#jaheira x reader

[moonselune]

OOooOOOoooOOO can i PUHLEASE get the companions hit by a lovebug or lust curse and all they want is you but you aren't allowed to be intimate because it would spread to you. They pursue you heavily and you can't help but indulge when they are being so whiny and pathetic. I love love love your work miss seluney xox

yessss i freaking love this trope

CW:dubcon themes

part two!

Karlach:

You spotted them stumbling back toward camp just as the last rays of sun dipped behind the hills. At first, you thought something must have gone terribly wrong. Shadowheart’s robes were torn and half-soaked, her hair plastered to her cheeks, water dripping from her sleeves. She was muttering under her breath, her face twisted in pure, seething exasperation.

Behind her was Karlach — and gods, Karlach was smoking.

Actual tendrils of steam rose from her skin, curling lazily into the cooling evening air. Her plates of infernal metal armor hissed softly where droplets of water struck them from the conjured raincloud above her and evaporated on contact. Her flushed face was bright, gold eyes huge and wild — and locked squarely on you.

The moment she saw you, she lit up, a beaming, breathless smile splitting her face. Her tail thumped excitedly against the ground, sending little puffs of dust flying, and she lurched forward with dangerous intent.

You grinned, starting forward automatically — happy, relieved—

"STOP!" Shadowheart barked, raising both hands like she was halting an angry owlbear.

You froze mid-step, one hand half-lifted in greeting. "Uh—?"

Shadowheart stormed up, water dripping from the hems of her robes, her expression done in a way you hadn't seen since Wyll tried to "fix" her armor once with a hammer.

"She's cursed," Shadowheart said flatly. She jerked a thumb back toward Karlach, who was bouncing on her toes. fangs peeking out from the wolfish grin on her face, still visibly smoking. "Lust curse. Picked it up poking around the ruins."

Your mouth opened. Closed. "...Lust curse?"

"Yes," Shadowheart looked like she wanted to strangle someone. "If she gets intimate with anyone, the curse will spread." She jabbed a finger toward you. "And she really wants to be intimate with you."

You glanced past her to Karlach, who gave you an innocent little wave and a gigantic, toothy grin. Steam rose from her hair, framing her head like a crooked halo. She gave a low, eager whuff, like a hound scenting its master. Your heart melted—and then seized with alarm as Karlach started sprinting toward you.

"No!" Shadowheart snapped, and with a violent flourish of magic, threw Karlach sideways into the river with a massive shove of divine energy.

Karlach hit the water with an enormous splash and disappeared under the surface for a long, heart-stopping second before popping up, sputtering and laughing. She shook her head like a dog, sending water flying, her tail splashing gleefully behind her.

"You—" you turned a stunned look on Shadowheart, who wiped her hands cleanly.

"Don't thank me yet," she said grimly. "You need to stay close to her, or she might explode. Literally." Shadowheart's voice dropped to a near-growl. "But no kissing and gods help you, no sex - at all."

You stared. Shadowheart stared. In the river, Karlach was floating happily on her back, trailing little plumes of steam, grinning at you like you were her salvation incarnate.

"Babe!" she called brightly. "Come in! It's nice and cool! Promise I won't even smooch ya!"

You folded your arms, fixing her with your best stern look. "You're the worst liar I've ever met."

Karlach grinned, all teeth and mischief, and paddled closer to the bank, water sloshing noisily. "Swear on my big ol' heart! Just coolin' off!"

You hesitated. Shadowheart gave you a flat look that screamed, You deal with this. With a long, suffering sigh, you knelt by the riverbank, arms still crossed.

"Karlach," you scolded. "You stay right there."

Her lower lip trembled in an exaggerated pout. "But I miss you..."

"Still nope," you said, firm.

For a moment, you thought you might have won— And then Karlach lunged, her infernal strength letting her surge out of the water like a breaching dolphin, grab your arm, and drag you bodily into the river with her.

You hit the water with a yelp and went under. Freezing-cold river water closed over your head. You flailed, resurfacing with a gasp, hair plastered to your forehead—

And Karlach was there, clutching you tightly, steaming body pressed close to yours.

"See?" she said sweetly, breathless and hot even in the chill water. "No kisses. Just cuddlin'."

You spluttered and glared at her, wiping water from your eyes. But gods, it was hard to stay mad. Her expression was so earnest, her tail a slow, lazy wag behind her in the water. She nuzzled against you, purring low in her throat.

You let yourself relax — just a little.

Karlach hummed contentedly, squeezing you closer, lips brushing over your neck. You could feel the rumble of her heart against your chest, the press of her cheek against your temple. Her hands slid lazily over your back, tracing idle patterns.

"You're so warm, well, warmer than usual," you murmured, shivering a little despite yourself.

"Only for you, baby," she mumbled, practically glowing with affection. It was almost sweet—almost safe—

Until you felt her hand slide lower. Far too low.

"Karlach—!" you warned. But she was faster. She ducked forward, caught your mouth in a searing kiss—

And the curse snapped between you like a struck match, flaring to life inside you. You reeled back, gasping, as the maddening heat took root deep in your chest, spreading outward in molten waves. Karlach pulled back just far enough to beam at you, her tail wagging furiously, steam rising from both your bodies now.

"Now we both got it!" she said triumphantly. "So no we can-"

You pushed her back, hard enough for her to resubmerge under the water. Your chest was heaving, the curse was already clawing through your veins, making your skin buzz and your thoughts slip dangerously sideways. Karlach reemerged, eyes peeking out of the water as she took in your flustered form.

"You—" you sputtered as you splashed her, "You menace!"

Karlach stood, now fully surfaced and laughed, carefree and delighted, and hugged you so tight you thought she might crack a rib.

"You're lucky I love you," you muttered into her soaked hair, heart hammering as you already began prying off her armour.

"Damn fucking right," she whispered, holding you tighter than ever. Around you, the river hissed and bubbled with the heat of two bodies who wanted nothing more than to melt into each other. Ignoring Shadowheart's screeching and Gale deciding he could wash the pots later.

Minthara:

The moment the curse hit her, Minthara changed. Gone was the cool, ruthless drow general. In her place was something furious, wild — and whining.

"This is insufferable," she spat, pacing the ruined clearing like a cat in a cage. Her armor was already half-discarded, her hair clinging to the sweat on her brow. "Fix it. Fix it now!"

You leaned casually against a tree, arms crossed, biting back a grin. "Minthara, you heard Shadowheart. No touching. No kissing. No... other activities."

"I don't care what that prissy cleric says!" she snapped, spinning toward you, her crimson eyes alight with rage and need. "You belong to me — and you are going to satisfy me!"

You laughed — actually laughed — and that made it worse. She stomped toward you, hands clenched into little fists, trembling with pent-up frustration.

"Do you think this is funny?" she hissed, standing barely a breath away, her chest heaving. "I am suffering!"

"You'll live," you said easily, though it was getting harder and harder to ignore how flushed and gorgeous she looked like this — desperate, vulnerable in a way she never allowed herself to be.

"I will not live," she whined — actually whined — the sound raw and furious. "I will wither away! My body is burning and you just stand there like a fool!"

Minthara tried to grab your tunic, to drag you down to her, but you stepped aside, letting her stumble slightly past you. She whirled around with a gasp of pure outrage.

"Stop running from me!" she barked. "You are mine!"

You chuckled under your breath. "You should see yourself right now. You're like an angry kitten."

"I will kill you!" she screeched — and then immediately slumped, groaning, running both hands through her hair in pure agony. "I need... I need..."

You watched her struggle, and you almost — almost — pitied her. But it was far too amusing. Minthara glared at you from under her bangs of white hair, breathing hard. Then something in her broke. Her expression shifted — determined and furious and done with your games.

"Fine," she growled lowly. "If you will not help me..."

She launched herself at you. You tried to dodge, but she caught you around the middle, shoving you against the tree with surprising strength for someone so desperate. Her mouth crashed against yours in a messy, furious kiss.

And the curse spread.

It hit you like being punched in the gut — that raw, aching need suddenly clawing under your skin, setting every nerve on fire. You gasped against her mouth, your knees buckling slightly from the force of it.

Minthara pulled back just enough to smirk, victorious, her lips swollen and smug. "Then now you suffer with me."

You growled low in your throat, grabbing her by the waist and spinning her, pinning her against the tree instead. She gasped, wide-eyed, laughing breathlessly — but she didn’t resist.

"You little brat," you muttered, pressing your forehead to hers, your hands locking around her wrists. "You just couldn't be patient."

"I do not do patience," she whispered, shivering against you. "Now take what is yours."

You did. Oh, gods, you did. And Minthara, for once, had nothing to complain about.

Shadowheart:

You were still chuckling about Gale’s lecture as you wandered deeper into the woods, a basket under your arm for the handful of herbs and berries you intended to collect.

Everything was fine, he had said. Shadowheart said she would sleep it off, he had said.

You plucked a sprig of wild mint and tossed it into the basket, trying to shake off a lingering doubt gnawing at the edge of your mind. It wasn't until the third patch of violets that you frowned, thoughts darkening.

A lust curse.

Not a fever. Not exhaustion. Not some harmless little enchantment. A curse that preyed on every base, starved desire you harbored. A relentless, gnawing thing that tortured the mind until you either gave in or went mad from the wanting.

And Gale—bless his trusting, naive heart—had taken the word of an ex-Sharran that she could just sleep it off?

You stood there, basket dangling forgotten from your hand, heart beginning to race. You turned on your heel, about to sprint back toward camp—

Too late. There was a rush of movement, a flicker of shadow—

And then Shadowheart was on you, slamming you back against a tree trunk with surprising force, arms locking around your shoulders. Your basket hit the ground with a soft thump, forgotten.

"Found you," she breathed, her voice low and velvet-thick, dripping with sultry satisfaction. Her silver hair tumbled around her face in wild disarray, her cheeks flushed a dangerous pink.

Before you could react, she ducked into the vulnerable curve of your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your skin—hot, insistent, needy.

"Shadowheart—!" you gasped, hands immediately trying to push her off, but she clung to you with desperate strength.

"You don’t understand," she whispered between kisses, her body pressing closer against yours, her thigh slipping between your legs with wicked, slow friction. "I need you. I’ve needed you for so long..."

You struggled, trying to slide sideways out of her grip, panic clawing up your spine. "You’re not thinking straight—you’re cursed—"

"I am thinking straight," she insisted, lifting her head to meet your gaze. Her eyes shimmered, dark and feverish. "I’ve never thought clearer."

She leaned in, lips parting for a kiss—

You slapped both hands over your mouth, wild-eyed. Shadowheart froze, then blinked in stunned silence—and then laughed. A low, throaty sound that sent a fresh bolt of terror and heat straight through you.

"Oh, you sweet thing," she murmured, amused, a wicked glint lighting her gaze. "If you won’t let me kiss you..."

Her hands slipped lower, tracing down your chest, your stomach—

You tried to dodge, heart pounding, but she sank to her knees before you with unholy grace.

"...then I’ll just have to be more creative," she purred.

You tried to catch her wrists, tried to pull her back upright, but in doing so you moved your hands away from your mouth—

And Shadowheart seized the opportunity, surging up with the swiftness of a striking serpent to catch your lips in a deep, hungry kiss.

The curse hit you like a fist to the chest. You reeled, staggering back against the tree, gasping as molten heat roared through your veins, setting your nerves alight with agonizing, insistent want.

Shadowheart leaned into you, sighing happily against your lips, her whole body pressed tight against yours.

"There we go," she whispered, nuzzling your jaw, utterly delighted. "Now you understand."

Your muscles trembled with the force of it—the raw, gnawing need, the hunger. You clutched her, helpless to push her away now, both of you burning, breathless, utterly doomed together in the deep shade of the woods. And somewhere, far away, you cursed Gale’s trusting heart.

Lae'zel:

You found Lae'zel pacing back and forth in the clearing just outside camp, her whole body taut with restless, twitching energy, her usual ironclad composure cracking under the strain of something far greater than anger or frustration — something much more primal, much more dangerous.

The moment she caught sight of you, her golden eyes lit up with a hunger so naked and intense it stopped you dead in your tracks, the force of it nearly knocking the breath from your lungs — and not just because she looked devastating like that, all fury and longing wrapped into a single coiled body.

"You," she growled, stalking toward you like a predator, her boots kicking up little clouds of dust as she moved, "you will suffer with me."

You blinked, struggling not to laugh at the sheer affronted outrage burning off her in waves; Lae'zel was many things — proud, fierce, unrelenting — but this was something new, something almost petulant, and it was difficult to take her threats seriously when she looked one wrong word away from either tackling you to the ground or throwing a tantrum.

"Lae'zel," you said carefully, trying for calm even as amusement bubbled traitorously in your chest, "you're cursed. You know what will happen if I touch you. It'll spread."

Her snarl was immediate, low and impatient, and she crossed the space between you in three long strides, reaching for you — but the curse, while sharpening her need, had dulled her grace, and she stumbled slightly, catching herself with a furious hiss that made your grin slip out despite yourself.

She pointed an accusatory finger at you, chest heaving, armor glinting under the sun like she was some glorious, furious war goddess undone by something as stupid and human as desire.

"You!" she barked again, scandalized. "Always you wanting closeness. Always you demand soft touches. And now, when I offer, you deny me? Treachery!"

You couldn't help it — you barked a laugh, folding your arms and stepping just out of her immediate reach, savoring the way her scowl deepened to something almost childishly wounded. She was practically vibrating with indignation and unspent energy, her whole body trembling not with fear or anger, but with the unbearable, consuming need for touch she could not have.

"I’m trying to protect you," you said with a chuckle, dancing back another step as she lunged at you again — and this time she almost caught you, her fingers brushing your tunic before you twisted away, leaving her growling in frustrated defeat.

The next time she pounced, though, she was quicker — or maybe you had gotten cocky, letting your guard down, forgetting for a moment that Lae'zel was still, at her core, a creature of instinct and willpower so ferocious that even a cursed, sluggish haze couldn't slow her forever.

She tackled you bodily to the ground with a heavy thud, landing squarely atop you, her legs bracketing your hips, her hands braced on either side of your head, her face close enough that you could see the fine tremble in her jaw, the wild desperation in her gaze.

You opened your mouth to protest — to reason with her — but then she did something so shockingly tender it knocked every thought clean out of your head.

She nuzzled into you, slow and clumsy and soft, like a cat seeking warmth, rubbing her cheek against yours with little needy sounds, her body trembling with exhaustion and need and something perilously close to affection.

It was so adorable — so utterly unlike her — that for a moment you just froze, caught between horror and hilarity, unsure whether to push her off or simply melt into the moment.

"Lae'zel," you croaked, trying to push at her shoulders — but she was heavy and stubborn and clinging to you like her life depended on it, and gods, she was warm, too warm, and you could feel the heat of her skin even through the thin layers of your clothing.

