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amandacanwrite · 9 months ago

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The Violet Thread of Fate ||

Reluctant Mentor Gale x Unskilled Wizard F!Tav

Length || About 4,000 Words

POV || Dual Narration, Third Person

Warnings || Descriptions of viscera, age gap (about ten years, both adults)

Summary || After waking up on the craggy shoreline of the sword coast, Elinna and Gale reunite with a new common ground.

A/n || I am feeling sort of on the fence about Gale's eagerness in his attraction to Elinna, but I also feel like it's still at least somewhat in character for him--after all in any playthrough you can wind up being blindsided by his feelings for you since he is usually so subtle about his affections. I also just think it's so fun to get the internal narration of Gale's attraction. He always seems so put together, polite and proper. I just love to see a man precariously balancing his carnal desires with his conscience and desire to be a good man. I hope you like it, I know things feel a little slow right now, but I'm planning on taking some creative liberties in the next couple parts. Please also lemme know what you think if you read it! I am absolutely tinkerbell and need the dopamine to live

Chapter Two: A Nightmare, An Awakening

Read Part One Here • Join Tag List Here

A Nightmare

Elinna thought she had died; thought the disintegration of her bodily form was the end of her short, unremarkable life. Much to her surprise, though when her vision once again returned to her she realized she had merely been spirited away somehow.

It took a few moments for her eyes to properly focus. When they finally did, she almost wished that the contact with the tentacle had killed her. It would have been far preferable to where she had wound up.

She found herself locked in a great chitinous pod, looking through smeared membranous glass at what she could only suppose was the nautiloid she had tried to escape from.

Yes…death would have been a far preferable fate to becoming a mindless thrall on a mindflayer ship. As she squinted through the clear panel in front of her and saw what appeared to be a brain walking on four spindly limbs, she realized that her fate could be even worse than regular enthrallment.

The minutes she spent entrapped in the pod felt like hours. A miserable limbo of wondering what would be coming next for her. What if she was already marked for turning into an intellect devourer? What if the enthrallment had already been put in place and she could simply be ordered to do something whenever a mindflayer so wished it?

She couldn’t just stay here. She had to move.

She tried, in vain, to wrench her arms free of the fleshy brindings within the pod. The sinuous tendrils only tightened more and more, leaving her fingertips throbbing and tingling from the blood flow being cut off. She tried to move her feet next and her boots sloshed in some sort of viscera at the base of the pod. She did her best not to vomit as the viscera eked some ichorous fluid into the fibers of her clothing and through the porous leather of her soft-soled shoes.

The last thing she needed in addition to all of this was to be covered in the contents of her own stomach–empty as it was.

The shock of panic cinched tight around her ribcage, making it hard to breathe. And as she struggled to get her lungs to fill, she also struggled to think.

“Calm down, Elinna,” she told herself. “Think about what you’ve read. Think about what you know.”

What did she know about Illithids? They were hivemind organisms. They required high-moisture, high-humidity environments to protect the mucosal membranes of their skin. They primarily fed on the brains of their prey and used psionic energy not only to fight but to control their biomechanical machinery.

She craned her head forward to look for some sort of control panel–something that could get her out of this cocoon of horror.

As she did, a valve-like door opened on the far side of the room, revealing a dizzying network of corridors. And…and one of them. A mind flayer.

Elinna went dizzy as her heart thumped in her temples. She watched in horror and sickly anticipation as it levitated toward something in the center of the room; a cistern of sorts from what she could see. It waved a four-fingered hand and the vessel opened, revealing a golden, glowing brine pool that may have been beautiful if Elinna didn’t know precisely what it was.

The mindflayer coaxed one of those disgusting tadpoles out of the amber liquid and levitated over to Elinna’s pod. She recoiled away from it as the pod opened, turning her face away from the creature and squeezing her eyes shut. She knew exactly how mindflayers reproduced, and she was not interested in getting a first hand experience with ceremorphosis.

She didn’t have much of a choice, though. Even without the parasite, the illithid was able to compel her to stillness.

It was an atrocious violation of her agency; surreal and nightmarish in the worst ways. Her mind was fully intact as the creature made her muscles release the tension they held and coerced her eyes to open. Her body was still and calm, but her heart was racing like a trapped rabbit’s. She watched uselessly as the tiny creature floated closer to her. She cried to cry out as it latched onto the orb of her eye and started to wriggle and squirm until it could find purchase beneath her eyelid.

She was silent. Infuriatingly, horribly silent as the creature continued to burrow its way into her skull.

Her pulse hammered in her ears as she screamed inside her own body, begging herself to fight, to tear her own eye out rather than let the process of ceremorphosis take place.

But her body was still as the tiny parasite worked its way into her eye socket and back into her brain.

Elinna lost consciousness as she felt the unsettling pressure of her brain matter being displaced to accommodate her unwelcome guest.

When she awoke next, she didn’t immediately know where she was. She only knew that it was loud and it was cold. The sound of air ripping past her pointed ears is what brought her back into full consciousness, and though her eyes were open, she wasn’t actually seeing at first.

There was a vast expanse of stars above her, the smell of salty air, the lingering cling of something far more acrid–like the smell of burnt sulfur woven into her clothes.

She tried to parse what was going on, it felt like she was sinking into the ocean–but if that were the case, shouldn’t she not be able to breathe?

Then she saw the burning wreckage of the Nautiloid and everything came back to her.

The travel to Waterdeep, the encounter with Mr. Dekarios, the parasite and…

And she was falling through the sky!

“Not again!” she cried as she stared at the ground rising to meet her with startling velocity. “No, no, no! I will not–This is not how I die!”

It didn’t go very well the last time, but it wasn’t as if she had any other ideas of what to do. She scoped out the approaching shoreline, selecting one spot and earmarking it. After choosing a point on a craggy cliffside, she shut her eyes and tried to gulp in a breath before it was whipped out of her mouth.

“Inveniam Viam!” she shouted.

That strange, surreal feeling of not moving, yet being in a different place came again, only this time it was followed very quickly by the feeling smashing into the ground beneath her, square onto her back. It wasn’t a far drop, perhaps only a few feet, but it was enough to hurt her. She blinked up at the sky above her, the glow of the stars somewhat dampened by the flaming wreckage of the nautiloid as it loudly crashed into the earth just a few moments after her.

