully, leaving you to feel cold without his touch. He tugs at the straps of your underwear, and the sound of fabric shifting emphasises the tension in your body. There was no way Rolan could've known your submissive streak, he really just needs to get all this pent up frustration out - somehow his wordless confidence and the lack of care for whether you enjoy it or not turns you on more. It's a primal feeling, that only very few people can unlock from within you. Exhilarating.

Something nudges between your legs, and with a start, you realise it's his cock. Even though you'd hoped this is where it was headed, had pined for him night after night, experiencing the real thing was so much more raw and real than you ever envisioned. He presses inside with little care for your comfort. It surprises you how smooth it goes in, even with you already dripping wet, it's still quite the stretch. His groan of pleasure is the most sinful thing you've ever heard.

His lips are at your ear, his tone changed completely to before. "Aren't you just good and wet for me? Filthy little slut."

Finally, his cock hits home somewhere deep inside, and the drag as he moves out is even better. "Gods, I needed this."

You can tell how much he needed this by how he wraps his arms around you, pressing your back against his chest. His horn bumps into your cheek, as he bites your bare shoulder. As slow as he went before, he seems to lose all control and sets a messy pace, slipping out and forcing himself back in again and again. The sounds of your slick and skin slapping skin are disgusting.

"Perhaps you have some redeeming qualities yet," he says, his playful tone returning as he relaxes. His grip around your torso is crushingly tight and you try to reach down to touch your clit, whining as he won't let you. "Na-ah, your first lesson isn't even done yet, you naughty girl."

Rolan fucks you roughly, his horn keeps bumping into you but neither of you mind. Every time he thrusts in, it draws attention to your sore ass, its small edge of pain only heightens the pleasure. His groans and moans are delicious. You angle your hips to make him hit deeper and he delivers, with a bruising pace.

“Who knew the hero would be such a good little slut? Fuck, you feel amazing.”

“Rolan,” you moan, pressing your lips against his cheek.

As much as you imagined fucking him as intense, your fantasies are nothing compared to the real thing. You moan something high-pitched as he hits just right, dragging his tip back and forth against the most sensitive parts of you. The feeling builds quickly, even without being able to touch yourself, and your breath is catching as the pleasure of being filled transcends all.

His thrusts stutter, and although it takes great effort, he pulls out, and whirls you around. Surprised, but altogether too overwhelmed to resist him. He tugs you down to your knees. Your core throbs, yearning for him, but it’s your lips that now enjoy the taste of him. He’s salty, and you taste your own wetness on his length as he pushes himself into your mouth. When you gag, he grabs a fistful of hair, and prevents you from leaning away. No choice but to take all of him as he pumps himself in and out. Drool drips from the corners of your mouth as you try your best to please him. His groans are delightfully filthy, heavy with all his pent up emotion. Your own desire makes you light-headed. As soon as your hand darts down to your core, Rolan slaps them away.

“What did I say? No touching.” He’s just as stern as a school teacher. Your core throbs around nothing. He groans as he makes you gag, “The others should see you now, on your knees, doing so well to please your superior.”

His grip on your hair tightens to something uncomfortable. “This just shows what can become of the high and mighty hero - ah, fuck - who amounts to nothing good without proper guidance.”

His thrusts grow sloppy, yet deep, so deep, fuck you need him inside of you so bad - he moans and pulls out. Ropes of cum land on your face, some on your tongue, or across your chest. You twitch as several flecks get in your lashes. Rolan looks so proud, smiling down on you like this, so pleased. A sense of satisfaction swells in your chest, even as you still tingle with ghosts of his touch, longing to be sated.

Rolan bites his lip. “Such a good hero, really willing to go the extra mile for those in need…” He considers you for a moment, tracing a finger over your face. “I’m sure this is the best reward you’ve ever gotten, dear hero.”

You’re not sure whether the curl of his lip is playful or contemptuous. After collecting enough cum on his finger, he presses it to your lips, for you to clean off for him.

Despite, or because, of his mean expression, you say just what he wants you to say: “Thank you, master.”

#rolan empire #is that the tag ppl use? :))#bg3 rolan #holy rolan empire #baldurs gate 3 #rolan x tav #rolan #rolan nation #rolan bg3 #rolan x reader #meadow's writing #anyway im gonna go hide now bye

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brabblesblog · 10 days

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𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Chapter 15: Our honeymoon will shine our life long: its beams will only fade over your grave or mine.

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

The fast is broken.

Professionally edited and collaborated on by my dearest friend <3 @editing-by-night

Read on AO3.

Masterlist

Art by @lirotation

(For more smutty art, click on the AO3 link. Thanks!)

She was seated on the chaise, her back against Astarion’s chest, his legs on either side of her. She felt his fingers tug on the knot the lacing of her dress had become and heard his soft curse as he failed yet again.

They had settled against each other, gossiping about how Gale definitely looked a little healthier and how Minsc had eaten most of the macarons, when he had begun fiddling with the laces.

“Do you really wish to keep this, darling?” He was definitely irked; the knot had been eluding him for what felt like hours, and his patience was almost gone.

“I mean… probably? But I also won’t be wearing it ever again,” she admitted.

He leaned forward, his hair tickling the middle of her back. There was a loud ripping noise, and then a rush of cold air over her now-bare back. She turned to see him smirking, parts of the dress still between his teeth.

“I can’t believe you did that!”

He held up his hands in false apology, then spat out the fabric. “No use spending any longer than necessary on that nonsense. I’ve waited far too long.”

“Wait.” She held up a hand, stopping him mid-tackle. He eyed her curiously, eyes already half-lidded.

He put on a pout and sat back up, sighing loudly. “You’ve been pleading for my touch for a month, and now that we’re here…” he shook his head. “You do so confound me at times.”

“That’s not the point.” She looked to the bed, and gestured toward it. “I would like to finish what we were doing before you needed to stop.”

He blinked, considering her offer, then nodded. “If that’s what you want, then I shall oblige.”

She slipped off the remnants of the dress, a little pained at its loss. It had been pretty. Stepping out of it, she also tugged her underwear down and toed them off. Astarion coyly sat on the bed, then deliberately slid over to the middle of it, still fully clothed, resting his head on a pillow.

She let out a deep, exasperated breath; his amusement merely grew. “Scoot a little forward.” She slipped in behind him, her legs on either side of him. Immediately he leaned back against her chest, a soft, appreciative hum rewarding her as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“This brings back memories,” he murmured, and she frowned.

“I’m sorry? Which…” she trailed off as he shared it through their bond.

He stumbled out of the tent, making a beeline for her, curled up by the campfire. His cock was painfully tight against his trousers, the friction as he walked not helping one bit.

