#minthara x reader

[moonselune]

I spy an open inbox 👀

Not going to lie, started playing BG3 about a couple weeks ago, and have binge read all your works. A few times over. They're honestly so fucking good!?

Got a request idea if you wouldn't mind? Tav is an aasimar, or just has wings in general, and wings that size would need a fair amount of work and effort put in to keep them clean. The ladies see them struggling, perhaps after a battle, and offer to help out not quite realising how sensitive their wings can be...

Cheers!

yesyesyesyesyesyesyes this is such a good idea and thank you so much that is so sweet! 🥹

Karlach:

The river was cold. Not unbearably so, but enough that your muscles ached from the length of time you had spent submerged.

You had been at this for what felt like hours—scrubbing, rinsing, repeating. The battle had been a mess. Blood—your own, your enemies', your companions'—had soaked into the pristine white of your wings, the viscous substance clinging to the feathers in thick, stubborn patches. Even with the river’s steady current working with you, it was a nightmare to clean.

You grit your teeth, reaching back awkwardly to try and scrub at the worst of it. The angle was awful, your arms burning with the effort, and yet no matter how much you worked at it, the blood refused to fully lift.

A frustrated groan left your lips.

"Need a hand, soldier?"

You startled, turning to see Karlach crouched at the riverbank, a lopsided grin on her face. She looked just as battle-worn as you felt—armor dented, skin smeared with dirt and streaks of dried blood—but the warmth in her molten eyes remained as bright as ever.

You sighed, shaking your head. "I’ve been at this forever and it’s still not coming out."

Karlach hummed, rolling up her sleeves. "Alright, shift forward a bit, let me in there."

You hesitated. It wasn’t that you didn’t want her help—gods knew you did—but your wings were… sensitive.

Still, your arms were aching, and Karlach wasn’t exactly the type to take ‘no’ for an answer when she had her mind set on something.

So you swallowed your hesitation and nodded, shifting so that she could step into the river behind you. The water barely seemed to bother her, the heat of her infernal engine keeping the cold at bay.

"Alright, let’s see what we’re working with here," Karlach muttered, reaching out to cup one of your wings, her fingers grazing along the blood-matted feathers—

—and you jerked, a strangled sound escaping your throat.

Karlach froze. "…You good?"

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to relax. "Y-Yeah, just—gentle. They're… sensitive."

Her brow furrowed, and then a slow grin spread across her face. "Sensitive, huh?"

You groaned. "Karlach—"

"Relax, relax, I won’t mess with you," she chuckled, though the teasing lilt to her voice told you she definitely wanted to.

She adjusted her grip, this time much softer, and got to work. Her hands were large, calloused from battle, but careful as she dipped the tips of your feathers into the water, working through the stubborn patches of dried blood. At first, it wasn’t so bad—just the gentle sensation of her fingers combing through, rinsing and massaging away the grime.

But then—

"Fuck!" You arched sharply as her thumb pressed too hard into a particularly sensitive spot near the base.

Karlach immediately pulled back, hands raised in alarm. "Shit! Sorry! You okay?"

You shuddered, inhaling a deep breath. "Fine," you ground out, though your entire body was trembling.

Karlach narrowed her eyes. "That didn’t sound fine."

You exhaled sharply, trying to calm the heat creeping up your neck. "They’re fine. Just—like I said—sensitive."

She studied you for a moment, then a slow, mischievous grin spread across her face.

"Ohhhh, I see," she purred, reaching out again, deliberately ghosting her fingers over the same spot.

You whined, the sound entirely unintentional.

Karlach beamed. "Oh, that’s adorable."

You turned, glaring at her, face burning. "Karlach, I swear—"

She cackled, raising her hands in surrender. "Alright, alright! No teasing—I'll behave."

You gave her a suspicious look but sighed, letting her continue.

This time, her touch was excruciatingly careful, her fingers barely grazing the sensitive areas, smoothing out the ruffled, freshly cleaned feathers. And, despite her earlier antics, there was an undeniable tenderness to it—a care that made your chest ache in an entirely different way.

Karlach wasn’t one for subtlety, but in moments like these, you saw just how gentle she could be when it mattered.

Once she was finished, she brushed a wet strand of hair from your face, smiling down at you with all the warmth of a summer sunrise.

"Better?"

You nodded, still a little breathless. "Yeah… much better."

She leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before pulling back with a grin. "Good. Now c’mon, let’s get outta this freezing-ass river before we both turn into icicles."

You laughed, shaking your head as she tugged you toward the shore, already rambling about how if you ever needed a wing massage again, she was more than happy to help.

And, despite yourself, you knew you might just take her up on that offer.

Minthara:

The battle had been a mess. It wasn’t just the blood—though there was plenty of that, soaking your clothes, your skin, and worst of all, your wings. It clung to the feathers in thick, dried patches, matting them together and making every movement unbearably uncomfortable. No matter how long you had been scrubbing at them, no matter how much water you poured over them, the stubborn mess refused to fully lift.

You sat at the riverbank, hands buried in the mess of ruined feathers, cursing under your breath as you tried to preen out the worst of the tangles.

"Are you still at this?"

Minthara's voice was thick with exasperation as she approached, arms crossed. She was fresh from washing up herself, armor cleaned, silver hair still damp from the water. She was as poised as ever, looking at you like you were an idiot for wasting so much time.

You sighed. "Yes, love, I am still at this."

She clicked her tongue. "This is ridiculous. Move."

Your eyes widened as she stepped behind you, her fingers already reaching for your wings.

"No—wait!" You twisted away, wings snapping up protectively. "They're sensitive."

Minthara rolled her eyes. "Grow up."

Before you could protest further, she grabbed hold of your left wing and yanked it downward, forcing it back into the water. You yelped, squirming against her grip, but Minthara was stronger than she looked, her warrior’s training giving her an unshakable hold.

"Minthara!" You flailed as she began ruthlessly scrubbing at the stained feathers.

"Stop whining," she said flatly, working her fingers through the tangles without an ounce of sympathy. "You act as though I am torturing you."

"You are!" You twisted in her grasp, glaring at her. "You wouldn't like it if I grabbed your ears like this!"

Minthara ignored you, still scrubbing away. Your eyes narrowed. Fine. If she wanted to play dirty, so could you.

With a smirk, you shot out a hand and flicked the tip of one of her long, pointed ears and gleamed when Minthara jerked.

You felt the sharp intake of breath more than you heard it—the way her entire body stiffened, muscles going rigid.

Slowly, she turned her head, ruby eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Don't you dare—"

You grinned. And then you attacked.

Your fingers latched onto both of her ears, rubbing and pinching, running along the sensitive edges just as ruthlessly as she had treated your wings.

Minthara screeched.

"Unhand me, you menace!" She tried to twist away, swatting at you, but you held fast, laughing as she flailed.

"You started it!" you shot back, wiggling your fingers along the sensitive ridges. Minthara snarled, breaking free just long enough to tackle you, knocking you both into the dirt. You wrestled like two unruly children, rolling across the riverbank—her hands in your wings, yours still attacking her ears, both of you shrieking and snapping at each other like rabid animals.

Then—

With one wrong move, one poorly placed shift of weight—

Splash!

You both hit the water. The cold river swallowed you whole, cutting through the heat of the fight and forcing you both to pause. When you resurfaced, Minthara was already standing, utterly seething, silver hair plastered to her face, armor dripping wet. You wiped water from your eyes and burst into laughter.

Minthara growled. "You—"

"You deserved it," you cut in, grinning.

She lunged, and you yelped, scrambling away through the water, laughing the entire time as she chased you.

Maybe your wings weren’t clean yet, and maybe you had just started another battle, but gods—this was worth it.

Lae'zel:

The battle had been brutal. Not just in the way all battles were brutal—blood, steel, the constant risk of death looming over every strike—but in the way it had stuck to you. Quite literally.

Your wings were an absolute mess.

Blood had dried into the feathers, turning soft plumes into stiff, clumped-together disasters. Bits of dirt and grime had worked their way into the delicate barbs, and no matter how much you scrubbed, no matter how much river water you dumped over them, you couldn't seem to get them clean.

You sat at the river’s edge, muttering curses under your breath, fingers plucking uselessly at the tangled mess. Your muscles ached, exhaustion settling into your bones. You had been at this for what felt like hours, but you refused to stop until you could at least fold them without discomfort.

"Enough."

The sharp command made you tense. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

"Lae’zel, I��m—"

"I am helping you," she stated, leaving no room for argument.

You groaned. "That’s really not necessary."

"You are failing," she said bluntly, stepping closer. "I do not waste time watching failure when I can fix it."

You winced, shifting your wings inward instinctively. "They’re sensitive."

Lae’zel scoffed. "Then you will endure. Hold still."

You wanted to protest, but you knew there was no arguing with Lae’zel once she had decided on something. With a sigh, you relented, unfolding your wings and waiting for the inevitable pain—Lae’zel was a warrior, not a healer, and gentleness was not her strong suit.

Except—

When her hands touched your feathers, they were… soft.

Careful.

She worked methodically, sifting through the worst of the blood and grime with surprising precision, her fingers plucking and smoothing with a patience you never would have expected.

It was oddly soothing.

The rhythmic motions, the slow drag of her fingers along your wings, the subtle warmth of her touch—it all melted into a steady lull, seeping past your exhaustion and settling into something comforting.

You felt your shoulders relax, your breathing slow. The weight of the battle, the stress of the aftermath—it all faded under her hands. You let your eyes slip shut, barely aware of how your body was beginning to lean forward, how your mind was drifting.

A sudden tug at your feathers jolted you awake.

You jerked, blinking rapidly, only to turn and see Lae’zel looking down at you, her usual sharp expression laced with something suspiciously close to amusement.

"You are falling asleep," she said.

You scowled. "You woke me up on purpose."

"I refuse to waste my efforts on an unconscious audience," she said smoothly, though you caught the hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth.

You huffed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. "Sadist."

Lae’zel clicked her tongue. "Ungrateful."

Despite her words, she resumed her work, fingers gliding through your feathers once more—careful, precise, deliberate.

You sighed, but didn’t argue. Maybe she was right. Maybe you should be grateful. After all, not everyone got to witness a warrior’s hands turned gentle.

Shadowheart:

The battle had been long, drawn out, and far messier than you would have liked. The stench of blood and sweat clung to the air, thick and metallic, even after the fighting had long ceased. Your muscles ached, your clothes were torn, and your wings—your poor wings—were utterly ruined.

Caked in dried blood and dirt, feathers sticking at odd angles, they felt wrong. Every movement sent an uncomfortable pull through them, like an itch you couldn’t quite scratch. You’d been sitting by the river for what felt like hours, scrubbing at them with trembling fingers, trying to fix the damage, but it was no use. The filth clung stubbornly, and the more you tried to set things right, the worse it seemed to get.

It was frustrating. Agonizing, even. You were close to just setting them on fire and being done with it when a shadow loomed over you.

"You’re making a mess," Shadowheart’s voice cut through the night, smooth and unimpressed.

You barely turned your head, still focused on the stubborn dirt stuck between your feathers. "I am the mess."

Shadowheart sighed, stepping closer. "Let me."

You hesitated, your grip tightening around one of your wings as if that alone could keep her from interfering.

"I can handle it," you mumbled, though you both knew it was a lie.

Shadowheart arched an eyebrow. "Really? Because it looks like you’ve been sitting here, struggling, and achieving nothing."

You grumbled under your breath, shaking out a wing in frustration, sending loose dirt and bits of bloodied feathers scattering into the air. Shadowheart made a small noise of disapproval before kneeling behind you.

"I’ve dealt with enough tangles in my hair to know when someone is fighting a losing battle," she said, pulling a small cloth from her belt and dipping it into the water. "Stop being stubborn. Just let me help."

Her fingers were already moving before you could argue, and—gods, her touch was careful, methodical. She smoothed over each feather, working through the worst of the dried blood with careful precision, dampening the barbs, untangling what had been twisted in battle.

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself not to react. Because the problem—the real problem—was that your wings were sensitive.

Not just in the way one might expect. No, it wasn’t just discomfort—it was something more.

The gentle drag of her fingers over the feathers sent shivers down your spine. The way she meticulously groomed each one, working through them with quiet patience, sent heat pooling in your stomach.

It was soothing. It was almost… intimate.

You bit the inside of your cheek, determined not to show any reaction. If she realized how sensitive your wings were—how utterly weak they made you—she would never let you live it down.

Shadowheart worked in silence, carefully arranging the feathers back into place. The rhythmic motion, the warm press of her fingers, the soft scrape of nails along delicate nerves—it was too much.

You could barely think, barely breathe.

And then—

A sharp tug.

Shadowheart plucked a loose feather, and before you could stop it, a choked, strangled sound tore from your throat—somewhere between a gasp and a whimper.

Your entire body went rigid.

Shadowheart paused.

You felt her hesitation, the stillness of her fingers. Then, slowly, slowly, she turned her head to look at you, her expression shifting from confusion to realization.

And then—

She grinned.

A slow, wicked smile stretched across her lips, the kind of expression that meant trouble.

"Oh," she said, her voice rich with amusement. "Oh."

Your stomach dropped.

"That’s interesting."

You swallowed hard, trying to regain your composure. "No, it’s not."

Shadowheart twirled the plucked feather between her fingers, her grin widening.

"No?" she echoed, tilting her head. "Are you sure? Because you sounded like—"

You turned, leveling a desperate glare at her. "Don’t you dare."

She leaned in, her breath warm against your ear. "Tell me, love," she murmured, her voice thick with mischief. "What happens if I actually try?"

A fresh wave of heat surged through you, and you clenched your fists. "Shadowheart—"

She hummed in thought, ignoring you completely. "Such useful information," she mused, almost to herself, as if already plotting ways to use it against you.

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. "I hate you."

Shadowheart pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, her lips soft against your skin. "No, you don’t."

And you knew—with absolute certainty—that the next time you ended up tangled in the sheets with her, you were doomed.

Jaheira:

The camp had long since settled into a quiet lull, the remnants of the day's battle left behind in blood-streaked weapons and exhausted bodies. You had been victorious, but it had not been an easy fight. Your muscles ached, your wounds burned, and worst of all, your wings were filthy.

Caked in blood, dirt, and gods knew what else, they felt heavy behind you, the weight of them throwing off your balance. It was the kind of discomfort that sent a persistent shudder up your spine, a lingering wrongness you couldn’t just ignore. So, instead of crawling into bed like any sane person would, you had stationed yourself by the fire with a bucket of water, scrubbing at the mess with a grimace.

The process was tedious, slow. The barbs of your feathers were stubborn, sticking together in clumps, refusing to come clean no matter how much you worked at them. The dried blood had set in deep, and the more you scrubbed, the more it felt like you were fighting a losing battle.

"You know, most people go to bed after a fight like that."

You glanced up to see Jaheira standing nearby, arms crossed, amusement tugging at the corner of her lips. Her hair was unbraided for the night, cascading over her shoulders, and her tunic was loose and untied, signaling that she had already been preparing for sleep.

"You’re still awake," you pointed out.

She let out a soft snort. "Because you are still awake."

You sighed, flicking water from your fingertips. "Go to bed, Jaheira."

She ignored you, stepping closer, her sharp eyes scanning the state of your wings.

"Hells, you made a mess of yourself," she murmured, reaching out before you could stop her. Her fingers ghosted over your feathers, feeling the damp weight of them, before she clicked her tongue. "You’re going to be here all night trying to clean these."

"I have to," you grumbled, shaking out one wing. Water droplets scattered everywhere, catching the firelight. "I can’t sleep like this."

Jaheira hummed in thought. Then, before you could protest, she knelt behind you and pulled the bucket closer. "Then let’s make this faster."

