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p1nk-b1tes · 2 months

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chérie amour

[ rolan x fem!tav smut ]

summary: rolan leaves his spellbook and his lunch at home, so tav decides to pay him a visit at work to return them.

warnings: blowjobs, semi-public sex, risky sex

words: 3200

find part one here

click here to read on ao3 or read below:

A leather-bound spellbook and a sandwich wrapped in paper, left uncharacteristically atop the kitchen table. Presumably forgotten.

Tav rubs her eyes of the lingering hold of sleep, her brow furrowing at the sight in front of her. Rolan isn’t usually the forgetful type but he’s also far from perfect, no matter how perfect he appears to be through her own eyes. Tav picks up the sandwich and the book and peers around the corner towards their front door and finds that the pack he usually takes with him to work is missing. With the weight of both of the items in her hands she wonders how he didn’t notice he was leaving them behind.

She knows right then what she has to do. It’s no question.

She’ll visit him at Sorcerous Sundries for lunch.

—

The mid-morning sun is warm and the clouds are sparse as she walks the streets of the lower city. It’s a busy day–the first of the month always is–and vendors line the streets in their colorful tents, selling wares of all kinds and doing whatever they can to entice her to stop by and take a look.

A fruit stand catches her eye first. It’s obviously been popular - if the half-filled crates are any indication - and the brillant shapes and colors of the perfectly ripe fruit make her want to buy it all just to sink her teeth into it and feel the sticky juice run down her arm. She looks around at everything while the skinny gnome man behind the stall asks her about her morning and her plans for the rest of the day. She’s more than happy to entertain him and before she leaves she promises to return to him on her way home. The man laughs and tells her he can’t promise anything remaining past mid-day. She buys a pear just in case.

There’s also a man selling fish, and another selling polished pearl buttons, and a woman offering quick tailoring services offers her a toothless smile as she passes by. She passes a florist and decides to buy a small bouquet on a whim before stopping at a sweet mother and daughter selling pastries. The fruit-filled one calls her name and she swaps some gold pieces for it, adding a couple extra simply because she can. When the mother calls after her to tell her she overpaid, Tav waves goodbye and wishes her a happy afternoon.

By the time she reaches Sorcerous Sundries her smallpack is a little heavier, her coin purse lighter, and her heart warmer.

The roar of elementals and the tingle of magic tickling the hairs on her arms act as a pleasant and familiar welcome as she walks through the doors of the grand building. Lively as ever, the controlled chaos of magic and the constant pursuit of knowledge feel like a second home to her. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tav makes her way to the second floor of Sundries, careful as she steps around a twinkling projection of a tomcat, fast asleep in the center of a step, and making sure to wave to Lia as she goes, promising to come back later to properly say hello when she’s not busied with a patron. Finally, she cheesily blows a kiss to Rolan’s projection at the top of the stairs and promptly vanishes into a portal.

Navigating through the many corridors and staircases of Sundries’ private sector is easy despite something being different, moved, or aggressively renovated each time she visits, and it’s not long until she finds herself where she knows Rolan is most likely to be found. She peeks her head into the library first. It’s empty. So is his private study. With that knowledge in mind she turns on her heels and skips down the red carpeted hall until she reaches the end and raps her knuckles on the ornate wooden frame of the archive library’s grand mahogany door. She peeks in hesitantly, carefully inching the door open in case someone else is inside.

The only person she finds inside is that pretty tiefling with his hair tied back as he always has it and his spade-tipped tail waving back and forth behind him in a slow, even pattern – the way it does when he’s concentrating on something.

She tucks the hand holding the flowers behind her back and silently slips inside the threshold. It smells of parchment and ink. One of her favorite smells. It smells like his study back at their home.

“Hello, handsome,” she sings.

Rolan stands at the foot of a sprawling bookcase and is surrounded by piles and piles of scrolls. In his hand is another, yet it appears to be of the non-magical type, and he looks over it with great detail. She spies the fluffy end of a quill feather and assumes he’s holding the thing between his teeth. He must be cataloging.

At the sound of her voice he startles slightly and turns at the waist, an annoyed look etched onto his features at whoever had the gall to call him handsome. That look dissipates the second he realizes who it is and his sour features soften and warp into something much nicer. Much warmer. Fondness.

He pulls the quill from between his teeth and smiles, baring those pointy teeth.

“Hello, my love. What are you doing here?”

Both the scroll and quill get placed down on a nearby table and he moves in long strides to meet her at the door. Just before he’s able to close the gap between them a hand is pulled from behind Tav’s back and the tiefling is faced with a bouquet of flowers. Once again that look of confusion flits back, but there’s a little smirk on the corner of his mouth that tells Tav he’s more than a little surprised.

“What’re these?”

“Just a little something I picked up on the way here,” Tav says and thrusts them into his hands. He takes them, eyeing them carefully. “Thought they reminded me of you.”

They’re small flowers with delicate petals that begin a brilliant red and fade to a pale yellow at the tips. On the stem there are tiny needle-like barbs, and she tells him to be careful followed by a quick kiss to his freckled cheek.

“You’re adorable, but I find it difficult to believe you came all the way here to bring me flowers.”

Tav huffs in feigned disbelief but ends up laughing anyway. He can never simply enjoy a nice moment. Always one to ask ‘but why?’

“You’d be correct,” she says and reaches into her smallpack that's draped over her shoulder, pulling out his spellbook and the sandwich he’d forgotten. His brows shoot upwards towards his horns. “Get a little distracted this morning?”

The spellbook is taken from her first and tucked under his arm, the sandwich next. He laughs at his own forgetfulness.

“Must've slipped my mind. I swear I misplaced it somewhere…” He looks down at the sandwich in his hand and worries his lip for a second, considering his options. “I’ll admit I’ve been too caught up in the archives to even think about lunch, but now that you’re here I wouldn’t mind taking a break.”

That sounds like music to Tav’s ears.

They settle down at a small table in the archives library, surrounded by tomes and books and scrolls, and look out over the city through doors Rolan had opened up to reveal a quaint balcony. Tav eats the pastry she’d purchased along with the little bits of meat that fall out of the end of Rolan’s sandwich. The flowers she’d given him sit between them in a cup; he’ll have to search out a proper vessel to hold them after she leaves.

They talk about various topics while they enjoy the other’s company. They chat about the tower and the renovations being done to it, they chat about Tav’s progress on her painting, and they chat about how close Rolan is to finally being done with the entire scroll debacle (the piles on the floor say otherwise, but Tav is inclined to believe him anyway). And after a lovely hour has passed and Rolan announces that he must get back to work soon, he’s leading her towards the exit with a hand on the small of her back when she announces that she would like to give him one more thing before she goes.

“What is it?” He asks, and her eyes dart down the empty hall before she sinks down to her knees.

Rolan nearly chokes on his saliva.

“Tav- this isn’t necessarily a private floor, you know. The staff -”

She looks up at him from where she’s settled back on her calves, her hands already coming up to rest on the front of his thighs under his robes, “ I haven’t seen a single person come through here since I arrived. Plus, I never forgot about returning that favor you did for me.”

“Returning it isn’t necessary, I wanted to do that. I needed it. But Tav, just because they haven’t come up here doesn’t mean they won’t -”

His words come out rushed. She can hear the anxiety building in his voice about what he wants to say and what he knows he should say. Tav cuts him off again and squeezes the flesh under her palms.

“And I want to do this.”

He swallows thickly, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat, and then he makes a noise that is almost weak, nearly a whimper, and Tav’s fingers migrate upwards for the pretty pearl button on his trousers.

It takes a minute to get him hard - from the anxiety gnawing at his nerves, she presumes - but eventually he begins to stiffen up under her palm, and finally, when he’s hot and heavy in her grip, she leans forward to lick at the underside of it and nose at that pretty, pulsing vein on the side.

The first touch of her hot tongue against his skin makes him groan and slightly bow inwards at the waist, as if trying to hide himself away. The more she licks the more he attempts to disappear.

The ridges stiffen up on the sides of his cock, the space between them expanding as he swells to full hardness, and Tav worships each of them with her mouth. She has always loved the way they feel in her mouth - along her tongue and against her lips. If she could stay on her knees mouthing at every hard line and ridge she would. Just mapping out which parts of his cock pull different noises from his throat… Finding what makes him whine - what makes him groan. Those uneven lines and the soft, spongy head. She drops her chin to lick a long line from root to tip and one of Rolan’s hands weaves its way into the back of her hair when she pays special attention to his sensitive frenulum.

She takes the tip into her mouth and sucks, flicking the tip of her tongue over it in quick movements, and Rolan’s golden eyes dart around wildly, as if he’s worried that someone will pop out of the shadows and catch them. The portal at the end of the hall whips and whorls, threatening with every ripple to send someone through. The idea is terrifying. It’s also exhilarating.

The rest of him that her mouth doesn’t reach gets jerked by her hand and slowly she begins to take him deeper. The tiefling makes a sound that resembles a low growl as she takes him further into her mouth, his legs bowing slightly and the hand on her head petting at her hair in an encouraging manner. She takes him until he twitches and her jaw begins to ache with the uncomfortable stretch.

When Tav pulls off to take a breather she can’t help but chuckle when she looks up. The poor tiefling is already breathing harder than usual and his freckled cheeks are so beautifully flushed. She wishes they were home so she could tear his clothes from his chest to see how his skin blooms with the same hue. She’d love to find out how that heated skin tastes under her tongue.

“Is it okay?” She asks after a brief moment of silence, her dominant hand still working diligently over his shaft.

He nods and cradles her cheek sweetly, voice breathless already. “Yes. Gods, yes.”

What they’re doing is anything but sweet but she leans into his touch anyways.

“You look nervous, is all.”

This time he huffs in something resembling amusement and shakes his head at her.

“Of course I am. I’m still working in case you forgot.”

“I haven’t been on my knees for that long,” she playfully retorts, returning his token sass right back at him. His brows pinch together when she tightens her grip and presses the pad of her thumb up the underside of his shaft. “I haven’t gone brainless from your dick just yet, my love.” He twitches in her hand at that. “Just relax. If someone comes in I’ll be on my feet before they finish opening the door.”

“Fine, just -“ he guides her back in gently and she takes him into her mouth, allowing him to sit nice and heavy on her tongue for a moment. The moment gets ruined when he experimentally decides to punch his hips forward.

Tav chokes.

The sudden, ugly noise that she makes makes him cringe and he spits something in infernal through his teeth. She furrows her brow, he translates: “we are going to get caught…”

Tav blinks away the wetness from her eyes and pulls off, tugging at his tip while she recovers.

“Just surprised me. I’ll be quiet, I promise.”

She looks gorgeous on her knees. She always does.

Rolan presses his thumb claw to her bottom lip and pulls it down, exposing her bottom teeth. “I find that hard to believe.”

Instead of trying to convince him she’ll be quiet, Tav decides to show him.

She guides his cock back between her lips and sucks lightly, running her tongue along all of the ridges and smooth underside and he moans a beautiful, sweet sound that makes her core ache for him. She bobs her head slightly, taking him the way she knows he likes, and his knees threaten to buckle from beneath him when she ascends to suckle at his head again. For a while she takes him just like that.

“Tav-“ he hisses, and a sharp canine peeks out to dig into his lip,” -I’m close”

She sits back on her heels and his cock slips past her lips with a slick pop. She’s quick to press the flat of her tongue against the bead of pre that leaks from the tip and hums pleasantly at the taste of him on her tongue. His taste is unique. Spice and something so uniquely him.

Outside the balcony’s doors, a flock of birds takes flight, the quick flapping of their wings startling the pair inside, and instead of pushing her away, his reflexes pull her closer, effectively burying himself into her throat. Luckily this time she’s able to adjust. Her nose get buried in the thick fabric of his robes and she tries to focus on the familiar scent of her lover woven between the threads and not on how impossibly full her throat is. She flexes around him and threatens to gag with every impossibly long second that passes until he’s choking on his own breath, simply caught up at at the sight of her.

Tav works over him with her mouth, sucking around what she can fit in her mouth and jerking off what she can’t, all while Rolan tries not to lose his mind. He’s more than surprised how long he’s managed to hold out thus far. There’s something about the idea of a risky blowjob at work that lights a fire in his belly and makes his balls tighten up at the thought.

It’s dangerous. It’s delicious.

He can’t wait to blow his load down her throat and promptly get back to his tedious, boring tasks. The image and memory of this moment will be burned into the back of his eyelids until he gets a chance to have her again. He already knows it’ll be a torturous next few hours.

He tosses his head back and guides her mouth over him with a loose hold on her hair, gently encouraging her as she does all the work and praising her with mumbled words that tumble past his lips like a mantra.

A thick glob of pre meets Tav’s tongue and she moans loud and rich, the vibrations going straight to Rolan’s groin and making his balls tighten up. He gasps and throbs against her tongue. It only urges her to continue.

A few more bobs of her head and perfect twists of her wrist are all it takes to send him over the edge. He cums across her tongue in ropes, groaning behind his teeth dug harshly into his lip, a hand flexing in her hair as he does. She already knows she’ll have to fix her appearance before she heads back out on the town but that’s the least of her worries. There are much better things to focus on, like the richness of his scent flooding her senses, and the sound of his moans in her ears, and the fact that the hand on her head is so large…

She takes everything he gives her until he’s pulling out of her mouth from overstimulation and carefully tucking himself back into his trousers, fixing the button with haste. Then, ever the gentleman he is, he offers Tav his hand and helps her from the floor.

Her knees ache and she brushes the dust from her clothes.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” He asks, a little breathless, and pulls the woman in by the small of her waist to press up against his chest. They breathe together as they come down from the highs of it all. The halls and the archive library are as silent as they were before they began. It’s a blessing now. A miracle before.

Tav chuckles and pulls back slightly to smooth out the wrinkles in his robe and comb a piece of hair back behind his ear. He’s gracious enough to help smooth out the bumps in her hair that he messed up.

His question hangs in the air between them still. There’s suggestiveness in his tone, and even more in how his dick refuses to deflate against her thigh. If she doesn’t choose her words carefully she could be leaving at a much later time than right now.

“Until later, Master Rolan,” she says and picks up her smallpack, slinging it over her shoulder and leaning up to give him a kiss. The smirk on her lips is undeniable. Woven between her words is a promise.

Rolan digs his hands into her clothing and leans down to nose at her temple.

Then she’s gone, and Rolan is forced to turn back to his scrolls. Red-faced and still a little hard in his trousers… Those damned scrolls.

