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ravengards-rogue · 8 months

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✧ barbarian + gender neutral tav, bottom/sub gale, top + dom!tav, gutting a fish, horny to horny tadpole communication lol 18+

gale daydreams too long about the rough callouses on your hands on his skin.

you answer him in short sentences when he mentions them but he's come to realize this isn't disinterest. you just aren't one for talking much, and you listen to him intently. occasionally you'll remember something entirely arbitrary he's told you - and he'll feel his heart stammer like a boy in love and not a man of middle age.

he notices your hands first when he tries teaching you the weave. the times after, you're healing him because he's been battered relentlessly in battle. calloused hands - the kind of hands that wield weapons and massacre. gale has seen you rage so often, though he's never thought anything of it. you're polar opposites in all aspects but especially that kind of raw power.

(the story of them goes that you used to tussle with bears as a child. when asked to elaborate, you shrug passively. apparently all that matters is that you won more often than you lost.)

he likes your hands. your hands are calloused and scarred. all of you is scarred, but your hands especially. split knuckles and thick, coarse skin that's been split and healed with nothing but time. strong, capable hands that carry fresh hunt into the camp and butcher them close to the water so the blood can be washed away. his are soft and smooth, a calm life in the vibrant and advanced city of waterdeep has made them so. the most violence he's ever received until recently, a paper cut from an especially feisty tome.

gale spends too long looking at them. you notice his gaze, naturally perceptive. and gale - well gale flushes. he's leering, and his thoughts are all but appropriate.

he's not prone to shyness. but you're a little different from those he kept in his past. constructed with that sort of unfamiliar grit makes his stomach churn with desire that burns white hot. gods.

it's inappropriate - entirely. together at camp with a makeshift table and cutting board (a slab of wood, really). you're cooking together, and gale is watching you gut a fish. your fingers are soaked in blood as you carefully scale and clean skin. there's also a fresh body you've so morbidly carried for astarion to eat.

you glance at him, head tilted - brow taut with interest.

"something on your mind, wizard?"

"not particularly," he replies, trying to avert his gaze. you go back to your task, the barest amusement on your face.

"you're a shit liar." and then, as if you sense that you can't pull more out of him - he feels something electric brush against his spine. the tadpole, your tadpole. you reach out to him through it. the voice in your mind is entangles with his as he allows you to touch his thoughts. you never do so without being careful.

it's...oddly euphoric, makes his stomach feel honeyed with lust. a harsh way of speech coupled by a soft whisper. stop being lewd or you'll cook yourself on a flame.

it's an instant protest, though between you is only silence.

"lewd?" he says in a whisper yell. you don't reply to his exclaiming. nor do you mask your amusement. you're enjoying this. your hands make quick work of flaying the dead sea creature. the head goes into the soup. you dunk the bloodied carcass in water leaving delicate white fish behind, then you use a dagger to carve the bones from it.

the blood stains your fingers. even with the savagery you're always committing, your delicate with the flesh.

you press into his mind, a knowing glance at the way his eyes lock onto the gesture.

gale is hesitant to let you in again. you shrug.

"even if you don't want to tell me what ways you want me to fuck you," you say, low enough so that only gale hears it. "well. you're a bit of a lost cause on hiding it."

gale is so momentarily scandalized he just stops. a smile tugs at your lips as you look at him more directly this time. heat licks at his his calves, a little ashamed as he lets you in.

(the images conjured in his mind are imperfect but vivid. all of them terribly rough. his mind desires it more than his body, to feel the roguish warmth of your palms handle his limbs in ways so untender some gods would consider it against them. a harsh first around his cock or around his throat, thumbs pressing into pulsing heart. hardened touches rounded with tender praise.

fingers inside of him. gale laid out over your lap - tucked into you in some completely vulnerable way.

there's a single undercurrent desire, one for you make a mess of him and it's louder and more attention seeking than all the rest. the need to be under your thumb makes his cock twitch so hard it's painful.

he imagines himself spent in your arms, cumming helplessly. limp against the strength of your chest and arms. the thought makes his physical body shiver.

the idea lingers so deep in the recesses of his mind he wonders if they're being projected right.)

he severs the connection when the embarrassment catches up to him, waiting anxiously for whatever thing you might end up saying. there's a smirk on your face, a salacious little chuckle as you discard bones into a metal bowl fashioned on the slab you cut on. for an elongated moment, you're unreactive. it's so strange gale wonders if he might've conjured up the entire interaction.

you walk yourself around him to put something in the pot - fresh cuts of white meat, before you blow warm air against the back of his neck. he nearly jumps out of his skin.

your words are assured.

