#gale's practiced tongue makes an appearance

[percki]

on my knees

tags: 18+, mature content, MDNI, Gale x reader, f!Tav, 2nd person pronouns, act 3, semi-public sex, porn w/o plot, lap dance, explicit consent, bondage, restraints, dom/sub, switch Gale, oral sex (m! and f! receiving), lap sex, hand jobs, overstimulation, orgasm denial, praise kink

ao3 link

“Urgh.” Rolan stands up, wiping a smear of Lorroakan’s blood off the sleeve of his robes. “Your aasimar friend is… violent.”

“I’m so sorry for the mess, Rolan. We can clean everything up –” You glance around the upper level of the tower, at the holy fire, congealed mud, pasty mixture of water and ash, and a fair amount of blood. At the wizard’s broken body, his face swollen with bruises, his mouth agape, sprawled at the foot of his throne of books. “– Um, but it might take a while.”

Rolan waves one long-nailed hand in your direction, his discolored face grateful – if not a bit exasperated. “Don’t worry about it, my friend. You have already done so much for me – consider my debt forgiven, and all will be well.” You smile at that, watching the tiefling wizard grunt with exertion as he hauls Lorroakan’s body towards the portal. “And, erm – help yourself to any treasures you come across, of course. I’ll be… downstairs…” He pushes the corpse through the shimmering portal, and sends you one last earnest, sharp-toothed smile over his shoulder. “...Burying a body.”

With that, Rolan pushes up the sleeves of his robes (sorcerer’s robes, trimmed in silver, unbefitting for a wizard, but they suit him well nonetheless) and steps through the portal, no doubt bracing himself to break the news to his new employees. ‘Hey, so remember those adventurers that just came in? They killed Lorroakan, violently, and I’m your boss now. Surprise!’ You’re sure the staff at Sorcerous Sundries have endured worse surprises; working for Lorroakan sounds akin to an eternity of torture in the Hells.

Aylin sheathes her sword and crosses over to you, removing her helmet. Her ash-blonde hair spills over her shoulders, and her gold-streaked face glistens with blood and sweat. “I shall be at your camp, if you have need of me,” she declares, and inclines her head in gratitude. “You fought well – as you have before. I remain thankful for your assistance.” Less wordy than usual – Lorroakan’s death must be weighing on her. You don’t blame her.

“Thank you, Dame Aylin,” you say, and bow in respect. She smiles at that, silver eyes gleaming.

“Ooh, wait!” Karlach runs up to you, her arms full of wine bottles – no doubt pilfered from Lorroakan’s hidden stash. The woman has a nose for alcohol – she could find a bottle of Baldur’s Grape blindfolded, disoriented, in the middle of a rainstorm. Shadowheart is close behind, a new cloak slung over her shoulders and a fair amount of gold filling her pockets. “We’ll probably go back to camp, too – Fringe and I have to try all this wine.”

“To make sure it isn’t poisoned,” Shadowheart adds, green eyes twinkling with humor. “You can handle yourselves without us, can’t you?”

You grin. “Save a bottle of Mermaid Whiskey for me.”

“Blech. You can have it all.” Karlach sticks out her split tongue, her smile wide. “See ya!” She bolts through the portal head-first: dangerous, with the amount of alcohol in her arms and the fiery infernal engine in her chest. You hear a distant crash, and wince.

Shadowheart follows close behind, calling, “Save the Tyche Pink!”

You hear the rush of wings and look over – Aylin is gone, too, a flash of silver in the clear blue sky. You watch her fly, the wind buffeting her white wings – deva-like, altogether unnatural, inhuman, beautiful in an untouchable, deadly, frightening way – as she soars. The sunlight seems to collect around her, like a remnant of her celestial mother’s power lingers, still, even after the heat and rage of battle is done.

“And then there were two.”

Gale’s voice snaps you out of your reverie. You look up, meeting his eyes. Dark brown, deep, gentle, shining with a light all too familiar. He’s standing by the throne of books, his right hand resting on a copy of Folktales of Faerún: The Angelic Aasimar. 

You kneel over the ashes of the water myrmidon, sifting through the remains for treasure. Nothing. “I suppose Rolan will take a while…” You look around the tower once more, keen eyes picking out chests, display cases, bookshelves – anything that could hide a nice new set of robes for Gale, or a dagger for Astarion, or perhaps some armor for Wyll… “Will you cast Feather Fall? I want to look on the lower levels…” You trail off, reading something in Gale’s eyes. His fingers flex on the spine of the book, his shoulders thrown back, his lilac robes fitting his form well. Is he… posing? You smile and straighten, dusting ash off your sleeves, and move to his side, twining your left arm with his right, leaning comfortably against his side. “The Annals are in the vaults,” you say, knowing his primary objective here, halfheartedly attempting to lift his spirits. Thoughts of the Crown are dangerous – you have seen how easily the lure of power can corrupt, a thousand times (with Kagha in the Emerald Grove, with Minthara at the goblin camp, with Ketheric and Gortash and now Lorroakan). But despite your reservations, you know his ambition fuels him, that it drives his fire, that thoughts of greatness and respect do raise his spirits. “We could go down ourselves…”

Gale turns into you, resting his forehead on your shoulder, his beard scratching at your neck. He presses a kiss to your collarbone, and sighs deeply, inhaling your scent – blood and smoke and sweat, and the faintest hints of his cologne lingering on your skin. “I… Not yet,” he says vaguely, and kisses your neck again, deeper this time. Your breath hitches as he trails long, searing kisses up your neck, along the line of your jaw, leading up to your lips.

“Gale…” You whisper, voice low. “I –” He nips at your bottom lip, smiling against your chin, and you can feel your face heat up. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he says devilishly, oak eyes sparkling, looking up at you through thick, dark lashes. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, and you can feel the vibration of his voice against your skin, sending a chill down your spine. “I can’t believe…” He blinks, as if waking from a dream, and cradles your jaw with his hand, straightening to his full height.

You kiss him, this time, tasting blood on his lips, and you stop, examining his face carefully. A bruise is forming at the bridge of his nose, blood tracing a path down the apex of his lips to his chin. You frown, brow creasing in worry. “You’re hurt.”

“Hm?” Gale touches his face gingerly, delicate, careful fingers prodding the quickly-purpling skin. “Oh. Yes. That. It’s quite alright –”

“It’s not alright,” you reply. “Let me heal you.” You take his shoulders in your hands and guide him into a seated position on Lorroakan’s throne, his back reclined against a collection of Ramazith’s annotated tomes. You kneel before him, positioning yourself between his legs, and summon a simple healing incantation, your hand hovering over his nose, the blue glow of the spell reflected in his eyes. “Te curo,” you murmur, and watch as his skin knits itself together, blood drying, swelling fading, the bruise vanishing beneath your fingers. “Better?”

“Better,” he admits, and looks at you with intent in his eyes, his gaze dark and focused on your features. “My love,” he starts, then hesitates. His face turns a delicious shade of pink.

“Yes?” You lean forward, hanging onto his words. He adjusts his legs, his thighs bracketing your shoulders, and you feel the slightest thrill at your compromising position, you in your armor and him in his robes, you kneeling before him like a supplicant at an altar.

“Rolan may not return for some time,” Gale says. “We could…” He stops again, biting his lip.

You guess his meaning immediately – your thoughts are remarkably in-tune. You can’t deny that you hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t wished for… Well. For Gale. Your peaceful nights since arriving in the Lower City have been few and far between, interrupted as they are: by vampires, by nightmares, by Orin’s ministrations. It’s been some time since you and Gale had time to yourselves.

And now, it seems, you have all the time in the world.

“Do you want to?” You question, and his eyes darken, his pupils expanding infinitesimally. You lean forward, cupping his cock with your hand, and smile to feel him already half-hard beneath your touch.

“I – yes,” he breathes, and raises his hand to cast Mage Hand, the incantation on his lips, when you catch him by the wrist, holding him still.

“No magic,” you say breathlessly, and straighten back up to your full height, smiling down at him. “As mortals do, remember?”

Gale watches you intently as you undo the first few buckles of your armor, leather slipping between your fingers. He sits up, reaching out his hands to help –

And you push him back.

“Don’t move,” you warn him, and plant one hand securely on his chest, holding him in place, as you draw a piece of silken fabric out of your pack. You hold it up for him to see, and upon realizing your intention, his eyes widen, pupils expanding impossibly wide. “Do you want this?” You ask, and he confirms with a nod of his head. You narrow your eyes and lean in, your face centimeters away from his, your breath ghosting on his lips. “Say it, please, love.”

He swallows thickly, eyes locked on yours, and says, his voice a rumble in his chest, “I want you to tie me up.”

You smile, and reward him with a bruising, biting kiss. “Good boy,” you murmur, and relish the way his face reddens, his jaw going slightly slack at the praise. “Lean forward for me?” He acquiesces, already holding his hands behind his back, and you climb up into his lap to twine the silk around his wrists, your touch featherlight and gentle. You test the knot, and smile. Not too tight – but he certainly won’t get any ideas about spellcasting. “Does that feel okay?”

“Yes,” he says into your shoulder, his voice muffled by the layers of your armor. You stand back up and step completely out of your clothes, metal buckles and buttons clinking as your many layers fall to the floor, and then you stand before Gale in your undergarments, your skin rising with goosebumps from the cool air, his eyes roving a path up and down your figure.

You feel a little warm from the intensity of his gaze, but you steel your nerves and continue. You reach out with your senses, using the knowledge of the Weave that Gale taught you of so long ago, and you can feel a soft tinkling at the edge of your perception, the distant sound of music, and you pull it towards you. In one of the pleasure dens far below, a slow, sensual number starts up, and you filter the sound through the available space, filling the tower with music.

Gale’s lips part as he realizes your plan. “Love,” he starts, “I haven’t –”

You feel a twinge of self-doubt, standing there near-nude before a man who is completely clothed. You have no experience with this whatsoever – apart from what you have read and seen – and you’re not sure that Gale loves you enough to forgive you if you make a total ass of yourself. “This is okay, right?” You rush to ask, holding your hands out for his before realizing that he’s still tied. You tuck them behind your back, straightening your posture. “Um – I know this is probably unusual, but, you know, in the Quarta Sune –”

Gale grins, his dimples making a rare appearance, and the sight of it pulls at your heartstrings. “You are perfect,” he promises, lifting his dark eyes up to your face. “This is perfect. Please, keep going.”

The slight rasp of his voice goes straight to your core, and you step forward before you’re entirely conscious of your movements, looping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. He leans into you with a groan, and you can feel his shoulders move, his hands resisting the bindings, and you pull back. “No touching,” you say softly, “right? This is about you.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, his expression adorably resentful, and you laugh and kiss the bridge of his nose.

“Later,” you promise, and with that, you stand up, and turn away from him, facing the windows, the setting sun illuminating your skin. The music restarts, strings amping up, and you sway your hips to the tune, letting instinct take over. One, two, three, you breathe, feeling the rhythm run through you, and as the music crescendos, you drop down onto Gale’s lap, your ass just brushing over his thighs, hoping your undulating body looks sensual rather than spasmodic, and your efforts are rewarded with a delicious, blinding groan from behind you. You turn back around to face him – one, two, three – and lean in close, your scent intoxicating, his body warming your skin, and bracket his legs with your knees, one hand carding through his hair and the other slowly unbuttoning his robes, your knuckles barely brushing the velvet-soft hair on his chest. You slide your hands down the planes of his torso, and then, just as he’s leaning forward, again, anticipating your lips on his –

You step back again, turning, lifting your hands over your head and letting your hair down, smiling to yourself as you peek over your shoulder at his exasperated face. One, two, three. You let your ass ghost over his lap again, closer this time, holding there for a few moments longer than he considers tolerable, and just as his patience goes and his hips buck, you return to your starting position, looking down at him chidingly.