She chuckled — a low, dangerous, amused sound — and before you could gather enough strength to shove her off properly, she shifted, catching your face in her hands with surprising gentleness, and leaned down to kiss you full on the mouth.

You struggled, you really did — hands scrabbling at her arms, trying to pull away — but her mouth was hot and insistent and hungry against yours, and before you even realized it, you were kissing her back, drinking in her desperation, her devotion, the way she seemed to pour every ounce of her frantic, cursed longing into you.

And just like that — the curse exploded through your veins, searing hot and overwhelming, dragging a gasp from your lips as it took hold.

Lae'zel pulled back just far enough to smirk down at you, victorious and radiant and unbearably smug.

"There," she said, satisfaction dripping from every syllable as she pinned you to the ground, her golden eyes gleaming with wicked glee. "Now you suffer too."

And gods help you — you didn’t even mind.

Not when it was her. Not when you could feel her heart hammering against yours, beating the same wild, desperate rhythm. Not when it was Lae'zel.

Jaheira:

You had been warned, of course — Gale, ever the scholar, had cornered you before you even approached the campfire, looking harried and flushed.

"It’s a lust curse," he said in a low, urgent whisper, as if speaking it aloud might make it worse. "Jaheira's been hit with it. She's lucid — for now — but you know how these things go. If you’re touched in... certain ways, it will spread to you immediately."

You had nodded solemnly, assuring him you would be careful — that you knew better than to tempt fate. But then you saw her.

Jaheira was sitting on the log near the fire, her head tilted back, the flames painting her golden-tan skin in a wild, living light. She was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling in a way that was utterly hypnotic, and when she caught sight of you, her lips parted slightly, her entire body almost reaching toward you without thought.

"Come here," she said, voice low, a velvet growl that made your stomach twist with longing.

You hesitated, heart hammering painfully in your chest. She was never like this — Jaheira, fierce and composed, always so in control, so sharp, was looking at you now like a starving creature denied its only salvation. It was a rare and almost reverent sight to behold her so undone, so needy, every inch of her screaming for you in a way she usually hid behind duty and pride.

It undid you.

Without thinking, you took a few steps forward, drawn in helplessly by the intensity of her gaze, the way she opened her arms in silent invitation, the promise of her touch more tempting than any spell or enchantment.

"Jaheira," you breathed, voice cracking slightly. "You're cursed—"

"I know," she said, almost laughing, a breathless, broken sound. "I know, and I do not care. Come to me."

You were close enough now to see the fine sheen of sweat on her brow, the way her fingers trembled where they gripped her knees, how every muscle in her taut, battle-hardened body was coiled and trembling with restraint. She looked utterly wrecked by want, and it was all for you.

You almost gave in right then and there, ready to throw caution and Gale’s warnings to the wind. What did it matter, when she was looking at you like that, like you were the only thing in the world that could save her?

But — somehow — reason clawed its way back through the haze.

"No," you said firmly, stepping back with an effort that felt like tearing yourself in half. "Jaheira, not like this. You're not yourself."

The look she gave you then was devastating — betrayed, furious, needy all at once, the kind of look that might have felled lesser mortals on the spot.

"You always want me," she said bitterly, pushing to her feet with a grace that was only slightly marred by the trembling of her limbs. "Always watching, always waiting for me to allow it, to put aside my duties— and now, when I offer myself to you, when I need you— you refuse me?"

Your mouth opened, closed, and opened again, but no words came. She was right — gods help you, she was right. And yet — you stood your ground, hands fisted at your sides to stop yourself from reaching for her.

Jaheira's eyes narrowed, that calculating sharpness returning to her gaze even through the haze of the curse.

"So," she murmured, stepping closer, slow and measured. "You would deny me. Even now."

She was in front of you before you could think to move, her scent — the warm, wild scent of earth and leaves after rain — overwhelming your senses. You turned your head away, squeezing your eyes shut like a child refusing medicine.

That was your mistake.

She moved swiftly — decades of battlefield experience turning even her cursed need into a strategic assault — catching your face between her hands and forcing you to meet her gaze.

"Look at me," she whispered, and gods help you, you did.

The kiss, when it came, was brutal — desperate, raw, full of a need that threatened to drown you both. Her mouth crushed against yours, and the moment her lips touched yours, it was like fire licked across your skin, the curse seeping into you with dizzying, searing heat.

You gasped into the kiss, hands flying to her waist to push her away — or maybe to pull her closer, you couldn't even tell anymore — as your body reacted instinctively, helplessly, to the magic flooding your veins. Jaheira groaned into your mouth, deep and triumphant, as she felt the curse take hold of you.

"There," she breathed against your lips, her hands sliding down to grip your hips, holding you tightly against her. "Now you understand."

And you did. You understood far, far too well — and you were utterly, gloriously doomed.

Gale:

When you returned to camp that evening, Shadowheart was waiting for you near the fire, her arms folded tight across her chest, her expression a strange blend of annoyance and reluctant amusement.

“He’s cursed,” she said flatly, the firelight catching on the silver of her hair.

You blinked, confused. “Who?”

“Gale,” she sighed, rubbing her temples. “A lust curse. Some relic he was fiddling with while scouting. He’s managing it...for now. He’s warded himself as best he can, but—” Her sharp eyes pierced you. “If you see him, do not touch him. Do not kiss him, do not so much as hold his hand. If the curse spreads, it’ll only get worse. Understand?”

You nodded automatically, even as unease bloomed in your chest.

“He’s in his tent,” Shadowheart added, softer now. “Said he’s going to meditate. Maybe sleep it off.” She snorted faintly. “Wishful thinking, but... he’s stubborn.”

You promised you’d leave him be. You meant it. But curiosity gnawed at you, relentless. And when you approached Gale’s tent, you felt it—the heat, like walking into the heart of a furnace. Magic shimmered faintly in the air, thick with the scent of ozone and something sweeter, something more dangerous.

You hesitated at the flap. Maybe you should just...turn back. Give him space. But then you heard it. A broken, guttural noise, like a muffled plea.

Caution abandoned, you pulled the flap aside—and froze.

Gale was kneeled on his bedroll, stripped down to his briefs, the thin fabric doing little to hide the powerful, trembling tension of his body. Sweat clung to his skin, making him gleam in the dim light like some desperate, golden idol. His hands and ankles were bound with what looked like glowing, magical ropes, their light pulsing weakly as if struggling to contain him.

He looked wrecked.

Flushed cheeks. Chest heaving with shallow, ragged breaths. And when his eyes met yours—wide, dark, almost frantic—you saw it there, plain as day: fear.

“Stay—stay back!” he rasped, jerking against the bindings, which tightened and sparked in warning. “I haven’t—I haven’t finished the gag ward yet—please, you need to stay away, for your own good—”

His voice cracked, pleading. Your heart shattered. How could you just leave him like this? How could you not help?

Moving before you thought better of it, you knelt beside him, brushing sweat-slick hair from his forehead, murmuring soft reassurances you weren’t even sure he could hear. His skin was burning under your touch, fever-hot and thrumming with suppressed magic.

Gale whimpered—a pitiful, broken sound—and pressed into your hand like a drowning man clutching driftwood.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, leaning closer. “I’ll help you. I promise.”

He shook his head weakly. “No... You have to...go...”

You hesitated. Only a moment. And that was all he needed.

The bindings vanished—mere illusion—and in a flash of desperate strength, Gale surged up, grabbing your wrists and rolling you down onto the bedding beneath him.

Your gasp barely made it out before his mouth crashed onto yours, searing and hungry. Magic ignited between your bodies. The curse bloomed through your veins, violent and overwhelming, drowning you in sudden, white-hot need.

You clutched at him instinctively, nails digging into his bare shoulders, overwhelmed by the fire roaring through you. When Gale finally broke the kiss, panting against your lips, there was a wicked gleam in his fevered eyes.

“You should have listened to Shadowheart,” he whispered, voice rough and ruined, but triumphant.

You barely registered the words. Every inch of your body was screaming for him, the curse turning every brush of skin into a shock of unbearable pleasure.

And Gale, damn him, knew it.

He dragged his hands down your sides, slow and deliberate, savoring every shudder, every desperate gasp. He kissed your throat, your collarbone, murmuring broken praises between kisses, and you melted beneath him, the last of your resistance crumbling to dust.

The thought maybe the others would hear flickered weakly at the back of your mind—but it was a fleeting, dying thing.

Right now, there was only Gale—smug, beautiful, dangerous Gale—pinning you beneath him with the weight of his body, the fire of the curse binding you together more completely than any magic ever could.

And gods help you... You didn’t want to be saved.

Astarion:

You found him in the woods, where the shadows thickened and the air grew heavy with the scent of moss and damp earth, and for a moment — just a moment — you thought he might be hurt, the way he was hunched against the base of an ancient, gnarled tree, his body shuddering like a taut bowstring ready to snap, his fingers digging furrows into the dirt as if physical grounding could somehow hold back whatever storm was raging inside him.

The moment his eyes lifted to meet yours — molten red clouded and glazed over with need so raw it almost looked like pain — you knew exactly what had happened.

A lust curse.

It clung to him like a second skin, thick and suffocating, and you could see it in the way he trembled, in the way his breath shuddered out of him in gasps, in the way his hands flexed uselessly at his sides as if he wanted to reach for you but couldn't quite trust himself to close the distance.

He rose unsteadily, every movement aching with the effort of holding himself back, and for a heartbeat you saw a flicker of the Astarion you knew — proud, beautiful, incorrigible — before it was swallowed whole by the gnawing, insatiable hunger twisting him apart.

"Ah, there you are," he said, his voice pitched somewhere between a laugh and a sob, silky and broken all at once, and though he tried to summon that familiar smirk you adored, it wilted on his lips before it could fully form, leaving him looking heartbreakingly young and lost.

You raised your hands instinctively, a futile barrier between you, trying to ignore the way your own heart thundered in your chest at the sight of him — disheveled, trembling, flushed with desperate, furious need — because you knew, more than anything, that you couldn’t allow yourself to touch him.

Not like this.

Not when you couldn’t be sure it was truly him wanting it.

"Astarion," you said softly, gently, as if soothing a wounded animal, "you’re cursed — you’re not thinking clearly — you have to fight it."

His laugh then was ragged, hollow, bitter — and something in it made your throat tighten painfully.

"Oh, darling," he whispered, dragging one shaking hand through his hair, "you think I don't know that? You think I don't know exactly what's happening to me?"

He swayed where he stood, and for a horrifying second you thought he might collapse, but he caught himself against the tree, nails raking down the bark with a horrible screech that set your teeth on edge.

"I know I’m cursed," he ground out, voice rough and low and trembling with the effort it took to speak, "but that doesn’t change what I want. It’s still you. It’s always you."

And gods, you wanted to believe him — you did believe him — but still, you couldn’t move, couldn’t cross that impossible distance, because the thought of ever, ever taking from him, using him while he was vulnerable like this, was something you couldn’t stomach.

He must have seen the resolve settle in your features, because something dark and wild sparked behind his eyes, and suddenly he was pulling out every weapon he knew how to wield — every devastating smile, every coy tilt of his head, every sinful, decadent roll of his hips as he let his hands trail suggestively down his own body in a display so shameless you would have laughed if it hadn’t been so utterly, gut-wrenchingly tragic.

He purred filthy promises, he whined with needy, broken little noises that clawed at your sanity, he even — gods help you — dropped to his knees and looked up at you through his lashes, looking so heartbreakingly vulnerable, so wrecked, that you almost — almost — faltered.

But you didn’t.

You stayed rooted to the spot, hands fisted at your sides, muscles aching with the strain of not reaching for him.

Minutes dragged by in agonizing silence, broken only by his ragged breathing, until finally, finally, something inside him seemed to shatter completely.

He slumped forward, head bowed, shoulders trembling so violently it looked painful, and when he lifted his gaze to you again, there was no seduction left — only raw, desperate pleading.

"Please," he rasped, the word tearing itself from his throat like it hurt to speak it, "please, just one kiss. That’s all I’m asking. Just — just let me have that."

You felt something deep inside you break at the sound of it — at the way he knelt there in the dirt like a man undone, stripped of all his armor and artifice, reduced to nothing but need and the desperate, terrified hope that you might still want him even like this.

You crossed the distance between you before you could think better of it, falling to your knees and cradling his face in your hands, feeling the way he leaned into your touch like a starving man would lean into the scent of bread.

"Are you sure?" you whispered, your voice thick with unshed tears, because you needed — needed — to hear him say it. You just needed him to be okay. He nodded, a tiny, broken thing, his smile trembling and radiant all at once.

"I’m sure," he whispered back, and there was something so painfully real in his voice that you knew, in that instant, that whatever the curse had done to him, whatever false hunger it had stoked, it hadn’t — couldn’t — touch the way he felt about you.

You leaned in, pressing your mouth to his in the softest, most cautious kiss imaginable, your lips barely brushing his, trembling with the force of all the things you couldn’t say.

For a single, precious heartbeat, it was gentle — tender — achingly, impossibly sweet.

And then Astarion made a soft, broken sound deep in his throat, and the dam broke completely.

He surged forward, grabbing you with a strength born of desperation, deepening the kiss until it was wild and messy and frantic, his hands clawing at your back like he could somehow pull you inside him, and you kissed him back just as fiercely, surrendering to the tidal wave of need that crashed through you.

It wasn’t until a sudden, electric jolt of heat tore through your body — searing and sharp and utterly overwhelming — that you remembered the curse.

You pulled back with a gasp, eyes wide, body trembling with the force of it, and Astarion — beautiful, ruined Astarion — just smiled that wicked, triumphant smile you knew so well and dragged his thumb along your lower lip, savoring the shudder that wracked your body at his touch.

"Looks like we’re both damned now, darling," he purred, his voice low and hoarse with victory and unbearable, breathtaking affection.

And gods help you — you couldn't even bring yourself to mind.

Wyll:

It all started simply enough — or so Shadowheart had assured you, half-smirking as she delivered the news.

"He's fine," she'd said casually, though there was a wicked glint in her eye that made you instantly wary. "A little... affectionate, perhaps. Nothing you can't handle. Just — whatever you do, don't let him kiss you. Or, you know. Anything worse. It'll spread otherwise."

You had rolled your eyes at the warning, already heading toward Wyll’s tent with the confident belief that you — of all people — could resist the man, no matter how charming he got.

That was before you saw him.

He was sprawled messily across his bedroll, stripped down to only his briefs, sweat gleaming across the broad plane of his chest, his dark hair damp, a sheen on his horns. His chest heaved with every breath, and his whole body seemed to hum with some deep, restless energy.

"Ah — my love," he said the moment he caught sight of you, his voice ragged, rougher than you’d ever heard it, like every word physically cost him to say. He pushed himself up to his knees in a clumsy, desperate movement, offering you the most pitifully hopeful look you had ever seen on him. "You’ve come to rescue me at last."

