#like tav laying out across the desk

[brain-rot-central]

Me @ me: write the bloody sex scene for ch. 4. Just write it. Write everything else after. Just. Fucking. Write. It.

[thehistoriccemetery]

would love if you could do prompt 1! especially if tav is being a hard ass and trying to keep pushing themselves hehe :3

Companions with an Exhausted Tav

Three posts in one week?? I’m truly on a roll. (Nah I was sick this week so I was off work for two days.)

Anyway here’s Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach, Minthara, and Jaheira with a very sleepy (and stubborn) reader.

Shadowheart

You usually go to bed quite a bit later than Shadowheart, but luckily she’s never awake to realize just how late you’re staying up.

Until one night you push your luck a little too far. By the time you climb into bed next to her she pops her head up and notices the sun is already starting to rise.

“Love, have you been up all night?” She asks. You decline to answer, and luckily she’s too sleepy to push the matter, for now. You both fall back asleep.

You’re livid when you wake up to the noon sun and find the adventuring party had already left for the day. Without you.

You find Shadowheart polishing her spear, as she decided to stay back today as well.

You approach her, but she doesn’t even look up at you. “Good afternoon sleepyhead.”

“What the hell were you thinking not waking me up this morning?” you say, clearly aggravated.

She props the spear up next to her. “I did” she says, finally looking up at you. “If you’re too tired to get up the first time I wake you, you’re too tired to go adventuring. Now go lay back down. You clearly need a nap.”

You soften, immediately realizing your mistake. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just…”

“Tired,” she finishes for you. “I know, love. Seriously, go back to bed. You’re so grumpy when you’re tired.”

“I’m not grumpy!” You protest. She morphs her face into an over exaggerated pout, and repeats your words in a mocking tone.

You can’t help yourself, so you laugh. “Whatever. I’ll go back to bed.”

Lae’zel

You wake up in a panic as you’re being roughly dragged across the ground by your ankles.

You flail and struggle against your captors strong hand, but you can’t get loose.

“Tskva! Stop doing that!” Lae’zel shouts. It’s only then you realize who your “captor” really is.

“Lae’zel?” You ask, confused. “What are you doing? Why are you dragging me across the- ow!” You shout as you’re dragged over a rock.

“Seems this is the only way to get you to bed,” she responds, unfazed by your outburst.

She only stops dragging you once you’re in your bed. You immediately sit up and try to escape.

She catches you and pushes you back down. “Lae’zeeel,” you groan exaggeratedly. “I was doing something important.”

“If it is important than you should be able to keep your eyes open while doing it,” she retorts.

Well fuck. She has you there. You have been having trouble focusing for the last couple hours. Maybe it is best if you just go to sleep.

You’re surprised when Lae’zel crawls into your bed beside you. She doesn’t usually stay the night. “What are you doing?” You ask.

“Sleeping. Just like you should be,” she answers. You sigh, thinking of all the crafty ways you could sneak past her once she goes to sleep.

She interrupts your thoughts with a “and if you think you’re sneaking out, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Karlach

You’re passed out over a desk when Karlach gets up for a little midnight snack.

“Oh love,” she sighs. It must be four in the morning. How long have you been up?

You wake up slightly and mumble something indecipherable. You can hardly lift your head up off the desk.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” she whispers, throwing your arms over her shoulders and picking you up.

You unconsciously nuzzle her neck and let out a soft “mmm” at the familiar scent of your lover.

She lays you down on her own bed, trying to keep you upright for long enough to get you out of your armor.

She tries to be quiet, not only to disturb you as little as possible, but also to not wake up the entire camp.

When you’re finally out of your armor, she realizes she can’t find your camp clothes. Eventually, she settles on giving you one of her shirts that’s way too big for you.

You smile and mumble something that may or may not have been a “thank you.”

She finally lays your head against the pillow and you snuggle into the soft sheets and warm shirt.

She crawls cautiously into bed next to you, trying not to wake you up.

She can’t quite tell if you’re awake or not when you climb up on her chest and mumble “mmm warm.”

Minthara

The thing about Minthara is she’s not going to argue with you about taking care of yourself.

You can eat when you’re hungry, sleep when you’re tired, and piss and when you need to piss because you’re an adult and you can take care yourself.

So when she catches you burning the midnight oil for the third night in a row she’s angry. Like more angry than you’d expected.

“Hold on, Minthara,” you say, knowing she about to make you go to bed. “I just need to finish th-“

“No.” You’re interrupted abruptly. “You’re going to bed and I’m not going to catch you out here like this again.”

“Minthara, there’s things that have to done-“

“They can wait till morning,” she interrupts again, trying to stay calm even as you’re testing her patience.

“Just let me-“

“You have to take care of yourself, Tav!” She shouts, finally loosing her temper. “This isn’t an endurance test, this is your life: the one you have chosen to share with me. And I will not have you squander it out here, night after night, robbing yourself of sleep.”

You sigh, taking her hand and pulling yourself to your feet. You don’t even realize how tired you are until you’re swaying trying to keep upright.

She picks you up unexpectedly. You would have never taken Minthara for the type to carry you to bed. She’s never carried you to bed before.

Still, you accept the rare affection and wrap your legs around her waist while your arms and head rest on her shoulder.

She gently lays you down on your bed and pushes your hair off your forehead before giving it a kiss.

She really does love you, and she’s doing her best here. You just gotta take care of yourself, okay?

Jaheira

“Am I going to have to set a bedtime for you like I do the children?” She half teases, surprising you as she approaches your half asleep body.

You groan as if she just woke you from deep sleep. “I’m awake, sorry what time is it.”

Jaheira smirks and bends down so she’s close to your face. “Well past your bedtime,” she teases before giving you a short kiss.

“But I haven’t finished-“

“You’re done,” she interrupts matter of factly. Clearly this isn’t up for debate.

You groan again and mumble “fine,” reaching your arms up for her to carry you to bed.

She laughs, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you over her shoulder. If you’re going to insist on her carrying you, you’re going to deal with her doing it like this.

She’s gentle when she lays you against the bed, crawling in next to you and wrapping her arms around you.

“Wait, so if it’s so late why are you up?” You ask.

She chuckles. “Don’t worry about it,” she answers before kissing you behind the ear and falling asleep.

[tumbleweed-run]

Academia

Female!Tav, Professor Kink

Your breath caught as you froze in the doorway.

It was unreasonable how beautiful Gale was. Always, but especially just now as he sat, distracted, behind a large ornate desk. The afternoon sun filtered through the tall stained glass windows, casting a rainbow of colors across his face as he focused on writing something. 

Gale had accepted a teaching position with Blackstaff, upgrading his position with the academy from consultant to professor. Term hadn’t begun yet, instead he was in the building preparing his new office and making lesson plans. You’d hoped to lure him away for a late lunch, as this would be your last chance to do so, but the sight before you had propelled your brain in another direction entirely.

His robes were nowhere to be seen, likely hung properly on the back of the door as the room was quite warm. Instead, Gale was down to his shirt and trousers. His sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, which was possibly the most erotic thing you’d ever seen. Compounded by the fact that his hair was half up, keeping it from his face as he wrote. 

The pooling of heat low in your belly had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. 

Gale, of course, chose that exact moment to look up from his writing, not as oblivious to the world as you’d thought. He was laying down his quill, a smile breaking out on his lovely face when he too froze. His eyes darkened with whatever it was he saw on your face. 

He recovered his composure quickly and carefully finished putting the quill in its place. You couldn’t help but follow Gale’s movements as he closed the ink pot and put that away as well. He seemed very much aware of your gaze as his next step was to lean back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Close the door,” he ordered by way of greeting.

You were very proud of yourself for swallowing down the whimper this new position had nearly dragged from your throat. But while you were busy proverbially patting yourself on the back for your vocal restraint, your body had obeyed the order he’d issued.

“Come here,” Gale directed. The hand he stretched out for you betrayed any bite to his words. 

Happily, you took it, allowing him to pull you around the side of the desk until were by his side. Only then did Gale turn his body, his knees now bracketed your legs. He looked up at you, hand still holding yours, and searched your face as he asked. 

“What can I do for you, darling?”

The memory of why you’d actually come here flittered out of your mind. Instead, a thousand ideas, each less appropriate than the one before, flooded your brain. 

“I want to suck your cock, please, professor,” was what spilled from your lips finally.

Gale inhaled sharply at your words, nostrils flaring. 

Your cheeks flamed as you suddenly remembered every time you’d gotten a little crush on one of your own professors growing up. You’d had a similar thought months ago when Gale had accepted his new position, but they were just silly memories then. Now you realized exactly how dangerous this new profession of Gale’s was. 

Without warning, Gale yanked on your arm, toppling you forward so you were forced to catch yourself on the arms of his chair. Your faces were now inches apart, and you found yourself greedily inhaling each of his exhales. His eyes searched yours, flicking back and forth quickly until they stilled. His whole face relaxed for a moment before morphing into something a bit harder than you were used to. 

Not harder. Sterner.

“Then I suggest you make it worth the interruption. I am quite busy,” he directed brusquely.  

“Ye-yes, sir,” you stammered, realizing he was playing along with you. 

You barely felt any pain as your knees collided with the stone floor. If the bulge in his pants was any indication, Gale was just as affected by the situation as you were. Quickly, you opened the laces of his trousers. A bit too eagerly, perhaps, because his hand threaded through your hair, and he gave a sharp tug. 

“Gently,” he warned, “I do need to look presentable later.”

Slowing down your hands was near torture, but eventually, you managed to undo his pants and free Gale’s cock. You gave no warning before swallowing him down and Gale moaned. His whole body tensed for a moment, hand tugging in your hair once again before he relaxed - legs stretching out on either side of you. 

You eagerly worked him with your mouth, one hand grasping the base of his cock to work what you couldn’t comfortably fit. Maybe you should have been ashamed of the drool that escaped your lips, cascading down your own fist but you couldn’t bring yourself to be. Instead, you sucked and licked at Gale’s cock until your jaw began to ache. 

Gale groaned above you, his breaths growing louder and more labored the longer you worked him. His hand in your hair flexed, occasionally tugging but mostly just there as if to anchor him. You could feel the muscles in his thighs flex around you as well. 

You snuck a glance up at him from under your lashes and found him watching you. Gale snuck a hand under your chin and tilted your face just slightly upwards to make maintaining eye contact easier. You were barely able to keep his cock in your mouth as he did, forced to still your ministrations. 

Gale kept your eyes locked as he experimentally rolled his hips, the head of his cock butting against your hard palate. He did this a few times. You desperately wished he would release your chin so you could reposition your mouth, allowing him access to fuck your throat. But instead, he gently pulled you away from him. You whimpered when you were finally forced to let his cock fall from your lips. 

“Up,” he ordered, voice rough. 

You stood, absentmindedly wiping your hand on your own pants. 

Gale stood once you were fully up, his body came flush against yours. It made it all the more easy for him to manuever you backwards against the desk. He leaned down towards you, and for a second you thought he was about to kiss you. Right up until his lips ghosted across your cheek to your ear. 

“Pull down your pants and turn around,” he rumbled quietly into your ear. 

You frowned at the kiss you weren’t granted but even still you were quickly undoing your pants. You didn’t give a single shit if you looked presentable later, your clothes were suddenly an unacceptable barrier between the two of you, and you worked quickly. Gale didn’t back away as you turned, instead you were forced to jostle against him. The length of his cock dragged against your clothes the entire time. 

He didn’t wait for you to pull down your trousers. Instead, he grabbed hold of them and pulled them down to your thighs. You barely had a moment to register this before Gale was pressing you down over the desk, hand firm between your shoulder blades. He shifted behind you and you felt his cock slot into place along the cleft of your ass. 

The pressure on your back turned to a gently caressing motion. You tried to turn your head to look at him but your own hair impeded your vision. 

“Be a good girl and keep quiet,” Gale directed, “we don’t want anyone to know you’re letting your professor fuck you over his desk.”

Your thighs involuntarily clamped together at his words. Gale felt it if the light rumble of laughter from above was any indication. 

You could feel him take hold of his cock a moment before he angled it between your thighs. He didn’t bother to try to press inside of you. Instead, he drug his cock slowly between your folds allowing to head to brush against your clit, forcing a whimper out of you each time it did. You bit back the noise the best you could and only once he rubbed against you and you managed nothing more than a sharp intake of breath did Gale finally realign himself to press into you. 

He moved slowly as he pressed into you. No matter how wet you were, without any preparation, his cock felt impossibly blunt and impossibly thick. You could feel a dull ache as he continued working into you. You were panting through your nose by the time Gale bottomed out, hips flush against your ass. Not with pain, but instead with the control you were issuing upon your body. Demanding your hips not just snap back against him so he would finally get to fucking you. 

Gale seemed to read your mind, and his hands moved to hold your hips in place, pinned against the edge fo the desk. He held that position for what seemed like forever. You bit back several demands to move that you wanted to issue, instead focusing on the way the parchment you were plastered against fluttered with each of your breaths. 

Finally, he began to move. Slowly, no doubt still wary of hurting you. But each movement was quicker than the one before until the room was filled with the sound of Gale’s skin colliding with yours. Each thrust forcing out a tiny grunt from you, barely more than a puff of breath. 

You gripped the edge of the desk near your hips for leverage as you pressed back against Gale. Pressing up on your tiptoes the angle changed, and the first thrust forced a whimper from your lips. Audibly you clamped your teeth together, trying to swallow back the noises you desperately wanted to make. Gale either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He was fucking into you quickly now, his own grunts sounding punched from his chest. He was close. 