He isn’t sure which of them will be the death of him…

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #rolan bg3 #rolan fanfiction #rolan x tav #bg3 rolan #rolan #rolan x reader

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diaphanouso · 7 days

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To Burn in Desire's Name

I've been cooking up a Rolan fic for the last eternity few months, and I'm so excited to finally share a little snippet from it! It started out as a sex pollen one shot (and still will be), but it's gained sentience and grown into a series that will include a sequel following the growth of Rolan and Ruby's relationship with themes of religious sensuality (she's a cleric and I will be leaning into that 😉); a fairytale-style one shot of Ruby's backstory as a child taken and "raised" by a hag; and a gothic horror story about Ramazith's ghost 👀

Anyway, here's a bit from the first fic, To Burn in Desire's Name, in which Tav (Rolan won't learn her actual name until later) leaves a sending stone in Rolan's desk, and that's how they communicate after she leaves the city (snippet contains no explicit content; also please be nice this is my first Rolan fic and it's still an early draft ty😅):

-----❤️-----

Truth be told, he had come to live for these missives, to keenly welcome that most enchanting tingling in his mind, the firm, comforting weight of the smooth stone in his palm, the ghostly touch of copper filament, faint and delicate as a memory, and then: her voice, her laughter, clearer than his own thoughts, precious and intimate as a whispered secret.

This high, the air was as fresh as that in the gardens, the winds lending a slight bite to it. It had become a favorite place of late, a private, serene respite from all the goings-on about the tower. Up here, it was only Rolan and the falcons that wheeled above the city, their majestic wings forming a loose “M” as they rode the winds. Up here, he could let the stress fall from his mouth in a sigh. He could close his eyes, and he could open his mind, let Tav’s words roam freely.

Selune danced before the sun today… my soul still resonates from it

blackest night, but for a ring of brilliant gold — quite like your eyes

Rolan’s eyes fluttered open, bemusement creasing his brow. Selune danced before the sun…? What did it mean, and moreover, what did it have to do with his eyes?

He searched his mind. Other than what was relevant to his craft, cosmology had never been his strongest subject. Selune danced before the sun… Ah.

As a youth, he’d heard travelers spin tales of the moon passing before the sun, turning day to night. Back then, Rolan couldn’t conceive of such a thing, with Elturel's constant daylight. He’d known darkness, but only as something that occurred indoors.

The travelers had spoken of the phenomenon in hushed voices, their shuddering words suggesting terror and awe. But for Tav—and, likely, her fellow Selunites—it was Selune herself. Dancing. Rolan’s mouth tilted into a soft smile.

Tav’s message had had a hushed quality to it, too, but not from terror and awe. It was reverence and awe that Rolan had picked up in her thought-voice. She’d spoken of it like a sacred event. A gift from her goddess.

…and she’d compared his eyes to it. Not that that had to mean anything, of course, and truthfully, it had sounded like an afterthought. But… could anyone blame him if a blush blazed across his cheeks? Or if it called to mind that night at Elfsong a year ago? When Tav had paid him a compliment that made him smile any time he thought about it — which was often:

“I wish you could have seen yourself in that moment, when you rained arcane fury upon the bastard. You were righteous, incredible to behold, even fighting beside Dame Aylin.”

What came after, which he thought of just as often, also made him smile — and had provided Cal and Lia endless entertainment in the weeks that followed.

She leaned in close, and before he had time to recover from whatever alluring scent it was that she carried — honeysuckle? — she’d placed a soft, quick kiss on his cheek.

A kiss between compatriots, a polite peck that meant no more than a handshake or a clap on the shoulder. A brief, platonic gesture, nothing more.

Nevertheless, the tips of Rolan’s fingers found their way to his blushing cheek, where her lips had so briefly and platonically been.

#rolan #rolan fanfiction #rolan fic #rolan x tav #oc tav #bg3 fanfiction #rolan nation #i love them your honor #holy rolan empire

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itslarsyouguys · 3 months

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The final chapter of my Rolan/Tav fic is up! If that's your thing, please go read and kudos and comment if you'd like!

I'm so proud of myself for completing something, even though it isn't perfect, even though it sometimes feels like a collection of scenes, my difficulty is in getting myself out there sometimes, and now I have. I have ideas for more with them, stories they're part of and PWP, and I have a partially written regency romance novel AU that I'm working on, but my goal, to get other people to read about Lyrical Flo and hopefully like her even a little bit, is complete!

#rolan bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #rolan/tav #rolan/flo #my fanfic #my fanfiction #rolan fanfiction #rolan x tav #tav x rolan

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fourraccoonsinacoat · 6 months

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Rolan: You know, if you ever get tired of adventuring, you could always come work at Sorcerous Sundries.

Durge: I don't think retail is the right career for me. My rancid blood desires nothing more than to reap death on this world. I am a vile soul, broken beyond repair.

Rolan: Sounds like an average Tuesday around here... We do have an annual employee picnic, though.

Durge: Does that help to soothe the unyielding rage within?

Rolan: *Sad sigh.* No.

- - - -

BG3 Incorrect Quotes Masterlist.

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mooshywrites · 4 months

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Could I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor react to his shy gender neutral crush accidentally sitting on his lap? They get off immediately while apologising the moment they realised!

A/N - Ahhhhh this prompt idea is so adorable ;-;!!!!!

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Masterlist

Art commissions

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Astarion -

~ Astarion would definitely not let you forget something like this.

~ After a particularly hard day full of fighting, I can see the whole camp deciding to relax and pass around one or two (or a case) of wine.

~ The alcohol goes straight to your head and you’re tripping over your feet in no time. This isn’t a problem, that is until… you stumble and trip your way right into Astarion’s lap

~ Your cheeks get all red, your words coming out with a plethora of excuses and Astarion basks in your embarrassment with glee.

~ He’s secretly loving it for another reason, that being the closeness of you against him now. You’ve been much too shy up to this point to even look him in the eye, let alone touch him

~ You’re falling over yourself trying to get up, apologizing more times than anyone can count and of course Astarion has all the petty things anyone could ever say

~ “If you wanted a place on my lap, you need only ask, darling.”

~ He loves it even more the next morning when he notices that now you can’t even look in his general direction without turning a beautiful shade of red

Gale -

~ Gale would be all jokes if you accidentally sat on him, trying his best to ease the awkward tension

~ “You know, I always thought I looked like an awkwardly plush chair” he would tease, lending a hand to help you up

~ I think he would love the flush to your cheeks, knowing you’re absolutely mortified by the experience.

~ He wouldn’t tell a soul about it, not even in jest. He knows how shy you are and knows the accident would only embarrass you further if your other companions caught wind of it, even if part of him wanted to brag

~ Instead, he would playfully point out ever tripping hazard while with you, leaving it an inside joke between the two of you

Wyll -

~ I can definitely see you losing your balance while practicing a difficult attack, landing right into the Devil’s lap

~ Wyll would be as charming as ever about the whole situation, making a dramatic flourish as he “caught you”

~ He’d probably rave on and on about how the ‘Blade of the Frontiers’ often had to catch damsels in distress as they fell into his awaiting arms. Everyone else may think this was because he was a braggart, but you knew deep down he did it to ease your embarrassment

~He would definitely be kind enough to ignore your reddened cheeks, whispering that everything was absolutely alright as you shot up practically shouting an “I’m sorry”

~ From that moment on, though, he always made sure to be the closest one to you, making sure he’d be there if you needed a knight in shining armor’s lap to save you again

Halsin -

~ You would be immensely tired after a long day of traveling, not even looking where your feet planted as you plopped down on what you thought was a log.

~ You practically jump out of your skin when strong arms wrap around you casually, Halsin continuing on his conversation with the others as if nothing happened

~ You would feel the red hot embarrassment in every nerve of your body, hissing to Halsin to let go, apologizing for sitting on him

~ He would cling on for a few moments, letting out a deep chuckle at your blunder

~ “Think nothing of it, my heart, I simply thought you wanted to sit somewhere softer than the ground. Would you prefer to sit on me if I were a bear?”

~ You couldn’t even answer him, smacking his chest and jumping out of his arms

~ Thank goodness it was dark, you wouldn’t want anyone seeing the goofy smile on your face paired with the knowing grin on the gentle giant elf

Dammon -

~ Dammon would be so generously kind as you accidentally sat on him, helping you back up, worried he made you uncomfortable

~ He would definitely be the only one to be more embarrassed than you, his cheeks the exact same shade of red. He’d try to play it off, but the cracks in his voice gave it away immediately

~ Both of you would be an adorable mess of apologies and stutters, trying to ignore how nice it was to be that close only moments earlier.

~ He would finally clear his throat, trying to change the subject as the red in his cheeks began to even seep down to his neck.

~ You both finally relaxed a little, smiling relieved smiles

~ That is until a very loud, very obvious Astarion would gesture between the two of you, “When the hell are you two going to finally admit you like each other! Seriously, this is getting difficult to watch”

~ It would take days before the you and Dammon could make it through a conversation without sounding like a bumbling lovesick kit after that

Rolan -

~ If anyone could be more awkward than Dammon when you sat on his lap, it would absolutely be Rolan. Apparently the invisibility spell he was trying out worked a little too well.

~ You would let out a shriek as you sat down, expecting the chair to feel… well… like a chair. You spun around to an apologetic smile and hands held up in defense

~ Both of you would choke out an “im sorry” at the same time, giggling a little breathlessly

~ “What the hell were you doing as a chair?” You’d complain, trying to swallow away the embarrassment, not knowing it was written across all of your features

~ “We’ll, technically, I wasn’t a chair” He’d say defensively, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of his already crimson skin

~ Neither of you spoke of it after, but you definitely didn’t miss the way Rolan seemed extra attentive in the days after

Zevlor -

~ Zevlor would be sickly sweet about all of it, a little disappointed when you didn’t stay for more than a moment

~ You’d make up for that when your sweet quiet voice would squeak out some apologies, eyes looking anywhere but him. He so very loved when you were embarrassed like this

~ He’d brush it off quickly, pulling up your hand to kiss it gently

~ This would make you blush more but that was probably his whole goal to begin with

~ “I’m completely at your disposal.” He’d say, taking every opportunity to memorize the shy smile you gave him

#bg3 fanfiction #bg3 headcanons #bg3 zevlor #zevlor x reader #astarion x you #bg3 astarion #gale x reader #bg3 gale #wyll x reader #bg3 wyll #halsin x reader #bg3 halsin #dammon x reader #bg3 dammon #rolan x reader #bg3 rolan

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reverieblondie · 29 days

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Could I request headcanons for Gale, Halsin, Wyll, and Astarion with touch starved gn s/o?

I ended up rewriting these a few times but I hope you enjoy reading it! Last Bullet point is NSFW!

Halsin

Halsin would never say you were obvious, but figuring out you were touched starved was relatively easy to tell. Especially with the game you were playing, it was clear after the nth time you asked for healing from him from a mere paper cut on your finger. Though, could anyone really blame you? After spending so much time on the road, with no friendly touch for weeks, then when Halsin came to your aid to heal you from a particularly nasty hit from a goblin, That was the start of it, the aching for him; you had been healed by others before but…nobody did healing like Halsin. Most healers hover their hands over you, but Halisn would hold you, pressing his large but tender hands to your skin, letting his healing magic flow through from him to you; the touch would send tingling shivers through you; some would argue that it was from the magic…But you knew it was from his touch. Halsin was more than willing to help heal you every time; in fact, the consent wanting his touch helped you two connect. Halsin hoped you would confess you wanted him to hold you one day. But you never did. So when you came for healing from your “terribly painful stomach ache,” he knew he would have to make the first move. “I think I know the perfect solution to your problem,” he whispered before he wrapped you in a tight hug; every ache and pain melted away from his touch. It is truly the perfect medicine anytime you feel touch starved.

Every party of Halsin is perfection in your eyes. Oak father really did a fantastic job when it came to making him. However, the one place you’re always grabbing onto the most is his arms. It’s not hard to see why; it’s nearly impossible to keep from clinging to his massive limbs, snuggling into them, running your hands over his thick forearms. Halsin, the sweetheart, doesn’t seem to mind your clinging, even if he is busy carving away. Now that Halsin has noticed your fondness for his arms, he may or may not start to flex them subtly when gesturing or wearing shirts that expose them so you can see every slight rippling of his muscles. Halsin will let you cling to him as long as he can nuzzle into his favorite part of you later tonight…

Now usually you’re the needy one in the relationship, pleading for hugs and beaming every time you get wrapped up in Halsins arms. Today has been different, however. It started when you woke up with Halsins hands creasing your sides and snuggling into your neck, of course you melted at the touch, thoroughly relishing in the attention, but it didn’t end there. Usually, Halsin would walk through the woods for some meditation and to gather herbs and materials for you two, but today, he didn’t leave your side. Of course, you loved it, but a part of you was starting to get worried. When you brought it up, he grabbed your hands and held them to his chest, “I just find myself wanting to be near you, my heart.” You squeeze his large hands back, “Well, let me help you, my love.” rising to your tiptoes, you begin to pepper kisses all over Halsins face. He grabs your waist and lifts you to meet his lips with yours quickly; the kiss only makes him needier.

He loves every part of you, from your hair to your adorable toes. But his hands consistently linger on your curves. On those days when you are feeling extra needy. Halsin is more than willing to help…In some inventive ways. The contrast is maddening… The smooth honey slips on top of your heated skin, and then Halsins rough tongue licks up the sticky liquid off your stomach. His hands guide your back to an arch as he keeps his hazel eyes on your moaning face. Sucking and licking as his hands continue to run over your squirming body. Halsin doesn’t know what is sweeter, the honey or you; he will spend all night trying to figure it out.

Zevlor

Zevlor has been around for a while but was never too familiar with the term ‘Touched starved.’ Sure, he had heard it back in his commander days from soldiers whispering about needing attention of the flesh but never truly gave it too much thought…until. The idea came to him when he noticed a particular trait of yours. You had no special awareness when it came to him. Consistently, you were leaning into him quite closely, and when you two walked around during perimeter checks, you would often bump into him or brush your hand against his. Of course, you would apologize for your clumsiness, but deep down, you knew what was happening…Your body was burning for him, his warmth, his touch, and it was seeking it out in any way possible. It didn’t click so quickly for Zevlor until he saw you sparing, and there was no inclination of any clumsiness in your movements; even with others, he never saw you bump or run into anything; your movements were precise and calculated…and that’s when he figured it out you were touching him purposely. Zevlors first thought was, why? Then his second was how can he tell you to only ask him for his touch. Finally, one day, as you two were doing your usual perimeter check, you slowly inched closer and closer to him, seeking the slight relief of his touch. Still, as you went to bump into him for only a moment, you found the ex-hellrider wrapped his arms quickly around you keeping you to his warm chest. Eyes wide, you go to apologize, but Zevlor is quick to quiet your worries, “If you need my warmth…please don’t hesitate to ask me…” After that day, you got a hug from him every chance you could…

Zevlor enjoys the sweet intimacy of your relationship. At first, he was not used to someone wanting to hold him so closely and shower him with affection, but slowly, he is getting used to it and enjoying it immensely. Though, you still find ways to surprise him…For example, when you start paying particular attention to his cheeks and horns, you can’t stop wanting to hold his face so tenderly and whisper soft praises to him. “I’ve never seen beauty like yours, Zevy…” he feels his heart melt at every whisper and every gentle touch to his skin. Then, if you happen to caress the base of his horns? Well…you have never heard such a deep pur.