You froze, mouth dry, already feeling the heat coming off him like a furnace.

"Wyll," you warned carefully, hands raised like you were approaching a wild animal. "*Shadowheart said you need to rest. I'm just here to—"

"Rest?" he repeated, incredulous, dragging his hands through his hair with a laugh that was far too close to a groan. "Darling, I am dying here. Look at me." He gestured down at himself dramatically, chest still heaving, his flushed face full of pitiful earnestness. "Is this a man who needs rest?"

You couldn't help but chuckle, even as you took a cautious step back. "You're cursed, Wyll. You need to sleep it off. No kisses, no cuddles, no — whatever else you're planning."

"But my sweet heart," Wyll drawled, struggling to his feet, staggering slightly as if even gravity was conspiring to torture him, "you are all I dream of. If I sleep now, I will dream of you — and then wake even worse than I am now. Is that what you want? To leave me here, suffering?"

He swayed toward you, his voice dropping into that deep, coaxing tone he knew you were weak to, the one that wrapped around you like velvet.

"Don't you miss me?" he murmured, dark eyes hooded, voice almost a purr. "Don't you want to hold me?"

You gritted your teeth, heart pounding. "You want to hold me," you said, voice wobbling with the effort to stay firm. "There's a difference."

Wyll's grin was utterly wicked — the curse had loosened something in him, made him shameless, unrestrained in a way that was dangerously tempting.

"Semantics," he said, before lunging forward like he might actually tackle you.

You squeaked — a very dignified squeak — and dodged, making him stumble and curse under his breath. He threw his head back in pure frustration, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Gods above," he groaned, voice cracking. "You are merciless!”

"You'll thank me later!" you called over your shoulder, trying to put distance between you.

Wyll let out a sound that was half growl, half whine, and — to your horror and amusement — he just dropped like a felled tree onto his bedroll, arms splayed out dramatically. He lay there perfectly still, utterly defeated.

You frowned. "Wyll?"

No response.

You crept closer, suspicious. "Wyll," you repeated firmly, reaching out a hand to prod his shoulder. "This isn't funny—"

The moment your fingers brushed his skin, he sprang to life, faster than you could react.

"Got you," Wyll breathed triumphantly, grabbing you and hauling you bodily onto the bedroll with him.

"Wyll, no—!" you gasped, struggling against him, but he was already shifting over you, pinning you down with shocking ease, his whole body pressed against yours in a way that made your resolve crumble in an instant.

"You should've known better, my heart," Wyll murmured against your ear, voice low and filled with wicked delight. "You can't resist me forever."

You opened your mouth to retort — and he kissed you, full and deep and utterly devastating, pouring every bit of his cursed, desperate longing into it.

The moment your lips met, it was like a spark ignited between you, a magic you couldn't hope to fight — the curse latching onto you like a brand, heat flooding your veins so fast and sweet it almost made you dizzy.

Wyll groaned into the kiss, cradling your face in both hands like you were something precious and sacred, finally his to hold without restraint.

"See?" he whispered against your lips, voice hoarse with hunger and affection all tangled together. "Wasn't so bad, was it?"

And you, utterly lost to him now, could only shake your head, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him closer, surrendering to the pull that had always existed between you — curse or no curse.

Because this was Wyll — your Wyll — and gods help you, you wanted him just as badly.

Halsin:

You had seen it happen — had watched from across the clearing as the old magic, wild and half-forgotten, tangled around Halsin like a web spun of sunlight and smoke, seeping into his skin with a shimmer you could almost hear, a low, hungry hum that set your own heartbeat skittering in warning.

It took mere moments before you saw the change in him: that slight, telling hitch in his breath, the way his massive frame tensed and shuddered under some invisible pressure, the normally grounded calm in his golden eyes swallowed up by a dark, glassy haze of want that struck you like a blow.

And gods, it was almost comical — almost — the way he immediately turned toward you like a moth spotting a flame, shoulders rolling, muscles flexing under his tunic as he swayed where he stood, blinking dumbly at you as if trying to process why he wasn’t already touching you.

You cursed under your breath, already stepping backward, palms raised, trying to inject some lightness into your voice despite the way your pulse roared in your ears.

"Stay where you are, my heart," you teased, summoning a quick barrier spell between you with a flick of your fingers. "You're not thinking straight — and I, for one, would prefer not to get cursed today."

Halsin made a noise in his throat — something low and almost hurt — before lurching forward, walking straight through your ward like it was smoke on the breeze. His size alone was intimidating enough, but the naked, unfiltered need rolling off him in waves made your whole body tighten in pure, instinctive anticipation.

You scrambled, grabbing the closest weapon you could find — a dull training sword, laughably useless against him — and brandished it in warning. "I mean it! Stay back! Don’t make me poke you with this thing!"

He smiled — smiled — that slow, lazy grin he usually wore only after long nights tangled together, and your breath hitched because there was nothing careful about it now, nothing restrained. This was the bear beneath the druid, the wild, relentless force that had always lurked just under his skin — and you had never been more gloriously doomed.

Still, you tried. You darted to the side, weaving illusions and sending harmless blasts of force to try and trip him up, laughing breathlessly as you ducked and rolled, tossing dirt at his feet, all the while your heart pounding wildly against your ribs.

But it was futile.

Halsin was a predator born, built for the chase, and he indulged it now with a rumbling, pleased growl, following you unhurriedly, utterly certain of the outcome, until you backed yourself right into a tree — and before you could blink, his massive hands were on you, lifting you off the ground like you weighed nothing at all.

"Got you," he rumbled against your ear, voice thick and syrupy with satisfaction, and you squeaked — squeaked — in protest, struggling half-heartedly against his iron grip, but it was like trying to fight a landslide.

"Halsin," you gasped, laughing helplessly as he pinned you with nothing but the breadth of his body, one big hand cupping the back of your head like you were something fragile and precious even as his hips pressed you shamelessly against the tree. "You’re cursed! You’re not thinking clearly!"

"I am," he countered, voice impossibly deep, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. "I am thinking perfectly clearly. I want you. I always want you."

You opened your mouth to argue — to remind him of the magic seething under his skin, twisting his desires into something dangerous — but it was too late. His lips found yours, hot and desperate and softer than you expected, like even now, even drowning in lust, he still couldn't bear to treat you with anything but reverence.

The curse slammed into you like a tidal wave the moment your mouths met, white-hot and dizzying, and you moaned into the kiss despite yourself, your whole body arching instinctively into his.

Halsin groaned low in his chest, as if feeling the change in you, recognizing it — and then there was no more hesitation, no more control. His hands roamed greedily, possessively, up your sides and down your back, finding every inch of you like he was memorizing it all over again, and you clung to him with equally frantic need, your own resistance dissolving into ash.

You barely registered the leaves and twigs digging into your back as he lifted you higher, cradling you with ridiculous ease, murmuring filthy, reverent things against your mouth, your neck, your shoulders — words that blurred together into a haze of heat and hunger until you weren't sure who was devouring who.

And maybe that was the curse speaking. Maybe it wasn’t fair.

But as Halsin whispered your name like a prayer and held you like a treasure he refused to let go of, you realized — curse or not — you wanted this.

You wanted him.

Always had. Always would.

There may or may not be a smut version of this in the drafts if people want it..... Hope you guys enjoyed it! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[gaysindistress]

things bg3 characters say but make it jaheria pretty pretty please? literally begging you on my knees? 🥺🥺

Things bg3 characters say

*gasp* How could I forget our favorite high Harper??? Here you are, lovey🖤

Things Jaheira says

Jaheira spotting you across the courtyard of the Last Light Inn nervously making your way towards her, greeting you with “Let me guess - you need something.”

Jaheira tending to the plants around her tent, humming while you pretend to read and observe her.

Jaheira, when you tell her that you’re observing her in her natural habitat, chuckling around her breath, “I am a Druid, not an animal, little cub.”

Jaheira with her eyes closed, arms crossed behind her head by the fire, teasing you “I would poke you back, but I fear that's what you want,” when you playfully nudge her.

Jaheira before you both head into battle whispering over your shoulder, “I’m at your back, little cub.”

Jaheira pulling your unconscious form from the front lines, nearly growling, “I’m not done with you, yet.”

Jaheira sleepily agreeing to you share her tent for the night only for you to freak out in the morning and her groaning, “Oh, calm down and go back to sleep.”

Jaheira wrapping her arms around your middle and nipping at the back of your neck with a low rumbling growl.

Jaheira slipping one hand down your front, purring in your ear, “what? No sharp come backs now, little cub?”

Jaheira chiding you as her fingers work you and you moan slightly too loud, “quiet now or I will stop.”

Jaheira rolling you on top of her and letting her eyes trail over your form, chuckling, “always causing havoc my dear.”

Jaheira keeping you tucked into her side at night by the fire, recounting every tale of her past adventures that you ask.

Jaheira, someone who never thought she would find another to share her life with, introducing you to her children with a genuine smile and warm hearts.

[thehistoriccemetery]

Companions React to Reader Sitting on Their Lap

It’s another pretty short one this week, as I’ve had terrible Minthara brainrot and I’ve been able to write nothing but filthy smut 😔

Anyway, this one is some family friendly head canons about the ladies with a bonus Dame Aylin and Isobel!

Shadowheart

Shadowheart doesn’t say anything at first, but you do notice her skin get slightly redder, and you watch a tiny smirk grow across her face.

She’s not typically one for public displays of affection, but something about lap sitting is different.

It’s like affection with plausible deniability. What else was I supposed to do? Sit on the floor?

After you’ve done it once, Shadowheart considers the barrier broken and takes every opportunity to sit on your lap.

Sometimes you think she must have a sixth sense that tells her when you sit down, because she simply appears on your lap.

If you cross your legs or do anything else to prevent her sitting in your lap, she gives you a little cough to let you know you should remedy that as soon as possible.

Depending on who’s around, she’ll sometimes lean back against you, pressing her whole body to yours.

She likes it when you wrap your arms around her and rest your head on her shoulder.

While she prefers to be the one sitting on your lap, she’s still more than happy to let you sit on hers.

Lae’zel

The first time you try sitting on her lap, she pushes you off. Why are you sitting on top of her? Weirdo. You roll your eyes and sit on the ground.

But then she decides that it’s weirder you’re sitting on the ground so she gives you her seat.

But then she doesn’t want to stand anymore. Tsk’va. Whatever. Guess she’s gonna have to sit on you.

Lae’zel only ever sits on your lap, never the other way around. She oddly never picks up on any of the possible implications of that.

If anyone calls Lae’zel a bottom she’s gonna throw hands.

She doesn’t lay up against you or anything. To her this move is strictly practical, or at least she acts like it is.

You let her have it. As far as you’re concerned, you have a lovely girlfriend on your lap so you’re not going to complain.

Karlach

The first time you nonchalantly sit down in Karlach’s lap, she’s so chill and unfazed.

At least, that’s the vibe she’s trying to give off. She can be cool about this. So cool.

It’s less than a minute before her body starts to betray her. Her legs bounce up and down excitedly under you. As soon as you turn to face her, her stoic expression cracks into one of pure delight.

After that, Karlach pulls so many tricks to ask you to sit in her lap without actually having to ask.

Oh no! There’s no more chairs! Wherever will you sit? Looks like it’ll just have to be in her lap again. Ignore those broken chairs hidden in the corner, this isn’t about them.

You catch on pretty fast. Only so many chairs can disappear before things start to get suspicious.

You sit yourself on Karlach’s lap, watching the goofy smile grow across her face. “You know you can just ask, right?”

Her skin flushes and she buries her face in your neck. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Unfortunately, she’ll never sit on your lap because she’s too afraid to crush you. Even if you’re bigger than her. You’re too precious to risk it.

Minthara

Minthara is always taking up as much space as she desires in any given situation, so it’s not uncommon that she takes up the space of more than one person.

Luckily she’s always got a place for you to sit, whether that be in between her legs or on them.

She’s never bashful about pulling you into her lap, even when there people are around.

If anything, an audience actually encourages her. You are hers, and that is most clear to everyone when you’re perched on her thigh.

Other times she will be slightly more subtle, tapping her inner thigh in a silent invitation, queuing you to join her.

There are very few scenarios in which Minthara will sit on your lap though. At least, in public.

If you try to get her to sit, she’ll shoot you an “I know that you know this isn’t how this works” look, leaving you to let her take your seat and take your position on her lap.

Jaheira

It really depends on the day with Jaheira.

Most days she going to tell you to get an extra chair. There is no need for you to be sitting in her lap right now.

Sometimes, even if there is no extra chair she would have you sit at her feet in front of her before she let you into her lap.

But on those particularly long and hard days, when you come back looking exhausted and beat, she will allow for some extra tenderness.

She’ll gently guide your head to rest on her shoulder or against her chest and stroke your hair.

If you’re in a more comfortable space she will even slide her hand up under your shirt to rub your back.

More often than not, you fall asleep almost instantly, even if everyone around you is still making a ruckus.

She’s still not going to carry you to bed though. You can walk yourself there.

Dame Aylin x Isobel

Isobel is a princess and Dame Aylin is her throne. It’s more common than not the Isobel is on Aylin’s lap.

For Aylin, it’s like displaying a beautiful trophy. She needs everyone to look at her beautiful girlfriend right now.

The notion makes Isobel blush, but she’s just as proud to have Aylin as Aylin is to have her, so she’ll allow it.

Aylin doesn’t sit on Isobel’s lap, nor would she ever allow her to give up her seat, but Aylin will sit at her feet and gaze up at her with awe and wonder while Isobel smiles down at her and runs her hands through the aasimar’s hair.

And Selune forbid there’s no place for Isobel to sit. Aylin would sooner get down on one knee and let Isobel sit on her leg than leave a tired Isobel to stand.

Aylin’s shoulders are also an acceptable option. She can hoist Isobel up there with ease. She’ll never have to walk for any longer than she wishes.

Granted, it makes them like 10 feet tall, so there’s only a few places it’s applicable before Isobel has to be on alert for low hanging obstacles.

[donat-senpai]

Druids are the most cunning in the camp. They often turn into animals. You can't resist cuddling their cute little faces. They get nose kisses and ear scratches. Sometimes you let them sleep next to you. Everyone else in the camp looks with envy at the arrogant predators who are constantly taking you away.

(Gale will not give up until he has turned over all the libraries of the world in search of a potion or spell that turns a person into an animal. Perhaps he will forget to find a way to get back in advance. But as long as you scratch his cat ears, he won't complain )

[vibingandsimping]

Who else loves random descriptions of intimate positions?