Ignoring the aching of your calves, you kept onto your toes. You could feel your own orgasm building. Gale shifted behind you until he was leaning over your back, one of his hands leaving your hip to snake beneath you. Taking advantage of the new space you’d created beneath you, he worked his fingers between your legs. At the first brush of his fingertip against your clit you forgot yourself and moaned loudly. 

Gale froze instantly.

You cringed, swearing you could hear the forbidden sounds still echoing off the stone walls. 

You held still as well. Hoping he’d forgive you and take your renewed silence as an apology. 

“Please, professor” you whispered after it appeared Gale was never going to move again. “I’m sorry. I’ll be quiet. Please,” you begged. 

“Not another sound,” Gale warned.

As if to make a point, it was his fingers that moved first. Rubbing against your clit lightly, daring you to so much as whimper at the sensation. You managed to bite back each down, eyes slamming shut with the effort. 

“Good girl,” Gale praised in a hushed tone, as he kept up with his fingers against your clit, cock still buried motionlessly inside of you. The walls of your cunt fluttered at his praise.

Your orgasm built quickly at his touch but no amount of wiggling around his cock brought the relief you were looking for. By this point you were sweating, the papers you were laying on undoubtedly ruined. But gods, you wanted them to be. Wanted Gale to have to look at the sweat smudged ink and relive this moment over and over in this room.

Gale, perhaps out of pity or selfishness, finally began thrusting into you again. It only took three sharp thrusts for you to come with a silent scream. Your mouth hung open, but no sound or air was able to force its way out. Above you, Gale came with a whispered curse, both hands holding tightly to your hips once more as he buried himself inside of you. 

After a moment, he collapsed against your back, both of you panting in rhythm. Your ribs expanding while his contracted. Over and over until your breaths slowed. 

Gale’s grip on your hips grew gentle as he held you still and pulled his half-softened cock from you. You snorted a laugh, both your hair and the papers rustling with your breath as you felt the mess of your combined orgasms drip down your thigh. You heard more than saw Gale collapse back into his chair, and after a moment, he pulled you back into his lap. Unaware or uncaring of the mess. 

[dark-and-kawaii]

୨♡୧ 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 ୨♡୧

Raphael x Reader/Tav

₊˚⊹♡ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ'ᴠᴇ ɢᴜᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ʀᴀᴘʜᴀᴇʟ'ꜱ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛᴇꜱᴛ ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜱᴏ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟᴇ, ꜱᴏ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ…

₊˚⊹♡ ɪ ᴛᴇᴀᴍᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ @octarinecat ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʙ!! ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ɢᴏ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴅʀᴀᴡɪɴɢ ꜱʜᴇ ᴅɪᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜɪꜱ!!!

₊˚⊹♡ Soft Raphael | Tender | Comfort | You’re His Little Mouse | ♡

Who could have fathomed that the devil’s weakness would be so quaint, so profoundly human? Raphael, no matter the mindset of his mood, became so tame with just a simple tender caress, your fingers dancing lightly across his skin. The flutter of his long lashes, as they closed in a quiet surrender, would always steal your breath away. There lay an unspeakable beauty in his eyes, in his lashes, you swore they were like invisible chains keeping you here at his side. 

Your cherished moments were those when he would sit at his desk, writing up some new contract frustratingly, his temperament almost irate. Clad in your silk robe, draped loosely around you, you would approach the devil- your devil, wrapping him in the warmth of an embrace from behind. Your fingers always tracing the hidden strength of his muscles, clothed yet palpable. The way he would abandon his quill, freeing his hand to secure yours against him, a gesture so simple yet so profoundly intimate. Raphael would recline, a soft sigh parting his lips, yielding to the serenity of your touch, the gentle graze of your nails ever so soothing.

As sleep beckoned him, Raphael found himself seeking you out, a secret desperation for your presence whispering through him. Whether you lounged on his plush couch, lay amidst opulent pillows on the floor near his bath, or awaited him in the shared sanctuary of his bed, each time he’d find solace in your embrace. “You know what I enjoy, little mouse,” a quiet command to which you were only too willing to oblige.

With his shirt cast aside, your nails sketched visions and dreams upon his back, his head nestled within the warmth of your lap as you continued your gentle ministrations. Each bite into his skin drew forth a deeper shiver of pleasure, painting a genuine smile upon your face. The delight of having such a formidable fiend so exposed, so vulnerable beneath your touch… My how it elicited a soft chuckle from your lips.

And each time you chuckled, the roles would reverse and you found yourself beneath him, the devil straddling your hips, his smirk devilishly charming. "Something amusing, pet?" he would challenge, striving to wield control, to maintain his powerful facade around you. Yet, when you slipped your hand from his grasp and traced your nails delicately along his cheek, he would find himself leaning into your touch, surrendering once more before pressing a kiss into your palm, his sharp teeth nipping at your skin, “My little mouse,”

[daisyofwaterdeep]

Just gonna start of saying I LOVE your drabbles - especially big fan of what you’ve written about Gortash as of recently :D could I humbly request your thoughts on how Gortash might try to win over a particularly stubborn (gn) tav/durge? Perhaps with some… questionable consent towards his methods 😌

Gortash/Reader (reader is gender neutral with a vagina) Tags: NSFW, dry humping, dubcon, manipulation, fingering TW: sexual assault, noncon, sexual violence, kidnapping, descriptions of violence and gore, object insertion

A/N: kinda went ham on this one...please be mindful of the tags!

'Conquest'

Gortash had handpicked you as his assistant. As soon as he saw you, some nobody helping with the armory in Wyrm's Rock, he gestured to his advisor and demanded to have you brought in for briefing.

At first it was based solely on your looks--having an attractive assistant around to fuck on a whim would be great for stress relief. But as he watches you, he detects a defiant shine in your eyes, a sort of "just try to mess with me" sort of attitude in the way you carry yourself that draws him in.

As he sits you down and informs you of your new post, he gets a better reading on you. You're guarded, surprisingly so, and even as he offers you a pay raise for a far less cumbersome job, you don't look at him with gratitude-- only caution.

Most wouldn't hesitate to blubber out thanks and praises at such an opportunity, but you...you seem to know that there's a catch. That nice things don't just fall into one's lap. He likes that cleverness about you.

As much as Gortash enjoys an easy lay, this is far more fun. Like sexual enrichment-- working for his reward.

It's going to be a challenge and a delight to fuck you.

~~~

Gortash lets you settle into your job before making a move. Nearly a month passes before he decides it's time to test the waters.

You approach him as he's reading over a letter at his desk.

"I'll be heading home soon. Is there anything you need before I go?"

He hums to himself, pretending to think as he sets the paper to the side and leans back in his chair. "Hmm, no, nothing comes to mind." He stops, gives a short laugh, then adds, "Well, a blowjob wouldn't be remiss."

The look you give him is adorable. Pretty lips parted, eyes wide, and an almost immediate pinkening of your cheeks. Gortash wishes he could get your expression painted so he could enjoy it at his leisure.

"I--" Your lips move soundlessly for a moment before finding your voice. "I c-could see if Sharess' Caress makes house visits."

Gortash waves his hand in the air and laughs again. "That was a tasteless joke, my apologies." He gets up from his chair, stretching his back out with a small grunt, "However, I do appreciate the lengths you would go to for my sake."

You incline your head politely, cheeks still rosy. "Of course."

"But I will say, if you ever decide to treat me to a bit of...stress relief, I'd rather it be sourced from within the fortress." He holds his hands out in a grand gesture, "I have a reputation to uphold, after all."

You shuffle on your feet, "Makes sense...I'll keep it in mind."

"Wonderful." He mirrors you with a polite head nod of his own. "Now, don't let me keep you. Go enjoy the rest of your day."

As soon as you leave, Gortash's shoulders slump and he holds onto the back of his chair. Damn. Part of him was really hoping that would work. It would have been too easy of a victory, sure, but also.... a blowjob really does sound quite nice right now.

~~~

"Are you finished with these?" you gesture at the stack of books perched on the edge of Gortash's desk.

He looks up for only a moment to cofirm before going back to his work, "Yes, you can put those away."

He move his arm out of the way as you pick up the massive stack and begin carefully navigating to the bookshelf across the room.

The quiet shuffle of you putting them away and the scratch of his quill on parchment fills the room for a time, but when you let out a soft noise, he can't help but divert his attention.

There you are, on the tips of your toes, pressed against the shelf, trying to slide a book into it's high home but failing by a whole inch.

Gortash is out of his chair and slinking up behind you before he can think better of it. And when he does have a chance to think, he's already looming behind you, close enough to smell the shampoo in your hair. He decides that this is a good idea, actually. He had dipped his toe into the waters last time and nothing came of it, so maybe it's time to really jump in. He tells himself that it's merely seizing an opportunity for his overall plan--his overly eager and half hard cock has nothing to do with it.

You squeak as he presses up against you, outstretched arm beginning to come down, but Gortash is quick to grab your hand and brings the book back up. He slides it into place easily, then lets the tips of his gauntlet graze down the length of your arm before moving his mouth near your ear.

"It looked as if you needed some help."

The near whisper of his voice ghosting along your skin gives you a shiver, one that Gortash can feel run through your entire body.

"L...Lord Gortash?"

Your voice matches the same quiet of his own--it's nervous, yes, but still private, confidential. You aren't necessarily trying to stop him from what he's doing.

And if you aren't going to stop him, then he sure as all the hells is going to continue.

He lets out a soft, satisfied breath against your cheek as he presses his hips more firmly against your ass, knowing full well that you can feel the stiffness of his cock. You let out a small gasp but otherwise stay still, so Gortash indulges further, his hands dropping to your hips and he sets into a slow, deliberate grind.

He wonders what's going through that pretty head of yours right now. Are you scared you'll lose your job if you stop him? Are you surprised that he wants you? Have you been waiting for him to make a move like this? Are you disgusted, infuriated, turned on? The thoughts crowd his mind as the deliciously inadequate friction has his cock throbbing, his lips brushing over the curve of your neck in something nearing a kiss.

If he takes it further, what will you do? Will you push your ass back into him, begging to be taken? Or will you finally find your voice and demand for him to stop?

Gortash brings his hands forward, fingers already finding the cool metal of your belt buckle, enraptured by the flutter of the tendon in your neck, cock jerking and sticky as precum oozes and smears in his pants--

A knock comes at the door.

In an instant Gortash is two paces away from you, falling easily back into his airy persona just as the door opens and a worker comes in. He shoots a look at you, still standing where he left you but pretending to straighten the books with stiff, jittering movements. He silently applauds your efforts as the worker approaches with a small bow.

"My lord, your guests have arrived."

Damnit. He had completely forgotten about his afternoon meeting. Part of him-- a very hard, throbbing part-- considers postponing, if only for 15 minutes.

But of course he can't do that.

With his blood still running hot, Gortash follows the worker out of his study and into the hall, mentally cursing the inopportune timing all the while.

~~~~

He needs to rethink his strategy.

A night of cooling off and masturbating has allowed him to think more clearly. The stunt he had pulled was fun, sure, but it's not what he wanted.

A few glasses of wine and some brainstorming through the night finally led him to what he does want-- for you to fall for him. For you to be grateful for his touch. He wants you to feel downright terrible for just how bad you want him. No, no want. Need. And he's concocted the perfect scenario for such a thing. It'll take a bit of elbow grease and careful planning, but that's where he really excels.

The first step of his plan starts as soon as you come in for your daily duties. He's usually already nose-deep in work when you arrive, but today he's standing by with a smile, waiting for you.

"Ah, perfect timing." He raises a finger and dabs it at you, putting on a charming smile. "We need to talk before you go about your duties."

You don't look particularly thrilled with the idea, but your face says that you expected as much. It's time for him to put on his show.

His smile falls with his voice, "I apologize for what happened yesterday. It was entirely inappropriate." He lets a soft edge of weariness creep into his words as he holds out his hands, "I'm tired. Overworked. And I admit that I've grown used to relying on you in stressful times such as these." He waves his hand and furrows his brow, "But that's no excuse to do such a thing to you." And now, a sorrowful expression paired with a gold-gilded hand over his heart. "If you would like to resign from your post, I'll ensure you are handsomely compensated. But if you stay, I can promise you, such a thing will never transpire again."

A rousing performance, he must say. Even if your face didn't betray your forgiveness-- which it does-- he knows he has you in the bag.

You shuffle on your feet, hands clasped in front of you, "I appreciate the apology."

Gortash sighs with a soft, relieved smile, eyes still trained on you as you work out your next sentence.

"I'd...like to stay."

"Thank you." He feels a predatory gleam threaten to sneak into his expression as he bows his head. "I truly don't know what I'd do without you."

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

And now, onto the fun part.

~~~~

"Everything went according to the plan, I presume?"

"Oh yesss," The banite grins wide, his yellowed teeth as much of an affront as his breath. "Got 'em in there for ye, all nice and ready. Put up a bit uvva fight, all squawkin' and squallin' at first, but the pretty lil' thing's calmed down some." He jerks his thumb to the metal door behind him. "Been on guard duty while the other two 'ave their fun."

Gortash is grateful for the falling night that hides the darkness that crosses his own face, though his voice stays just as cordial.

"Oh? What sort of fun?"

"Just tossin' em about, really." The banite looks around the empty dock before shuffling forward, a wicked glitter in his beady eyes, "Arnie found some nice rocks-- pebbles really," The man snickers, "We've been stuffin' em up in the pretty thing. Seein' how many can fit." He puts his hands up before adding, "Ah, but no sex stuff, like ye said. Made sure all three of us kept our britches on."

"I see."

