The dagger left Astarion’s hand with perfect aim, until the bandit lurched forward at the last second. The blade clipped your side instead. You gasped. The sound made him spin instantly. “What—?” His eyes dropped to the spreading red on your tunic and the little color he had drained from his face. “Oh hells… I didn’t—”
He was beside you in seconds, catching your arm before your knees could give out. For once there was no teasing remark waiting on his tongue. Only worry.
“Stay still,” he murmured, pressing a cloth to the wound. His hands were steady, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.
“I’ve been stabbed before,” you tried to joke weakly.
“Yes, well, I’d prefer not to be the one responsible,” he shot back quickly. Then quieter, almost reluctantly, “I’ve spent two centuries surrounded by monsters. You’re the one good thing I’ve managed to find.”
Once the bleeding slowed, his thumb brushed gently against your wrist “Next time,” he said softly, eyes meeting yours, “try not to stand between me and my targets.” After a pause, he added with a faint, fond smile, “…or I might start thinking you’re important to me.”
Gale-
“Now, theoretically,” Gale began, raising a glowing hand, “this spell should behave perfectly.” The weave on the other hand had other ideas. in a twisted sense of humor way the arcane surge cracked outward like lightning, snapping across your arm before the magic dispersed.
You yelped.
Gale froze mid-cast. “Oh no.”
He rushed to you immediately, eyes wide with alarm. “That—was absolutely not part of the theoretical model.” His hands hovered uncertainly before gently taking your arm, examining the burn with deep concern.
“Let’s see… minor arcane backlash, slight energy discharge—nothing permanent, thank Mystra.” His fingers glowed softly as he channeled a careful healing spell. The sting faded quickly. Gale let out a relieved breath, shoulders relaxing as he finished the incantation.
“I do apologize,” he said sincerely. “It seems my enthusiasm occasionally outruns my caution.” You smiled at him.
He returned the look, softer now.
“For what it’s worth...” he added gently, “if I must test dangerous magic… I’m rather glad you’re the one who stays by my side anyway......still maybe we try this with you further way next time, yeah?"
Wyll-
The demon lunged faster than Wyll expected. He stepped forward to meet it, blade flashing—but the fiend twisted at the last moment. His strike still landed… just not where he intended.
Your cry cut through the clash of steel.
Wyll’s heart dropped.
He turned instantly, horror flooding his face as he saw the shallow cut along your side. “No—no, that wasn’t meant for you!” He caught you before you could stumble, one arm wrapping firmly around your back while the other pressed cloth to the wound. His hands were steady from years of battle, but the panic in his eyes betrayed him.
“I swear, I had it under control,” he said breathlessly, shaking his head at himself. “The Blade of Frontiers, defeated by his own terrible aim.” “It barely hurts,” you tried to reassure him.
“That’s hardly the point,” Wyll replied softly. Once the fight was over, he guided you to sit beside the campfire, carefully tending the injury himself. His fingers moved with gentle precision as he tied the bandage.
“You spend far too much time protecting me,” he murmured. You smiled faintly. “Someone has to watch the hero’s back.”
Wyll looked up at that, something warm settling in his expression. He took your hand and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Well then,” he said quietly, “when this adventure is over, I think the hero owes his shield a proper reward.” You raised an eyebrow.
“A dance,” Wyll said with a small grin. “Under the moonlight. Somewhere far from monsters.” His thumb brushed gently over your hand. “And this time,” he added softly, “I promise not to hurt you.”
Karlach-
Karlach charged into the fight with a shout, swinging her axe in a wide arc. The enemy went down instantly—but the momentum knocked you off balance and straight into the dirt. The moment she realized, her triumphant grin vanished.
“Oh shit! Hey, hey—!”
She dropped the axe immediately and rushed over, crouching beside you. “You alright? Tell me you’re alright.” You groaned, pushing yourself up. Karlach carefully checked your arms and shoulders like you might fall apart if she moved too fast.
“Damn it,” she muttered. “I forget sometimes I hit like a runaway cart.”
When you assured her you were fine, the tension finally left her face. Her grin slowly returned. “Good,” she said, helping you to your feet with surprising gentleness. “Because if I accidentally flattened you, I’d never forgive myself.”
She bumped her forehead lightly against yours, warm and affectionate. “C’mon,” she said with a laugh. “Next round, you stand behind me. Safer for everyone involved.”
Lae'zel-
Steel rang sharply as your blades clashed during training. Lae’zel moved with brutal precision—but the final strike nicked your shoulder before she could stop it. You hissed. She froze instantly. Her yellow eyes flicked to the cut, studying it with intense focus. “You lowered your guard.” The words came automatically.
But when she saw the blood running down your arm, something in her expression shifted. Lae’zel stepped closer, gripping your arm firmly to examine the wound.
“…Still,” she admitted after a moment, “my strike was excessive.” She wrapped the injury with quick, practiced efficiency. When she finished, her hand lingered on your arm just slightly longer than necessary.
“A warrior protects their ally,” she said quietly. “You fight beside me. That makes your safety… my responsibility.” After a pause she added, voice softer, “And I do not intend to fail you again.”
Shadowheart-
The battle had barely begun when Shadowheart’s guiding bolt burst past you in a flash of radiant light. The spell struck the enemy, but its edge caught your side. Your sharp inhale made her heart drop. She turned immediately, horror flickering across her usually guarded expression. “Wait.. did I—?” The sight of you clutching your ribs answered the question.
“Gods,” she whispered, already kneeling beside you. Her hands glowed softly with divine magic as she pressed them against the wound. “Hold still.” Warm light spread through you as the pain faded. Shadowheart kept her hands there longer than necessary, concentrating harder than the injury demanded. “You’re supposed to be the reckless one,” she muttered, shaking her head.
When the healing finished, she helped you sit up, her fingers lingering around yours. “I’ve spent my life learning how to mend wounds,” she said quietly. “Hurting you was… not part of the plan.” You squeezed her hand reassuringly.
She huffed softly, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Well,” she said, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, “if you’re going to keep getting injured, you might as well stay close to me.”
Giving BG3 women strap-ons because I’m frothing at the mouth
Warnings: fatal sapphism, submissive Shadowheart because she revs my engine, in honor of switches I will be riding writing the characters as both giving strap and receiving strap, implied age gap in Jaheira's section also one use of ‘mama’
@daisyofwaterdeep
✧Lae’zel✧
She’s tentative at first. Usually, sex is initiated while she’s still riding off the heat of battle or an argument, and so she sees the strap as a waste of time. It takes convincing to get her to try it on. But when she realizes how new and invigorating the sensations are, she’s keen to use it more and more often.