“Please,” he whispers, and you raise your brows, your hands going to the clasp of your bra. He watches, rapt, as you slide the fabric off your breasts and let it fall to the ground atop your discarded armor, your nipples peaking in the cool air. You repeat the motion with your panties, and you’re sure Gale catches sight of the soaked fabric as you toss it aside: his face turns a flattering shade of crimson, his arms straining against his silken ropes.

“How can I deny you?” You say, and with smooth, uninterrupted movements, you slide onto his lap, rocking your hips back and forth, tantalizingly slow, atop him. His robes slip open completely, and you can feel his cock straining against the fabric of his undergarments, barely brushing against the skin of your thighs. Your hands roam along the skin of his chest, thumbs swirling careful circles in the dips of his collarbone and shoulders, your palms warm against his skin. “You’re doing so well,” you praise him, and lean forward to kiss along the line of his clavicle, then slowly up his neck, sucking hard enough to bruise, tasting his sandalwood cologne, his soapy shaving cream, the sweat and salt lingering there, your tongue pulsing against his jaw. “So good for me,” you continue, running your hands through his hair, “you’re perfect, Gale.”

And then, surprising him, you slide off his lap and drop to your knees, slotting your body perfectly in between his legs, and in one swift motion, you free his aching cock from his undergarments and lean forward once more, fitting your lips around the head.

“O-oh,” he moans, straining to keep still as you take him deeper, your hands tracing patterns on the skin of his thighs, reaching up to his hips, your nails scratching lightly, and then, as you adjust yourself and push him back so as to get more leverage, you wrap one hand around his shaft and devote the other one to palm gently at his balls, still a touch too gentle. “Mmm – more,” he sighs, and you obey, licking a stripe up the underside of his cock and then fitting it back in your mouth, deep enough to brush the back of your throat, pre-cum salty on your tongue. You hollow your cheeks, looking up at him through lowered lashes, and his mouth falls open, releasing the most pleasurable moans and groans, sighs and mewls slipping between his lips, chanted noises that may be words – you catch the sound of your name, and please, and yes, in the chorus of sounds that escape his chest, rising and falling in octave with every swipe of your tongue and bob of your head. “P-please,” he says again, “please, let me –”

You guess his meaning, and reach behind him; the movement sending his cock to the very back of your throat, and his back arches in pleasure; and pull the strings of his bindings, untying his hands. The moment he’s free, he takes your head in his hands, cradling your jaw, and lets his fingers twine in the strands of your hair as you suck with renewed eagerness, sliding back nearly completely only to take him in fully again, the feel of his cock in your mouth dizzying, intoxicating, sending white-hot shivers through your body –

You glance down, and through the haze of pleasure, through the shadows of sunset, through the sweat and slick on your body, you see a flash of blue cupping your cunt, and you can suddenly feel the gentle, not-quite-there brush of the Mage Hand’s fingers against your clit. You war between pleasure and indignation for a moment – and indignation wins. You pull back, Gale’s weeping cock inches away from your mouth but still suspended in midair, and he huffs, putting his hands over his eyes, his pleasure cut short just on the path to climax. “Why did you –”

“No magic,” you repeat, and you can feel the Mage Hand dissolve. Gale peeks out from through his fingers, caught, and not the least bit ashamed. “Do I need to tie you up again? Completely, this time?”

“I –” His cock twitches, beads of precum leaking from the tip, stunning the both of you into silence.

You let a devilish grin slide across your face. “Oh. You want me to tie you up, love? Top to tip, completely trussed up for me?” You pull away from him and reach in your pack for more ribbon. “Red or purple, my sweet?”

Gale manages an arrogant smile, his face still flushed red. “Purple, of course.”

“Good choice,” you grin, and stand, running the ribbons through your hands reverently. “This will only take a minute,” you promise. “Why don’t you take those bothersome clothes off before I get started?”

He does, and you let your eyes run over his figure appreciatively for a minute before going to work. Hands on the ‘arms’ of the throne, the ribbon secured around a stack of encyclopedias. His legs against the respective ‘legs’ of the throne, straining slightly against his bonds. You stand before him, and he angles his hips up slightly, his eyes pleading.

“So cooperative,” you murmur, running your hands gently up his thighs. “So patient. So good.” You lift your hand to your mouth and spit on your fingers, holding eye contact, and he breathes shakily as you wrap your hand around his cock, leaning forward, mouthing kisses along his neck and collarbone. You start slowly, tantalizingly, pumping your hand along his length with a careful, measured speed that makes Gale’s breath hitch in his throat.

“Please – more,” he moans, his lips chasing yours. “Faster.”

You acquiesce, moving quicker, twisting your wrist the way you know that he likes. His breaths come faster, too, a mindless stream of yes and please and more coupled with your name falling from his mouth. You kiss him with bruising intensity, feeling his cock twitch in your fingers, his body straining against his bonds.

He comes with a muffled yell, his eyes rolling completely back in his head, and you kiss him fiercely as his come paints your stomach and thighs where you sit atop him. “Please – gods – please, untie me, let me –”

You smile against his lips and loosen the ribbons, yelping when his arms encircle you with surprising strength, lifting you up by your thighs and laying you out on the tile floor of the tower, the ground cold on your skin, your head canted back as Gale trails kisses down your thighs. “Ah – Gale,” you sigh as his fingers whisper up the inside of your legs, your skin rising with goosebumps. “I can’t –” You try to lift your head, to see where he is and what he’s doing, but your neck won’t cooperate. “What –”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Gale murmurs into your thigh, his hand lifting your leg to his lips, his beard tickling your skin pleasantly. “There’s only so long I can go without magic, my love. I thought –” Here, his tongue slides up to your cunt, tracing around your lips gently, and you moan, your boneless body arching in pleasure. “I thought you might enjoy feeling how I felt. Constrained. At my mercy.” His tongue winds a circle around your clit, and your breaths come faster, your thighs shaking madly. “Do you?”

“Do I – ah – what?”

“Enjoy it,” Gale says into your cunt, and the vibration makes you shudder.

“I – yes, I – please, I want to touch you, I want to –”

“Mmm,” Gale hums, his tongue working careful, restrained circles around your clit, dipping down to taste your slick. “Not yet.”

It’s been less than two minutes, and you’re already shaking, riding high, your eyes unfocused, as Gale takes you apart with his tongue. The painted constellations of the ceiling dance in and out of focus, and your moans echo around the circular tower, a mix of yes and please and Gale falling from your mouth, a reminder of the way you coaxed Gale’s orgasm from him with delicate fingers not five minutes before. “Gale, I – oh, gods, I can’t – please, I want to see you, I –”

The spell breaks, and you lift your head to see Gale’s face completely buried in your cunt, his sweaty hair spread out on your thighs, his eyes closed in ecstasy, and the image is enough to send you over the edge, a scream in your throat, your legs shaking wildly as you come, Gale’s tongue still working at you gently, until the sensation is too much and you kick him softly, signaling get off me, because your vocal cords aren’t working at the moment.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says, and crawls up to kiss you, and you taste yourself on his tongue, salty-sweet and heady. “But we should probably go before Rolan comes back. I suspect we won’t have an opportunity to take advantage of his hospitality again.”

“Gale…” You wind your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, your eyes fluttering shut. “You might have to Dimension Door us out of here. I don’t think my legs will move.”

“I’ll carry you,” he smiles, and helping you stand, he laces his robes back up and aids you in buckling your armor. “Now come. There’s a bath at the Elfsong that’s calling my name.”

You sigh softly, leaning your head into his shoulder, and watch dreamily as he conjures the portal. “Wait – what about the Annals?”

“Oh.” Gale looks down at the lower levels of the tower. “I suppose we’ll have to come back tomorrow.” He looks almost downcast, but then the expression fades, and he’s just Gale again, smiling at you. “Let’s go.”

[kitthenameless]

Gale Dekarios appears at first glance to be an attractive but disheveled wizard with a lot of charm but also a sorta sad, wet energy (like a cat left out in the rain). Then you get to know him, and he still is that, but he's also...

Gale Dekarios:

- Archmage.

- Chosen of the Goddess of Magic.

- Best friends with a tressym.

- Penpals with a magma mephit.

- Has been to at least one other dimension.

- Once bought 60 drinks at an adventurer's bar to stop a needless fight.

- Lives in a tower.

- Seems like a pacifist but says things like, "Let me recite their demise," in battle.

- Knows a guy who can get you some brains.

I'm sure there are more interesting tidbits I'm missing, but I can't keep making this list forever.

Furthermore, all of Gale's horny lines come from out of nowhere and hit you like a truck. The timing and delivery are incredible. Completely blunt, no warning, no reservation. Just, "Not that I don't appreciate your musk," and, "I once read a book that explained in some detail the effect a brush with danger has on one's desire for... other forms of stimulation," and, "It surely can't be a surprise that I have a practiced tongue."

Gale.

Just, Gale, man.

Fucking Gale.

[draconic-desire]

hiiiii ive been brainrotting abt sunday and his triple face god thing abababah thinking abt him handcuffing reader and interrogating them with the truth thing he does to aventurine ARGHH omg questioning abt who they were with cos hes jealousssss AUGH you dont have to write anything off of this i just hope this inspires you ily

oh you have read my MIND. I’m currently in the middle of writing a fic with dr ratio interrogating reader like he did with mx. stellaron…but now imagining that with sunday?? wow.

i’m totally normal about this man. i swear.

Yan!Sunday x Gn!Reader

Fingers drum on the table, the only break in the suffocating silence engulfing the room.

“I’ll ask you one. Last. Time.” Sunday punctuates each word with another tap of his finger, and you gasp as you feel the Harmony sink its influence another inch further into your skull.

Despite the futility, despite knowing you’ve been trying the same thing over and over again for the past half an hour, you pull at your restraints. The metal chain of the handcuffs skitters along the table, the sound like nails on a chalkboard, but it does not budge from its steel attachment. You’re firmly and inescapably chained to the table in Sunday’s office, with said perpetrator sitting opposite.

He appears calm, but you’ve learned to notice the slight twitch of his eye, the falter in his normal smirk. His patience is one wrong answer away from shattering.

At your silence, he leans back in his chair, shaking his head. His golden gaze is chastising, almost disappointed. “Angel, you know I don’t want to hurt you. Just tell me who you were with.”

You only glare at him in response. Bullshit. You’ve lost count of the amount of times he’s forced truths out of you or affections upon you through the Harmony. The psychedelic pest in your brain is almost the norm by now, a poison he has slowly been feeding you.

Oh, Triple Faced-Soul, please sear their tongue and palms with a hot iron, so that they will not be able to fabricate lies and make false vows.

Those words are branded into the flesh of your brain, your soul. And tonight, if you tell him what he wants, even more blood will be spilled.

Sunday’s jealously is as calculating as he is. It’s a knife poised at the right angle to spear you, to pin you with accusations that you can’t talk your way out of.

