the feeling of jealousy catches him off-guard. he hadn’t felt this way for at least last two centuries
hides it well. mostly
says, he doesn’t mind staying at camp. then starts to whittle his ducks just a bit too vigorously
his smile? always warm, but it looses a little of his usual depth when you sit beside someone else by the nightly fire
meditates longer than usual, quietly asking The Oak Father why your attention matters this much to him
committing to the Shadow-Cursed Lands meant a lot to him, but if he’s honest, it did stung that he couldn’t get to know you the way he truly wanted to… (wink, wink)
enjoys it a little too much when you ask him for one more kiss—especially with the whole party watching
would happily take part in all your romantic escapades, and would openly tell you so
every time Astarion flashes you that smug grin and drops a flirty comment, Halsin is more possessive in bed than usual
he doesn’t plan it, doesn’t think now i’ll be rougher, closer, deeper. it just happens
because for all his years, for all the bodies he's held, none have ever reached him the way you do
I've been playing alot of harvest moon/stardew recently and was wondering how the companions would react to a tav or durge prefering to settle down for the farming life post game. I know Shadowheart would love it anyway but Astarion would be the type to groan about the summer heat at times.
Btw love your work ❤️
Awh thank you! I freaking love stardew valley, I actually got to the point where I would see things in real life and be like oh i need that for my bundle...
Minthara:
Minthara had agreed to come with you back to your little patch of dirt. That was the first miracle.
She stood at the edge of the field, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at the rows of squash you'd lovingly planted weeks ago. Her elegant armor had been swapped—begrudgingly—for leather trousers and a dark green blouse with the sleeves rolled up. She claimed she only wore it because it “blended well with the shadows.”
In reality, she looked dangerously attractive, and you told her so often enough that it stopped earning you eye rolls.
“I still don’t see the appeal,” she muttered one morning, kneeling beside you in the loamy soil as you both weeded a row of carrots. “Endless dirt. Scratching at the ground like a deep gnome grub. You truly believe this is more fulfilling than conquering the Underdark?”
You grinned, pushing your hair back and letting the sun warm your face. “The carrots don’t scream when I pull them out of the ground.”
Minthara snorted—an actual laugh, short and sharp. She caught herself, frowning like she hadn’t meant to let it slip.
“I could grow mushrooms,” she said after a pause. “Real mushrooms. Not these surface-dwelling imitations.”
You perked up. “You want to farm?”
“I do not want to farm,” she snapped, yanking a weed a little too aggressively. “I simply think someone must bring standards to this pitiful excuse for agriculture.”
That night, you caught her carefully organizing mushroom spores in neat rows in the shaded part of the garden, whispering Drow words of encouragement under her breath.
And every evening, she helped you without complaint. She said it was only because you were “hopeless on your own,” but there was a softness in her touch when she handed you tools, when she brushed dirt from your face. Once, she found a fat, horned beetle in the lettuce patch and spent nearly an hour observing it before letting it crawl onto her hand and releasing it at the edge of the forest.
“I could get used to this,” she murmured that night, curled beside you on the porch. The stars glittered above like Underdark crystal formations, distant and sharp.
“You already have,” you whispered back.
She didn’t argue.
Karlach:
Karlach loved it from the very first moment she stepped onto the farm.
“This place is sick!” she bellowed, boots thudding across the dirt as she chased one of the goats around the field. “Look at this little beastie—oh, she’s got attitude! Just like me!”
You could barely keep up with her enthusiasm.
Where you had slowly learned the rhythm of the fields, Karlach plunged headfirst into it—planting, harvesting, repairing fences with her bare hands. She named every single animal and gave them nicknames too. Your prize ram? “Sir Headbutt.” The hen with the limp? “Motherclucker”
You’d wake some mornings to find her sitting in the barn, curled up with your herd of goats, one snoring against her shoulder as she scratched behind its ears.
You stood in the doorway, arms folded. “I’m starting to think you love the goats more than me.”
Karlach looked up, grinning that wild, warm grin. “Babe. You don’t chew cud and you hog the blankets. These little sweeties are pure, no complaints.”
You made a show of gasping in betrayal, and she laughed so hard she nearly toppled into the hay.
She was clumsy with gardening, planting seeds so deep they never saw the light of day, but she didn’t care.
“I’m all about the brawn of the operation, baby!” she said, hoisting a broken fence post like a weapon of war. “You’re the one with the gentle hands. You’re the heart. I’m just the muscle.”
You couldn’t count how many times you found her fixing things, adding improvements. She built a rainwater system for the fields, oiled the hinges of every barn door, and even made a small, hand-carved sign with all the names of the animals.
She hung it crooked on purpose.
And on summer days, when the sun burned and the sweat clung to your back, she'd scoop water straight from the well and splash it over both of you, laughing as you sputtered.
“You look good with dirt on your nose,” she’d say, brushing it off with her calloused thumb.
And you’d smile, because she was the kind of fire that didn’t burn—it warmed. And here, among the goats and gardens and peace, her flame could finally just... flicker, without fear.
Lae'zel:
No one had expected Lae’zel to take well to the slow life of a farm. She had always been all sharp angles, roaring fire, and a blade ready at a moment’s notice. But then again—no one had expected her to stay, either. And she did. With you.
What none of you accounted for was how seriously she’d take the training of the livestock.
"These creatures lack discipline!" she declared one morning, standing in the field, arms crossed and unimpressed as a trio of goats casually ignored her barking orders and continued to gnaw on the same patch of fence they’d been told—repeatedly—not to chew.
She turned to you, eyes narrowed. “Do they understand Common?”
"They understand,” you said, trying not to laugh as a particularly rebellious chicken pecked at her boot. “They just don’t care.”
You would have offered to help, but you were too busy melting at the sight of Xan, the tiny Githyanki infant wrapped securely to her chest in a sling you had made together. Lae’zel had first insisted that she didn’t need it—that she could carry her hatchling in her arms at all times like a proper warrior—but even she couldn’t argue with the convenience of two free hands. Especially for chicken combat.
You’d find her some mornings standing in the pasture, her face serious as she recited commands to the goats and hens like they were soldiers on a battlefield. "Form ranks! Maintain spacing! No, Clucker, no! That is not your perch—”
And all the while, little Xan would nap contentedly against her, a bundle of soft green skin and big yellow eyes, utterly unmoved by the chaos of the yard. Occasionally he’d gurgle and tug at her leathers with one hand. Every time you saw the two of them, your heart swelled nearly to bursting.
You leaned against the fence one afternoon, watching as a pig stubbornly refused to move out of Lae'zel's designated “training circle.”
“You know,” you said, grinning as she glared at it with more intensity than she had ever shown a goblin, “maybe farming isn’t about commanding obedience.”
“It should be,” she replied sharply. “They would be more efficient.”
Still, you saw her lips twitch when a goat headbutted her in protest. And she didn’t stop them from clambering all over her later when you both sat in the grass and let Xan play in the sun.
Shadowheart:
The house was small, sun-dappled, and always smelled like hay and something baking. Scratch lay sprawled across the front steps most days, belly-up, completely spoiled. The owlbear—too big for the barn, too curious to be penned—had taken to nesting in the orchard, gently knocking apples from the trees like it was performing some kind of divine rite.
Shadowheart had fallen in love with it all faster than even she expected.
You found her in the mornings tending to the goats with a quiet, practiced grace, her long hair tied up messily, a smear of dirt across one cheek that she never noticed. Her cleric’s robes had been replaced with linen tunics and earth-toned skirts—though her armor still hung by the door, just in case.
“What happened to the chicken pen?” you asked once, only to be met with a long sigh and her pointing silently toward Scratch—muddy, feather-covered, and absolutely unrepentant.
You were never alone. Not really. The animals had adopted you both. Scratch followed you everywhere. The owlbear guarded the house like it was the holiest temple. You even had a few stray cats that Shadowheart swore she didn’t feed, but you caught her slipping them treats more often than not.
Still, there was one part of the land she hadn’t explored yet—because you were keeping it a secret.
You worked on it in the evenings, tucked away behind the western slope of the hill. A dozen rows of posts were driven deep into the soil, with the first few vines already climbing, green tendrils reaching for the sky. You’d been studying grape varieties, borrowing books from Gale, and mapping sun paths like your life depended on it.
And finally, one golden evening, you took her hand and said, “There’s something I want to show you.”
She followed without question, her fingers warm in yours, and when you rounded the hill, her breath caught.
“You—” she started. “You planted a vineyard?”
“For us,” you said simply. “I know you love wine. I thought… one day, you could make your own.”
She stared in stunned silence, eyes glossy in the light.
“This is…” Her voice trembled, and she smiled so wide you saw the dimples that only showed when she was truly, deeply happy. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You love it.”
“I do.” She launched herself at you, arms thrown around your neck, kissing you with such fervor that you stumbled backward into the half-dug earth. “You sappy, wonderful thing. I don’t deserve you.”
“You absolutely do,” you whispered, burying your face in her hair.
And from the other side of the hill, the owlbear let out a low hoot of approval—promptly followed by Scratch barking and barreling toward the two of you like a freight train.
“You know,” Shadowheart said as you braced for impact, “we might have too many animals.”
“I regret nothing.”
Jaheira:
Jaheira had said no at first.
She’d crossed her arms, brow furrowed in that eternally war-hardened way, and declared she was not the “settling down type.” A Harper, a druid, a warrior—too much duty still ran in her blood, and she wasn’t one to lie to herself.
And yet, you often found her on the porch in the morning, sleeves rolled up, tending to the basil or trimming back the ivy that tried to swallow the trellis. Her hands were calloused, steady, already shaped by years of coaxing life from the soil—and the moment she touched the earth here, she remembered. Not war. Not rebellion.
