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mumsie-bangin · 5 days

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⸻ 𝒜𝑀𝒫𝐿𝐸!

𝑀𝒴 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸 𝐿𝐸𝒯𝒯𝐸ℛ! ⨾ this is a response to the ask: ‘how’d you think alucard would be when he’s overstimulated!’ ~ i am so glad you asked, nonnie >.< i’ve been meaning to write a bit of smut for adrian, and this ask was the perfect opportunity to do so! please enjoy, and thank you for reading! ❤︎

𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜𝐼𝒩𝒮 ⨾ 800+ words of . . . adrian ‘alucard’ țepeș x fem!reader (black coded), nsfw/smut, porn with a no plot whatsoever, canon-divergent, set in the set in the 15th century (1400s), established relationship, size difference, nipple play, unprotected sex, cowgirl (i wanna ride i wanna ride!) dacryphilia, use of pet names (e.g, love, dear), explicit language, lowercase intended, not proofread oopsie, minors shoo!

you’ve always known your husband to be picturesque. what you never imagined, though, is that pushing him to the very edge could get him any prettier.

oh, but it does. you’ll surely make note that a good swivel of your hips grinding down on his cock is just what undoes him and turns him into this; a tousled display of blush-dusted cheeks, mouth agape and puffy from your kisses, shiny fangs bearing whenever he parts his lips to moan, and long lashes glistening with unshed tears . . . its a scene of its very own, straight out of the pages of wallachia’s filthiest erotica novel.

adrian usually withholds from making noise whenever you have sex, but when the sensations become overbearing, he starts to grow loud. he's pleading your name in broken whimpers, unsure of whether he should tell you to stop or beg for even more. he can hardly handle it, and his eyes scrolling to the back of his head confirms such. but god, he can't help but wane for you. and so he basks in the very feeling of you, and wouldn't want it any other way.

though he's terribly close to losing his senses, adrian's careful enough to not allow his claws extend when gripping fervently at the warm flesh of your full hips. you're riding him to no end, bouncing upon the length of him, and he bets that you feel the underside of his swollen cock throbbing as wildly as a heartbeat. he finds that he loves it— how you use him to chase your own pleasure.

you're sensitive too, he notices. the sound of your breathing's picked up, and all your noises are pitchier. you claw at the broad expanse of adrian's shoulders and leave a slew of subtle reddened lines, his skin cool to the touch. you're then lifting yourself up with a trembling sigh before slamming back down on his twitching dick, asscheeks rippling from the collision of your skin against his. he bites his lip over the way your boobs jiggle and sway upon impact. there’s far too much to absorb, yet he can't get enough.

his restlessness manifests into desperate rutting, thighs flexing and trembling when he does so. adrian makes a sloppy attempt to fuck up into you, and an especially deep thrust has you clenching and fluttering around him. when adrian cries out, you mewl along with him.

spent, you lower yourself to lie upon his frame, breasts pressing up against his firm chest as you rest your face within the crook of his neck. his body is toned, imposing, and ghostly-fair, a beautiful contrast to your warm complexion and soft curves. he's got his hands melded into the slope of your dipping waist, and the flesh is hot and reddened there, as you are everywhere else.

your lips, plush and pink, wrap around his nipple, and he whines ever so sweetly. you're a bit lazier with it now; languidly rolling your hips against his own, striving to take him deeper into your sopping pussy. your arousal wettens his slim torso. with the remaining of energy he has left, adrian brings his large hands to grab at your ass, and gingerly bounces you down on his cock.

with strength, he lifts you by the flat surface of his palms and brings you crashing back down onto him, lewd claps with a wet tinge resounding throughout his grand bed-chamber, room now humid with lust. you lift your face to find his lips, and give him the messiest kiss of the night. he'a panting into your pliant mouth, and you lick along his own as he aimlessly tries to suck on your tongue.

at long last, crystal-like tears begin to slip their way down the apples of his milk-pale cheeks, and his groans are ceaseless. perhaps you've finally broken him. you peer up towards your angel of a man, eyes bright and alluring as you coo:

"adrian . . . is it too much, dear?"

to that, he whines. “n-no, it’s— i can handle it,” his head shakes fervently, golden-threaded tresses swaying with it. his impeccable hair is in disarray from all the fucking, and a lengthy strand falls into his face.

gently, you tuck it behind adrian's blush-tipped ear, admiring his countenance; a straight, defined nose with blush dusted across the bridge of it, faint blonde brows drawn together, and sheen lips tinted the tiniest bit of red from your biting and sucking.

“you’re certain?” you ask of him, but he only reaffirms with another breathless kiss, his eyes screwed shut as he melts into the warmth of your mouth, hooked on the sweetness of your lips. once you part, his sun-yellow eyes stare back at you, gaze lust-blown and full of affection. he’s nothing short of flawless.

"fuck— don't you stop," is his plea, voice taking on a low rasp, "just continue, love . . . keep on using me."