Me, I do. I am incredibly touch starved. Anyways-

Main good route companions + random intimate positions! Pt. 1

All of you villain/evil route lovers, you will be fed soon. (I am one of them)

Forewarnings: Suggestive content, fluff and not proofread

Astarion loves to hook your leg over his shoulder as he kisses you. One hand crawling up that leg from the hip, to the thigh and to the calf. His nails trailing and leaving a tickling grace in it’s wake. You shudder at the touch and squirm a little. He relishes in that and you can feel his cheeky smirk against your lips. You gasp as he nips your lower lip with his fangs. He takes that chance and deepens the kiss between you two.

Wyll intertwines your fingers in both hands. Presses them on the ground up by your head as his mouth lavishes your neck. You can feel his breath against your earlobe and it makes you shiver. His legs trap your thighs and you’re laid beneath him as he stares at you. His gaze speaks only admiration. It’s so intense- and raw. He whispers sweet nothings as he kisses you. You’re sure to find some marks he left on you in the morning.

Lae’zel hooks her leg around your hip. You’re kissing on her chest as her fingers place upon your head. Her little gasps and whimpers are quiet- muffled. She’s trying to conceal how much she enjoys this as ever the strong woman she is. You dig your fingers painfully into her waist and she groans unabashedly this time. You hum approvingly before she takes the reigns. You turned this into a challenge.

Shadowheart loves to place her head on your thighs. No matter how small or large. You can feel her hair tickle your skin, the braid held in one hand as you run along the length of it. Her eyes are closed contently as she savors the warmth you emit. It’s almost unnoticeable the way her fingers gently creep up the outside of your thigh. Not until she’s placed her palm on it and squeezes. There’s a smirk on her face as she continues to feign innocence.

Karlach has your head placed on her chest as she lays. You can hear the infernal engine working under her ribcage. It’s mechanical and unnatural… but the heat she radiates comforts any sort of unease you have. Her hand strokes your head and neck as you bury into the soft flesh of her breasts. There’s a laugh that rocks her body, seemingly amused by how you snuggled into her. You laugh with her too, pressing a gentle kiss against the glowing part of her skin.

Gale wraps your legs around his hips and you instinctively lock your ankles together. His hands slide under your thighs towards your rear, cupping it as he holds your hips in the air. He gazes at you with warm brown eyes as he lowers his head. He plants kisses from the center of your chest down to your stomach. His teeth occasionally nip as his tongue darts out to taste the flesh. He does so until he reaches your pelvis before retracing his steps. Once he reaches your chest, he parts and meets your lips this time.

Halsin holds you in his arms as he stands. You feel weightless in his grasp, even if you’re bigger. Despite his size- people still seem to underestimate how strong he is. He kisses you tenderly as he wraps his arms protectively around you. You’re enveloped in him as his scent washes over you. It smells like forest dew and wild-berries with a hint of his natural musk. He whispers in your ear about how you’re the finest creation nature could bestow him with.

Jaheira seems to regard you almost like porcelain. She’s an older elf and it’d been over a century since she had a lover. Fighting Ketheric Thorm and surviving the curse was her purpose for years. She holds you like you’re going to vanish. Arms linked around your waist and legs tangled in yours. Her nose presses against your skin and she breathes in your scent. You smile softly as you allow the woman to enjoy your presence and touch. Your fingers tracing shapes onto her shoulder-blades as she relaxes like putty.

Minsc holds you tightly and almost crushes you against his chest. He truly forgets his own strength sometimes as he hums happily. He savors the feeling of your heart thrumming against his skin. When you squirm, he blinks and loosens his grip with an apology. You simply smile and shake your head, telling him it’s alright. He has a guilty look as he watches you carefully. You sigh and crawl up a little to press a kiss against his cheek. Like that, he straightens up and holds you again. He’s more careful this time but the grip is still firm enough to hold you against him. What a gentle giant he is.

[avocado-writing]

Astarion x Reader

Astarion x Mage Apprentice!Reader* & Pt2*

Mistaken Identity

heart, home*

chilly

Astarion x Rogue!Tav Headcanons

Astarion’s Pre-Cazador Love

Virgin!Reader Feeding*

Gentle Cuddles

Pampered

Scotophobia

Anchor

Fangless

Training*

Where He’d Take You In The City

although I was burning, you’re the only light*

Gale x Reader

Good Boy* & pt2

Karlach x Reader

Burn Heals*

Halsin x Reader

Sneaking Off*

Bred*

Wyll x Reader

Giving In & Part 2

Teasing*

Misc

Kiddo (Gortash & Reader, platonic)

Lists

Supportive Headcanons

Shy Reader Kisses

Reader Often Ignored

Short Reader

Ascended Fiend Raphael HCs*

Dirty Headcanons*

Socially Anxious Reader

Companions help Reader in Pain

Pregnancy & Parenthood Headcanons

Reader Waiting for Rejection

Reader Worried Nobody Would Want Them

Reader Wearing His Clothes

Roadtrip AU

Comforting Headcanons

Trouble Sleeping

Reader Who Hides Their Face & Female Companions

Reader Who Says They’re Glad They Met Him

Reader With Skin Condition

Reactions to Calling Companions Mummy/Daddy*

Reactions to Companions Calling You Mummy/Daddy*

Reactions to You Hiding an Injury

Reader Sad About Being Ignored

BG3 Men Reactions When You Tease Them*

Companions Realising They’re In Love With You Mid-Battle & Reverse

Companion Reactions to a Reader Who Can Change Sex

Modern AU Picnic in the Park

Bard!Reader Serenading Them

Reactions When You’re Self-Conscious About Your Laugh

Halsin & Astarion Realising You’re Strong

Reactions When They See You Self-Destructing

Birthday Celebrations*

When You Think Your Love Is Unrequited

Reactions When You Say Their Love Will Pass

Reactions To You Drinking The Elixir of the Colossus*

How Female Companions Go Down*

Reactions When You’re a Selkie

Reactions When You Become Dominant*

Companions Help You Get Fit

Rainy Day Cuddles

Reactions to a Reader Who Loves to Cook

BG3 Ladies & Breast Play*

Reactions to You Coming Out as Ace

BG3 Ladies’ Reaction to a New Facial Scar

Pregnancy Cravings

How the BG3 Ladies Cuddle

Companions Falling For You Mid-Performance

How the BG3 Ladies Talk in Bed

BG3 Men & Reader Who Can't Read

Reactions to Awkward Comforting

Saying You Love Them Mid-Argument

[hijackalx]

BG3 NON-COMPANIONS/NON-ORIGIN COMPANIONS TURN ONS/KINKS +18

FEMALE BG3 COMPANIONS

MALE BG3 COMPANIONS

characters included: halsin, minthara, jaheira, gortash

*dark content warning for gortash*

HALSIN

SIZE DIFFERENCE

OBVIOUSLYYYY lmao. he loves how small u are in comparison to him. i mean everything about him is large— hands, arms, chest, thighs. also, i feel like he likes that he has to help u when u take control because ur smaller or weaker than him. like, when he has to subtly help u pin his wrists by moving them in the direction u want lol

THIGH RIDING

this also plays into the size difference thing. like his thigh is just so big/muscular, and he loves watching u grind on it (or he can bounce his knee to help u get off too). the type to grab u by ur hips and assist u when ur rhythm starts to stutter. he also loves the wet spot that forms in ur underwear if u keep them on 💗

DEEP THROATING/FACESITTING

OK HE LOVES BOTH like i said everything about him is large (😈) so he loves to see u try to swallow him whole. the way u gag and struggle to take him in is soooo hot to him. also all the drool that spills out of ur mouth 🤤🤤 as for facesitting u better sit ur ass tf DOWN !! HE CAN TAKE IT !! lovessss when u grind on his face/mouth, also loves to squeeze ur ass during it

THREESOME

THIS MAN IS GENEROUS !!! LOVES to share !! always wanting to invite people to have sex with y'all. he feels like it's so much more fun and also loves to watch u get fucked/have u watch him get fucked. will want to do spit roasting too.

SWINGING

sooo into exchanging partners with other couples. or just fucking other people in general. of course he won't do this if u don't want to though. but he gets really excited if u do 😹😹 probably gets off while sharing ur experiences with each other

MINTHARA

KNIFE PLAY

likes the way u shake and whimper as she brings her knife close to ur skin. will leave small cuts and want to carve her initials into ur skin. also slightly into bloodplay too ?? i feel like she'd be into smearing ur blood on her hands and making u clean them off with ur tongue OOF

BONDAGE

she would absolutely cast web and use it as bondage restraints LMAO. will have u in some crazyyy positions too. kind of in a shibari way but with webs. the webs are actually pretty gentle though and have some give so she's not like, totally sadistic with it 😌💗

DACRYPHILIA

SHE DOES LIKE TO SEE U CRY THOUGH LMAO like something about how weak/pathetic u look turns her on so bad— as long as SHE'S the one that made u cry. if it's because of somebody or something else it's lowkey a boner killer for her 😹😹😹 will say really horrible, mean things to try to bring u to tears and then get wet af. will not comfort u after either

GAGGING

likes to use a ball gag but will honestly use whatever she has at the moment. a rag or her fingers even. she likes that u can't speak and can only moan/whimper. also into the way u drool. will purposely ask u questions and then punish/degrade u for not being able to answer

BOOT WORSHIP

LOVESSS making u kiss her boots. will want to hold u down with her boot and make u praise her endlessly. or step on ur face. might even be into giving u a little kick in the diaphragm if u want 😹😹😹

JAHEIRA

MIRROR SEX

WILL WANT TO BE FUCKED IN FRONT OF A MIRROR!!!! with her face pressed against it while she's getting backshots or even with one propped up beside the bed so she can watch how good she looks while she rides u. lowkey will put on a show for herself and get off to it 😹😹

LINGERIE

loves lingerie of all kinds. the garter straps on her thighs are her favorite part tbh. probably prefers to wear black or red— like classically sexy colors. also probably likes it if u wear some too, and will want to keep it on for the full duration of the sex. LOVES lace

STRIPPING

^^ ALTHOUGH.... she also really likes to strip for u. like going nice and slow while u try to restrain urself lol. will probably give u a lap dance too and is pretty playful with it sometimes. particularly loves to see how u get progressively more horny the longer she takes, also into seeing u touch urself a little bit during it too

NIPPLE PLAY

sucking on/playing with her nipples is a MUST. HUGEEEE erogenous zone for her. can probably cum from nipple stimulation alone. likes when u make it hurt a little too, like pinching or twisting them

DEGRADATION

kind of into u calling her names.... like whore or slut. tell her she's a dirty whore while u pull her hair and fuck her from behind. will also talk down to u if ur not really doing the best job LMAO like u better fuck her right or ur gonna get it 😹😹 she'll straight up be like "is that the best u can do?" or "this is pathetic."

BONUS:

GORTASH

BREEDING

HE NEEDS HEIRRRSSSS !!! ALWAYS wants to cum inside. an actual babymaking MONSTER like he cums so much its crazy. loves to see u stuffed full of his cum, it really makes him feels accomplished after all of his hard work 💪🏻💯😹

DADDY DOM

he is so into being called daddy. depending on the context he’ll get rock hard but also likes if u call him that outside of sex too. u can basically get anything u want from him if u add a ‘please daddy’ at the end of it— like he just can’t bring himself to say no. he’ll do anything for u to keep calling him that lol

*** DUBCON ***

DEFINITELY into coercing u/figuring out ways to get what he wants. likes when u get overstimulated and start telling him it’s too much or trying to push him away (u do have a safeword). also the fact that he can overpower u if he wants gets him sooo hard

POWER PLAY

LOVESSS having u at his beck and call. the more pliant and submissive u are the better. won’t do this outside of the bedroom unless u want to or if u initiate it since he prefers the idea of only him being able to see u like that. he’s the only one you’ll roll over for, so to speak lol

COLLARING

makes a special collar for u with expensive imported materials and shit lmao. thinks u look absolutely gorgeous in it and will tell u that all the time. loves the way u gasp when he sharply tugs on its leash. will also tug on it while giving u backshots. likes how it chokes u a little bit too, and the bruises it leaves behind when he’s too rough with it

MALE BG3 COMPANIONS

FEMALE BG3 COMPANIONS

[sorcerous-caress]

So fun fact about me irl I work with children but often my teacher language slips out like telling my friends to say “bye bye bus”, telling another person in my lecture writing to “be nice to the pencil, it’s your friend.” And greeting a roomful of grown as adults with good morning boys and girls. It’s mortifying but How do you think the companions would react to having a teacher!tav slip up like that.

Dealing with a Teacher Tav

[Bg3, fluff, platonic kinda, nb!reader]

[Gale, Shadowheart, Laezel, Wyll, Karlach, Astarion, Halsin, Minthara, Jaheira, Minsc]

Gale

He delightfully plays along whenever you tell him to thank a stranger or say goodbye to an inanimate object. He thinks it's very silly and joyous.

Teachers have always been a big part of his life, it doesn't phase him in the slightest when you unawarly awake the deep memories of being in wizards pre-school for him.

Says good morning to you back, adding a teacher honorific at the end for the sake of being playful while asking if you've finally graded the homework he handed in.

He gives you an apple occasionally. He thinks he is very hilarious.

Shadowheart

She freezes in awkwardness whenever it happens, not sure if you’re being serious or just playing around. Sometimes, you don't even register slipping up as go on with your day, leaving her wondering if she's imagining things.

She has zero experience with the school system, completely confused by the need to say thank you for carriage after it arrived. It's just a carriage, why should she?

One time while her and Laezel were arguing, you used the same call you'd use in the classroom to get the kids to quiet down and it completely caught them both off guard. They just stood there baffled, forgetting their original argument.

Laezel

Why, yes, she is very familiar with teachers. In fact, she was the best out of her class, ask any githyanki teacher, and they'd tell you endless praise about her throat cutting techniques and sword welding stances.

You, whoever, use very unusual teaching techniques. How would learning a song about washing your hand and brushing your teeth help her in slaying her enemies?

Intriguing, so you take advantage of the brain's tendency to latch on to phrases that rhyme, which makes them easier to remember? And you encode your melodies with instructions to embed them into the impressionable youth?

Huh. She actually is impressed. She made her decision, you will lend your teaching skills to help her embed the most effect way of fracturing someone's spine into a melody to spread to the githyanki children.

Wyll

As someone who has been an unofficial teacher for so many kids throughout his years, he can relate to your struggle a lot. He slips up more than he cares to admit.

The both of you meeting early in the morning while still groggy and tired, your brains working on automatic mods as you greet each other with the same high pitched enthusiastic voice you use to greet a toddler.

Then just stare at each other, complete understanding between the two of you. Like two people accidentally using their customer service voice in front of the other.

You struggle to tie your boots once, and he unconsciously bends down to tie them for you while using the rabbit loop euphemism, only to stop in his tracks as he realises what he's doing.

He uses a curse word once, and you immediately use your teachers voice and say, "we don't speak like that here, that's wasn't very nice."