Peace.
She fit into the rhythm of the farm as if she’d always belonged. Milking the goats, harvesting herbs, reorganizing the tool shed within an inch of its life.
“A sharpened blade is less likely to betray you than a dull one,” she’d say when she caught you leaving shears in the dirt. You tried—gently—to get her to stop sometimes.
“Jaheira,” you’d say, handing her a mug of tea in the shade, “you’re supposed to relax. Remember that? The whole ‘breathing’ thing?”
She’d huff, but her smile would betray her.
“I’ll rest when the tomatoes stop growing unevenly,” she’d mutter, before adding with quiet fondness, “Besides… this is good work. Healing work.”
And the best days—the very best days—were when her children visited.
The younger ones would come tumbling down the trail with satchels and stories, running up to greet their mother, who stood like a pillar of strength at the garden gate. The number of times Jaheira had to pry Fig from a scarecrow as she was practising her 'wrestling moves' was one too many. You’d watch her soften visibly, smile lines crinkling, arms open as they piled into her.
They helped with the animals, with mixed results. One of them always ended up covered in chicken feathers, another face-first in a flowerbed, and Jaheira would roll her eyes while secretly delighting in every second of it.
It was domestic. Soft. Loud and messy and full of warmth.
Every now and then, you’d catch her staring out over the fields as the sun set, a quiet melancholy in her eyes. You knew she felt the pull of Harper duty—that someday, she’d have to return to that life. But she never pulled away from this one.
And you never stopped reminding her: “This moment is yours. Don’t let it slip away.”
Gale:
Gale loved farm life. Maybe a bit too much.
He delighted in every step of the process—from sowing seeds to baking fresh bread in the stone oven. He was the first to rise (with magically summoned coffee, of course), and the last to go to bed, always muttering about “optimal composting cycles” and “rotational planting enchantments.”
You never had to worry about the crops failing. Not when Gale enchanted the soil to stay perfectly moist and fertile. Not when your scarecrow occasionally waved to you and politely asked for new clothes.
And that might’ve been fine.
Until he started taking the produce to Blackstaff Academy.
"Look at this carrot!" he’d proclaim with the glee of a proud parent, holding up a perfectly orange, absolutely normal vegetable.
Then he’d bring it back.
And it would be the size of a horse’s leg, glowing faintly, humming with a magical pulse, and—for reasons unknown—smelling like cinnamon.
"Gale!" you’d exclaim. "It’s a carrot. It does not need to be arcane-tuned!"
“But imagine the nutritional value!” he’d insist, delighted. “It now increases constitution by two points for an hour! Also, I added a small glamour charm—look, it sparkles in the moonlight!”
You buried your face in your hands. “It was for stew. Now it looks like it is for a health potion with a beard.”
The tomatoes came back one week with eyes and a faint sense of existential dread. The potatoes exploded on contact with fire. A single cucumber once tried to recite Elminister.
You instituted a new rule: No magical alterations unless specifically requested.
Gale apologized with his signature dramatic charm, bowing deeply and presenting you with a bouquet of roses (grown in your garden, made of light, that sang quietly when touched). You forgave him. Eventually.
You did catch him sneaking a pumpkin to his satchel the next week. You pretended not to see it.
After all, the man who once swallowed a Netherese orb deserved a little whimsy.
But gods help him if your wine starts talking.
Astarion:
The summer sun blazed above your little stretch of farmland, turning the sky into a wide, cloudless expanse of light and heat. Cicadas sang from the trees. The golden fields shimmered. You were sweating through your shirt, but you'd gotten used to it by now. Not everyone had, though.
“I am wilting,” Astarion declared from the shade of a fig tree, fanning himself with a piece of parchment and looking like the most glamorous corpse in Faerûn.
You were knee-deep in the garden bed, dirt up to your elbows, pulling weeds with the satisfied sort of grunt that only came from knowing your tomatoes were going to thrill the next farmer’s market.
“You know, you are wearing a magical ring that lets you walk in the sun,” you reminded him, not even glancing back.
“Yes, and I am grateful,” he said in a tone that was both long-suffering and exasperated. “But that doesn’t mean I must enjoy it. Honestly, do farms not understand the concept of ‘shade’? Or a cool breeze? Or a bloody parasol?”
You chuckled and wiped sweat from your brow. “I can take the ring back, you know. Could always go back to lurking in crypts and brooding in velvet.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then: “How dare you.”
You turned just in time to see him stalk toward you, predator grace still intact despite his muttering.
“That was a threat, wasn’t it?” he said, tone mock-scandalized. “You’d condemn me to a shadowed existence just to win this argument?”
Before you could get a word out, Astarion planted both hands on your chest and shoved. You stumbled backward with a yelp, landing with a mighty splash in the nearby pond, water closing over your head with a slap. When you surfaced, spitting water and pushing your hair out of your face, he was at the edge of the pond, arms folded, grinning.
“Next time you threaten to take away my precious accessories,” he said smugly, “perhaps you’ll remember who you’re dealing with.”
“Oh, I remember,” you said, swimming toward him with a grin of your own. “I also remember that you’re a terrible swimmer.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t you—!”
You grabbed his ankle and yanked. Astarion screeched like an offended seagull as he tumbled in after you, limbs flailing in the most elegant way a vampire can flail. The water swallowed him with a splash, and when he resurfaced, gasping, you were already laughing.
“Well,” you said, treading water beside him. “You’re cool now.”
His curls were plastered to his forehead, pale skin gleaming with pond water, clothes clinging in all the right places.
“I loathe you,” he hissed, completely unconvincing as he waded toward you.
“You love me,” you replied, and when he tried to dunk you under, you laughed even harder. He did try to drown you (with affection), and the pond echoed with splashes and laughter long into the afternoon.
Wyll:
Wyll loved the farm. Really, truly loved it. He dove into farm life with the same unshakable optimism he brought to battle: sleeves rolled up, a bright smile on his face, and an absolutely terrible sense of crop rotation.
“Look!” he said, beaming, holding up a vaguely wilted carrot. “That’s my fifth one! It only took me six tries!”
The carrot was... lopsided. And slightly blue.
You peered at it. “Wyll... did you plant it next to Gale’s ‘experimental vegetables’ again?”
He gave you a sheepish grin. “Maybe?”
Despite his noble upbringing, Wyll took to labor like it was second nature. He loved feeding the chickens (even if they pecked at his boots), singing as he milked the goats (who responded by trying to eat his shirt), and tending the soil (even if he constantly mixed up which plants needed full sun or partial shade).
But he tried. Gods, did he try.
He’d wake up before sunrise to help gather eggs and bring you wildflowers with muddy fingers and a bashful smile. He gave names to every single pumpkin, saluted the cows like old comrades, and taught the pigs how to sit. (One of them sort of learned. You suspected it was coincidence.)
The vegetables he harvested often ended up a little too bruised, or crooked, or tiny—but he presented them with the proud air of someone who had just defeated a demon lord.
“This one’s for you,” he’d say, placing a funny little beet in your hand like it was a diamond.
And honestly? It was perfect. Because Wyll’s joy was infectious. His laughter echoed over the fields. His presence made every sunrise feel warmer, every day brighter. Even if his corn always grew sideways.
“I might not be the best farmer,” he’d admit, rubbing the back of his neck, “but I’m exactly where I want to be.”
And when you kissed him, fingers brushing dirt from his cheek, you couldn’t help but agree.
Halsin:
If anyone was born to thrive on a farm, it was Halsin.
Where others groaned about early mornings and sore backs, Halsin greeted the day with that warm, deep voice and a calm certainty that made the roosters crow more enthusiastically. Shirtless more often than not, with the morning light catching on his golden skin and broad shoulders, he looked like a god of the harvest incarnate—muscles flexing as he hefted hay bales like they were pillows.
You tried not to gawk every time he wiped the sweat from his brow with the hem of his tunic.
(You failed often.)
“I thought you were a druid,” you teased one day, leaning on a fencepost, watching him load the cart with fresh hay. “Shouldn’t you be turning into a bear and napping under trees or something?”
Halsin smiled, the kind of smile that settled in your bones like warmth. “Being one with nature doesn’t mean shying away from hard work. Besides, the goats get nervous when I shift. And they like it when I talk to them.”
He said this while gently stroking the head of a particularly moody billy goat, who stared up at him like he hung the moon.
You raised a brow. “Are you telling them secrets?”
“I’m telling them not to eat your herb garden,” he said. “Again.”
It wasn’t just his strength or his ease with the animals—it was the way Halsin belonged here. The land responded to him. Trees leaned in closer. The soil felt richer. Even the bees seemed to hover around him longer than they should’ve. And when the chores were done and you sat together beneath the old oak with your hands dirty and your hearts full, it felt like everything was in balance.
He never rushed you, never questioned your need for this life. He only helped shape it into something stronger, steadier. More alive.
And when he pressed a kiss to your temple after a long day, murmuring about stew for dinner and the chickens needing checking, and building some new play equipment for the goats -and the orphans, you couldn't help but smile.
Because your druid? He wasn’t just a bear in the forest. He was the heart of this little farm.
OMG how freaking wholesome was this, I did it more as a drabble style as I kinda had rambling thoughts about this, but I hope you guys enjoyed this! - Seluney xox
If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x
Pairing: Halsin x Tav (female reader)
WC: 3,811
Summary: There's a rite of blooming that Halsin feels called to do in the forests surrounding camp. He feels safe with you, secure in the knowledge that you'll keep him safe as he brings fruit to bare in a ritual.
Tags: ritual sex, grounding, body worship, female oral, breeding if you squint?
