#dammon fic

[bg3fan]

How to bake your way to a smith's heart

"You´re staring again"

Emma´s voice near your ear startles you, turning around you see her smug grin "I can´t blame you, he does look like a snack tho" she teases again.

You give her a little smack on her shoulder while your cheeks burn up.

"Stop it, I was only wondering when he would take a break, I mean it seems like he is there 24 hours."

Emma chuckles, "and here I thought you were dreaming about your wedding night with him" you take a little flour and throw it in her face which leaves you giggling now.

However you weren´t expecting her to throw some back, but luckily for you the next customer arrived or else she would have bathed you in it.

With a quick wipe of your face you continue to kneed the dough infront of the window while she serves the customer.

After shaping the dough into little animals, which are getting popular by the little kids, you see Emma approaching you with a basket.

"Today is your turn to run around the city," you say with a raised eyebrow.

"It´s not an earrand, I was thinking perhaphs you could bring the break to him since you´re so worried about him" she again teases you with this as she fills the basket with little sweet pasteries and a bottle of handmade lemonade.

You wipe your hands on your apron, unsure of her idea "i dont know, maybe he won´t welcome me if I dont purchase anything" you sigh while she puts the basket into your hands "maybe he likes to be alone?"

Emma shakes her head. "Listen, and listen good." she continues as soon as you nod "Nobody and I mean nobody can turn down these delicious pastries, especially if they are for free. Even if he doesn´t like the sweets, then he will definitely enjoy the lemonade." she speaks with encouragement.

"Also he´ll have to meet you again because you will leave the basket with him, alright?" she squeezes your side before turning you around and practically shoving you out of the little bakery."Now off, you go, my little dove," and slams the door behind you close.

You tell yourself that it´s ok, you´re only being frendly as a neighbor but you can´t help the way your hands sweating and your face burning up.

You only need to cross this street and the stairs above and you're right there then.

Midway the staircase, you think about turning around and leaving before you can embarrass yourself.

"Can I help you?" and the idea of leaving is being shoved aside as you see him slowly approaching you.

In fact, every thought is being shoved aside because of the way he looks so much better up close than from your window. The little skin he shows covered in sweat while his forarms exposed makes your knees weak.

He raises his eyebrows curiously, and you realize that you´ve been staring up at him for quite some time now. Hurriedly, you go up the remaining stairs.

"I´m sorry to interupt your work but I´ve brought you some sweets and fresh lemonade" you stammer out while holding the basket up to him, "It´s just I´ve kind of noticed that you rarely take any breaks so I thought I could help you out somehow"

Mentally you´re slapping yourself. Now you seem like a stalker but to your surprise, his face lights up in a warm and friendly smile.

"Oh my, thank you so much! You didn´t have to do that. Unfortunately, I haven´t had time to take a break today, but now I´ll definitely take one."

He takes the basket from you, and behind him, you can see his tail wagging happily, which causes you to blush even more.

"I hope it´s to your tasting if not I could bring you something else we have a lot of different things," you ramble without a real thought in mind "I just guessed you´re more of the sweet person than salty but if that´s not the case I could bring you something else." and again, you slap yourself mentaly, why do you need to repeat something you´ve already said?

He seems to notice your inner turmoil as he lets a small chuckle out. "Don´t worry, I indeed am more of a sweets person." He reasurses you and takes a bite out of a pastry, and his tails wags some more in excitement.

"These are amazing! And the lemonade is perfect for a hot day like today. " He smiles at you again, but he seems like he forgot something.

"Oh! I´m so sorry, I haven´t intruduced myself properly." He extends his hand for you to shake "My name is Dammon, what´s yours?"

You take his hand, and you can´t help but feel how much rougher and firmer his hand is compared to yours. "I´m [Name]" you bashfully answer.

"It´s a pleasure to meet you, [Name]" and you could pass out by the way he says your name, but he unfortunately lets go of your hand. "I´ll definitely be stopping by for a few treats whenever I´m not smithing."

He puts your basket on a table nearby as he grabs the hammer again. "Thank you again. These really are delicious. Now I must get back to work, but perhaps we can talk some more later?"

You immediately nod and hurriedly apologize "yes, yes, of course again, I´m so sorry for interuppting your work" and before he can even open his mouth, you are already turning around to leave as fast as you can.

As you pass by the front desk of your bakery, Emma is quick to follow you, and you can´t help but pace around the storage room to calm down. "Tell me everything," she demands. And with some deep breaths, you tell her how the meeting went.

"So not only does he look, but he's also a grateful and respectful person? Also, you're closing the bakery today, " she nudges your side as she wiggles with her eyebrows.

🍰

I couldn't hold myself back. I needed some more dammon content, and I thought this idea was too cute to not write for. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did :)

#bg3 #bg3 dammon #dammon #dammon bg3 #bg3fan #dammon fanfic #dammon fic #dammon x reader

[avocado-writing]

Could I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor react to his short gn s/o asking him to sit down so they can kiss him?

writing as if reader is a short race like a gnome or a halfling bc I don’t see them get a lot of love 😌

Astarion

Smirks.

We’ve heard the comments he’s made in game. This man can be an arsehole. (This has caused you to kick him in the kneecaps before).

“if you’re that desperate for a taste, darling, I’m sure you’ll find a way up here 💕”

But if you turn to walk away he reaches out to grab your shoulder and gets to a knee so you can kiss him properly

You tell him he’s a twat. He agrees and kisses you again ❤️

Gale

He has started having a chair by his tent for this very reason.

Whenever he sees you approaching he grins and sits down because he’s hoping for a kiss 💕

You put your hands on each of his knees and go up on your tiptoes to press your mouth to his, and you can feel him smile into the kiss

”isn’t that old adage true? Good things come in small packages, my darling.”

you have to agree. You are pretty great.

Wyll

Fan of holding your hand and twirling you with ease before you come in for a kiss.

Loves that you’re a bit shorter so he can feel likes he’s big enough to protect you 🥹

”come down here and let me kiss you, my blade” “oh, light of my life, you don’t even need to ask.”

do grab onto the horns to hoist yourself up a bit if needs be. he doesn’t mind 💕

Halsin

Is the only companion who can lift you up and kiss you. (Though with that Str 10 it’s a stretch)

usually he does this against a tree, but only if he’s getting carried away.

is more than happy to acquiesce when you ask him to come down to your level, sitting on a tree stump and opening his legs so that you can fit easily against him ❤️

his big hands cupping your face… is there any better bliss 😌

Dammon

He’s always over the forge! You stand there and pout that he’s not easy to kiss because he has to finish up what he’s doing first. It takes ages and you want kisses now >:(

So he makes you a stool to stand on ! It’s easier than you having to wait for him to sit.

you wander into his forge and climb up, he walks over and gives you a big smooch 💕

Rolan

“Heh… too tall for you am I…”

you go to walk away and there’s a quick “no come back!!”

so eager to reach down to kiss you when he’s stopped teasing, such an enthusiastic kisser lol

might use Floating Disc to raise you up to his height, or maybe a little bit taller so that he can tilt his head up to you ❤️

Zevlor

He takes a knee to kiss you like he’s swearing an oath.

If he’s sitting to kiss you, puts his hands on your hips to guide your body to him

i also have this vision of, if you’re a str-based class, you grab onto his horns and lift yourself in a pull-up to kiss him. This makes him blush like a young man finding his first love. ❤️

#I did these because I’m so tired and can’t write. A full fic #But these prompts are so cute #Zevlor x reader #zevlor bg3 x reader #Zevlor x tav #dammon x reader #damon bg3 x reader #Dammon x tav #rolan x tav #rolan x reader #rolan bg3 x reader #gale of waterdeep x reader #Gale of waterdeep x tav #Astarion x reader #astarion x tav #halsin x reader #halsin x tav #wyll x tav #wyll x reader #wyll ravengard x reader #my writing #Long post #bg3 imagine #Gale x reader #Gale x tav

[thesillyestwilly]

just like a silly little rant bc I feel gaslighted sometimes

I seriously hate how like there will be the most bbgist, jaw dropping, toe curling, making me scream without the s, making me giggle and kick my legs in bed as I watch the screen, making me think I'm having a fever because I get so excited to see them on screen character just to go on Tumblr and search up the character x reader to see like almost no posts and the two posts I don't even like because the reader is so y/n coded... Like it makes me so mad bro 😭

#billy lenz x reader #AND BOTH BILLYS #simon henriksson x reader #dammon x reader #dammon x tav #rolan x reader #mononoke medicine seller x reader #link x reader #lost boys x reader #rolan x tav #pavitr x reader #Tavros x reader #Gamzee x reader #Silly little rant #i'm going insane #Give me more fics and hcs Abt my hot men #Silly Willy rants #kurt wagner x reader #I LOVE KURT WAGNER 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️ #2d x reader #Stuart pot x reader

[viennacherries]

LONGING

Dammon/Tav | NSFW | 4,318 words

"The second Dammon spots her for the first time in the Grove he knows he's monumentally and royally, without a shadow of a doubt (and pardon his language), fucked."

~~~

Dammon is completely enthralled with Tav. She's obsessed with him, too, but she makes him wait for it. He gets what he wants eventually.

Read it on AO3

~~~

The second Dammon spots her for the first time in the Grove he knows he's monumentally and royally, without a shadow of a doubt (and pardon his language), fucked.

She's absolutely gorgeous, all petite frame with strong muscles. Her skin is pale and covered in freckles, from her face to the backs of her hands as she shakes his in greeting. She has one of those smiles that tells him she's definitely going to cause problems on purpose. He knows as soon as he sees her that she's the one who saved the Archdruid and took out the goblin camp. She just has that aura about her that tells you she's absolutely deadly. Unfortunately, thats exactly his type.

It's even more unfortunate, because she certainly notices. She can absolutely tell that he's completely smitten with her the minute their eyes meet, and it's when he gets his first glimpse of that smile of hers. The one the says she's going to make his life hell and she's going to enjoy every minute of it. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to it.

Still, he's the absolute picture of cordiality and good manners. He thanks her for helping them, and even whacks a healthy discount onto his wares in the name of repaying her. He is completely polite and entirely appropriate.

She winks at him as she leaves.

He thinks about it for the next tenday.

~~~

When he sees her again at Last Light Inn, his immediate response is relief. The Shadow-Cursed Lands are cruel and brutal, and after what befell their caravan he was concerned her party wouldn't make it through in one piece. Especially taking into account her considerable affinity for finding herself in danger.

She's barely been at the inn a half hour before there's winged ghouls descending on them.

It's the first time Dammon has the pleasure of watching her fight, and it does nothing to ease the burgeoning flame he's been kindling for her in his chest. When he's done analysing her armour and has come to the conclusion she needs heavier plating, he just observes her.

She's lithe and muscular, and she spins around and through enemies as though she's dancing a pasodoble. Her every movement is precise, considered, calculated. She takes each step like she decided she would take it 5 steps prior, confident and assured. Her fighting style is just as elegant and brutal, all up close slashes and jabs that make quick work of her mark. And Hells, the way she wields her blade. It's a huge, hulking thing, just over half her height, but you wouldn't think it with the way she swings it around like it weighs nothing. The blade itself is simple, boring looking, and Dammon swears to himself in that moment he'll make her something better, something as brilliant and powerful as her. Something deserving of her finesse.

The fight's over almost as suddenly as it began, and he watches as she plants her sword into one of the floorboards, leaning on it with her forearms as she pants and tries to catch her breath. A long bead of sweat falls down over her brow, and she wipes it away with the back of her hand, smearing ghoul blood across her face in the process. Covered in viscera, and somehow she looks radiant. She catches his eye, smiles that awful smile of hers, and winks across the room at him.

She finds him later in his forge, while he's busy hammering out an old sword someone's donated to him. Dammon doesn't notice her til he turns to quench the metal and finds her leaning against the wall, watching him work.

"Tav, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He uses his scarf to dab some of the sweat off his brow.

She's got that grin on her face again as she trails her gaze over him, like she's appraising him. "Trust me, the pleasure's all mine."

He's covered in sweat, he can feel it dripping down his back and neck. It makes him think back to the fight earlier, when she was drenched in her own. He thinks about folding her in half, til they're both dripping with each other's exhaustion.

He clears his throat.

"You flatter me, truly," he's quite proud of how even his voice comes out. "What can I do for you?"

She smirks, "well, I was wondering if you had any suggestions? You seemed to be watching me earlier, so I assume you have a comment to make concerning my equipment."

He knows she's trying to tease him, but he nods anyway. He does have thoughts about her equipment, and now she's asked. That means it's not his fault if he rambles for entirely too long about the merits of different alloys.

"Yes, actually. I think you could do with some heavier plating. You favour fighting up close which is admirable, but it puts you directly in the path of your opponent's blade. You need something stronger to protect you."

Her smirk drops. She clearly wasn't expecting him to have actual advice. "I don't like heavy plating, it makes it harder to move around."

He nods enthusiastically, "yes, yes, you're constantly in motion while you fight. I believe your current armour is steel? It's strong, but some of it's integrity and strength has been compromised to keep it light, and even then you're only wearing half-plates. You need something just as strong, but far lighter. That way you can afford to wear more plating without losing your range of motion and speed."

Her eyebrow is quirked, and she looks somewhat impressed. "Interesting. What would you suggest?"

"Mithril, without a doubt. It's half the weight of steel but it's just as strong. You could wear a full set of plating and it'd feel identical in mass to the half-plates you have currently."

She nods thoughtfully, "I'll keep an eye out, then." The smirk finds its way back onto her face. "Was there anything else?"

There's a brief pause before Dammon speaks again.

"You need a new sword. That one's absolutely dreadful."

The laugh she lets out is musical, and it only serves to pour oil onto the flame in his chest. It roars up like an inferno

~~~

It's embarrassing, the amount of time he spends thinking about her. The image of her, pirouetting through the air as she sinks her blade through the skull of a monstrosity, haunts his every waking thought. Even sleep doesn't provide respite from her visage, and he finds himself waking up every morning achingly hard from another unconscious imagining of the ways he'd like to ruin her.

