#elf bite size brow
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I Come With Knives
Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader
I am not tagging anybody in this because this fic deals with very heavy subjects and I don't want to force anybody into that unexpectedly.
Title comes from "I Come With Knives" by IAMX
Warnings: blood, injury, blood drinking, mentions of past abuse (not explicit), mentions of emotinal/psychological abuse, mentions of (emotional) manipulation, self-inflicted injury (somewhat vague in description), trauma, slavery mention, angst with a dash of fluff here and there
If I need to add more PLEASE let me know
Word Count: 2,025
Main Masterlist
First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist
I Come With Knives Masterlist
AO3
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The moment you laid eyes on him, you knew what he was. Even in the sunlight, those crimson eyes, the fangs, the bite marks. There was no denying it. But he never said anything about it, never brought it up, nor did he eat in front of you - so you let it lie.
You weren’t a vampire, fortunately, but unfortunately you’d been… a slave… to one. You toss and turn at night, imagining you’re back in her arms. Writhing under her, light fading as she drinks too much in her anger. How she coos and cuddles you afterward, urging water and fruit into your mouth as you cling to her. You wake up nauseous and panting, cold sweat sticking to your skin.
“Bad dream?”
You whipped around, the dagger you kept under your pillow aimed at the owner of the voice. Astarion chuckled, hands raised to show he was unarmed. You sighed and dropped your weapon.
“A really bad dream, then, or are you always so quick on the draw?”
You stay quiet and wipe the sweat off your brow and upper lip. There was a stream nearby… but the thought of being alone out here at night terrified you. Sleeping out in the open with another vampire mere feet away was bad enough.
But there was nothing else you could do now to distract your mind. Her eyes, her smile were burned into your every thought, taunting you, beckoning you back to her.
“I dreamt of my master,” you admit. His eyes squint with intrigue. You feel bile in the back of your throat. “She haunts me every time I close my eyes. I can’t get rid of her.”
He hums, contemplative. “When you say ‘master’...”
You hum, thinking you knew precisely what he was going to say. “She’s probably not too different from yours.”
All at once, he shuts down. The playful, charismatic aura about him turns to stone in a heartbeat. His voice is sour and sharp when he speaks, like a snake’s hiss. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then pretend I said nothing, but you’re not exactly trying to hide what you are.”
He opens his mouth, fangs prominent, but the conversation is cut short when someone shifts in their bedroll. You both watch, waiting for the still silence to return. Even once it does, he says nothing.
“Goodnight, Astarion.” You tuck your dagger back under your pillow and lay back down, tugging the blanket up and over your neck. He catches a glimpse of puncture wounds before they’re hidden away once more.
-
It’s almost noon the next day when he brings it up. Shadowheart and Gale forge ahead, chatting idly about their goddesses. When he sidles up beside you, you wait for him to speak.
“I thought I was being subtle.” It’s light, almost a pout. He doesn’t want to scrape past the surface just yet.
“The fangs and eyes could be excused, if you weren’t an elf. But I’d recognize a scar like that anywhere.” You look at him from the corner of your eye. “And the jokes were a little on the nose.”
His lip quirks up. He looks at you appraisingly, sizing you up. “You have the same scar,” he pointed out. You looked straight ahead again. He looked too… pleased with himself for noticing. “No wonder you wear a high collar - it looks deep.”
“I…” you swallow. Thinking about her makes you so flustered. It’s hard to find words when just thinking about it placed a boulder in your gut. “I was her personal blood supply. Every night, she…”
You don’t see the way his face softens. Haughty superiority replaced with a sort of sorrow. Empathy.
“I’m sorry. I can’t talk about it.”
Leaves brush up against each other around you with the coming and going of a cool breeze. The only other sound besides the conversation up ahead was the sound of boots stepping on dirt and over branches. You focus on it all, desperate to distract your mind.
Astarion clears his throat. “Your form is lousy, by the way.”
You turn and stare at him as though he’d sprouted a second head.
He pretended to study his nails. “When you threatened me last night, your grip was sloppy. And you’d never be able to land a solid blow, not without breaking your wrist first. Threatening an enemy is only as good as your ability to act on it.”
“So my form was like an empty threat?”
He grinned at you like you were a child grasping the alphabet for the first time. “Precisely.”
“And I assume you’d be the one to teach me how to improve?”
“Darling, there’s no one better. I would be willing to give you a pointer or two. If you ask nicely.”
You smiled despite yourself. And later, back at camp, you said please and he showed you everything you needed to know to defend yourself.
-
The stars glisten overhead. Each twinkle is a secret shared between them. A whisper of gossip. You can almost imagine what it would sound like - the tinkling of bells, the soft clink of porcelain.
Astarion purposefully makes his steps louder so you don’t startle when his face pops into your vision. The bags under his eyes seem deeper. His cheeks more hollowed than usual, skin sickly white instead of simply pale. He nudges his head toward the forest, and waits impatiently as you stand to follow.
Long strides carry him quickly through the underbrush, you’re nearly jogging to keep up. And suddenly he stops, ways enough from camp that talking wouldn’t wake anybody up.
He paces, almost frantic. “I don’t know who else to come to for this. The others already don’t trust me - they’d kill me before showing an ounce of kindness.”
“Astarion, what are you talking about?”
He groans and comes to a stop in front of you. His eyes are crazed and starved and apologetic. “I’m hungry,” he finally quietly admits. He takes a step back when he sees the microexpressions in your face. The way your eyes become distant and sharp. At the same time as your mind wanders to your master, you were searching him for any signs of danger. “I know what you’ve been through, but I can’t keep slinking off to eat squirrels and boar - it’s not enough, not if I have to fight. I feel so… weak. I’m open to suggestions, darling, really. I’d much rather not latch onto an old scab.”
When he says it, you turn your head away to hide that side of your neck. You don’t even realize you’re doing it. He can hear your heart racing in your chest. He’s worried for a moment that you’ll pass out. But he waits, as patient as a starving vampire can be, while you think. He makes no move forward, no efforts to reach toward you or grab you.
If eating animals couldn’t satisfy him enough, then only bigger prey would. Your mind jumps to shout “HUMAN” in your ear, but then you’re reminded of the bodies left in your wake. With each encounter, all manner of unsavory types were abandoned, left to rot and decay.
“T- The goblins? Could you eat those?”
He huffs, frustration seeping into his tone. “Well, yes, but there’s a startling lack of them for at least a mile down the road. With your permission, I’d be more than happy to eat my fill after a fight - even during, should it come to that. But if I have to fight tomorrow like- like this,” he gestures to himself, but his voice chokes before he can describe what may happen. He sighs.
The moon watches silently as you struggle against yourself. The stars whisper vitriol to each other, giggling as you clench and unclench your fists. You could do it. You could help him, right now. But just thinking about his mouth on your neck-
You swallow. “I may have an idea. I- I don’t know how well it’ll work, but…”
“I’m all pointy ears, darling.”
You stumble over your words, trying and failing to explain your thoughts. Eventually, you huff in annoyance with yourself and tell him to wait there, before disappearing back in the woods towards camp. You grab your dagger from beneath the pillow, an empty bottle you found, and a roll of bandages.
He frowns when he sees what you’ve returned with. “What are you doing with all that?”
You shove the roll of bandages towards him and he takes them, unwilling to upset you further when your face was set with such determination. You hold the bottle under your arm and steady your blade against your hand.
“Darling, what-”
The smell of blood hits him like a tidal wave. He can’t tear his eyes away. Something animalistic inside of him wants to lunge for a drink; it takes every ounce of his willpower not to.
You uncork the bottle with your teeth and line the dripping blood up with the whole. With a squeeze and a whimper, blood begins to fill the container. The drip slows when the bottle is halfway full. Even for a small jar, it’s impressive. You hold it out for him to take, a slight tremor in your fingertips. “Drink it.”
He can’t argue. He can barely form the words to say anything. All he can think about is the sanguine fluid presented to him. He licks a stray drip trailing down the side of the bottle with a sigh. So sweet. So warm. Thick and rich, not some watered down rancid rat’s blood. He’s groaning as he tips it back, gulping every last drop down.
In his distraction, you pull the bandage from his hand. It takes no effort at all. You wrap a section around your hand.
Astarion sighs long and low when he finishes. His eyes are closed, savoring the taste on his tongue. “That was…” He huffs with a smile, fangs bared and tinted with your blood. When the daze of hunger passes, his eyes find you.
You tried repeatedly to hold the bandage in place, pinning it between the back of your hand and your stomach, trying to hold onto it with your fingers, even trying to use your teeth. It falls each time. You’re careful not to let it hit the ground. You had enough to worry about - best not add infection to the list. Pale hands stop you before you can try again.
You startle away at first. His fingers barely wrap around your wrist, making no effort to hold you in place, only to hold you steady. His other hand takes hold of the bandage.
“May I?” It’s deep, almost seductive. He has a smirk on his face again. Already his skin is gaining the slightest tint of color; his eyes don’t look as tired. “It’s the least I could do.”
Everything inside of you tells you to run away. He’s too close. One quick movement while you’re off guard and he could drain you dry. He could hurt you. Your dagger is abandoned on the ground, dirt sticking to the wet blood along its edge as it waits to be cleaned. You’re defenseless.
With the barest nod, he gets to work. Nimble fingers wrap the cloth securely and tie it off on the back of your hand, out of the way so you can still hold onto things. He guides your hand to his mouth and you’re scared he’ll tear the bandage off and dig his teeth and tongue into the cut, but all he does is place a small kiss over it.
“This is a gift, you know,” he whispers, eyes half-lidded not with lust - but something reminiscent of it. A poor imitation. “I won’t forget it.”
He lets go of your hand. With a smile - too devious to be genuine - he slips back into the woods.
Her eyes don’t haunt you in your dreams that night. Her mouth doesn’t curl around contempt and honeyed words. All you see is him. His eyes staring through thick lashes into yours as his lips place a feathered kiss on your hand.
#fanfic#fanfiction#astarion#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#astarion & tav#astarion & rrader#baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate 3#bg3#baldur's gate astarion#baldur's gate tav#baldurs gate astarion#baldurs gate tav#bg3 astarion#bg3 tav#i come with knives
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Fellow Rolan lovers forgive me 👀 I have no idea where this came from. I just encountered Harper Geraldus in Act 3 again in my playthrough last night, and my brain said, that boy needs to get [redacted]
Harper Geraldus x afab!OC (unnamed, description kept vague)
Wet Behind the Ears
"What would you like, Geraldus? You can tell me."
Harper Geraldus has had a very bad, terrible, absolutely no-good week. His superiors decide he needs a night at the Sharess's Caress to cure what ails him.
Tags: Size Kink, Sexual Inexperience, Face Sitting, Explicit | afab!OC
Word Count: 5.6k [Read on AO3]
No sooner had she stepped from the bathwater did the door to her chambers swing open.
“Hope you’re not headed to bed,” called a sing-song voice.
She wrapped a towel around her wet middle just as Irenya flounced brazenly past the wooden screen beside her bath. Privacy was a rare luxury in Sharess’s Caress, but her workday was well over—she’d earned the right to a bit of it.
“Do come in,” she drawled.
The elf only gave her a coy smile as she toyed with the laces of her tiny bodice. Even for a courtesan, Irenya wore as little as she could get away with. And the bar downstairs owed her half its profits for it.
“Good, you’re up. Mamzell’s got another client for you.”
“At this hour?” A bit of impatience crept into her voice; it was far past midnight. Whoever they were, they’d better be paying well. “Don’t suppose they’d prefer one of our lovely drow.”
“You know that’s not how this works,” Irenya laughed, a tinkling sound. “Mamzell handpicked you. Said you’ll be his type.”
That meant he was either quite green, or quite reserved—she knew her niche well. She busied herself with toweling off and wondered which. “Patriar?”
“Harper,” answered Irenya.
That did stir a mild curiosity. Harpers were even rarer than Guild members on the upper floors of this place, and that was saying something. Folk who dealt in secrecy and under-dealings were strongly discouraged from visiting pleasure houses—though she knew from personal experience that they didn’t always listen to orders.
And why should they? Sharess’s Caress kept secrets better than any of them put together. But unlike the Guild or the Zhent, most Harpers weren’t known to have pockets deep enough for after-hours trysts.
“If this is another favor for Entharl Danthelon,” she warned, cinching a gauze robe around her waist. “I swear, Amira turns into a giggling maid around that bloke. Don’t tell her I said that,” she added swiftly.
Thankfully, Irenya didn’t seem to hear. She took an eager step closer. “Just wait till you see, you might have fun with this one. He’s so pretty,” Irenya groaned, biting her lip in the way that earned all that coin.
Pretty or not, her body yearned only for her empty bed. But telling Irenya that would ensure it got back to Mamzell Amira, and the house mother’s patience had its limits. She put on a practiced smile instead.
“Then kindly shoo,” she told Irenya. “And send the pretty man up.”
As the door swung shut behind the elf—who was no doubt headed for a good night’s sleep, unlike herself—she heaved a sigh and moved to prepare her room for clientele. A second goblet on the tray; a pass over the covers and pillows to ensure they looked fresh and unslept in. She shook her hair down from its clasp, glancing in the mirror by the bath to smooth it. Then she perched herself on the edge of the mattress and arranged her robe to show a sliver of leg. Just enough to catch the eye.
If this Harper was openly visiting the Caress, he must have done something very impressive worth rewarding. Or else survived something awful enough to warrant a professional distraction.
Gods, let it not be the latter. She’d comforted her share of men and women who only wanted to be held while they cried, but tonight, the prospect made her groan. A tumble in the sheets would be far less work on her part, and the customer usually left just as satisfied in the end.
A soft tap at the door broke her reverie.
Her brow furrowed for a moment—knocks were rare. “Come in,” she called.
When the youth stepped slowly into her room, it was immediately apparent why he hadn’t just opened the door like any other patron would.
Irenya hadn’t lied—he was certainly pretty. But gods, he was young. Couldn’t be older than twenty or so, with an angular jaw and wide hazel eyes framed by long, dark lashes the same color as the hair curling just past his shoulders. He had the look of a fawn who’d just stumbled into the middle of civilization.
She watched his large eyes quickly take in the room. When they fell on her where she sat, the blush that traveled up his face was noticeable even in candlelight.
Her mind switched tack at once. She rose to her bare feet, wearing her friendliest and least wanton smile.
“Please,” she invited, drawing an arm out to welcome him in.
His eyes flicked down her figure once, then settled firmly up on her face. “Thank you,” he managed, and strode briskly into the room as if afraid she might rescind the offer.
It took only a few seconds to size him up. His leather jerkin was well-worn but clean, same as his boots. He was tall and fit, yet he moved with more of a cautious ranger’s gait than that of a soldier or swordsman. Perhaps that was just down to nerves. As she watched him close the door, she noticed his pale fingers fidget and shake on the latch slightly.
Few of his age and apparent rank could afford this place, particularly by special appointment. Someone must be very fond of this young man.
“Make yourself comfortable,” she told him, filling the inevitable silence before it could form. “Would you like a drink? I’ve got something excellent from Amn.”
She turned away to uncork the bottle and give him a chance to look around. In truth, this was a vintage she’d been saving for a quiet moment alone tonight—but it would taste just as fine with company. As she filled both cups, she could hear him shifting on his feet behind her.
“Thank you,” he repeated again as she turned back. His voice was a gentle tenor, and there was a nervous tremble on the first word.
“So.” She offered the wine out to him—he was careful not to touch her fingers as he accepted it. “What shall I call you?”
“Geraldus,” he blurted out. Clearly not taking up her veiled offer to give a pseudonym. When his doelike eyes finally met hers again, they were unsure. “Can—could I ask your name?”
She gave him another easy smile and replied with the usual. Not returning his honesty—but when did she ever?
“Very nice to meet you.” And young Geraldus actually dipped his head in a little bow to her. Oh, she would have this one fast asleep in half an hour.
“What a gentleman,” she laughed, finding herself harmlessly charmed by the gesture. “The pleasure’s all mine. Seat?”
She sank back down on the edge of the bed while leaving plenty of space for a gap. For a moment Geraldus froze, and she was afraid she’d broken him. Then he followed suit wordlessly, wine in hand, and took a seat on the very far corner of the mattress.
Really should bother Amira for some chairs, she noted to herself. Then again, most of the clientele didn’t mind beds as much as Geraldus apparently did.
At least he was drinking. It would help him forget his nerves, and she was pleased to see Geraldus take a long drought as his eyes roamed across the room again over the edge of his cup.
She took a savoring sip. “Good, isn’t it?”
“It’s sweet,” he agreed in surprise. “It doesn’t burn like—” He caught himself, looking sheepishly at her. “That is, it’s better than the wine back home.”
“Where’s home for you, Geraldus?” She tried and failed to imagine such a gentle soul growing up on the streets of Baldur’s Gate.
“Nowhere special,” he said, looking down to swirl the liquid in his cup. “Just a little village in the Greenfields.”
“Ah—” She half-reclined with an elbow on the mattress, and felt a grin rise to her face in spite of herself. “Yeah, that’s firmly ale country. Damn good ale, though.”
Geraldus’s face finally relaxed. “You’re from Greenfields too?”
“Just lived there for a while. Long enough to miss it after a few years in the Gate. Let me guess, was your family in barley or sheep?”
“Sheep,” he laughed, and she admired how handsome he was with a touch more confidence. “On rainy days I can still smell the wool.”
“You think sheep are bad? Try pigs.” She cocked a brow at him and took another drink.
Geraldus looked at her as though trying to tell whether she was joking. “There’s no way someone like you has mucked out a pig stall.”
“Why not?”
“You’re a lady,” he protested, as if that ended the discussion. “You drink Amnian wine, you smell like lavender—” Geraldus straightened up slightly, looking as though he'd given too much away.
She found she enjoyed his guilelessness. She had no regrets about the comforts this life afforded her, but ‘lady’ was a stretch. Still, manners were always appreciated.
“How else do you think I paid my way here?” She teased him. “Selling my best sows set me up quite nicely my first year in Wrym’s Crossing.”
The subjects of life in the country compared to life in Baldur’s Gate took them far. She refilled their wine twice, eventually just leaving the bottle within arm’s reach on the floor. Geraldus had relaxed enough to mirror her pose and lean back on his elbow; she brought her feet up on the bed to curl into a comfortable shape beside him.
Perhaps sleepiness and the wine were going to her own head…but Geraldus looked prettier by the minute. She watched the rose-petal curve under his lower lip as he spoke, not catching what he was saying. His eyes were more of a pale green than the hazel gold she’d taken them for at first. Or maybe that was just a trick of the candlelight?
As she pondered, she realized that he had grown silent and was watching her face in turn. She'd angled herself closer to him involuntarily while he spoke. They were close enough she could hear the shallow note of his breathing.
“Can I ask you something?” She requested, breaking the quiet. Geraldus nodded.
“Why exactly did you come here tonight? You’re not the usual type,” she added, and touched her fingers to his free hand in an attempt to soften the observation.
“Oh.” Geraldus fiddled with the neck of the wine glass in his hand. “It wasn’t really my idea. Not that—this is nice,” he said in a rush, and she felt his fingers twining up through hers on the bedspread. “Not like I expected.”