"didn't take you for a masochist," you hum, calloused palm underneath the velvet of his nightwear. he looks at you over his shoulder. you make it clear you mean every word of what you'll say. "but i'll fuck you however you wish, lewd wizard. try to focus on dinner for now instead of ogling."

with your task now finished, you place a single long kiss on the nape of gales neck before disappearing completely - slinking off into the night to wash your hands. gale feels blood rush between his legs as he clears his throat.

he grumbles as he waddles over to stir the pot, skin painted with pink and feeling no less horny than before. "easier said then done."

#zero.thoughts #d.rogues love letters #sharess' whisper #gale x reader #bg3 x reader #he deserves to be topped and bullied but i say this about all men i like #but especially especially gale #i spent way too fucking long on this lmaoo #i have an important test in 5 hours i havent studied for at all dfkjfdkj

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alpydk · 3 months

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I've had a brainworm (tadpole?) that won't leave my head.

How would Gale's partner (Tav or Origin) react to him unintentionally saying Mystra's name during sex?

I don't think he would say it as his ex, but rather an exclamation ("Oh Gods", "By Mystra", etc).

I know I wouldn't be pleased. 😵‍💫

"By Mystra"

Anon, you are a miracle worked because I loved writing this. Like this is literally smut that I did not cringe my way through or go ugh why... Like I actually sent a quote to someone whilst writing this in a mini celebration of enjoyment. Really so much fun, so thank you. - I will say though it's probably not what you wanted at all. Oops. (Or maybe it is, I'm not a psychic.)

Word count : 1570 - M/E - It's Smut, there's nothing but smut here. I couldn't even angst this fucker up. - Gale x Tav (F)

The evening had gone along as it normally would. Gale and Tav entertained his mother with the local gossip of Waterdeep, fresh tea leaves releasing their aroma into the study, the odd whisper shared between the happily married couple. The sun was now making its leisurely stroll towards the horizon and Tav had now moved onto round two of the game she affectionately liked to call Nimble fingers, ill intent. The first round would be innocent enough, the odd remark about how he looked nice when sat in certain positions or a passing comment about times they had spent alone given with a sultry look. “Oh yes, I remember that tavern, Morena. The detail on the oak bed posts were exquisite. Real craftsmanship.” Round two was based more on the physical aspects of distraction and competition: the lick of a teaspoon after eating dessert, the run of her hand along his thigh under the dinner table, the whisper in his ear of how she seemed to have forgotten her underwear. “Oh, it was nothing Morena, a quick reminder about a certain someone’s birthday.”

These nights were still as enjoyable as they were the first time around a campfire. Hands slipped under robes, concentration lapsing into yearning, travelling companions none the wiser of the exploits taking place. She would make him forget all logic, all reason, all devotion he ever had to his goddess.

He couldn’t get rid of his mother quick enough as he watched Tav lean over the coffee table to collect up the cutlery, her lilac shirt hanging a little lower than suitable and knowingly it was in full view of him. He saw the way her breasts hung against the cloth, the line of her cleavage drawing his gaze without mercy. After so much teasing, he didn’t just want her; he needed her desperately, as if he had been trapped underwater and she was his only source of air to breathe.

As the entrance door of the tower closed, signalling Morena’s exit, Gale was quick to press Tav to the wall of the stairwell; her wrists bound under his firm hand, the other travelling under the fabric of her shirt to place its mark on the previously taunting flesh. His lips found hers with an intensity he refused to hold back on, more eager than his well-mannered nature with his mother had let on. They navigated the stairs up to the tower quickly, a trail of cotton and leather left in their wake.

Heated kisses were placed over naked bodies, his flushed lips along her neck, her wanting hands travelling from his abdomen to his hips. The royal blue sheets of the bed were always the goal, but rarely did they make it there, instead ending up on the daybed or, more often, the scarlet floral rug that lay at the foot of the bed. From there, he would see her lying and waiting, her body moistened and ready for him, her eyes beckoning him with a love he would give himself to again and again. For a thousand nights, he would worship her in so many ways: some nights slowly with a tender caress of her inner thigh, others more playful, a nibble of her shoulder, and the teasing of his fingertips. Within the four walls of the bedroom, he was the one in control; he was the god to a single follower.

He nudged her leg aside with his own, climbing towards her, his urges to take her driving him forward with little thought of anything else. It was as he took her nipple in his mouth, the flick of his tongue creating the unwilling whimper emerge from her, that he felt her hand push him ever so slightly. This was new, a sign of dominance from one who normally welcomed his practiced tongue so openly.