You're both tired, you both need a nap and neither of you brings it up when the other slips.

Karlach

Much like Gale, she finds it extremely amusing. Top tier comedy to her. Unlike Gale, she hasn't been to any proper schooling system, so she doesn't exactly know what most of these phrases mean or imply.

In a way, it lets her pretend she was a part of something like a school in her youth, like she could've had a normal childhood like everyone else.

She'd indulge you, saying goodbye and thank you to the pigeon that delivered her a letter, or overhearing Wyll's rabbit loop ryhme and whispering it under her breath as she ties her own boots. Who knew this could've been so easy?

Astarion

You remind him of how Leon was with his daughter back in Cazador's manor. Astarion never was close with any of them, but still, he sometimes overheard him attempting to give his daughter a semblance of a normal childhood and growth.

It's endearing when you accidentally use your teaching ways while dealing with the owlbear cub, but he'll never admit it.

Doesn't indulge you with it, he has appearance to keep. Well, unless he has a chance to twist your innocent meaning words into a sex or gorey joke like the 12y old humour that he has.

Ah, the scrowl on your face is the exact same one Leon had around him, such fond memories.

Halsin

Ah, you bring him back to his old days of having to deal with the children at the grove. Although his methods focused more on showing them that nature is a friend rather than inanimate objects.

But who is he to judge your ways? If anything he could learn a thing or two from you to add to his skillset.

Tells you about the fables that were passed down from elf to elf throughout the generations, animal stories have always done a great part in teaching him morality.

Do you happen to have any? Maybe you could tell it to the children of the grove, they are good kids.

Minthara

As a noble, she was only given the best and most prestigious of teachers while growing up. Even the ones that weren't a drow would still be considered the best of the best, crème de la crème.

Yet not a single one of them applied such...childish methods. etiquette and discipline were taught by the lash and threat of punishment, not lullabies and gentle guidance.

....it's not as bad as she imagined.

She doesn't get why some of your companions find it amusing. She doesn't bother indulging either.

But sometimes, sometimes, when it's just the two of you, and she is sure not a single soul is around, she will reply with a pun with the most deadpan face expression you've seen.

Jaheira

Despite what most would think, she actually integrated the same methods into her teachings back when her kids were little, it just happened to be weaved with her more dangerous lifestyle ascept.

Here comes the plane, with the airplane usual holding a good dosage amount of poison to build resistance.

A short rhyme about what to check before leaving the house, except the list has a suspicious amount of daggers and trap disarm kits in it.

If it works, it works, so what if she had to alter a kid's book about a honey loving yellow bear into one with decipherable texts to teach them Harpers' secret communication language.

Minsc

Ah! Boo does use the same method on him sometimes, the two of you have a lot in common. Although Boo's methods do involve a bit of biting every now and then.

Say, how about he teaches you some fables from Rashemen, a lot of them are about a rabbit who got lost after not listening to his witch frog companion.

You could use it in your teachings later! Show the youth the importance of good teamwork. Yes, he is aware of the fact he didn't listen to Jaheira and got captured by the cult. No, he doesn't see why this is relevant? Why is Boo suddenly agreeing with you? He is supposed to be on his side.

[madschiavelique]

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐮𝐫'𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝟑 : 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : 

─ . here you might fight content such as :

𝜗𝜚‧ bg3 characters x reader 𝜗𝜚‧ bg3 characters x reader smut 𝜗𝜚‧ bg3 headcanons 𝜗𝜚‧ bg3 headcanons x reader

here you can find my request rules for bg3 in general and some questions that were asked about it

𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 : masterlist (upcoming)

─ . summary : Jaheira, Captain of The Khalid, leads a daring expedition to find Pearl Island, a mythical island on which it is said you can fulfill any wish. Astarion Ancunin is her ship's helmsman. Elena is a survivor of their last raid who seems to know more than she's letting on about their goals. The two can’t stand each other.

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 : 

─ . dating the men of bg3 (astarion, gale, halsin, kar'niss, raphael, haarlep, rolan, wyll) + dating gortash as a fem!reader and dating gortash as an nb/masc!reader

─ . reader that has epileptic seizures and how their partner handle it (astarion, gale, wyll)

─ . jealousy headcanons (rolan, raphael, haarlep, karlach)

─ . halsin, gale, astarion, gortash, raphael on their wedding night

─ . the original companions with a lich s/o

─ . fem!s/o makes them come in their pants (astarion, gale, halsin, raphael, haarlep, rolan, wyll)

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧 : 

─ . spawn!astarion x reader cuddles

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐞 : 

─ . (nsfw) intelligent fucker

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ 𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐡 : 

─ . karlach comforting reader about not getting to the absolute and being distracted on the way

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐢𝐧 : 

─ . young!halsin and shadowdruid!reader thoughts

─ . halsin and shadowdruid!reader thoughts pt.2

─ . halsin x tiefling reader leading the tieflings at the grove

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 : 

─ . astarion x fem!reader x shadowheart post act 3

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ 𝐭𝐚𝐯𝐫𝐞𝐦 : 

─ . what an orgy with the companions would look like (pt.1)

─ . what an orgy with the companions would look like (pt.2)

─ . thoughts on an isekaid reader

─ . F8 (reader who is conscious of the mechanics of the game)

─ . tavrem being jealous of a guy flirting with you

─ . tavrem and gn reader who spends time with scratch and the owlbear cub a lot

[demigoddessqueens]

Hii, loved ur recent bg kinktober post and decided to throw in my own request :)

you're holding on by a thread and they sort of grin against your lips, mumbling, "just lose control, love." and not knowing how to talk or exist after they finish kissing you like they've been needing that kiss for a lifetime!!!

With Zevlor, Halsin, jaeheira, Dammon, and Rolan

(If u can't tell I love my tiefling men 🤭 also full disclosure I didn't check who you write for so if I mentioned one that you don't do or feel like doing scrap it by all means I love who and what you write already :))

Oh thanks! I was kinda curious if any were reading my kinktober posts 😅😁 but thank you for your kind words 😄💕

NSFW MDNI 18+

KINKTOBER 2024

Zevlor

He says it because it feels right but also he wants to show you he is more than enough for you, that you can feel the security and underlying passion with him if you allow him in

Jaheira

She takes pride in the work she’s done to make you unravel, and when her purring words whisper in your ear, your legs shake around her fingers delving inside you that massages your pleasure out as you moan for her

Halsin

Your pleasure is his concern first and foremost and giving you the comfort to let go is what adds to his heated lust. The slow, hard thrusts are more than enough to keep you satisfied as you ride out the euphoria from his words

Dammon

He cannot believe the words that are spilling from his lips, hiding his blush in the crook of your shoulder as you buck and grind against him when he purrs for you to “let go”.

Rolan

He takes pride in getting you to unravel so easily for him but it’s the comfort in your shared intimacy that he alone does this for you.

As you let go with a “Rolan, yes!”, he curls more into you as his tail wraps tightly around you

[dontsh0vethesun]

Do you have a list of characters you take requests for?

i might make a new requests guidelines post thing but the list is this:

shauna shipman

lottie matthews

emily prentiss

wanda maximoff

natasha romanoff

shadowheart

minthara baenre

jaheira

(also open to other women from these fandoms but these are the main five)

[moonselune]

smut version of lust cursed companions

->I would recommend reading this first

cw: pwp, smut, pure filth, dubcon, inappropriate use of mage hand

MINORS DNI

Karlach:

The armor clattered to the riverbed with a muffled thud, the cold water doing little to quell the infernal heat radiating from Karlach's skin – and your own, now. You fumbled with the straps of your own soaked clothes, fingers clumsy with a need that was both terrifying and exhilarating. The curse sang in your blood, a primal symphony of desire, urging you closer, faster.

Karlach's golden eyes burned with an intensity that mirrored your own. She reached for you, her large hands, roughened from battle, yet surprisingly gentle, skimmed over your shivering form, pulling you flush against her. The contrast was shocking – the icy river water swirling around your hips, your core pressed against her fiery heat. Her touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine that had nothing to do with the water's chill. You could feel the heat radiating from her, even through the soaked fabric of your clothes, igniting a fire within you.

"How I can't wait to devour you" she murmured, her voice a low rumble that vibrated through you, sending a delicious tremor through your core.

Your own hands found purchase on her broad shoulders, fingers digging into the smooth, hot skin. You tilted your head back, offering yourself to her, and her answering kiss was immediate and devouring. Her lips were firm and demanding, tasting of fire and something uniquely Karlach.

There was no teasing, no restraint, only a raw, desperate hunger that mirrored the curse's demands. Her tongue danced with yours, a fierce, wet exploration that left you breathless and wanting more.

The river swirled around you, the gentle current a stark contrast to the tempest raging between you. Karlach lifted you, her strength effortless, and you wrapped your legs around her waist, clinging to her as if she were the only solid thing in a world gone mad. The feel of her body against yours was intoxicating, the heat of her skin searing through your soaked clothes. Her breasts, full and firm, pressed against your own, the friction sending a jolt of pure desire through you.

Deeper into the river she strode, the water level rising with each step until it lapped at your chest. You broke the kiss, gasping for air, your breath mingling with the steam rising from Karlach's skin. Her eyes locked onto yours, pupils dilated with lust, and you knew, with a certainty that settled deep within your bones, that you were completely and utterly hers in this moment.

"Here," she growled, her voice thick with lust. She positioned you against a moss-covered rock, the rough surface surprisingly welcome against your back. Her eyes raked over you, possessive and hungry, and you arched into her touch, every nerve ending screaming for release. The way she looked at you made you feel desired, cherished, completely consumed. Her gaze lingered on the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips, making you feel utterly, exquisitely feminine.

With a swift, practiced movement, she settled between your legs. The joining of your bodies was explosive, a collision of fire and ice, pleasure and pain, need and fulfillment. You cried out, the sound swallowed by the rush of the river, your nails digging into her back as you held on for dear life. Every part of you was filled with her, stretched and pleasured in a way you had never experienced before. The slick heat of her was overwhelming, consuming.

Karlach moved with a power that was both terrifying and exhilarating. Each thrust of her hips was deep, demanding, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The curse amplified every sensation, turning the world into a kaleidoscope of heat and pressure. You were drowning in her, lost in the rhythm of your bodies, the world outside the river fading into a distant hum.

"Yes," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper. "Faster, Karlach."

And she did. Her movements became more insistent, more demanding, driving you both higher and higher. You could feel the heat building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until you thought you might shatter.

Finally, release crashed over you in a wave of pure, white-hot sensation. Your body convulsed around Karlach, your cries echoing in the night. Karlach followed soon after, her own guttural roar shaking the very foundations of the riverbank.

You clung to each other, breathless and slick with sweat and river water, the curse sated for now. The world slowly swam back into focus, the sounds of the night – crickets chirping, the gentle lapping of the water – gradually filling the silence.

Minthara:

A predatory smile stretched across your face, the curse fueling a desire to dominate that even surprised you. Usually, Minthara held the reins, but the tables had turned, and you intended to relish this.

"Oh, I will," you purred, your voice low and dangerous. "But we're doing this my way now."

Her breath hitched. The fight in her eyes hadn't completely vanished, but there was a tremor of anticipation, a flicker of something akin to fear mixed with desperate longing. You released one of her wrists, letting your hand trail down her throat, feeling the frantic pulse beneath your fingertips. She tilted her head back, her sharp features vulnerable in the fading light.

"Beg," you commanded, the word rough and laced with the sudden, potent pull of the curse. Minthara’s eyes widened further, a flash of her usual imperiousness warring with the overwhelming need. For a moment, she almost refused. But then, a soft, almost broken sound escaped her lips. "

...Please." The single word was all the permission you needed. Your mouth crashed down on hers again, harder, more demanding this time. You kissed her deeply, possessively, your tongue invading her mouth, demanding and taking. Her hands, now free, clutched at your shoulders, her body arching against yours, desperate. You broke the kiss, leaving her gasping, her lips bruised and wet. Your gaze locked with hers, letting her see the raw hunger in your eyes. You lifted her slightly, positioning her against the tree so her full weight rested against you.

Your other hand didn't waste time. You roughly tore away the remaining pieces of her armor, your touch urgent. Each rip of fabric, each exposed inch of her heated skin, elicited a gasp or a whimper from her. The usual composed mask had shattered, leaving behind a raw, needy vulnerability that was intensely arousing.

Once she was stripped bare, you wasted no time. You reached out, and with a flick of your wrist and a muttered incantation, your Mage Hand appeared, hovering between you. You positioned Minthara firmly against the tree, your body heat radiating against hers. You then moved between her legs, your hips pressing against hers

Minthara's eyes widened, a mixture of shock and exhilaration on her face. You reached up, your fingers forcefully grabbing her jaw and you bit at her lips before deepening the kiss as you began to move against her. The kiss was rough, demanding, a primal assertion of control.

As you rutted against her, you directed the spectral hand to trace her body, the incorporeal touch feather-light yet incredibly stimulating. Her breath hitched, her back arching as the maage hand trailed over her cunt, teasing and tormenting her hole before slipping a single digit in. The curse had her so wet and wound up that it wasn't long before another finger was added and then another.

You watched her, your own desire spiking as she writhed under your control. The dual sensations - your forceful movements and the Mage Hand's touch - pushed her closer and closer to the edge. You felt her nails digging into your shoulders, her moans growing more desperate. You could only smirk through your own pleasure and continue

With a final, powerful movement of your hips and thrust from the mage hand, you took her, relentless and driven by the curse. Minthara cried out, her body clenching around you, her head falling back against the tree as she surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure. You continued, your pace animalistic and unforgiving, leaving Minthara writhing in blessed overstimulation until you too found release, the world exploding in a riot of sensation.

The two of you stood there against the tree, foreheads connecting as you shakily cupped her cheek and brought her face to your lips again, this time softer, soothing. Minthara smiled and kissed back, relishing in how you melted into it before delivering a quick nip to your lower lip and flipping your positions.

"Your turn now."

Shadowheart:

The heat between you was a tangible thing, a raging inferno consuming all sense and reason. Shadowheart shifted, her body grinding against yours, the friction igniting a wildfire in your core. You could feel her desire, the desperate need for release, mirroring your own, amplified and intensified.

With a groan, you sank to your knees with her, the rough forest floor a sudden, grounding reality against the wild swirl of the curse. You were both breathing heavily, chests heaving, eyes locked in a silent battle of wills that neither of you was winning.

"This... this is madness," you gasped, but even as you spoke, your hips tilted involuntarily, seeking closer contact. A moan escaped your lips, a sound you couldn't suppress. Shadowheart's lips curved into a subtle smile.

"Exquisite madness," she corrected, her voice husky and low. Her hands found the hem of your tunic, pulling it up with impatient urgency. You reciprocated, your fingers fumbling with the fastenings of her armor, desperate to feel her skin against yours. You couldn't stop the soft gasps that punctuated your movements.