It had been the first day in a long while that you and Zevlor spent most of the day apart. He had promised to speak to some recruits in the city, sharing his wisdom, and you had opted to stay at home. You were expecting him to come home at any minute, so you were working hard to prepare a surprise dinner for him. You missed him being home; usually, you would spend the day working in your small garden together and setting out laundry on the line together. It was lonely without him, so you planned to show him how much you missed him. As you were finishing your stew, you felt arms snaking around your waist. You gasped before his familiar voice eased you, “Be still, my dear, it’s only me…” Your body immediately relaxes as you turn to hug him back. “How was your trip?” Zevlor only hums as he buries his head into your neck. “I missed you…the road was lonely without you by my side…” you rub your hands up and down his arms as they hug you. Then you feel one of his arms part from you and hear the stove turn off; before you can ask anything else, you’re lifted and carried away toward your shared room. “Zev! What- What about Dinner?” “It can wait…I need to be close to you, just for a while…” The stew wasn’t eaten until much later…

“So beautiful…” his breath is warm as he whispers the complement into your neck. Zevlor’s lips caress your tender skin as he moves to your ear. You cling to his broad shoulders tighten, and your legs squeeze his textured hips. “You’re taking me so well. I’m proud of you.” The moan is involuntary as you feel him push deeper, his lips catching and nipping on your ear, his sharp teeth threatening to pierce, but his tongue soothing you so softly. Moving from your ear, you almost let out a whine before he blows a teasing breath on your neck, causing you to squirm and keen at the tickleing sensation. Zevlor’s fiery eyes look down at you, and that soft smile never fails to melt your core. He leans in, lips hovering over yours, his hands softly gliding down your waist, “I love you…” The vow is then sealed with a kiss.

Wyll

Wyll hadn’t thought of you as touched starved until you had to tell him flat-out. To his credit, you didn’t make it easy for him to figure out. When Wyll thinks of the term touched starved, he thinks of someone like him. Someone always willing to give out a hug or a friendly pat on the back; if you’re touched starved and in the proximity of Wyll, you were not touched starved for long. Hells, Wyll would risk the burns of hugging Karlach if she so requested. You, on the other hand, would never seem to be receptive to his friendly gestures, having grown up in a home with little affection and living on the brutal road for a while with a pleasant touch would always be a shock to your system. Especially from Wyll, it was like lightning shooting through your body with a new surge of energy you didn’t know what to do with, so you would tense up. After feeling you clamp up, Wyll simply thought you didn’t like to be touched, so ever the gentleman, he stopped. But that only made you begin to grave him…Finally, after days of seeing him touch and hug your other friends, you felt yourself going to pop. In a spur of the moment, you walked into his tent, staring at his confused features; timidness threatened to take you over, so with shaking limbs, you held your arms open with a shaky beg of “Please…” Wyll’s smile would grow so wide as he embraced you. “I thought you didn’t like to be touched?” “I…I like it when you do it…I crave your embrace…” Wyll will never make you ask please for a hug again…but other things, he might…

You couldn’t explain exactly why you love it so much, but you find you’re running your hands up and down Wylls strong back every time you get the chance. Maybe it was from seeing all its glory when he returned from the river or in the early mornings when he woke up for training. There’s just something about his broad shoulders that lean down to his narrow waist that makes your hands twitch to touch him. Wyll, of course, isn’t oblivious to how you take him in; that might be why he walks around without a shirt more often. His favorite part about liking his back is when you rest your head between his shoulder blades and hold onto him tightly. It never fails to put a smile on both your faces.

Between the two of you, you’re the one who is always slow to wake. On a typical day, you usually wake up to an empty left side of the bed, but this morning is different. You wake up to your body being held by what looks like a sleeping Wyll. Your first instinct is to worry and check him for a fever, but you find that he feels normal, and when he wakes, he greets you with a lazy smirk. “Are you okay, Wyll? You’re usually up by now?” Wyll hums softly as his eyes lazily roam over your form, “I woke up earlier but found that I couldn’t part from you…” His sweet words always make you blush, and you go to say you're sorry out of habit, but you’re silenced by him gently stroking your cheek. “Well, How about I make breakfast for us? We could eat together.” As you rise, you are quickly grabbed and trapped within his arms, his lips attacking your neck in a plethora of kisses, making you giggle. “You’re not going anywhere…I am not done with you yet…”

It’s always so slow, his hands sliding up and down your spread legs while your sex grows more and more aroused. One part of you wants to beg him to stop teasing you, but you both know that the loving pass of his hands on your skin is what you crave. Wyll keeps his eyes on yours as his lips press against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. The attention he gives you makes your mind hazy and your sex quiver in a way that only he causes. A moment of weakness causes you to moan his name. He will look down at your flushed face and smile against your skin before finally sliding his tongue on the spot you need him the most.

Rolan

Rolan is very familiar with the term being touched starved, and from being accused of it by Cal and Lia relentlessly, he was aware of the traits. Not that he thought he ever showed these. Then came you, and it was the end of him being touched starved. Rolan, at first, didn’t understand why every time you were near, your hand would absentmindedly rub in between his shoulder blades or how when you would go out to the tavern, you would sit so close to him, and it wasn’t as if you were unaware of this. No, from how you would look at his curious gaze with a smirk and a sparkle in your eyes, he knew you were messing with him. Though despite this…you two kept hanging out. If anyone would ask you if you longed for touch, you would say you only wanted Rolans and you had no shame about it; you just wished one day he would indicate the touch for once. Finally, one night, Rolan invited you to the tower to do some reading, something you could do at home, but you wouldn’t dream of passing up a moment to be around him. You two had found yourselves on the chaste, sitting very closely, exchanging blushing looks over the edges of your books, and with every passing page, you two would find yourselves inching closer and closer. Then, as your thighs are pressed together, you feel a warmth wrapping around your ankle. Looking down, you see his tail wrapped around you loosely, unsurely. Rolan had finally taken the initiative, and you were beaming. “If it bothers you, I can-” But before he could finish his sentence, you wrapped his arm around you as you curled into him more. You could hear the rapid rushing of his heart, and you could feel how it matched your own. “It doesn’t bother me; I’ve just been wondering what’s been taking you so long…” The teasing only rewards you with a tighter hold.

You find every part of Rolan to be utterly perfect, from his beautiful horns to his freckled cheeks to his toes. But the one part of him you constantly find yourself playing with is his tail, swaying and twitching like it has a mind of its own. You love to sneak behind him and run your fingers over the ridged base. The shiver and low growl he gives out every time makes you want to tease and touch him more, your hands becoming clammy for it. Today, you’re reading and mindlessly playing with the sharp tip till, finally, he’s curling the tail around your forearm and pulling you closer for a hungry kiss. He says he is being driven mad by your relentless teasing; you can only smile back before whispering, “Then you shouldn’t keep rewarding me…”

Rolan tries not to let his neediness get the better of him…but some days, he can’t resist your pull on him. Every time he saw you today, his hands roamed over every curve, his nose in the crook of your neck, and he muttered things you couldn’t catch. The attention was well received as you loved his every touch, but when you parted from him to wash up for the night, the look on his face was utter devastation. “I will be quick, then all night I am yours.” Rolan tsked as he let you go, sitting down in his chair where he would wait for your return. You tried your best to hurry into the bath but were not quick enough. As you wet your hair to be ready for washing, you heard the door open and were greeted by the magnificent sight of Rolan in a small cloth wrapped around his waist. He motions for you to make room. He removes his towel and joins you in the bath. You are happy but utterly confused, and Rolan is quick to defend his actions as he gathers soap into his palm, “You took too long, so now I am here to help; now turn so I can wash your hair.” Without any protest, you turn and relish in the feeling of his clawed hands, washing and lathering the soap in your hair, taking the time to scratch your scalp as he cleans you gently. Maybe you should have him wash your hair every time? If you asked, Rolan would be happy, too.

It started as a pleasant surprise; while you two were working at Sundries, his tail kept brushing against your butt, and when you two would be out of view from prying eyes, his hand would gently caress your ass. These are simple hints of his wants; you are always eager for his touch. Now here you are, pressed against the back wall with Rolan's needy hands grabbing tight handfuls of your butt. Pants are quickly discarded, and he gives you a quick slap to the soft exposed flesh for being such a naughty distraction. You keen and arch, grinding your ass against his burning erection. A deep moan when his nails dig into your flesh as he starts to rut into you deeply. Panting breaths, intertwined limbs, sweaty bodies desperately rocking against each other. It’s the night you learned that the Great Master Rolan is an ass man.

Gale

You never thought of yourself as touched starved; sure, you had points when you thought of being held or holding someone, but it was never something you would say you were starving for; well, that was until Gale. It was an accident when it happened; you two had offered to go to the morning market to gather supplies for dinner. The morning market was incredibly crowded, and you two kept getting separated. Gale, always the quick thinker, came up with the best solution. As he walked in front of you like a shield, he grabbed your hand and led you through. The gesture immediately stirred something within you, and as you walked hand in hand, looking at the back of him, you found yourself tightening your grip. During the rest of your time at the market, you two held each other’s hands. It wasn’t until you two returned to camp that you realized you held hands the whole way back. After that day, you reached out for his hand more often. Gale, of course, didn’t seem to mind. He liked the extra company, but getting you to let go so he could cut vegetables was challenging. After a while, you will find yourself craving more touches from Gale. So late one night, you crawled into his tent; when you woke him, he was initially surprised, asking you what you needed. “I…I think I’m touched starved…could…you hold me for a bit?” Gale’s heart nearly burst out of his chest, but he eagerly invites you into his arms, delighted to share in cuddles and maybe a few kisses.

It should be no surprise your favorite place to touch Gale is his hands. They are perfectly soft and fit perfectly within yours. You find that your hands are interlocked together if you’re by him. Gale finds your need to hold him in some way lovely and ultimately endearing. Gale’s favorite times when you hold his hands is when you are fast asleep curled up with him in his bedroll, your hands interlaced with his. He doesn’t dare move them because he knows you will only start seeking them again in your sleep.

You’re used to holding Gale’s hand, but on days he’s feeling needy, you find that his hands tend to roam. Today had been one of those days; his hands had started lazily, moving up and down your arms, gently grazing you all morning so tenderly. By the afternoon, his hands had found their way to run up and down your back, moving so slowly to send shivers through your body successfully. Then, in the Evening, they moved to trace your sides as his lips caressed the sensitive skin of your neck. Finally, you asked if he was well, his lips smiling against your skin. “Perfectly fine…just being needy for you…does it bother you?” you feel your skin flush, and your lips curl to an excited smile. “No, I like the attention from you…” Gale is always ready to shower you with attention; you just need to ask…

The man didn’t lie when he told you he had a practiced tongue, and tonight, you are finding that out firsthand. You felt needy when you crawled into his tent; it was late, and he was surprisingly awake. At first, it was innocent, simple hand holding a kiss or two like other nights before to satisfy your need, but tonight, you’re finding your aching for more, and Gale knows this. All you need to do is ask…Your hands grip tightly to the blankets as his tongue works against you. Gales focuses as his hands grip your thighs, and he sucks and licks more. He’s desperate to taste your release all over his tongue, and with him always being so good to you, who are you to deny him?

Astarion

With all he had been through, the feeling of being touched had become unstimulating. Astartion had felt every kind of touch possible. Well, at least that’s what he thought, until you. The energy between you two had been electric from the first moment; you were brilliant, and his usual charms didn’t make you bend like they did others. In fact, for all his teasing, you would give back your own. It was like a game between you two, and it only made you crave each other more. Then it hit its peak…You were admittedly getting lost in his words as he spoke to you, but it was different; it was genuine, and you had never felt so close to others. So when you gently brushed back his hair as he talked, you both found yourself looking at each other in surprise. Your weakness shocked you, and Astarion was surprised by someone touching him so gently, as if he were made of glass. Going to take back your hand, it’s quickly caught by his, and gentle lips pressing to your palm sets your skin ablaze. The kiss was as soft as your touch, but Astarion can never pass up an opportunity… “Couldn’t help yourself anymore, hm?” You would accept defeat this once…

Astarion has never been a fan of cuddling…well, not until he met you. And what did you do to make him change his mind on the slow and intimate activity? Astarion loves the way your fingers brush slowly and carefully through his hair. He finds he has gradually become needy for that soft, gentle touch. On the other hand, you love the feeling of his soft locks slipping through your fingers; actually, there are many things you can adore about Astarion; you find the soft touch of brushing through his hair always seems to relax you. You could spend all night with him in your arms like this…and you do.

You didn’t know if it was your imagination, but Astarion seemed grumpy today. You had tried to joke around with him and even participate in some teasing and flirting, but he wasn’t receptive. Thinking it best to just drop it, you left him alone for the rest of the day, going about your usual task. Then Evening rolled around; you were getting ready for bed when you heard a throat clearing outside your tent. Poking your head out, you saw Astarion looking…bashful? “Do you mind…if I slept here…with you…I’ve…been feeling off…” One part of you wanted him to explain; he had ignored you, and now he wants to sleep in your tent with you? And wait, elves don’t sleep? But something about the look in his red eyes…he seemed…lonely…Gently, you reach your hand out to grab the sleeve of his shirt and pull him in softly. The rest of the night was spent with you sleeping with your head in his lap as he read to your sleeping form. Being around you made him feel so much better; it was as he thought…he was starting to rely on you, and for once, the thought of depending on another didn’t scare him.

Sometimes, you can not decide who is needer between the two of you. Of course, you two tease each other about it, but Astarion is always the better tease. You’re rolling your eyes in both pleasure and annoyance as he moves his tongue across your chest, your nipples peaked and sensitive to every feathery touch. You try to keep your moans in, but it’s useless; “You make such pretty sounds, darling, keep it up.” His cold hands move between caressing your chest and your skin to find your sensitive nipples. Red eyes look up at you, filled with mischief. Is he satisfied with just a taste? Or will he bite…

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possumteeths · 14 days

Text

New Rolan fic! It’s a direct sequel to Like a Rotten Dog but can be read on it’s own. The only thing you’ll miss is some insight into relationship dynamics.