Lae’zel’s hips smack against yours as her weight keeps you pinned to the bedroll in your tent. She grunts in your ear with every harsh thrust.
“I can smell you,” she hisses, “the whole camp reeks of your slick.”
One hand sneaks under your body to rub figure eights on your aching clit. You yelp and claw at the blanket at the added stimulation.
“They will smell it, too, when they return. They will all know what I’ve done to you.”
She’ll only consider letting you use it on her after the strap has been established as part of your routine, and even then she’ll usually want to be on top.
She inhales deeply as the blunt head pierces her opening, halting just a few inches down. She’s overestimated her abilities. Her eyes are clenched shut as she silently struggles to adjust.
“Are you okay, my love?” You breathe. She nods sharply.
“I’m fine. Give me a moment.” After a second to breathe, she pushes through the stretch, and settles herself on your lap.
“It’s just larger than I had anticipated. Perhaps I ought be more…gentle, when you’re the one taking.”
☽Shadowheart☾
Has secretly been waiting for this for a very long time. Her mattress has always had some kind of erotic book hidden under it, and it has given her some very shameful ideas over the years. Oh, if the cloister had found out...
Needs help tightening the harness around her hips. Oddly, the few moments you spend fumbling with the leather are some of the most arousing to her. It's one of those underrated intimacies she can't get enough of.
“Does that feel good?” She asked, rocking her hips tentatively. You could only groan in response. After a half hour of foreplay, Shadowheart had finally worked up the courage to fuck you- and gods, was it driving you mad.
“Fuck…so good, love. So good-” a broken moan falls from your lips as her hips roll at just the right angle. Her eyes widen at the sound, and her hips instinctively buck again; causing the same reaction. From then on, all her worries are out the window as she chases that thrill.
Her clit grinds against the seat of the harness as she humps you, leaving her unable to stop even as tears of overstimulation begin to run down her cheeks.
“Shit…I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…!”
She’s a bit more confident when it’s you giving. Sometimes she’s too worried about her performance to relax and really enjoy things, but with the strap, she can forget everything but you.
She likes it deep, but not too fast- preferring to savor the experience as long as she can.
She shivers and sighs as your pelvis meets hers, buried to the hilt inside her warm embrace. Her legs are on either side of your hips and her arms are hung loosely around your shoulders as she nuzzles the crook of your neck. Moonlight streams through the curtains, illuminating the batch of love bites along her collarbone. The results of a lazy midnight make-out.
“This is nice,” she says between gasps and breathy giggles, her sweet sounds a hedonistic symphony in the dark room, “I should have you like this more often.”
᯾Karlach᯾
Once her engine is stabilized, she’s just eager to fuck again. It doesn’t matter who’s getting their back blown out. The strap is like an old friend to her, and she's practically giddy when she picks one from the shops. An average length, but thick- she can't wait to watch you stretch so prettily around it.
Strong hands knead the fat of your ass as you carefully bounce your hips on her cock. Your fuzzy head rests on your crossed arms, back arched as Karlach kneels behind you. Her golden eyes are wide and fixated on your drooling cunt, watching in awe as your body clings to the silicon- like you never want her to stop fucking you.
Her face feels so hot that steam rises off of her cheeks and her tail lashes ecstatically behind her as she begins to move her own hips- savoring each whine and mewl that escapes your lips.
“Fuck,” she groans, “you’re so fucking beautiful, babe!”
Extremely sensitive the first time she gets fucked. She likely cums on the first thrust inside. Her pussy hasn’t gotten any good action in a decade, so even when she’s practically lost her mind on your cock, she begs you to keep rutting against her. She wants to make up for as much lost time as possible.
One of the loudest moaners out of all the companions. In your tent, dead of night, grunting and whining until she wakes up half your friends. They always debate whether they should draw straws to see who goes to complain or just wait it out.
When she's finally satisfied and allows you to pull out, you notice that the silicon of the slick toy seems to almost radiate her heat. She chuckles when you point it out.
Her toes curled in the air, brows furrowed as your form pressed her knees closer to her chest. Her pupils were completely blown out with lust, only a sliver of the golden iris visible. Should you be concerned? Because she’s had multiple orgasms already, and it’s getting kind of late, and- wait, was that a pleasure moan or a pain moan?
Before you can check, she notices the faltering of your hips. Strong, warm calves wrap around your torso and force you to keep grinding into her.
“Keep going, soldier,” she panted, “don’t stop now. Gods…Don’t leave.”
☠︎︎Minthara☠︎︎
Another companion who’s familiar with the practice is Minthara- to the point where I would assume she has one tucked away with her personal effects somewhere in the Underdark.
When she’s wearing the strap, she loves to make you suck it. It’s a respect thing for her, almost like kissing the king’s ring. Prove how badly you want her to pleasure you. Prove it and maybe she’ll bless you with her cock.
There’s nothing more satisfying to Minthara than sitting down and having you ride her lap. She’ll nip and bite at your heaving chest, grabbing your ass and calling you her wanton harlot in Undercommon.
Your face is buried in her neck, body flushed and shaking as you recover from climax. Your cunt flutters around her hard shaft and slick drools from your thighs to the chair below. Everything aches.
Cool lips press kisses to your shoulder as even cooler hands sooth the goosebumps along your spine.
“Are you with me, my dear?” She rasps. A nod and murmured reassurance are all she gets. She chuckles gravelly in your ear.
“Very good, precious one,” you hardly even register the kiss she plants on your lips before a sharp smack on the rear wakes you up, “now keep bouncing. I’m not finished yet.”
When she’s receiving, it’s much more intimate than you might think. A little ambience goes a long way with getting her in the mood. You can achieve this method of seduction with a warm bath, dim lighting like that of her old home, and the strongest-tasting wine you can get your hands on. Most of those surface brews are too bland for her taste.
She’s usually pretty quiet- the majority of the noises in the room are the soft schlick! schlick! schlick! sounds of your cock entering her. If you get close enough, you may be able to hear the soft huffs she makes each time you bottom out.
