#wyll is such a dork I ADORE HIM

[agoldengalaxy]

perhaps my favorite interaction in the game

[floralprintsharks]

[ID: two gifs showing Wyll’s entrance in Baldur’s Gate 3. He stabs a goblin through the chest before pushing him off and says “Provoke the blade... and suffer its sting” End ID]

BALDUR'S GATE 3 (2023) — developed by larian studios.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

FSBE 9 - Date Night

You get some.

On AO3.

It don’t work.

“Yet,” Gale stresses. “Which is the entire point of testing. We’ll try again here in, oh, three days’ time? That’s all part of a research strategy. Documentation.”

Man is such a nerd. It’s adorable. Especially since it seems to be pulling him outta that shitty ass commandment from his bitch-ass goddess to blow himself up.

Gods ain’t fucking shit. Goddamn shocker.

Astarion waits at your tent when you stagger over. You’re only a little bleary-eyed, just enough to soften his features and sharpen your tongue.

“Fuck,” you say.

“Hello to you as well, my sweet,” he says. “I take it that means the wizard is finished with you?”

You reach the tent. He does seem to have cleaned up. His hair is in its usual floof, his camp shirt only slightly musty (not a lot of washing y’all can do between a lava lake and this dump).

You ain’t cleaned shit, and you’re a beat down dog, tonight.

“Well?” Astarion says. Waits while you stand there like a loser.

You know, intellectually, that Gale is right. Standardized testing documents changes in a gradual process. One test, especially the first one, don’t necessarily mean shit. If he’s right about the other thing (your lungs go tight trying to form the word because you fucking failed, goddamn worthless) it’ll take time. Like learning any skill. Like them rich bitches from Texas who pay a hundred grand to get a Sherpa local to haul their ass up Everest. Even they gotta spend time at base camp. Let their body adapt. Can’t double the red blood count overnight, and trying tends to cause swelling in the lungs or brain. And then, like, death.

“Still a dud,” you say and almost bite the inside of your cheek to distract from the way your throat tightens.

“A dud?” He sounds out the word like somebody taking a bite of foreign food. Slow. Careful.

Oh, the limits of dirt potion.

“Means I don’t work,” you say.

He cocks his head to the side. There’s something on his face, around the edges of his eyes…then it’s gone, slipped beneath the surface as his usual smarm ass grin spreads across his lips. “You work for me, darling.”

And you can’t help it. It’s so fucking cheesy. Punctures right through the balloon of self-pity and it bursts out of you in a high snort. “Oh my god, you’re such a dork.”

He don’t even lose his grin. “A what?”

You shake your head. The literal etymology aside, you don’t wanna ruin the mood explaining. Besides, the two of you standing out here all but screaming “hookup” to anybody with a set of eyes…

You lift the tent flap. Duck inside. He follows after you.

“No owlbear this time?” he says.

Just your bedroll and your bag. You ain’t got no fancy rugs or nothing. Even if you had been inclined to start hoarding (and you was), the Underdark took everything. You probably didn’t need half a dozen mismatched forks anyway, right?

“I asked Wyll to take him,” you say.

“Oh~,” Astarion fucking drawls. Gives a shoulder shimmy. “Wanted the two of us alone at last?”

There ain’t no goddamn reason for you to get shy now. You was alone with him for over a week down in them caves. Sleeping in his tent, going full Poo-bear. And yeah, he was blind for that one, but you was wrapped up in only his blanket, cooch out, as he lit a fire in his hand to warm you.

All that before he done stuck his fingers up inside you.

Yet here y’all are. You dropped the fur baby off with a sitter and brought home a man. Elf. Vampire. And it’s taking all you got not to squirm at his proximity.

Especially as he closes the distance between y’all.

“It’s been days since I’ve tasted your lips,” he says. Like a normal person. “It’s all rather distracting. All I can think of, when I ought to be paying attention in battle. Terribly dangerous if I’m lost in remembering the next time we’re attacked.”

Holy god, you wonder when he came up with that one. If he practiced it in his head. How many times he did to make it come out like that. Fucking weirdo. (Yet your insides do a little loop-de-loop anyways.)

He’s so close. Offering you, well, you ain’t quite sure yet. But being close is nice. His touch is nice. And you feel rotten. Tired and sore, and that’s before you get to anything physical. All you want is to lean against him and let everything else disappear for a bit.

“So you’re saying I should kiss you better?” you say.