Like in this instance, where he has deluded himself into thinking you are trying to leave him. He’s finally let you out of Dewlight Pavilion (you’ve learned that trying to escape the dreamscape is pointless, so you’ll take your freedoms when you can), and this is the first reaction you’re met with? Being dragged to his office as soon as you returned and invaded, prodded, and violated by the Harmony?

The pressure around your temples tightens another fraction, and you cannot stop the pained cry that escapes you. Rainbow streaks cloud your vision and practically pull the words from your mouth. “I was with friends! We were at the Dreamjolt Hosterly for a couple drinks, that’s it!”

Sunday merely hums as he stands and pads towards you, taking a position at your back. You’re unable to turn around to face him, but you can feel the weight of his presence, the promise of his power, as he wraps a hand around the back of your neck.

His breath tickles the shell of your ear as he leans in and whispers, “Liar.”

One word chills your blood to ice. “I’m not!”

The grip around your neck tightens in tandem with the pressure in your head. “Do you really think you can evade me, (Y/n)? My gales are perched in every region of Penacony, and THEY are by my side. THEY see all, hear all, know all.”

As if on cue, the Harmony rips through your consciousness, and it takes all your willpower not to pass out. Exhausted, you involuntarily lean back into Sunday’s hand, which seems to please him. “Now, tell me the name of the man who dared to touch what is mine.”

Clenching your eyes shut, you shake your head. You’re out of breath and stumbling along your words. “He was just being friendly, and he was drunk, we all were, and all he did was kiss my cheek; it was a dare, and I swear to you, Sunday, we’re just friends—”

“(Y/n),” Sunday interrupts. “His name.”

The finality in the Family head’s words sends your heart plummeting. You feel your resolve slip as the Harmony tightens its grip and goes in for the kill. You speak the name aloud, barely a whisper, and know that you’ve just delivered the man’s fate.

In your half-conscious state, you barely register Sunday removing your cuffs and scooping you into his arms. He tucks you into his chest bridal-style, his wings fluttering across your face. “You did well, my angel.”

“Please,” you breathe, your voice wobbly with tears, even as you feel the Harmony retreat from your senses—for now. “Don’t hurt him.”

Sunday merely leans his head down to place a kiss along your temple. “Enough of that,” he scolds. “The only man you should be thinking about is me. After all, it is an angel’s duty to obey their god without question.”

And Sunday is, if anything, a vengeful god.

For that night was the last that you ever saw your friend. Death in dreams was your only reality.

[dekariosclan]

What do you think Gale would do if, after six months of living together, Tav gained a little weight and started complaining about his appearance?

P.S.: I know for sure that Gale will love us anyway (the ending for the mind eater is proof of that), it's just very interesting to know your point of view. You always have the best headcannons 😍

Well this is an excellent question, thank you! And thank you very much for the compliment on my hcs ❤️ This is great timing because I have been wanting to do a post talking about how Gale approaches physical attractiveness, and what it means to him in a relationship. You’ve given me the perfect springboard for that!

So, before I talk about the Tav in your scenario and how I think Gale would react to him having a negative self-image, I want to delve into some background on Gale.

First things first—Gale is a wizard, and as a wizard, he has had many experiences changing his physical form. He’s versed in invisibility spells, size-changing spells, appearance-changing spells/illusions, becoming incorporeal, turning to mist, etc, etc. You’d have to assume, then, that being able to change physical form so easily would make Gale realize that being considered ‘physically beautiful’ is not something of great importance.

Second, the world of Faerun is inhabited by incredibly varied and diverse physical beings: elves, dwarves, dragonborn, tieflings, githyanki, half-orcs, etc, etc. Imagine not only growing up and seeing so many different faces every day, but also being a scholar like Gale, one who is always eager to learn about different cultures. Gale’s perception of physical beauty is naturally wider and more varied as a result of being immersed in such an environment—and, since Gale is canonically pansexual, he has no preferences in regards to gender, either.

All this just to say: this is a man who, for his entire life, has had very little reason to care about physical appearances at all.

….and then we come to his relationship with Mystra.

Gale and the Goddess who presents herself as an ‘exceptional physical beauty.’ One that many would consider the pinnacle of physical perfection: eternally young, beautiful, flawless.

I’ve seen so many comments about how it doesn’t make sense for Gale to fall for anyone who isn’t ‘beautiful’ after he’s been with a Goddess. But think about it—what did that get him? What did his love of Mystra and her perfect physical beauty get him?

Abandonment. Heartbreak. Depression. And the realization that there was no sympathy or compassion to be found in the depths of that Goddess’s eyes. No actual love or warmth in her at all. Just a beautiful exterior; a cold, empty shell.

So given all of that: is it any wonder that Gale doesn’t give any weight to physical attractiveness when he falls for Tav? And instead only focuses on Tav’s goodness, kindness, and warmth?

Because Gale just wants to love, and to be loved. He truly only cares about Tav’s heart, Tav’s soul, and most importantly, about the loving bond that they share together.

Now, I do want to clarify—Gale does still recognize and appreciate the physical aspects of his beloved. Very much so, obviously, with his practiced tongue, his appreciation for Tav’s glistening muscles, and his (definitely thirsty) comment on Illithid Tav’s ‘moist tentacles.’

But all that’s a bonus in his eyes. That’s the result of his love for Tav; it’s not what made him fall in love with Tav to begin with.

Which is why it doesn’t matter what Tav looks like. In any form. Gale doesn’t care about the wrapping. It’s the gift inside that he truly treasures.

———

So OP, (assuming you made it this far—thank you for your patience!!)

I think that, if Tav gained weight as stated in your scenario, be it a little or a lot, and started complaining/making negative comments about himself…

Gale would, at first, be completely oblivious.

Not because he’s an inattentive husband, or because he’s not paying attention to his beloved—to be clear, he’s the most doting husband, and he hangs off of Tav’s every word—but because he loves Tav so much and adores him so deeply that he simply cannot fathom it. He cannot fathom that Tav’s comments of “I don’t fit into this anymore…” or “I don’t look like I used to…” are anything more than observations on living a lovely, comfortable, domestic life together.

But when Gale does finally realize what’s happening, and what Tav means…for a moment, he would be stunned. Because how Tav could think he was anything less than utter perfection would be mind-boggling to Gale.

He would compose himself quickly. Take Tav’s hands in his. Raise them to his lips, and between kisses say, “Forgive me, my love. Your husband has been remiss. It seems I haven’t told you lately just how much I adore you.” Then he would pull Tav in for a lingering kiss and, with a smouldering look, add: “More importantly, it seems I haven’t shown you. A critical oversight that I intend to correct—right now.”

And he would.

But later—much later—as they both lay blissfully spent in bed, if Tav’s doubts came creeping back and he still felt compelled to ask Gale, “What do you see when you look at me? Do you still see the old me, the one who was smaller, thinner? Or do you see this new version and simply…accept it?”

Gale would gently place his fingers under Tav’s chin. Tilt his head up so that their eyes met, place his other hand on Tav’s cheek…

And say, with utmost sincerity: “I see the love of my life.”

[brotherwtf]

For clegan ♡ character A being oblivious to a random person flirting but character B swoops in to ‘save’ character A from a bad flirt when in reality they were just jealous. Gale would totally be oblivious while Bucky would be totally jealous

this is so clegan coded lmao Bucky is just so jealous all of the time what a guy

----

To be entirely, honest, it didn't look like Gale even noticed the girls' advances until John appeared.

John had gone to the bar to secure another drink, a whiskey for him and another ginger beer for Gale, when one of the red cross girls sidled up next to Gale and took his spot. The one on Gale's left, always.

Gale is being polite, smiling at her cordially and introducing himself with a small grin. She titters when she hears his rank, clearly looking for an officer to bring home that evening.

John bristles when she puts her hand on his arm, squeezing her painted nails and creasing the military grade fabric. John would never do that, he knows how much Gale hates having creases in his uniform. But he's not doing anything, still smiling at her gently like they've been friends for years. John has to put a stop to it.

She's laughing something bright, too similar to John's laugh, when he sidles up next to Gale on his right, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

"Come on, Buck, why don't you dance with the dame? She's practically begging for it," John says, grinning when the girl balks at his bluntness.

Gale huffs something, cheeks turning the slightest bit pink at John's closeness and at the remark.

"You know I don't dance, Bucky," Gale mutters and John mocks surprise.

"Doesn't dance, doesn't drink? Oh next thing you know he's going to say he doesn't take girls home!" He says and gives the girl a shining grin.

She's glaring, and John can't tell if it's at him intruding or if it's at Gale's lack of gusto, but she promptly gets up to leave when Gale shakes his head at the last remark.

John doesn't even return to his spot on Gale's left side, grabbing his upper arm and dragging him out to the shady alleyway behind the pub and shoving him against the wall. Gale moves to speak but John shuts him up, pressing his lips to Gale's so fervently his head scrapes against the brick wall. A small noise escapes Gale's mouth and his hands find John's uniform, clenching onto it for dear life. John holds Gale's face, looking down at him in the moonlight before leaning in again, devouring him.

He moves his lips across Gale's face, leaving tiny kisses and licks until he's at his jaw, biting gently at the tender flesh there.

"You're mine, aren't you? You're all mine," John hisses and loves the way Gale's breaths get faster because of the words.

"Stop... you can't leave a mark," Gale whispers but John pushes the thought away.

He bites and sucks, laving his tongue over the small bite mark he made on Gale's jaw. He smiles when there's a small, irritated blotch on the underside of his jaw, a clear sign of who he belongs to.

"Don't care, you're mine," John whispers, taking Gale's lips again and swallowing all of the little sounds that Gale makes.

The guys on base whistle when they see the mark on Gale's neck, and he swears it's just from knocking something, but John knows that he was the one who made it, that Gale will always be his.

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Tease

Just Gale being a total freak. Gale x F!Tav, blood, spice, etc.

@netherese0rb @boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana

@auroraesmeraldarose @aryancunin @amorgansgal

'I wanna see your animal side, let it all out, I wanna see the dirt under your skin, I need your broken promises.' - Death Valley, Fall Out Boy

Tav stood in the middle of the ruined landscape, taking heaving gulps of air. The shadows that had attacked them had disappeared in bursts of sickly green and they pressed on to the muted moonglow in the distance. One of the beseiged harpers had pointed it out, snapping that they should run for it if she perished. Tav led the group, barely thinking as they made their presence known and chose a camping spot away from the inn. Why they were not permitted to be inside she didn’t know, though she had an inkling there was little room for them.

The darkness had the unfortunate affect of making the air feel like a winter’s night; she shivered even as she built up a sweat helping everyone with their shelters. Gale appeared distracted- not unlike him, certainly, though he seemed a little more intense than usual.

‘Cold, Tav?’ said Karlach good naturedly as they passed each other. She carried a stack of dead wood under each arm. ‘We’ll have a fire going soon as. Where’s our rogue got to?’

‘Hunting, most like,’ said Halsin, bumping shoulders with Tav and almost sending her sprawling. ‘Oops! Sorry.’ He steadied her with a hand on her shoulder. ‘Silvanus knows what he’d eat out here, though.’ His eyes glittered impishly. ‘Unless you’ve been feeding him of course.’

‘Oh, behave,’ said Tav, blushing. ‘That was once.’

‘And where did Gale go?’