Clothes were discarded haphazardly, scattered across the forest floor like offerings to the lustful curse that bound you. The cool air against your heated skin did little to quell the inferno within.

You positioned yourselves instinctively, facing each other, legs tangling, bodies pressed so close there was no space left between you. The ancient trees seemed to lean in, silent witnesses to the raw, primal energy that pulsed in the clearing.

Shadowheart’s hands framed your face, her thumbs tracing the lines of your jaw, her gaze intense and possessive. Her touch was rougher now, more demanding.

"Mine," she breathed, the word a claiming brand on your soul.

You met her gaze, the heat in your own eyes reflecting the same fierce desire. Moans bubbled up from your throat, beyond your control.

"Yours," you agreed, the word a surrender and a promise.

And then, you were moving.

The rhythm was instinctive, desperate, fueled by the relentless demands of the curse. Shadowheart’s movements were forceful, grinding you against her with a raw intensity that bordered on pain and pleasure. You couldn't stop the sounds of your own arousal - whimpers, gasps, and soft cries that echoed through the silent woods.

Her hands moved over you, exploring, caressing, demanding. She traced the curves of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the swell of your hips, her touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You arched into her, your moans growing louder, more insistent.

Your own hands found her waist, her hips, pulling her impossibly closer, seeking a deeper connection. You were lost in the sensation, the feel of her skin against yours, the taste of her on your lips, the scent of her filling your senses. Every nerve ending was on fire, and you surrendered to the pleasure, the sounds of your ecstasy echoing around you.

The world narrowed to the two of you, entwined and desperate, seeking solace and release in the depths of the forest. The curse had taken hold, pushing you beyond the limits of reason, but in each other's arms, there was a strange, twisted comfort.

Release finally shattered over you, a wave of pure, white-hot sensation that left you both gasping and trembling. You clung to each other, bodies slick with sweat, the forest floor a soft cushion beneath you. The curse still thrummed between you, but for a moment, you were both suspended in a state of exhausted bliss, the world outside fading into a distant hum.

Lae'zel:

The world dissolved into a haze of heat and sensation. Lae'zel, usually so controlled and precise, was a whirlwind of raw need. Her hands, which typically wielded a blade with deadly efficiency, now roamed over you with a desperate tenderness that was both unfamiliar and utterly captivating. You usually saw her as fierce and боевой, all sharp edges and focused intensity. This softer, more vulnerable Lae'zel, driven by a force she couldn't control, was a revelation.

She shifted, her weight pressing you deeper into the soft earth, her body molding against yours with an urgency that stole your breath. Her kisses deepened, no longer tentative but demanding, her tongue exploring your mouth with a thoroughness that left you breathless and aching. But even as the kiss deepened, she seemed desperate for more, her lips never leaving yours for long, as if she couldn't bear the separation, even for a single breath.

Your hands, which had been pushing ineffectually against her, now clutched at her, fingers digging into her back, holding her as close as possible. You were lost in the feel of her - the solid strength of her, the unexpected softness beneath the rigid planes of her body. Every moan and gasp that escaped your lips seemed to fuel her further, driving her to a fever pitch.

She broke the kiss, her golden eyes blazing down at you, her face a study in concentration, but only for a fleeting moment. She moved slightly, positioning herself between your legs, her hips grinding against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm that sent shockwaves of pleasure through you.

You arched into her, your own hips meeting hers, the friction building with each press. Her lips followed yours, her mouth hungry and demanding, stealing every breath you had.

"Yes," she growled, the word a rough demand, her voice thick with lust. "Like that. Again. Kiss me."

Her hands found your breasts, her touch surprisingly gentle as she kneaded and stroked, her thumbs circling your nipples, drawing sharp cries from you.

You were beyond coherent thought, lost in the sensations. You had never felt so completely possessed, so utterly consumed. Her lips never left yours as she did this, her body moving with a growing urgency.

You moved against her, your own rhythm matching hers, desperate for release. You were dimly aware of the forest around you, the soft earth beneath you, the ancient trees standing as silent witnesses to your passion.

But it was just the two of you, bound together by the curse, surrendering to a desire that was both terrifying and exhilarating. Lae'zel's need for constant lip contact was a driving force, her mouth never leaving yours for more than a second, her breaths mingling with yours in a hot, desperate exchange.

The release, when it came, was explosive. A wave of pure, white-hot pleasure crashed over you, shuddering through your body, leaving you weak and trembling. Lae'zel followed soon after, her own cries mingling with yours, her body clenching around you in a tight embrace. And even in the aftermath, her lips sought yours, her need for that connection insatiable.

You lay beneath her, chests heaving, hearts pounding in unison. The curse still thrummed between you, but for a blissful moment, you were simply two beings, connected in the most primal and intimate way possible, the unfamiliar tenderness of Lae'zel's touch and her desperate need for your lips lingering on your skin like a brand.

Jaheira:

The moment the curse took hold, the last vestiges of your resistance crumbled. A matching fire ignited within you, mirroring the desperate need in Jaheira’s eyes. Her grip on your hips tightened, pulling you flush against her, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around her neck, clinging to her as if she were the only solid thing in a suddenly chaotic world of pure sensation.

Her kisses grew more frantic, more demanding, her tongue plunging into your mouth, tasting and claiming. You met her urgency with your own, your body arching against hers, every nerve ending screaming for contact. The years of unspoken longing, the carefully maintained distance, shattered in the face of this shared, overwhelming desire.

With a low growl, Jaheira shifted, her hands leaving your hips to tear at the fastenings of your clothes. You reciprocated, your fingers fumbling with the buckles and straps of her armor, driven by a primal need to feel her skin against yours. The campfire cast dancing shadows on your intertwined bodies as garments were discarded in a flurry of desperate movement.

Once bare skin met bare skin, the intensity escalated. Jaheira’s hands roamed over you, possessive and sure, her touch igniting sparks wherever she made contact. She cupped your breasts, her thumbs teasing your nipples until sharp cries escaped your lips. You tangled your fingers in her thick, blonde hair, pulling her closer, desperate for the feel of her mouth on your skin.

She obliged, her lips leaving yours to trail down your neck, across your collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Her teeth grazed your skin, sending shivers of pleasure mixed with a wild urgency through you. You moaned, your body trembling uncontrollably as she paid homage to every inch of you.

You, in turn, explored her powerful, battle-hardened body, your hands tracing the lines of her muscles, the curve of her spine, the tautness of her stomach. The years had etched a map of strength and resilience onto her skin, and you reveled in every contour.

Jaheira shifted again, her leg sliding between yours, the intimate contact sending a jolt of pure sensation through you. You gasped, your hips lifting instinctively, seeking a deeper connection. She met your movement, her own desire a palpable force.

"Tell me what you want," she commanded, her voice rough with need, her eyes burning into yours.

The curse had stripped away all pretense, all hesitation.

"You," you breathed, the word a raw admission of the longing you had held in check for so long.

And Jaheira obliged. She took, and you gave freely, the shared curse a catalyst for a passion that had always simmered beneath the surface. Her movements were both fierce and tender, her experienced touch knowing exactly how to drive you to the brink of ecstasy. Each caress, each kiss, was imbued with a desperate need that mirrored your own.

The sounds of your passion echoed in the quiet clearing – your ragged breaths, her low growls, the soft slapping of skin against skin. You were lost in the sensation, the world outside the circle of firelight ceasing to exist.

The release, when it finally claimed you, was shattering. You cried out, your body convulsing around her, clinging to her as the waves of pleasure washed over you. Jaheira followed, her own release a primal roar that shook the very air around you.

You lay entangled, breathless and slick with sweat, the embers of the campfire mirroring the lingering heat between you. The curse had taken hold, but in its wake, it had unleashed a fierce, unbridled passion that had been waiting for its moment. And in that moment, with Jaheira’s arms wrapped tightly around you, you knew that you were both utterly, gloriously lost in each other.

Gale:

The gentleness you were accustomed to from him was gone, replaced by a raw, demanding hunger that thrilled and terrified you in equal measure. He moved against you, his body a hard, insistent presence, his hands roaming with a possessive urgency.

He tore at your clothes, the fabric ripping easily under his suddenly forceful grip. You helped him, your own movements clumsy with need, desperate to feel his skin against yours. The dim light of the tent flickered, casting dancing shadows on the walls as you shed the last of your inhibitions.

When you were both naked, he loomed over you, his eyes burning with a dark intensity. He braced his hands on either side of your head, gazing down at you as if you were the most precious thing he had ever seen.

"Gods, you're beautiful," he rasped, his voice rough and unfamiliar. "So beautiful. Mine."

Then, he moved lower. His mouth trailed down your throat, his teeth grazing your skin, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. He lingered at your breasts, his tongue circling your nipples with a hot, wet insistence that made you arch beneath him, your back bowing off the bedroll.

"Perfect," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "You feel so perfect."

His hands found your waist, lifting you slightly, positioning you for his entry. You were open to him, vulnerable and aching, every part of you thrumming with anticipation. He paused, his gaze locking with yours, a silent question passing between you. You nodded, your eyes half-closed, your lips parted in a soundless plea.

He entered you slowly, stretching you, filling you completely. You cried out, the sound a mixture of pain and pleasure, your fingers digging into his shoulders. He stilled for a moment, letting you adjust, his face contorted with a mixture of lust and something that looked almost like reverence.

"You're so tight," he groaned, his voice thick with desire. "I can't believe you're mine."

Then, he began to move.

It was rough, it was deep, it was everything you had never experienced with him before. Each thrust was powerful and demanding, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You met him thrust for thrust, your hips bucking against his, your moans echoing in the confined space of the tent.

"Yes," he panted, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "That's it. Take it. Take all of it."

He couldn't seem to stop praising you. With every thrust, he whispered your name, telling you how incredible you felt, how perfect you were, how much he needed you. The words were like fuel to the fire, driving you both higher and higher.

"You're driving me insane," he growled, his hands gripping your hips, his pace quickening. "I'm going to—"

His release was a raw, guttural sound, a primal cry of possession and ecstasy. You followed soon after, your own climax a shattering wave that ripped through you, leaving you weak and trembling.

He collapsed on top of you, his weight heavy but welcome. You clung to him, your bodies slick with sweat, your hearts pounding in unison.

The curse had transformed him, unleashing a side of him you never knew existed, a side that was both terrifying and exhilarating. And as you lay there, breathless and sated, you knew you would never be the same. Or at least your sex life would never be the same.

Astarion:

You deepened the kiss, your hands moving to cup his face, ensuring he felt cherished, even in this heightened state. His response was immediate, a needy groan that vibrated against your lips. You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze.

"I want to make this good for you," you said, your voice firm, ensuring he understood your intention. "Only what you want."

He searched your eyes, a flicker of his usual guardedness before it melted into raw need. "All of you" he rasped.

You smiled, a genuine, tender smile. "Then let's start there."

You shifted, positioning yourself to kneel before him. His breath hitched as he realized your intent. You took him into your mouth, your movements slow, reverent, focused entirely on his pleasure.

While you did, Astarion conjured a Mage Hand. The spectral hand hovered near you, its touch incredibly stimulating. It traced patterns on your clit, teasing and tantalizing, mirroring the sensations you were creating for Astarion.

The combination of the physical and the ethereal was almost overwhelming, pushing you both closer to the edge. His hands clenched in your hair, his body trembling, but he made no move to direct you, trusting your touch. You varied the pressure, the rhythm, your gaze never leaving his, ensuring he was enjoying every sensation.

As you continued, his breaths grew more ragged, his sounds more desperate. He was close.

He pulled you away gently, his hands framing your face, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart pound.

"I want to be inside you," he said, his voice thick with need and a surprising vulnerability.

You nodded, your own desire a mirror of his. You shifted, positioning yourself to receive him, your body aching for that connection.

He moved over you, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you time to adjust. He entered you, filling you completely. You cried out, the sound a mixture of pleasure and relief.

He stilled for a moment, letting you adjust, his gaze locked with yours. Then, he began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful, driving you both towards the edge. You met him thrust for thrust, your bodies moving in perfect rhythm, the shared pleasure eclipsing everything else.

"You're incredible," he breathed, his voice a husky litany of praise. "So beautiful. So perfect."

You arched into him, your own release building, the world narrowing to the feel of his skin against yours, the sound of his ragged breaths, the sight of his face contorted in pleasure.

"Astarion," you gasped, your body clenching around him.

He tensed, his own release imminent. He gave a raw, guttural cry, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding. You met him with equal fervor, your bodies moving in perfect harmony.

The release shattered over you both, a wave of pure, white-hot ecstasy that left you trembling and breathless. You clung to each other, the forest fading into a distant hum, the curse momentarily forgotten in the aftermath of pleasure.

Wyll:

The kiss deepened, becoming less about persuasion and more about possession. Wyll shifted, his weight pressing you further into the soft bedroll, his body heat searing through your clothes. He moved with an unhurried confidence, a stark contrast to his earlier desperation. His hands, which had been framing your face, now roamed lower, tracing the curve of your waist, the flare of your hips. The contact was electric, sending shivers of anticipation through you.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with lust and a possessive undertone that sent a shiver down your spine. He broke the kiss, his gaze intense and unwavering, pupils dilated with desire. "Mine."

Then, he began to move, his hips grinding against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm that left no room for doubt about his intentions. He was taking you, here and now, curse be damned. And you, caught in the intoxicating heat of the moment, found yourself unable to resist the raw, primal hunger in his eyes. His movements were a blatant claim, a sensual assertion of ownership that both thrilled and terrified you.

His charming banter didn't disappear entirely, though it took on a decidedly more carnal edge.

"Gods, you feel incredible," he'd rasp as he thrust deeper, his words punctuated by sharp inhales and the sounds of skin on skin. "Like coming home. Like… the only place I want to be."

He punctuated his words with bruising kisses, his lips leaving a trail of dark marks down your neck, each one a searing reminder of his touch. These weren't gentle pecks; they were hungry, demanding bites that claimed your flesh as his own. The marks were a deliberate display, a possessive branding that left no question of your intimacy.

The possessiveness was a new, thrilling facet of Wyll. It was as if the curse had stripped away his usual layers of decorum, revealing a primal hunger that had always been there, lurking beneath the surface. His hetechromic eyes burned with an intensity that spoke of a deep-seated need to possess, to dominate, to make you his in every sense of the word.

"Wyll," you gasped, your own desire escalating with each thrust, each possessive mark. Your breath hitched, your body arching to meet his.

He chuckled, a low, guttural sound that vibrated against your skin, sending tremors of pleasure through you. "Yes, my heart?"

"Harder," you managed to choke out, the word barely audible, a plea and a command all in one.

His answering smirk was pure male dominance. "As you wish."

And he did. He drove into you with increasing force, his movements powerful and demanding, bordering on rough. The earlier desperation had been replaced by a focused, unwavering intent.