NSFW
this is written in a new writing software so sorry if the formatting wound up odd in the cross over (ellipsus, i quite like it actually), and edited by my always lovely and amazing beta @emfirebender! enjoy some Halsin! we sure did :) 💙💚
(Suggestions/pairings/spicy ideas or challenges are welcome!)
--
Halsin’s invitation is not spoken lightly.
He says your name as if it belongs in his mouth; deliberate, careful, like a sacred verse recited at the foot of an altar. His voice is low and laced with meaning, but devoid of demand. It’s not a command. It’s a gift, and an exceptional one. “Come with me,” he says, and though his tone is gentle, something ancient stirs beneath the words, rooted and waiting. The air thickens, the soil seems to warm beneath your feet, and every leaf in earshot stills.
He doesn’t reach for you. Instead he simply turns, barefoot and steady, and you follow him as if pulled on an unseen tether. Past the soft boundary of the camp, past the sentinel trees whose branches seem to bow in recognition. Soon enough you find yourself deep into the wooded copse and with every step into the forest’s heart, the world grows quieter, more reverent. The air grows heavy with moisture and meaning, nature holding its breath at your approach. The moonlight here feels different, weightier somehow, with the shadows coiling at your feet. You feel it in your belly— in the slickness between your thighs.
The trail disappears beneath the new Spring’s eager growth. Moss thickens beneath your soles, plush and yielding. Blue flowers, tiny and luminescent, bloom as your skin brushes them, as if called to life by your passing. Spore-laced air drifts thick as incense, curling in your hair, clinging to your lashes. The scent is damp and green and faintly sweet, like something blooming after rain. You feel seen. Unmade. Desired by the land itself.
At last, Halsin stops.
The glade is alive. Not in the way that plants are alive, but in the way that even long forgotten temples remember. Moss breathes beneath your feet. Stones encircle the space like ancient sentries, half-swallowed by ivy, crowned in white nocturnal blossoms. In the center, an ancient tree towers with impossible grace. White petals spill from its limbs like falling stars, blooming only in the hush of night. The air here is dense with meaning. You feel it settle into your lungs, into your blood. Everything here has the unmistakable taste of beginning, of renewal.
Halsin turns, golden even in the shadows, his silhouette cut in solemn lines against the bioluminescence behind him. His bare chest catches the moonlight in silver arcs. His hair is damp with sweat or dew. When his eyes meet yours there’s something in them. Something sharper, hungrier. Something ritualistic.
“The Spring Equinox,” he says, voice rough velvet, “is not simply a date. It is the axis upon which the entire season turns. It marks the end of sleep. The beginning of bloom. The moment the world remembers itself. The time when all things, beast, tree, and man, must remember their need to touch, to hunger, to thrive."
You swallow hard. Your throat is dry and tight.
"This rite is older than any written instruction," he continues, steadfast eyes never leaving yours. "It is not performed. It is surrendered to. We submit to it. We become the vessel.” He puts a hand to his own chest, dipping his head to regard you with respect. This is Holiness to him. “We offer our bodies, yes, but also our breath, our blood, our will. We let the seasons pass through us. We let the body be broken open by it. And when it finishes with us… we are changed, and the world blooms anew."
"It blooms anew?" you echo, the slightest bit of hesitation evident in your voice.
"The area will be cleansed, the ground sanctified. It's not just the soul that's changed in the rite. The land remembers. Where we join, the forest marks it. It blooms louder the next spring. It beats back the darkness that we've both seen encroaching on the land." Your mind flashes back to the Shadow-cursed lands and the darkness emanating from Thaniel, tainting the ground and the very essence of the world.
"Then let me see you as you are, antlers and all. Don't mistake me for something fragile at the center. We've come this far together, so take me the rest of the way there. I came here to bloom." Your own voice feels foreign to your ears with how assured you are.
His eyes glow faintly in the dimness with their rich intensity, earthen and grounding.
“I have prepared,” he says, voice quieter now, gentler. “Three days without food. Without fire. I let the river scour me raw until my skin burned with cold. I walked barefoot beneath the stars and let the wind cleanse me. I’m empty now. Carved out by the Mother and made ready.” He takes a breath and it’s shaky despite his poise; he’s just as nervous as you are. “But a vessel alone is a hollow thing. I need one who can anchor me. One who will not break when I come undone. Who will see what I become and not turn away.”
Your heart is pounding hard enough to bruise bone, pulse thundering in your throat and blood rushing in your ears.
“Why me?” you ask, your voice a tremor against the stillness. It escapes before you can stop it, a momentary show of weakness.
He steps forward. It’s just one step, but the air reacts like he’s crossed a boundary. It presses in around you, warm and thick and humming, like the glade itself is listening for his answer.
“Because the forest listens when you moan. Because your scent is carved into my bones. Because you undo me with a look, and still, I am not afraid. Because I have imagined taking you a hundred ways beneath a hundred trees, and still it is never enough.” His jaw flexes. “And because when I lose myself tonight, I want to be found in you.”
He’s close now. Not touching, not yet, but the heat of him rolls over your skin. The scent of resin and warm leaves radiates from his chest. Under it: something darker. Not violent, but vast. Wild. Like wet fur and lightning, feral musk and fresh-cut blooms. It terrifies you. It thrills you.
“You may still say no, still walk away,” he says, voice gone rough and hushed. “But if you remain, if you open yourself to this rite… I will not stop once it begins. There will be no holding back. No gentleness. No false restraint. I will take you until the forest itself is sated.”
The glade tightens around you, listening with bated breath. Nothing stirs, and time pauses to the perfect point of a needle, poised on a dew drop. Mother nature herself kneels to you, holding space for your momentary internal pause.
Then, softly, reverently, he speaks your name. It's no longer a question.
It's a ritual unto itself.
“Will you let me bless you?”
“Yes.”
The rush of air that leaves him is replicated by the forest around you and it seems to surge forward as he does, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you close to him in one motion. Halsin’s lips find yours quickly, a soft hesitation still behind his motions. You part your lips against him and return the kiss, bringing a hand up to caress his cheek gently. At your touch any pretense of holding himself back disappears, and a low growl rumbles in the back of his throat like rolling thunder. A small part of you cowers at the sound and the implication, but it shrinks away to nothing when Halsin’s calloused hand lands on your waist.
His hands are large for an elf, but you never expected that he would be able to engulf your whole hip in one palm. You’ve never felt so fragile, yet so gently handled. Halsin’s lips move from yours to the hollow behind your ear. His hair tickles you and goosebumps erupt on your arms and neck. When he speaks again his voice is raw, thick with emotion.
“You… Are the whole of me. Would that I could have filled you with only myself before the rite… But this was needed of me, of us.” The hand on your waist flexes just slightly, just enough to show how much he’s holding himself back, keeping the beast at bay a little longer, to be present with you as just himself. His strong, tanned arms wrap around your body like ivy along a beautiful trellis.
One hand presses gently between your shoulder blades as the other tilts your chin upward. Halsin’s lips find the hollow at your collarbones and he presses another kiss there, starting to sear a scorching path to your navel. He lowers himself in front of you, sinking to his knees and running his nose gently along the hem of your low-slung cloth skirt. On instinct you drop your hand to his head, carding your fingers through his brown locks.
A gasp tears its way from your throat when he positions his mouth between your thighs, lifting one leg over his shoulder with careful strength and balancing you on him. The weight of you against him draws a pleased sound from deep in his chest, rumbling and animalistic with its intent. Heated air from his quick breaths spreads along your center and you’re not surprised to find a low burning fire already in your core. The first press of his tongue against your cunt is met with groans from both of you— yours of pleasure and his of embers stoked to roaring flame.
A kiss, light and breath-warm, pressed to your slick center. Then another. His mouth opens, tasting you slowly, savoring like it’s his first drop of water after days in the sun. A peach, pared open for him and dripping with the simple press of a finger to the flesh. Large hands manipulate your body with ease, and the same gentleness and care you’ve come to expect of him.
The moan he gives is low and shaken. “You taste like spring. Like waking up.” At his words you tighten your fingers in his hair, looking down at him and watching with soft pants of desire. His eyes are closed, eyelashes tickling the insides of your thighs as he caresses his nose along your pussy. With every movement of his nose and tongue across your clit you breathe out in a rush, your hips starting to move counter to his tongue.
“Are you… Are you still you?” you venture, tugging his hair gently until he pulls back and allows his eyes to meet yours. They’re clear, fully him.
"You will know when I'm gone, love." His voice rumbles in your core and you watch him with half-lidded eyes as he runs the tip of his nose just below your navel. "This body is precious. I'm afraid of harming you."
"Sweet bear," you croon, your hand running soothingly through his hair. His eyes close again and he leans his forehead against you, wide palms caressing either leg where he holds you against him. "I came with you willingly. I didn't come here to tremble like grass before your storm. Show me the gales inside, and let the Mother heal." This time when he meets your gaze again there's something deeper- an acceptance that you truly won't turn away. A letting go.
"As you wish." With no more hesitation he devotes himself entirely to your pleasure, tongue slow and deliberate, unfurling you with each stroke. His lips seal around you, sucking softly, and your hands twist into his hair again. You brace against his shoulders, gasping, thighs shaking with the effort of staying upright, fingernails digging in the meat of his shoulder. Halsin holds you firm, one hand spanning your back, the other gripping your thigh with reverent possessiveness.
His eyes flicker open to meet yours, and it’s almost like staring into the forest itself.
Wild. Rooted. Eternal.
