I've lost track of the tag titles. My apologies to 🌟@elceewunjo, 🌟@bloodsol94 & 🌟@emmyandthetieflings!
This is a hefty WIP divided into three parts. The chapter as a whole is much worse (steamier). A link is provided for anyone frustrated enough - because yes, cliffhangers, lol. This will be the last WIP for a good long while. I'm retreating to the writer's dungeon, and I have a heap of obligations to tackle (even if this technically counts as vacation)
Enjoy!
18+ below, pairing: Halsin x OC, location: The Healing Springs (waterfall)
Summary: Look at this terrifyingly desirable man realize that the woman he wants cannot stop looking at him, and watch him enjoy every second of it
She had seen Halsin shirtless before, even changed beside him, but always with her back turned whenever he unlaced his pants, and he had never looked at her. Now… her eyes mapped out what her mind had only dared to imagine: the divine curve of his glutes wrought in strength. Halsin was as naked as the day he was born; the flex of his muscles hinted at what was to come. Her heart raced.
He hummed softly, twisting his torso as he moved a washcloth in long, unhurried sweeps over his throat, across his chest, down to washboard abs. Every motion followed the wild trail of sprawling, dark hair. Tempest’s breath shortened, quickened, drawn to the hypnotic rhythm of his hands. She couldn’t look away, her gaze drifting downward to reveal the jutting profile—of his cock.
From that moment, thought ceased. She was all sensation—riveted, frozen. She knew she should leave, hide, vanish.
Look away!
But she couldn’t. Her every muscle wound tight like a spring, ready to snap.
That thing is massive... as thick as my wrist!
She had heard the old sayings—shower or grower—but even flaccid, Halsin was intimidating. The sheer thickness of his male member, and the fact that he was uncut too, stole her breath away, leaving her throat dry.
The care Halsin had lavished on his upper body extended downward.
His movements slowed, deliberate. One hand guided the cloth over his pubic hair while the other cupped the shaft, lifting, with a long, luxurious stroke, revealing the glans, thumb gently rubbing. A soft groan escaped him, making the hairs on her arms and neck stand on end.
I shouldn’t be watching this…
Something glinted in her periphery—her eyes snapped to the formation of quartz by the water's edge, to find her necklace resting there, just a short distance from where Halsin stood.
“Care to join me?” The Grand Druid chuckled in his Elven dialect.
Tempest’s eyes widened.
II
The look he gave her was molten, a wicked curve to his lips.
It was not the look of a man uncomfortable with his state of undress. Quite the contrary, he seemed to stand even taller, beneath the falling water.
“I was just thinking about you…” Halsin rumbled, nodding toward a pelt laid out on a flat stone. Tempest could only shake her head in panic.
Halsin laughed—dark, amused—and something in that sound brushed dangerously against her feminine core.
“Valourheart indeed,” he went on. “Not everyone can boast of wandering into an ancient bear’s den and living to tell about it.”
Propriety had been hammered into her bones: nudity was shameful, sinful, a sign of moral decay and lack of discipline. Skin was something to hide, to fear, to deny.
But Halsin’s people saw it differently; nudity was natural, neutral—a simple state of being. She had never asked him outright, but it wasn’t hard to imagine that philosophy suited him well, given how much he loathed wearing clothes.
Yet she couldn’t help feeling like a pervert.
What the hells am I doing? This is voyeurism! Accidental, but still! LEAVE.
She blinked, dazed, only then realizing he was speaking directly to her. That he knew she was there. That she had been gawking at him, likely hearing the frantic spiral of her thoughts. Mortification roared through her—she should throw herself into a bow, beg forgiveness, or fling herself off the nearest cliff.
But worse than the shame was the way her body reacted. The sudden, gut-deep arousal that rooted her to the spot… and the way Halsin’s blown-out gaze didn’t help. If anything, it made her feel as if he was savoring her reaction.
What is he doing?! No, no, no—don’t come over here! Please!
Finishing his washing, Halsin waded through the waters. Iridescent ripples of blue and green trailed around him as he approached, emerging in all his tousled, wet, glistening glory. Every pigment, every freckle, every scar was lit by the warm flush of copper in his skin. This wasn’t the wise, measured elder druid she knew. This was Halsin, with hot blood flowing through his veins.
III
She wasn’t standing before him in any official capacity. Clothed or not, she felt naked beneath that gaze. The awareness struck her spine like a spark—she felt seen, and hunted.
The brutal beauty of his body threatened to swallow her vision.
There was nothing soft about him; the sheer size of him stole the air from her lungs. Her gaze followed the dips and swells of his form, the wet fall of russet-brown hair streaked with gold—longer now, she realized, brushing past his shoulders. She had rarely seen it down like this.
His dripping, calloused hands hung relaxed at his sides. Yet there was a predatory grace in his stride, something controlled, confident, unhurried. He didn’t turn away. He didn’t hide a single inch of himself from her.
