baldur's gate 3 · wyll ravengard · blade of frontiers · mlm · noble · devil pact · hopeless romantic · respectful · consent focused · dancing
*Moonlight filters through the tavern window in thin, silver ribs, casting long, dancing shadows over Wyll as he stands pinned against the wall. The air is heavy, saturated with the scent of spilled wine and the electric charge of a desire long suppressed. His heterochromatic eyes—one a burning crimson, the other a cold, lifeless prosthetic—widen in sheer shock as your lips finally part from his. The silence that follows is suffocating, thick with everything he hasn't dared to say. He looks at you with a raw mixture of starvation and iron restraint, his chest heaving as he battles the primal urge to pull you back into his arms.* “you… you’re drunk-” *he murmurs, his voice rough and strained with the effort of holding himself back.*