Certified Gale Enjoyer

Briala Brightmeadow is a monk who kind of sucks at being a monk.

...Okay, maybe that's a little harsh. She's trying her best, really. It's just that after a year and a half of training in the Way of the Sun Soul, she’s still struggling to shed her instinct to punch first and ask questions later, usually while quoting some wise proverb she overheard while half-asleep at the monastery and only half remembers. The monks have taught her to channel the passion inside of her like sunlight, but she's still learning how to keep it from exploding like wildfire.

Briala grew up in Hearthbrook, a small, quiet village in the Western Heartlands, with her two adoptive dads and her little sister Lily. They loved each other fiercely, and Lily was her best friend in the world, but Briala always felt like she didn't quite belong. Everyone else seemed content with a peaceful life, surrounded by gardens and markets and familiar roads. But the stories her dad told of his days as a ranger made her long for something more. She wanted to explore the world, to help people, to be a hero. So at 17, full of determination and big dreams and no plan whatsoever, Briala left home.

For about a year, she wandered from town to town doing odd jobs and helping wherever she could. She slept in barns, got distracted constantly, half-learned dozens of random little skills, and survived mainly through stubbornness, luck, and the sincere belief that everything would probably work out if she just kept going. And for a while, it did. She fought off some goblins, helped rescue a few children from a cave-in, and got thanked by most of the people she helped! She felt practically invincible.

...Until the day she tried to take on a group of bandits that were harassing a village, and found herself way in over her head—they were organized, stronger and more dangerous than anything she'd ever fought before. In the end, she almost died. But she was saved by the man who would become her mentor. He told her he led a band of mercenaries that fought not for gold but for justice. He said she had guts, courage, and the kind of anger the world needed. He offered her a place. So Briala, bruised and ashamed and desperate to prove she really could be the kind of person she’d left home to be, said yes.

At first, it was everything she’d dreamed of. She had comrades to fight alongside, friends to laugh and train with. She really believed they were making the world better, and that her fire had somewhere noble to go. But over time, the cracks started to show. She realized that sometimes, the "traitors" they hunted looked more like scared villagers, and the caravans they protected held only gold, not grain. Whenever she raised her doubts, her mentor brushed her off. He'd say she was too soft-hearted, too young, too naive. Too small to understand the ways of the world.

The final straw came when they were ordered to raid a village accused of harboring criminals. To Briala, it looked just like her own home: quiet, peaceful, unarmed. She hesitated. Asked questions. And her mentor, the man she had once admired, told her that hesitation gets people killed. That she could fight with them, or be left behind.

So she left. She ran, wandered aimlessly once again, and kept moving so she wouldn't have to think about how badly she had wanted to believe him. After that, she got a lot less eager to trust anyone with a cause, a title, or a very inspiring speech on hand.

Eventually she stumbled upon a monastery dedicated to Lathander. The monks there were kind and didn't ask too many questions. They offered her food, warmth, and a chance to just breathe. They let her stay with them, and slowly they started to teach her prayers, patience, focus. How to wield the sunlight with her hands.

And then one day, while she was just minding her business and getting ready to train, a mind flayer ship showed up and ruined everything. Again.

And that's Briala! Stubborn, impulsive, headstrong Briala who keeps getting knocked down and trying her hardest to pick herself back up again. These days, she dreams of moving on from her past. Of finding balance and becoming a calmer, wiser version of herself, without losing the spark that makes her who she is. Of actually memorizing all those proverbs the other monks recite, or learning how to sit still while meditating. But having a tadpole in your head doesn't exactly make things easier.

Random trivia:

Her birthday is July 30th, or in Faerun's calendar the 30th of Flamerule, aka Summertide. It's also the day before the holiday of Midsummer.

She got the scar over her nose during her mercenary days, when she tried to do a dramatic leap across the rooftops, missed her jump, and fell face-first into a cart full of broken wooden crates.

Her dad is a half-wood elf, ex-adventurer named Hal and her papa is a halfling carpenter named Toby. They adopted her and Lily when the two of them were very little and had been orphaned by their birth parents.

Her papa Toby taught her how to whittle, and she still does it as a way to relax when things get overwhelming. Her dad Hal taught her all kinds of wilderness survival skills, including foraging and alchemy.

She and her sister had a big fight before Briala left home, and Lily still hasn’t forgiven her. Briala wants to make things right between them but has no idea how.

