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petchic101 · 9 months

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Burn the World to Ash

Oops I wrote an Astarion brainrot one-shot? Whaaaaat. Basically what if Tav was an old acquaintance of Astarion's in high society and she was just another victim of the rich and powerful.

Fluff and Angst No smut in this one folks

Word Count: 5371

This is also kind of a trauma dump, how the body reacts to trauma, and how the body reacts when you are dying of blood loss.

TW: eludes to SA and Abuse // Blooood // Death

Enjoy! Please let me know if you want to see more, I have my main play through with my sex positive wood elf xAstarionxHalsinxEmpororxHaleep that I have a tone of ideas for! (mostly smut)

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The sun shone brightly on the coastal cliffs as Ren saw an old acquaintance from Baldur’s gate. It pierced off his white locks and pale skin quite vividly. She hadn’t remembered seeing him in this light before, perhaps any light before if she was honest. The high society parties Lorroakan often dragged her to were usually twinkled with firelight after the sun had set. The pale elf had never paid her any attention, odd considering how Lorroakan often paraded her around, dressed provocatively enough to draw any and all attention inevitably towards himself. None of Cazzadors magistrates would flock to her and her master like the other nobility would, even Cazzador himself would stop to pay her false compliments, kiss her hand or smell her hair before talking to the Wizard that kept her. Her eyes had drifted up one of these times, the pale elf stood frozen, staring. Neither daggers nor jealousy met her eyes, but a primal… fear, one of not knowing what was going to happen next.

Suddenly she was on the ground, a knife to her throat, she froze. “Shhhh not a sound, not if you want to keep that pretty little neck of yours.” Her first instinct was to go limp, to comply. He seemed to notice her body language and pressed his knife closer to her, propping himself to get a better angle. He hadn’t yet looked at her as his head turned to her newest companion. “Now you, I saw you on the ship, yes? I need answers or your darling companion will pay the price.

Shadowheart’s fist clenched. “Let her go or I swear to all that is holy-”

“Ah ah ah.” Astarion tsk’d as the dagger pressed to Ren’s neck drawing blood.

“Astarion, yes?” Ren wrapped her hand around the hand holding the knife to her throat. His reaction was knee jerk to the touch and she was slashed. But the attack was sloppy and she was able to roll away with minimal damage to her neck. He quickly jumped to his feet, still holding his dagger at them. “How do you know my name?” He hissed, panic in his red eyes, but they finally registered the girl in front of him. “Gods, your Lorroakan’s pet.” He spat the sentence then sighed rolling his eyes as he hilted his dagger, putting his hands up. “Apologies.” Suddenly the parasite in her head lurched, taking in the quick memories passed between them, not of nights of merriment but a feeling of fear while skulking moonlit Baldur’s Gate. They all held their heads, not used to the sensation. Before a full recovery could be had, Astarion pointed at her, still palming his eye. “You’re some sort of magic witch, explain this!”

Ren looked at him dumbfounded. This beautiful magistrate, plucked from the eves of high society and dropped in the middle of nowhere, why he looked absolutely displaced, a hilarious spectacle. She started laughing, almost keeling over, the somberness of the events were placed on a backdrop of nonsensical impossibilities. Like watching a play where only one of the actors was stuck in song.

Her companions stood awkwardly not knowing what to do, but Astarion puffed his chest, not liking the thought of someone not taking him seriously. “No, no, none of that, do you know what’s going on or not?”

That night at camp things were much calmer, they had managed to gather six survivors from the crash so far, including herself, oddly all of them capable of some form of martial ability or magic. Astarion sauntered up to her while she was alone, much like he did to others at those frequent parties. “How funny it is to run into someone we’ve met before, yes?” His voice was melotic, hypnotizingly so. It hit chords not unlike Cazzadors or Lorrorakan’s but much sweeter all the same.

“I suppose so.” So much had happened today she had almost forgotten how to put on her show, the one she did for high society, it was not something she was hoping to have to do when in a life or death situation. She tried to match her tone to his, a sweet harmony to keep up appearances. “I’m especially surprised you recognized me Sir, we barely saw each other in passing, odd considering how close our patrons are.” She added her own little barb at the end, something Lorroraken would have whipped her for, but he wasn’t here and this man had avoided her like the plague ever since their first meeting.

Astarion paused, perhaps not expecting his tone to be matched so quickly, or perhaps because the barb had actually stung, but she doubted it. He grabbed her hand, bringing it to his mouth. “An error of judgment on my part I’m sure.” As he went to kiss it she ripped her hand from his before she could think. He looked up, shocked. Shit. The fear must have shown on her face, she had just insulted a magistrate, one with a very powerful patron. His face softened but she quickly stood up, giving a slight bow.

“I am sorry Sir, I must be delirious from today’s events.” She straightened herself as he stood next to her. His gaze slowly took her in, her dress was badly torn, exposing old bruises that she probably hadn’t even noticed, was he feeling pity? She was just another victim of the politics inside of the city. She was lucky that Cazzador had banned them from hunting her, she was certainly a beauty, an innocent looking one that would seek comfort in his arms, and Astarion would have been happy to oblige until handing her to her fate. But she was not one of his victims, she was an easy ally to keep, he needed to make sure his grip was tight.

“Don’t be darling, today’s events have all of us out of sorts, perhaps tomorrow we can meet again as allies and not as magistrates and apprentices.” The worms communicate feelings of relief between them and she nodded hesitantly.

“Out here I’m not, how did you put it? ‘Lorroraken’s pet’?” She smirked. A warning, if he were to go to his master about some sort of insult, she could go to hers with the same claim, and this put them truly on equal ground.

Astarion grinned knowingly. She was not the pushover he had been hoping for, but someone formidable makes for easier travel than dragging some tag along noble. In all honesty though, he could not stop thinking about tasting the blood off of his blade that night.

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The group had made Ren the de facto leader, almost from the fact none of them were willing to step up. Except Laezel of course, but even she could tell these istyk would only follow one of their own. Karlach was a soldier, Wyll and Gale are self conscious loners with complex mommy or daddy issues. Shadowheart couldn't even remember her favorite book. And of course Astarion preferred the shadows. He did not think she would take to the role well considering how presumably sheltered she was. But her lessons in the nobility paid off, her quick wit in forms of persuasion were a sight to behold. She would not hesitate to use their new powers to get the edge up on whoever they were at odds with, making Astarion wonder if that was a technique her master had taught her to utilize before. She eased into the parties multiple personalities quite readily, she melded with these people in ways he could not, or perhaps would not. They flocked to her, she was altruistic, but willing to do what had to be done, she listened to everyone's problems and promised loyalty and companionship, she even helped prevent two of their new friends from exploding. Doing it once would have been a feat in itself, but it's weird that it happened twice.

But something that caused Astarion much grief was that she would always find a way to include him, even when he and the others had a silent understanding that he was better off being alone. Not that she did this all the time, she gave him plenty of space, but group decisions were always made with the whole group present, his exasperated sighs usually being his only input aside from his snarky comments. He felt himself comforted though, how she would put herself as a physical barrier between him and the group, not in an intimidating way, just something that she picked up on that made him more comfortable.

These past few days they had set up camp in caves or dungeons, he hadn't hunted beforehand and he cursed himself for it. He was not used to being surrounded by blood this often, the constant smell was intoxicating, especially hers after he had that small snack off of his dagger after their first meeting, and even a small suckle of old blood from her had been the best thing he tasted in 200 years.

The battle before they set up camp was particularly vexing, they had killed all of the goblins in this abandoned temple, but fighting that damned drow was a whole ordeal. Ren had stepped in front of him, mage armor made her especially stupid, he was in and out of the shadows usually, firing sneaked shots in critical places, but that damn scrying eye stayed on him. Shadowheart had to grab Karlach who had been pushed off the rickety bridge, a half dead goblin still on their tails, the bear kept him occupied though. He and Ren had been cornered by the drow leader, but she stood in front of him, quarterstaff defending as rapier and dagger slit her skin, sometimes her magical armor deflected but not enough. She then was quite literally shoved into him, he hit the bookshelves behind them, barely managing to grab her so she wouldn't take the brunt of the force. In doing so her blood had covered him, bathing him in the sweet smell as his head hit the shelf. Minthara knew this would buy her time and swung to help her companion, not wanting to get overwhelmed from behind.

Ren seized in and out of consciousness as he fished for a healing potion, he sat them up quickly holding her waist tight so she would stay upright. "Don't die on me now." He shifted her so he could feed her the potion her hand lifted, cupping his as she drank it. It was one of the more potent ones, his from the equally shared that were divided amongst them but he didn't care. He needed her to lead this rag tag group, he needed her alive. He needed to see her smile again, watch her facade slip as she genuinely laughed around a campfire. He needed her.

The battle finished, all of them nearly dead as Halsin gave some over enthusiastic praise. Shadowheart was out of healing spells, but she managed to patch Ren up for the most part, dried blood and dirt caked her but exhaustion took hold and she fell asleep on top of her bedroll as soon as they got back. The scent of blood permeated around him. He tried to meditate, read, perhaps relieve himself in other ways, but nothing worked. And suddenly he was over top of her. Crawling on his hands and knees like some wild cat stalking its prey. He had never indulged himself. Even when Cazasdor ate in front of him, letting the blood, off whatever thinking creature, pool on the floor. He never dared try and lap some up for himself. But tonight he was free, and tonight he was hungry. The campfire casted an uncomfortable spotlight on him as he looked around, no one was awake, but the light hit him like the heavens judgment for the monster he was. He started with her hand, lifting it gently, then a little more fervently to make sure she was asleep. When she didn't stir he slowly started licking her. Carefully at first then his hunger took over, he lapped his tongue over her uncovered wounds, scraping his teeth against her scabs to hopefully satiate the overwhelming instinct to bite and suck. As skin off her waist broke and as new blood pooled into his mouth he moaned, his hands formed into fists as he shifted his weight to get a better angle. But spawn or not his saliva was still a natural coagulant, and her wounds were shallow compared to what his teeth could do. As they closed he cursed, sitting himself up and wiping his mouth. And there he saw her bright blue orbs staring at him. The fear of prey written on her face.

"Shit" how did he not hear her heartbeat speed up, for how long she had been awake. He scooted away as she sat up. "It's not what it looks like I swear." He stuttered out, his regular vibrato gone. Ren rubbed her eyes. The shock of adrenaline to her system had woken her up, but the blood rushing to her head made it feel like it was going to explode.