Gotash steps forward and with one swift jab of his hand upward, slices the man's carotid artery with the tip of his gauntlet. The banite sputters and clutches at his neck, hot gushes of blood spurting from between his grimy fingers as his eyes go wide and his mouth gapes wordlessly. Gortash had planned to dispose of the men when their role was through out of necessity, but now it's out of anger.

"Perhaps you'll learn to follow directions in your next life."

Gortash grabs the man by the collar--the other side, so as not to filthy his clothes with the pig's blood, and yanks him to the edge of the dock. The man's floundering and uneven footing does the rest of the work for him. A large splash in the dark of the water, a bit more struggling, then nothing but the sound of the sea.

As pissed as he is...this could work. It could work damn well, in fact. His mind is already churning, reevaluating the situation and turning this error to his advantage.

With a new plan in mind, Gortash takes in a deep breath and opens the door.

Two lanterns illuminate the warehouse, only supressing the darkness in a single corner. And there you are, only visible as a pair of bare legs on the stone floor, two men on their knees and obscuring the rest of you.

Gortash has always taken pride in the control he has over his emotions. But in this moment, he lets that control go completely.

A swift end is made of the men with a few brutal jabs of his claws. They try to stumble to their feet and grab at their weapons, but the blood pouring from their gurgling throats is too heavy of a flow, and all too soon, they collapse to the floor, dead.

With that out of the way, he finally gets a look at you. Even if he's beyond annoyed at the hunks of waste he's just disposed of, he does have to applaud them for their work. You look stunning-- Completely bare, hands tied behind your back, legs splayed open, face tear-streaked and eyes terrified. He's grateful for the terrible lighting, because his cock stiffens immediately at the sight of you.

"What happened?" Gortash falls to his knees by your side, "Are you okay?"

"Th-they," Your voice is virtually a croak, thrown out from your crying and yelling. He watches as you swallow roughly before trying to continue, "They a-ambushed me. As s-soon as I opened the door, they--"

Your words waver as despair threatens to take you once again, so Gortash leans down, snaking an arm under your back.

"It's alright darling. I'm here now." He shakes his head, "Gods, what was I thinking, sending you here alone...?"

He helps you sit up, noting the way you jolt and whimper, your legs unable to close. He hasn't dared to venture his eyes down just yet, but it seems they did a number on you.

Another slice from his gauntlet releases the rough rope that binds your hands and you bring them forward slowly, shoulder sockets seemingly tender from being forced behind you for so long. As you rub at your chafed wrists, Gortash unfastens his cumberbund and quickly shucks off his coat, draping it across you.

"Th-thank you," you sniffle, clutching the coat to your chest.

"Of course." Gortash places a gentle hand on your back, "Let's get you out of here. Are you able to walk?"

You had been slowly regaining your composure, but your face crumples at his words, fresh tears cascading down your cheeks.

"Th-they put...inside...m--"

Your sentence ends on a soft wail as you bury your face in his jacket.

"Hush now, it's alright." Gortash slides an arm under your knees and carefully picks you up, loving how you so easily wrap your arms around his neck, even as your body stiffens in discomfort. As he adjusts your weight in his hold, you gasp and he hears the distinct soft patter of a single pebble hitting the stone between his feet.

There's a large crate nearby that he gingerly perches you on the edge of. He makes sure you've got a good hold of his jacket before grabbing one of the lanterns and setting it nearby.

"I'll fetch a doctor--"

"No," You cut him off, eyes going wide as they flit over to the dark masses of the men, "P-please, don't leave me."

"Then I won't." He gently places his hands on your shoulders, forcing you to look up at him. "I won't leave, if that's what you want. But that means I'll have to care for you here."

He can see it written all over your face. The fear, the shame, the humiliation-- but also the relief. The trust. The men that had tormented you are dead and cooling in the shadows of the warehouse, and your savior is standing in front of you, eyes earnest and full of concern. He sees the way you want to tell him not to look, but also the desire to be cared for.

Gortash drives it home with a gentle smile and his soft, confident words. "You needn't worry anymore. I'm here now."

And just like that, you're his. Your bottom lip quivers but you nod shakily, raising the coat up to your mouth and spreading your legs, your knees coming out from either side of the dark fabric.

"Good," He says, voice hushed and calm even as he kneels down in front of you, his blood thundering in his veins. "As wide as you can."

With bated breath from the both of you, Gortash grabs the end of his coat and pulls it up, gently placing the length of it in your lap.

Mud is matted in your pubic hair and smeared on your inner thighs, but even still, he can smell the distinct musk of you. And with your legs wide as they are, your labia is spread, showing the soft pink folds of your vagina, also streaked with grime. His cock engorges fully as he gently grabs your thighs and pushes them open just a bit further and sees, with a rush of twisted excitement, the smooth grey surface of a pebble bulging from your entrance.

"We need to get them out." Gortash says, surprised by just how even his voice is as he slides off the fingers of his gauntlets and places them on the floor next to him. "It may hurt, but I need you to bear with me. Alright?"

Your head is like an old rusted machine, the first nod is like a lurch, then the next two come easier with use.

"Good." Gortash places one hand on your thigh to steady you and brings the other forward. "Try to stay calm."

Even though you seem desperate to obey, as soon as a finger brushes against the softness of your inner folds, your muscles flex and the pebble at your entrance sinks in deeper.

"Relax, Gortash nearly coos the word, his thumb rubbing a comforting circle into your thigh, " Relax for me, darling."

The tension in your muscles eases with small jerky jumps in between, and Gortash waits for you to let out a long, shuddering breath before trying again.

You tighten involuntarily as his fingers brush against you again, but this time, he doesn't pull back. His finger slides in next to the pebble, the juxtaposition of your soft hole and the hard rock making his head swim and his cock ache. He hooks his finger before pulling it out and the pebble, a little bigger than a grape, pops out of you and skitters onto the floor. Your pretty little hole flutters and contracts as you gasp and another pebble is immediately clogging your entrance, this one seemingly bigger.

"You poor thing," Gortash has to push the stone back into you to get his finger to fit, and he can feel it clack and scrape against the other rocks still stuffed inside you, "I know it probably hurts, but you're doing wonderful..."

He pushes the rock subtly up as he speaks, delighted at the way you whimper and bury your face into his coat as your thighs close around him. The soft meat of your entrance clenches around his finger and he softly tuts, using his free hand to spread your legs once again.

"Relax, darling, it's alright."

"S...sorry..." Your voice is muffled through his coat, but he can still hear your strain and embarassment.

"You don't have to apologize," He assures you, curving his finger around the stone, "This one might hurt, okay? So try to not to tighten if you can."

He hears you suck in a deep breath before shuddering your muscles loose. With that, he begins pulling the rock forward. It's nearly hypnotizing, seeing your tiny hole stretch tight as the slimy surface of the stone pushes up to it, against it, resisting the pressure of his finger.

"Try pushing for me," He says, breathless, "Try to relax and push."

"Ah--" The muscles in your thighs clench and you let out a strained gasp that breaks into a hurt whimper as your hole stretches more, more--

With the widest part of the stone past, the rest slides out all at once, the plum-sized rock clattering to the floor as your hole gapes open from it's size. Two more pebbles, much smaller, fall from you and join the others at his knees.

"There we go, that's it darling, shh, shh, it's alright--" He softly comforts you as you gasp and cry out soft little noises of relief.

He rests both hands on your thighs, watching as your entrance contracts with jittery clenches, a thick gush of natural juices streaked with dirt and blood leaking from your abused hole. Gods, he's half tempted to shove his cock in you-- to share that pain of heavy stones pressing against his most tender parts.

But he can't, of course. So instead, he fishes a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes at your folds. You seem to appreciate the break, sighing and relaxing as you lower the coat from your face. Good, because he'll get to see your expression for what comes next.

"We'll need to get you cleaned properly, but this will have to do for now."

He meets your eyes as he speaks, bringing his hand up and dragging the cloth slowly and deliberately over your clit.

Your eyes flutter and your mouth falls open as your thighs close around him involuntarily. It lasts for all but a moment, though, because the coat comes back up to hide your face. What a teasing little thing you are.

"Poor dear," he glides two fingers back into your entrance, feeling the grit of the dirt as he goes in deeper and you tighten. His other hand rests in his lap, as casually as he can, to subtly rub at his erection. "It'll all be over soon, so hold on for a little longer."

And it really does seem to almost be over-- the palm of his hand meets with your mound as he goes in as far as he can, fingers slipping around the last two stones. A shame, really. But he can work with this.

"They're in deep," He frowns, raising up on his knees for a better angle. "This may be difficult, darling. Just hang in there."

You peek at him from behind the jacket and nod nervously.

Gortash has to work to keep his own face straight as he slides a third finger into you, bottoming out easily with his palm pressed firmly over your clit. He pins the two stones against the roof of your cunt and lets them move and slip from his hold. He spreads his fingers inside of your to retrieve them, exploring the wet, swallowing heat of you to his pleasure. You gasp as his palm grinds against your clit, legs pressing into his sides once again.

"Almost," He breathes out, cock jerking madly against his thigh as he pushes in deeper, "It's alright, just a little more..."

Your breathing is picking up and, soft, distressed whimpers leave you with every minstration. His hand is coated in slick, it's positivley soaked as he pulls his fingers out halfway with a stone, only to 'lose' it and have to push them back in.

He knows that he's getting less subtle in his excitement, but you seem too far gone to understand that, or perhaps you don't care. Either way, the sounds you're making are becoming sweeter, more raw, and your legs are trembling as they squeeze around him. He wants to rip the jacket away from you, to see the way your chest is heaving, to get a look at the pleasure-pained face you must be making right now...but even if he's being more indulgent than he should, that would definitely blow his cover.

"Wait," You stumble out on a shaky breath, your body jerking forward and your eyes wide, "W-wait, please--!"

Your words break off in a sharp cry as your back arches and your pussy locks around his fingers, juices gushing around his intrusion and running down his forearm. Gortash lets out a small noise of his own, hopefully hidden in the throes of your orgasm, and uses the cover of your clenched eyes to fondle his leaking cock. He finds his own release a mere second later, the hot spurts of his cum soaking into his pants.

It's torturously perfect, having to keep his face as straight as possible as he's wracked with pleasure, forced to supress his shivers and shakes, even as you slowly loosen into your own.

"Gods, I'm..." Your face disappears behind his jacket again as your voice wavers, "I'm so sorry..."

"Shh, it's alright." He says in a near whisper, hoping it negates the post-climax gruffness in his voice, "It's not your fault, dear."

He easily traps the two remaing stones and gingerly extracts them, though it still makes you jerk and gasp. He notes with flared nostrils that your cunt has gotten swollen and puffy from your orgasm--looking perfectly inviting for some soft licking and sucking, though he wouldn't dare. The slick running from you seems to be clear now, the natural processes of your body clearing your passageway. You still may end up with an infection, but this will certainly help ease things.

He folds his handkerchief and dabs at your folds politely, cleaning you up as best as he can before finally standing up, his head light and his heart still pounding just as fiercely.

"Let's see if you can walk now."

He holds out a hand to you and you take it, your other arm pinning the jacket to yourself modestly. You're unsteady on your feet, but you only have to endure for a few moments as he helps you put his coat on. As soon as you're decent enough, Gortash leans you against him, a protective arm around your shoulders.

"Come, darling. Let's get out of here."

As he leads you out of the warehouse, he has to fight a devious smile as you tiredly rest your head against his arm.

[sorceresssundries]

Gale sketches by @orangekittyenergy <3

CHAPTER 1 (of 2)

LINK TO CHAPTER 2 - NSFW

Pairing: Gale x Fem Tav

Summary: Set post-game where Tav did not feature in Gale's troubles in Baldur's Gate. A whip-cracking, fedora wearing, Indiana Jones inspired mini-adventure - where Professor Dekarios is tempted out of the classroom, and on yet another perilous quest. (Chapter 2 out soon)

Warnings: Chapter 1 is SFW, Chapter 2... less so.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Just a bit of a fun based on the Gale as Indiana comparisons. Also, he looks like a young Harrison Ford, how could I not? This is not the stuff I'm used to writing! But it's been enjoyable and nice to try something new.

Her forest was dying. Thaes’yána, a sacred patch of overgrowth within Elltavia’s home, had been under protection for so long that the Rangers of the forest no longer knew the reason why. Its guardianship had been passed down from mother to daughter for generations, and all Elltavia had known since being a girl was that entry was forbidden, and it was to be protected from outsiders. 

But now, an arcane rot had settled deep within, and was infecting further and further outside of its bounds. Animals, once serene, were being driven to madness if they got too close for too long. Among the forest-dwellers, whispers of unrest travelled, tales of violence and theft staining the once peaceful community. The responsibility had fallen to her to find help, and she had travelled far to ensure she got it. Just like her beloved forest, if the end was near, she would not be going gently. 

Her quest had led her somewhere unexpected, to the shadowy recesses of a sprawling lecture hall. She was nestled in the farthest corner, seeking refuge from the professor's unrelenting enthusiasm. From her observations, his class appeared to cleave into two distinct factions: the diligent scribes, feverishly scribbling down every word that spilled from his lips, struggling to keep pace with his monologuing, and the other group, who seemed utterly disinterested in the lecture material. Their pens lay dormant as they indulged in a different kind of attention; lingering onto his every subtle gesture and every inflection in his voice with wide-eyed fascination. There were a number of Tieflings in the class whose tails were swishing with telling enthusiasm. She imagined if she looked into their notepads, they would be laden with love hearts and romantic doodles.