She ached as she stood and looked out over the cliffside she’d misty stepped to, seeing the vast expanse of an unfamiliar coast crawling with intellect devourers and the blazing with fires choking out great plumes of black smoke. She dropped to her knees, feeling utterly defeated.

She had no idea where she was. She had no money. No food. Not even a change of clothes with her. She didn’t even know where she was–and she knew she was more than a little directionally challenged.

Her keepers at The Scribes Nest had told her not to leave; had warned her that there were dangers in the world. That she couldn’t hope to survive on the knowledge she’d amassed from books alone. That the lives of wizards often ended in folly.

She knew this, of course. She’d read extensively about every wizard she could find and more than half of them were done in by their own curiosity.

But the ones who hadn’t been rendered themselves undone…they were amazing. Elminster and Blackstaff. Lorroikan and Sammaster. Karsus and Dekarios.

Wait….

Gale Dekarios–he’d been touched by the tentacles, too!

And if she hadn’t died, then that meant he probably hadn’t either. If she could find him, if she could just appeal to him for one favor…maybe he could help her get back to Waterdeep. Maybe she would have an opportunity to prove to him that she could be a good apprentice; that she was worth the trouble of taking on as a student. Maybe he would know how to get rid of the tadpole squirming in her brain.

But none of that would happen if she just sat there on her knees and despaired.

She would need to get back up and put one bloody boot in front of the other.

She would have to be brave and she would have to trust that Mystra would guide her to what came next.

An Awakening

Hells…it just had to be a pocket dimension that saved him, didn’t it?

They were tricky little things–a slice of wild magic that functioned like an oubliette; a place to put things to be forgotten, or to be summoned at a different point in time. He’d used a few in his time, but never for more than storage during travel or to hide the occasional failed potion. He’d thought once that he might use one when it was clear that the orb would no longer be sated by the magic artifacts he consumed; discussed the idea with Tara before she requested not to speak of it until necessary.

“I don’t like think of that eventuality, Mr. Dekarios,” Tara had said to him. “I know I tend to be pragmatic…but it makes me far too sad.”

“Focus,” he scolded himself as he looked around the darkened pocket. He needed to find an opening–or at least find a way to make one, failing that.

It was a mistake that he’d even ended up in one in the first place. A mistake that stemmed from the first mistake when he’d tried to help that girl.

If he’d had any sense, he would have let her run and gone straight to help his mother and make sure Tara would be okay. He could only hope that they were still safely nestled at his childhood home in Waterdeep. At least he’d not seen either of them during his wanderings about the ship.

But then the spelljammer had lurched and started falling out of the sky, and he’d grabbed onto the strongest strand of weave he could find and followed it here. The unfortunate side of that, of course, was that the strength of that thread is precisely what made this particular pocket realm exceedingly hard to get out of. And the parasite so rudely deposited into his brain was not doing wonders for his ability to concentrate.

He held his hands up and closed his eyes, attempting to feel out the strands of weave in this darkened place. Wherever he’d been transported to, it felt very far away from Mystra indeed. Like whatever reality he’d blipped into was one almost entirely devoid of magic at all.

He focused a bit harder, the tadpole in his head wriggling with the effort. He continued to focus, trying not to think too hard about the unnerving sensation. Finally, with some challenge, he managed to pool some magic together. It felt similar to trying to collect enough morning dew on a leaf to drink.

There came a crackle, then a tear. Not nearly large enough to fit himself entirely through, but enough that he could get an arm out.

Perhaps with at least one hand in Faerun, he could channel whatever remaining weave he needed to fully escape this dark corner of nothing.

A sheen of perspiration shone on his brow as he felt around outside of the oubliette. He could feel the familiar moisture of coastal air and it sent a wave of relief through him. He wasn’t far from Waterdeep at all, then. Or at least he’d hoped as much.

Perhaps he could just appear on the main road and hurry straight to his mother to make sure that she and Tara were alright.

He was trying to grasp onto the weave when he suddenly felt the soft, almost tentative brush of fingertips on the palm of his hand.

A person! Perfect! There was no better way to anchor a teleportation spell than to another living soul. It would be a little complex to explain that, though, and he was sure a mysterious arm poking out of wherever he could reach was more than a little unnerving so he settled for simplicity instead.

“Hello?!” He called through the tear in the fabric of space and time. “Is anyone there? A hand? Please?”

He felt the hand withdraw for a moment, then it returned with what he assumed was the person’s other hand. One closed tightly around his fingers, the other grasped a bit higher, accompanied by the sensation of fingertips curling into the fabric of his sleeve. Small, gentle hands. Not small enough to be a child–but perhaps a woman.

He closed his eyes once more and took a deep breath, allowing himself to feel the energy of the stranger on the other side of the opening. He tapped into it, smelling the faint, sweetly lactic scent of peaches; tasting on the tip of his tongue the light flavor of…honeyscotch candy. If Mystra’s energy was violet in color…this energy was the color of the sky during sunrise…a gradient of lilac, rose and cerulean.

Pretty… he thought to himself before slamming the heel of his hand to his brow.

Focus you touch-starved buffoon.

“Whatever you’re doing is working wonders!” he said encouragingly. “I think if you just give me a good pull, I should come right out!”

The stranger pulled and he joined that effort by pushing himself through from the other side with what remained of that pooled bit of magic he’d gathered together.

Finally, he flew out of the pocket realm like a cork from a bottle, regrettably landing right on top of the poor woman who had helped him.

He was quick to shift his weight so he didn’t put the entirety of his considerable heft on the poor thing. Yet, his creaky knees slowed him down when it came to properly getting up. Then again…he couldn’t deny a certain reluctance to rise. He hated to admit it, and if anyone ever asked him he would deny it to the grave…but it was pleasant to feel the soft curves of a woman against him. A year was such a long time to be without it, and to feel warmth beneath him again…

It was a lascivious thought not becoming of a gentleman, he remembered, but one that occurred almost automatically much to his chagrin.

“Hells,” he said. “Forgive me miss. I’m usually much better at this–and usually not so long sedentary that my limbs can’t keep up with my manners. Allow me to–”

He lifted himself up onto his elbows and finally laid eyes on his savior.