"It better be what it looks like Astarion." Her voice was a whispered hiss. For some reason she was not trying to wake the others. He waited, confused, for her to continue. "You were trying to feed I hope, not taking advantage of me, well, not in that way I suppose." She was too calm, like she hadn't woken up to him feasting on her like a cat lapping up spilt milk.

"Excuse me?" He managed to spit out as the realization hit him. "You knew!? This whole time!? You knew and you didn't even mention it? Not once?" His face scoffed and his nose squiggled up his face making her roll her eyes.

"You're not exactly subtle, Astarion. Though I suppose you only have genuinely smiled around me, the others haven't noticed but you have, let's say, some rather large teeth." She was smirking now, catching their mysterious companion off guard was quite a feat. He sat more relaxed now as she propped herself up, looking at the wounds. "Closed" she whispered to herself unsurprised.

"I'm sorry I didn't realize I was traveling with Baldur Gate’s local vampire expert!" Astarion flailed his hands making her laugh. But it was a dry one as if she was lost in thought.

"It's not my… first time being fed on, Astarion." The words were heavy in her chest as he froze, letting her continue. "Lorroakan would blindfold me and have some of his 'special' guests feed on me sometimes. I don't know if it was one person or multiple." She trailed off. And her eyes grew dark. "Lucky me, a wizard of that caliber always has plenty of revivify scrolls laying about." Astarion felt the rage grow inside him. Cazzador would force them to hunt for his meals almost nightly, then would still feel the need to indulge himself at his friend's homes!? Astarion gave a dry laugh that turned hysterical. He covered his mouth to keep the noise under control.

"I can assure you it was but one man, if you can even call him that. "

"Cazzador." She whispered it as a statment. They paused for a short while. "So you never…" she trailed off.

"No darling, Cazzador kept us on a diet of Rats and whatever other stray animals we could get our claws on. 'The blood of the thinking creature is not for scum such as ourselves.'" He quoted his old master with venom on his tongue.

"Then have you ever?"

"No darling, I have not eaten anyone." A guilty look passed over his eyes as he looked at her.

"Then how was it?" The question came out of her so simple, so mundane, as if he had just tried a new flavor of pie.

He was taken aback before reflex kicked in and he went back to his suave character. "It was, dare I say, decadent."

She easily fell back into her own character, letting the reality of what they had just admitted to each other fade into the background. "You could have asked."

The frivolously bantered about the possibility of him getting staked before he would ask permission, but he ended it on a serious note.

"I suppose I should ask then, I can feel like it will unlock my potential, I can prevent things like today from happening, protect you." He offered, licking his lips.

She thought about the times Cazzador had sucked her dry, when the blood in your body fades, your heart goes on overdrive, thinking it's doing something wrong, but all of your muscles lose control, the wet of sweat coats your body as you are both in the most relaxed state and more panicked than ever before. It is not a slow death, internally screaming as your body is paralyzed. Fingertips and toes go completely numb, nerves shoot pain up and down your arms and legs until eventually you're asleep.

Astarion watched her dissociate into the memory as he grabbed her hand. "I won't kill you I promise." His eyes were genuine, knowing the pain from the memory she was going through.

"I want to try." More than anything she wanted her body back, she wanted to make the decision to say yes, so this memory would not always be burdened with the knowledge she never gave consent.

He sat up, too quickly, too hungry. She flinched but relaxed as he did not move to grab her, allowing her full control. He was handsome, she had always thought so, romance stories of vampires and their mortal prey were often read in her younger years, and though that fantasy had been spoiled by the reality she faced, she longed to set herself in that naive state of mind.

Out of many of the nobles he had always stood out to her. She would never inflate his ego by telling him this, but when the attention was finally off of her and she had served her purpose as a conversation starter for Lorroakan, at the end of the evening she would find herself watching him, how he danced and charmed his way to any and all lads and ladies that surrounded him. It was quite a spectacle. And here he was, all of that grandiose attention on her, well, her blood to be exact, because she was willing and he was able. She grabbed his hand, leading it around her waist. He started to lean in, to move them into a laying position, so he could pierce her neck. But she stood firm and he complied, not pushing her. "Is this alright?" She offered him her wrist. His smile was wide, devious, and happy.

"Of course my sweet, however you are comfortable. This is a gift, I will not soon forget it." He wrapped his arm tighter around her waist as he grabbed the hand she offered him. Planting kisses from the palm of her hand to her upturned arm. She gave out a squeaked moan as she made herself comfortable in his lap. He purred at the noise, giving her neck and jaw some approving pecks, his own excitement starting to harden in his trousers. She bit her lip, burying her face into his neck, pecking his skin before giving a comfortable hum, rubbing her hips, happy by the fact she excited him. "Are you ready?" She nodded into his shoulder as her body tensed. "I need to hear you say it aloud." His command caught them both off guard but in the best way possible.

"I'm ready." She braced herself as his teeth pierced her wrist, it was slow, intentional, he did not want to hit bone. Blood started spilling out before he could begin drinking, making the first few seconds of his meal desperate slurps, like a man trying not to spill his wine. But he settled into a rhythm, letting her blood coat his tongue. The vibration of his satisfied hum on her skin gave her goosebumps. The pain quickly set itself to a low drone, the moment felt more intimate than anything she had felt before. She had always loved serving others, but in her most formative years her choice to do so was taken away, her forced servitude to anyone her Warden wanted had made her forget about that side of her. This gave her the same joy that voluntarily helping the tieflings gave her. And it was her choice to do so. She peered up from his neck, her head light from the blood loss and the moment. His eyes were closed, the corners of them wet. Without thinking she licked one of his tears away, slowly and gently. This pulled him out of his stupor and he looked at her blankly, in shock.

"Vixen." He grumbled under his breath, turning back to her pierced flesh to lick the wound closed. His tongue flattened over her skin again and again. She merely stared at him in awe as he occasionally would look to her, a grin flashing on his open mouth as he finished cleaning her. She rested her head back into his shoulder, suddenly exhausted again.

Half conscious she felt him lift her, she felt him cleaning the dirt and blood from her body after he removed her armor, the cloth damp but not cold. She woke up the next morning, still clothed but slightly dizzy, her brain needing to work a little extra hard to find the words she needed. Astarion sat across the cave, reading as usual, but this time no wine in his hand, his gaze only going to her once, smirking after her most likely large plastered smile met his gaze.

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The tieflings sang and danced throughout the camp, Ren showed a genuine smile, but when she thought no one was looking, a tired half smile placed itself on her face. This was his moment to do what he did best, use his body to earn more of her trust. Besides, he owed her his own body after she had given him hers.

She sunk back, out of the natural circle that surrounded the fire. The tired closed mouth smile carved into her face like stone. As Astarion managed to sneak behind her, he gently grabbed her arm, she thrashed around as if to hit him, most likely instinct. He caught her wrist, putting a finger to his mouth. She let out a breath of relief to see it was just him, but he did not release her, the feeling foreign. She let her arm go limp and he wrapped her hand to his back, letting it rest, her reaction was not flustered but she certainly wasn’t resisting, so he continued. “This is an awful ruckus compared to what we are used to, yes?” He grabbed her other hand in his, and spun them away from the fire and into the shadows. “The wine is pig swill and the devil spawn are loud. Shall we perhaps have our own fun?” His eyes adjusted to the darkness and her face was not blushing, not eager, it had set back to the closed mouth smile.

“Of course sir, if that is what you desire.” The sing-song of her voice was broken, cracking, like a lute slightly out of tune. He released their closeness, stepping back to access her, he left her fingertips in his, so he could pull her back in if need be. He gazed at her, up and down, something was so familiar about how she was behaving, but he could not place it, perhaps she reminded him of a victim from long ago? Her voice brought him back to reality. “Your tent is further from current company.” He nodded and led her there, taking both of her hands to lead her inside, shifting himself around so that she could get a comfortable spot inside.

“Now I will say this is not the lavish rooms we are used to but it will do the job.” He turned to close the tent behind them, by the time he turned back she was already pulling her tunic off her shoulders, exposing her breasts. “Oh my, eager are we?” no something about her movements were practiced, stiff.

“Sorry sir, did you want to undress me?” His eyes widened as he finally placed the familiar feeling. In 200 years he had not been able to look in a mirror, but here stood his reflection, when the body and soul split to do whatever needs to be done. He was not seducing a young woman into trusting him, he had brought a husk into his tent. He silently cursed himself as he slipped her blouse back around her, buttoning the buttons. Her eyes widened, he could feel her fight or flight kicking in as her body tensed. How did he not see it before? He knew that the wizard abused her, but because he had not cared, didn’t mean she was not a person who wasn’t affected by it. She quickly grasped his hands, squeezing to prevent herself from shaking. “Y-you’re doing it wrong.” A ragged whisper escaped her lips.

“Hush now.” He growled, not at her but at himself, her flinch though told him she could not tell the difference. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he finished dressing her. “And stop calling me sir, I am no master of yours.” He paused as she looked at the ground her hands gripping her shirt tightly. “I may have miscalculated the type of fun I was willing to have tonight, my apologies.” She looked, hurt, no, terrified, as if she had done something wrong. He had been enslaved to act the predator, but she had been caged to act as prey.

“Did I do something wrong?” A panic had set into her voice, as if not fulfilling this role could end in something much worse.

When Astarion was done buttoning her he paused, sitting back on top of his calves. He waved his hand dramatically. “Of course not my sweet, you are perfect.” He was still putting on the false voice when he spoke, perhaps actions would speak louder. “Do you trust me?” They both knew she didn’t but all he needed was the nod of acknowledgment she gave him. He took off his shirt as she sat up from her half lying position. He did not want her to see his shame, not yet, no sob story needed to be poured into her lap tonight, but something in him wanted her to know she was not alone. He held his hand out, allowing her to choose to take it if she wished.

After a slight hesitation, she matched his sitting position and placed her hand in his and he swiftly guided it to his back, where she could trace his scars. Her eyes widened as she leaned forward to get more comfortable, he grabbed her other hand to help her balance as her fingers gently traced his greatest shame. He struggled not to flinch but his body slowly relaxed under her touch. He gathered the strength to glance down at her face, her lips were pressed tight together but her eyes stared past him, she was not trying to peek at what she was feeling, for which he was more than grateful for. Her neck was strained, a perfect position for a bite. But he shouldn’t be thinking about that now.

After what felt like an eternity of silence she pulled back, he was grateful her eyes were not full of pity but understanding. “There, it seems that high society is not always kind to itself.” His mouth was strangely dry as his voice verged on cracking. Ren nodded. She didn’t have to ask how he knew, the scars she had traced seemed purposeful, almost runic, but she did not want to push him further. His hand that had caught hers to help her balance felt strangely more connected than when she had her shirt off earlier. So she didn’t let go of it and squeezed. “This wasn’t for me you know, I wanted to do something. Something to thank you for the gift you had given me earlier.”