You stiffened. "Jaheira—"

"You can complain all you like," she said breezily, dipping a cloth into the water, wringing it out. "Or you can sit still and let me help."

You hesitated, but when she fixed you with that pointed look—the one that left no room for argument—you sighed and relented, settling forward to give her better access.

She worked efficiently, methodically, much like she did with everything else in her life. Her hands were firm, wiping away the dried blood, straightening ruffled feathers with practiced ease. It was nice, actually. Comforting. She had always had a way of making things seem easier, even the worst of wounds, the hardest of days.

And then—

A sharp jolt ran through you as her fingers lingered just a bit too long at the base of your wings. You sucked in a breath, your shoulders twitching involuntarily.

Jaheira paused. Then, in the most infuriating way possible, she did it again.

"What—" you started, twisting your head to look at her.

Her lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. "Are your wings sensitive?"

Heat flushed through your face. "No."

Jaheira’s smile widened. "Oh? So if I do this—" she dragged her fingers over the delicate part of your wing again, her nails just barely scraping against the nerves—

You jolted, letting out something between a choked gasp and an undignified squawk.

Jaheira laughed.

"Jaheira," you hissed, your feathers bristling.

She was grinning now, absolutely delighted. "Oh, this is fantastic," she said, her voice rich with amusement. "You’re telling me this whole time, you’ve been this easy to mess with?"

"You are insufferable," you grumbled, trying to shift away, but she followed, her hands still working at your wings, this time with far too much deliberate teasing.

"You should have told me sooner," she continued, chuckling. "Think of all the arguments I could have won with this knowledge—"

You let out a strangled noise as she pinched at a particularly sensitive spot, your wings twitching on reflex. Jaheira doubled over, laughing so hard she nearly fell.

"You are a child," you accused, scowling as you fought to get your dignity back.

Jaheira wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, her grin still wide. "Oh, I am so using this against you."

"You would," you grumbled, fluffing out your wings indignantly.

Jaheira pressed a quick kiss to the back of your neck, still laughing. "Oh, love," she murmured against your skin. "You have no idea."

This was so fun to write, I loveeee the wings mod for bg3 although I always use the cambion ones for some reason ahaha. Hope you guys enjoyed this! -Seluney

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

[triptanite]

Headcanons: night routines, cuddles, and sleeping positions with the companions

it's done! we did it! enjoy :3

Pairings: Reader X (Alphabetical) (Astarion - Gale - Halsin - Karlach - Laezel - Minthara - Shadowheart - Wyll) (Gortash - Raphael - Rolan)

Content warning/s: none

MASTERLIST

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Headcanons below

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The Companions (Alphabetical)

ASTARION

Something that may surprise you is Astarion's preference for personal space when he sleeps. Given how enthusiastically he pursues you early on (and his reasons for doing so), you thought that he would be clinging to your side as soon as your tent flap closed.

Instead however, you find that Astarion appreciates a very active goodnight cuddle before separating to sleep. You're both lying down on your sides, facing each other. Your bodies curl into one another, legs overlapping. Astarion traces over the silhouette of your body as you talk about your day, the softest touch of his fingertips bringing goosebumps to your skin. He hovers over the area where neck meets shoulder, lightly scarred from his previous feedings.

You rest your hand comfortably at his side, taking advantage of his stillness to really study his features. The smile lines in his pale skin, the length of his pointed ears, the sliver of collarbone under his shirt. He's constantly on the move during the day, so you drink in the details while you can. He debriefs to you as well, moving his hand to interlace his fingers with yours. His body is cool, and you notice his tendency to press up closer to you on to sap your body heat.

Once it's time for sleep, you untangle from each other and sleep pretty normally. He's not much of a sleep-snuggler. Though, with your nightly conversations you're not left necessarily wanting for more (not that you mind either way). You sleep in your regular position, and he on his back in the typical elven meditative pose. It's comfortable, safe, familiar.

GALE

Your nightly routine with Gale revolves around a lot of tending to the day's wounds and mishaps, paired with a constant flurry of comfortable conversation. A tear in your trousers gets patched up while staffs are cleaned and reinforced. Adjustments for tomorrow's spells are made, trails are planned. Gale sifts through your alchemy pouches, answering your questions about herb origins with gusto. You move as a unit, like two gears in the same machine. As you move about, there are other conversations occuring, subtle ones, silent ones. Gale presses his forehead to yours to stop you from scowling as you mend; you hand him bits of twine and leather as he passes by, knowing that he's looking for them.

Even as you lie together, there is movement. You're tucked under Gale's chin as he lays on his back. If you're quite still, you can feel his pulse in his neck. Gale busies his ever-moving hands by drawing on your back. Alchameic symbols, runes he's seen, trails you've walked. He illustrates his thoughts and your adventures, your body his canvas.

When you start to fall asleep, you'll wriggle your body down so that your temple rests atop his chest. He traces the curve of your neck to your shoulder. Gale switches to words, messily writing incantations over your skin like a tattoo. If you pay attention, you catch him writing 'I love you' over and over, but you elect not to say anything as he does. Before you tuck your arm around his side, you trace love hearts over his stomach. Your head over his heart, you feel it beat a little faster, then slow as you both fall asleep.

HALSIN

Halsin enjoys being present. He drinks in the sight of you slowly, revels in the ability to simply take his time. After living such a long life lived already and the turmoil of the Shadow-Cursed Lands, he has an even greater appreciation for the smaller things in life. You've not lived quite as long as he, but you've already seen and done more than seemingly entire villages of people. Time and circumstance has worn you both down to a point. Resilience bounces you back, but a healthy regular dose of affection helps too.

At night, you both sit close to the fire. Halsin whittles, chipping away slivers of wood to carve out tiny pieces of art. He looks up, stretching his neck, and watches you as you map the stars above. You scrawl over maps and spare parchment, trying to write and doodle down your memories lest you forget them. When you look over to Halsin, your eyes meet, and you chuckle a little being caught off guard.

Taking you by the hand, Halsin leads you to your shared tent. You undress him, taking your time to smooth his hair back, to run your nails over his biceps. He returns the favour, cupping your curves with his large palms, spreading warmth all throughout your body. He lays on his side in the bedroll, one arm bent and tucked under his head. You use this as a pillow, enjoying his scent so close; wood and musk. Halsins free arm drapes over your midsection to pull you in closer. You push your knee through his legs and you slot together like puzzle pieces. You begin to talk about your latest mapping, your need for more parchment, and plans for tomorrow. Halsin kisses you on the forehead, entire being relaxed. You'll sleep squished together like this, encompassed by heat and comfort.

KARLACH

Cuddle supreme. You bet that once that engine is pacified enough to touch that Mama K is all over you like green on grass.

Prior to this, Karlach was sure (if not overly cautious) about maintaining a healthy distance between you. She was excessively worried about setting you ablaze during the night, and often opted to sleep just outside of her tent while you claimed her bedroll inside. Her claims of worry were partially genuine, but she also enjoyed how you left her tent. The smell you lingered on her sheets, and you often left little things behind like a water canteen or a book you'd been reading.

Once her engine was quelled though, the things she imagined could finally come to fruition. You often cuddle facing each other, changing positions like the moon over the sky. Most comfortably, Karlach settles her head under your chin, face pressed up against your neck and chest. Her arms wrap all the way around your middle, her legs crossing over yours. You curl both arms around her head, trying to leave enough room for her to breathe, and use your free hand to run through her hair. When you start gently scratching over her scalp, you get a snoring Karlach in an instant.

You find that you need to leave the tent flap partially open to vent out some of the warmth; even the most frigid nights are no match for Karlach's body heat. With how impossibly close you're smooshed together, there's little room for the cold to find you anyway.

LAEZEL

Given her dedication towards training and being the youngest in the group, it shouldn't be a surprise that Laezel is quite inexperienced when it comes to affection. Before she met you, and even during, quiet intimacy is somewhat foreign. When you first explained what cuddling was, Laezel thought it was some kind of defensive grapple.

When you both settle for the evening, you find yourselves prepping in comfortable silence for the days ahead. Laezel counts rations and sharpens blades. You condition leather and secure packs. Sometimes, she admires you silently as you focus on your tasks. She smiles to herself at your willingness to help, your competence, she feels security in your choosing her as a partner. Once it's time to settle into your bedrolls, you spend a few precious moments facing each other. She grips your hands in hers and studies your face. She stares with such intensity that it's like she's trying to commit every freckle and line to memory forever. There is some truth to this. When she closes her eyes in peaceful moments, she meditates on the things in her life that bring her joy; her accomplishments, her goals, and you, her partner.

Laezel most often sleeps on her back, leaving her more ready to react to ambushes in the night. She refuses to let go of one of your hands though, with you acting as a kind of anchor for her. Laezel's mind is constantly buzzing with what's to come next, reflecting on what's already happened. It's rare, and precious to her, to indulge in quiet moments of care.

MINTHARA

For practical reasons, Minthana rarely falls asleep with her limbs restricted - it's much harder to stab an intruder if one of your arms is cuddled under your lover. A light sleeper, Minthana doesn't mind sleeping on her side with you. She enjoys being the big spoon, and is certain to let you know that it's not solely because of the protective factor as she deems you just as capable as she (though internally, there's certainly a reflexive protective factor at play here).

Before you sleep, Minthana will curl around you, pressing the entire front of her body to your back. She commits your scent to memory, and recalls the days events aloud. You hold one of her hands in both of yours, mostly paying attention. She enjoys the way you massage her hands, rubbing your thumbs against her wrist, testing the sharpness of her nails against your skin.

When it's time to sleep, Minthana untangles from you, laying on her back or side. She likes to know that you're there though, so she crosses one of her legs over yours in some way. Her ankle rests over yours, or your thigh against her hip, or even just your heels touching each other. Enough closeness to feel your presence, enough space to breathe freely.

SHADOWHEART

You and Shadowheart vary your nighttime routines. Most times, you'll be engaging in mutual and self care, reflecting on the day, prayer, and washing. You offer to brush through Shadowheart's hair, carefully working through knots and bumps and smoothing it into something comfortable to sleep in. The feeling sends tingles down her spine, and she shivers like a cat purring, feeling sleepier and sleepier. She, in return, examines your hands. She cleans over them with a warm washcloth, applying healing balms and ointments to your cuts and bruises, filing your nails to shape.

You both spend time setting and resetting your shared bed space. Being adventurers, and with Shadowheart's past, you're used to moving around often. Your bedroll, your belongings, everything is set up ready to pack at a moment's notice. Though, if you take the time you notice small personal touches that make it feel like yours. A dense hairbrush adorned in silver, Shadowheart's. A thick, hand-woven blanket made in fibre native to your home, yours.

When you begin to collapse from exhaustion, more often than not Shadowheart will settle in behind you. You don't mind being the little spoon, indulging in Shadowheart's body heat and mindlessly playing with her fingers in yours. Shadowheart enjoys pressing her face to the back of your neck, sharing your body heat. She feels somewhat protective of you in the night. Quietly, she worries every now and again that something in the dark will take you away forever. You sense that fear sometimes, the way she drifts off in thought before squeezing you a little tighter. It's a feeling you're not unfamiliar with. She falls asleep to the sound of your voice as you tell her of your adventures past. She dreams of your adventures together in the future; this is something you have in common.

WYLL

Wyll enjoys holding you close basically any chance he gets, and bedtime is no exception. You both keep a reasonable distance while doing simultaneous night routines: Wyll polishes and stores your days' weapons, you pack and prep bags for the next day. As you flit past each other, there are subtle passing touches. A lingering glance at your exposed shoulder, the tips of your fingers grazing against his night clothes. Some are less so, you rake your fingers over his hair and horns, pressing your faces together. Or he'll stand behind you as you wipe down your face, body pressed impossibily close to yours. He teases you about the blush that crawls up your neck.

As you lay together, Wyll finds that sleeping on his back with some tactically stacked pillows works best for his horns. You rest your head at his collarbones, holding his hand. It calms you to feel his chest rise and fall as he breathes, and you never pass up an opportunity to ask him about his seemingly endless adventurous stories. Wyll watches you doodle on his palm, his other hand holds you at your waist, occasionally slipping his hand under your nightshirt to caress your skin.

Lying on your side, you fold your leg over his. You relish in how he squirms slightly depending on where your thigh ends up. Revenge. Most nights, you both fall asleep just like this in each other's embrace. Surrounded by a nest of pillows and a light blanket, you fall into warmth. Comfort in the night that takes you away from the horrors of the day.

Bonus!

NPCs (Alphabetical)

GORTASH

Routine is something both you and Gortash appreciate but rarely achieve with your busy schedules. If Gortash gets a moment at home, you're out in combat. If you come back at a reasonable hour, he's in meeting after meeting. The one thing you try in earnest to maintain though is a nightly routine when your times do align.

You both debrief and undress, spewing out the stress of the day with little regard for whether it makes sense or how many tangents you go off on. Gortash stands at your back as you sit in front of your vanity. He loosens your hair while you clean your wounds, chuckling about the injuries you'd inflicted in reply. You take Gortash's hand in yours and sit him down on the mattress. You run your fingers over his temples and he melts like snow. His muscles are tight as you massage over his neck, his shoulders, leaving light scratch marks over his skin.

In bed, you both lie on your sides, facing the window. The night sky casts the dimmest light into your room, the air outside is quiet and still. There is respite here. You curl around Gortash's back, spooning him as he clutches your hands tight in his. This is your routine, your normalcy. Here, neither of you are bloodstained, neither are performing. Comfort is a strange and rare indulgence in your plights to take over the world; but whether here in your chambers, in a bedroll camping in the forest, or in a jail cell, it's the one thing you can find in each other.

RAPHAEL

Raphael is fond of studying you, examining every inch, every curve of your being with all the patience in the Hells. He's currently asked you to pose for a portrait, draped loosely along a red velvet chaise while the light of the outside world shines just right over your body. It's difficult to catch your face, your eyes especially, in paint. Raphael finds your eye contact far too inviting to concentrate for another quiet hour, so he ceases.

Placing his brushes down, you sit up and crack your neck. You stretch the stiffness from your limbs and extend your hands out to encourage Raphael to join you. He kicks off his dress shoes, climbing atop you with his knee inbetween your legs. His spine curves as he lowers down, lips brushing over your ear as he embraces you.

With some effort, you wrap your arms around him, smothered by warmth and the faint scent of sulphur. You do get used to it after a while. An open window allows a gentle breeze in the room, slowly drying the paint. The light diffuses through sheer curtains, and it makes you sleepy. Time is confusing and unruly here, but you crave a lazy afternoon (at least, that's how it feels) nap. Stroking the back of Raphael's hair, you relax back and close your eyes. Despite his reservations, Raphael soon joins you. His face stays buried against your neck, every breath embued with your smell. You're surrounded by each other, neither of you especially keen to move away.

ROLAN

Finding a place to sleep in Ramazith's Tower wasn't the difficult part, choosing where to sleep was. For the first few weeks, you and Rolan explored a great depth, you'd never climbed so many stairs and walked so many invisible platforms in your life.

One night, you'd decided rather adventurously to sleep up high on a balcony. You'd made a nest of sorts with Rolan, harvesting pillows and blankets and a mattress. The weather was clear and mild as the sky slowly turned to black. Rolan had set up approximately four hundred fail safes to ensure neither of you would fall in your sleep.