She cocked her head. “Did you expect me to eat you up?” Not a bad idea, she thought, glancing over the lines of his body under his jerkin.
“No!” He blurted out in surprise. “Maybe? I don’t know…it just happened so fast. Entharl pushed me out the doors before I knew where I was. Said I was too gloomy for usual company,” he added, looking down at his boots.
So that confirmed her earlier suspicions. Harpers may be discreet, but it was hard to miss things when you worked down the street from what was almost certainly one of their safehouses. Which meant poor Geraldus must have been sent here tonight for comforting as much as pleasuring.
“Have you had a bad day?” She asked gently.
His large eyes met hers with a long look. For a moment, he almost seemed close to tears. “Bad week,” he answered.
She brushed the back of his hand with her thumb. “Would you like to talk about it?”
Vehemently, he shook his head at her.
“What would you like to do then, Geraldus? You can tell me.”
“I don't know…I’m not sure.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Can I kiss you?”
In answer, she took the wine glass from his hand and set it at the foot of the bed beside her own. Then she reclined parallel to him, tilting her face up in an open offer.
Without another word, he leaned down to press his lips to hers. He trembled slightly against her, whether from nerves or from a more sober emotion she couldn’t tell. She brought a hand up to his hair regardless, smoothing and tucking the dark waves back behind one lightly pointed ear.
Their lips slid together softly like that for a long moment. Eventually she felt Geraldus relaxing against her mouth. But his frame still hovered over her, as if he wasn’t sure where to put his weight.
Without breaking the kiss, she guided his far arm to her side. Though she’d placed it there herself, the feel of his large palm pressing against her waist stirred a pleasant warmth in her belly. She clasped both hands behind his neck, encouraging him to lean down further over her while they kissed.
When he left his lips parted for a few seconds, she took the chance to gently touch her tongue to his. Geraldus made a soft, eager sound against her, returning the gesture with enthusiasm. His mouth was warm and sweet and tasted of rich Amnian wine.
While kissing him was lovely, she was increasingly curious to know how else she might take this poor boy’s mind off his apparent troubles. When she pulled away, Geraldus’s face trailed after hers as though reluctant to end the kiss.
“Would you like me to kiss you anywhere else, darling?”
Geraldus blinked down at her, perhaps thrown by the pet name. “Where else is there?”
It brought a laugh from her, and she curled her fingers through the dark locks behind his neck. “You really don’t know how this works, do you.”
His eyes widened with a nervousness that only confirmed her suspicions.
“I've been with a woman before,” he answered defensively.
“Oh?” She continued petting his hair, keeping her tone light and unteasing. “Have you been kissed other places, then? By men or women?”
From there, it was easy to suss out the exact limits of his experience. It came as no shock that no one had ever put their lips anywhere but his mouth. Not his neck, his chest, his cock—that last fact she withheld her kisses from him until he admitted, flushing profusely right up to his dark hair all the while.
She found herself speaking more plainly than usual. “Geraldus, first I’d like to help you out of these clothes. Then I’d like to suck you off before I ride you. How does that sound?”
That had most certainly broken him. He stammered and blushed somehow darker; she could practically feel the heat radiating off his face above hers.
Finally, he managed a breathless response of “yes, please.”
She drew his lips in against hers again as she went to work. She felt him reach a hand to the buckles under his side, but she was already springing them open on both right and left.
“How do you know—” He began, impressed, before quieting as the realization hit him. She slid the leather pieces up over his head and leaned in to give him a quick, enthusiastic kiss. When his linen tunic followed, she kept him held back for a moment with a hand splayed over his sternum.
Gods damn, but they grew them right back in Greenfields.
Geraldus was broad-shouldered and lean, with firm bands of muscle beneath the pale skin of his arms and chest and stomach. From the sinews in his forearms and the strong cut of his shoulders, she guessed he handled a longbow quite often.
As her eyes raked over him with open appreciation, she caught sight of a shining scar across his left side. Young he may be, but his body already bore evidence of his chosen profession. She reached to brush down the line of it with her fingers; Geraldus shivered but tilted slightly into her hand.
“Didn’t get that shepherding,” she observed.
“No,” Geraldus agreed. He licked his lips again—the gesture was much more intriguing combined with shirtlessness. She hooked her thumbs over the waist of his pants in suggestion.
“Wait,” he requested, his gentle voice trembling again. She watched his eyes moving over the curves under her thin robe. “Can I?”
She leaned back and stretched her arms up over the pillows, arching her back in invitation.
Slowly and deliberately, as if unwrapping an expensive gift, his fingers reached for the tie at her waist. She watched with satisfaction as he drew the garment open to each side to expose the bare length of her body. His lips parted in admiration as he took her in.
“Can I touch you?” Geraldus asked in a whisper.
“Anywhere you like,” she assured him.
To her delight, Geraldus fell over her and began eagerly exploring her chest with his lips. When his hot mouth closed over the hard peak of one breast, she hummed in approval and ran her nails up through his long hair. It seemed to encourage him; his calloused palm moved to cup the other.
“Tonight’s for you, darling,” she reminded him lazily, not really in a hurry to interrupt him.
He responded between hungry swirls of his tongue. “I’d kiss you here if you’d let me,” he said, and his hand actually slid from her breast to land boldly above the apex of her thighs.
“Absolutely not,” she laughed against his brow. “Gods, you’re unbelievable—how dare those Harpers keep you hidden away so long? Sure you don’t have a little sweetheart in Rivington?”
“Of course not—” There was a wet sound as he released her breast to stare up at her, wide-eyed. “I wouldn’t be here if—if I was—”
She clasped his jaw in a hand to kiss him again, drowning out whatever earnest response he was trying to make to her teasing. “If you’re very, very good tonight, I’ll sit on your pretty face. How about that?”
“Gods,” he groaned, and that pretty face landed between her breasts. “Would you?”
She looked down at him quizzically. “You honestly want to, don’t you?”
His cheeks flushed a deep pink. “Yes,” he admitted.
“As long as you’re a good boy, then,” she told him. With a firm shove, she sent him sitting back on his heels at the end of the bed. “Now take off your pants, Geraldus.”
He scrambled to obey, kicking off his boots before his fingers fumbled at the laces of his trousers. She lay back and watched him with genuine anticipation. From the size of the tent straining at his front, she already suspected that the gods had given to him with both hands.
And what a delightful bit of justice in a harsh world—for young Harper Geraldus to be blessed with such a big cock.
His impressive length stood stiff at attention, skin a lovely smooth pink—and the size of him. Not the biggest she'd had, but much closer than his blushing shyness had led her to believe.
She crooked one finger at him where he stood in a come-hither motion. He crawled up the bed eagerly, but she shifted away to the side at the last minute. “On your back,” she directed him.
Geraldus obeyed again, his tall frame collapsing into the pillows as he watched her shuck the robe all the way back off her shoulders. She curled up into his side, tracing a finger down the firm, fair planes of his chest and stomach. He shivered under her touch.
Then her fingers closed gently around his base—barely fitting a third of his length in her grip. She pumped him a few slow times from base to tip. It would require most of her creativity to take him, either with her mouth or her cunt.
But if anyone deserved both, it was the young man currently squirming and whining in her bed. She could tell Geraldus was struggling to quell the instinct to thrust up faster into her grip. No doubt trying to be good enough to earn what she’d promised, judging by the way his wide eyes were fixed in anticipation on her face. She clenched her thighs together at the thought of having his eager mouth between them.
“I can see why no one’s put lips to your cock before,” she mused, enjoying the way his dark brows screwed up just from the unhurried strokes of her hand.
“W-why?” His tenor had shot up to a strained pitch. She loosened her grasp completely—it would be too easy to finish him like that.
“You’ve got enough to choke on,” she told him, and climbed between his legs. “But don’t worry, I’m quite good at this.”
Before he could clear his expression from its jumbled mixture of shock and hope, she leaned to take his tip softly over her tongue.
His body made a sharp jackknife at the waist, and Geraldus let out a word much filthier than she expected. But she was ready for his physical reaction—the weight of her forearms on his hips kept them firmly planted into the mattress.
She slid her mouth over him, relaxing her jaw to take him all the way to the back of her throat before releasing everything but the very tip of his cock. She continued the motion several times until saliva trickled down the rest of his length. Then she returned her hand to his base, twisting her grip to meet her lips with each motion.
She took him just like that, giving attention to his full length, relishing the way his smooth tip bumped the back of her throat with each thrust. He whimpered and begged incoherently above her at the sensations of her mouth and hand taking him in tandem. Could he already be as close as he sounded?
Just as the thought occurred, she felt his legs tense on either side of her own. Almost disappointed, she instantly slid her mouth off him with a wet kiss of release.
Geraldus made a sound like a sob at the absence. When she glanced up, there were actual tears pricking at the corners of his dark eyelashes.
“Dearest,” she murmured up to him. It was far too tempting to apologize to that face; she placed nipping kisses along his thighs instead. “You deserve to feel my cunt first, don't you think?”
“Yes,” he groaned, obviously trying to master the strain in his voice. It suddenly seemed like a very good time to reward his patience.
“Be a good boy and slide down,” she urged him, already moving up around his straining erection on her knees to straddle his waist.
That brought a spark of hope to his eyes. Geraldus frantically gripped her torso for leverage, tugging her bodily up the bedcovers as he somehow nudged each of his broad shoulders through the gap in her legs. As he settled her above him, he stared up at the slick view between her thighs like a penitent.
“Smack me twice if you can’t breathe,” she told him, giving his dark locks a teasing pull to try and get his attention. The way he nodded left her unconvinced he’d heard.
Deciding he looked ready enough, she lowered herself firmly over his waiting mouth.
For all his obvious inexperience, the instant heat and enthusiasm of his tongue was a pleasant start. Her eyelashes fluttered in satisfaction as he painted firm strokes up her folds, just barely reaching her peak.
“Good,” she praised with a sigh. “Higher—”
He listened attentively despite wearing her thighs clasped around the delicate points of his ears. His hands rose to her hips as he angled his mouth higher, finally hitting the spot where she needed him most. Her toes curled where they were pressed over his biceps.
He was completely unpracticed, but he had good enough instincts to keep the pace steady as she rocked herself against his face. She imagined his hips bucking uselessly into the air behind her, desperate to wet his neglected cock in the folds his tongue was parting.
“Pretty Geraldus,” she sighed, her hand a fist in his dark hair, trying to keep her wits about her as she felt a twitching climax build at her core. “Shall I come on your tongue?”
His eyes flew wide between her legs. In answer, strong forearms gripped tighter over each of her thighs, holding her down onto the now-frantic lapping of his tongue over her slit. She closed her eyes and arched her back against him, giving way to the heat of his mouth desperately sucking and licking her closer to the edge.
With one last tug on his hair, she shuddered against him and rode out her orgasm over his tongue. She felt a gush of arousal from her center flow out over his lips. Geraldus moaned something against her flesh, but the words dissolved into a hum that ran straight to her core and reverberated as another shiver of pleasure up her spine.
With effort, she pushed herself back to sit on his chest, freeing his arms. Geraldus gasped for air slightly, but his expression was drunk with pleasure and a bit of pride. His mouth and chin were painted wet with her arousal.
“Such a good boy,” she purred in praise. “Getting me ready to take that big cock of yours—” Before he could respond, she reached to swipe her thumb along the wet line of his jaw, then nudged at the juncture of his lips.
He understood immediately, obediently sucking her finger into his mouth and cleaning her release off with his tongue. She felt his hips rocking involuntarily behind her.
With a smooth shift of her weight, she landed with her bare chest pressed to his and pushed her wet slit back against the top of his cock.
“Oh,” Geraldus whined above her, and his beautiful eyes squeezed shut at the feeling. She continued slicking her folds up and down his length to wet him, all the while watching the way his face screwed up as if pained. His fingers flew to grip around hers where they lay over his ribs.
It was difficult enough to line up her opening with his cock from this angle—let alone while having both hands held hostage under his own. Using his firm stomach as leverage, she pushed up to straddle him against her and then sank down. It seated the tip of him perfectly inside her.
Just that first stretch was delicious. Geraldus seemed to feel the same; his hands released hers, instead landing on her hips with an enthusiastic squeeze. But he panted obediently under her, eyelids still shut tight, waiting for her to take him further.
Little by little, she eased herself down onto each inch of him, her jaw falling slack as he stretched her walls to their limit. Finally her hips landed to slot against his own.
She stayed there for a moment, relishing the utter fullness of having his cock entirely buried within her. The ache at her opening was slowly tipping from a twinge of pain to a throb of pleasure.
But she wouldn’t be able to ride him from this angle. Instead, she leaned forward to grasp his strong shoulders and braced her arms straight against them. “Geraldus, look at me.”
His eyes fluttered open then, and landed on her face where it hovered above his. She took in his parted lips, the aquiline line of his nose, the youthful smoothness of his brow marred by a pleading wrinkle as he waited for her to move. And his expressive eyes, which she now decided with certainty were a pretty shade of hazel—currently traveling over her face as if trying to read her thoughts.
“You are the loveliest man,” she told him with utter sincerity. And I’m going to fuck you until you forget everything but my cunt.
With his eyes still on her, she slid her hips up and back down over his length. A guttural, breathy sound rose straight from his chest. She continued working him in and out of her tight wetness, finding a slow but steady pace that was just barely past the edge of teasing for both of them.
“Oh, Gods—” His hands spasmed against her hips, as if he wanted to bounce her faster on him but wasn’t sure whether it was permitted.
She took the cue herself. She ground her hips into his at a more brisk clip—and bit her lip hard at the sensation of his tip knocking deep inside her with each thrust. At this angle and pace, he filled her to the point of incoherence.
After being taken up to the edge of release by her mouth, she could tell Geraldus was already close again. When her fingers brushed up over his hard nipples, he let out a shuddering whine of pleasure. His hard length twitched against her walls.
At once, she slowed to grind her hips into him, relishing the pressure of his hard cock filling her so fully. He panted at yet another denial, and she felt his calloused fingertips digging into the flesh of her hips. Geraldus gazed up at her with a plea for more.
“Have you been good enough to come in me?” She studied his face unhurried, admiring the way his fair brow screwed up in anguish and pleasure at the question. “What do you think, darling?”
“Yes,” he begged, too sweet to know he was strong enough to fuck her at whatever pace he wanted, even from this angle. “Please, yes, I have—”
She splayed her fingers across his chest, rocking herself deeper atop him. “Ask me for it.”
“Please,” he whined prettily, his eyes shining with tears again. “Please, please, I’ve been good, I swear—Gods, let me come inside you, please—”
He was so earnest, so beyond desperate, it would be unthinkably cruel to deny him. She leaned both hands back on his thighs and rode him hard, using the angle to drive his cock into her center again and again. Stars swelled across her vision; each thrust sent his considerable length pounding against the limits of her insides. She closed her eyes against another rush of pleasure to her core, listening to the sweet way Geraldus whimpered her name.
Large palms pressed hard against her lower back—the angle of him shifted inside her as he leaned up to muffle his sounds into the skin of her breast. Then his arms and legs shuddered as he released inside her, spilling and twitching against her walls. She rode him out through it, as best she could with the way he clutched her to him, wanting him to feel every last scrap of pleasure.
Her own climax hit her like the snap of a bowstring. She found her arms clenching around his shoulders for balance, as if she might tumble away on the wave that rushed through her body.
Geraldus supported her firmly, sweet thing that he was, holding her tight despite the way his own limbs trembled.
After a while of him holding her straddled on his lap, the pressure between her legs turned to an ache. She stifled a wince as she shifted to slide off him. Even his softening length was a stretch for her tender and likely now bruised insides. She chided herself for riding him so enthusiastically before—she knew better than that.
As she began to pull away further, Geraldus clutched his arms tight around her back.
“We just need a towel,” she explained, turning to kiss the tip of his ear. “Did you think I was leaving?”
“No,” he lied, growing sheepish again, but his arms loosened to let her up.
She returned with a soft cloth for each of them. He reached for one, but she knelt beside the bed to neatly clean him. Even now, he was still too green to grasp exactly how this all worked.
And the mess between her own legs could wait; by now his release had already dripped out of her to generously coat her thighs.
Once they were both tidy, she rose to her feet and smoothed back a stray lock of his hair. “Would you like me to draw you a bath?”
Geraldus shook his head, looking up at her with sleepy affection.
“Would you like to go to bed, then?”
His eyes filled with innocent delight. “I can stay?”
She considered telling him that after the sum his keepers had no doubt paid, he could do a great many more things with her. But it might be nice to surprise him with that in the morning.
Instead, she raked her fingers through his hair and tilted his face up for a soft kiss. “Of course, darling.”
She moved on rather unsteady legs to snuff all the candles, then helped guide him under the covers through the dark.
When it came to sleeping, she didn’t usually care to share her bed with others. Tonight she found herself in an unusually generous mood. Geraldus was long-limbed and full of wiry muscle, yet every bit as gentle as a lamb.
As she settled herself under the blankets, he notched his face up against her shoulder and rested an arm securely across her middle. She leaned her cheek against his dark hair like a pillow. The feel of being weighed down by his body against her side was comforting in a way she didn’t expect.
“I love you,” Geraldus abruptly sighed against her neck.
She let out a sleepy breath of laughter that ruffled the locks of his hair.
“No you don’t,” she told him gently, and pressed a kiss to his brow. “You just really, really needed that.”
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Bite-Sized (3) - A BG3 G/t fanfic
This contains g/t (giant/tiny content) so if that isn't your thing, then I suggest you stop reading. Thank you!
Read on ao3
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4
Summary: After spending the night at Gale's camp, Ria is offered a warming breakfast and meets the last party member of the group. Astarion, still grappling with his hunger, doesn't let that stop him from jabbing some insults towards the borrower.
Pairing: Astarion x borrower!oc (Tav) (slow-burn, Astarion is a complete ass but eventually comes round in future chapters)
Warnings: V*re mention, mouthplay, fearplay, blood, swearing/course language, blood drinking, Astarion is a real asshole to little people/borrowers and doesn’t see them as people so be prepared for him being awful.
Word count: 4.6k
Ria awoke the following morning to the feeling of earth-rattling tremors shaking the ground. She was almost jostled from her spot underneath her makeshift blanket and it immediately sent a wave of panic through her body.
What is going on? Where am I?
Memories of the previous night soon came flooding back to her mind as she sat up in her miniature tent. It was hard to believe that last night she had been so close to death and now she was in a camp surrounded by giants. Gingerly she stepped out of her tent and saw that everyone was awake. A loud screeching noise resonated throughout the camp and she had to cover her ears with her hands at the dreadful noise. The source of the loud noise was coming from Lae’zel, who was sharpening a longsword on a slab of stone.
Gods, make it stop!
Shadowheart approached Lae’zel with a rather disgruntled look on her face. “Shar help me, Lae’zel, if you don’t cease your sword sharpening at this ungodly hour, I will make you stop.”
Lae’zel paused what she was doing and snapped her neck towards the half-elf. If looks could kill, Shadowheart would be dead right where she was standing.