He grasped her shoulder. “Ban.” The need was obvious in his tone. “I need- I need your help.”

She’d been half asleep. She turned to face him, surprised. “Astarion? Are you done?” Her eyes found the bulge in his trousers; that answered the question for her.

It had become a common nighttime event for them, Astarion and her curled up together. At times he’d bring her bliss, fingers and mouth more than enough to reduce her to a puddle of desire. He was still unable to be touched, but he felt desire; whenever he brought her release he’d always end up with a painful erection that needed to be relieved. Thus an arrangement had been made: she’d leave the tent and allow him his privacy, and he’d find her once he was done.

Apparently he hadn’t been successful tonight.

“Yes, well.” He gestured at where she was looking, a little too desperate to be embarrassed. “I tried to do it. Every single trick in the damned book, and…” he sighed, exasperated. “I need you to help me.”

She sat up, immediately awake. “This… this isn’t a joke, is it?”

He looked at her askance, and yet not surprised. Finally a chance for her to touch him, and yet she wouldn’t pounce at the opportunity. Another reason why he’d found giving his heart to her all too easy.

Astarion shook his head. “No. I think it’s time we try. I want… I need you to make me come.”

They entered the tent; Astarion closed the flap with one hand, the other reached for her. She turned and he pressed his lips to hers, frantic and tense, hips grinding against her helplessly. He was stressed, warring between the urge to beg for her touch and the urge to hide away in the recesses of his mind.

But he could not. Would not. Not with her. He pulled back with a pained groan.

“I’m not sure how we’re supposed to do this.” Whispered, as if this was a secret he wanted no one else to know.

He watched her think, fingers rubbing her chin. And then she spoke.

“Sit, and let me sit behind you, so you won’t need to see me or even think of me.”

“I’d want to-” he protested. She held up a hand and shook her head.

“Sit. And let me help.”

He acquiesced, swallowing nervously as she sat behind him. He reached back, grasping her hand.

He did the same in the present, tugging her hand to palm his cock. His mind, her mind, linked. Then and now, at times feeling like lifetimes apart, but in truth the same as it ever was.

He tugged his trousers down, feeling the air hit his cockhead. He placed her hand over it. “Slowly.”

She mirrored the movement, slipping her hand under his waistband, wrapping her fingers around his length. Her eyes were shut and she leaned forwards, whispering in his ear. “Thank you for reminding me. You were beautiful that night. Brave. I never told you, because I wasn’t sure how… you’d… feel…”

The last words were punctuated with long, slow strokes. He bucked upwards, mouth parted in a gasp of pleasure.

He wrapped his hand around hers, guiding her. Loose at the shaft, tighter at the head. She was a natural, as it turned out - the drag of her hand, so different and yet surprisingly welcome, combined with the fact that he couldn’t see her, and the knowledge that she was doing this for him… his tension ebbed, much to his surprise. Her touch was gentle, almost reverent, different from anything else he’d ever experienced.

She sucked on his ear and his back arched involuntarily. He groaned out, “That was the first time… in so godsdamned long.”

“I know. You were perfect. Open, trusting. You allowed me to see you. All of you.” Her hand sped up slightly, and he swore. He sat up, roughly stripping off his trousers, kicking them away. Settling on his knees, his fingers flying down the buttons of his doublet and flinging it away. He felt her kneel behind him, snaking her hand around to play with a nipple.

“Touch me.” He wanted it like this, wanted to thrust up into her hand and mindlessly rut, reveling in her words and that memory. She moved closer, flush against his back, and returned her hand to where he needed it most.

She touched him, thumb swiping over his tip, his head glistening in the thin shaft of moonlight-

He looked down, watching himself fuck her hand, hips moving languidly. She kissed his cheek and neck between words. “My sweet, loving husband. My lover, for all eternity. My best, truest friend,” her voice was a sensual whisper that set him alight. “My thiramin,” she added with a nip to his ear, and he moaned, hips jerking as that word pushed him closer to the edge. His cock throbbed, the pent up tension wanting, no - needing - to be released soon.

For once, it felt right. There was no need to perform. His grip tightened on her hand, their pace increasing. Loose at the shaft, tighter at the head. Just like that. No one else had ever cared, or even tried. No one did, not until her, each of her strokes just as he’d asked…

Still the same, still the same exact strokes, but now executed to a perfection she had honed over time. Her other hand caressed his balls, rolling them in her palm, gently squeezing between her fingers. All for him. For love. The loosening and tightening, the swipe at the tip, that slight caress at the bottom of his cockhead. Fuck.

“Of course,” she purred into his ear, licking around its edges, “who else would it be for, for what else? Only you. There was only ever you from the moment I saw you. There was only ever one person who I could love, who could be the one for me. Only one worth everything. You.”

He let out a needy whine. He moved her free hand to his chest, placed his over it, while his other hand fisted the sheets. His ass clenched as he drove into the circle of her hand, nothing held back and everything to give.

“Don’t stop,” he gasped. “Don’t ever stop.”

She kissed down the side of his neck, causing a shiver to run down his spine. “I’ll never stop. I’ll never run out of words to tell you how beautiful you are. How sublime it is to wake up to you every single day, to reach out and know you’ll be there. To know my life has purpose, has meaning. To give you joy, to give you the peace you deserve. To love you the way you should always have been, Astarion.”

He felt her gaze on him, watching him. A far cry from what she had done in the past, when she had kept her eyes away, respecting his privacy. He jerked his neck to meet her eyes, and the heat in them, combined with one final, hard stroke that was just perfectly timed with a squeeze at the tip - perfect, just perfect - made him come.

His reply disappeared in a string of incoherent moans as she pulled away slightly to take in the sight. “Perfect as ever. Equally as wonderful as that night you first taught me how to touch you, let me see you paint us with your pleasure. I’ll always be honored to be the one giving it to you.”

Eyes squeezed shut, body arching, his cock releasing what felt like copious amounts of come - no surprise given how long they had abstained - he was lost to her. He felt her stroking him through it, milking every drop from him, and he shuddered, knowing there would be more. Forever.

She grabbed an old shirt and wiped him clean as he melted against her. As soon as he was able, he caught her lips in a kiss, his tongue darting out to trace the seam of her mouth. It was sloppy, lacking technique, but he didn’t care. He would never have to care again.

He collapsed against her, panting. She reclined them both back onto the pillows, holding him tightly.

“That… was a surprisingly good idea,” she said. Her surprise made sense - the last time they’d touched minds in bed it had been too much, but it seemed like doing so under less intense circumstances was better.