She lies flat on her belly, thighs spread just enough to let you between them. A pillow is wedged beneath her hips, aiding your search for the angle that makes her lips part and her crimson eyes flutter shut. On one lucky stroke, you find it. Her hips jerk almost imperceptibly in your grasp, and she twists her head to meet your gaze.
"There," she urges, "faster now. I want to feel it."
As you up your pace, her head falls back to the mattress. Her brows pinch together and her hands fist the sheets. Every other thrust forces a quiet moan from her lips, and you can't help but admire her beauty like this. Calm, quiet...open. She trusts you. You adjust your position over her prone form to be closer to her, pressing your weight against her silken skin. She hisses as the toy slips deeper inside her. Her voice is shaky as she gives you her next command.
"Aost! I can feel you in my womb, Ust-nor," she groans, "harder. Show me your devotion."
𑁍Jaheira𑁍
Jaheira's been around a few times and knows what she likes, but I don't see her having used a strap-on before. As a Harper, she's very practical- there's little room in her pack for anything unessential, and that includes pleasure aids. But she knows young people have particular needs, and she's happy to give it a try if you ask politely.
It's amusing to her, how badly you want it. She can't remember the last time she herself had felt so raw and unbridled. That feeling vanished with her late husband. But the rush of youth is sacred, and she indulges you wherever possible.
Jaheira likes to sit against the headboard with a glass of wine as you desperately take what you need from the toy. She chuckles when your hips get clumsy, orgasm just on the horizon, halting your movements and pulling you into a kiss. The goblet is pressed to your swollen lips as you break away and you swallow a mouthful of the bitter drink.
“You move too quickly, cub,” she chides playfully, squeezing your rear with a weathered hand, “it’s the journey, not the destination. How are you to savor the pleasure if you rut like an animal?”
You stifle a whimper as the fireworks in your belly fizzle out, their fuses snuffed too soon. With your hips still held firmly in place, Jaheira clearly expects you to show some understanding. Your head bobbles clumsily as an apology tumbles from your lips.
“Yes. ‘M sorry,” you squeak. The hand on your hip loosens and you tentatively begin to rock back and forth once more. You try to focus on keeping your rhythm as the head of her cock presses insistently on that very back wall of your cunt. The feeling is even more pronounced like this. Jaheira purrs.
“Much better, cub. Take every little inch for mama.”
Taking it is rarer for Jaheira than wearing it, but if she does, she’ll ask for it once you’ve stopped trembling in her lap. You’ll stumble off of her and she’ll help tighten it around your hips before rolling onto her side and digging in the nightstand for something slick. The cum you’ve left over would be enough, but she’s old now, and an extra swipe of oil wouldn’t hurt.
She likes to stay on her side too. It’s sleepy and gentle, feeling the warmth of your body behind her blend with the warmth of the wine in her blood. She’s quiet but more vocal than Minthara, humming and sighing into the night air as you bottom out.
The candles burn low in their sconces, the only indication of time in your little slice of heaven. The curtains isolate you from the outside world and leave you with no worries. No tadpoles or Bhaalists, no rogues or bugbears. Just you, and the woman in your bed.
She moans lowly as your hips meet hers, mingling with the faint creak of the inn bedsprings. A weathered hand reaches back and tangles in your hair as you press a kiss to each freckle and sunspot on her graceful neck.
“You know,” Jaheira pants, free hand toying with her perked nipple, “sometimes you have good ideas, cub. I needed this.”
Your heart flutters at the praise and there’s real joy in your smile as you nuzzle her shoulder. This is good. You made Jaheira feel good. Emboldened, your hips rock the least bit harder, and her legs stiffen where they tangle with yours. She’s gone quiet, and you can imagine the expression on her face. Eyes shut blissfully, brow furrowed and jaw tightened as she braces herself for release.
It only takes a few moments before the first waves crash over her, body trembling slightly against your own as she huffs and grinds back on your cock instinctively, as if forcing your cum deeper inside- If the toy were real, that is. She finally relaxes in your hold.
“A fine job, sweetheart,” she whispers, “you keep me young with all of your wanting. Perhaps this old cat should…explore, more often.”
Scenarios of smooching, and kissing, and being cute, and sweet and whatever.
Warnings: could be considered cringeworthy, mild sexual themes (Minthara), fluff, kissing, depictions of wounds, mild angst (Gale), bear halsin, reader wears lipstick in Astarion's part, but still gender non-specific.
It’s embarrassing. He’s supposed to be the one flustering you! Not the other way, yet here you are, your thighs on either side of his hips as your hands play with his hair and your lips pepper over his face, waxy pink residue left over from your lipstick you just put on. His cheeks flushed, almost the same color as the pink marks. His hands find your hips as he feels himself wanting nothing more than to flip you over and steal a passionate kiss from you, to make you stop teasing and loving on him. But he just melts instead, his nails indenting into your hips as he accepts your affection. A few minutes pass as you continue to torture him, and he feels your lips press against his, making a sweet noise escape his lips. You chuckle and kiss him again, his hands find your cheeks, keeping you still, refusing to let you pull away until he feels satisfied with the kiss.
Wyll
He is practicing with his rapier when he feels it, a quick smooch on his cheek before the warm body that pressed into his side is gone, the lips were slightly chapped and scratched against his stubble. He looks towards where you went, watching you walk towards Lae’zel to annoy her again. He feels a blush rise on his cheeks, and he sheathes his sword so he can focus on what just happened. That was the second time you kissed him, since the tiefling party, he remembers the way it felt, you lips pressing against his in an intimate kiss making him swoon, your hand touching his chest, and just as he was about to try and kiss you again, even though he had said only one kiss, you had pulled away and disappeared back into the crowd making his heart flutter.
Gale
He is sitting in front of the fire battling with himself. He was just made aware that Mystra wants him to use the massive artifact-eating orb in his chest to blow up the absolute, and it is tearing him to shreds. He had fallen for you and had finally spoken his desires for you when he received the news, and it shattered him. he had just found happiness. And now he has to sacrifice himself to save the world? Not fair. As he continues to spiral, he feels someone press against his side, a hand gently guides his face to look at them, and he meets your gaze. Before he can speak, your lips press against his, soft, warm, intoxicating. He melts into it, his hands wrapping around your waist, and he deepens the kiss. He feels your hand tug at his shirt as you slowly lie down, pulling him to lie beside you. After a few more seconds, he pulls back for air, looking into your eyes, a blush spreading over his cheeks. “Thank you,” He mumbles.