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mumsie-bangin · 5 days

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sleepyhead | gale dekarios x afab!reader

(18+!!!) afab!reader. second person pov. literally just smut: oral (f receiving), piv, dirty talk, consensual somnophilia. gale lives to please as always

my first gale fic... this man has taken over my entire life.

2k words

Gale’s lips press against yours in the dark, gentle and coaxing. A push and pull. You blink blearily awake from slumber as his hand finds your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your sleep shift. His brown hair falls over the two of you like a curtain, shielding you from the terrors of the darkness.

“Mm hello,” you purr against his lips. “What time is it?” You ask when he pulls back. He looks a bit wild, pupils blown wide, his eyes practically look black even in the dim candlelight. He’s breathing heavily, his gaze traveling over you, heated, like the air surrounding fire. He doesn’t answer.

“Gale?” you repeat, warmth pooling in your belly at the pure desperation on his face. At the want curling in his eyes like a flame.

“It’s late,” he murmurs, voice rough, as though he’s parched. “Though I cannot stop thinking about you. I must…” he trails off, mind moving faster than his mouth can.

One thing you love about Gale is his ability to talk for seemingly hours on end with such eloquence and poetry. But when he’s like this…already hard against your thigh, slowly rutting his hips in circles, captured within pleasure, the words seem to leave him. You love it just as much, if not more.

He leans in and runs his nose along your throat, breath ghosting over your skin. His teeth graze you, and his tongue follows, licking a stripe up your throat. You moan shakily, cunt clenching around nothing.

“What’s gotten into you?” You ask, though it’s more breath than substance. Your brain is already beginning to short circuit, especially when the hand on your waist travels down to your thigh, fingertips pressing into the muscle there.

“You just looked so beautiful on the battlefield today… I tried to contain myself because we had so much to do, but… fuck,” he breathes this against your neck, desperate. He hardly ever uses such vulgar language. “I need you, love.”

“So you really weren’t lying when you told me you were turned on by my fighting,” you say, surprised.

“I am a lot of things, darling, but a liar is not one of them.”

The sound of his inhale as he leans down to kiss you again sends more molten pleasure swirling through you.

His hips press against yours, grinding against your clothed cunt in a steady rhythm. You moan into his mouth, your hands reaching up to clench at his sleep shirt stretched over his broad back.

You’re still sleepy as his hand drifts to the hem of your shift. He slowly pulls it up your thighs, up over your breasts, revealing your undergarments. He paws at your waistband like a cat begging for food. You lift your hips so he can pull them down over your ass. He undoes the ties to your bralette and slides it off your shoulders.

Gale kisses his way down your body, stopping to close his warm mouth over a nipple while his dexterous hand squeezes and tugs at the other. You moan lightly, pleasure easing through you. He hums appreciatively against your skin, and the vibrations travel pleasantly through you.

“Gale…” you half murmur half moan as he moves his mouth to your other nipple. “I can hardly stay awake…” You feel yourself slipping in and out of consciousness. The gentle chirping of the crickets outside your tent doesn’t help.

“Of course,” he says, leaning back. “We can stop.”

“No—no wait,” you stop him with a hand curled around his wrist. “You can keep going while I’m sleeping, I don’t mind.”

His eyes darken, his tongue dipping out to wet his lips. “Really? Are you quite sure?”

You nod with a sleepy smile and settle back comfortably. “Mhm.”

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, pressing another kiss to your lips.

Your eyes flutter shut, your breathing slowing as you succumb to your exhaustion. Your limbs feel heavy, even as Gale continues his way down your body.

“You’re so gorgeous, so perfect,” he whispers into your skin. His fingers curl into your thighs before he slowly pulls them apart, baring yourself to him.

He runs his hands appreciatively up and down your thighs, squeezing and kneading before hooking them over his shoulders.

Gale presses a kiss to the inside of your right thigh before retreating. You feel his lips again a second later, just between your thigh and cunt, mere centimeters from where you’re wet and aching for him.

And then you feel his warm breath puffing against your core, and your body squirms impatiently. You peek an eye open to watch him.

He looks so handsome as he glances up at you, eyes soft, mouth twitched into a smirk. “I thought you were going to sleep.”

“I am,” you reply, closing your eyes again. “Just wanted to admire the view one last time.”

He chuckles lowly, “Sweet dreams, darling.”

He doesn’t move for a while, and you find yourself drifting off in the stillness. Your breathing slows, your mind growing quiet as sleep takes over you.

---

The moment your breaths even out as your hands fall slack against your sides, Gale presses his face between your thighs. He uses the flat of his tongue to lick a long, hot stripe through your folds. You taste delicious on his tongue, and gods you’re so wet. You’re soaking his beard, and he’s hardly been between your thighs for longer than ten seconds.

He doesn’t care. You keep releasing cute little moans in your sleep as he takes you apart brick by brick. Or rather… lick by lick.

His hands grip your waist, keeping you close. Your hips buck involuntarily to meet his mouth, grinding against his face. Even in your sleep you’re seeking out pleasure from him.