He wants to tear her apart beneath his hands. He wants to have her desperate and begging underneath him. Wants to tie her up and strap her down and use her until she's craving anything he'll give her, helpless and needful and falling apart at the seams. He wants to see the strong muscles in her arms bulge against her restraints as she writhes and pulls at her bindings, itching to touch him.

He wants her to do the same to him. Wants her to show him just how strong she is by pinning him down with one hand and taking what she wants from him.

It's getting really fucking inconvenient, to be honest. He thinks of her constantly while he works in the city, the bustle of Baldur's Gate around him not enough to distract him, the temperature of his forge only stirring the heat within him further. It makes him think of the way she'd looked at him that night at Last Light, like she was ready to devour him whole.

He lays in bed at night and fists his length desperately, smutty book held in one hand almost as tight as his cock in the other, imagining he's hovered over her, devouring her, filling her, anything and everything. It's depraved, the things he imagines, lewd and scandalous.

And then suddenly one morning she's at his door.

He doesn't hear her coming, so he's snuck up on once again as he turns to quench the commission he's working on.

She looks so different, wearing regular clothes instead of armour. It makes her look softer, but she's also wearing short sleeves which show off the muscles in her arms. It makes him a little weak in the knees.

"Tav? I'm glad to see you again! To what do I-"

"Owe the pleasure?" She doesn't let him finish. "To pleasure, I hope."

He's dousing the forge as soon as the words leave her mouth.

~~~

"Can I get you a drink? Tea? Coffee?"

She furrows her brow from her seat on his sofa, "anything stronger?"

"I've got a couple bottles of Arabellan Dry?"

"That'll do." She's smirking again.

He leaves the room to get the bottles and a couple of glasses, and when he comes back she's taken her shirt off.

"Here's what we're going to do." Her voice is firm but playful. "I've taken off a piece of clothing, so I get to ask you a question. You have to answer honestly. If you answer it, you take off a piece of your clothing and then you get to ask me something back. If you don't answer, I put all my clothes back on and I walk out of the door."

He gulps, "what if you don't answer?"

The smirk that graces her lips is absolutely diabolical, "oh, Dammon," the way she says his name is even worse, "I'll answer anything. I'm an open book."

He sits on the couch next to her, pours them both a glass of wine and hands her one. "Then by all means, ask away."

She looks delighted, and her gaze is predatory. "Do you prefer giving or recieving?"

Straight to the point then.

"I like both," he shrugs as he says it, "suppose it just depends on the day and the context. If I had to pick just one, though, I'd rather give."

She nods thoughtfully, but doesn't say anything, watching him expectantly. He downs half his glass of wine and then yanks his shirt over his head.

"What about you? Giving or recieving?"

"Hm. Repeating my question is a bit cheap, but I'll allow it this once. I like both, too. I don't have a preference, really, just depends on my partner." She's barely finished speaking when she stands to unbuckle her bottoms, pulling them off swiftly and sitting back down. The sight of her, dressed in only her underclothes on his furniture, makes his head spin and his other head throb.

"So you like being on top. You like being in charge? Dominating?"

He swallows around the lump in his throat and nods, "yeah. I like... I like making my partner beg." He can feel his skin flushing with the admission, but he keeps talking. "I like making them come undone underneath me until they can't take it anymore. I like making them squirm and give themselves to me entirely."

Tav's breath is caught in her throat, and he realises that she likes it. Wants it. Knowing that fills him with confidence, and he takes another swig of his wine before standing and slowly undoing his bottoms. He pulls them down slowly, teasingly, and he watches as her gaze follows the line of his body. He tenses the muscles in his arms as he lifts the discarded clothes and folds them, and he hears her breathing grow heavier. He places them to the side and sits down closer to her than he was before, lifting her wine glass to her lips and urging her to drink from it. She does, their eyes locked. A drop spills down the side of her mouth, and before she can wipe it away he leans in and licks it from her lips. Her eyes close as she groans in the back of her throat.

He feels high on it. Having her here, knowing she wants him, seeing how receptive she is to him. His next question comes easily.

"Do you like being tied up?"

Her eyes are hooded with lust when she finally makes eye contact with him again. "Yes." She fumbles with the clasp of her bra behind her but fails at undoing it, so he places their glasses back on the table and leans forward towards her, snaking his arms around her back and unclasping it for her. It falls away from her onto the floor, and he takes a breast in each hand. She hisses through her teeth.

"What do you want to do to me?" It's quiet. Sensual. Her voice is absolutely dripping with desire.

"What don't I want to do to you." He smooths his hands down her body, sliding one round to her lower back and slowly pushing her to lay down on the couch as he hovers over her. "I want to tie you to my headboard and taste you until your legs shake. I want to have you begging for my tongue and my hands and my cock. I want to fold you in half and bury myself so deep that you forget what it feels like not to be full of me. I want to absolutely ruin you, if you'll let me."

Their lips are so close now, a hair's width away, and the air is charged around them. When he speaks, it's a whisper against her skin.

"Will you let me?"

She groans out loud and surges up to lock their lips together. It's open mouthed and hungry, more tongue than lips, and they both moan into it as they finally taste each other. His hand is still at the base of her spine and he drags her upwards towards him, grinding against her as he does, and she lets out a beautiful little whimper that has him feeling hazy. He pulls away, just enough to speak.

"Use your words, sweetheart. You want me to ruin you?"

" Yes ."

He tuts. "Say please."

She moans, low and needy in the back of her throat. " Please. "

He stands quickly and lifts her into his arms, carrying her up the stairs to his bedroom. She wraps her arms around his neck and sucks and kisses around his collarbone, and the feeling of her skin against his, her mouth on him, has him absolutely feral.

He practically throws her down onto the bed, and she bounces a few times before settling and crawling her way backwards toward the headboard. The sight of her hair splayed out on his pillows and her naked torso against his sheets is going to haunt him for eternity, he's sure of it. He lets himself admire her.

"Stay there, gorgeous. Don't even think about moving."

She nods, reaching up to palm at her breasts, and she looks like a vision. Like a renaissance painting, a beautiful torment put there just for him. Her fingers brush her nipples, teasing and pinching them, and the subsequent hiss of pleasure she lets out shoots straight through him to his cock. It's almost painful how hard he is, but he's going to take his time with her. Going to take her apart and put her back together with his hands and mouth, smelt her down and reforge her into something new.

Dragging his eyes away from her feels like an impossible task, but he manages and turns to root through the drawer of his bedside table. He finally finds what he's searching for: a length of silky material that's meant to be a blindfold, but that he usually shoves between his teeth to bite down on when he's being particularly noisy. He hangs it over his shoulder and turns back to face her, crawling over her and wrenching her hands away from her tits. He pins them over her and she arches up against him.

"Your safeword," he starts "is 'forge'. You say it, everything stops. If you can't speak for any reason, you tap me three times. Doesn't matter how you tap me, can be your hands, can be your foot. Same deal, you do that and I stop completely no questions asked. Repeat it back to me."

She's panting, "safeword is forge. 3 taps. Stops everything."

"No questions asked."

She nods, "no questions asked."

He holds her wrists above her with one hand, trails his other hand down her arms, along her throat, and brings his hand under her chin. "Good girl."

She moans fully at that, arching and writhing against him at his words, and he feels drunk off it. Having her falling apart before he's even started, so helpless and ready for him. It's intoxicating. When he kisses her it's because he literally can't stop himself, he has to taste her. He nips and bites at her lips and she huffs and sighs with every touch, so responsive and so eager, and he could die right now a happy man knowing he's the one drawing these quiet noises from her.

He pulls away from the kiss, straddling her hips and sitting up on his knees over her. He keeps her hands pinned to the bed with one hand, and he pulls the silk length from his shoulder with his free one. She shudders as he drags it slowly along her torso, the soft fabric cool to the touch. He wraps it around her wrists to bind them together.

"Too tight?"

She tugs her wrists apart slightly and bites her lip, looking up at him through her lashes, shaking her head. He ingrains the image of her, below him and wanting, into his brain.

The free ends of the silk he wraps around the post of his headboard, tying them in a tight knot. Lacing his fingers with hers, he tugs at her hands to test it. The knot holds fast, and he hums in satisfaction. He sits back on his haunches to admire her, runs his hands down her arms to come to rest at her sides, squeezing the skin there. There's a little bit of give to her that lets him get a good grip of her, and she wriggles below him.

Her breasts spill towards her armpits and he can't resist, he brings his hands up to cup them both and teases both of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, rolling and pinching them into hardened peaks. She lets out more of her quiet little noises, needy and wanton and absolutely delectable. When he leans forward and latches his lips around one of the buds, she arches her back into him, making a choked noise of surprise and pleasure, and his cock aches with how badly he needs her. He teases it with his teeth, laves it with his tongue, sucks it into his mouth and tugs away from her gently until she's a puddle beneath him, and only then does he switch to the other nipple and give it the same treatment while he slowly drags her small-clothes down her legs and off of her.

Everything about her is soft and tender. He's never been with someone who wasn't a tiefling before, and her body feels so entirely different to his own. Her skin is smooth and pliant under his, far softer than he thought she'd be from watching her fight. Her skin is cooler than his, too. It makes him shudder as he positions himself between her legs, holding them wide open either side of his face, with his hands spread over the inside of her thighs.

"What do you do if you want me to stop?" He whispers it against her core, mouth just barely brushing against her skin, and she shudders.

"Safeword, or three taps."

"And the safeword is?"

"'Forge'."

"Good girl. I'm going to taste you, now."

He covers her with his mouth before she can respond, and they both moan in tandem. Her from the feeling of his tongue sliding against her clit, him from the musky taste of her arousal. She's like nothing he's ever had before, completely incomparable, but she tastes rich and delicious and he licks his way into her core to taste her deeper. He doesn't start slow or gentle, he's wanted her cunt in his mouth for months and he's going to enjoy it. He drags his tongue over her in firm, insistent lines, and uses the tip of his tongue to massage her inner walls. It has her keening, crying, shaking, and her legs wrench closed from the sensations. Obviously, that can't stand, so he curls his tail around one of her ankles and pulls , and now it's pulled out taunt and she can't move it any further than an inch in any direction. It also has the added benefit of freeing one of Dammon's hands, and he wastes no time in trailing it around her entrance and slipping two fingers inside her. He crooks them upwards towards her stomach, and she wails, canting her hips further into his mouth and his tongue where it devours her clit relentlessly.

He knows she close, because she can't stop her hips from stuttering, and there's a constant stream of breathy high pitched noises forcing their way out of her. He doesn't let up, increases his pace if anything, and then she's coming around his fingers. He pulls them out enough to fit his tongue underneath her, swallowing down every drop of her as she finds her release, licking her through it. He only stops when he feels three taps of her foot against leg.

He sits up instantly. "Are you okay? Do you want me to untie you?"

She laughs shakily, "no! Gods, no, don't. It was just getting too sensitive."

He smirks at that, "good. Now then," He comes up onto his knees between her thighs, trailing his hands along her stomach. She shivers. "I removed a piece of your clothing. If I'm remembering the rules of our little game right, that means you get to ask me a question."

She doesn't even hesitate, "Can you hurry up and fuck me?" A pause. "...Please?"

He chokes out a laugh, "goodness, Tav, how crass of you."

She groans, throwing her head back, "please, Dammon, I need you inside me like yesterday."

"Hm. Next time, you'll have to ask me nicer than that. But right now I'm so desperate to fuck you I'll allow it. I've waited far too long for this."

She smirks despite herself, "oh? You have? I had no idea , Dammon."

He growls a little in the back of his throat, and scoots himself forward on his knees, lifting her ass and resting it on his thighs. He pulls his small-clothes aside roughly to free himself, groaning at the cool air as it caresses his length, and uses one hand to guide it as he pushes himself to the hilt in one small movement. The smirk dissolves off her face as her lips part in a silent moan. He chuckles quietly.

"Don't play coy, Tav." He grabs both her legs under her knees, brings them together and hooks them both over one shoulder. "You know exactly what you do to me. You know exactly how long I've wanted you." He leans over her slowly, until her knees are pressed up against her own chest. She keens. "You know how long I've waited for this. Don't you?" He pulls out slowly, teases her with just the tip in and out of her. " Don't you."

She throws her head back, eyes screwed shut. "Yes, yes, Gods I knew! I wanted you too!"

He snorts into her ear, "well you have me, sweetheart. Or rather,"

He crashes his hips into her. She keens.

"I have you."

He wastes no time. He sets a brutal pace and it's everything he's needed since the moment he saw her. Her legs presses together makes her so tight he sees stars, folding her in half means his cock kisses that perfect spot within her with every thrust. It's everything he imagined. It's better than anything he could've dreamt of. She's slick and warm and beautiful below him as she cries out his name, hips bucking to meet his own every time he slams into her.

He can't stop himself from rambling, words spilling out of him on their own accord. "Hells, Tav, you have no idea how many nights I spent thinking of you like this. How much I've wanted to take you like this, pinned underneath me and begging for me. Gods, you feel incredible. So wet for me, sweetheart. Tell me how much you wanted me."

She tries and fails, just making noises and taking deep laboured breaths. It's completely obscene and it's perfect.

He groans, "where, Tav? Where do you want me to finish? Where do you want my cum?"

Her moan is downright pornographic, "on my stomach, Dammon, please. Want to see your cum all over me."

Her words have him moving frantically inside her, and when she clenches around him with her second orgasm he's lost to it. He pulls himself from inside her, tugs himself twice before spilling across her torso. He paints her pale, freckled body in his spend and he wishes he was an artist so he could immortalise the image on paper.

When he feels like he can breathe again, he tucks himself back into his small-clothes, crawls his way up the bed to untie her wrists and he rubs them soothingly. She sigh, sounding content and comfortable.

"Are you okay?"

She spits out a single laugh, before descending into hysterics, and it's so infectious. He laughs alongside her.

"Am I okay? Dammon, that was fucking incredible. I'm gonna stay in this bed for the next week in the hopes of a few repeat performances."

He can't help the grin that spreads across his face. "A few, hm? I quite like the sound of that."