When you cry out, when your legs begin to tremble and your orgasm threatens to crash over you like storm tide, he doesn't stop. He holds you tighter. Guides you through it. You cum with a shudder, head thrown back, body arching against him, and Halsin's hands tighten in response against you. He holds you like that as the echoes fade, as the night seeps back into your awareness, and when your breath finally steadies he presses a kiss to your inner thigh.
"Now is the forest's turn," he murmurs, presses another sticky kiss to the sensitive skin below your navel. When you nod your continued assent he lets your leg drop gently back to the forest floor, rising with one fluid motion. Before he can speak again, your hand finds his chiseled jaw.
"Let the forest remember us." He smiles at your words, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours.
"It will." The arc of his shoulders and the tremble in his breath betray how staunchly he’s holding the beast at bay, how deeply your permission steadies him. You can feel it in the air now, thicker and warmer as if the rite is already blooming around you in response to your first climax.
The moss beneath your feet has gone plush. Springy. The petals that have fallen from the great tree seem to gather themselves into a soft nest where he guides you with care. There's no force in his actions, only quiet inevitability and soft affection. Like water drawn downhill. When your head touches the soft moss pillow he follows, pressing his forehead to yours and locking eyes with you.
He presses his forehead to yours again. “Lay back,” he whispers. “Let me see you.”
When you obey, the hush that falls over the glade is absolute. Even the wind goes still. His hand rests at the junction of your hip and thigh, thumb rubbing the sensitive skin there.
You watch his eyes scan across the whole of your body, drinking in the sight of supple flesh and devotional beauty. His tongue darts out to meet his lower lip, the only nervous gesture you've ever seen the man make. The other hand, somewhat shakily, goes to the base of his cock where he strokes himself, flushed and pulsing.
You watch the moment that his restraint breaks.
There's the curl of his lip as he presses just the head of his cock inside of you that gives it away, and the furrowing of his brow as your tightness envelopes him. Your cunt is already soaked from his mouth and the glide is smooth, easy. He tries and fails to bite back a groan, meeting your eyes with a wild look in his own. A single bead of sweat runs down his temple and you track it until it meets his jaw.
With one hand splayed beside your head and the other steadying your hip, Halsin pushes inside. Slow. So achingly slow you can feel every trembling inch. It’s overwhelming and the stretch feels nearly unbearable, until it isn’t. Until it feels right.
You don't breathe, not fully, at least. Not until he's buried to the hilt and trembling above you.
You gasp as he moves, testing the rhythm, drawing halfway out only to sink back in with an unhurried groan. The weight of him is immense, both in body and presence, his thrusts steady as rain. The tree overhead groans with it, shedding petals like offerings to your joining. Your fingers dig into his back, sliding against the sweat gathering there. Each thrust presses your hips into the moss, grounding you to the land itself.
"This," he breathes against your mouth, "is what the season aches for—this heat, this wetness, this closeness of two beings." Halsin's hand comes to your cheek, roughly cupping your face in his palm as his breathing grows heavier. "Do you feel it? Tell me you feel it."
Your moans aren’t quiet now. They can’t be. He pulls them, aching, from you with every motion of his cock. They echo, and you realize that that is part of the rite too— your pleasure, your sound, your yes, filling the clearing. Letting the gods, if they still listen, know you chose this. That you welcomed it.
Halsin’s head drops into the crook of your neck. “Say it,” he whispers, voice frayed and tight, "say that you feel it."
"I feel it." Your lips ghost against his as you reassure him. "I feel it all. The forest is here with us, Halsin. Let go." Halsin growls lightly in response, his hips stuttering. A low rumble grows from his chest, something deeper, more wild. A sound dragged from the heart of the rite, and in response he starts to move harder. Not rough, but full… Devouring.
You wrap your legs around him instinctively, gasping each time he sinks home, and you swear the flowers bloom faster, the wind stirs stronger. The entire glade is being rewritten with every thrust of the druid above you. Just before he falls apart you feel the shift. Not in his rhythm or pace, but in him. A tremor ripples through his limbs, the power coiling under his skin.
"Stay with me," he growls, his voice low even as his eyes briefly reflect something deeper, something worried.
You do.
His thrusts deepen into long and unhurried strokes that seem to reach into your very lungs, claiming every breath before it can fully leave you. The moss gives slightly beneath your back with each movement, springy and wet. It makes for an interesting dichotomy, cool where your spine presses into it but burning where his skin touches yours. Halsin's strong body surrounds you entirely, his forearms braced by either side of you, chest brushing yours with every motion of his hips, and the thick root of him pulsing inside of you a second heartbeat.
One of his hands slides beneath you to the small of your back, levying you against him and changing the angle, allowing his every thrust to press hard against that aching place inside of you that makes you see stars. The sounds that spill from you are wholly ones of filthy pleasure, echoing against the canopy of the leaves. Every breath you drag is filled with him now— his sweat on your tongue, his name on your lips and your slickness still lingering on his. You cling tightly to him, your nails digging furrows into the skin of his back, making him shudder with each score.
"Look at me," he commands, his voice deeper, more primal. Halsin pulls back from you just enough for your eyes to meet. His eyes are intense, blown black with arousal and the presence of… something else. "Don't look away. Not when I make you cum."
He doesn't wait for your response, reaching between your bodies with a shaking hand, rough thumb finding your clit with precision. His pressure is just right, circling, coaxing, devastating— you aren't prepared for it. Your body arches against his as you tighten on his cock, mouth falling open with a wordless cry of pleasure, every sound swallowed greedily by the glade around you, the forest itself drinking you in.
"That's it," Halsin whispers in encouragement, his eyes taking in every inch of you, "let it take you. Let it change you."
And gods, does it.
You shatter like a storm breaking over the treetops, the band of pleasure in your gut snapped taut and broken by gale force winds. Halsin holds you through it once more, hips still thrusting against yours and whispering to you, even as you come down gasping, dizzy, wet with sweat and the thick scents of moss and sap and sex.
Halsin groans again, lower now, the sound scraping raw from his throat as though he's been waiting a lifetime to release it. Your name falls in a litany from his lips, fractured and reverent. He loses whatever fragile restraint remained to him, his rhythm stuttering and then breaking entirely. His hips snap into you with no identifiable pattern, each thrust driving a cry from your mouth, body already oversensitive and trembling.
You cling to him anyway, taking all of him, as you promised you would.
The full weight of him bears down on you like thunder made flesh, all primal arousal and self gratification.
"I can't-" he chokes, voice sticking thickly in his throat, "I can't stop- you're-" His body tenses over you, every muscle pulled as taut as a bowstring. The he surges forward, burying his cock in you as deep as he can, whole frame shuddering and breath catching against your skin as his climax finally takes him— forceful, unending.
Halsin groans your name like it's the only thing tethering himself to his body, spilling inside of you in hot, heavy pulses, hips jerking with each wave of pleasure. Finally his forehead drops to your shoulder and he growls from deep within his chest, clutching you to him as though he might fall apart without you there to hold him together.
The forest holds its breath.
So do you.
Everything is still except for the tremor in Halsin's limbs and the sharp, panting breaths he draws against your neck. He doesn't pull out. Doesn't move. Not yet. He just lays over you like a great oak fallen in worship before a storm, chest heaving, cum leaking from where the two of you are joined.
Beneath the thunder of release and beneath the sweat and your pulse, you feel it— the glade remembering, waking up, blooming anew.
You lie together in the silence that follows, the sound of your mingled breaths slowly softening. Halsin's weight remains above you, grounding, anchoring. His arms are wrapped fully around you, not with passion, now, but awe. The tremble in his arms is different as well, as though something vast inside of him has finally quieted.
And then the glade exhales.
A warmth pulses beneath you, faint and golden, spreading in slow and deliberate rings. Where your bodies met, where your breath caught and his name left your throat in a cry of release, the moss grows deeper, thicker. From the base of the great tree, white blossoms unfold, the petals full and dewy. The earth beneath your spine thrums with new life and around the edge of the glade, new vines creep and curl. Ferns begin to stretch toward you like supplicants.
The forest remembers.
You feel it claim the shape of your pleasure and the weight of his body, the place where his seed spilled inside of you. It records each gasp and rhythm and whispered name in every root and petal, in soil and in leaf. A prayer written in sweat and joined flesh.
Halsin brushes a kiss to your temple gently. "We've given the land something to sing about, hm?"
Overhead the tree shivers in full bloom, shedding soft white petals across your skin like falling stars.
Consistently chooses to deal with his feelings on his own instead of with others; if you tell him the Rite of Thorns has completed, he says he needs to go be alone. In the deleted scene where you could collapse his portal, he would have gone off to be alone before leaving the party. He mentions after the Shadow Curse that he'd became fond of lonely nights alone with honey mead.
Laments his lack of peers, stating that his forced leadership role stole away the few the Shadow Curse didn't kill, and even cites this as part of the reason he began to "gild undeserving memories of his youth" and romanticize being a sex slave as he had been before.
Wants a family, but hasn't had one, and seems to think during the main game that his chance his slipped him by due to how much time he spent as Archdruid; also misses his birth family who died years ago.
Is adored and revered by some of the Druids, but hated by just many, seen as weak, ineffectual, and even the cause of them not being able to fight back the goblin armies.
Is blamed by the Tiefling refugees for what happened, or at least associated with their trauma so much that if you control Halsin in act 2 and attempt to speak with them, they refuse to talk to him.
Has had unique traumas that the other tadfools don't always understand, being frustrated at times with his laser-focus on the Shadow Curse, and sometimes not understanding the significance of him saying he won't drink except on very special occasions anymore (despite being very well-meaning when they suggest breaking his dry streak).