Halsin
Fur, wet nose, four hundred fucking pounds of fur and sweetness curled up around you, your hands buried in his fur. He snores softly, you desperately try to stay awake, but you can’t stop your eyes from drooping, you bury your face in his stomach, fur encompassing your face, you press a lazy kiss in affection to his belly, making him open an eye as you do it again. A soft growl rumbles in his chest as he closes his eyes at the affection. It’s not a sound of discomfort or warning, it’s a sound of happiness. Halsin feels another kiss being pressed to the pad of his paw, and it makes his hind leg twitch and his eye squint. He closes his eye again and goes back to snoozing. You eventually stop once you get too sleepy to continue.
Lae’zel
She got injured trying to protect you from a heavy blow, a large cut on her arm, and she tries to act aloof, keep it cool, but when you press a kiss to her now bandaged bicep, a soft blush covers her cheeks. And suddenly the bruise she has her knee needs a band-aid and a smooch too, then the small scratch she got from a branch needs one too. You quickly catch on, but you don’t dare point it out because then she’d stop and walk away, embarrassed, then she’d never let you tend her injuries, so you let her point to all the little boo-boos on her to let you bandage and kiss. But eventually, you finally grab her collar and peck her lips, making her gasp before grabbing you, prolonging the kiss. Suddenly, her pride and dominance have shown up again as her chapped lips take over kissing you breathless until she breaks it and gets up, walking away, leaving you starstruck and wanting more.
Karlach
Gods, you rile her up, make her inferno engine heart flare and boil. Soon enough, she might have a meltdown if you don’t stop being so cute. You are stitching Clive up after he got another hole in him. The care you have for her items makes her heart soar as you carefully finish, and she watches as you press a kiss to his nose and carefully rub some of your soap on his arm so she can sleep soundly with your scent attached to him. You two have found some semblance of life in Avernus, even though you two rip through demon and imp day after day, you still have your sweetness as you help tieflings escape and provide a careful path through the hells for travelers. Karlach watches you stand and hand her Clive, she grabs him, hugging him before she does the same to you, but she pulls you into a kiss, it’s soft and sweet and you can’t hep but melt into it as she holds you, but soon enough she breaks it and presses a smooch to your forehead, and you worry she might have left a brand in your temple from how hot she feels.
Minthara
You have tried to tease her a few times, but it always turns into mild sexual torture from her when she picks up on it (not that you mind, but you do want to be able to get away with it for once). But this time, your plan should work. She is playing her lute, a new ballad she heard in your guy’s travels, unassuming (for once) you sneak up behind her, she can easily hear you, but she chooses to ignore it, then she feels it, a kiss to the top of her head and she pauses, it’s innocent, meant to be a playful teasing, then it happens again but it lingers, your arms draping over her shoulders. And you feel her relax further, she slowly begins to strum her lute again. You feel your pride swell, you successfully teased her without her turning the tables and flustering you, and you got her to drop a few of her walls. You continue to kiss her head, giving her the affection she didn’t ask for, but enjoys either way.
Shadow Heart
Stubborn, that’s what she is, so she will not admit defeat when you’ve kissed her silly, even though her cheeks are starting to feel numb from how many kisses you’ve placed there, and how hard she’s blushing. It started when you kissed her cheek and she swatted you away half-heartedly. You were distracting her from her meditation, then you did it again, but you gently knocked her over with a firm push, and she let out a gasp before it was cut short by you pecking her lips. Then she said, “You do that one more time-” and you did, and soon enough, you guys started competing over who could kiss each other to the brink of overstimulation. And now she is lying on the ground breathless while trying to kiss you back and catch up with you, which is useless, and you both know you won, but you won’t stop until she finally admits defeat.
Something that may surprise you is Astarion's preference for personal space when he sleeps. Given how enthusiastically he pursues you early on (and his reasons for doing so), you thought that he would be clinging to your side as soon as your tent flap closed.
Instead however, you find that Astarion appreciates a very active goodnight cuddle before separating to sleep. You're both lying down on your sides, facing each other. Your bodies curl into one another, legs overlapping. Astarion traces over the silhouette of your body as you talk about your day, the softest touch of his fingertips bringing goosebumps to your skin. He hovers over the area where neck meets shoulder, lightly scarred from his previous feedings.
You rest your hand comfortably at his side, taking advantage of his stillness to really study his features. The smile lines in his pale skin, the length of his pointed ears, the sliver of collarbone under his shirt. He's constantly on the move during the day, so you drink in the details while you can. He debriefs to you as well, moving his hand to interlace his fingers with yours. His body is cool, and you notice his tendency to press up closer to you on to sap your body heat.
Once it's time for sleep, you untangle from each other and sleep pretty normally. He's not much of a sleep-snuggler. Though, with your nightly conversations you're not left necessarily wanting for more (not that you mind either way). You sleep in your regular position, and he on his back in the typical elven meditative pose. It's comfortable, safe, familiar.
GALE
Your nightly routine with Gale revolves around a lot of tending to the day's wounds and mishaps, paired with a constant flurry of comfortable conversation. A tear in your trousers gets patched up while staffs are cleaned and reinforced. Adjustments for tomorrow's spells are made, trails are planned. Gale sifts through your alchemy pouches, answering your questions about herb origins with gusto. You move as a unit, like two gears in the same machine. As you move about, there are other conversations occuring, subtle ones, silent ones. Gale presses his forehead to yours to stop you from scowling as you mend; you hand him bits of twine and leather as he passes by, knowing that he's looking for them.
Even as you lie together, there is movement. You're tucked under Gale's chin as he lays on his back. If you're quite still, you can feel his pulse in his neck. Gale busies his ever-moving hands by drawing on your back. Alchameic symbols, runes he's seen, trails you've walked. He illustrates his thoughts and your adventures, your body his canvas.
When you start to fall asleep, you'll wriggle your body down so that your temple rests atop his chest. He traces the curve of your neck to your shoulder. Gale switches to words, messily writing incantations over your skin like a tattoo. If you pay attention, you catch him writing 'I love you' over and over, but you elect not to say anything as he does. Before you tuck your arm around his side, you trace love hearts over his stomach. Your head over his heart, you feel it beat a little faster, then slow as you both fall asleep.