~~~

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 smut #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 requests #bg3 dammon #dammon bg3 #dammon #bg3 tav #smut #fanfic #fanfiction

[killerpancakeburger]

Baby it's cold outside

Inspired by @forgeofthenine snow headcanons

Summary: Going on a date in the snow with Dammon.

Pairing: Dammon x Reader

Warnings/tags: No warnings I can think of. Just fluff.

Words count: 835 words.

A/N: Just a little something sweet.

There was always something eerie and otherworldly about a familiar scenery covered in snow. A compact silence reigned over Baldur’s Gate, except for the sound of your own steps in the snow. The streets you were going through were void of life and you relished in the unaccustomed peace and solitude. It almost made the biting cold attacking every inch of unprotected skin worth it.

The forge of the Nine appeared in your range of vision. You started walking faster, motivated by the need of moving to warm yourself up, but first and foremost by the perspective of soon being reunited with your favorite blacksmith. 

A few months ago, the idea of something so mundane as going on a promenade with a lover was out of reach as you fought for your life and against the tadpole inside your brain. Now, however… You knew that the arrival of snow would suffice to light up Dammon’s face.

You climbed up the few steps, walked pass the various smithing devices and stopped in front of the blue double-doors. Turning your back on them, you took in the view one last time, trying to commit them to memory like you would never see them again.

The creaking of a door opening and a familiar voice made you smile to yourself before spinning around.

“You should have come in. I would hate to find you frozen on my porch.”

Even after months of dating, Dammon’s voice still caused butterflies in your stomach and the mere view of him made you grin like an idiot. He wasn’t wearing his work apron, a rare sight. However his faithful green scarf was in place, along with winter clothes.

“I just arrived actually. But why would I need to worry about the cold when I have the hottest tiefling in Baldur’s Gate to warm me up?” you retorted with a smirk.

He chuckled at your antics, blushing a bit. Then he got out, all geared up for your stroll, and as soon as he finished locking the doors, you moved to embrace him. He flinched slightly as you cupped his face in your ice-cold hands. Frowning liglthy, he hurried to cover your hands with his. 

“You are freezing!” he exclaimed in a tone that was half amusement, half reproach. “Come here.”

You complied without protest, entertained by his concern that reminded you of a parent fussing over their child. Your hands closed over the back of his jacket as he gave you a kiss that felt burning simply because of the temperature difference between your lips. His hands roamed over your body, bringing you heat. His tail coiled around your waist. As you separated, he brought his hands to your cheeks numb from the cold, and you thought he was going to kiss you again, but he pressed his lips to your temple instead. Then your forehead, your nose, covering your whole face with affectionate pecks. You wriggled in his grasp, grabbing his wrists in protest .

“That tickles!”

“A fair punishment for trying to turn into an icicle”, he countered, before starring at your neck.

“Did you not bring a scarf?”

You grimaced sheepishly. 

“I was running late…”

He raised an eyebrow at you, as if to say “Really…?”, before starting to take off his own scarf.

“Dammon, don’t-”

“Let me, please?”

He made a sad puppy kind of face that he was well aware you couldn’t ’t resist and all your objections died in your throat. The scarf was still warm from his body heat and felt great on your exposed skin. As he finished adjusting it to you, he smiled lovingly.

“It looks good on you.”

You turned around, cheeks flushed in embarrassment, finding it hard to hold his gaze when he looked at you that intensely. 

“Alright, are we going on that walk or not?”, you mumbled, holding out your hand to him.

He giggled at your reaction and, grabbing your hand, he started to walk, pulling you along.

“We are.”  

You had your back turned on Dammon for merely a few seconds when a snowball crashed against your shoulder. You turned around immediately, scandalized, catching him in the act of preparing another snowball. He seemed to have a blast, not remorseful at all.

“You cheeky bastard! You’re going down!”

Despite your intrepid warcry, you started frantically looking for a place to hide, and threw yourself behind a couple of crates as the next projectile missed you narrowly.

At the end of a ferocious snowfight, you ended up both laying down on your back near each other, panting and wet from half melted snow.

As you rolled over to face him, you found him already starring at you. 

“What?” you asked.

He smiled fondly, grasping your hand and squeezing it.

“I was just thinking how lucky I was to have met you.”

Warmth spread in your chest at the endearing confession. You let out a soft chuckle.

“What?”, he retorted in the same tone you used earlier, not losing his smile.

“That’s funny, because I was thinking exactly the same thing.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 dammon #dammon #dammon x tav #dammon x reader #dammon x you #bg3 x reader #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #sorry for the title i had exactly zero idea #edit for the tenses - WhY do I CHANGE EM MIDWAY?? #and added the tail lol #mine

[victoria-grimesss]

Can I request smut headcanons of how Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor react to accidentally overhear his fem s/o masturbating while saying his name? She isn't aware that he was there since he was busy earlier!

masterlist ->Warning: light smut, talk of self-pleasure. ->A/N: MDNI! Sorry this one is a bit shorter than the last, some act three spoilers.

->Dammon: He was always working. You didn't blame him, since coming to the city his forge was one of the most popular in the city, but that new popularity was depriving you of him more frequently than you'd like. He worked nearly day and night, collapsing on the sitting area sofa most nights instead of your shared bed. So, you took matters into your own hands. Your hand would dive lower, and you would try your hardest to imagine it was your Dammon, saying his name enough for him to wake up and think something was wrong. Could you be ill? But as soon as he would enter the room his cheeks grew warm, and you grew embarrassed. The air was stiff before you spoke, "Dammon. I-" You were quite at a loss for words, now feeling your cheeks heat up from his stare..which was getting darker and more piercing. He would brace himself on the door frame before speaking. "Darling. I didn't realize how often I have been working. You need only ask and I shall be at your side." You sit up in bed, blankets bunched to your chest. "Well, may I ask for you by my side then?" "You wish is my command."

->Rolan: You had very little time for anything romantic until lately. The goblins, druids, shadow-cursed lands, and Kethric Thorm were all so much. But city life proved itself adequate and calming for your nerves. Rolan has been working the front desk as Sorcerers Sundries and was not due back until well after sundown. Closing up the shop and ensuring all magical items were securely locked away. You had found yourself in bed, hand underneath your night-dress wishing he were here instead. Wishing he were touching you and caressing you just the way you craved. You could vocalize such since he wasn't home, well you thought. He was exhausted when he arrived home, just wanting to crawl into bed and forget about the day. Until he approached the door to the bedroom, your breathing was quick and he stalled with his hand above the doorknob, heart racing and nearly all of his blood leaving his head. He hears his name from your lips, once, then twice. He nearly topples over his own feet entering the room. "Gods, it's about damn time you arrived home." He would give you that charming smile, already stripping himself of his shirt. "Now get over here will you." "Say no more my love." It was quite a spectacular way to relieve his stress.

->Zevlor: Appointed leader of the teiflings, the journey had not been kind to anyone and now the lingering threat of being kicked out of the grove you had just entered had not helped anyone's stress level. Zevlor most of all. As his partner you oversaw what he couldn't and even for you that was a lot. The food supply, the children, your own well-being. The stress was becoming too much and some well-deserved relaxation was calling your name. The cold of the cave you and Zevlor dwelled in was nothing like the heat of home. A small, secluded corner was what you call a “bed”. Some blankets and bedrolls padded the floor to provide some comfort and you savored the feeling of finally being able to relax. Atleast it was secluded, no others slept in the same cave luckily. You tried to be quiet but any small noises were amplified in the cave. One of them being Zevlor's name. You hadn't realized he had come back, earlier than you thought. Until you were spotted by him and the two of you shared a beat of silence where you felt like you were under a spot-light. "If you'd like to be left alone for a moment I can step out." By now you were just frustrated in more ways than one. You wanted to share the bed with your lover, but you knew how stressed he must be. "Zevlor, I'd rather spend some time with you but I didn't want to take you away from your responsibilities. I didn't want to seem selfish." He waved a hand, as if you were saying nonsense. "It is I who is selfish. There are plenty of people available to take my place on the wall but I stand up there neglecting you when you need me the most. Tonight I am yours, no war, no disruptions, just us."

#bg3 headcanons #bg3 smut #bg3 fic #bg3 #bg3 zevlor #bg3 dammon #bg3 rolan #baldurs gate 3 zevlor #zevlor x reader #zevlor x tav #zevlor x you #dammon x reader #dammon x tav #dammon x you #bg3 spoilers #rolan x tav #rolan x reader #rolan x you #zevlor bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #baldurs gate

[underdark-dreams]

Hello my dear! Prompt for you, what Rolan and Dammon are like drunk, what kind of night they had at the tiefling party on their own, how they are with an interested Tav that night (Rolan x Tav, Dammon x Tav, how they are with an interested each other (dammon x rolan), and how they are with a poly for the celebration (dammon x Tav x rolan) long one I know but damn you feed us well

[bangs metal pots together] Rolan x Dammon polycule lovers, come collect your horny boys!

Please be aware this turned to shameless filth at the end. I cannot be trusted with either of them, and especially not both. 👀 Credits to @turquoiseoverthesea for the lap sitting mischief!