He was staking his claim, branding you with his touch, his taste, his very essence. He'd grip your hips, lifting you slightly to control the depth and angle of each thrust, his power absolute.

The world narrowed to the feel of his body against yours, the sound of his ragged breaths mingling with your own whimpers, the possessive marks he was leaving on your skin.

You were his, and he was making damn sure you knew it, imprinting himself on you with every forceful thrust, every carnal word, every possessive touch.

Halsin:

His mouth left yours to blaze a trail down your throat, his teeth nipping gently at your skin, eliciting a gasp that quickly turned into a moan. He supported your weight effortlessly, his powerful thighs a cradle against the rough bark of the tree. With a primal groan, he shifted, his knee nudging your legs apart, positioning you with a certainty that spoke of instinct rather than reason.

You were open to him, vulnerable and aching, the sudden urgency of his touch igniting a fire in your own loins. He paused, his golden eyes, still glazed with that potent hunger, locking onto yours. "Are you sure, my heart?" he rumbled, the question a low vibration against your skin.

You nodded fiercely, your fingers tangling in his thick hair, pulling his head down for another searing kiss.

"Now, Halsin," you breathed, the word a desperate plea.

He needed no further prompting. With a guttural roar that echoed through the quiet woods, he thrust into you, filling you completely. The force of his entry slammed you against the tree, the rough bark digging into your back, but the discomfort was instantly overshadowed by the intense pleasure of being filled by him, truly filled by him, in a way that transcended your usual tender intimacy.

He began to move, his hips grinding against yours with a hard, relentless rhythm. Each thrust was deep and powerful, stretching you, taking you further and further into the intoxicating sensation. You cried out, your legs wrapping around his waist, clinging to him as if he were the only anchor in a storm.

"Gods, you feel good," he groaned, his voice thick with lust and exertion. He braced his hands on either side of your head, his gaze possessive, devouring you. "So tight. So hot."

You bucked against him, meeting his thrusts with a desperate urgency of your own. The primal nature of the act, the hard wood against your back, the raw, untamed hunger in his eyes, all combined to create a sensation that was both exhilarating and slightly terrifying.

A flicker of worry crossed your mind – the bear. What if the curse twisted him further?

As if sensing your unease, he paused, his forehead pressed against yours, his breathing ragged.

"No shifting, my heart," he rumbled, his voice surprisingly lucid amidst the haze of lust. "I want all my human senses to experience you. Every touch, every sigh, every shudder."

His words, raw and possessive, banished your fear, replacing it with a surge of pure desire. You tightened your grip on his hair, urging him to continue.

He obliged, his pace quickening, his thrusts becoming deeper, more insistent. He braced one hand against the tree beside your head, the other sliding down your abdomen, pressing firmly just below your navel. You gasped as you felt his fingers dig slightly into your flesh, a possessive mark that sent a shiver of pure sensation through you.

He watched your face intently as he thrust, a dark, almost predatory smile spreading across his lips as he saw the subtle bulge his movements created in your lower belly. It was a primal display of dominance, a visual confirmation of his possession, and it sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through you.

"Mine," he growled, the word a possessive claim that echoed in the stillness of the woods. He continued his relentless assault, his gaze fixed on the evidence of his penetration, the slight distension of your abdomen a visible testament to your joined state.

The intensity built, each thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You cried out, your body convulsing around him, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Halsin roared his own release, a primal sound that shook the very trees around you, his body shuddering as he emptied himself into you, hard and deep against the rough bark.

Even as the waves of pleasure subsided, he held you tightly against the tree, his breath hot against your neck, his hand still possessively pressed against your lower belly. The curse might have ignited this raw, untamed hunger, but the possessive gleam in his golden eyes felt undeniably, thrillingly real.

damn is it hot in here or what? I hope you guys liked this, I get much more writer's block with smut which is why I don't write it as much so I hope you guys enjoy this!! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[thehistoriccemetery]

Bg3 Ladies React to Old Scars

Featuring: Shadowheart, Karlach, Minthara, and Jaheira

Something finally made it out of the bottomless pit that is my drafts! This was requested a couple times by several people so thank you to all who suggested it!

Shadowheart

She lies in bed next to you, absently tracing your bare back.

She always traces your scars. She’s tells you they are like constellations, worthy of as much worship as the night sky itself.

Tonight, though, she pays special attention to your biggest one, running vertically down your lower back, disappearing only under the seam of your underwear.

This is her tell tale sign she wants the story. She won’t ask or push you to tell, but this is simply her way of telling you she’s ready to hear it, if you’re willing to share.

“That one is…” you trail off and her tracing stills, “a lot. Not that I’m not willing to share, I just need you to know what you’re asking for.”

She places both her hands gently on your shoulders and kisses the top of your spine. You turn to face her and she takes your face in her hands.

“There is no part of your darkness I’m not willing to explore, love,” she whispers. She takes your hand in hers and softly kisses the knuckles.

You take a deep breath, nod, and tell your story. She does not let go of your hand. She doesn’t flinch when you find even the most gruesome details slipping from your tongue.

You hadn’t planned to go as deep as you did. But something about the peace you found in her green eyes compelled you. It was as if they were saying “you can let go now, you are safe.”

So you did. You let yourself fall. And now, lying in bed next to your lover, you were caught.

When you were done, you found yourself unexpectedly gasping for air, not so dissimilar to after climbing a steep hill with too much equipment on your back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” she cooed, pulling you against her chest. You find yourself able to match her breathing.

“Thank you for sharing, I know it was not easy,” she kisses your head.

You shake your head into her chest. “I found it was not so hard with you. It doesn’t feel so heavy anymore. Perhaps it’s a burden shared and all that.”

She chuckles a little. “Sometimes you’re terribly cliché, darling. But, I cannot say I disagree. I was taught to find comfort in all recesses of darkness and absence, but, despite my best efforts, I was never able to find comfort in isolation.”

“And what a miracle we’ve found,” you move back to look into her eyes and smile. “A radiant love to pierce the shared darkness.”

Shadowheart smiles and presses her forehead against yours. “I love you. I’ve even grown to love the way you weave your poetic little metaphors.”

“I love you too,” you chuckle and kiss her nose. “And you’ve always loved my over complicated metaphors.”

Karlach

Karlach sat on the bed behind you, who sat cross legged at the foot, reading.

She took the time to examine your largely bare back, as your current outfit left little to the imagination.

Your body, just like hers was painted with scars. You were both mosaics of your past who had no choice to hide the traumas you endured.

She frowns and you feel a tail coil tight around your waist, pulling you back to sit against her. You look over your shoulder to see her, and then scoot yourself in between her legs and rest your back against her chest.

She wraps her big arms around you and rests her head on your shoulder. You hook your arm around her neck and place your hand in her hair.

“Is something wrong, love?” you whisper, kissing the space right next to her long ear.

“Sometimes, I wish things were simpler,” she sighs. “I mean I love smashing the baddies as much as the next guy, but… I wish getting sucked up by the squidies and forced to carry tadpoles wasn’t the best thing to ever happen to us.”

You nod, rubbing your face against hers. “We were born to be fighters, but I wish we hadn’t been forced to be soldiers.”

“It’s like, I love my little nub right? My dad always said it made me look strong. But,” she touches her own chest, “did she have to put her name on my chest?”

“And you, and your…” she traces the branding scar on your collar bone. You catch her hand in yours and press it gently against your lips.

You turn to face her, the pain in her eyes makes your chest tighten. “These bodies,” you gesture between the two of you, “these are ours. Forever. They can’t take that away from us.”

Her hand lands back on your scar. You press your forehead against hers. “And they,” you trace your own scar with her finger. “They can’t take me away from you.”

She pulls you in for a tight hug. You’re almost smothered in her chest.

You knew that even the idea that there was something she couldn’t protect you from was nauseating to her. The idea that she wouldn’t always be there to protect was even worse.

“It’s not fair,” she half cries into your hair. “Why can’t this life be ours forever?”

You take her face in her hands. Sometimes, Karlach beautiful optimism had its limits. It seemed she hit one today.

“It’s not over yet,” you remind her. “We still have choices. We just gotta save the entire world first.”

She smiles weakly. “Save the world. Save each other. Then we can have our little future together.”

You nod. “And we’re gonna adopt the meanest fucking goat Faerûn has ever seen.”

Minthara

One evening, just outside of Baldur’s gate, you and Minthara decided to take advantage of one of the several nooks and crannies Wyrm’s lookout had to offer.

She sat on the elevated edge of one of the abandoned watchtowers, the one you had climbed to after leaving the shadowlands.

You knelt at her feet, looking up at your beautiful goddess of a lover, smiling, naked in the evening glow.

She looks down at you and idly traces a scar that dances across your chest before taking your hand and holding it up to her own chest.

“We match. Feel,” she leads your finger to a short raised scar towards the top of her breast. It is shorter than yours, but likely just as traumatic.

“Such placement, yes? Just above the source of our lives,” she says. “Scars such as these are rarely from battle, as the armor is heavy around the chest.”

She stares wistfully off into the distance, holding your hand over her beating heart. You’re awestruck by her trust in you. To take a place that was once betrayed and allow you to hold it in your hand.

“Would you like to see? Where it came from?” She asks. You nod, and then you feel the familiar tadpole urging you into her mind. You enter.

She shows you everything: her mother, the betrayal, the hurt. It’s almost enough to bring you to tears.

When the vision fades, you see her eyes already fixed on your own. Her hands presses over your heart. She senses the hesitation in your eyes even before you feel it.

“It is okay,” she says. “If you don’t want to go back there I will not push you to do so.”

After a moment, your hand closes around the one she’s placed on your chest. “I can do it. As long as you are with me.”

You close your eyes, allowing her into your mind. You flinch and grit your teeth as you recall the horrors that gave you your scar.

It’s odd, as if the your pasts, like your scars, mirror each other in some way. Two who have been betrayed find trust in one another.

“I do not believe in destiny,” she says plainly. “I do not think things are, ‘mean to be’, as they say. I do not think I have found and loved you in every life.” She takes your face into her hands. “But I am grateful that I have you in this one.”

Jaheira

To Jaheira, scars are simply props to tell kickass hero stories. She takes pride in nearly every one she’s earned.

And she is an excellent storyteller. So everyone is always excited and intrigued to hear them.

You’ve found a lot of confidence and freedom in this mindset: a scar as a prize rather than an imperfection.

However, not all of your scars have the story of hero behind them.

And that just happens to be the case for the long scar that runs across your shoulders, from one to the other.

“What is this one’s story?” She asks while doing your hair one afternoon. “It is from very long ago, yes?”

You nod, carefully not to disturb her hair fixing process. “How can you tell?”

“It has grown up with you,” she answers, though you still don’t know exactly what she means. She goes into more detail. “The scar was not originally this big because you were not this big when you received it.”

“I suppose I was not,” you respond. You nervously play with your fingers. “That one doesn’t have any heroic stories though. You rarely get a hero’s scar on your back.”

She pauses dealing with your hair and bends down to kiss your back. “You were a child. You should not have had to be a hero.”

Your eyes prick with tears. The story had only ever filled you with shame, yet you felt compelled to tell Jaheira anyway.

She continued to silently work on your hair, listening as you spoke.

She finished your hair before you were finished, and move to sit in front of you while you spoke. You hid your face away as you completed your story.

When you were finished, she took your chin in her hands. “Sometimes surviving is the most heroic thing one can do.”

[lynnlovesthestars]

Dinner is served.

Pairing: Jaheira x fem!reader. Genre: smut, porn without plot. Warnings: eating cunt. Improper use of mommy and cub. Alcohol consumption. End of act 3. Improper use of study. AN: yes, it will have a part 2, i just gotta write it. Also not proofread as always Synopsis: she was hungry, what can I say. WC: around 1k wrds. Masterlist Kofi tag list form

At the cusp of the final battle against the absolute, everyone was reunited in the coziness of Jaheira’s home. Alcohol and chatter filled the room as everyone mingled. Despite the tragic adventure they had to share, they couldn’t help but cherish the friendships they had made along the way. You gulp down what you think it’s the third drink when confidence takes over your senses.

It was an accident, you swore, but the way your pink lips called Jaheira “mommy” had stirred something in the half-elf. Suddenly, as if the switch in her head had turned, her cheerful jest, turned flirtatious. Her usual jokes were replaced by sneaky touches and whispered compliments. Even the way she called you ‘cub’ changed, said almost as a purr as she gently caressed your cheek.

You couldn’t deny how it affected you, the heat blossoming in your cheeks was obvious to everyone, and you could already feel your wetness seeping through the thin fabric of your underwear every time she whispered a new promise.

It was when everyone was too drunk to notice when she gently tugged your arm and winked at you.

Her thumb softly brushed on the back of your hand as she guided you through the corridor to her study.

The moment the door was closed behind you, no words were spoken, she simply cupped her cheek and before you could even process what was going on, her lips were on yours.

She tasted exactly as you imagined, mint and something akin to cayenne, the spice lingering on her tongue and intensifiying every gasp against her lips, and you couldn’t help but heat under her skilled touch.

It was a kiss meant to snatch your soul, you thought as she pushed you against the door, her hands holding on your hips firmly as she kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Little cub, you have to be good for me, got it?” She asked as her lips trailed down to your jawbone, followed only by the goosebumps and your soft panting, still dazed from the kiss.

You nodded as she lavished your neck with nips and open mouthed kisses while her fingers quickly lowered and reached for the hem of your dress. “Good girl” She purred as pressed herself against you, you could feel her breasts press against yours as her knee sneaked between your legs to brush against your needy cunt, stealing a guttural moan from your lips.

You couldn’t help but buckle your hips, the rough material of her pants deliciously rubbing against your aching wetness made your head spin as she tutted. “Gotta be patient, cub” She admonished lovingly as she resumed her descent. She quickly left a peck between your breasts before falling on her knees, her head perfectly inching from your cunt.

She swiftly lifted your dress and throwing it above her head as she hooked one hand around you thigh.

She gently placed a kiss atop your cunt, still not moving your underwear as she gently whisked your leg around her shoulder, giving her full access to your soaked cunt.

She kissed again your cunt, this time her nose brushed against your swollen clit, stealing a soft gasp from your lips.

Her slender finger gently hooked around the hem of your underwear, pulling it to the side and finally exposing your heat to her hot breath. “Delicious” She murmured before she finally pressed her lips to your dripping core, her tongue lazily licking your arousal with an hum.

She dedicated her attention her attention to your cunt, with lazy licks as she loved to trace the length of your pussy to your clit.

She loved the way you gasped her name once she engulfed her face completely in your cunt, eating you out as if she was starving and all that was left was your arousal to fill her.

She had experienced and the way her tongue swirled around your clit was solid proof. Your taste was like cocaine for her, desperately begging for more as she added two fingers, plunging deep in your hot flesh and hitting that spot that would make you crumble.