It was the girl from before. What was the name? Elinna Inklynn.

She stared up at him with wide eyes and a face flushed with exertion. How hard had she needed to work to pull him out of that portal? Seeing her so close now, he picked up on some of the qualities he’d missed in the dim light of the Waterdhavian evening.

A constellation of mauve-tinged freckles dusted across her flushed nose and cheeks. In the daylight, her skin was almost pale pink. The soft swell of her lips sat slightly parted with a look of surprise. And her eyes…my those eyes were something to behold. Verdant as a sprig of mint and flecked with gold as if she had a vein of ore curling through the irises of her eyes.

“A-allow me to help you up,” he finally stammered. “You’re not hurt are you?”

“Not by you,” she said somewhat breathlessly.

He grunted slightly as he got back onto his feet, now allowing himself to think of the way her soft curves shifted beneath him. He reached a hand down and helped her back up to her feet as well, dusting off her theadbare apron and her slightly puffed sleeves. She was still flushed–perhaps dehydration or fever…or…

“You haven’t happened to have been on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region, have you?” he asked.

The flush could be a sign of the beginning stages of ceremorphosis.

“I couldn’t have phrased it more repellently myself,” Elinna replied.

“No use sugarcoating it, is there?” he asked with a smirk. “I don’t suppose you know what these little passengers will cause if left to their own devices?”

“Ceremorphosis,” she answered without missing a beat. “At least–if we don’t get it handled in a few days…”

Well, color him surprised.

It wasn’t very often that ceremorphosis was talked about among the common man–it was even hard to find books detailing the finer details of the process. The girl may have been a poor magician, but she was clearly learned.

“Suffice to say, it is a process that should be avoided,” he said.

“Agreed,” she said.

It occurred to him that she was behaving…a bit stiff; almost aloof. The young woman he’d encountered in front of his tower had a bit more fire to her than this one did. Then again, they’d just gone through quite the harrowing experience. Both of them were covered in mysterious viscera, they’d been taken hostage on a mindflayer ship and well–the poor girl did just have a strange older man on top of her.

The girl bit down on her lower lip and he found his eyes unconscionably glued to her mouth. She released her lower lip and he watched as the pale pink color returned to it, wondering idly what it would feel like to–

“Are we just—are we just going to pretend that I didn’t beg you to take me on as an apprentice and that you quite sumerilly told me to bugger off?” she asked. “Are we just going to be compatriots now?”

He blinked down at her, his mind catching up with her words.

Good gods, he really was behaving like a lech. He didn’t know where this was coming from. Perhaps it was an undocumented symptom of ceremorphosis–this…uncommon desire he was feeling.

Or maybe he was just, well, desperate.

“Well, I take umbrage with that analysis. I don’t believe I told you to bugger off…At least not verbatim. I do try to not be a miserable ass,” Gale said a bit sheepishly. “But I hasten to point out that we do have a shared problem now–some common ground we didn’t have before. It seems wasteful to part ways at a juncture such as this, don’t you think?”

He looked around in the early morning daylight and frowned realizing that he didn’t recognize anything. “I certainly don’t know the area after all, and judging by the history you disclosed with me, you likely don’t either.”

“Well…no, I don’t. Aside from Waterdeep I’ve not been anywhere other than the Moonshae Islands.” she said.

“And you seem to not have a very strong sense of location judging by our time in the alleyways,” he pointed out.

“That’s true…so then… does that mean you’ll do it?” she asked. “You’ll take me on as your student?”

He grimmaced.

“No,” he said with not a moment’s hesitation. “Not a student–an ally. An equal. It’s best that we tackle this issue together, don’t you think? It makes no sense to travel separately when our searching will likely lead us to the same places. And besides that…”

Besides that, if he started to change into a mindflayer, he wanted to be sure he had someone nearby who could…put him out of his misery and get his body somewhere safe before it leveled a city.

“But I could be more helpful if you teach me,” she pleaded. “I’d just be a liability without your help.”

“I have seen your magic,” Gale said with a bit of a teasing gaze. “And I don’t know if there is much I can do for someone who casts Misty Step with their eyes closed. It seems you’d be more of a liability with the magic than without.”

She blinked up at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Oh, please,” he said. “You must know that it’s a spell that requires a clear line of sight.”

She shrank a bit. “I…didn’t know. No,” she said.

“How could you not know such a thing? You must have read a scroll to learn the incantation,” he said.

“I mean this with the utmost respect, but when is the last time you’ve read a scroll, Mr. Dekarios?”

He inhaled, lifting an index finger. Then he closed his mouth and looked off to the side.

When was the last time? It must have been ages.

“Well,” she said without waiting for his answer. “Most spell scrolls assume a certain basis of classical training, or at minimum an innate understanding of how to channel the weave.”

“I see,” he said. “I’m to assume you’re not a sorceress then?”

“Not to my knowledge,” she said with a sigh.

He clenched his jaw as he looked down at the younger woman. Gods, she really did need a teacher. Maybe he could at least talk to her about theory–or give her a few simple exercises for manipulating the–

No. No.

He had more than enough on his plate without adding a poorly self-taught mage to it.

“Elinna,” he said. “Tell you what. I have a deal to offer–a concession if your like. If we make it through this and…make it out of wherever we are and back to Waterdeep, I promise I will introduce you to some colleagues that will help you get your start as a novice wizard. How does that sound? Fair?”

To his great surprise, she still looked disappointed by that answer. The girl really was an ambitious thing–coming right to his tower to seek his tutelage and no one else's? The poor girl had no idea what she was trying to sign herself up for; a depressed, anti-social, explosive wizard. A depressed, anti-social, explosive and impatient wizard. As far as teachers went, he was not the best candidate for the job.

“Alright,” she finally said. “Let’s see if we can go find a healer together…or maybe some other survivors…of a bath.”

“Oh, to find a bath,” Gale agreed. “Ah, but–before you think you’re journeying with most ill mannered a man–”

Gale gave the young woman a slight bow. “Thank you for pulling me out of that stone.”