‘Huh?’ Tav scanned the campsite. Though his tent was set up, the wizard was nowhere to be seen. ‘I saw him a minute ago. He’s probably getting supplies for dinner?’ She sighed. ‘I’ll take a look. But there better be a fire going when I come back, it’s freezing.’

‘Relax,’ said Shadowheart, rolling her eyes. ‘I don’t know why you’re all so whiny. I feel fine.’

‘You would,’ shot Wyll. ‘This is Shar’s work, after all.’

‘Okay,’ said Tav. ‘I’ll leave you to your sniping. I’ll find the wizard. We’ll starve without him.’

‘Hey, I can cook,’ said Wyll, pouting a little as Tav turned her back and trudged off into the dark.

‘Gale?’ she called. ‘Everyone’s looking for you!’ He can’t have gone far. She misty stepped, walked a little further, scanning. ‘Gale!’ She was well away from camp now, clear on the other side of the lake.

‘Always one for walking into trouble, aren’t you?’ said a voice in her ear.

‘Gale? What the fuck?’ Her head whipped to the side, heartbeat picking up. ‘Why are you invisible?’ Stupid wizard.

‘I don’t want a search party looking for me,’ he said. His breath was hot on her ear. ‘Just you.’

‘Why?’ she asked, drawing the word out. ‘We need you back at camp, and-’

‘I wanted us to be alone.’

The cogs were turning in Tav’s head. ‘Hang on,’ she said slowly. ‘Is this about- about-’

‘Oh Tav, don’t play coy,’ he crooned. ‘I know you find this all as thrilling as I do. Now I admit,’ he said, sounding a little more like himself, ‘that I got a little tongue-tied. A little flustered. But now I think I can say what I want to say, knowing nobody but the one intended will hear it. But,’ he said, ‘perhaps it can wait. You’re so cold. We can’t have that…’

‘Turn visible, coward,’ said Tav, giggling. Gooseprickles rose on the back of her neck.

A snap and he was there in front of her, robes looking much the worse for wear, his face spattered with blood. ‘Dear me,’ he said. ‘You’re practically covered in blood and guts. Time for a bath?’ He tilted his head, smirked. His eyes were blazing.

‘You are too,’ she said boldly, gesturing. ‘Arterial, by the look of it. That’ll really mess up your hair if you’re not careful.’

Gale lunged forward, grabbing her face and smashing their lips together in a mess of tongue and teeth. She tasted blood and sweat on his lips, metal and salt. Groaning into her mouth he pulled at a slash in her robes and rended the fabric even further, mouth falling to the exposed skin of her shoulder to suck a bruise into her flesh. Her breathing stuttered and he hummed against her skin, dragging his teeth a little to pull a whimper from her. ‘Hnnngh, more of that,’ he said, kissing her mouth again.

‘What’s gotten into you?’ she gasped when he pulled away again to mark her neck. ‘I thought you couldn’t-’ she hissed as he dug his fingers into her thighs and growled.

‘As if that will stop me,’ he said darkly. ‘Not when you’re so fucking tempting-’

‘Gale, it’s not safe-’ She was between his teeth, latched onto the tender skin between neck and shoulder as he ground his hips against her. He applied sharp pressure in response and she yelped, half in pain, half surprise. He kissed the bite tenderly, pressed another kiss to the corner of her mouth.

‘I love seeing you covered in blood,’ he rasped. ‘Not that I want to see you hurt, but…’ he panted into her ear. ‘Fuck I love seeing you filthy.’

Tav could hardly breathe. This was not a side of him she’d ever anticipated. ‘You said we couldn’t-’

He laughed, a dark little growl. ‘We can’t. But I couldn’t resist giving you a little taste of what’s to come…’ he snapped his fingers and was gone, leaving her burning and frustrated in the dark.

[aeshttp]

assistant apprentice

gn! reader x gale

where gale has a midlife crisis over being attracted to his apprentice.

read under cut!!

There was something about you, hunched over a table consumed by scrolls and tomes, a lone candlewick dripping concerningly close to one of the texts and eyebrows furrowed in paramount concentration as your teeth gently bit down on plush, pink lips, that Gale found endearing, and alarmingly attractive.

Damn it, he knew it was wrong- but it quite literally hurt his heart to turn away from the tranquil scene before him. It wasn't as if you weren't a consenting adult, but what student would enjoy their teacher scrutinizing them, eyes hazed over with lust and awe?

As you scratched your scalp with the tip of the quill, mouth curled in something akin to frustration and disdain, an expletive on the tip of your tongue, Gale had finally gained adequate strength to tear his eyes away from you- suddenly awfully interested at the glass lamp he had procured at a market many moons ago.

Crystal clear in his memory, Gale was able to embarrassingly recall every minute detail surrounding the first day in which he met you, much to his chagrin.

He had been wondering around a vast library for a while, engrossed and captivated by the towering shelves of books, each filled with knowledge waiting to be ingested, as a niggling feeling at the back of his mind made him aware that he was most likely being followed.

By who or what, he had no idea- but Gale would be damned if he was to be caught off guard and attacked, although wasn't exactly sure on what type of person would be ambushed in a library of all places- lest the attract the vitriol of the librarian.

Sharply turning a corner, Gale waited by the edge of one of the bookshelves, waiting for the assailant to round the corner and instead get spooked by Gale.

When you appeared from round the corner, eyes bulging with awe and reverence, fingers moving nonsensically by your side- as if barely able to reign in excitement and fight the urge to pounce on him- Gale was entirely nonplussed, and for a moment- flattered.

The feeling only expanded in his chest as you spat out words in haste, stumbling over compliments and praises- inching closer every second, practically buzzing from excitement.

Gale would tell anyone about his work if they gave the slight inclination that they were interested (which they hardly ever were), but to hear about his studies from a secondary source birthed a feeling inside of him he didn't think possible, so overjoyed by the fact he'd gone off about needing an assistant- a complete lie- but was utterly overjoyed when you had accepted without a minute to process.

And nearly two months later, here you were, living in his humble abode as his 'apprentice', desperately trying to put a damper onto his feelings. Of course, Gale never regretted making you his apprentice, more displaced by the fact he had grown to develop feelings far from platonic- simply because you were a kindred soul to his.

It was a shame, that you had hailed him a genius of the arcane, a master of magic and yet, he was far too cowardly to admit his feelings to you, content with him being your teacher and you his apprentice.

Perhaps one day, he'd find the bravery to speak from his heart- but as you rushed over to him, begging for him to demonstrate a spell in order to understand the theory behind it, he simply smiled and donned the mask of an adept sorcerer.

[swifty-fox]

❝  i know i can’t protect you from everything,  but i wish you’d let me protect you from the things i can control.  ❞ - for outlaw au please :)) i already miss them 🥺

yessss more of them.

read the fic here

tws: Mentions of child abuse & discussion of suicide of a family member.

Gale hates South Dakota. It's much like Wyoming, flat and empty and made up of scrublands. Population is scarce and it's been nearly two weeks of rest-stop sink baths or on one or two desperate occasions water bottles and a spare t-shirt as a rag.

It's one of those quiet inconveniences of how they live. It's been months since anyone has laid a hand on him and that's worth any lack of creature comforts.

Still, he'd like a shower.

They're on the roof of the Corolla, scissors snicking gently through Gale's hair as John trims it with careful concentration. His tongue Is poked between his lips, there's an unlit cigarette tucked behind his ear and his grey Puddle of Mudd shirt is turned dark with sweat.

"Look straight, I don't want you getting mad at me when I fuck your hair up and make it all uneven."

"I wouldn't be mad," Gale says, but looks forward anyway, eyeing the blue silhouette of mountains in the distance. They appear tiny and flat, but Gale knows if they bothered to travel the hundreds of miles to the foothills they'd rise taller than skyscrapers.

John blows stray hair off Gale's shoulder, brushes it off with his fingers when that proves ineffective. The fine blond strands cling to his sweaty skin, bared by the cut-off sleeve shirt he's wearing. Likely it's Johns, the fabric loose and baggy around Gale's torso and chest in a way his own shirts usually were not.

"Why'd you start growing it?"

"My dad said long hair was for girls."

John's thumb strokes over the ball-curve of Gale's shoulder, nail tracing the raised lines of the random smattering of scars there. They extend across the wingspan of his back, harsher at the bony parts and falling off in the dips and divots. "He do these too?"

Tucking his heels up near his ass, Gale rests his chin on his knees. John clucks at him for the change of position but after a moment resumes cutting. For a while there's only the snick of scissors and the sound of coyotes howling and the sun slowly sinking into the pillow of the mountains.

"I dropped a box of my mom's Christmas ornaments," He says finally, "the glass ones, you know? The kind of special ones you put at the top and don't let the kids touch."

John hums to show he's listening, brushing fingers through Gale's hair to find any spots he's missed.

"It was an accident," He insists as if it matters to Bucky, as if it ever mattered.

"And he," Gale gestures to his head, "I was on the ground before I realized what had happened and then he was just going off on me, and I was trying to tell him that the glass was cutting me, that I'd take my licks but the glass."

Metal clinks as John sets the scissors down, reaches his hand out for the hair tie that Gale deposits in his hand. Begins braiding Gale's hair with practiced efficiency

"Spent the night in Marge's bathroom picking glass out of my skin with her eyebrow tweezers."

"Couldn't afford the hospital?"

"Wasn't lookin' to get placed with some Mormon family who'd do just about the same but also make me wear pressed button-downs."

"How old were you?"

"Fifteen."

John brushes over Gale's shoulders again, slow and gentle. Smooths his braid down his spine.

"You're done," he says.

Something in his tone makes Gale scowl, "I'm not looking for your pity, Bucky."

"You're not getting it."

Gale shakes his head slowly, feeling the tickle of his braid somewhere up along the apex of his shoulder blades rather than the central line of them. The weight of it is gone, or at least nearly negligible to what it was. He picks at the stray chunks of hair littered around them, twisting one clump around his fingers.

"I know I can’t protect you from everything,  but I wish you’d let me protect you from the things I can control," John says.

"What are you able to control about something that happened five years ago?"

"hmm," John hops off the roof of the car, the whole frame squeaking and shaking with the movement. Gale uncurls from his hunched position. Hands him the scissors to tuck away safely. But not too safely. They are a weapon in a pinch, after all.

"That's not an answer."

"You telling me about it. Then I can protect you."

"How is telling you protecting me?" Gale slips down after him, tugs the blankets off the roof of the Corolla and shakes them out to get as much hair out as possible.

"Talking helps."

Gale snorts but John fixes him with an uncharacteristically sincere look

"I'm serious. My Ma made me go talk to a shrink after my dad died. it helped, kind of."

"What happened to him?"

It's mostly genuine. It's a little bit pointed. Poking at a bruise because his own hurts have been prodded at.

John smiles at him. It's awful, "He locked himself in the car with the exhaust on. Came home from ninth grade and found him in the garage."

Gale stares, looks down to finish folding the blankets.

"He was a Pastor," John continues, "He was a good man. Just kinda wish he'd left a note or something. An email. Hell, a fat life insurance policy would have been nice but they don't give you shit if it's a suicide."

"Do you pray then?"

"Sometimes, when I miss him. When I've got something important to say." John pops a lollipop into his mouth, hunts around for a sweet flavor to offer Gale, "Do you?"

Gale takes the lollipop, looks John's face over and shrugs a shoulder "No, not for a long time."