God forbid he won’t deliver.

He pulls back one of his hands to slide a finger into you. It goes easily. He adds another without any resistance. You’re so incredibly wet. He wants to remain between your thighs forever. Your sweet, slick arousal runs down his hand to his wrist, and he bends his head to lick it off.

His hips rut against the floor of his tent, the act of eating you out so arousing to him he has to seek his own pleasure to mitigate the pain. He doesn’t mind. He’d rather see you cum over and over again before he ever does.

He slowly thrusts his fingers into you while mouthing at your clit, delighting in your shaky breaths and wanton moans. You look gorgeous, brows screwed together, sweat beading on your temple. You’re going to wake up soon, and damnit he’ll make sure it’s while you’re cumming.

---

Warmth kindles between your thighs, pleasure and arousal pooling deep in your belly, tingling in your toes and rising through you.

Sleep drifts away from you, hanging onto the recesses of your mind, but ultimately not strong enough against the building pleasure you feel.

You chase the feeling, the promise of sweet release. Your surroundings slowly begin to materialize around you. The feeling of your bedroll clenched between your fingers, the undeniable feeling of a mouth between your legs, the sound of low, rumbling, appreciative moans that vibrate through you.

Even the sound of your own cries are registering in your mind.

The melting pleasure collapses into one pinpoint. A supernova explodes within you as your clit is sucked diligently while the two, long fingers buried inside you hook to press against your g-spot.

Your back bows, eyes flying open as you cum against Gale’s warm and inviting mouth with a cry of his name. He guides you through it with gentle laps of his tongue through your folds. He mumbles words of encouragement, but they’re lost against your skin.

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Gale.”

“Mm.” You can practically feel his pride radiating off of him from making you come.

He continues to lick you through it until you’re coming again, hands fisted in his hair as his lips suck once more on your clit, his fingers fucking into you. Your legs quiver atop his shoulders, your mind utterly fucked into emptiness.

When it’s all too much you push him away, breathing heavily, contented tears in your eyes.

“Holy shit,” you huff, trying to catch your breath. “Maybe you should wake me up like that more often.”

His eyes sparkle excitedly. “If that is what you wish, I’d be glad to.”

“You are such a giver. You really should let me take care of you sometimes.”

He shrugs. “I like giving. It brings me great pleasure to reside between your thighs for as long as you can stand.”

You sigh at his fanciful words, but you appreciate his adoration all the same. He crawls forward as you lean up to kiss him, the taste of yourself on his tongue rekindling the fire in your gut. His hand winds its way into your hair, the other squeezes your hip.

“I need you inside me,” you whisper against his lips. “Now.”

He groans, fingers flexing in your hair. Your body jolts with arousal at the sweet tug.

“Say no more,” Gale says. “Your wish is my command.”

He takes off his trousers then rolls you onto your stomach. His hands grip your hips, pulling your ass up and backwards, and his knee comes between your thighs to press them apart.

He guides the head of his cock through your slick folds and your hips squirm in anticipation.

He leans across your back, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade. “I wish you could see yourself on the battlefield. The way you look with someone else’s blood on your armor… The flush on your cheeks… The way you breathe… You’re so capable, so strong. I cannot help but stare.”

He eases his cock inside you and the two of you moan in tandem at the delightful feeling. Him, at your warmth. You, at the undeniable feeling of being filled.

He bites lightly at your shoulder before whispering in your ear. “Sometimes I wish I could take you right there. In front of all of our friends and dead foes.”

You clench around him at his words, and he groans, hips snapping forward. You jolt against the bedroll, elbows digging into the feather down material.

“Gale,” you whimper.

He hums, “Yes. You’d be saying my name just. Like. That.” He delivers those three last words with hard thrusts, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing in the tent.

He builds up the pace, fucking into you steadily. Your cheek squishes against your pillow as he fills you, your mind still sleepy but undeniably consumed by lust and love.

“What do you think? Would you like that, love? Would you like to be fucked in front of all our companions?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, please, Gale. Need you—“

“Mm, that’s it,” he murmurs. His hand skates across your stomach as his warm fingers settle over your clit. “As much as I’d love to indulge the fantasy, I’m not sure I’d want them to watch.”

He begins to circle your clit with reverence, in time with his thrusts as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

“I want you all to myself,” he grits.

You cry out, melting against him, knees buckling as you reach your release. It rips through you, hard and fast. Unrelenting. A wildfire raging through your nerves.

Gale chases after his own climax, thrusts growing sloppy and deeper, moans and praises spilling from his lips before he finally cums inside you, hips twitching.

Your body trembles as the aftershocks roll through you.

You collapse onto the bedroll, breathing heavily, and Gale pulls you into him. You both lie on your sides, him softening inside you. He buries kisses into your neck, his arms wrapped around your waist.

“Are you all right?” he asks you, his thumb brushing comfortingly along your rib cage.

