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That Dawg in me :

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Go My Rottweiler Go

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reblog if you need a hug

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Giving Laios an innocent belly rub after a meal would deffff make him instantly hard. He’d get soo blushy and embarrassed

Do you remember that time in the Living Painting when Laios like? Got that meal and dude was MUNCHING. Like, no manners he was just eating like a mfer. It’s so sexy for some reason ffs.

Seeing Laios…with his belly full. 🥺 After eating a good meal the way it pokes out is so 💞💞. His plush tummy is a lil distended as he’s all happy and tired.

And when you reach over and rub his stomach through his clothes he’s kinda shocked at first (didn’t expect it) but he steadily relaxes into the touch. Laios is blushing and a little embarrassed because like…he knows he can get pretty excited when he eats and he can eat a TON of food. But you tell him he’s so cute and you’re happy to see him eat his fill and you love him.

Yeah. He’s getting hard from that. It doesn’t take much from you to get him riled up and all that affection is going straight to his groin. He’s shifting in his seat and pulling down his shirt hoping you don’t notice the chub steadily growing in his pants.

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Dark!BG3 | Back in my arms

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Coercion, murder, forced memory loss, toxic relationship, power imbalance

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Now you have been found, your lover enjoys having you back in their arms, even if you don't.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Conqueror Minthara:

Dragged back to Minthara's grand house, you fought and defied at every point, your spirit a fierce flame that refused to be extinguished. The opulent halls, adorned with trophies of her conquests, were a stark contrast to the dungeon you were thrown into for your persistent misbehaviour, you believe the last straw was when you pushed her top commander off of a balcony when they instructed you to get ready for dinner. Dark and cold, the dungeons echoed with the tortured cries of Minthara's other victims, a symphony of suffering that filled the air with despair. Minthara would often visit you, asking if you had were ready to submit to her wholly and every time you kicked dirt at her, that answer enough.

Days turned into weeks, and your defiance remained unbroken. Every time Minthara descended into the darkness to see you, her presence exuding a blend of anger and twisted affection, she would ask if you were ready to behave.

"Have you learned your lesson yet?" she'd inquire, her voice a cruel mockery of concern.

And every time, you would glare at her, your voice hoarse from yelling abure at the guards but nonetheless unwavering. "Never."

She would sigh, a mix of frustration and amusement in her eyes, before leaving you to the darkness once more. She wouldn't tell you this but she wanted you more to herself than she did you wasting away in the dungeons, but she had a point to make.

The conditions in the dungeon were harsh. The damp, the cold, and the lack of proper food began to take their toll. You grew weaker with each passing day, your body starting to betray you even as your spirit remained defiant. The illness came slowly at first—a persistent cough, chills, and then fever. It grew worse, until you could barely move, your strength sapped by the relentless sickness.

When Minthara came to see you one evening, her expression shifted from cruel amusement to something akin to concern. She stood at the threshold of your cell, her eyes narrowed as she took in your weakened form.

"You look terrible," she said, her tone almost gentle. "Are you ready to behave now? To be treated with the care and comfort you once had?"

You managed a weak laugh, shaking your head. "I'd rather die, iblith."

Her eyes flashed with anger, but she turned and left without another word. The days that followed were a blur of fevered dreams and agonizing pain. At the worst of times you would picture the village burniung and at the best of time you remember when you and MInthara were blissfully happy. Though you were starting to confuse the two.

The cries of the tortured around you became a distant hum, replaced by the overwhelming ache of your own suffering. When Minthara next appeared, you were too weak to even lift your head. She knelt beside you, her fingers cool against your burning skin as she checked your pulse.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered. "You're no use to me dead."

She sighed and stood up, her eyes never leaving your face. You breaths came in choked sputters. Sweat dripped from your brow.

"I can heal you, you know. I can make all this pain go away. All you have to do is obey me, my love. Just submit. Be my wife again."

In your delirium, her words seemed to echo in your mind. The word wife, burned into your brain and the pain, the suffering—it was all too much. You wanted it to stop, you wanted to go back to your fever dream. For the first time, you felt a flicker of desperation, a desire for the agony to end.

As she turned to leave, you pushed your pride aside and found the strength to reach out, your fingers brushing against her boot.

"Wait," you rasped, your voice barely audible. "Please..."

Minthara paused, her eyes widening with surprise and satisfaction. She knelt beside you again, her hand gently lifting your chin so you could meet her gaze.

"Are you ready to behave?" she asked softly. You nodded weakly, the fight draining out of you.

"Yes," you whispered. "Just make it stop. Please."

A triumphant smile spread across her face as she scooped you up effortlessly in her arms, a d as Minthara carried you from the cold, damp dungeon, your body felt like dead weight in her arms.

The journey through the opulent halls of her grand house was a surreal contrast to the darkness you had endured for weeks. Candlelit chandeliers cast flickering shadows on the marble floors, and tapestries depicting her conquests adorned the walls like trophies. You oculdn't help but melt into her arms. The way she held you so securely, the way you nestled into her chest to shy away from the harsh lights of the upper echelons of the house. Despite your weakened state, you couldn't help but notice the admiring glances and whispers of her servants as she passed by, triumphantly displaying her captured prize.

You were taken to a lavishly appointed chamber, where a large marble bath awaited. Minthara gently lowered you into the warm water, the soothing heat seeping into your chilled and feverish body. You leaned back against the edge of the bath, your muscles relaxing for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

Minthara knelt beside the bath, her hands cupping water to pour over your hair, washing away the grime and sweat that clung to you. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, her fingers massaging your scalp with a tenderness that seemed at odds with her usual ruthless demeanor.

"I've missed you," she murmured, her voice low and filled with a mixture of possessiveness and longing. "You have no idea how much."

You closed your eyes, the warmth of the water and the rhythmic motion of her hands lulling you into a state of semi-consciousness. The lines between past and present blurred in your fevered mind, memories of happier times intermingling with the pain and suffering of recent weeks.

When the bath was done, Minthara wrapped you in a soft towel and carried you to the large bed at the center of the chamber. She laid you down gently, arranging the pillows behind your head so you could rest comfortably. She sat beside you, her hand brushing the damp strands of hair from your forehead.

"You're going to be alright, my love," she whispered, her voice a soothing murmur as if she hadn't inflicted this upon you. "I'll take care of you."

You looked up at her, seeing a vulnerability in her expression that you hadn't witnessed in a long time. It was a stark reminder of the complexity of her emotions, the love and possessiveness twisted with a fierce determination to keep you by her side.

As you lay there, weak and vulnerable, Minthara continued to tend to you. She fetched a healing potion from a nearby table and gently helped you drink it, the magic within it working to ease your fever and heal your weakened body. Her touch was gentle yet possessive, her fingers lingering on your skin as if afraid you might slip away from her again.

"You are my wife. You belong with me," she murmured, her voice a fervent declaration. "You always have and always will."

Her words echoed in your mind, a reminder of the bond that had once been between you, now twisted and tainted by pain and dominance. Yet, in your decrepit state, her presence offered a strange comfort. You were no longer fighting against her, but surrendering to the inevitability of her love.

As Minthara climbed into bed beside you, pulling the covers over both of you, she held you close, her arms a protective cocoon around you. You could feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against your back, a reassurance of her presence.

"I was a mess when I heard you had ran from me," she whispered in confession, her lips brushing against your ear. "But despite all your misgivings, my love for you has only grown. I can assure you, you will never leave my side again."

Minthara pressed a firm kiss against the side of your head and continued ot hold you. You closed your eyes in resignation, exhaustion finally overtaking you. In the darkness behind your eyelids, you saw flashes of the village burning, of the dungeons and the pain. But with every whisper of affesction and possession from Minthara, the memories blurred before being dispelled completely as you finally submitted to slumber.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

You stirred beneath the silk sheets, your sleep fractured by nightmares you couldn’t quite remember upon waking. Night after night, these dreams clawed at your subconscious, filling you with an overwhelming sense of dread and unease.

One particularly restless night, the nightmare was more vivid than ever. You dreamt of dark corridors and whispered voices, of a cruelty that left you breathless with terror. You felt the cold hand of a specter covering your mouth, the oppressive force of its magic twisting your mind and plucking at your emotions like strings on a harp.

You woke with a start, drenched in sweat, your heart pounding against your ribcage. Tears streamed down your cheeks, and your breaths came in shallow gasps. Shadowheart, ever alert, was immediately at your side. She gathered you into her arms, holding you close as you sobbed uncontrollably against her chest.

"Shh, my love," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm. "It’s just a nightmare. You’re safe now, with me."

Despite her comforting words, a gut-wrenching feeling of unease gnawed at the edges of your mind. You couldn’t shake the sensation that something was profoundly wrong, though you couldn’t place what it was. Your memories were a foggy haze, filled with gaps and inconsistencies that you couldn’t quite grasp. Shadowheart's fingers stroked your hair gently, her touch both possessive and reassuring.

"Everything is okay," she whispered. "As long as you stay by my side, nothing can harm you."

Her words, though meant to comfort, felt like a cage, a reminder of a confinement you couldn’t quite remember but instinctively felt. You tried to push the feeling away, to focus on the warmth of her embrace, but your mind kept returning to that sense of flight or fight, that primal instinct screaming that something was amiss.

"Why do I keep having these dreams?" you asked, your voice trembling with confusion and fear. "Why do I feel like this?"

Shadowheart tightened her hold on you, her eyes glinting with an unreadable emotion. "I do not know my love," she lied softly. "But I will protect you from those fears. You belong here, with me."

You nodded, trying to absorb her words and let them comfort you. The love you felt for her was undeniable, an all-encompassing emotion that overshadowed the lingering doubts. Yet, the dreams persisted, and so did the feeling of unease, like a dark shadow lurking just out of sight.