You both huddle down into the swathes of fabric. You remark to Rolan how different this was to the camps you'd slept in when you met him, or the Emerald Grove where he and his siblings had stayed. You face each other, legs interlocking, and Rolan places both hands on either side of your face. He remarks that it's to keep you warm but the air has barely a chill. You shift slightly to point out constellations in the sky, and Rolan's hands move downward and settle at your sides. He plays with the hem of your nightshirt, eyes affixed to wherever you point and gesture. The spell of night overtakes you both, and you fall asleep with your foreheads pressed lightly together.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

waa we did it gamers my first multi character piece!! Originally this was supposed to be a short and sweet dotpoint-style headcanons post but apparently I can't help myself. Because of how many characters there were to write and because I'm me it took a little longer than expected but I'm really happy

I've been committing myself to doing even just a little tiny bit of writing/creative stuff every day (with some gaps obvs I'm only human) and I gotta say it really does help

so if you're reading this, go write something. Or draw, or edit, or whatever but just do a little bit of something today. its good for the soul

take care! :3

[happysparklingshadows]

𝙱𝚐3 𝙻𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚜 ✿ 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚙 𝙶𝚊𝚖𝚎

Note: I love you all for your support for my Bg3 headcannons and I want to let everyone know my requests are open (also open for TLOU and Yellowjackets)!! Also, comment if you would like to be added to the bg3 taglist! I love you all!

Lae’zel

-She finds it ridiculous when the two of you stumble into a pleasure house.

-She hates outward displays of desperation for sex or yearning outside of the person you are trying to lay with. She was a steel face as your party looked around the rows of items. She is not interested in any of them.

-behind her back, you couldn’t get anything without a sharp look sent your way. There are more critical things to do instead of istiks desperate need for a flesh bond.

-You are scared to tell her you had bought a strap-on. It wasn’t anything crazy, but it was just something that had tickled the back of your head. So, you saved it for the right moment for you to introduce something new to your sex life with your overly serious githyanki lover.

-After a hard day of fighting, covered in sweat, blood, and dirt. She came to you. Her eyes are sharply intense as she looks over your form. She says, “I want to lick every inch of your skin of your scent. Tell me, do you tease me on purpose or just to make my hunger for you to grow?”

-You smile and play coy, knowing now that it does rile up Lae’zel, and say, “I am guessing I am not bathing tonight?”

-“No.” Lae’zel says as she holds her arms across her chest. She stares you down and doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t have to.

-So, you slip away and grab your bag whenever everyone is asleep. When you reach her, she gives you a stern look of confusion and dislike at you doing something unexpected.

-You sit down beside the bag and pull it out. You explain to Lae’zel that it is just for sex and that it is only needed to have sex differently.

-“Am I not pleasurable enough for you, then?” She asks in a defensive tone of venom, and you just smile and look up to her from your spot.

-“No, the opposite. I wanted to know how it would feel if you had a penis.”

-“But I don’t.” ????

-You chuckle as you look up to her, “Have you never wondered what it would be like if you could be inside me? Like, claim me differently, my champion?”

-The comment of claiming clicked in her mind. She insisted she would be wearing it and using it on you.

-You help her put it on when she gets frustrated with the straps.

-Lae’zel doesn’t even let up for a moment after hearing the whimper out of your mouth when she entered you. It was like something primal clicked in her head. She was going to claim your body and soul.

-Lae’zel licks your neck and chest with a soft growl, her hips slapping into yours without mercy. She hums low, moans in her breath as she thrusts into you. Your hands tangled into her hair and small braids, your breasts push against her lips as your back aches.

-Lae’zel becomes obsessed with the sounds out of your mouth. She holds your head down as she looks over your face intensely when you cum. She nearly cums against the strap when your name comes out in a shuttered breath.

-Lae’zel fucks you with the strap that night until the night sky crawled its way out of the sky. She groans at the fact she has to stop fucking you. She smells herself and you all in the air.

-Lae’zel will steal the strap and keep it with her. She may or may not smell it when she wants to smell you when you aren’t near.

-Lae’zel will not be using the strap often, but she will use it when she wants to have a little more dominance over you. To show you that she was the source of every bruise and ache in your body.

-Her strap would be flesh-colored, or she would have never had it near her body. What do you mean that she can have a glittery purple strap???

-She is a Mean Dom who praises your good behavior. She is always razor-focused, always on top of everything in her life, and ready for battle at a moment's notice. She has no problem correcting you or making you understand the consequences of subordinates. Expect to have a few marks on your way out.

Karlach

-The second she enters the pleasure house with the party, she wanders off on her own. Searching, wondering, fantasizing. She doesn’t want to get too pent up, so she leaves a little earlier than you do, not noticing you seeing her eye the strap on with blush on her cheeks.

-A devilish thought came to mind, and you got the one she was eyeing. It was a larger one that made you blush at the thought of it being stuffed inside you.

-But, because Karlach and you can’t have sex until her next upgrade and a miracle, the strap is long forgotten in your crest.

-Once Karlach got her upgrade, IT. WAS. POUND. CITY!

-You and Karlach fucked in your tent, on the tent, by the campfire, by the campfire with your friends around you (very difficult to be quiet), in the river, in ruins, in the forest. There wasn’t a moment that went by that Karlach’s hands were not trying to touch you.

-One night, while eating dinner at the party, you remembered what you had bought a few weeks earlier. You stay quiet as a blush comes over your face at the memory.

-When everyone retired to their tents, you entered your shared tent to find her humming away to a love song and sharpening her axe.

-“Hey, soldier, I have been waiting for you all day.” She puts down her axe with a great smile to look at you. She notices the way you coyly stand. She leans back on the tent wall with a slight smirk growing, “What brings you around?”

-You melt to her face immediately and crawl closer to her with a devilish smile, “I missed you today. I wanted to give you something.” You say as you crawl in between Karlach’s legs. Inches away from their lips.

-“Oh yeah, baby, what’s that?” Karlach asks, clearly lusting after you again, and watches you intently.

-You run a finger up her stomach and to her heart. It burned like a cup of hot water, and you let your eyes worship the woman you love. “You remember when we went to that pleasure house?”

-Karlach’s breath hitches when she feels you touch her. She only says shakily, “Yeah?”

-“Well, I noticed what you were eyeing and bought it. I was wondering if you wanted to use it on me?” With your eyes meeting her, you asked her, and your hand planted itself on her strong shoulder.

-The same shoulder you hold on her for dear life as she fucks you standing up with the strap. She trusts you with the growls she uses in battle. She ferally fucks you as you cling onto her with yelping moans.

-Karlach looks down to see the black strap disappear into you like a magic trick. She had a big, goofy smile on her face.

-Karlach has you screaming, writhing, and desperate. You become lust drunk quickly, even have a moment where you just stare at her in reverence in the way she fucks you to bliss.

-Karlach didn’t know her strength most of the time with you and didn’t mean to manhandle you when she did. You never complained, though. You liked the feeling of her effortlessly lifting you up and down with her biceps under your thighs, or the way her hand completely covered your throat if she held you there, or when she grabbed your chin firmly to kiss you.

-“Gods, I fucking love you- I am never letting you go! Fuck baby, look at me like that.”

-Karlach cums the moment you start to shake when your climax approaches. She shivers and ruts the strap into you like she was trying to push cum out of it.

-You are a writhing mess for her as you are placed on the floor, your toes still curling even after they have left your body. It was a delicious feeling. You bite your lip as she stares down at you, still standing and panting. The strap still in the air.

-“Did I do alright?” She asked. She wiped the sweat from her brow.

-You look up at her towering form and massive fake cock staring you down and say, “Karlach, you are a fucking amazing. Please- Please, will you fuck me again?”

-And she did.

-That was the night Karlach discovered she was the STRAP GOD.

-Karlach would get a big black strap if she had any say in what she wanted. She wanted something that seemed to fit her body, which happened to be big.

Shadowheart

-Shadowheart blushes when she comes inside the pleasure house with you and sees all the items for sale.

-She looks on with wonder and excitement at items for pain that caused pleasure. Nipple clamps, bondage rope of satin and silk, or wands made for shocking a person with a command word. It was all interesting to her, although she kept calm as she walked beside you.

-You look at her, and she meets your eyes silently. Your eyes point to a strap-on and back at her. You secretly speak to her about your wants.

-Shadowheart blushes and looks back at you. You can tell she says yes back to you. She loved this new secret language you two have created to speak intimately in public.

-You sneakily buy the strap-on without Lae’zel or Astarian noticing, keeping this secret for her. Which she dramatically approves of.

-You two act as though nothing has happened, and it is an ordinary day, an average day of adventuring through your quest. Shadowheart watched your behind all day, wondering what taking you from the back would be like. It excited her and made her happy.

-The day ended with conversation and planning the next move, where you will go tomorrow, and who to kill. You finally come over to her tent.

-Shadowheart smiles and asks, “I have been waiting for you this evening. Do I have you to myself now?”

-You didn’t even say anything else before you kissed her lips. You softly push the two of you into your shared tent and want to use this now. The anticipation was killing you.

-The two of you make out on the sheets of the ground passionately, but you two fail to stop kissing each other when you move to open your bag.

-Shadowheart surprisingly wants to use it on you first as she takes it from your hands and puts it on herself. She looks down at you as she puts herself together, “I want to have you. First, I want to see your face twist for me,” she says as she slowly lowers to kiss you again.

-She flipped you around out of nowhere. As she grabbed onto your hips, she kissed the back of your neck. She rubs herself against you as she gently enters you from behind.

-She watched in fascination at the way your ass jiggled and bounced with her thrusts, she liked the way your thighs slapped against hers, and she could just watch it all. Watching your wetness spread on your cheeks and thighs as she fucks you passionately.

-When you have cummed on the fake cock, she kisses your neck and begs for you to do the same. She takes it off, helps you put it on yourself, and lays it down for you to be on top of her. You passionately kiss her and fuck her back as her soft moans filled the tent.

-You take turns with the strap; sometimes it’s her using it, or you are using it on her. It was a reoccurring character in your sheets, and it becomes beloved very quickly upon both of your first climaxes with it together.

-Shadowheart would get a purple glittery strap if she had any say in it because it was simply pretty and did its job while being pretty.

Minthara

-Minthara doesn’t react much to the pleasure house or the inside items. She glanced over the items with a carefree attitude that made your heart beat fast in your chest for some reason. She surprises you by asking the employee to let her see this item beyond the display case, and she, without shame, “(Y/n), come here.” She softly orders in front of your party. You blush softly as you do as she commands, and she asks to see the different sizes and colors.

-Minthara Baenre was raised to be a proud Matron of Menzoberranzan and has the qualities similar to nobility of Faerûn, She was bold with her sexuality and desires. She actuallly gets a kick out of embarrassing you in a manner like this, to her it was amusing how people without status acts towards sex.

-She asks you for the size you would like and smirks as she asks for one a size bigger. She picked a deep red strap with satin ropes and added it to her bag like it was nothing at all. You leave the interaction and shop with heat pooling in between your thighs.

-Minthara doesn’t waste time with her new item. She waits for that night. It doesn’t matter what happened or what needs to be discussed with the party members, and you need to gag on her cock.

-Minthara waits in your shared tent and has it proudly on herself, adjusting the straps as you walk in.

-she has you on your knees in obedience and has her hands running through your hair as she thrusts into your mouth to see how it looks.

-Minthara says, “Such a good lover, so obedient with those eyes looking at me, just like that.” As she bucks her hips into your open mouth.

-Minthara has you propped in her lap in a death grip on your hips, thrusting up into you with the strap. Minthara had her eyes fixated on your face, watching it twist in helpless pleasure to her manhandling.

-Minthara kisses and sucks on your breasts as she listens to you writhe. She wanted to be covered in you, wanted to be stained in you, forever scarred by your love and lust.

-Minthara is the queen of overstimulated and mocking pouts, “I know, Ust-nor, I know. You got a little more to give me. I want it.”

-Minthara has you cum on the strap a total of four times before she feels settled and ready to let you off her strap. But she would steal one more after seeing your spent face as you lazily lay on the pillows of your bedroll

-Minthara happily cuddles you after. She loves you intensely and lays her head on your chest. She pets your body tenderly as she whispers to you about how well you did, how powerful she feels after, and how the two of you will dominate the under dark hand in hand.

-There is no surprise that Minthara is a brutal mean dom without mercy. She likes to be in power and be actively

[wysteria-bloom]

I have a funny little request, How do you think the baldur's gate 3 companions would react or respond to Tav talking to someone and who ever they are talking to asks them something about a husband/Wife and they point to one of the companions say “Yeah that’s my Husband/Wife right here”, Or Tav greeting the bg3 companions and saying “Hello my beautiful Wife or Handsome Husband how are you today?” Idk I think it would be funny you can either do all the companions or just a few and whoever else you want.

P.S One of the companions has to Karlach pls and thank you. Have a good day/night

↪"Say that again?"

Bg3 companions x reader

Warnings : none that I can think of, if there anything triggering please let me know

A/n : this is such a cute idea !!! Thank you so much for the request and ofc I'll include Karlach it's a literal crime if I don't

Characters : Astarion, Karlach, Shadowheart, Gale, Lae'zel, Wyll, Halsin, Minthara, Rolan, Raphael

▢ astarion

Astarion is mid-sip of his wine when he hears it. You’re chatting with a bartender, mentioning offhandedly, "Oh, my husband enjoys that brand of wine!" The words seem to hang in the air. A moment later, he chokes, coughing as he hurriedly sets his glass down.

"Sorry, darling, did I just hallucinate, or did you actually call me your husband?" He grins, sharp and playful, but there’s something else lurking in his ruby eyes—something softer. "How bold of you. I don’t recall signing any vows, though if they involve more pet names and adoration, I might be convinced."

Despite his teasing, there’s an undeniable smirk of satisfaction on his lips, and later that night, when he thinks you’re asleep, you catch him whispering his name with your last name attatched—testing the sound of it with a chuckle.

▢ shadowheart

Shadowheart stiffens, her hand momentarily pausing over the clasp of her pack as you effortlessly refer to her as your wife in conversation. She recovers quickly, a well-trained mask slipping into place, but you catch the slight widening of her eyes, the way her fingers tighten just a bit.

When the conversation is over, she turns to you, arms crossed, voice a delicate mix of amusement and hesitancy. "Wife, huh? That’s...a rather serious word, don’t you think?" There’s no irritation in her voice, just a quiet wariness.

You lean in and reassure her—tell her it just felt natural—she exhales, her stance softening. "I suppose... it doesn’t sound terrible coming from you." She smirks faintly, then, in a rare show of vulnerability, she murmurs, "Say it again. Just once."

▢ gale

Gale practically beams. He was in the middle of explaining some grand magical theory when you casually referred to him as your husband, and the conversation might as well have ceased to exist. He turns to you with wide, delighted eyes, as if you just handed him the crown jewel of Mystra herself.

"You—you truly think of me that way?" His voice is filled with genuine wonder, his hands twitching as if resisting the urge to pull you into an embrace right there. "I must admit, I rather like the sound of it."

For the rest of the day, he finds ways to bring it up—entirely coincidentally, of course. "Ah, yes, my spouse and I were just discussing that," he’ll say to a trader. Or, "Well, as my beloved has so kindly pointed out..." He’s positively radiant, and when the two of you are alone, he holds you close, murmuring, "One day, perhaps, we could make it more than just words."

▢ karlach

Karlach lets out the biggest grin you’ve ever seen. One moment, she’s hauling a crate of supplies, and the next, she’s throwing an arm around you, laughing loud enough to startle a nearby bard.

"Wife? You think I’m wife material?" She practically lifts you off the ground in a hug, her infernal engine humming warmly. "Oh, babe, you really know how to make a girl’s heart melt."

For the rest of the day, she won’t stop teasing you. "Hey, love, your wife could use a back rub after all that heavy lifting." Or "Shouldn't a wife get extra rations? I think that’s fair." But underneath the playful exterior, there’s a warmth in her gaze every time she looks at you—like you just gave her something precious she never thought she could have.

▢ lae'zel

The moment the word leaves your mouth—wife—Lae’zel halts. Her expression sharpens, golden eyes locking onto yours with an unreadable intensity. The person you were speaking to wisely excuses themselves, sensing the tension crackling in the air.