When he stood up to his full height again, the young woman was smiling at him, her pretty viridian eyes crinkling at the edges. She tucked a pale copper strand of hair behind one of her delicately pointed ears and looked a bit sheepishly down the craggy shore.

“Ah–it’s almost a dead end over here–I think there might be more ground to cover if we cross through the wreckage…but I didn’t want to do that on my own,” she said.

“A wise choice, I think,” Gale said. “No telling what you would have run into. Not to imply that you can’t hold your own, of course–”

“No, you’re right,” she said, looking away from him a little timidly. “I’ll feel better with you there–it’s nice to have a friend.”

He huffed a soft breath and found himself smiling at how willing she was to call him her friend. Even after all the ways he had been a bit of an oaf to her, he felt in her he had found a bit of a kindred spirit. Someone else who sought camaraderie in perhaps…unworthy places.

She looked up at him and bit the swell of her lower lip again. “Shall we go then?” she asked him.

He gestured to the road ahead. “After you,” he said with a magnanimous smile. “Consider me your ever faithful guard dog, ready at the first sign of trouble.”

She snorted a little laugh and shook her head.

And as he followed after her, for the first time in the last year, he hoped the pang in his chest was because of the orb.

Taglist || @auroraesmeraldarose @thoughts-of-bear @cherifrog @puckprimrose @drabblesandimagines

#writing #authors #writeblr #my writing #bg3 #romantasy #writers on tumblr #writing community #bg3 fanfic #gale fanfic #gale headcannons #gale x tav #student x teacher #professor! gale #Gale dekarios #dekarios clan #violet thread of fate

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seasaltandcastles · 29 days ago

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Cherrytober; Oral Fixation & Feet

Lessons in Devotion

⤅Summary: A throaty laugh slipped from Seraphil’s lips as Gale lifted her bare foot to his shoulder, his thumbs massaging her heel in firm circles. His gaze traveled up her leg, lingering along the way to savor every bit of her. "I do," she whispered, her voice hitching as his lips brushed against her ankle, his tongue making lazy, deliberate swirls around her bracelet. The sensation made her skin tingle, anticipation pooling in her stomach. "But...how could the professor prove his loyalty? What could he possibly do to show the student he would never stray?" Her hips wriggled of their own accord, her breath catching as the cool wood of the desk pressed against her bare thighs. She lifted her skirt to her waist, revealing her panties to Gale's wandering eyes, a soft moan escaping her as his lips drifted to the top of her foot, sending waves of warmth rippling through her body.

⤅Pairing: Gale Dekarios x Named F!Tav (read about Seraphil here)

⤅Content: Oral fixation, feet worship, cunninglingus, worship kink, praise kink, panty kink, soft dom Gale, orgasm control, sex at work, female POV, a student has the hots for Gale and so he proceeds to let her know he is completely devoted to his wife

⤅Word Count: 5.7k

Seraphil quickly learned that Gale always needed something in his mouth— his quill, a toothpick, his fingernails, a blade of grass, even the inside of his cheek. His lips were never still. Every time she glanced over, she found his teeth grazing over something, his mouth shifting in an almost constant motion.

In the beginning, it drove her absolutely mad. Every time she saw him biting down on that cursed toothpick or the edge of his quill, it gnawed at her— why ruin perfectly fine teeth like that? She tried to write it off as an annoyance, but deep down, it was much more than that. It wasn’t just the habit; it was that his mouth, his lips, were occupied with something other than her. That realization had simmered beneath her surface, the frustration growing day by day. But when she found out about the orb– how it prevented him from feeling or even thinking of intimacy– everything clicked. Of course he needed some form of release. She understood all too well. If she couldn’t even find comfort in her own body, she’d have fallen into a far worse habit.

Once Gale gained control of the orb, she noticed his oral fixation ease. His lips found better purposes now- kissing her, nipping along her neck, sucking on her breasts or clit. It was a far better use of his mouth, and much healthier for that smile she loved so much. Of course, he still has his moments. Sometimes, she'd catch him brushing the feather of his quill over his lips, lost in thought as he wrote, but she never let him get too far. Her fingers would replace the feather, or her lips would find his, and whatever he'd been working on would vanish from his mind as he turned to her instead. She chalked it all up to nerves. The tendays before their final battle with the Absolute had frayed them all. Surely, once the danger passed and he could finally breathe, the habit would disappear entirely. Or at least that's what she told herself.

His habit didn’t stop. In fact, she soon discovered it was something he’d had his whole life, as his lovely mother kindly pointed out while showing her his childhood toys– many gnawed to various degrees. Morena had even invested in toys specifically made for children with such fixations. Thankfully, she also instilled in Gale an impeccable sense of oral hygiene and the manners of a gentleman, so his habit only surfaced when he was lost in thought, and mostly in private.

Or so she thought. At the end of Gale’s first semester as a professor at Blackstaff, he invited her to watch the graduating class present their dissertation work. She was more than happy to accept, eager to see the students’ take on nature magic– perhaps she’d even learn something new. Gale sat up front with the other professors, his sharp eyes focused on the stage, while Sera tucked herself into a seat near the back. She didn’t want to add to the students' nerves or steal a spot where a supportive face might make a difference. And then, in the middle of it all, she saw it.

Gale was deeply engrossed in his notes, no doubt critiquing the presentations with his usual sharp attention. His quill, now wedged between his teeth, bobbed slightly as he leaned back in his chair. His rolled-up sleeves revealed his toned forearms, and his long fingers drummed absentmindedly on the table as his eyes stayed fixed on the presenter. To Seraphil, he looked like an absolute dream, his presence so enthralling even in his relative stillness. And as her gaze swept across the hall, she realized with a quiet spark of possessiveness– she wasn’t the only one who noticed.

A young woman, one of Gale’s students from his Mastery of Illusions class, sat directly in front of her husband. Though Seraphil couldn’t see her face, the girl’s posture told her everything she needed to know. Her legs were neatly tucked beneath her chair, her back arched forward, and her chin rested dreamily in her hands, all of her attention fixed on Gale, not the presentation. She was the same student who attended Gale’s open office without fail, despite her flawless grades, always leaving behind an apple or freshly baked biscuits. And now there she was, watching with rapt attention, as Gale absentmindedly ran his tongue along the quill feathers in his mouth.