"Do you trust me?" Shadowheart asked, her eyes searching yours.

"Yes," you whispered, though the word felt heavy on your tongue.

"Then rest, my love," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "I will keep you safe."

With a sigh, you allowed yourself to be lulled by her soft whispers and tender touch. The warmth of her body against yours and the rhythmic motion of her fingers in your hair slowly eased the tension in your muscles. The unease lingered, a quiet whisper in the back of your mind, but you couldn’t deny the comfort of her presence.

As you drifted back into a fitful sleep, Shadowheart held you tightly, her eyes filled with a possessive determination. She knew the power she held over you, the magic that had twisted your thoughts and memories, binding you to her. And she would use that power to keep you by her side, no matter the cost.

The nights would continue, filled with fragmented dreams and a gnawing sense of unease. But as long as you remained in Shadowheart's arms, you would be safe - you assured yourself. And in the darkness, as sleep claimed you once more, you clung to the love you once felt for her, unaware of the true nature of your captivity, bound by a spell you couldn’t remember but couldn’t escape.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambition Gale:

In the realm Gale had created, a place of grandeur and opulence, you found yourself a minor deity—lesser in power and influence, a mere reflection of Gale’s omnipotence. He had promised you a place beside him, but this was not what you envisioned. Your divine essence was that of a muse, yet not the sweet inspiration of art and creativity. Instead, you embodied a point of fixation and obsession, an eternal prisoner of Gale's ideals, your cage gilded and beautiful, yet suffocating.

Gale often held you in his arms, a possessive embrace that felt both tender and imprisoning. Together, you would listen to the prayers of mortals seeking inspiration, productivity, and more than they deserved. These prayers, driven by greed and selfish desire, seemed to amuse him greatly. He relished the thought that many mortals yearned for you, desired the touch of your divine influence, yet you were his alone.

"Listen to them," Gale would murmur, his voice a smooth blend of affection and pride. "They all want you, but they can never have you. You are mine, forever."

You would nod along, feigning agreement, but your heart ached with every passing moment. You were more than just an object of Gale's obsession, a trophy to be displayed. As you listened to the endless stream of prayers, you began to discern a different kind of plea. Hidden among the voices of greed and ambition were the prayers of those trapped in their own gilded cages—mortals who sought freedom from their obsessors, who yearned to break free from the chains of fixation.

In the quiet moments, when Gale's attention wavered, you would grant these desperate souls the strength they needed. You whispered words of encouragement, sent subtle waves of resolve, and instilled a sense of determination within them. You helped them find the courage to fight for their freedom, to succeed where you could not. Each act of defiance against their imprisoning forces became a silent rebellion, a spark of hope that you nurtured from afar.

Gale, in his ambition and arrogance, never realized the true extent of your influence. He was too fixated on having you in his arms, on possessing you completely. He reveled in the knowledge that you belonged to him, oblivious to the silent rebellion you fostered within the hearts of the mortals.

One evening, as he held you close, his fingers gently tracing patterns along your skin, you heard the prayer of a young artist, a woman trapped in an abusive relationship with her mentor. Her plea for strength was raw and heartfelt, a cry for liberation. You closed your eyes, focusing your divine power on her, infusing her with the courage she needed to break free.

"What is it, my love?" Gale asked, sensing your distraction.

"Just a prayer," you replied softly, your voice steady. "A plea for inspiration."

He smiled, satisfied, and pulled you closer. "Good. Let them yearn. Let them desire. They will never have what I possess."

As he drifted off to sleep, his grip loosening, you continued to listen to the prayers of the desperate, the trapped, and the yearning. You granted them strength and resolve, knowing that each act of defiance against their obsessions was a victory, a step toward the freedom you could never attain.

Your existence had become a paradox—a muse of fixation and obsession, yet a silent liberator for those who shared your plight. Gale, blinded by his own ambition and desire, never saw the true extent of your power. He believed he had you completely, but in your heart, you knew that your true legacy lay in the strength you bestowed upon others.

And so, you remained in Gale's arms, a gilded prisoner in his realm, but your spirit roamed free, a beacon of hope for those who dared to dream of liberation.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ascended Astarion:

The tavern had become a distant memory, a fleeting glimpse of your former life. Now, you found yourself in a dark, opulent chamber, draped in silks and shadows, a testament to Astarion's newfound power and status. The room was a blend of elegance and darkness, its decor reflecting his taste for the finer things and his ever-present thirst for control. He had claimed you, his most favored spawn, and bestowed upon you the title of his dark consort.

Days blurred into nights as you resisted the monstrous hunger that gnawed at your insides. Astarion indulged your refusal to feed, amused by your stubborn defiance. He offered you the finest blood, collected from the most exquisite of donors, but you turned away each time, determined to cling to the last vestiges of your humanity.

"Such a stubborn little thing," he would murmur, his voice filled with a mixture of irritation and admiration and he would grab your jaw and tilt your head, "But I do love a challenge."

One night, as the full moon cast its eerie light through the tall windows, you found yourself growing weaker. The hunger was a constant, gnawing ache that left you trembling and light-headed. Astarion watched you with a predatory gaze, his patience wearing thin. What was once an amusement turned into an annoyance, you were not fun to play with, collapsed on the floor.

He approached you with a deliberate grace, his movements fluid and precise. Without a word, he scooped you up in his arms, your weakened state rendering you powerless to resist. Though you tried to protest he simply mocked you and carried on forward. He took you to his throne, an imposing structure of dark wood and velvet, and settled you on his lap. Your head resting against his chest as his cold hands caressed your face, tracing the lines of your jaw with an almost tender touch.

"You've tested my patience long enough, my darling," he said softly, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "If you won't drink from a golden chalice, then perhaps straight from the source will suffice."

Your heart raced as you realized what he intended. "Please, Astarion," you pleaded, your voice a trembling whisper. You tried to get away from him to move, but your hunger strike had led you powerless and Astarion held you in his arms with ease. "Don't do this."

Astarion's lips curled into a cruel smile, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. He beckoned, and a young adult human was brought before you, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and resignation. The scent of fresh blood filled the air, and your resolve wavered.

"Drink," Astarion commanded, his voice brooking no argument. "You need it, and I will not have my consort wasting away."

The human extended their wrist towards you, the pulse of their heartbeat a siren call to your starving senses. You hesitated, but the hunger was too powerful, too overwhelming to resist any longer. With a reluctant sigh, you grasped the offered wrist and sank your fangs into the tender flesh. The taste of warm, rich blood flooded your mouth, and you drank hungrily, your body reviving with every drop.

Astarion watched with a mixture of satisfaction and possessive delight. His hand stroked your hair as you fed, his touch both comforting and possessive.

"That's it, my dear," he cooed, his voice a dark lullaby. "Drink your fill. You are mine, and I will ensure you are always well taken care of."

As you drank, the human's life essence seeping into you, you felt a twisted sense of relief. The hunger was sated, if only temporarily, and the strength began to return to your limbs. But with it came the inescapable knowledge of your predicament, the realization that you were bound to Astarion in a way that went beyond mere affection or loyalty. You were his, and he would never let you go.

When you finally released the human, they unceremoniously crumpled to the floor, quickly dragged off to be sloppy seconds for the others under Astarion's thrall. You tried to get up to move, but a lidded satiation overtook you as your body took in what it had desired for so long. Astarion pulled you close, his lips brushing your temple in a mockery of tenderness.

"See how good it feels to accept your place, my little love?" he murmured. "You belong to me, and I will always take care of you."

Despite the horror of your situation, a part of you couldn't deny the comfort of his embrace, the seductive pull of his dark promise. As you nestled against him, the room fading into a blur of shadows and silks, you wondered how much of yourself you had lost, and how much more you were willing to surrender to the man you once loved, now a godling born of malice.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Naturist Halsin:

Days turned into weeks as you settled into the new grove, a pristine yet haunting reflection of the wilds that Halsin now commanded with a fierce and unyielding grip. The routine you adopted was one of quiet resignation, a means of finding solace in the monotony of daily tasks. You busied yourself tending to the grove, your hands working the soil and nurturing the plants that thrived under the druid’s watchful eye. The other druids kept their distance, their silence a tacit acknowledgment of your unique position in Halsin's domain.

Animals, ever-present and vigilant, became your constant companions. Their eyes followed you wherever you went, a silent network of spies ensuring that Halsin always knew your whereabouts. It was a constant reminder of your captivity, their gaze a chain that kept you bound to this new life.

Despite the isolation, you found small moments of escape in the pages of a worn book you had managed to keep hidden. When your chores were done, you would steal away to a secluded meadow, its vibrant flowers and tall grasses offering a brief respite from the ever-watchful eyes of the forest. One afternoon, you lay down in the soft grass, the book resting on your chest as you closed your eyes. The gentle hum of insects and the whisper of the breeze through the trees lulled you into a peaceful slumber.

Hours later, Halsin prowled the grove, a growing sense of unease gnawing at him. He had not seen you for some time, and though his spies assured him you were safe, his heart ached with a fear that you had somehow managed to escape again. His steps quickened, his eyes scanning the surroundings until he finally reached the meadow.

There, nestled among the flowers, he found you. Your face was serene, free from the usual tension and fear that had become your constant companions. Halsin's breath caught in his throat at the sight, a mix of relief and a deep, possessive tenderness washing over him. He approached silently, his movements as fluid and graceful as a predator stalking its prey.

Carefully, he lay down beside you, his arms encircling you with a possessive tenderness. The warmth of his body against yours stirred you from your sleep, and your eyes fluttered open. Panic surged through you as you realized who held you, and you began to struggle against his embrace.

"Hush," Halsin whispered, his voice a soothing murmur in your ear. "You’re safe, my heart. I’m here."