[bananastarion]

Here's a whole bunch of cute, fluffy Tav/Astarion headcanons for you

With just a touch of Gale and Halsin in there, as well. I might break some of these up into their own posts eventually. Enjoy? And let me know your thoughts, I crave feedback. <3

Astarion & the Rainbow: After a rainy day, the most brilliant rainbow appears in the sky above Baldur's Gate. You catch Astarion just sitting on the ground and watching it, and you sit beside him. He doesn't take his eyes off the sky, and his expression is difficult to decipher... is he in awe, or sad, or just spacing out? You realize this is likely the first rainbow he can ever remember seeing, and that he knows it most likely will be his last. You sit together in silence as he grips your hand tightly, and stay there until the rainbow has faded away completely.

Astarion & Love Bites: Astarion gets bitey when he's feeling frisky, or hungry, or just affectionate. Like a cat. You'll be cuddling or play wrestling with him and he'll start giving you little love nips. Not enough to break the skin, though they often tend to lead to that if you let him. Sometimes he accidentally bites a little harder than he meant to, and to make it up to you he'll kiss the spot better. Sometimes you'll be praising him or saying sweet nothings and his brain will just short circuit, and instead of coming up with anything to say back, he'll find it irresistible to just grab you and give you a happy little nibble.

Astarion Proposes: Astarion has never felt the least bit sentimental about marriage, but then again, he's never loved anyone like you before. The idea of you being his legally, forever, definitely has given the tradition a newfound appeal. Plus, it would be a good excuse to throw a lavish party. He takes you out to a beautiful, remote location where the stars are fully visible, and you lay together under the beautiful night sky, taking it in. He clasps your hand and with his roguish dexterity slides the ring almost imperceptibly on your finger. You notice the coolness of the metal and look to see what he's done- and oh my gosh, it is an absolutely gorgeous looking ring. Very ornate and regal looking, with diamonds and rubies. He gets down on one knee and proposes to you with tongue in cheek theatrics, before ending it with a quietly earnest plea to marry him and spend the rest of your lives together.

Of course you say yes... just don't ask where he got that ring from. Something tells you he probably didn't pay for it. "Oh, never mind that... you like it, don't you?" But if you push him- "Fine. If you must know, it belonged to an undeserving couple in the upper city with more money than they know what to do with, and a marriage that surely won't last. We'll make far better use of it than they ever could." If your Tav is a do-gooder, you might have an argument about this, and make him return the ring. Then he'll buy you a new ring with the reward money he got for 'finding' the 'missing' ring. Old habits die hard, okay?

Astarion & his Mirror: Astarion asks you a lot for feedback about his appearance. He really likes it when you play with his hair or rough it up after a night of passion, but afterwards he'll fix it back up again right away. He'll always ask you if it looks good, even though after 200 years of practicing without a mirror he already knows it does.

After he drinks from you, he'll wipe the blood dribbling from his lips with the back of his hand and ask if he got it all off. More than occasionally, he just ends up with a big smear of blood across his chin after doing this, which you are happy to wipe off for him.

You like to go shopping together, and he loves trying on clothes- while asking you lots of questions about how they look on him. Does the color suit his complexion? Is he more of an autumn or a winter? Does it flatter his figure? Does he look better in silver or gold jewelry? He takes your opinions on these matters seriously. He's still figuring out who he is as a free man, and how he presents is a big part of that to him. It's less overwhelming for him to have the feedback of a trusted person guide him through it, but you try to push him to make his own choices as much as possible.

Astarion & Poetry: Astarion feels strongly about poetry. Surprisingly strongly, once you get him on the subject. There are lots of poets he considers to be hacks that only write sentimental claptrap. But other poems he knows by heart and will passionately recite them for you with the zeal of a bard. He likes old, dark and enigmatic poems, ones that capture his own feelings and struggles better than he can express in his own words. If he knew of our world's poetry, he'd probably consider Invictus a favorite. (bonus thought: Halsin would probably really like this poem)

Astarion & Cooking: Back when you and your companions were all traveling and camping together, Astarion was feeding on you regularly so he could be strong in battle. But seeing the effect this was starting to have on you roused some concern in him. He can't have his favorite blood supply get too low in iron! So one morning, Astarion gets up before you to cook breakfast, to help replenish your strength after a particularly... draining night together.

The trouble is, he's never really cooked anything before that he can remember, and has no idea what he's doing. Gale catches him putting a half-burt, half-raw, unseasoned pork loin on a plate and asks him why he's making food. When he tells him it's for Tav, his eyes go wide. "Gods, are you trying to kill them?! Here, let me show you how it's done..." After much bickering, and Gale struggling not to go full Gordon Ramsay on Astarion for being so clueless, they manage to make a decent breakfast together.

You wake up to a pleasant surprise and Astarion is quick to take all the credit before Gale butts in and says "Ahem! Actually, we made you breakfast. Well, mostly me. If it weren't for my culinary expertise, Astarion would have effectively poisoned you. You're welcome." Astarion shoots him a glare, but deep down he is appreciative that you got to have a nourishing meal one way or another.

Astarion & Gift Giving: Astarion is great with his hands- he has beautiful handwriting, is deft with a needle and thread, and wields his weapons with much flair. He gets fidgety when his hands aren't busy, so often when relaxing he'll be doing something with them. He fidgets a lot with coins, rings, his daggers and whatever else he happens to have on hand. He discovers he has a knack for making little things, and he has the perfect excuse to now that he has you around. You'll find him shyly gifting you all sorts of intricately made little knick knacks- embroidered handkerchiefs, crocheted scarves, precisely folded origami. Often times, he just leaves them on your pillow without a word. Maybe Halsin even turns him onto whittling. It's oddly relaxing for him, and refreshing to be a little generous for once. To you only, of course.

Thanks so much for reading! <3

[justcallmefox89]

Submission: Chapter Two - Consequences

Drakul has reached the end of his very limited patience with a certain wizard.

It had been four days, four bloody days, since Drakul and his merry group of misfits had appeared at the Grove with wild promises of aid against the druids and the goblins.  But as far as Rolan can tell the under-elf hasn’t accomplished anything of note.  Oh, he’s charmed the other tieflings surely, especially Cal and Lia.  And he manages to flirt with Dammon every chance he gets, flustering the usually oblivious weaponsmith until he’s a blushing mess.  Not that Rolan cares who Drakul flirts with, of course he doesn’t.

What he does care about is the way Drakul looks at him, watches him when he thinks Rolan doesn’t notice.  The way the drow’s eyes linger over his form, drinking in every inch of his body like it’s water and he’s a man dying of thirst.  And when Rolan dares to meet his eyes Drakul smirks at him, impish and lascivious, crimson eyes widened in faux innocence.  It’s maddening, the reactions Drakul can tease from him with just a look… and even more infuriating is that Rolan finds himself enjoying the attention, even searching out Drakul’s flirtatious gaze on occasion, eager to once again feel the heat that races over his skin every time their eyes meet.

With considerable effort Rolan wrenches his thoughts away from Drakul and back to more immediate concerns, namely getting himself and his siblings to Baldur’s Gate as soon as possible.

“We should have left by now!  Damnation!” he growls for the umpteenth time, scowling at his siblings.  “Instead we’re just sitting here- practically begging to be attacked.  Staying is a mistake.”

His sister glares right back, ready to retort but is interrupted by approaching footsteps.

“You’re doing the right thing,” Karlach says, hefting her battle axe on her shoulder.  “The tieflings need help.”

“And what about us?” Rolan argues.  “There’s every chance we’ve doomed ourselves by helping these people.  We will end up fodder for some goblin’s blade – all because Lia insists on helping every wounded foal we see.  Our best chance is to make it to Baldur’s Gate own our own.  This place is lost.”

Drakul snorts and mutters something in the drow tongue, too low for Rolan to make out, but the tone is clearly disparaging.

“Something to add?” Rolan sneers.

Drakul laconically shrugs one shoulder and continues cleaning bloodstains from his sword with a damp cloth.  He pointedly avoids Rolan’s gaze, refusing to acknowledge the patronizing tone of the wizard’s voice.     

“Why the rush to leave?” Gale, the human wizard and only sufferable member of Drakul’s company as far as Rolan is concerned, interjects.

Rolan sighs.  “My apprenticeship with Lorroakan begins shortly.  I cannot be late.”  He pauses to allow the revelation sink in.  “Yes, that Lorroakan.  The greatest wizard in Baldur’s Gate.”

Gale hums in contemplation.  “I’ve heard that name before.  A young man, yes?  Lives in Ramazith’s Tower in the Upper City?”

“The very same.” 

“Word in Waterdeep is that he’s a bit of a cad.  But you say he’s an accomplished wizard?”

“Of course he is!” Rolan scoffs.  “The greatest spellcaster along the Sword Coast.  As if I’d settle for a lesser mentor.”

“Of course he is!” Drakul mimics him, chuckling and sheathing his blade.  He rolls his eyes.  “You colnbluth are rarely as powerful as you believe yourselves to be.  ” 

“In that case, I’d very much appreciate it if you could arrange an introduction should we reach the city,” Gale cuts in, shooting Drakul a warning look.  “One can never have too many powerful acquaintances.”

“If it’s powerful acquaintances your after, you have to look no further than yours truly.”  Rolan preens, brushing down his robes.  “Few can match me – in either magic or talent.”

“Then by all means, oh great and powerful magus, please rid these wilds of all the dangers you will face on your journey to Baldur’s Gate,” Drakul drawls, lowering himself into a deep bow.  “Surely one so powerful as yourself will have no issues eliminating these obstacles posthaste.”

Rolan gasps, outraged.  “You dare speak to me-”

“I will speak to an arrogant child however I like,” Drakul replies calmly, straightening up and meeting his eyes.

Knowing their elder brother’s temper and the storm that will soon be coming, Lia and Cal take several steps away from the pair.  Barely a heartbeat later, Gale and Karlach follow them to safety.

“Arrogant child?” Rolan sputters, completely incensed.

“What else would you have me call you?  You sit here, behind the safety of these walls, whining and complaining.  You do nothing to aid your kin or assist in your escape from this place.  Oh you posture and you brag about how powerful you are, how easily you could vanquish the goblins… but like a child you cower behind the true warriors.  You disparage our efforts, my efforts, extolling your own virtues like a puffed up iblith, unconcerned with anyone or anything else.  Do you think I choose to be here?  That my companions and I are just on holiday, that we have nothing better to do than solve the problems of other people?  You take for granted the fact that we give over our might and our talents to your cause and have agreed to protect you and your people.  Thankless, egotistical child.”  Drakul steps toe to toe with Rolan, so close that their chests brush together, and stares down at him with cold, furious eyes.

Rolan grits his teeth, his anger flaring even as his traitorous body responds to Drakul’s close proximity.  He breathes in deeply in an attempt to calm himself, but only succeeds in dragging more of Drakul’s delicious scent into his nostrils.  Beneath the smells of sweat, musk, and blood, which even under pain of death will Rolan never admit that he finds deeply erotic in their own profane way, he smells the scents he associates only with Drakul… night-blooming flowers, sandalwood, and evening twilight. 

“You pompous, self-important, high-handed bastard!” Rolan hisses.

Drakul lashes out, catching Rolan’s jaw firmly with one hand.  He tilts Rolan’s face up so that he can stare directly into his eyes.  Rolan flushes a deep burgundy as his cock thickens in his trousers, licking his lips and involuntarily swaying closer to Drakul, painfully aroused by even this fleeting touch from the drow.