“Of course,” he managed to say. “What am I, if not the source of the best ideas, hm? Especially in this field.” The effect he’d wanted his words to have was lost by the fact that he was still catching his breath.

They laid together in silence for a while, her slipping out to lay on her side, head on his shoulder. His leg was comfortably wedged between her thighs, and they held each other close.

Ban reached over to the nightstand, picking up a towel. Astarion cracked open an eye, the corner of his lip curling as he watched.

“Attentive as ever,” he murmured. He made a move to grab it, intending to clean himself up, but she snatched it away. He watched, transfixed, as she licked the tip of his cock, giving it a very gentle suck, cleaning off his seed. But as soon as he closed his eyes, expecting more, her tongue was replaced by the towel. He let out a small sigh of feigned exasperation.

As soon as she was finished he flipped them over, his eyes alight with mirth and desire alike. “Now… I do believe it’s my turn to have my wicked way with you.”

Astarion caught her lips in a passionate kiss. His hands slid up to cradle her head, holding her close as his tongue explored the depths of her mouth. Slowly, he trailed kisses down her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin before moving lower. His fingers traced patterns on her body, exploring every inch of her with a reverence that belied his eagerness.

He ran his fingers along the curve of her collarbone before trailing them downwards again, skimming across the swell of her breast. He took one of her nipples into his mouth, suckling gently while he teased her other nipple with his fingertip. He then kissed his way back up her chest.

As she arched her neck in anticipation, he leaned in close, allowing his breath to tickle her, but stopped when his lips were inches away. She huffed in frustration and he chuckled, reaching over the nightstand. He’d had Shadowheart’s gift sent to the bedroom the moment she’d told him about it. It was kept in a long, narrow box, and he held it out to Ban.

“Shadowheart’s present,” she said, swallowing. “I don’t know if I should be afraid or excited.”

“You do know that the moment you wish to stop, all you need to do is say the word, right?” He opened the box, as she nodded. “In any case, I doubt you’ll want to.”

Ban gulped. A riding crop. Sleek, soft black leather wrapped around the main rod - a tantalizing sight. She watched Astarion lift it out of the box, his long fingers wrapped around the handle. He gave it a small test, snapping it against his other palm. He hummed approvingly.

“Not bad. I’d have chosen better, but this will suffice.”

His eyes flicked over to her, and she watched as they shifted from that cocksure gaze to one of concern. “Do you trust me?”

There was no hesitation. “I do.”

Satisfied, he glanced at the headboard. “Turn around. On your hands and knees, please, darling.”

She turned, facing the headboard. Her palms were flat on the bed, her ass raised up for his perusal. His finger traced a path from the back of her leg to her ass cheek.

“I’m surprised,” she teased. “I expected something far rougher than-” Her words cut off in a low groan as he grabbed her ass, nails digging in. At the same time he ran his tongue along her entrance roughly, a long lick to her clit and then a quick thrust inside her. She bucked, wanting him to keep going, but he’d already pulled away.

“Needy,” he chided, the amusement plain in his tone. Before she could respond, his palm slapped her cheek, not too hard, but enough to sting. The impact and surprise made her bow forwards, a low hiss escaping her.

He rubbed the spot where he’d hit her; she was sure the skin was red. “Was that alright, love?” She turned her head to see him staring at her, biting his lip.

“More than alright.” She shifted her hips, trying to get his hand on her core - a little too slow, as he had anticipated the move and had already taken his hand off.

He tutted softly and then flicked his wrist. She felt the impact a split second later, a sharp sting on her haunch that barely registered as pain. The realization hit her at the same time as his thumb pressing against her clit, rubbing it in insistent circles - he was being very careful.

His thumb dragged back, then plunged inside her, eliciting a gasp. He pulled his thumb out and sucked on it, her taste always delicious and almost as good as her blood. He kept his eyes on her as he did this, allowing her to see his body's response, his cock beginning to harden again.

“Delicious, as always,” he said, licking his thumb clean. “I missed tasting you. Your slick on my tongue, the taste and smell of you all over my face… Gods. Not many things could compare.”

“And what would?” Ban watched as he lifted the crop, staring at her backside, trying to find a suitable target.

He smiled. “Your blood.” The crop made impact on her thigh, stronger this time, and slightly painful. She hissed, hips bucking, wishing his hand or mouth or cock - anything really as long as it was him - was there.

“Fuck, Astarion!” She glared at him. “As fun as this is for you - I need more.”

He rolled his eyes. “And now insolent to boot?” He struck her again, on the other leg this time - and this wasn’t a practice hit. Ban yelped, feeling heat bloom where it had made contact. ”You were saying?”

She glanced at his face. There was excitement, arousal, even perhaps a hint of bloodlust as her blood reddened the impact points. But through it all she saw him, watching her, minding her responses, ensuring she felt fine.

Emboldened by this, she stared him down. “So are you going to spend all night whipping me or actually fucking me? Because- ah!”

This time she saw Astarion put his whole arm into the motion, the crop smacking loudly against her flesh. Pain bloomed, throbbing and insistent, and as she groaned and buried her face in a pillow he dove between her legs, devouring her core.

She rocked backwards, seeking more of his mouth, and he obliged, tongue laving everywhere and anywhere he could reach. The crop was discarded, forgotten for the moment as he sank his fangs into her ass, biting with the fervor of a man starved.

“We have time,” he growled in between bites, marking her flesh in numerous spots. His tongue, hot and wet, licked the rivulets of blood as they meandered down her skin. Fingers sank into her, and she realized he wasn’t holding back, their thrusting insistent, curling at the end and hitting her spot with every pass. Her back arched and she bit back a low whine. Astarion’s pace was merciless, the drag of his fingers against her walls combined with his other hand on her clit and his fangs sinking into the meat of her ass were a maddening combination.

He shifted, shuffling closer to her, stroking himself. Ban couldn’t help but lick her lips at the sight - finally - after so damned long. He lined up, rubbing himself along her entrance and then against her clit, the delicious flick of his cockhead was too little for how heated she was.

“Stop dithering,” she grumbled, “and decide if you want to put it in or not.”

He paused, and tilted his head. “I would have done so, if you had asked nicely. As it stands…” he drew back, and she let out a frustrated whine. She bowed her head, knowing what would happen before feeling it - the soft whistle of the crop as it flew in the air - then the hot, painful and yet pleasurable sting of it against her ass. “Again, my dear. You were saying?” Perfect, calm innocence, as if he was merely sitting drinking tea and not whipping his wife.

She hissed, then turned to glare at Astarion, who was tapping the crop on his palm. “Please, my love. Fuck me.”