HALSIN
Halsin enjoys being present. He drinks in the sight of you slowly, revels in the ability to simply take his time. After living such a long life lived already and the turmoil of the Shadow-Cursed Lands, he has an even greater appreciation for the smaller things in life. You've not lived quite as long as he, but you've already seen and done more than seemingly entire villages of people. Time and circumstance has worn you both down to a point. Resilience bounces you back, but a healthy regular dose of affection helps too.
At night, you both sit close to the fire. Halsin whittles, chipping away slivers of wood to carve out tiny pieces of art. He looks up, stretching his neck, and watches you as you map the stars above. You scrawl over maps and spare parchment, trying to write and doodle down your memories lest you forget them. When you look over to Halsin, your eyes meet, and you chuckle a little being caught off guard.
Taking you by the hand, Halsin leads you to your shared tent. You undress him, taking your time to smooth his hair back, to run your nails over his biceps. He returns the favour, cupping your curves with his large palms, spreading warmth all throughout your body. He lays on his side in the bedroll, one arm bent and tucked under his head. You use this as a pillow, enjoying his scent so close; wood and musk. Halsins free arm drapes over your midsection to pull you in closer. You push your knee through his legs and you slot together like puzzle pieces. You begin to talk about your latest mapping, your need for more parchment, and plans for tomorrow. Halsin kisses you on the forehead, entire being relaxed. You'll sleep squished together like this, encompassed by heat and comfort.
KARLACH
Cuddle supreme. You bet that once that engine is pacified enough to touch that Mama K is all over you like green on grass.
Prior to this, Karlach was sure (if not overly cautious) about maintaining a healthy distance between you. She was excessively worried about setting you ablaze during the night, and often opted to sleep just outside of her tent while you claimed her bedroll inside. Her claims of worry were partially genuine, but she also enjoyed how you left her tent. The smell you lingered on her sheets, and you often left little things behind like a water canteen or a book you'd been reading.
Once her engine was quelled though, the things she imagined could finally come to fruition. You often cuddle facing each other, changing positions like the moon over the sky. Most comfortably, Karlach settles her head under your chin, face pressed up against your neck and chest. Her arms wrap all the way around your middle, her legs crossing over yours. You curl both arms around her head, trying to leave enough room for her to breathe, and use your free hand to run through her hair. When you start gently scratching over her scalp, you get a snoring Karlach in an instant.
You find that you need to leave the tent flap partially open to vent out some of the warmth; even the most frigid nights are no match for Karlach's body heat. With how impossibly close you're smooshed together, there's little room for the cold to find you anyway.
LAEZEL
Given her dedication towards training and being the youngest in the group, it shouldn't be a surprise that Laezel is quite inexperienced when it comes to affection. Before she met you, and even during, quiet intimacy is somewhat foreign. When you first explained what cuddling was, Laezel thought it was some kind of defensive grapple.
When you both settle for the evening, you find yourselves prepping in comfortable silence for the days ahead. Laezel counts rations and sharpens blades. You condition leather and secure packs. Sometimes, she admires you silently as you focus on your tasks. She smiles to herself at your willingness to help, your competence, she feels security in your choosing her as a partner. Once it's time to settle into your bedrolls, you spend a few precious moments facing each other. She grips your hands in hers and studies your face. She stares with such intensity that it's like she's trying to commit every freckle and line to memory forever. There is some truth to this. When she closes her eyes in peaceful moments, she meditates on the things in her life that bring her joy; her accomplishments, her goals, and you, her partner.
Laezel most often sleeps on her back, leaving her more ready to react to ambushes in the night. She refuses to let go of one of your hands though, with you acting as a kind of anchor for her. Laezel's mind is constantly buzzing with what's to come next, reflecting on what's already happened. It's rare, and precious to her, to indulge in quiet moments of care.
MINTHARA
For practical reasons, Minthana rarely falls asleep with her limbs restricted - it's much harder to stab an intruder if one of your arms is cuddled under your lover. A light sleeper, Minthana doesn't mind sleeping on her side with you. She enjoys being the big spoon, and is certain to let you know that it's not solely because of the protective factor as she deems you just as capable as she (though internally, there's certainly a reflexive protective factor at play here).
Before you sleep, Minthana will curl around you, pressing the entire front of her body to your back. She commits your scent to memory, and recalls the days events aloud. You hold one of her hands in both of yours, mostly paying attention. She enjoys the way you massage her hands, rubbing your thumbs against her wrist, testing the sharpness of her nails against your skin.
When it's time to sleep, Minthana untangles from you, laying on her back or side. She likes to know that you're there though, so she crosses one of her legs over yours in some way. Her ankle rests over yours, or your thigh against her hip, or even just your heels touching each other. Enough closeness to feel your presence, enough space to breathe freely.
SHADOWHEART
You and Shadowheart vary your nighttime routines. Most times, you'll be engaging in mutual and self care, reflecting on the day, prayer, and washing. You offer to brush through Shadowheart's hair, carefully working through knots and bumps and smoothing it into something comfortable to sleep in. The feeling sends tingles down her spine, and she shivers like a cat purring, feeling sleepier and sleepier. She, in return, examines your hands. She cleans over them with a warm washcloth, applying healing balms and ointments to your cuts and bruises, filing your nails to shape.
You both spend time setting and resetting your shared bed space. Being adventurers, and with Shadowheart's past, you're used to moving around often. Your bedroll, your belongings, everything is set up ready to pack at a moment's notice. Though, if you take the time you notice small personal touches that make it feel like yours. A dense hairbrush adorned in silver, Shadowheart's. A thick, hand-woven blanket made in fibre native to your home, yours.
When you begin to collapse from exhaustion, more often than not Shadowheart will settle in behind you. You don't mind being the little spoon, indulging in Shadowheart's body heat and mindlessly playing with her fingers in yours. Shadowheart enjoys pressing her face to the back of your neck, sharing your body heat. She feels somewhat protective of you in the night. Quietly, she worries every now and again that something in the dark will take you away forever. You sense that fear sometimes, the way she drifts off in thought before squeezing you a little tighter. It's a feeling you're not unfamiliar with. She falls asleep to the sound of your voice as you tell her of your adventures past. She dreams of your adventures together in the future; this is something you have in common.