Your resistance waned as the exhaustion of your efforts and the gentleness of his voice overpowered your will to fight. You settled back into his arms, your body tense but no longer struggling. Halsin’s fingers traced delicate patterns on your skin, a touch that was both reassuring and a reminder of his dominance.

"I worry for you," he said softly, his breath warm against your ear. "When I can't find you, my mind races with fears of losing you again."

"You don't own me, Halsin," you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction.

He sighed, a sound filled with both frustration and affection. "I don’t wish to own you, but to keep you safe. The world is harsh, and I have seen too much destruction to risk losing what I love most."

A heavy silence settled between you, broken only by the distant call of birds and the rustling of leaves. Despite everything, a part of you yearned for the gentle druid you had once known, the man who had loved nature without resorting to violence.

As you lay there, the meadow’s tranquility enveloping you both, Halsin tightened his hold, his voice a low, soothing murmur. "Rest, my love. I will watch over you."

And so, you closed your eyes once more, surrendering to the inevitability of your situation. In his arms, you found a twisted semblance of peace, a fragile illusion of safety that masked the underlying turmoil. The meadow's beauty was a stark contrast to the darkness that had consumed Halsin’s heart, and as you drifted back to sleep, the boundaries between love and captivity blurred, leaving you in a liminal space of conflicting emotions and quiet despair.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Did some more Dark!BG3 to warm up my wiritng skills before tackling my inbox. Arranged Marriage! Minthara will be my next piece of own writing up.

Also massive thank you and hello to all of my new followers, I was so worried that going away would cause a quick death to my channel but all the love and support I have been receiving - gods I could cry. Apreciate y'all and hope you enjoyed this - Seluney xox

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that man is a dog! | TF 141

(dog-hybrid!141 x gn!reader, mdni 18+)

you've been assigned as the task force's new handler. but with a troublesome squad full of dog-hybrids that refuse to listen, you have to resort to working with them to get some good 1:1 bonding time. each member has their own unique skillset and training, and it's up to you to figure out what type of working dog you're with. even if you have to resort to some pretty... unconventional methods.

week one: gaz - down, boy!

week two: ghost - here, boy!

week three: price - stay, boy!

week four: soap - bad boy!

week five: 141 - oh boy...

*updates every friday of may - i'm a big liar lol they were all late

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i would like to hear your take on how the romanceable male companions would react to a teifling partner doing things like purring when around him, or wrapping their tail around his ankle when close to him.

Thank you so much for this request! Sorry it took a bit to get this out! I love teiflings so it only makes sense that I do this prompt at some point! This one may be a tad shorter than my usually ones, last bullet point is NSFW as always. Hope you enjoy!

Wyll

You both had been drinking and chatting late at night by the fire. You were feeling the drinks more than he was. The night has been the definition of perfection, you and Wyll swapping stories, maybe a few long glances…some lingering touches… As the night is getting later and the tiredness tries to consume you, but you're enjoying this so much…you don't want it to end… Wyll is getting done telling you another one of his valent stories, and that's when sleep decides to take you. Letting out a chuckle, you can't help but settle your tired head on his shoulder. Wyll feels his heartbeat race and confidence build from the liquid courage; it's the perfect opportunity to put himself out there, to make his feelings known. As he is about to ask if he can kiss you, he feels and hears a soft rumbling. Looking down at you, he sees you fast asleep, a smile on your lips, purring as you drift along to whatever is in your dream. Wyll adjusts slowly for you both to sit in a more comfortable position, your head resting on his chest with his arm wrapped around you, carefully brushing his fingertips along your arm, wanting not to disturb you. It truly was the perfect night. 

You're not one for dancing… but you are a fan of Wyll, so when he asked you to dance, you said yes without a second thought. Wyll led you through the dance to the best of his ability; he even managed to smile through you accidentally stepping on his foot multiple times. Slowly, you two managed to find your rhythm with each other. You started to feel more and more relaxed as the dance went on…till you started to hear groans and muttered, 'Excuse me,' That's when you noticed your damn tail was getting in the way as you swayed to the music, causing you to end up smacking it's against other couples on the floor. You quickly apologize and wrap your tail around your leg to continue your dance with Wyll. You look at Wyll, who is glaring at the person daring to say anything to you when his face looks surprised as he looks at you with a blush rising to his cheeks. You're confused until you feel it; in embarrassment, you wrapped your tail around the wrong leg…it was now tightly wound around Wylls. Completely mortified, you apologize and undo your appendage, but before you can, Wyll is pressing you closer, whispering in your ear, "Please.. don't move it…I enjoy feeling so close to you…" Biting your lip, trying not to scream in excitement, you keep your tail around his leg for the rest of the night per his request. 

You wanted to be careful…but you're finding it hard…Wyll just keeps bouncing you harder, making you take his cock deeper. The ridges slide perfectly against your aching walls, and you feel made for each other. Wyll smiles at your face so beautifully contoured as you get closer and closer to the edge of your next orgasm. Your sharp nails digging into his broad shoulders, so close to drawing blood. Wyll starts lifting your ass higher, his strength making it easy for him as he buckles his hips faster into you at a mind-shattering pace. You've already made a mess of his lap, but he's eager for more, and now your nails are fully dug into his shoulders… you're whimpering out an apology, but he keeps going harder. He acts like an angelic prince in the streets, but in the sheets, he fucks like a devil…

Gale

Gale is always an attentive partner and is always filled with surprises. Since you met him on your journey, he has been interested in learning more about you and your people. It was flattering; even though he was human, his eyes never looked at you with judgment or fear like others. Gale wanted to understand you, to be more connected to you. You couldn't imagine feeling more connected to your partner, but it's just like Gale to strive for more, ambition and all that… So the day he came up to you with a wide smile, you knew he had a surprise for you. Your tail sways excitedly, seeing the mischief in his eyes, "Is there a reason you are smiling so wide?" Gale grins before he speaks. His accent is perfectly deep, and his lips sound like pure velvet. He had been studying how to speak infernal with you, and from how he was expertly nailing the dialect, you remember that his tongue is… well practiced in more ways than one; of course, he would learn a language quickly. The way the slight growl rumbles in his chest makes you purr without you even noticing. Satisfied with himself, Gale kisses your cheek and then walks away to his study. Wizards…always so cocky…

Gale had asked you to play a game of lance board with him; the loser has to make dinner…and you are not very good at lance board despite all your best efforts to get better. You couldn't beat the damn prodigy you so happen to be dating. Now here you are, Gale, very clearly kicking your ass as you try to rack your brain for a plan, but despite your best efforts, you keep drawing a blank. Eyebrows furrowed, sharp teeth biting your bottom lip, Gale thinks he could sit here forever watching you so lost in concentration; despite your best efforts, you still haven't beaten him. Gale could offer you advice, but he would miss seeing your cute face curled in concentration like this. As he bites his tongue, resisting the urge to help you, he feels something curling around his ankle. Looking down, he sees you're so lost in thought you're unconsciously clinging to him. Gale feels his heart squeeze as he falls even more in love with you. The night ends with Gale cooking your favorite over the stove; he might have thrown the game…, but though he lost, he still feels like the winner as you do your goofy victory dance, then wrap him in a huge hug. Maybe he should lose at lanceboard more often? 

His pace is relentless…you blame the lack of companionship in the flesh for some time. Sure astral projection is fun, but there's something about a cock being slammed into you repeatedly that just can't be beaten… Gale keeps whispering praises under his breath then you feel his scratchy beard on your sensitive vestigial wings, soft lips kissing and sucking softly as his hips keep slapping into you over and over. You're getting overly sensitive by the minute. You try moving to adjust, but it's useless as Gale's hands hold onto you tighter. A loud moan leaves you as you feel a mage hand teasing your sex as his lips stay to your back; okay…maybe some projections are okay.  

Astarion

You have just finished your bath in the river, and now it is time to brush out your unruly hair. As you're about to tackle the challenge, you hear your tent's flap opening; turning around, you see Astarion with an unusually timid smile. "Already time for a feeding Star?" Astarion chuckles before responding, "No, no, darling, I just…um…could I help you with that?" He points to your comb. First, you're confused because he's usually not the selfless helping type, but you could always use the help with your hair. "Be gentle," you warn with a smirk, holding the comb out towards him. Astarion takes it and starts working on your hair; at first, it hurts slightly as he tugs through the knots, but he quickly changes methods by running the comb and his cool fingers through your hair in sections. Soon, you found he was brushing through your hair smoothly, done with the job but continuing the sweet, calming gesture. You lose yourself in it; then, a pur starts in your throat. As soon as you hear it, you try to stop feeling embarrassed, but Astarion, instead of teasing you, just whispers in your ear, "Just enjoy it darling…let yourself relax…" With that, you purr as the blush fills your cheeks, and Astarion continues brushing. You are smiling at the sound. 

You were having the time of your life at the tavern, feeling so lucky to be around your amazing friends without a single care. You had one too many and were currently enthralled by a story Astarion was telling you. You enjoyed being around Astarion, and it wasn't just because he was easy on the eyes, either. Astarion is smart and funny. Plus, you found he cared about you from how he talked to you when he didn't think the others were listening. He is so wonderful, and right now, in your tipsy state, all you want to do is express how much you appreciate him. So once he finishes his story, and you both share a laugh, you take a moment before you wrap your tail around his ankle; Astarion looks at you confused, and that's when you say what's been on your mind all night. "I appreciate you s-so much Star, I hope you know what you mean to me." Astarion looks at you, shocked for a moment, before he smiles and pats your hazy head, "I know darling…thank you." he pauses for a moment before he finally confesses what's been on his mind all night, "You mean a lot to me too…" 

Astarion has always had the problem of keeping his mouth off you…but today, it seems downright impossible. After feeding from you, his lingering didn't stop. Astarion kept his hands on your body, exploring every curve and bump with his fingertips. His lips and fangs trace over your neck as your body presses itself closer to him. Astarions hands start slowly teasing your aching sex as his tongue traces over your ridges. He's mumbling endlessly about your smell and your addictive taste. Right now, he's full, but maybe he will fuck you until he builds up an appetite.