“I wouldn’t want to presume,” says the man sliding his hands along your hips to draw you closer as goosebumps sweep up your arms and down your thighs.

“I mean.” Your breath ghosts over his lips and you also have to fight the urge to twist away. It seems too…intimate. Almost rude. “It’s to save your life, right?”

“Most certainly.”

He’s so hard to figure out. So many different facets. And some of them is downright nasty. Then he goes and does shit like this, and it tugs at something inside you. A fishhook you went and swallowed, reeling you in by the guts.

“We can’t have that,” you say.

He closes the last, lingering distance.

You kissed him all of what, three times? Does one count each session or each kiss? Cause it turns out they come in groups. All blending together into a moment. Lips gliding. The vibration of his voice as he makes small noises. The mortifying sigh that escapes your nose as you fucking relax into him.

And then his cool fingers circle your wrists (arms hanging at your sides like a dork because you ain’t sure what to do with them) (you are, you just…it’s too forward). Bring them up to place your hands at his neck.

You squeak. Can’t help it. Regress twenty years into a sitcom teenager.

He breaks off. Seems more softly amused than anything, thank fuck. “My sweet little treat. You’re flushed, darling.”

You try (and fail) to regain your breath. Without panting all over him. “That’s supposed to happen.”

“Mmm,” he says. Nuzzles against the side of your face like a man-sized cat. “Only when you’re with a talented lover.”

This one comes out a giggle. A soft huff. When he pulls back again, he’s wearing the softest smile you ever seen.

Then he’s sitting. Tugging you down after him. You straddle his lap and your pulse thunders in your ears. Your stomach does a somersault as his hands circle around to the small of your back and he pulls you close. Spread over his lap again.

He kisses you more. Slips a little tongue, this time. And hey! You still ain’t used to that! Still make weird sounds and then your skin burns as you shudder in his grasp.

His lips move, slide up the side of your face. Up to your ear. “How would you like it this time, lover?”

Holy fucking god.

Nobody. Nobody. Has ever said anything like that to you. Your mouth goes dry as all the moisture in your body seems to slam down between your legs.

Any way you want, you want to say. Barely stop yourself (as the ghosts of shameful past scream in your head).

You search his face. Soft. Smarm. All heavy-lidded. The fingers of his left hand brush softly up and down the back of your neck (should you mimic that).

He’s done this once with you. And he didn’t get anything…reciprocal with it. You ain’t sure it’s okay to ask again. Relationships is about sharing, right? So he should have a turn. Right?

“Do you, uh.” You start strong. Chicken out halfway through. Then force yourself to commit like a grown ass woman straddling a man’s lap. “Do you want a turn?”

Yes. Great. Excellent phrasing there, Ripley. So mature. So self-confident.

He leans away a few inches, you think so he can see your face. Something in his eyes…but then it’s gone. And he’s all liquid lust again.

“But what of you, my sweet?”

Oh jesus. God help you. Fucking talking is hard. This is bullshit.

“I mean. I got to. Y’know. Last time.” It’s not sexy to cringe while straddling a man’s lap. Nobody’s lap, but especially not his when y’all are, well, dating (holy fuck). “And you didn’t. I mean. Unless later you, uh. Which is fine! I’m not. It. It doesn’t bother me or nothing!”

He blinks at you. Doesn’t seem like he’s gonna laugh in your face? Just looks…puzzled. “Are you asking if I’ve touched myself?”

No. Cool. Y’all’re talking about masturbation now. This is fine. Totally okay. You’ll just collect yourself, wish him a good night, and then walk outside to join the legion of shadow puppets.

“You don’t have to answer that,” you say. You’re dodging. Covering. It’s stupid obvious, but you don’t care because you wandered into an area you shouldn’t be in, and you need to get out and get out now. “Sorry. I just thought. Um. If you wanted. Uh.”

But he leans in so close his features go blurry. Might as well’ve slapped a hand over your mouth.

“You want to know?” he says, voice gone silky.

Holy shit.

…has he?

Oh neat, now your own voice done left the chat room. You hope it’s having a nice fucking time hanging out with your missing social awareness, common sense, and thirty-five-years-old fucking sense of maturity.

Then Astarion pecks you on the lips. Pulls you flush against him. “Shall I tell you, darling? How I took myself in hand thinking of you? Imagining you just…”

His hips lift. Yeah, he’s hard. He grinds right up against you and it punches the air clean outta your lungs.