Was lonely enough, and not seen for HIMSELF enough, that just journeying with you is something he cites as one of the happiest, if not the happiest, time of his life (the note he sends you in the epilogue if he's left behind in the Shadow-Cursed Lands; his Speak With Dead dialogue if killed by Orin)
Repeatedly relies on you as the player for physical safety (rescue from the goblins, protection from the portal, potentially rescuing from Orin), emotional intimacy whether romantic or platonic, sexual intimacy if the player is interested, and the ability to be himself and be pulled from what he describes as the "fog" that fell over him with the Shadow Curse (which ftr is absolutely a metaphor for depression, almost all of us who have had it will describe it the same way)
Loves you so much if you pursue a relationship and yet doesn't believe for a moment you'd actually want to go with him to his new commune, to the point of treating it like a forgone conclusion that you won't and being completely taken aback when you say of course you're coming; even after living together for six months, he still believes you don't actually want to stay with him forever, and that the instant seeing your old friends reminds you of your adventuring days, you'll want to run off again and leave him behind. (And yet despite this, despite being in agony about it, he STILL comes without hesitation, both because he wants to see his old friends too and because he knows that even if you do decide you want to leave, he has no right to stop you.)
In short: Halsin has been isolated for so much of his life, and is so used to being left behind (willingly or not) that he just doesn't have a framework for a happy long-term relationship, and is unused to being able to rely on others to fulfill his emotions or social needs until he meets you. You aren't just a lover- you're his family, the first person to show him care in a VERY long time.
Summary: The Druid wants to claim you as his. You happily oblige.
Author’s Note: I love Halsin so much (if it wasn’t already obvious by how much he appears in my Kinktober list). I’m so excited to write about him more.
Warnings/tags: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, set during the party at the end of Act 3, yearning, breeding kink, oral sex (f! receiving), missionary position, multiple orgasms, not beta read
Word count: 2k
Six months. It had been six long months since the last time you saw your companions you spent so much time with while fighting off Absolute cultists. Six months helping rebuild Baldur's Gate. Six months since you saw him.
Halsin, the now ex-first Druid of the Emerald Grove had left the city, settling somewhere in the Western Heartlands where the Shadow Curse had finally been lifted. While traveling together, you had grown quite fond of the Druid. The two of you became very close, even spending more than one night together indulging in one another.
But your partnership split, the two of you going your separate ways after the Elder Brain was no longer a threat. Halsin had a new responsibility. A litter of wards and a region to rebuild, no longer held back by the shadows. You felt like you also had a responsibility to rebuild, but in Baldur’s Gate.
So the two of you went in different directions. It wasn’t out of malice. There was no angry breakup between lovers, just two people with a common goal to bring life back to Faerûn.
But you couldn’t lie to yourself. You missed Halsin dearly. You thought about the man and what could’ve been if perhaps you had gone with him. When you slipped into your bed at night, drifting into a deep sleep, you would dream about him. Some days you felt like you were mourning him. Even though the man was very much alive you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of grief, as if you would never get to see him again.
But then you got the invitation. A letter scrawled in the writing of a former skeletal camp companion. An invitation asking you to attend a party, right back where your journey had begun all those months ago.
Memories flashed in your mind when you thought about all of the good and bad of those months on the road. You couldn’t help but wonder what your friends had been up to. You couldn’t wait to see them all but you especially couldn’t wait for Halsin.
When you arrived at the campgrounds you were taken aback. Who knew Withers knew how to throw such a great party?
There were tables set out with enough food and drink to feed you and your companions for days. A was a fire burning, along with several torches, illuminating the patch of land in the darkness. There were even decorations, banners strung about the camp.
You and Gale were the first two to arrive. He was accompanied by his tressym, Tara, whom you finally had the pleasure of meeting. Not long after that more arrived, one by one filing in out of portals.
When Halsin stepped through, you felt your heart skip a beat.
Without hesitation, he made his way to you first, pulling you in his arms and hugging you. Part of you nearly cried tears of joy. You knew you had missed him but with him standing in front of you, entrapping you in his embrace, you realized it was more than that.
You had been longing for this, for him. Spending your days yearning, hoping that someday the two of you would make your way back to each other.
You melted into him, holding onto him. You savored his warmth, the soft sound of his heartbeat, the slight rumble in his chest as he hummed in satisfaction.
“That was more than worth the wait. I have missed you, my heart,” Halsin said.
He didn’t fully pull away, keeping you in his arms.
“I missed you too,” you said before planting a soft kiss on his lips.
The rest of your night was mostly spent with Halsin. You caught up with your other companions as well but as the night progressed and the others began to drift away, getting lost in one another, you found yourself sitting with Halsin by the fire.
The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, watching the fire. Your eyes locked on the glowing embers as you rested your head on Halsin’s shoulder, getting lost in your thoughts.
Halsin’s voice pulled you back.
“I’m proud of you for helping rebuild the city. But I must admit I wish you were by my side. Maybe that thought is selfish of me, but it is the truth,” he said, breaking the silence.
You moved your head off his shoulder to look at him.
“I often think the same,” you said, smiling.
He took your hand into his, bringing it to his lips and leaving a kiss on your knuckles.
“If you wish it, we can make it a reality. Come with me. We can make a home together, take care of the children, bring balance back to the lands,” he said.
"I would enjoy that. Although I'm not sure how confident I am about becoming a mother so quickly," you joked.
"I assure you, you will be great. They will love you," he assured.
His hand slipped out of yours and rested on your thigh, thumb rubbing against it softly.
"And who's to say, maybe one day we will have more," he said softly.
Your eyes met his. No words had to be said between you two to understand the look you gave each other. Talking of the future—your future with him, knowing after all this time you were still wanted, knowing that he wanted to spend his life with you—it was enough to tug at your heartstrings.
Halsin turned a bit where he sat and pulled you towards him, caressing your face and kissing you.
A warm feeling spread throughout your body. A mixture of joy, anticipation, and arousal swirled within you. You had dreamt of this. Being in the Druid's arms again had started to feel like a distant fantasy. But you were in them again and now they didn't want to let you go.
You pulled away, taking a deep breath as you watched Halsin.
"I need you, my love. I have longed to have you again," he admitted.
"Then you shall have me," you said, standing up.
The two of you left camp, walking in the woods until you found a nice spot, not necessarily private but far enough away where the others wouldn't hear you as long as they kept the distance.
Halsin was on you in an instant, kissing your lips feverishly, making up for the lost time between you two. He pulled your body into his, holding you tight.
His lips parted from yours and trailed down your neck. When he got to the collar of your shirt you moved to take it off but his hands stopped you.
"Allow me," he said.
He slowly undressed you, slipping off your clothes, revealing yourself to him. His hands trailed down your side as he admired you. You could've sworn there was a shift in his eyes as the last article of clothing fell, something primal stirring within him.
He quickly removed his own clothes and your eyes fell to his cock, already hard and practically throbbing as it hung between his legs. You hadn't forgotten how big he was but seeing it always had you in awe.
Halsin grabbed onto you, maneuvering both of your bodies to the ground. He spread your legs, holding them apart with his large hands.
"Six months was entirely too long to be parted from you, to not have this. I think it's high time I claim you," he said.
"Claim me?" you questioned.
"Yes, my love. I want to claim you."
He leaned forward, pecking your lips before moving down.
"To make love to you."
Another kiss was planted, this time right between your breasts.
"To mark you as mine."
Another, soft lips meeting the skin of your belly.
"To fill you until you can't take anymore."
His lips met your clit, leaving a soft kiss there before taking the bud into his mouth, sucking gently. Your breath hitched at the sudden sensation.
Halsin stayed like that for so long that the passage of time was lost on you. His tongue lapped at your folds, licking every drop of your arousal you had to offer him. His tongue plunged into you, tasting you like he had been starved for the past six months.
Goosebumps had spread across your skin as pleasure built up inside you. Halsin held onto your legs as you writhed against him, moaning as you reached the high that was your climax.
When Halsin pulled away you whined, causing him to chuckle.
"Don't fret, my love. I am far from finished," he said.
The Druid lined his cock up to you and he pushed in, groaning as he did so. With how wet you were and how relaxed your body was, there wasn't much resistance. He still paused once his hips met your own, letting you adjust to his size. You could feel him throb inside of you as he stayed there.
It wasn't until you gave him a slight nod that he started moving his hips. He leaned forward, placing his hands on the ground on either side of your body as he thrusted into you.
The stretch alone was enough to make you whimper. With every move of Halsin's waist, it felt like he buried into you deeper and deeper, molding your body with his cock.
You moaned as he pumped into you. Every nerve in your body felt like electricity shot through them, traveling through your body as ecstasy coursed through your veins.
Your hands moved, arms wrapping around his torso as you pulled him closer, feeling the weight of his body on yours. Your legs moved as well, wrapping around his waist as best you could. Your nails scratched at his back which garnered a low growl from his chest.
"I have missed this," he said with a moan.
His mouth met yours, taking your breath away as his hips snapped into yours.
"I want to keep you just like this, laid beneath me and bred," he said once he parted from your lips.
His words made you moan. You felt yourself clench around his cock and he did as well, hips losing their rhythm for merely a second.
"It seems like you agree," he said.
His head dipped down, marking your neck as his pace increased. He plowed into you, nearly knocking the air out of you with each thrust. You could hear the sound of your cunt in between the sound of skin slapping together, wet and squelching every time Halsin's cock slid into you.
You felt so full and with every thrust you could feel warmth spreading through you, your orgasm approaching quickly. There was one particular thrust, where Halsin grinded his hips into yours just right, that made you see stars.
You moaned as you were pushed over the edge, the feeling of your climax washing over you. Halsin kept going, not halting his movements as he rocked his hips into yours, fucking you through your orgasm.
