Hi! Ive Been Thinking About This For Awhile.

Hi! I’ve been thinking about this for awhile.

Imagine Astarion walking in to see his s/o, only to see them on their knees groaning and looking uncomftarble, because of Haarlep and his promise. ”Everytime I make love with your body, you will know.”

Maybe Astarion could like try to comfort s/o through one of those times? Not in a sexual way, just doing his best to show that he’s there, maybe throwing a comment to distract them ”pretend it’s me.”

If you’re uncomftarble with this you can ignore it! Have a nice day/night!😊

I used they/them pronouns for Haarlep when applicable because the Narrator refers to them this way

References and dialogue taken from a scene in the game, transcribed by yours truly

Warnings: rape/non-con elements, swearing, crying, reference to victim blaming, references to past trauma/abuse

Word Count: 1,031

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

It comes on like a violent shiver. You can feel hands all over you, tracing up and down your legs and chest, but you’re all alone in your tent. You try to ignore it, focus on a book or something. Anything. But it’s overwhelming. Haarlep is using your body to pleasure someone else and you can feel it all. Maybe for Raphael it was incredible - another layer of pleasure to heighten the experience. To you, it’s violating.

You curl into yourself, tugging your knees to your chest as you sit on the floor, and hiding your face from the lamp light. If you could curl up tight enough, maybe you could block it all out. It’s a useless attempt. You know nothing can stop it.

“Darling, you’re going to miss… Shit.” Astarion rushes to your side, the flap of the tent shutting out the rest of the world. He’s not sure if he should touch you, where he should touch you. But you’re shaking, and whimpering, and he wants more than anything to help. “Can I touch you?”

You lift your face from your knees, nodding as a groan tears from your throat. It should feel good, but it doesn’t. You want to squirm and dive into water and roll in the dirt - anything to get rid of the ghostly hands on your skin.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders and tugs you into him. His touch is more solid. He’s not a phantom taking pleasure in your image. You sigh with how real he feels. He brushes his fingers through your hair. “It’s the incubus, isn’t it?” he whispers by your ear. You nod and grab onto his arm. Your hands are trembling. “I’m so sorry, my love.”

“I can feel it, Astarion,” you gasp. You press your face into his chest. “Everything. Hands, just, all over me.” You can’t bear to speak out loud what else you feel. He can tell when your legs press tightly together.

“Tell me what I can do to help.”

Your mind is blank. You can’t think. You don’t know. You squirm closer to him and he draws your body into his lap, pressing his cheek to your head. He tries to be more firm in his touches. He scratches lightly at your scalp, tugs gently at the hairs at the nape of your neck. His hand runs up and down your arm, stopping only to press his fingertips against different locations that follow no consistent pattern. He can feel your tears against his skin, and he wishes more than anything to have killed that creature when they had the chance.

“Keep talking,” you whimper. A violent chill forces its way down your spine and you groan against his skin to avoid being too loud. He can’t imagine what the others would think or say.

When this happened before, it was in public. You couldn’t avoid it then, couldn’t rush somewhere private away from public eyes, and they scolded you. Told you to be quiet, teased you about liking it. It made his blood boil just thinking about it. It hadn’t been this bad then - the sound you made wasn’t out of disgust or discomfort.

“I know what it’s like to lose control over your own body. It’s a wretched thing.”

“I may as well just try to enjoy it.”

“I thought the same, once. It didn’t last. I know what’s done is done - you made your vow. But I’m sorry all the same.”

“Please,” you cry. “Please talk to me.”

He hushes you gently, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “It’s going to be okay, my dear. You’re going to get through this. And once these damn tadpoles are out of our heads, we’re marching right back to Avernus and killing that bastard.”

You chuckle, weak and wet, but it’s better than hearing you suffer. “Promise?”

“Do you even have to ask? I’d march down there tomorrow if we could.” He moves his hand from your arm to your leg. He rubs circles into your thigh with his thumb, applying various amounts of pressure as he does. Quietly, unsure, he whispers into your hair, “Can you pretend it’s me?”

He’s not sure if he wants you to, truthfully. But he’s willing to carry that weight if it means easing your suffering. It’s a sentimental thought, but it doesn’t last long as you shake your head. “They don’t touch me like you do.” There’s an edge of teasing in your voice, trying to make it a joke, but it doesn’t quite land.

“Good.” He wants to say something more, but nothing comes to mind. He’s almost… proud. Definitely possessive. If that incubus and whoever they're bedding now doesn’t know how to touch you in all the ways you enjoy, then Astarion won’t feel bad when he touches you. He would hate to ruin intimacy for you because Haarlep touches you the same way.