“Like this?”

Grinds again. That is an erection. Rubbing between your legs. Y’all are both fully clothed, but that don’t diminish the knowledge one fucking bit.

He did. Holy fuckballs.

He lowers his head to kiss your neck. The tips of his fangs graze your skin as he suckles. He’s gonna leave another mark. Goddamnit.

“Would you like to know how I pictured you? Taking me so sweetly? Singing so prettily as I filled you?”

You clap a hand over your mouth. Who even talks like this?

“Do you think of me, darling? When you touch yourself? When you retrieve that toy of yours?”

Good god almighty, the man is obsessed with your dildo. But, not in a bad way. You think. You heard of that. It, like, challenges some guys and their sense of masculinity or whatever. But this seems almost…envious?

You think of him sliding down, onto one of his own, mouth falling open and you accidentally grind down hard on him.

So now you have to cover for that. “I. I haven’t. Used that, I mean.”

He still rocks you against him. Jesus lord, y’all are dry humping. This is goddamn dry humping.

“Whyever not?” he says.

“C-can’t just. Drop it into the camp pot, can I? Need to boil that sunuvabitch. So I don’t get Faerun herpes.”

One hand stays on the back of your neck. The other slides down, across your hips. Over your thigh. Traces up to the juncture between your legs. He lifts his head to look at you, a silent question. Asking permission.

But he says it, too. “May I?”

This is crazy. He’s crazy. You’re more crazy. A couple hours from killing a man (thing) and going into shock, and it turns out tomfoolery really does turn the brain to scrambled eggs. Because while part of you know this is a terrible idea and you might be a horrible fucking person. The rest of you? Doesn’t really care right now.

“Yes,” you say.

His hand slips between your legs to stroke the outside of your pants. It ain’t nowhere near like him dipping under that blanket in his tent in the Underdark. But it’s still enough you gasp and arch against him.

His lips find your throat again. His fangs scrape. You shiver against him. Then the hand behind your neck moves. Comes around to the front of your stays. He don’t ask, this time. Don’t even try to get under them; he done went and picked up how you shy from that (though sweet baby jesus, the thought of his mouth on your nipple, teeth nibbling…)

“It sounds like we ought to build our own fire, then,” he says. It takes you a minute to connect conversations. “And I don’t just mean like this.”

His hand disappears before his cool fingers slide over the hem of your pants. Settle on the buttons. You’re already slicker than a shit chute. Can feel it as you move.

“I could help you ready for it, darling,” he says. “Bring you to it, just like this.”

He gets the front open. His fingers move down, over your lower belly.

“I could watch you take it.”

But that. That one’s too far. Eyes on you, the whole congregation witnessing your shame. You can’t stop the flinch.

Astarion pauses. Looks to you, his gaze sharp. He plays airheaded, but you seen him demolish critters and people, and the way he looks at you now is similar. There’s brains behind them eyes.

“No,” he says. “Perhaps not that.”

He releases the front of your stays to guide you down to kiss him all sweet and gentle again. Just as his fingers slip inside your drawers and find your clit.

“Oh,” he hums directly into your mouth. “You certainly liked part of that, though. Is it the thought of using it, perhaps? Shall I hold it for you?”

You make a noise. Too loud, too loud. The others will hear. They know (or suspect, bare minimum) what’s going on in here, but you don’t gotta go hollering about it. Might literally die if anybody says anything tomorrow.

The image though. You only got to use that toy a few times (wasn’t even sure it’d fit, but some prep work and going slow and it was fine; only stung a little at the very first).

His fingertip brushes over your clit again. The contact jolts through you.

“You’re quite riled up,” Astarion says. “We mustn’t wait so long between the next time, hmm? Not when we can have this.”

Man sounds a bit frazzled, the edges of his words fraying. Even as he circles you, fingers slipping through the mess down there. Caressing slow and sure, until you start rocking against him despite yourself. You need more, goddamnit. You done this the one time with him, but your body remembers. It already knows his touch brings pleasure. It leaps at it. You want it. God almighty, you want it.

“Please,” you whisper, cheeks burning. “Astarion…”

“Mmm, yes?” His fangs linger over where he likes to bite you. Fingers trace up your spine as his other hands works inside your pants. It occurs to you that the only one holding you against his touch is you. You are the one putting pressure on his hand. And that sets your body on fire.