13k words, Second person, Rated E. Rolan x Human Tav. Rolan x F Reader. Femdom. List of tags on ao3 Y/N device will never be used in my fics.

I’ll make a nicer tumblr post and upload the fic to tumblr when I feel like it! I stayed up all night lol!

#poki writing #pokiposting #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 rolan #rolan x tav #rolan x reader #bg3 #bg3 fic #rolan baldurs gate

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viennacherries · 2 months

Note

Prompt suggestion <3 Rolan/Tav NSFW. Tav really likes it when Rolan speaks to her in infernal. She doesn’t understand it, but it doesn’t change the fact that it turns her on. He starts to notice her subtle reactions to when he curses or something in infernal. Which leads to bedroom shenanigans lol. My username is the same on A03 ^^

this has taken me a minute, mostly because i had to spend some time literally making up the infernal language for the purpose of this fic LMAO. if you're interested in my process it's in the end notes on ao3.

i changed the prompt a little though; rolan doesnt notice because he's very silly and keeps failing the perception check. lia notices immediently.

NSFW read on ao3 here

~~~

The first time Tav hears Rolan speak infernal, she doesn't even register it as a word. It slips past his tongue and it's all consonants and noises that she's not sure she could emulate properly with her non-tiefling tongue.

"Zurgan." He mutters it under his breath as he drops a pile of books.

Her quill stops midair where she's busy writing up an inventory of magical items they've found. With everyone else busy or gone from the city, she offered to help Rolan with organising the tower. It's been a nightmare, frankly. The previous tower master (she wont do him the privilege of speaking his name, the bastard) had apparently spent the last who-knows-how-many years stuffing things into random shelves and boxes.

She frowns as she tries to repeat the word, "Zu- Zurgan? What's that mean?"

Rolan jumps, clearly having forgotten she's in the room, "not zurgan, zurgan. It means- well, I don't know if it translates literally to common. It's... an expletive, I suppose ."

She laughs, "so it means 'fuck'?"

He huffs, and rolls his eyes, "I suppose that's a close enough approximation, yes."

"I don't think I've ever heard you swear before."

"Well," his brow is furrowed as he thinks, "I suppose I try not to, really. It's not becoming."

Tav snorts at that, "Gods, how old are you, 150? Besides, how is swearing in tiefling any different?"

"The language is called infernal, you uncultured swine. I'm a tiefling, I speak infernal."

"You speak something alright. Usually a crock of shi-"

"What did I say about it not being becoming, hm?"

She rolls her eyes at him, "so sorry, Master Rolan, please accept my humblest of apologies for disgracing your presence in such a regard."

He rolls his eyes at her, but she hears him snort and sees the quirk of his lip. "I suppose as far as apologies go, that one will suffice."

~~~

Several weeks later, Cal shouts through the door to the study where they're cataloguing evocation books, "Rolan! Lia and I are heading to the market, do you want us to pick up more of the wine you like?"

He laughs, which is rare enough in itself, and leans out the door to reply.

"Fazit drakon'ziz orum?!"

She hears Cal's responding cackle from down the hallway. "alright, alright, little drakon'ziz. I'll get 2 bottles, 'cos I love you."

When Rolan comes back in, chuckling to himself, Tav doesn't say anything. She wants to ask what it means, but she's... distracted.

Something about the way the words sound when he says them is... enticing. She's not sure if she could repeat them without butchering them, but even if she could she's sure they wouldn't sound as delicious as when they come from him. It's something about the rich tone to his voice, which she's always liked, coupled with the harsher edge it takes on when he speaks the foreign language.

Gods, she's been spending far too much time with him,

She clears her throat, "drakon'ziz?"

Rolan turns to her, still smiling, " drakon'ziz , but close. It means dragon."

His lopsided smile, aimed at her, coupled with the gruffness of the unknown word, is a little bit intoxicating.

"What about the rest of what you said? Fa- Fazit something?"

"'Fazit drakon'ziz orum?' It means 'does a dragon want gold?' It's a tiefling saying, basically means 'yes, obviously.' It just sounds better in infernal."

Tav agrees. It sounds rather lovely in infernal, in fact.

When Tav doesn't reply, he raises an eyebrow, "I could try and teach you some? Infernal, that is. If you'd be interested. Tell me something you want to be able to say, I'll try and teach you how to say it."

She thinks for a moment.

"What if I want to call someone a shit-head?"

He barks out a laugh as he rolls his eyes, "of course you'd just want to know how to insult people. I think the closest translation would be uzterku'zereb. That means 'shit-for-brains'."

Despite the small jolt her stomach gives as he utters the phrase, she starts cackling. "That's even better!"

~~~

It's been about a month and a half since they started cataloguing everything in the tower, and it's basically become a nightly occurrence that Tav stays for dinner with them. Rolan has finally sat down at the dining table, after bringing all the dishes and cutlery through, and right as he hits the chair there's a sheepish voice from beside him.

"... Rolan~" It's Lia, in a singsong voice, and he huffs.

"What do you want?" It's a question, but it sounds more like an admonishment.

"How could you?! Assuming I want something from you. My beloved big brother. I look up to you so much. Also I left my drink in the sitting room."

You and Callum both laugh, and he makes a very dramatic show of pushing his chair back out with a huge sigh.

"You're such a..." He flails for a moment, as if the word in common has escaped him, "an uztanatez. Next time, you're getting it yourself."

She laughs, "My dear brother, I would fall on my sword for you."

"Mhm." He grumbles, " gladiz zurzum kuluz ..."

Cal nearly falls out of his chair laughing as Rolan trudges from the room, and Lia has a grin on her face from successfully riling him up and getting what she wanted.

Tav is blushing.

"What did he say?" She feels hesitant to bring attention to herself when she knows she's bright red, but she's also too nosy for her own good.

Lia looks at her and opens her mouth to answer, but pauses as she takes in Tav's face. Cal, blissfully, doesn't notice.

"Well the first bit was him calling her a suck up," he laughs through his explanation, "and the second bit was him telling her exactly where she could shove her sword."

She laughs, and thanks him for telling her. Lia is still looking at her. Her face warms more.

"What?"

"Hm." Lia smiles in a way that looks slightly threatening; the way Tav imagines a shark would smile at a seal before taking a huge chunk out of it. "Nothing, really. Only, you weren't that flushed before Rolan spoke in infernal. Got a thing for the devil's tongue, have you Tav?"

Cal furrows his eyebrows in confusion, before his eyes widen and his mouth drops in an 'o' of understanding.

She's about to deny it but she can feel that she's even redder now, so instead she buries her face in her hands. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare say anything!"

"Say anything about what?" Of course Rolan would walk back in now. He places Lia's cup in front of her and turns to Tav expectantly, but Lia speaks before she can.

"Tav is just embarrassed because she didn't understand what you said, she felt left out."

His face breaks into a look of confusion, "You shouldn't be embarrassed by that, Tav, you don't speak the language. Uztanatez-" Tav sucks in a breath, and Lia snorts, "means 'bootlicker'. Gladiz zurzum kuluz means... well... 'shove your sword up your rear'."

Cal and Lia are both sporting shit eating grins. Tav thinks now is a good time to pick a God and pray.

~~~

" Pulch'zer."

He says it as she walks through the door to the study one morning.

"Sorry, repeat that?"

His eyes widen, and his face flushes a deep crimson colour. She's never seen him blush before, or at least she's never noticed because of his skin's natural shade.

"Sorry I was just..." He averts his gaze, looking back at the paperwork he's working on, "I was just thinking out loud..."

She chuckles lightly. "Ah, that text will be kicking your ass then. Pulch'zer. What does it mean?"

He looks up at her again. His eyes lock with hers.

"You're close, it's not pulch'zer, it's pulch'zer . You have to put more emphasis on the 'Z' sound."

Gods, she needs to stop asking. He always ends up correcting her, and she always ends up going bright pink. He pronounces the words more precisely when he's teaching her how to say them, it drives her insane.

"Pulch- Pulch? Pulch'zer."

He chuckles, stands and walks over to her. "You're close, but now you're putting too much emphasis on it." He's only an arms length away from her now. " Pulch'zer ."

She gulps. He needs to stop repeating it.

"P- Pulch'zer." She can't tear her eyes away from him, she stares right into his gaze as she repeats it. He sucks a small breath in, so small it's barely noticeable.

"Yes. Very good."

There's a pause.

"So. What does it mean?"

He's flushing again. "It... Well. It..."

She raises an eyebrow, "that bad huh?"

"... it means 'beautiful'."

Tav's face twists in confusion. "What about your book is beaut-"

Rolan surges forward and plants his lips on hers. She gasps into it, the rest of her words swallowed by her inhale and his tongue. She sinks into it. His hands fall onto her waist, and he uses them to drag her closer, pulling the whole length of his body against hers. When he pulls away it feels far too soon, but in his defence he's breathless. He only leans his chest away, his hips still against hers.

"I wasn't talking about the book."

The look in his eyes is vulnerable in a way she's never seen him before. As though he desperately wants her to understand, and yet is terrified that she will. Like he's scared to fracture whatever comfortable thing they've fallen into together.

"Well..." She takes a deep breath, rests a hand on his chest. "Then I'd like you to know that I think you're very pulch'zer."

He sucks in through his teeth and lets out a single disbelieving laugh. "That sounds ridiculously good when you say it, you know."

She snorts, dismissive, "please, it's far better when you say it. I love when you speak infernal."

He stares at her.

She feels her eyes bug out of her head as what she said hits her. "I mean! Not that- I don't mean that like-"

"You love it? What does that mean?"

She can feel the heat in her face. Suddenly everywhere he's touching her is too much, she needs to fall through the floor to a new realm and start her life over with a fake name.

"I don't- I didn't mean-"

As she fumbles over her words, Rolan's face starts to lift into an understanding smirk. "Oh. I see. You love it."

He leans forward towards her, and his lips brush her ear.

"Tibiz plazet link'zon mezoq ?"

She shudders, "Rolan, I have no idea what you're saying."

He chuckles lowly against the shell of her ear. " Zedzit'n, nul'umne? Zede illizquit diko ."

Gods, it's torturous. He's dropped his voice an octave, giving the already heavy words an even more gravelled tone. Her breath is coming out in pants and she whines. The way it's affecting her is ridiculous.

He doesn't stop, " morentez me'zam? Notzo'illi ."

"Rolan, please."

He grins against her, and she feels his length pressing against her body through his robes. " Quid plaket, dilekt'miz ?"

" Rolan , common tongue, please . I want to know what you're saying."

"I said 'please what?'"

Tav huffs in irritation, "I don't know."

He brings his lips up to brush hers, smiling against her as she tries to pull him closer.

"Do you want me to kiss you again?"

She swallows hard around the lump in her throat and nods.

"Mhm. Ask me nicely."

The noise she lets out is embarrassing, a high pitched whine that she couldn't stop if she tried, but she feels his breath against her lips as he exhales in excitement.

"Kiss me, Rolan. Please."

His smile is wide against her, "as you wish, pulch'zer."

When he kisses her, his lips are gentle against hers. Soft and pliant, eager but restrained. When he parts them slowly, she responds in kind and finds his tongue with hers, and he rewards her with a deep, sensual moan from low in his throat. His lips are warm and soft, his mouth tastes of spearmint, his breath flows through her. She feels her small-clothes growing damp.

As he deepens the kiss his movements grow more insistent, more intense, and he squeezes her hips as he grinds her into him. She moans in response and the noise flips a switch in him. All of a sudden his lips are frantic, the kiss turning messy and needy, and his hands are running up and down her body as thought they don't know where to settle.

He pulls back enough to speak, his breath dancing along her lips, his voice barely above a whisper. " Nezkiz quid'mih fakiaz. Volui'illi tamd'umne ."

Tav moans, long and slow as the words rush over her skin, "Gods, Rolan. I wish I knew what you were saying. Fuck ."

He chuckles quietly, "perhaps I'll teach you Comprehend Languages. Then again... Forzit adv'illi."

She groans. "Rolan, please ."

He grins, grinding his length against her, "please, what?"

The huff she lets out is impatient, "you know what."

His mouth traces the shell of her ear again and she shivers. "Perhaps. But tell me anyway."

She groans, "please fuck me, Rolan."

He needs no further invitation. Rolan undresses them both rapidly, swift and efficient just as he treats his work, and they're both bare before each-other in a few moments.

When he looks over her, sweeping his eyes across her form, he lets out a low noise of appreciation. "Hells, Tav, you're beautiful."

She feels nervous, all of a sudden, bare before him, but she smiles despite it. "So are you."

He's back on her, trailing his lips along her throat and collarbone, leaving teasing bites and grazes with his canines. She's a whimpering, writhing mess beneath him but she doesn't care. She can feel his length pressed against her stomach, can feel the grooves of the door on her back, and she's absolutely aching with need.

"Is this okay? Are you comfortable?" His questions make her chest ache with a different kind of need to the one pulsing through her core.

"Yes, Rolan. Please, for the love of- fuck me against this door."

His moan in response to her words is loud and wanton. " Hells , Tav. Lift your leg for me."

She does, and he grabs under her knee, lifting it up so it wraps around his hip, the heel of her foot against the base of his tail while her other foot stays planted against the floor. His other hand comes between them, grips the base of his cock and rubs it against her folds. She throws her head back as she keens, and at the same time he lets out a groan closer to a growl.

"Fuck, you're so wet. Is- This is still okay? You want this?" His voice wavers with lust.

Hearing him curse is almost as incredible as hearing him speak infernal. "Yes , Gods if you don't-"

He's sliding himself into her before she can finish her threat, and the rest of her words fizzle out into a high pitched moan as she throws her head back. His length is ridged and she can feel every notch as it slides into her. He works his way into her slowly, thrusting only an inch at a time until his pelvis comes to rest against hers, and he folds over to rest his forehead against her shoulder.

His first half of his sentence is muttered, the second half directed at her, "Tam strikta , fuck. Ita infek'tum strikta. Tell me when you're ready, dilekt'miz."

"I'm ready, please, fuck me."

He silences his own moan by clamping his mouth over the meat between her neck and shoulder, and begins thrusting shallowly. The slide of him inside her, the ridges on his shaft dragging against her walls, has her tightening her leg around his waist and dragging him closer. He grunts through his mouthful of her skin and starts to pick up his pace, until he's thrusting hard and fast into her.

She's a mess, and she knows it, but it doesn't matter. She's digging her heel into his ass and arching her hips away from the door to get closer to him, head thrown back and eyes wrenched shut. It's too much, but it's not enough. She grabs his hand that isn't holding her knee up and places it round the back of her other thigh. He's a quick study as always, taking a firm hold on the back of her leg and hoisting her other leg up around him, so she's held up against the door by just his weight against her and his bruising grip. It changes the angle, he drives deeper into her, and they both moan in tandem.