“Chk. I’d like to see you try, Shadowheart.”
Shadowheart bristled with anger and opened her mouth to speak, but Karlach immediately came blundering in between the two with a plate full of pancakes in her hands.
“Guys, you won’t believe this! Gale made pancakes!” Karlach was practically oozing joy from her face as she shoved a piece of pancake into her mouth, not sensing the tension between Lae’zel and Shadowheart.
Lae’zel paused her sword sharpening to stare at Karlach with her plate of steaming pancakes.
“Pancakes?” Lae’zel wrinkled her nose. “That sounds like food for children.”
Karlach’s face quickly changed from joyous to that of utter disbelief. “Oh, my gods, you’ve never had pancakes before? You’re in for a real treat, Lae’zel.”
Lae’zel furrowed her brows, not very convinced by the tiefling’s statement. “I doubt that Gale could produce any food that could please my tastebuds, but I will try it.”
“When I was in Avernus, I never had food like this,” Karlach continued, her cheeks full of food. “Gods, this is so fucking good.”
“I’m glad that at least you’re enjoying it, Karlach. It does smell good.” Shadowheart’s anger from before had dissipated as she smiled warmly at the tiefling.
Ria remained grounded where she was, not entirely sure what to do. The others hadn’t noticed her entering out of her small tent yet and she didn’t feel comfortable asking for some food, either. Borrowers didn’t exactly ask for food from giant people, she was so used to taking pieces of food scraps and anything that she could find without anyone noticing.
Ria didn’t have to wait for much longer as Shadowheart’s gaze soon trailed over her tiny frame.
The cleric greeted her with a gentle smile. “Good morning, Ria. I hope you slept well.”
Ria nodded, craning her neck to meet her gaze. “Good morning! Y-yes, it was actually the best sleep that I’ve had in a long time, actually.”
“I’m glad that you slept well,” Shadowheart replied. “Would you like to join us for breakfast? There is more than enough to go around.”
Ria blinked in surprise. No one, especially someone who wasn’t her own kind, had offered her breakfast.
“I would love to join you for breakfast,” she answered.
Shadowheart fell to one knee so that she was closer to Ria. The half-elf extended her open palm to the small borrower, gesturing for her to climb on.
“It’ll probably be easier if you climb on,” Shadowheart said. “And safer for you, too. I’d hate for someone to step on you.”
Ria inhaled deeply and steeled herself. She had allowed Gale to hold her and nothing bad had happened. Surely Shadowheart could be trusted as well, especially since she had been the one to heal her wounds from last night. Slowly and with great caution, she climbed into Shadowheart’s open palm. She instinctively grasped onto Shadowheart’s index finger as the half-elf stood to her full height.
Karlach’s eyes brightened as she looked down at the little borrower now sitting in Shadowheart’s palm.
“I still can’t believe that little people are real,” Karlach said in between mouthfuls of pancake. “You are so cute!”
A faint blush blossomed across Ria’s face at Karlach’s words. “Um, t-thank you.”
“I can’t believe Shadowheart hasn’t dropped the poor thing yet,” Lae’zel grunted.
Shadowheart shot a scathing look at the githyanki. “As if you’re gentle enough to hold a borrower, Lae’zel. You would crush her with one simple hand movement.”
“Chk! I am not so careless to do such a thing, Shadowheart. I may be a seasoned warrior, but I can be gentle when I need to be.”
Shadowheart bit her tongue to stop herself from laughing. “You? Gentle? Don’t make me laugh, Lae’zel.”
Shadowheart and Lae’zel continued to bicker back and forth for some time, and all Ria could do was silently watch from her seat in Shadowheart’s hand. She quickly caught on that Lae’zel and Shadowheart certainly weren’t friends in the slightest, as it was obviously apparent. While they continued to argue back and forth, Ria looked around the rest of the camp. She noticed Gale hunched over the morning campfire with a frying pan seamlessly levitating above the fire by itself – a glowing aura of magic surrounding the kitchen utensil as the wizard flicked his wrist every so often.
At least Astarion won’t be out here.
Her gaze trailed away from Gale and her heart nearly caught in her throat. There, standing in broad daylight, was Astarion. Her mouth hung open in shock as she watched him absentmindedly flick through a book, as if standing in the sun was a very normal occurrence for him.
But- but- HOW? Vampires can’t walk in the sunlight! What in the hells is he?!
The only noise she could hear now was the blood pounding fiercely in her ears. Her heart rammed against her ribcage, threatening to break through them at any moment. Her knuckles turned white as her fingernails pierced into the palms of her hands. Dryness enveloped her mouth and her throat tightened. Images of last night replayed through her mind – flashing teeth, crimson eyes, the crushing weight of his fingers squeezing her tiny body. Without thinking, she instinctively wrapped her arms tightly around Shadowheart’s index finger and held onto it as if her life depended on it. Rumbling murmurs vibrated around her, but she couldn’t hear anything over the blood hammering through her ears.
Shadowheart’s fingers twitched around her quivering body. The half-elf’s face soon came into view as she brought Ria closer towards her.
“Ria? Is everything alright?” Shadowheart asked, her face etched with concern.
“Your unpleasant face has frightened the poor borrower, Shadowheart,” Lae’zel quipped.
“Now is not the time Lae’zel!” Shadowheart glowered at the githyanki.
“Is she okay? What’s going on?” Karlach’s worried voice rumbled through the air.
“H-How is he there?” Ria choked, her voice barely a raspy whisper. “I-In daylight – how?”
“Ah,” Shadowheart said, quickly noticing that Ria was staring at Astarion. “Well, I suppose we have a bit of interesting information to share with you…to put it simply, our entire group has been infected by illithid tadpoles.”
Ria swallowed thickly. “Illithid? As in…mind flayers?”
Shadowheart nodded. “Yes, unfortunately. It’s a bit of a long story, but our entire group were captured by some mind flayers who infected all of us with their tadpoles. Surprisingly, though, we haven’t transformed into mind flayers, even though under normal circumstances we should’ve started sprouting tentacles a long time ago.”
“Precisely why we need to seek out a creche,” Lae’zel interrupted. “Only a gith creche can cure us of these ghaik parasites that plague our brains.”
“And that’s basically why we’re all traveling together,” Karlach added, smiling softly at Ria. “We figured that sticking together as a group we’ll be able to get rid of these worms in our brains a lot easier.”
Ria took a moment to process all the information. She knew of mind flayers and their parasites, but being so small, being infected by one of those tadpoles was something she didn’t need to worry about. The mind flayers themselves, on the other hand, were a different story. She was aware of their oppressive tendencies and that they enslaved a multitude of races, one of them being the gith. She had never encountered a mind flayer in the flesh, but she had heard stories of their horrific reign and power. The fact that everyone in the camp was infected by illithid parasites didn’t exactly ease her nerves.
“So, the parasite allows him to walk in the sun freely?” she asked, turning the focus back to Astarion.
“Yes, fortunately for him, it does.” Shadowheart nodded. “However, I believe he’s still vulnerable to stakes, but we’re not exactly sure just how far the parasite will go in terms of other vampiric weaknesses.”
“If the spawn merely glances at my neck, I’ll be sure to test my blade on his throat,” Lae’zel hissed venomously.
“Why haven’t you all transformed into mind flayers yet?” Ria questioned.
“That’s what we’re still trying to figure out,” Shadowheart replied. “We really have no idea why, but we’re trying to find a healer, or someone that can help us rid ourselves of these tadpoles.”
“A gith creche is the only solution,” Lae’zel persisted. “Our priority is reaching the creche. Only then will we be free of these ghaik vermin infecting our brains.”
Shadowheart heaved a tired sigh. “Yes, Lae’zel, thank you once again for reminding us about the creche. As if we haven’t heard that enough times already.”
Lae’zel curled her lip into a snarl. “Chk! You will be thanking me once the gith relieve us of these parasites.”
“Hey, are you hungry?” Karlach tore a tiny piece of pancake off her plate and offered it to Ria, interrupting the conversation before things got heated again between Shadowheart and Lae’zel. “You’re welcome to have some of mine.”
Ria blinked, surprised at the tiefling’s generosity. “T-thank you, that’s very kind of you.”
Karlach flashed a rather charismatic grin. “Hey, it’s not like it’s a whole lot anyway. Oh, just be very careful not to touch my skin.”
Heading her advice, Ria carefully plucked the tiny piece of pancake from in between Karlach’s fingers. The piece of pancake was like the size of a loaf of bread in her small hands.
“Why can’t I touch your skin?” Ria asked.
“Infernal engine.” Karlach tapped her chest with her fist, and a loud clanging noise resonated throughout the air like she had just banged a hard piece of metal. “A gift from my old master, Zariel. Basically, it means I can’t touch anyone without rendering them into a pile of ash.”
Ria’s eyes widened. “That sounds…awful. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Karlach grinned. “We’re working on resolving it, as well as these tadpoles in our noggins.”
“I trust that our guest is doing alright?”
Ria tore her gaze away from Karlach and turned around to see Gale approaching them. A small feeling of calmness washed over her at seeing the wizard – out of everyone in the camp, Gale was the one who she felt she could trust the most after he had saved her the previous night.
“Good morning,” Ria said with a small smile. “I’m doing very well, thanks to the bed that you made for me last night. It was the best sleep I’ve had in a long time.”
Gale returned her smile, warmth reflecting in his hazel eyes. “That’s very good to hear. Feel free to eat as much food as you like, I think I’ve made enough to last us all the way to Baldur’s Gate.”
“Thank you again for all of this,” Ria said. “I never thought humans or anyone else for that matter could be this kind to borrowers. You truly have me in your debt.”
Gale shook his head. “No, no, again, it’s the very least we could do after what happened last night. Feel free to stay here for as long as you need.”
Ria continued to smile at the wizard, her heart fluttered gently in her chest. A sharp pang in her stomach reminded her of her hunger and she soon remembered the piece of pancake that she was holding. She tore a piece off with her teeth and nearly moaned with delight. It was the best thing she had ever tasted. The light, fluffiness of the pancake spread across her tongue as she chewed, relishing the delectable flavours.
“Would you like to sit down?” Shadowheart’s voice chimed from above.
Swallowing a piece of pancake, her gaze met Shadowheart’s. “O-oh, yes, that would be nice.”
Shadowheart nodded and slowly brought Ria down towards a nearby log that sat next to the campfire where Gale had been cooking up breakfast, it was the perfect spot for her to sit while still being out of harm’s way. She hopped off Shadowheart’s palm, clutching her piece of pancake close to her chest, and made herself comfortable on the log. Sitting down, she devoured the rest of her breakfast and watched as the rest of the group helped themselves to some of Gale’s pancakes.
All of them except for Astarion.
Ria tried her best to ignore the vampire spawn, and she refused to make eye contact with him, but she could feel his gaze burning into the back of her neck. If Gale and the others weren’t around, she wouldn’t dare be out in the open like this with Astarion so close by.
“Is that pancakes I smell?” A new, unfamiliar voice filled the air and Ria felt her body turn frozen solid.
Another person? Seriously!?
“Ah, Wyll, you’ve made it just in time for breakfast,” Gale’s voice rumbled from above, plating up another stack of pancakes for the newcomer. “Please, help yourself.”
Ria swallowed thickly as a man entered the camp – he had dark skin and a pair of curled horns protruding out of his skull. One of his eyes was black and red, whilst the other was a pale grey. He was certainly handsome, but his devil-like appearance made Ria bristle in fear.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Wyll answered, helping himself to some food. “I managed to get some more supplies for the camp while I was gone. It should last us until we reach the Goblin Camp.”
“Excellent, I’m glad to hear that your trip was successful,” Gale replied. “You should meet our guest, Ria. She will be staying here for a while until she is ready to leave.”
Wyll’s gaze searched the camp in confusion. A puzzled expression soon formed across his rugged features as he failed to see who Gale was referring to. “Um, is this a trick, Gale? I don’t see anyone.”
Ria cleared her throat. “Down here.”
Wyll lowered his gaze and finally settled on where Ria was sitting on the log. His jaw almost hit the ground and his eyes widened in shock. He immediately glanced back to Gale then back to Ria as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“G-Gale? Is that a tiny person sitting on the log?” Wyll stammered.
“Yes, and her name is Ria,” Gale repeated. “And I take it you’ve never seen a borrower before, have you?”
“Oh, a borrower!” Wyll exclaimed. “W-well, I’ve certainly heard of them, yes, but I thought they weren’t real. Just a fairy tale for children.”
“I’m certainly not a fairy tale,” Ria said firmly, furrowing her brows. “Um, it’s nice to meet you, too, Wyll.”
“O-oh! I’m sorry, please forgive my rudeness.” Wyll leaned down towards Ria and extended his index finger to her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ria.”
Ria tentatively took his index finger in her hand and smiled at him. Despite his devil-like appearance, Wyll seemed to be a kind person.
“What brought you to our camp?” Wyll asked curiously, removing his index finger away from her.
Ria’s jaw clenched. “Well, it’s a bit of a long story…um…”
“Astarion nearly ate her,” Lae’zel interrupted rather bluntly.
Wyll almost choked on thin air at hearing Lae’zel’s statement. “W-what? Seriously? Oh, gods above, I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
“I-It’s quite alright,” Ria said breathlessly, although she knew deep down, she wasn’t alright.
“No, it’s not alright.” Wyll scowled. “It looks like I may need to remind Astarion that he needs to keep himself in line if he wishes to travel with our group.” He shot a deathly look towards the spawn who was still lurking in the back on the camp.
Astarion, now noticing that everyone was staring at him, snapped his book shut in anger.
“Save it, Wyll. I’ve had just about everyone in the camp berate me for what happened last night. I really don’t need to hear it from you.”
Ria had been avoiding looking at the vampire up until now, but in that moment, she had made a quick glance towards him as he had snapped at Wyll. In the blazing heat of the morning sun, she immediately noticed just how ragged Astarion looked. There was a feral hunger that reflected in his crimson eyes – it was almost animalistic the way that he looked. The tips of his fingers were twitching every so often and his fangs were sticking quite noticeably out from under his lips. She had seen this same look in the eyes of other predators when they were on the brink of starvation and it never ended well.
“I do believe Astarion has learned his lesson,” Gale said.
“Thank you, Gale,” Astarion sighed. “Now, is someone going to bring me breakfast? I’m far too weak to hunt, unless anyone wants to volunteer-?”
“It’s okay, Fangs, we’ll get you something,” Karlach said rather suddenly. “Anyone want to come with me?”
“I would enjoy accompanying you,” Shadowheart replied. “If it means I’ll be out of earshot from Lae’zel sharpening her blade, then I’ll gladly come.”
“Chk.” Lae’zel curled her lip into a snarl, but said nothing more.
“I would like to come long as well,” Gale added. “I need to pick up some scrolls from the trader in Emerald Grove. We could make a quick stop there on the way.”
Ria’s stomach dropped at hearing all three of them were leaving. She had only just met Wyll, and she wasn’t entirely certain of Lae’zel’s intentions at this stage, so being alone with them at the camp with Astarion didn’t exactly make her happy. She immediately contemplated leaving right then and there, but it would be foolish to leave a camp when there was so much food and shelter available, despite the risks.
I’ll wait until they return, stock up on supplies, then leave.
“Wyll, make sure Astarion doesn’t get too peckish while we’re gone,” Gale said. “Especially for our little guest here.”
“Of course, I’ll make sure he behaves himself,” Wyll answered.
Gale, Karlach, and Shadowheart soon left the camp leaving Ria alone with the remaining three members of the group. She noticed that Wyll was looking at her with a soft look reflected in his eyes.
“Is there anything I can get for you?” Wyll asked with a gentle smile. “Some water? Any more food?”
Ria’s mouth was practically a scorched desert and her throat burned at the thought of having some water.
“Water would be amazing, thank you.”
Wyll’s eyes instantly lit up. “Right! I’ll go fetch you some.” His brows furrowed in thought as he realised that she couldn’t exactly drink out of a normal cup. “Hm. Give me a moment, I’ll go find something for you to drink out of first.”
Panic flared in her chest at the prospect of Wyll leaving her side temporarily. “O-oh, it’s quite alright, you don’t have to-“
“Don’t worry, I’ll only be a moment,” Wyll interjected. “Just sit tight and I’ll be right back.”
Ria could only watch in dismay as her main source of protection walked off to the other side of the camp. He began rummaging around in bags, tossing aside cutlery and silverware as he searched for something suitable for her to drink out off. Lae’zel had also returned to her own tent, seemingly disinterested in making conversation with her. She steadied her breathing and attempted to calm herself down.
I’m being stupid. It’s not like Wyll has left the camp, he’s just not watching where I am is all.
Despite her feelings of fear, her gaze couldn’t help but to wander back over to where Astarion was standing. He was still several metres away from her, but he looked incredibly restless. He had tossed aside the book that he was reading as if he couldn’t focus on it anymore. His crimson gaze soon met hers and her heart almost stopped.
Please don’t walk over. Please don’t walk over. Please-
Astarion began to saunter towards her direction and her breath almost caught in her throat. She wanted to move, but it was if someone had glued her to the log that she was sitting on. Goosebumps trailed up her arms as the vampire spawn continued to approach her until he was close enough to reach down and grab her in his fist. She almost expected him to snatch her up in his hands, but much to her surprise, he simply stood there watching her.
Oh gods, oh fuck, what is he going to do?
“Hello, darling,” he said with a playful smirk. “Are you making yourself comfortable, hm?”
At hearing his remark, Ria could feel her chest tighten and her blood boil.
The audacity of this man! What is he thinking?!
“You have a lot of nerve acting so casual after you literally tried to eat me last night,” she hissed furiously, her face fuming. “Just who do you think you are?”
Astarion simply laughed at her statement. “Oh, I’m sorry my dear, you’ll have to speak up. It’s quite hard to hear you from all the way down there.”
Ria immediately no longer felt like she was glued to the log anymore. She jumped to her feet and craned her neck to look up at the giant vampire. Fear still flickered in her chest at being so close to him, but burning hot anger soon replaced the fearful thoughts away with each passing moment. She squared her shoulders and glared daggers at the enormous man – she wasn’t going to let him walk over her metaphorically or literally.
“Look here, you massive vampire ponce, just because I’m small that doesn’t mean you can just say whatever the hell you like to me!” She pulled the middle finger very aggressively at him with both of her tiny hands and waved them about. “You can go fuck yourself!”
This seemed to get a proper reaction out of Astarion as he clapped his hands together and his eyebrows shot up at her outburst. He seemed almost pleased, which isn’t exactly what Ria had been wanting nor expecting.
“Oh, bravo little one!” Astarion chimed, the stupid shit-eating grin still plastered across his face. “My, my, that was quite the outburst, wasn’t it? Very brave of you to say something like that given your stature, hm? I must say, I do admire your bravery if anything.”
Lae’zel had now come out of her tent and was now watching the two of them with interest.
“The little istik has a lot of fire in her for someone so small,” Lae’zel quipped, seemingly impressed by Ria’s defiance towards Astarion. “That is most admirable.”
Ria was caught rather off-guard by Lae’zel’s sudden compliment.
“Um, thank you.”