His tongue presses against your neck. And the idea just pops in there. All on its own. Too many movies. Too many social media posts. But.

You lift a hand. Press it carefully to the back of his head where his hair is downy soft, beneath the stiffer parts he must pomade up into them swoops. You urge him closer, to bury his face against your neck.

“Please,” you say again. “You can. You can.”

He bites. Hot, sharp pain lances up the side of your neck. You gasp and pull away. But that presses his other hand harder between your legs and it hits. The pleasure. The pain. How he grabs the back of your neck, moaning into you and the way his scent fills your nose and the wet sounds of him touching you and suckling at your neck.

The orgasm rips through you. Sends you bucking against him, trying like hell to stay quiet. Slapping your hand over your mouth even as you cradle his head, pressing him to you. You come right on his hand again, his fangs buried in your neck.

This, you realize, is how you’re going to accidentally train yourself into the most embarrassing Pavlovian response in human history.

[cyandreamsinwords]

Hiii! Did you get to finish your run of Baldur's Gate 3? I saw you were romancing Wyll, how was that? I've tried to romance him twice, but he rejected me both times 😭

I have not finished BG3 yet, though that isn't surprising for me, it takes me forever to complete games. I'm pretty sure it took me over two years to complete my first playthrough of DA: Inquisition. I lollygag, it's just my nature🤷‍♀️

I absolutely ADORE Wyll...but I do sorta want to fight the developers for how they handle his story. I feel like this is a really common gripe among the fanbase, but as I progress through his plot line, I just feel like it petters off at the end and is sort of lacking in substance. There's this noticeable difference from early on scenes to later ones that makes it feel incomplete the further I get, which is pretty disappointing as it started really strong in my opinion. As a character, Wyll has so much potential, especially with how key his father is to the plot and his connections to other characters, and as of right now in the middle of act 3, I do not feel they have utilized him fully. Maybe my opinion on that will change once I've actually finished the game, but that's what I feel at the moment.

BUT! I still absolutely love his character and do not regret romancing him for a single second. He honestly is one of the only romance options outside of maybe Halsin (kinda?), who makes sense for my Tav to be interested in and has my entire heart. He's so genuine and selfless, while also being such a massive DORK. There is still so much I love about his romance, like the dancing and the little twirl he'll sometimes do when he pulls you in for a kiss (AHHHHH!!!) and just how much of a sap he is. He is my own personal dreamboat, I love him so much.

What really sealed the deal for me on him was how he handled the Karlach situation (depending on how you play it). He was so easily persuaded to hear her out and to think the situation through. It's nice to have a character who isn't so stubbornly set in their ways for once. That and how he didn't regret protecting Karlach after Mizora changing his appearance really endeared him to me. It wasn't even a hard decision for him. And while I feel like he had every right to resent and hate his father for how he treated him (fight me daddy Ravenguard) he is so understanding of his position and why he did what he did. Every once and a while I enjoy having a character who really is the hero they project themselves as being, just as a little treat. It'd be boring if every character was that way, of course, but sometimes it's sort of refreshing.

Also, his fake eye looks like it has a little heart in the center of it, of COURSE I fell in love!

Now that I'm done gushing--I am so sorry he's rejected you 🫢 You may already know this, but if it's happening at the Tiefling party, you can still romance him! I wasn't able to get a kiss from him at the party (I've got that low charisma), but after getting some higher approval, I did eventually get the dance scene in Act 2. There may still be a chance to salvage the romance!

[kingthunder]

If you had to rank all the bg3 companions from your fave to least fave how would that go? :3

ranked by how much I enjoy hanging out with them:

I shan't even write his name

Karlach my huge fiery wife who swears as much as I do

...Halsin? maybe? he's genuinely kind and his hugs are just so nice

toss-up between Lae'zel and Shadowheart who are equally big dorks just in different ways. like, Lae'zel has the biggest teacher's pet energy I've ever seen. and Shadowheart makes bad jokes and named herself Shadowheart. I adore both of them tbh

Gale I guess? I reallllllly did not like this guy at first and I still don't *like* him but I understand his character more now and I have pity for him

Wyll. he's fine but he doesn't light any fires in me good or bad, he's just kind of there being a little weird and talking about himself in third person

Minthara. I rescued her from Moonrise and she was like "THANKS now let's CONTROL THE BRAIN TOGETHER AND TAKE OVER THE WORLD" and I was like ma'am at least take me out to dinner first

Jaheira and Minsc. they come so late in the game I just don't know them

Now, who do I actually keep in my party?

he who continues to remain nameless. he never leaves. he lives here.