He made a show out of mulling it over, seemingly careless. The insistent throb of his cock told a different story, however. He fisted himself, stroking once, twice - Ban relished the look of wanton lust on his face as he stared between her legs - and then let go. “I think I could stand to wait a little longer.” As she opened her mouth to protest, he smirked. “You’ve yet to learn patience, my love. Not to worry… I have forever to teach you.”

He flipped her over, and she swallowed as he flicked the crop against her clit. The spark of pleasure that rippled through her was surprising. His eyes darkened as he registered her response, his gaze becoming predatory. He held the crop aloft, settling on his thighs. Waiting.

“Astarion, I swear…”

“Hm?” Another hit on her inner thigh, so close but not there. She whined, all pride gone. “You’ll have to ask. Properly.”

“Please. Again.”

To her delight he obliged, the crop smacking her lightly, exactly where she wanted it. The next moment, he slipped two fingers inside her, the other hand dropping the whip to grip her waist, holding her firmly in place. As she began to fuck herself on his fingers he slowly added a third. The stretch was intense and pleasurable; she rocked harder. His hand pushed against her, stilling her movements.

“Let me. You’ll have all the fun you long for after I’ve had mine.”

She was about to ask him what exactly he had in mind, when he slapped her clit again, softly this time. She moaned loudly and the fingers inside her pumped harder, making her head spin. She looked down to see him smiling, the role dropped.

“You’re taking my fingers so well,” he crooned. His eyes flicked over to the abandoned crop. “That, too. Thank you for trusting me.”

“Would I have married you if I didn’t?”

He crawled up, pressing his lips against hers. He ground his hips against her thigh, a low moan caught in his throat, and he pulled back slightly to pant against her ear. “It was wonderful, my love. I really do appreciate that you allowed me this.”

Their lips met again, slow and unhurried. His hand slipped down, stroking himself slowly as he groaned into her mouth. She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking him in place.

“I missed you,” she whispered, and he nodded, kissing his way down her neck to her breasts.

He circled a nipple with the tip of his tongue, then wrapped his lips around it, sucking hard. His hand gripped her ass, right where she’d been struck; the warmth of his palm over the stinging welt felt wonderful. His cock pressed against her belly insistently; she could feel it, heavy and hot against her skin.

“I’m honestly tempted to take you right here and now, but…” He forced himself away from her, breathing heavily.

“What did you have in mind for tonight, exactly?”

He hesitated. “I mean, it is a special occasion, but Shadowheart’s idea was too tempting to not try.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You also wanted to know if I’d trust you with it.”

“That, too,” he conceded.

“Well now that we’ve tried it, what else did you have in store for us?”

Astarion thought about it for a heartbeat, then sent the idea to her in a series of images. She shivered, then nodded. “Perfect. Yes.”

Before she could say anything further he was off, heading for the trunk in the far corner of the room. He returned with his hands full.

“We bathed, but I figure using a scroll as well would be wise.” He handed her a bottle of oil then set the prestidigitation scroll and the other item on the bed nearby, then met her gaze.

She beckoned him close, and they laid facing each other, tangled in each other’s arms. He watched as she thoroughly oiled her fingers, anticipation coiling in his belly. When she was ready, he crooked his leg up and out, allowing her space. Ban’s fingers traced a path down his torso, leaving a slight sheen of oil in their wake. She continued her exploration, fingers trailing down his side to his hip, and then down the length of his cock, slipping between their bodies with a deliberate, gentle slowness.

He closed his eyes as she found her target and began tracing circles with one finger, shuddering at the first touch.

“You won’t need to do as much,” he murmured. With how aroused he was, he had no doubt it wouldn’t take long.

“I know. Not our first time, love.”

He laughed, and she pressed a kiss to his forehead as she slipped her finger in, the suction tugging her deeper. He jerked, hips thrusting into her. “More,” he croaked, eyes tightly shut.

She sank her finger deeper, slowly; perhaps too slowly - he reached down, grabbing her hand and pushing her in further. A low moan escaped him as she finally found his spot. He pressed himself closer, his whole body flush against hers, chest heaving.

She began to thrust in and out, caressing his spot each time. His hips rolled with every pass of her fingers, rubbing his cock against her, the precum smearing against her arm and stomach. She wouldn’t mind if they just did this - if she gave him ecstasy and they rolled over to sleep after - the sight of him taking his pleasure was more than enough. He was more than enough.

Her thoughts were interrupted by his voice, breaking the silence. “No - don’t.” He opened his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. “I want to be buried deep inside you when I come this time.” His hand rested on her neck, thumb tracing her jawline, his expression dark and hungry, pupils blown wide. “I want to give you everything… I want to mark you. I want you dripping with my seed, I want to see it, want to smell it on you.” His tone grew low, insistent. “Mine. Forever. No one else can have you, and no one else can have what I’ll give to you.”

She shivered in anticipation. “Yes. Mark me both ways, then - inside and out. Everywhere. I want to be covered in you, filled with you, in every way possible. I am yours. Always. From the day we met, until forever,” she vowed, adding a second finger inside him. His eyes fell shut again, lips parting ever so slightly with a deep groan as he adjusted to the stretch. He nodded, accepting her suggestion.

“Indeed you are.” He growled, softly, emphasized by a hitch of his hips, cock grinding against her. “Mine to take and to love. To cherish. My very own.”

With her second finger fully inside, she began to move, slowly stretching him further.

He moaned, reaching down to touch himself. She ran her tongue over his neck, feeling the muscles of his abdomen ripple as he sank onto her fingers with a hurried eagerness.

He was silent for a while, the only sounds he made were soft whimpers and unintelligible words mixed with gasps. There was a hard nip to her throat as he approached his peak again, his hand frantically stroking his cock. He grabbed her waist, pressing her flush against him as he rubbed himself on her belly.

She felt his length, throbbing and so very hard, pressed flat against her stomach as he fisted the root. Ban held him close. “Go on,” she purred. “Make me yours, Astarion.”

His only reply was a low whine, his eyes meeting hers as he rutted against her, his thrusting losing its rhythm and becoming frantic. Ban stroked his spot, and her other hand caressed his ear, providing the last push he needed. Astarion jerked, hissing, and Ban felt him spill his seed onto her stomach, hot and slick. He pressed his head against hers, breathing hard as his hips stilled. She snuck a quick peck against his lips, and waited.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “I think… I’m ready,” he murmured, and she removed her fingers. He watched hungrily, eyes roaming over her glistening stomach, as she replaced her fingers with a glass plug. It slid in slowly and Astarion grunted in pleasure as it settled inside him. Their eyes met, his jaw clenching and releasing with a low groan. She used the scroll while he acclimated himself to the fullness, watching his face as he bit his lip and ground against her.

