#my tav will also appear

[percki]

on my knees

tags: 18+, mature content, MDNI, Gale x reader, f!Tav, 2nd person pronouns, act 3, semi-public sex, porn w/o plot, lap dance, explicit consent, bondage, restraints, dom/sub, switch Gale, oral sex (m! and f! receiving), lap sex, hand jobs, overstimulation, orgasm denial, praise kink

ao3 link

“Urgh.” Rolan stands up, wiping a smear of Lorroakan’s blood off the sleeve of his robes. “Your aasimar friend is… violent.”

“I’m so sorry for the mess, Rolan. We can clean everything up –” You glance around the upper level of the tower, at the holy fire, congealed mud, pasty mixture of water and ash, and a fair amount of blood. At the wizard’s broken body, his face swollen with bruises, his mouth agape, sprawled at the foot of his throne of books. “– Um, but it might take a while.”

Rolan waves one long-nailed hand in your direction, his discolored face grateful – if not a bit exasperated. “Don’t worry about it, my friend. You have already done so much for me – consider my debt forgiven, and all will be well.” You smile at that, watching the tiefling wizard grunt with exertion as he hauls Lorroakan’s body towards the portal. “And, erm – help yourself to any treasures you come across, of course. I’ll be… downstairs…” He pushes the corpse through the shimmering portal, and sends you one last earnest, sharp-toothed smile over his shoulder. “...Burying a body.”

With that, Rolan pushes up the sleeves of his robes (sorcerer’s robes, trimmed in silver, unbefitting for a wizard, but they suit him well nonetheless) and steps through the portal, no doubt bracing himself to break the news to his new employees. ‘Hey, so remember those adventurers that just came in? They killed Lorroakan, violently, and I’m your boss now. Surprise!’ You’re sure the staff at Sorcerous Sundries have endured worse surprises; working for Lorroakan sounds akin to an eternity of torture in the Hells.

Aylin sheathes her sword and crosses over to you, removing her helmet. Her ash-blonde hair spills over her shoulders, and her gold-streaked face glistens with blood and sweat. “I shall be at your camp, if you have need of me,” she declares, and inclines her head in gratitude. “You fought well – as you have before. I remain thankful for your assistance.” Less wordy than usual – Lorroakan’s death must be weighing on her. You don’t blame her.

“Thank you, Dame Aylin,” you say, and bow in respect. She smiles at that, silver eyes gleaming.

“Ooh, wait!” Karlach runs up to you, her arms full of wine bottles – no doubt pilfered from Lorroakan’s hidden stash. The woman has a nose for alcohol – she could find a bottle of Baldur’s Grape blindfolded, disoriented, in the middle of a rainstorm. Shadowheart is close behind, a new cloak slung over her shoulders and a fair amount of gold filling her pockets. “We’ll probably go back to camp, too – Fringe and I have to try all this wine.”

“To make sure it isn’t poisoned,” Shadowheart adds, green eyes twinkling with humor. “You can handle yourselves without us, can’t you?”

You grin. “Save a bottle of Mermaid Whiskey for me.”

“Blech. You can have it all.” Karlach sticks out her split tongue, her smile wide. “See ya!” She bolts through the portal head-first: dangerous, with the amount of alcohol in her arms and the fiery infernal engine in her chest. You hear a distant crash, and wince.

Shadowheart follows close behind, calling, “Save the Tyche Pink!”

You hear the rush of wings and look over – Aylin is gone, too, a flash of silver in the clear blue sky. You watch her fly, the wind buffeting her white wings – deva-like, altogether unnatural, inhuman, beautiful in an untouchable, deadly, frightening way – as she soars. The sunlight seems to collect around her, like a remnant of her celestial mother’s power lingers, still, even after the heat and rage of battle is done.

“And then there were two.”

Gale’s voice snaps you out of your reverie. You look up, meeting his eyes. Dark brown, deep, gentle, shining with a light all too familiar. He’s standing by the throne of books, his right hand resting on a copy of Folktales of Faerún: The Angelic Aasimar. 

You kneel over the ashes of the water myrmidon, sifting through the remains for treasure. Nothing. “I suppose Rolan will take a while…” You look around the tower once more, keen eyes picking out chests, display cases, bookshelves – anything that could hide a nice new set of robes for Gale, or a dagger for Astarion, or perhaps some armor for Wyll… “Will you cast Feather Fall? I want to look on the lower levels…” You trail off, reading something in Gale’s eyes. His fingers flex on the spine of the book, his shoulders thrown back, his lilac robes fitting his form well. Is he… posing? You smile and straighten, dusting ash off your sleeves, and move to his side, twining your left arm with his right, leaning comfortably against his side. “The Annals are in the vaults,” you say, knowing his primary objective here, halfheartedly attempting to lift his spirits. Thoughts of the Crown are dangerous – you have seen how easily the lure of power can corrupt, a thousand times (with Kagha in the Emerald Grove, with Minthara at the goblin camp, with Ketheric and Gortash and now Lorroakan). But despite your reservations, you know his ambition fuels him, that it drives his fire, that thoughts of greatness and respect do raise his spirits. “We could go down ourselves…”

Gale turns into you, resting his forehead on your shoulder, his beard scratching at your neck. He presses a kiss to your collarbone, and sighs deeply, inhaling your scent – blood and smoke and sweat, and the faintest hints of his cologne lingering on your skin. “I… Not yet,” he says vaguely, and kisses your neck again, deeper this time. Your breath hitches as he trails long, searing kisses up your neck, along the line of your jaw, leading up to your lips.

“Gale…” You whisper, voice low. “I –” He nips at your bottom lip, smiling against your chin, and you can feel your face heat up. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he says devilishly, oak eyes sparkling, looking up at you through thick, dark lashes. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, and you can feel the vibration of his voice against your skin, sending a chill down your spine. “I can’t believe…” He blinks, as if waking from a dream, and cradles your jaw with his hand, straightening to his full height.

You kiss him, this time, tasting blood on his lips, and you stop, examining his face carefully. A bruise is forming at the bridge of his nose, blood tracing a path down the apex of his lips to his chin. You frown, brow creasing in worry. “You’re hurt.”