WYLL
Wyll enjoys holding you close basically any chance he gets, and bedtime is no exception. You both keep a reasonable distance while doing simultaneous night routines: Wyll polishes and stores your days' weapons, you pack and prep bags for the next day. As you flit past each other, there are subtle passing touches. A lingering glance at your exposed shoulder, the tips of your fingers grazing against his night clothes. Some are less so, you rake your fingers over his hair and horns, pressing your faces together. Or he'll stand behind you as you wipe down your face, body pressed impossibily close to yours. He teases you about the blush that crawls up your neck.
As you lay together, Wyll finds that sleeping on his back with some tactically stacked pillows works best for his horns. You rest your head at his collarbones, holding his hand. It calms you to feel his chest rise and fall as he breathes, and you never pass up an opportunity to ask him about his seemingly endless adventurous stories. Wyll watches you doodle on his palm, his other hand holds you at your waist, occasionally slipping his hand under your nightshirt to caress your skin.
Lying on your side, you fold your leg over his. You relish in how he squirms slightly depending on where your thigh ends up. Revenge. Most nights, you both fall asleep just like this in each other's embrace. Surrounded by a nest of pillows and a light blanket, you fall into warmth. Comfort in the night that takes you away from the horrors of the day.
Bonus!
NPCs (Alphabetical)
GORTASH
Routine is something both you and Gortash appreciate but rarely achieve with your busy schedules. If Gortash gets a moment at home, you're out in combat. If you come back at a reasonable hour, he's in meeting after meeting. The one thing you try in earnest to maintain though is a nightly routine when your times do align.
You both debrief and undress, spewing out the stress of the day with little regard for whether it makes sense or how many tangents you go off on. Gortash stands at your back as you sit in front of your vanity. He loosens your hair while you clean your wounds, chuckling about the injuries you'd inflicted in reply. You take Gortash's hand in yours and sit him down on the mattress. You run your fingers over his temples and he melts like snow. His muscles are tight as you massage over his neck, his shoulders, leaving light scratch marks over his skin.
In bed, you both lie on your sides, facing the window. The night sky casts the dimmest light into your room, the air outside is quiet and still. There is respite here. You curl around Gortash's back, spooning him as he clutches your hands tight in his. This is your routine, your normalcy. Here, neither of you are bloodstained, neither are performing. Comfort is a strange and rare indulgence in your plights to take over the world; but whether here in your chambers, in a bedroll camping in the forest, or in a jail cell, it's the one thing you can find in each other.
RAPHAEL
Raphael is fond of studying you, examining every inch, every curve of your being with all the patience in the Hells. He's currently asked you to pose for a portrait, draped loosely along a red velvet chaise while the light of the outside world shines just right over your body. It's difficult to catch your face, your eyes especially, in paint. Raphael finds your eye contact far too inviting to concentrate for another quiet hour, so he ceases.
Placing his brushes down, you sit up and crack your neck. You stretch the stiffness from your limbs and extend your hands out to encourage Raphael to join you. He kicks off his dress shoes, climbing atop you with his knee inbetween your legs. His spine curves as he lowers down, lips brushing over your ear as he embraces you.
With some effort, you wrap your arms around him, smothered by warmth and the faint scent of sulphur. You do get used to it after a while. An open window allows a gentle breeze in the room, slowly drying the paint. The light diffuses through sheer curtains, and it makes you sleepy. Time is confusing and unruly here, but you crave a lazy afternoon (at least, that's how it feels) nap. Stroking the back of Raphael's hair, you relax back and close your eyes. Despite his reservations, Raphael soon joins you. His face stays buried against your neck, every breath embued with your smell. You're surrounded by each other, neither of you especially keen to move away.
ROLAN
Finding a place to sleep in Ramazith's Tower wasn't the difficult part, choosing where to sleep was. For the first few weeks, you and Rolan explored a great depth, you'd never climbed so many stairs and walked so many invisible platforms in your life.
One night, you'd decided rather adventurously to sleep up high on a balcony. You'd made a nest of sorts with Rolan, harvesting pillows and blankets and a mattress. The weather was clear and mild as the sky slowly turned to black. Rolan had set up approximately four hundred fail safes to ensure neither of you would fall in your sleep.
You both huddle down into the swathes of fabric. You remark to Rolan how different this was to the camps you'd slept in when you met him, or the Emerald Grove where he and his siblings had stayed. You face each other, legs interlocking, and Rolan places both hands on either side of your face. He remarks that it's to keep you warm but the air has barely a chill. You shift slightly to point out constellations in the sky, and Rolan's hands move downward and settle at your sides. He plays with the hem of your nightshirt, eyes affixed to wherever you point and gesture. The spell of night overtakes you both, and you fall asleep with your foreheads pressed lightly together.
waa we did it gamers my first multi character piece!! Originally this was supposed to be a short and sweet dotpoint-style headcanons post but apparently I can't help myself. Because of how many characters there were to write and because I'm me it took a little longer than expected but I'm really happy
I've been committing myself to doing even just a little tiny bit of writing/creative stuff every day (with some gaps obvs I'm only human) and I gotta say it really does help
so if you're reading this, go write something. Or draw, or edit, or whatever but just do a little bit of something today. its good for the soul
It’s another pretty short one this week, as I’ve had terrible Minthara brainrot and I’ve been able to write nothing but filthy smut 😔
Anyway, this one is some family friendly head canons about the ladies with a bonus Dame Aylin and Isobel!
Shadowheart
Shadowheart doesn’t say anything at first, but you do notice her skin get slightly redder, and you watch a tiny smirk grow across her face.
She’s not typically one for public displays of affection, but something about lap sitting is different.
It’s like affection with plausible deniability. What else was I supposed to do? Sit on the floor?
After you’ve done it once, Shadowheart considers the barrier broken and takes every opportunity to sit on your lap.
Sometimes you think she must have a sixth sense that tells her when you sit down, because she simply appears on your lap.
If you cross your legs or do anything else to prevent her sitting in your lap, she gives you a little cough to let you know you should remedy that as soon as possible.
Depending on who’s around, she’ll sometimes lean back against you, pressing her whole body to yours.
She likes it when you wrap your arms around her and rest your head on her shoulder.
While she prefers to be the one sitting on your lap, she’s still more than happy to let you sit on hers.
Lae’zel
The first time you try sitting on her lap, she pushes you off. Why are you sitting on top of her? Weirdo. You roll your eyes and sit on the ground.
But then she decides that it’s weirder you’re sitting on the ground so she gives you her seat.