She knew who Gale Dekarios was, of course. Word travelled, especially when one had command over birds to receive and deliver news from across the realm. Even as far away as she had been from the chaos and fire of Baldur’s Gate - she had taken up moonlit vigil to pray to Mielekki that the heroes' aim be true and their hope evergreen. And now she was sitting here, staring impatiently at one of the very people who had pervaded her prayers. He was more… academic that she’d expected, in his tweed blazer and bow tie. Rounded glasses perched on his nose, occasionally slipping down during moments of particular ardour, prompting him to deftly push them back up with his finger. 

His talking seemed to go on for an extraordinary amount of time, but maybe it just seemed that way because she could feel each precious second slip through her fingers like burning sand. Eventually, the class poured out with a mixture of yawns and giggles and she approached his desk as he scribbled frantically on the blackboard.

“Your dates are wrong.” she said. He flinched slightly, making the chalk jump.He sighed and wiped away his slip, having lost his train of thought. 

“Excuse me?” He turned to face her, his scholarly face frowning and making the lines between his eyes more pronounced. He looked much older when he was frustrated, she thought with amusement. 

She pointed at his scribbles; “The fighting ended in 1421 sure, but the peace treaty wasn’t finalised until the following year.” Her eyes met his, and she was struck by the depth of them. “You may want to correct your students' next lecture. Well… the ones who were actually taking notes.” 

She briefly cast her eyes over the picture frames on his desk. There was one of a formal looking woman with his tanned skin and warm eyes sitting on a sunlit balcony by the sea, and another of an unimpressed looking Tressym perched atop a pile of books.

It was the larger group photo that caught her attention, frozen in a moment of chaos.

In the centre of the frame, a flame-red Tiefling woman was mid-laughter, proudly displaying a crudely drawn portrait of a white-haired elf, the illustration nestling within an odd-shaped gap amongst the group. Behind her, a slight woman with a silver braid, was in the midst of being lifted by a huge, tattooed wood-elf, their collaborative efforts evident in their attempt to fit her into the picture. Next to them, an older woman in druid armour gestured animatedly, seemingly scolding a large, bald man who was earnestly attempting to position what appeared to be a hamster at the forefront of the group. Meanwhile, Gale, with his finger poised mid-sentence, was engaged in conversation with a handsome, horned man who stood with arms folded, seemingly annoyed. Amidst the chaos, only a Githyanki woman remained composed, her unsmiling gaze fixed directly on the camera, unaffected by the surrounding mayhem.

They were the heroes she had seen in the papers, but here they looked less like champions of the Gate and more like a dysfunctional, loving family. She much preferred this version of them. 

“I was not aware I was being monitored today.” He took in her appearance, her dark braided hair was pulled up and away from her face, and she wore travelling robes and a worn cloak. She definitely wasn’t an academic, he thought. Though she certainly seemed knowledgeable on history. Her eyes looked much older than she did - They were the colour of summer leaves slipping into autumn and sparkled when she spoke. With her being an elf, it made sense that she was probably a lot older than she appeared. 

“How can I help you, miss…” 

“Elltavia Kidd’Alka.” Her tone was brusk, efficient. “I won’t waste time with small-talk. I’m here to request some assistance on an urgent matter.” 

He sighed and rubbed his forehead, as though this was a regular interruption to his workday. “Ah, well you can tell the guild..

“I’m not with the guild.”

His frown deepened, “Fine, the harpers…”

“Nope, not them either.” 

“Then please Miss Kidd… 

“I’m a ranger stationed in the High Forest. My home is being infected by a blight which threatens the lives of many who live there.  It is believed the cause is of arcane origin. I need your help to fix it.” She dumped a heavy, jangling pouch on his desk. “I think you’ll find this should be adequate payment.”

This woman did not mess around, he thought. She was refreshing, although he would probably like her more if she actually let him speak.

“I am a professor, not a hireling. I’m afraid I cannot help.”

“Completely understandable, Professor.” She offered warmly “After everything you’ve been through I can understand why you would prefer a quieter, more relaxed lifestyle. Besides…” She said with an exaggerated, compassionate sigh. “You’re not getting any younger.”

This appeared to have touched a nerve. “Listen, Miss Kidd’Alka - I'm sorry for your troubles, but my answer is no. Now if you’d excuse me, I have much to do before my next class. Apparently my dates need amending” He gestured with his arm for her to leave, and she tilted her head with curiosity. She was enjoying him flustered, and she did not move.

“You must feel very lucky to have such a comfortable position here at the academy. Especially with the influx of ancient artefacts that have been added to its custodianship since your arrival.” Her lips tilted at the sudden stiffening of his posture.

He remained silent, eyes narrowing as she sat down in his chair and put her muddy boots up on his desk. She removed a knife from a strap at her thigh, flashing her toned, supple skin and began to peel an apple which had been left for him by a particularly devoted student. He felt a familiar, but dusty feeling stir within him at the flash of her leg. His hand automatically flew to his chest, before remembering that was no longer necessary. Old scars run deep.

“It’s so strange how the discovery of these artefacts always seems to coincide with your sabbatical leave.” Her tone was playful, innocent, but her eyes were mischievous. She slowly let the peel fall away, her blade so sharp she barely had to stroke the fruit with the edge of it. She wasn’t even looking at what she was doing, her gaze was fixed fiercely on him. 

“Your implication is wasted here, I can assure you.”

“My apologies, Professor Dekarios. I meant no disrespect.” She took a sharp bite of the piece of apple speared at the end of her knife, and he watched with fascination and derision as she swallowed, the juice trickling down to her chin. “I just thought the rumoured artefact causing the problem may be of interest to you and your academy. But, never mind. I hear there’s a ex-Sharran cleric who is fond of adventuring, maybe she can help me out.” She could practically hear the thoughts bouncing around in his head as she stood up to leave. 

She was almost at the door when he gave a loud sigh. 

“Wait. Take a seat. I’ll see if I can get my lectures covered.”

She turned to grin at him, and threw the rest of the apple across the room and into a bin with alarming accuracy.

“Leave some milk out for your cat, professor. You may be gone a while.”

The journey back to her forest had been arduous, mainly down to the fact Gale could not get the elvish pronunciation of her name right and so had resorted to calling her ‘Kidd.’ Frustrating for a woman who was one hundred and forty years older than him. Luckily, his useful knack for teleportation meant that at least the journey was shorter than expected. 

They made it to the forest by the following morning, and Elltavia finally relaxed as the sound of songbirds and swishing trees soothed her tired feet and weary soul. She was home again. The plush canopy above them provided respite from the sun, but not the heat, and it wasn’t long into their journey before Gale had switched his slightly faded wizard’s robes into something more appropriate. 

He now wore a loose, tan coloured shirt, unbuttoned enough to display a smattering of chest hair and what looked like a faded, circular scar. His tight brown trousers were tucked into leather boots held up by a belt laden with supplies and potions, and he had a satchel slung over his shoulders. Atop his head was a weather beaten fedora. Typically, she was not a fan of men in fedoras, but the way it kept his hair back off his face and shaded his handsome features was an unexpected and pleasant contradiction to the professor she had first met. But, it was the sinuous coil of a whip holstered at his side, its braided leather worn smooth by countless flicks and flourishes, that caught Tav’s attention the most. 

“A whip?” She asked curiously, trying not to let any of the thoughts it inspired creep into her voice.

“An enchanted whip.” He replied smugly. “Much more useful than a staff, comes in handy from time to time.” To make his point, he unhooked it from his belt, swished it around his head once and then cracked it at a low hanging branch ahead of them. The tail of it curled around tight and sparked with electricity, zapping the dry wood into flame. It fell to the ground with a burning crash. He looked very pleased with himself as he extinguished the fire with a quick blast of conjured water. 

“Well…” She said in the smoky silence. “That was completely unnecessary” 

The mood shifted as they got deeper into the humid, overgrown forest. Leaves and foliage that was lush green and danced in the breeze suddenly became duller, the air stagnant and unbending. Birdsong had hushed, and the once vibrant heartbeat of the forest had suddenly stuttered and stopped.

They reached the centre of the blight, hidden amidst the greenery, to find an ancient temple almost completely swallowed by forest. Its crumbling skeleton had merged with creeping moss. Vines twisted round it like the lithe bodies of a hundred snakes, gripping and squeezing out any remaining life, pushing their way through the stone work until it was prised apart to fall to the forest floor. It once would have been grand, but now looked hollow and haunted. Elltavia grabbed Gale’s arm before he got any closer.

“Wait.” she murmured, crouching slightly. She drew out the sinuous bow from her back and notched an arrow. Her ears flicked like that of a cat surrounded by too much silence. There was something stirring, she could almost hear motes of threatening magic slinking together through the blighted air. Like heat gathering to form a storm. She could practically taste the thunder that had yet to crack.

“Expecting trouble?” Gale asked, hand now hovering over the whip at his belt. 

She did not have time to answer before a skeletal figure, clad in tattered monks robes lunged at them from the shadows. His hollowed out eye sockets glowed with an eerie blue light, and his bony fingers clutched an ancient staff, carved with runes that pulsed faintly with dark energy. As it moved, the sound of creaking bones and whispers of necromantic incantation surrounded it like diseased air. 

With a raise of its staff, a surge of necrotic magic crackled towards them. Gale dove to the side, rolling behind a fallen log, while Elltavia nimbly leaped into a nearby tree, her bow in hand.

She released an arrow in one swift motion. It whistled through the air and struck the skeleton in the chest. For a moment, the blue light in its eyes flickered, but it remained standing -  unbroken and unfazed.

The guardian turned its hollow gaze towards her and began chanting in an ancient, guttural language. The ground beneath the tree where she perched started to rot and decay. With cat-like agility, she jumped to another tree just as the first began to crumble.

Gale seized the moment, sprinting forward and pulling his whip from his belt. With a flick of his wrist, the whip wrapped around the monk's legs, pulling it off balance. The skeleton crashed to the ground, the blue light in its eyes dimming as it struggled to free itself.

The ranger leaped into action, her bow discarded in favour of a pair of daggers. With feline grace, she landed above the guardian and plunged her daggers into its eye sockets, and the dimming light was finally extinguished. 

“Nice whip work.  You get much practice with that thing?” Elltavia approached him, breathless and sweating, and blew away some dust which had settled against his neck. 

“Not as much as i’d like, Kidd.” He said, brushing away some blood from her lip with his thumb. “I’m just making this up as I go along.” There was a moment where their ragged breaths mingled, and their eyes held each other before she turned with a smirk, and headed towards the entrance the skeleton had been guarding. Gale realised, watching her sheath her daggers and count her arrows, that he was in more trouble than anticipated. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he wasn’t sure the fight was the cause of it.

They made their way down ancient, crumbling stairs flooded by spectral light from an imperceptible source, and Gale started to feel queasy and breathless. It was as though something beneath his skin, in his bones, was being sapped from him. It was a feeling he recognised. 

“Sussur” he murmured, and he noticed vein-like ridges running along the walls, thin and faintly pulsing with a moonlight-blue glow. He ran the pads of his fingers over them, and felt a dull burning sensation on his fingertips.

“it’s in the walls. Incredible. It is no ordinary magic emanating from this place.” He held his hand out flat and attempted to conjure a small flame in his palm. There was a crackle, but nothing more. “My magic won’t work here.” For the first time since meeting Elltavia, he felt unsure of himself. It had taken time, patience, an orb of devastation and a mind flayer tadpole for him to even consider that he was of any use to anyone with his spellcasting ability. It had taken his friends to talk him down from martyrdom, and then Godhood. They had  prised his own destruction away from him and cast it into the Chionthar. They had saved him, but some damage is irreparable, and some wounds will always scar.

“I didn’t come to you for your magic.” Elltavia offered behind him. “I sought you out for your knowledge, and bravery. I wanted the professor, not the wizard.”

He didn’t turn to meet her eyes, but his heart fluttered slightly at her words. He steeled himself, thought of the bravery of the Ranger who was fighting for her home, and pushed open the stone door at the foot of the staircase to reveal a giant, circular chamber. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and aged stone. The walls were smooth, carved with meticulous precision by hands long gone. Covering every inch of the surface were runes and writing, each symbol etched deeply and filled with a faint pulsing luminescence that danced over their skin. 

“Amazing”

As Gale worked his way around the room, he took out a pair of glasses to help study the variety of texts carved about the place. "I’ve read about this before. A long time ago. An order of ancient monks, secretive and nomadic in nature," he mused, and Elltavia observed the delicate dance of his fingers tracing the inscriptions, as though seeking enlightenment through tactile communion. Beads of sweat glistened on his brow, causing his spectacles to slip, and the subtle readjustment sent a shiver down her spine.

“Like the one outside?” She tried to draw on what little knowledge she had. She had limited experience with monks in her many years. Certainly she had never come across any in the forest before. 

“Not like that one.” He said frowning in concentration. “That one was dead. Re-animated, as a trap.”

He explored the ruins with an elegance befitting a sage, a paradox of scholar and adventurer, warrior and pacifist, man and mage. She found him fascinating. Turning, he caught her in the act of studying him, her curiosity laid bare.

“Something caught your attention?” His gaze was burning, and his mouth was a cocky smile.

She did not blush, Elltavia never blushed, but she did pause long enough for him to move on without hearing her sharp answer.

"They are custodians, seekers of wisdom, guardians of ancient lore, and protector of magic" His voice was low with reverent contemplation. “There are very few of them, and legend has it the ones left are immortals. Chosen by the Gods to protect and serve the precious arcane knowledge which so often gets corrupted or destroyed.” 

For a brief second, his hand instinctively moves to his chest, to rest on the faded scar. He suddenly felt like a heretic defiling a sacred temple.

“You seem to know a lot about it.” She folded her arms with suspicion.