She steps closer, head tilting, her voice a low rumble. "You claim me as a wife?" It isn’t anger, but a challenge. Prove it, her tone demands.

You meet her gaze unwaveringly and confirm it without hesitation, she exhales, something pleased flashing across her face. "Hmph. Among my kin, such a title is not spoken lightly. If you speak it, you must own it."

Later, when camp is quiet and you were walking towards your tent, she pulls you aside, her hand gripping your wrist—possessive, firm but there was a softness to it that couldn't be denied. She looked flustered, frowning at you with a twitch of her brow," As your... wife. I demand we sleep in the same tent."

▢ wyll

Wyll is in the middle of charming a noble when you casually refer to him as your husband. The words slip from your lips without hesitation, and at first, he doesn’t react—so well-trained in maintaining composure. Only until the noble left did something warm flicker in his bi-coloured eyes, his confident smile faltering for just a heartbeat.

"Ah—your what?" He turns to you, and for the first time in a long while, the Blade of Frontiers looks genuinely caught off guard.

When you confirm it with an easy smile, he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck, as if trying to suppress the warmth creeping up his face. "Well, now you’ve gone and made a man blush," he teases, but there’s a softness to it. A part of him that seems to hold onto the word like a cherished melody.

Later that evening, when the two of you have a rare quiet moment, he leans in, his voice lower, more earnest. "You really see me that way?" His hand finds yours, thumb tracing circles against your palm. "Because I could get used to that."

▢ halsin

Halsin is kneeling by a wounded animal, murmuring a quiet spell of healing, when the word husband leaves your lips. It’s said so casually—to another druid, in passing—that at first, he doesn’t seem to react.

But then, as the spell finishes, he turns to you, golden eyes warm with something deeply affectionate. A slow smile spreads across his face, creasing the corners of his eyes. "Husband," he repeats, testing the weight of it, his voice rich with amusement. "That is… a title of great commitment. And yet, hearing it from you, it feels as though it has always been true."

There’s no teasing, no hesitation—only an earnest kind of joy. He steps closer, brushing his fingers against your cheek, his touch feather-light. "If this is how you see me, then I will wear the title with pride." His voice drops to a low murmur, meant only for you. "And should you ever wish to make it more than words, I will answer gladly."

From that moment on, he often refers to you in kind—my heart, my love, and, on particularly affectionate days, even my wife/husband/mate. It is not just a title to him; it is a promise.

▢ minthara

Minthara doesn’t react at first. Not outwardly. She merely continues sharpening her blade, her red eyes cold and unreadable as you casually refer to her as your wife in conversation.

The person you were speaking to quickly departs, sensing the weight of silence that follows. Then, without looking up, Minthara speaks, her voice dangerously low. "You called me wife."

It isn’t a question. It’s an evaluation. A test.

You confirm it, she finally lifts her gaze to meet yours, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "How bold of you," she muses, setting her blade aside. "Amongst lolth-sworn drow, such words are not spoken lightly. They are a claim. A promise."

She stands, stepping into your space, her presence as commanding as ever. A hand grips your chin—not harsh, but firm. Possessive. "If you call me wife, then you had best mean it."

And yet, later that night, when the camp is quiet and she believes no one is watching, she lingers at your side a little longer. A rare softness flickers in her eyes before she turns away, murmuring to you just loud enough for you to hear—"Hmph. It does have a certain... power to it."

▢ raphael

The moment the word husband leaves your lips, Raphael goes completely still. The conversation you were having with an unfortunate merchant screeches to a halt as the cambion turns his attention fully on you. The air crackles with something dangerous—something deeply, intensely amused.

A slow smirk stretches across his lips. "My dear, I do believe I misheard you," he purrs, voice as smooth as velvet. "Did you just call me your husband? How delightfully bold of you."

He steps closer, red eyes gleaming with something unreadable—pleasure? Possession? The thrill of a game he suddenly must win? He takes your hand, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your knuckles. Never breaking eye contact as his lips were curved in that usual salacious smirk of his,"Now, if you are to call me husband, I expect proper treatment. Gifts. Devotion. Perhaps a throne befitting a devil of my caliber."

There’s teasing in his tone, but beneath it? Oh, there’s something else entirely. Later, when no one is around, he murmurs against your ear, "let me hear it again... it sounds so terribly tempting when it falls from those lips of yours."

▢ rolan

Rolan is mid-rant—complaining about some idiot who failed to organise the library books the right way—when you absentmindedly refer to him as your husband. He stops talking. Completely.

His mouth opens. Closes. His tail flicks rapidly behind him, betraying his internal spiral.

"Wha—wait—what did you just call me?" His voice cracks, and he immediately clears his throat, straightening his shoulders in a desperate attempt to regain his dignity.

When you repeat it, casual as ever, he stares at you like you just cast Wish in front of him. "That’s… I mean, I am an impressive partner, but—" He crosses his arms, looking away, his cheeks burning a darker, unmistakable shade of red. "You can’t just say things like that without warning someone!"

But for the rest of the day, he’s noticeably smug—standing taller, magic practically crackling at his fingertips. And if you listen closely, you might hear him muttering under his breath: "Husband. Hah... obviously."

[much2leite]

I need soft, vulnerable Minthara.

I need bottom Minthara.

I need a woman who loves her and can help her heal.

I need her happy.

I need her.

Ufffff

[hijackalx]

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

FEMALE BG3 COMPANIONS

MALE BG3 COMPANIONS

characters included: halsin, minthara, jaheira, gortash

*dark content warning for gortash*

HALSIN

SIZE DIFFERENCE

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

THIGH RIDING

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

DEEP THROATING/FACESITTING

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

THREESOME

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

SWINGING

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

MINTHARA

KNIFE PLAY

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

BONDAGE

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

DACRYPHILIA

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

GAGGING

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

BOOT WORSHIP

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

JAHEIRA

MIRROR SEX

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

LINGERIE

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

STRIPPING

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

NIPPLE PLAY

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

DEGRADATION

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

BONUS:

GORTASH

BREEDING

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

DADDY DOM

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

*** DUBCON ***

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

POWER PLAY

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

COLLARING

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

MALE BG3 COMPANIONS

FEMALE BG3 COMPANIONS

[p0rkbun]

"We're not even together." — reader

"But you belong to me."

Emma Frost, Quinn Fabray, Cate Dunlap, Amber Freeman, Carmilla, Mother Miranda, Hera (BoZ), Valeria Garza, Zoya Nazyalensky, Daenerys Targaryen, Delores Laferve, Rebekah Mikaelson, Wednesday Addams, Wanda Maximoff, Lena Luthor, Minthara, Baek Harin

[sorcerous-caress]

Can you do an aftercare breakdown of how all the dommy mommies might treat Reader post-fuck/kink session? This is Mintharaheart anon, I’m baptizing myself.

After care | bg3 women

[ Fluff, smut, nb!reader, blood in Orin's part ]

[Karlach, Minthara, Shadowheart, Laezel, Orin ]

Karlach

You're out of breath, as if you've ran a long tiring marathon. The ache in your bones pleaded for you to lay down on something soft, something warm, something-

"I've got you, soldier, just relax."

Karlach is very warm to the touch, a comforting embrace that washes away all the aftermath of the adrenaline pumping in your veins. Her large fingers slowly caress your body, making you melt against her touch and relax all of your muscles.

It's only when she speaks again, do you realise you were falling asleep. "Awh man, i really wore you out, huh?" Your eyes open up, you don't remember closing them, attempting to meet her flaming eyes but it's being proven a struggle as of now.

"Shh it's alright" she cuddles more against you, her warmth becoming your whole world. And what a comfort inviting world it was. "I've got you" she repeats, "sweet dreams."

Minthara

Something you've noticed about her, is that her breathing always faded in with the background. No matter how many times you laid beside her with your eyes closed, it was hard to pick up on where the night started and where the Minthara ended.

She blended in too perfectly. If it wasn't for her head laying on your chest, then you might have suspected she wasn't breathing at all.

But you could feel it, her heartbeat, the one thing she couldn't silence away.

The way you held her, as if she could slip away from you, as if the wind might carry her off. You held her as if you could put her whole together again with your embrace alone in case she ever breaks.

Minthara rarely spoke during those times, the quiet, tender moments where she let herself be vulnerable. Bared weakness and tore her wall down for just a couple minutes before the harsh world pulled her back in the front lines of duty.

Shadowheart

Laying together on the soft covers, the two of you have been gazing into each other's eyes for a while. Memorising each other's faces and embedding the other's eye colour into your own souls.

Who knew green could look so beautiful, so mesmerising.

She'd normally tease you for this, call you a love struck puppy. But she can't manage to form any clever combacks now, not when your face was so close to her, your lips glistening and neck covered in all the marks she's left on you.

She swallows down, your eyes follow the movement of her throat.

"We should get cleaned up." she makes no point to move, "maybe a bath."

You nod.

Neither of you gets up just yet. She doesn't call you out on it, and you don't mention how it was her own idea.

Just a little bit more, a little time more for the both of you before you have to wake up from this dream.

Laezel

She doesn't see the point in cuddles, she made it clear to you long ago.

You wonder how would the old Laezel feel if she saw the current Laezel now, clinging to you with her head buried where your shoulder meets your neck.

In a way, you've also changed. You've gotten better at handling it, her intense raw emotional in bed. The ache in your body is much easier to manage now, even feels a little refreshing.

Both of you made space for the other, both of you adapted to be able to hold each other even closer now.

Her hair is very soft, brownish strands sliding through your fingers as you play with it. She makes no effort to stop you.

Orin

The smell of rubbing alcohol has stopped being so harsh to your nose long ago, it's more of the norm now. Although that might have been the light-headedness caused by the bloodloss doings.

Disinfect, dry, and then bandage the cuts. It was the usual routine.

Orin did most of the work. You could relay on her expertise to take care of your wounds, it even gave her a chance to admire her own work, she said.

It actually kinda grew on you, seeing her all giddy and giggling away at the sight of red in your veins. It was almost endearing in her own twisted way.

Her long hair swished behind her as she moved around you in excitement steps, tending to every wound that she was personally the cause of.

Being extra careful in getting in bed with you after, making sure not to press against any sore spots, for now, at least.

She always sang your praises afterwards, told you how simply ravishing you looked, truly a masterpiece of art.

You'd always drift off into slumber on her lap before she finished her speech, she never minded.

[kyberphilosopher]

Kneel

Smut. My first ever straight smut. A little bit of angst and fluff if you really squint but it's really just disgusting lesbian smut. You'll have to tell me how I did because this is the only blatantly sexual thing I've written. Welcome back, me! I think I found this gif on Tumblr but I'm not sure who to credit for it so hopefully it does it automatically idk just enjoy. Warning(s): SEX (18+) (acts of fingering, cunnilingus, scissoring, etc.) Reader is strictly female anatomy. Not proof read.

Word Count: 4191

"Do not kneel," Minthara's gravelly voice rang lowly by your ear. Your knees buckled at the sensation of her inside of you, her fingers slender and gentle.

Although you certainly would've found it more comfortable to indeed kneel, sit, or lay, Minthara's muscles held you back. Her arm wrapped tight across your shoulders, pressing your back into your chest, kept you upright. It kept you near her, so she was sure you could hear her, and there would be no excuse for disobedience- which Minthara detested.

The Nightwarden's other hand was settled deep within your little pussy, which Minthara held no negative feelings for whatsoever. By the low purr reverberating from her sternum, you wondered briefly if there was any chance she was getting more pleasure out of the experience than yourself. Then, you feel the tips of her fingers rub high against something inside of you. Something inside your flooding hole that excites you, causing you to shiver and arch into your lover. Minthara knows. She felt you tighten around her digits involuntarily- and she likes it. 

Your vision blurs slightly through the pleasure. Both Minthara’s eyes as well as your own are half lidded in lust. It feels sloppy. You can feel the dirt move under each of your boots, hear the sounds of laughter from the cackling fire just a little around the corner. The night, once fierce and biting, is no match to Minthara’s passion and ambition, and you do not shiver in the cold but in the heat. 

“Fuck,” you manage to quiet as it slips from your teeth. Minthara’s hand slows inside you, trading three fingers for a simple two that drag in and out. Her third finger is so happy to be acquainted with your body that it takes a few seconds to slide free from your hole with a cute little ‘pop!’ that causes the drow’s breath to hitch. 

“Yes,” she hears herself beckoning to you. Her intense red eyes fall from the side of your jaw and neck, to further below. The woman observes over your breasts and down your stomach, settling excitedly on the sight of her lilac hand in your trousers. The sound of your breathing mixed with the stretch of your body is causing Minthara’s own reaction, now. The Nightwarden feels her nipples grow stiff against your skin. With a controlled groan, Minthara presses her breasts further into you for some kind of relief, which you are quick to give. You please Minthara as you roll your head to the side, exposing your neck and submitting yourself to the woman further. One of your own hands slips upwards to caress Minthara’s skin behind you, welcoming her further into you. 

From up ahead, the party revels in a particularly loud bout of laughter. The light of the fire danced rapidly over your little camp. If it weren’t for Minthara’s desire to be away from others, the two of you would never have such an opportunity. Hells, if someone were to decide to check in on the two of you and simply turn the corner, hoping to make their way to the drows’ tent, it’d be over. There was certainly a fear inside of you that worried the light would somehow expose your doings, but Minthara did not seem worried. 

“Faster,” you whisper to her as your eyes focus on the direction of loud, distant joy. 

Minthara’s pale fingers continue in their place. They fill and refill you again and again, and although you know your pussy revels in such a delight, it’s not enough. You wanted Minthara right down to her evil, rotting core. You wanted her covering you, stretching you out as you listened to her voice praise and degrade you. You wanted the flaming heat that motivated her very being- the one in her chest that put her ambition at the center of all things. There was a part of you that, selfishly, wanted to harness and own it. 

“Patience,” Minthara urges, dangerously. “I will go at the speed I see fit.”

She accentuates her final word with a particularly intense pump into you. Butterflies fly from your loins to your belly, your hips circling instinctively. A quick moan even leaves your mouth at the sensation, dropping your lips apart. 

“Take it,” Minthara continues, her eyes lingering back upwards to your face. “Take it.” 

You’re so wet. There’s no doubt you’ve coated and pruned the woman’s fingers with the little gift between your legs. You wish you could apologize for such disrespect, but Minthara would punish you. She liked the way your slick dribbled down your thighs and over her palms. She liked how that tight, little pussy eagerly begged for more from her when you would never admit it. 

Your own outstretched hand strokes over Minthara’s collarbones lazily, unable to see her from this position. While her skin is soft and smooth, it is also littered with scars. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out once more, finally closing your eyes all the way. You give in to your own bodies desires, like a naive child who hasn’t thought enough about their deal with a devil. Minthara was your devil- your only devil or vice- and the image of her was flashing through your mind faster than a spell. You could see her supple breasts, cleavage glistening as her fingers danced over a nipple. You could see her other hand, a little shyer, slowly easing down to her toned thighs. Then, they ease past, and settle in a spot that you can only imagine is warm.  

“Let me see those tits,” you whisper out to her. Ahead of yourself, you’re already beginning to turn as you finish your sentence. 

Usually, Minthara would never let you get away with such insubordination. She was a somewhat straightforward woman, and she found she quite enjoyed the thought of having complete control over you. She was strong enough, certainly, but she only wished she were taller so that she might pick you up more. Tonight, however, the flow and intimacy was just… too good to let go. Your skin was so warm and accepting of hers. Your hair smelled sweet and safe, given the circumstances of how you were living. Your body… firm where Minthara liked bodies firm and soft where she liked them soft. She lets you break from her grasp and twist your head til it accommodates your noses for a kiss. 