But then she doesn’t want to stand anymore. Tsk’va. Whatever. Guess she’s gonna have to sit on you.
Lae’zel only ever sits on your lap, never the other way around. She oddly never picks up on any of the possible implications of that.
If anyone calls Lae’zel a bottom she’s gonna throw hands.
She doesn’t lay up against you or anything. To her this move is strictly practical, or at least she acts like it is.
You let her have it. As far as you’re concerned, you have a lovely girlfriend on your lap so you’re not going to complain.
Karlach
The first time you nonchalantly sit down in Karlach’s lap, she’s so chill and unfazed.
At least, that’s the vibe she’s trying to give off. She can be cool about this. So cool.
It’s less than a minute before her body starts to betray her. Her legs bounce up and down excitedly under you. As soon as you turn to face her, her stoic expression cracks into one of pure delight.
After that, Karlach pulls so many tricks to ask you to sit in her lap without actually having to ask.
Oh no! There’s no more chairs! Wherever will you sit? Looks like it’ll just have to be in her lap again. Ignore those broken chairs hidden in the corner, this isn’t about them.
You catch on pretty fast. Only so many chairs can disappear before things start to get suspicious.
You sit yourself on Karlach’s lap, watching the goofy smile grow across her face. “You know you can just ask, right?”
Her skin flushes and she buries her face in your neck. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Unfortunately, she’ll never sit on your lap because she’s too afraid to crush you. Even if you’re bigger than her. You’re too precious to risk it.
Minthara
Minthara is always taking up as much space as she desires in any given situation, so it’s not uncommon that she takes up the space of more than one person.
Luckily she’s always got a place for you to sit, whether that be in between her legs or on them.
She’s never bashful about pulling you into her lap, even when there people are around.
If anything, an audience actually encourages her. You are hers, and that is most clear to everyone when you’re perched on her thigh.
Other times she will be slightly more subtle, tapping her inner thigh in a silent invitation, queuing you to join her.
There are very few scenarios in which Minthara will sit on your lap though. At least, in public.
If you try to get her to sit, she’ll shoot you an “I know that you know this isn’t how this works” look, leaving you to let her take your seat and take your position on her lap.
Jaheira
It really depends on the day with Jaheira.
Most days she going to tell you to get an extra chair. There is no need for you to be sitting in her lap right now.
Sometimes, even if there is no extra chair she would have you sit at her feet in front of her before she let you into her lap.
But on those particularly long and hard days, when you come back looking exhausted and beat, she will allow for some extra tenderness.
She’ll gently guide your head to rest on her shoulder or against her chest and stroke your hair.
If you’re in a more comfortable space she will even slide her hand up under your shirt to rub your back.
More often than not, you fall asleep almost instantly, even if everyone around you is still making a ruckus.
She’s still not going to carry you to bed though. You can walk yourself there.
Dame Aylin x Isobel
Isobel is a princess and Dame Aylin is her throne. It’s more common than not the Isobel is on Aylin’s lap.
For Aylin, it’s like displaying a beautiful trophy. She needs everyone to look at her beautiful girlfriend right now.
The notion makes Isobel blush, but she’s just as proud to have Aylin as Aylin is to have her, so she’ll allow it.
Aylin doesn’t sit on Isobel’s lap, nor would she ever allow her to give up her seat, but Aylin will sit at her feet and gaze up at her with awe and wonder while Isobel smiles down at her and runs her hands through the aasimar’s hair.
And Selune forbid there’s no place for Isobel to sit. Aylin would sooner get down on one knee and let Isobel sit on her leg than leave a tired Isobel to stand.
Aylin’s shoulders are also an acceptable option. She can hoist Isobel up there with ease. She’ll never have to walk for any longer than she wishes.
Granted, it makes them like 10 feet tall, so there’s only a few places it’s applicable before Isobel has to be on alert for low hanging obstacles.
Lae’zel of Crèche K’liir’s guide to things that turn her on
She’s a fighter. You think violence won’t make her wet? Fighting. Wrestling. Swordplay. Knives. All the above will ignite a burning desire within her and won’t go out easily.
Circling back to wrestling; this one is like TOP tier for her. Something about the physicality and lack of weapons that really gets her hot and bothered.
Oh and after every battle you have a solid 15 minutes before she’s pulling you back against her chest, inhaling your scent deeply, and whispering some fifthly ass shit in your ear.
Lae’zel doesn’t understand gentle touch fully so aftercare will have the unintended effect of several more rounds.
She also is still learning to accept compliments so any type of praise makes her flustered. She’ll ignore it until you start coupling your praises with light touches to her bicep or her lower back.
Starting arguments with her just for angry sex pisses her off to no end but also she can’t get enough of the desperate noises you make after your sixth orgasm.
Lae’zel will never call sex “love making” but that doesn’t mean she won’t take part in it. Anytime you put yourself in harm’s way, she’s P I S S E D and dragging you away to her tent. Her words may be harsh but her touches are soft, her kisses are desperate, and you’re covered in the marks of love for you.
By complete accident I somehow have the autopsy scar mod on top of the bhaalist tattoo mod, don’t ask me how they’re both on my durge I have no idea how it happened. But it got me thinking how would the origin characters (+halsin) react/barely react to a lover that is heavily scarred and tattooed? (Set in Act 1)
Read more for the full brainrot
Astarion: The first time Astarion saw your body for himself was when he walked past your tent late at night, through the flaps in the entrance he saw all those scars, he couldn’t tell what had you awake this late in the night, especially mostly naked with your back turned. The vampire simply continued on his way to hunt for the night. He dropped it there, until that is, the second night in the clearing you two spent together. He was lying down leaning his head against his arms as his red eyes stared at your naked body. His eyes flowed down every scar that littered your body, he barely seemed to look at the tattoos but that’s what he asked about first “So, can you translate that one?” - he points to the tattoo across your left arm, lifting up the limb you pull your skin to take a proper look at it. It’s been a while since you properly saw it, because just out of sight enough to make it annoying to stare at. When you tell him Astarion seems content with the information. His fingers drift across the tattoo. It’s a tender moment until the elf’s hand floats toward your neck. His ice cold fingers dancing across the lingering puncture wounds on your neck - “But these are by far my favorite mark on you,” You lean into Astarion’s touch releasing a chuckling sigh before calling him the weirdest flirt you have ever seen.