Halsin

You have felt sore lately, and no matter how much you try to ease your body, you can't get this soreness to leave. After trying everything you could think of, you decided it was time to visit your favorite druid for healing. After meeting in Halsins tent, he examines you before explaining that he doesn't have a spell to heal your soreness, but you can try a massage. He offers assistance, and you would be a fool to pass up. Now, with your top off, lying face down in his fur-covered bedroll, his massive hands are working his magic to relieve your knots. The experience is so blissful you start to purr. As soon as you start, you stop apologizing, but Halsin chuckles, saying he likes it, "sounds pretty when you're enjoying yourself." his hands rub down your lower back, applying more pressure, making you bite back and moan. "I hope I get to hear more of it sometime."

Of course, you and your companions have been invited to another grand party in the city; everyone was excited to attend, and even Halsin was excited to participate despite him not being a fan of the city. "A chance to spend more time with you? I would be a fool to refuse." his words stirred your heart; Halsin always said sweet things to you like that. You knew he liked you, and you, of course, liked him too, but Halsin was waiting for you to get over your shyness and take your relationship to the next level…but of course, your nerves kept getting in the way of what could be a blooming romance. Tonight, you plan to change all that! It had been so good that you two had been laughing and flirting all night, and now it was time to initiate some physical contact…maybe something small… like a simple handhold. As you stand next to him, his hand at his side, it's the perfect opportunity…you go to reach for it, but then the slight adjusting of his stance makes you quickly retreat… then closing your eyes, you move your tail to barely be wrapped around his ankle. You wait a long moment before opening your eyes, your face feeling like its on fire. Then you look up at Halsin, his hazel eyes on you with the sweetest smile. You coil your tail a little tighter and step closer…

Halsin watches with practical stars in his eyes. You're gasping moans as you throw your head back with every roll of your hips on his massive cock. So deep…so filling…so perfect. "Cum." you mutter in your lust. Halsin can't seem to register your words from the utter bliss he feels from your walls, constricting his cock so perfectly. You grab his face, your eyes filled with burning lust as you repeat your demand, "Fill me up…cum in me, Halsin." Gods, how could he ever deny you? With a bruising grip on your hips and a rumbling growl from his chest, you feel that hot seed splashing against your walls. His cock throbs as he coats your insides with his seed. Fuck… he's perfect, your excellent mate trying so hard to make you full…before you can think, you're leaning down, plunging your sharp teeth into his shoulder. The indents from your mating mark will last days, and he can't wait to show off proudly.

Rolan 

While you are not properly dating, you two are always ending up in rather intimate situations. Like now, you two are sitting together on the couch next to the fireplace, sharing a book (you had insisted you two share). Your head on his chest as you absentmindedly play with the ends of his hair. At the same time, he tries to keep steady hands as you two read in silence. It's all so intimate and comforting that he can't help it when his body lets out a pur, closing his eyes and leaning into you more. Right as he realizes how intimate that is and how this is the first time he has cuddled you back and, worse, purred in front of you, he gets embarrassed. Rolan is ready to apologize, but before he can grab him, press his head to your chest and let him listen to your purring chest. Rolans pur starts back up, and he nuzzles and wraps his arms around you; you hug him back burying your nose in his soft hair and taking in his scent; you two forget your book, opting for the purring cuddle session instead. One of you may need to ask the other out already. 

Rolan hates the busy morning markets, but when you asked him to join you, he found that he just couldn't tell you no. Cal and Lia tell him you seem to be his only weakness; imagine if you two dated…Rolan shakes away the daydream of being completely whipped partner for you. As you two walk through the crowded market, he can't help but smile as you seem so excited by everything. After everything you two have been through, he's happy to see you enjoying yourself, and he plans to buy you at least one thing you pick out as a surprise. So, as he is picking up the pouch you have been admiring, he turns to you to find you gone. Rolan immediately goes into panic mode, calling your name and looking through the crowd for you when he feels something winding around his tail; turning around, he sees you smiling with two meat skewers and an apology from your perfect lips. Rolan can't help himself from grabbing you in a tight embrace, telling you not to scare him like that again. The meat skewers almost drop from your hands from his sudden hug, but you don't care; you wrap your arms around him and whisper a thousand apologies. For the rest of the morning, you two enjoy eating your food, looking at the different pop-up shops, your tails perfectly intertwined… it's almost like you two are a couple already…

It was inevitable that this would happen… it's just in your nature for this to happen…you and Rolan had been so careful, but today, your instincts got the better of you two… Rolan's sweaty body glistened as he kept ramming his cock in deeper and deeper, the feeling of his tail wrapped around yours…his musk blending with the mouth-watering scent of sex, sending you over the edge. When you feel the swelling at the base of his cock. You're supposed to let him pull out and let it coat your stomach…, but today, you kept your legs locked and wrapped around his waist as he lost himself rutting into you. Rolan arches your hips up as he continues to growl, his thrust getting sloppier and shallower as his cock swells, so determined to breed you. The stretch is so sweetly painful and right as he locks his cum spurts out, coating your burning hot walls with the soothing seed. Rolans, still steadying his breaths, he stays buried in you. He smiles shyly, apologizing for losing control and locking you two together. You pull him down to press his full weight on you, not caring how long you two will remain stuck together; you love being with him.

Haarlep

They wouldn't stop their teasing… sense the moment you meet them, Haarlep was determined to hear you purr. They stated it was their hobby to make powerful creatures purr for them. They must have heard a lot about you from Raphael's irritated ramblings of you. However, there is a complement to you from them calling you strong. As you were sitting waiting to conduct business with the master of the house, Haarlep was practically in your lap, cooing and begging to hear that sweet pur. Finally, you had enough and figured to do it quickly and be done with the embarrassing noise. Haarlep leans in their head so close to your chest when they hear the soft thrumming; Harrlep eyes get wide, and so does their smile. From all the purs they have listened to, yours was…so beautiful…As you sit, your face is a bright shade of blush. You try to avoid eye contact when you hear a chuckling and loud laughter. Feeling self-conscious, you push the incubus away, but before they can fall away from you, they catch themselves by your wrist. Their eyes are of a predator…but there is something else in them. "No more purring for you." you pout, which causes Haarlep to laugh more before sitting back at your side telling you not to be so sensitive to some teasing, "besides, if you don't purr at request, I'm sure I can find ways to rip that sweet sound from your throat." you do your best to ignore the taunts that make your stomach do flips; completely unaware of the fact that Haarlep would be tagging along with you a lot more after your bloody meeting with Raphael. Incubuses need to feed, and you were just too delicious to ignore. 

You were passed out, and Haarlep was not too happy about it. They watched you with their tail thumping against the bed in irritation. Haarlep hoped you would come back home and want to play; they had been thinking of new ways to get you to purr. You just had to come back home and go straight asleep…how dull…Haarlep watches as your face scrunches up, soft sounds groaning from your lips as you curl further into yourself. A nightmare, huh? Strange…should they leave you? Comfort you? Haarlep thinks about it for a long moment, their orange eyes studying your trembling form… Usually, they just fuck anyone that even seems the slights bit down, it seems to help, but they don't think that would be appreciated for this situation…Haarlep, cares for you? They don't want to lose you or watch you suffer, but feelings from the heart are not something they are used to feeling… it's against their nature. As Haarlep continues to watch you, your closed eyes start to swell up with tears. All they can think of is to reach out and softly rub your head carefully so as not to nudge the base of your horns too much. That's when Haarlep feels something slightly around their ankle; looking down, they see your adorable tail wrapped around them. Haarlep looks at your face, clearly more relaxed now. Haarlep pulls you in closer with a chuckle, holding you close to their warmth. You will never have nightmares with Haarlep around…they won't allow it…they care for you too much? At least, that's how they feel. Is this love? 

That tail…Haarlep can't get enough of it… you're so sensitive at the base…your whole body trembling as they lick the underside of it, Haarleps two fingers moving in and out of your tight ass. Fingers fill you up, and you're hardly able to keep yourself standing. Right as you're about to reach your orgasm, Haarleps another hand cruelly yanks on your tail, the pain pulling you from your pleasure for a mere moment as they continue to edge you. Tears run down your cheeks as you cry to cum your tail curling around their arm, Haarleps tail intertwined with yours as their forked tongue licks your tail's ridges before they move down to bite your ass, making you squeeze their fingers more. Haarlep will let you cum…when they're done playing.

[two-poptarts]

Force | Enver Gortash oneshot

Pairing: Lord Enver Gortash x f!durge!reader (afab) Synopsis: Gortash forcefully tries to jog the reader's memory of their history. Word count: 2.5k Disclaimer: This fic will deal with sensitive topics like non-con. I do not condone everything I write; this is a piece of fiction where real people cannot get hurt. You are responsible for the content you consume. cw: reader hates gortash at the start, dark content, non-con, kidnapping (mentioned briefly), tying up, spitting (in a 'get away from me' way), p in v, unprotected sex, choking, tit play, gagging, and creampie (if I missed anything, please tell me).

You were previously surrounded by the dim glow of the campfire, hearing the sounds of your fellow companions as they fell asleep, trying to get some rest for another impactful day. However, you were no longer surrounded by friendly faces; that night, you couldn’t help but stay up and let your inner thoughts swirl alongside the squirming tadpole that kept you restless and exhausted. It was bad enough that you had bloodlust coursing through your very being; now you had awoken knowing you were not the person you thought you were when you woke up on the nautiloid. On your journey to Baldurs Gate, you often thought about the person you were, maybe thinking that you might have been sweet, but that was all a delusion when you finally defeated Ketheric and made your way to Lord Enver Gortash. 