“Hm?” Gale touches his face gingerly, delicate, careful fingers prodding the quickly-purpling skin. “Oh. Yes. That. It’s quite alright –”

“It’s not alright,” you reply. “Let me heal you.” You take his shoulders in your hands and guide him into a seated position on Lorroakan’s throne, his back reclined against a collection of Ramazith’s annotated tomes. You kneel before him, positioning yourself between his legs, and summon a simple healing incantation, your hand hovering over his nose, the blue glow of the spell reflected in his eyes. “Te curo,” you murmur, and watch as his skin knits itself together, blood drying, swelling fading, the bruise vanishing beneath your fingers. “Better?”

“Better,” he admits, and looks at you with intent in his eyes, his gaze dark and focused on your features. “My love,” he starts, then hesitates. His face turns a delicious shade of pink.

“Yes?” You lean forward, hanging onto his words. He adjusts his legs, his thighs bracketing your shoulders, and you feel the slightest thrill at your compromising position, you in your armor and him in his robes, you kneeling before him like a supplicant at an altar.

“Rolan may not return for some time,” Gale says. “We could…” He stops again, biting his lip.

You guess his meaning immediately – your thoughts are remarkably in-tune. You can’t deny that you hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t wished for… Well. For Gale. Your peaceful nights since arriving in the Lower City have been few and far between, interrupted as they are: by vampires, by nightmares, by Orin’s ministrations. It’s been some time since you and Gale had time to yourselves.

And now, it seems, you have all the time in the world.

“Do you want to?” You question, and his eyes darken, his pupils expanding infinitesimally. You lean forward, cupping his cock with your hand, and smile to feel him already half-hard beneath your touch.

“I – yes,” he breathes, and raises his hand to cast Mage Hand, the incantation on his lips, when you catch him by the wrist, holding him still.

“No magic,” you say breathlessly, and straighten back up to your full height, smiling down at him. “As mortals do, remember?”

Gale watches you intently as you undo the first few buckles of your armor, leather slipping between your fingers. He sits up, reaching out his hands to help –

And you push him back.

“Don’t move,” you warn him, and plant one hand securely on his chest, holding him in place, as you draw a piece of silken fabric out of your pack. You hold it up for him to see, and upon realizing your intention, his eyes widen, pupils expanding impossibly wide. “Do you want this?” You ask, and he confirms with a nod of his head. You narrow your eyes and lean in, your face centimeters away from his, your breath ghosting on his lips. “Say it, please, love.”

He swallows thickly, eyes locked on yours, and says, his voice a rumble in his chest, “I want you to tie me up.”

You smile, and reward him with a bruising, biting kiss. “Good boy,” you murmur, and relish the way his face reddens, his jaw going slightly slack at the praise. “Lean forward for me?” He acquiesces, already holding his hands behind his back, and you climb up into his lap to twine the silk around his wrists, your touch featherlight and gentle. You test the knot, and smile. Not too tight – but he certainly won’t get any ideas about spellcasting. “Does that feel okay?”

“Yes,” he says into your shoulder, his voice muffled by the layers of your armor. You stand back up and step completely out of your clothes, metal buckles and buttons clinking as your many layers fall to the floor, and then you stand before Gale in your undergarments, your skin rising with goosebumps from the cool air, his eyes roving a path up and down your figure.

You feel a little warm from the intensity of his gaze, but you steel your nerves and continue. You reach out with your senses, using the knowledge of the Weave that Gale taught you of so long ago, and you can feel a soft tinkling at the edge of your perception, the distant sound of music, and you pull it towards you. In one of the pleasure dens far below, a slow, sensual number starts up, and you filter the sound through the available space, filling the tower with music.

Gale’s lips part as he realizes your plan. “Love,” he starts, “I haven’t –”

You feel a twinge of self-doubt, standing there near-nude before a man who is completely clothed. You have no experience with this whatsoever – apart from what you have read and seen – and you’re not sure that Gale loves you enough to forgive you if you make a total ass of yourself. “This is okay, right?” You rush to ask, holding your hands out for his before realizing that he’s still tied. You tuck them behind your back, straightening your posture. “Um – I know this is probably unusual, but, you know, in the Quarta Sune –”

Gale grins, his dimples making a rare appearance, and the sight of it pulls at your heartstrings. “You are perfect,” he promises, lifting his dark eyes up to your face. “This is perfect. Please, keep going.”

The slight rasp of his voice goes straight to your core, and you step forward before you’re entirely conscious of your movements, looping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. He leans into you with a groan, and you can feel his shoulders move, his hands resisting the bindings, and you pull back. “No touching,” you say softly, ���right? This is about you.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, his expression adorably resentful, and you laugh and kiss the bridge of his nose.

“Later,” you promise, and with that, you stand up, and turn away from him, facing the windows, the setting sun illuminating your skin. The music restarts, strings amping up, and you sway your hips to the tune, letting instinct take over. One, two, three, you breathe, feeling the rhythm run through you, and as the music crescendos, you drop down onto Gale’s lap, your ass just brushing over his thighs, hoping your undulating body looks sensual rather than spasmodic, and your efforts are rewarded with a delicious, blinding groan from behind you. You turn back around to face him – one, two, three – and lean in close, your scent intoxicating, his body warming your skin, and bracket his legs with your knees, one hand carding through his hair and the other slowly unbuttoning his robes, your knuckles barely brushing the velvet-soft hair on his chest. You slide your hands down the planes of his torso, and then, just as he’s leaning forward, again, anticipating your lips on his –

You step back again, turning, lifting your hands over your head and letting your hair down, smiling to yourself as you peek over your shoulder at his exasperated face. One, two, three. You let your ass ghost over his lap again, closer this time, holding there for a few moments longer than he considers tolerable, and just as his patience goes and his hips buck, you return to your starting position, looking down at him chidingly.

“Please,” he whispers, and you raise your brows, your hands going to the clasp of your bra. He watches, rapt, as you slide the fabric off your breasts and let it fall to the ground atop your discarded armor, your nipples peaking in the cool air. You repeat the motion with your panties, and you’re sure Gale catches sight of the soaked fabric as you toss it aside: his face turns a flattering shade of crimson, his arms straining against his silken ropes.