Something Rolan can’t quite decipher flashes across Drakul’s face, but it is quickly replaced by stern, uncompromising authority.  He leans towards Rolan, bringing his mouth close to the tiefling’s ear.  Rolan shudders and his cock grows even harder as Drakul’s warm breath ghosts over the sensitive shell of his ear.

“Usstan'sargh wael!  I am Drakul’ayne, eldest son and weapons master of the noble and honoured House Barri’mtor.  I am a lord, and you will give me the reverence I am due.  Am I understood, little wizard?” Drakul growls, his deep voice rumbling low in his chest.

Rolan nods wordlessly, for once eager to obey another.  To please. 

Drakul draws back, a faint smile on his lips as he carefully studies Rolan’s face.  “I asked you a question, Rolan.”

“I understand,” he answers, nodding rapidly.

“I understand, what?”

Rolan scowls, realizing what Drakul wants but reluctant to give it to him.  He hesitates long enough for the smile to slip from Drakul’s face, replaced by a look of disapproval. 

“I understand, my lord!” Rolan blurts out, tension seizing him at the thought of disappointing the paladin.

Drakul smiles at him then, bright and dazzling, releasing his jaw and gently brushing the backs of his fingers against Rolan’s ridged cheek.  “Good boy,” he murmurs.

Rolan flushes with equal parts shame and pride at the praise.

“Uh, Drakul?” Karlach call hesitantly, shuffling from foot to foot.  “We need to get going.  Astarion is waiting.”

Drakul huffs and rolls his eyes.  “And just when we were getting somewhere,” he grumbles under his breath, taking a small step away from Rolan.

Rolan mourns the sudden loss of his heat and internally curses Karlach, wishing for nothing more than to keep basking in Drakul’s presence, reveling in his fleeting touches and authoritative words.

“Be good for me, little wizard,” Drakul says, tapping the tip of Rolan’s nose with his forefinger, the seemingly innocuous words a thinly veiled command.

“I… um…yes,” Rolan stutters.

Drakul wordlessly arches one white brow.

“Yes, my lord,” Rolan quickly amends.

Drakul’s eyelids flutter and he releases a quiet, slightly obscene groan, just loud enough for Rolan to hear.  “Such a good boy,” he whispers, before turning and quickly rejoining his comrades.

Rolan stays rooted to the spot, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he gasps for breath, aroused and furious.

How dare he?!  How dare he speak to me like that!  And what the hells is wrong with me that I… that I…

Rolan huffs and crosses his arms, unable to even finish the thought.  Cal and Lia approach him slowly, trying to gauge his mood.

“So uh… that was something,” Lia says slowly, biting back a smile.  Cal elbows her, unable to conceal his own smirk.

“Oh shut up!” Rolan snarls, shoving past his annoying siblings, eager to find some place where he can be alone and sort through the confusing jumble of feelings and thoughts Drakul has awakened within him.  He unobtrusively tugs at the front of his trousers, annoyed to find himself still hard and wanting.  Yes, some place with a bit of privacy would be welcome right about now.

[gale-force-storm]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love 💕

This is such a sweet idea! Thanks for thinking of me 💕

More Than I Hoped For - He refuses to fall for the first person to show him kindness. He may be feeling sorry for himself, but that's a bridge too far. An introspective drabble exploring Gale's changing feelings for Tav from when they pulled him from the stone through early act 2. Gale x gn!Tav

Crushing - Karlach convinces Morrigan (Tav) to crush a watermelon between her thighs, and Gale has an unexpected reaction. A conversation ensues. The second time it happens, the results are much more enjoyable. Gale x named fem!Tav. NSFW

New Perspective - Literally just 1300 words of face sitting. Gale x fem!Tav. NSFW

Want You Back - Tav visits a temple of their former lover, only for the god himself to make an appearance, and a request. God!Gale x gn!Tav angst

And of course, Devoured - You thought it would be a great anniversary gift, letting Gale tie you up and do whatever he pleased with you. What you didn't expect (foolishly, in hindsight) was for "whatever he pleased" to mean spending literal hours using that practiced tongue of his to take you apart. Gale x fem!Reader. NSFW

[bardic-perdita]

Breoch party banter with companions

I put this together a while ago based on the Tav Ask game from before. Here is what Breoch's banter with the other companions would be. It's pretty long, so I'll stick it all under a read more.

Warning for flirty drow banter and dirty jokes.

Banter with Astarion

Astarion: You don't wear much armour, do you darling? 

Breoch: I am the great grandchild of a dragon. Draconic magic flows through my veins, my body thrums in harmony with the weave, and my scales cannot be pierced. I do not need armour when I am magic incarnate. 

Astarion: *(scoffs)* you are "magic incarnate"? And yet you still bleed...

Breoch: Magic blood is still blood...fortunately for you, my precious vampire.

Astarion: so, are drow really that obsessed with bondage?

Breoch: Most of them are, but not all. Personally I find it all a terrible bore. Once you've been to one bondage orgy, you've been to them all.

 

(High approval)

Breoch: We really should be more careful, darthiir. People might start to think we like each other. 

Astarion: Oh? And how do you suppose we change their minds, darling? 

Breoch: Hm...you could try holding a dagger to my throat again? 

Astarion: We could, but I fear you'd enjoy that too much. 

Breoch: True, I am in love with danger it seems. And I cannot resist a man who knows how to wield his weapon. 

*(Pause before both Astarion and Breoch burst out laughing)*

Astarion: Gods, that was terrible! 

Breoch, through laughter: I know, I know...

Banter with Gale

Breoch: It must be strange for you to be out and experiencing the world, rather than just lecturing about it, wizard. 

Gale: You shouldn’t underestimate the pleasures of a wizard's life, I've had my fair share of practical experience. Though, not as much as you've had I'll wager.

Breoch: Probably not, while you were stroking spines, spreading books, and thumbing pages, I was stroking spines, spreading legs, and thumbi—...

Gale: I think I've heard quite enough, thank you! 

Breoch: I could write down my raunchy tales for you instead. I know how you wizards so love to read. 

Gale: Have you ever been tempted to pursue a wizard’s education, Breoch? 

Breoch: No, never. I have more innate magic in my little finger than most wizards can control with their entire bodies. 

Gale: True, but what good is a magic finger if one does not know how best to wield it? 

Breoch: Pretty good, I’ve found. For some people, a finger or two is more than enough to create ‘magic’. 

Gale: …I suppose I walked into that one, didn’t I?

Banter with Wyll

Wyll: You act cold, but I saw how you protected those tiefling children. You do have a soft heart underneath all that Lolth-sworn cruelty.

Breoch: Save your naïve platitudes, abban. Some of us truly are as wicked as we appear. 

Breoch: I caught you practicing a few dance steps the other night. Is that truly how nobility on the surface dance at their parties? 

Wyll: Ah, well, most dances are for pairs so it does make practicing alone pretty difficult. It would look much better if I had a dance partner.

Breoch: Hm… well, if you wanted somebody to practice with then you need only ask. The style of dancing in Menzoberranzan is very different, but I am a quick learner. 

Banter with Lae'zel

Lae'zel: Your silver tongue is almost as dangerous as a Kith'rak's silver sword. 

Breoch: That almost sounded like a compliment, pyrimo*. 

Lae'zel: What does "pyrimo" mean? 

Breoch: Don't you worry your pretty little head about it. 

Lae'zel: T’chk! Patronise me again istik and I shall sever that ‘pretty little head’ of yours from your shoulders. 

Breoch: Noted...

(* Pyrimo: a small, fierce fish with sharp teeth and powerful jaws; a treasured delicacy in Menzoberranzan [drow dictionary])

Banter with Karlach 

Karlach: You know, I don’t feel like I really know you Breoch. Like, I know you’re a fancy sorcerer who’s drop-dead gorgeous and can charm the pants off of anyone, but…that’s it.

Breoch: Why would you ever want to know more than that? 

Karlach: Oh come on, there must be more to you than just a pretty face. 

Breoch: Of course, but nothing worth knowing about, my friend. 

Breoch: If I could give you my heart to replace your infernal engine, would you want it? 

Karlach: I'd do just about anything to get rid of this thing, but I wouldn't take your life. 

Breoch: Oh, don’t worry about that. I have a spare one. It’s been preserved for 100 years in a jar. It was still beating the last I saw it.

Karlach: Huh…? Why? 

Breoch: I had a extremely messy break-up with a necromancer. It’s a long story. 

Banter with Shadowheart 

Shadowheart: So you also worship a goddess of darkness?

Breoch: Worship is perhaps too strong a word. My soul is sworn to her and I respect her. There is a reason we call her ‘Our Dark Mother’, I know better than to invoke her ire. Lolth’s wrath knows no bounds. 

Shadowheart: I think I understand what you mean…

Shadowheart: Lady of Sorrows guide us…

Breoch: Lady of Shadows protect us…

Shadowheart: My Dark Lady empower us…

Breoch: My Dark Mother watch over us…

Shadowheart: Lady of Loss soothe us…

Breoch: Uh…Spider-bitch give us a hand please? Sorry, I’ve never been one for praying. I'm usually doing something far more exciting if I'm down on my knees.

Banter with Jaheira

Jaheira: Save your breath, cub. I am far too old and grumpy to be interested in your frivolous flirting. 

Breoch: You are almost half my age, Jaheira, though I must say I’ve aged more gracefully. And you needn’t fear— my eyes and heart have been truly set on somebody else. 

Jaheira: Well, then I’m happy for you…grandpa. 

Banter with Halsin

Breoch: Are you feeling hungry, druid? I can feel your eyes devouring me. 

Halsin: Apologies, I didn't mean to stare. 

Breoch: Oh, I wasn't complaining. Stare all you like, but I assure you that I would taste much sweeter on your tongue than in your imagination. 

Halsin: *(Clears throat)* Perhaps I am feeling hungrier than I thought…

Halsin: Your choice of attire doesn't really leave much up to the imagination, does it?

Breoch: And yet I doubt that has stopped you from trying to imagine what might be underneath.

Banter with Minsc 

Minsc: When Boo first met you, he thought you were a very mean and cruel sorcerer. 

Breoch: What changed his mind? 

Minsc: Oh, Boo still thinks you’re mean, but we’ve just grown to like that about you. 

Banter with Minthara

Minthara: I am surprised that House V’ysse still stands. Your very existence is an affront to Lolth’s honour. 

Breoch: I am more surprised that someone from House Baenre knows of my humble family. 

Minthara: Of course we know of you. Your draconic brood has been a thorn in our side for centuries. You in particular were especially irritating. 

Breoch: I prefer the term ‘indomitable’, Mistress…

Breoch: My brothers would have loved this…

Minthara: You have more than one brother? Even one of you mongrels wouldn’t be fit for breeding, let alone many men of your ilk.

Breoch: Watch your tongue, Mistress. You can say what you wish about me, but dare breathe a bad word against my family and I shall show you why they call us ‘streeaka droc’uhs**’. 

(**Streeaka droc'uhs: Phrase meaning 'mad dragons' [Drow dictionary])

Banter with Shrike 

Shrike: There’s another one of those fluffy creatures with long ears. What are they called again? 

Breoch: You’re asking the wrong person, I’m afraid. 

Shrike: …it’s very cute. 

Breoch: It is pretty cute.