Minthara’s lips are thin, but soft. They meld against yours, binded by secrecy from your friends and duty, intimately asking you to give in. You do, and as you relax, feel the wet muscle of the tongue prod at your own. Delicious. 

You kiss her, Minthara’s tongue swirling over your own playfully. You’re breathing into her mouth, humming all the moans you can’t set free while your right hand wanders over her shoulder. The woman felt so damn good on you- in you. You can feel the spit that slides between your mouths, shared and stringy. 

With a soft smirk you thought you hid well, the hand on her shoulders raises. She watches, like stone, as your index finger gathers a string of saliva connecting your lips. You admire it for a moment, gooey and glistening, before you swipe it over the imprint of Minthara’s right nipple. 

A beat of silence passes. 

You dive close for one more kiss from her lips, satisfied, before turning your attention towards her breasts once more. This time, your fingers slide past the thin fabric of her camp tunic and happily dance across the swollen, violet, hill. Minthara lets you expose her body with a smirk. Her tits, while paired with an athletic and sturdy body, bounced and seemed only to continuously invite you to play with them. One hand of yours cups each of her boobs, reveling in the squish- in the warmth. “Let me…” your voice comes out hoarse, almost begging. 

Minthara’s smirk only deepens. Her eyes lower to your own cleavage with pride. She knew that she owned you, she owned your pretty pussy and the pretty tits she was pawing at with one hand. “Have you been good?” she replied back. Her index and middle finger roll over the bud at the center of the nipple, the most sensitive part, and pinch. 

A dirty move.

“Let you what, dear thing?” Minthara cocks a brow. You feel her nails tracing your other breast now too, and if she wasn’t careful, you weren’t going to let her hand ever leave it. She pinches and tortures your tits once more, this time both of them. 

You sigh, attempting to pull her closer. “Feels good,” you admit, only then realizing your left hand grabs at the skin of her ass. Your right hands’ fingers are lost in pools of spit that only spread further over her breast as you palm them greedily. They filled your hands just right, just how her hands filled your hole. 

“Tell me,” Minthara demands, pinching and twisting again. Nerves shoot up your spine and to your brain, making you feel alive. You wanted to rut against her now more than ever. You wanted to feel her hot, drenched folds against your own, against your lips and your tongue. You wanted to taste and lick every inch of the Nightwarden’s body, to taste her sweat and practically suck it clean from the inside of her thighs. 

“Feels fucking good.”

“Mm,” Minthara hums through closed eyes. You can feel her breath fan over her face. It makes wisps of her pale hair flow in the light of the divine. “That’s it. You’re being so… agreeable.” 

Your lips dart forward, catching her own. Feminine, wet, the two of you can hear only the sounds of the party and the excitement of the other. You press your tits tight up against hers, your nipples touching briefly. Each of you hiss in reaction, but you don’t stop your attempt to grind on her. You need something there, something filling you. You want her fingers back, but she would never be so kind as to give you exactly what you want. You want her to handle a toy on you, to watch her sadistic face twist as she fills you up, but you have a feeling she’d be jealous. You know what you want, though not how to get there. Your Nightwarden would know though, wouldn’t she?

“Fuck me,” you sigh into her shining lips. “Please fuck me, baby.”

Minthara arches a brow. She likes many things about you, but she loves to hear you beg. She likes you desperate, wanting, needy. It disgusts her like a bug under her shoe, but she won’t crush you. She wants to crush you. Minthara desires, greatly, to tie you up under her and allow her to have her way with you. To press a finger to the pretty hole of your ass while her other hand pets over your clit repeatedly, just to show you it was okay. 

“I didn’t hear you,” she insists, almost angrily. 

Desperately, you let your tongue kitten lick over her collarbone once. “Fuck me, baby. Fill me up. I want it. I’ll take it.”

“I know you will take it.”

It sounds like a threat. 

Minthara continues. “You will be good for me, yes?”

You open your eyes, holding eye contact with the ruby orbed beauty. “I’ll be so good for you, Nightwarden.”

Minthara’s hand slaps your ass with a sharp jolt that makes you squeal. Instantly, you grin as her hand squishes your cheeks together, seizing your face in her hand powerfully in her own attempt to silence you. “Good girl,” she tells you, slowly. Her eyes, red and heated, hold yours intently. “Now shut the fuck up.”

You nod once in understanding, but can’t help another wave of satisfaction rolling over you at Minthara’s hold on you, at her words, at her sentiment. Seemingly full of naughty decisions tonight, a loose finger of your own creeps gently down Minthara’s trousers. You feel her heat instantly. Greed, it seems, must be some sort of a transferable trait that melts from her and drenches you. 

“Just let me taste it,” you manage to whine through the constrict of her hand. 

Minthara’s face snakes closer to yours. “You cannot even tell me what it is you wish to taste,” she counters. “Do you wish to taste these?” Minthara places her free hand to her breast, giving it a tight squeeze. “Do you wish to taste this?” Now, she pulls your hand from her protruding clit and replaces it with her own. 

“All of it,” you submit. “Please, all of it, Nightwarden.”

“Beg me!” she hisses under her breath. Beneath her trousers, you can see the form of her hand swirling erratically. 

“I want it,” you pant. “Please, Mommy. Please let me eat your fucking hole. I’ll be so good I swear-”

Minthara tugs your hair down sharply. It hurts, unappreciated, and Minthara passes you a soothing look for an apology. “That’s it,” she tells you, untying her trousers. “You may kneel. Mmm… yes- there. Now, you may eat my pussy until I release you. Do you understand, girl?”

You smile, and Minthara doesn’t let on that it melts her heart as she watches you nod, eagerly. Always so eager. Always so good. 

Minthara settles her eyes ahead, trying to anticipate what the group might do. The relationship she’d managed to form with you was a secret from the outside- which really meant anyone who wasn’t you or herself. She hated the thought of Astarion striding in, asking to join. Or Wyll, on that white shining steed, who would’ve slain you both on the spot. Nobody seemed to quite like Minthara except for you, which was obvious as your tongue delved deep into her cunt. 

She tasted… well, wet. You could lap your tongue anyway you liked, and it would still taste just as good. Incredible. You could smell the sweat and sex leaking off of her like a hound, and it was only spurring you on. You slow your muscle to lick straight, long lines against Minthara’s sex that pull shakes from her knees. Looking up at her, you’re already met with her heavenly, piercing gaze as she watches you. Nightwarden Minthara was getting off to your image like pornography, like some personal, vulgar plaything. Both of you liked that. 

Minthara’s eyes shine as she watches your body adjust. Your back arches into an inward curve so that she can see the shapely swell of your butt- looks like a heart. Always the epitome of self control, Minthara hums a groan again at the sight. “Yes,” she praises. “Like that.”

Your palms snake up around the back of her legs and to the flesh of her ass. You push her into you with the leverage, soaking up her delicious pussy. It was warm on your tongue. Sweet. Almost a fruity, dominating flavor. Fitting, really. When you moan into the tight cunt you’re currently feasting on, the owner's lips fall open. 

Yes. 

The satisfaction is like a drug. You want another reaction from Minthara, and another, and another. Party be damned. Do tell, you wondered, what would Gale of Waterdeep do exactly, should he find the two of you tangled up like this? Why not find out?

You moan louder into Minthara’s pussy happily. The muscle of your mouth prods Minthara’s entrance curiously, before pushing inside. Your Nightwarden’s back arches- you grip down into her flesh to keep her steady as her own hands similarly clutch at your head. 

“You are so well to your Master,” you hear the woman above you breathe out. You don’t stop, you don’t think. Your tongue begins to ache from the repetition and the somewhat awkward angle, but the taste and smell of Minthara is overpowering. Her sweat runs down her thighs and drips unto you- addictive. 

“It’s my turn,” she suddenly decides. Minthara’s hand pushes your head from her form, and your tongue follows her desperately as you watch her. She kisses you once more, a little slower than before, but no less sloppy. 

“I’m not done,” you pant to her through closed eyes. 

“Oh?” you hear your lover respond. “You are not even a little curious what I may have for you?”

You giggle and bite down on her bottom lip, harshly. “I think I know what you have for me,” you coo. “Cute little fucking box…”

Minthara pushes you til your back hits the ground. While biting your lip in excitement, you twist around briefly to make sure nobody is coming. With the coast clear, Minthara places one of her hands on either side of you, climbing over top. Her body looked good- muscular and strong despite the recoil of her asscheeks. At the sight, you cannot help but order your own hand to spank her. The sudden sound elicits a quiet moan from both of you.

Minthara’s lips dabble against your own once more. They were somewhat swollen by now from being kissed out, and shiny from being coated with saliva. You could see the little indents of your teeth where you’d bit down on her (which had not been enough to draw blood and would surely end in some sort of punishment for you on another night) and shivered under your lover. 

Nightwarden Minthara pulls away from you, though not far. A hand of hers reaches over your near neglected tits and gives one a lustful palming. You bite your lip. “It’s sore,” you explain. “You’ve pinched them too hard.”

Minthara’s expression changes to an annoyed one. “I have not done a thing to you so hard as I would like,” she said. You swallow. “Though, that can be changed. If I wish to feel your features…” Minthara playfully slapped at your breast, still wet with spit, “...I will. If I wish to use your little box in however way that I desire… I will.”

You watch Minthara stand over you, straight over your face. The view is practically holy, gazing up at the drows cunt, still slick and dripping with your previous services to her. You wish for nothing more than for her to simply take her rightful seat. You know how much she likes a throne. 

Minthara seems to hear your mental cries as she lowers herself down. At first, her pussy indeed fills your face well. You can smell it all, can feel how easy it is to simply reach up with your tongue and feel every inch of her, from ass to clit. But you notice the Nightwarden hovering ever so slightly over you, balancing on her own feet and knees. No, this won’t do. With a moan of relief that you bury deeper into her hole, your hands grasp at the skin of her buttocks once more and pull it to your face. Minthara sits suddenly, releasing a moan you never thought she’d let herself sing. Her full weight on you, you still yourself and push your tongue deeper, searching for any drop of pussy juice you might’ve missed. 

“Good,” Minthara praises above you. “That’s so… good.” A little moan serves in response, switching yourself to short, quick laps that go no further than shallow in her cunt. Her body swallows them, hot to the touch. “Yes,” you hear her continue. 

You’re so lost in her raspy, layered voice that you don’t notice her shifting over you. So lost in the feelings of her desire you’d almost forgotten of your own, and so the sudden jump as you feel a tongue along your swollen clit is most satisfying to the Nightwarden. You continue licking and lapping at the paladin, as if it were your own oath to fulfill, but Minthara doesn’t stop there. She licks once more, gently, over the bundle of nerves as you buck into her. 

It’s almost a continuous cycle for a few moments. You, moaning desperately up into Minthara’s pussy; Minthara, swelling with pride as she feels how loyal you are to her. What a good, loyal girl you are to your Nightwarden. The two of you tighten up around the same time, only exciting the other even further. 

A feeling tickled in the drows belly. It was light and airy, and it came from your tongue every time you pushed it back inside of her hole. Minthara was so turned on by how wet it was, how dirty it all was. You, literally eating her cunt in the dirt without complaints…

Minthara doesn’t stop herself. She takes her final, savoring lap at the top of your yummy cunt and sits upwards. Her ass presses further into you at this, pussy practically suffocating your mouth as you feel her thighs squeeze. Her muscles stiffen, hips drawing tight little circles. You know what’s coming. Smiling, you squeeze her closer to you once more, forcing your tongue as deep as you can possibly place it. 

Nightwarden Minthara shakes as she cums over your mouth. 

Her walls are tight over your tongue. You feel a warm rush of wetness wash over you, moaning at the sensation. However good Minthara’s arousals tasted, her cum tasted five times better. It was sweeter, and there was so much of it, you couldn’t help but be pleased with not only her, but yourself. As the spasms of her orgasm begin to slow, you ease your tongue into a coy, licking motion once more. A loving, cleaning act. 

Minthara takes herself from you, though there’s no rush. As soon as her body lifts from your own, her lilac hands are on you once more. 

“You are not satisfied, Nightwarden?” you smirk, shaking your head. Behind you, you can hear the group's festivities continue on, unbothered by the whole ordeal. Someone was playing their lyre, and by the shadows that flitted over the light, several people had taken to drunken dancing. “Not when I’ve already given you so much?”

“You are a brat,” Minthara says, matter of factly. “And you are foolish for thinking I do not know when you have more to give.”

Minthara lowered herself closer to your aching sex, taking a long inhale and staring a moment before spreading her legs open. “Stay where you are,” she barks. “Do not move, unless I instruct you to do so.”

You nod. 

Minthara swings her toned across her body as leverage. You’re confused, never seeing such a move from the woman and failing to see the sexual advantage of such. In an instant, your lover quells these questions, pressing her sopping, freshly orgasmed cunt against your own. You try not to moan out at the sensation- succeeding at the sight of Minthara’s warning stare. But then, your Nightwarden is rubbing her hips- her pussy- against the raw flesh of your own that it distracts you. It’s hitting that sensitive nub once again, repeating the motion in the way she knows just how you like. 

“Take it,” she urges a second time for the night, leaning closer to your lips. “Take it like the good girl you are.”

“Minthara…” you half moan, half warn. 

She only speeds up the pace and intensity in response. 

Your hand reaches up to play with the flesh of her boob as she touches you. She puts both of her palms on the sides of your hips for leverage, so she might pull you back against her quickly as she grinds against you. The position is new and unfamiliar, and when she bumps you the wrong way, raw against your skin. But the way that Minthara grips you, the sight of her equally blissed and concentrated purely on fucking you… your little pussy… well…

“Minthara,” you moan. “Fuck!”

Minthara fucks her pussy into yours vigorously. A sensation builds in the pit of your tummy, growing- begging for attention. Minthara pours hers into it without question, using her own clit to pleasure yours. She must feel you twitch and cum before you do, because before you can even warn her, you lock eyes as you cum. 

Minthara slows immediately, taking in your face as she grinds long, drawing circles with her hips on yours. Your orgasm tightens you- your toes curling, hands balling to fists, lips opening as your back arches. Minthara spits over your tits at the sight, only hoping to prolong your pleasure as she rubs the saliva across your chest. 

You don’t know how long it takes you to come back. It seems only to rip through your system, igniting every nerve in your body like a firework and blinding your vision. You couldn’t describe the pleasure, you never could when you were with Minthara, but she always left you with a wholly, complete feeling and satisfaction. 

The woman watches her nipples begin to soften. She sees the cum leaking out of your hole like golden elixir and turns her attention elsewhere. A second round would surely get the two of you caught. 

You place your clothes back on silently, as usual, before returning to the party. They did not catch the last glance of longing you and your Nightwarden shared, in their happy, drunken state.