“So good,” you respond, brain blissfully empty, as if the tadpole never existed. You already feel sleep crawling across your mind again, pulling you under. You yawn and grin happily, like a cat that’s gotten its warm milk.

“Going back to bed already?” he teases, leaning up to press a kiss to your cheek. “I wear you out that much?”

“Mhmm…”

“All right. Go to sleep darling. I’ll clean you up.”

You’re already halfway asleep when you feel his tongue dip into you once more, licking his cum out from inside you—

Oh well. You can catch up on sleep tomorrow.

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mumsie-bangin · 5 days

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Feeling playful

source of inspiration: playing with cat’s tail. I just remembered how funny it is to cover their tails with palm and watch them change its position. until you encircle it while they try to wriggle free. and then you “find out” with the teeth marks on your hand haha

4k HQ version on twt:

https://x.com/skeptical_lynx/status/1772340642020028851?s=46&t=EuBiJuFrpmM7JiLiuDbaCA

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mumsie-bangin · 5 days

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druid gf

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mumsie-bangin · 6 days

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Continuing on from some previous thoughts....

You realize too late what you've gotten yourself into.

Not that you want escape--far from it. You want the opposite of escape, this delightful, endlessly novel captivity. But at the same time, you never could have anticipated any of this.

Tonight, for example:

Your back is braced against his torso, all muscle and heat under your already-heated skin, your face hidden in his neck. The thin shirt Gale wears is really a mockery of clothing, as are the trousers you're currently soaking as you sit astride his thigh. The fabric hides nothing of the strength of his body; his shirt collar is open enough that his chest hair brushes your arm. You'd nuzzle into that warmth for comfort, but there's no movement allowed you--Gale's cast that damnable spell again, the one that keeps your body limp, pliant, and desperate, leaving you only your voice because why would I deprive myself of the sweetness of your prayers? If you're praying now, it's a hymn of moans and sighs and incoherence and, as far as you can tell, Gale's not even paying attention, too busy tormenting you with that godsdamned book.

One hand drifts up and down your body, the hand of a musician idling out a tune. There's no pattern, no melody to it, only light, glancing touches on your shoulder, your belly, between your legs but not between your legs enough. Faintly you can feel his breathing, so much steadier than your own, chest pushing calmly and inexorably against you like the tide. Overlaying it is the rumble of his voice and the rush of words past your helplessly-listening ear as he reads... and along with the words and those touches come impressions of sensation.

"You grasp frantically at the shelves for purchase," Gale murmurs, and under your fingers you feel wood, slippery, polished; your fingertips glance off the spines of indifferent books. "But the only help you have is the body in front of you, hands pushing you up against the wall, pushing your greedy thighs open." There's the ghost-pressure of an invisible body against you, crowding you against Gale--against the bookcase--and hands teasing your legs apart. Gale's hand, his real hand, slips blessedly lower, and the sound he tears from you is obscene as you rock up into him. "The honeyed slick from your cunt coats your legs--perhaps," he murmurs the words into your hot, anxious ear as he thumbs thoughtfully at your clit, "you'll spill yourself on his face, or on his cock, so beautiful in your ruin."

😳😳😳 Aesc, I’m sure one of these days you’ll be accused of my untimely demise. It’s okay, I will die happy and I’ll make sure to leave a note clearing you of all charges.

Also, sorry it’s taken me a while! I have been battling some sort of seasonal bug and it turns out that writing smut is not ideal if your body aches already (and not in the thoroughly-fucked-by-Gale-Dekarios way).

WARNING: Nasty, filthy Smutty McSmutface under the cut!

The sound that escapes your throat is barely human — it’s primal, animalistic, raw — and you fail to recognise your own voice.

How did it come to this? you wonder briefly. How can he affect me so? How does he know my body better than I do myself?

Flashbacks flood your mind, an impetuous torrent of images, sensations, and feelings sweeping you under: the first time you touched, his warm hand in yours as you pulled him out of the portal; your palm pressed against the searing, white-hot nothingness of the orb; the feeling of him in your mind, in your body, everywhere all at once, as he made love to you for the first time; your muffled screams, the frantic moments of ecstasy stolen inside his tent, mere inches away from the others; your first night in Waterdeep, your frenzied bodies on the cold marble of the entryway floor; your wedding night, happy tears mixing with sweat and the scent of lily in his hair, your hearts so full you thought they might burst; the thousand nights that followed, each of them an ode to your love, each of them art in and of itself.

“Focus, please.”

His voice snaps you back, a soft command the authority of which you have neither the strength nor the will to contest.

Once sure of your undivided attention, Gale carries on reading: “You pray for his cock, its thick outline strained against the High Lord’s breaches. You yearn to be filled with it, stretched to the point of ruin, but you will have to wait. All you get for now is expert, eager fingers that tease, caress and spread you apart, and you swallow them into your velvet depths with ease.”