“Well.. I didn’t get tenure for nothing, Kidd.” His eyes flash at her with confident assurance. “These texts imply that they dedicated themselves so completely to their cause, to their life of protection, that they completely cast out all other distractions. They undergo a Rite, to prove their single-minded dedication. Apparently very few passed it.” He tried not to let creeping agitation wrap itself into his voice, if there was a test or a challenge to be taken for proving worth - he felt as though he was the wrong man for the job. He had cast aside the most luring and precious of temptations mortals could ever dream of. It was a test he’d taken twice, and only passed once. He didn’t want his weaknesses laid bare in front of him again. 

“What happens if they failed?”

 His answer was simple, but he feared what would come next would be less so.

“They died.”

[fullmoonandstar]

Raphael going to a noble party of some kind, disguised as a human, in order to find and schmooze with current and potential clients. While engaging with one such individual who seems particularly taken with him, from across the room he spots Tav, for once not dressed in adventurer's gear but decorated with finery. The Hero of Baldur's Gate is so radiant that, at a glance, one could be forgiven for mistaking the mortal as an angel in disguise. However, like the cambion, Tav also has noble-born partygoers vying for the adventurer's attention, asking (and more often than not being granted) a dance with the hero, and perhaps gossip of nobles approaching the hero with dowry proposals and attempts at wooing this illustrious guest begin to reach the fiend's ears.

*Drops this and runs away*

Evening among Wolves

Raphael x afab!Reader Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Rating: R Word count: 2.4 k CW: 2nd person pov, vaginal sex, desk sex, mentions of drinking

My Masterlist

The dress pinched in all the wrong places, and you shifted your weight with a stiff smile plastered on your face. How did noble women survive a whole evening in these shoes? They forced your toes into an unnatural position, and the pain was slowly giving way to numbness. The young man across from you blatantly stared at every centimetre of exposed skin, and you looked away, a ball of emotion forming in your gut. There were only three things that were good about now, the elegant way your hair was pinned up, the smell of the perfume you had put on and the drink in your hand.

The woman next to you was only marginally at hiding her stares than the other son of a noble across from you. You had been swarmed the moment word had spread that the hero of Baldur’s Gate had arrived, and you have been stuck in conversations for what felt like an eternity. Any battlefield would be preferable to this pit of vipers. This may look like a party, but in reality this was a minefield, and you had to survive until the end of the night without being stuck in an arranged marriage or having started an all out war between the factions of nobility. Both of which were very real possibilities.

A shadow passed in the periphery of your vision and a warm hand hovered over your exposed back so close you could feel the warmth but not touching. A velvety voice purred in your ear: "Good to see you again, little mouse."

Your head snapped in his direction, and your eyes confirmed your ears. Raphael hovered over your shoulder, and he flashed a smile at you before turning to the irritated nobles.

"I hope you don’t mind, dearest lords and ladies, but we have some urgent business to attend to."

The nobles in the circle grumbled, and all eyes were on you. What was he doing? You looked up into the devil’s handsome face, one eyebrow raised with the same question as everyone else. This was a way out. These nobles were irrational in their whims, at least with Raphael you knew what you had to expect.

"Yes, of course," you smiled stiffly. Raphael gestured to the left and you followed. He left the ballroom into the hallway where the crowd was noticeably thinner, and you took a deep breath. The atmosphere in there had been suffocating you.

You followed Raphael around a corner and up some stairs.

"I don’t think we’re supposed to be here." you warned.

"Since when has that stopped you?" he shot back but smirked.

"Fair enough."

He stopped in front of a door, and you heard a click before Raphael pushed the door open. It looked like a library, but Raphael didn’t stop in the room but opened the door to the balcony. The lights of Baldur’s Gate lay beneath, and the sound of the party downstairs wafted up. You just had to smile at the view over your home. The citizens had worked hard to rebuild in the past year, and soon the city would be back to former glory.

You glanced to the side where Raphael was leaning on the baluster looking out over the city. The black clothes were embroidered with gold and red, and he looked the more like nobility than all the people downstairs. You had never told anyone about the way your stomach twists when you look at his face, they would call you mad and they would be right. Raphael was in the business of charming people out of their souls, and given the status he had risen to despite being half mortal, he was exceptionally good at it.

"If you stare at me any longer, you might burn a hole in my face." he taunts softly.

Your face instantly burned with embarrassment, and you focus on the city again.

"Do you know why I’m so effective at what I do, pet?" he asked.

Because you bamboozle people with your charm? You thought, but out loud you said: "You talk a lot."

A soft laugh tickled your ear and you stiffened. Your whole body tingled with how close he was to you, and you felt stupid for the warmth that spread between your legs.

"I know exactly what everyone wants."

His fingers ghost over the exposed skin of your arms, and you hold your breath, waiting for his skin to make contact. It never comes. Raphael takes a step back and motions for you to follow.

The balcony leads to other rooms on this floor, and Raphael opens the door to one of them. A huge desk dominates the room and the high-backed chair rounded out the ensemble.

"Fielding's office." You breathed. "What are we doing here?"

Raphael stepped closer to the monstrosity of a desk and turned to you. In the faint light that fell in through the windows you could only make out his sharp ever so slightly lighter than the darkness behind him.

"I told you, little mouse, I know what you want."

You crossed your arms.

"And what’s that?"

"Let me paint you a picture." - you rolled your eyes, but Raphael continues -"Lord Fielding, one of the most influential people in Baldur’s Gate since Baldurean himself. He swayed the election of Gortash to become Archduke, he orchestrated the embargo 5 years ago that cost countless lives in and around the city. He does his best to keep the weak where they are, poor and dying, and widens the gap between them and his elite."

"Isn’t that right up your lane?"

A chuckle reached your ear.

"This is not about me." he said. "You hate him."

You didn’t argue with that.

"You want to get back at Lord Fielding, but doing anything drastic could make you plenty of enemies and plunge the city into chaos for the next decades."

"The evil you know," you said.

"Yes."

"So, what is your suggestion?" you ask.

"You can’t move against him, but that doesn’t stop you from doing something disrespectful."  You could hear the smirk in his voice, even if you could not see it.

"And what has that to do with you?"

"I’m going to participate."

With a step, he entered your personal space, the smell of his perfume, sweet and spicy, tickled more than just your nose. You wished you could blame the drinks for the wetness that pooled in your underwear, but alas you could not. His fingertips ghosted over your cheek and leaving a trail of heat.

"What do you say?" he asked.

You didn’t understand what he was saying, you were too focused on the feeling of his hot skin against yours. Blood was rushing in your ears and your heart hammered in your chest as if you were an adolescent again. You swallowed heavy.

"What kind of disrespectful thing do you mean?"

His face was close enough that you could see his eyebrow creep up his forehead. Raphael pushed the chair to the side. His hand gently held on to your hip, and you followed as he manoeuvred you to stand between him and the desk. You yelped and grabbed the fabric at his chest as he lifted you up onto the free space on the desk and his hips touched your knees, but Raphael didn’t force himself between your legs. His hands rested on the sides of your thighs. Your heart beat in your throat and a warm wave rolled over you.

"I see." you said. His thumbs gently rubbed over the fabric that still covered your legs and waited for your answer. Fucking on Fielding’s desk was indeed disrespectful, but doing it with Raphael?

Every nerve in your body tingled with awareness, the heat from his skin sank into yours and boiled your blood with a need you only ever allowed yourself to feel at night when you were alone. Something had to be deeply wrong with you that you were so attracted to him, but your mind had no part in the decision your body made. You crossed your hands behind his neck and pulled him in, crashing your lips together. For a heartbeat, Raphael was frozen in place and a flash of anxiety and disappointment rushed through you. In the next moment, his hips pushed between your knees, and you spread your legs for him. The half hard erection pressed against your clothed core, and you gasped, the perfect opportunity for Raphael to slid his tongue into your mouth. He explored your mouth, mapping it out as if he wanted to commit it to memory. Heat was rising in your veins, and you tangled the fingers of one hand in his soft hair while the other slid down. Ever since the first time you had seen him, you had wondered how his body would feel like. The lines on his face made him look like a middle-aged human, and you had expected him to be a bit soft, but the chest under your palm was firm muscles.

A sharp pain in your lower lip drew a yelp out of your throat. Raphael had nipped at your lip while pulling back.

"You’re quite handsy, little mouse."

He took half a step back, and you managed not to whine in disappointment.

"I’m not leaving." The taunting tone could not cover up the reassurance in his words.

In the dim light you could not see what he was doing, and you wished you could light a candle in here, but if anyone saw the flame flicker under the door, your time alone with the devil of your dreams would be cut short.

His hands were back on your thighs and his hips between your legs. Your hands landed on his chest, but this time hot skin met your palms. Your legs twitched in response, and Raphael smiled against your cheek before his mouth moved along your jaw, leaving a trail of hot kisses.

His hips pressed into you and wrapped your legs around his waist.

"Someone’s eager."

His breath fanned over your pulse point and a shudder shook your body.

"Yes," you admitted, earning you a growl from Raphael. He pushed the skirt of your dress up your thighs, removing a barrier of fabric from between you two. His mouth moves along your collarbone, and for the first time that evening you were thankful for the low neckline. The biting and sucking only tightened the coil of your need, and you wanted nothing more than have him inside you. Your hands ran down the hard muscles of his body, reaching the ham of his trousers, and gingerly proceeded further. You held your breath as you traced the outline of him through the fabric, your mind spinning with the half moan, half growl that escaped his throat.

"I got the message." he pressed out between his teeth, his hip twitching into your palm once.

His hands found your underwear, you lifted your hips, and he pulled them down your legs. You hoped he didn’t just drop them on the floor for someone to find in the morning. He slid between your thighs again and your hands were on his trousers, ready to push them down. Raphael didn’t stop you.

His length was heavy and hot in your hands. The world shrank to the size of the space between you two, even the sounds of the party downstairs faded, and his rugged breaths were the only things you could hear. You could not think. The only thing you wanted was him inside of you, and it was within your power to make that a reality. You guided the tip to your entrance, and Raphael inhaled sharply.

His hand cupped your cheek, and he breathed: "Who knew you were so needy, pet?"

A flash of fear ran through you. What if he left you right now?

"I’m going to give you everything you want."

He pushed in with a single hard thrust, and you gasped at the sudden stretch. His hands grabbed your breasts and his hips set a slow, harsh rhythm. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you pressed your lips shut, trying not to make too much noise. Raphael’s hands kneaded your breasts just right, and you whimpered after a well-placed thrust, then his hands were gone. The thrusts cease coming, and he moves something behind you.

"What -?"

He pushed your back to the desk, and his strong hands loosened your legs from around his waist. His mouth left a trail of hot kisses from your knees to your ankles before holding, resting your legs against his body. The position made his length inside you feel even more of a tight fit, and he resumed his thrusts. Your nails scratched against the wood of the table, unable to do anything else while his hips collided with yours again and again. The pleasure in your body was like a kindling ready to ignite.

"Please." you breathed, not sure for what you were pleading.

Raphael chuckled and it sparked anger in you. You pushed your upper body up from the desk and snarled: "Don’t you dare laugh."

He planted a kiss on your ankle and let your legs fall open, leaning in until you felt his hot breath on your face.

"Don’t worry, my little mouse, I won’t tell anyone, you begged me to fuck you into oblivion."

You could only guess that there was a smirk on his face, and you let out a disapproving huff. He must have felt how close you were to just shoving him off you and leaving because his fingers slipped between your bodies and his lips caught yours in a heated kiss. His fingers stroked your sensitive clit in time with the stroke of his tongue, and his thrusts changed to a delicious angle. You moaned into his mouth, so close to breaking.

"You feel downright sinful, my dear, quivering around me."

His low voice made all the hairs on your body stand on edge. Your fingers grasp for him and your nails dig into his biceps. Your whole body tensed, so close.

"So strong, so powerful," he cooed, every thrust, every stroke of his fingers could be the one.

"But right now, you are mine, little mortal."

His breath fanned over your heated skin.

"Let go for me." he said, and you shattered.

[teenypeony]

A Little Distraction

TW: 18+ content !! MDNI

WC: 1.5K

Tav’s had enough of the abundance of planning Enver has committed himself to. She decides to take matters into her own hands to draw his attention to something more… entertaining.

AO3 Link Here

Just a little something to hold myself over until I finish the final chapter of The Night Shift 🙈

Tav watched from a stained glass window as the sun started to set below the city’s skyline. The colorful panes reflected a few rays of the day's last light onto the floor below, hues of red and yellow sparkled against the wooden boards. It was another late night with Lord Gortash, his office had become like a second home by now, much warmer than the temple. Gortash remained at his desk most of the day, enjoying her silent company. He occasionally asked for her thoughts during his meticulous planning, answered in usually a couple of short words before she returned to her voided stare across the city. Only until the sun disappeared beyond the horizon did he finally leave his desk to give her proper attention. The pair had reached the final hour of their invasion, most days spent fine tuning their strategy, some less productive night spent in bed together. Tav knew her sister was becoming more volatile by the day, it would be foolish to assume she wasn’t plotting to usurp her position as the Chosen of Bhaal. However cowardly it was to hole herself up within Lord Gortash’s office, she didn’t mind. A fight would be imminent, necessary in fact, in order to secure her birthright. For now she waits to anticipate Orin’s next move, keeping a cautious eye on her movements within The Gate. 

It had become a bit of a bore though, wordlessly sitting by his window each day as he scribbled on parchment behind her. Jumping down from her perch, Tav made her way behind the lordling in his chair. She snaked her arms around Enver’s neck, laying her head against his as she looked over the maps scattered across his desk. 

“Let’s take a break, shall we?” She said in a seductively low voice next to his ear. Gortash frowned and continued with his work, “You’ve hardly contributed today.” He scoffed. 