She plunged with ease as she growled against your cunt, the vibration shaking your body and pulling your closer to the edge as she sucked your clit insatiably.

You could barely keep your mouth shut as she roughly added another finger and you clenched hungry for your release.

She licked you, kissed you, savored you, every centimeter of your throbbing warm pussy getting her high off you, the most euphoric she’s ever been.

You could feel the familiar heat building up in your stomach as she stuffed her face in your cunt, gasping for air yet unable to stop as you tried milking her fingers. She loved the way you throbbed under her lips, ready to welcome your orgasm as your legs started shaking and you couldn’t help but lean even more on her, buckling your hips into her mouth and desperately chasing the feeling, and then you felt it.

It washed over you quickly like a wave pushing and pulling you, overwhelming your body as if you were lost between the waves as Jaheira drank every drop of your orgasm you could give her, uncaring if you were overstimulated and shaking.

She emerged moments later, panting and dishelved. Her hair were all over the place, her shirt was half pullet to the side, exposing her collarbone. Her swollen lips and chin were soaked with your wetness, dripping on her boobs as she licked her hips and looked up at you with innocent eyes.

“Lovely meal, cub” She purred as she wondered if you were ready to be bend over her desk.

[vibingandsimping]

This is exactly who you think it is. 🦜🦜

Might I request the origin characters (+ Halsin) of your choice caring for a burnt out/sick Tav?

Hello! I shall call you bird anon…

(Leave me and my family alone)

But ask and you shall receive! Requests/thoughts always make my day.

Origin characters + extra companions taking care of an exhausted reader pt. 1

No forewarnings besides maybe some suggestive mentions and a little angst. Mostly all fluff + comfort… barely proofread

Characters included in this part: Astarion, Gale, Lae’zel and Jaheira

Astarion

Astarion, when you present him with the problem after his insistent pestering, is a little lost. Everyone has their breaking points and their limits. You just held a confident front for so long that he started to believe you truly lacked one. He suggests the pleasures of the flesh at first. “To ease that pretty mind,” he claims with a smirk. You can tell in his gaze it’s his default- he was used for his body for so long it’s clear he’s unsure of what else to say. A bit of frustration with both him and his past bubbles up. It hurts to know he values himself that little and at the same time… it’s frustrating that he thinks it will solve anything. After a curt “No thank you.” he seems to deflate a bit. You stalk off to your tent as he watches from afar.

He sat with himself as he contemplated his abilities. You’d done so much for him over the period of time you’d known each other. Quite frankly, he hates to say it but he’s realized he’s taken you for advantage. He reminisces over the times you’d let him feed and he has had his nose pressed into your skin. How he’d inhale your scent and memorize it with your blood. He broods over it for a little before beginning to test different scents and oils. What he believed would work with your body chemistry and what he knew you liked.

It’s an hour or so later when you hear slow footsteps. Whoever it was made their presence known, so as to not scare you with a sudden intrusion. You’d been laying with your head in silence and the dark due to how it throbbed. Everything seemed so loud and overwhelming. He speaks smoothly and announces his arrival, you just grunt in acknowledgment. It seems to amuse him as he laughs gently and places something on the ground. Which? You’re unsure- and you could care less to check right now. It’s only when you hear the flick of a match and the room illuminates that you peek. He has a couple of wax candles laid out that seem to be dripping in mixtures. He smiles at you in such a way that you push suspicions aside. The room flickers with the light of the candles. “Relax. I made these special for you. Just focus on them and let the world wash away.” You watch him for a minute more as he lights the candles and the scent grows stronger as it burns with the wax. At first, it also overwhelmed you. You decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and focus on taking deep breaths. With each inhale, you draw more of it into your lungs and feel your muscles slack. Whatever he used was working wonders to calm your body and ease your mind. He did miss his calling as a perfumer.

The feeling of cold hands on your neck tenses your so delicately relaxed frame. His voice comes out in a shush, making you shiver from the tone. The way his fingers move so slowly tells you he’s holding a part of him back. It’s likely the reflex to make things more… intimate. A part of you swells knowing that he is trying a more simple intimacy on you. Thumbs dig into the tense muscles until they’re worked from the stiffness. Soft moans of content escape your throat. Though, just the same are the groans of pain when he reaches a more tender spot. “You’re lucky you have such a caring companion.” He muses half-heartedly, an attempt to make you smile. It did, matter of fact. You’re sure he knows because his movements become more confident. You drop your head back into your pillow and breathe out a sigh. He didn’t say anything but you could feel his eyes on your back. It was quite comforting to know he was there if you needed it. You eventually drift into a half-conscious state as he works your tender flesh. By the time he’s left you to rest you were already asleep.

Gale

Gale’s watchful eye concluded your growing burnout long before it settled in. He was a wizard- a man who studied for a living. He understood frustration and burnout. He’s faced it many times before… and it’s never an easy thing. When you settle down at the camp for the night, he can’t seem to get his eye off you. You walk around slowly and seem out of it. The man sits in his thoughts for a moment longer and decides to make his way over to you. You, of all people, deserved to have a moment to relax and truly replenish your mind. His hand makes contact with your arm and you’re snapped from your daze. He gazes down at you with a softness and silently asks you to follow him. You’re too worn down to argue and just nod.

He winds you out of the forest and towards a still lake. A drinking deer turns and shoots out from its spot when you two arrive. You quirk an eyebrow at him and he bashfully smiles. “Water is soothing to the mind and muscle. I’ll take care of you- let me.” The moonlight dappling the water is tempting and he seems harmless enough with his request. You relent and begin to slowly peel the clothing off your body. Turning back around you stride into the water only to find it pleasantly warm. It was almost hot- glancing up at him as he removed his robe, you knew he tampered with magic to heat the water. You’re not complaining though. It’s already doing wonders to work out the aches in your muscles. He slides in behind you and asks you permission to touch you. You hummed approval as you closed your eyes and put your trust in him.

He lathers his hands with soap and begins to work your muscles along your back. Simultaneously massaging gently and washing you clean. His fingers work from your neck to your shoulder blades, down your spine, and to your legs. He slowly turns you around so he can repeat the same process down your front. He’s careful around your more intimate areas, eyeing you cautiously to gauge what’s too much. It feels nice to be doted on and not have to bathe yourself for once. You’re sure he knows it, too. Then, he whispers for permission to do your hair. You barely speak and instead hum once more. He chuckles a little before wrapping an arm around you and one under your head. He dips you into the water until your hair is thoroughly soaked and pulls you back up. Like that, he begins to lather shampoo into your scalp. His fingers work wonders and you moan a little. The moment is gone too soon for your preference and he’s washing it out.

After a minute more of holding you in the water as he rinses you off, he guides you out. You almost protest like a child, wishing to relish the hot water a little longer. He hands you a large linen cloth and you dry yourself off. Squeezing your hair until it no longer drips annoyingly and wrapping it around yourself to conceal your intimates. He follows alongside you back into camp and you head into your tent. He lingers beside you while you settle down and gather some night clothes. Then, as soon as the eyes are noticed, he leaves you to your own devices. You manage to get to sleep surprisingly easily and the night passes mostly peacefully. In the morning, your previous clothes are folded neatly outside your tent. They’re clean and practically spotless. Gale must’ve taken the time to wash them while you slept and hung them to dry overnight.

Lae’zel

Lae’zel’s instinct is to scold you for showing weakness. Githyanki are warriors and have no time to tend to the frail. Yet, you’ve proven anything but frail in the time she’s known you. She’s utterly torn and wears it on her face obviously. You’re unsure why you turned to her for comfort, it was obviously a mistake. You sigh exasperatedly and trail off as she watches. You almost make it to your tent before her hand wraps around your wrist and tugs you to look at her. “Battle me,” she speaks blatantly. “Githyanki soothe their mind and body with battle. It is all I know to do. Battle me.” There’s a desperation in her voice. She cannot stand to see you so exhausted and fed up. You squint at her and almost protest that all the battling you’ve done is what led you to this point. The expression she held deterred you. You complied in the end.

She leads you into a dirt clearing and unsheathes her sword. Her face is like the steel she holds in her grasp and you ready yourself. There’s a moment of silence and anticipation that hangs in the air as you two lock eyes. She makes the first move, launching towards you and missing the side of your face by a few inches. You retaliate and dig your weapon of choice into her side. She grits her teeth as she is sent sprawling a few feet away. The girl gives you little time to react. Her next attack flies at you and you two are a clash of steel and flesh. There’s an adrenaline that elicits your veins and your head clears. The worries of taking care of everyone fade and you focus solely on your sparring partner. It’s like a second wind that envelops your body. It takes you a few hits until you realize she’s purposefully leaving herself open and using weaker moves.

She was allowing you to win. To taste her blood and victory in battle. You’re almost insulted if it weren’t so flattering that she was laying herself openly for you. You lay a final hit on her and she kneels with her head bowed. The two of you pant as wounds seep blood. Nothing is too deep and can easily be fixed by bandage or magic. She pulls herself to her feet and smiles softly at you. “A formidable opponent. You underestimate your power.” It was her form of a compliment, you supposed. She then followed you back into camp and sat you down. She runs a wet rag along your scrapes and cuts. The crimson washes off and leaves the wounds exposed to the fresh air. The githyanki is gentle in her touch as she wraps them with a bandage and secures it in place. The muscles in your body flex as you test the hold before turning your attention to her. You go to tend her wounds but are met with a hand in your face. “I am fine. I am strong enough to take care of myself. You, on the other hand, need to recover to lead us onward.”

You quirk a brow at her before pulling away and allowing the campfire to warm your bones. She works deftly on sealing her wounds and you can’t help but feel a little rejuvenated. It wasn't pampering of sorts- but she cared. She tried her best to show it and that’s truly what mattered. She fought against her nature to shame you and instead attempted to cure your ailments. She was rough around the edges but had a soft heart. The thought made you smile softly as you watched the shadows of fire dance along her olive-green skin. She catches your gaze for a moment and seems flustered. “Go rest.” She commands softly and you laugh breathlessly. It takes you a moment to get to your feet but you manage it. Some sleep would surely help repair the worst of it as long as you took it easy the next day.

Jaheira

Jaheira was an older elf. She could spot the telltale signs of wear. Whether that be mental or physical. She took care of her harpers for just about as long as she could recall at this point. It felt nice to not have to be the one in charge- but maybe she took too much comfort in it. A little guilt weighed in her heart. Too late to dwell, though, you needed assistance. The crackle of the fire was all that could be heard as you sat in front of it. You were still- seemingly lost in thought. She groaned a little as she lowered herself to a seat. Her knees weren’t as they used to be. The sound alerted your mind and you snapped out of it to look at the woman. She smiled softly at you and handed you a goblet. In her other hand was a bottle of wine and her own goblet. “Do not worry, no funny games this time. Just something to unwind.” You scrunch your nose a little before grabbing it.

The bottle uncorks and she pours a glass for you two. It’s not the finest wine but certainly was much better than the gruel served at the tiefling party. You draw your knees to your chest and take a long sip. After she takes a sip of her own she clicks her tongue in thought. Her gaze isn’t on you but on the campfire as she begins to speak. “You are more powerful than you know,” she begins and you look at her from the corner of your eye. “I’ve seen it firsthand. You vanquished the curse of the shadowlands and defeated Ketheric Thorm. I am surprised you didn’t succumb to exhaustion sooner.” You tense, almost expecting it to be an insult. Her softness of tone betrays that thought. “You need to rely on your friends and company more. We are here to help. We care. I care.” She enunciates the last word by looking at you. You can’t help but feel a soft fuzz blooming in your chest. Was it her words or the alcohol?

“I took care of my harpers for a century or more. It is hard work to look after the well-being of everyone else and yourself. I think I became too comfortable in letting you guide me. I apologize for that, truly.” You open your mouth to speak but she shushes you with a point of her goblet. That gesture makes you flush a little and take a sip of your wine once more. “I have seen many people in my life. I have lost many people in my life. You are among some of the most… wonderful I have seen. I will be damned if I lose you to anything beyond yourself.” She smiles at you, the age lines on her face only speaking to how truthful she is being. You can’t help but feel relaxed by both the influence of the alcohol and her words. You realize anything you say would be practically pointless. So, you just shuffle to her side and press against her. She hums in satisfaction and wraps an arm around you. You can hear her swallowing her wine more clearly. There’s a comfortable silence that is punctuated occasionally by the crackling of the fire.

“Another pour?” She offers as she holds the bottle and you cannot help but laugh while gesturing your goblet. Indulging for a night hurt nobody and hell you deserved it. She refills the two glasses and rests her head against yours. There’s a mutual understanding of comfort and connection between you two as you sip and watch the fire. It’s nice to not have to say anything in return. To be able to simply sit and digest the fact that somebody appreciates the fact that you work so tirelessly for them and everyone around you. It’s only til your goblets empty again does she finally pull away and cork the wine. You stand and allow the buzz of the alcohol to warm your veins and loosen your mind. She offers a hand out with a sheepish smile, “Help a gal up?” you tease her for a minute and grab her hand as she hoists herself off the ground. She regards you with a softness and plants a gentle kiss against your forehead. You two part and head to your respective tents to sleep the night away.

[avocado-writing]

Can I request hcs for how the BG3 ladies cuddle?? Like their preferences on cuddle positions or even the amount of physical touch in general :)

(Love your writing btw!!)

wrote this as in bed cuddling, as if you’re falling asleep together 😌

Karlach is a spooner. Usually ends up as the big spoon due to her size, but if you cuddle her as the little spoon? Oh, she melts. Tucks herself up for you, engine burning so hot that you have to move your hand to her stomach so that you don’t burn yourself on her. Every now and then she lets out a giggle, and her tail sweeps up to give you a little caress…

Lae’zel usually keeps a distance between the two of you when you fall asleep - she reasons that the further you are apart, the more area you can cover should someone attack you at night - but always ends up cuddling back into you. You wake up in a tangle of limbs and she has to pretend she’s irritated, when really she pretends to be asleep for a little longer to stay in your arms.

Shadowheart is like a cat in the way which she takes up space. Likes to monopolise the whole sleeping roll to lounge across you. Cuddles up to your midriff, pressing her face into your stomach and wrapping her arms around your waist. That way you can have your arm across her back to trace sweet little patterns on her skin or play with her hair.

Minthara is also big spoon, but she holds you with an iron grip. She presses herself up against you as if she thinks that someone is going to come and snatch you away at night. But if you manage to turn around in her arms in order to see her face as she sleeps you’ll find a rarely-spotted contentment there. She sighs happily and holds you closer.

Jaheira likes to sleep so that her face is a little bit above yours, in order to bury her lips into your hair. She likes the homely smell of you, finds it calming and sweet. If you wake up she’ll gently talk you back to sleep, holding you tightly in her arms.