Once more, Gale’s magic appears to will echoes of the book into existence; you keen as he sheathes three of his beautiful, long fingers inside you. Phantom digits — or, at least, an impression of them — stroke you in unison with his. You know they are not real, and yet your body responds as if they were. You drown in the feeling of fullness, of being obscenely stretched open, in the wet noises that fill the air around you, and Gale’s hot breath against your ear.

“Can you take one more?”

There’s a novel strain to Gale’s words, but you are too far gone to discern whether he’s still reading or if the question is indeed his own. All you can do is sink deeper into the ocean of your lust as a strangled yes escapes your lips.

“Very good, my love,” he all but sings, unable to conceal the marvel in his voice as he easily slips four fingers into your tight, greedy cunt.

“Your hands white-knuckle the shelves behind you,” he reads on, a Mage Hand conveniently holding the book open for him, “as the High Lord coaxes your thighs wider with his knee, his thick fingers plundering your insides with unrelenting fervour.”

You can almost feel imaginary wood splinters lodging themselves into the soft pads of your fingertips, while Gale’s real hand, the one that’s not knuckle-deep inside you, grabs at the fleshy parts of your left leg and spreads you further apart, deliciously open for him, allowing his fingers to sink even deeper into you.

“Please…”

More of a tortured moan than a fully-formed word, your plea is enough to catch Gale’s attention and bring his reading to a halt. His hand, however, never stops moving, relentless in the pursuit of your ruin.

“What do you need, my love?” he asks, his whisper like honey poured straight into your ear. “Is this what you want?” he asks, the thumb of his free hand now rubbing gentle circles around your clit, sending a string of incoherent moans tumbling from your lips.

“Just tell me what you desire,” he presses on, “and I shall give it to you.” He nips at your earlobe, then plants soft kisses on the side of your face. “Anything for you, my goddess. Everything for you.”

“Gale—” you cry out, exhausted and overstimulated, desperate for release, “let me move…”

One quick word from him, and you are freed — movement returning to your legs and arms as if it had never been taken away. You sneak an arm upwards, your hand knotting into a fistful of hair at the nape of his neck, and your head twists towards him.

He looks into your eyes — feverish and needy and crazed with want — and his restraint evaporates. His lips come crashing down onto yours and he all but devours you, his tongue mimicking the expert dance of his fingers inside you.

And when he finally growls into your mouth, it brings forth such a frenzy that you fail to recognise yourself; you’ve been driven mad with lust, your mind and body aching to be filled with more of him as you meet his thrusts and properly fuck yourself on his hand.

It doesn’t take long, then, for you to find the peak of your pleasure — his maddening rubbing of your clit, the obscene stretch of your cunt, the way your own body pushes against him, driving his fingers so incredibly deep inside you. It all comes crashing down on you like a wave, and you finally gush all over his hand, screaming his name into your release.

“Magnificent,” he murmurs into the crook of your neck, where your hair clings to your sweat-slick skin. “You’re utterly magnificent.”

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mumsie-bangin · 6 days

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gale barely alive due to his sexy husband

reblogs appreciated very much

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mumsie-bangin · 6 days

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I saw your reply to that Gale confession about how he’s a soft dom and would praise you as he takes you and had to get this out of my brain for you to continue if you’d like 💜

***

As he bottoms out, the perfect pleasure-pain of the stretch of your core sends waves through your body. You’re both sweating; it’s a hot summer’s day in Waterdeep and the open balcony doors occasionally welcome in a breeze that sends goosebumps all over your skin.

The shivers from the breeze make you both keen at the sensation of your walls pulsing hot and wet around him.

Gale leans forward, pressing his body into yours and somehow burying himself deeper in you. You let out another groan and he replies with words more coherent than you can manage at the moment, “I’ve been to Elysium, experienced pleasures in the astral sea beyond most mortal comprehension, and yet here, with you so warm and tight and perfect, is the only place I want to be.”

You moan at his words, his voice so perfect and his beard grazes the sensitive skin on your neck.

He groans heavily at the noise, pushing his face into your neck so you don’t just hear him you can feel him. “Yes please sing for me…you’re so good, so sweet.”

It’s incredible, the way your body responds to his voice, the way his words gently push you closer and closer to the edge.

You have seen him will fire, ice, and lightning into existence — you have witnessed the terrible power of his words — and yet it’s not his magic that takes you to the brink of ecstasy. At least, not this time.

Rather, it’s a different kind of magic — one not borne of the Weave, but of Gale’s very essence. It’s addicting, and you need more of it.

“Don’t stop,” you urge him, breathless and needy.

He picks up the pace, his thrusts more vigorous and yet no less precise; but that’s not what you want. Well, not the only thing you want.

“Talk to me,” you plead, desperate for more of his praise, more of his guidance, more of that sweet, poetic filth that comes so effortlessly to him.

You don’t know how he does it, really. How he can maintain enough concentration not only to form full sentences, but to actually say such beautiful things while buried deep inside you. It’s such a stark contrast to your incoherent moans, to the way your vocabulary seems to shrink to monosyllables: yes, please, and Gale — always Gale.