When first meeting him, you were, shall we say, intimidated, by the steel watcher that held a deep and rich-toned voice that was welcoming you back; all your fellow companions next to you at the time shared the same confusion — all of it answered when you were face to face with the tyranny’s chosen, and his explanation of the history you two had. The whole puzzle was incomplete; you still had many pieces missing, and maybe you would be given the pieces now.

You were no longer in that humble but comfortable camp; you were now forced on your knees, with a tight and harsh rope looped around your wrists that were placed behind your back, releasing heavy breaths as you tried to grow accustomed to the cold shock of pain that started in your knees from the steel watchers throwing you to Gortash in his private chamber, you felt that jolting pain travel through all your nerves and cause you to wince — even when you were trying not to show weakness. 

Gortash had begged to see you again; that crude and short introduction to the new you wasn’t enough when he had been waiting for you to return; he grew to hate Orin even more for taking his favourite assassin from him, and now you were back, but changed, no longer the Bhaalspawn he had been connected to in body and mind; your, shall we say, rebirth and evolving from your chosen company surrounding you and making your new morals wasn’t welcome to Gortash — he hated the new person and wanted to force the memory of the real you back. 

You looked up to meet Gortash’s dark eyes, watching him stare at you with that taunting and wicked smirk as he looked you up and down at your vulnerable frame. He waved his hand and ushered the watchers to leave him; you felt exposed, vulnerable, even terrified to be in a room alone with him with no one to come to your aid — you had been taken in the night when you had moved a bit further from the main camp to be left alone with your thoughts, you only realised now how stupid it was to wander off in the place you two main enemies lurked. While you had been trying to resist your violent urges, you only wanted to resist them with your new friends, but you didn’t care to with Gortash. To hells with the alliance, if he was to treat you like this, as he moved closer with slow steps with his eyes never fraying from yours and looking at you with amusement, he never thought to see you under his will; it was often the other way round in your relationship. While tied up and kneeling for him, that metallic taste of anger was lingering on your tongue, your eyes narrowing. 

“Is the tying up necessary?” you were quick with your words as your hands kept squirming behind your back, but venom was intertwining with your language and manner. 

“Just call me Enver, dearest; there is no need for the formalities. Especially for old friends.”

His voice was deep and rich, his words and tone swirling in your mind. It felt familiar, but you didn’t know if that was a part of your unconsciousness that remembered him and wouldn’t come to the front of your cortex or if the feeling just came from the logic of knowing you had something with him. He bent down to place his fingers on your chin, lifting it, only being met with you forcefully taking it away and scrunching up your face in disgust at him, the feeling he had the goddamn right to touch you. “My… don’t be like that… You used to love that,” he continued to toy with you. 

“You have such a way of welcoming sposed old friends… I don’t care about any sort of history; you have no right to touch me… Gortash,” you clenched your fists as you mockingly elongated the way you said his last name, not wanting to conform to his need for a friendly first-name basis. 

“I’ll say… It’s quite different seeing you like this. I never thought I would get the chance to set my eyes upon you in this state… It’s quite the opportunity.” A breath of amusement was released as his gaze continued to objectify you, his eyes travelling down your face to your form. He wickedly liked how his dark shadow engulfed the light that once surrounded you; your eyes squinted as Gortash placed his rough hand on your cheek, caressing. You took an opportunity to bite the fingers that tried to venture, but that was exactly what he wanted. “There she is… That’s the spirit, the fiery soul I’ve dearly missed… I know you changed, but I know you weren’t completely gone.” 

Hot anger pooled your senses, feeling ike your blood was boiling and about to burst through your skin: “I’m still trying to change… I’m not the vermin you longed for, and you bring me here to what? Rekindle the old flame… You’re pathetic, honestly.” 

“Your words wound, my dear,” he let out a small, slow, and deep giggle as he wouldn’t take any of your threats seriously, but you continued to refuse to give in to the history nonsense; you wanted to keep being the person you had grown to be… proud of? Bhaal made you in blood for grotesque destruction, but you no longer wanted that destiny.

“This dynamic is getting exhausting now… I brought you here not to romance and rekindle with you, but to remind you and have you back by my side… I have no idea who this new identity you’re proclaiming you’re following; I know it’s a facade, and our connection will prevail… I would rather that happen sooner than later… Stop speaking to me as an acquaintance.” 

“I find it pitiful that you think of yourself as an acquaintance… You’re nothing but an obstacle,” it felt like a dagger into Gortash’s heart to hear those words from a past lover he had never had the thought to get over, even when hearing you had died from Orin making a fool of you, he hadn’t lost hope, knowing you would come back in some way — he just didn’t predict that he would have to make you come back to him. 

“I don’t blame you, dear,  for thinking like this; it isn’t your fault… But I will bring that pretty mind of yours to sense, one way or another,” he descended again, crouching to have his eyes meet your level. 

Indignation roared through you, every inch of your skin feeling hot and irritated. You had the itch to be let go, but you were trapped in your arms, to hells with your alliance; you had gotten this far and knew you could take him; he even knew it by having you kidnapped into his private chamber in the sleeping city. You stared at him — only for a moment — before spitting at the face he claimed you had been connected before; he pulled away, rushing to an upright position as he wiped it away — he had wanted to do this in a way that would make you come back to him through your choice, but you made his patience run thin. 

“You unruly thing,” in a moment of haste, his fingers collected around your neck; you gasped as his fingers squeezed the sides only to allow a release of air; you looked into his eyes, his dark lashes and dark shadows surrounding them — you knew these eyes. Your body felt hot as you stared back at his, a part of you that was connected to him coming back and living in familiarity, but you were still fearful of what he was going to do. 

“Are… Are you going to kill me?” you asked, only to be met with another smirk that bestowed control over you. 

“No, of course not, dear,” he let go of your neck. You gasped for needed air, dazed dots clouding your vision as you grew accustomed to the much-needed oxygen in your system, but your moment of freedom was short-lived when he dragged you by your top, hearing the hem ripping as he dragged you to his bed; you feared what was going to happen but was also… excited? You felt a cacophony of emotions intermingling inside you, and you couldn’t process any of it as the sight of the bed got closer and closer. “I was going to let you see reason in the more civilised way… But you have left me no choice but to jog your memory by force,” there was tension in his words, as his gaze upon you wasn’t just one of lust like he had before when you were first thrown to his feet, but now there was a darker yearning to make you see his views, to make you see how he saw you, you squeezed your legs together and tried to use your strength to avoid what you knew was coming, you weren’t naive or stupid, you knew what that look meant. 

“You could have gone the easy route, but you had to be difficult,” his hand ventured between your legs, separating them no matter how much effort you tried to put them together; it was difficult to do anything with your hands bound up, limiting your bodily movement and having your balance thrown off. 

Gortash stopped your squirming as he placed his hands on the sides of your waist and pinned you down, a pulsating pain travelling to your arms as you tensed them with now being placed on your back, feeling the covers along your skin and smelling his scent that had seeped into them. Your eyes were darting everywhere as Gortash used the sharp claws of his golden hand accessory to make a neatly placed rip that went through each layer of clothing, exposing the core that made him harder. 

“Oh, have I missed the sight of you,” he said under his breath.

“Stop! I will make you regret this; I will! I’ll have you bathe in your blood; don’t you dare touch me!”  

“Yeah, yeah,” Gortash reached for something unknown to you. When it was in your peripheral vision, you saw ripped-up rags. You watched as he balled the fabric in such an intricate but quick manner, pressing his fingers on your jaw and forcing them open as he stuffed your mouth; you couldn’t spit them out, couldn’t reach your fingers to get them out, you were bound. You were slowly coming to the reality that you would have to endure whatever he was going to do to you — your muffled screams only added excitement to Gortash as he took his cock out of his pants, dragging his underwear to the side, nestling his body in between your legs, feeling your core’s warmth. 

The tip of his cock was sliding along your slit, pushing through in tiny movements and feeling you get wetter and hotter; Gortash smirked to himself: “Seems your body remembers me… Only your mind is left to come to the truth.” You felt betrayed; you didn’t want this. You were even scared and wanted to break free and have your bloodlust revenge on what he had done to you. Still, the moment he let himself inside, that deep thrust inside your walls, your body begged for him to continue as your eyes rolled back to your head, a muffled moan come through the rags as you felt his length inside of you; it felt familiar, but in a way also a new euphoric feeling that you couldn’t help but like. He felt your walls stretch against him; he released a gasp as he felt how incredible you were again, your walls eagerly clenching around his cock as he pressed his fingers on your waist with enough pressure to leave a light bruise. Groans escaped his mouth; they were low with a mix of laboured breaths as he continued to feel your body surround him. Tears were brimming at the corners of your eyes as you felt him push the pressure on your skin and the way he forcefully let you feel that pleasure and the ecstasy of it. 

“Fuck,” he released in a whispered hush as he continued to pump himself inside you, “I’ve missed the feeling of you… mmmm,” his moans continued in between his speech. 

Your back arched in response to the tip of his cock bruising your cervix as he pushed and pushed his whole length in your wet and throbbing core; Gortash continued this quick motion but still savoured every moment of it, something that he had been yearning and dreaming immensely about from the time you had been taken from him. Your moans continued as you squeezed your eyes shut, hating how much you liked it, hating how good he was at knowing your body and how to make it yield to the sensation.

He repositioned himself to move his face to be no longer level with yours, now staring at your breasts that had been bouncing in front of him with every hard thrust he brought to you; on his way down, he left rough and lazy kisses along your neck and chest, taking your hard nipple in between his teeth and gently nibbling it, later twirling the bud with his wet tongue that made a shiver roll down your body. 