He pushed her shoulder, guiding her onto her back, then straddled her, his hands running down her arms. With one quick motion he grabbed both wrists, pinning them above her head. Shifting to a one-handed grip, Astarion sat up, taking a long moment to look down at her, her body streaked with the evidence of their union.

“Before we do this, there is something I feel you should know. No matter what you think, or what anyone tells you - you are beautiful.”

The tone was insistent, a little stern, but completely sincere, and it almost made her believe him. She could only shake her head as he trailed a finger through the spend on her stomach, slowly painting his way down to her mound, his eyes locked on hers. He grasped himself, rubbing against her clit to bring himself to full hardness. The soft, velvety feel of his cock and the slippery feeling of his spend smearing all over her made her squirm. “Astarion - please.”

He slid lower, his head at her entrance, his cock throbbing with anticipation. But he held back, eyes still locked on her face. “Say yes,” he commanded. “Say you believe me.”

She was incredulous. “Really - that… that’s what you want me to do, before I can finally have you?”

He nodded, slowly grinding the head of his cock against her entrance, but never sinking in. “It shouldn’t be so hard, should it? Now say it, or we’ll both be unsatisfied for the rest of the night.”

“Astarion. You don’t mean that…” she trailed off as she saw just how serious he was. He sat back, stroking himself with deliberate slowness, drawing her attention.

”You can have me deep inside you, filling you up with every thrust, spilling inside you…” he rocked his hips, fucking his fist, allowing her to see his length sliding in his grasp. He let out a breathy moan. “All you have to do is say you believe me. That you are beautiful.”

She shook her head again. “I can say it with ease - I believe you. But speaking those words doesn’t make it any truer.”

He settled on his haunches, thinking. “I could show you how I see you. How the sight of you eclipses even the miracle of daylight. How touching you feels better than that first kiss of sunlit warmth after centuries in the dark. How tasting you is better than anything I’ve ever tasted in my long life.” As he said this he inched closer.

”You could, yes,” Ban interjected, “but I suppose there is something else you could do.”

He leaned over her again, cock in hand, lining up. “Indeed there is. I could make you feel how much I love you instead.”

With those words he buried himself in her in one hard thrust that left them both breathless. His ass clenched, the piece inside him providing a wonderful fullness that complemented the warmth now enveloping his cock.

There was little need to wait. He pressed her down against the bed, then placed his palms flat on either side of her, bracing himself. He rolled his hips in a slow grind that he knew would rub against her clit; her answering moan was exactly what he had anticipated. The feeling of her slickened abdomen sliding against his skin, knowing he’d put it there and that he would fill her with more soon, gave him a deep sense of satisfaction. His.

“I love you,” he breathed, against her ear. “I have loved you for far longer than you’ve known, perhaps longer than even I’ve known.” He pressed his forehead against hers, hips moving faster, feeling the drag of her walls with every pass, the feeling of fullness peaking with each forward thrust. He pulled out most of the way, watching her track his every move, then sank back in with a ferocity that demonstrated just how much he wanted her to feel his words and the depth of his devotion.

“And I you,” she whispered back, her words rough with pleasure as his cock sank back in, precisely angled to slam against her spot. “And I feel like I should be the one-”

”Hush. I promised you my words; allow me to speak them.”

She fell silent, and he pecked her lips. “That’s my girl.” He pushed her leg up, spreading her further apart and sinking himself deeper. A quick, ‘Be a dear and hold that for me, will you?’ and he resumed his pace. He began to push harder, hips shifting from a slow grind to an increasingly vigorous speed. He angled himself carefully, knowing he’d succeeded when he was rewarded with a wonderfully tight clench all around him and the sound of her whimper.

“There are endless ways to tell you exactly how I adore you. From your body - every curve, every line of it, driving me insane with want this past month…” He kissed her jaw, her neck, her collarbone as he spoke, hips maintaining their punishing pace. Her quiet moans were a delight to his ears, and he intended to have more. He felt her readjust her grip on her legs, and gave her nipple one last bite before he sat up, grabbing each ankle.

“I wanted to be lost in you, lost to the heights of pleasure you always take me to…” he slammed his hips forward, his ass clenching around the plug so pleasantly as he buried himself in her again and again. “To feel you clench all around me as I bury myself in you again and again, until I have nothing left to give. But I relearned something this past month, something I’ve always known but something you likely need to be reminded of.” Another hard thrust, and she whimpered, all restraint gone. She reached between her legs, rubbing herself. He fixed his gaze on her face, drawing pleasure from her pleasure. “I don’t need… sex, to drown in you. When I say you’re beautiful, my love, I mean your body and your face, but I also mean your heart - the one that shelters mine.” They locked gazes, his insistent, hers a little unsure.

Astarion touched her mind, a request to be bound together as both reached their peak. He sat up. He knew it would be intense, his mind bracing for it as she finally allowed him in - and they became one.

They felt his hands wrapped around her ankles, her hand on her clit tracing pleasurable circles. He could feel the mounting pressure in her just as she could feel the pressure of the plug, the aching pleasure in his belly, his balls tightening, the urge to release building. The drag of her walls against the sensitive head of his cock, her slick, tight heat, clenching all around him. He let go of her ankles and she immediately held her legs apart for him, knowing what he wanted before he could even consciously pass the thought along; it made him chuckle. He laid over her so that they were eye to eye, seeing nothing but each other, feeling nothing but each other, thinking of nothing but each other-

He kissed her hard, holding himself up, hips now frantic and his rhythm slowly failing as his pleasure built. She wound her legs and arms around him, tugging him close, enveloping him in her. His tongue pushed in, savoring her, tasting himself through her mind, both irrevocably linked body and mind and soul.

She was close; the gentle bucking of her hips and the frequent clenching all around him both wonderfully pleasant and also exhilarating. Her panting increased, the soft and hot breaths tickled against his ear. His sweat mixed with hers, the heat of his body bleeding into her. Every stroke he made was met by an upwards thrust from her. He felt his own climax rushing in, the flames in him reached fever pitch as his balls tightened and that pleasant fullness shifted into intense, delicious urgency - he knew he was at the precipice.

”Mark me, Astarion. Make me whole,” she whispered, and he did, crashing his lips against her as he finally let go, his cock releasing hot streams of seed deep within her. He felt her climax as well, his pleasure pushing her off the edge, hers mixing with his in every clench around him and in every wave of euphoria bleeding through their bond. For a moment there were no lines between them, blurred out by pleasure and the sheer intensity of their love. There was only them.

Neither moved once their orgasms had subsided, remaining wrapped up in each other. Astarion had collapsed on top of her, his head buried in the crook of her neck. He nipped her there, once. The feel of her stroking his back with her fingertips sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine.