He's speaking again, infernal dialect spilling from him freely into her skin, " Nezkiz. Nezkiz quam di'tez vellem. Quamdiu korpuz tuum'kontraz petivi. Vid'tez habzeq. Miz'tib animez'umne ." He speaks the words with a reverence that that has her keening, clenching around him.

"Rolan, I'm so close, fuck don't stop."

He shakes his head, thrusts into her harder, "Hells, I won't, Tav. I won't, I won't, adv'illi, adv'illi -"

The utterance of more quiet infernal words against her tips her over the edge, and she finds her release around him. His movements become stuttered, desperate, " Tez amorez. Tez amorez taz'multo. Perfik'miz. Amaz, amaz, num'quam latuz dezeraz. Morent'illi anim defendam."

He follows her over the precipice and empties himself inside her. She tightens her hold on him with her legs and kisses his neck as his hips twitch through his release, and as he stills they both try to find breath against each-other's skin.

"Gods, Tav." His voice is hoarse, "you- that was- I-"

She chuckles, which makes her walls clench and his hips stutter as he gasps at the feeling. "That was amazing, Rolan. What... Um. What were you saying?"

She pulls away to look at him, and his face is incredibly red. His freckles are barely visible through the violent blush. "Oh, um. Nothing- Nothing, really. Nothing important. Just... babbling. You know."

She laughs, slowly lowering her legs to the ground, both shuddering as he pulls himself from her. He mutters a quick incantation and they're both clean.

"You're going to have to teach me Comprehend Languages, now. I'm far too nosy to leave it at that."