She blushed, neither of them were looking at each other, a strange comfort hung in the air not having to put up their acts. “Astarion, you don’t owe me anything.” She whispered, still holding his hand, their fingers interlocked. You didn’t just take my blood that night, you allowed me to make that choice. That is a finer gift than I have received in many years.”

Astarion sat confused, watching her fingers stroke against his, merely two people getting used to positive touch again no doubt, nothing more. “Than why did you agree at all? If it was merely the decision, you could have, I don’t know, decided to say no, and taht would be that.” He was so used to talking with his hands he accidentally threw hers up as he didn’t let go and she laughed, being thrown off balance for merely a second. But she finally let go and layed down on his many pillows, her head slightly propped up.

The flustered look on her face surprised the vampire. “I wanted to hear you moan again.” she mumbled. He laid next to her, eyebrow cocked dramatically. “Darling there are much easier ways to get a man to moan than feeding him parts of your body.” He was not going to let himself seemingly blush from her confession.

Her laugh was dry. “You never seemed interested in me that way, and besides, I’m… I don’t know if I even want to do that, I tend to shut down.” He nodded knowingly.

“I wasn’t interested in you my dear because everyone I had sex with was eaten and killed. Lorroakan had requested you be left alone. Ironic considering what he let Cazzador do to you in that tower of his.” She listened, taking in Astarion’s words his frustrations. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder, pulling him to her chest, where his rigid form eventually relaxed. She kissed his forehead.

“I don’t think either of us need pity sex.” She spoke, maybe to herself, after the comfortable silence permeated the tent. He laughed, this wasn’t his plan, he wasn’t supposed to share his greatest traumas with someone, he was not supposed to feel bad for her. They had enough to contend with if he was actually going to ask her to kill Cazzador, but if that was the route he was heading for, adding an arch mage to the list just made sense.

“I don’t need your pity.” He huffed haughtily, his arm over her stomach as she played with his hair.

She chuckled. “And I don’t need yours.” He let out another huff. This was not supposed to be how their night ended. She was supposed to be screaming his name against some gods forsaken tree in the middle of the woods. He would finish his role, letting her fall for him, though he hadn’t thought past the first night, he had never had to before. But here he was in some woman’s arms that on some level knew every harsh reality he had seen. He could tell her if she hadn’t lived it, truly known what he was talking about perhaps it would have been easier. It would just be some sob story he would get to milk every once and awhile. But this was real, she probably felt the same feral protectiveness over him that he was feeling for her right now. But he knew he had no excuses anymore, no whoa is me to fall back on, and that was scarier than anything. That she could go through the things he had been through and still want to help and love. Where all he wanted to do was burn the world to ash. A quick peck on his forehead brought him back to reality. A half hummed goodnight escaped her lips as she fell asleep, and he was left to ponder.

#bg3 #baldur's gate #bg3 tav #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x femtav #fluff #angst #one shot #bg3 fanfic #balders gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion fanfic

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hughmunculus · 1 month

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Can’t believe Jaheira/Astarion fixed my internalized biphobia

#turns out I just hate Astarion/FemTav HAHAHAHAH

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corruptedterrarium · 9 months

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Happy dreams toreador

#homestuck #tavros nitram #hom3stuck #godtier #nothing I love more than femtav

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moxley · 8 months

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you’re allowed to ship raphael with femtav i won’t take away your joys but if anyone in this game is gay it’s absolutely the guy who can only fuck a woman if she’s him. and he still bottoms.

#‘Post without tags?’ yes im not dragging the femtav havers like this #now that's what i call meta

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bloodandoranges · 7 months

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Ache.

Karlach x femTav/Reader / 18+/ Oral / Karlach loves to service

Tav felt her aching muscles relax as she settled into the warm river by their camp, a relaxed sigh escaping her. Despite it being so close to camp? bathing was a rarity; they were out adventuring and fighting so often that stopping to bathe really was a treat.

Of course, her having the time to bathe meant her companions did, too. She was roused from her thoughts at the sound of water sloshing about, quickly turning to face whoever decided now was a good time to take a bath, eyes widening at the sight of Karlach - as nude as the day she was born.

“Hey, soldier. Mind?” Karlach said cooly, already moving into the water, letting out a soft groan of delight.

“…Not at all.” Tav mumbled, face a little flush as she turned away. “…You know, I don’t mind if you stare. Keeps my ego nice and big,” Karlach laughed loudly, focused on cleaning the blood from her face and hair.

There was silence, for a moment, the two women staring one another down.

Tav gave a wheeze, embarrassed, a little ashamed at being caught staring. “Hey, don’t sweat it. I was staring too.” Karlach laughed loudly - gods, her laugh was so beautiful. Wait, what?

She was moving closer now too, but kept her distance…waiting to make sure she was reading things right. They /were/ both hot-headed fools.

Karlach was closing in a little now, gaze soft as she peered down at their merry little gangs fearless leader. Clawed hands reached for her face, and Tav took a sharp breath as Karlach gently wiped away some blood and dirt. “Sorry. It was bothering me.” She grinned, toothy and gorgeous and by the gods- she was delicious.

“You are such a tease.” Tav sighed out playfully as Karlach gave a loud laugh, squeezing her cheeks softly as she leaned in. “Yeah, yeah…I’m just the worst,” she sighed, forehead pressed against hers now as she took a breath. They stared at each other for a long, long moment… Tav wasn’t even sure who moved first, gasping as their lips locked together.

Her fingers quickly found their way into Karlachs thick, rowdy hair, giving a soft tug when a tongue slipped by her lips. Karlach groaned, body heating up quickly as she desperately grasped at her, lifting her legs around her waist. Shit.

“Karlach, I- gods,” Tav managed to whimper against her lips. She could already feel herself getting slick with desire…well, despite the water. Speaking of water - Karlach was hoisting her out of it, gently laying her back on the dirt… she hoped Tav didn’t mind getting a little muddy, because she wasn’t sure she’d make it to her tent.

Tav gave a bit of a grunt as she was laid back against the ground…it was uncomfortable, but the desire heating her body and flooding her senses was strong on her mind at current.

Karlach was much the same, blue flames flickering in her chest, her eyes…shit. She gave a breathless whine, adjusting to lift Tav’s legs over her shoulders, said woman staring up at her with wide eyes. Fuck.

“…Is this okay? Tell me if I’m getting ahead of myself.” Karlach breathed…clearly, it was taking all of her strength to hold back. “Gods, Karlach, I’ve been waiting for this since we picked you up.” Tav groaned out, and Karlach gave a booming laugh, not needing to be told twice.

She kissed over soft thighs, nuzzling and kissing over the skin, a groan escaping her as she breathed her in. She took her time to lavish her thighs in kisses and soft nips, excited by the sight of Tav squirming below her…at her mercy.

Was she really trying to tease her? Now!? Tav gave a desperate whine, hips bucking into the air slightly. “Sorry, baby…” Karlach cooed out an apology, and moment later, her tongue was sliding through soft, wet folds, a low groan escaping the tiefling.

“Shit!” Tav gasped in surprised, having expected Karlach to carry on the torture for far longer. Her head flew back, hand fumbling to cover her mouth…lest their companions hear.

Karlach lapped at her heat greedily; hands squeezing plump thighs wrapped around her head, gaze never leaving Tavs. She was clearly enjoying this just as much…maybe even more.

“Karlach, Gods-“ Tav whimpered, muffled by her hand as she arched into her touch, just as Karlach gave her clit a hard suck, tongue rolling over the sensitive bud. She was merciless, hardly pulling away to breath as she eagerly drank her in, Tav gasping and crying out below her.

“Shit, shit, shit, Karlach, I-“ she couldn’t even finish, because Karlach had done some wondrous manoeuvre with her tongue, and her orgasm was crashing down, causing her to cry out. Karlach held her in place, not daring to pull away until she was sure she was spent.

When she did tug away, she panted hard, gently untangling strong legs from around her shoulders, giving a booming laugh. “…How’d I do?” She cooed…her chin was dripping. Tav shuddered at the lewd sight - and the sweetness of her question.

“Amazing…as always.”

Tav was about to move to touch Karlach, but the other woman gently grabbed her hands, shaking her head. “Maybe later, hm? I just want to hold you…” she cooed, quick to curl herself around her body, nestling her face into the crook of her neck.

“Mmhm…okay. For now.” Tav cooed, kissing softly at her forehead.

#baldurs gate tav #bg3 #karlach #karlach x tav #karlach x reader #karlach cliffgate #fic

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cambion-companion · 1 month

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Raphael Scene (how it should be for femTavs)

The lovely @adarlingmess lended her incredible talent to reimagining the Boudoir scene with Haarlep but this time with Raphael post game of course...post dinner too ;)

Consider commissioning @adarlingmess if you haven't already, I'm always impressed by her talent.

NSFW here

#raphael x tav #raphael bg3 #raphael bg3 fanart #commission art #cambion companion #smut #raphael baldur's gate 3

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astarions-darling · 6 months

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An Indecent Proposal Raphael x FemTav/Reader

NSFW mdni tags: inappropriate touching, edging, panty sniffin', raphael is a dirty little pervert, clothed male, naked female summary: you barge into Sharess' Caress ready to give Raphael a piece of your mind. however when you get there, things do not go as planned. read on ao3 via source (this is pretty dialogue heavy because Raphael likes the sound of his own voice. and I don't blame him. this is also silly.)

You don’t bother to knock when you reach the door with the little shiny plaque that says “Devil’s Den” in an ornate script. The door isn’t locked, so it swings open effortlessly when you barge in. The tirade ready to fall from your lips falters as the door closes with a soft click behind you and the hand you had raised in righteous anger pauses before limply falling to your side.

Raphael is lounging in one of the overly gilded armchairs that furnish the den, a glass of something that looks both incredibly alcoholic and expensive dangling from one hand as he regards you with that infuriatingly knowing smile. None of that is why the cat suddenly has your tongue; it's that he has shrugged off the outer layer of his clothing and sits there with his white shirt unbuttoned. The view of his bare chest isn't a particularly novel sight—after all, you share a camp with several people, and some—like a certain large elf—enjoy being one with nature on any occasion they can get. It's more of a shock to see Raphael in such a state of undress; it would be a lie to say you had never considered what lay beneath his neatly tailored clothes. But you would have bet all the gold in Faerûn that Korilla stitched him into them every morning to ensure they stayed perfectly in place. Right now he looked so...deliciously dishevelled.