He took your legs into his hands once again, pushing them back as he took you. You whimpered as your legs shook against him. There was nothing but pure desire in his eyes as he looked down upon you, taking in every little sound you gave him.
His hips faltered, thrusts becoming almost erratic as a groan escaped his lips. His hips slammed into your own and a warmness spread inside of you as he came, doing just as he promised and filling you. He kept his cock in you as he held you, waiting to come down from his own high.
Eventually, he pulled out, letting his cum drip out of you onto the ground below.
He stayed between your legs, rubbing his hand along the length of your thigh.
"So beautiful. A perfect example of nature's beauty," he said quietly.
You smiled as you looked up at him.
"May we not stray from one another again. I don't think I would be able to handle life without you," he said.
He kissed your forehead and the two of you stayed with each other throughout the night and every other night after that.
A high level elf Druid can live up to seven thousand years. If Halsin ever managed to live that long, I think, on his final day, he'd turn into a very grey bear and walk out into the woods, as far as his legs would carry him. Then he'd curl up in the sunniest looking meadow, and just fall asleep.
And when he breathes his last, even the wind goes still for a moment- before an oak tree erupts around his still, ursine form, entombing it in soil and root and bark as it grows, grows, grows in mere hours to the equivalent of a seven thousand year old tree, right at the heart of what's now known as Halsin's Forest.
Summary: There are thousands of species of mushrooms in the Underdark, lots of which you are unfamiliar with. The spores from one has seemingly gotten into your system and Halsin's. The two of you ache for relief.
Author’s Note: I need this man. That’s all.
Warnings/tags: 18+ MDNI, reader has a vagina, no gendered pronouns for reader, sex pollen is its own warning, outdoor sex, marathon sex, slightly feral Halsin, multiple orgasms, not beta read
The day had been more or less uneventful. Your traveling companions had split up into groups for the day, searching for supplies to aid in travel. You were paired with Halsin, the two of you searching for alchemical supplies, mainly mushrooms.
The issue with the task was that you were unfamiliar with a lot of the mushrooms that grew in the area. Fungi were abundant in the Underdark. Many were dangerous, and too many looked like completely different species. So you let Halsin do most of the searching since he seemed to know more about them than you while you helped collect them.
You and the Druid had been talking the entire time as you both collected mushrooms. It was the first time since you met him that you got to be truly alone with him. Ever since you ran into him at the Goblin camp you had been entranced by him. You somehow even gained the nerve to flirt with him at the party the tieflings held at your camp. Although neither of you acted on any potential desire, Halsin assured you that it was well received.
Everything was going fine until you got a little too sure of yourself. You had been walking for quite some time and your eye spotted what appeared to be a large growth of bluecap mushrooms. You walked over to them, hand reached out to pluck them from the ground.
“We always need more of these, right?” you ask kneeling down.
“Bluecaps? Yes, they’re quite usef—wait, don’t touch those!” Halsin says, reaching to pull you back.
But it was too late. Before he could grab you, your hand brushes against one of the mushrooms. They collectively react to the contact, spewing a cloud of fungal spores in your face. The air is filled with a thick cloud of blue dust, clouding your vision. You and Halsin cough, choking on the spores. You feel his hand on your arm dragging you away from the cloud. You suck in air, trying to breathe as the spores linger in your lungs.
“What in the nine hells just happened?” you ask in between coughs.
“Those weren’t bluecaps. I didn’t realize until it was too late,” Halsin says.
“They definitely looked like it,” you say. You rub your hand on your cheek. The skin is burning like you have a fever.
“Nature is tricky sometimes. Species adapt to mimic the appearance of others. It aids in survival, even in fungi,” he says.
“Yeah…tricky,” your voice trails off as you feel yourself becoming agitated. Your skin is still warming up and you almost feel tingly. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of the clothes against your skin. Gods, were your clothes always this uncomfortable?
You notice that Halsin appears to be flushed as well, his skin tone becoming redder as he stood beside you. He brings his own hand up to his face, feeling the temperature of his forehead.
“Halsin, I don’t….feel right,” you mumble.
You fight the urge to take your clothes off but fail, unclasping your armor and dropping it to the ground. The relief isn’t great but you hold off, keeping your undershirt and pants on.
“I don’t either. It must be the spores,” he says. His breath is labored and so is yours. The air feels thick and your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest.
“Are we going to be okay? Maybe we should go find Ga—oh, fuck.” Your body almost falls forward. You put your hands on your knees as you squint your eyes shut.
There’s something wrong. Or very right depending on who you ask. Your body almost shudders as the heat spreading over your body begins to pool at your groin of all places. You can feel your clit through your clothes, practically throbbing. It ached in a way you’ve never felt before and it made you want to whine. You felt needy, more than you’ve ever felt before. And the large hand that is placed on your shoulder is helping matters.
“Are you okay?” Halsin says.
You shake your head, not knowing what to say. You feel embarrassed. You can’t fall apart in front of Halsin, not in this way.
But you were, falling to your knees on the ground, holding yourself as your breath quickened.
“I know…what mushrooms they are. I wasn’t sure at first but…” his voice cuts off with a groan. Whatever the spores are doing to both of you, he’s fighting it hard. You swear for a moment you can hear a growl escape him but you aren’t sure, too focused on the feeling of whatever was coursing through you.
“Gods damn this. What is happening to me?” you say, gritting your teeth.
“The spores. It’s the spores. They induce arousal in most species. Drow, human, tiefling…everyone reacts the same,” Halsin says.
“Arousal? This isn’t just arousal. This is…insane. ” You’re panicking. You can feel it rising in your chest.
“It’s intense, yes. It will get worse. But it wears off eventually. Sometimes it goes away faster if—“ he cuts himself off, not finishing the sentence.
“If what?” you ask, looking up from your spot in the ground.
He’s leaning against a rather large rock formation, huffing as if he’s out of breath. You can see that he has a rather obvious erection pressing against the fabric of his trousers. You want to pounce on him then and there, not sure if it’s the mushrooms making you feel that way or if they’re just heightening the feeling you already have for the man.
“Sometimes…sex helps the symptoms wear off. Or at least becomes more bearable,” he says.
You nod your head, taking in his words. As you think about what he said the effects of the spores become more intense. You squeeze your legs together, trying to give yourself some sort of relief. But it’s not enough. Ignoring the sensation proves to be nearly painful and you can’t take it.
“Halsin,” you say, voice soft.
“Yes?”
“It hurts,” you say.
He kneels down to you, getting closer.
“Do you want me to help? We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says.
You turn and grip his shirt pulling him closer.
“Please, Halsin,” you beg. It comes out choked, desperate. And tears nearly form when he touches you, taking your clothes off quickly much to your pleasure.
Every touch feels like a fire is ignited under your skin, burning with every caress of his hands. He takes off his own shirt and pants and wastes no time sticking his hardened cock inside you. There’s no prep, no time to adjust. But your cunt is dripping, the effects of the spores making you feel like a leaking fountain, and it allows him to slide in easier than he ever would have.
“Let me take care of you,” he whispers.
You don’t have to beg because Halsin gives you exactly what you need, exactly what he needs. He thrusts into you hard and deep, his large cock filling you in a way you didn’t think was possible.
You cry out, not from pain but from pleasure. Every nerve inside of you feels like it’s being stimulated. It’s not just your core that feels it. The sensation tingles throughout your whole body, wrapping you with ecstasy from the inside out.
“Don’t stop. Don’t stop, Halsin,” you moan in his ear.
And he doesn’t, thrusting into you at an unrelenting pace. Your orgasm crashes down on you without warning. It’s intense, making your body spasm underneath him. Your vision nearly gives out as you feel yourself squeeze around his cock. Halsin cums soon after, spilling inside of you as he groans. But even as both of you cum you beg him for more, pleading with him to continue.
He ruts into you, slapping his skin against yours, fucking you as if neither of you hadn’t just climaxed.
He’s moaning right along with you, every feeling intensified for him as well. You’re dazed and barely notice the glow Halsin has to him as he fights back losing control of himself. You do feel his nails have grown long and sharp in a matter of minutes, digging into the flesh of your skin. It doesn’t bother you though. Even the pain from where he scratches seems to give you pleasure.
He presses his forehead against your own as your bodies move in tandem. You grind into him from your spot below, wanting as much friction as you can get.
Halsin’s hand slips between both of you, circling your clit with his thumb. It slides across the aching bud with ease as his finger quickly becomes coated in your arousal. The added stimulation makes you writhe against him as you moan. You can feel another orgasm creep up on you.
The muscles in your body tense up and you feel yourself gush around his cock, squirting between your bodies onto his waist.
This seems to spur Halsin on more, a growl coming out of him as he fucks you harder, more primal.
Time is lost to you. You lose count of how many times the two of you cum. You lose count of the positions. You ride his cock, his face, he takes you from behind, with you lying on your side, with you bent with your legs so far back that you didn’t even know you could bend in such a way. Halsin keeps going and going. You both do and you never seem to want him to stop.
The two of you only stop hours later. You’re both exhausted and can’t move. The effects of the mushrooms had worn off sometime before your last couple of orgasms but you two kept going. You didn’t have to ask yourself why. You both had given in to something inevitable, something you both knew was coming. Neither of you expected toxic mushrooms to give you the push though.
“I…enjoyed that,” you say, resting your head against his chest.
“As did I. If I wasn’t exhausted I would still happily be helping you,” he says with a chuckle.
“And I would happily accept that help. Maybe we can ‘help’ each other more after we’ve recovered?” you suggest, raising your head to look at him.
He smiles and pulls you into a kiss, soft and wanting.