Rolan & Dammon drunk at the Tiefling party: solo + poly HCs with Tav

(Tav is gender-neutral) - (NSFW under the cut)

Rolan solo:

Rolan wasn’t even sure he wanted to come tonight…but he found himself in a generous mood and decided to bestow his company on these rubes

Plus he doesn’t trust Cal to moderate himself or Lia to keep Cal reined in (oldest siblings have to do everything around here)

Ends up tipsier than either of them, though he’s decent at hiding it

You can tell by the way his hand gestures get more and more animated throughout the night

When he’s drunk: actually loosens up a lot in general, smiles and laughs more freely

Drunk Rolan is somehow even more self-assured and cocky than usual, yet simultaneously much more charming about it

Doesn’t realize how handsome he looks when he’s genuinely enjoying himself

Also gets more free with his spellwork once you get a few glasses of wine in him

Fends off Cal and Lia’s requests for him to conjure a whole menagerie of animal illusions, but if Tav asks, he won’t be able to say no

Conjures an owlbear and a tiger and maybe even a dragon if he feels like really showing off to impress Tav, much to the delight of any Tiefling kids who might be sneaking around the party

Even if he spends the night on his own, Rolan ends up having a much nicer time than he wants to admit. He’s a pessimistic worrywort at heart—taking an evening to unwind is honestly good for this poor guy’s stress levels

Cal and Lia are having a great time, too, and that makes Rolan truly happy. Just to see them both enjoying themselves for a change

If Rolan can work up the courage to approach Gale, he’d talk to him for hours about the Weave and spellcasting over a bottle of wine

Takes delight in finding such a highly educated magical mind here in the middle of this godforsaken nowhere (tries to play it cool for the sake of his ego though)

Dammon solo:

Dammon didn’t plan to go but changed his mind at the last minute when it sank in that Tav would be there

Before the party, he definitely sneaks off to wash up in the nearby river. The smell of smoke and iron dust in his clothes is pretty permanent at this point, but he’d rather make a tidy impression tonight if possible

Arrives with his hair still damp but pulled back into its neat topknot

A bit like Zevlor, Dammon tends to hover around the edges holding his drink at first, just taking in everyone else’s good mood tonight

His drinks of choice are at the opposite ends of the spectrum: prefers a very fine brandy or a common ale, nothing in between

Would politely accept a glass of wine if it’s offered but only sips it

When he’s drunk: gets very sincere and kind of intense

He’s the type to sit down to share a bottle and have a long, intimate conversation with someone for several hours, preferably Tav or Rolan. Both is ideal

You can tell Dammon has had a few when he makes really sustained eye contact while you’re talking. Sits a bit closer than usual to show you’re his sole focus right now. Combined with his striking eyes, it’s kinda hot

Also when he’s drunk the tips of Dammon’s ears flush a bright, ruddy pink

Dammon spending the night on his own—I can imagine it going a few ways, depending on his mood

If he’s feeling more cheery and sociable, Dammon might sit near the campfire to hear Alfira’s music and listen to his fellow Tieflings talk about their plans when they reach the city, adding encouraging comments here and there

I could also see him taking his drink and heading out for a quieter spot near the water

Dammon’s a bit of a loner with this group, always seems to keep himself apart from the rest of his fellow travelers. Maybe he enjoys working with infernal iron a little too much to mention in mixed company

Rolan x Tav:

Maybe if Rolan was sober he’d pick up on Tav’s flirting faster

Then again, maybe he’s so wrapped up in trying to impress them with his accomplishments that he doesn’t realize how well it’s actually working

Rolan’s probably out of practice with romance, or pretty inexperienced, or some combination of the two

Dropping hints is just not enough for this guy. He enjoys the banter with Tav a lot more than he wants to admit, but he’s got a mental block against taking it further

It will definitely take something physical from Tav

Making an excuse to touch his hands, or “accidentally” bumping hips or shoulders several times

Then there’s the direct route of “is this seat taken?” 

Rolan will look up in surprise but gesture to the bench next to him. Then Tav plops down directly on his lap, and Rolan’s surprise turns into actual panic

Kind of holds his hands hovering frozen out to either side for a second, not sure where to put them even though Tav’s hips are currently snuggled up on his thighs

Torn between everyone here including his siblings seeing this blatant display of public flirtation, and the feeling of how nice Tav’s weight in on top of his legs

When Tav leans in to curl an arm around his shoulders, Rolan’s done for. Any thoughts of shifting them off his lap go out the window and he clasps his hands politely around the side of their leg

Rolan will try to maintain the conversation, but his responses get short and distracted. All he can concentrate on is Tav’s scent and voice and their face so close to his

He’ll accept a few kisses while Tav’s on his lap, but only the shortest, softest lip touches

If they introduce the slightest hint of tongue, Rolan will pull them away and clear his throat maroon-faced and ask which tent is Tav’s, and demand that they both please go there right now

Rolan follows them while studiously avoiding eye contact with anyone he knows

If he realizes Tav is instead leading him farther away from camp, the implication makes his tail flick with excitement

He’d love nothing more than to find a nice soft patch of grass and make out with Tav for an hour

Rolan’s kisses are eager and a bit sloppy at first. But he’s very teachable, both a devoted student and a quick learner

With a little guidance, before long Rolan’s got Tav making some soft and breathless sounds of their own

Tav sitting with their legs straddling Rolan’s thighs would really test his patience—if Rolan wasn’t hard from them on his lap before, he’s definitely hard now

Might get so excited he doesn’t ask before sliding his tail up their hips or wrapping it around their waist

Once he realizes Tav’s equally worked up, Rolan would encourage them to grind down on his thigh however makes them feel good

Adores getting to see the hero of the night pleasuring themself on his leg while his tail squeezes and caresses around their middle

Dammon x Tav:

Dammon is difficult to pin down for a conversation at first, let alone anything more

He keeps circling along the perimeter of the party, chatting politely here and there but never settling for long

He catches Tav’s eye several times but needs some time to work up the courage to approach them—the last thing he wants to do is monopolize someone so popular (even though that’s exactly what he wants to do)

But after Tav returns his looks enough times across the campfire, Dammon has no problem making the first move

He’ll probably lead with a question (enjoying the evening, need another drink, etc)

It’s a polite move but also to gauge Tav’s interest. Dammon knows he’s into them at this point, but he’s still trying to suss out their exact feelings

Once Tav starts dropping a flirtatious remark here or there in conversation, sparks are flying

Dammon can be so smooth when he puts his mind to it, and it’s not long before he and Tav are touching in some way

When he rests a hand on the small of Tav’s back and asks if they’d like to get some air, it’s fucking on

Dammon knows the area pretty well by this point—leads them to a nice secluded clearing that he stumbled on last week and mentally filed away for this exact purpose

Once they’re alone, calloused hands on Tav’s hips are guiding them gently back against the nearest tree trunk and Dammon’s lips are on theirs

He’s a very deliberate kisser, slow and tender but hot at the same time

If it seems like Dammon’s lips are following a predetermined roadmap down Tav’s jaw and neck, that’s because they are

Man has a notoriously healthy imagination and has been thinking about where he’d like to kiss them for a while

He waits for Tav to do anything below the belt first, but once Dammon feels their hands graze there he’s pinning Tav into the tree behind them with his hips

Grinds into them while he sucks on Tav’s neck, drawing as many delicious sounds from their lips as he can

All the kissing and heavy petting is perfectly delightful on its own, but if Tav asked him to take them up against that tree, Dammon would in a heartbeat

Dammon x Rolan

It’s no coincidence that Rolan and his siblings end up lingering near Dammon’s tent back at the Grove

Dammon comes across as the strong silent type, and as the loud not-so-strong type, Rolan finds that very attractive

But Rolan’s also trying hard to keep to himself and not stare. He only stares maybe once every few minutes, and only because Dammon’s toned forearms flexing and the way he grunts with each hammer blow are very difficult to ignore

For Dammon’s part, he’s fascinated and a little impressed by Rolan. Sure he’s got a lot of bluster, but Dammon’s seen what he can do with the Weave, and it’s definitely made an impression

At the party—Dammon will 100% be the one who approaches first

Not afraid of making his intentions known, Dammon gets Lia’s advice on what wine to bring and takes a bottle with him to break the ice

If there’s one thing Rolan’s good at, it’s conversation

But he keeps talking around things—though Dammon appreciates the clever whirrings of Rolan’s mind, right now he’s more interested in his mouth for other reasons

Dammon shoots his shot by brushing a “hair” from Rolan’s cheekbone with his thumb

There’s nothing there, but Rolan is too dumbstruck at the contact to realize. It actually shuts him up for a moment as they both stare at each other

To Dammon’s surprise, maybe spurred on by the liquid courage, Rolan is the one who suggests they take a walk along the river

They’re both buzzing with too much anticipation to say more than a few short words to each other as they walk. When they settle near the river bank, they’re stretched out side by side with hands braced on the ground just inches from each other

Unable to bear the awkward silence, Rolan opens lips to say something just as Dammon tilts his head over to kiss him

The result is that they’re tongue kissing almost immediately

Rolan groans and shivers so hard Dammon has to gently grip his jaw with a hand, keeping Rolan’s mouth where he can explore it

Before long their tails are tangled up behind them, twining and tugging back and forth in a way that has them both panting into the kiss

Dammon x Rolan x Tav

At some point in the night, Rolan and Tav got into a debate about one of those little things that seems so goddamn important when you’re tipsy. Dammon walked past and was immediately dragged in as a neutral party

But Dammon had a separate third opinion, which only made Rolan turn his arguments on the other man with much wild gesticulating of his free hand

Tav burst into laughter between them, and Rolan and Dammon both found themselves too charmed by the sight to care about anything else

From there the wine and conversation both flowed freely

Little, casual touches followed: fingers brushing together over a passed bottle, Dammon clapping Rolan’s back with a friendly comment—a move that turned more than friendly as Dammon’s hand trailed down slightly, causing Rolan to glance his direction with a flush in his cheeks

Eventually Rolan got bold and tried his own luck, sliding an arm around Tav’s waist while they were grinning at something he said. Dammon’s eyes flicked to the gesture immediately

After a trio of shared glances, Dammon broke the rather excited silence by announcing that he knows a place where they could find a little privacy

As the three of them enter the forest clearing, any remaining hesitance melts when Dammon grabs the collar of Rolan’s robes to pull him into a kiss that traps Tav firmly in the middle

Being abruptly sandwiched between their chests pushes a gasp from Tav’s throat, which turns to an approving hum at the sight and sounds of Rolan and Dammon devouring each others’ mouths over their shoulder

Tav’s arms snake around the wizard in front, while behind they feel Dammon’s palms smoothing over the curves of their waist and hips

Dammon breaks the kiss before guiding Rolan’s chin gently toward Tav, and Rolan needs no more encouragement to capture their lips eagerly

Meanwhile, Dammon bends to place soft kisses at the juncture where Tav’s neck meets their shoulder. Dextrous fingers pull their shirt laces looser to expose more kissable skin

Periodically he’ll surface behind their ear to praise how lovely Tav looks between him and Rolan like this, and how good they’re going to make Tav feel. It sets off a chorus of moans passing from Tav to Rolan and back again as their lips slide together 

Once Tav decides the wizard’s had more than his share, they break the wet kiss and tilt their head back to meet Dammon’s mouth. Rolan is panting and wiping saliva from his chin, instantly greedy for more

Dammon chuckles against Tav’s lips and suggests there are other ways Rolan can put his mouth to use—and doesn’t Tav deserve some gratitude after everything they’ve done for the two of them?

It wouldn’t work coming from anyone else, but at Dammon’s sultry baritone, Rolan doesn’t hesitate as he slips to place a trail of kisses down Tav’s belly to their waist and lands on his knees in front of them

He impatiently works off Tav’s shoes and pants, tugging with such enthusiasm that only Dammon’s firm grip over their torso keeps Tav balanced. Then Rolan’s mouth abruptly closes between Tav’s legs, licking and sucking as if he intends to make up for every thank you left unspoken

Thankfully Dammon’s mouth stops up their moans, or Tav might worry about the sounds carrying back to camp. Instead only the filthy, wet sounds of Rolan’s mouth against their sex fills the clearing 

Dammon’s hands guide Tav’s to each of Rolan’s curving horns, encouraging Tav to ride his face. Rolan moans between their legs at the new sensation of Tav’s grip tugging him, the vibration sending a shudder up their spine

At that Dammon pulls out of the kiss with a groan. One of his hands leaves their hip to tug the linen shirt up and over Tav’s head, leaving them standing completely bare in the dark woods between the two Tieflings. There’s another rustling movement before Dammon’s hard length unfurls against the small of Tav’s back 

He’s hot and ridged, and before Tav can release one of Rolan’s horns to reach back for him, Dammon is grinding with a low grunt into the bare skin of their back

Each rhythmic roll of his hips pushes Tav harder against Rolan’s mouth. As if the increased pressure wasn't enough, a tail Tav suspects belongs to Dammon coils firmly up their leg to force their stance plenty open for Rolan’s mouth

As pleasure rapidly coils in their belly, Tav manages to glance down to see Rolan frantically palming himself through his trousers, his other hand joining his lips at working Tav’s orgasm from between their legs

The sight pushes Tav over the edge—just in time, a calloused hand closes over their mouth to catch the loud, keening sounds of their climax

Tav grinds out the waves against Rolan’s mouth, gripping his horns desperately, feeling him whimper and shake between their legs as he himself releases against his own hand

Just a few seconds later, Dammon’s teeth close bluntly over Tav’s shoulder—and in the next moment, hot liquid spurts in trailing paths over the skin of their back

Dammon goes down first on wobbling legs; the tail still wrapped around Tav’s own leg drags them down after him

The three of them lie in a panting pile on the mossy forest floor. Tav’s clothes are somewhere around here, but in the meantime two sets of limbs lay sprawled from either side across Tav’s body, with two ridged tails caressing over Tav’s bare skin as if in loving praise

And that’s just the beginning of the night

#spicy #bg3 smut #rolan x tav #dammon x tav #rolan x dammon #dammon x rolan #rolan x dammon x tav #bg3 rolan #bg3 dammon #rolan bg3 #dammon bg3 #bg3 headcanons #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic

[swordcreature]

I would like to ask: Are there any Rolan fics you recommend reading? Like ones you really like or always go back to read.

oh boy do i!!! (i do just to be clear)

this list isn't all encompassing because there are a lot of good fics out there for him plus tumblr crashed while i tried to post this so i lost all the work i did and now the list is like half as long as it was so that was really fun!!!!!

but these are some that i tend to go back to a lot

(i will say they are almost all smut related one shots because i'm a horny bastard and also tried to keep it all in the same ballpark with no super controversial ships or content - so sorry if you were looking for more fluff)

i tagged the people that either had tumblrs in their author's notes or i just knew their tumblr off the top of my head (sorry if i missed any)

Steel Bandages - Rolan x Dammon (long fic, unfinished) by @atastypeach

A Moment to Spare - Rolan x named amab!Tav

Covered In You - Rolan x afab!Tav

the following are a part of a series following a f!Tav named Tinessi (i didn't put them in order because i'm lazy please forgive me):

Remind Me I'm Alive

The Tiefling's Tryst

As the World Turns

Would That I

these are all by @underdark-dreams because they're gr8:

Pent Up - Rolan x named afab!Tav

Master - Rolan x afab!Tav

Good Night For Company - Rolan x afab!Tav

In Amber - Rolan x afab!Tav**

these last two are by my fav rolan fucker @cloverthebarbearian

The Party - Rolax x GN!Tav (this is the only non-smut one so far)

Do You Think of Me...? - Rolan x named afab!Tav

**i just edited this list to add this one on because i cannot believe i forgot it omg

#asks #nerdyglasses #bg3 #bg3 rolan #rolan x tav #rolan x dammon #bg3 smut #fic recs

[littleplasticrat]

The Devil Inside [explicit]

Tav knows she's in trouble when Haarlep turns up to their meeting with a bottle of oil and a statuette of Raphael. Will she be able to get through the day without breaking any of her infernal patron's rules? What will her punishment be if she succumbs to temptation?