“My, my," comes his amused voice, "does the squirming tadpole hinder your manners as well, little mouse?” The gentle timbre of his voice washes over you and it's enough to snap your attention to his face. “Or have you always been an uncouth little beast that flounces in without knocking?”

You frown at him, your irritation flaring up again. Your fingers flex—though not in a fit of pique but because your mind has been lost to the thought of running your fingers through the hairs on his tanned chest. That bloody distracting devil. Why did you come here again?

"Did you come all this way to gawk like a gutted fish or did you have something you wished to say?" He raises a brow, tipping his drink towards you. "If you wish to stare, I am, of course, happy to oblige—though that will cost you. This establishment operates on a quid pro quo basis, you know."

Quickly you shake your head, trying to wrangle your thoughts. The devil stands, unfolding himself gracefully from his chair and languidly striding over to a nearby credenza on which an array of bottles and glasses sit. He moves with care, never rushing, and with a deliberate air you can’t help but admire. He makes you feel clumsy.

You watch him carefully pour some rich amber liquid into his glass. It looks like steam rises and hisses above it for a moment before disappearing. The man turns to you, the corner of his lips quirked.

“I’d offer you a drink but I’m certain you’d decline.”

That presumptuous bastard. You’re too irritated to wonder if this is a trick on his part, which is foolish. But he too easily gets under your skin and so you open your mouth to retort.

“I would love a drink,” you say petulantly. You watch him take a sip, hating how you can’t stop yourself from watching his tongue flick out to catch the remnants of it on his lips. He fills up another glass before passing it to you. You watch the amber liquid swirl a moment before throwing it back quickly.

An incredibly stupid thing to do. Whatever it is, the liquor burns your throat and has you spluttering as you bend over coughing. You hear Raphael’s low chuckle of amusement before a glass of water is conjured out of thin air and hovers before you. You snatch it, guzzling it down just like the beast he claims you to be.

“What the bloody hell was that?” you ask, wiping at your mouth with the back of his hand. You catch his nose wrinkling at your lack of decorum. “I think my insides are melting!”

“Cease your melodramatic caterwauling,” he says, casually taking another sip of his own drink. Smug bastard. “It will pass.”

You cough again, feeling the liquor heat up your veins. You blink a few times before the alcohol simmers down, leaving just a pleasant warmth in your belly. Liquor and spirits had been few and far between while on your little adventure—well, anything half decent that is. The swill you’d managed to get was no better than vinegar. You’d stupidly agreed to let Astarion steal some expensive-looking vintage from the wine festival in the Lower City…which had ended up with you spending the night in a cell. Sometimes that elf was the clumsiest person you’d ever met. With that thought, you suddenly remember why you’ve come here.

“I would like for you to stop sending Korilla to spy on me,” you demand as the devil places his drink down so he can re-button the cuffs of his sleeves.

Did he go deliberately tan on some beach, you wonder? That thought spirals and you’re suddenly picturing lying in the sun on some perfect beach while his skin glitters with salt and sea.

“You should be thanking me.” His lilting words are annoyingly pleasant and they drag you out of your daydream. “After all, if dear Korilla hadn’t been with you a few nights ago you’d probably still be a trapped little mouse in a cell.” He smirks, picking up his drink again and tilting the glass toward you. “Stealing wine, really?”

You decide to keep your mouth shut, something that you mentally congratulate yourself for. It was true that Korilla had been the one to free you from your dank cell. Which was a lucky thing; you didn’t want to hurt people while trying to break free, but it would have come to that if the warlock hadn’t intervened. Raphael watches you carefully, an easy smile on his handsome face, his confident casual air annoying you more than anything else.

“I will withdraw Korilla’s eye from your camp,” he says after a few minutes, his voice thoughtful, “if you give me something in return.”

Of course. You sigh. What did you expect?

“I’m not giving you my soul just for that, Raphael,” you scoff. “If I wouldn’t take one of your deals for the hammer then I certainly won’t trade it just to stop your little dog from following me around.”

“I wouldn’t dream of asking such a thing,” he says smoothly, ignoring your little jab about Korilla. “I desire a mere trifle. Inexpensive!” The devil laughs, a warm pleasing sound that has your lips twitching and skin flushing despite yourself. “I promise you won’t even miss it.”

You frown. What did you have that he would want? Soul coins, perhaps? But surely Raphael couldn’t know you had some in your possession, could he? But also they weren’t inexpensive…not in the least. What in Balduran’s name could he possibly want from you?

“What?” you ask, eyes narrowing.

He tuts. “You really do need to acquire some manners, little mouse. Too much scurrying around with scoundrels and vagabonds.” He sighs, taking a sip of his drink before grabbing a different bottle. You watch him uncork it with ease and pour the dark red liquid into a silver chalice. When he proffers it to you, your hands take it carefully. “Perhaps this may be more pleasing to your sensitive mortal palate.” You watch the candlelight flicker over the wine before you bring it up to smell. Inhaling, you let the notes of cherry and plum assault your senses, the sweet richness of it utterly inviting. When you take a sip, you let it sit on your tongue for a moment to savour it before you close your eyes and swallow. You hadn’t had anything that good in…well, you don’t think you’ve ever had such a decadent wine before.

When you meet Raphael’s gaze again, you shift on your feet. Your fingers grip tighter on the stem, remembering where you are and who you’re talking to.

“It’s nice,” you say, idly swirling the glass. “Well, what do you want then?”

“Your knickers.”

There is no hesitation in his words, he shoots them out quickly and effortlessly—like Astarion would shoot an arrow. You nearly spill the wine in your shock. You’re certain you’ve hallucinated his words or perhaps this is a weird dream. Maybe you are still tucked in your bed at the Elfsong Tavern, dreaming about devils and their insanity.

“You want my what?”

“Your knickers,” Raphael repeats, his easy stare watching you as a multitude of emotions flicker over your face.

So you had heard him correctly. The man doesn’t even act like he’s asked for anything unreasonable. Disbelief has you standing there with your mouth agape. Is he trying to humiliate you? He must be. Was this some sort of strange ploy to get you to agree to his insane deal of the hammer for the crown?

“Why?” The word falls out of your mouth gracelessly, but you aren’t here to cater to Raphael’s want for proper etiquette.

“Why anything?” His voice is low and tinged with amusement as he finishes his drink. He leaves the glass on the credenza to walk closer to you, his hands gesturing as he continues to talk. “Why does the fox chase the hare? Why do little thieves steal wine? For the thrill?” He pauses, head tilting to the side as he regards you. He grins at you. “For pleasure?”

You despise the way he inflects the last word. It sends a rolling shiver down your spine.

“If you’re trying to humiliate me, consider it done.”

He feigns hurt, or you think he does, as he sighs dramatically. You wish he would he would dress himself back in his tunic again, or at least do up his shirt buttons as your eyes can’t help but flick to his exposed throat and chest as his shirt shifts with his movements.

“I would never dare dream of humiliating you, my dear.” Raphael's words sound sincere, but you do not trust him. He’s a devil. It’s like a constant mantra you have to repeat yourself. You are aware that devils can’t lie, but they can certainly bend the truth—just enough—so that it won’t break. “How it claws at my heart to hear you even utter such a thing.”

“I didn’t know you had a heart,” you retort.

“You wound me again, sweetling.” Hand over supposed heart, Raphael smiles. “Indulge me. I do not ask for much.”

It was true, it really wasn’t much. A heavy sigh and then you hear yourself utter a resigned, “Fine.” It was ludicrous but you couldn’t see any harm in it. And he hadn’t produced a contract to sign—just a gentleman’s agreement, as it were. You were not going to tell any of your companions that you had traded your panties for some freedom. Nine Hells, you hoped you could sneak back into the tavern without them noticing. Perhaps the alcohol has loosened your resolve and has you acting so stupidly but you can’t see anything wrong with the arrangement. With another sigh, you ditch the wine on a nearby table before you turn to leave, but Raphael calls after you.

“And where are you rushing off to?”

“To the tavern,” you say, turning back to face him, “to fetch you your perverse prize.”

“No.” He takes a few steps closer and you catch that hint of spice and musk that wafts from him. “The ones you are wearing, little mouse.”

You suppress a shudder. He’s never been so close to you before, he’s manoeuvred himself into your personal space. The heat and power that radiates from him is intoxicating, more so than any drink upon your tongue, and you’re suddenly reminded of what he is underneath his welcome facade. Yet that doesn’t stop your mouth from opening.

“There are plenty of boutiques around here if you’re that desperate for some new lingerie, Raphael. No need to take mine.” You stick your chin out, matching his stare as you can’t help but add, “As lovely as I think you’d look in pink lace.”

The man’s face doesn’t change, the easy smile remains but you can see the brightness of his eyes—as if you can sense their true infernal nature behind his human disguise. He seems pleased with your reluctance to submit to him easily. Something that you hate to admit makes you pleased in return.

“Pink’s not really my colour,” he muses, fingers tapping his chin thoughtfully, “though I am sure the flush of it against your skin suits.”

Those words do not help you’re suddenly racing heart but you try to ignore his silver tongue. Shifting on your feet, you try to get your mind back in order. Your eyes dart around the room, searching for somewhere to change though there doesn’t appear to be anywhere.

“How I do enjoy watching the little wheels turn in that pretty head of yours.”

You glare at him. “Where can I change then, devil?”

He laughs and then spreads his arms wide. “Right here.” At the look on your face he continues, “You mortals are so easily flustered.” He waves his hand dismissively. “Please, as if I have not seen bare flesh before.”

Later, when you are tucked in your rented bed, you will blame the alcohol. But for now, you simply begin to undo your clothing, starting with removing your boots. He takes a mere step back, those eyes watching you the entire time until you are standing there in nothing but your underclothes. Feeling self-conscious, you feel the flush begin in your chest and work its way up your neck but you refrain from trying to cover yourself up and stand there with your hands by your side as your body tenses. The look on his face hasn’t really changed, but again there is something behind the eyes. A reaching hunger. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you, can devil’s see a soul? Does it call out to him and do his hands itch to pluck it free?