Sera’s stifled laugh slipped out as a soft huff, which she quickly masked by clearing her throat. Jealousy was foolish– if she wasted time fretting over every glance sent her husband's way, she’d drive herself insane. So, she focused on the presentations, though her eyes inevitably drifted back to him. Gale, ever the professional, stayed fully absorbed in his notes or the speaker, entirely unaware of the admiring eyes fixed on him. That is, until the presentations wrapped up for the day. As soon as he stood, his familiar grin found Sera across the room— and then the girl moved in. With a notebook in hand, she sidled up to him, so close that their arms pressed together. Gale stepped away quickly, but the damage was done. Seraphil’s irritation had already flared. Looking was innocent enough, but touching? That was absolutely unacceptable.

Sera’s fingers tapped against her thigh as she wove her way through the crowd, her eyes fixed on Gale. He stood rigid, arms crossed defensively over his chest, while the student leaned in, talking with enthusiasm and pointing to her notes. His posture screamed discomfort, but he nodded along, trying to keep his distance. The moment Sera was close enough, his hand shot out to hers, his smile strained. “Ahh, look who it is,” he nervously laughed, pulling her tightly against him. “Adelaide, you remember my lovely wife, Seraphil. Are you ready to go, my sweet?” His too wide grin didn’t match the urgency in his eyes, and his muscles were tense under her hands.

“But Professor,” Adelaide whined, her voice sharp enough to make Sera’s ear twitch. “Could you please review my peer feedback? I want to ensure it's helpful criticism for Ms. Eikelenboom’s dissertation.” With an insistent shove, she forced her notebook back into Gale’s space, making him step away again, clearly trying to avoid any contact.

Sera felt her irritation transform into a simmering rage. How dare this girl make him so uncomfortable? Gale’s hands were tied by the expectations of human propriety, leaving him unable to push back without seeming rude. She however was not bound by such constraints.

Sera’s lips curled into a condescending smirk as she casually snatched the notebook from Adelaide’s grasp. She shot the girl a sharp look, holding her gaze for just a moment before turning her attention to the pages. Slowly, she flipped through the text, pretending to scrutinize each word. “It was Anna, right?” she asked, her tone sweetly ignorant but laced with a clear intent to unsettle. Sera could see the subtle shift in Adelaide’s posture, her confidence wavering under the weight of Sera’s gaze.

“Um… it’s Adelaide, Mrs. Dekarios,” she corrected softly as she nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Sera’s smile widened. She tucked the girl’s notebook under one arm with a slow, deliberate motion, then hooked her free arm through Gale’s elbow. “Tell you what, Adelaide,” she said, her voice full of casual confidence. “My husband and I have half a candle to kill before our dinner reservation. We can review your writing while we attend to some…personal matters in his office. Swing by and grab it before we leave, alright?”

Seraphil didn’t give Adelaide a chance to reply. She intertwined her fingers with Gale’s, pulling his hand securely against her hip as they turned away, ensuring the girl saw every bit of their closeness as they walked to the door. Once they were in the hallway, Sera’s fingers slid into the hair at the nape of Gale’s neck, gently scratching his scalp as she leaned into his shoulder. “Don’t worry, my love,” she murmured into his ear, feeling a rush of triumph as his lips curled into a soft, genuine smile. “I’ll make sure she never bothers you again.”

Once they reached his office, Gale took the notebook from Seraphil’s hands, easing into his chair with his usual quiet focus. His eyes quickly scanned the page, every line dissected with his meticulous attention to detail. Sera, meanwhile, made a deliberate show of closing the door, letting the lock click into place with a soft but audible snap. Gale’s gaze flashed up to her, his brow lifting slightly as his lips curved in a subtle smile. Her own mischievous grin widened in return. “And what are you up to, my love?” he asked, his tone light but teasing. “If I’ve only got half a candle to read this, I’ll need to focus.”

Seraphil glided to the front of his desk, her hips swaying as she draped her shawl over the empty chair with a captivating grace. “Oh, I’m well aware,” she purred, her light tone hinted with the slightest bit of seduction. Her steps were slow and purposeful as she circled to his side of the desk, slipping off her shoes delicately. “I’ve noticed you tend to focus better…when you’ve got something in your mouth.” She slid to sit on the cool, polished oak, her foot resting lightly on his thigh as she crossed her legs, the shift in her posture drawing his eyes to the curve of her back and breasts. Leaning back, she let the silence linger, her gaze steady on him, watching his chest heave as he took her in.

His cheeks flushed red as he cleared his throat, his hands finding her calf and rubbing her muscles with soothing circles. She had never revealed that she noticed this quirk of his, and it was clear he believed it went unobserved. “Oh…that,” he murmured, his teeth grazing his lower lip as his gaze flickered away, embarrassment etching his features. “I don’t even realize it when I’m focused. It just… happens. Then I finish with my work, and my quill is soaked, or my nail is chewed. I try to catch myself, but it’s impossible. I really can’t help it.” He glanced back at her, his eyes wide with vulnerability.

“Oh, love,” Sera whispered, her voice comforting as she leaned closer to trace the line of his jaw with her fingers, her eyes sparkling with affection. “There’s no need for embarrassment. I find this little habit of yours…utterly enthralling.” She caressed his mouth with her fingertip, playfully tugging at the edge of his lip with her thumb. “I’m not the only one who's noticed though. Imagine, if you will– you're an academic perfectionist in your final year of school. Your old, creaky professor is suddenly replaced by a man who not only is the most beautiful man you've ever seen, but shares your propensity and love for magical studies. And each time your class gathers to present, which is frequently, he reclines in his chair, rolls up his sleeves to reveal those brawny forearms, and dances his skilled tongue over the feathers of his quill. Would you not be enchanted by him as well?”

Gale's gaze flicked back to Adelaide's notebook before he closed it decisively and pushed it aside. He nudged Sera's hips gently, urging her to sit right in front of him. With a smile, she obliged, placing both her feet on his thighs, relishing the warmth of his strong muscles beneath her touch as she rubbed them with the pads of her feet. "I suppose you're right," he said, his voice dropping into that husky tone that sent electric tingles coursing through her. "But if I knew this professor was completely devoted to his stunningly beautiful wife, I would have no choice but to back off. Wouldn't you agree?" His long fingers trailed up her legs, stopping at the tops of her stockings. His gaze locked onto hers as he began to roll them down, his touch sending shivers across her skin as he revealed it.