“Look at you,” he says, “so beautiful for me, so eager to take me.” There is real marvel in his voice as he utters the words, his eyes shining with adoration and the fiery haze of his desire. They are not perfunctory, he’s not telling you this just to please you — he means it.

His praise eggs you on, and you find yourself wrapping your legs even more tightly around his waist, your heels digging into his back, welcoming him deeper inside you.

“See how your body surges to meet me,” he muses on, “how perfectly you stretch around me.”

His voice is molten gold, setting your whole being ablaze. It envelops you like a raging fire, and you are consumed by its flames.

“It’s as if the gods made you just for me. To take me. All of me.” He punctuates his words with powerful, deep thrusts that make your legs shake and your brain short-circuit. “Just. Like. This.”

You’re close now, so close.

“That’s it. Let go, my love,” he encourages you, his eyes trained upon you, reading your features like his favourite book, the telltale signs of your imminent ecstasy etched upon your face: the way your eyes roll back into your head, the way you bite your lip, the way your breath leaves your mouth in ragged bursts.

“Show me how you unravel so perfectly for me. I want you to take me over the edge with you.” His words are strained now, but his movements do not falter as he ruts faster and harder into you.

It’s almost as if the world has come to a stop, in those never-ending seconds before your orgasm. You feel weightless, like a feather about to be dropped from a great height. One little push, and you will plummet.

It’s almost as if Gale knows this, as if he can somehow see right inside your mind and find you teetering on the edge of the abyss.

“I’m here to catch you,” he breathes into your ear. “Let’s fall together. Come for me.”

And fall you do. Your walls contract wildly around him as you’re swept away by one of the most powerful orgasms of your life.

He pushes into you a few more times, fucking you through your high until the tide catches him and he, too, is drowning.

And when the stars stop exploding behind your eyelids and your heart no longer threatens to take flight, it’s once again his voice that brings you back. “I love you,” he murmurs into the crook of your neck, feather-soft lips tracing invisible patterns into the salt of your skin.

Thank you so much for sending this to me 💜 I hope this is the sort of thing you were looking for?

I also never realised the amount of psychic damage that writing Gale’s ‘dirty’ talk would inflict upon me. I need to go lie down. Touch grass. Wizard dick. Something.

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mumsie-bangin · 14 days

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Bedtime Tales

Gale of Waterdeep x reader, established relationship

You, rather poorly, attempt to bite down on a yawn, and Gale can’t help but frown as he watches you scoop yet another spoon of coffee into your mug.

“Darling?” He asks, tentatively.

“Mm?” You reply over your shoulder from the counter – waiting for the water to boil.

“I am aware you prefer your coffee on the strong side, but surely four spoons will suffice.”

“Four?” You look down – the mug is half full of grounds - apparently unaware of what you were doing. “Oh. I must’ve lost count.”

“I noticed.” He gets to his feet then to stand behind you and wraps a gentle arm around your waist, pulling you back against his chest before stooping a little so he can rest his chin upon your shoulder. “What’s going on in that sweet mind of yours, hm?”

“Nothing.” Another poorly concealed yawn.

“Did you not sleep well?”

You hesitate for a moment and consider a lie – it would be harmless, wouldn’t it? – but you lack the energy to put in the effort.

“I don’t think I did at all last night – just tossed and turned until dawn.” You’d felt tired, running errands all around Waterdeep the entire day but your mind hadn’t settled, jumping from thought to thought.

“Oh, love...” Gale presses a long kiss against your temple and relishes the feeling of you finally relaxing into his hold. He wished he could whisk you back off to bed, a day of cuddles, wrapped up in blankets but - as the clock chooses that moment to so cruelly chime - he has a cohort of students awaiting his teachings at Blackstaff Academy.

“You should go.” You turn and press a chaste kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

He takes a moment to brush a stray piece of hair from your face, concealing a frown at the dark rings under your eyes – perhaps this was not the first night of poor sleep you’d suffered – and smiles. “I love you more.”

You’d been quiet through dinner, despite Gale’s open-ended questions to try and get conversation flowing. He’d suggested the two of you retire earlier tonight than you usually did and you hadn’t protested. After a teasing kiss goodnight, you’d rolled onto your side, chasing sleep…

It’s the sound of a stifled sob that wakes Gale with a start.

“Darling?”

The sound stops with a hiccup, as you press your face deeper into the pillow, hoping he’ll drift back off to sleep.

No such luck though as Gale only murmurs a cantrip to light the lamps surrounding the bed with a soft glow.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You sniff, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your hand. “I can go sit on the balcony and-“

He grabs your wrist, worried you’ll vanish in front of him. “You will do no such thing – I’d never dream of it. Please, what’s the matter?”

“I don’t know.” You take a deep, exasperated breath. “I’m just… I’m so tired that I’m beyond it. My eyes sting from being open, they sting even when they’re closed, but I just can’t sleep. There’s too many thoughts in my head, it’s worse than the damn tadpole.”