“Mmhmm,” you moaned; you no longer cared about the large section of your mind telling you to stop submitting to his will; you only listened to the irrational corner of your mind that loved the feeling of him, loved how he used your body, and you wanted more. Your groans continued to erupt and be shielded with the cloth that was nestled in your mouth, your chest rising up and down even quicker as you get hotter and wetter underneath him. 

After more forceful thrusts and bites, Gortash released a final loud and deep moan as he finished inside of you; you felt his hot, euphoric release inside of you and couldn’t help but want more, left in a daze on his bed. 

authors note: please engage if you liked this; reblogging is the best way of supporting creators and I would be very appreciative if you liked and reblogged. This is my first bg3 fic, and I hope people like it, I am thinking of writing a durge reader x gortash pre game events. love you all, mwah mwah mwah.

[two-poptarts]

mating season

𐀔 pairings: astarion x reader. karlach x reader. halsin x reader. background cast (wyll, shadowheart, lae’zel, gale) x reader. background rolan x tav.

𐀔 content warnings: tiefling!tav, LITERALLY PWP, alcoholic consumption, brief sexual memory (halsin), heavy petting, noncon to dubcon (with astarion only), slight slutshaming, oral (f!receiving), mentions of breeding, afab anatomy but g/n pronouns. astarion is very slightly, slighty mean, up to you if he is ascended or not.

𐀔 sypnosis: you, a tiefling, go through your first heat cycle around your companions. some are willing to either indulge you or take advantage of you.

𐀔 author’s note: hoppinh on the bandwagon of tieflings having heat / rut cycles. astarion, briefly halsin, ROLAN and karlach get some action, teehee. and don't worry. everyone is a pervert and thinks about it. everyone will get a chance. someday. merry christmas!!

The first thing everyone wakes up to is heat. Sweltering, palpable heat, pervading the air up to the point it felt like it was trying to smother them, casting annoying, relentless burnishes of perspiration on their skin.

It couldn’t be the sun, no. The warmth felt too close, within of reach – but even then, it was no lively and unextinguished campfire, no engine out of hand nestled within Karlach, Shadowheart concluded.

They’d all been taking turns the entire morning seeking cold relief in the stream. Thankfully, as the day prevailed, the sun was no longer so glaring, the heatwave lessening by a tad bit, the rest of the party excluding a certain Ravenguard had found it now bearable.

It wasn’t until Wyll was fed up with the sweat that would inevitably come no matter how much he wiped at it, marching towards where it felt most blistering, most fervent; the intense source.

It had led him to your tent — and without doubt, the demon believed the source was your tent; your fucking otherworldy furnace of a tent. Even as he stood from outside, the heat was practically choking him. He wouldn’t be surprised if he took a look inside and finds out you, little fiend you, stuffed the entire Nine Hells inside. And take a look inside he does, peeling away the entrance, a delirious but polite request to turn down the heat ready on his tongue —

But it isn’t the Nine Hells’ heat and musk that slaps him to his face, to his utter surprise.

It’s you; trembling, flushed raw and in all of your fiendish glory, naked. Tail loud and thumping on the floor as your whimpers permeate through the air, legs spread and — No!

Somewhere in the back of his horned head, he wonders if it’s the heat, the shock, or simply his building arousal that has rendered him stuck to his position. It takes Wyll all his strength he can muster to tear his eyes away; what was he doing? He was intruding on your tent— your privacy! How could he forget basic etiquette, so much for being a noble-!

(Without a doubt, he’s ruined his chance of any traditional courtship.)

“Sorry.” The Blade himself awkwardly coughs before pushing himself out of your tent with an inhuman force, slamming the fabric entrance shut and tripping on his own two feet on the way out. “It’s Tav!” He shouts, sprinting with little idea on where to; the heat is unbearable and by the gods, he isn’t so sure anymore if it was coming from your tent or if it was simply his body. His commotion with Tav gathers the attention and eyes of his fellow companions, and it is both Karlach and Shadowheart that push at him to settle him down.

“Hey, hey. Calm down, you!” Karlach, ever the concerned companion with her furrowed brows, assures him like steed. “Tav, you mentioned?” Shadowheart, upon quick confirmation that he was not injured, is quick to coax him for answers of his behavior. He’s a bit mortified as his little flustered fit had everyone around him.

“Tav, they’re– get this–” Wyll swallows, tense with the image of you squirming and dripping still on the front of his mind. “T-they’re hot.”

It’s a dreadful thing, he realizes later a split second more than he’d like, the silence that follows. Through the tadpole, they’ve seen what he’s seen; and judging from the atmosphere, they’re chalking it up to an active imagination. All but loud, with a lone cricket chirping in the distance. He shoots up to in an attempt to explain, but wordlessly splutters instead.

“So you’ve had your first wet dream, I take it?” Astarion scoffs, finding the dirt under his manicured nails more interesting than what the fiend had to say next. “Had an issue with morning wood, perhaps– or should I say, a hardened blade?”

“No!” Wyll refutes, now standing up with the help of Shadowheart. “I-I meant to say they’re hot, literally. They’re drenched with sweat, lookin’ like they’re about to keel over. You saw it, in my head, what they looked like!”

“Ah, yes.” The vampire recalled that vision. Though brief and concerning, yes, it was also undeniably delectable. What he wouldn’t give to have seen you writhing with want up close. But still, he slips his desperation behind a theatric mask. “Like a mutt in heat, how hilarious.”

“In heat.” Karlach had repeated Astarion’s words and bristled, her muscles twitching once but violently enough that it had them staring at her like they had been with Wyll. The look on her face tells everyone she’s had her eureka moment, a light flickering beside her head. “Tav is in heat. Of course they are; it’s breeding season!” She guffaws then, disregarding the disbelief of the party — save for Halsin, who simply nodded.

“So what you’re saying is we have a feral, unspayed animal amongst us for the time being?” Lae’zel grunted, though she certainly did not mind if the blush on her face was anything to go by.

“Mating season is upon most of the forest.” The druid responded, crossing his thick arms, ever the calm elf. “Given the... more animalistic features of some cambions, it is not entirely unreasonable. Given the intensity, it must be their first heat since you’ve all been on this journey.” The party gapes; Karlach nods, and though she does not mention it, she’s mildly disappointed your heat had not aligned with her rut.

“So, what you’re both saying is that they need to breed – or be bred?” Though the vampiric rogue balked, he was unable to deny the inkling of lust that washed through him at the idea. You, and your all proud visage crumbling into one of a desperate, slut of a fiend.

“Well, when you put it in such a frank and vulgar manner...” Gale coughs, flushed, Astarion notices, inwardly grimacing. The wizard’s never been discreet about liking your musk – and today, it is especially honeyed and heavy around the campsite. “Yes.”

And that’s when it hits the rogue, the shared tension and ignited lust in everyone – not just Gale. It’s a slow and heavy shift, like puffs of smoke. The current of lust in the air runs deeper when a small, inviting moan permeates from your tent. The sounds of heavy breaths and trousers shifting from around the party, it all goes unobserved to any eye that doesn’t belong to an experienced rogue.

Still, the rest would’ve been fools to think only one or two of them would be intrigued, he thought. It was with a silent agreement amongst them that by the end of this week, you’d be thoroughly savoured.

The first thing you wake up to is a dull ache across the expanse of your stomach, and a pool of your own arousal drenching the bedroll between your legs. Your bed-kissed face tightens, glaring down at the growing tension in your belly. A groan is torn out of your dehydrated throat – and if the obvious lack of sun on your tent was anything to go by, you’ve slept through nearly the entire day.

Fuck, what was going on? Distoriented, you attempt to sit up only for the dull ache to morph into heated convulsions that immediately spread like wildfire around your weakened body. It was then that you realized that to your utter horror, you were burning hot, to the Nines and beyond — as if you were forcefully thrown into an early heat.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. No. The edges around your vision blackened for a split second before you violently lurched yourself out of your too-warm, too-cramped tent, slamming your palms and knees into the dirt ground and digging your nails in, your mouth open to welcome the hot pants stuck in your dry throat.

You spat out a vicious string of Infernal curses, your focus blurring in and out of itself. You shut your mouth, biting your lip to keep in whimpers, sweat trickling down from your forehead as your mind fought in vain against the primal urges now closing in on it; the feral ache for relief deeming itself more important than reason.

Relief. Fuck, it sounded good right now. You hissed, your mental resolve crumbling, tail furiously lashing against the dirt. Relief. Your eyes darted around the camp anything that could relieve the heat in your loins; Shadowheart and her healing hands or a cool river stream to let the water wash over you, but fuck, you needed real relief. A body you could sink your teeth into and ride until the next morning – preferably Karlach, or Halsin–!

Thick, strong Halsin.

“You feel good, little one.” Halsin quietly groaned up from above you, touching you as if he’s been longing to.

He moves inside you; thick cock bruising your insides. Every open-mouthed gasp and hurt or pleasured cry was eagerly welcomed into his own mouth with wet kisses. He was unrelenting, but kind. Full of sinew your hands could run across or scratch in slight distaste if the fat tip of his length pressed a sensitive spot deeper than you’d have liked. And without fail, he had laughed everytime, gentle and light, even if his deep thrusts into your spent hole were anything but.

He must have been trying to burrow in you with how deep he was inside, letting you raggedly cry into the slope of his neck meeting the thickness of his shoulder. Halsin set out to plant an apologetic kiss into the crook of yours, fucking you deep until you fluttered around him, dragging him to his peak alongside you.

No, you winced, tearing your eyes open and your mind out of its lust-ridden gutter, the burn inside you relentless. No Halsin nor Karlach, not a single soul that could provide you relief to be found around camp — and damn them all, you were in no state to be crawling around searching for even the slightest whiff of their scent in gods know where.