Raphael walks behind you and instinctively you go to turn but his warm hands reach out to hold your shoulders, keeping you where you stand and your toes scrunch at the soft rug beneath to curb some of the tension now beginning to coil in your gut. The lingering touch as he holds you burns into your skin, not due to his infernal nature—though you do sense that he feels rather warm than a regular man—but due to the way your traitorous body reacts to his touch.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“I just want to remember you as you are now, before your flesh is torn asunder by writhing tentacles.” His hands slide down your sides, leaving a trail of gooseflesh and a horrible twinge of arousal. “Before your lovely skin is slippery with mucus and…” he leans in and you feel the tip of his nose behind your ear making you shiver, “you lose that delectable scent.”

You can feel the deep rolling timbre of his voice against your skin. You are too aware of him behind you, your muscles tense as you try to resist the entirely too tempting urge to step back into him. “I am not giving you the crown.” You manage to utter the words though they come out in a whisper. But you are still somewhat proud that you can utter them at all.

“You will.” His fingers touch your neck and you can’t suppress the shudder. “I see your little vampling has taken a bite.”

You twitch as the soft pad of his finger grazes against the puncture wounds on your neck.

“It helps him fight better.”

His hum in response tickles your neck but you refrain from responding. What would you say? That you like letting the vampire feed on you occasionally? That the searing flash of pain mixing so deliciously with the heady feeling of Astarion drinking from you is unlike any sort of pleasure you’ve experienced before? No. The devil did not need any details.

“I’m sure it does.” Raphael's words float against the shell of your ear and you are momentarily aware that you have a literal devil hovering by your shoulder.

The pad of his finger once more traces the puncture wounds from Astarion’s bite. It feels like a bolt of magic whenever he touches you, though the shock of it is far too pleasant and it goes straight between your legs. Your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth but you manage to unstick it just as he pulls away.

Raphael moves around you until he is once more facing you. You feel flushed, far too aware of how your pulse is thudding in your neck, yet he looks perfectly calm and collected, breathing even and standing there as if you were merely discussing the weather. When he drops to his knees before you, you want to scream but you are too transfixed at the sight of him before you. You can barely think when his hands reach up towards your underwear. You stare dumbfounded, some part of you still blaming it on the alcohol, as you watch his long, elegant fingers trace the pattern of lace by your hip.

“They do look lovely on you, little mouse, a pity.”

You find your tongue again and manage to mutter, “I can undress myself.”

“I’m sure you can,” he purrs. You wish you could cast Silence on him. “But what sort of man would I be if I didn’t lend a helping hand?”

Quickly you look away, face burning in embarrassment as your mind easily imagines how helpful said hand could be. He really shouldn’t be allowed to speak in such a way. Did he cast some kind of spell on you? Did he put something in that drink? Or were you just simply this spellbound by him—perhaps not something to dwell on, you decide. You feel his warm breath against the top of your thigh as his fingers slide up under the band of your knickers at your lack of response. You realise you’re holding your breath as he slides the lace down your legs. You risk a glance down but quickly flick your eyes away—his face is far too close to your bare sex. If he moves his head even slightly you know you will feel his breath on your cunt.

Standing there, you wrestle with the idea of stepping back or just blasting him in the face with a spell. Not that you are very good with spells. But damn does his touch feel nice, his hands are so damn warm and soft as he oh so fucking slowly slides your underwear down. Raphael hasn’t said a word and it’s been at least a minute—that must be a record. The lace finally reaches the ground and he taps your ankle.

Wordlessly you lift a foot and his low response of, “Good girl,” has you desperately fighting to control your stupid dumb animal body’s response. Your fingers itch to steady yourself on his shoulder but you refrain…just. Luckily all your adventuring has improved your athletics and you’re determined not to give the devil the satisfaction of stumbling before him into a wanton heap.

His thumb slips under the fabric still hanging around your other ankle and tugs at it. You’d been staring at the wall straight ahead, eyes fixed on a portrait hanging in some ornate frame. But at the tug, you glance down and see Raphael staring up at you, that smug smirk plastered on his face. Could you get away with kneeing him in the face? Lords above, could you get away with yanking him by the hair (and it was such lovely hair) and between your legs? Both are tempting.

“Little mouse?” His voice is a long lilting drawl and he tugs again at your knickers.

You lift your foot quickly, again saving yourself from tripping over, as he slips it off your foot and stands. You stand there a moment, dazed. Your skin still feels like it is on fire, he must be able to smell your arousal…you can. And you can see the way his nostrils flare as he stands and you watch the devil bring the pink lace up to his face and inhale. Now would be a great time for the Elder Brain to try and shake free of its bonds, you think.

“Did you just—”

With a snap of his fingers, you're suddenly dressed. “Was that so difficult?” “Why didn’t you just do that to take them?” you ask incredulously. “Where would be the fun in that?” He straightens the lapel on your clothing and adds, “Remember, I will still be here when you are ready to admit you need me.”

You grit your teeth. “I don’t need the hammer.”

Those deceptively warm eyes regard you and he smiles again, making your hands itch. You can feel how wet you are between your thighs, and in that moment you realise that is not what he means. But you do not get a chance to speak as with a wave of his hand you find yourself disappearing in a flash of crimson-tinged ash before you are teetering on the steps of Sharess’ Caress in the warm evening air. That smarmy, panty sniffing, bastard. As you begin the walk back to the tavern, you tell yourself your frustration has nothing to do with the way he had touched you. Nothing at all.

When you return to the Elfsong, you attempt to sneak past the group as they eat around a large wooden table. Of course, you can’t get past Shadowheart, the cleric spotting you and instantly dragging you to the table. You slide in, squished between her and Gale as she begins to question where you’ve been.

“Nowhere,” you say with a dismissive shrug, proud of how natural it sounds as you grab a bread roll and try to ignore the lingering throb between your legs. ”I just went for a walk.”

You feel eyes on you and look up into the knowing gaze of Astarion. “A walk, darling?” He leans in across the table and you see his nostrils flare. “An exhilarating one, I take it?” He sniffs again. “Climb any cherry trees on your…walk?”

#.writing #sneef sneef #lmao this is so dumb #bg3 fanfic #bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael x reader #raphael x tav #but it was fun #baldurs gate fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

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angellayercake · 7 months

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The devil is no stronger than a man

Raphael x Haarlep | Raphael x FemTav | NSFW

Tav suffers the consequences of making a deal with the Incubus Haarlep and stealing from their master! Warnings: dubious consent, spanking, face fucking, masterbation. Spiritual successor to this This fic was sponsored by this version of Hellfire

The tavern they had chosen to pass the night was filled with raucous noise. They were not the only group of adventurers seeking rest and refreshment there. The air was buzzing with stories being shared, songs being sung while ample food was passed around and the ale flowed. She lingered over her tankard sloshing the contents around within as the day's events were recounted by her companions. It could only be considered a success, having secured the hammer, avoided signing her soul over to a devil and escaped without having to face his wrath but she still couldn’t bring herself to join in the celebrations. Something felt wrong, felt off. The deal she had made with the Incubus was on her mind but she couldn’t truthfully say she regretted her actions. No, she had enjoyed their attentions thoroughly so much so that she could still feel the pleasurable tingles of their touch, just remembering how they had used their borrowed hands on her body.

She sighs, downing the rest of the warm ale, giving up on trying to join in the festivities. Because she had reached the crux of the matter. The actual owner of the form she had enjoyed so much only a few hours ago. They had done the right thing, breaking into the House of Hope. No matter how benevolent Raphael liked to make his assistance out to be, he wanted something she wasn’t willing to give. And that’s without taking into account what convoluted caveats and loopholes he might weave into any contract she might sign. She had no doubt that the century’s old devil could twist terms in a way that would take any law man a lifetime to untangle. She had seen the debtors imprisoned in his House of Hope, after everything she had fought and overcome that was not the fate she wanted for her eternal soul.

She couldn’t help but feel something about the end of their relationship, whatever it was that they had had previously. Something that she couldn’t quite define. At best he would be furious with her, at worst he would be on his way to take back what she had stolen and she would be forced to fight him. She had known this before taking this course of action and yet now it was done she almost felt regret. He had liked her, he had said so himself and despite every good reason against it she had liked him too. Truly, if she was honest with herself it went even deeper than that, the visceral attraction she felt leading her to succumb so easily to his Incubus. Haarlep wasn’t him and yet when they propositioned her using his face, his voice she was powerless to resist. And that memory was all she would have after what they had done. If she was already dwelling on what if’s and could have been she should probably just retire for the night and mope by herself. She bids her companions a good night edging around the bustling tables to the rickety staircase at the back of the room.

A touch brushes over her ass and she turns abruptly to catch the culprit but no one is there. Perplexed, she continues climbing the creaking staircase when a harsh slap sends her tripping up the final steps. Still there is not a soul near her and yet she can feel the imprint of a large hand burning on her ass. He grips the hand rail, knuckles white as she pauses to let the sensation pass but she can’t suppress a shiver when she feels clawed fingers trace across the would be mark. She glances back at her companions, surely if one of them were responsible, pulling a trick on her they would be watching ready for her reaction but they are paying her no mind. Hurrying up the last few steps to the narrow corridor above she presses her back to the wall, watching her surroundings as she makes her way to one of their shared rooms. It is thankfully empty, giving her the time she needs to understand what is happening to her as she presses her forehead to the warped door waiting for the feeling to subside. Her breath catches in her throat when she feels those same phantom clawed hands digging into the flesh of her ass spreading her open to some unknown voyeur's gaze. Except they are not unknown are they. With Haarlep’s words wringing around her head she suppresses a moan, another hard slap landing directly on top of the first. She knows exactly who is using her.

__________________________________

He had managed to keep his composure as he had returned to the House of Hope. As much as a significant part of him was screaming to go straight to the boudoir he fought the impulse. He needed to get his house in order before turning his attention there. The hammer was gone as he suspected but surprisingly there was little else missing. His prisoners and other prized possessions were where they should be, some of his papers had been rifled through and read but almost everything else was in place. He was calmer then he had anticipated, this betrayal of his favourite tempering him somewhat. The disappointment at the end of their tenuous friendly acquaintance dampening the fiery anger that should be burning through him. He at last, heads for the boudoir, surprisingly filled with trepidation at the form he will find lurking within. Haarlep is lounging on the bed, already in her form, but covered in their usual outfit of leather and chains and it is too much he needs to see all of her.

‘What do you think, Master?’ They ask looking at him with their usual brazen provocative manner but it fits ill on her face. His little mouse would never look at him like that. He watches frozen as they run their hands over her borrowed body, up her arms, strong for a mortal but he knows without trying that he could easily restrain her with just one hand. Their fingers trail over her chest dancing around the curve of her breasts cupping them in their palm and thumb stroking over the already hard nipples but they barely linger. Skimming down the curve of her waist and hips before sliding down her thighs dropping her legs open as they reach her knees, revealing her already slick cunt to him. He can’t look away, fighting the urge to take everything he wants right now so it takes a moment to register the fingers drifting up her inner thighs to her core.