“How can I deny you?” You say, and with smooth, uninterrupted movements, you slide onto his lap, rocking your hips back and forth, tantalizingly slow, atop him. His robes slip open completely, and you can feel his cock straining against the fabric of his undergarments, barely brushing against the skin of your thighs. Your hands roam along the skin of his chest, thumbs swirling careful circles in the dips of his collarbone and shoulders, your palms warm against his skin. “You’re doing so well,” you praise him, and lean forward to kiss along the line of his clavicle, then slowly up his neck, sucking hard enough to bruise, tasting his sandalwood cologne, his soapy shaving cream, the sweat and salt lingering there, your tongue pulsing against his jaw. “So good for me,” you continue, running your hands through his hair, “you’re perfect, Gale.”

And then, surprising him, you slide off his lap and drop to your knees, slotting your body perfectly in between his legs, and in one swift motion, you free his aching cock from his undergarments and lean forward once more, fitting your lips around the head.

“O-oh,” he moans, straining to keep still as you take him deeper, your hands tracing patterns on the skin of his thighs, reaching up to his hips, your nails scratching lightly, and then, as you adjust yourself and push him back so as to get more leverage, you wrap one hand around his shaft and devote the other one to palm gently at his balls, still a touch too gentle. “Mmm – more,” he sighs, and you obey, licking a stripe up the underside of his cock and then fitting it back in your mouth, deep enough to brush the back of your throat, pre-cum salty on your tongue. You hollow your cheeks, looking up at him through lowered lashes, and his mouth falls open, releasing the most pleasurable moans and groans, sighs and mewls slipping between his lips, chanted noises that may be words – you catch the sound of your name, and please, and yes, in the chorus of sounds that escape his chest, rising and falling in octave with every swipe of your tongue and bob of your head. “P-please,” he says again, “please, let me –”

You guess his meaning, and reach behind him; the movement sending his cock to the very back of your throat, and his back arches in pleasure; and pull the strings of his bindings, untying his hands. The moment he’s free, he takes your head in his hands, cradling your jaw, and lets his fingers twine in the strands of your hair as you suck with renewed eagerness, sliding back nearly completely only to take him in fully again, the feel of his cock in your mouth dizzying, intoxicating, sending white-hot shivers through your body –

You glance down, and through the haze of pleasure, through the shadows of sunset, through the sweat and slick on your body, you see a flash of blue cupping your cunt, and you can suddenly feel the gentle, not-quite-there brush of the Mage Hand’s fingers against your clit. You war between pleasure and indignation for a moment – and indignation wins. You pull back, Gale’s weeping cock inches away from your mouth but still suspended in midair, and he huffs, putting his hands over his eyes, his pleasure cut short just on the path to climax. “Why did you –”

“No magic,” you repeat, and you can feel the Mage Hand dissolve. Gale peeks out from through his fingers, caught, and not the least bit ashamed. “Do I need to tie you up again? Completely, this time?”

“I –” His cock twitches, beads of precum leaking from the tip, stunning the both of you into silence.

You let a devilish grin slide across your face. “Oh. You want me to tie you up, love? Top to tip, completely trussed up for me?” You pull away from him and reach in your pack for more ribbon. “Red or purple, my sweet?”

Gale manages an arrogant smile, his face still flushed red. “Purple, of course.”

“Good choice,” you grin, and stand, running the ribbons through your hands reverently. “This will only take a minute,” you promise. “Why don’t you take those bothersome clothes off before I get started?”

He does, and you let your eyes run over his figure appreciatively for a minute before going to work. Hands on the ‘arms’ of the throne, the ribbon secured around a stack of encyclopedias. His legs against the respective ‘legs’ of the throne, straining slightly against his bonds. You stand before him, and he angles his hips up slightly, his eyes pleading.

“So cooperative,” you murmur, running your hands gently up his thighs. “So patient. So good.” You lift your hand to your mouth and spit on your fingers, holding eye contact, and he breathes shakily as you wrap your hand around his cock, leaning forward, mouthing kisses along his neck and collarbone. You start slowly, tantalizingly, pumping your hand along his length with a careful, measured speed that makes Gale’s breath hitch in his throat.

“Please – more,” he moans, his lips chasing yours. “Faster.”

You acquiesce, moving quicker, twisting your wrist the way you know that he likes. His breaths come faster, too, a mindless stream of yes and please and more coupled with your name falling from his mouth. You kiss him with bruising intensity, feeling his cock twitch in your fingers, his body straining against his bonds.

He comes with a muffled yell, his eyes rolling completely back in his head, and you kiss him fiercely as his come paints your stomach and thighs where you sit atop him. “Please – gods – please, untie me, let me –”

You smile against his lips and loosen the ribbons, yelping when his arms encircle you with surprising strength, lifting you up by your thighs and laying you out on the tile floor of the tower, the ground cold on your skin, your head canted back as Gale trails kisses down your thighs. “Ah – Gale,” you sigh as his fingers whisper up the inside of your legs, your skin rising with goosebumps. “I can’t –” You try to lift your head, to see where he is and what he’s doing, but your neck won’t cooperate. “What –”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Gale murmurs into your thigh, his hand lifting your leg to his lips, his beard tickling your skin pleasantly. “There’s only so long I can go without magic, my love. I thought –” Here, his tongue slides up to your cunt, tracing around your lips gently, and you moan, your boneless body arching in pleasure. “I thought you might enjoy feeling how I felt. Constrained. At my mercy.” His tongue winds a circle around your clit, and your breaths come faster, your thighs shaking madly. “Do you?”

“Do I – ah – what?”

“Enjoy it,” Gale says into your cunt, and the vibration makes you shudder.

“I – yes, I – please, I want to touch you, I want to –”

“Mmm,” Gale hums, his tongue working careful, restrained circles around your clit, dipping down to taste your slick. “Not yet.”