Relief.

Yet another infuriating wave of heat rolled through you, forcing you to clench your hands and drive dirt beneath your nails. What remained of your rationality sought out to the crevices of your memories, ones that weren’t flooded of nightly trysts with the druid elf or — Rolan.

Relief – Rolan. A drop of your drool hitting the ground; Rolan with his horns you could grip and sharp teeth that could sink into your shoulder. No doubt warmly cooped up in Ramazith’s Tower, signing trades or shoving his nose in dusty books. He’d do, for tonight – he’d understand, indulge you and lift you from the unbearable heat clouding your head. He wouldn’t mind, you know it, because you’d be a blind fool to not see the way his eyes would fondly trail over your face, or the dips in your body.

He wants you, and for tonight, you will do him a favor and want him back.

You urge your trembling body to stand up and begin the treacherous trek from camp to the Gate’s city.

It was only the next night, moon high, that you sauntered into camp instead of out your tent, sporting a relieved glow, a fresh set of bites around your throat, a heavy limp, and of course, the hands of a flushed Rolan around your waist.

Your ragtag party watched from their campfire logs, a petty and envious air about them whilst the winsome smile on your face turned into an airy laugh as Rolan tenderly cupped your jaw with his hands, whispering something that had you curling your tails together. You shook your head and sweetly pecked his cheek as he nodded and bumped your horns together like lovers as a bid goodbye before stepping back to part ways.

“Well?” Karlach greeted with an amiable smile as you joined the group’s circle, having been worriedly sniffing around and asking for you the entirety of the morning; your scent lingering faintly around the air but with no continued path as to exactly where you were. She knew firsthand the extent of pain and delirium heats could bring, and god forbid you had fallen in the wrong hands.

(And thankfully, you hadn’t. She was simply glad you found someone trustworthy to mingle with instead of being alone.)

You scooched near her with a charmingly teasing grin, matching her liveliness, turning a blind eye to the tension in the air. “Well, what?” And before the red-skin tiefling could play banter with you, a certain rogue had pettily overtook the conversation.

“Well, did you enjoy your little fling?” Astarion dryly teased, a goblet of wine in his spindly hands and a sardonic smile on his face. He let the wine swivel for a moment. “Enjoyed playing charity, whoring yourself out?”

Karlach quietly called out his name in a disappointed manner, either to scold or deter him from what next he could say.

“What can I say?” You entertain his snark, peeking around the campfire logs for a bottle of blingdenstone blush wine; grabbing ahold of ot and pouring yourself a goblet. Taking a gracious swig, you allow the fruity taste to melt on your tongue. “My company is sought after.”

“Sought after? You amuse me,” The pale elf laughs, dry in a manner that has you eyeing him, his hand tightening around the rusted goblet whilst you set down yours. “Are you sure?” He asks, glaring. “I’d say it’s desperation, on your side of the coin – you’d spread your legs to anyone asking politely, darling.”

You scrunch your nose at that, the warmth and flavor of the wine turning cold and bitter in your throat.

The silence is almost hostile around the campfire – the crackling of it serving to make it less awkward. “Take that damn wine out his hands,” you hear Wyll whisper to a reading Gale and a Lae’zel sharpening her dagger – but both the wizard and githyanki don faces that tell you they aren’t approving of your escapade either. You allow your eyes a brief roam around all their faces; finding it tightened in displeasure.

You don’t feel so well, all of a sudden. Some part inside you chalks it up to the wine.

Save for Karlach who was nudging you with her tail, pleading you from the corner of her eye; asking you to back down from Astarion. Considering it was an option until he opened his mouth once again, his breath smelling of merlot wine. “You’re missing out, you know.” He hisses when you raise him a brow.

“These flings you have,” he eyes around the party, making sure to pointedly look at Halsin for a second longer. You’re half-sure he’d vex Rolan if he was here. Slurring, he pauses again to savor another sip from his wine. “They can’t give you something real.” Your eyes meet his, hesitant, reading the unsaid but he can in them.

“You...” You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the light, the fire shedding a hopeful glint in his eyes for a split second at your tender tone of voice, face softening at the way you curl in yourself. “You’re drinking too much.” And just as quickly as it came, it left.

Something heavy twists in your gut; and you can’t quite decide if it’s from the wine, the second wave of your heat, or distress. Silently pushing yourself off the log, you might as well to take that soak in the river that you’d been dying for.

(You’re not very surprised to feel the many eyes piercing through you.)

Shortly after you left the circle, Karlach had followed you, indiscreet. It’s a game of chase, really – and she’s hot on your tail but you just keep evading her when she thinks she’s got you, a hairsbreadth away from her hands. The way your shoulders tremble with little laughs from your lips are not missed by her, and if she were any closer she’d chase it with her own.

(She smiles, not seen through the dark mouth of the night. Was it her presence or the alcohol that has made you soft?)

It’s not a long trek to the lake by any means, the path obscured by dense foliage she’d occasionally lose you in. Within moments, she’s at the edge of the water with the gravel crushing beneath her boots, overtaking the slow stream of water you’re delicately undressing by. Her longing gaze lingers on the slope of your jaw, the fullness of your lips and the fresh, deep indents of teeth along your shoulder. She’s unsure of whether it’s from Astarion’s feeding or Rolan.

It’s only when you’re fully bare that you turn to face her, that same plush smile that’s melted the hearts of hundreds.

“Are you joining me?” The sweet lilt of your voice makes the gears stop turning in Karlach’s nodding head, her body moving before her mind to start peeling away at her own clothes at the appealing invitation; wading into the water with you as soon as she’s done. A snort is pulled from her when you playfully splash at her with your tail when you hear her behind you.

“Don’t play a game you can’t win, you little...” Karlach jovially returns the splash, inwardly rejoicing at your giggle; this little, shared intimacy is nothing new, but it makes her heart lurch all the same. What she wouldn’t give to have more time with you.

By the gods, she could never get enough of that you and your joy. Some selfish, unbidden part of her hopes you’ll take her up on Wyll’s offer on the path to Avernus, for the sole reason to see it just a little longer.

She shifts around for a topic to hear your voice a little more, “How is your heat coming along?” The smile on your face falters slightly at her choice of inquiry – but you relax instantly. She’s one of your dearest friends, concern is her second nature.

“When is it never dreadful?” You shrug, casual though your words ring true. An unmated tiefling’s pain during a rut or heat was nothing short of agonizing. She watches the nervous swallow bob in your throat. “But I had a little bit of help- from Rolan.”

“Ah, the new master of the tower, was it?” You nod at her, and it comes to you once again that Karlach was no jealous woman. She was glad you had your fill of enjoyment. “He looks smitten with you; are you courting him?”

“Huh?” Your tail whacks against the relaxed surface of water in disbelief, a flush festering on your disgruntled face. “It’s more like the other way around, he bumped his horns to mine earlier.”

Karlach guffaws at your distress, tearing up with her joy until her breath catches on a sweet aroma. She squints, cautiously sniffing the air, once, twice – and she looks to you, pursing her lips when she realizes it isn’t the fragrances you’re washing over yourself; it’s just you, or rather, the second wave to your heat. She hopes the hunger welling in her isn’t clear in her eyes.

You smell really good, she thinks as she chews on the inside of her cheek, staring at the dip of your back as your turn around. And you’re a really good friend, too good, maybe. She feels what she’s about to do isn’t very good.

Karlach doesn’t know what compels her to do what she does but she follows like it’s law; catching your wrist in her hand, capturing your jaw in her other and kissing you tender, swallowing the gasp that comes out.

It’s only when the air starts to feel thick with your heat and her lust that she pulls away, a string of spit following you both – and she’s already pulling away, horror welling up in her eyes but before she can grovel with apologies, you’re reeling her right back to your spit-slick lips with a moan so utterly full of want it has her pulling you closer.

“I can help you,” she murmurs against your taste before pulling away, your want reassuring her she’s got nothing to be sorry for. Your heaving breasts press against her face when she dips half of herself in the water to wrap her arms around your legs. She pleads. “Let me help you. Please.”

Karlach carries you with her muscled arms and settles you on the edge of a rock, softly parting your legs for you and making herself a warm home between them. The way she looks up at you gives you a bashful knot in your stomach.

“Do you want this?” She swallows thick, as if to wash away the heavy weight of her need, eyes situating her hands on your hips with a trembling but still dominant grip. “Use your words.”

You nod, frantic. Breathy pants now visible in the hot air. “I do,” your tongue feels weak when you speak, looking at her with dazed eyes. “P-please, I- I want it, Kar.”

It’s all the push she needs to lick a stripe up your slit, rendering you still when she wraps her lips around your clit and sucks. It drags a heavy moan out of you and it’s nothing but music to her ears. She hopes it’s the sound that greets her in the afterlife instead of angels with their harps or trumpets.

“Ahah,” Karlach pants, hot against your clit, and you look down to see your slick running down her chin, her tail pulling you closer by your calf while yours whips around. “You taste so fucking good.” She murmurs against you, sending an arrow of pleasure straight through your trembling spine that makes her dive right back in, tracing your fluttering hole.

She tongues inside your hole, moaning when it tightens around her, fucking and writhing it around in response.

If the heat wasn’t so heavy, you’d think she was tracing her name on your cunt. You huff, rocking your hips into her face as much as you can with her hands firmly clasped around your hips. Your hands find themselves around her horns and they gently pull her head closer to you, riding her face as if to help brace you for the knot snapping in your stomach.

Karlach takes a moment to pause, smiling with your heady flavor on her lips, chuckling against your core. “So needy.”

You don’t last long, not with her smile and teeth and tongue around your folds, no, and it’s a blind rush of time and hot white when your thighs tremble around her head, mouth dropping open in a silent scream.