‘Don’t!’ She doesn’t deserve to feel pleasurable touches even second hand as they are. ‘Take it all off and turn around,’ he barks, feeling the expected anger bubbling within him but for entirely different reasons. It is not her in front of him, stripping down and baring herself to his gaze and the knowledge burns him. He transforms into his cambion form too fraught to maintain his human facade, needing to feel somewhat at home in his body even as this unwanted and unexpected feelings itch under his skin. She is there for the taking but it is not the same, not right. But he can do something at least, show her his displeasure. She has left him the key to her undoing and despite his turmoil he will not squander the opportunity she has handed him even as she betrayed him.

Haarlep finishes removing all their straps and chains, dropping them at the foot of the bed before crawling into position. They arch her back dropping down onto their elbows giving him a perfect view of her rounded rear. Without even thinking he administers a hard quick slap, the crack of flesh meeting flesh resounding through him. Haarlep moans, pushing back into his hand for more but he doesn’t give in yet, admiring the blooming mark he has left, covering her cheek in an angry red. He follows the outline with his claws lost in the thought of all the different marks he could leave on her skin. He notices then, Haarleps heaving breaths, giving him pause. Perhaps in his efforts to punish her he has instead stumbled upon something that causes her pleasure even through the discomfort.

‘Oh my, little mouse,’ he murmurs as he grasps her ass, spreading her open before him. If it was really her he would have had to taste her, to lap at the beads of slick leaking from her but as good a replica as Haarlep could create, the taste would not be true. It seems he needs to change tact if he wants to punish her however. Ignoring her needy cunt he slaps her again, hitting exactly over the mark he had already left her with.

‘Get up and get on your knees. Now.’ Haarlep rushes to obey, sensing their usual cheek would only infuriate him further. He didn’t want his incubus now he wanted his naughty little mouse. He looks down at her, looking up at him obediently and it makes his stomach churn. He had been hard since he had laid eyes on her body, displayed just for him. He fumbles at his trousers to free his cock, smacking their hands away as they reach to assist. He doesn’t need their help.

‘Don’t look at me,’ he hisses at the incubus. It’s all wrong, her face but not her soul. Never had he been more aware of his Incubus’ limitations. ‘And open your mouth.’ Obedient again, they open up for him and he wastes no more time. They may be using her body but Haarlep’s talents were still very much apparent as he can sink to the hilt with little struggle. She would gag around him, especially in this form, her face turning red due to her mortal need to breathe. Her wide eyes would be watering from the strain, blinking up at him and beseeching him to allow her air. He pulls out watching the strings of spit break and paint her pretty face, her lips shiny and swollen already. Haarlep breathes evenly but she would be gasping even as he wound his fingers into her hair to direct her back down his cock.

Her warm mouth welcomes his length, sliding down her throat as he watches her neck bulge to accommodate him. He imagines her distress wherever she is currently camped out, gleefully celebrating her success over him. He would put a stop to that though, thrusting into her harshly. Her gang of miscreants would panic as she choked on the phantom of his length, nothing they could do to ease her suffering. She would be fine though, loathe as he was to admit. He clenches his teeth attempting to stave off his climax and continue her punishment as long as possible. But maybe, his traitorous mind supplies, she would enjoy this too. That even now she would be moaning and writhing for him as he violated her double. She wanted him somehow he knew, requesting Haarlep use his form to fuck her only hours ago. His imagination betrays him, providing the perfect picture of her knelt, grinding on her own fingers as she swallowed everything he gave her.

He cums down her throat, caught off guard by the strength of his pleasure. A groan rumbles from deep within his chest and he shallowly thrusts through his orgasm but already he can sense he is far from sated. He pulls out of Haarlep, the frustration in his chest solidifying as he tucks his cock back into his trousers. He runs his fingers through his hair pulling at the strands in an attempt to ground himself. He knows not why he is so agitated but he does know it is all her fault. He glares at her form still knelt at the foot of the bed.

‘You are to stay like this until I command you otherwise,’ he demands of the incubus, turning to stalk out of the boudoir. He needs to work this out of his system, this distraction he can not afford. So many of his plans had fallen through thanks to her petty betrayal, there was much he must reevaluate now she was now longer a piece on his lanceboard. He had to shake these irritating feelings and soon or he would quickly find himself in trouble.

__________________________________

She had crawled her way to the cot somehow during the onslaught and lies there shaking as everything seems to have stopped. She should feel angry or disgusted or repulsed by his use of her but the only feeling she can muster is frustration. Her body burns, not just from the aftermath of his touch but in need. She could feel how damp her thighs were as she pressed them together in search of any relief. If this was to be how he punished her she wasn’t sure how long she could bear it. Instead of satiating her need for him, her time with Haarlep had only fanned the flames, not satisfied with just having his facsimile. And in her desperation to rid her self of her persistent need she had inadvertently given him the very means to torture her with to his black hearts content. Her hand slips between her legs as she berates herself for ending up in this situation, even as she half hoped that next time he would use her more thoroughly.

She imagines him fucking her cunt with the ferocity he had used her throat as she slips her inadequate fingers into her soaked hole. Would he fuck her in his human or cambion form? Was there a difference between them? She bites down on the heel of her hand to stifle the moans that want to spill from her mouth as she imagines him taking her. Haarlep had fucked her to maximise both of their pleasure but everything she had learned about Raphael lead her to believe his goal would be his own pleasure. He would take and take and take from her until he was satisfied but she wanted to be used by him, she could admit that now as she shudders and cums around her own fingers. Her limbs go weak as she lies back to catch her breath but even as she comes back to herself, clarity returning, the burning need remains in her gut. She is in so much trouble.

#my writing #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #raphael bg3 #raphael x reader #raphael x tav #raphael x haarlep

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yama-spin · 5 months

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ass

#bg3 #shadowheart x femtav #shadowheart #tav

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dolceaspidenera · 3 months

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These are among the first photos I tried to take, so they are definitely less refined, but I still kinda like them, they are sweet 🥰

*Also, since we are back to the "Astarion can't date women" bullshit, I'll just share my femTav smooching him

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 tav #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #virtual photography #bg3 screencaps #bg3 screenshots #baldurs gate 3 #OC: Sameira #sameira

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gghhhh · 24 days

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Crime in Ramazith's Tower

Fanfic Rolan/femTav 18+

Life went on as usual until a prankster appeared in the tower, who “played” with the master of the Ramazith tower, put everyone in an awkward position and disrupted all plans. Adventure novel with NSFW elements. P.S. This chapter is just over 2000 words I will be happy if you are inspired and make art inspired by this text. tag me.

Chapter 1

"Let's not talk about it"

The evening was cloudless, warmth permeating everything.

Tav was resting on the balcony of Ramazit's tower, gazing into the distant contours of the landscape. The sky was painted with the rays of the departing sun, surrounding everything in a golden light. It had been four months since the fall of the illithids.

Days went by, former allies now had their own affairs. As for Tav, she lived and worked in Ramazit's tower. After defeating Lorrokhan, Rolan had mentioned that everything that was his also belonged to her. Deciding to take advantage of this, she, as a seasoned mage, took Rolan as her apprentice and moved into his (of course, his!) tower. Her days mainly consisted of routine: assisting with Sorcerous Sundries, teaching Rolan, her own magical experiments, and overall, she was content with her now peaceful life. Everything would have continued in its own course if not for this.

Rolan stepped out onto the balcony after a day's work at the shop and unusually closed the door behind him carefully. "Hey," he greeted, leaning against the railing. "How was your day?"

He was dressed in a beige frilly shirt and dark trousers, seemingly in good spirits.

Their relationship with Tav had taken on an almost friendly tone but maintained a formal demeanor. Rolan treated Tav with respect, as one should treat their mentor. This was particularly appreciated by him, considering his experience with his previous teacher. He was sincerely grateful.

As for Tav, she didn't deny to herself that the master of Ramazit's tower possessed true charm. However, she didn't dare to tread on thin ice and spoil their relationship with flirtation. Sometimes Rolan allowed himself to linger his gaze on her slightly longer than appropriate, but nothing beyond the bounds of decency. Tav was delicate and respected the boundaries they had set.

"Oh, I've been experimenting with different ways of manipulating weaving. Everything okay?"

He just warmly smirked, "More than okay."

But his eyes slid past her, as if searching for something unsaid. Rolan moved abruptly closer to her, closing the distance between them. Tav looked uncertain, and before she could grasp anything, he silenced her with a passionate kiss. It started boldly, without any prior courtship. The one who had previously shown prudence and behaved decently had changed for some unknown reason, or decided to take a risk. His wild outbursts, which had been of a completely different nature before, confused her. He didn't give her time to think. Tav hesitated and resisted the thought of what was happening, but something inside her clenched and demanded the continuation of this forbidden dance.

She decided to allow herself to drown in this moment. His audacity startled her, but how could she know what tieflings were like in the art of passion? After all, she had never been with a tiefling.

At first, his kisses only felt on her lips, they were so hot against her human skin. Then his tongue ventured into exploring her mouth, and Tav felt something velvety and ridged on its surface, which made her marvel. He was literally consuming her, so impatient and unrestrained, yet once he taught her not to be greedy. But now he embodied greed itself. And the question of how long he had desired this haunted her.

He squeezed her waist tighter, his hands finding their way beneath the neckline of her emerald, suede dress. He unabashedly groped her thighs, lightly pressing his claws against her skin but not scratching her. His fingers almost reached her undergarments. Tav felt like everything was happening too fast. Did he assume she should just surrender to him at his first demand? Tav hadn't shared a bed with anyone since her breakup with Gale (ah, his ex and ambitions), but she hadn't lost all shreds of dignity. If she hadn't earned even a drop of respect from Rolan, then she didn't know how to earn it at all.

Finally, she pulled away from his kisses with effort, breathing heavily, and said:

"You know, Rolan, usually before diving under a woman's skirt, people say at least a few words. What's gotten into you?"

"Hmm, I thought after last night, we wouldn't need words."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Tav backed away slightly and looked at him incredulously.

"Pff... Really? You decided to pretend like nothing happened, huh? Did you really decide to laugh at me? - He looked at her incinerating, with a deep sigh. - How did I not realize it immediately. Oh, bloody people..." He instantly became agitated and stepped aside, his face changing, reminiscent of the time when, long ago, in the grove, he yelled at Lia.