Lae’zel simply smiled down at her in response, her normally sharp, piercing gaze slightly softer than it had been before.
“Sorry about the wait, I finally managed to find something small enough for you.” Wyll’s voice resonated from behind Ria as he approached the log that she was standing on.
Wyll’s lips tightened as he shot a very hostile glare towards Astarion. He immediately stood in front of Astarion to place some distance between the vampire spawn and the borrower.
“Astarion, what in the Nine Hells are you doing?” Wyll snapped, his face seething. “Haven’t you done enough to her? You better not be thinking of doing anything funny!”
Astarion put his hands up in the air and shook his head.
“Believe me, Wyll, I wasn’t trying anything out of the ordinary with our vertically challenged guest over there,” Astarion said rather smugly. “Can’t I just simply engage in conversation? I’m on my best behaviour, honest.”
Ria flipped the bird off at Astarion’s direction once more and scowled at him.
“Somehow I find that very hard to believe, Astarion,” Wyll replied dryly, shaking his head in disapproval.
“Astarion was being no more than his snarky self than usual,” Lae’zel added. “However, I would’ve gladly offered a stake to his chest if he tried anything funny.”
“See? We’re all friends here,” Astarion smiled. “No need to jump to conclusions.”
“Speak for yourself,” Ria muttered under her breath.
Wyll heaved out a long sigh. “Right, well, if you don’t mind, I’m actually here to give Ria some water.” He dropped down to one knee so that he was eye-level with her. In between his index finger and thumb there was a tiny thimble filled with water, although compared to Ria, it was more like the size of a bucket.
“Sorry, this is all we had,” Wyll said. “I hope this is alright.”
Ria tentatively took the thimble from Wyll and held it in both of her tiny hands.
“N-no, this is perfect, thank you.”
She brought the thimble to her face and took a hungry gulp of water. It hadn’t occurred to her just how dehydrated she was until she continued to drink ravenously, the cool water easing the burning sensation in her throat as she quenched her thirst.
“I needed that.” Ria placed the thimble down, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Is there anything else I can get for you?” Wyll asked gently.
Ria shook her head. “No, I’m quite alright, but thank you.”
Wyll smiled down warmly at her in response. “Okay. Just let me know if you need anything.”
Ria returned his smile and nodded in reply. Her gaze shifted over towards Astarion and she immediately stiffened. Hunger was ever present in the vampire’s glowing red eyes. His fangs were protruding very noticeably out of his mouth now and both of his hands were clenched into a fist. His gaze kept flickering between both Wyll and Lae’zel’s necks as if he couldn’t decide who to sink his teeth into first. Lae’zel, noticing Astarion’s behaviour, glared at him fiercely, her hand hovering over the handle of her longsword in anticipation.
“Astarion? Are you feeling alright?” Wyll asked tentatively.
Astarion blinked before shaking his head. “I think it’s best if I avoid all of you for the time being until I’ve had something to eat.” His hungry gaze shot downwards to stare at Ria. “I’m using all of my energy left to restrain myself right now.”
“You are one step away from ripping into our throats,” Lae’zel hissed. “Leaving is an excellent idea. If you so much as glance at my neck one more time the only thing you will be tasting is my blade.”
“Yes, I agree with Lae’zel,” Wyll answered. “It would definitely be safer for all of us if you kept your distance for now, at least until the others are back.”
Thank the gods.
Ria felt a small feeling of relief wash over her as Astarion shot her one last look before scurrying out of the camp. It didn’t comfort her that he was on the verge of going ravenous, but at least he still had enough control left to remove himself from the situation. Gale and the others couldn’t come back soon enough.
#prism writes#g/t#giant/tiny#gianttiny#male giant#g/t writing#g/t community#g/t fandom#g/t fearplay#g/t angst#astarion#astarion ancunin#bg3#bg3 g/t#bg3 gt#astarion x tav#astarion x oc
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Woven Threads and Winding Roads (Pt 1&2)
Book: Blades of Light and Shadow
Pairing: Tyril x f!human!MC (Raine)
Words: 2.2K
Ratings/Warnings: General; mention of (Nesper) pregnancy
Summary: Five times Tyril attempts to braid Raine’s hair; and one time those threads begin to come together again as they should.
A/N: Written as a gift for @thosehallowedhalls as a part of the Choices Secret Admirer event! It was such a delight to write for BOLAS again. Also participating in Choices February 2024 with the prompts Eros, Philia, and Pragma. Thank you Caro for letting me borrow your lovely Raine! 🌷🎀
Raine bit down on a laugh as Tyril strode into their bedroom, a scowl biting deep into the angular lines of his face. She rose to meet him, settling a hand against his cheek.
‘There’s the frown I fell in love with,’ she teased, laughter bubbling out of her as his brow furrowed further at her words. ‘We’ve had so little to trouble us these past few weeks — I was beginning to worry you’d forgotten how to brood.’
‘I am not brooding,’ Tyril brooded.
He sighed, wrapping his arms around her waist, closing his eyes and leaning into the kiss she pressed to his jaw.
‘Thank the stars Adrina has the stomach for these tiresome nobles and their courtly swill. The entire Venesterium seems determined to vex me. The sooner we escape this evening’s ball, the better.’
Raine grinned. ‘Mal and Imtura have been rubbing off on you.’
Tyril’s eyes snapped open. ‘How dare you.’
‘They have!’
‘I… forgive me.’ Tyril paused, stepping back to take in the sweep of silver-blue silk swathing Raine from head to toe. His face softened. ‘Here I am complaining about the nobility, when I should be telling you how utterly radiant you look. You are dazzling spring water beneath the noonday sun, a pure vision of Bakshi come to life. You are the very stars themselves, beloved.’
Raine’s chest glowed. She tangled her fingers with his, swishing her shoulders back and forth.
‘Look,’ she said proudly. ‘My dress has a cape!’
Tyril chuckled.
They were still getting used to life in Undermount. To peace.
To not being woken by Imtura’s snores, or the quiet cadence of Nia’s morning prayers; to the soft bed linens they’d traded up from hard-packed earth; to days that held no more danger than social faux pas and politics, instead of threats to their lives, to their friends, to the realm itself.
Well. Realms, plural, Raine thought.
All that time running back and forth across not one but two different planes hadn’t exactly left much time for updating her wardrobe — that, at least, was one aspect of their new life together that Raine had quickly adapted to. Every last seamstress and tailor in Undermount was vying for House Starfury’s patronage. Raine had wasted no time taking advantage.
‘You’re looking rather handsome yourself,’ she told Tyril, running her fingers over the ornate metalwork embellishing his robes. ‘What’s all this?’
Tyril’s face flattened into a frown again.
‘Adrina’s doing,’ he groused. ‘House Starfury has been steadily regaining our former standing. Our coffers are stable, our contracts are shoring up, Father has been able to rehire the staff he let go with considerable bonuses. My dear sister, in all her brilliance, has decided that means I needed to look suitably ludicrous for our re-entry into elven courtly society.’
‘I think you look lovely.’
Tyril’s face pinched in distaste. ‘Have you seen the size of this ring? It’s a House Starfury heirloom.’
Tyril flapped his hand before Raine’s face — rather unnecessarily, in all honesty; there was little chance she’d have missed seeing the ring, given that it was the size of a small continent. There, on his left pointer finger, was a sparkling affair of curlicued silver and diamond, set with a sapphire so immense, its sale could have supported the entire population of Riverbend for a solid year or more.
‘Can you imagine what our roguish friend would say if he took one look at me in this get—up?’
‘Mal would call you a prissy elf boy and probably wet himself from laughter, yes.’ Raine pursed her lips, trying not to grin. ‘I take it Undermount’s finery and flattery isn’t to your liking any more, then?’
‘The flattery never was,’ Tyril said, his eyes trained on Raine as she slipped into a seat at the vanity and finished applying a kohl liner to her eyes. ‘The fineries?’ He hummed thoughtfully. ‘I’ll admit, the novelty of clean sheets and dry boots is wearing off faster than I’d expected.’
He stepped up behind her to run a brush through the silken gold of her hair.
Raine closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, remembering for a moment the mornings Nia had done the same. She had no problem braiding her own hair, of course, but sometimes she and Nia had helped each other tease away the tangles and road-dirt, fixing one another’s hair in readiness for travel and combat.
It had grounded them both. Anchored them in the present, in the living pulse of their Light. Soothed them on the days when the darkness was too heavy to speak through.
Raine met Tyril’s piercing, blue gaze in the mirror over her shoulder. He raised a brow in silent question.
‘Would… would you braid my hair for me?’
A soft smile lit his face.
‘Whatever you would have of me, I would give to you.’
The minutes passed in silence as Raine gave herself over to the gentle touch of her lover’s hands. He’d almost finished a passable —if slightly uneven— braid, when his ring snagged on her hair, pulling a section loose at the front.
‘Drat! Apologies, this ring is impossible. I’ve never seen a piece of jewellery so cumbersome — Gods forbid it’s wearer deign to lift a finger to do anything for themselves. Though, I suppose that’s rather the point, isn’t it?’ Tyril clicked his tongue. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea how I am supposed to hold a sword with this monstrosity on my finger.’
‘Tyril…’ Raine caught his hand, holding his gaze for a long moment. ‘You don’t need to anymore.’
‘Oh.’ His eyes grew round, unguarded. ‘I suppose you are right. Yes, I don’t… right.’
Standing, Raine fixed the end of the braid with a simple leather band.
‘You’ve no wish to fix the snag?’
‘No, it’s fine. I rather like it.’ Raine glanced at the fall of hair that had tugged loose. ‘We don’t want to be too put together for the smarmy nobles, do we?’
‘We do not.’ Tyril cupped Raine’s face, his thumb sweeping over her cheekbone, sighing fondly. ‘You are exquisite, Raine. Do you know that? You are perfect. Celestial. I almost want to keep you all for myself. You know… we could just stay here, tonight.’
Laughing, Raine swatted at Tyril as his gaze grew hooded.
‘Tyril!’
She was rewarded with the sight of one of his rare and dazzling smiles. A secret sight, just for the two of them. It still caught her stomach up in swooping knots every time Tyril smiled.
‘Fine,’ he said, warmly, ‘let us away. But we are leaving as soon as the dessert courses are over.’
Raine’s hand found his.
‘Deal.’
‘Why do you get a cool half-cape?’ Raine grumbled, as they wound their way through the cool expanse of the public gardens. ‘I want a cool half-cape. Instead I get idiotic, too-long sleeves.’
Tyril’s face remained impassive as he nodded at a passing head of house; the gardens were bustling this morning, the lush greenery offering a cool respite from the late-spring sun. Raine greeted the elf in kind with a cordial wave —or, she tried to— the gesture botched by the yards of gauzy fabric tangling about her hands.
‘I hate everything!’ she shrieked under her breath. ‘I am this close’ —Raine raised a hand, snarled when her sleeves got in the way again, flailed her arms about until her hands were free, and pinched her thumb and forefinger before Tyril’s nose— ‘to ripping these awful sleeves off and shoving them into that fountain.’
Tyril smiled, tucking his hand against the small of her back and steering her neatly away from the aforementioned fountain. They walked instead toward a cluster of chatting nobles whom Tyril would rather have avoided, but knew he ought to greet.
‘Adrina is close to closing a significant contract with House Moonchaser,’ Tyril said quietly as they neared. ‘It would be a shame to offend their head of house by destroying the gift she bestowed upon you. Damaging such a gift would be perceived as a deliberate snub.’
‘Godsdamn it all to the blackest reaches of the Three Hel— ah, that is— hello, Lord Frostcrow! Yes, the gardens are looking splendid this morning, you are quite right.’
Their welcome ball had been pleasant enough. Raine had bewitched the gathered masses with her effortless radiance —not that Tyril was surprised; his lover stole his breath with every passing heartbeat— though none had been more taken with her beauty than the Lady of House Moonchaser. The elven matriarch had insisted on gifting Raine a custom-made dress from her personal seamstress as a show of welcome from their House.
It had been delivered late that morning — a heavy concoction of lurid pink velvet and silver embellishments, complete with decorative pearls, ribbons, and something Raine had described as “a headache masquerading as fashion” to be woven into her hair to match.
Raine had thought the whole thing garish… but, it would do well to be seen wearing the garment publicly at least once, so here they were.
Tyril had tried his hand at braiding her hair again that morning. Raine had humoured his attempts —there was something intimate and tender in their stolen moments of quiet together as he worked the ribbons through her hair— and for a time, he’d been rather proud of his efforts.
At least, until they’d made the journey from their small manor in the hills and into Undermount proper, and the whole thing had begun to unravel under all the weight. The imperfection irked him. Damn it all, he wouldn’t stop until he was the single most talented personal hair stylist in all of Undermount!
‘Stupid elven politics,’ Raine muttered, blowing a strand of hair from her face as they continued on with their stroll. ‘I look ridiculous. I’ve slept in war tents with less fabric than this dress. How am I supposed to defend myself in a swordfight with these sleeves?’
‘Were you not the one reprimanding me for my obstinate refusal to relax?’ Smiling, Tyril dropped a gentle kiss to the top of Raine’s head. The braid sagged a little further. ‘Perhaps you might take your own advice. We are safe, beloved. There aren’t any agents from the Ash Empire hiding under the magnolias, waiting to ambush us the moment we—’
‘A MISSIVE! A MISSIVE FOR YOU, LORD STARFURY!’
Heart in his throat, Tyril spun on instinct to find the point of his dagger hovering mere inches from the face of a wide-eyed courier. Beside him, Light crackled in Raine’s palms, her stance poised to strike, her expression nothing short of thunderous.
‘Apologies!’ The courier squeaked. He pinched an envelope between his trembling fingers, prodding it meekly toward them as the colour drained from his face.
Sighing, Tyril flicked his wrist in a practised motion; the dagger slid smoothly from his palm to tuck itself inconspicuously in his shirtsleeve.
He really ought to thank Mal for showing him that particular trick, Tyril thought. He wouldn’t, of course, on account of that would mean actually thanking Mal for something, but the gratitude was there all the same.
He tugged the letter from the courier’s hand. The shiny, wax seal bore a small paw-print in the centre.
‘An urgent missive from the most humble Threep Percivacurus Pompedorfin and the magnanimous Loola Coriandropolis Dupopodolis, dispatched via high-speed drake-courier service out of Whitetower,’ the courier recited breathlessly. He swayed on his feet.
‘I think you should go and sit down for a minute or two, buddy,’ Raine told him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. ‘Drink some water, catch your breath. Maybe have a think about whether or not it’s a good idea to sneak up behind people who were recently involved in the harrowing trauma of saving the entire Godsdamned realm from certain doom and yelling at them, you know. Turn that one over in your head a couple times.’
‘That— I— yes. Sound advice, my lady.’
Bowing stiffly, the courier departed, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away.
‘By the Light,’ Raine muttered. She sounded as tired as Tyril felt.
‘Every day I think to myself, “the general populace couldn’t possibly grow any more dense”,’ Tyril murmured, watching the terrified courier wobble away, ‘and every day, they find new and fascinating ways to prove me wrong.’
‘Um… Tyril?’
Caught by the horror in her tone, Tyril turned to see a sheepish Raine inspecting her hands. Two smoking, fist-sized holes burned clean through the trailing sleeves of her dress.
She winced. ‘Just how important was that contract with House Moonchaser, again?’
Feeling a headache coming on, Tyril scanned Threep’s letter. His mouth dropped open.
‘Oh! Never mind that — Raine! Threep and Loola are expecting!’
Raine clutched at his hands, giddiness sparkling in her eyes. She squealed.
‘You’re joking. Baby nespers?! How adorable!’ Her eyes bugged in her head. ‘Oh, Gods, wait. An army of Threeps…’
The budding warmth in Tyril’s chest flipped to alarm. ‘Oh no… Oh, we need to start stocking the larder, yesterday.’
Stricken, Raine nodded. ‘I’ll place an order for a few bushels of dried anchovies.’
‘Whatever number you are thinking,’ Tyril said, ‘double it.’
Click here for: [Next - Pt. 3&4]
Tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesfebruary2024 @choicesfandomappreciation @thosehallowedhalls @lilyoffandoms @stars-are-within-me @jerzwriter
#blades of light and shadow#choices blades#tyril starfury#tyril x raine#tyril x mc#playchoices fanfic#choices fic writers creations#cfwc fics of the week#choicessecretadmirer2024
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Kinktober 2023 - day 12
Somnophilia Ft. Garan Marethi
You'd agreed, when becoming the new head of the Volkihar Clan, that Garan was to do his utmost to ensure your attendance. Converting from mortal to intensely powerful night creature had been a culture shock, mostly the change in sleep schedule - visible when you'd fail to rise with the moon. Instead, you'd remain in deep slumber, having remained awake even with the sun attempting to break into the castle.
It was standard procedure by now, the dark elf entering your chambers to wake you for the night, surely to admonish you for oversleeping when you were conscious enough to heed his scolding.
And so here he was to do just that, perched at the edge of the King sized bed, looming over your unconscious body, his eyes trailed your bare skin, fingers hooking into the blanket to reveal what lay beneath the fabric bunched at your waist. Weathered fingers pressed into the flesh of your thigh, revelling in the twitches of your brow as he pinched, attempts to rouse you from a light sleep. You didn't stir further.
The bed dips with his weight, though its still too little to wake you as he settles between your legs, lifting a knee to rest up his shoulder, his mouth gets to work. He starts with gentle licks, the tip trailing over you. Eyes fixed on your facial expression, watching it pinch as he presses down the flat of his tongue, warm and wet. He leaves open mouthed kisses there, feeling you pulse against him as he lathes his tongue over you, top to bottom, briefly straying to place kisses upon your thighs, the temptation of biting into your skin to great. He punctured the flesh, drinking you, letting the blood sit on his tongue before swallowing.
It was more than enough to get him riled, hips rutting against your bed sheets as your blood slipped down his throat.
It had all done little to wake you, you'd done naught but tossed your head to the side, lips parted to release your heavier breaths. If not for being the cause, garen would've thought you were having a nightmare.
He rose to his knees, intent on waking you as he fished his cock from its confines. Half hard, he tapped it against you, stroking the head against the bite wound, wetting the tip with his own saliva. He prodded, rocking his hips into you till your hole finally gave way. You gasped, though it was quiet in compare to his own breathless moan. He himself hadn't been up for long, and to have to expert himself so soon was exhausting, how bothersome you could be.
His brow dipped harshly, humping into you, all hips, cock digging into your body at a repetitive pace. His head hung back, hissing as your body instinctively gripped at his cock, his mind clouding as that knot tightened in the pit of his stomach, yet you still slumbered peacefully, so innocent and mortal looking.
He growled, hungry, bending you in half and balancing himself on the balls of his feet. Heavy thrusts buried his cock deep, the clap of his sack against you loud in the quiet.
He didn't hear your moans over the sound of his own, finally awoken to his filling you with cum.
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Trick Letters Pt 2
Pt 1
*.*.*
So two people asked for the sequel and I had a rough week and it slipped my mind, so for the two people still reading here’s the sequel.