[Haarlep/Tav, Dammon/Tav, Raphael/Tav, Haarlep/Raphael/Tav]

Thank you to @dustdeepsea for the excellent beta-reading and for all the people in the Zhent discord who were clamouring for more. This love letter to the internal infernal is longer than my dissertation.

The tags are quite saucy so they are below the cut. Please leave a comment if you liked it :))

#raphael the cambion #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #haarlep #raphael x tav #haarlep x tav #dammon x tav #dammon #bg3 smut #bg3 fic #my writing

[mishwanders]

• Dammon • Worship •

Summary: delicious bondage smut with Dammon. That’s all I can say.

Characters: Dammon x GN! Reader

A/N+Warnings: writing this because Dammon has a chokehold on me and I need to unrust my writing skills somehow. Smut, Minors DNI with this one. Written by Mishwanders, please do not repost. Reblogs, likes, and nice comments are appreciated though!

Your head hung back as you cursed his name, feeling the way his devilish tongue danced along the lines of your very sensitive skin, lips wrapped around it, refusing to let up on you until he knew he received every last drop of such a wonderful offering. Besides, with the way you had your hands wrapped around his horns, fingers molded around the ridges, pulling his face closer only to grind into his mouth, it didn’t seem like you were through either.

His eyes fluttered open momentarily to catch a glimpse of you, memorizing the very image of you while on his knees. To him you were a wonderful work of art, perfectly crafted in every way. He enjoyed every second he was able to keep his hands upon you, every moment he got to savor you like this on his lips.

He groaned as you pulled on his horns again, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through your body. He could hear your breath hitch as your hips soon began to stutter against his lips. He listened to the sound of your broken moans with a smile tugging at his lips as he tasted your essence on his tongue, drinking down every last drop of it, even after your feigned protest for him to stop.

Only after he decided you’d had enough, did he release you from his lips, placing the gentlest of kisses along to tops of your thighs, watching you still as you slowly came back down to earth, face flushed, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. It was such a lovely sight for his eyes, one of his many favorites. He’d done well with you, but he wasn’t through.

Not in the slightest.

Dammon pushed his way off of the floor making his way up to the bed with a steady crawl over you, drinking in every inch of you with his gaze. His blue eyes held a subtle warmth to them with flecks of gold surrounding his pupils, making it that much more intense. He hummed softly as you reached your hands up to his chest, fingertips trailing along every dip and curve of the ridges along the front of his body. He could feel his own chest warming up with such simple touches, as your hands continued their way up to caress his cheeks. He smiled, gazing down at you with so much affection, his words practically dripping with adoration as he spoke.

“I burn for you, my flame.”

You returned his smile with a mischievous look and Dammon understood that your desires weren’t quite quenched yet either. He dipped his head low, his lips crashing into yours as he pushed his tongue past your lips in an effort to taste you even further.

Your moan was muffled as your tongue danced with his, tasting the remnants of your essence on his tongue. Your body reacted to his as your legs spread open even further, knees ghost along the edges of his hips as he settled himself even further between your thighs.

Dammon’s rough hands began to move along the lengths of your body, memorizing every dip and curve with each caress, gently kneading the softness of your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples, pulling the taut between his fingers in an attempt to gain further reaction from you.

The melded contact of your lips break with a gasp, your head falling softly back to the bed below you as a breathy, needy moan escapes you.

He chuckles in response, enjoying just how reactive you were to him, at the smallest of actions. He trailed his lips down the line of your jaw, peppering it with the gentlest flutter of kiss until he reached the curve of your ear.

His breath was hot against your skin as he asked, “How badly do you want it?”

Your words caught in your throat as you felt his sharp teeth graze against your ear. Not hard enough to break skin, but just enough to let you know how much he could. A soft, stifled whine escaped you in answer, preferring to use your body to further draw the point across as you rolled your hips to meet his. Dammon moved his hands to your hips, pushing you back down to the bed, looking down at you with an arched brow.

“Use your words, sweetheart.” He replied in a low sultry tone. “Be good for me and I’ll give you what you desire.”

You look up at him, nodding to his request. “Yes, please. I’ll be good. I swear.”

Even with your speech, you could tell he didn’t seem fully convinced. So, you pushed it further.

“What can I do to prove it to you? I’ll do anything.”

He smiled at your simple question, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he considered what you were offering.

“Are you sure?” He asked, needing to ensure that’s what you truly wanted.

You nodded in reply again and replied softly against his lips, “Yes.”

Dammon was quick to get to his feet then, leaving you open to the blanket of cold air in the room as he stepped away and pulled out a wooden box from underneath the bed. Inside contained a variety of things, but the the two items he pulled out was a small hank of soft rope and a dark amber glass bottle of lubricant.

Dammon sat on the bed and had you turn around. His hands guided your arms behind your back, folding your forearms over the other and proceeded to begin to wrap them, binding and securing your arms in place.

He was gentle as could be, asking if it was too tight as he continued to wrap it around the length of your forearms. He was courteous enough to ensure your comfort in the situation, reminding you to use your chosen safe word if you felt uncomfortable at all with the situation and what was to come, but you assured him it was alright, that you could take what he had in mind.

Once he was done, he took his chance to admire his work on you from behind, eyes trailing up and down the recesses of your body with a low hum of satisfaction. In his eyes, you looked like a wonderful piece of art, well crafted from the forge of life.

He couldn’t wait to put his hands on you again.

Dammon started off gentle, running his knuckles down your spine, causing it to arch at his touch. His other hand joined, claw-like nails raked and grazed over the edges of your thighs, hips, and arms, watching as goosebumps erupted on your skin in their wake, hearing the soft and subtle sigh leaving your chest, hearing a bit of the pent up frustration within it.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help myself.” He stated, “I enjoy this, getting to have you like this, I mean. I can’t seem to pull myself away.”

His hands trailed around to the front of your body as he moved and settled in front of you, taking hold of your chin. He gazed down into your eyes, his own pooling with lust and desire as his thumb draped over your bottom lip.

You thought he would move in to kiss you, draw you into the depths of his desire for you, but he didn’t. Instead, he kept his hand wrapped around your jaw, his free hand carving its path down the front of your body until it reached its desired destination. His touch was gentle once again, determined as his fingertips began to play with you again. Your arms strained against the ropes as your body reacted to the roughness of his hands, over sensitive and shaking under his touch, chest heaving as you begged for more.

He dragged you close to the edge of release again before ruining it, his hands leaving you cold once more as a whimper escaped your throat.

“Dammon, please.” You begged

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you now.”

He took his place behind you once more, greasing up one hand before proceeding to palm himself, readying himself to slip inside you seamlessly while the other pressed on your back, guiding your chest down against the sheets before sliding his hand to soft mailable skin of your hip.

Dammon pressed the edge of his knees against your inner thighs, spreading you out wide as he guided his cock in line with you, pulling you closer until hips were flush against his, cock nestled inside.

You could feel his grip growing stronger on your hip, hearing a deep, low groan escape him as you squeezed around him, feeling every rib along the length of him.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Relax.” He cooed, gently kneading your hip in an effort to help.

You soon relaxed under his touch, feeling him begin to slowly rock his hips into yours, picking up the pace ever so slightly until he reached the perfect pace for you both.

The room filled with a mixture of your moans and the collision of your bodies in combined ecstasy with each other. Dammon enjoyed sight of the ripple of your hips against his, how your arms fought against the restraints, eyes closed as the moans spilled out of you.

But he wanted more.

Dammon slipped his hands from your hips along the lengths of your biceps, pulling you into a backbend before gripping onto your face and tilting your head back, forcing you to gaze up at him, unable to pull away. He smiled at you, gritting his teeth as he slammed his hips even harder into yours, forcing groans to escape from your throat.

Amidst every pleasurable and painful sensation that flooded your body, you could sense the curl of Dammon’s tail curling around your thigh, the pointed tip flicking back and forth along the lengths of your overstimulated core over and over again until your body was trembling in his grasp with tears in your eyes.

Dammons breath hitched and his grasp faltered. He snaked his arm down and around waist, pulling your back flush against his chest, whispering praises in your ear. “You’re doing good, sweetheart. Taking me so well.”

It was more than enough to cause you to come undone at the seams, but he pushed you over the edge as he sunk his sharp teeth into your shoulder, his voice thickened with a growl. You lost yourself amidst it all, the pleasure, the pain, the euphoria that raced through your veins. Dammon followed soon after, his hips stuttering against yours as heat flooded inside of you.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, catching your breath as you both came down from your conjoined efforts. Dammon released teeth from your shoulder in the meantime, peppering kisses along your shoulder, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, taking your scent in.

Dammon would soon let you go, unravel the ropes that bound you, scooping you up into his arms and clean up the mess he’d made of you. But for now, he wanted to keep you close.

The flame to the hearth of his heart.

#dammon #dammon x reader #dammon x you #bg3 #bg3 dammon #dammon bg3 #bg3 fic #baldur’s gate fanfiction #Spotify

[bg3fan]

How to bake your way to a smith´s heart

Part 1

( I think you can read this as a one-shot)also caution it´s not proof-read

Emma left an hour ago, that means that you´re left with cleaning up the bakery, you two own. It isn´t big and it did cost a fortune but with your parents help you two were able to buy it and finally fulfill the dream you both had since growing up.

As kids you two would build your own bakery with cardbords and use mud or sand to make your dough while flowers and grass were used as sprinkles.

Sighning, you wipe the floor clean from all the flour, losing your hope that Dammon would visit you today. Perhaps you did creep him out by comming unannounced and even telling him that you´ve been watching him.

After you came back you didn´t dare to look out of the window, too embaressed that he might catch you.

Finished wiping the floor, you stand up with aching knees to wash the dishes next in the other room.

While washing them, you hear the door´s bell and annoyed you come out at the desk to tell the customer that you´re already closed for the day.

But to your surprise; Dammon is standing there with a small bashfull smile, carrying your basket in his hand. "Am I disturbing?"

You hold your hands up and shake your head "No, not at all... but we are all out off sweets, unfortunately." You give him an apologetic look.

"Ah, I´m sure your treats are much tastier here, inside the quiet bakery than in my forge... but I´ve come to bring your basket back." He puts the item on your desk as he looks around, admiring the decoration and it doesn´t seem like he is ready to go yet.

"Do you have any plans for tonight?" you catch the faintest hint of blush on his cheeks as he rubs his neck while asking.

Your own face heats up "Uhm, yes, erm- I mean no I don´t have plans but yes I-I would spend it with you- if that´s what your asking of course..."

Dammon chuckles at your behaviour and you can´t help but laugh a little too. It´s clear that he knows you have a crush on him which gives him the confidence to ask you out.

"Then we could go for some tea or a light meal in the tavern?" You nod and look down on yourself then back at him "but I´ll need to go back home and change real quick, if that´s ok."

The tiefling agrees and tells you that he´ll be back in an hour to pick you up, so that you two can walk together there.

After he left you run up the stairs to your room and get ready as fast as possible. You put on nicer clothes and decide that you should let your hair open. Quickly putting on a little makeup, you grab your bag and go downstairs. The half finished dishes are long forgotten in the sink.

Dammon´s already waiting for you outside, wearing a simple shirt and vest, with his sleeves rolled up to the elbows which reveal several little burns and scars on his arms from working in the forge.

You rush outside, his tail wags excitedly as he catches the sight of you by his side. "I hope you didn´t wait too long" you start.

He offers you his arm which you bashfully accept. "Don´t worry, you´re right on time." He offers you a smile and guides you to the next tavern.

All while you feel your heart beating against your chest because of how close he is. You´re itching to put your other hand on his arm as well, curious how his muscel and rigged skin must feel like.

Even though it´s almost 10 p.m the city is still wide awake, there are a lot of people who are also very drunk but the walk to the tavern isn´t long and you two arrive it in less than a 15 mins walk.