It’s been less than two minutes, and you’re already shaking, riding high, your eyes unfocused, as Gale takes you apart with his tongue. The painted constellations of the ceiling dance in and out of focus, and your moans echo around the circular tower, a mix of yes and please and Gale falling from your mouth, a reminder of the way you coaxed Gale’s orgasm from him with delicate fingers not five minutes before. “Gale, I – oh, gods, I can’t – please, I want to see you, I –”

The spell breaks, and you lift your head to see Gale’s face completely buried in your cunt, his sweaty hair spread out on your thighs, his eyes closed in ecstasy, and the image is enough to send you over the edge, a scream in your throat, your legs shaking wildly as you come, Gale’s tongue still working at you gently, until the sensation is too much and you kick him softly, signaling get off me, because your vocal cords aren’t working at the moment.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says, and crawls up to kiss you, and you taste yourself on his tongue, salty-sweet and heady. “But we should probably go before Rolan comes back. I suspect we won’t have an opportunity to take advantage of his hospitality again.”

“Gale…” You wind your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, your eyes fluttering shut. “You might have to Dimension Door us out of here. I don’t think my legs will move.”

“I’ll carry you,” he smiles, and helping you stand, he laces his robes back up and aids you in buckling your armor. “Now come. There’s a bath at the Elfsong that’s calling my name.”

You sigh softly, leaning your head into his shoulder, and watch dreamily as he conjures the portal. “Wait – what about the Annals?”

“Oh.” Gale looks down at the lower levels of the tower. “I suppose we’ll have to come back tomorrow.” He looks almost downcast, but then the expression fades, and he’s just Gale again, smiling at you. “Let’s go.”

#bg3 #bg3 smut #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 smut #gale dekarios #gale smut #gale of waterdeep #gale x reader #gale x tav #gale romance #my fic #gale's practiced tongue makes an appearance #'as mortals do' #bg3 tav #bg3 x reader #my first attempt at actually POSTING smut instead of secreting it away in my google docs #so if i accidentally mess something up with the tags please tell me and i will fix it post haste #also on my ao3 if you prefer to read it there! may post the link in a reblog #nvm i added it to the post. forget what that last tag said

[5mcsinatrenchcoat]

Baldur's Gate is not a small city, and there's never a shortage of kids running on its streets. Fighting, stealing, making a name for themselves. Creating their own crews and sticking to them, mostly. That being said, if you grew up on the same streets, you probably crossed paths at least once. Even if you're unlikely to remember it...

When Karlach was talking about her childhood, I couldn't help but think: what are the chances that Vice, a street urchin from the same city and of approximately similar age, ever met her?

Wouldn't that be cute.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #karlach #female tav #bg3 tav #karlach x tav #not implicit but implied in case of my particular tav #feat a special guest appearance from Ur - whose form Vice's guardian later took #backgrounds are very blurred screenshots from the city reveal trailer #also like I dunno if kid tieflings grow their full horn shape as children or if it's a maturing thing #but for the sake of visual consistency let's say they do #tav posting #art tag

[mercymaker]

ARTEMYRA WAYCREST ⬩ high half-elf ⬩ warlock ⬩ noble

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate #bg3edit #bg3 #bg3 oc #bg3 tav #oc: artemyra waycrest #by me #i can't believe i finally made her sdfdsgdfg #she's bad no good news lady that destroyed her own house n family and honestly?? good for her #my hc is that her eyes go black when she uses her powers but i had to compromise because cba #also her appearance is very much inspired by jolijn henneman who absolutely wowed me when i saw her perform #also if you ask me wtf was i trying to do with this set.. idk but i like it #ALSO x3 if anyone knows how to mod body scars please i beg u lmk #now to decide if i want to keep playing her or replay mal's save or maybe go for an origins character hmmmm

[bevirspnsblmnt]

Can we see your durge? :oc if not no worries I'm just curious!

Of course! Have a lil WIP of her in all her evil glory 🥰 (Hope I can finish this anytime in the next century lol)

Her name is Sandra, she's a war cleric of Gruumsh/oathbreaker paladin and she's Totally Bad Not Good Unredeemable. I haven't posted much about her bc I'm still in ACT1 with her (Im replaying Khael and campagn that takes priority).

fun fact before I even got through half of ACT1 of all the compainons only Astarion and Shadowheart were alive/present. I dont know how long theyre going to last though lmaooo

She's another iteration of my DnD character Alasandra, who Ive played for a couple years in a homebrew campagn! I also played with her in Solasta (another DnD game, that I suggest checking out!) He's all three of her together for the meme:

I also technically have a Redeemed Durge character that's based on another DnD character! His name is Chan, he's a warlock and a cinnamon roll who can do no wrong 🥹 (which makes me chosing him as a durge an awful parent)

and here's how he looks like!

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 durge #Durge Sandra #Chan Sunshine #I'm probably not playing with Chan because I dont think Im gonna be able to import him properly in the BG3 durge setting hmn #I'm just thinking of making a durge khael so I can see the Good Durge options and call it a day #I have one more tav he's from the multiplayer cmpgn Im plyaing with friends that's 90% us being naked and messing around and 10% actual gam #disegna e bevi #its so fun killing everyone but dang the game becomes so empty its so jarring i love it sm #also please know that dnd sandra is dear to my heart sm durge sandra is just a more feral unhinged verison of her it's what she deserves #me with sandra litterally like “i support womens rights but more importantly i support womens wrongs” #also both sandra and chan have mods for their appearences since I tried to make them as close as possible to their original designs #tw blood

[elfcollector]

Many have heard of the young Tiefling adventurer who travels the realm, righting wrongs, protecting innocents, and then disappearing as quickly as they came. Far fewer know that there is more to the story than selfless heroics — which is exactly how Delight prefers it.

#gamingnetwork #vgedit #videogameedit #gamingedit #dailygaming #gameplaydaily #bg3edit #bgedit #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #tav #my tav #delight #bg3 tav #a little backstory....its still in progress but i am Coming To Know Them #this shouldnt be taken to imply they're not as Good as they appear cos they are but...theres def smth in their past theyre trying to escape #also if anyone gets mad abt the lack of minmaxing inherent in this multiclass choice ill eat u #i am ROLEPLAYING

[tavstavernofdisasterbisexuals]

Guess who can mod their game now

#Tav: Mayhem #Now Mayhem has no iris #My child you're finally complete I'm so happy #I also changed their hair #Saw 1 of the requests of TTDYT use it and went #Yep that fits my child #I also now feel inspired to actually do their femme appearance #Incubus blood perks ig #After I'm officially done with Thurak's playthrough I'm actually going to continue Mayhem's #After being unable to play for months I'm in act 3 now so yippee #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #tav #bg3 mods #bg3 screenshots #The Taverns Staff

[pyomatic]

doodles of my tav after playing too much bg3 :3

#my art #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #my tav #100 hours in and i still havent finished the main story once #I am having a good time though! and will hopefully have some doodles for the main companions #anyway this is my tav she is lillith a tiefling warlock/bard and I've made her change appearance over the whole game #to follow made up character progression #this though might have been my fave look #also idk why but i like the lines so much more for this piece??? #i think I need to adjust my colouring to better fit how my style has changed

[unseasoned-brain-worms]

Baldur's Gate 3 Fic- Feelings, or something.