“I could cast sleep-” He reaches for your hand.

“No.” You answer, abruptly, and he’s a little startled by the aggression in your tone. “Sorry. I know you would mean well by it, but from having it cast upon me in the past… it was never a pleasant nor restful experience.”

He frowns, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. There’s so much he needs to learn about you - still a little guarded about events that transpired before him and the nautiloid.

“My apologies, my love. I did not mean to bring up any bad memories.”

“No, I know.” You squeeze his fingers. “I’ll be all right.”

He mulls for a moment, before an idea comes to mind. “I might have a cure. No magic required either.”

You smile, still tired, but gather enough strength to tease. “But you love magic.”

“Whilst I am rather fond of it, there are proven alternatives to such quandaries as this.” He shrugs. “When I was a young boy, trying to read every book known to man, my head too grew busy with thoughts. Though perhaps I was just too excited to sleep, I think we should still give it a go.”

“What is it?” You roll over onto your side, clutching the pillow to your chest.

“My mother used to read to me and, if you’ll permit me, my darling, I would love to do the same for you.”

You squeeze the pillow, casting your eyes down. “Mm, I’ve never been much of a reader before bed.”

“Ah, I have noticed.” How could he not? There was only one side of the bed that had a stack of tomes piled high besides it. “But being read to is quite different, I assure you. Would you care to try?”

You consider the idea for a moment. “All right. There’s nothing to lose, I suppose.”

“And, hopefully, sleep to gain. Hm, what do I have that would suit…?” Gale turns to the side, scans through the pile, before snatching one from the middle with a deft hand - you’re surprised the whole thing doesn’t topple. “Perfect. One of my childhood favourites, in fact.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And you still read it?”

Gale shrugs a shoulder, half-heartedly. “I like to indulge every now and again.”

“What is it?”

He turns the cover towards you – a fine leather tome, purple, with gold lettering. “The very creatively titled Baldurian Tales of Wonder. It’s a collection of short, whimsical stories – happy endings guaranteed.”

He places the tome between the two of you before turning slightly and fluffing up his pillows. Once seemingly satisfied, he sits up a little more and spreads his legs. “Come, get comfy.”

“You want me to…?”

“Mm-hm. You’ll want to see the pictures, naturally.”

“Naturally,” you repeat. “Not anything to do with you wanting me cuddled against your chest.” Gale does not respond, only raises a knee with a gentle click so you can slide over and nestle down against his bare chest.

He slides his knee back down and picks up the tome, resting it on the blanket covering the two of you, and flipping to the first tale.

“Once upon a time-"

“Are you going to do voices?”

He chuckles – it rumbles comfortingly through your back and you unconsciously relax once more into his embrace. “Would you like me to do voices?”

“Did your mother do voices?”

“She… tried her best.”

“Voices, please.”

He presses a kiss to your temple. “Voices it is.”

He begins to read, slowly and softly, being sure not to get too carried away with the characterization of certain characters. His voice is comforting, reassuring, and though your eyes still sting, you try your best to focus on the words and pictures in front of you, your mind finally becoming quiet, your eyes beginning to close…

Gale does not even make it to the end of the first story when he hears your breathing change, though he continues to read it aloud.

Just to be sure you’re truly asleep, that is, not because he wishes to finish the tale.

---

I had a bad day and I wanted some cuddly fluff x

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mumsie-bangin · 14 days

Text

Holy, Holy, Lover Divine

Pairing: Gale x Fem Reader

Summary: You've never felt worthy of praise, until it's Gale kneeling at your feet.

Warnings: Implied sexual content, religious imagery, Gale may get a bit blasphemous ha

Word Count: approx 1300

A/N: Just another little Gale ficlet because I love him so much and this idea has been in my head for ages. Thanks for reading!

In this moment, you feel divine.

The term has followed you around, exaltations such as “saviour”, or “goddess” leaving the lips of those you’d saved. But it had never felt right, never felt like such praise should be heaped upon a mere mortal. Right place, right time, is what you always assumed should be your words. A simple soul who simply had the means to do what needed to be done. Hardly god-like, hardly worthy of the celestial.

But here, in the privacy of your bedchamber, under the gaze of your beloved, you finally understand that you are holy.

“You are beautiful,” Gale breathes, dark eyes roving over your face, your body, “I swear, there is no more magnificent creature on this plane or any other.” You feel your skin heat beneath your new nightgown, a flimsy scrap of gossamer lace you’d chosen with him in mind. It seems to be well appreciated.

“Don’t let the gods hear such blasphemy,” you murmur, wanting to both further expose yourself to him as well as shyly hide away, “a few of them might disagree.”

Gale shrugs, and you watch the motion of his broad shoulders greedily. “Let them hear me. I no longer care what she….what any of them think of me, of who and what I devote myself to. That right was lost long ago.”

Your eyebrows raise, but you are not surprised. Magic may still be bound to a goddess, but your lover has long stopped bending a knee. Prayers are offered not out of love, but duty, necessity. He gives thanks for the Weave, for spells and knowledge. But he hungers for her treasures no more.