The noise of the tavern makes you feel a little uneasy since you´re not a fan of loud sounds in general and it seems that Dammon also caught up on that by your tense body language.

That´s why he guides you to a small table in the corner, hoping that it would ease your mind a little.

"Do you already know what you´d like to order?" he asks as you both look at the menu. "Yeah I think I´ll take the same as always; some fried potatoes with the yoghurt sauce."

He nods and calls for the waiter to order for the two of you "I´ll have the chicken steak with grilled vegetables and for my partner fried potatoes with yoghurt sauce. For drinks we would like some lemonade." And with a nod the waiter is gone.

You can´t help but figet a little on your chair as he called you his partner. "You look quite lovely tonight, [Name]" and again he manages to make a blushing mess out of you.

"Thank you, I know I probably looked a bit messy earlier when I came to your forge" you admit but he chuckles fondly and assures you that "No, I actually thought you looked quite adorable even though you came straight from your bakery. The flour on your clothes actually suits you very well."

The waiter is quick with your order and as Dammon thanks him he leans back with his drink "Don´t worry about being messy around me, I think you know my work isn´t the definition of clean."

And you do just that, you both dig into your meal and it seems that Dammon was very hungry since he eats way faster than you do.

After minutes of silent eating he begins "What made you decide to open the bakery nearby?"

Swallowing your food you start to explain "Well, it was always my dream to open up a bakery with my friend Emma. Even as kids we would tell everybody that we will have our own bakery someday. But without her and my parents I wouldn´t be able to, even though I had a lot of jobs to save up the money."

Dammon listens and nods understandingly "I feel the same way about smithing... and I´ve also worked extremely hard to forge my name in this town..."

He chuckles before looking at you "Pardon the pun."

Taking a bit of his meal he continues "How has business been going for you?"

You are relishing the possibility to talk about your bakery "You know, sometimes it goes good and then bad agan. It´s a constant rollercoaster actually so it´s never really steady. Also the customers for some reason rarely try any new receipts out and sometimes they are so rude about the littlest thing which leaves me questining humanity at some point."

Dammon smiles warmly with understanding eyes and he can tell that you are very passionate about your bakery.

"But how is it going for you?" you ask in return.

Before answering he takes a sip of his drink "It´s been an experience, for sure." He puts his glass down and rubs his chin thoughtfully, "The locals seem to appreciate my work, some of the adventures I forged weapons for have come back for more." he proudly tells you.

His expression sours for a second "Not everone is a fan of a tiefling though, at least not at first. I suppose my appearance can be intimidating."

Feeling bad for him, you put your hand over his "I´m sorry, I cant imagine how horrible it must be to be the victim of rasicm. I´ve also heard how some people talk about tieflings."

He turns his hand around to hold your as his voice falters a bit when he mentions "Yes... I´ve heard my fair share of slurs while walking the streets. Many avoid me or give me dirty looks."

You squeeze his hand, thinking about how people could be this mean to someone so nice, even if they don´t know him. "If it´s anything worth I think your tiefling features look good and I had no ill thoughts about you." Confessing this makes you avoid his gaze while your cheeks heat up.

Even Dammon can´t hide his blush as his tail stills before wagging happily again. "Thank you... that´s very sweet of you to say [Name]. Not everyone appreciates my infernal features, even me sometimes."

He chuckles and strokes his thumb over your hand. His hand leaves yours and you already miss his warmth over your now cold one.

The rest of the dinner goes rather quietly. You two talk a little about this and that, getting each other to know better.

As the waiter comes back for the bill, Dammon is quick to turn down your offer to at least pay for yourself, reasoning "Please, allow me to pay for today. I don´t often have someone to dine with and I´d like to repay you for the sweets today."

On your way home he again offers his arm which you happily accept. You two walk in silence, finally the city quiet down which creates a comfortable atmosphere between you two.

A shiver runs down your spine as the wind blows against your back. "May I?" he ask while taking his arm out of yours to put it around your shoulders, nodding you allow him as you snuggle his side.

Being this close to him, lets you feel his warmth and smell his scent, which make you weak once again.

At the entrance of your bakery, he starts "Today was really nice, I hope we could repeat it sometime."

"Yes, I´d love to." You give his cheek a little peck while he squeezes your shoulders. He watches you get in before waving a little bye, making sure that you´re save so that he can go to his own home across the street.

You don´t really feel like sleeping, thinking about the dinner causes you to giggle and kick your feet. You can´t help but daydream about the next steps with Dammon. How and when he would confess his love for you.

Also I´m always open to talk about this fine man, (I´m basically open to chat about literally every bg3 character) xD

#Man I want to smootch this tiefling so bad :( #dammon bg3 #bg3 dammon #dammon #dammon x reader #Dammon fic #Dammon fanfic #bg3fan #dammon fic

[whimzeee]

Audaciously Yours,

Ramazith tower has ten billion stairs.

At least that’s how it feels to a pair of drunk fools leaning on one another while trying to climb them.

It’s late evening, perhaps a bit too late to be proper. Dinner lasted into the night and was served with one glass too many of the finest wine Dammon had ever tasted. At the hands of the three siblings he had been hosted like royalty that night. After Cal and Lia had called it a night, Rolan and Dammon stayed a bit longer. To have a conversation they could no longer pretend wasn’t needed.

They had both needed a drink or several to get through those nerves. One more so than the other. And the effect shows plainly; Dammon’s fingertips are a bit numb, but the entirety of Rolan’s legs seem to be that way.

He has Rolan’s arm hooked around his shoulders in the dimlit staircase. His warmth slumped against him. Arm around his waist, hand on hip. He’s not sure if the purple blush on Rolan’s face comes from the wine, or from the words they’d exchanged at long last. It’s no less pretty either way.

“Nearly there,” he encourages gently.

Rolan pauses, huffs an annoyed breath. “I am going to figure out portals…if it kills me.”

“Before these stairs do?”

“Mm.” Rolan glowers, but from the way his eyes blink, it seems less a glare of frustration and more just that he’s trying to see clearly. Were Dammon sober, he’d have stifled the snicker that bubbles up. He’s too tipsy to catch it in time.

Rolan’s sharp gaze is blunted and slow as he turns the glare on him. Maybe it would have been scary if he hadn’t started laughing too.

“Alright,” he slurs, gesturing loosely forward. “Laugh at me all you’d like, if you get us up these…damned steps.”

“I’m sorry,” Dammon giggles. “You’re just so...intimidating when you’re sober. It seems silly now.”

“Am I?” Is he…pouting?

“No,” Dammon corrects quickly. “Perhaps not after all.”

Rolan’s arm has begun to slip from his shoulders, so he hefts him higher—closer. Rolan's body curves to fit into his own and Dammon feels his face warming.

“I was the one intimidated,” Rolan mutters quietly. “You won’t believe how nervous I was. Still am, honestly.”

This is a brand new side of him. Rolan’s never been so honest. It’s always pomp and face, lace and ruffle when he talks. Always so concerned with decorum. Never just…real. Real like the friction between them as they lean drunken on each other in the small hours of night.

“No need for that,” he soothes, and pulls him up one more step. “It doesn’t need to be scary.”

Many missed steps and poorly stifled giggles later, they finally pour through the door to Rolan’s room. Dammon looks about with a mix of giddiness and trepidation. It feels like he’s not supposed to be here, somehow. But he is. For the first time.

It’s sparser than he’d expected. Cozy, but minimal. Organized so neatly it barely feels like a bedroom at all. But for a few books and two standing picture frames on the nightstand, one would hardly know whose room it was at all. A standing three-pronged candelabra next to the purple-quilted bed holds three perfectly un-melted lit candles, even though they must have been burning all night. Ah, right: Archmage Rolan. Downstairs he has a chandelier whose crystals lit up in different colors with a wave of his hand.

Dammon hauls the Master of Ramzith Tower's ragdoll body over to the bed and eases him down to sit. He takes this opportunity to get a closer look at the portraits. One is of Rolan and his siblings—gods help them trying to get Cal to sit still for that long. The second is quite older, faded and creased in some places. It depicts an older tiefling woman he doesn’t know, with a baby in her arms and a very young girl at her side, her hand resting on top of the child’s head. He recognizes the girl's horn shape, shared by the woman.

In the state Rolan’s in now, Dammon knows that if he asked he’d easily get an answer. So he doesn’t. It feels wrong. Like cheating at chess.

Rolan’s staring blearily at nothing, his head drooping. Dammon can’t help but smirk, biting his lip to keep from laughing at him any further. “Here,” he says gently, kneeling in front of him. “Let me help.”

Rolan’s eyes focus as he watches the blacksmith take his boots off for him. Unlaces them neatly and slides them off one by one with painstaking gentleness. When he’s finished, he’s a bit startled to see how big Rolan’s eyes have gotten, how he stares at him in…well, shock, really.

“Um… Was that okay?”

“I.” Rolan shivers, breaking the gaze as he feels suddenly self conscious. “Yes.”

No one has ever done something like that for him. So small but…just. Taking his shoes off for him. No one has ever.

“Are you. Sure?”

Rolan covers his face with his hands and falls backward onto the bed, flopping like a limp fish.

Dammon’s eyes peep over the side of the bed before he rises up onto his knees, leaning on the bed with his elbows. He observes Rolan quietly, waiting, but he doesn’t say any more.

"You've gone very quiet very quickly. Are you alright?" His smile fades to the touch of concern. "Not feeling sick are you?"

Rolan stares up at him like a first-time stargazer. His wide, shining eyes striving to focus.

"Rolan?"

"Mm. Mnyes."

"Did you hear the question?"

“Hn. 'F course."

Dammon waits, then huffs a laugh. "Would you care to answer it?"

"...I'm not sure."

"You're not sure what? ...Not sure you're going to answer or not sure if you're sick?"

"Right. Yes. You understand."

Dammon chuckles again, hanging his head. "Ohh, I wish I did."

Rolan catches his laugh, humming a lazy giggle as his sharp teeth flash in a manner he'd never allow sober.

Dammon takes a moment to admire it until it fades, Rolan's eyes slipping closed and his breath falling into rhythm. There is the faintest tug of disappointment in his heart, like when the top edge of the sun dips out of sight. He pulls himself to his feet and reaches down to lift Rolan’s legs, turning him rightways on the bed. He carefully places his head onto a pillow--fine downfeathers. Rolan must have been miserable on the road. While pulling a blanket over him, Dammon has the quite sudden thought that he wouldn’t mind doing this every night for the rest of his life.

For a moment, he waits there, staring at the gentle peace in Rolan's sleeping face. A thousand daydreams float through his buzzing mind. His hand twitches with the impulse to reach out and brush that stray lock of hair out of his face, but he's just sober enough to hold it back.

He'd better leave while he still has that much self control.

Before he can move two steps, he hears a short gasp, and Rolan snatches his wrist with surprising speed.

"W-what—"

"I am, actually," Rolan's voice tumbles over itself; he's more drunk than Dammon thought.

"Am...what?"

"I—yes, I'm. Feeling ill, actually, yes."

Dammon may have been concerned, had he not recently learned that Rolan is a terrible liar. His smile spreads slowly, like a new candle wick that must melt before it lights.

He sinks to his knees by the bedside, leaning on his crossed arms on the mattress. Rolan’s grip moves to his bicep and won’t let go. "Quite stricken, are you?"

Rolan swallows. "Terribly."

Dammon leans closer. His eyes glow in the candlelight. "Then I can hardly leave you all alone, can I?"

He can practically hear the perfectly fitted clockwork gears that power Rolan's mind grind to a halt. He looks for a moment as if he really is ill, the way his face pales and breath quickens.

"St…you must stay with me."

"Mm. Seems I must."

Despite having just insisted on it five seconds ago, Rolan shakes his head and covers his face with his hands. "No, no, of course not. It wouldn't be proper. Not proper at all."

Dammon's mild eyes sweep over Rolan as if he's never held such fondness before.

"Never much cared for what's proper," he smirks, gently prying Rolan's hands away from his face. "Unless you do."

"..."

"Would you like me to stay, Rolan?"

"Well...but. It wouldn't be..."

"But would you like it?"

"...Yes."

He smiles. So bright Rolan's eyes close against it. The hand that grips his is heavy and solid. The heat it stokes in Rolan’s chest going to make cinders of him. Once the fire hits him he’ll change shape—and does he want that? He won’t survive the night. Morning will see him darken again, made brittle by cold water. It’s not going to turn out. He’s sharp and thin and riddled with impurities. No matter how careful the hands that strike him, he will break beneath the hammer.

He jumps at the sound of Dammon’s voice. "Can you sit up a moment?"

Rolan opens his eyes just enough to glare. "Nn. Why."

"So I can take your hair down for you."

Rolan's squinted eyes go wide an soft. How is he going to say no to that? He tries to sit on his own, but because he is never one to miss an opportunity, he begins to roll and tilt toward the edge of the bed.

"Oh--gods, don't fall." Dammon catches him quickly, arm around shoulders. Rolan's entire body freezes. His face is buried in the crook of Dammon's arm, he can smell warm steelsmoke and hearth. And...rosemary. Has he used cologne?