(After romance) 

Shrike: You look tired, love. 

Breoch: Hm? Do I? I suppose I have found it harder to properly relax of late…

Shrike: I’m sorry. 

Breoch: Oh no, it’s not your fault. You soothe my soul more than you realise. I feel much safer when I am in your arms. 

Breoch: Does your tail always wag like that? 

Shrike: No, it only wags when I’m happy.

Breoch: Really? But it seems to wag every time I look at you.

Shrike: Exactly. 

Breoch: Oh…you are a sweet fool. 

Banter with Zeke 

Zeke: So I had an idea—...

Breoch: Well, don’t think too hard. We wouldn’t want you hurting yourself. 

Breoch: You’re a few myconids short of a colony, aren’t you? 

Zeke: And yet I can still identify a bastard when I see one, drow. 

Zeke: Look Breoch, another humanoid you can flirt with! 

Breoch: Remember that while you need 8 hours of sleep, I only require 4. So sleep with one eye open, devil.  

[nysscientiafic]

opening scene of the Gale'zel fic

They find Zorru pacing in the Emerald Grove, shoulders up and hands wringing nervously. Lae’zel is as economical and precise in this as she seems to be in all things, immediately moving to an assertion of dominance.

“I’m afraid she’s quite serious, dear,” Astarion puts in airily, when Zorru’s eyes dart to the rest of them in shock.

Gale—isn’t quite sure how things progressed to this point so quickly, Lae’zel referring to the twist of blades with something like relish. But he bites his tongue, worried that any appearance of in-fighting between their odd little troupe would only prompt her to redouble her bullying.

Zorru moves stiffly from his awkward bow, lowering to his knees. He appears to be torn between keeping Lae’zel in his periphery and avoiding her gaze altogether.

The poor boy practically trembles while he answers Lae’zel’s questions. Gale stands as far back as he dares, flexing his hands and folding his fingers into loose fists, the seeds of cantrips dancing in his palms. This hectoring he can tolerate, perhaps, but should things escalate—

His ruminations prove unnecessary—for the moment—when Astarion and Lae’zel approach, leaving Zorru to flee their heckling.

“Are you quite sure you don’t want to gut him, darling?” Astarion asks, tracking Zorru’s exit with his eyes. “I could probably still catch him.”

“I am not your ‘darling,’” Lae’zel bites back, “and if you call me so again, I will cut out your tongue.” Then, to Gale: “The teethling proved both compliant and informative.”

Gale wishes, vaguely, that Shadowheart had stayed with them, rather than leaving to scout for somewhere to make camp. She hadn’t seemed particularly sympathetic to the refugees, but perhaps she would’ve—

“Hold on,” he hears himself say, mouth already moving before his mind has joined the venture. “Did you just say ‘teethling’?”

As though the mispronunciation was the greatest indignity inflicted today. Gale is surprised even at himself, a little.

Astarion, meanwhile, steps pointedly out from between Gale and Lae’zel, lips narrowing to a smirk.

He’s not wrong to anticipate some sort of fireworks: Lae’zel stops where she stands, giving Gale one of the most elaborate full-body eyerolls he has ever witnessed.

“I suppose you will be more cooperative once you have corrected me,” she says, sounding far more long-suffering than Gale feels he’s earned, for once. “Go on. Inform me of the local customs.”

“It’s not a custom,” Gale protests. “Just—accuracy of lexicon, I suppose. ‘Tiefling,’ is the correct pronunciation.”

Then he clenches his jaw and pauses, awaiting the heavy sighs and complaints of pedantry; perhaps even an abrupt end to the conversation.

Instead, Lae’zel narrows her eyes, seeming to consider him.

“Very well,” she says. “You will educate me on this Fay-run of yours.”

It’s quite a lot more surprising than if she had decided they were enemies after all.

“It’s ‘Faerûn,’ actually,” Gale replies, feeling brighter despite himself, and she doesn’t look pleased but she lets him speak.

Astarion tosses his hands in the air in disgust.

[tamedstray]

HALETH AND VIGOR (if they had a kid meme)

Name: Florian Hamil Xinthiri (or Florian of Waterdeep)

Gender: Cis male

General appearance: Tumblr sexyman Florian has his mother's dark hair with a brush of silver framing his face. Pale, but not as pallid as Haleth, with cool undertones and innate dark circles. While his green eyes are as brilliant as hers, he has his father's softness about them, and his pale patch in the left eye.

Personality: Curious and reserved, Florian likes to observe long before he states an opinion or makes a decision, patiently learning and listening with Stoic focus. He takes a lot of pride in his careful approach, which can turn to arrogance at times, stubbornly refusing to admit he's wrong until forced to. Lacks his father's loyalty, but has his honesty as Florian views lying as a waste of time, even getting into trouble for his blunt tongue.

Special talents (and weaknesses): 

+ Resistant to magic from the Shadow Weave. Fewer side effects when channelling the Shadow Weave.

- Healing from the Weave isn't as good as it could be, but not as bad as it is for Haleth. Struggles to channel the Weave, but is capable with support and practice, but could never be a great wizard. Difficulty sleeping.

Who they like better: He likes them both. He's closer with Vigor as a child, but starts to understand Haleth more over the years, finding her more interesting than his father.

Who they take after more: It's a fair blend. In appearance, he leans towards his mother, but in personality he takes after both of them whilst being his own person in the end.

Personal headcanons:

Often referred to as Sprout, starting from when he was a baby. If Florian ever brings up Vigor's ageing, Vigor will call him Sprout in good jest.

Vigor takes a job tending the academy gardens and greenhouses, taking young Florian with him. Antics include Florian getting grabby hands with dangerous plants, having the silence spell cast on them when he starts crying, and students casting invisibly on Florian which terrifies Vigor.

If Gale is a professor, he loves asking him questions. Uncle Gale. Bonus points if he's got a kid for Florian to play with.

Loves cats.

Has always struggled with falling asleep. Magic and potions help, but some nights he's really affected. Despite being curious and interested in learning, he also procrastinates, using his poor sleep patterns to pull all-nighters.

His drow heritage isn't obvious to most, but he's heard the insult ❝zenar (less than half)❞ plenty of times.

Channels any spite into extravagant and creative pranks.

High-magic horizon walker ranger. He loves magic, practically raised in Blackstaff, but was never going to be a great wizard. He loved learning from his mother and Gale, but also appreciated his father's efforts to teach him about the natural world. The thing that inspired him most, however, were stories of their adventure fighting the Absolute. Despite traversing the planes of Faerûn, Florian makes sure to visit home often — sometimes teleporting directly into the living room, somehow both singed and soaking wet.

Face Claim: Felix Mallard

[yostresswritinggirl]

Hedonists

@kookieyachi, you little biiiitch, you know I'm damn weak when it comes to youuuu *proceeds to strangle* Here's my drabble for a spicy mfm action with Red and Green Xiao, yes, it's legit them this time.

Pairing -> Red Xiao x Reader x Green Xiao

Word Count -> 1774

Themes -> Spicy, nsfw, go away please

Series -> I'm putting this in Sojourner

Credits : Header by @geeeee_ss from Twitter

Warnings -> MINORS BEGONE

The appearance of this... crimson version of Xiao was an anomaly beyond world's comprehension.

In all honesty, you and Xiao had zero clue on how to deal with this doppelganger of him, but there was only a slight bit of suspicion and not actual hostility between both parties. Perhaps it was because Xiao himself can tell by soul and spirit that this person was truly a copy of him.

From unknown origins. And he doesn't seem to be going back, no one knows how he would even go back at this point.

So, now there are two Xiaos in this world. To avoid confusion, Red Xiao (which was an awkward way to address him, despite the ease) offered to be called Alatus. It was a name bane to Xiao, but this version of him seem perfectly fine with it.

He resembles the public gentleness your Xiao seldom shows, with a permanent soft smile on his person no matter who he meets. Human contact is also something he's not avoidant to and more times than not, you were the victim of his assaults.

Even if Alatus was different in actions and appearance, he still resembles your lover and his soul. Perhaps it was no surprise that you'd gotten to like him, and that he had fallen for you.

"Xiao," you murmured as you turned to the teal one, his eyes lingering at the form next to you before meeting yours. He heard his other's confession and you expected him to lash out, to pull you away, and yet the gentleness seeps through.

You were taken aback as he let out an amused laugh, a sliver of a smile ghosting his lips.

"I am not suprised that even myself from another universe had come to fall for you."

And that was how you'd come in between the love of two adepti, you're thankful that they get along well to the point that they even dare fight back to back when duty calls.

And that's how you find yourself in this predicament.

Upper half of the body bent almost parallel to the floor as you clutched at the wall, gloved fingers interlocked between your right ones as it pins your hand to the wall. Alatus' other arm loops around your waist, clutching it tight so that your back end would meet his crotch in every thrust.

Through hazy vision from pleasure and unshed tears, you can see your tiptoes barely reaching the ground in the height he wants you to be.

Your unending moans had caused lewd drops of drool to drip down to your chin, saliva joining the small pool on the floor with the patch of sensual juices forming below.

His girth grazing against your walls makes your toes curl, pushing you closer to the edge as his pounding becomes more erratic, his grip on you tightens together with growls.

You barely remember what your prior objective was when coming here just an hour ago. And your train of thought is interrupted again as you felt your feet lower down to the wooden floor as Alatus leans down against your back, biting at your neck as a muffled growl travels from your skin to your spine.

You almost stumble when your shaky knees was suddenly tasked to hold your weight. Quickly the Yaksha's free hand finds its way to your stomach to push you back to him, "Mmm, careful, it seems your stamina has been depleted."

His hand pushed up against your stomach had also moved your walls against his length buried inside you, making it graze a sensitive spot you didn't know existed, enough to send you coming undone suddenly.

Your whimpers matched his feral growl as he climaxes in you, spurred on by the convulsing walls from the aftermath of your own orgasm.

"Good, good, darling. You did so good."

"What's going on here?"

A gust of wind sends your half-naked self into shivers as you were pulled up straight against Alatus' chest, the cold forcing you to hug yourself and press you legs together to shield the wetness below.

Coming back from eradicating another camp near the marsh, this was not at all what Xiao was expecting to see.

He'd known about his other self's desires that day before you arrived but he didn't expect the intercourse to happen at the balcony just by the walls of the Inn.

Xiao shoots a glare to the red one, who undoes his arms around your waist to raise it in mock surrender.

This caused your still recovering body to stumble to Xiao, whose aggressive words died down as he catches you in surprise- you felt his hand grip at one of your bottom's cheeks before he quickly moved his hand to grip at your hips instead. The action caused you to groan against for how sore your bum was from the earlier assault.

"Perhaps, some quality time between us three comes sooner than I expected. It's an opportune right now as our darling craves more." Alatus comes up behind once again to give you a gentle hug, slightly leaning you back for Xiao to gaze at.

Perhaps it was the dazed, flushed face from intoxicated pleasure or the way your collar was propped loose to show a portion of your skin and collarbone. Maybe it was also the hint of your familiar scent emanating from below, but his amber pupils dilated in arousal at the thought of taking in this way.

With another man.

He's heard of similar arrangements that mortals participate in, and he cannot deny that the thought had crossed his mind once or twice ever since the three of you entered this polyamory.

His gaze shifted from the mischievous smile of his counterpart to yours, inching closer as he swipes a gloved thumb under your eye, "Is this what you truly want?" Xiao asks meekly as your eye shuts from the contact, instinctively nuzzling into his palm.