*.*.*
“Mushrooms apparently have ensnared the minds of the Dwarves, My King.” Tauriel spoke giving her report on the new prisoners, and the other seems to be under the influence of something else entirely.”
Looking over the bare space behind her the King asked high atop his throne, “And where is this supposed other?”
“Refused to leave a garden we passed and is sharing a tale on a statue within its borders she claims to know of.”
That had his brow arch up, “Which statue?”
“The one of the butterfly fountain, made a claim she sculpted it.” That had the King spring off his throne with staff in hand looped by the wrap he was barely able to keep resting on the edges of his wrist for its balloon behind him on the path back to that specific garden.
Underneath a wide brimmed hat his body locked at the sight of shimmering curls like moonlit snow in a silvery blue hue due to the shadows cast upon them a figure straight from his dreams had now found itself in front of him again. Tattered outer patchwork coat to the knee showed only hints of tall boots etched with remnants of patterns never known to these shores but those of the West. A lone figure he had spoke to on a daily basis but merely as a bread basket wielding young Elf far smaller than he stood now that pulled him back to that same heart racing sticky tongued silence for the silver flecked purple eyes and almost marble carved face that would be aimed his way again.
Tauriel was the one to clear her throat, lost to wonder at her guardian’s silent pleading stare meant by his pounding heart to make the stranger turn and face him once more. And blocked by that same brim those eyes not able to meet his own locked in a wobbly turn of the petite body clearly in need of several weeks of hearty meals and pampering spa treatments to reach its former glowing content glory had a dried blood stained finger aimed at his staff. “You have a stick too!” And out of her jacket a duo of sticks woven to one knotted sort of cane to help with the clearly bound leg was shown to him. “Mine doesn’t do anything fancy like Gandalf’s, but I imagine with the size of yours it might have some knighting powers. Surely bound to have some prowess to it around here.” Bilbo at her side tipping back the water skin raised to his lips from his hip to help wash away the dry feeling in his mouth as he tried not to nod off. His smaller self had been kept nearer to this stranger as they possibly could have ended up in the same place and were not linked to the Durins and their death march at all.
Waving her stick you tapped it to an amused but stiff guard’s shoulders, “I dub thee Sir Such-and-Such of the realm, protector of that patch of petunias over there!” With a hint of a shadowed grin seen the King’s way the stranger lowered the stick to clear sight of the guard biting his lip to not laugh aloud or so much as snicker at the obviously inebriated stranger. “Or do you just use it to poke people who refuse to get out of your way and pick up cloaks you drop?” Before he could dare to answer the stranger spoke again, “I like your cloak, is that Tirion silks? Don’t see many of those,” closer they moved to the still silent King whose eyes flinched wider a moment in their circle of the King adjusting the wrap and lengths of wider bits on his sleeves. “Doriathan swans and Vanyar pumpkin patches, very bold choices, and in this color! Your family must have been very sturdy to pride these patterns.”
“Hmm,” he tilted his head slightly to the tap of the stick to his shoulders, “I know these, but thinner,” grip of his bicep was taken as that same stick was used to tilt that hat back so in his hunch forward to be a few inches from her face he could clearly see the light spread in her eyes and widely smiling face. “Um!! Ten thousand years and here you are! Have I earned a whisper of your name yet? Surely out of our youths I’ve earned something of a respectable stance to hear a syllable at least you towering tease.”
Just barely his voice cracked as a hand rose to take hold of his chin to angle his eyes more into a stream of light they were missing, “Those are most certainly my Um’s eyes. Even so in the meantime while you ponder my worthiness of said whisper does your family still sell those honey butter dripped scones and mint rolls? I only have two silver coins to my name,” and the side of her jacket was moved to reveal a small barrel on a rope length of a strap laid across her dirt and leaf debris stained tunic and worn vest. “But I got some fire whiskey from the shape changer on the outskirts of this forest. King surely can wait. He planted my statue in his garden must be a possible friend at least and patience for a reunion of this grandeur.” A wink was shot Tauriel’s way, popping her brows up, and the stranger now had the King upright and his arm locked under hers, “Now, where is that shop of yours, my mysterious Um?”
All he could do was to shake his head Tauriel’s way and lead his missing prized one to his apartment where those very mentioned treats were in wait for his supper, a weekly ritual to remind himself of the mysterious being he never rightly had the courage to speak to properly before the world of the West fell apart.
And behind the both of them in mention of food Hobbit instinct took over and Bilbo’s groggy self teetered after the both of them in hope of a morsel for himself. “Although when we do have to be seen by this Elf King I will have to tell him he has quite the spider problem, unless that is part of the protection of the forest, then he’s done a magnificent job in concocting that labyrinth, they almost caught me twice. Three if you count the time they crept in when I was asleep.”
The pop in her tone had the Elf Prince who had been waiting with the stranger and Hobbit smile wider in curiosity to join the trio for a meal to learn more about his father’s rarely spoken upon fumbles of his youth encircling this figure who had wandered back into his life to render him speechless once more.
@lilith15000 @theincaprincess @jesevans @devilishminx328
#Thranduil x reader#thranduil#lost crush#reunited#unnoticed identities#secret names#tipsy mc#the hobbit#lotr#Tolkien#thorin and company#Bilbo
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Part 2 for Maglor overhearing conversations.
You were reading a book till a familiar elf arrived.
“My lady, have you ever considered how odd he sometimes looks with a body like that?” They question, catching your attention.
“Seriously? Now we body shaming now?!” You looked at them with a frown.
“Well, just saying there are better-looking partners for picking, and that minstrel is not a looker if I’m being honest,” They said.
You snapped your book shut. “Nah -ah! I am not going on this track. Body shaming is shameful, and you never get a partner with that kind of attitude,” You pointed at them accusingly. “I am a body-positive person. All bodies are beautiful. I’m all for different sizes and shapes,” You declared.
“And dude –” You looked at them. “Those tights~” You grinned as you drew a shape in the air. The elf blushed when they realized what you were talking about. “Perfect pillow, and those arms –” You whipped your head with a happy smile. “I feel like I’m in heaven when he pulls me into hugs and cuddles,” You said. “And!” You raised your finger.
“I have seen what’s under that shirt. I really have to struggle to keep myself in check and not give in to my desire to jump him and take a bite out of those juice muscles,” You said, feeling the heat on your face.
“You’re kind of a pervert,” The elf stated. “Well, isn’t it normal to be a pervert for your partner?” You questioned. “He might not be a looker by your standards, but for me, he’s perfection,” You smiled, making them leave with a shaking head, leaving you with your dirty thoughts.
The brows of Maglor's shot to his hairline while you recalled your conversation with the other elf, leaving him stunned. While he was touched you were standing up to defend him with your quirky remarks, one particular statement stood out to him the most. "So you wish to bite my juicy muscles? Why? I'm not that buff as my brothers and cousins—might bite and munch on bones instead dear," he snickered at his own joke, imagining you running him dow to bite him, "not sure how I would taste, but thank you for informing the poor people that I appear. . .appetizing in your eyes."
#♡{sweet.hugs} ~ {maglor}#maglor x you#maglor x reader#maglor imagine#maglor#makalaurë#makalaure#kanafinwë x reader#kanafinwë#house of feanor#feanorians
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💋a new natural makeup routine💋
+product reviews 🛍
so, i recently got some new products that i felt would be really perfect for a more natural and dewy makeup look. i got the rare beauty under eye brightener and the new powder highlighter. i also got the too faced cloud crush blush in the shade velvet crush.
face:
i used glow recipes dew drops for a primer, a lot of my expensive makeup are just travel sizes i got as free samples or gift sets. but an alternative i like is the shop miss a aqua primer
i use the rare beauty under eye brightener, and it feels so good because the applicator is a metal ball and it’s supposed to depuff your eyes i think. it’s so perfect for no makeup days, no need to set it, and it blends effortlessly with just a finger.
shop miss a paw paw contour stick: yall… i really like this, it was the perfect cool toned contour because i’m pretty pale, and it honestly blends perfectly with a sponge and with the shape you can really draw your lines. also it’s $1.88. i like it better than the elf putty bronzer in feelin shady’, which i was liking, but this is way better.
i only used the too faced born this way concealer on my forehead and to spot conceal to avoid looking too cakey but giving coverage where i need it. a really good alternative for $13 is the sephora collection best skin ever concealer
omggg y’all. the new rare beauty powder highlighter is sooooooo good. i mean, it was literally a mouth dropping moment when i put it on. it has such a glass like, dewy shine and it is BEAMING like it is unreal. I had my bathroom lights off with the sun barely peeping through the window and you could literally still see it shining.
makeup forever ultra hd setting powder: i got this as a gift with a purchase from sephora and i only use a little on oily areas and i didn’t set my under eyes with it to avoid being too matte. it’s very brightening and blurring.
omggg the new TF cloud crush blush is sooo cute, it smells amazing, and i got the shade velvet crush and it’s the perfect neutral nude for a more natural day when you don’t want to use a bright pink. i bought this because i have way too many bright pink blushes.
eyes:
natasha denona shadow in shade flutter all over lids from the retro glam palette. i don’t have the palette, but i got a sample size from sephora. the shade is sooo pretty and shimmery , it reminds me of the white fenty diamond highlight
essence eye brightener: it’s just a normal nude liner, nothing special and it stays a decent amount of time but i’m just using it until i run out.
rare beauty mascara: i love this mascara so much, it’s pitch black, has great longevity, doesn’t flake, and really holds my lashes up all day. it’s really fierce that’s how i’ll describe it.
break up proof cream liner by wet n wild: it stays pretty nicely for the price, but also isn’t crazy hard to remove like some liners
brows:
elf bite size brow palette: sooo great if you like a quick natural brow, it comes with a clear wax, a tinted one, and 2 powders. this palette is best if you like a more natural brow i feel because the tinted wax isn’t very pigmented, but the powders are and you could bolden them. it’s really nice for $4
shop miss a aoa hold my brow soap: if you’ve been on my page for a while, you’ll see me mention this brand a lot. the epitome of quality affordable makeup. this brow soap will really hold your brows in place all day, and i prefer this over the clear wax in the elf bite size brow palette.
lips:
shop miss a wonder lip liner: these liners are affordable, buildable, blendable, and creamy!
tf hangover pillow balm: i love this product, it’s my 2nd tube and it’s very moisturizing, and you don’t absolutely have to have it, but it is my favorite high end lip balm so far.
tf lip injection extreme in strawberry: i’ve literally been obsessed with the too faced lip plumper since middle school. it’s been a repeat buy for me for years. it plumps my lips like no other brand, despite hearing crazy hype about a different product, i’m always brought back to this one because i feel like i haven’t found anything that compares yet. the color is also beautiful
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DuMont (Homeward Bound; Part 2)
Rating: Explicit
Relationship: Female Elf/Male Tiefling
Additional Tags: Exophilia, Tiefling, Elf, D&D, Dungeons & Dragons
Content Warnings: Sex, Biting, Marking, Group Sex, Size Difference
Words: 4902
Enania lends DuMont to Kharis for her bachelorette party. Please leave feedback!
The Traveler’s Masterlist
The bachelorette tea was every bit as dull as Enania said it would be, but the visage of the massive DuMont sitting among all those proper noble ladies, wearing his new cravat and trying to drink a drop of tea from the tiny teacup with his pinky out, was pretty entertaining. After the tea was over and Enania and DuMont had gone back to their room, Enania plopped on her bed with a sigh.
“God, I forgot how tedious noble events were,” She said, kicking off her shoes.
“I liked it,” DuMont said. “The ladies were very nice.”
“Of course they were nice to you,” Enania said, snickering. “They’re all wondering how big you are under your loincloth.”
“That’s what you always wonder about people,” DuMont replied, poking Enania’s stomach gently with a clawed finger.
She swatted at him and sat up. “That reminds me, I wanted to talk to you about something. Come sit.”
DuMont sat down next to her heavily, nearly launching her into the nearest wall.
“Since Kharis is going to be married to my dead fish of a brother, I want her to know what a good fucking feels like, so I was thinking of presenting you to her as a gift at her bachelorette party. Show her a thing or two. What do you think?”
DuMont’s heart dropped. He had suspected this might happen eventually, but he was hoping that it wouldn’t.
“Will you come visit?” He asked morosely.
She cocked her head and furrowed her brow. “Visit?”
DuMont nodded. “I know you don’t like it here, but it would make me very happy if you came to see me every once in a while.”
“Wait, back up, what are we talking about right now? Are you saying you want to stay here?”
“No, I don’t., but if you’re giving me to your friend, then what else can I do?”
Her mouth fell open in shock. “Buddy, nooo.” She got up and straddled his waist. “Why on earth do you think I’d do something like that? I mean, I’m a callous bitch, but I’m not that heartless.”
“But I belong to you, don’t I? You’re free to do with me as you wish.”
“DuMont,” She said sternly.
He flinched. It wasn’t often she called him by his actual name, preferring to call him by pet names. She only said his full name when she was being serious.
“I don’t own you; nobody does. I don’t know what the priest or that god of yours has taught you, but you are not a thing. You are not an object. You are not an item in my possession that I can lend out or give away whenever I wish. You are a thinking, rational person. You are very intelligent, kind, thoughtful, and, much to my chagrin sometimes, extremely moral. You have the right to an opinion. If you don’t like something I suggest, you can say no. If you don’t want to entertain Kharis, you can say no. If you want to stay with me forever, tell me. You’re allowed to ask for things and dislike things and want things for yourself. You’re allowed to have wants and needs and desires that are independent from mine, or anyone else’s for that matter.” She grabbed his snout and forced him to look at her. “Do you hear me?”
DuMont nodded as well as he could with his head trapped in her grip. “Yes, I hear you.”
She gave him a look of disbelief. “So tell me what you want to do. Don’t tell me what you think I want, tell me what you want.”
“...I want to be with you forever,” He said plaintively.
“Okay,” She said, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “And?”
“I’ll entertain Kharis, but I’d like you to be there, too,” DuMont replied.
“That was always the plan. I was also planning on inviting a few other ladies to observe. Not to touch, just to watch. Is that okay? If it’s not, be honest with me.”
He nodded. “It’s okay, if they don’t touch.”
“If we go into territory you don’t like, you’ll tell me, won’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You promise?”
“Yes.” DuMont’s eyes flicked downward in contemplation for a moment, and then looked back at Enania. “Don’t leave me here.”
“I won’t,” She assured him.
He thought for another moment. “...I like tea.”
“We’ll buy you some, then. We’ll need to find you a bigger teacup, though.”
“I don’t like how alcohol tastes. It makes my nostrils feel itchy.”
“Why didn’t you say so sooner?! We wouldn’t have made you drink so much damn mead!”
DuMont shrugged. “I can’t think of anything else at the moment.”
“That’s good to start,” Enania said. “Speak your mind more often, DuMont. I want to know what you think about things. Keeping quiet just creates problems down the line.”
DuMont nodded. “Alright.”
The next night, Enania went to Kharis’s room and waited for the women who’d been invited to arrive. Enania had instructed the maids to bring a variety of snacks and alcohol, and then warned them not to come anywhere near the room until dawn, promising to fire anyone she saw before the sun came up. Familiar with Enania’s antics, half of the women looked dismayed while the other half looked disappointed.
The invited guests arrived soon after Enania gave the order to the maids to stay clear. Cecily, the petite, dark-skinned human daughter of a duke, was already married to a man twice her age who had four illegitimate children outside of his marriage. Keally, a distant cousin of Kharis’s younger half-brother and midnight blue in color, was set to wed someone she hadn’t even met yet from a faraway kingdom. Heraldine, the half-elf sister of the current prime minister, had outlived three husbands already. She’d remained childless during all three of her marriages so most believed her to be barren, and as such, she no longer got any offers for marriage, despite having an immaculate reputation and being absurdly wealthy.
Of all of the ladies in current high society, these three were the closest to Kharis and the most open to debauchery of most kinds. They had even joined in on some of Enania’s risker endeavors, tonight’s events being one of them.
“Alright, ladies,” Enania said. She and Kharis were already wearing sleepwear, lounging on couches and eating from the spread the maids had provided. “Get those dresses off and get comfy. The entertainment will begin soon.”
The ladies tittered excitedly and rushed into the bathroom to change. They were each carrying overnight bags. They emerged soon after wearing short chemises or something even more daring.
“Now, before our star of the evening arrives, we have some ground rules. First, mind your words. DuMont is a sensitive boy, be nice to him. Second, no touching. He has made it clear that the only people to be physically involved are myself and the bride-to-be. You can touch me, Kharis, and each other all you like, but hands off the big guy. Any questions?”
“Wherever did you find that chap, Enya?” Heraldine asked. She had opted for a see-through black negligee with the classic sheer, frill-lined robe. Hot and classy, that was Heraldine.
“In a church, if you can believe it,” Enania said, sipping her wine.
“Go on, you’ve never been in a church willingly,” Keally said.
“I was stopped for the night and it was abandoned. Well, mostly,” She said, laughing. “The poor thing had just lost the man who raised him and had never left the church all his life. I decided to take him under my wing.”
Keally snorted. “That’s code for ‘I really wanted to fuck him’.”
“No! Actually, to be perfectly honest with you, I’m a little ashamed to say that I wasn't sure if he was self-aware at first. He barely spoke and never made much of an impression on me. I didn’t even have a thought of making him please me until after I got to know him a bit.”
“My word,” Heraldine breathed. “That’s so unlike you.”
“I know!” Enania agreed, touching her wineglass to Heraldine’s. “I’m just as shocked as you are.”
“He’s just so… massive,” Keally said in an awed whisper. “How do you manage him?”
“Oh, he’s as sweet as a puppy, managing him isn’t hard at all,” Enania said. “Honestly, I wish he could be a bit more flexible, figuratively speaking. It’s that religious upbringing, I tell you. He’s such a choir boy.”
“Those tend to be the sleaziest, in my experience,” Cecily replied, reclining casually against Kharis, who was feeding her cookies. “The church is full of perverts.”
“I won’t argue with that,” Enania said. “I’m working steadily to corrupt him, but I almost feel bad about doing it; the boy is just such a pure soul.”
There was a sharp knock that sounded as if the person knocking wasn’t trying to make too much noise.
“Ah!” Enania said, jumping up. “That’ll be him now.”
She went to the door and opened it, and DuMont stood there, wearing some of his new clothes: a simple tan tunic and trousers. They were made of far sturdier material than typical clothes so that he wouldn’t burst right out of them. As much as Enania liked him naked, he was cute in clothes. Like putting a hat on a horse.
“Glad you could make it, Big Guy,” Enania said, pulling him inside. “Hungry? Thirsty? I had the maids bring in a big platter of meat for you.”
“Oh, thank you,” DuMont said, going over and looking at the spread, pausing momentarily to bow at the guests. The eyes of the ladies followed him across the room with a renewed curiosity. After finding the platter with the meat and adding some other things from the spread to it. DuMont sat next to the couch where Kharis sat. He was too large to sit on any of the lounging furniture.
“I’m glad you came,” Kharis said brightly. “Thank you for agreeing to this. I’m sure Enania bullied you into it.”
“No, she asked me,” DuMont said. “She said I didn’t have to if I didn’t want to, but you’re her friend. I’m happy to help you feel better, if I can.”