Gale: He really didn’t mean to go to the river at the same time he truly meant to go two hours early when he said he would, but that tome was particularly interesting - the effects of adrenaline on libido, certainly important for a man so restricted by his netherese orb. But now it was two hours past and he definitely had a musk going on. Taking an extra robe and rag Gale went to the nearby river, only you were there too. Illuminated in moonlight you were bare in front of him. Gale cleared his throat loudly, trying to let you know he was there. What he did not expect was for you to whip around and get out of the water to say hello. He tried his best to only look at your face, he did not succeed. Your skin was glowing with a vei of water cascading down in droplets. Gale’s eyes followed one droplet from your hair, down your neck, across your chest until a certain tattoo caught his eye, infernal script. Trying to keep his focus on the tattoo rather than the flesh its on he asked you if it meant what he thought it did. He was right in fact, and you told him the story behind why you got it, quite the nice tale. The wizard relaxed enough to notice another scar across your soldier “Is that from a magic missile?” He asked without thinking. Nodding in confirmation you turned to show your shoulder blade where the other two missiles struck. As you turned around the coldness of the night hit you like a thunder wave, a massive shiver shook your entire body spraying tiny water droplets around. “Gosh you must be freezing,” - Gale wrapped you in his towel-rag before stressfully ushering you back towards the camp. Once you got back to your tent you realized you left your towel and clothes on a nearby rock, you could return the peeping Tom favor.
Halsin: Halsin adores you long before he ever saw your birthday suit, sure he thought about it, quite a lot, but with his focus deep on the shadow-curse he doesn’t have time to do much other than think about out. But the first time he does see you was far from romantic or sensual. A hook horror had slashed your entire back open when you got to close, and Halsin watched it all happen. Before the beast even hit the ground he was rushing over to you, he didn’t think, he just ripped your armor right off of you to get to the wound. You might have been screaming but his ears were ringing too loud to tell one noise from another. Halsin couldn’t even see where scar ended and fresh cut began, your tattoos were doused in enough blood to make them impossible to see against your skin. The bear of an elf’s hand floated above the wound with the same glowing blue light the hook horror’s body was basking in, thank silvanus he was far enough from the sussur tree for his magic to work. Even with his healing a scar in the same place as the monster's claw marks stayed. Halsin’s druidic skills must be faltering, that’s what he determines at least. Until the next day, you’re healed fully up and about getting ready to leave camp for the day. Halsin calls out your name - “I’m sorry I could not heal you fully, I tried best I could but the scar persists” to his confusion you begin laughing. The scar he’s so upset about has been on you for so long now, and you tell him such. His healing left no scar, in fact he healed you so well an old scar was able to show.
Karlach: The first time she saw you naked you were bathing next to each other after a battle. Even with Dammon’s initial upgrade you can’t touch each other, but you swore to find ways to be intimate without touching, just like this. However you neglected to inform her about what lay under your clothes until now, scars covering you head to toe interlaced with tattoos of varying quality. “Hey Soldier! How come you didn’t tell me before stealing my aesthetic!” You didn’t even register this was the first time exposing yourself in such a way, a brief moment of panic before you burst into a smile. “Come here, let me see them” Karlach makes you twirl around, using the faintest touch of her fingers to pull your arms out and see the tattoos wrapping around them. Her eyes continued to trail down your body, after a gasp she jumped back up to your face - “That burn scar looks like mine!” She said before pulling down her trousers to show you the near identically placed scar on her thigh. But Karlach didn’t ask about the obviously fresher stab scars, she continued to smile at her new discovery but lets the two of you properly bathe for once.
Lae’zel: Even when pinning you against a wall the githyanki warrior wasn’t particularly gentle. It’s not like you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into tonight, she had said pretty explicitly she seemed carnal pleasure. Somehow Lae’zel was even more assertive in such a scenario than during your adventures. You couldn’t even take your own armor off, she practically ripped it off of you. Your body is exposed to her in an instant, she doesn’t react, her hands go immediately to unlace your trousers and undergarments. The night is enjoyable even as exhausting as it was. Only much later does Lae’zel ever comment on them, and its in a conversation praising you two’s battle prowess “Each scar is a battle fought, a battle won.” You try not to tell her you have at least two scars from dropping the knife while cooking with Gale. She’s sweet in her own way.
Shadowheart: Shadowheart first saw you naked while healing a particularly cruel wound, goblin had snuck up on you and slashed your torso deep. You stabilized yourself quick enough with a healing potion but the wound persisted. After the battle you wandered your way over to Shadowhearts tent, asking for help. She laid you down atop her bedroll, sliding your shirt off as you let yourself relax into the makeshift bed. And then you caught it, Shadowheart’s eyes widened, shit. But she didn’t say anything; she pressed her warm hands towards your open wound as they lit alight with magic. Radiating from your gash the warm feeling washed over you, your eyes closed softly breathing out in relief. Shadowheart quelled her magic, looking over you for a fat moment. You can feel her eyes wandering over you, up and down your chest, down your stomach and across both your arms. The relief of healing has left you now but you’re still too scared to open your eyes. And then a soft hand traced along your largest scar, her fingers were so light it tickled. “I like your tattoos.” The half-elf’s voice was soft, her eyes focused back on your large scar, “How’d you get that one.” Whether or not you tell the story she’s content, happy to have this extra piece of you in her memory.
Wyll: Poor Wyll just wanted to ask about the plans for tomorrow, but not only did he smack his horns on the skeleton of your tent while entering but you’re also as naked as the day you were born. The man nearly shrieked like he saw a ghost, his entire chest swelled up with his shoulders shooting up and he looked like he just swallowed a frog. Without a word Wyll turned on his heel and left your tent, only after trying to cool his blushing face off did he even process all your markings. Upon the log he sat on he dragged his hand up and down his face trying to process what the hells just happened. And then you exited your tent, completely decent this time. You greeted Wyll and sat beside him wondering what he had barged in about in the first place. But the poor man can’t even look at you. He as calmly as he could gave you the sincerest apology you’ve ever heard. After your acceptance he finally turns to you “So what does that tattoo across your back mean?” You pause for a moment, then explain as best you can. And that conversation continues just like that, he’d ask how you got a certain scar or tattoo and you’d answer him. In return he showed you one particularly nasty scar on his arm from a monster he fought while traversing the sword coast. What may have started as the most embarrassing moment of your partnership ended with you closer than before.