Halsin has a crush on you, and it was so painfully obvious to everyone but you.
From the moment he saw you march and kill your way through the goblin camp, swaying your sword to axe through the air with a twist in the hips like it’s nothing, he was smitten. Especially because you decided to help him, while he was in wild shape, not knowing that he was the cave bear behind the iron bars. Yeah, he kept an eye out for you after that.
He remembers when he brushed passed you at the tiefling party. You were talking to Zevlor, listening to his tale with a goblet of wine in your hand and a polite smile on your face. Halsin had been asked to grab a fresh bottle for someone and he ever-so-politely, with delicate fingers, moved your body to the side to grab what he needed from the crates, by the meat of your hips. Mumbling a polite “pardon me” while trying to keep his old mind from wondering too far. And you, oblivious to his mind and ignoring his touch completely as you nodded along to Zevlor’s story. He only needed to grab something, you were in the way, who cares how strong his hands felt or how polite he was about circling around you? Oh, but Halsin’s mind and eyes never truly left you, even after he turned you down that night.
As you made your way through the Underdark, the Mountain Pass, hells, even entering the cursed lands of the Shadow Curse, Halsin couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting over to you. Just the other day, when your group had found a decent place to make camp, everyone was setting up their respective tents and helping others carry the heavier items if needed. You walked through camp with Shadowheart, carry a crate that was filled with some of her items and spare food, laughing at something she said. Halsin found himself distracted by you when you came into his view. Your lower back arching, your hips grinding into the wood of the crate you were carrying, the way your thighs flexed through your camp attire. He was so entranced by you that he bumped into Gale, causing his to spill all his books to the ground.
It wasn’t until after you returned from Moonrise Towers after freeing the tieflings and gnomes imprisoned there, that Halsin realized his little crush was a lot larger than he had originally thought.
You and your crew returned back to camp late that night. Muscles aching, feet dragging, wounds throbbing. You, Gale, Astarion, and Karlach all moaned and groaned as you settled by the campfire Halsin sat maintaining.
Karlach was holding you up, your arm thrown over her shoulder as you limped together. Halsin stood and helped guide you to a nearby log with little effort. Karlach steadied you before standing and rolling her shoulders.
“That warden put up quite a fight,” Karlach said openly.
Halsin nodded. “I can see that. Is everyone alright?”
You groaned and huffed. “Shit, my leg is killing me.”
“Yeah everyone’s fine!” Karlach replied. She patted you on the shoulder, ignoring your dramatic wince. “I think I'm going to hit the hay solider. You want me to go grab Shadowheart for you?”
Before you could answer, Halsin shook his head at Karlach. “Shadowheart is fast asleep by now. Please, I can heal them no problem.”
Karlach’s eyes bounced between Halsin and you, knowingly, before she shot Halsin a wink. “Alrighty then, see you lot tomorrow.” She patted you on the shoulder on last time, mumbling to get some rest, before making her way over to her tent. Astarion and Gale mumbled the goodnight before returning to their tents as well.
It was just you and Halsin remaining, and he could feel his palms grow sweaty at the thought. You pushed yourself up, adjusting into a more comfortable position, with a wince. Halsin was quick to reach out and steady you. You slid off the log, butt in the dirt, back now resting against the log. Leaning back against it, you sighed in relief and closed your eyes.
Halsin licked his lips, quietly shaming himself, before he kneeled down on one knee beside you.
Your hand was pressed into your leg, trying to keep pressure on the deepest area of the cut that travel from your hip down to just above your knee.
Halsin's hand hovered over your wound, his hands glowing yellow as he assessed the wound. You felt the magic from his hand move over your skin, tingling. You opened your eyes and let out a small chuckle.
Halsin's magic stopped. He smiled kindly at you. "What's so funny?"
You smiled at him and adjusted again. "Nothing. Just ticklish, I guess."
Halsin chuckled warmly. "I would never have guessed you were ticklish." He returned to your wound, hand hovering once again, magic pouring over the wound.
You winced at the feeling. The dried blood that covered your skin pulled at the hair on your legs as your wound closed, skin moving to connect again.
You shook your head. "You caught me, my greatest weakness is that I'm ticklish." You set a hand on his bicep, giving it a playful squeeze. "Don't tell anyone, alright?"
Halsin froze at your touch. The warmth from your hand sending shock waves through his entire arm. His magic wavered slightly, before he shook his head and returned his focus to your leg.
"I wouldn't dream of it," he told you before his magic faded away, your wound now closed. "How do you feel?"
You removed your hold from his arm, and he missed it as soon as you did so. He licked his lips as he watched you sit up and flex your leg. You were slow, bringing your leg up to your chest before laying it back down on the ground. You peaked through the torn fabric of your clothes to see the only evidence of the wound was the faintest pink scare. You smiled at Halsin, eyes fluttering as your body finally allowed itself to relax. "Better. Thank you."
Halsin felt his ears flush under your gaze. He looked down at the tear in your pants, avoiding your eyes. "No pain? Discomfort?"
"It aches a little but nothing some sleep and rest can't fix." Your hand returned to his bicep, and you pulled him to sit down next to you against the log. "Seriously, thank you for being here."
Halsin allowed you to pull him over to sit, side now pressed against yours. He could feel the warmth from your body pressed up against him, but thought didn't stop him from getting comfortable. He looked up at you and felt his breath catch. Even though you were covered in dirt, sweat, and blood he thought you looked beautiful. His heart pounded against his chest, and he could only pray that you couldn't hear it.
He patted your thigh with his hand affectionally before allowing it to rest there, just above your knee. "Don't thank me. You did well today, saving everyone from the prison." He looked back down at the opening of your pants. "I only wish you returned unscathed."
You chuckled and placed your hand over his, holding it against you. "It's alright. As long as I have you around, nothing scares me."
Halsin chuckled bashfully at your kind words. "Is that so?"
You nodded, leaning in closer to him, eyes moving slower between blinks. "Yeah, it is."
You smiled at him, small, reserved, only for him. Halsin leaned closer to you, moving his hand out from underneath yours before taking hold of it. His thumb rubbed against your dry knuckles.
"It's good to know I'm not the only one," he spoke softly, watching your eyes flutter once again, trying to stay awake. You placed your head on his shoulder, body finally succumbing to sleep after a long day, soaking in his warmth.
Halsin only grin at you, feeling your hand relax as sleep took you. He slowly brought your hand up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on one of your knuckles, before letting go. As much as he wanted to stay there with you, to fall asleep under the stars with your in his arms, he knew that your journey in the Shadow Lands were far from over.
You had time.
He cupped your head as he moved to squat next to you. He tucked his arms underneath you before lifting you off the ground effortlessly. In your slumber, you nuzzled your face deeper into his chest. Halsin swears his heart left his body at your movements and was glad you were fast asleep so you couldn't see the blush he knew covered his face.
It's been a long time since Halsin blushed for someone the way he does for you.
He gently took you to your tent, opening the flap with his shoulder and ducking inside to lay you on your bedroll.
He pulled your boots off your swollen feet and removed your weapons, placing them on the ground next to you. He brought your blanket up, tucking it underneath your chin, before he brushed your hair away from your face. His hand lingered on your forehead, watching your eyebrows twitch. He assumed you were dreaming, hopeful that it was something sweet.
Halsin exited your tent with a small smile unable to leave his face. As he walked back to the campfire, he couldn't stop himself from glancing back at your tent over his shoulder. Almost wishing to see your smiling face come out, ready for the day, but knew that would have to wait for that tomorrow.
"Oh dear," a voice stopped him in his tracks. "Looks like our druid has a crush," Astarion teased.
Halsin sighed as he cringed at Astarion's teasing tone.
Astarion chuckled darkly, a goblet in his hand, liquid swirling inside. "It's so obvious my friend. I'm surprised it's taken them so long to notice." He took a sip and sent Halsin a wink.
Halsin chose not to respond to Astarion's teasing and instead retreated to his tent for the evening.
He couldn't stop Astarion's comment from swimming in his mind.
Summary: You accidentally mix up your mushrooms when trying to make a potion and it goes horribly wrong. Or... not so horribly, in the grand scheme of things?
Content Warnings: SMUT! Huuuge breeding kink, aphrodisiac situation, no bear :( big dick Halsin, unprotected sex, a smidge of dirty talk, maybe a little pregnancy kink Halsin at the end but who knows hes 400 years old, creampies.
— —
Halsin sat under the pallid moonlight, back against the outside of his tent, humming contentedly as he whittled yet another small duck. A little smile decorated his chiseled face as he marveled at the way his craft looked in the pale starlight. The only thing he could hear was his own humming, the soft scrape of his knife against the wooden duck, and the soft chirping of crickets in the tall grass surrounding the camp.
The peaceful sounds of a night at camp were eventually broken by hurried footsteps heading quickly towards his tent.
Tav rounded the large tree that Halsin had set up his tent next to and was breathing heavily. She quickly came to a stop and let out a long sigh.
“Oh, thank the gods you’re still up!”
“Ah, Tav. A pleasure to see you on this beautiful night. How are you?” He looked up at her panting form and smiled. She seemed distraught and uncomfortable.
“Been better actually.. but, um, how are.. you?” She asks, trying desperately to be polite but Halsin could tell there was something wrong. “I like your duck. Is that a new one?” Tav says between heavy breaths, like she had just run several miles.
“Yes, it’s a canvasback duck. Very interesting species as it lives in both fresh and salt waters.” Halsin explains as he holds up his whittled figuring.
“Right yes. Very cool.” Tav hurriedly spits out.
“I can tell you aren’t here to discuss my hobbies, Tav. You seem… a bit perturbed. Anything I can help with?” Halsin asks.