"How did I not realize it immediately... Why like this, Tav... Did you decide to use me as your silly toy!? You can't just show up in the middle of the night and... make me think I mean something to you, and then just use me. Nobody! Damn it! Nobody deserves that kind of treatment!!! Have the guts to say to my face that last night was just a one-night stand!"

"You know what? You bastard!" Tav boiled over and raised her voice. How dare he talk to her like that? Especially since she really had no idea what he was talking about. "Last night!? We didn't even see each other, you son of a bitch, yesterday. I spent the ENTIRE day with Kal and Lia, we had breakfast, walked in Bloomridge Park, arranged books on the second tier, in the evening I gossiped with Lia about Alphir and Lacrisse, and then I went to sleep! And I have no idea what the damn master of Ramazit's tower was up to. Honestly, damn you, it would have been better if it stayed that way! And on top of everything, it was you who groped me as if nothing had happened!" Tav finished,

"Now you decide to make a fool out of me?" He met her gaze, and an indescribable sorrow shone in his eyes.

Tav adjusted her dress, grabbed Rolan's shoulder sharply, and under her confident hand, he quieted for a moment. If the bastard had lost all sense, she would have to act. She opened the doors he had locked. Right in front of the threshold stood Lia and Kal. So close that you could hear their breathing. Half an hour ago, they were busy with descriptions on this tier, and now... Of course, they were eavesdropping, ever since they heard the screams.

Caught, they remained silent. Everyone seemed to be waiting for someone to speak first. It was like waiting for the verdict in court. But now, in this absurd tangled situation, delivering a verdict could be postponed.

"To your brother and sister, I hope you still trust?" Tav glanced briefly at Rolan and then stared back at the troublemakers. "Both of you, please tell us what happened yesterday. In order."

Dumbfounded, they merely repeated everything Tav had already told.

"Wait, what are you trying to say?"

"Rolan, I really have no idea who you were with yesterday and what happened there, but I know for sure that whatever it was, it WASN'T ME!"

Rolan squeezed her hand and led her back. Closing the balcony, he sharply shushed his brother and sister and slammed the door loudly so they wouldn't eavesdrop anymore. Now he paced nervously from side to side, putting a finger to his lips.

"I don't understand, to be more precise, I'm completely confused."

"Just tell me what happened. Let's try to figure this out." Seeing Rolan completely bewildered, Tav cooled down a bit, realizing he was sincere.

"It's incomprehensible." He raised his hand up so that his beautiful long claws pierced the air. "Well. I was working in Sorcerous Sundries, nothing special, but I was more tired than usual, decided to skip dinner, I knew if you needed me, you would have called, but no one bothered. In the evening, I went to my room, and I was already lying on the bed, reading my notes. Suddenly, there was a knock. I opened it, and it was... well... you.”

"Speak."

"Next, you, I mean, it looked exactly like you. Well, how should I put it, um... hm..."

"Well, what?!" Tav was already beginning to suspect what could have robbed the master of Ramazit's tower of all eloquence. It was evident from what he had done to her just a couple of minutes ago.

"Well, you jumped on me."

"Jumped? What do you mean, Rolan? Damn it, just tell me how it all happened."

"Phew," there was something like a muffled snort. "When I opened the door, you offered me to become something more from the doorstep. You said... Well... Different things. Started kissing me. And then... uh..." At that moment, Rolan could easily have taken first place in the contest for "The Reddest Tiefling in all of Faerûn."

"Stop. What? You mean, you... You fucked my "form"?!" Tav was indignant, either from the speed of his decision-making, or from the fact that they had been used so easily (after all, she had personally taught him to detect illusions and enchantment schools), or from the fact that everything didn't work out for her. Just think, she could have just shown up at his place in the middle of the night, and all that arrogance of his would have disappeared in an instant.

"What? No, I, we, I mean, you... um... not exactly."

"What???"

A deep sigh from Rolan. "Let's not talk about it."

What's there to tell, that pathetic copy lured him, attracted him, and enchanted him, pulled him between her thighs and entertained herself with his tongue as much as she could. Afterward, he fell asleep like a dead man, and she vanished. And that would be the most modest interpretation of events. But how could he tell Tav about it, I mean, the real Tav. Moreover, now he realized that back then it really wasn't her, no, her body, but something in the look, behavior, way of speaking, was different. He felt a sense of guilt, how easily he was deceived, how fooled he was.

"And then? Anything else? Was there anything strange or was it just... um."

Now Rolan realized the full scale of what was happening, and anxiety gripped him. Someone had fooled him, an archmage, in his own home. This someone possessed knowledge of his vulnerabilities and could manipulate them with incredible precision. His only weak points - his loved ones, his family. His brother and sister, who were infinitely dear to him, might now be in danger, who knows what the criminal had in mind else. And, of course, his dear Tav, who had become so dear to his heart (although he was ashamed to admit it to himself). With whom he tried to be careful and cautious. The one who took so many risks for him, and now taught him magic. He regretted how unfairly he had treated her in the past, and now it was all repeating. "Oh, Tav.”

"Fool, what a fool!" Rolan shouts, slumping. "I pounced on you like a dirty animal, I didn't even listen to what you were saying, and then I yelled at you. Damn it! Why didn't you push me away right away?" He was filled with regret.

The lump stuck in her throat. "Just... Let's not talk about it," she said, shyly lowering her gaze. Of course, now he understood everything too. Now he knew for sure that she wanted him too. Oh, not like this, she had never imagined this moment like this. And this moment was torn away and spoiled by some creature, daring to steal her appearance. Hers, whose huge statue adorned nearby. Hers, the savior of Baldur's Gate, the legend of the Sword Coast. And if for someone it wasn't enough of an argument that they should never, (never!) cross her path, then she intended to convey that personally.

She changed the subject and continued:

"Do you have anything else to add?" Tav, observing Rolan attentively, asked. "Okay. Let's think about what it could have been. Something was able to assume my form, but it wasn't me, so it wasn't hypnosis. Perhaps some creature or magic. Was there anything else suspicious?" Tav was determined to punish these villains, whoever they were, no matter how difficult they might be to find, and whatever they might think of themselves.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 rolan #rolan x tav #holy rolan empire #rolan bg3 #cal bg3 #bg3 lia #fanfic

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warmsummersday · 3 months

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Gale Dekarios + FemTav Pregnancy Headcanons

<3 Both Gale and Tav figured it might take some time to conceive considering the many battles and stress they have both been through

<3 Surprisingly Tav's menstrual cycle was normal after a few months of living with Gale in Waterdeep

<3 The lovers started trying right away to conceive, on the bed, the couch, the balcony....

<3 When Tav confirmed from a healer she was pregnant, she waited for her husband to return home from Blackstaff Acedemy

<3 Gale returned home to see Tav waiting for him with a small gift in her hands

<3 Gale opened the small gift to see a pacifier with a note from the healer saying "Congratulations!"

<3 They both started to cry with pure joy

<3 As the months began to pass the two enjoyed building the nursery and buying books, toys, and baby bottles

<3 Gale and Tav sent word to all the companions of the new bundle of joy that would soon arrive

<3 Shadowheart sent a lovely music box, Halsin sent a hand-carved wooden momma duck with little ducklings, Astarian sent an orate dagger (the child will not be allowed to touch it until they are older) All companions sent well wishes for a healthy pregnancy, and "good luck" for the toddler years

<3 Tav wished Karlach and Wyll would be able to know and share the excitement but she trusts they are doing well traversing the Hells together

<3 Tav's water breaks while putting up baby clothes in the closet

<3 Gale walked Tav to the bed while the midwife prepared everything for the birth

<3 It takes eight long hours but baby Dekarios is born a healthy baby girl

<3 Tav cries as she holds her baby girl kissing her little forehead

<3 They choose the name Arryan after Tav's late grandmother

<3 As Tav rests Gale holds his little miracle and sways her gently back and forth

<3 As he admires his baby girl Gale can't help to think how foolish he was for offering to die for Mystra or becoming a God

<3 Tav had saved him from himself and now gave him the most precious gift he had ever received

<3 He vowed to be the best daddy in all of the Sword Coast and the best husband to the love of his life

#bg3 #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 tav #bg3 headcanons

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bearhugsandshrugs · 6 months

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BG3 Prompt / Request Log & Fic Masterlist

I don't get that many prompts or requests (honestly: why not? send me the good stuff) but I have some ongoing ones I'm working on or am intending to fill. I thought it might be nice to keep the request log updated and visible to everyone so you can check out what I'm working on and potentially add stuff to it!

REQUEST HERE

Notes: Tags below exclude oral/vaginal/anal sex etc because it'll overblow the section. AO3 tags are comprehensive.

Minors DNI pls.

Requests are closed for fics/closed for drabbles

Masterlist

Filled requests/one-shots/drabbles

Astarion

Into the dark: In which Tav allows Astarion to take her to the brink of death as he fucks her. (E | 2.7k words | NDE, Blood Drinking, Biting)

At your service: Possessive dom Astarion punishing a female Tav. Ascended or not. If Ascended, the meaner he is the better. (E |3.6k words | Orgasm Denial, Blood Drinking, Mind Control, Non Con)

Gortash

Equals: Gortash put in his place by Durge? Possibly with rimming/pegging (E | 2.1k words | Pegging, Dom/sub, Face-Sitting, Anal Fingering)

Gortash catching x reader being down bad for him (Drabble)

Gortash collaring Tav (Drabble)

Gortash using nude Tav as table decoration (Drabble)

Glorious: Tav has some pent up needs she wants to take care of by offering herself up in a Glory Hole-type brothel – without anyone knowing it's her, of course. Unfortunately, the nature of this arrangement means she can't tell who's on the other side either. So when a stranger gives her his unforgettable attention, it takes her too long to realize she actually knows the man... In somewhat related news, Enver Gortash really enjoys going to this one Glory Hole-type brothel.... (E | 2.5k words | Chapter 1/2 | Glory Hole, Painplay, Scratching, Slapping, Praise Kink, Talking, Pinching)

Not a word: Tav either gets an injury in their jaw or maybe pisses off whoever the partner you choose is, and her jaw becomes temporarily unable to be opened (e.g. wired shut literally or magically). Gortash decides it's the perfect time to explore Tav's other assets without all the whining. And of course she can't respond, moan, or scream. Well, not out loud. (E | 3.6k words | Masturbation, Forced Orgasm, Orgasm Denial, Mouth Sewn Shut, Blood, Scratching, Walking Canes, Non Con)