Shadowheart or Gale depending on what kind of magic I want or how annoyed I currently am with Gale

Karlach or Lae'zel, I swap em out frequently so I can spend quality time with both of them ❤️

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Can I join the shipping fun? 🥺

I'd like a ship for Baldur's Gate 3 and would probably prefer a man! I'm bubbly, friendly, simultaneously really smart and surprisingly dumb (I can think through complicated things easily but do dumb things out of curiosity or naivety), I love nature (I need to be outside for at least an hour a day or I'll go insane and my room is full of plants), I like caring for others and learning new things. I'm very very self aware and give surprisingly good advice and am good at comforting others, which I usually do by gift giving, physical touch or acts of service. I'd literally die for my friends but feel very lonely even around people I love (I have autism). And I know you said that appearance doesn't matter but I feel like it's important to note that I am 4' 10" (142 cm) lol

For you hmmm I'd ship you with Halsin. I don't know you personally so this is strictly going off vibes but I feel like your energy matches his. Plus I think you deserve someone like him. Thank you so much and Happy Holidays!! 🥰

I ship you with Wyll

This man would adore you heart and protect it with every fiber of his being.

He tries his best to present himself as a stalwart adventurer, but he can be a bit of a dork sometimes, not to mention a complete romantic. You allow him to show that side of himself. He would adore your loving nature and try to make it clear every single day that you're not alone.

He'd make a point for the pair of you to get outside of Baldur's Gate and see the world as it is. And if you can't go to nature, he'd bring it to you. (The man would give you so many plants)

Also, since you mentioned it, let him pick you up. Yes, he's got a -1 to strength checks, but he does so love being taller than you.

I can dig the vibes.

6K Follower Celebration (Requests Are Open)

(13/30)

[cats-n-witchcraft]

I love him so much and the fandom needs to stop sleeping on this man

My fav Wyll moment was the first time I heard, "Where there's a Wyll, there's a y." Double joke, truly. Followed only by, "Unleash the legend!" Him. He is the legend. This dork man I adore him. If I was less lazy Id finally draw him waxing his new horns. Alas for now it stays a mere idea.

Wyll is so fucking funny and no amount of acknowledgement about this could ever be enough. He's literally walking around being so casually hilarious completely under-the-radar. He calls Halsin a "thick hunk of an elf". He once accidently implied that he was fucking an ogre instead of killing it and then proceeded to absolutely stumble his way through explaining. He gets excited by Lae'zel talking about carnal pleasures. He canonically tells his pessimistic thoughts to shut the hell up. He volunteers to babysit Shadowheart's hypothetical werewolf babies as long as she gets him gloves. He tries to give Gale a hero moniker like his own. He jokes that his father, the Grand Duke of Baldur's Gate, can't spell. He calls Astarion "Mister Fangs". He makes up storybook chapter names for his own fucking adventures. As a child he got chased by the Flaming Fist for stealing fruit, nearly drowned trying to find mermaids in the harbor, and almost successfully broke into the Counting House. He reads monster erotica, and is not ashamed to tell you about it. He ranks eating pudding among life's greatest moments. He will, without shame and completely unprompted, meow at you. He is 24 years old.

[twentyoneeightysevena]

@@@

sending all the love

so right off the bat i have to call out @offadingstars .  I love wyll so much and we’ve rped together on this site for a long time over almost all of our blogs, I think. he’s always got such a handle on his characters (even when he thinks he doesn’t) and he’s always there when i need to throw angst at someone. i can’t imagine my rp career without him in it. he’s also reason number one i shifted into rping over here.

@thickcrskiin so jan, also known as the second reason i popped over to star wars. i’m pretty sure i follow jan on all of my blogs and she was one of the first ocs that i ever really found myself wanting to do a ton of stuff with. she’s well written, funny, and if she doesn’t have a verse for a thing, she’s able to write one up that excellent to fill in the gap. i love. v much.

@txrncoat / @xhookedonafeeling gosh okay so we haven’t done much but i LOVE dorrian. very well written dork that i’d love to write more with. and peter is fabo. also the fact that i got a random idea that was super dumb but you were willing to roll with it means i adore you forever (my heart is easily won). continue being fabulous my friend