She has long lost his piety, and you do not complain.

“Oh?”, you say coyly, shifting so your gown slides further up your thighs. You do not miss Gale’s eyes following the movement intently, and your skin burns with want. “And what are you devoted to now, Gale of Waterdeep? Where does your worship lie?”

Gale strides towards you, slow and measured, like a cat waiting to pounce. You know what he will say, but you want to hear it all the same. You want to bathe in it, this new feeling of righteousness, of being the idol of such great love and passion. This man makes you feel as if you have wings on your back and a halo over your head.

You vow you will not squander it.

“I am in service of a new goddess now,” he says, and mirth twinkles in his lust-glazed eyes. Your lips quirk upward-your wizard of words is about display his prowess.

“This,” he gestures to the room you share, to the bed you’ve come together in more times than you can count, “this is my temple. The sacred place I give my humble sacrifices, make my loving prayers, pledge my undying service.”

He’s close enough to touch now, bare chest within reach of your gluttonous fingers. Before you can grasp what you crave, his catches your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to press small kisses to your fingertips.

“These are my offerings,” he guides your hand to touch his temple, down to his chest, and further, further, until your finger brush over his desire. You whimper eagerly. “My mind, my heart and my body, all given freely and eagerly to please the one who has saved me time and time again from my own folly.”

He drops your hand and nudges your legs apart, sinking to his knees as he slots himself between them. You think you might combust with how hot the flame of passion is burning within you. Gale never fails to set you on fire from the inside out, but it seems tonight he aims to upstage himself.

“This is my altar,” his voice grows more sinful, his eyes even darker, “the place I will kneel in reverence eternal. Day after day, night after night, I will worship here, a thrall in my Lady’s service. For as long as she will have me.”

He leans forward, lips pressing against your inner thigh. You mewl softly, threading your fingers through his silky hair. Encouraged by your ragged breaths, he roams the giving flesh freely, littering your thighs with warm, bruising kisses.

“These are my hymns, my canticles of homage. I will bestow them upon every inch of this heavenly flesh. As many and as often as my Lady allows."

A gentle, teasing kiss is placed over your smallcothes. You gasp and tug him closer, a spark of white hot pleasure shooting up your spine.

“Gale,” you beg, thinking you may just go mad from his teasing, his honeyed words. “Gale, please-“

But instead of continuing, Gale pulls back and surges upwards, capturing your mouth in a heady kiss. You delightedly take what you are given, groaning as his taste explodes on your tongue. You will never get enough of kissing him, you decide. Gale always kisses you like he’s trying to crawl inside of you. Like he's trying to merge not only your bodies, but your very souls as well.

It never fails to set you on fire.

“This is my baptism,” he pants as he breaks your kiss, fingers flexing on your thighs, barely concealed restraint pulled taught like a bowstring. “I am cleansed of my sins, my foolish ideals, my bitter and lonely existence. To feel my Lady's love and desire in every kiss, every touch, every time I am inside of her- it is to be born anew."

Gale does not stay parted from you for long; his lips soon find their way to your neck, his fingers brushing your sensitive skin reverently.

And you are drowning. You whine and whimper and mumble intelligible pleas as your lover ravishes you with lovebites and praises. You fingers tangle in his hair and you pull-the groan that rumbles from his throat nearly makes your eyes kiss the back of your skull.

“Let me worship you,” Gale moans into your skin, pushing the straps of your nightgown down your shoulders. His mouth ghosts over the tops of your breasts. Gooseflesh rises in it wake. "Let me show you my supplication."

"As if you aren't already," you giggle breathlessly, falling back on the bed as Gale crawls over you. You welcome the heat of his body as it hovers above yours, close but not nearly close enough.

"Oh, you know I can do so much more," he grins wolfishly, eager hands helping you to slip off your nightgown. When you are spread nude before him, he slides out of his own trousers, laughing as your eager hands grope at every inch of bare skin they can reach.

"Shall I love you now, my Lady?" he asks, settling between your legs. A gentle hand cups your cheek, and you melt into the tender touch. "It is all I desire."

You brush a stray lock of hair away from his beautiful brown eyes. Happiness bleeds through the air around you, encasing the two of you in a world all your own. A sanctum most sacred and blessed.

"Love me then,” you sigh dreamily, “love me, and know how much I love you in return, you darling, wonderful, worthy man.”

And oh, how you are adored! How your lover makes your body and soul sing, more radiant and joyous than a choir of angels. How he plays your desire over and over, bliss unending, until you are left boneless and spent, a puddle of happiness in his arms.

And as you lay cradled carefully against Gale, enveloped in his ardor, you feel as if you are weightless. There is no more stain upon your soul, no mortal tarnish on your skin. No fear, no insecurity, no wondering. You are eternal. You are blessed.

You are divine.

366 notes · View notes

mumsie-bangin · 14 days

Note

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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