Bound to you: These were two similar prompts. Tav agrees to satisfy one of Haarlep's business partners in exchange for his stop to the use of her body. When she realizes it's Gortash, all tied up and blindfolded, she can't resist to have a little fun with him. And when he realizes it's her, he can't resist to have a little fun with *her*. Tav and Gortash biting, scratching, and hurting each other until they both come. (E | 3.3k words | Bondage, Handcuffs, Rope Bondage, Biting, Face Slapping, Riding Crops, Power Play, Dom/sub Play, Rough Oral Sex, Facials)

The pleasure of doing business: Not a request, just me indulging myself. Tav and Gortash hatefucking. (E | 1.8k words | Dubcon)

Gortash sketches Tav in his notebook, which she discovers while snooping. She gets caught. (Drabble)

Money well spent: Tav fantasizes about being humiliated by Gortash, but is too embarrassed to act on the fantasy with the Archduke himself. Luckily, Haarlep has Gortash in his repertoire. And he knows just how mean the archduke can be. (E | 2.3k words | Humiliation, Leashes, Collars, Dildos, Choking, Threesome - F/M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial)

Haarlep

Haarlep nervously asking Tav out (Drabble)

Self Care: Haarlep masturbating as a femTav, maybe even showing up at her camp for a bit of attention when he gets bored. (E | 2.2k words | Masturbation, Scissoring, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering)

Raphael / Haarlep

Raphael fucking Haarlep as the Archduchess. (Drabble, no one asked for this except for me)

Raphael

Raphael's weird ass dreams (Drabble/Headcanons)

Raphael teases / denies his clients at Sharess' Caress until they sign any contract to find release (E | 1.2k words | Knotting, Orgasm Denial, Multiple Orgasms, x Reader, gender neutral reader)

Gale

Drink up and find out: Tav drinks a potion that makes her obey another person's every command. Luckily for her, Gale is with her to take care of her. He would never take advantage of her. Would he? (E | 2.2k words | Dubcon, Mind Control, Altered Mental States, Forced Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink)

Dammon

Dating fluff for Dammon x Reader (Drabble)

Multi / Orgies

Amuse Bouche: Tav attends a dinner with Raphael and Haarlep, but finds out quickly she's the main course. Strapped to a table and unable to move, she's forced to be devoured – for better or worse. Mostly worse: As all of the delicious villains she'd sworn to destroy make an appearance, the night definitely takes a turn... (E | 4.6k words | Rape/Non-con Elements, Light BDSM, Forced Orgasm, Strap-Ons, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Crying, Nipple Clamps, Flogging, Dirty Talk, Bondage, Blindfolds)

Companions reacting to Tav telling them they love them in their sleep (Drabble)

Raphael/Ascended Astarion/Gortash reaction to Tav having a nightmare (Drabble)

Companions being friends with each other (Drabble)

Series

Folie á Deux: Tav makes a deal with Raphael: One night at his every desire, but no lasting impacts beyond first sunlight. But no matter how well you think you can prepare yourself – there's no winning a game against a devil. (E | Raphael/Haarlep/Tav | ONGOING | Threesome - F/M/M, Rough Body Play, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Rimming, Foot Fetish, Forced Orgasm, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Size Difference, Masturbation, Double Penetration)

Til Death Do Us Part: Tav enters an arranged marriage with Gortash in exchange for him to abandon the Absolute and give her the Steel Watch against their forces. In turn she supports the sham Archduke and lends him her hero credibility afterwards. But when their first night rolls around, she suddenly finds herself biting off more than she can chew. (E | ONGOING | DubCon, Enemies to Lovers)

Keeping Score: Tav and Raphael unwillingly team up after Raphael fucks with Asmodeus and gets turned into a human. (E | ONGOING | Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers)

(Re)Buffed Advances: Halsin is the guy that watches your drink for you and then turns you down when you come onto him too drunk. Which is exactly what Tav did – she got wasted and tried to seduce the druid. Now they're navigating the aftermath. (M | 12.6k words | COMPLETE | EA world state, Fluff, Slow Burn)

Every Last Hour: Tav just wants to survive, Halsin wants to save the world – but they say opposites attract. (E | 7.3k words | ON HOLD)

Parking Lot (Ideas / WIPs)

Tav wants to thank Dammon for his help with Karlach. Who knew things would get so heated

Modern Corporate BG3 AU

Orin and Mizora fuck Tav competitively (Kinktober prompt)

Kagha gets revenge fucked by the tieflings at the grove (Kinktober prompt)

#my writing #pinned

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mumms-the-word · 2 days

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BG3 Appreci-May-tion Prompt List: can I have a combo #26 and #27 of the ladies of bg3 with a femtav dancing in the rain, please?

I know I wrote like a mini drabble about Ardynn and Halsin dancing in the rain but now I can't find it???

It wasn't much but anyway I'm gonna rewrite it slightly because dancing in the rain 100% these two nature freaks more than my other tavs, but this time I'll write it without Halsin in the picture.

Edit: Also I’ve been informed that this event is meant to be written about other people’s Tavs and Durges but for the purposes of this request I'm just going to respond with a normal little fic! This time my appreciation is for YOU and the fact that you're always dropping into DMs encouraging me and others :)

~*~*~

Summer rains were Ardynn's favorite. She loved the kind of storm when the sky was overcast and the air heavy and warm, where thunder was just a growl in the sky and rain was cool and refreshing. She remembered days of her childhood spent splashing in puddles and kicking up mud, laughing and chasing her brothers. Others went indoors when it rained, but Ardynn always longed to be outside, feeling the drops against her skin and turning her face toward the sky.

So when the first rainstorm visited the Reclaimed Lands, she was out of her new home immediately, venturing closer to the heart of their new village. The first drops were scattered and fleeting, but she knew more rain was coming. She had smelled it on the horizon for a few hours now, watched how the tree branches bent and swayed under the stormy winds. The sky had grown darker over time and now, at nearly high noon, the slowly healing lands were shaded over with slate gray clouds heavy with rain.

She wasn't alone outside. Refugee farmers who had planted a few crops also stood in their vegetable patches and fields, faces upturned toward the sky. Thaniel had healed much of the land, but there was still a lot of work to do to get it back to where it could perpetually and naturally sustain life. Rain was a welcome sight, even if it brought a darker sky with it.

As the drops began to fall faster and harder, Ardynn saw some of the refugee women and Halsin ushering the children into a large building to shelter from the rain. Halsin himself stayed outside, glancing skyward every now and again. Little faces appeared at the windows to look out and watch the gentle summer storm grow closer, the sky grumbling overhead. Rain was nothing new to any of them, but there was something compelling about a storm, especially watching it through a foggy pane of glass.

Then, on the horizon, came one of Ardynn's favorite phenomenons. A sheet of rain, like a curtain, appeared at a distance, slowly sweeping toward them. She could hear the hush and shhh of the storm as it neared, but she didn't disappear inside to shelter away from it. She stepped out further into the open, spreading wide her arms and lifting her face. As the curtain of rain washed over her, she shivered slightly at the cool wetness, but quickly grew used to it. Within seconds was soaked to the bone.

She laughed, turning her head to watch how the rain dripped down over the leaves of the trees, their leaves still slowly turning from shadow-cursed red to healthy green. She could almost sense the hard ground beneath her feet eagerly soaking up the rain, desperate for nourishment. This rain was much, much needed.

Just then, a familiar small figure darted through the trees nearby, with another figure following close behind. Thaniel and Oliver were chasing each other, slipping and sliding in the rain, bending to splash puddles at each other and laughing brightly. After a second, Thaniel paused and started to sing, him and Oliver joining hands, dancing around in a circle as Thaniel's song traveled over the stormy space.

There was a kind of spell in his song. Perhaps not a literal one, but his words seemed to be easily heard even over the rain and they lifted Ardynn's spirits with ease. Thunder was his percussion and raindrops on leaves and houses were the persistent harmony to Thaniel's words. Ardynn was reminded of Art Cullagh, who would be strumming along with his lute by now if he were still living. Overwhelmed with a strange emotion, fueled by Thaniel's song, she joined in herself, humming his tune and swaying and moving to the song.

The children's faces at the window grew restless. Soon, despite Halsin standing in the doorway, several of them slipped past him, running over to join Thaniel and Oliver. Laughing and singing awkwardly, trying to learn the words on the fly, they jumped in and out of puddles, dancing with wild abandon, sometimes joining hands with each other or Thaniel and Oliver and sometimes dancing to their own rhythms.

A couple of young girls noticed Ardynn swaying nearby and ran over to her, taking her hands and tugging her closer to the gaggle of children. Ardynn smiled and let herself be pulled along until she was among the children. Thaniel began his song over again and Ardynn, now knowing about half the words, joined in, linking hands with the little girls and dancing in a circle with them (at their instance), guiding them into little spins and jumps. Other children ran to tug other adults over, coaxing them out into the rain. Though many adults were reluctant, soon the joy of the children and the allure of Thaniel's song had them drawing closer with smiles on their faces.

The rain continued to pour, lavishing the healing earth with cool, refreshing rainfall and nourishing the landscape. As the children continued to play or dance, or refugees found themselves swaying in the rain to Thaniel's song or even joining in games with the children, Ardynn found herself pausing, breathless, to search for Halsin. He ought to be out there with the children, enjoying the fun with them, singing Thaniel's song as one of his dearest friends.

She found him lingering under the awning of one of the buildings, leaning against the wall, watching them with a face filled with mixed emotions. At first she thought he had been pulled out into the rain and had retreated, but as she drew closer she realized that the wetness on his face wasn't rain, but tears.

He quickly rubbed them away with the pads of his thumb and fingers as she came closer, but the next shuddering breath he took told her that he wasn't quite done with tears yet. But when she took his hand and coaxed him out into the rain, she knew he wasn't grieving. Or at least, that his grief was not at the forefront of these emotions. She didn't have words for what he must be feeling, a mixture of gratitude and happiness and joy and longing and more, but she didn't want him to linger on the sidelines to simply watch. This moment was as much his own creation, his own doing, his own legacy, as it was hers. In fact, she'd only done a fraction of the work.

She led him out into the rain, singing Thaniel's song to him, and as the children continued to splash and play and spin, as the adults continued to smile and dance lovingly with one another, she pulled him close for a dance that was all their own, lead by Thaniel's sweet song. In a short time, they would all need to gather the children back indoors, drying them off and making sure they were all seated next to warm fires to stave off any threats of cold or illness. But for the moment, this was a time to celebrate.

~*~*~

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #my fic #halsin #halsin silverbough #my tav #ardynn #ardynn harrow #this one was so relaxing to write ngl

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