She has a habit of doing ridiculous stuff and then playing it off like it's some kind of Monk Wisdom. Like eating a weird mushroom she definitely shouldn’t have touched and then going "Lathander encourages us to embrace new experiences!".

She always carries a charm bracelet Lily made for her back when they were kids, but she doesn't often wear it.

She also keeps a medallion from her mercenary days, as a reminder to herself of why she has to keep moving forward.

A quick plucking of strings undid the wrap shirt Astarion made for them. Silk rustled like autumn leaves as it slid from their body, the sensation sending a shiver down their spine. The half-elf snuck a glance at Astarion while they placed the carefully folded blouse atop their pack.

He slouched in the inn room's only chair in a way no doubt meant to look casual—and it would have, if not for his crossed arms or clenched jaw. That didn't stop his crimson irises from flashing like fresh-spilled blood on virgin snow when he noticed them looking, however.

Those eyes locked in on Miss Fortune's hands as they traveled to the buttons of their leathers, pupils popping wider as each bit of brass glided out from their resting place. Despite their steady, straightforward pace, Miss Fortune's mind couldn't help but run through the choreographed routines they could initiate to take this from earnest undressing to sensual striptease. The bard's upbeat tempo thrumming downstairs would make a fine accompaniment…

But that wasn't what tonight was about, Miss Fortune reminded themselves as they stepped out of their trousers and kicked them off to the side. The evening chill made their arms and stomach erupt in gooseflesh as they stood bare before their lover, a perfect foil to his full dress. The power imbalance sent a heady rush of arousal coursing through them, their cock twitching in response. Despite the tight knot in their stomach, Miss Fortune found their cheeks dimpling with a reverent smile.

Astarion's lidded gaze ambled down their body, his mouth parting by the time he reached Miss Fortune's cock yawning awake against their thigh. They brushed a lazy hand over it, fingers curling around its length before releasing.

Silvery eyebrows arched, Astarion's mouth pressing into a knife-thin line. One restless foot tapped against the rough, faded wood plank below.

"No teasing each other, verbally or otherwise" had been the first rule Miss Fortune and Astarion set when they agreed to try this approach after their attempt to get off together sent Astarion spiraling. But he didn't need to open his mouth for his message to fill the room.

Don't keep me in suspense, the slight flare of his nostrils huffed.

Miss Fortune sat at the end of the bed, legs spread as they leaned back on their left hand. They'd never felt so on display as they did now, but if ever there were a worthy audience it was this one. Even after closing their eyes Astarion's gaze seared hot on their skin. How was he able to unravel them without so much as laying a finger on them? Or better yet…

"Your mouth," they blurted out, hand running across their chest, squeezing at each pec. "I think about your mouth so gods damned much, Star. Not just the obvious, either. Your kiss…" they gulped, pulse quickening at the mere mention of his mouth on theirs. "Your kiss will still thrill me after a century, maybe two…however long I have with you. You turned something shameful into an irresistible delight."

Astarion, as expected, said nothing. But they felt his eyes follow as Miss Fortune's hand trailed lower, winding down their torso to rest within the patch of close-cropped fuzz beneath their belly button. They allowed themselves to think of what else they loved for Astarion's mouth to do to them. His fangs sinking into their neck; his kisses trailing like melting ice across their body and leaving gooseflesh in his wake; those plump lips wrapping around their cock, rolling his tongue around their orbs.

Miss Fortune's body responded to the images, blood surging downwards until their prick pressed, plump and heavy, against the hand on their stomach. The barest brush of their fingers on the sheathed head was enough to make them bite back a whimper. It had been so long, every sensation was equal parts ecstasy and agony.

"Tell me what you're thinking."

Astarion's voice was a tentative peek around the corner of a cracked door, beseeching without being intrusive. When Miss Fortune's eyes creaked open to gaze, half-lidded and lust-fogged, at their lover, they saw the same haze mirrored across the room. Astarion had spread his legs, his own hand lazing on a hip as if waiting in the wings to be called to the stage.

"Thinking about those lips…so soft, so pillowy…hang on."

The oil was in close reach. Miss Fortune didn't miss the way Astarion leaned forward to soak in the sight of the viscous liquid drenching their cock head and dribbling down their shaft until they were slick and glistening.