“I heard you found a new lover.”

Dirk can only assume she looks like she's been caught in the middle of nabbing a wallet when he says that.

“What?”

~~~~~~~~

Baldur's Gate 3 Made me kiss Wyll, and my poor Druid had some feelings about his feelings. Enough that I've caved and Started writing Fanfic.

So, have an alternate version of that bit where Astarion asks you to pick someone. Which Dirk did not get, because she just went straight to break up with Wyll the next morning, how dare he attempt emotional sincerity.

“I heard you found a new lover.”

Dirk can only assume she looks like she's been caught in the middle of nabbing a wallet when he says that.

“What?”

“Don't be be coy darling, camp's really not that big, I know all about you and Wyll's little get together last night, I'm sure it was charming.  Probably very sweet.”  

Astarion makes those last two things sound extraordinarily insulting.  

“Well- sort of.”  She admits, watching Astarion make a great show of not being interested. 

She's not sure she views charming and sweet with the same open derision, but, honestly she's not especially comfortable with either.  

“He started talking about fairytale romances and courting me,”  She continues, her Brows furrowing as she does, she expects she looks a bit queasy, standing there chewing on her lower lip till it bleeds. 

Of course Astarion looks delighted by her discomfort.  He's trying to his credit to hide it.  She thinks she might see something else there.  Behind the laugh he's trying to hold back.  A flicker of concern that's being quickly washed away

“Wait, were you jealous?” 

“What, no!” He denies it like it's An absurd notion, pauses a moment and then continues.  A little reluctantly.

 “Maybe a little worried this would mean an end to our late night trysts, but not jealous.”  

No, no, he was definitely jealous, and he's Embarrassed about it, which is making it very hard for Dirk not to laugh.  But it's also not actually important, so she doesn't press the issue.

“Oh, well.  It doesn't.  We can keep doing that.”  She says, with the same awkwardness that always sneaks in when she's thinking about what passes for their relationship.  

Even if they haven't actually had a late night tryst in a while.  

The last two times he's asked she's ended up dragging him into help preparing more healing potions.  

“I told him I'm not interested in- uh, anything like that.” 

Somehow thinking about Wyll, and his painfully earnest affection is worse,  Astarion's flirtations feel insincere and baffling most of the time, but Wyll, thinking about being swept off her feet to ride off into the sunset, she thinks she's going to be sick.

“Really?”  He seems a bit stunned.  

“Yeah, I don't want to be courted-” Dirk blurts, it's out like a crossbow bolt.  And now she can't stop talking.

 “I don't even- he just started having all these feelings at me! And talking about how I was the sun in the sky and the church and the stars when I asked him about it this morning, and we’ve only known each other for a tenday and change! And all I did was let him kiss me and, and I don't know where any of that was coming from!”  

She's pacing back and forth as she talks, scratching a hole in the back of her hand as she does.  Glancing nervously at Astarion for some sign of agreement or encouragement, mostly he looks a little concerned.

“Well, I can hardly blame him for being a bit smitten, you are charming.”

Apparently this wasn't what Dirk wanted to hear.  

“No I'm not!”

He's laughing now, which does nothing to make her feel better.  But at least it distracts her enough that she's not clawing at herself anymore.

“Well,” he says, considering how to respond to that.  Dirk's inability to take a compliment at face value is equal parts insufferable and endearing.  If he just insists she is, she'll find a list of reasons to disagree.

“Maybe not at first, but you uh- grow on people.” 

He doesn't sound quite as flippant in that admission as he would like.

She just stares for a moment. 

“Is it the tadpole?”  She asks 

“Do you think it makes me more likable, or is it just making all of you horny,” she gestured vaguely at Astarion, who is back to trying not to laugh at how distressed she is by the concept of people liking her.

“Because I've never had anyone do this before and now it's like, once every two days, it's going to be Karlach next isn't it!  She can touch people now and she's going to ask me to fuck!”

And he's laughing again.   

She'd love to be mad about that, but this is an objectively stupid thing to be stressed by.

“Darling you're being ridiculous, if Karlach was going to make a move she would have by now, she's not exactly subtle.” 

“Fair point.”  Dirk says, and it is a little reassuring to hear, Karlach is so nice, but also she's intimidatingly tall.  

Dirk takes a deep breath, blowing some stringy hair out of her face as she does.  

“Thanks,” she says, pauses, realizes she isn't quite sure what she's thanking him for.  Which means he definitely doesn't know, so she should explain.  “For being normal.  About the sex I mean.”

She thinks from his face he's still not following.  It's probably a bad compliment.  

“Wyll and me locked lips for all of two seconds and he's acting like we're engaged is all, and I really appreciate you not doing that.  And not being any different at all about it now that we fucked and you know, not feeling a way or being weird about it.  So, uh, thank you for not doing that.  I think feelings are gross.”  

She's not quite sure she got the point across and the prickly undertone when Astarion speaks again makes her sure she hasn't. 

“Oh yes, pesky things, glad neither of us are burdened with them.”  He's trying very hard to be dismissive and is suddenly quite preoccupied with examining his nails.  

She curses in her head, picking at the frayed edges of her coat sleeves.  “Yeah, okay.”  She's definitely done something wrong.  

“I'm gonna help with breakfast.”  

She'll figure out what her latest social blunder is later.  She's gonna run away for now.   

She just turns and high tales it back towards her tent before things can get worse.

#Astarion/Tav #BG3 #bg3 astarion #Named Tav #Baldur's Gate 3 #Dirk Knifely #Astarion #Wyll/Tav mentions #He does not in fact appear in this fic #I'm doing a lot of little out of order one shots about my Druid #Just finished the game and also got the laptop working again

[honeysulani]

I have to play Astarion's origin if I want to finally romance Gale🥹

#my tav's are all in a relationship with Astarion #If he exists I just can't help myself #my little star🥹 #I love this character so much but Gale has been growing on me #but I fail everytime Astarion appears on my screen and I'm ok BYE #why am I like this #anyways I love bloodweave #I have 3 saves atm #callyx is still in act 3 #my monch tav is in act 1 #and my evil tav also in act 1 #but I have the urge to romance Gale asap #and i've never played an origin run so that means new content as well!! #but idk I've seen a snippet of Astarion's origin cutscene and they obv were about his trauma #but I really wanna try playing his origin