A throaty laugh slipped from Seraphil’s lips as Gale lifted her bare foot to his shoulder, his thumbs massaging her heel in firm circles. His gaze traveled up her leg, lingering along the way to savor every bit of her. "I do," she whispered, her voice hitching as his lips brushed against her ankle, his tongue making lazy, deliberate swirls around her bracelet. The sensation made her skin tingle, anticipation pooling in her stomach. "But...how could the professor prove his loyalty? What could he possibly do to show the student he would never stray?" Her hips wriggled of their own accord, her breath catching as the cool wood of the desk pressed against her bare thighs. She lifted her skirt to her waist, revealing her panties to Gale's wandering eyes, a soft moan escaping her as his lips drifted to the top of her foot, sending waves of warmth rippling through her body.

Gale's huff of laughter filled the room as he leaned forward, forcing Seraphil to bend her knee while he tapped his leg where her other foot rested. "Well..." he hummed in a thoughtful tone, his grip on her ankle firm yet tender. Slowly, he let his tongue flicker between her toes, mischief glinting in his eyes. Sera’s giggle caught in her throat, melding into a soft gasp as the sensation rippled up her leg, teasing her core. Goosebumps blossomed across all of her skin now, her pulse quickening under his touch. Noticing her reaction, Gale's smile grew wicked, his brows knitting together with his signature enticement. "I do believe," he mused, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “If I were that student, and I thought my professor had been reviewing my work, but instead, I heard him making his wife cry out in ecstasy…I’d have no choice but to concede. Only a truly devout husband would forsake all proprietary to pleasure his wife so thoroughly, especially in his own office.”

With that, Gale's lips closed around her toe, his tongue swirling slowly across her sensitive skin. A breathy laugh spilled from Sera's lips, her chest trembling between soft giggles and sharp inhales, every nerve alight from his tickling. His hand slid up her leg, his touch firm and familiar, massaging her muscles until he reached her inner thigh. The pleased rumble in his throat when his fingers brushed against the damp fabric of her panties sent a thrill up her leg. "That's my good girl," he whispered against her foot, the sound of his praise sinking into her bones, making her pussy clench and her breath quicken.

Gale's mouth moved with reverence, kissing and licking her toes as his deep moans resonated against her skin, each one sending delicious shivers up her spine. Seraphil's heart swelled at the sight of him, the way he worshiped her with unending devotion, his pleasure intertwined with hers. A wave of desire coursed through her as she sought to return the sensations, to make him feel the way he made her feel. Slowly, she dragged her foot up his thigh, teasing him with the lightest of touches until she reached the firm bulge beneath his trousers. She pressed into it, feeling his cock harden against her. His groan reverberated along her inner thigh, flaming the pooling heat in her stomach.

Gale's fingers curled possessively around her knees, draping her legs over his shoulders as his chair scraped closer. With his face now nestled firmly between her thighs, he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her ass, pulling her into him with a primal growl. "Look at those pretty panties," he rasped, his voice rough against her skin. "Did you wear them just for me, goddess?" He pressed his nose into the delicate green lace, inhaling her deeply as though her scent were the very air he needed to breathe. The sensation of his hot breath against her cunt sent a sharp tremor through her body, a whimper gliding past her lips.

"Y-yes," she managed to gasp, her voice tight with anticipation as she let her knees part, offering herself fully. "I'm glad you like them, professor." Gale's low chuckle vibrated along her thighs before his tongue swept across her lace-covered cunt. The roughness of the fabric, combined with the hot, wet drag of his tongue, sent waves of pleasure rippling through her, making her body twitch in response. He lingered there, teasing her with agonizing strokes of his tongue and the press of his nose, her panties growing wetter with each pass. Her fingers dove into his hair, gripping tightly as her hips pushed toward him, silently begging for more as an aching need bloomed deep within her.

"Oh no," Gale tutted softly, drawing back just enough to sink his teeth lightly into the soft flesh of her inner thigh. "I need my goddess to use her words, to tell me how to worship her. I want to be sure I give her exactly what she needs." His brown eyes gleamed with mischief as they locked onto hers, the subtle dominance behind them making her pulse race. A surge of excitement shot through her belly. She loved this– how he held so much power over her, but still wanted to hear her consent. Their dynamic was everything she had ever dreamed of; she could surrender control to him completely, knowing she would be well cared for and satisfied. But the thrill of voicing her desires sparked a new heat inside her, one that made her want to beg for more.

"Please, my most devout," Sera breathed out, her voice trembling as her fingers softly brushed his hair back behind his ear. "Take my panties off. My pussy needs your mouth."

Gale's lips curved into a smile as he responded with a trail of tender kisses, revisiting the spot where he'd bitten into her thigh moments earlier. His lips made a deliberately slow path back to her center. "And my mouth needs her," he murmured, his thumb teasing her covered slit before pressing in, just enough to make her body tremble in anticipation. With a firm grip, he then spread her thighs wider, holding her tightly against the desk. "But I wouldn't want to waste these beautiful panties you wore just for me. Be a dear and pull them to the side.”

Seraphil's fingers danced over the seams of her inner thighs, her touch feather-light as she drew out the moment, Gale's gaze locked on her every move. Slowly, she tugged the delicate fabric of her panties aside, revealing her swollen folds. The way her flesh dimpled as the lace bit into her skin sent a thrill through her, made all the more electrifying by the way his eyes darkened with hunger. "Mmm, there's my pretty girl," Gale murmured, his voice rough and lustful, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “Will my goddess please spread her lips for me? I want to see her dripping while I worship her.”

Sera gasped as the cool air in Gale's office kissed her exposed cunt, a shiver running up her spine as her fingers parted her swollen lips. A thick bead of her slick dripped out of her opening, tracing a slow line down her perineum. Gale growled low in his throat, his tongue darting out with a hunger that made her whimper. She watched, utterly captivated, as he lapped up her juices, his gaze burning into her. "Goddess," he groaned, his voice thick with reverence as he pulled back just enough to admire her. "You taste like ambrosia, my lady. Such an exquisite pussy. I am truly blessed.”