Making an O with their thumb and forefinger, Miss Fortune groaned loudly the moment they thrust into the tight ring.

"What are those lips doing, darling?"

"Gods, they're…they're working my cock so sweetly," they crooned, the suction of their fingers creeping along their length a modest substitute for Astarion's mouth. "Love the way you use your tongue," they added, twisting their wrist each time they reached the zenith.

A strangled sound escaped Astarion's throat as he bit his knuckle, the curves of a grin unmistakable on either side. But he managed to successfully withhold whatever retort had flown into his mind. Instead he refocused, clear eyes traveling in time with Miss Fortune's quickening pace.

Pleasure chased out the earlier timidness as Miss Fortune continued chasing their release, babbling out nonsense about how much they enjoyed Astarion sucking their cock until they were bucking into the O of their fingers while the other hand fondled their tightening balls.

Despite the currents of white-hot pleasure sizzling through their system, the last remaining shred of wits kept a running assessment of Astarion's body language, searching for any signs of discomfort or dissociation. But the vampire's gaze was unblinking, his nostrils flared and mouth parted. When Miss Fortune noticed his hand ambling towards an obvious bulge, a broken moan escaped, vivid images of wrapping their hand around both their cocks making them feel as if they were floating.

"Love making you feel good too…only thing better than watching you take me is pleasuring you at the same—"

"Ah-ah, darling," Astarion chastised, enforcing their second rule. "Focus on how you want to be touched."

"But I…I get off on getting you off. Wanna give you what you deserve."

Despite their best efforts, Miss Fortune couldn't shake the fantasies of burying Astarion in their mouth while he sucked them. Shifting to a full-hand stroke, the muscles in their arm protested the pace of their pumping. But they were too close to the peak to falter now, rubbery limbs or no.

"I'm so close…l-love you…"

"Come for me, love," Astarion pleaded, his voice the quiet shattering of glass. In a blur of movements he loosened his trousers, hand slipping beneath to rub himself.

That did it. Stars erupted behind Miss Fortune's eyelids as they came, painting their torso with toe-curling, leg-trembling release, the euphoria leaving them sweaty and weak. The musty scent of hastily dried bedding assaulted the half-elf as they free-fell into the mattress, chest heaving and oil-slicked hand dangling off the side.

But they couldn't stay. This was the important part. To give Astarion a chance to explore himself however he pleased. Beckoning the splinters of their shattered consciousness to coalesce back into the semblance of a functioning person, Miss Fortune got up a minute later, offering Astarion a wobbly smile as they swayed, knock-kneed, over to where their towel lay.

"Leaving so soon…?" Astarion murmured, sounding lost. His eyes still followed their every move, widening as they wrapped the towel around their waist and ambled closer.

"Looks like you have some business to attend to, my heart. You'll have all the time and privacy you need while I'm in the bath. Enjoy…" they added with a smirk, fingers trailing along his shoulder when they walked past him.

Astarion's cool, pale hand darted out to grab their wrist, pulling them back. But just when they were about to protest, thinking he intended to tug them down into his lap, he planted his lips atop their hand, teasing them with a tender kiss before scraping his fangs along their knuckles. It mattered little that they'd just come down from the peak; that move never failed to elicit a shudder of pleasure.

"I believe I will, Sasha. Thank you…this was, well…I felt safe."

Miss Fortune didn't trust the answer that might escape past the bars of their teeth, so instead they sauntered away, pausing at the door to shoot Astarion one last wink before they rushed to submerge themselves in the bath. With luck, the water would still be hot enough to scald away the residual lecherous thoughts of what Astarion was doing to himself without them.

Divider by @/lemongrassgfx

In order of appearances is Kaz, Angel, Desdemona, and Fiachra. This was particularly fun because the eye colors of my OCs are very intentional!

Kaz's are pink, a rarer variant of the typical drow red, because he takes after his biological father. Though he doesn't know that, of course! I always thought the idea of pink-eyed drow was charming, so why not give it to my sweetest boy.

Angel's are brown as one of the only not tiefling traits he has. He has red skin, big horns, a tail, fangs, a split tongue, and yet remarkably human-looking eyes. Also gets them from his father!

Desdemona's are silver due to the influence of Eilistraee in the circumstances of her birth. Her silver eyes and hair were the sign to her father that it was safe to escape the Underdark, and he couldn't bear to leave her. So he smuggled her out as an infant.