Tempest had never seen all of it before. But there had been many an evening spent by the campfire, wondering what exactly it looked like, and how far below the waistband it went. The blood-red vines, added—as was tradition—after a successful completion of the Three Circle trials, decided by combat, now extended from the side of his face, wound around his neck and arm, branching out across the right side of his torso, and deeper still, dipping into the ‘V’ of his pelvis and fading at the root of his manhood.
Stepping onto the ledge of the pool, Halsin’s silhouette was, in an instant, swallowed in shadow; she could only track him by the preternatural glow reflecting in his eyes. He closed in on her against the backdrop of the new moon and the starry night sky, above the forest.
Stopping just a hair's breadth away, to catch a coil of her silver hair, looping it around his finger before pulling it down—watching it spring back.
Snapping Tempest out of her stupor.
Her mouth moved uselessly before she uttered the one thing she did not mean to say: “You’re here…”
“Mh-hmm…” Halsin purred.
“I—I meant to say that this—there was... a squirrel! And I—I wasn’t expecting…” Tempest managed to convey her meaning with a series of frantic pointing and waving, in the general direction of the giant crystals, her neck a deep flush of red.
“A... squirrel?” Halsin echoed, brow raised in question as he turned away toward his designated spot. “Must’ve slipped my notice...” he concluded with insouciant charm.
❝ She licks blood off her fingers and she looks like divine absolution. Careful, Meleager; this is your sport, but she's not playing a game. Do not think you are safe because you love her. Do not think she will not stain her mouth red with your blood too. ❞ ( x )
Enver Gortash was someone who entertained her, fulfilled a need, and offered her the devotion she so desperately craved. There was something to be said for his intelligence, his ambition, and the obsessive fascination he held for her. She could appreciate the way his mind worked, the way he understood her hunger, the way his attention never seemed to waver from her. Perhaps in another life, she might have even allowed herself to become attached to him.
But none of that changed what he ultimately was to her.
Disposable.
Whatever satisfaction he gave her, it would always come second to her father and his will. And when the time came, when they had seized control of the brain, she would do exactly what was expected of her.
Sorry I was not much here recently -
I made some RP-blogs for my ocs ! (Not all of them , but some of them ! )
Here are the blog , you can check the intro post on each blog to see the TW warning and all !
I'll list the blog down here , with a little chibi of the characters :)
@teamplasmavermillon and @akeeteamskull
they are both former grunt from a team that dissolved , they are both just gonna talk about random things !
@team-galactic-commanders (they are both using the same blog )
They are talking about their work within the Team!
@prof-pheron-aether and @baltoy-backpacker
They both do research in their own way and are scientist or related to scientists :)
As a fan of Hannibal Lecter 🖤 both the books and films: I was wondering whether Ellith would ever serve a suspicious “foie gras” to her dinner guests 🍷🫣 While reading your WIPs - a funny scene appeared in my mind: Tempest asking Ellith what they had just eaten, complimenting their cooking and calling it delicious. Somehow, I can see Ellith replying with a wink:
“Oh, just something free-range, darling. More wine?”
Go on anon (or not anon) and ask me anything you want (Still accepting asks)
Aaah, thank you @scoldingdarjeeling for your question! Loved the first three movies, never read the books, never watched the series either, but Hannibal is ICONIC!
Honestly, I love the idea, but I’m afraid Ellith is a terrible cook 🤣
They never had to cook in their life
They like their meat and offal raw so there’s no point for them to learn how to cook (Gale tried and regretted it...Honestly that man is so patient with El, what a blessing🤗 ) - A little more about it here
That being said, the day Orin pretended to be Yenna and gave them some cooked cat-meat to eat, Ellith found it delicious, so maybe they’ll eventually try themself at cooking humanoid flesh, if only to better fuck up with people they don’t like.
BUT why would they do that to Tempest? Unless they’re challenging each other in the most toxic ways, I don’t think El would ever make her eat some human "foie gras"…
They’d encourage them to try the wine though 🍷😊(I promise it's not poisoned 🖤)
i keep thinking about high expectations sentinel would have of tempest. like yeah sentinel is the reason starscream and everyone else are considered dead, but he'd still hold tempestsong to that standard. he'd expect him to be even better than his dad and tempestsong pushes himself to go that far even if deep down he knows he'll never be as good as his dad and he'll suffer for it
I'm getting back into BG3 again, and doing a second run with my beloved "canon" Tav, Tempest.
She's a storm sorcerer and Wyll (and Karlach) smoocher, with a stoic "strong silent type" personality, unless she's doing dramatic monologues or getting excited about weather.
Visually, she's based on Storm from X-Men which...I know isn't the most original concept, but over my first playthrough with her she developed her own personality. I have some fanfic written for her, but want to do more.
Hope you like her! And yep, I'm still playing (and writing) Veilguard stuff too, Alana's not going anywhere.