It's too soon that Dammon pulls him back to balance, sitting him up properly. Rolan sways in place, hoping the cover of being drunk is enough to explain the starstruck glaze in his eyes.

Rolan must bite his tongue to stop himself making an absolutely unacceptable sound when he feels Dammon's fingers thread through his hair. Sharp, careful nails scrape the base of his neck and drag upward along his scalp. The violent shiver that overtakes his body is about as controllable as a sudden rainstorm in summer.

"Sorry," Dammon laughs, and begins to pull away.

"Oh don't you dare stop."

A pause, another small breath of laughter. Rolan wishes he was sober, so that he could memorize that beautiful sound in vivid detail, be sure that he could recall it at any moment he chose for the rest of his days.

With a touch so delicate as to belay fear, Dammon carefully pulls his hairtie free and shakes loose the wiry, tangled locks. With no comb nearby, he uses his claws. It's not the touch of a smith, but rather a jeweler, precise and delicate and no more than needed. So gentle. So unbearably delicate. Torture.

He wishes he’d grab a fistful and pull.

Rolan sucks in a breath and even he is surprised at the volume of the smack that comes from his hands against his own face. He's gone mad. He’s out of his godsdamn mind. He's terrible.

Dammon instantly lets go, flinching back. “What!” he pulls on Rolan’s shoulder, trying to get a look to see if he’s hurt himself. “Are you—wh-why—”

Rolan groans and flops back onto the bed, burying his face into the pillow instead. “T-thank you, that’s quite enough!” he panics.

Completely bewildered, Dammon reaches toward him, but hesitates.

He said it didn't need to be scary, but. It is. It’s still so new between them. Fragile and uncertain without structure. A seedling too delicate to bear weight just yet. It's only ten minutes ago they've confessed to feeling something more. Dammon wants this, he’s sure, but he’s painfully aware that he has no idea what he’s doing. How fast to move. And Rolan…deserves the best, after all of it. He deserves joy. Dammon wants to abandon caution and explore this newness, but more than the thrill of it all he wants this—the idea of them—to give Rolan something safe. It needn’t be painful, uncomfortable. It needn’t intimidate either of them.

“Wait here a moment,” Dammon says, his voice calm and soft. He pulls the blanket back to Rolan’s shoulders then steps softly away.

Rolan stays frozen in place, listening over the sound of his own pounding heart as Dammon leaves the room. Once he hears him on the stairs, Rolan sighs, cursing himself under his breath. The mess this man has made of him…shameful. Shameful, the way he’s acting. Drunk. Ridiculous. He’s driven him away now.

No. He said wait. Rolan does. He listens for the creak of the stairs, inexplicably desperate. He's felt this way before, hasn't he. He almost forgot being six. Listening for footsteps on the stairs.

“You won’t come back, will you.”

Out loud, he’s said that. Gods. How pathetic is he going to show himself?

Rolan opens his eyes, staring listlessly at the empty doorway. If he focuses hard enough, he can still feel the ghost of careful hands on his shoulders. If he concentrates, he can remember the warmth and weight of their sides pressed together, that hand gripping his hip ever tighter. Rolan wanted more. Still does. But it wouldn’t be…proper.

Gods. Who cares?

He doesn’t want to care. About appearance. About pretense, impression, fronts. How things are supposed to be done. Dammon doesn’t seem to. He loves that about him, admires it. The most genuine person he’s ever known. Never pretentious, never a liar. Like himself. How can he claim to care for him and yet lie to him—posture in front of him with lavish gifts and braggart peacocking in his big fuckoff tower?

It’s all he’s ever known: display. No one cares for you as you are. No one looks twice at you. No one ever gave one fuck. They struggled for so long. So long. The people most important to him in the world went hungry and abused, all the time, because he wasn't anyone. Couldn't do a damn thing for anyone. He’s better now. He pulled them out of the gutter. He’s worth something now. Isn’t he?

So why isn’t he coming back?

Rolan stares at the photos on his bedside table. He feels his eyes stinging.

“Dammon,” he calls, because he’s drunk, because it’s not fucking fair that he’s alone again. There’s a sob in his voice, anger. No dignity whatsoever. He doesn’t care. “Dammon!”

There are hurried steps in the hall, and Rolan regrets it instantly. Dammon appears in the doorway, alert, a steaming mug in his hand and a small towel draped over his forearm.

“Just here,” he assures, all soft worry and attention. “What’s wrong?” When Rolan doesn’t answer, he comes to sit on the edge of the bed, smiling gently. “Did you think I’d left?”

“No,” he lies. Because that’s all he fucking knows how to do. He groans at himself, shaking his head so that it starts to spin again. “Maybe…”

“I won’t.” He drapes the damp cloth over the back of Rolan’s neck. It’s cool but not cold and feels wonderful. “Not until you want me to.”

Rolan pouts up at him, disgruntled. “Where did you go?”

“To borrow Cal’s kitchen. Apologies to him.” Dammon reaches for the cup, little white steam rising from inside it. “Here.”

He helps Rolan rise, not really sitting up but at least leaning on an elbow so that he can take the cup. Inside is a light amber liquid which he only questions after he’s had a sip. “…Bitter. What issit?”

“Hangover killer. Smiths don’t get the next morning off. Dad set me up with the recipe; never failed him once.”

Rolan takes sleepy sips of the draught, grimacing throughout but refusing to put it aside. In the softness of the scene, Dammon sits by his side with his elbows on his knees and gazes at him.

“What are you smiling at,” grumbles Rolan, his face going darker again.

Dammon laughs softly, his eyes going shy as he turns them downward. “Only thinking.”

“…I don’t suppose you’d be kind enough to share what about.”

“I’d answer anything you asked me.”

Rolan’s heartbeat is doing all sorts of wacky little tricks today. Before he can get hold of himself, Dammon continues, “Thinking how I’ve never had someone to make tea for. It’s nice.”

Rolan wants to tell him he’s the same, that there’s never been anyone in his life he’d wanted to care for so tenderly. To take off their shoes for them, carry them up the stairs, sit by their bedside until they feel safe enough to sleep again. He wants to. Instead, he says, “You’ve got a…unique idea of what tea is.”

Dammon smiles. The picture of patience.

“Thank you,” Rolan adds, so low it’s barely audible.

Dammon takes the empty cup from him, leaning across toward the nightstand to do so. It brings him quite close to Rolan. And when he begins to move away, something in him ignites—cold fire, frightened and desperate. He strikes out and snatches a handful of Dammon’s shirt collar.

Dammon’s startled, but his voice is slow, steady. Hardly a whisper. "...I meant it. I won't leave."

He's...not just talking about right now. Is he. Rolan feels himself start to tremble. So does Dammon.

“Are you alright?”

Rolan shakes his head, dismissive. “I’m fine, just. Feel a bit…dizzy, suddenly.”

“Mm…I might know the feeling.”

Their faces are so close together now, he can smell the sweetness of Dammon’s breath washing down over him. Peach and white wine. Moonlight from the window wages quiet war with the candles inside and their graceful clash drapes the room in flowing shadow. Rolan’s head spins trying to make sense of it all. He feels like they’re in another realm. A dream. Where maybe it’s not as frightening to reach out and touch whatever is hidden from light.

He does. His fingers are clumsy as they tilt Dammon’s chin and turn upward his eyes. Bluegold, like the sun breaking through a long winter’s frost.

"Did you mean what you said to me," he murmurs, his eyes flaring brightly with ache. "Would you take it back?"

Dammon holds his stare. "There's still time, you're saying?"

Rolan feels himself about to cry. He’s so afraid. So exposed. It’s here where they cut away the lifeline, or follow it back to safe ground. His voice shakes, only a whisper. "Still time. Should you have doubts."

Slow, gentle, Dammon slides his fingers beneath the palm of Rolan's hand. You'd think it was carved of precious stone, the way he cradles it so carefully. He raises it to his own face, presses it against his cheek and holds it there. Firm enough to impress his feelings, loose enough that Rolan could pull away.

"No there isn't," Dammon says, and turns his face into Rolan's palm. His lips press the softest kiss into it, a fragile thing, a clockwork butterfly that flutters so small and vulnerable inside the cage of his fingers. And then Dammon folds his hand into a fist.

"And no I wouldn't." His gaze is that of a prisoner looking out from between bars. He repeats what he’s said, nails shut his last window of escape. “Rolan. I care for you in a way I’ve never felt before. I don't know what it is exactly, yet. But I'd like to find out. And what I do know...is I want to feel like something special to you. Something you can use. I want to be for you what I’ve never been for anyone. No one has ever known me that way. I want it to be you.”

Rolan’s breath has abandoned him. He’s whimpering to get it back. His every nerve alight and shimmering like the weave. When he strikes out to grab the back of Dammon’s neck, electric tendrils spark out from his fingertips, unbidden. His eyes are glowing with white light. How swiftly, how easily he surrenders the run of himself.

Before reason can stop him, before sanity can intervene, Rolan wrenches Dammon close and crashes their lips together like tide on shore. What’s left of the wavebreak spills from his eyes, shut tight, brows arched and desperate. He feels Dammon tense, hesitate…then curl toward him. His mouth opens to his tongue and his head rocks in rhythm with the sudden seastorm.

Rolan feels as though he may faint. And like he'll never rest again. He feels awful, and ecstatic, and pathetic and happy and free. He could drink the ocean Dry.

Dammon’s hand snakes around his side and rests in the small of his back. Rolan arcs up toward him, his hands curling around the curve of his skull where it meets his work-tensed neck. Rolan lets himself explore the finely chiseled curves borne of every hammerswing he’d ever struck. The muscles so hard, sinew like braided iron cords—and yet the skin above so delicate soft.

Dammon breaks for breath.

“Rolan,” he mutters, keening, urgent. “S…stop.”

It takes a painful few moments, but Rolan does. He rips himself away with a delirious moan and buries his face instead into Dammon’s neck. His breath rasping hot and ragged. "I'm. Ngh. Sorry."

“It’s just…” Dammon sounds just as overcome. “Not that I don’t…but. You’re drunk, is why. I can’t.”

“Yes,” he whispers, teeth grinding together so tightly that they squeak. “I. Forgive me…I-I don’t know what…I.”

“It’s alright.” His hand grips the back of Rolan’s shirt, the other cupped behind his head. “Shh. Nothing’s wrong.” Dammon laughs, incredulous, giddy and tearful. He plants a kiss into Rolan’s hair, just between his horns. “Far, far from it.”

He clings to Rolan while a thousand fireflies buzz inside the hollow of his chest. He’s never been so happy, he thinks, not in all his life. Rolan is shaking, shrinking into him to try and hide. Though he’s more than a little worried, Dammon is nevertheless glad for the chance to be his haven. Honored. And he doesn’t aim to fall short of the role.

He lays the two of them down in the soft quilts, holds him against his chest. Rolan is beyond speech. For long minutes that stretch into hours, Dammon hushes him softly, repeats assurance and affirmation of safety and peace. Whether because of this, or simply from being so overwhelmed, Rolan eventually sinks below the still pond of sleep.

For a long time, Dammon stares at thin air in a wide-eyed daze. He can hardly believe…it plays over and over in his mind. He keeps still, daring not to move a muscle. He fears to wake him. Fears to shatter the wild dream they’ve fallen into. Gods above. All the fucking hardship. All the loneliness. Done. All of it behind them now. Rolan…

Rolan.

He loves him.

…Oh, gods. He needs to process this. Calm down. But his mind is spinning and he’s so emotionally exhausted, but there’s no chance in six hells he’ll get any sleep tonight. Maybe that’ just as well. He'd been invited for dinner. It would be a wild disrespect to sleep off Rolan’s wine, in Rolan’s house, in Rolan’s bed. On his first proper visit to Rolan’s home. A measure of guilt creeps into the bliss. He's always so concerned with appearances. What would his siblings think? …What would he think, more importantly, if he woke and found Dammon beside him?

As much as he'd like to get lost in the pretty dream of waking up at his side every single day to smiles and sleepsoft kisses...perhaps this time, it’ll be kindest to spare him the morning after. The last thing he wants is to imperil this…this miracle he’s just been given. He’ll wait a while longer, make sure Rolan won’t wake in the night and feel abandoned, and be gone by tomorrow. Tomorrow he will rise and run straight to the tabernacle to thank Tymora. Hells, tomorrow he will sing praise to every god he’s ever heard the name of. But tonight belongs only to himself and Rolan. To him…and the one with whom he is fully, irredeemably, fervently in love.

Audaciously.

#bg3 rolan #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #rolan #dammon bg3 #dammon x rolan #dammon #bg3 dammon #Towerforge #Thunderforge #towerforgecourtshipletters #fic #bg3 fic #fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #fanfic #alcohol #drinking #drunken confessions #first kiss #pining #mutual pining #love confession

[ziggyztarduzt]

Homecoming

I've been sitting on this one for too long, y'all. Here, take what I have while I work on Part 2.