"Hm. We'll see."

~~~

Translations:

"Tibiz plazet link'zon mezoq?" ("You like when I speak to you in my native tongue?")

"Zedzit'n, nul'umne? Zede illizquit diko." ("But you don't care, do you? It's not about what I say.")

"Morentez me'zam? Notzo'illi." ("Moaning for me already? Aren't I lucky.")

Quid plaket, dilekt'miz?" ("Please what, my beloved?")(he lies and tells her it means "please what?")

"Nezkiz quid'mih fakiaz. Volui'illi tamd'umne." ("You have no idea what you do to me. I have wanted you for so long.")

"Then again... Forzit adv'illi." ("Then again... Perhaps I won't.")

"Tam strikta, fuck. Ita infek'tum strikta. Tell me when you're ready, dilekt'miz." ("So wet, fuck. So tight and wet. Tell me when you're ready, my beloved.")

"Nezkiz. Nezkiz quam di'tez vellem. Quamdiu korpuz tuum'kontraz petivi. Vid'tez habzeq. Miz'tib animez'umne." ("You have no idea. You have no idea how long I've wanted you. How long I've craved your body against mine. I have dreamt of having you like this. My soul burns for you.")

"adv'illi" ("I won't.")

"Tez amorez. Tez amorez taz'multo. Perfik'miz. Amaz, amaz, num'quam latuz dezeraz. Morent'illi anim defendam." ("I love you. I love you so much. You complete me. Please, please never leave my side. I would protect you to my dying breath.")

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 requests #bg3 tav #rolan x tav #rolan bg3 #bg3 rolan #rolan #holy rolan empire #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii

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underdark-dreams · 3 months

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This fic will explore the fanon of Tiefling rut/heat cycles: specifically, what happens when a stressed, overworked, sexually pent-up wizard is confronted with his own biology and his feelings about a certain hero all at once?

Thank you @rolansrighthorn for kindly beta reading this chapter!

Rolan x afab!Tav

Birds and Bees - Ch.1

The new Master of Ramazith's Tower hasn't been feeling well. Rolan isn't quite sure what's wrong with himself, but when Tav arrives back in Baldur's Gate, things get much worse.

Tags: Tiefling Ruts, Sexual Tension, Mutual Pining | Word Count: 3.4k [Read on AO3]

Rolan awoke feeling sick as a dog.

He pulled his legs over the edge of the mattress with a wince. The dull ache in his muscles was something he hadn't felt since those first weeks on the road out of Elturel.

He'd slept like hells the past few days; no doubt that was the cause. Once again, bizarre nightmares had left him gasping awake before dawn, covered in a clammy sheen of perspiration.

The dreams featuring Tav, however…

Rolan’s tail shuddered and flicked over the bedsheets behind him at the memory. He pushed those thoughts forcefully from his head. Tav was due back in Baldur’s Gate today—that was the last thing he should be thinking of when she arrived at Sorcerous Sundries.

She’d been away for over a week this time, gathering her materials in the Underdark. He wondered if that meant she'd have enough work to keep her in the city for longer, too. The thought encouraged him enough to rise and dress for the day. He should make sure her alchemy station was prepped and ready for her at the back of the shop, at least.

Down on the main floor of Sorcerous Sundries, Rolan’s improved mood was instantly tested. Cal took in his face wide-eyed.

“You look awful.”

“And good morning to you,” Rolan responded irritably.

“Is it?” Cal trailed after him as he unlocked and threw open the wide front doors. “Rolan, maybe you need a day off. You look like you barely slept.”

“I'm fine,” Rolan said, voice firm. “Where’s Lia?”

Right as the words left him, a teacup appeared at his elbow.

“Had a feeling you might need it,” Lia told him. “Looks like I was right.”

Too tired to combat both his siblings at once this early in the day, Rolan accepted the tea with a begrudging sigh of thanks. The smell of bitter herbs hit his nose before he took the first sip.

“Doctoring me with folk remedies now?”

Lia waved a dismissive hand as she moved behind the counter. “Yeah, yeah, we all know you'd rather get fussed over by Tav. Can't have you dragging your tail and embarrassing us in front of her, though.”

Cal walked off with a snort.

Rolan shut his eyes and wished he could return straight back to bed. Instead, he drank his tea down in silence and said a prayer for an easy day of work.

He did find himself perking up after a while. It was difficult to stay sullen on such a glorious spring day; clear sunlight streamed generously through the high windows above, and the flow of customers milling into the shop settled into a pleasant, familiar hum. Rolan fell into the rhythm of assisting them here and there, locating scrolls and giving advice on spellwork.

It certainly wasn’t the prospect of seeing Tav again that was improving his mood so much. That’s what Rolan kept telling himself, at least.

Another breeze drifted in through the open atrium behind him, bringing with it the fresh scent of spring wildflowers. Rolan was taken with a sudden fancy to move closer to wherever it emanated from.

“Lovely morning, isn't it?”

Tav stood beaming at him from the doorway, despite the full-to-bursting pack slung over one of her shoulders. Clearly he wasn’t the only one affected by the irresistibly nice weather.

“It rather is,” Rolan agreed. Ignoring her usual protests, he unshouldered the bag from her with a tug; its weight made him question whether she’d stuffed it entirely with minerals.

“Ugh…thanks.” Tav stretched her arms back appreciatively. She was wearing a lightweight tunic, carelessly laced, and the motion strained the fabric over her chest.

Rolan averted his gaze, feeling rather warm all of a sudden. He instead led Tav back to her workstation near the stairs.

“Looks busy in here,” she remarked with approval. “Business good?”

“Can’t complain. I take it your travels were as successful?” He punctuated the comment by landing her pack on the desk with a heavy thump. Tav laughed.

“Brilliant, actually. I've got a lot to show you, if you can spare the time.”

“Just give me a few minutes,” he answered, turning back to her.

Tav didn’t reply right away; she was frowning at his face. “Rolan, are you ill? You look flushed—” And she reached a hand as if to feel his forehead.

“Of course not,” Rolan answered, a bit too swiftly. Casting for an excuse to create some distance, he moved to the nearby reference shelves and began shoving the mess of books back into their correct cubbies. “Cal, could you grab another stack of the beginner’s Weave series? We’ve sold through.”

Cal looked up from his work rolling scroll pages. “Er, sure…which wing is that again?”

“Nevermind,” Rolan sighed. “I’ll get them myself. Let me know if your station’s missing any supplies,” he added to Tav, letting his voice soften a bit. It earned him a dimpling smile.

Rolan strode away from her toward the portal, feeling that annoying ache in his legs return as he did.

—

Tav watched Rolan’s figure trudge up the staircase with another twinge of concern. Then she set to work connecting all the equipment on her alchemy station. Lia appeared at her side before long, asking after her week’s travels in the Underdark and catching her up on news and gossip from the Gate. It was so nice to have friends like Lia; ones you could pick up right where you left off with.

Tav had emptied her bag onto her desk and begun sorting the small mountain of herbs into separate piles as she listened. “How’s Rolan been doing with everything, really?”

Lia was turning over one of her shards of laculite, idly catching the sunlight in its facets. “Mostly happy. And stressed, and overextended. And completely neurotic about organizing every shelf in the library. You know, typical wizard stuff.”

“I just hope he’s looking after himself,” she said down to her work. The words left her mouth easier than she wished.

Lia leaned a hip against her desk with arms crossed. “You sound interested in helping with that.”

The quake in Tav’s stomach made her feel very caught out, then very stupid. She let out an exhale of laughter instead.

“Rolan’s made it pretty clear that he is not,” she replied. Her fingers began stripping the blooms from her pile of dried mugwort with more force than strictly necessary.

“Between you and me,” Lia mused, “I don’t think Rolan’s anywhere near clear on that subject. Smart people can be real idiots, you know.”

“Who can?”

Rolan was headed from the staircase with an armful of books; he stood behind Lia with a suspicious look. Tav immediately wondered how much he’d heard.

“Rich people,” Lia answered at once, still leaning casually against Tav’s desk. “Lady Whitburn’s handmaid keeps coming in asking for spell scrolls that I’m pretty sure don’t exist. You think she’d get the picture by now.”

Rolan let out a long-suffering sigh and held out the stack of volumes to her. “Take these. And just send Cal to help her next time, that’s why she keeps coming back.”

Lia threw up a hand as if that only proved her point. “Like I said, idiots.” But with one last glance at Tav, she grabbed the books and ferried them away to the front of Sorcerous Sundries.

For her part, Tav resumed the work of preparing the week’s ingredients—there were several large batches of antidote to get through this morning. Rolan took up his usual spot at the desk in her periphery.

Ever since the first week he’d offered Sorcerous Sundries to her as a home of operations for her alchemy, Tav found herself spending many hours at work beside Rolan like this. They spent the time talking about her travels, or his latest studies with the Weave, or just discussing the last books they’d read. On busier days, he was called away to help customers for most of her visit.

Today, however, Rolan stood unusually silent next to her.

“Sure you’re feeling all right?” She glanced at his back, again noting the tense line of his shoulders.

“Just a bit tired.” Rolan tipped open his massive record of the shop figures. “Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I could make you something for that, if you like.”

He gave a low huff of laughter as he took up his quill. “From what I hear from my customers, I’d be out cold for days.”

“Really?” She couldn’t help a grin of professional pride, but focused on adjusting the flame under her distilling glass. “Glad they’re selling well.”

“I can barely keep them on the shelves, especially those remedial draughts you make. The last batch lasted three days.”

Though it was satisfying to hear, Tav felt a bit chagrined. “Damn…won’t have more of those for a while. I still need to track down a new materials trader in the Gate. My usual guy moved on to Neverwinter.”

There was a short pause in their little corner, filled only with the sounds of softly bubbling liquid against glass.

“You know,” Rolan said without turning, “you’re welcome to stay here, if it’s easier for you. The guest room’s always empty. That is, so you wouldn’t have to travel across the city on top of finding your new contact.”

“Oh—” Tav tried hard not to read anything into his offer. “Actually, I already left my things with Danis and Bex. But thank you, Rolan,” she added.

Rolan coughed lightly, back still turned. “Of course.”

There was another pause, longer and strangely awkward. Tav suddenly found she needed something more to occupy her thoughts than watching a flask boil. Reaching down for her pack, she pulled her research journal up to the desk.

It had been many weeks since Rolan brought up that subject. Why now?

Cal and Lia constantly reminded her of the long-standing offer of a room in the Tower anytime she had need of it. For unspoken reasons, she’d always found polite ways of declining.

It wasn’t that Rolan had made her feel unwelcome in any way. After all, he’d opened up the expansive resources of Ramazith’s Tower to her use, lending her all of the delicate and expensive alchemy equipment that she’d never be able to cart back and forth in her travels. She owed much of her current success to his generosity.

But Rolan had proven himself a generous patron for all kinds of arcane arts as Master of Ramazith’s Tower. Really, what made her think she was any kind of special case?

The fact that she’d very much like to be that to him…well.

That was something Tav tried not to think about. It only led her to dangerous territory, such as staring at his hands while he worked a spell and wondering what else they might be good for. Hardly conducive to a friendly, professional relationship.

And if she was any good at reading signals, friendly but professional was how Rolan wanted to keep things.

Tav shuffled through her notes a bit too briskly and almost scattered them. That was enough dwelling on that subject; clearly, Rolan had plenty to think about without worrying about unwanted advances in his own home. The least she could do to repay his generosity would be to continue respecting his boundaries.

“Noblestalk propagation?”

She glanced over her shoulder. To her surprise, Rolan had moved closer to peer down at the top page in her hands with curiosity.

“Most valuable thing in the Underdark,” she told him. “Even more than mithril. Actually, this is what I wanted to show you—”

Noblestalk fetched a high price for its alchemical power, certainly, but also for its rarity. The delicate mushrooms were notoriously picky about where they grew; it was part of what made them so hard to find.

Truth be told, she’d been running a little experiment on them down in the Underdark over the past few months. She ran a finger across the charted results as she explained them to Rolan, whose tension seemed to vanish as he listened on with keen interest.

“Obviously the spores took faster in high humidity. But look, they actually did better when I transplanted them in a really cold spot near the river here—which is so odd, most fungi need a bit of warmth—

“Have you tried recreating these artificially? Carrying a sample back to the surface?”

“Not yet.” She scratched her chin in thought. “I’d need to find somewhere underground to propagate it. And I’d rather not spend any more time in the sewers, after that little cult business.”

“Just do it here,” Rolan dismissed, as if it was the plainly obvious solution. “We’ve got quite a few empty vaults now. Shouldn’t be too hard to repurpose one as a greenhouse of sorts.”

As she turned her head to respond, she was caught up short.

Rolan was still peering intently at her writing. But in his concentration, he’d angled his body very close beside her. His chest nearly brushed her shoulder. She could’ve counted the freckles dusting his nose.

When he reached forward to flip over the page, she felt his other hand actually rest on the far side of her waist—the absent way you might touch someone very familiar to you when moving past them. Heat rose in her cheeks at the gesture.

Perhaps Rolan felt her tense. He blinked, and she watched realization dart over his features. He stepped back at once.

“Apologies.” Then he cleared his throat to add—“Your work is quite engaging.”

Coming from him, the words sounded much nicer than they had a right to. She felt her flush deepening, and quickly turned back to reorder her notes.

“Thanks,” she laughed, praying it didn’t sound as awkward as it felt rising in her throat.

Behind her back, she heard Rolan return to his desk on her left. Presumably continuing his work on the Sundries inventory; more likely trying to ignore her obvious fluster.

She clenched her jaw in an attempt to shove that same stupid, fluttery feeling out of her stomach, and returned to the practical work at hand.

—

Rolan stared down at last week’s sales in his ledger. The figures were a blur of meaningless scribbles in front of his eyes.

Was he feverish? Seriously ill? There had to be a sound explanation for the way he’d just…laid hands on her like that, unthinking.

He clenched the guilty right hand responsible, feeling its sharp nails press crescent moons into his palm. Idiot. He took a deep breath to regain his composure.

It only caused that lovely wildflower scent from before to fill his lungs more completely, pulling at his other senses. Perhaps it was emanating from one of the many strange ingredients Tav was always carrying back from the Underdark. Was that what had muddled his mind this way?

He found himself glancing back over his shoulder to where she was bent over her alchemy scales. The pink tip of her tongue was visible between her teeth, a gesture she often made when concentrating.

As Rolan watched, a lock of her hair slipped forward over her shoulder. She swept it absently back behind her ear. The innocuous motion caused another wave of something floral to brush past his face, stronger this time.

“Are you wearing scent?”

Tav glanced up from the powder she was weighing out, brows raised in question. “What?”

“Nothing,” Rolan said swiftly, shaking himself back to rights a bit. He felt very lucky she seemed to have misheard. He turned back to his work before he could say anything else strange or embarrassing.

With effort, Rolan forced his attention back to the comforting logic of sums and figures.

The time passed with blessed uneventfulness after that. The soft sounds of glassware and bubbling liquids from Tav’s alchemy faded to an idle lull at the back of Rolan’s consciousness. Nevertheless, he pushed through the past month’s numbers with more difficulty than usual, scratching through multiple errors as his quill moved over the page. He occasionally had to pause to rub at an uncomfortable crick building in his neck.

A laugh came from behind him. “Do you mind?”

Rolan raised his head to look. Tav was gesturing at the corner of her alchemy station with a bemused expression.

To his own confusion, he found that his tail had traveled there of its own accord sometime in the past minutes. It lay coiled on the wood, its tip flicking back and forth in her direction, as if seeking her attention.

With another chuckle, Tav’s fingers closed around it and lightly dropped the appendage off the edge of her desk.

An involuntary sound caught in Rolan’s throat. The moment her hand connected with his skin, a shock of blood rushed to his groin. He nearly tipped forward in alarm at the feeling.

The rapid redirection left his legs wobbling and bloodless. His knees almost buckled under him; he gripped sharp claws into the edge of his wooden desk to steady himself.

As the ringing in his ears cleared, he heard Tav reading under her breath behind him while she ground something against her mortar. Praise the gods that whatever just happened to his body had escaped her notice.

“Need a book from the library—”

Without a backward glance, Rolan stumbled toward the stairs.

Spurred on by the knowledge that any customers who might notice his urgent departure would certainly see the reason for it, he strode on double-time for the portal. Only once the swirl of Weave closed behind him, depositing him in the quiet of the Tower, did he release the breath caught up in his lungs.

Seeking to ground himself, Rolan glanced up to watch the golden dust motes drift through a beam of sunlight. It was the strangest sensation to be standing completely still and feel a sweat break out over his brow.

How did he not realize days ago? Muscle aches—difficulty sleeping—heightened senses. All clear indicators that his biology had finally caught up with him, albeit a solid year later than it should have.

Rolan gripped a hand to the back of his head with a groan of realization. Not perfume—it had been Tav herself he kept catching scent of this morning. That sweet smell that practically made his mouth water to recall now was nothing but raw instinct laid bare.

Well, he had no right to complain about the timing. Apparently many frantic months of escaping the Hells, surviving on the road, and battling back an invasion from the Astral Plane had done a lot to delay the inevitable.

But inevitable it was, and as of today, very much inescapable. There was never really a convenient time for this sort of thing, was there?

It could be worse—as the new keeper of Ramazith’s Tower, at least he found himself with private quarters to retreat to for the entirety of it. If he was lucky, it would all be over in a week, and then he could go on ignoring this unfortunate side effect of his Infernal heritage for a few more uneventful years.

Lia and Cal could manage the shop for a week without any major calamities, surely?

As Rolan paced the silk carpets of the Tower floor, he forced his feverish mind to finish scrabbling together the plan. His gaze fell on the desk by the window. In the next second, he was putting shaking quill to parchment. Something simple, just enough they’d understand—

Bad week for visitors. Please mind the Sundries while I recover. Tell Tav

The tip of his quill skipped as he paused, letting a droplet of ink bleed into the page.

Tell Tav what, exactly? That he was in his room rutting his brains out like an animal in heat? Likely thinking of her while he did?

That line of thought brought a series of unhelpful and very stimulating images to mind. He swallowed down a humiliating sound as the stiffness between his legs grew painfully hard in reaction. Merciful, bloody hells.

Tell Tav nothing, he finished in a scrawl. Rolan folded the note and deposited it on the floor just in front of the portal, where it would be impossible for his siblings to miss.

Then he turned for the staircase to his bedroom, already mad to rip these chafing gods-damned robes off his skin.

#spicy #rolan x tav #tiefling ruts #eventual smut #bg3 rolan #female tav #heat/rut cycles #rebgrrl writes #underdark-dreams #bg3 fanfiction #tiefling biology

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killerpancakeburger · 6 months

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Outpace the dawn

Gif by @silverformymonsters

Summary: BG3 Spawn ending Fix It fic! Because I refuse to let him deal with the sunlight alone.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Warnings/tags: SPOILERS obvsly, angst/comfort, non canon compliant.

Words count: 936 words.

A/N: It should be Gender Neutral, but if I fcked up since I tend to write from my pov, you can tell me and I'll correct it.

Yes the title is from that Hozier song. It got me thinking how Astarion would need to outpace the dawn from now on.

Astarion’s voice cut through the silence that followed your last battle, as your little group was gathering on a pontoon.

“So, what’s next for us?”

You had been thinking about what was to come for a while, actually. Probably longer than any of your companions have. Some might argue that it wasn’t the time for that, that you should have been completely focused on defeating the Netherbrain. But you couldn’t help it; it was a matter of life and death - Astarion’s life and death. Or rather, undeath and death. Since you’ve known that the brain was within reach, it had become an omnipresent apprehension in your mind.