Inside him aches from the adoring sight painfullt despite himself. And you simply nod, embarrassment manifesting on your cheeks that puts you to silence.

Soft yet chapped lips found yours almost instantly as Xiao worms his arms around your waist, the forceful kiss easily turning into a passionate one as his tongue pries your lips open. Although Xiao was not fond of touches normally, he's come to be an expert when it comes to conveying his love through kisses.

His tongue with a sweet aftertaste so familiar to your own found its way below, licking the underside of your tongue that coaxed out a muffled moan out of your throat.

Another set of lips came to assault your neck this time, humming against your skin as his hands crosses over, tugging at the cloth and accessories hanging by Xiao's waist to try and pull it down.

The action caused Xiao to pull away with a grumble, pecking your lips one last time before he summoned his polearm. Willing the winds once more, he sends a gale that shuts the doors to the balcony before throwing his spear behind him, the pole accurately fitting through the wooden handles - effectively locking it.

"We don't want any interruptions," he regarded with eyes low and shaded, already pulling off his garments as Alatus works to rile and wake you up to absolute consciousness. His hands roaming over your waist and thighs sends tingles of electricity over how sensitive you still feel, his length pulsing between your cheeks as if rejuvenated by the thought of doing it with all of you.

A mess of limbs later and you found yourself situated on his lap as he sat down at while Xiao supported your weak leg by the thigh to keep them open, the other held up by Alatus. This position felt so scandalous that it had you reeling in embarrassment. Your desperate attempts to hide making both of your men chuckle and pull your face out of hiding.

A light-mannered yet sultry voice coos by your ear, "Beloved, there's no turning back now from your own decisions, enjoy it with us," ending his statement with a bite to your earlobe as he pulls at your limb to spread your hole wider.

The hand that grips your jaw forces you to meet Xiao's golden gaze, "There is no need to hide, we love every part of you. Believe in my words, got it?"

And with an affirmation from you (Xiao is really careful with consent), the first onslaught of movement came.

There was searing pain in the way you're being stretched beyond what you were used to, and both of them did the best they can in being careful, hyperaware of the pained whimpers and rolling tears the sensation produced. The wetness from before and the initial stretch did little in helping, taking a moment longer than you wanted before it became comfortable, pleasurable.

Their precise movements rocked your hips and you're soon overwhelmed by the sensations, their members pushing against each others as they continue to stretch your walls. Grazing against it as it sends your spine into delicious shivers, Xiao's more dominating thrusts pulls you farther down to Alatus', to the point that he's bottoming out behind you easily as the mixed pre-cum coats and spills past your hole.

An unoccupied hand pulls at one of your nipples, experimentally rubbing the sensitive nub between its fingers as you threw your head back, moans reverberating against the wall of the inn before it was eaten by a kiss by Xiao.

"Don't be hngh,, too loud now."

His hand finds it way over your sex, thumbing your most sensitive spot in circles and calculated rubs, pressing down as your knees bucked.

It was so overwhelming, intoxicated by lust as each touch and thrust within you sends the heat in your belly rippling. And soon enough your hole tightens eagerly around their lengths as you cry out your climax, hips snapping and back arching as you ride out your high.

And not even a split second passes as another heat builds up inside you as they both speed up their ministrations, letting the tightness squeeze the pleasure out of them as they practically grind against it.

The pool of thick, transparent juices under you three grows as more wet splotches joins it.

The heavy scent, combined moans and pantings, and the unrelenting thrusts the both of them keeps up tells you that the aching in your legs would persist more than a day.

But as you came a second time at the sensation of their hot seed spilling inside and out of you, you realized you didn't care that much.

Sike, get cock blocked, bitches hehehe

@zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @traveler-lumine @nonniechan @creation-magician @hanniejji @gojos-baby @just-some-stars @volleybloop @kookieyachi @xiaophilia @bunniesrorange @anormalguyreader @scarletroseneko

[tryingmyves]

Girl All the Bad Guys Want

okay i won’t lie, i remembered this song exists and i could not get the idea of a badboy!iida out of my head

this is a bit self indulgent because i was definitely that girl in hs lmaoooo

anyhow hopefully y’all like it too

PAIRING: Iida x Y/N

cw: badboy!iida

✨ tagging the iida army: @coleluuviida + @saturnity + @peachiileaf ✨

You have a reputation at UA, mostly with the male students. It isn’t something you put effort into maintaining or even something you cultivated on purpose, but you’ve gained some notoriety amongst your peers. At first glance, you don’t seem too different from your female classmates. You certainly don’t feel superior or disparate from them, but you’ve also never quite felt like you belonged with them. You don’t excel at being soft and demure, and you refuse to shrink yourself down in order to make others more comfortable in your presence. You spit in the face of all the things typically expected of a lady. And frankly, you’re more than a bit awkward when you hangout with the girls from your class. They always invite you to their sleepovers and shopping trips, and try to engage you in their conversations, but you’re always worried about saying the wrong thing or accidentally offending them. You’re never really able to add anything of value when they talk about the boys in your class - a recurring subject. Mina knows everything about everyone in class; she loves to gossip. It’s like her horns serve as antennae and pick up on all the juiciest secrets. She is always interrogating the other girls about their crushes but you just never really felt that way about anyone. Honestly, you find the conversations about who likes who to be a bit boring. You typically end up hanging out with Bakugo, Kirishima, and the rest of that squad. Boys are just easier to be around. They don’t get offended at your crass comments and your sometimes gruff disposition looks outright friendly next to Bakugo. 

Your undeniably attractive appearance, unquestionable skill with your quirk, and nonchalant attitude have landed you in the sights of several of your fellow UA students. You are the embodiment of do no harm, but take no shit and something about you is intoxicating. Mina frequently jokes with you about how the entirety of the Bakusquad is duking it out to see who gets to ask you out first. You roll your eyes at her, convinced she’s imagining things. But in reality you’re just clueless. As cliché as it is, you really are the girl all the bad guys want. Too bad you didn’t want them back. 

What you didn’t expect with your tough exterior, competitive nature, and tendency to slack off on class work is that class rep, Tenya Iida, would want you too. God, not even he expected it but he had fallen hard. You frustrate him. You’re just as smart as Yaomomo or Todoroki, but you skate by in class. You don’t outwardly disrespect authority, but you won’t blindly accept orders just because someone says so. He thinks the rap metal music you listen to while training is abrasive and doesn’t understand why all your favorite artists sound like they’re mad at their fathers. He finally gave up on lecturing you on the fact that the fishnets you wear with your uniform are not regulation and he was still wrestling with how he felt about learning you were one of the students caught at a dorm party with alcohol a few weeks ago.  More than anything he hates that you’ve so effortlessly got him pining for you and you haven’t even noticed. Iida loves the rules! Order, structure, regulation - these are the things that Iida covets, so why was he craving the taste of your lips on his?

He is tired of silently lusting after you, and decides he’s going to try actively pursuing you instead. Tenya thinks that you like “bad boys” so as foreign as the concept is to him, he concludes he’s going to have to take on that persona. He starts off simply, making a playlist of songs he’s heard you blaring from your dorm. He eases himself into your music, starting with Linkin Park and Korn, before adding Incubus, Machine Head, and even some ICP to the mix. He’s hesitant at first… the music just sounds so hostile and aggressive to him. But soon he finds himself relishing the fierce energy the songs give him. Tenya gets why you train to this sort of music, his workouts becoming more intense than ever. They end in his chest heaving and his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. His muscular calves throb vigorously after every run and he feels powerful. It gives him a new found confidence that he strategically channels into his interactions with you. For class today, Aizawa simply instructs you all to pair off and spar. You’re about to ask Sero to partner with you when he approaches. 

“Y/N. You’re with me.” Tenya doesn’t ask, he’s telling you you’re his partner. 

A small sound of surprise leaves your throat at his unexpected forcefulness, but you don’t question it. You just nod, giving a small shrug to Sero before following the class rep to a vacant spot of the training gym. 

You look over your challenger, rolling your head on your shoulders a few times to loosen up. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you. You asked for this,” you smirk, bringing your fists up in a defensive stance. 

Before you can even blink, Tenya has closed the 10 foot gap between you, sweeping a long leg beneath yours in a circular motion, knocking you off your feet. You land with a thud on your back and the air in your lungs is forced out with a nmph. 

“Just try to keep up, Y/N.”

Oh, it’s on. Previously you found Iida’s flustered demeanor around you endearing. But this new, assertive, almost cocky disposition is irresistible. His momentum propels him in a circle while he stays anchored in place on his massive left thigh. As he finishes turning through the motion he reaches forward hoping to pin your arms to the ground, but you’re just getting started. You plant the palms of your hands on either side of your face and kick up from the ground with a boost from your quirk. The added flow of air thrusts your legs up and over your head so you are now standing once more. You are sure that the soles of your shoes connect with Iida’s face during your arch through the air. 

“It’s not going to be that easy, specs,” you taunt. Now it’s your turn. 

You launch yourself at Tenya, closing the small gap between the pair of you in an instant. He extends a locked arm to block your approach but you simply dip your head, gliding underneath and down the length of his limb until you are just one step behind him. You pivot on your right foot as you swing your left arm across your body. Your open palm lands just between Tenya’s shoulder blades, your natural momentum accompanied by a gale force wind. The impact knocks him off his feet and sends him toppling forward. Tenya’s speed is unmatched and his large frame is covered in tone muscle, but with the addition of the very air around you, your strikes are ferocious. Your air quirk aids in your mobility, but you’ve used it to master hand to hand combat. You dominate in tight quarters, so you just need to keep Tenya close. He’s already returned to his feet, calculating his next move. The moment ‘s hesitation creating an opening for your right shin to collide with his side. Tenya growls through gritted teeth in response to the blow and the feral vibrations send shivers down your spine. Instead of recoiling from your attack Tenya’s hands clamp onto your shoulders like vices. His brows are furrowed in smug determination, and he practically sneers “Recipro Burst!”

You are propelled backwards rapidly, the gym surrounding you flashing by in a blur, the only thing you're able to see clearly is the dark glint in Tenya’s eyes and the zealous grin on his lips. You try to activate your quirk to counter his momentum, but it’s futile, he is pushing you backwards so quickly you can’t manipulate any of the air whizzing past you. Your back is suddenly pinned to the back wall of the gym, Tenya’s large hands holding your slender wrists to the concrete wall. He places a muscular thigh between your legs so his left knee is pressed to the wall as well - he has you completely immobilized. Both of your chests are heaving, your faces no more than three inches from one another. You don’t know what possesses you but you smash your lips to his, desperate to close the miniscule gap between you.

Tenya’s body stiffens in shock for a moment before he opens his mouth, snaking his tongue past your lips. You wrench your hands from his grip, placing one on the back of his neck and tangling the other in the mess of his navy hair. You didn’t expect the class rep to be such an amazing kisser, but when he catches your bottom lip between his teeth you can’t contain the soft moan that escapes you. Tenya swallows your noises and begins to pull away. Your lips hungrily follow after him, but you’re stopped when one of his calloused hands rests on your neck with just enough force to hold you in place. 

“Such public displays of desire are unbecoming of future heroes, Y/N. Come to my room this evening and we can finish this privately.” And with that, Tenya separates himself from you completely, already settling into a stance that signals he is ready to continue sparring.