[silver-horse]

I downloaded a bg3 mod that makes my character's tits less enormous and all the very sexy low cut outfits now have a huge gap between her chest and the fabric. lmao just like in real life. can't wear those clothes. I am truly immersed now

#LOL #completely realistic... I don't want my character to wear those anyway... so it's all good #only buttoned up shirts for her #but unfortunately the mod changes half-elf body models in general so now shadow also can't wear those clothes #I wouldn't alter her appearance if there was a way to mod only my main character... but there isn't #my post #my posts #bg3 mine #about me #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #funny #tav #mods #modded #mod #outfit #clothes

[indigoworks]

wil the bard! been sketchin' :)

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #baldurs gate tav #dnd #i mean. she is ALSO my tav !! #anw this is the first sketch in a while... to just appear on its own & im delighted i feel that means im warmed back up for makin things :D #wil... i hold you in both my hands beloved... ;-; #indigo art / #indigo ocs / #wil tag

[pricemarshfield]

since i can’t play the epilogue on tav’s original save file i’ve been replaying her and ohhhh my god. look at her

#shes so handsome i want to give her pretty things she’d disdain for their appearance and hoard for their magic ♥️ #oc: tav khoury #also i met raphael again and wouldnt you know it. tav is weird about him this time around. kicking in earlier #anyway. i like her. if they make it so i can play the epilogue on my og save this is gonna be bad end her. uh oh’ #my life rn #also if youre like why is the quality shit its bc i couldnt be assed to take a screenshot so have a photo i took of my computer screen

[horsyunicorn]

@haeluin

#i like it when my Tav has expressions and emotions #also when she appears in unusual poses in cutscenes #emerald tav #horsy plays bg3

[zevrans]

.

#finally got into the whole bg3 modding shebang and installed some appearance mods to make my new sorcerer tav 😍 #also is it me or is there anyone else who can't NOT choose the black sclera eyes everytime?? she's a half elf again but i just #can't not pick the black sclera options like.. it looks so much better i always loved that in a character appearance idk :D #it adds a little bit of sinister-ly vibe to her overall soft look im going after #wish i could edit the heads myself tho i dont like the huge lips but i liked the face shape of a certain mod head #and the one i liked lips on i dont like the face shapevxmfjfm #i need to download piercing mods dang i almost finished when i realized the default piercings dont go well with her look #and now i'll have to remake her again 🙈 #but first find piercing options i like #and more eyes #tbd

[vaxstrife]

irwen - seldarine drow - circle of the moon druid ranger

#not to be confused with my lolth drow with the same name/face bc they're alt universe versions of each other in my head #one is more chaotic neutral one is chaotic good #one has red eyes one has icy gray eyes #one romances ascended astarion the other romances spawn astarion etc etc #just fun lore i made up so i have a reason to play the same pc with minor appearance differences/different hairstyles #while also taking them on nearly opposite paths :) #bg3 #bg3 oc #bg3 tav #baldur's gate 3

[feyascorner]

until I come back alive

summary. in which you come back injured from a particularly unlucky battle, and Astarion realizes his feigned affections for you are not feigned at all.

warnings. angst, fluff, Astarion being bad at feelings

pairing. Astarion x GN!reader

a/n. this is super long omg ALSO TYSM for the love on my previous fic! It was my first post so I didn’t realize more than like two ppl would see it!! Kind of scary but also I can write more astarion so oh well 🙏

“The way they look at you is different from the way they look at us.”

Astarion raises a brow at this, glancing at Karlach who adjusts a log in the campfire paying no heed to the flickering flames brushing against her skin. She smiles to herself, genuinely, and he questions if she’s finally gone mad.

“So have you said the big ‘L’ word yet?” she asks excitedly, turning to him with a big grin. He shifts away from her, the increasing heat radiating off her body but she doesn’t seem to care, too busy staring at him expectantly.

“The what?”

“You know! The ‘L’ word,” she says the last part in a hushed whisper, as if it’d be a sin for anyone else to hear. Occasionally it baffles him how childish she can be, though he’d never voice these concerns out loud considering she could snap his poor body in half if she really wanted.

He also knows that she’s more emotionally capable in how she approaches these relationships (though one could argue it’s just innocence)—in ways he’s lost over the past 200 years. Though, he makes an effort to shove these thoughts to the deepest corners of his brain for the sake of his own sanity.

“If you’re speaking of ‘love,’” He emphasizes it with a strange accent. “No. I have not. Nor have they.”

She appears puzzled. “Why not?”

He sighs irritably, bringing a hand to adjust the cuffs on his hand. “Must everything be put bluntly? So glaringly obvious?”

“You love each other, don’t you?”

At this, he falters, just the slightest before plastering his usual grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Love is a wide spectrum, dear. Tav and I are whatever they want us to be.”

A late night partner would be the most positive thing he could refer you to. A fling, an amusement, or whatever words people described the arrangement between the two of you as, he didn’t care for it. He’d given himself to you, and you to him—-physically, at least, and you’d seem more than content with it. In return, he received protection, which was a sufficient payment in return for his hushed words of affection and kisses. A fair trade, he deemed.

Sure, he could’ve chosen anyone else in the camp. But he’d seen the way your eyes lit up at the sight of him, surely dazed at his flirtatious tendencies. You’d been an easy target. A survival tool.

And yes, maybe he’d played with your innocent feelings, but could you really blame him? He’d given you the nights of your life, for something so simple in return. It was a transaction.

Karlach waves a dismissive hand which brings him back to the present, propping herself on her arm behind her. “Life’s too short for that bullshit. Either you love someone or you don’t.”

“Fortunately for me, I have all of eternity,” he snorts. “Unless I were to suddenly lose the unwanted visitor inside my head and step into the sunlight, I’ll be here to watch the world fall and rise a dozen times over I’m afraid.”

“But they don’t,” Karlach frowns. “Tav doesn’t have eternity.”