The slaughter of the brain sounded the death knell of the tadpoles, and their disappearance inevitably meant that Astarion’s resistance to the sun would vanish like it never existed. Like nature rightfully reasserting itself by getting rid of this aberration that had been a vampire walking in the sun in the first place.

This knowledge has been haunting you for days and nights now. It was your first thought when you woke up and your last when you fell asleep. A knot of dread had settled inside your stomach, making it hard to fall asleep and to interact normally with the source of your worries. And right now, following Astarion’s question, the knot in your guts got even tighter, even more painful.

At any moment, any second from now on, your vampire lover would catch fire as surely as straw in the summer.

It was fine. You planned. You prepared for this. You procured a large, thick, hooded coat that was guaranteed to block the sunrays. It was even imbued with magic that made it impossible to tear, pierce, or rip in any way. It hadn’t been easy to acquire, but Astarion didn’t need to know that.

You were on the lookout for any sign of burning, wound as tightly as a spring while still trying to appear normal to the others.

“The world is our oyster, and she has many pearls we can choose from.” claimed Astarion, blissfully unaware of his fate.

He illustrated his remarks by spreading his arms far apart with vigor. The genuine excitement, the happiness in his voice almost made you sick to your stomach. Astarion’s displays of authentic joy were few and far in between, and this one would end as soon as it started. As fast as a vampire spawn left in the sun, as a pile of ashes on the ground.

You could barely bear to look at him. You didn’t have the heart to remind him of his imminent doom. He obviously had forgotten about it for the time being, and while the cruel reality was taking up almost all the space in your brain, like blaring alarms, you’d be damned if you took away from him his last, his only instants of light and warmth, of complete freedom, by reminding him. No Cazador, no tadpole, no mind control, no deadly sunlight, no slave and no master. Just an immense ocean of liberty, intoxicating, vertiginous.

“I honestly don’t mind what we do, once we get to- Ow!”

You instantly straightened up at the sound, like a wild animal who picked up the sound of an upcoming danger. For a terrible second, there was a twisted part of you who felt relieved. Finally, your gnawing, agonizing wait was coming to an end. Then, swiftly, the relief disappeared, flooded with your concern for Astarion.

“What the- Oh no. Oh Gods.”

Already his hands were fuming, his beautiful pale face sprinkled with silververy cracks like delicate porcelain. He had always looked more like a piece of art than a living being after all. The frantic panic in his voice was like a punch to the chest. In all your battles and struggles together, you had never seen him so horrified. Even against Cazador. Even a True Vampire had to yield to the Sun.

He threw you a harrowing look, like he was bidding you goodbye before bolting. As if you were going to leave him to deal with this alone. Already you were rushing towards him, the life-saving coat in hands. You wrapped it around him as fast as your hands would allow, put the hood on, and gently grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him so his covered back would take the blunt of the light.

“There we go, you explained softly. This will block the sun.”

“You’ve got this, and I’ve got you.” you added, mirroring his own words.

You were smiling sadly, trying to be supportive, to not add to his burden. The look in his eyes was hard to describe, an intense blend of heartbreak, vulnerability, and gratefulness.

“Well… It was… it was nice while it lasted.” he managed to articulate, his voice breaking like he was about to cry.

You could feel your heart break in response like an echo.

The magic sunproof coat was in no way a solution. Barely a bandage on a sinking ship. You had to get out of the sun, quickly.

“Come on, love. Let’s get you some shadow, uh?”

Your encouraging smile was as fragile as a spiderweb. You could feel it teetering on the edge of an abyss.

Astarion simply nodded, like he didn’t trust his voice anymore. It was fine. He was already expressing so much through his gaze.

You put your hand on the small of his back, barely applying any pressure, threw a telling look over your shoulder at your other companions, and you both started your search for protective darkness between the walls of Baldur’s Gate.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion fanfic #fanfic #fic #bg3 fanfiction #yes i know i said i was doing rolan - lol - but i already written half of this one so i might as well finish it right?

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rax-writes · 1 month

Text

Rolan x Reader

↬ Warnings: afab!reader, oral and fingering (f!receiving), cumming untouched (Rolan), sub!Rolan. MDNI!

The noises filling the room are positively obscene. A cacophony of curses and moans fill the air, both from you and from the Master of Ramazith’s Tower – whose face is currently buried between your thighs, lying comfortably atop the lush comforter of his bed, one hand holding one of your thighs to keep it spread open, the other fucking you with two skillful fingers as his tongue lavishes attention on your clit.

Although your relationship with Rolan wasn’t new, the sexual escapades of the relationship were, so the two of you were still discovering turn-ons and kinks of one another’s. But gods, was he a quick learner. This was the first time he’d ravished you with his mouth, and it only took one or two pointers for him to have your entire body glistening with sweat, practically screaming as he brought you to climax for a second time.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you had the sense to be pleasantly surprised at how much Rolan seemed to be enjoying himself. Every groan and moan that fell from his lips caused your body to twitch and jerk from the vibrations of it against your clit, and the few times you glanced down at him, he seemed to be grinding his hips into the mattress. The fact that he was getting off on eating you out was enough to send you hurtling toward the edge of your second climax, one hand grabbing a fistful of his hair in a firm grip, the other grabbing one of his beautiful horns and pulling him even closer to your quivering cunt.

“Gods, Rolan! So good, my love, you’re doing so good. You’re so good – fuck!”

You came with another strangled cry of his name, barely registering the sound of whimpering preceding a few murmurs of your name. Still feeling as though you're floating, you feel Rolan retreat from between your legs, and move upwards on the bed to rest his head on your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck. Once your breathing steadied, you tapped the top of his head, and he mirrored the lopsided smile you wore when he looked up at you.

“May I return the favor?” you asked, voice breathless but sultry.

“Oh, that’s not – that’s not necessary,” Rolan quickly answered, and you could swear he turned a few shades of red darker.

“I know it’s not necessary, but I want to,” you noted, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. Your fingertips brushing over the shell and point of his ear sent a shiver through him. “But if you aren’t comfortable with that –”

“No, no, darling, it’s not that,” he hurriedly explained, then let out an awkward, dry laugh. “I am, um…. I have enjoyed myself a sufficient amount already.”

With furrowed brows, you opened your mouth to ask him to clarify, when you realized the groin area of his robes felt slightly damp where it pressed against your leg. Rolan expected you to tease him, or comfort him in a way that would only make him feel belittled. Instead, a wicked grin spread across your face, and he became the one with furrowed brows.

You ran your fingertip over the point and sides of his ear again, following it down his jawline, before hooking a finger under his chin to tilt his head upwards.

“Do I taste that good, my pretty wizard?” you purred, and Rolan’s eyes fluttered shut, a shaky exhale leaving his lips. “Or was it me telling you how good you were to me? Or, perhaps, me pulling on your pretty horns and pretty hair?"

“Yes,” he breathed, too lost in the feeling of your other hand carding through his hair before tracing circles on his back.

“Yes to which, sweetheart? Use your words.”

“All of it.”

“Good boy,” you praised, and Rolan let out the faintest groan.

You hummed amusedly, leaning down to kiss him – much too quickly for his liking, as he chased after you for more. You stopped him with a finger to his lips, and stated, “Don’t be greedy.”

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p1nk-b1tes · 2 months

Text

chérie amour

[ rolan x fem!tav smut ]

summary: Rolan comes home from a long day at Sorcerous Sundries stressed and irritated and channels all of his frustrations into orally pleasuring his lover. warnings: oral sex, slight body worship, service top rolan, stress relief words: 4105

find part two here

click here to read on ao3 or read below:

Another day had come and gone. The sun had risen and set, casting irregular shapes of orange and gold across the worn floorboards of the high-ceilinged study as it inched across the sky. It had been another day that Rolan had risen from bed and left for his work at Sorcerous Sundries along with it without so much as a feather-light kiss on Tav’s temple to wish her a good day. Another day of wondering if he’d be back in time for dinner, and another day of the pot on the stove going cold.

The bright golden hue from the candle in its ornate silver holder casts a ghostly glow onto the canvas that Tav has busied herself with. She paints broad strokes of mauve colored paint to bring the withered edges of a floral arrangement to life – beautiful flowers left to wilt in a beautiful vase after they’d been plucked from a well-tended garden. Under the flickering light, the colors shift and change, never quite right, and she takes a step back to unfocus her eyes.

It’s too blue.

A touch of red would do nicely.

Yes, that’s exactly what it needs.

She dips into the pigments with the tip of her brush and mixes them together, attempting to find that perfect hue to make that darkened edge. Still, something looks wrong. The lighting is throwing her off. Her work feels incomplete apart from the background having yet to be filled with color, like something is missing apart from that stubborn decay.

Perhaps it’s the fact that her paint is beginning to muddy – or maybe her tired eyes are finally beginning to play tricks on her.

She frowns at the mess on her palette and prepares to create a new color from scratch when the distinct sound of a key finding its lock fills her ears and sounds like the most beautiful composition of music she’s ever heard.

Eyes still fixated upon the pigments, she can’t help the way her mouth twitches up into a smile.

Finally – her lover has made it home.

She listens carefully for a long moment as he fumbles with the key and fails. The front door has always been a bit tricky at the worst of times. He tries again. The lock refuses to grant him entry into his own home and she swears she senses the frustration in his actions when he gives up on the pesky thing and casts knock instead. The sound of the lock clicks loudly throughout their home and the faint tingle of magic flows in from down the hall, brushing up against the bare skin on her arms like a pleasant springtime breeze.

Rolan doesn’t take his time like he usually does once he makes his way inside. He skips basking in the simple pleasures of being home after a long day and doesn’t take the time to sit on the stool by the hearth to unlace his boots. Usually he’ll search her out when he’s all finished and dressed down into his casual attire, two glasses held carefully together in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other to share as the two of them talk about their day and wind down by the fire.

Tonight is very different.

He doesn’t stop by the kitchen and definitely doesn’t take the time to remove his boots as he approaches the door to their study with heavy feet and long, even strides. Tav stills. Curious. The brush in her hand lifts slightly from the palette as he comes closer and closer and she turns her ear towards the door to focus on the sound.

It’s clear when he enters through the threshold that the poor tiefling has had quite a day. His usually bright, amber eyes are tired and dulled and his mouth is turned down slightly into a frown.

It’s a look she hasn’t seen in quite some time. Not since he was an apprentice under Lorroakan.

She doesn’t like it. Not one bit. The smile that had begun to grow as a result of him being back home with her is quick to slope downwards on her lips. Something isn’t right.

The creases above his brow are worn, accentuated by the candle’s light coming from atop his sprawling desk, crowded with piles of flammable tomes and towers of rare books.

“Quite a long face,” she points out when they catch each other's eyes, and she carefully lays her brush down on a clean section of her palette to give him her full attention.

He walks further into the room, his jaw clenched tight, and passes her at her shoulder without as much of a word to swipe the candle from his desk and relocate it to a surface far less combustible. The light disappears from the face of her canvas.

“I thought I told you to not light a flame on my desk.”

His tone is sharp and bleeding with sudden irritation that he doesn’t mean to transfer to her. She knows he doesn’t mean it, but it stings all the same.

“I’ve been watching it carefully,” she tries to assure him. “I just needed the right light and the evening sun was beginning to wane.”

He doesn’t respond, just begins to undo the ties of his robe in thick, uncomfortable silence.

Tav continues, her voice smaller and caught slightly around a lump emerging in her throat. Perhaps he was upset with her. Her fingers catch on the hem of her painting smock and run along the rough stitching there. “I apologize. I won’t set it there again.”

He catches it–the way she has retreated–and he lifts his head to look at her, fingers stilling for a moment. His brows tilt upwards and together and he shakes his head, a wash of unpleasantness dousing him as he realizes his mistake. Guilt fills him. His tone tends to go sour at the worst of times.

“I didn’t mean it like that - it’s fine. I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

He waves his hand in an attempt to dismiss her apology as unnecessary but something within Tav still feels insecure.

She pretends to organize the brushes alongside her easel.

Rolan sucks in a long breath. His tail flicks back and forth behind him.

He’d spent his entire day counting down the hours until it was time to leave, counting down the minutes until he could hold her and kiss her and make up for the time spent apart, and he’d managed to ruin a nice moment for both of them in a matter of seconds because of his inability to hold back the bite of his tongue. He huffs, disappointed only in himself, his jaw clenching together tightly as he does.

He shucks off his robe and tosses it over the back of a nicely upholstered chair, now dressed down to his trousers and undershirt, and rounds around the front of Tav’s well-loved easel to peer at her canvas. It shines with the layers and layers of wet pigment, but the picture itself is difficult to see apart from a rough outline of irregular shapes. Rolan is a wizard, not an artist. His right hand finds her lower back and Tav is quick to melt into his side, resting her head on his shoulder as he tries to make sense of her work and rubs at her spine through her shirt.

Even his hands are tense, she notices.

“What’re you working on?” He asks, and she’s more than happy to explain to him her vision for the project, however ambitious it may seem.

He hums in acknowledgement and tilts his chin down to press his lips lightly to the crown of her head. They linger for a moment.

“Are you at a place where you could stop?”

She doesn’t have the heart to explain to him that she can’t continue without the light from the candle that he’d moved, so she instead settles for a nod and reaches around her back to pull at the strings of her painting smock. Rolan is quick to take over the task, nudging her hands away when she begins to untie them herself.

It’s the simple gestures and acts of service that remind her why she loves him so much.

He helps her remove the paint-covered article and hangs it up on its hook. Then he sighs, attempting to curl the ends of his permanent frown into an assuring smile when she turns to peer up at him.

“It’s been a long day,” he admits and Tav hums, placing her hand on his forearm and trailing it downwards to tangle their fingers. “There was a mishap with cataloging a shipment of new scrolls. They had to be organized with the older ones and I had asked Cal to bring me a list and it just seemed wrong. He messed up. A whole room – just passed over. And business has been great, but trying to make sense of what's new and what remains in the midst of it all has really been quite the burden…”

Rolan’s work at Sorcerous Sundries has made the two of them nothing but proud, but it does have quite the effect on the tiefling at the end of the day. Most days he comes home beaming with pride and bursting with excitement to tell Tav about something new he discovered in the archives or to tell her about a difficult spell he perfected, but other days have him drained and stressed. Days like these are dreaded.

“How long did you have to work on them for?”

“It’s been three days.”

His words take her by surprise, as does the way his shoulders slump inwards when he’s done admitting them. She squeezes his hand and gently, he squeezes back.

“Rolan–”

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t really fine, no matter how many times he could say it or stop her from asking any more questions about it. Three days and she’d just now heard about it. It explained why he’d been coming home so late the past two nights. Made sense why he’d had to eat his dinner alone after it had long since gone cold with Tav asleep upstairs in their bedroom.

Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember the last time he’d given her a kiss. A real one, not a chaste one as he slips out the door, nor the one he’d pressed to the top of her head just earlier. She craves him–their intimacy. Gods, now that she thinks about it she isn’t sure she even remembers the last time they were intimate. Just the thought makes her heart ache and her core yearn.

Tav opens her mouth to begin to speak but he stops her with his own voice and the feeling of his other hand delicately fixing the crumpled collar of her shirt.

“I– I just need a distraction. I would like to pleasure you – if you’ll allow me to. It’s the only thing that's been on my mind and I cannot possibly think another second about Sundries lest I abandon it entirely.”

Tav notices immediately how his eyes have since flooded with something new. That dullness that had been there before is gone, replaced by what she recognizes as desire.

Rolan continues, hands shaking when he smoothes out the fabric of her shirt over her collarbones.

“It’s likely why it’s taken me so long to catalog those damned scrolls. I’ve been thinking about you. The way you feel, the way you taste… The way you love me… My stress has stolen me away and there is nothing in Faerûn that I would like more than to bring you to bliss, my love.”

He sinks down to his knees before her and Tav waffles, pulling at the collar of his undershirt to pull him back up to his feet.

She should be the one on her knees, not him.

“Let me–” she begins, and Rolan slides his hands up the outsides of her thighs to rest over the perfect swell of her hips.

“–Please,” he pleads, and she doesn’t fight him any more on it.

The wizard struggles to keep his composure, feigning patience, as he unties the silk laces at the front of her pants and hooks his fingers into her waistband, pulling the article down her legs alongside her underwear and assisting her in stepping out of them. One foot at a time. Then with gentle hands he guides her backwards until the back of her knees find the edge of the chair strewn haphazardly with his robes.

She sits, reclining back into the plush, deep backing of it, cradled by his scent, and a pretty noise falls from her lips when he crawls forward in between her legs and spreads them apart, opening her up to him and planting a kiss to the inside of her knee. He takes a moment to cherish her body. His hands find the tops of her thighs and press, knead, and grope in a way that only makes her blush with crimson, then all at once he hooks his elbows under her knees and pulls her hips closer to the edge of the chair. The unexpected shift makes her squeak.

He wastes no time burying his face between her thighs. He finds her clit with an open mouth, burying his nose into her mound as he gets that perfect first taste of her, moaning long and drawn out at the taste that is uniquely her.

He’d needed this. He’d been waiting for this. Finally, he has her right where he needs her.

He laps at her core slowly at first, holding back his avidity, taking the time to relish the blooming taste of her on his tongue as she finds her arousal, and the sound he makes when his frustration begins to bleed out from him through his tongue is divine in Tav’s ears. It makes her stomach flutter and her core tighten around nothing. Rolan wraps his lips around her bud and sucks.

It’s as if something inside of him snaps. The little bit of restraint he had held himself back with disappears within a millisecond and the tiefling shuffles forward on his knees as if the moment could slip away. The rapid flicking of his tongue through her folds is quite a surprise, but the way he immediately drops his chin to lick and prod at her hole has her gasping and fumbling for a grasp on his left horn.

He wraps his arms further beneath her legs and she gets the hint, folding her thighs up over both of his shoulders as his hands find purchase on either side of her waist. His claws press in, leaving little indentations on her skin when he flexes his fingers or reaches out for handfuls of soft skin. She whines beautifully. Her voice is caught in her throat, trapped behind a lip pulled between her teeth, and she tosses her head back when he flicks his eyes up to watch how her face contorts in pleasure. Her jaw falls lax, open at last, and she moans loudly when he offers her the hot, broad flat of her tongue to grind against.

“Oh– Rolan–!”

“That’s it,” he says, a small chuckle laced between his words. An encouragement of sorts. “Give it to me. All of you. I want it.”