“Gods, yes. Or at least I hope… Can we talk… inside your tent?” Tav says as she turns her head around briefly, looking at the last light of the fire and wondering if anyone else was still up and about. “It’s… kind of embarrassing…”
“Of course.” Halsin rises to his feet to hold the curtain of his tent open for her to enter ahead of him. She quickly ducks inside.
Halsin gestures for her to sit on his makeshift mattress as he sits down on the stool at his desk littered with herbs and potions.
“What’s ailing you? Your face seems flushed. Do you feel feverish at all?” Halsin says as he gets a better look at Tav, seated on his bedroll with their legs crossed, illuminated by the candlelight.
Tav sighs. She looks down at her hands in her lap and wrings them uncomfortably.
“Yes! I’m so warm!” Tav exclaims. “Okay so… I wanted to convince these squirrels to put on these little hats and ride on Scratch like a pony because I thought it would be cute, but I realized I was out of animal speech potions and I was trying to whip one up but I realized I used the wrong herb…. But Astarion said it would be fine! He gave the mushrooms to me after all!”
Halsin chuckled.
“A noble endeavor indeed. I would like to have seen that.”
“And so the elixir looked fine, but I drank it and now I… I don’t feel so good…” Tav says quietly, but Halsin could hear the fear and worry in her voice.
“Hmm… I see. Other than the flush and fever, do you have any other symptoms?” The druid asks, looking her over.
“Well my skin, it has chicken-skin all over that won’t go away… and I can’t stop sweating… and well… there’s this painful ache…” She trails off. “Can I just show you?”
“Please do.” Halsin nods.
Without warning, Tav strips her clothes off leaving her just in her underthings. She settles back on the bedroll and spreads her legs shyly. Once her knees were parted, it was very obvious to Halsin what the ache she was describing was. The gusset of her cloth panties showed a drenched patch covering her sex, the wet fabric sticking desperately to her meaty outer lips.
“Aahh…” Halsin mused as he looked over Tav’s trembling body. “My assumptions were correct, it seems.”
“Your assumptions? And what were those, exactly? Speak plainly, will I survive?” Tav sits up on her elbows and presses her knees together again.
“You must have used black mushrooms instead of acorn truffles. Similar in appearance, but very different in alchemical composition.” Halsin states as he flips through one of the books littering his desk. “I smelled your pheromones before you even appeared in front of my tent. Instead of the potion of animal speaking, you drank a potion of animal breeding.”
“I bed your finest pardon? Shit, I mean beg! I beg your finest pardon?!” Tav becomes increasingly irritated and frustrated by the druid’s casual manner of speaking.
“Yes, commonly used by ranch hands in order to increase the offspring output of their flocks, it drastically increases the heat cycle in mammals. I’ve never seen or heard of the effects of it on humans, but it seems it works the same.” Halsin replies, standing from the stool at his desk and approaching his bedroll where Tav laid.
“So? Is there a cure, an antidote of some kind?” Tav pants.
“Not that I know of. I know the effects subside once the animal has been mated, but I can’t say for certain how to dissolve the effects in a humanoid creature.”
Tav groans and reaches her hand between her clenched thighs, clearly too far gone from the effects of the potion to care about modesty. Halsin sees her wrist flick desperately, but there was no relief on her face… he can’t help but find himself growing erect at the sight of her barely covered, sweaty body writhing in his bed.
“You’re in pain… there might be a way I can help…” Halsin says softly, his eyes searching Tav’s pleading ones.
“Anything. Help me, please.” Tav huffs out through gritted teeth.
“I can… try to alleviate the pain through the intended means… If you’ll allow it.” Halsin’s eyes dart from Tav’s gaze to her hard nipples peaking through her bra and back to her face again.
“You mean.. you’d fuck me? You think it would work?”
“I can’t guarantee it, but I’m happy to give it a try.” Halsin replies with a soft smile.
Tav thinks for a moment before sitting up fully and ripping her bra over her head and tossing it to the floor of Halsin’s tent.
“Gods yes, I’ll do anything.” Tav shimmies her panties down her legs and throws them to join her discarded bra. “Do you need me to, you know… touch you a bit? To get things going?” She says sheepishly.
“Hah, no..” Halsin chuckles. “Seeing you in my bed like this has made me harder than I’m keen to admit. Let me just…”
Halsin takes a few moments to remove all his clothing. Once he was stripped bare, thick cock standing at attention, he turned back towards Tav and was met with quite the sight.
Tav had shifted to her knees, face pressed into Halsin’s pillow with her ass arched high in the air in Halsin’s direction. He was met with her puffy, glistening folds being presented so desperately just for him. Slick drooled out like sap from a mighty maple tree, slowly seeping from Tav’s hole and coating her lips and thighs. He could see her engorged, pink clit peaking out from the apex of her slit, just aching to be touched.
“Oak Father preserve me…” He says quietly, more to himself than anyone else. “What an incredible sight…”
“Halsiiiinnnn…. Will you hurry uuuup?” Tav whined and wiggled her backside in the druid’s direction, beckoning him to enter her.
“Right, of course. You will tell me if there’s any discomfort, yes?” He asks.
“Yes fine yes, just fuck me.” Tav glares at him from her position pressed into the pillow.
“As you wish…” Halsin takes his position behind Tav and guides the leaking tip of his cock to her entrance. “Bit of a stretch now, love…” Halsin coos as he pushes his hips into hers.
“Aaaggh! Ah! Fuck!” Tav cries out and turns her head to bite down on his pillow.
Halsin feels a gush of warmth on his pelvis and notices the hard squeeze of Tav’s cunt as his tip presses against her cervix deep within her. She had climaxed just from him bottoming out inside her.
“Already?” Halsin chuckles again. “Do you feel better? Should I stop?” He runs a soothing hand down her spine.
“Aahh!” Tav moans and pushes back on her knees, forcing him impossibly deeper. “More! Need more!”
“The potion is stronger than I thought… very well… Hold on to something, dear.” Halsin warns as he wraps his large hands around Tav’s milky hips. He begins thrusting into her hard and with great purpose. Normally he would have to take time to prep his smaller partners, but the effects of the elixir had caused Tav’s body to accept his intrusion hungrily. “So warm… like nothing I’ve ever felt…” Halsin groans as he feels the impossible heat from Tav’s walls pulse around him sensually.
Halsin mounts her fully, hunching his back over her to press his chest against her spine. His grip on her hips tightens as he humps into her harder.
“Yes! Fuck! I-I’m cu-!“ Tav yelps out. “Ah!”
Halsin feels her cunt clench on him hard again, the familiar spray of liquid a welcome feeling trickling down his thick thighs. After two orgasms, Halsin assumed she would finally be free of the potion’s effects. He pulls out of her and picks her shaking body up and positions her back down on his bed on her back.
“Better now?” He smiles down at her.
He was met with an even deeper look of desperation.
“No. Need more!” Tav gasps out as she locks her arms behind his back. Without warning, Halsin was tossed on his back on the bed and Tav was hovering above him. She grips his dripping cock and lines it up to her sex, sinking down on it quickly.
“Shiiiit yes…” Tav moans out and throws her head back in pleasure. She begins rocking hard against him, grinding her clit against his pelvis to stimulate all her senses. “Fuuuuck…”
“My darling…” Halsin says hesitantly as he places his gentle hands on her breasts, softly toying with her nipples. “Don’t hurt yourself…”
“Fill me, Halsin, please!” She cries out loudly. “Breed me, Halsin. I need it!” She slams her hips down onto his impossibly fast.
An animalistic, bear-like growl leaves Halsin’s lips.
“You can’t say things like that, little dove.” He grits his teeth, trying to hold back from absolutely ravishing her body.
“But please! I want you to fill me, need you to fill me! Put your fucking babies into me, Halsin, please!” Tav looks down finally and makes eye contact with the large elf. There was a wild, fiery heat glowing in her eyes. Who was he to deny her?
Halsin plants his feet on his bedroll and growls louder, his large hands moving to her waist.
"Halsin, Halsin, Halsin!" Tav spills his name like an invocation as she bounces violently on his cock. "Breed me, please, Halsin!"
He uses this newfound leverage to slam his hips up into hers at a brutal pace, lost in the fantasy of filling her up with his seed. How gorgeous she would look swollen and heavy with his young… breasts plump with sweet milk...
“Yes! Yes!” Tav chants towards the sky as a cock-drunk grin spreads across her face.
“I’ll give you what you need, love… stay still now… shit…” Halsin’s grip on Tav was sure to leave bruises in the morning. Tav was moaning loudly, clearly too far gone in her state to care about anyone else in camp hearing her. “I’m going to fill you now, be good and take it…” He grits out the last bit.
Tav shrieks as she feels the first wave of hot spend fill her insides. Rope after rope of Halsin’s seed stuffed her to the brim, the druid grunting and panting beneath her, pushing her hips down on his so his tip kissed her cervix directly.
Halsin breathes heavily as his orgasm abates and leaves Tav finally satisfied.
“Woah…” Tav dizzily leans forward and collapses against Halsin’s broad chest.
The pair laid in silence for several minutes catching their breaths.
“Here, I’m going to lay you down now. I’ll make you some tea.” Halsin says as he lifts Tav off his softening cock and tucks her into his comforter. “Make sure you drink it before tomorrow.”
“Mhmmmmph.” Tav snuggles tiredly into his mussed sheets, the effects of the potion finally dissipating now that she was stuffed full like a broodmare. She looked too serene in his bed, he couldn’t care less about the large mess she was no doubt leaking onto his mattress.
So what if she didn’t drink the tea tonight… maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea…
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