“Aw, I see what you mean, Enya,” Kharis said, patting DuMont on the head but having to reach to do it. “Such a sweet boy.”
The six of them ate a light dinner and engaged in polite conversation, but all of them felt the tension building up as each minute passed. At some point, before the pressure became unbearable, Enania got up and began massaging DuMont’s shoulders from where he was sitting, kissing and biting his neck. Enania knew he was a little nervous, since this was the first time he’d had sex with anyone besides her, let alone having to… perform… while being watched by a group, and she wanted to loosen him up a bit. She’d discovered early on that he had a weakness for massages, and Enania would whip those out whenever she wanted to butter him up.
DuMont leaned in and began to purr, which could easily be mistaken for the savage growl of a jungle animal. Enania loved that sound.
“Is it okay for Kharis to touch you?” Enania asked silkily while running her nose up and down his neck.
“Yes,” DuMont said, and held out his hand toward Kharis.
Kharis smiled. “What a gentleman,” She replied, taking his hand and kneeling in front of her. She reached up and untied the strings holding his collar closed and slowly drew the tunic up and over his head, with Enania’s help. Kharis proceeded to pepper DuMont’s chest with open-mouthed kisses, slowly moving down his torso. When she reached his trousers, she untied those ties as well, and sprung back slightly when his organ flopped forward.
“Oh, dear me,” Kharis said, a mixture of fear and awe in her voice. Enania did imagine she was a bit trepidatious, given her tiny frame.
“Don’t worry,” Enania said reassuringly. “He can loosen you up. DuMont, why don’t you show her how talented your tongue is?”
DuMont grunted, but said, “She’s wearing clothes.”
“So get them off her,” Enania said. “Do it the way I like.”
DuMont leaned forward, using his head to gently bump Kharis onto her bottom, and got up on his hands and knees, towering over her. She lay back as he drew himself up her body, he opened his mouth and let the front bottom teeth ease under her shift. When he gathered enough of it, he snapped his jaw shut and ripped the cloth from her body. Over to the side, the other ladies made noises of impressed approval.
Kharis looked nervous, but also exhilarated. Her body tensed and flushed, her breathing became erratic and breathy, and her knees curled up and open almost instinctively.
DuMont’s tongue snaked out of his mouth and he ran the tip of it, slowly down the line of Kharis’s body, between her breasts, and reached the apex of her legs. He tickled her a little with his tongue, making her twitch and gasp, before slowly easing it inside of her. Kharis cried out softly and rolled her hips to meet his tongue. DuMont’s tongue was long enough that he could thrust inside her and bend it so that the upper part could rub her clit at the same time.
Enania had trained DuMont well; it was hardly two minutes before she was gripping his horns tightly in her little hands, gasping and moaning, almost bent double. Enania moved to sit behind her, supporting Kharis’s back against her front, and grabbed a handful of Kharis’s hair, yanking her head back and kissing her as she whimpered, using her other hand to fondle her breasts.
She could feel in Kharis’s rigid body that she was about to cum, so she called out, “DuMont, stop.”
DuMont obeyed immediately, removing his tongue from her body and settled back on his knees. Kharis let out a prolonged groan of desperation, her hips rocking against the air, chasing the orgasm that she was denied.
“My goodness, he is certainly talented,” Cecily remarked, squeezing her legs closed and squirming. “I should have him teach my Jonesey a thing or two.”
“That man could make a killing as a private companion,” Heraldine replied, sitting casually sprawled out over the fainting couch with her chin in her hand and a intrigued smirk on her face.
“Don’t think I haven’t thought of it,” Enania said with a grin, stroking a shaking, gasping Kharis up and down. “DuMont, be a love and put Kharis on the bed, would you?”
DuMont nodded and gingerly picked Kharis up from the floor, careful not to crumple her little wings, and laid her just as softly onto the bed.
“He’s so gentle, despite his size,” Keally said.
“My word, he’s perfect, isn’t he?” Heraldine agreed.
“He certainly is,” Enania agreed, shedding her own clothes and climbing up onto the bed to kiss Kharis deeply, her ass presented to DuMont. She looked back at him and said, “My turn.”
Dutifully, DuMont knelt at the edge of the bed where she was wiggling her body, and opened his jaws, wide and carefully maneuvered between her legs so that the lower half of her torso was completely inside his mouth. Kharis particularly liked it when he did that. She always loved a small amount of danger. Rather than being slow and easy, like he had been with Kharis, he shoved his tongue inside of Enania hard, causing her body to rock forward. She hissed in both pleasure and pain. He always worried that he was being too rough on her, but she insisted he was never rough enough. He genuinely worried for her long-term physical well-being.
After a few minutes of DuMont thrusting hard into her and Enania trying to licked and nip at Kharis’s body as her own body bounced against DuMont’s mouth, she eventually pulled away and lay beside Kharis, who looked more than ready.
“Alright, DuMont,” Enania said, pulling Kharis’s head up and tucking her arm underneath it. “Get up here.”
DuMont shed his trousers and climbed up onto the bed, his body easily covering both women. He moved to lift Kharis’s hips and lay her lower half in his lap, placing her legs on either side of his waist. She was drenched from his earlier ministrations and Kharis’s fondling, but she was still very small, so DuMont was extra careful, pressing into her as slowly as he could. Her back arched a little as he pushed himself inside her, her brow furrowed and mouth open, though she was quiet.
“Are you alright?” DuMont asked, but Kharis didn’t answer, so he stopped.
“Kharis, he’s talking to you,” Enania said, poking Kharis’s breast.
Kharis opened her eyes and looked at Enania, and then DuMont, and smiled.
“I’m okay,” She assured him. She reached down and patted his hands, which were gripping her hips. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you if I want to stop. Keep going.”
DuMont nodded, and pushed into her again, the head of his cock finally popping inside. She grunted as it did, biting her lip, but she looked at him and smiled, and he continued.
It took a minute to seat himself inside her as far as he could, which wasn’t the total length of his dick, but when he met the wall, he pulled out again and thrust at a mid-slow speed to test her tolerance. She moaned appreciatively.
“Isn’t he so good?” Enania asked. “Isn’t he the best?”
“He’s so good,” Kharis agreed breathily.
“Talk to him,” Enania said. “You have to tell him what you want. Be specific. He’ll keep being gentle and slow otherwise.”
Kharis nodded. “You can go faster, DuMont, and harder, too. I’m little but I won’t break so easily.”
“You’re not in the best position to decide such things,” DuMont replied with a chuckle, but he sped up, thrusting hard against her, moving her body back and forth against the bedspread. Her moans grew louder, and she reached up to play with her nipples. Enania had been petting her hair back from her face and stroking her skin, but she sat up and took one of Kharis’s hands, putting it between her legs. Kharis grinned at her and started to play with her clit, rubbing in small, slow circles.
“DuMont, harder,” Kharis gasped. “Pick me up and hold me if you have to, but make it hard enough to sting a bit.”
“You know how to do that, DuMont,” Enania said as DuMont’s expression shifted to dubiousness. “I taught you how to do it.”
DuMont took a deep breath and nodded, lifting Kharis’s hips and thrust hard, stopping immediately to test Kharis’s reaction. She cried out sharply, but didn’t seem to be uncomfortable, so he did it again. When he was sure she wasn’t hurt, he thrust faster, as hard as he felt safe doing. She seemed to be enjoying it; she was definitely making plenty of noise, which Enania had taught him was good.
Enania heard some small breaths from the guests and looked over briefly to see one of the ladies, Cecily, touching herself, her leg draped over the leg of the lady sitting next to her, Heraldine. Heraldine met Enania’s glance and winked before moving off of the couch and pushing open Cecily’s legs, pressing her mouth against her wet slit. Cecily rocked her hips against Heraldine and hissed in a breath, gripping Heraldine’s hair in both hands. Cecily’s head fell back against the arm of the couch.
Keally sat apart from the two of them, but was watching both scenes with avid curiosity. Even though Enania knew Kealy had played around a little, as far as Enania knew, Keally was still a virgin. Enania wondered if she should offer to take Keally’s virginity that night, but thought the better of it. That night was for Kharis. Another time.
Kharis came hard, her legs quivering in DuMont’s grasp, and DuMont snorted, pulled out of her, and came all over her stomach and chest. He leaned back and breathed shallowly, still rock hard, and grabbed Enania, pulling her to him. Enania spun and threw her legs over Kharis, so that Kharis was directly under her body, and Kharis reached up to cup her breasts as she recovered. DuMont plunged into Enania with no preamble, and she grunted.
“But he just came, didn’t he?” Cecily said breathlessly, watching the trio on the bed still as Heraldine sucked her pearl. “Oh, fuck, Heraldine, just like that.”
Enania was not able to speak at the moment as DuMont rammed into her harder than he normally would. Maybe getting primed with someone else made him less inhibited. She’d have to keep that in mind. He growled loudly as he came again inside her, his seed gushing out of her, but he kept going, not stopping when he released.
“His stamina is nothing short of astonishing,” Kharis said, heaving in breaths.
“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Enania said, her words punctuated but DuMont’s thrusting.
DoMont made short work of bringing Enania to a screaming orgasm, and then reached for Kharis again, who was more than ready. He’d been whipped up into a snarling frenzy, and it was incredibly hot for Enania and she liked going between being DuMont’s toy and then watching him use someone else as his toy.
Cecily moaned and her whole body twitched as she came. Heraldine wiped her mouth and stood, leaving Cecily starfished and Keally touching her body softly, coming close to the bed, beginning to strip off her negligee.
“Hey, where do you think you’re going?”
“Where does it look like,” Heraldine said, starting to crawl on the bed. “I want to have a turn.”
“Ah, no, ma’am,” Enania said, getting up on her knees and pushing Heraldine away with one hand. “The big guy said no touching besides me and the bachelorette. You can play with me, if you want.” Enania kissed Heraldine and pulled her onto her side of the massive bed, opening her legs and licking her, pressing her tongue inside her while massaging her pearl. Heraldine moaned.
“I can always count on you for a good time, Enania,” Heraldine said with a smirk.
DuMont bent suddenly, his jaws wide open, and began to close them over Kharis’s shoulder, like he had done when he’d marked Enania as his. Before he could, she grabbed him roughly and made him look at her.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She asked him.
“Oh… should I not?” He asked, slowing to a stop.
“Hey!” Kharis protested.
“Hush, you!” Enania said to Kharis, then turned back to DuMont. “Why do you think you should do that?”
“Because…” He waved vaguely at the messy scene.
“Who do you belong to?” Enania asked.
“You,” DuMont replied automatically.
“Who do I belong to?”
“Me?”
“Do you want Kharis to belong to you in the same way as I do?”
“No… oh.” DuMont nodded. “I understand.”
“Good,” She said, shaking his snout sharply. “Don’t do that again, or I’ll be really mad.”
“Okay.”
“If you two are done with your tiff,” Heraldine said, lifting her leg. “Can we get back to business?”
Enania released her grip on DuMont. “Unless you’re getting tired?”
DuMont shook his head. “I don’t get tired,” He said, showing himself still standing at full attention.
“That’s my boy,” Enania said. “Get to work, young man.”
DuMont fell back on Kharis, easing himself back inside her slowly.
“Harder,” Kharis moaned, and he obliged. At the same time, Enania grabbed Heraldine’s leg and held it against her chest as she straddled Heraldine’s open legs, grinding her clit against Heraldine’s clit, rocking back and forth. Heraldine’s hips twitched and she groaned, grabbing Enania’s breasts and digging her fingers in, moving in time with Enania.
Hours passed, and by the time sunrise began to peek into the window and the guests had either fallen asleep post-coitally or passed out from the alcohol, DuMont was still in top form with a seemingly endless supply of stamina.”
“I give, I give!” Kharis rasped, having lost her voice sometime in the night. “My word, how can you still be ready to go? It’s been six hours!”
Enania, who’d taken a small nap and had reawakened aroused, took DuMont’s cock back into herself and rolled him so that she was on top. “Come for me, DuMont. You did great work tonight. We should finish up before the maids come to begin morning chores.”
She rode him hard and he grunted, gripping her hips and slamming her against his body. She raked her nails down his chest as she came, crying out loudly, and he gushed up into her, her belly pooching a little with the amount of his release he unleashed into her body.
The three of them gasped and heaved in breaths before Enania got up and lit the small furnace under the bathtub in the washroom, which had clean water in it. The maids had wonderful foresight.
“Big Guy, bring Kharis in here for a wash,” She said. DuMont stood and picked up Kharis, who was as limp as a boneless fish, and brought her into the bathroom, laying her carefully into the warm water. “Good. Now, come sit here and let me sponge you off. You’re… very sweaty. They’re going to have to burn the linens. And probably the bed. The rug may also need to be destroyed. Ah well, that’s other people’s problems.”
DuMont sat on the floor and allowed Enania to bath him and towel him dry, and then he went to dress while she also scrubbed Kharis with a washcloth.
Kharis sighed loudly and stared at the wall with a glassy look.
“Are you alright? You’re not going to pass out again, are you?” Enania asked.
Kharis sighed again and frowned. “I don’t want to marry your brother. Well, not this one. I just… I don’t want whatever life is waiting for me as a princess. I don’t want any of this.”
“So let’s leave,” Enania said, shrugging.
Kharis snorted. “It’s not that simple.
“Yes, it is. I left and there were literally no repercussions.”
“But I’m the crown princess, or will be,” Kharis said. “The political upheaval that’ll happen if I leave will be enormous. They may send people after me. What if they hurt you and your friends in an effort to get me back?”
“So, leave a note saying you’re not a virgin anymore. I mean, you haven’t been for a while, not technically, but they couldn’t prove it before now. But if you confess in writing, then they have to accept it, and the ladies at the party will testify to it.”
“Are you sure?”
Enania nodded. “ It doesn’t matter who wears the costume as long as there is someone willing to play the part. They’ll forget you and move on to another poor girl with no choices, just like they switched out my brothers for crown prince when Heron left without ever looking for him. That should show you how much they actually care.”
Kharis stared at Enania, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Did you plan this? Was this some sort of scheme of yours?”
Enania scoffed. “I don’t scheme, you know that. I act on my impulses in every scenario, this just happened to work out in your benefit.” Enania smiled. “Besides, don’t you want to get out of here? See the world with me?”
Kharis’s face split into a smile. “Yeah,” She said softly. “I really do.”
“So,” Enania said, grinning. “Let’s go.”
DuMont and Enania, not to mention the rest of their party, were more than familiar with packing to make a quick getaway, so when Enania told them the plan, they were ready to skedaddle in less than five minutes flat. Kharis wrote a short letter, just like Enania told her two, and filched a maid’s outfit to slip out of the castle. DuMont, Enania, and a disguised Kharis met Rupert, Sanoh, and Norman at the outdoor laundry before the maids began morning chores. The six of them had escaped the main part of the city before most of the nobility even woke up.
“This is exhilarating,” Kharis said as she shed the maid’s outfit and slipped quickly into some traveling clothes Sanoh had quickly prepared for her. “I can’t wait to see what the outer world is like.”
“It’s not all sunshine and roses, kid,” Enania said, throwing a cloak over Kharis’s head, hiding her horns. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun as hell, but there’s a lot of hard work involved. If you’re not up for it, we can leave you right here.”
“Well, it’s too late for that now,” Kharis said. “I’ve always been a ‘learn on the job’ kind of girl, anyway.”
“Well, get ready, I may need your help to seduce the guards.” Enania said, gesturing to the outer wall and the two guards standing at attention.
“I could just put them to sleep, Enania,” Rupert said. “Why do all your plans involve seduction?”
“Because it’s what I’m good at,” Enania hissed back. “Ready, Kharis?”
Kharis grinned. “Ready.”
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Makeup for my photos for @sorebelish always has to be top notch, I always try to find a creative way to incorporate the colors of her earrings into my makeup look, even if it's in the most subtle ways. Like for this set of earrings I used a blue eyeliner to go with the touch of blue on the posts, and in the earrings. When you love what you do, it shows. ❤️ Foundation: @covergirl Simply Ageless Foundation in Ivory Bronzer: @lorealusa 24HR Fresh Wear Bronzer in 200 Contour: @kvdbeauty Light and Shade Mini Palette in Light Concealer: @revlon Colorstay Skin Awaken 5-in-1 Concealer in Cool Ivory Blush: @trysugar Peach Peak Eyeshadow @elf Bite-sized Eyeshadow Quad in Hot Jalapeño (only the gold color) @tartecosmetics Tartiest Pro Palette colors Bold and Edgy Eyeshadow Primer: @thecremeshop It's About Prime Brows: @nyxcosmetics Micro Brow Pencil in Alburn and @profusion Good Brow Day in Soft Brown Eyeliner: @lagirlcosmetics Shockwave Eyeliner in Ocean Mascara: @maybelline Falsies Lash Lift Mascara Lipstick: @anastasiabeverlyhills Velvet Lipstick in American Doll Hair Products: @haskhair Curl Care Curl Shaping Jelly @ogx_beauty Locking + Coconut Curls Air Dry Cream and OGX Smoothing + Shea Sleek Humidity Blocking Hairspray #naturallighting #redhead #makeup #beauty #selfie #beautyunaltered #nodigitaldistortion #curls #naturalcurls #myrtlebeachmodel #southcarolinamodel #redhair #bodypositive #loveyourself #scmodel #beautyunfiltered #photoshoot #photography #motd #photoshootmakeup #redlips #motd #makeupoftheday #shootmakeup #makeupoftheday #boldemotionalcolorful (at Myrtle Beach, South Carolina) https://www.instagram.com/p/CkNC_W-tvHO/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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Atop This Mountain; A Hero Is Born (4/4)
The Inquisition of Old
Obligatory AO3 Link
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It was just at the break of dawn, as the first rays of the morning sun crested over the horizon, that Cian rose from his seat on the edge of Athim’s aravel, his knives sharpened, a bow sat beside him, the quiver now full of arrows. Ready to hunt, to bring back whatever game the Green Dales would provide. Other hunters lingered around the camp, some perched atop other aravels, others on vantage points surrounding the camp, bows ready and eyes searching for any sign of danger. They had only just arrived but a day ago, and the clans safety was still uncertain.
Others of the clan were moving about. The hunters and warriors had been awake for an hour, but the rest of the clan rarely woke before dawn. Mothers lulled their children to wake, though a few of the younger ones were already running around, enacting the battles the hahren told them each night by the fire, of Emerald Knights and Arcane Warriors, fighting to keep the people safe. Some of the older members were, sluggish as one was in the morning, getting ready to work, some going over supplies to find out what they had, and what they would need the hunters to gather.
He caught pieces of dirty jokes over pairs who seemed to have been getting closer, of arguments over stolen blankets, or complaints of misplaced tools needed to repair a loose wheel.
Sitting by one of the fires was Athim, sitting on an old stump and nursing a warm drink in her hands as she watched the tendrils of flame dance. Their Keeper was off to the side, conversing with her First; a young, scrappy girl no older than twelve, her face clean of any blood writing. She’d come to the clan only a year ago, sent from Avenus after her magic began to manifest. She was nice enough, and had had become a part of the clan so seamlessly that one would have thought she was born there. She listened to and took in everything Deshanna said like a sponge soaked in water.