Normally, Gale would take his time, lavishing her cunt with slow kisses and soft licks, building her up before finding her clit. But tonight, he had a different plan. His tongue went straight to her aching clit, flicking the swollen bud with unrelenting precision. His eyes never left hers, a silent demand that she keep looking. Seraphil wanted to shut her eyes, to surrender fully to the pleasure, but the heat in his gaze made her hold them open, moaning as her body trembled beneath him. The speed of his tongue was ruthless, sending shockwaves through her, her cunt clenching with each stroke. Her fingers slipped against her slick lips as she held herself apart for him, consumed by the sight of him worshiping her so perfectly. It was a view she never wanted to forget.

"Mm, Gale," she whimpered, her hips rising on their own, seeking more of his tongue. "You look so good when you eat my pussy." His satisfied hum vibrated through her clit, the sensation branching through her veins like a rushing river. Then, suddenly, his lips wrapped around her swollen pearl, sucking it with a force that sent her hips shooting off the desk, a deep, uncontrollable groan tearing from her throat. "F-fuck, yes, just like that," she gasped, her voice shaking. "You make me feel so good." She knew how much he craved her praise, how deeply it pleased him, and he deserved every word. He was such a giving, attentive lover. Her heart pounded in sync with the pleasure coursing through her, her gratitude for his love mixing beautifully with her ecstasy.

All of Sera's muscles locked tight, her entire body straining as Gale's merciless lips drew her pleasure higher and higher. His grip on her thighs eased, giving her the freedom to rock her hips against his mouth, chasing that intoxicating rhythm. Despite the heat searing through her veins, she shivered under his touch, her body trembling as her release crept closer and closer. "G-Gale," she gasped with a shaky breath, her lungs struggling to keep up with the waves of sensation. "I- I'm going to come."

Gale tore himself away just long enough to growl, "No. Wait." His gravelly tone snapped with authority, and before she could catch her breath, he dove back between her thighs, leaving her no reprieve from the white-hot pleasure radiating through her core. Sera whimpered, her body begging for release, every nerve alight and trembling with the need to let go. But his command was absolute, and even though it was agony to hold back, she would try her damnedest to. There was something utterly mesmerizing in giving him full control, in fighting the surge of sensations until he allowed her to surrender. And when he did, she knew her release would be explosive, shattering her world, her vision flashing white while her body shook uncontrollably.

Sera's breath shuddered as she fought to maintain control, her entire body straining in response to the volcanic pressure building deep in her pelvis. Her focus narrowed, eyes glued to Gale as he lavished her throbbing clit, his tongue a devastating force against her restraint. Her fingers trembled violently, struggling to hold her lips apart and keep her panties out of the way as her body quaked with the need to release. With her chest tight, her breath released as ragged gasps, whimpers slipping out along with them, all against her will. When Gale's approving gaze met hers, the subtle flicker of pride in his eyes sent a surge of warmth through her, enough to fuel her endurance just a little longer. She knew he saw her great effort, and his silent praise was just the thing she needed to keep the inferno from consuming her whole.

The sharp, insistent knock at the door jolted Seraphil so much that she nearly slipped off the desk, but Gale's strong hands were already clamped around her thighs, keeping her in place. The interruption shattered the blissful haze she'd been lost in, his mouth melting away all thoughts of the world outside until now. "Professor?" Adelaide's voice followed quickly, cutting through the air like a knife when she wasn't answered immediately. A raging, stinging possessiveness flared inside Sera, her body tensing under Gale's hold. How dare Adelaide summon him with such a demanding tone? Her husband was not at that girl's beck and call. That right belonged to Sera, and Sera alone– she was his gods-damned wife, not her.

Gale's low groan against her cunt snapped Seraphil back to the moment, a flood of pleasure crashing over her like a dam breaking. She blinked rapidly, her mind recalling his plan– he wanted her to scream for him, loud enough for his enamored student to hear, and now she understood why he demanded control over her orgasm. His eyes locked with hers as he gave a subtle nod, his lips never leaving her clit, granting her permission to let go. With a relaxed exhale, Seraphil erased all thoughts of Adelaide, refocusing entirely on the bliss that coursed through her. Gale's lips suctioned around her clit, drawing her back into ecstasy, each pull of his mouth sending fire rippling through her body. It was impossible to think of anything else– there was only him, only this.

Another impatient knock rattled the door, but Seraphil barely heard it over the roar of blood rushing in her ears. Her body was unable to care about anything else besides her release. Her head tipped back, her mouth falling open as her moans rose higher and higher, each sound spilling out of her uncontrollably. "Yes, don't stop," she gasped, her fingers tangling into Gale's hair, desperate to keep him exactly where she needed him. The heat of his mouth, the pressure of his tongue– it was all too much, and still not enough. "Gods, yes! Fuck!" Her hips arced off the desk, her legs trembling as she gave in completely. "Yes, Gale!" she screamed, her thighs clamping tight around his neck as the orgasm slammed through her. "Ah– fuck!”

As always, Gale didn't stop until he'd drained every drop of bliss from her quivering body. His tongue slowed in perfect sync with the weakening rolls of her hips, drawing out the final ripples of her pleasure. When she finally stilled, besides her still trembling legs, Seraphil collapsed forward, her elbows sinking onto his shoulders as she tried to steady her breathing. Gale pulled back to smile at her, a glint of pride in his eyes. He gently tugged her panties back into place, his warm touch ghosting over her oversensitive skin, causing her to shiver. "You look absolutely magnificent when you come, my sweet angel," he murmured, his voice filled with affection. He kissed her knees softly, smoothing her skirt back down with care before rising. He grabbed the girl's notebook before turning back to Seraphil, his fingers brushing her hair back from her face. "Rest here, my love. I'll be right back.”

Her hazy eyes followed Gale as he strode from the room, his posture radiating confidence, chest puffed out with a self-assured swagger. He left the door slightly ajar, no doubt that she could hear the following conversation. “My apologies, Adelaide,” his voice boomed from the classroom, followed by the sharp crack of the notebook slamming onto a desk. “I didn't have time to thoroughly review your feedback, but from what I glanced at, it looked fine. However, there is something else I need to discuss with you.” His voice lowered, taking on a more critical tone. “As a final-year student, it’s concerning that you lack confidence in your work. You constantly bring it to me for review. Professor Allanon never mentioned this when he briefed me on the Illusionist students. In fact, he described you as very independent, rarely needing guidance. So, what’s changed?”