Tav does her best to tilt her hips against his tongue, searching for that glorious pleasure that only his tongue can provide. The hand wrapped around his horn pulls slightly with a gentle pressure and he leans in impossibly closer. The slight change in angle is divine. His tongue slides against her core, his nose bumping perfectly over her clit with every pass, and Rolan slips his eyes shut to allow her to ride it out. That pretty gold disappears and he gets lost wholly in her body.

The hands on her waist squeeze tighter. If he isn’t careful his claws could leave little bruises by morning. If they do, she’ll wear them with pride.

The floorboards under Rolan’s knees groan when he shifts his weight again to settle back on his heels. When he pulls away and slides his hands downwards to rest on her knees Tav’s chest heaves, her features drawn up in sensual satisfaction. Rolan’s chin shines with slick and saliva. The sight only makes Tav want him more. He opens his eyes to gaze upon her and his breathing matches hers. Their chests rise and fall together in a synchronized pattern. Shining gold flickers down to her core, then back up to her eyes, and finally down to where the collar of her shirt has slipped enough to expose the subtle swell of the top of one of her breasts.

Any other night the sight would have him hastily removing the pesky fabric entirely to gain access to them, but tonight is different. Tonight, his mind is set solely on dissipating the tension in his muscles and relieving himself of the displeasures of his work through his lover’s pleasure.

Cataloging scrolls and organizing books can be tedious, boring work – especially when cursed with having to fix your brother’s careless mistakes. There’s uncertainty, and unpredictability, and unforeseen failure in the commerce of magic, but this – this, he can do. And he knows exactly how to flawlessly execute his lover’s euphoria.

There is no failure in this. He will be sure of it.

“Are you done?” Tav asks after a moment of stillness, when the wizard has failed to return to her core. In typical wizard fashion, he has found himself lost in thought.

He catches her eyes again, a smirk curling upwards onto his lips as he shakes his head and leans back in, his hands carefully guiding her legs to either side of his head as his breath ghosts over her folds.

“Not even close.”

His tongue darts out to taste the lingering wetness on his lips. Then he dives in to drink it from between hers.

She shivers a full-body shiver when he finds her clit again, sucking and flicking the swollen bud with quick flicks of his tongue to make up for lost time, soothing it with broad licks and nice vibrations from his own groans of pleasure. He wouldn’t rather be anywhere else but on his knees, between Tav’s legs as they flex and threaten to squeeze his ears with every ministration of his talented mouth.

When he breaks away again to pet at her with his fingers, she reaches forward tenderly to run her nails across his scalp. The feeling pulls a drawn out moan from his throat. She follows the flow of the russet-colored strands back to where he secures his hair up and pulls at the tie there, already half undone and messy, and watches as his hair falls forward around his face and tickles the sensitive insides of her thighs. Rolan doesn’t make an effort to push it away. He stays still, rooted in place, his hooded eyes transfixed on how her sex flutters and stretches around his worshiping fingers. His breath is warm against her most delicate flesh. She combs her nails across his scalp again and he thanks her generously with his mouth.

He teases her some more, running the pads of his index and middle fingers through her folds and occasionally dipping shallowly into her hole, before finally pushing them deep inside and making Tav gasp out. Her back arches, lifting from the upholstery and her toes curl behind his shoulder blades when he curls his fingers just right, searching for that spot inside that makes her nerves light up – and light up they do.

He’s careful of his claws through the whole thing and continues to push in and out until the reddish flesh on his palm glistens with her wetness. The sight makes him throb and he huffs when his erection twitches and strains against the rough fabric of his trousers.

“Rolan, come up here, darling. I need to kiss you.”

Her voice is breathless. Pretty. He’s drawn to it like a harpy’s luring song.

He crawls up her body with the help of her hands as they twist into the fabric of his shirt and pull him closer by his biceps. When he settles down over her body he groans between sharp teeth when his belly presses up against her cunt. It’s warm through his shirt and he removes his fingers from her hole to ruck it up enough and allow her to slide slickly against his skin with slow, deliberate movements of her hips. As for himself, he grinds against the edge of the chair where his dick is trapped, moaning with each roll that puts pressure against it. It’s not enough to get him off, or even get him close, but that doesn’t matter to him. This isn’t about him. It’s all for her.

They kiss languidly despite how both of them blindly search out pleasure with their hips. They revel in the distinct tastes of each other and catch up on how much they’ve missed out on while the last few days have dragged on impossibly slow. If Tav could freeze time and stay in this moment forever, she would. Rolan, too. Their lips slot perfectly together like pieces of a puzzle – disconnecting and ever-changing in shape – yet each time their lips meet again it’s a perfect fit.

When she slips her tongue into his mouth he curses into her hers, a pleased noise. She runs the tip of it over the edges of his teeth, searching, mapping out the ridges and the points while stealing back the heady taste of herself from his saliva, all the while he breathes lazy and open-mouthed against her lips. They share a breath or two as hands and mouths wander, and it’s far too soon that Rolan can’t help but slink back down towards the floor.

He throbs in his trousers and he feels the stress in his bones on the verge of spilling over, overcome with his desire to please and pleasure. He chases the feeling as he leaves kisses down her torso and across her tummy, trailing down her hips until he finds himself at eye-level with her glistening mound again and reacquaints himself with her eager bundle of nerves.

It doesn’t take very long for both of them to spill over – not when the wizard accesses his knowledge of what makes her truly keen. He licks at her with practiced ease and drags his fingers in and out of her velvety walls until her belly tightens and her thighs press together on either side of his head, muffling the sound of her voice in his ears until he mourns it.

He moans when she tightens, encouraging her further to let go, and finally she stumbles over into her orgasm when his other hand plants itself over her belly and pushes into the tender skin just below her bellybutton.

She sings so beautifully as she cums. Rolan feels her voice and her body whisk away his frustration until he’s groaning in blissful harmony with her, muscles going deliciously taut before leaving him a shuddering, panting mess between her thighs.

She looks beautiful with her cheeks flushed and her shirt hanging lazily from her shoulders. He gives her sex a few final light flutters of his tired tongue until her breath hitches sharply and her muscles spasm with increasing overstimulation, and then he’s drawing back only slightly and resting his head to the plush inside of her thigh.

He feels the strain of the last few days bleed out of his body as his heart pounds in his chest, coming down gradually to allow him a more-than-deserved rest. The relief in his groin is an added bonus he hadn’t expected, but a pleasant one nonetheless. He could do without the sticky mess in his trousers, but a simple incantation can fix that when he’s ready.

He feels nothing but contentment and love and holds Tav close while she cards a soothing hand through his mussed hair. They stay there together in the study until the late hour threatens to take its hold on them, and she rubs at the sensitive spots at the base of his horns until his eyes feel heavy and the serene moment begins to pull him under.

The floor is not the ideal place for the tiefling to succumb to sleep, but for the moment, until Tav decides to take his hand and pull him down the hall to their bed, it is perfect.

#bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #rolan #rolan fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #rolan x tav

128 notes · View notes

gortashs-skidmark · 27 days

Text

Tieflings DnD - variations for the fanfic writers and artists!! -

There’s a lot about tieflings on the internet. THESE ARE CANON, except for one thought i put in.

If you’re gonna do BG3 fanfics about Tieflings, please please please consider adding some spice with origin lore and CANON facts about their race :) it would be SO fun!

Pls I need more zevlor fanfic too.

PLS READ: I don’t believe in censorship or ignoring the subject of people who are oppressed, but be mindful of how you write and use oppression of dnd races on your tav pls.

- Orange; Canon Historical Events, Abilities, Bodily Facts, and Bloodlines. It means i think you should look into it.

Pink: I think it's cute. Red; Warning, Comment Purple; Headcanon (only one of them)

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- Tieflings are prone to bad luck, because of the Curse of Aasimar.

- Planar Proverb “don’t ever make a bet with a Tiefling” hey I already made one with Lakrissa.

- They’re arcanally gifted, most of them. Zariel Tieflings are much better melee fighters.

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- Tielfling Blood; is tainted from the hells so they could have human parents. Be descendants of demon, devils, evil deities, night hags, and succubus!

- i know y’all love aphrodisiac fanfics, succubus spittle is exactly what you need dawg. Someone make me a fanfic including succubus heritage.

- along with that, Tieflings are unable to breed with anyone except humans or other Tieflings. Literally. They can be Tiefling or human.

- Usually there is some tell to if they’re Zariel, Asmodeus, Mephistopheles by birth mark, or traits like cat eyes, or night hags bloodlines have red eyes without pupils or scelaras

EDIT: I thought the flaming pupils were cat-like slit eyes in the game, but Karlach does indeed have regular slits!

- Tieflings can be male, female, or without gender. It is a canon fact. A win for my gender struggling homies.

- They can have green, blue, purple, pink, yellow, red skin tones. With dark hair colors only like black, purple, dark red and blue. I don’t care for this, genes be gene-ing so have any color you want.

Mephestopheles is recorded as to having blue skin, pale blue whites and red eyes, soot black scales, with large wings in the 2nd Manual. BUT in a 3e version he is described having red skin, bat wings, being 9ft, with white eyes, and slick black hair. Both of these are present in Mephestophic Bloodlines in BG3. Raphael is the son, though cambion, is red.

Asmodeus rules the Nine Hells. Mephestopheles being his archduke, only rules the 8th layer. Asmodeus has a humanoid, and a scale-fiend version of himself. He's red, slim, 13ft tall, horned, vibrant red eyes, and a neatly trimmed beard. He is Lawful-Evil.

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The Blood War (where Karlach escaped) is described as a "philosophical war" and which kind of evil would rule. Asmodeus plays a part but didn't start it, it's rooted in ancient Hell conflicts. Asmodeus claimed it was a senselessly bloody conflict from a militia standpoint. He really hates it, he's not a fan of it. INFERNAL POLITICS ARE FUCKING COMPLICATED. look into it :)

Zevlor was a Hellrider or Rider of Elturel! a Cavalry unit for Elturel during the 14th and 15th century. They ride horseback, and use spears and bows. They're well reguarded!! Zevlor should have more pride in himself for his service, being a refugee isn't his fault, or The Descent.

In the late 1400's striving for Paladin Knighthood in the Order of Companion was a rank of Hell rider. Before and after the year 1494, you could be a Paladin and join freely.

The Order of Companions was an Elturel, of Western Heartland, theocratic realm of Paladin Knighthood. It's just a region of Paladins that are highly reguarded. They typically worship Tyr, Torm, Helm, and Aumanator.

They kept order in the high capital of Elturel, preserving local civilization from outer destruction. They're super Lawful Good.

Typically an Oath of Devotion or an Oath of the Crown.

"For a City Guard, they outmatched the armies of the Whole Realm" - Forgotten Wiki Realms

They guard general land, they aren't really police, and can escort as far as Waterdeep if privileged to. It is a job they hold for life. I FUYCKING LOVE HELLRIDERS.

Shortly after Elturel’s descent into Avernus, the Tieflings were blamed for the fall, and expelled from the city entirely. Zevlor and any tiefling hellrider’s title has been stripped from them. Any hellrider’s were arrested at The Gate. And the reputation of tieflings sunk even lower.

Badlurian’s are Elturian’s rivals but Duke Ravenguard was tricked into coming to Elturel for politics and ended up helping and sending in troops to help fight. He’s extra important! I might find Wyll, all though lovely, useless, his father is very brave and noble and amazing for what he does.

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- Tieflings can have feathers! Although rare. They can have fur, scales, or be bald like humans. They can be any variation of sorts!

- A more common portrayal of tieflings, is having solid colored eyes, whites and irises the same color. They can be black, red, silver, gold, or white.

- Tieflings are technically minorities and don’t live in the highest neighborhoods. It gives them an even worse reputation.

- Most of the Tieflings with famous status, also give bad reps. Climbing their way to the top in corruption.

- When Tieflings get nervous, experience anxiety, or are upset. They’re known to wrap their tails around their leg!! Super telling.

- They can use their tail like a monkey, very dexterous about it. It’s about 5-6ft long.

- Their ages, weight, height. All similar to humans. Idk how logical that is with 5 extra feet of meat behind them. Sometimes they can live longer, to about 120-150 years old.

- Tieflings can look just like humans. Though they can have their hellish features, those with strong hellish features are often killed at birth out of disgust.

- They can also have legs of a goat, tail akin to a horse or a lizard.

- Tieflings can be really good at thieving, hiding, and deceit.

- their diet consists of meat, marrow, gristle, fat, and bones. They’re highly carnivorous. They even eat roasted insects.

- Many worship Besheba, the goddess of bad luck, finding similarities in them and their goddess.

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- Tieflings are as sensitive as humans, same hearing. They usually have dark vision. And their body temperatures can be colder or warmer than humans depending on their type of tainted blood. --Mephistopheles blood lines are from the frozen layer of hell, maybe their blood is colder.

- They don’t purr, sorry girlies. They’re closer to humans than Tabaxis or Driders.

- Tieflings don’t regrow horns unless they’re still young, though they do tend to file them down.

- They have a natural unsettling aura about them. Even if their heritage is unknown to others, it makes people uncomfortable. They also can smell of sulphur.

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- There are so many Tieflings bloodlines. I love the Babau Tieflings bc they’re already known as uncanny creatures-- Babau Tieflings are gaunt and skinny, darker skin, and a small horn coming from the back of their head.

- Marilith Tieflings are known to be seductive- more than they already are, and have dark hair. They have snake-like half-bodies and have grey tongues.

- Succubus Tieflings! They’re like the ones you see in bg3, often have a small set of wings.

- Tieflings can have so many fucking variations it makes me dizzy.

- Tieflings can have bat-like wing shaped ears, that perk up and shit. I know yall think about ear movements. <zevlor has this>

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Edit: Ya'll loved this :) I can do another on Tiefling politics if ya'll want. Or more bloodlines and fun facts if you want.

I have built another list of Canon facts about Driders and Kar'niss Headcanons if you monster fuckers are interested!!

Currently in the works; He Who Was Headcanons and Shadar'Kai canon facts and events.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 tiefling #bg3 zevlor #bg3 rolan #bg3 dammon #karlach #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanart

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fourraccoonsinacoat · 7 months

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More fake BG3 tweets. First round.

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mooshywrites · 4 months

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Could I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor react to his gender neutral human crush putting a flower ring on their left ring finger because it fits? They took a moment to realise that they're also wearing their flower ring on their left hand which they thought it's like they're married to him 😳

This is so cute, I can’t :,)

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Masterlist

Art commissions

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Astarion -

~ Astarion didn’t really pay much mind to whatever you were making with flowers

~ So far, he’d relented to you making him a flower crown, a bracelet, even a clumsily put together necklace out of the daisy patch near the camp

~ When you finally managed to make two rings, you were more preoccupied with whether Astarion’s would fit rather than what finger you had put your own on

~ Astarion held out his left hand when you asked, continuing to read his book when you slipped the ring over his finger

~ When you were done, he looked over it approvingly before looking at the band on your own left ring finger.

~ You realized what he too had noticed, hiding your blushing face as he smirked triumphantly

~ “My darling, if you wanted to pin me down forever, you only need ask.”

Gale -

~ Gale was an excellent student, paying close attention as you taught him how to weave together flower rings

~ He wanted to make one for everyone in camp, quickly getting the hang of the craft

~ When you both had finished a set, he smiled and said you should trade, so you’d each have a piece of each other

~ You distractedly said yes, holding out your hand

~ You didn’t notice he had put it on your left ring finger until you were done doing the same

~ Gale seemed to have caught on before you, smiling brightly as he looked over his own ring

~ “Who knew proposal was so easy!”

Wyll -

~ Wyll loved taking small naps in the grass when the sun was still high

~ Today, he convinced you to come and sit with him in the field, relaxing on a small picnic blanket

~ You mostly started weaving flower rings just to keep away boredom, but soon began making one for Wyll

~ He noticed what you were doing and tried copying the movements, hoping you wouldn’t point out how messy his rings looked

~ He jokingly held out his left hand, lifting his ring finger for you to put the ring, not expecting you would do it

~ Not catching onto his joke, you did

~ The color drained from your face in embarrassment as you realized what you had done

~ Wyll would just laugh and kiss your cheek, sliding the ring he made onto your finger

~ “I’ll make a better one when I truly ask for you to be mine.”

Halsin -

~ Halsin very much enjoyed the time the both of you spent in nature

~ He’d tell you little things he knew about everything around you as you wound together flowers

~ You stared off by putting flowers in his hair, quickly moving to adorning all of him in the little buds

~ He just chuckled and let you, not pointing out that you had put the first ring on his left ring finger

~ He smiled, warmth filling his chest at your sweet mistake

~ He’d take a ring from you, slipping it over your own ring finger

~ Only then did it dawn on you what you had done. Halsin didn’t even give you a chance to walk it back before pulling you into a tight bear hug

~ “Now even nature binds us together for eternity”

Dammon -

~ Dammon loved when you played with flowers, usually it ended with him with a little wreath of nature around his horns

~ Today, he was hell bent on learning how to make the wreaths himself

~ All of his attempts were… lacking to say the least. Each one was tiny and thin

~ You assured him they were beautiful and that they were the perfect size to be a ring

~ To prove it, you quickly placed one on the first finger you got to

~ You didn’t understand why he blushed so deeply until he took your hand in his, slipping one onto your ring finger

~ His expression was so shy and sweet, you didn’t have the heart to admit it had been an accident

~ “I always knew you’d be the first to ask”

Rolan -

~ Rolan didn’t really see the point of flower rings, but the smile you gave him had him desperate to learn

~ He patiently watched you work, impressed with how quickly you could wind together a small ring

~ He picked up the finished project, studying it carefully

~ After a minute, he’d not as if he had decided something, asking if he could have it

~ You were so excited he liked it, that you didn’t notice that it was his left hand you slid the ring onto, not his right

~ He grinned when you did, demanding you make another one to put on your ring finger

~ “Perhaps these flower rings aren’t so useless after all.”

Zevlor -

~ Zevlor was a little hesitant to let you cover him in flower crafts, but how could he ever say know to your fluttering lashes

~ He sat with a huff, letting you drape little rings around his horns, decorating them beautifully

~ He held out his hand with a grumble when you asked to put a ring on him, his left hand first since you were standing on that side

~ You unknowingly slipped it over his left ring finger, distracted by the wreath that was coming undone on one of his horns

~ He chuckled when he noticed, pulling a small band off his horn and putting it on your ring finger

~ His would kiss your nose sweetly, enjoying the embarrassed blush that crawled across your face

~ “I would’ve let you pretty me up with flowers sooner if it meant this.”

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #baldurs gate x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #bg3 fanfiction #halsin x reader #bg3 astarion #bg3 halsin #zevlor x reader #dammon x reader #rolan x reader #gale x reader #wyll x reader

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