A few of the hunters were gathered around Sulvin’s table, replacing dulled hunting knives with something sharper, or a new bowstring for their bows before they left.
The aravel creaked behind him, and hands landed on his shoulder, pressing down, “Good morning, Cian!” Renan greeted loudly as she stood where he had just been seated, leaning her weight on him, stretched out in the air. She laughed as she did so, giddy, melodical.
Cian grinned, and moved just slow enough that she could detached from him and not fall from the aravel. “Aneth ara,” he greeted in return, watching as his friends long, brown hair flowed in the gentle air. His grin turned crooked, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you doing all the way here? Shouldn’t you be helping Vianna with the halla, or has she still have you banned from feeding them?”
“Psh! It was one time!” the woman complained with a pout. “It’s not like the herd is as large as it was, either, not since we gave half our halla to clan Sabrae, harder to make that mistake again with fewer halla to keep track of.”
He raised a brow, “That doesn’t sound like something the Halla Keeper’s apprentice should be saying.”
She just rolled her eyes before reaching into her satchel, moments later she was tossing him an apple. “I’ll be going back to help her in a bit, I just wanted to check up on you before you set out. You probably haven’t even eaten anything yet—and you know that’s just asking for a poor hunt if you’re distracted by hunger.”
“It makes for a better hunt,” Cian countered, but he took a gracious bite from the fruit regardless and watched the clan. He spotted a younger elf lingering by a warrior, watching with longing, and nodded in his direction. “Fenvas is still getting his vallaslin tonight, right?”
“As far as I know, haven’t heard anything about it being pushed back,” Renan agreed as she followed his gaze. “He’ll make a good addition to the warriors, he’s already bigger than most them.”
“Size isn’t everything.”
“Of course the pipsqueak would say that!”
Cian shoved her, but it only made Renan burst into laughter. As annoying as the remark was, he couldn’t help but offer a slight grin as well. It was hard to stay mad at her.
The laughter slowly stilled as Keeper Deshanna approached, her aged face full of warmth, a gentle smile on her face as she watched him. “Garas quenathra, Cian?” she asked kindly, her arms folded together into her sleeves, and Cian felt his own smile falter.
“I—I’m sorry?” he asked. Why was he here? That made no sense, where else would he have been. “Sorry, Keeper, I don’t quite understand.”
Her smile widened; flickers of green started to brush against the blue sky. “You’ve done your clan proud, da’len,” Deshanna said as she reached out to rest her hand on his arm. “You saved us. You saved everyone, and we could not be prouder of you. Have no regrets, Cian, and let your spirit rest.”
The rest of the clan had stopped conversing, stopped working. Hundreds of eyes fell on him as their faces blurred and merged. Only the Keeper and Renan remained beside him, remained themselves.
Renan smiled, soft and sad, and held her hands out. In one was an elegantly carved oak staff. The other held a cedar branch. She carefully placed them both into his unwilling hands. “Ma serannas, Cian, for being my friend. Falon’Din mala ghilana mir din’an.”
He tried to drop them, but couldn’t, his fingers frozen around the wood. “Renan, Keeper, I’m—I’m not dead,” he tried to plead, but a look at his own arms and—and he was translucent. There, but not. A ghost.
Cian reached for them again, only to slip and fall to the ground, into the ground. A hole—a grave.
“Falon’Din enasal enaste,” Keeper Deshanna recited as she raised her hand, tracing symbols in the air over him as faceless elves shoveled dirt onto Cian. “Sleep, now, da’len, and may the Dread Wolf never find your trail.”
Cian woke with a start, panting for breath as he sat up. His chest was heaving, and his clothes damp with sweat. It was just a dream, he told himself, though the panic did not subside. A dream, and nothing more. He was here, he was alive.
He was alive.
How was he even still alive?
Still heaving for breath, Cian slowly looked around. The room was warm, a fireplace on one wall carried a small, flickering fire. The smells of the room were foreign, but the pain was familiar—and everywhere.
Not just his hand or arm. His whole body ached.
But it wasn’t as sharp, it wasn’t as burning or disorientating as it had been. It was something tolerable. He… he could live with that. The pain didn’t make him wish for death, at least, so that was something.
Letting his eyes adjust, he slowly looked around his surroundings. He was clearly not with his clan, not anywhere Dalish. A human settlement, maybe? An alienage—no, it looked too nice and to be an alienage house. It certainly wasn’t the prison cell he had first woken to. He was even on a bed. Talk about an upgrade! It was a rather cozy little home abode, by the looks of it. An old desk sat in a corner with papers and ink, a box for belongings, a coat draped over a hook on the wall. There were books and rugs, and everything of warm colors.
He was rather… surprised, to put it mildly, that this was where he woke up to. There weren’t even ropes or chains to keep him from leaving. Cian was still a prisoner… right?
Running a hand through his hair, he looked up at the sound of scuffling on the wood, and caught sight of a young elf, maybe thirteen at best, coming in through the door. The only door, as far as Cian could tell. The girl was humming a tune, and carried a box that, while sizable, didn’t look particularly heavy.
That same box crashed to the floor, followed by the sound of glass shattering within, when the girl looked up and saw Cian, letting out a loud, startled cry as she backed away. Absolutely terrified. Cian wasn’t sure what the girl had been told of him to cause such a reaction.
“O-oh, I, my apologies!” the girl said, her voice carried an accent Cian didn’t recognize. She looked as frightened as a mouse, ready to flee, wanting to flee. “I didn’t know you were awake; I swear!”
Cian shifted on the bed, he pushed the blankets aside, grateful he was dressed in something, even if it was not the clothes he’d worn when he was last conscious. “Don’t worry about it,” he assured the girl, finding his own voice rough and hoarse. How much time had passed for it to be so dry from disuse? “I only just woke—”
To his absolute horror, in the most bizarre and downright unsettling moves Cian had ever seen be done to him; the girl dropped to the floor on her hands and knees, and pressed her head down to the wooden planks of the floor. She was bowing—oh, Creators, the girl was prostrating. To him.
“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing,” the girl pleaded, breathless, her head just inches away from the box she had dropped, a desperation to his voice, terrified of what Cian would do—as if Cian would do anything to her “I am but a humble servant.”
This has to be a dream—a damned nightmare! Cian thought, watching the girl, horrified at the sight of a fellow elf bowing to him like he was something to worship. He was nothing, nobody. Cian was just a bloody hunter! “Where,” he started, and swallowed thickly. “Where am I?” he asked, carefully broaching the question, worried that one wrong word would send the girl running away.
The girl lifted her head to look at Cian, before dipping it away just as fast, like it was some kind of crime to look up at him. “You’re back in Haven, my lord,” the girl answered, her body trembling as she added in a rush, “They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand.”
Shit! The mark! Despite it all, Cian had nearly forgotten it, unbelievable with how much trouble it had been causing him.
He raised his hand and looked to his palm. The mark was still there, and it glowed in response to him, as if wielding its own sliver of sentience. But it was—smaller wasn’t quite the right word. It was still there, a long green line like a wound still healing, with green veins spidering out from it. But the spread stopped just past his wrist, faint, green cracks along his skin.
It ached, yes, and Cian suspected that was something that wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. But it wasn’t anywhere close to the agony it had caused before. That was a good sign, as far as he could tell.
“It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days.”
Cian looked back to the girl immediately. Three days? Had it really been three days? His stomach twisted, nervous knots tightening inside of him. “Then… are we safe?” he asked.
The girl hesitated, and Cian knew the answer, even before she put a voice to the words. “The Breach is still in the sky, but that’s what they say,” she confessed, and Cian felt disappointment crash over him.
He hadn’t succeeded. Not completely. That wasn’t good—wasn’t what he wanted. He’d failed. He had one job, and he failed it.
Afraid of the darkening mood, the girl scrambled to her feet, her head remained bowed even as she scurried backwards, putting distance between herself and Cian. “I’m certain that Lady Cassandra can tell you more. She wanted to see you when you’ve awakened,” she offered, gripping her hands tightly together. “She said ‘at once’.”
If Cassandra could tell him more of what was going on, then Cian had no reason not to go and find her. And where might I fight her?” Cian asked, carefully pushing himself off the bed, satisfied that he was steady on his feet.
“In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor,” the elf stammered, still backing away, terrified of him. “’At once,’ she said, ‘at once’.” With that, she turned and ran out the door, slamming it shut behind her in her mad scramble to get away.
Alone, again, Cian shook his head. Too much was going on, but he at least had a few moments to sort through his own mess of thoughts and try to work out what happened, and maybe what was going on. Cassandra already waited three days for him to wake, she could wait a few minutes longer for him to get his bearings.
Plus, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to deal with the Roderick fellow.
A few minutes were spent rummaging around the room, and he found little more than a handful of coppers and some twine that he stuffed in his pocket.
There were a lot of papers on the desk, and Cian skimmed through most of them. One of them talked about what sounded like medical jargon, and he could only assume it was meant to be about him, but he paid it no mind in the end, either. It ultimately made no sense to him, so he found no reason to add it to his growing list of anxieties.
The pressing question was simple; was he still a prisoner? The girl had looked upon him with such fear that he might as well have been an Archdemon for all the difference it made. Was this just a moment of kindness, and he was going to be cast in irons as soon as he reached Cassandra, shipped off to Val Roy-whatever to be killed like the Chancellor demanded, her promise of a ‘fair trial’ be damned?
He found it hard to believe that whatever he managed to do with the Breach would have absolved him of any suspicion and blame.
The Breach was not gone. Was it to be as Leliana had said; they would remain in Haven to figure out what their next course of action at sealing the Breach would be? It couldn’t be as simple as Oh, that didn’t work, let’s try this instead, could it?
Well, there was only one way to find out.
Reaching the hook on the wall, Cian took the coat waiting. It was a bit big on him, but it would work to stave off the chill of Haven. There was a green and brown satchel that had been hidden under the coat on the hook. His satchel. Cian felt a rush of satisfaction to see it. It had been a gift, handmaid, from back in the clan, and he would have loathed to have lost it.
Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he gave one final once over of the room, to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. There were no daggers, or knives, or any sort of weapon to be found. Understandable, they wouldn’t want to leave their prisoner armed.
“Best not keep the scary lady waiting,” Cian murmured to himself, steeling his nerves as he opened the door and stepped out into the cold, morning air.
Standing outside from the door were two soldiers facing him. Heads bowed; closed fist crossed over their chest. Beyond them were crowds of people lining the dirt path. Soldiers on either side, heads lowered with the same gesture.
Wait, Cian knew that gesture. He’d seen the soldiers to that to Cassandra, to Leliana. They were… saluting? Him?
He turned behind himself, just to make sure there wasn’t someone important in his shadow, but—no. He was alone. They were definitely saluting him. Was this a dream—it had to be, yeah, he was dreaming. Otherwise, he truly did not understand what happened to make human soldiers salute a Dalish elf, one they had held in custody under suspicion of murdering the damn Divine just three days ago.
Beyond them, he could see the Breach still in the sky. Swirling and green—but calm. It was still a glowing, green hole in the sky, an open door for demons, but it was no longer the eye of a storm. No crackling lightning or earth-shattering thunder. It was just… there.
It wasn’t a good thing, but it was an improvement to how it looked when he first woke up.
Cian looked from the sky when he realized people were murmuring, and he realized that it wasn’t just soldiers who were standing outside the house. Behind the line of guards were people. Just normal, everyday people. Staring at him, gawking, whispering. The tones both awed and scandalized, and just… afraid. Like the elf girl. They didn’t know who—what he was.
Swallowing, Cian walked, One step, then two. Whatever was going on… he wasn’t going to be afraid. He wasn’t going to let them know he was afraid. He was a hunter of Clan Lavellan, a proud Dalish elf.
Squaring his shoulders, keeping his head raised high, Cian walked to the two soldiers who had been at the front, directly in front of his house waiting for him to come out—and just how long had they all been waiting, anyway? He probably shouldn’t think too hard on that.
“Hello,” Cian greeted the two, his tone chipper despite his racing heart. “I was told to speak to Cassandra in the Chantry, where might I find that?” Because, while it made sense that Haven had a Chantry, he had no idea what to look for, how to identify the building.
“Of course,” one soldier nodded, turning from Cian to point further away, to a building that seemed to tower above the others. “You will find the Chantry there. Sister Leliana had suspected you would need aid, and so the soldiers have made a path for you,” he added, and motioned to the lines of soldiers further down.
The sight just made Cian want to run back inside and not come back out, but he couldn’t do that. So, he just nodded, offered his thanks, and began walking.
He kept his head up, he nodded to a few as he passed, he smiled. He did everything to mask how frightened he was as he walked, to act as if this was all perfectly normal and not something to be concerned about.
People continued to whisper as he spoke, and though he wasn’t actively trying to eavesdrop. he heard many mentions of a Herald… or maybe they were just saying Harold? That could be, too. It wasn’t his business, Cian told himself, don’t get involved. Just get to the Chantry, figure out what else he had to do so he could go home.
“That’s him.” Someone whispered, loudly, though he couldn’t make out who in the crowd said it, everyone seemed to have been pointing and gawking that they blended together.
“They say that when he stepped out of the fade, Andraste herself was watching over him! That She sent him to us!” someone else spoke up—and were they talking about him? Oh, Creators, they were talking about him.
“Shush! We shouldn’t disturb him!” Another hissed, and Cian couldn’t agree more. Just please, for the love of all that was holy, stop talking.
“That’s him, innit?” Someone else spoke further down the line, between a line of tents. “He stopped the Breach from getting any bigger.”
“Wasn’t he supposed to close it entirely?” Disappointed and confused as opposed to the awe of the others.
“Still a lot of rifts left all over. Like little cracks in the sky.” A woman mused over the rippling, hushed chatter.
Someone responded to her quickly enough. “He can seal those too, though. The Herald…”
“He stopped the Breach, power given to him by the Maker Himself.” Now that made him shudder and flinch. He was Dalish… mixing in the Maker and Andraste felt weird. But he couldn’t say anything, not to them. That was asking for trouble.
All throughout it the soldiers kept a solid line, a shield between him and the crowds, making an easy-to-follow route through the small little town—and small it was. Little houses, plenty of tents, and one tavern that he could tell. He was surprised by how quaint it all looked, and honestly? He could have easily seen his clan living content lives in a settlement like this.
Eventually, though, he reached the Chantry, identifiable by the number of sisters and brothers standing about outside its doors as they murmured and talked to themselves. “Chancellor Roderick says the Chantry wants nothing to do with him, or with us,” one whispered, her voice full of fright. The girl beside her reached out to touch her arm, and assured her that Roderick had no say in the matter.
Two guards stationed on either side of the doors opened them when Cian approached.
He was met with the smell of incense filling the air, of herbs and the musty scent of old books. It all made him feel dizzy in the head for a moment, but only for a moment before he recovered. The building itself was beautiful, it felt like an injustice to deny it that much. Simplistic, yet elegant.
Vaulted ceilings, smooth arches. Stone floors and stone walls, with red rugs and numerous torches and candles keeping it all alight. There were seats of course, a few with little prayer books by them; chairs and stools, and a few doors on either side.
At the end of the long hall were the Chantry banners, beside statues of a woman, Andraste, he could only assume.
Even though he was Dalish; Cian knew the Chantry. Not intimately, not by any means. But he knew enough of the lore and myths, and he knew enough of the worship to know that the building being so empty was unusual. Alien. It felt wrong, and Cian hated the uneasiness that came with it all. A building such as this should have been bustling with sisters and worshippers, not... this.
It was the door at the very end that he figured he was to go through. Not by any distinguishing markings or helpful people to point to it. No, his only base of assumption was through the rather obnoxious arguing that he could hear from the opposite side of the building. Still, though, Cian hesitated. He lingered by the door to listen, to get a sense of the mood, of what to expect.
Of course, none of it was good.
“Have you gone completely mad?” the familiar, outraged voice of Roderick hollered, his voice echoing against the stone. “He should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine!”
“I do not believe he is guilty,” Cassandra, and he was surprised by how certain she was in that claim. Touched, even. From declaring him guilty on the spot, ready to cut him down, to now defending his innocence, what growth in such a short amount of time. Impressive, really.
“The elf failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky,” Roderick pressed, and it made Cian falter—because he was right. Cian had failed. The Breach, though calmed and pacified, was still there, and who knew how long it would remain still? It took everything he had—it nearly killed him!—and he still failed. “For all you know; he intended it to be this way!”
Untrue, Cian wanted to yell. He never wanted any of this, not the mark, not a hole in the sky, and he sure as hell did more than Roderick trying to fix everything, so how fucking dare he continue to accuse him like that!
Fueled on by anger, Cian pushed the doors open loudly and marched in, his shoulders squared, and chin held high. He scanned the room, a massive table full of papers and scrolls, numerous candles. Cassandra and Leliana on one side, a pair of guards at the doors, and Roderick—Cian’s gaze locked on him immediately—at the head of the table.
“Chain him!” Roderick demanded of the guards as he pointed at Cian. “I want him prepared for travel to the capital for trial!”
“Disregard that, and leave us,” Cassandra countered immediately. Her voice was firm, but unlike Roderick, she wasn’t screaming her head off to make her point heard. The guards saluted and went, shutting the doors behind them and making it clear who in the room had their loyalty.
Being alone in the room with the three of them didn’t make him feel any less anxious, but Leliana’s warm expression and silent greeting helped him keep his mask of control on, helped him keep a tight chain on his nerves.
Glowering at the closed door, Chancellor Roderick let his gaze fall to Cian, and then to Cassandra as he approached her. “You walk a dangerous line, Seeker,” he warned, and Cian decided that he liked the man even less than he already did. It was amazing how much Roderick was wracking up disapproval points in such a short amount of time. Truly a record.
Cassandra held his gaze, and the ferocity in her eyes was far, far more intimidating than anything the Chancellor had to offer. “The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat,” she said, giving Cian another stab of guilt over his failure, and her expression sharpened impossibly more. “I will not ignore it.”
“I did everything I could to close the Breach,” Cian reminded as he approached the table, crossing his arms over his chest as he let his gaze linger on Roderick for a few moments longer. “It almost killed me.”
Roderick shifted to face him; his face twisted in ugly disgust. “Yet you live,” he accused, clearly, oh so clearly disappointed by that one detail. “A convenient result, insofar as you’re concerned.”
“Have a care, Chancellor,” Cassandra said, her tone warning. “The Breach is not the only threat we face.”
Because of course it wasn’t. Cian wanted to ask what it was, what other threat could they have to deal with along with the Breach. But he didn’t need to in the end. Leliana approached, her gait graceful and silent, answering his questions before he even asked them.
Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect,” she noted, standing beside Cassandra, and watching Roderick. “Perhaps they died with others, or have allies who yet live.”
Cian was impressed how Leliana’s words were deadlier than any knife or arrow he’d seen.
The cherry to top it all off was how Chancellor Roderick reeled back, his face shocked at the unspoken accusation. “I am a suspect?” he demanded, absolutely offended by the notion.