*I am 20 years old and by no means a minor*

[madschiavelique]

Could I request nsfw headcanons for poly tavrem where everyone is jealous of some guy trying to flirt with female Tav but she's doesn't know it's flirting at all please?

ohoho they maddd (not proofread)

content warnings : jealous bitches, mayhaps a bit yandere if you squint, voice kink, knife play, biting, pnv sex, hair pulling, cunnilingus, they're all feral word count : 1.1k

you had stopped at a tavern to treat yourself to a well-deserved meal after a busy day killing enemies. knowing everyone's orders like the back of your hand when it came to their drinks, so you volunteered to go to the counter and order for everyone, leaving the rest of your group to sit at their table. however, while you were standing by the counter waiting to be able to place an order, a young man came up to you, and all pairs of eyes on the table found themselves riveted on you both.

wyll didn't appreciate the way he introduced himself, the young man coming to grab your hand to bring it to his lips without ever taking his eyes off you as he presented himself to you and you nodded. you weren't specifically attentive to his behaviour from what he could see, just smiling politely, but the idea that this fool's simple saliva could have a place on your body led wyll to grip the scabbard of his sword hard.

shadowheart wasn't keen on the fact that he was trying to get so close to you, to have a conversation while his eyes were roaming the length of your body a little too freely for her taste. how dare he gets so close to you? her nose wrinkled in anger when he came to whisper in your ear, and that as he stepped back you were laughing softly.

gale crossed his arms over his chest, frowning and huffing a breath of mockery while the young man performed a meager beginner magic trick to impress you and created a flower that he came to place in your hair. he could do better, he had shown you, even made you learn much better, and the tips of his fingers tingled as he itched to cast a spell on him to turn him into some kind of critter that he could crush.

karlach's body was spitting and crackling little flames of frustration as the fool ran his fingers through your hair, smiling at you when he probably wasn't listen to a single word you could say to him. until recently, the idea of being able to touch you for her was only an idea that she could never reach, and the mere thought that he would allow himself to touch you so simply made her engine growl.

astarion bit the inside of his cheek when the young man had the indecency to approach his hand to your neck, tracing with the tips of his nasty fingers the two marks that the vampire's bite had left on you the night before. what a nerve he had, to let his disgusting mitts approach where he had kissed your skin and whispered praises to thank you for the gift you offered him every night.

lae'zel could not prevent a tchk from escaping her as he pointed to one of your daggers and asked you to show it to him, its blade that she herself had sharpened passing over his unsightly fingers. your blade was far too beautiful to end up in the hands of a microbe like him, and if he pursued this way, it could soon make him discover the taste of the metal of her own sword.

halsin was not jealous by nature, otherwise he would not be able to relish in the relationship that you all had, but there was something in the young man's attitude that deeply displeased him as he put his hand on your shoulder. he had the urge to get it out of the way, to simply stand and walk up to him so that his size alone could lead him to step back from you.

minthara was already imagining how she could capture him and give it as a pittance to her spiders when he took a piece of paper and began to write on it his room number for the evening and he passed it to you. did he think that you were just a body to add to the list of his nocturnal conquests? that you could be worn out like a vulgar puppet for his good pleasures?

the order finally arrived, and you found yourself carrying a huge tray of all kinds of drinks. the young man suggested his help to you, but you refused it as you returned to your companions' table and put down the tray.

“I didn't know they made men as annoying as that anymore,” you sighed before taking a loaf of bread and taking a deep bite from it.

everyone at the table smiled, relief taking them as they all toasted and their frustration subsided, but they were not about to let this go so softly. once you'd came back to the camp, clothes had been thrown off the minute you had settled.

wyll's lips were all over you, kissing your every knuckles and fingers individually before he came to kiss you lips, nibbling the skin of your lower lip as he hummed in relief. if he had to cover the entirity of your body with his own mouth and saliva, he would.

shadowheart was kissing your ear, whispering sweet nothings to you and taking great pleasure to the way your skin covered in goosebumps by the simple sound of her voice and the effects her words were having on you.

gale had made vines grow to hold your body right for them all, your wrists and ankles tangled in plants which perfumes' made you feel all fuzzy and soft and needy for any touch they might provide you.

karlach's hand combed through the hairs on the back of your neck before she pulled on it, arching your back so good for her while her hot tongue licked your lips and jaw with hunger.

astarion's fangs grazed the soft skin of your inner thighs, biting relentlessly and leaving in the trail of his mouth marks after marks that he knew only him and his partner would see and touch on you.

lae'zel had taken your dagger, trailing the new cleaned blade on your body, the cold metal kissing your skin and making you shudder. she covered the handle of it with your slick, thrusting it in you as your back arched.

halsin halsin towered over you, his massive hands keeping you in place by holding your waist and shushing you down as once the dagger got removed his own length took its place.

minthara's tongue was lapping at your cunt, curling around your clit in madening circles before she came to suck on it, her eyes never leaving yours as her nails digged in your thighs.

[avocado-writing]

Astarion x Reader

Astarion x Mage Apprentice!Reader* & Pt2*

Mistaken Identity

heart, home*

chilly

Astarion x Rogue!Tav Headcanons

Astarion’s Pre-Cazador Love

Virgin!Reader Feeding*

Gentle Cuddles

Pampered

Scotophobia

Anchor

Fangless

Training*

Where He’d Take You In The City

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

Gale x Reader

Good Boy* & pt2

Karlach x Reader

Burn Heals*

Halsin x Reader

Sneaking Off*

Bred*

Wyll x Reader

Giving In & Part 2

Teasing*

Misc

Kiddo (Gortash & Reader, platonic)

Lists

Supportive Headcanons

Shy Reader Kisses

Reader Often Ignored

Short Reader

Ascended Fiend Raphael HCs*

Dirty Headcanons*

Socially Anxious Reader

Companions help Reader in Pain

Pregnancy & Parenthood Headcanons

Reader Waiting for Rejection

Reader Worried Nobody Would Want Them

Reader Wearing His Clothes

Roadtrip AU

Comforting Headcanons

Trouble Sleeping

Reader Who Hides Their Face & Female Companions

Reader Who Says They’re Glad They Met Him

Reader With Skin Condition

Reactions to Calling Companions Mummy/Daddy*

Reactions to Companions Calling You Mummy/Daddy*

Reactions to You Hiding an Injury

Reader Sad About Being Ignored

BG3 Men Reactions When You Tease Them*

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

Companion Reactions to a Reader Who Can Change Sex

Modern AU Picnic in the Park

Bard!Reader Serenading Them

Reactions When You’re Self-Conscious About Your Laugh

Halsin & Astarion Realising You’re Strong

Reactions When They See You Self-Destructing

Birthday Celebrations*

When You Think Your Love Is Unrequited

Reactions When You Say Their Love Will Pass

Reactions To You Drinking The Elixir of the Colossus*

How Female Companions Go Down*

Reactions When You’re a Selkie

Reactions When You Become Dominant*

Companions Help You Get Fit

Rainy Day Cuddles

Reactions to a Reader Who Loves to Cook

BG3 Ladies & Breast Play*

Reactions to You Coming Out as Ace

BG3 Ladies’ Reaction to a New Facial Scar

Pregnancy Cravings

How the BG3 Ladies Cuddle

Companions Falling For You Mid-Performance

How the BG3 Ladies Talk in Bed

BG3 Men & Reader Who Can't Read

Reactions to Awkward Comforting

Saying You Love Them Mid-Argument

[moonselune]

I literally check your page everyday for new writings and I'm never disappointed! I wanted to make a request too!

I wanted to ask how the ladies would react with a Tav that got into a lot of fistfights. They don't always win them and it isn't always their fault but they like to pick fights at bars or purposely defend someone getting harassed and egging on a fight. Sometimes they roll a nat 20 on intimidation sometimes it's a nat 1 lol.

Maybe Karlach and Lae'zel would be on board until Tav comes back with a broken jaw or something, maybe Jaheira can actually keep Tav from getting into silly little fights, and I'm not sure about Shadowheart and Minthara. Probably oh my god calm down until someone talks shit and then it's hold my mace lol.

But those are just my little thoughts, I'd like to know yours! Thank you for your content! I know it's free but let me get back on my feet with my job and possible school and I will definitely 'buy you a coffee'!

Omg thank you and absolutely no worries, I know what it's like x I also adore this idea!

Karlach:

The tavern was alive with the sounds of laughter, off-key singing, and the occasional slurred argument. You and Karlach were right in the thick of it, your arms draped around each other as you reveled in the end of another rowdy night. It had become something of a tradition—going out, drinking, getting into a fight with someone who deserved it, and stumbling home bruised but victorious.

Karlach loved it. The energy, the thrill, the righteous satisfaction of knocking a bastard flat on his ass. And tonight had been no different—until it was.

The fight started the way they usually did. Some drunkard got too handsy with a barmaid, or someone made a snide remark they thought they could get away with. This time, it was the latter—some slimy, overconfident lout made a crude comment about Karlach’s infernal engine, something about how "fiery" she must be in bed. You hadn’t even glanced at Karlach before your fist was already flying.

The man staggered back, stunned, and for a split second, the whole tavern went quiet. Then it erupted into chaos.

Karlach, naturally, was thrilled.

She let out a bark of laughter, slamming her gauntleted fist into the nearest idiot who had decided to back up his friend. Chairs crashed, drinks spilled, and you could feel the energy crackling between the two of you. It was exhilarating, chaotic, perfect.

Until the bastard you’d punched recovered enough to swing back.

You barely had time to register the movement before his fist connected with your nose. A sickening crunch filled the air, pain exploded across your face, and you stumbled back, hands immediately flying up to your face as blood started pouring down your lips and chin.

"Shit."

Karlach’s laughter died instantly.

The brawl was still raging around you, but she didn’t give a damn anymore. She was at your side in a heartbeat, her hands hovering uncertainly near your face, her eyes wide and frantic.

"Oh my gods, babe, your nose!"

You let out a wet, congested-sounding snort, still clutching your face, trying to wave her off with one hand.

"I’m fine!" you protested, though it came out more like ’mb ffbb’ through the blood.

Karlach did not look convinced. In fact, she looked horrified. "This was stupid! This was so fucking stupid—why do we do this?! Why do I let you do this?!"

You peeked up at her through teary, swelling eyes. "Because it’s fun?"

"Not anymore!" she snapped, her voice high with panic. "I just watched your nose break like a fucking twig! That’s not fun, that’s just—gods, baby, you’re bleeding so much—*"

She was fretting. Karlach, warrior of the Hells, the strongest person you knew, was fretting over you. It would have been adorable if your face didn’t feel like it was on fire.

"It’s fine, it’s fine," you tried again, sniffling through the pain. "Just—ugh—gimme a second, I’ll pop it back into place—"

"Oh, no the fuck you won’t!" Karlach seized your wrists, stopping you before you could do something truly regrettable. "We’re getting you out of here. Now."

The fight was still going on around you, but Karlach didn’t care. She scooped you up like you weighed nothing, barreled through the crowd, and stormed outside into the cool night air. You protested weakly, mumbling something about how you could walk, but Karlach was having none of it.

She sat you down on the nearest crate, gripping your face with both hands, tilting it this way and that as she examined the damage.

"This was so fucking dumb," she muttered under her breath, reaching for a rag from her belt to press against your nose. "We’re dumb. I let this happen. Why did I let this happen?*"

You chuckled, though it quickly turned into a groan. "You love it."

"*Not when you get hurt! Gods, I love fighting with you, but not like this! Not when you’re the one bleeding all over yourself!"

You blinked up at her, finally taking in the genuine distress in her eyes, the guilt flickering across her face. You frowned slightly. "Karlach, love, it’s just a broken nose—"

"Just a broken nose?" she repeated incredulously. "Babe, that’s your face! The face I love! Gods, what if it was worse? What if next time someone has a knife, or a club, or a godsdamned crossbow?"

You sighed, wincing as she dabbed at the blood trickling down your lips.

"I’m stronger than I look, you know," you murmured, voice softer now. "I’ve been withstanding pain like this my whole life."

Karlach froze, her brows knitting together as she stared at you. Then, slowly, she cupped your cheek, her touch infinitely more gentle than it had been just moments before.

"I know," she murmured, her thumb stroking softly against your skin. "That’s what scares me. You just take it. Like it’s normal. Like it’s okay."

You swallowed thickly, something in your chest clenching at the raw sincerity in her voice.

"It’s not okay," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "*You don’t *have* to just take it. You don’t have to prove how strong you are to me—I already know how strong you are. But, love, just once… could you not charge headfirst into a brawl? Could you let me have your back instead of always trying to throw yourself into danger?*"

Your throat tightened. Gods, she meant it. She wasn’t just upset over the fight—she was scared. For you. You sighed, your shoulders sagging slightly.

"Okay," you murmured. "I’ll try."

Karlach searched your face, as if making sure you were telling the truth. Then she let out a breath and finally cracked a small, wobbly smile.

"Damn right you will," she said, booping your still-bleeding nose.

You yelped. "Karlach!"

She laughed, loud and warm, the tension finally breaking. "C’mon, soldier. Let’s get you cleaned up before I decide to swaddle you like a baby."

You groaned, but leaned into her touch anyway as she fussed over you all the way home.

Minthara:

The moment you step into Minthara’s tent, you know you’ve made a terrible mistake.

You’re limping. There’s dried blood at the corner of your mouth, your ribs ache like they’ve been used for target practice, and your knuckles are torn to hell. Shadowheart, who was supposed to be your partner in crime tonight, is nowhere to be found—passed out drunk in her tent, completely useless to you. Halsin is off getting freaky in nature, which left only one option. The love of your life.

Minthara.

You barely make it through the entrance before she looks up from sharpening her dagger, her piercing gaze sweeping over you. She doesn’t even need to say anything. The flicker of amusement, followed immediately by exasperation, is enough to make you shrink.

"You’re limping." Her tone is flat.

You clear your throat. "Slightly."

She sets her dagger down with an almost deliberate slowness. "And your lip is split."

"Possibly."

Her gaze narrows. "And you’re holding your ribs like an old man clutching his coin purse."

You drop your arm to your side immediately. "That’s purely coincidental."

Minthara tilts her head, watching you like a cat watches a particularly slow-moving mouse. "Let me see if I understand this correctly. I told you, explicitly, not to get into a fight because you are still recovering from the last time you got your head caved in—"

"In my defense," you interrupt, raising a hand, "he started it."

"Did he?" she deadpans.

"Okay, I may have called his mother a gelatinous cube, but in my defense, he deserved it."

Minthara exhales sharply, dragging a hand down her face. "You absolute fool."

You grin sheepishly, but before you can utter another word, she’s already on you.

"You are aware," she begins, rising to her feet, "that I knew you would do this. That I knew you would ignore me, prance off to some filthy dive, and do exactly what I told you not to. That you would come crawling back to me, bruised, bloodied, and in need of my mercy."

Your mouth opens. Then closes.

Minthara smirks. "Admit it."

You shift on your feet, wincing. "…I may have slightly underestimated my opponents."

Minthara raises an eyebrow.

You sigh dramatically. "Fine! I got my ass beat, are you happy?"

She folds her arms. "Not yet."

You blink. "Wait, what?"

Minthara takes a slow, deliberate step toward you. "You want my healing?"

"Obviously?"

She leans in, smirking. "Beg."

Your stomach does a weird little flip. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." She taps a single, sharp fingernail against your chest, right where the bruises are worst, and you almost double over. "I told you not to fight. You disobeyed. You got yourself beaten senseless. Now, you want my help? You want me to undo your idiocy?" Her lips curl. "Then beg."

You groan, tilting your head back dramatically. "Gods above, you are impossible."

"And yet, I am the only one here who can mend you."

You glance toward Shadowheart’s tent, then back to Minthara. She follows your gaze and smirks. "Oh, you thought the cleric would save you? Pity she can’t hold her liquor as well as she says, isn’t it?"

You hate how smug she is. With a long, suffering sigh, you drop to your knees in front of her, placing a dramatic hand over your chest.

"Oh, my dearest, cruelest, most merciful Minthara," you begin, voice laced with exaggerated desperation. "I was a fool, an arrogant fool. I should have listened to your wise words, and now I am paying the price. Please, my love, my heart, my ever-so-beautiful goddess of destruction—will you please heal me before my ribs collapse inward and puncture my lungs?"

Minthara lets you grovel for a moment longer, clearly savoring it, before finally rolling her eyes and muttering under her breath. Warm, golden light spreads through your body, mending the worst of your injuries, easing the ache in your ribs, and sealing the split in your lip.

You sigh in relief. "Thank you."

"You are still a fool."

"Yes, but I’m your fool." You flash her a cocky grin. "And since I was very nearly murdered tonight, I think I deserve some cuddles."

Minthara scoffs. "Cuddles?"

"Yes." You flop dramatically onto her cot, holding your arms out expectantly. "I require immediate comfort."