“Karlach...!” You cry her name, cumming and convulsing around her tongue with open-mouthed moans. Her grip on you tightens, an Infernal curse leaving her as your slick taste floods her mouth. Her hands run over you, the small of your back, your hips and then to your ass, gripping the fat of it to keep you still while she laps at what little you have left to give; only giving in when you whimper and try to kick her away.

(In the rational crevices of your head, you’d hate to prove Astarion right about being a whore but fuck, does she make you feel good.)

It’s soft silence that fills the air, after you both cease your panting. You stare at the stars, head foggy with the orgasm that racked your body, humming when Karlach gently sets you in her arms again to wash your arousal away in the water while your head contentedly lies against her shoulder.

“Let’s get you to your bed, hm?” She coos, bumping her horns against yours – only letting you go to stand up again when she finishes washing and drying you, allowing you to clothe yourself. Time is a blur then, as you spend it aided to walk by her warm arms, staring at the intricate maze of foliage you’re surrounded about.

You’re snapped out your limping daze when you look around to see the foliage isn’t dark anymore, lit around by hues of oranges from a familiar campfire. Karlach grins, closed-eye as she squeezes you and kisses you warmly before nudging you towards the direction of your tent, quaintly lit up by a candlelight lamp you set inside earlier.

“Go inside,” she coaxes you, all-kind. It’s a certain emptiness you feel when you peel yourself away from her warmth with a whine that has her chuckling and pressing her lips against yours again. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You do as she says, stumbling inside your tent and falling with a thud to your soft bed – but not without curling your lips into a loving smile, savoring the memory of her. It’s the last thing you see before you succumb to the hands of rest.

Fuck.

It’s the middle of the night when you’re next startled awake.

And it’s no surprise when you wake up to yet another surge of dull aching and your own arousal just starting to drip out of you. You waste little time; stumbling like a fawn out your tent, movements laden with the remnants of sleep –

You’re halfway out when your face slams against a body; lithe and cold, and in your sleep-ridden state, you could be convinced you just bumped into a slab of ice draped in flesh. But you urge your heavy lids to open up, to see the man, well, vampire you’d bickered with earlier, staring down at you from the very opening.

“Astarion,” you state, bleary-eyed and fisting your nightshirt closer; the fleece of it grounding you under his piercing gaze. Your heart is beating quick; a brief thought hopes it stays beating, and you will it away. You have half the mind to ask what he’s doing in front of your tent, but you have no time. The air is thick. The heat inside you is boiling. You need relief – Rolan.

“I...” Your words crawl in your throat, the line of your brows furrowing when you feel the familiar pinpricks of your heat pressing into you. “Please, move. I have somewhere to be.”

You almost feel small under the depth of his gaze; everything about him reeks of fury mingling with need.

“Off to find another bed to warm, I assume?” Astarion hisses with the slightest slur, the breath which he speaks out carrying the scent of fine wine – the air around him dangerous. Starving. He moves closer, and you, in all your confusion, slowly crawl back into your tent, unsure on what to fight first; the heat that consumes you or the danger you feel is about to overtake you.

“Astarion,” you mumble, this time with a bleat to your voice and your eyes wide like the lamb to be drained and slaughtered you feel you are. The air is heady; laden with fear and need thick like honey. Everything around you is too much. Where is Rolan? Karlach?

A hand tightens around your ankle, refusing to let go even as you yelp and watch Astarion force his way inside your cramped tent and crawls himself between your legs to nestle his face in the crook of your neck.

“No, no,” You whisper to him, shifting under him in a panic when you feel his familiar lips on your neck. “I’m sorry but you cannot feed from me tonight, Astarion. I need to leave, now.”

“I’m not here to drain you dry, silly.” Astarion’s voice is husky, breathy. It has you clenching your thighs around his hips; his hands clasp around yours in return. “Though, I am starving, I have something else in store for little you.” You grit in discomfort, the unease and desire a blend that you feel entirely drunk on.

(He would never admit it but that tender pit of terror in you has him salivating.)

“Leave...!” You hiss. He chuckles at that; the sound velvet-rich and grating, and does exactly the contrary – pushing himself closer to you until you’re chest-to-chest. You hate that you cannot see him tucked away to your neck. It does not help he is close to your raw, still-sensitive core; you have nothing on save for a long, flowy poet’s shirt thanks to a certain crimson tiefling.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I can’t have you running off to somebody else.”

It’s then that you feel it; the press of a cruel, toothy smile against your throat and something of leather, something of warmth digging into the meat of your thigh. He is not here to drain you out of his anger, rather, he’s here to devour you, prey on you. You fear you’ve catched on belatedly.

“Mfh. I don’t want–” Your late, futile resistance is met with a finger to your lips, flushed thighs being pushed further apart as his hips slot between yours. Somewhere in the back of your muddled mind, you hear yourself keen with delight at the friction before he hushes you.

“You’re right, you don’t want it.” Astarion croons, watching as you writhe your hips against his for friction, as your bare cunt instictively grinds against the hot imprint of his still-clothed cock even as your head grasps for even a thread of coherence. “You need it, need this - need me.”

Your body does not deny his claim, arching your hips to meet his grinding, swollen folds clinging to his leather trousers – the pit in your stomach and the crawl up your spine indistinguishable between dread and ecstasy. The line of reason and morals are once again blurred in your head.

You curse yourself for having indulged in the alcoholic delicacy earlier. He’s emboldened by the wine; you’re weakened by it. The finger on your lips slip inside your mouth, firm on your tongue. You gag on it when his other hand clasped on your hip reaches down in between your legs and feels around for your, unsurprisingly, dripping vulva, the both of you gasping in delight.

“You’re soaked. What a fine surprise!” He chuckles, continuing to buck his clothed erection into your heat, petting your hair when you moan around his fingers. “I hope it’s because of me and not just your little heat.”

Your body is transparent, visceral with him, loyal to the promise of pleasure he can give you – even if your mind, what is left of your rationality indignantly fights tooth and nail to convince your body to stop giving in to animalistic pleasure.

It’s not long then, until Astarion becomes impatient, always having been; unlacing the ties on his trousers with one skilled hand and leaning over you to toss it off – it’s all too quick for your swarmed mind to catch up to, and the next thing you see and know is that you’re hissing through your teeth and thrashing while he pushes the burning head of his cock into you, hushing you as if you were a distressed animal. Your muscles tense, jerking away, a feeble little no on your lips—

But it’s an easy intrusion, a quick thrust into you is all it takes to bury himself deep with the help of your slick and his pre. He groans as, eyes rolling back as yours start to prick with tears, hold tightening on you as you whimper and turn limp like a ragdoll to his experimental thrusting. Some part of you wants to preen at the pleasure; the honeyed heat inside you pleased.

“Good- fuck, good pet.” He breathily murmurs, clasping a hand around your hip again; alternating between sensual grinding and abruptly slamming into you. All while he laughs and watches with a vicious smile as you’re torn between pathetically moaning and crying, the fingers in your mouth helping to muffle the sounds.

“See? Not so bad if you just close your eyes and give in.” He presses down particularly hard on your tongue when you wail at a sharp, unexpected thrust. He couldn’t have someone from the party playing hero. “I’m trying to help you.”

Tears sting at the corner of your eye, and you have no doubt you look pitiful right now - but fuck, he feels good. You don’t want to admit it, but you won’t deny it either; you needed this. And though you would have preferred to have it be Rolan, all gentle, rutting into you with sweet whispers and even sweeter promises, the heat in your body cannot be satiated with the tenderness he can give you. But you would rather stake him first than admit he’s helping you fill that gaping need in you.

“Astarion...” You furrow your brows and swallow around his fingers, your own life clinging to the back of your throat. It’s with a certain horror and desperation that you realize you’re approaching the edge faster than you’d like – and you know he knows, because he pulls his fingers out your mouth and presses a warm, spit-slick thumb to your aching clit. Your hole flutters around him, and you writhe around, the tightening burn of your incoming orgasm too much to handle. Pleasured, honeyed mewls are wrenched from you as his hips snap, driving his cock deep.

Astarion purrs – a hand on your thigh to help him slam into you, gripping hard enough to form bruises whilst the other was relentless at your clit. It’s with a shriek that you fall apart, seizing on his thrusts that only seem to quicken, the wet sound of skin on skin and your crying permeating through the entire camp, no doubt. He coos when a whine slips out of you, a tear gliding from your eye.

You’re seeing fucking white, blots of black dotted along your vision by the time he greedily slams inside you a final time with a low groan – something pleasingly warm filling you up, satiating you. Astarion holds your face and tugs it meet his for a breathy, passionate kiss whilst he twitches seed inside you - smiling in delight against your lips when you melt.

Relief is found; a warm glow settling on you despite your lids fighting their damndest to stay up. You’re a soft, slow little thing now, all but warm and ready to be taken by approaching slumber. Astarion gladly takes the chance to lie on his side and gather you in his arms, lips curving sweet yet again, but with less threat, as he watches you contentedly curl yourself up against his side. He sighs at the warmth that washes over him, thankful that fatigue has tamed you and fanned out that little spark and scratch you had earlier.

“Happy?” The smitten vampire asks, cheeky, smug as he pulls you closer into him, massaging your sore hips. “No need for you to go looking around for victims when you have me at your disposal, darling. I’d hate for you to lose sight on what really matters.”

You hum as if far away, you’d slap him in the morning that comes, but for now you’d let yourself be lulled into a soft, gentle slumber. A kiss on your head is the last thing you feel, a feeble little goodnight whispered.

[two-poptarts]

I don't know to tag people lol but this is how I imaged the goose puppet in a fic I read (if I figure out how to tag I will) I'd think that the mechanics that move her wings (like how they manover big bird) are slightly busted and don't work well :3