He accepted the reaction, Tav’s hands coming up to his shoulders, rolling him to his back with a tentative push. He lay beneath her, her legs straddled over his hips, her breasts hanging just above his chest. His heart beat with an intensity he only felt as she teased, the devious look in her eyes telling him this wouldn’t be as easy as an impromptu lanceboard match. She held herself above him, the heat of her cunt drawing him in. He craved her touch, yearned to be inside her and have her entirely and yet she watched him, waited for his control to falter as it always did around her.

“Please...” He whispered underneath her. He would not beg, nor would he lower himself to that level of pleading he'd done so long ago, but he would ask if that is what she wanted of him. He would do anything for her if it meant he could show his love for her.

She sunk down onto him, her pace relaxed, her hands sliding their way up his chest. He felt the slow roll of her hips, his own body instinctively retorting with an impatient jolt. She stopped and sat up above him, a disappointed sigh that told him he’d done something wrong.

“My apologies... I... I became too eager-“

She rose and took him again in one quick thrust, a command that she was in charge. Without warning, he let out a deep growl, his self-control slowly unravelling with the growing intensity of her movements. He could feel the way her hand held down his shoulder, the fingernails of the other embedding themselves in the skin of his abdomen. What were once relaxed whines were slowly becoming the sputtered moans of his name through gritted teeth. She was fighting this as much as he was and he could feel the way her body was arching, trying to hold back on a climax that threatened to break through at any moment.

He closed his eyes, the symphony of ecstasy ringing in his ears, his body still accepting her pace despite how much he wished to just grab her and fuck her. He neared his precipice, one he had fallen from so many times with Tav, one he would happily fall from a thousand times more and he parted his lips, the sensation too much to contain. “By Mystra...”

Tav’s movements stopped suddenly, an abrupt silence that took him a moment to register before realising what had happened. She looked down at him with a combination of confusion and offense. “Did you just...?”

He felt the icy chill in the pit of his stomach, his practised tongue letting him down the moment he wasn’t the one in control of the situation. He hadn’t meant it as anything but an exclamation of pleasure, but he knew it was not the most welcome name after all that happened, especially when said in the bedroom. “Tav, I did not mean-“

She broke him off with another quick roll of her hips, a smirk curling upon her reddened lips. “Say it again.”

Gale looked at her with confusion. “Say what exactly?”

Tav bucked against him, an irritable look in her eyes. “Her name. Say it again.”

He was unsure what she meant, the rules of their game changing with each state of play. Lanceboard had been left in the dusty halls of the library; now they played a completely different game of strategy, one where he was but a novice. “Mystra...” he spoke with an uncertainty in his tone.

This time Tav’s movements were gentler, slower, and more deliberate. His head leaned back onto the rug, the red fibres weaving with his brown locks.

“Again,” she commanded.

He obeyed without doubt. “Mystra...”

She smiled, her hands moving from his shoulder down to his hips, her back arching, and pelvis tilting ever so slightly, allowing him to feel her in full. With each jolt he felt his muscles begin to tremble, the goddess’ name gasped through worshipping lips. And yet he prayed not to her but to the goddess that wrapped her thighs around him, the one whose sweat beaded with his own, the one that called his name as her hands found his.

She tightened around him, all control gone, nothing else mattering but the fought off release that now consumed her senses. She let out one guttural cry, only interrupted by the deep thrusts as Gale chased his own orgasm. What had been the Lady of Magic’s name had now become the Hero of Baldur’s Gate. Tav sputtered out as wave upon wave of pleasure erupted forth from him, as muscles grew taut and his body buried itself into as far as it possibly could.

She fell limp around him, his arm wrapping around her in a loving embrace as he pulled her onto the floor with him. Their skin glistened with sweat, the air now humid, the only sound being their panted breathing as they regained their composure. The sensation of a light charge brushing against his skin brought him to smile, a devilish knowing of exactly what Tav had done with her control over him. The goddess’ name, spoken in worship, in devotion, would of course have drawn her attention, if only for a moment. He placed a soft kiss on Tav’s forehead, tonight’s game most assuredly her victory.

“With you, I forget my goddess...” She titled her head up to look at him, an almost innocent gaze in her eyes. “I just wanted to make sure that was still the case.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gale #bg3 fanfiction #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale bg3 #galemance #pure dirty smut #angst free #you're all a bad influence on my innocent mind #I blame aurora especially for her bulge sitting

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