Rated: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Relationships: Tav/Zevlor, Tav/Dammon, Tav/Rolan, Tav/Lakrissa, Tav/Alfira, Tav/Halsin

Tags: Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Exhibitionism, Cock Warming, Voyeurism, Scent Kink, Tail Sex, Breeding, Tiefling Biology

Summary:

Tav was lost in thought as she crossed back into the central part of the Lower City, her thoughts a maelstrom of past, present, and future–thoughts of her companions, her loneliness, and the sheer terror of what her future looked like now that everything was different. And everything was different now, fundamentally. She’d lived a thousand lives only to end up as the hero who lived in the storage room of an apothecary. What a triumph, indeed. Deep in her reverie, Tav didn’t notice the person who had stopped directly in front of her until she slammed directly into their chest. Red, clawed hands rested on her shoulders as she looked up, profuse apologies ready on her tongue. Instead, when she opened her mouth, she choked out, “Zevlor?”

#zevlor x tav #rolan x tav #dammon x tav #lakrissa x tav #alfira x tav #halsin x tav #bg3 smut #bg3 fic #female tav

[sornorlith]

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #sorn orlith #polls #nym orlith #Rolan #zevlor #alfira #lakrissa #ASKING THIS QUESTION BECAUSE IM WRITING A FIC AND IM STUCK #dammon

[viennacherries]

here's the stuff that's in the pipeline fellas 👀👀

i'm trying to go through in order but if i'm struck by intense inspiration i might do them a little out of order. so if ur wondering why i haven't done your request yet this is why!!

lots of amazing requests and i'm very honoured 💕 feel free to send more i'll add them to the queue

i try and do headcanon requests in between fic requests as they come in so if you want something shorter and quicker shoot it through as a headcanon req! <3

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 requests #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 smut #bg3 fluff #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #rolan #holy rolan empire #dammon #bg3 dammon #dammon bg3 #zevlor #zevlor bg3 #bg3 zevlor #halsin #halsin bg3 #bg3 halsin #halsin x zevlor

[bearhugsandshrugs]

Dammon/F!Tav: Hurt/Comfort

Secret santa gift for @aurasyn <3 I picked the prompt that had me go out of my hatefuck-writing comfort zone and tried filling the hurt/comfort that she craved. Hope you enjoy!

Mend What's Broken Read on AO3

The sun was already setting when Tav made her way through the Lower City. Feeling giddy as much as nervous, she kept practicing the few lines she had previously thought about saying: I was nearby and starving. I thought of you and was wondering if you wanted to get dinner with me?

Two short sentences, one white lie: She had absolutely not been nearby. In fact, she’d been home the entire day, talking herself up to doing this, gathering the courage. Then, she’d picked an outfit that she’d changed four times, redoing her hair each time, desperate to find a version of her that looked good, but effortlessly good, but still sexy good, but still without any expectations good, and well, that had taken time. 

Asking out Dammon was the boldest thing she’d ever done, and she’d fought gods and vampire lords. Still, to her this was scarier, more immediate, than anything that had happened over the past months. So when Tav arrived at the smithy Dammon was running, she nearly didn’t make it in. 

What if he said no?

Gale had told her he’d be a fool to reject her, and that there was no need for her to worry. Lae’zel had offered to come with, to “tear the skin off the tiefling’s skull”, if needed. And Wyll had helped write down the lines, then rehearsed them with her. 

Memories of her friends’ support gave her the confidence boost she needed to walk in. Now or never. 

“Oh hi”, Dammon exhaled when he spotted her across the room, hammer still in hand. “One second–” 

He put his tools away, quickly wiped off his hands on a rag, and made his way over to her. “It’s always a pleasure to see you”, he nodded, a smile teasing around the corners of his mouth. 

Tav’s heartbeat quickened, I can’t do this, but this was the fourth time she was trying to ask him, and the last time she hadn’t even greeted him back, had just said she’d forgotten something at home and left. She couldn’t use another excuse like that again. Not without looking like a fool.

“Do you need anything?”, Dammon asked her, trying to break up the awkward silence that had started to settle between them, with Tav not really knowing what to say. Or rather: not knowing how to get the courage to say it. 

“I, uh-”, she shifted from one foot to the other, and the smith gave her a smile, eyes softening at the sound of her voice. “I was in the neighborhood, and I wanted to ask you if you were hungry?” 

Somewhere in the back of her mind it registered that she’d deviated from the rehearsed words. That wasn’t what she had written down, was it? But how did it go again? Tav couldn’t remember, for the life of hers. 

“Uh…” Dammon fumbled with the scarf he wore around his neck, looking awkward, “not really, I just ate, but I got some bread and cheese in the back if you like?”

Oh no. 

No, she didn’t want his pity bread. Or pity cheese. She wanted to spend time with him. 

He must think I’m pathetic–

“No thanks”, Tav mumbled so quickly Dammon barely understood her, “anyway, it was good seeing you!”

Not even waiting for a reply, she practically ran out of the store, hurrying down the cobblestone, back to the tavern, back to her room, straight to her bed. She passed the people on the streets, random faces all mixed up in a blurr: someone who tried selling her a newspaper, a young boy begging for gold, a family laughing together; and then, in the tavern, the usual suspects and guests and strangers and whoever was mixed up in the brimming atmosphere of the Elfsong. 

Tav wasn’t sure how she made it back, most part of the way home a black gap beyond the few people who’d burnt themselves into the back of her eyelids. Everything was heightened and dulled at the same time, with just one constant, drumming up in her chest: The pain. 

Oh, the way he’d turned her down hurt her. But it shouldn’t be surprising: Why would he ever consider going out with her? Spending time with her? What a ridiculous thought. Why would he… like her, beyond the most basic, mutual respect founded on trauma-bonding in the Grove and then the Shadowlands?

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she curled up on the bed, staring at the wall with her back towards the door, too distraught to even take off her boots, or to crawl under the comfort of her sheets. Small sobs shook her body while she desperately tried to muffle the sounds, crying into her balled up fists, stifling the hurt that wanted to free itself from her chest. 

There was a small knock on the door, Gale most likely, she thought, and Tav choked out a “I’m fine” before he would try talking to her. While she was usually grateful for the gentle way her friends tried to comfort her, the shame still burnt too hot for her to even attempt to explain what had happened. 

Worse, Gale knew about her plan. He would probably ask how it went…

“That’s a relief”, came a familiar voice from the other side, and Tav’s eyes went wide when she realized who was standing outside. “Can I come in?”

No. No he could absolutely not come in. 

But she couldn’t say that now, could she?

Paralyzed from the horror of maneuvering herself into a corner, Tav just laid on the bed, tears still silently spilling from her eyes, praying he’d go away by himself. 

But then the door opened. And closed. And someone walked in, pulled up her chair, and moved it close to the bed.

“So, uhm, Shadowheart let me through”, Dammon said from behind her, his voice mellow and gentle. 

Great. Now that he saw her, he’d likely never want to spend time with her again. And he would be right–

“It seems that I’ve been a bit out of practice”, he continued, “because I should have realized what you were trying to do so much sooner.” 

He chuckled nervously, and a new wave of embarrassment washed over her, shaking her body like a rag doll, with her chest heaving so blatantly obvious that the thought of him seeing her like this sent her into a spiral. More tears started to flow, more pain started to build, and soon she was sobbing again, despite her best efforts to bring that damned body of hers under control.  

“I’m so sorry”, Dammon whispered from behind her, and she didn’t need to see his face to know it was full of pity. 

“It’s okay. You can go”, Tav croaked out, desperate to cut this encounter short as much as possible. 

“I can go?” His voice sounded confused. “Tav, I… I’d love to spend time with you. That’s why I offered you dinner.”

That didn’t make sense. 

A small sob flew out of her throat, and she shook her head. 

“Oh gods”, she cried, burying her face in her hands. “I’m so… You must…”

The calm breaths from behind her revealed no stress, no bother; only patience.

“I don’t mind you crying. This is nothing I can’t handle.”

Another headshake from Tav as she tried to express her helplessness. There was nothing he could do. Nothing that she could think of, at least. Worse: Nothing she could do either, as her mind came back again and again to the fact how bad this looked. 

Shuffling behind her revealed he was not going anywhere, as the added weight of his body sank down on the bed beside her. Then his hand appeared into her field of vision, outstretched and open, hovering before her without making contact with her body. 

“Here”, Dammon said quietly, “you can hold it. If… you like.”

Tav stared at his hand for a full minute, considering if this was some sort of cruel joke, a misunderstanding, or whatever else life could have in store for her. But then his scent settled into her nostrils: Fiery smoke, warm leather, pines, and… oats?

Instead of taking his hand, she decided to sit up and look at him. Wiping at her burning face, she sniffled when she met his gaze: Patient and concerned, Dammon slowly pulled his hand away, settling it down next to her, palm still open for her to hold on to, should she want to. 

She felt so messy: her cheeks were wet from the tears and her hands couldn’t dry them quickly enough, and her nose was running, the constant sniffling making her head hurt on top of everything else.  Fumbling nervously, Tav was of half a mind to send him away again, but he looked so soft, so steady, she couldn’t help herself but cling to the fact that he’d come to see her. 

He was here, wasn’t he?

“Here”, Dammon’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts as he took off his blacksmith’s scarf, offering it to her. “I don’t have a handkerchief, but this might do.”

Parts of her didn’t want to accept the help, but her face stung from the tears, and she really could use the cloth to clean herself up. 

“Thanks”, she mumbled, reaching for the scarf. But her sense of coordination was still numbed, and she clumsily grabbed half of his hand when she wanted to take it from him. Blushing, she quickly dabbed at her cheeks to dry them, hiding herself from view behind the fabric. 

It smelled so nice. 

“Are you still hungry?”, Dammon asked her as if they were just having a normal conversation and she hadn’t been hysterically crying just a moment ago. Unsure how she deserved him, she nodded. 

“Yes.” Her voice was shaky and quiet, and when she dropped her hands to her lap, face finally dried, he was still sitting there, warmly smiling at the sight of her. 

“I’m an idiot, Tav”, he repeated once more, and this time, it registered. “I was overwhelmed because… I like you. And you caught me off guard–” Dammon scratched the back of his head and chuckled nervously. “But I like it. Like that you asked me. Like you.” 

Her mouth fell open as her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Why are you here?” It was the first question from a series of things that didn’t make sense to her at that moment, things she only now started to unravel.

“You stormed off so quickly, I cursed myself for a few minutes before I closed down the shop and followed you”, he shrugged. “Your friends let me in. Said you could use the company.”

Tav made a short note to kill them later. Or thank them. She hadn’t decided. 

“Besides…”, Dammon continued, and she followed his eyes to their hands. He swallowed two times before he cautiously took them in his, “I’ll just keep saying it in case you’re not understanding me… I really. Really. Like you.”

Oh.

OH.

He liked her and she was behaving like a fool, unable to control herself… Another set of tears welled in her eyes and she breathed out a quiet curse, followed by a small sob. Down where her hands were entangled in Dammon’s, the tiefling gave them a short squeeze. 

“It’s okay”, he offered gently. “Or would you rather I leave?”

“No”, something in her burst out the word before she could think, and that was good, because she already regretted it the next moment. “I’m sorry that I’m… like this.”

“Emotional?”, he asked, but there was no judgment in his voice, only genuine curiosity. 

“Weak”, Tav sighed, and her reply was met with a hearty laughter. 

“Come on”, Dammon smiled, “You’re the strongest person I know. Which, if I may, makes you so goddamn impressive.” He chuckled, and Tav spotted the slightest blush on his cheeks. “That, and many other things.”

“Are you serious?”, Tav asked weakly, still in disbelief about it all. 

“Oh, yes.” Nodding, Dammon held her gaze, his thumbs stroking over the back of her hands in steady, calming motions. 

They sat like that for a while, enough for Tav’s body to quiet down. When she felt ready, she gave his hands a light squeeze, then looked up at him. 

“Thank you for coming”, she said nervously, and the smile that spread on his face was wider than any she’d ever seen. 

Dammon beamed. “Are you ready to head out? Or would you rather stay in?” 

It was still early, but she wasn’t really in the mood to leave now. “Honestly… if we could stay here…”

“I got it”, he nodded and stood up from the bed, Tav letting go of his hands reluctantly. “I’ll order you some food, and us some drinks, and we can spend some time talking. Or…” His eyes fell onto the bed, but he dragged them away, forcing himself to look over to the table by the window. “Or play some cards.” 

She knew her cheeks were likely flushed, but she didn’t care. Not when he was this charming and self-assured, unbothered by her crying or needing to be in a familiar place. So when she replied, it was heartfelt: “I’d like that.”

He smiled at her, holding her gaze with an earnest expression that peeked behind the mask she usually put on. Oh well. He’d already seen more than most anyway… But there was more to it, something promising, and when he spoke again, his firm and gentle tone sent her heart into a stutter. 

“Good. Me too.”

#i keep singing her praises but aura is amazing and if you haven't followed her do so #she wrote me the best tavtash fluff today #i can't #dammon #dammon x tav #bg3 fic #my writing