Minthara stares at you for a long moment, clearly debating whether to throw you out of the tent entirely. But, after a second, she sighs and shakes her head. "You are insufferable."

"And you love me."

She grumbles something under her breath but, to your delight, she climbs in beside you, settling in with a huff. You immediately pull her close, pressing your face against the crook of her neck, and for all her earlier scoffing, she doesn’t pull away.

"Next time," she mutters against your skin, "*I am breaking your legs myself so you can’t go out.*"

You chuckle sleepily. "Kinky."

She smacks the back of your head.

Lae'zel:

Lae’zel watched from the corner of the tavern, arms crossed, as you moved through the chaos of the fight like a blade through flesh.

At first, she was impressed. Even intoxicated, your form was strong, your strikes well-placed. You dodged and countered with the reflexes of a trained fighter, and she felt the faintest flicker of approval at your skill.

But then she noticed.

Your footing was loose. Your balance wavered just slightly. You were relying more on instinct than control, and that was dangerous. And then the fool you were fighting landed a solid hit to your jaw, sending you stumbling back. Her admiration quickly turned to anger.

"Enough."

Lae’zel moved before she even registered the thought, her body reacting purely on instinct. In a blur of motion, she was at your side, shoving you behind her as she punched your opponent square in the face. The sound of breaking bone rang through the tavern. The man collapsed like a sack of grain.

The room fell silent.

Lae’zel scanned the other patrons, her glare sharp enough to cut. No one dared step forward. She turned back to you.

"You idiot," she hissed, her voice low and furious. Before you could protest, she bent down and hauled you up, throwing you over her shoulder like you weighed nothing.

"Lae’zel—hey—put me down!"

She didn’t listen and with a huff, she carried you out of the tavern, ignoring your weak protests and the scattered laughter from the remaining patrons.

"This is humiliating," you groaned, letting your body go limp.

"It is what you deserve," Lae’zel snapped. "What kind of warrior allows themselves to get so inebriated they cannot even hold their stance properly?"

You pouted, wincing as the motion pulled at your split lip. "I was doing fine."

"You were losing."

You grumbled under your breath, crossing your arms against her back. "I had it handled."

"You were struck in the face like a witless hatchling."

"Only once—"

"Enough." Her grip on you tightened as she carried you back to camp, her muscles flexing as she adjusted your weight with ease. "You are stronger than this. You are better than this. You disgrace yourself by allowing drink to make a fool of you. I cannot stand it, I cannot stand to watch you get hurt"

You sighed, the room spinning either from the amount of drink you had consumed or the blossoming concussion. "You care."

"I am irritated."

"You really care," you repeated, your voice a little softer this time. "If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be carrying me."

Lae’zel was silent for a moment. Then she exhaled sharply, the sound closer to a sigh than she’d ever admit.

"You are mine," she muttered at last. "And I will not allow you to be so careless with yourself."

A small, tired smile tugged at your lips. Even through the pain in your jaw, even through the exhaustion settling over you, warmth bloomed in your chest.

"You’re a terrible liar," you murmured, pressing your forehead against her shoulder. Lae’zel scoffed but said nothing. And though her voice was sharp, her hold on you was gentle all the way back to camp.

Shadowheart:

"You are not getting into that fight."

Shadowheart’s voice cut through the noise of the tavern, sharp and unwavering. She stood with her arms crossed, her dark eyes fixed on you with a mix of warning and exasperation. She had that look—the look—the one that meant she was already planning the I told you so speech for later.

You, in your infinite wisdom and three drinks deep, shot her a lopsided grin. "Come on, it’s just a bit of fun."

"Fun?" she repeated, arching a perfectly sculpted brow. "Oh yes, of course. Who doesn’t enjoy getting their teeth knocked out by some brainless drunk?"

You chuckled, rolling your shoulders in preparation. "It won’t come to that."

"You’re drunk," she pointed out, unimpressed.

"Just a little!"

"That’s exactly my point." Shadowheart sighed, rubbing her temple like she was already exhausted by you. "Don’t do this."

But, predictably, you ignored her. And the fight broke out not even five minutes later. Crawling back to camp was nothing short of humiliating.

You limped towards Shadowheart’s tent, every step punctuated by a sharp, pulsing pain in your ribs. Your lip was split, your jaw ached from a particularly nasty punch, and you were fairly certain your nose was either broken or very close to it.

And to make matters worse? Shadowheart was waiting.

She was seated on her bedroll, calmly polishing her armor in the dim glow of the campfire. She barely spared you a glance as you shuffled in, cradling your ribs.

"Go on," she said without looking up. "Say it."

You hesitated. "…Say what?"

She finally turned, her dark eyes locking onto yours with unrestrained amusement. "You know exactly what."

You shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, wincing as pain flared through your side. "I might need some healing."

"Might?"

You groaned, defeated. "Definitely. I definitely need some healing."

Shadowheart sighed, but there was something smug in the way she set her armor aside and motioned for you to sit. "Unbelievable."

You slumped down beside her, biting back a hiss of pain as you did. A soft, warm glow spread from her fingertips as she channeled her magic, the soothing energy flowing through your body and mending the worst of your injuries.

And then—

"Oh, you poor thing," she cooed, her tone suddenly dripping with mock sympathy. "Did the big bad fight not go your way?"

Your eyes snapped open. "What?"

She patted your head. Patted you, like you were some foolish child who had fallen off a horse. "Didn’t listen to me, did you? Nooo, of course not. That would have been smart."

You groaned. "Shadowheart—"

"Shhh," she hushed you, dramatically brushing a hand over your hair. "The grown-up is talking."

You scowled, but she only smirked, her fingers tilting your chin up so she could inspect your nose.

"Hmm," she mused, tapping it lightly, "you’re lucky it’s not completely broken. Still, it looks like it hurts."

"It does hurt," you grumbled. "Which is why I came to you."

"And here I thought you were just visiting because you enjoy my company," she teased, her lips quirking into a smirk.

You let out a long-suffering sigh. "You’re never going to let this go, are you?"

Her grin widened. "Absolutely not."

Shadowheart took her time finishing up her healing, making a show of carefully wiping the last of the blood from your lip with a damp cloth. It was almost gentle—almost—except for the way she was clearly relishing every second of your embarrassment.

"There," she said finally, tossing the cloth aside. "All patched up."

"Thanks," you muttered.

But before you could even think of making a dignified exit, she smirked.

"Now," she said, nudging you backwards onto her bedroll, "lie down. You’re officially on time out."

You groaned. "Oh, come on—"

"Nope. You acted like a reckless child, so I suppose I’ll just have to treat you like one," she said, patting the spot beside her with a mocking little smile. "Now, be good and rest, darling."

You grumbled under your breath but complied, slumping onto her blankets.

Shadowheart smirked. "That’s what I thought."

And despite her teasing, despite the endless humiliation, you couldn’t help but smile a little as she settled down beside you, her fingers absently brushing against yours.

Jaheira:

You barely felt the punch land, which was probably a bad sign.

The world spun around you in a chaotic blur of overturned chairs, shattered mugs, and the thick smell of ale and sweat. Someone’s boot caught your side, sending you stumbling back against a table that definitely hadn’t been there a second ago. You were grinning like an idiot, adrenaline and drunkenness making you blissfully numb to the fact that you were very much losing this fight. And then—

"By Silvanus, you absolute disaster of a person."

Jaheira’s voice sliced through the noise, clear and exasperated. You blinked blearily toward the entrance, where your beautiful, radiant, stunning lover stood, hands on her hips, looking every inch the furious savior you never knew you needed.

"Jaheira!" you slurred, pushing yourself up with what little dignity you had left. "My love, my light—"

"You’re concussed," she deadpanned.

"—My warrior queen!" you continued, unbothered. Jaheira sighed through her nose, then rolled up the sleeves of her tunic.

"Alright," she muttered, stepping forward. "Which one of you idiots started this?"

You pointed at a random guy. "All of them!"

The nearest brute lunged at her. Big mistake.

Jaheira ducked beneath his swing effortlessly, her elbow snapping up into his gut before he could even think about retaliating. He doubled over with a wheeze, and she didn’t waste time—she caught him by the shoulder, yanked him forward, and slammed him face-first into the very same table you’d been struggling to stay upright against moments ago.

You let out a loud, drunken cheer. "*Gorgeous! Incredible! Have I ever told you how hot you are?*"

Jaheira barely spared you a glance as she sidestepped another attacker, twisting his arm behind his back and tossing him into a pile of already unconscious bodies.

"Yes," she said dryly. "Many times."

"And you never believe me!" you lamented.

Someone else tried their luck, a stocky man with more muscles than sense. Jaheira simply kicked him in the chest, sending him sprawling backward into a row of barrels. He didn’t get up.

"Have I mentioned you’re the most skilled, amazing, unparalleled—"

Jaheira turned, grabbed the last remaining idiot by the collar, and headbutted him hard enough to make your skull ache. He dropped like a sack of potatoes.

"…Absolutely terrifying woman I’ve ever met?" you finished, blinking at the carnage.

The bar was a mess. Broken furniture, spilled drinks, and unconscious (or groaning) men littered the floor. Jaheira stood at the center of it all, adjusting her tunic like she’d just finished tending her garden rather than wiping out half the tavern.

Then she turned her sharp, emerald gaze to you.

"You are a menace," she said, striding over. "And a fool. And an idiot—"

"I am very concussed," you reminded her helpfully.

"And concussed," she added, before grabbing you firmly by the scruff of your robes. "Come on."

You stumbled after her as she dragged you bodily toward the exit, your feet barely keeping up. "Jaheira, my love, my storm, my—"

"Walk," she ordered.

You did. Barely. But as she pulled you through the ruined tavern, you couldn’t resist turning back to the remaining patrons—many of whom were watching in awe, some in horror, a few taking bets on whether you’d survive the night.

"I’m gonna get lucky tonight!" you announced proudly.

Jaheira didn’t even hesitate. "Say that again and I swear I’ll dunk you in the river."

You gasped dramatically. "You wouldn’t!"

She yanked you out the door and toward the road. "Try me."

You pouted but leaned into her, letting her guide you with a firm arm around your waist. Maybe you were concussed, bruised, and a complete and utter mess.

But Jaheira was here. And gods, she was magnificent.

guys they changed the Lucille font idk what to do with my life. I really loved writing this and i hope you guys enjoyed it! - Seluney xox

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

[thehistoriccemetery]

Companions React to Reader Sitting on Their Lap

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

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

Shadowheart

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lae’zel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Karlach

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Minthara

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaheira

It really depends on the day with Jaheira.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dame Aylin x Isobel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[theladyismyshepard]

My Lady In Death

My interest has shifted towards Baldur's Gate 3 and call me obsessed, almost as much as I was for RE:V... This is my headcannons for the main ladies of the party... careful, it's a long post

How the Ladies Would React to Your (Tav's) Death

Shadowheart –

It’s funny… it’s so funny… There was a battlefield roaring its rage to the Heavens in the sky. A melodic thrum of agony and death and yet there was a single sound that rose above all else: the sound of your body crashing to the ground, a loud grunt forced out from between your lips.

The strong “Ignis!” caught itself in Shadowheart’s throat, subconsciously forfeiting her turn as she stared wide-eyed at your fallen form. Her lips were moving, yet no sound was escaping. No spell, no incantation, no anything– She was so frozen in disbelief, one could mistake her for being under a stunned or immobilizing spell. All she could do was watch your shaky movements as you attempted to hoist yourself to your feet, only to receive a final concussive blow that left trails of blood leaking from your nose, mouth, and eyes

“NO!” The scream was so raw that almost everyone in the party felt the shredding of their own throats

Karlach reached forward to intercept the cleric just as she showed the first signs of darting thoughtlessly across the battlefield towards your dead body, but when Shadowheart showed an ounce of determination, she proved unstoppable. She sidestepped Karlach’s hand, ignored the resulting string of curses from Lae’zel, and darted towards you. Not only did she have faith in her teammates (well, Karlach) to guard her back, she had faith that Shar would guide her forward.

Which raised a few questions: Why was Shadowheart fearing this loss in a way she never felt before? Why was she so desperate to counter the inevitable? Why couldn’t she let Shar take you away? Shadowheart swallowed thickly as she dropped to her knees beside you, pulling your head into her lap. Her trembling fingers reached into her travel pack and she didn’t stop fumbling around until she produced a Scroll of Revivify. She untied the knot keeping it together, and rested the parchment atop your chest.

Her voice shook the entire time she spoke through the words of the scroll. Her eyes were blurred so thickly with tears that the obscured spell was nearly illegible to her. Shadowheart’s left hand was tangling its fingers in your hair, an absent gesture of comfort more for herself rather than you at the moment. She was aware of the sudden company of defense that swarmed and encircled the two of you, but she couldn’t afford to pay them any mind, not when you were growing colder by the second and Shar’s grip of darkness was taking its hold on you.

There was a glow surrounding your body for a moment, and when it finally dimmed, the scroll burned itself to a crisp and faded away on a gust of wind. There was a pause that had Shadowheart’s heart stuttering against her ribcage and then you were taking in a large breath of air, and it looked so natural, as if you had never stopped. Shadowheart released a breath of her own and it nearly had her bowing over, her tears finally spilling down her cheeks.

You were here, you were alive, you were going to be okay… She indulged herself in stealing a single kiss atop your brow, her left hand gently scratching your scalp before she pulled back abruptly.

Shadowheart… turned her back on her lady. All color drained from her face, all relief she had been relishing in dried up, all fear she had dislodged back anew, but directed for herself now– As Shar’s servant, she must accept darkness, accept loss almost to the point of wishing for it. You were well within Shar’s merciful grasp

And Shadowheart stole you back… It’s only natural to struggle with your religious guilt after saving the one you care so much for. Give her time to process this.

Lae'zel –

Disbelief. That is the only emotion Lae’zel found herself able to process for an entire minute; Disbelief that your body was crumpled and shredded down in the dirt; Disbelief that this unorthodox hero that was supposedly “meant to save the world” had fallen so easily… Disbelief that she allowed your death to happen.

Next was the fury that almost visibly burned in licking flames. Death would not take you, not if she had anything to say about it. Not when she was standing right there and these fiendish goblins had the audacity to strip your life from your body before her very eyes. No… Lae’zel was fury, she was death, and she would avenge you before she would think to resurrect you.

That half-elf, she had powers of healing and while Lae’zel loathed Shadowheart on a good day, she knew the cleric to have enough wits to know to respond to their fallen hero with haste (lest she meet her own untimely end at the edge of her blade). The fight was a blur, and it was over before any of the other party members could land another hit.

Lae’zel was a flurry of strikes, one after the other, each enemy dropping with a thud before they could so much as raise a shield in defense. Her blade cut through their armor, and with each slice, she couldn’t help but to associate it with the final blow that cut you down. Each wet shluk as her sword went through reminded her of the very sound of your own flesh giving way to iron. She didn’t even feel the blood washing over her enough to get to relish in the victory– this was no victory.

“They’re all gone, soldier,” came Karlach’s small, but steady voice, though Lae’zel still felt rage, she couldn’t shake it…

It was a familiar feeling her people associated with, almost like lifelong friends, but this was driven by a loss that she had yet to experience, and she was damn near close to cursing the Comet himself for allowing such a person like yourself to come into her life and just… change her very being… or at least her standards. But she was cursing you.

Cursing you for coming into her life, showing her tolerance, showing her affection, showing her love… and then just as you had gotten her to fall, you fell at her feet in a pool of your own blood. Lae’zel’s grip around her silver sword tightened, her form trembling in a mix of rage, sorrow, and hatred. Hatred at those who killed you, hatred for you for how easily you went down, but mostly, hatred for herself for not throwing her own body on the blade before it could ever reach your perfect skin.