”Considering how much of a mess we’ve made of the bed today,” he mused, “would you consider tonight an exception to your bathe-before-bed rule, love?” His tone was singsong, lightly mocking.

A frankly asinine rule, and one she didn’t follow herself, the hypocrite. But he allowed her her idiosyncrasies, as she allowed him his - matching outfits, often heavily embroidered, his preference for red sheets and drapes, or that atrociously large statue of him in the garden that had replaced Cazador’s. He’d insisted on it.

“Well. Stoney and Boney did do a good job,” Ban responded. He started, belatedly realizing the link was still open.

“It isn’t hard to do when they simply have to recreate perfection.”

She ruffled his hair. “And you think I’m a hypocrite?”

”Ban.” He exhaled. “The number of times I’ve seen you sit on the bed, unclothed, yes, but not having bathed yet… I’ve held my peace.” He was holding back laughter, trembling a little as he stifled it.

”You’re not wrong,” she admitted. “But I’ll allow it for tonight. Tomorrow the bathing rule is back in place.”

“Of course it is. I wouldn’t expect anything less from the esteemed Ban Glasscraft, she who makes the most nonsensical of rules and decides not to follow them herself,” he drawled, fingers dancing across her collarbone. As he finished the sentence something dawned on him. She wasn’t-

“Ban Ancunín, now,” came the reply, slightly amused. “It took me a moment myself.”

“I daresay this name suits you better.”

”And removes all traces of that wretch from my life, too.”

Astarion pressed a kiss on her sternum. “Not tonight, darling. They’re to hold no place in your mind - forever, if I had any say, but we have to at least deal with the mystery of your dear brother first.”

Ban looked down at him. He was still buried against her neck, not looking at her, but his thoughts prodded hers for a response. She could feel his mind loosening its hold - he was falling asleep - but was waiting for her answer.

”No, not tonight,” she repeated.

He hummed approvingly. “Then rest, my love.”

The rest of his message was sent in fleeting thoughts as he slipped into slumber.

Rest. We are home.

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thelittlepoetprincess · 2 months

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[ACT 2 SPOILERS] Gale Brainrot my beloved

You know how much I love Gale. The Rizzard snatched me straight from that silly vampire the moment I made contact with those big brown puppy dog eyes. Fem!Reader CW: Cockwarming, shameless masterbation, feral switch Gale

Gale, who can finally breathe after the orb stabilizes. Finally, he can relax and do all the things he'd missed out on because of the orb. Sure, the idea that Mystra could've always freed him from his torment still plagued him but he had bigger and more pressing matters to deal with.

He watched you stamp out the Absolute's forces for their Moon lantern, clutching the saving light in one hand while you stomped out the last goblin with a merciless glare. And the way watching you fight made him terribly horny, something he'd conveniently kept under wraps while the orb threatened to detonate in his chest. He sat in his tent, thankful everyone else had other things to be worried about than his reclusive nature. In reality, he keeps playing images of you in his head over and over. Bloodstained, vicious, powerful. Not to mention undeniably attractive. The way the beads of sweat trickle down your face in a difficult fight sends waves of pleasure through him and straight to his aching cock. He pumps mercilessly along the length of his shaft, imagine it was your hand milking him and reliving the stress. He cums hard, the hardest he's come in a long time. Thick long ropes paint his hand and the wall of his tent, and the thought of releasing on your face gets him hard all over again. The next day he pays extra attention to you in combat, finding more material for his mental image of you. Which conveniently gets him smacked into next week just as he got a good look at your hips when you recovered from a fall mid-fight. He tumbles into a large lake, hearing his name called as he sinks under the waves. Gale who woke up to you desperately blowing air into his lungs. All he can focus on is the softness of your lips on his, and how much he wants to make out with you then and there. However, the water in his lungs has other ideas and he coughs it up to ruin a perfectly good moment. He thanks you profusely for saving him again.

Gale who can't help himself as he whimpers, the sight of your wet awaiting hole being enough to make him throb. He slides in slowly, trembling by the time he fully sheaths himself in you. He pants, already ready to come from the feeling of bottoming out. "No--! Let me-- let me enjoy this, slowly..."

#shameless indulgence #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale x tav #gale x reader #baldurs gate gale

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the-real-housewives-of-waterdeep · 2 months

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Sweater Weather (GN!Reader x Gale)

Summary: You knew that Waterdeep could be chilly during Hammer, but you didn’t realize quite how cold it could get. Luckily, Gale is always happy to lend you some warmth.

Pairing: Gale x GN!Reader

Rating: SFW

Tags: Cuddling & Snuggling; Couch Cuddles; Winter; Wholesome; Post-Canon; Soft Gale (Baldur's Gate); POV Second Person; Location: Waterdeep (Dungeons & Dragons); Baldur's Gate 3; BG3 Fic Feb; Mentioned Tara (Baldur's Gate); tressym; Sweaters; Warm and Fuzzy Feelings

Word count: 898

“I had no idea Waterdeep could get so cold,” you said, shuddering against the cold winds that crept through the poorly insulated windows of Gale’s tower. Even beneath a veritable pile of blankets, the cold still seemed to seep into your bones. You insisted repeatedly that you would be “just fine”in the cold, yet you still shivered under all of the layers.

A cold front loomed over the Sword Coast, heralding the beginning of Hammer. The seasons were more temperate in Baldur’s Gate and you were unprepared for the harshness of Hammer further north.

Conversely, this was Gale’s favorite season. Gale’s wardrobe was significantly larger than yours and warm woolen sweaters and heavier cloaks comprised much of it. His mother made him a new heavy tunic sweater every year, partially out of motherly fussiness but mainly because she knew how much Gale loved a solidly-made sweater. That day, he was clad in a heavy burgundy sweater and trousers. He wore a pair of well-insulated slippers, yet another gift from his mother Morena.

“Come here, my love,” Gale said, beckoning you over to where he sat by the hearth in his library. Without abandoning your ersatz coat of blankets, you trudged across the room in stocking feet to curl up against Gale’s welcoming embrace.

The warmth of the fire and your lover’s body heat were comforting as you cocooned yourself by Gale’s side. On Gale’s opposite side, Tara was curled up and asleep with her head resting on her front paws. You could hear her snoring softly as you settled into Gale’s arms.

He gave you a tender peck on the forehead as you leaned into him. “We need to rectify the paucity to warm clothes in your wardrobe, my dear,” he sighed. “As charming as it is to see you scuttle about in your blanket cocoon, you require far more insulation against the Hammer winds.”