He ignores the way his jaw clenches. He’s afraid, he thinks, of losing the freedom he’s just gained.

“Did you call me?”

Both the vampire and tiefling turn to your voice, where you stand blankly with an armful of logs clutched to your waist. Karlach opens her mouth to respond, but Astarion is faster.

“Nothing, darling. Just answering a few curious questions from Karlach here.”

“Oh,” you blink at him, shrugging before setting the logs beside the fireplace. “Well, Gale, Shadowheart, and I are going to the village across the forest tomorrow morning to check on the goblins appearing there recently. Won’t be back till noon so don’t wait up.”

“Don’t worry,” Karlach laughs. “I’ll keep the camp in order while you’re gone. If Astarion tries to bite Lae’zel, though, his fate’s inevitable.”

He rolls his eyes, opting to stand from his spot and take your hand. “Come along, darling. Any longer near this damned fireplace and my skin may melt.”

You nod with a smile, waving at Karlach before you follow him into his tent without a word of protest.

Easy, he thinks. Too easy.

He soon finds himself staring up at you from his place, laying his head on your lap as you read through a few scrolls you found throughout the day. He clicks his tongue and you look down, offering that sickeningly sweet smile again. “What’s wrong?”

“You have the most handsome person in this camp on your bloody lap and you want to read?”

You snicker at this, setting the scroll down beside you. “What do you suggest I do? Worship the very eyelashes on your face?”

“My body deserves much more praise than just the eyelashes.”

“Hm…” you pretend to be in thought. “That mole on your face is very obvious too.”

He gasps, immediately shooting upward as he grabs at his own face. “Tell me you’re lying.”

Your laughter rings throughout the tent, airy as you pull his hand away from his face. “I’m kidding, mostly.”

He stares at you as you recollect yourself, finding himself gazing at you far longer than he’d like to admit. Quickly, he adjusts, fiddling with the hand mirror he always keeps under his pillow as he watches you through it. “Karlach spoke of something ridiculous today. She said you were in love with me.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” he rolls his eyes. “That woman lives in a fairy tale I tell you. How she went through 10 years in Avernus is beyond me.”

There’s slight hesitance in your voice, and if he’d not learned your body language early on in your arrangement, he wouldn’t have even noticed it. “Astarion, have you ever been in love?”

He pauses at this, meeting your eyes head on now. There’s a heavier thickness in the air between the short distance between the two of you, and he immediately gauges what you want him to say. A lie readies itself at the tip of his tongue, his gaze searching yours for whatever fantasy that lives behind them.

Instead, your expression is blank. He finds nothing.

“No.” He’s not sure why he responded honestly, but it’s too late to take it back. “Have you?”

You look to the side. “I’m not sure anymore.”

“Anymore?” He shifts his head when you turn your chin further away, avoiding confrontation. “Has someone captured your impenetrable heart as of late? How intriguing—do tell.”

His teasing tone drops when you don’t smile at his usual antics. He’s not stupid—far from it. He knows you’ve begun to fall for him. It’s an obvious result from the 200 years of instinctive flirting he has tucked away in what remains of his soul, and it’s what he intended. What he needed.

The more enraptured you are, the longer he has protection.

He gently tilts your chin toward him, his fang visible through the grin that stretches across his face. “Tell me, pet, do you love me?”

Your eyes drop to his lips. “Do you want me to?”

A bunny caught in the fangs of a fox. It would be so easy to indulge—to go as far as to make you nothing but a puppet he toys with for his own personal gains. He can sense the way your finger twitches, itching to lace them with his own, and the crueler side of him forces his hand to stay put.

He wordlessly leans toward you, his lips grazing against the side of your neck. You shiver at the touch and he smiles wickedly to himself, drinking in the gasp that escapes you when he tilts your neck to the other side, where he usually drinks.

He doesn’t even have to ask. “Just—be gentle. Please.”

“Of course.” He unhinges his jaw, ready to plunge the knives of his teeth into where the sweet liquid gold rushes to your face, his shoulders finally relaxing when—

“I love you,” you whisper under your breath.

He stops.

Though unsure why, he freezes. Completely and utterly freezes.

“Astarion?”

He pulls away slowly, staring at you for a long moment before offering another smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You look exhausted, my dear. I think that’s enough for tonight.”

“But you didn’t even feed?”

“I can handle myself, darling, as much as I appreciate your worries,” he stands and holds the flap of the tent open, practically a silent demand for you to leave.

He should be ecstatic. Gleaming with joy from being offered a drop of your blood, but instead, he feels knots forming in his stomach. And the longer he watches you, the worst they seem the get.

Hurt flashes across your face and he ignores the sudden tightness in his chest.

“Okay, well,” you say, stepping out hesitantly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, my dear.”

And as he lies wide awake in the middle of the night with nothing to accompany him but his own thoughts, he finds that all of them are overruled by his endless need for warmth. Not just anyone’s but the one he’s become accustomed to the past few months. No matter how much he curls up in his bedroll, all he can feel is the chill of his own body.

And he hates it more than he expected.

——

By the time he awakens, you’re long gone.

He’s rather productive. Taking walks, gathering supplies, catching up on his reading, he refuses to sit and lie around as the others await for you and your companions to return from the goblin village.

He even entertains sitting through one of Karlach’s dances, which somehow ends up being more entertaining than he’d imagined. While she didn’t fall flat on her face (which he admittedly looked forward to), it burnt through time regardless.

The peace is broken when he hears footsteps rushing toward the camp. He’s memorized everyone’s intervals when sprinting or pacing, so he’s quick to identify Gale and Shadowheart. He listens keenly for your own footsteps.

There are no third pair of footsteps at all.

Shadowheart stumbles into the camp, in a panic compared to her usual self, as she points toward a spot on the ground and snaps at Gale to put something down.

He only sees when she moves out of the way that this something, is rather someone.

You’re writhing in pain, eyes shut in an unconsciousness that’s surely preferable to what you’re feeling. You’re sweating, groaning in your sleep and everyone is immediately rushing to you.