Your legs shake and you hold onto him desperately, wrapping an arm around him to dig your fingers into his back. You try not to dig too deep, try not to hurt him, even in your torture. It breaks his heart. A sound bubbles in the back of your throat, agonized and lewd. With just one touch of your hand to his cheek, he knows precisely what you’re asking for, and he captures your mouth with his own. It’s not romantic or sweet. It’s teeth clashing and swallowing every loud noise that would be louder if he pulled away. It’s offering you a final comfort as Haarlep desecrates you.

As your legs stop shaking, the phantom touches on your body fading, you kiss him softer, until you feel safe enough to pull away. You don’t hide your face again; you press your forehead to his. Your cheeks are flushed and stained with tears. He continues to play with your hair as he wipes them away.

“Thank you,” you whisper. A sob rises from your chest. “I’m sorry.”

He shushes you, pressing kisses to your cheeks and wrapping his arms around you. “It’s okay, my love. You’re okay. It’s not your fault. It will never be your fault. You’re okay.”

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis

@hypopxia

@flsalazar

@beverlybeav

@angelofthorr

@emiemiemiii

@lynnlovesloki

yOU ARE SICK FOR THAT OH MY GOD WHY WOULDYOU-

“i should’ve asked you questions, i should’ve asked you how to be. asked you to write it down for me. should’ve kept every grocery receipt ‘cause every scrap of you would be taken from me.”

goodbye

you wanna cry today over same mistakes verse? okay.

rebel x mav with “the best day” by taylor swift.

there you go.

STOP MY SICK BRAIN CAN NOT HANDLE THIS ITS TOO MUCH!! 😭

my counter offer is Carole and Rebel 🤝 Marjorie

i almost do being when rebel wants to reach out to bradley / when bradley wants to reach out to rebel.

this is me trying being so incredibly rebel coded in relation to her needing to live up to the mav/ice/goose legacy but also to proving herself against her mother’s abandonment.

and don’t you was playing in rebel’s head when she first saw bradley again. don’t even test me. i could keep going.

fine. but what about new year’s day being rooster x carole. huh. what about that.

cruel.

bigger than the whole sky and Rebel and Ice.

you are gonna keep making me cry today with these ideas huh

i’m sick so please excuse my moping over my own characters but i’m thinking about R&R doing that tiktok trend that’s like “did we make it? we did it :)”

tee shirt - robert "bob" floyd x reader

word count: ~400

a/n: no warnings or synposis! this is a silly lil drabble i wanted to write for @sabersandsnipers to further convince her to divulge in the madness of tg:m because bob is the sweetest thing. also very very loosely inspired by the song tee shirt by birdy <3

Light had barely begun to filter through the shades. Streaks of pink and orange danced along the bottom of the midnight horizon slowly winking out stars. Warm arms held you tight against a firm chest and heart beating steadily for you. Nothing could be more serene about this moment.

It was no wonder you winced at the onset of blaring from Bob's phone alarm. You mumbled a weak protest against his tank top, snuggling impossibly closer to him. He clumsily reached over to silence the noise; just for another five minutes. The US Navy was not one to be trifled with in terms of punctuality.

Bob wrapped you back into his full embrace. His lips dotted soft kisses against your hairline in wordless apology. Some gnawing part of him wished he could stay in this bed, in this moment, here with you forever. Responsibilities and paychecks be damned. He considered himself the wealthiest man alive to have your affections on him.

"Did you sleep okay, honey?" Bob questioned softly, not wanting to further disturb your peace. He let a hand trace up and down your back. The soft material of the tee shirt you wore to bed glided against his fingers like butter.

You hummed in response. "I'd sleep better without that racket coming from your phone." There may have been a time when that kind of comment would send him spiraling. He would have insisted on researching new alarms that wouldn't be so offensive to jolt your slumber. He would feel fear creep under his skin; fear that any one wrong move would pull you from him for good.

Instead, Bob laughed. Because you made him feel safe. You never made him feel like every night could be the last he'd hear from you without warning. You never made him feel like he was any lesser for his more reserved demeanor. You loved him as much as he loved you, and for the first time in forever, he knew it. He felt it.

Moments like now, your soft lips pressing sleepily to his chest as you both basked in the coming of dawn, reminded him as such. Even his closest friends had seen the change you had brought to him just by your love.

"You don't look around all skittishly anymore," Nat had remarked. "You were always looking for the first warning sign of danger. Now you just.. look."

And it was all thanks to you.