You nodded reluctantly. You quickly realized that it was foolish to put on a tough front in front of Gale. Not only could he read you like one of his beloved tomes, you knew he always wanted you to be comfortable.

“You needn’t be so stalwart,” Gale said, taking a fatherly tone. “There is nobody in this tower or in all of Faerûn to impress or intimidate. Our days of toughness are over for now. It is safe to be vulnerable, challenging though that may be.” His lips curved into a half smile. “You’re a terrible liar anyway.”

“You’re right,” you sighed. Old habits died hard.

“I tend to be,” Gale replied with a hint of pride, which earned him an eye roll from you.

“So humble,” you wise-cracked, shaking your head. You shifted beneath the blankets and began to sit up. “I’m going to make some tea. Do you want any?”

Gale’s brows furrowed and he shot up from the sofa. “Sit back down. You’ll catch cold wandering about like that.” He bent down and kissed your forehead. “I shall bring the tea and I shall bring you more appropriate clothing.”

You chucked, but acquiesced as Gale hurried out of the room. It was little things like this that you found most charming. He cosseted you at every turn. Even when the was lost in his inner world, the only thing that could snap him out of it was you. He valued your comfort and happiness above all else. Often you had to remind Gale that his needs mattered just as much and, despite his protestations, you wanted to care for him in equal measure. He struggled at times to allow himself to be loved and cared for, but old habits die hard.

The library where you and Gale whiled away so many hours together was a manifestation of his thoughts, dreams, and ideas. When you first moved in together upon returning to Waterdeep, it felt odd and somewhat uncomfortable to sit in his library. You felt as if you found someone’s secret hiding place and decided to claim it as yours. With time, though, you became more comfortable. You belonged there as a part of his inner life.

“Your tea, my love,” Gale said warmly. He set a cup and saucer in front of you, part of a set passed down through his mother’s family. “Unfortunately, this is the last of the mint tea. I shall acquire more when I go to the market tomorrow.”

He disappeared once more, trodding down the hallway to your shared bedroom. You could hear him rummaging around, presumably looking for a sweater tunic for you. Eventually, he returned, carrying an emerald green garment.

“It may run a bit big, but it should do the trick,” he smiled as he passed the sweater tunic to you.

You gratefully pulled it over your head. You could smell Gale’s favorite rose-scented soap on the fabric. It did, in fact, make him smell a bit like an old dowager, but you’d come to appreciate it as one of his quirks.

The weight of the tunic was comforting, like a hug from a loved one. You could immediately feel the warmth flooding your body as you cozied into the tunic. It was a touch too big for you, so you rolled up the sleeves before taking a sip of the tea Gale made you.

“We’ll have to get a few shirts and sweater tunics in your size. It’ll only get colder from now until Tarsakh,” Gale advised, pulling you close to him. He kissed the top of your head, burying his nose in your hair. “I have to keep you warm, my love.”

“We’ll keep each other warm,” you corrected, giving Gale’s hand a squeeze. “Through all the days of Hammer to come, this year and every year.”

The cold winds blew harder outside, rattling the windowpanes, yet you remained warm and comfortable in your lovers tunic as the two of you cuddled together in front of the library’s hearth.

#bg3 #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 fic #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate #gale #bg3 reader x gale #gn!reader #gn!tav

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middlingmay · 17 days

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Rebel!John x Pastor's son!Gale AU

“D’you think you’re a sinning man, John?”

That was the thing Gale Cleven was best at: taking any assumptions you had or expectations you made about him, tossing them in the dirt between your legs where you lay sprawled, and grinding them down into dust under his boot while you watched.

Metaphorically speaking. But it was a metaphor John had been thinking about a lot lately.

They sat parked up in his car, a town over from Daddy Cleven’s parish. John wasn’t sure what tale Gale had spun when he escaped the old man’s clutches. But he was sure that he didn’t care.

What he did care about, very much, was the way Gale looked in the fading light. Golden hair, golden skin - even the blue of his eyes absorbed the gold of the sun as it started to make its way to bed.

His shirt buttons still stood to attention, done right up to the top and his shirt was starched so it dug a little into his throat. Evidently he’d not had a chance to change into the soft cotton collars and cardigans he preferred when he didn’t have to be at attention for the Pastor.

But in a rare display of abandon, Gale had rolled up his cuffs and stretched out his arms as he lounged in the front seat of John’s beloved car, top down. One arm dangled over the end of the door, the other stretched over the back of the seat. John had never fully appreciated that particular design feature of his Buick Super Convertible Coupe; that the two front seats ran end to end, so it was a little like sitting on a couch. Not until the first time it allowed him to press his legs against the local pastor’s son in the name of ‘getting comfortable’.

The deep red leather was soft and supple and today Gale had felt some kind of way that had him knocking his knee against John’s and draping his arm across the divide so his fingertips nearly, nearly, tickled the very edges of John’s arms - right at the top, where it met the short cuff of his t-shirt.

His mom hated this shirt - said it showed more of him than was Godly. When he paired it like he did today, with tight blue denim jeans which hugged his strong waist and showed just how thick his thighs were, she tutted and swatted his behind with whatever she was holding before she ushered him outta her door until he “learned some damn sense! What kinda girl you gonna bring home to me looking like that?”

And the longer John spent with Gale, the clearer the answer was to him. Not a damn one.

Gale was staring at him and John realised he hadn’t answered the question. He’d just been staring at Gale like some love-sick dame.

John grinned, the one that revealed his teeth as it spread, and let him bite on his lip a little on the way.

Gale’s eyes flicked to it like they always did.

“Isn’t that a given?”

But Gale was good at recovering from John’s teasing, and levelled him with his own look, head cocked, like John was a child who was being deliberately obtuse.

“Is it?” he asked. “Because depsite your reputation around town, I ain’t seen you do anything immoral.”

Immoral. John latched onto the word like it was prey; a perfect opportunity to get Gale a little worked up.

“Well which are you asking? Immoral, or sinful?”

Gale’s brown furrowed, and he looked at John all suspicious like. “I don’t follow.”

John turned his body towards Gale, his own arm coming up to the back of the seat, draping over Gale’s who didn’t budget an inch.

“They’re not the same, Buck,” he said, using the nickname Gale pretended to hate.

There. He saw it. The intrigue; the temptation to bite the bait.

“Okay. How are they different?”

Hook, line, and sinker.

“Tell me what your seven sins are.”

Gale snorted. “You’re a Catholic, John. You know what they are.”

John didn’t laugh. “Say them.”

Noting the tone - the order - Gale sat up a little straighter. His arms dragged along the line of John’s as he did so. John felt it like static electricity.

“Pride.”