Seraphil could easily imagine the little girl curling into her seat as Gale confronted her so pointedly, and soon enough, a nervous, breathy laugh drifted into the office. “Well…Professor Allanon didn’t provide feedback as thorough as yours, Professor,” Adelaide stammered, her voice shaky with insecurity. “Your approval and guidance make me feel...more confident in my work.” Sera stifled a derisive laugh, her lips curling with amusement. What a load of horseshit. It wasn’t confidence she was after; it was attention. Adelaide would grasp at any excuse to get her husband’s focus. No other sixth-year student pestered him as much as she did.

“Your constant need for my approval does not instill any confidence in your abilities as an Illusionist, Adelaide,” Gale snapped, his voice laced with irritation. “As a sixth-year student, you should be the one reviewing the work of younger students and providing them feedback, not begging for my opinion on every little word you write. I have first-years who are less persistent than you. You’re taking up valuable time during my open office— time that could be much better spent on students who are actually struggling. And to ask me to review an ungraded assignment right before the fourfold rest, knowing full well I will be buried in dissertation grading? That is selfish, and quite frankly, rude. Did you not stop to think that, after a long stretch of work, I might want to spend Gonday evening relaxing with my wife, rather than reviewing your notes?”

The image of Gale standing tall with his arms crossed, his expression radiating disappointment, sent a surge of emotion through Seraphil. Her heart swelled with pride at his assertiveness, knowing how much he’d struggled in the past to maintain his boundaries. Like Adelaide, Sera also craved Gale's approval and attention, and she could only imagine how devastated the girl must be as she listened to Gale’s scathing disapproval. Part of her might have felt sympathy for Adelaide— if only she hadn’t made Gale so uncomfortable earlier.

“Gods, Professor, I'm so sorry,” Adelaide stammered, her voice trembling as her chair scraped loudly against the floor while she stood. “You're completely right. I never meant to bother you like this. I'll…just be on my way.” Seraphil's heart sank at the sound of the girl's quivering tone, the unmistakable edge of tears clinging to each word.

“Wait,” Gale's voice softened. The sharp edge of his earlier reprimand dulled, replaced with a gentle sympathy. “There’s a fifth-year student who could benefit greatly from your help, Adelaide. Kelby Graves— do you know him?” He paused, allowing her to respond. “He’ll be attending my open office hours on Lathanday so I may assist him with his studies for final exams. It would be a big help– not only to him, but also to me– if you could tutor him instead. Can you meet him then?”

Adelaide must have nodded in response, for her voice never sounded again, only the fading echo of light footsteps signaling her departure from the classroom. Seraphil waited a beat before standing, her legs still trembling with aftershocks of satisfaction as she walked into the larger room. “Really, Gale? Did you have to make her cry?” she teased, a soft sigh escaping as she met his waiting embrace. His arms around her were warm and steady, erasing the last traces of jealousy still flickering inside her.

“Oh, I’m sure countless maidens spend their nights weeping now that you’ve claimed me all for yourself, my Lady of Pleasure,” he teased back, his hands slipping to her sides, fingers dancing across her body with playful intent. Seraphil squealed, swatting at him and grabbing his wrists to halt his tickling. “What about dinner, though? Certainly we are already late.”

The mischievous smirk playing on Gale's lips, along with the glint in his eyes, conveyed that he was well aware she'd lied about making dinner reservations. She hadn't the slightest idea how to make them yet, something she planned on rectifying soon so she could surprise him for once. "Oh, I'm sorry, my love, perhaps I wasn't clear," she murmured, her lips curving into a devilish grin that matched his. "That was your dinner." She playfully tilted her head towards his office, and her stomach tightened as Gale’s smile twisted into something much more seductive.

"As for me, I'll be having my dinner at home. My husband has prepared the most mouth-watering tray of meat I've ever seen, and I simply can't wait to dig in." She bit her lip as her knee slid slowly up his inner thigh, nudging lightly against his crotch. His arousal had faded, but the gleam in his gaze told her it would be incredibly easy to fan his flames again.

Gale shook his head with a feigned scolding smile, his fingers sliding around her thigh to draw her close, trapping her between his legs. "You're going to be the death of me," he whispered into her ear, his breath warm and teasing before delivering a hot, biting kiss to her neck. The sudden pressure of his lips against her skin made Seraphil shiver in pure delight, her pulse quickening as she leaned into him. His hand gave her thigh one last reassuring squeeze before firmly guiding her foot back to the floor. In the next breath, his arm was wrapped around her, pulling her against him as he turned her toward the door. "Now, let's get out of here before you get me fired.”

Seraphil smiled to herself as they made their way through the long, quiet hallways of Blackstaff, the echo of their footsteps fading behind them. Before stepping out into the snowy streets, Gale paused to wrap her snugly in the fur coat he had gifted her, the one his mother had once worn in her youth. The coat, soft and warm, shielded her from the bite of the winter air, but it was his unwavering love— constant, unselfish— that truly kept the cold at bay. Wrapped in his affection, Seraphil felt her heart swell, her insecurities melting away with every step. She was adorned in his devotion, her skin glowing with the warmth of his love, her soul singing with the joy of their connection.

As they walked hand in hand toward the hearth waiting for them at home, she offered a silent prayer of thanks to her Lady Eilistraee for sending her such a wonderful blessing. With Gale by her side, she had no doubts, no fears that his eyes would ever stray. He was hers, completely and irrevocably— tonight, and for every night to come.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 smut #gale x tav #galemance #bg3 fanfiction #cherrytober2024 #kinktober #seraphil t'sarr #angelweave #my writing #bg3 #A/N: i came up with names for the different days of a tenday. lathanday is monday and gonday is basically friday (it is the sixth day)#the fourfold rest is the last four days of a tenday so the “weekend”#ALSO in my faerûn blackstaff teaches students that are 16-22 yos. so the student is 21 or 22

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