“There’s nothing left to do! We’ve accounted for every possible deviation from the strategy, you’ll start to go mad spending another night staring over these maps.” She said with a whine. Gortash brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose, pinching the bridge in frustration. 

“Another hour. Then you’ll have my attention.” He said shortly, laying a hand on her arm before returning his gaze to the desk. A worthless compromise, Tav was sure her own mind would rot if she had to wait for another hour. It was common for Gortash to be the last to quit for the day, working until his hands grew numb from gripping his quill, ink pots cluttering his space. If it was truly so difficult to tear him away from his desk, perhaps she should do it herself. 

Circling his desk, Tav dipped down below the table top and sat in between his knees. Enver paid her no mind as she ran her hands along his thighs, her clawed nails sending shivers down the lordling’s spine. Only until she began fumbling to unclasp his belt did he cock an eyebrow at her, his gaze unreturned as she focused on freeing him from his trousers. Tav looked up to watch for his reaction as she reached into his pants through his underwear, massaging at his growing cock with a gentle hand. Gortash let out a short breath as she worked her hand along his shaft, bringing it up to press a soft thumb against his tip. She felt him hardened in her hand as she stroked his shaft and teased his head with her fingertips. Even as his heart began to race at the slow, languid movements, Gortash clenched his jaw and let out a short curse before returning to his work. His attempt to ignore her only spurred her on as she freed him from his trousers, the considerable length springing out and slapping against his stomach. With a hum of amusement, Tav brought her mouth around the head, swirling her tongue over beads of pre cum before swallowing him entirely. She relished in his taste, letting out another satisfied hum as she bobbed up and down his length. Enver let out a deep groan as he was engulfed in the wet heat of her throat. His hand moved to a tight grip on the chair’s arm, his nails making shallow grooves into the wood in an effort to hold himself back, hiding his desperation. Tav picked up her pace, pumping her fist along what she couldn’t fit in her mouth. 

“Couldn’t wait another hour?” Gortash gritted through his teeth as he raked a hand through her hair, gripping onto the base of her curved horn. Tav gave a gentle shake of her head to indicate, no, she absolutely couldn’t wait. Enver let out a chuckle at her impatience, succeeded by a sharp inhale as her teeth grazed against his skin. The mix of pleasure and pain sent a roaring wave of arousal through his body, his mind screamed for more of her mouth, her touch, her taste. Tav could hear his frustration through the reserved groans he let out, the room filling with lewd sounds as she sloppily fucked him with her fist. Enver glanced down underneath the desk and she returned his gaze through half lidded eyes as she devoured him, the dizzying sensation causing Enver to thrust his hips against her mouth. Tav started to choke as she felt the tip press against the back of her throat, looking up at Enver in a plea for him to be gentle. Instead she was met with a devilish smirk as his eyes darkened at the scene in front of him, clouded by a thick aura of desire.

“Gods, your mouth feels divine.” He let out breathlessly, looking down at her with a sinful expression. Enver took advantage of her willing submission, wrapping his hands around the dark horns on her head, pushing her to take him further, deeper into her mouth. Gortash let out a guttural moan as he slammed her mouth down onto his cock. Using her horns for leverage, his hands moved in a rhythmic motion to drive himself deeper with every pump. Enver’s show of dominance only spurred Tav on as she moaned around his length, the vibrations sending shivers up his spine. She surrendered to his bruising pace and hollowed out her cheeks as she sucked and swallowed his length, running her tongue along the ridges of his soft skin. 

“That’s it. You take me so well, my dear.” 

Tav whimpered as he stuffed her mouth with his thick cock, feeling her own heat shudder for attention at his soft praise. Enver’s composure started to slip as he watched her hand disappear between her thighs, her moans around his cock growing louder as she worked her delicate fingers around her clit. An intense pressure began to rise in the pools of Enver’s stomach, threatening to spill over if Tav continued her feverish pace. 

She couldn’t resist the urge to make him finish in her mouth, to suck and stroke him dry until he’s nothing but a mumbling fool under her touch. She’d give anything to watch him completely unravel. Once, twice, however many times he’d allow. The thought of it drove her wild, her fingers began to move faster against her clit as she drew herself closer to her peak. Tav started to gently suck on the tip, knowing this would push him over the edge. She stroked what she didn’t swallow, the combination having a dizzying effect on the Archduke. Enver shakily grabbed at a clump of her hair as a string of curses tumbled out of his mouth in a husky growl. 

“Good girl.” He struggled to spit out, “Don’t stop.” 

She didn’t intend to. His eyes were now fixed onto her, her soft hand gliding along his cock, her swollen lips tenderly working the pleasure out of him. Tav’s fingers started to move sloppily against her folds, the sensations becoming too much for her to suppress any longer. He could hear the wet sounds of his wicked little assassin pleasuring herself, how her legs began to tremble underneath her fingers, her thighs tensing at the building pressure. He was intoxicated by the sound of her gagging against his girth, her unrelenting strokes pulling him closer, closer to the edge. As Tav reached her climax. she let out a guttural moan and Enver pushed his cock further into her mouth to muffle the sounds. Tav choked around his length as she rode out her orgasm, intense waves of pleasure rolling through her as the obscene sounds around her turned to white noise. As he felt his own release approaching Enver couldn’t help but let out a primal groan, his hips involuntarily bucking against her throat at a shattered speed. His moans grew louder and more vulgar with every stroke, shouting her name as he filled her throat with his warm seed. The excess spilled out of the sides of her mouth before she pulled off with a sickening pop, happily swallowing everything he emptied inside of her. 

“You wicked thing.” He said to her in a low voice, collecting the remaining spit lining her mouth with his thumb, bringing his fingers to his mouth to taste them both. Tav gave him a weak smile and mustered up what little strength she had to rise to her feet before immediately dropping into Enver’s lap. The Archduke let out a soft chuckle and brushed her hair out of her face, wrapping his hands around her waist to hold her tighter against him. Tav nestled her face into his neck, leaving soft kisses along the flesh, nipping at his skin with her teeth. Enver didn’t mind and he scooted the chair closer towards the desk, picking up the dried quill and dipping it back into the ink pot. It didn’t need to be said that this was only a preamble for the night to come, but for now Tav listened as he scribbled on parchment and flipped through the pages of a dusty journal. 

[blissfulstarsfics]

Black and White Chapter 10

Read on AO3

Chapter Rating: M

Summary: Mol pays her mentor a visit and Tav gets carried off to the Elfsong with some old friends.

Morning came and went. The previous night’s exertions kept the ascendant and his betrothed active until the early hours of the morning. It made for a quiet, relaxed atmosphere for the staff. Equally appreciative were the spawn. With the master occupied, they essentially got the night off to do as they pleased.

Rousing from his trance, he opened the window to see the sun begin to descend from its zenith. It was well into the afternoon. Astarion carefully exited the bed, so as not to disturb Tav. His little love needed her rest. 

By now the painting should have been delivered. Unsure of how it would arrive, he wanted to intercept it in case it was left uncovered. Unlikely, but he was taking no risks of Tav being caught off guard. If anyone knew the sting of unexpectedly being confronted by your persecutor, in any capacity, it was him.

There it was. On the desk in his study was a wooden tube with a card attached bearing the logo of the auction house. 

“Thank you for your support…Your generosity…whatever,” he read aloud. Tossing the note in the bin, he then opened the tube. Sure enough, his “prize” was inside. He didn’t bother inspecting the damned thing and slammed the lid back on, cracking the cover. 

Astarion wasn’t about to let a piece of canvas ruin his mood. Instead, he reclined in his chair with his feet on the desk and eyes shut, imagining how being with Tav would be once he made her his consort. Things were good in the bedchamber as they were, but he did need to hold himself back during intimacy. With his superior strength, he could easily harm her.

Once she had a vampiric body, he could show her all sorts of depraved carnal delights. Just the thought made his cock stir. He would be able to bite without her needing days to heal from the wound. She did so like it when he would nibble on her neck, her thighs, or her breasts. And she would bite him. That was an invigorating thought; to lay back with her straddling him, lapping blood off his chest with her agile tongue. Then to taste her bloody lips after. 

That’s if she wanted to be his consort. Astarion’s heart pounded anxiously. The tube rolled onto the floor with a thud, further splintering the fragile shell. A sliver of the old man’s face peeked out from the interior. Seeing his face gave a new perspective to Tav’s indecision. Would he have the same hesitations if the roles were reversed? Having tasted freedom after two hundred years, could he as readily give that up as he was asking her?

Or, as she thought he was asking her. Tav was far too special to him to condemn to an eternity of hunger in the shadows. They would share his ascendant powers, it was only right. After all, if it wasn’t for her then he would still be a pitiful spawn whimpering in the shadows, begging to be allowed into homes, unable to see his gorgeous face. 

Often, he wondered if he should let her in on his plans. Maybe it would put her mind at ease, maybe not. His reluctance to do so was born from his paranoia over what she might do if she found out he wouldn’t be able to compel her. A scene of her gaining immortality then leaving for someone better played constantly in his head.

In the distance he could hear Tav scolding someone. He swung his legs off the desk and darted into the hall. The maids stopped their cleaning to curtsy, only resuming their duties once he had passed by. Around the corner, Tav was wearing what appeared to be a hastily thrown on shirt and pants. Across from her was a very unrepentant Mol. The girl wasn’t even trying to hide her amusement. 

“Astarion, do you know what your little protege just did?” Tav shot daggers at him. Any other person wouldn’t have made him flinch, but that look from this woman sent chills down his spine. Mol seemed completely unaffected. 

“I, uh, don’t know, love,” he nervously stammered. 

“She deliberately disobeyed you.”

“Oh, come on, Mums! Playing against the rules lets you sneak by easier! It would have worked too if I hadn’t tripped on that shirt. You didn’t even notice when I walked across the bed.” Mol beamed at Astarion, proudly, “I’ve been practicing my footwork.”

“Yes, but not well enough. You tripped on clothing? I expect better of you, Mol. And what’s this about walking on the bed? What did I tell you about breaking in via the bedrooms!” 

This was the kind of scenario he wanted to avoid. By forbidding entry through his and Tav’s private rooms, he thought he could help the young one evade walking in on the two of them in various states of undress. Or worse. In the end, all he did was plant ideas in that brilliant young mind of hers. 

“Although, you do have a point about breaking rules,” he rubbed his chin, “I will give you credit for ingenuity.” Astarion could feel Tav staring him down through gritted teeth, “But, uh, don’t do it again. Aha!” 

“Fine, I’ll just think of something better next time!” She bumped her fists together, eager to rise to the challenge, “Oh, and, sorry I saw you naked, Mums.” He had to cover his mouth to not laugh. Tav looked like she was about to end them both. 

“Have you learned your lesson, little sneak,” she ruffled the girl’s hair. Tav had a difficult time staying mad at Mol. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she swatted Tav’s hands away.

“Good. Now get the wooden swords,” she smirked, “I’ll make myself ready and we can spar.” 

“Yes!” Mol jumped in the air, fists clenched, then ran off to fetch their equipment. Astarion was pleasantly surprised at how their bond developed. His relationship with the tiefling girl took on a master-apprentice shape, whereas Tav’s adopted a more maternal aspect. When Mol first called her “Mums,” she meant it as a pejorative. However, Tav thought it incredibly endearing and so it stuck. 

An hour later, he decided to check on the girls in the parlor. Tav had Mol running drills, observing and correcting her technique as necessary. It was quite sweet to watch. Mol tilted her head, catching Astarion in her peripheral vision. With a loud cry, she charged toward the vampire, her sword positioned to stab him in the belly. 

“Too slow, little one.” He sidestepped the attack and disarmed her in one quick motion. Mol winced, shaking her wrist. 

“Are you all right?” Tav took her hand, examining it for injuries, “Astarion, be more careful!”

“I’m good. Lord Astarion is lucky I’m tired, or else he’d have a gut filled with oak chips,” she puffed up, bragging.

“Ha! Would you now?” He taunted. They stared at each other down until Mol broke contact. 

“I would, but right now I should get going. The other kids in the guild will start to wonder where I went.” She curtsied to Astarion, then gave Tav a quick hug. As she made her way to the window, Tav called out to her.

“Mol, you know you can use the front door, right?”

“Mmm? Nah!” And she hopped out, leaving the couple shaking their heads in amusement. Now that she was gone, Astarion could bring up the more delicate matter. He placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her brow.

“Elia. It’s upstairs.” Her smile faded, instead drawing her lips into a snarl.  She reached for his hands, holding them tight, and nodded. 

On the study’s floor, the damaged wooden container still lay. Scoffing, she picked it up and rotated it in her hands. Astarion had expected her to be afraid or to cry or lash out, but she only showed disdain. Unfurling the canvas, her eyes contemptuously wandered over the painted figures. 

“Heh. May you walk the Fugue Plane unclaimed, you son of a bitch.” Without another word, she stuffed it in the fireplace, case and all, “ Ignis!” The room became malodorous with the scents of burning chemicals and fiber. Flames sparked in multicolor, crackling as they consumed their intended fuel.

Tav turned to the door, “I think I’d like to be alone for a while. I’ll be in the parlor if you need me.”