John nodded. “I got plenty of that. I’m proud of my car,” he gestured with his hand.

“You worked hard on it—”

“I’m proud of my looks. I like keeping my curls longer because I know what it looks like when someone wants to pull on ‘em. I like my legs,” he stretched them out a bit further and Gale’s first blush of the evening made its appearance. “They make me feel strong. And that makes me feel good. All those folks lookin’ at what I got.”

Gale was silent.

“What’s next?”

“Greed and gluttony.”

“Hm,” John made it a satisfied and contented sound. “Well, I’m not greedy for money, you know that. And if It was success and fame I was after, I’d have trotted to New York after my dad.”

Gale’s eyes softened at that, well aware of John’s tendency to self-sacrifice for the comfort of his mother and his sisters - something no one else knew apart from John’s best friend, Curt.

John was pleased to see it, that false sense of security, before he made his move. “At first, I told myself that everytime I saw you would be the last. I’d leave the pretty pastor’s son be, stop teasin’ and tormentin’ him and let him find some friends more like him.”

Blush number two.

“But each time we spoke, every time I got you to laugh, every time you caught me lookin’ - it just made me greedier, Gale. Just got me hungry.”

A soft breathe rushed from Gale’s lungs. His fists clenched where they rested. Perfect control.

“Sloth.”

John laughed, bright and happy. “The day you let me, I’ll spend the whole morning after showing you sloth, just you wait.”

Gale covered his mouth with the hand that had been resting on the door and snickered. John loved that he could make this boy, normally so solemn and serious with the weight of his father dragging him down, laugh so easily now. Gale shoved John back and inch and John let him, smiling like a fool.

“Alright, envy,” Gale said, finally getting into the game.

“Your buttons.”

Gale spluttered. “My what?”

John nodded at his buttoned up collar. “Your buttons. Your shirt.”

“You can’t be serious? You’re jealous of cloth?”

“Ah, ah,” John corrected him gleefully. “I’m envious.”

Gale rolled his eyes but John leaned over under the pretense of studying the button at the base of Gale’s throat, and the younger boy stilled like a deer. From here John could draw in the scent of him: soap something sweet, like chocolate.

A breath away from the lip of Gale’s shirt collar, John murmured,” They get to kiss ya in ways you ain’t let me, yet.”

Gale whipped his head round and John had to rear back lest he get smacked in the head, but he didn’t go far. He saw Gale walk that edge; the one between excitement and fear, both centred on what he really wanted.

The other thing John liked about Gale, was that he had a complete and utter inability to back down. In the fractional space between them now, Gale let the arm resting along the back of the seat drop in a ghost of an embrace as it curled around John where he sat. The other he slowly but deliberately brought to rest of John’s denim-clad knee, high though, and gripped like if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to control where it went.

“Lust?” Gale whispered against his face.

And it would have been easy, so easy for John to finally bridge that distance and claim a kiss. But just like all the other times, he couldn’t help but think it had to be perfect, not easy.

Instead, he tipped forward just enough to brush his nose against Gale’s; for their eyelashes to flutter against each other, and for their stubble to catch in a delicious scrape and burn as they breathed in each other’s air.

“You have no idea,” John’s voice rumbled in the coming dusk, “the fire I got inside me for you, Gale Cleven.”

Gale’s breathe was shaky and laboured and tumbled out of him in a stutter. And then, “Don’t I?”

John dropped his head to the curve of Gale’s neck with a thud and a pained groan, and Gale chuckled, deep and syrupy now that John wasn’t stealing his breath.

But never let it be said that John Egan did not give as good as he got.

“I am a sinful man, Gale,” he spoke, just below Gale’s ear. “I don’t look at you with piety or good, clean Christian love for mankind. If you judge me based on the Good Book, you make me wanna be a very bad man.”

Gale’s hand spasmed on his leg as John felt the weight of the other man’s head rest on the back of his, just for a second.

Then John asked, “But does that make me immoral? Does that make me evil?”

Gale pulled back and looked at John with horror. He could see the refusal in Gale’s eyes that the younger man wanted to speak into the air. Of course John wasn’t evil. How could he be?

Gently, John cupped Gale’s chin between a finger and a thumb. “Does my - do my feelings for you mean I gotta burn?”

Gale closed his eyes but not before John caught the flash of hurt. Gale tilted his head down so his mouth laid in the curve of John’s palm, and in that sacred hollow he said, “I won’t let you burn, Johnny. Least not alone.”

There. As close to an admission as Gale got that John wasn’t going crazy and he wasn’t in this alone. That Gale saw John the way John saw him, and he wasn’t getting himself off every night to a damned fantasy.

With more effort than he thought he had in him, John pulled back to the driver’s seat and shook it out: all the tension, his desire, his temptation. He shook his head, rolled his shoulders, smacked his hands on the steering wheel, and when he turned to Gale he looked near pristine, but for the raw, bare look in his eyes.

“I gotta get you home,” and John said it like a vow.

A few streets away from the Pastor’s house - because even Gale didn’t make John stupid enough to tempt fate like that and Gale wouldn’t let him even if he did - Gale paused before getting out the car.

“What about wrath?”

John, who hated dropping Gale off but always appreciated the momentary but completely unobstructed view of his ass as he left the car, took a second to catch up. “Huh?”

“Wrath. You never said how you were a wrathful man. You left it out.”

And John thought back to the busted lip that started this whole thing. To subsequent red cheeks and black eyes and that one time he walked into the garage to Curt pointing viciously at the back room and finding Gale curled up on the ratty couch there under his jacket, soaked to the bone and nose red, sleeping.

He couldn’t touch Gale, now. Not around so many houses full of curtain twitchers, night time or not. But he could hold his gaze, which so many people found hard to do with the pastor’s son, and he could promise:

“I will never hurt you, Gale.”

And if he expected some heartfelt look or words at the declaration, he would have been mightily disappointed. Gale looked affronted, like John had just treated him like he was stupid.

“I know that, idjit.”

John spluttered.

“But your boys say you’re awful good a fightin’”

When he was a little younger and a lot stupider, John used to fight for the hell of it; to feel something in the wake of his father walking out his life. But now he only fought for a good reason. And Gale and his boys were very good reasons.

“I look after mine, Gale.”

And Gale bit his lip at the meaning left unsaid and wished John a goodnight, before he exited the car and walked off into the night.

John watched Gale until he turned the corner, like he always did, before he collapsed against the back of the seat and rubbed his face hard with his hands.

Gale Cleven. John was fairly sure he was going to hell for that man.

#clegan #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #mota #masters of the air #fic #alternate universe #rebel!john AU #pastor's son!gale AU

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