His face would’ve gone pale, if it weren’t for the fact that he was already as ghostly as a sheet.

“What happened,” Lae’zel demands in place of him, and he opts to mindlessly push Gale to the side, who doesn’t say a word from the expression on Astarion’s face. He doesn’t know what he looks like, but from Gale’s reaction, it’s better he never know.

“Damned poison arrows,” Shadowheart hisses. “I’m completely out of magic for today. I need to make an antidote by hand before their condition gets any worse than it already is.”

Astarion brushes the back of his knuckles against your cheek. The creases between your brows soften for the slightest moment before they’re back again.

Lae’zel and Shadowheart are arguing again—something about how one thing would’ve happened if another thing hadn’t. He’s not even sure what they’re arguing about, but in an instant, rage flickers in his chest.

“Do something!” He snaps, suddenly making the camp go quiet. “Or are you just going to stand there and watch them die?”

He suddenly feels a hand grab his, and his eyes shoot down to see your own. Even in your sleep, you reach out to him. Even in the deepest part of slumber, you search for him. It makes him feel like the shittiest and luckiest person alive, especially as the your hurt expression from last night flashes in his mind.

“Help them,” the words spill out against his will, his tone breaking down into something more desperate. “Do something. For God’s sake, anything.”

In the moment, he doesn’t care about protection. He doesn’t give a shit about any of that because the second he’d seen you in genuine pain, it was all he needed to completely forget about the stupid reasons why he approached you in the first place.

All he cared about was your life.

Everyone glances at one another knowingly, but even Lae’zel doesn’t break the silence. Shadowheart spares him a furrowed glare before rushing to gather the antidote.

You only awake hours later. Certainly during the middle of the night, to the ceiling of a tent that’s certainly not your own. You slowly urge yourself to sit up, a pounding headache ringing in your skull, but your worries about it vanish when you hear his voice.

“Quite the nap, darling.”

You snap around to see him on the other side of the tent, albeit only a few feet away from how crunched it is. Fascinating, he thinks, that even with your disheveled hair and bloodshot eyes, he finds you more beautiful than before. “What happened?”

“You nearly died.”

“…how?”

“Poison,” he’s fiddling with his dagger, refusing to look at you. He can’t. In fear of what he might say. “Caused a reasonable panic too. Seems like our companions have grown more attached to you than anyone’s expected.”

You purse your lips, and he quickly mortifies at the exceeding need to part them with his own. You don’t seem to notice. “You too?”

“I was certainly worried our esteemed leader may kick the bucket earlier than anticipated, yes.”

“No, I mean,” you scrunch your eyes sheepishly, and he thinks it’s adorable. Gods he must be going insane. “Have you…grown attached?”

He raises a brow. “You just woke up from a life threatening experience and that’s what piques your interest?”

Your cheeks turn a shade darker. He wants to touch them. “I just…I was worried all day. About us. I got too distracted and of course, that’s on me, but one of the goblins took advantage and—“

He wants to climb into a coffin, guilt eating away at what remains of his organs. But when you fidget with the ends of his bedroll blanket, he can’t tell if his stomach is churning from shame or something else.

You stop, close your mouth, then open it again. “When I passed out, I was just thinking about how I would hate for us to part like that. I didn’t want last night to be our last moment.”

“No,” he says firmly. “While you’d been asleep, I’ve had quite some time to think, darling. And more time to wallow in my self pity for being stuck with an actual weirdo. I mean, do you hear yourself? Worrying about such a stupid encounter while on your deathbed? You should’ve been cursing me with all the strength you had left if you were going to think about me of all people!”

You smile a bit, and he grits his teeth at the way his throat goes dry. “I’m just glad.”

“For getting poisoned?”

“No,” you roll your eyes. “I’m glad I didn’t scare you off by telling you I loved you. I was afraid we wouldn’t talk like this anymore.”

His body wills him to freeze up again. To push you away, and to force the fantasy that his feelings towards you were nothing but manipulative. That you were nothing but a way to survive to him. But no, he couldn’t stand such cowardice any longer. Not after nearly losing you.

You offer him a pathetic laugh. “I don’t expect you to say it back, nor for you to feel the same way. I just—felt like you needed to know. It doesn’t change anything between us I hope. It just felt wrong to keep it to myself any longer and the way you reacted just made me regret it so much-“

He wraps his palm in front of your mouth, his other hand pulling you closer to his side in an instant. With your faces inches apart, he sighs irritably. “As much as I’d like to keep hearing your voice, I can’t stand its contents any longer I’m afraid.”

He lowers his hand, staring straight at your wide eyes as he narrows his own. “I do. Like you, I mean. A lot more than I’d like to admit, quite frankly.”

You blink as if you’re staring at a miracle.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbles with a scoff. “I’ve had these feelings for a while now, I just didn’t wish to face them. When you said that to me yesterday, I just didn’t know how to respond, and for that, I am sorry. But losing you—I’m not sure what I would have done, but it’s certainly not a pretty sight.”

Your eyes soften and he’s certain he can lose himself within them for years. “I’ve never heard you sound so—sincere.”

He raises your knuckles to his lips, keeping them close even as he speaks. “I approached you out of necessity, I’ll admit. But it seems you’ve grown on me in a way I haven’t experienced since I’ve turned into a spawn. What you are to me—it’s difficult to describe.” He pauses. “Sometimes, I can still feel my heart beating with you.”

As your fingers brush against the side of his face, he swears he can feel it again. He almost feels warm, maybe even safe. And he’s sick and tired of denying himself of your embrace when death is around every corner.

You’re soon curled up into his chest, with his chin atop of your head. He’s not sure how much time passes—maybe hours, or even days as he continues to observe your face, committing each and every detail to his memory. And when your breathing steadies, falling into deep slumber, he finally has the courage to whisper the words against your hair.

“I love you.”

#astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #light angst #angst with a happy ending #fluff #comfort #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #astarion