“Of course.” Astarion opened the window to vent out the noisome air and by the time he turned back around, she had left.

~~~~~ 

“Hey, Soldier!” Tav heard outside the parlor. The door opened wide to reveal quite a few familiar faces. It amazed her how they always managed to get past the staff. Nonetheless, she was glad to see them. Karlach and Wyll had no doubt returned from some great adventure, and she was sure they would regale her with the tale. Accompanying them were Shadowheart, Jaheira, and -to her surprise- Minthara. 

Karlach scooped her into one of her giant hugs, “We brought half the gang. Hope that’s ok. If not, too fucking bad! Now, let’s go. Wyll and I got some crazy shit to tell you about.” Before she could offer to host them in the palace, Karlach threw her over one shoulder and carried her out the door. 

The trek to the Elfsong was an odd one to say the least. They got their share of odd glances with their party consisting of a drow, the High Harper, Ulder Ravengard’s son, and a high elf slung over a laughing tiefling’s shoulder. Shadowheart had the sense to follow from a distance. 

Music, conversation, and the smells of tasty food and drink welcomed them to their old haunt. It seemed like an age since they first came here to rent their shared room, back when they were still tadpoled. The owner gave the heroes of Baldur’s Gate access to a private room and Karlach set Tav down next to their table. The dizzying rush of blood from her head back to her body sent her tumbling into her seat. 

“I, for one, am glad to see everyone hale and happy,” Wyll said, sitting down, “Wait until you hear what Karlach and I have been up to. It has been nonstop!” His excitement was palpable. 

Apparently their new adventure started with a grand mishap in the Cloak Wood, where they accidentally interrupted a korred celebration. The entire clan descended upon them, trying to ensnare them in various hair traps. Tav paid enough attention to his story to give a convincing emote when necessary, which was more than what Minthara was doing. The drow looked thoroughly unimpressed. Everyone else was quite amused.

The bard swirled her cup of wine, staring at the reflection of candlelight in its bordeaux surface. Hearing the laughter of her old friends was a welcome distraction, though she wondered what Astarion would do when he found out she had been snuck out of the mansion. No doubt he would find fault with someone for letting her be spirited away. Sighing, she silently prayed he wouldn’t put another hole in the wall. 

Shadowheart picked up on her sullen mood, nudging Tav’s shoulder with her own.

“What’s wrong, Tav? You haven’t touched your wine. Is there trouble in paradise?” Always the issue had to be Astarion. Never could it be a bad day.

“No,” she fibbed, “everything is fine.” They knew nothing of her past and she didn’t feel like letting them in now. No doubt they would try spinning what he did for her into something cruel. A manipulation of some sort.

“Ha! An obvious lie,” Minthara smugly interjected, “If your relationship with Astarion was as strong as we thought, he would have had you join him in immortality by now.”

Wyll side eyed her as he finished a sip of wine, “Not everyone is as keen to join the ranks of the damned as you are, Minthara. Heh, I know that’s comical coming from me,” he cocked his head, “although, I am curious about that as well. It’s hard to believe he hasn’t made the attempt.”

“We are all curious.” Jaheira finally spoke. She had been oddly quiet until now. Tav gulped down her wine, intending on paying and excusing herself. The last thing she needed tonight was to get interrogated about her personal life. Reaching for her purse, the room abruptly distorted. She then noticed the medicinal taste of Klauthgrass in her mouth. Jaheira had spiked her wine. 

“Soldier, you ok?” Karlach asked. Tav lost control of her limbs, flailing around until Shadowheart helped prop her up.

“She will be. First, I have questions.” Jaheira moved her chair closer to Tav.

“You didn’t!?!” Karlach slapped the table in disgust. The elder half elf nodded, smirking.  

“I did. Astarion has been quite active as of late and I want to know what he’s plotting. Now, let’s start with something easy,” she held Tav’s head up by her chin, “Has Astarion offered to make you his spawn?”

“Yes, he wants me as his consort. Fuck,” she cursed at how readily he answered. How was she going to fight the effects? Her addled mind tried and failed to do something. Anything. Not even her body wanted to obey her. She wondered if this was a taste of what it was like for Astarion under Cazador.

“Consort?!? Why haven’t you taken his offer, Tav? He is giving you the world!” Minthara chided, “Don’t be a fool. Become his consort!” The paladin seemed peculiarly honed in on the word “consort.” In normal circumstances, Tav would have asked her to clarify.

“Don’t answer that. Now, tell me if you are considering vampirism.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I want to be with him.” She wanted to scream, to cry out for someone to save her, yet she could do none of that. Jaheira had rendered her helpless. 

“Gods above.” Everyone looked around, concerned, except Minthara. She approved the consideration. Jaheira nodded to someone outside the room, then continued her questioning, “What is Astarion going to do in the Lower City.”

“Expand his influence. Control commerce.” No, no, no, no! Breathing rapidly, her heart pounding, the world began to close in around her. If this kept up, she would reveal all that Astarion had shared with her. Of course, he wouldn’t blame her for the forced betrayal. That would lie squarely on Jaheira, potentially setting off a feud between him and the Harpers.

Through the open window, Tav saw a pair of membranous wings fluttering their way. Wyll tapped Karlach’s arm and they took defensive stances. Astarion morphed out of his bat form beside Tav. Minthara nodded in his direction, she was the only one fine with seeing him. 

“Ah, my old friends. How rude of you to not invite me to this little reunion.” The vampire’s tone dripped with false joviality, “Oh dear, oh dear, has my treasure partook too much again?” He grabbed Jaheira’s chair and viciously yanked it aside, “I can take things from here, Jaheira. Thank you for taking care of her.” 

The air was tense. All sights were fixed on Astarion’s next move. Tav could feel the effects of the Kauthgrass begin to wear off. The old woman must not have planned to pry for very long to have administered such a low dose.

“Not enough chairs. Hm,” Astarion picked up his limp darling and placed her securely on his lap, “We always make do. Don’t we, my love?”

She rested her head in the nook of his neck. With his arms tightly around her, she began to calm down. He scanned over their unsettled faces, sneering. In a baiting gesture, he provocatively moved his hand onto Tav’s bottom. The vampire ascendant was making it clear that she belonged to him. What’s more, he was challenging them to do something about it.

“It really has been far too long since we’ve gotten together like this. How has everyone been? All good, I hope.” Glares were the only reply he got. Fine, he would be more direct then, “Shadowheart, how is your mother?” 

The Selunite’s face scrunched, “She died almost a month ago.” Tav quietly gasped in Astarion’s arms. It broke her heart to hear the news like this. They may have drifted apart since they destroyed the Netherbrain, but she still thought that Shadowheart held her in enough esteem to tell her about something as important as this at the time it happened. 

“My condolences,” he offered. Even he felt a speck of empathy for the girl, Tav knew. After all the hardship their band had gone through, how they fought not only for the city but their individual happiness, it was saddening to hear one of them lose what they had gained. 

“I’m guessing this is news to Tav, but you knew, didn’t you?” she seethed, “It was in the letter I wrote. As I suspected, you’re keeping communications from her. Aren’t you?” Letter? What letter? What was she talking about?

While Astarion was distracted, Jaheira waved in three blue-green cloaked figures waiting outside. They maneuvered themselves around their commander, awaiting further instruction. Wyll, Karlach, and Minthara looked at each other, wondering what was happening.

“What baseless accusation is this? We never got any letters from you!” he spat. Tav felt his heart speed up. Was it anger or nerves? Did he just get caught in something?

“Let her go, Astarion,” Jaheira hissed. This prompted him to tighten his grip.

“Uh, Jaheira,” Karlach stood up, cautiously eyeing both sides of the room, “Maybe pissing off the vampire lord in close quarters while he’s got a firm hold on our friend isn’t the most tactical idea.”

“Tav, give me the word and we will get you out of here,” she reached her hand out, “I understand you are charmed and besotted by Astarion, but you know as well as the rest of us that he will use you and throw you away once he is bored with you, like every other vampire since Strahd. Please, Tav, see reason!”

“You wretched old hag. How dare you!” Astarion stood up, his fangs bared, and grip tightening. She jerked as she felt the tips of his claws begin to pierce her skin.

A fight seemed unavoidable. This wasn’t good. It was bad enough that Karlach thoughtlessly mentioned his vampirism within earshot of these Harpers. Casual talks could be excused as groundless rumors, however should Astarion be forced to do combat, well, the carnage would speak for itself.

Ever the peacemaker, Wyll got between them, “All right, all right. Let’s talk about this like adults.” He placed a soothing hand on Jaheira’s shoulder and tried to do the same for Astarion, only to be fiercely swatted away. Tav’s legs dropped to the ground. The serum had worn off enough for her to stand with assistance.

“And here I thought this was going to be a dull evening,” Minthara mused, sipping her wine. No doubt she was welcoming a little infusion of Menzoberranzan culture into the party.

“Astarion,” Tav weakly clutched to his arm, “Let’s go home. Let’s leave before this escalates any further.” Tugging on him, she motioned her head toward the exit. Jaheira gave her a pleading look. Tav knew her intentions were born out of a genuine concern for her wellbeing, but tonight a line had been crossed. Before, she saw her actions as somewhat motherly, that she was looking out for Tav. After being drugged like this, all the elf felt was resentment. 

Shaking her head, Jaheira stepped aside, “You know where to find me if you need me, cub,” her old term of affection. “The offer will always stand. When you need our help, we will provide. Now, let them go,” she reluctantly ordered. 

As they walked, Tav briefly made eye contact with one of the Harpers. A tall elvish man with shoulder length sandy brown hair and green eyes. His face lit up in awe, then suddenly he reached into his pocket. He retrieved a few small beads that he threw to the ground. Light flooded the room, painfully blinding the group. In the confusion, Tav felt herself be torn from Astarion. An incantation later, she was gone completely.

~~~~~

Screams of bewilderment came from everyone’s mouths. Pulsating dots burned onto their retinas for an extended length of time. As he blinked them away, he discovered that his worst fear had come to pass. Dumbfounded and aghast, the vampire ascendant grasped at the air where Tav had once been. His heart burned, his mind a torrent of rage, but above all was the feeling of a gaping hole in his chest. A crushing pain of loss. 

Eyes were wide and mouths agape with abject terror. No one moved. The mood was hostile before, now it was volatile. At any moment they knew he could combust into a white hot rage, having been forcibly separated from his lover. Astarion growled through his fangs, his whole body shook.

“What the fuck, Jaheira?” Karlach shouted in a panic, one hand on the hilt of her axe. The high harper threw her hands up, just as baffled as the rest of them.

“I told them to stand down! Agh!” A clawed hand reached around her slender neck, lifting her off the ground. She gasped when she saw an infernal glow radiating from Astarion’s now blackened globes. Oh how he wanted to snap her neck then and there! But, even in his infuriated state, he knew she may be his best chance of finding Tav.

“Jaheira,” his voice was eerily calm, like the eye of a storm, “Where did your people take her?”

“I do not know!” The constricting of his grip indicated he didn’t believe her, “No, I truly don’t know.” Her feet kicked aimlessly as she struggled to breathe. A low, diabolical laughter emanated from him while he watched her jaw flap in desperation.

“Then I suggest you find out, and quickly. Do not fail me, Harper. Until then, I will bathe this city in blood. You will wake up to the wailing of the people as they find their loved ones massacred in the streets.” Jaheira knew this was no empty threat. They all did. 

Wyll unsheathed his sword, pointing it at Astarion’s heart, “Dammit, Astarion! I know you’re upset, hells, we all are! This is not the way. We will find her.” The sincerity in the young man’s voice rang like bile in his ears. Yet, he kept going, “Please, don’t do this. Despite what you may think, we don’t want to hurt you.” Hurt him? Them? How preposterous! He was so much more than the puny little spawn they traveled with. Perhaps he should give them a demonstration.

Astarion positioned the blade to the right of his heart, “And who’s going to stop me?” He walked up to the hilt of the sword, allowing the blade to poke through his back, “You, Wyll? Are you going to stop me?” He mocked, “Blade of Avernus?” With his free hand, Astarion effortlessly pushed the man across the room. As for the wound? It closed quite nicely for his friends to see.

“Incende!” Divine magic from his favorite Selunite cleric. It actually stung a little! He let Jaheira gracelessly fall to the floor with a loud thud. Nonchalantly, he placed his arms behind his back then filled the room with dark energies. The companions dropped to their knees, the power of his aura seeping into their flesh, giving rise to excruciating torment. All except Minthara. She had ever been an ally. She would be spared.

“I have spoken,” he proclaimed, “You have my instructions, now go. Or the city will bleed.” Astarion evaporated into a cloud of mist and floated out the window, leaving the others to their thoughts. They needed to plan. And fast.

Thank you for reading. As always, feel free to like, reblog, or comment.

Chapter 10 will feature a POV from Karlach.

[astarionfreak]

Now that his heart beats

// Ascended Astarion x Reader/You Female!Tav (Vampire Spawn)

You lay with your head on Astarion's chest. Your body is so quiet since you followed him into eternity. Astarion's is so loud, now that his heart beats again.

18+ • 1.1K words (1/1) • Read on AO3 (or below)

Tags: Angst, violence, trauma, sex, dubious consent

It’s so quiet in this body. Your heart still beats, but softly now. Your fingers and toes are always so cold. But your longing for warmth is nothing compared to the gnawing hunger that made its home inside your belly. No amount of blood can silence the constant ache.

A warm breeze dances across the garden. You lay in Astarion’s arms, on the lawn, near the roses. You are so still that you can count each blade of grass that bends and sways, brushing against your bare arms and legs.

But Astarion, his body is so loud, now that his heart beats. You press your ear against his naked chest and listen for the steady thump, thump, thumping just beneath his ribcage. Is this how he felt? All those months ago, when you were alive and his heart lay dormant.

You wish to crack him open so you can reach inside. You want to hold the beating creature within your own two hands. To take from him, the life he stole from you.

And then he touches you, and his warmth breathes air back into your hopeless lungs. His fingertips light fires across your skin. You remember now, why you followed him into eternity.

“Little love, is something the matter?”