“Lae’zel… love,” 

The sword dropped as did her mouth. Right… You were intelligent enough to stock up on Scrolls of Revivify when the party was last in Baldur’s Gate. Lae’zel pulled herself together, grabbed her sword, and regained her signature scowl.

“I suggest we keep moving forward unless anyone is seriously injured… then we head for camp and rest… no matter, Tav, I need you in my sight at all times,” You couldn’t help the smile when she took your hand in her own, checked you over once for any lingering injuries, and pressed on before anyone could even answer her question.

Karlach –

Gravity was betraying Karlach on this particular day in so many ways. The way her stomach was dropping to her feet had her fighting back the urge to puke. The lightness of her soul wanting to leave behind the overheating engine that kept her in place. It was all so disorienting, but most of all was the gravity that dragged your body down into the abyss, completely disappearing from sight.

“NOOO!” she bellowed, fire engulfing her body, threatening all who were foolish enough to draw close.

“Karlach! It’s okay!” insisted Shadowheart urgently, “Their soul, look!”

Karlach always knew your soul would have a calming aura about it. The tiny, cool, blue ball of light was beckoning the fiery red that was Karlach’s being. There was still a stray archer somewhere out of sight, but that was of no concern to her. She needed to get to you, to protect you… She had to nourish your soul, feed it life from one of the scrolls that had to have been crafted from the very Gods themselves

You two still had so much left to explore together… The party had just encountered Dammon and had supplied enough infernal iron to ensure an upgrade to Karlach’s engine. Boy did you two celebrate that night after she received her first real hug in a decade. It was all fire and all passion, and that was everything that Karlach needed in life. You were everything she needed.

So forgive her if she refused to give you up so easily after finally, finally receiving the happiness she was denied for so long. She’s done her waiting… Ten years of it! In Avernus… You didn’t give up on her, not when a misguided Wyll had sent you on a path to kill her, and not when you found out she was a ticking time bomb waiting to blow. She would fight through all Nine Realms of the Hells to do the same for you.

Karlach reached the floating orb that was your soul, forced herself to relax enough to extinguish her own flames, and cradled it in her palms as if it was the grandest treasure in the world… to Karlach, it was the world. She had the world in the palm of her hands and she couldn’t help but burst into tears. You were too good to have had any hiccup in your heartbeat, to have been taken so early that Karlach had to bend the very will of fate to bring you back.

“Call me selfish, I don’t give a shit,” Karlach muttered to anyone who was listening. No one would dare to argue her in such a state as this

Gently repositioning your soul into one palm, Karlach reached into her pocket and withdrew a Scroll of Revivify. She swaddled the orb in the scroll, as if tucking it into a warm blanket on a cold night before bringing the entirety of it to her lips and whispering the incantation as if it were a prayer. Your body materialized before the party’s very eyes and you soon found yourself pulled into Karlach’s crushing embrace before she apologized and supplied a Potion of Supreme Healing.

“Try to stay on firm ground from now on, eh?”

Minthara –

Oh Gods, oh Hells, oh shit… May the Gods grant mercy on the soul that decides to cleave your soul from your body, leaving you a mangled mess of what Minthara had come to claim as hers. She was not finished with you and the rush of high you brought with, and she would part the Heavens or douse the Hells to rip you back into her life, and she was about to demonstrate such at this very moment.

Gortash was a formidable foe, he was Chosen for a reason… and that was because Minthara thought herself too good to be a God’s plaything. Second best must answer to her scorn and no longer will anyone question that the wrath of Minthara could shake even the Gods.

The entire scene shifted, and no more were Gortash’s semi-invisible minions, or his tangible, looming fist. He was on his knees, a quivering mess as he gazed into Minthara’s eyes and saw nothing but his own pitiful reflection.

At last, there was a change in her features as a cruel grin slowly twisted the edges of her lips. She would draw this out and savor every last scream he had to offer. It was one thing to threaten the safety of the entire world, but to outright target and end your life, with Minthara standing there no less… it was a direct insult and a loss that she couldn’t even really bring herself to feel.

Minthara is calculating, and while she refuses to ever witness your soul leave your body again, she also knew that she was resourceful if not intimidating. There were ways of bringing you back to life, and every option was at her fingertips, it was just a matter of who or what she wanted to exploit.

After driving a dagger straight through Grotash’s eye and into his skull, Minthara hardly even basked in the quivering of his pained body as he dropped and convulsed in a pool of his own blood. No, she was too busy turning towards Shadowheart and barking orders.

“You! Call upon your deity and demand them to revive your allies with half their health. I’m aware that you are granted this wish only once, and I have yet to have seen you use it.” It was done with only a minimal amount of glaring, and suddenly you were stiffly rising to your feet with a groan.

“You were careless with your life, and I am severely unappreciative of that… You would do best to not piss me off as such again, okay?”

You were nodding along without a word, but you couldn't help the flutter of your newly restarted heart when Minthara carefully put her arm around your shoulder as a means to both guide and protect you from what more is to come.

[wysteria-bloom]

↪"you're lucky I...adore you."

Bg3 companions if they've been affected by succubus magic

Bg3 x bard!reader

Warnings : nothing that I can think of.

Genre : fluff, just pure fluff

A/n : still haven't finished this damn game and it's nearly been a year. You don't want to know how many hours I've spent on it I'm genuinely so disappointed in myself 🥲

▢ lae'zel

Gone was her usual stern demeanour, this woman was huffing and puffing to try and hold herself back. Her mouth pulled into a grimace as the words tumbled out of her mouth against her will.

"Tav.... your battle prowess is... most pleasing to witness..." Her eyes were hazy as she leaned down slightly to your level, brows pulled tightly together despite the contrasting words coming from her mouth," Were you a githyanki, I might even consider... taking you as a mate."

You just sort of blink at her, string pulled taught against your finger as you were trying to fix your violin. A slow smile made its way to your lips," ... you're certainly direct." You cooed out, brows raised suggestively as you look her up and down," I'm flattered, really, but perhaps you should save the mating proposals for when you're not under the influence of succubus magic, hm?"

The githyanki huffs, embarrassed but still utterly bewitched, her nostrils flare," usually... a gith would take offense at such a vehement rejection..." Her forehead presses against yours as she frowns deeply," You're lucky I... adore you." She gritted out with much difficulty.

"It was a spell. Nothing more. Forget it happened unless you want to see your innards splattered across the dirt you stand on."

You smirk, pressing your forehead back in response," Lucky, indeed~"

-

"My pretty lips are sealed, milady."

▢ shadowheart

She leans casually against a nearby tree, watching you with that adoring green gaze of hers that she tried to hide underneath her awkwardly mysterious aura.

She listens to the soft tunes you play with your lovely fingers, humming slightly and almost drunkenly," You know.... your music isn't the only thing enchanting about you."

These strangely uncharacteristic words made you pause in your playing, raising a brow up at her in surprise.

She, herself, didn't know what she was saying but she just couldn't stop herself as her lips twitched into a smirk," perhaps we should compose a duet of our own?"

The blatant flirting amused you to no end and a hand shot to your mouth to suppress a laugh," a duet?" You repeated," As memorable of a performance that would be, I think it best for you to sleep off whatever magical nonsense that succubus casted on you."

Shadowheart gave you an incredulous look and tried to play it off, shrugging with a pout," Oh no, this is... all me." She tried, but the words trembled," totally natural."

"... Let's never talk about this again."

"What a ball of charisma you are."

-

"I've already got a tune decided for our duet. No backing out now, little cleric~"

▢ gale

The wizard approaches his dearest bard with his usual theatric flair, but the lines falling from his smart mouth were far more dramatic than usual as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear," your beauty... it's like the stars themselves - unreachable, radiant, and yet somehow, you make even the Weave seem mundane in comparison."

Your hand removes itself from your instrument to pinch the bridge of your nose. Despite your exasperation, you couldn't hide your amusement," Gale... that succubus has broken you. You don't need to keep... weaving poetry to me."

"Ah, but for you, my dear, no spell is required for me to express my-"

You cover his mouth with your hand and you swear you see hearts in his eyes," mhmm, let's talk about something else, okay?"

"Ahem... I maintain that my delivery was impeccable, spell or no."

-

"Didn't make me swoon, however. Maybe you should give it another try."

▢ karlach

You pause in analysing what spells you had when a shadow fell upon you, making you look up slowly to see Karlach's wry grin shining down upon you like the rays of Lathander himself.

Her infernal engine was humming a lot louder than usual, her enthusiasm palpable," look at you, soldier! All studious n' shit." She cooed as she crouched down, but she still towered over you. Her head canted to the side, hair falling wildly along with her," You're hotter than the hellfire burnin' in my chest... and that's saying something."

You burst into laughter, shaking your head with a flush rising to your cheeks. Whether it was because of Karlach's heat or her words? You couldn't tell. You didn't care either.

"That might be the most intense compliment I've ever received... did the spell possessing you come up with a list of pickup lines to read off of? Or is this all just you?"

Karlach's eyes glinted with affection and amusement as she shrugged," all me, babe." She lied before catching herself, looking up at the sky to think,"... or.... uh, the spell." She tapped her chin in thought, brows furrowed," maybe both?"

"Don't hurt yourself, love."

"Tav, you have to admit, the hellfire thing was pretty fuckin' good!"

-

"True... I'd like to hear you say it without slurring your words, this time."

▢ wyll

His confident strides never faltered despite the magic clearly affecting him, his usual charming demeanour was cracked up to tenfold as he leaned forwards to you, a soft little smile spread to his lips.

"You know... your voice could tame a dragon, and your smile could slay a Devil." He took your hand into his, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand," let me be your Knight, forever at your side."

You giggle, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder and you had to ignore the flip of your heart when he instantly leaned into your touch," Wyll, that's sweet, but I think you're laying it on a little thick here, sweetheart." The pet name made his head buzz," I'm impressed, honestly... did the spell teach you how to swoon like a bard?"

His hand moved to your one resting on his shoulder and squeezed with purpose, brows furrowed with a lovesick grin curled to his lips," no spells required, my love."

You snort," sure, and my lute plays itself."

"I... apologise for whatever nonsense spewed from my mouth. I was merely playing the part, you understand-"

-

"Hmm... nonsense, was it? And I was so looking forwards to you being my Knight. A shame, really."

▢ astarion

A finger twirled your hair as you strummed your instrument absentmindedly, trying to come up with a catchy bar tune.

Astarion was staring hazily, his usual smirk had actually fallen as his crimson eyes glinted,"... did you know your blood smells sweeter than the finest wine?"

You give him a deadpan look, pausing in your strumming to look up at him which immediately prompted for his hand to move to your chin," Astarion... did the spell make you forget how incredibly creepy that sounds?" You grimace.

He blanched at you, a hand pressing to his heart rather dramatically but his eyes were still infatuated with your every crevice and cranny," creepy?? No, no it's a compliment, I'll have you know!" Then he frowned as he thought of his words and quickly added on a," in a vampiric sort of way..."

You snort and grabbed his wrist, rubbing your thumb up and down it gently," let's revisit this topic when you're not spellbound... or thinking about my blood."

"But it's such lovely blood, darling!" He whined only to be interrupted.

"Nope. We're done here."

"Well, I regret absolutely nothing."

-

"That's because the things you said weren't anything out of the ordinary you freak."

▢ halsin

The uncharacteristic sparkle in his eye is what made you pause as he approached with his usual gentle facial expression. He opened his mouth and you were enraptured with every word-

"I was missing you... and found a lily of the valley," he held out the flower cutely, the size of it compared to him made your heart clench. What a pure man he was," they truly remind me of you... delicate, radiant and captivating."

You reached out and gently took the flower from him, cradlingnit as your cheeks flush warmly," You adorable man." You then moved your hand and tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear, but before you could pull your hand away, he pressed it to his cheek," Halsin... this is lovely but I'd prefer if you did this whilst not being under the influence of a spell. It's turned you into a poet."

He hums, half-listening to you as he closed his eyes, trying to memorise the temperature and feeling of your hand," poet? Not quite... just a humble druid who's helplessly ensared by your otherworldly beauty."

You sigh and smile, shaking your head as you pinch his cheek, grin widening at the displeased groan that he emitted," helplessly ensared, hmm? Well, let's just hope this spell wears off before you start building me a shrine."

He seemed to lift his head at attention when you said that, moving your hand to his chest and pressing it against his beating heart. The serious look in his eyes sent a flutter through your entire body, his voice a low rumble as he leaned close to your face," would you prefer one of oak or stone?"

You grimace but your face was certainly burning," Oh no, it's definitely time for you to snap out of it."

-

"Tav... forgive me if my words earlier were... overzealous. It was the spell, of course, though they were not entirely untrue."

"Not entirely untrue, huh? I'll keep that in mind the next time you're waxing poetic about flowers and shrines."

▢ minthara

Minthara, usually composed and calculating, strides up to you with an intensity that borders on unsettling. However, her voice takes on an unusual softness that left you weak in the knees.

"I believe now is the chance for me to express this... you are a weapon forged by the gods themselves - sharp, striking and impossible to resist." Her deft fingers ran up and down your arms softly, soothingly, hypnotically," Were I to claim you..." Her eyelashes lowered," none would dare challenge us."

You could only blink with that shit eating grin you always took on when you irritate her," That's flattering, Minthara. But you should save this for when you're not enchanted."

Her voice lowered," I do not make declarations lightly, Tav. You belong at my side. Drenched in the blood of our enemies."

"Whoo... at your side, huh?" You liked the images she created," what, no throne or crown to sweeten the deal?"

God, the smirk that twitched to her lips was utterly mind boggling. You wished you could sew her mouth to permanently stay that way," Oh... there would be both. Gold and blood, in your honour."

You coughed out a reluctant," I'll pass for now, thanks."

-

"Whatever foolishness I said under the spell - forget it. I would not waste words on such sentimentality."

"Of course not, Minthara. The throne and crown offer was purely strategic, I'm sure."

[gaysindistress]

Things Minthara says

Minthara eyeing you up and down, chuckling in a teasing tone, “you wish to consult me now? Did the wizard not provide you with a sufficient answer as I predicted?”

Minthara having a mocking attitude when you ask her about her thoughts on your companions but her voice wavers for a moment and becomes softer when she says, “you…you are different than I originally thought. I did not expect that you would be the one to save me from Moonrise given our first interaction.”

Minthara rolling her eyes and groaning whenever Gale so much as breaths in her or your general vicinity.

Minthara ordering lowly as you approach a hook horror, “stay low, stay quiet, and whatever you do, do not leave my side. You may be formidable on the surface but this is the underdark.”

Minthara mumbling over her maps with a furrowed brow and tight set jaw.

Minthara glancing over at you when you call her name quietly and making room for you to look at the maps with her as she hums, “Our enemies are everywhere, my love. How should we proceed?”

Minthara moaning with a her head tipped back, eyes fluttering closed, and a crooked smile as you glide your fingers over her ears.

Minthara drawling, “perhaps you do not belong as our leader. Perhaps your place should be here; on your knees before me, striped bare, and willing to accept any pleasure I give you,” as she slips her hands in your hair and gathers the strands into her fist.

Minthara grazing her nails down your bound form as you wiggle against her, growling, “Scarcely worth the effort, my love.”

Minthara cradling your head in her lap, her hands pressing on your wounds, whispering with tears in her eyes, “Have no fear, you will survive this. You will fight another day.”

Minthara pretending to not understand why you slapped her shoulder in horror, “Enlighten me, my darling; was I wrong in my assessment that Gale has the aura of a third child about him?”

Minthara gripping your wrist tightly as you try to leave her tent one night and staring at you with wide pleading eyes, murmuring, “I did not intend to imply that you’re a distraction or that my feelings for you are. You must know that you give me strength and courage to continue this fight. Without you, I do not know where I would be.”