“Why does my heart not beat like yours?” you ask, keeping your ear pressed to his chest.

Astarion runs his fingers through your hair. “I gave you eternity. You walk in the sun. Is that not enough, my pet?”

“I’m cold,” you say.

“A small price to pay.” Astarion pulls you closer. “To rule by my side.”

“Yes,” you agree. “A small price.”

You love him, but jealousy burns at the edges and poisons your dying heart. He was given a new life. You are just a corpse.

—

That night, when he bends you over his desk and hitches up your dress — you feel like something to be owned, a thing to be possessed.

“Don’t be ungrateful,” he reminds you a hand pressed against your back. “You know I adore you.”

And he says it, so it must be true.

He wouldn’t lie to you.

—

Astarion leaves the palace in your care while he conducts business with the patriarchs of the city. 

You rise before daybreak, lay in the garden, near the roses again, and listen for any sign of life within your chest. You hear only silence.

You wonder what it would feel like to burn with the dawn. But your lover, he has given you the gift of the sun.

Don’t be ungrateful, you remind yourself. You have everything you ever wanted.

It will be several days before you see him again.

—

You haunt the halls like a ghost. The hunger in your belly claws its way up your throat.

A servant, one of his favorites, looks at you with quiet contempt. Your teeth tear into her neck.

You are full.

You are happy.

But it doesn’t last.

—

For hours they scrub, but the blood won’t come out of the dining room floor.

You are hungry again.

He will be angry.

—

Your lover returns home with renewed vigor. He refuses to bore your pretty little head with all the details, but the meetings were a success.

He hasn’t noticed the blood stain yet. He doesn’t know she’s dead.

“All that power is ours for the taking,” he says. “So close I can taste it.”

And you know he also wishes to taste you. To celebrate.

But this time, before you bend yourself over his desk, he stops you.

He touches your chin with two warm fingers and tilts your head up. Were his eyes always this red?

You remember how the girl’s blood pooled on the floor. How wasteful, you think. Messy. You should have drained her.

Then he kisses you. His lips are warm and soft. You don’t wonder what yours must feel like to him, because you already know.

You recall the time, before your body died, when he was all you craved. When his cold fingers pried the warmth from your skin. He took too much, now you are the one searching for heat in his touch.

His fingers dig into your hips as he lifts you onto his desk. His wanting mouth parts for your tongue as he crashes into you.

Anticipating his desire is second nature to you now. You dart your tongue into his mouth, slicing yourself open on a fang. It stings, but you don’t mind. Anything for him.

The flat of his tongue runs across the newly formed wound. He has given you everything, it’s only fair you do the same. He takes from you what you so willingly give. Were you always so compliant?

He slots himself between your legs. “You’ve been so good for me.” His voice like velvet. “Good girls get rewarded, don’t they?”

Your blood. You almost ask. Just a taste. You don’t know, but you think that, maybe, to drink from him could thaw your heart.

But you say nothing. You simply nod. Because that is what he expects of you.

When he drops to his knees, that feels new. Your hands grip the edge of the desk as his tongue explores your depths.

His mouth brings you to rapture. His name, a prayer on your lips.

He still doesn’t know about the blood stain. He still doesn’t know she’s dead.

—

You were right. He is angry.

Were the kennels always this cold?

The hunger ties itself in knots around your stomach. The rats are your only friends.

—

You don’t know how long it’s been. You are starving. The rats are dead.

—

Astarion finds you curled up in the corner and carries you to bed.

You are just a corpse. A collection of thoughts. A memory strung together to be loved by him.

—

He gives you blood in a goblet. You wish to sink your teeth into a warm neck.

He holds you until you feel better. You listen to his heart beat again and again.

—

You are loved. Because he says he loves you.

You are happy. Because he says he makes you so.

And he wouldn’t lie to you.

But it’s so loud in this body now. The hunger demands to be fed. There’s an ache behind your eyes and inside your head.

You’re sure now, that his blood would silence the screaming.

“Smile, little love. You don’t look pretty when you frown,” he reminds you.

You smile. Because he tells you to.

You smile, because you will have his blood.

Be it on your tongue and down your throat — or splattered on the walls.

Perhaps both.

[spicetdusk]

Inktober #7 - Exhausted

*LOUD AIR HORN NOISES*

ARE YOU GUYS READY FOR SOME

MOTHER.

FUCKING.

FLUFF?!?

Because holy fuck I am not even kidding you, these next three are disgusting.

Grab yo toothbrush kids, y’all bout to get some cavities

—

Exhausted

“Tav?” Kaer called, stepping out of the bedchamber to find the sitting room still aglow with candlelight and his mate still at his desk, writing with one hand and rubbing his temples with the other.  “My love,” said Kaer, laying a hand on Taveon’s shoulder, “Please.  Come to bed.”

Tav gave his head a little shake as he put down his pen, and looked up at Kaer with a weary sigh.  He looked terrible— bruised circles under his red rimmed eyes, his hair stringy with grease, and his skin, already naturally fair, had paled even more to the point of looking gray.  “There is so much to get done,” he said, “It will not leave my head.  I cannot manage to sleep even when I try.”

“Tav,” Kaer pleaded, beseeching and scolding, “Your body needs rest!  At least come lie down for a while.  Please? You scare me when you get like this.”

Taveon took Kaer’s slim hand off his shoulder and brought it to his lips, laying soft kisses along Kaer’s knuckles.  “I am sorry, love,” he murmured, “It will pass.”

“Oh, my heart,” Kaer said tenderly, giving Tav’s hand a squeeze, and swung a leg over the chair to settle in Taveon’s lap.  “It hurts me to see you so miserable.  What can I do to help?  Tell me.”  Kaer cupped his mate’s face in his hands, and started rubbing gentle circles above Tav’s eyes with his thumbs.

Taveon hummed and let his eyes fall shut.  “That is a wonderful place to start.  Your hands are so cool, it feels lovely.”

“The bed is so cold without you!” Kaer teased, sweeping his thumbs across Tav’s cheekbones.  He smiled, no longer teasing but soft and affectionate, and bent his neck to press the lightest of kisses against Taveon’s eyelids.  “I always need you to keep me warm,” he murmured.

Taveon sighed, low and content, and let his head droop forward on to Kaer’s chest, tucking his face against his mate’s collarbone and nuzzling into his smooth, warm skin.

“Tav, my heart,” Kaer half sighed, half sang, cradling Taveon’s head to his breast and stroking through his long dark hair.  Kaer felt the softest breath of air as Taveon’s lips moved against his neck, whispering into his skin,

“My only star.”

—

Okay, look. I was just too damn tired to write more smut after I finished that last one. 

But just, you know, FYI. There is definitely supposed to be sex in this scene. Canonically, blow jobs are a thing that happens.

I’m not saying Kaer tries to solve all his problems with bjs, but Kaer tries to solve all his problems with bjs.

[dark-and-kawaii]

༺ 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇’𝓈 𝒫𝑒𝓉 ༻

Au Professor Raphael

Summary: Your grade depends on your willingness. Professor Raphael misuses your body well, and you can’t help but to come undone under his touch. Does your grade even matter at this point?

Note: I saw this gif and went absolutely feral.

Age Gap - Professor/ Student relationship - Vaginal Penetration - Creampie - Handcuffs - Slight Voyeurism - Tav is 18

You told him you’d do anything to raise your grade, begged him not to flunk you because your parents would be so disappointed in you… Now, as you bounce up and down on your professor's lap in his car you wonder how they’d feel if they found out about this instead…

The thought of being caught has your tight young cunt gripping his cock like a vice. Your hands struggling to find their way into his lucious brown hair, but the cuffs he placed on your wrists bind them behind your back. You feel his lips kiss down your neck, nibbling softly against your skin, his glasses grazing you just as well and the sensation nearly makes you cum right there. His cock feels like it was made for you, each ridge and vein caresses your walls and drives you crazy.

“Professor!”

Raphael, your professor, loved to fill you up before school started, loved knowing your young cunt was carrying his seed throughout the day. He knew you’d struggle to keep it all inside you, your skirt doing little to conceal it if it were to find its way dribbling out of you.

The windows in his car fogged, “S’good! M-more!”, your ass jiggled each time it slapped his thighs. Raphael grabbed onto your waist and started moving you even faster.

You felt him grow and swell inside of you, knowing he was getting close to his limit. He was going to make you take it, was going to fill you with more than enough for your womb.

“Let’s hope that your little birth control pill is still working,” he chuckled darkly, “what a shame it would be to find yourself carrying your professor's bastard child.”

Your eyes widened, the thought hadn't occurred to you. You weren't even sure the pill would do much after how many times he’s cum in you this week already. You started to slow your hips, unsure of what to do. Did it even matter at this point?

Raphael tightened his grip on you, forcing your movements to stay steady, his own hips thrusting up into you at an unrelenting pace.

Your thoughts trailed off, biting your lip at the thought about just the other day…

He kept a nice little bullet attached to your clit, waiting for you to enter his class before he could start his little game. A game, that’s all this was to him…

Raphael would wait for the room to settle down, wait for him to turn his back on his class so he could write on his board, book in hand concealing the little remote in his hand. When the moment was right, your cruel professor would switch the bullet on medium speed. You’d never see the devilish smirk that danced across his face as you squealed in your seat, your body jolting up as you tried to contain yourself.

“Quiet now, it’s rude to disturb the class while I’m trying to teach.” Your cheeks burned as you fought the urge to squirm and grind against the chair. Raphael would look at you every few moments, making sure you were obeying his rules. You could barely focus as the pleasure built up inside you. Raising your hand, you’d ask to excuse yourself, but of course he’d never agree to it, “you’ll have to wait until after class.”

You wanted to scream at him, but the fear of failing his class kept you from speaking out, not only that but the other student’s that were watching. So you sat there, legs clenched together and toes curling into your shoes as you fought to control the sensations that would wrack your body.

With your head laying on the desk, your legs shaking, he’d turn it off, “See me after class Tav, your behavior has been unacceptable.” He’d tell you to see him after class, that he needs to discuss your poor behavior in class, that you distracted far too many other students.

When your professor, Raphael, asked you to stay after class, you knew you'd end up splayed out on his wooden desk, hands clenching the edges to hold on.

"I do remember you saying you’d be willing to do anything to raise your grade up, right?" his fingers trailing over your ass that peeked from your short skirt, “so start being an obedient little pup.” ~Whack, Raphael would smack your ass hard enough to leave his mark.

He’d flip up your skirt to reveal the full extent of your pink lace panties, before he slowly pulls them down to pool at your feet. His fingers teasing your core and you twitch in response. You’d whine, embarrassed that you’ve allowed this to happen with your own professor, but even more embarrassed that you’d look forward to him sliding his much older cock inside you.

"How about we change that test score of yours from the other day into an A, princess." he said as his finger found your clit, slowly rubbing circles over the sensitive bud.

“P-please, I need to pass.”

He’d remove his finger, and you always felt a bit disappointed, but his fingers always found their way to your mouth, “Open.”

Your eyes flicker to his, questioning his intentions, but the look he’d give you told you not to ask questions. His thick digits slid into your mouth, pushing the salty taste of your cunt against your tongue. The sound of his belt unclasping and his draws falling to the ground as he positioned himself behind you.

"Now let's see how much you want that A." he would say before he slams his cock deep inside your wet folds.

The feeling of your walls stretching and clenching around his girth was something you still weren't quite used to, but the feeling had your eyes rolling. You’d push back into him, words of encouragement slipping from your mouth, “please use me! Fill me! Do whatever you want to me, Raphael!”

He was older, probably not one that should be fucking such a young thing like yourself, but here you were. His thrusts would be slow and deep, filling you in the way you always needed. He was unlike the other guys you’ve been with. He knew how your body worked.

"You're such a good girl, taking my cock so well. Maybe I should keep you on the edge of failing until the school year ends.” He’d grip your chin and forced your head to the side so he could lock his lips with yours, his tongue demanding entrance.

His free hand traveled between your legs, finding the little toy that rested against your swollen clit.

"Don't you dare cum yet." He told you before pressing the button, forcing the vibrations to start up again.

You were in a state of pure bliss. You knew that you shouldn't be here, that you should’ve studied like any other student, but all you could think about was how much you needed your professor to ruin your cunt now. That this was the only way to pass.

"Such a needy little thing aren't you." he would tease.

"Please!" you'd beg, "please, I need it. I can't fail this class, Raphael."

He'd groan, his pace increasing.

"Please Professor, I need it."

He loved to hear you call him professor. It was so taboo, and the thrill of fucking a student was a fantasy he was happy to make come true.

"Oh god." you'd cry out as the orgasm built inside you.

"Don't."

His hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed.

"Cum."

His hand squeezed tighter, your eyes widening.

"Not."

The sound of the door opening, and a female student entering would have both of your heads snap in her direction.

"Until."

You'd try to close your legs, your face burning, but his cock never left your heat.

"I."

You were so ashamed.

"Give."

But he never stopped pounding into you.

"You."

He was determined to finish, and that was it.

"The."

The other student looked just as embarrassed as you.

"Authorization."

The door closed and you heard a little laugh, “what a slut!”

What a perfect time, Raphael told you, “Cum for me, my good little pup.”

Your eyes closed, and you'd bite your lip, moaning at his command. His cock hit that special spot, his fingers rubbing your clit to completion.

"Yes! Oh God, I'm cumming!"

"Good." he'd hiss, his seed painting your walls, a sight he wished he could see.

When the two of you finished, he cleaned the mess he made and help you get dressed, his lips brushing over yours as he whispered, "see you in class, tomorrow- on second thought, come early. I’d like you to meet me by my car."

Which is exactly what you did…