And really, Cian was honestly just as surprised. He wouldn’t have thought any of the humans would point to someone in the Chantry and accuse them of a crime as horrible as this. As much as Leliana scared him, he certainly liked her and her boldness. There needed to be more people like that, as far as he was concerned.
“You, and many others,” Leliana answered simply.
“But not the prisoner?” Roderick screeched in outrage, gesturing wildly at Cian.
Cassandra shook her head, “I heard the voices in the Temple,” she pressed, and by her tone, it sounded like she had gone over this many times. “The Divine called out to him for help.”
The man’s grimace worsened, if that was even possible. “So, his survival, that thing on his hand? It’s all, what? Coincidence?” he demanded crossing his arms over his chest, pointing out how ridiculous it all sounded.
“Providence,” Cassandra said, and fuck, she sounded so sure of it. “The Maker sent him to us in our darkest hour.”
Cian swallowed sharply; his mask slipped as the shock hit him. The Maker. That was—what… how was he supposed to respond to a claim like that? He was a Dalish elf, he had his own pantheon of gods he was supposed to worship. The people of the Andrastian faith hated his people because their belief went directly against the Chant of Light’s whole ‘proselytization of all of Thedas’ plan. They lost their home because of their ‘heretical belief’, and now Cassandra was claiming he was their savior?
He wanted to laugh but…
Oh, Creators, he hated how much it made sense. The Beyond, the flaming woman—was that… was that actually Andraste? Could he… is what Cassandra was saying… true?
“You…” Cian started, nervously twitching his fingers. “You really think the Maker would send someone like…me?”
Cassandra nodded as she turned her attention to him, that sharpness in her eyes had softened. “The Maker does as He wills,” she said as way of answer, not that it did anything to quell the nerves and confusion Cian was confronted with. “It is not for me to say.”
“Even if that means a Dalish elf is Hischosen?”
She nodded, again as she turned to approach a table against the opposite wall, doing…something. He couldn’t see what. “Humans are not the only ones with an interest in the fate of the world,” and, dang, she was right. The Breach would affect everyone, no matter their faith or lack of. It really shouldn’t matter what he was, he supposed.
Still, though, it left him stranded in a sea of uncertainty.
And with a lot of things he’d need to unpack.
“The Breach remains,” Leliana continued, “and your mark is still our only hope of closing it.”
Chancellor Roderick growled at her. “This is not for you to decide,” he yelled, and Cian was more surprised he wasn’t stomping his feet yet. He certainly seemed the sort of shemlen who thought that being the loudest meant they were the ones in charge, that louder meant important.
His pathetic complaints were ignored, drowned out by the heavy thud as Cassandra returned with a tome larger than anything other book he’d seen before. She dropped it to the table, just narrowly missing the Chancellors fingers. By the leathers, the insignia, and the locks to keep it safe, it was clear it was an important book.
Cassandra ran a finger along the symbol on the cover. “You know what this is, Chancellor?” she asked, but did not give the man a chance to answer. “A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn,”
She advanced on the Chancellor, each step measured, yet so quick that he couldn’t just scramble away fast enough as he was backed into a literal corner. “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order,” Cassandra declared, jabbing a finger into his chest with each proclamation. “With or without your approval.”
The air was thick. Cian didn’t need to be of their faith to know how her words looked. She was effectively saying that if the Chantry didn’t agree, it could stuff it. And really; Cian admired that, even if it scared the shit out of him.
Still, he half expected Roderick to do something. The man looked from Cassandra to Leliana with righteous fury written on his face. But there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t physically confront Cassandra, and he had no real authority over her in any sense of the word. He was essentially powerless within the room.
After several long, agonizing moments, the man gave them all one final look of disgust before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
With him gone, the air in the room relaxed. Only a little. There was still a tension to it all, a wire pulled taut, with no knowing of what would happen if it broke. No one said anything, not for the longest moment.
Eventually, Leliana broke it as she circled the table to the book, her eyes on Cian the whole time, as if she knew he had questions. She probably did. There was no reason for her to think that he would have any idea what the Inquisition was. “This is the Divine’s directive; rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos,” she said, running a hand down the cover as Cassandra rejoined them. “We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support.”
“But we have no choice,” Cassandra finished for her, and both turned to look at Cian. “We must act now. With you at our side”
Cian had questions; his questions had questions. Every word they said left him spiraling deeper and deeper into confusion and wonderment. “What even is the Inquisition of old?” he asked, latching on to the first one he could.
“It preceded the Chantry,” Leliana said, and that gave Cian even more things to wonder. Preceded the Chantry, did that mean they were with Andraste, or her disciples, or… he wasn’t even sure how to think of it. “People who banded together to restore order in a world gone mad.”
Cassandra nodded and continued for her. “After; they laid down their banner and formed the Templar Order, but the Templars have lost their way.” she said, and boy did that not make him feel better about any of it. “We need those who can do what must be done. United under a single banner once more.”
Was he… Was Cian being asked to reform the group that attempted to massacre his people? He really did not feel all that great about it if that were the case. “You’re trying to start a holy war,” he said, before he could stop himself. His mind was still on stories of the massacre within the Dales, of the Exalted March that stole from his people the land they were promised.
“We are already at war, and you are already involved; it’s mark upon you,” Cassandra shot back, and… she was right. They were at war against the Fade, against the demons that came out from it. “Whether or not it is a holy one… that depends on what we discover.”
It was still a lot to take in, and it left Cian questioning so much of what he knew and believed, but underneath all the details and questions, the heart of it all was clear; close the Breach, save the world. Try not to die along the way.
He straightened his stance. “Well… when I woke up, I sure didn’t picture this outcome.” How could anyone have thought to be thrown into this kind of crazy? No one ever woke up and found ‘world about to end, you are possibly the only hope to save it’ on their list of things that would happen.
Cassandra stepped closer to him, offering him her hand. “Help us fix this,” she said—she asked him. “Before it is too late.”
He hated the pressure of it all. The weight of being responsible for so much.
But… it wasn’t as suffocating anymore. The Breach was stable, for now, and the mark wasn’t actively killing him. He wasn’t a prisoner, desperate to prove his innocence. It didn’t feel like everything was crumbling around him, where every second was vital to the survival of the whole world.
For some strange reason, Cian almost felt like they could do this. That he could do this. Perhaps their certainty was rubbing off on him.
Stepping forward, Cian took her hand. Whatever happened next, they’d do it together. “I’m in,” Cian said, squeezing her hand in his. They’d form this Inquisition, they’d close the Breach, and they were going to hunt down whoever was behind it, and make them regret it. That much he promised.
#Dragon Age#Dragon Age Inquisition#lavellan inquisitor#Fanfic#The Wrath of Heaven Quest#Inquisitor Cian#Cian's Adventures In The Inquisition
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Advice from an Unusual Source
Ely groaned to herself, wiping her brow of sweat. What she succeeded in doing was smearing blood and sweat across her forehead. She was not a hunter; she was a mage. However, when one was in a strange land you did your best to fit in. The centaurs sent her to hunt, so hunt she did.
Besides at least this kept her away from archaeology sites, as painful as that was. She could not run into Marek again. The man had sent her into a tailspin of confusion of self-doubt. Not that he tried it just happened around him.
She groaned and stared at the plainstomper corpse. Why had she hunted for one of these again? Oh yes, to impress her hosts. A nice hornstrider would have brought meat and been more manageable. She scowled as she wondered how she was going to hang it so she could bleed it out. That needed to do done for transport.
Her eyes went to the rope and pully system she had devised with a tree. Thankfully it was not a full adult yet at least. She grabbed the rope, dug her heels in and began to pull.
She groaned and pulled like a work horse, rope across her shoulder. Oh it hurt, the bite of the rope with weight. She made little progress, but it moved a bit.
Ely scrunched her face and made another heave. Another inch. YES! She paused to wipe at her brow, then threw her weight into it once more. Suddenly it lurched and she would have fallen on her face if a massive arm had not wrapped around her waist.
“Hey pretty elf lady,” drawled a familiar voice.
Ely looked up over her shoulder from where she hung across the thick forearm. “Lok! It has been a while since I saw you,” she smiled up into the tusks faced of the second Zandalari she personally knew. Then she frowned, “You are sneaky for something so big.”
“De ghost raptor form,” he said with a waggle of his brows.
She made note that in his other hand he held the rope and her kill now hung as she intended. “Thank you for your help. Could you hold that while I get it ready?”
Lok nodded and sat her down gently. “I could do that ya know,” he mused.
“I know, but I need to do this,” she walked over pulling out her skinning knife.
Ely glanced over her shoulder to stare at Lok a minute. She never got over the sheer size of those specific trolls. He was so damn big. Being held like that had made her feel like a tiny rag doll.
She blinked and went back to focusing on her task. Once done they had to wait, and she could not just do that silently.
“Can I ask… a uhhh question?”
“That was one, I will be givin ya another,” he chuckled.
Ely giggled at him and smiled happily. She had always enjoyed his sense of humor. “So in your society there are men married to men and women married to women?”
Lok gave her a single nod.
“How does one know if they like the same sex? I mean I think I may like this woman, but I don’t know.”
Lok gave her an amused look followed by a deep rumbling laugh. “Ya don’t know? I mean attraction is attraction. De ya wanna be close to her?”
“Yes… but sometimes I want to be close to a man too, but then I just… honestly, I don’t know Lok. The idea sounds nice, but at the same time it scares me.”
Lok rubbed a tusk absent mindedly with his free hand. “I be seein. Look ye can’t rush yerself. Dem books ya be readin? Do they make ya happy?”
“They do.”
“An do dey be scarin ya?”
“Of course not!”
“But da thought of bein close to a mon or womon make ya stomach hurt and heart race in all da bad ways?”
She nodded. “That does. Well except this one person, but I think they just see me as a friend.”
Lok gave a sage nod. “Ya not ready. Ya be havin plenty of time pretty elf lady. Don’t be rushin. Enjoy ya life as it comes.”
She nodded, giving Lok an impulsive hug. “Thanks so much Lok. Want to come back with me? There is going to be a centaur feast tonight.”
“As long as someone be cookin meat not ta it just needs ta be going to da Shadowlands it be so black.”
Ely laughed, “I think that is just for sacrifices so the spirits can smell it.”
Lok snorted, “Da spirits are crazy here.”
Ely nodded and watched as Lok easily began to drag the carcass back. As they walked the two spoke of centaurs and their tribes. Both were wondering how the Tauren felt about all this.
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FULL FACE OF NEW ELF MAKEUP 2021 | PUTTY BRONZER, BIG MOOD MASCARA, BITE SIZE BROW & MORE!
Doing a full face of new e.l.f. Cosmetics makeup! Trying new elf cosmetics makeup that has recently launched in 2021.These Elf products include the putty bronzer, big mood mascara, bite-size brow and more! Let me know which elf product you want to try most!
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how about a sorceress, elf, or healer!reader and geralt brings her to kaer morhen for the first time (before the whole child surprise happens) and vesemir dislikes reader for whatever reason, to a point that the idea of staying all throughout winter makes her uncomfortable. would geralt choose his father figure or the established romance with reader? 👀
(ps. im also the same anon who requested the geralt reader with yennefer angst and i loved it 😙. if u see a 👀 on a request, it's probably me!!)
“I don’t like her.”
Geralt turned to Vesemir, an unreadable expression on his face. The statement wasn’t a surprise; he saw the way the older Witcher treated you the last few days. He got a warmer reception in Blaviken than you did to Kaer Morhen.
“May I ask why.” Geralt spoke, not sure he really cared for the answer.
Vesemir sighed, shaking his head. “I try to teach you boys how to survive, that’s all I did. Years and years spent drilling it into your thick skulls that Witchers are solitary creatures. We work alone because that is the only way to ensure our survival. And here you found yourself a woman to distract—“
“I worked alone for long enough,” Geralt interrupted, giving Vesemir a look. “She’s saved my life more time that I can count since I’ve met her. She is the reason for my survival, when your training has fallen short.”
That hit a cord— Vesemir stood suddenly, his eyes hard as he sized up Geralt. “Then you don’t need me anymore. You don’t need your family, your brothers. Take your precious wife and winter somewhere else.”
He left in a huff, leaving Geralt alone in the alchemy room to his own thoughts. Geralt sighed, shutting his eyes. He wasn’t sure what Vesemir’s problem was— maybe he was jealous, or resentful, or thought Geralt was breaking some Witcher law by finding love with someone who loved him back. Maybe he really was just concerned about his survival. Either way, he wasn’t going to let anyone make you feel uncomfortable here.
He found you in the room he’d arranged for you both, reading from an old book on ancient sigils. You looked up at him with a small smile before going back to your book.
“Found something of interest, I hope,” Geralt commented, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.
You hummed, turning a page. “Vesemir almost ripped it out of my hands, but it might have some useful information.”
Geralt’s jaw clenched, watching you carefully. “He called you my wife.”
You laughed at that, glancing up at him through your lashes. “I’m not your wife, did you tell him that?”
“I don’t need to explain anything to him,” Geralt answered, pushing off from the wall and moving closer to you. He reached down and ran his fingers through your hair, tucking some behind your ear. “We don’t need to stay here, if he is making you feel unwelcome, my love.”
You glanced up at him, seeing a softness in his face he reserved only for you. “I don’t want to create tension between you and a man who is essentially your father, Geralt. If he… if he doesn’t like me, I can leave. We can meet up later.”
Geralt frowned, the idea of being apart from you for any amount of time unsettling. “If he cared about me at all, he would at the very least accept the one I care about.”
You nodded, shutting the book and setting it aside. You stood and rested a hand on Geralt’s chest, the other cupping his face as you sighed. He did that thing he always does when he’s trying to read you, brows furrowed and eyes tense.
“I won’t make you choose between me or your family,” you murmured, leaning up to kiss him softly. “I love you, but until I’m family, I come second, okay?”
Geralt growled, scooping you up in arms. You yelped, holding on to his shoulders and laughing as he deposited you into the bed, nuzzling into your neck as he settled above you. “I’ll just have to make you my wife, then,” he whispered, nipping at your skin.
You smacked his shoulder, biting your lip. “I’m sure that will make Vesemir just adore me, stealing his Golden Boy away.”
“Luckily we’ll have decades to change his mind.”
#soft!geralt#henry cavill x reader#geralt of rivia x reader#geralt fluff#geralt fanfic#geralt x reader#geralt of rivia
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Jealous Heart
———
Requested by my naughty anon “E”, who wanted a needy/jealous smutty Kili. Thank you so much for coming to me for this! It’s been such a pleasure to write and I hope it meets your expectations. I’m honoured to have received this request- my first one ever! Enjoy your possessive and jealous Kili!
Pairing: Kili x female reader
Words: 3,222
Warnings: rated E. Vaginal fingering. M/F intercourse, unprotected. Kili is quite possessive in this.
Kili sat with his back rigid against the cold stone wall, arms folded across his chest, watching Y/N with fire in his eyes.
The tavern was bustling tonight. There was barely enough room to pass through the crowd to get to the bar for another ale, but still all Kili could focus on was you as if you were the only other person in the room.
He wanted you. Bad. But there you were for another night, laughing and being wooed by other patrons in the tavern. Other patrons who were far more suited to you than he could ever be.
The man who was currently stealing your attention, or caught completely under your spell was more like it, was a tall dark-haired man with a full, thick beard. His size towered over your frame, his rugged charm working to bring out your gorgeous smile, and the scene filled Kili with rage and jealousy.
He was a dwarf for pity’s sake, yet here this human sported facial hair that could challenge even Thorin’s kingly beard in all its glory! There was no way he could compete with that.
Kili felt like a disgrace, his mood continuing to fall as he began to pick at the bindings on his boot that was resting up on his knee.
How many times had he imagined you pressing your lips along his stubble-coated jawline, praising him for the intense pleasure he provided, begging him for more? Each time he touched himself it was to thoughts of you, pretending it was your gentle hands tugging on his hardened shaft. Since reclaiming Erebor he’d been with a few women, most of them eager to show their gratitude to one of their heroes, but the only one he really wanted, the only one he longed for, was you.
It seemed as though every other man in town- dwarf, elf or human- was captivated by you and tried for your affection. Who could blame them? You were perfect.
But watching them all set out after you night after night started to take its toll on Kili, the green-eyed monster rearing its ugly head in the depths of his heart.
“You need to make a move, Kili, or Y/N will be long gone before you even have a chance to call for another ale,” his brother said pointedly with a nudge to his shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts.
He shook his head in defeat, glancing up to watch you throw your head back in laughter. Gods, you were a sight.
“There’s no use, Fili. I mean look at her!” he waved in your direction, your charisma infectious to everyone around you. But his doubt left him as soon as he looked your way again, feeling a rush of urgency to have you, to push away any man who threatened to seize you from his own reach, to claim you as his.
He sighed and looked at his brother beside him who took a long drag from his pipe, regarding you from across the room with an odd expression on his face. It almost looked as though Fili himself was considering making a move on you and the thought made even more anger rise up in Kili.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, having seen that same look on Fili’s face before when he was interested in a woman. He wouldn’t think twice about dumping his ale over his brother's head if it came down to it.
“No, no, I wouldn’t,” he assured him, “It just doesn’t seem like she’s actually enjoying herself,” he tipped his head in your direction, his moustache braids wagging with his movements. “You should go and rescue her.”
“You think?”
“Yes! Just go!” Fili gave him a hard push on his back, causing him to almost trip over his own feet as he stood from their table.
Kili took a deep breath before he made his way over, and when he was close enough he noticed a faint tinge of falseness in your eyes, an annoyed expression crossing your face. A feeling of possessiveness came over him now that he knew you weren’t interested in this man’s company, and he found it hard to control his anger.
“Kili! I was wondering when you were going to make your way over to see me!” you exclaimed with enthusiasm the second he joined your side, hoping he would catch the thanks that laced your tone for interrupting your conversation with the man who tried his best to persuade you into his bed each night.
“Y/N,” Kili greeted you shortly, staring up at the man across from you with a venomous look. “Is this man bothering you?”
You couldn’t help but notice how dark his eyes were and you wondered if the young Prince was jealous.
So you decided to have some fun, thinking maybe this was the way to get him to finally admit those feelings for you you always suspected he had.
“Not in the slightest,” you cooed, biting your lip to hold back your smile as his head whipped to look at you, his brows knitted tightly together.
When you saw his reaction, you couldn’t keep your face from splitting at his sheer disbelief that you could have been enjoying yourself. The other man sulked away and you sighed with relief, “I’m kidding! Thank you for coming over, I could only be nice for so long!”
Your hand automatically rested on his forearm, feeling the muscles shift underneath his skin when he clenched his fist, the movement sending a sensation through you that made your breath hitch.
Kili didn’t return your smile though. He looked at your hand that remained on his arm and shook his head slightly as he turned away from you.
“It’s nothing,” he said in a low voice, but you could see through his words. He leaned forward against the bar, forcing you to drop your hand from him, refusing to meet your gaze when you shifted your body to try and face him again.
“Is everything okay?”
“Fine.”
Another lie. You wanted to tell Kili just how badly you wanted him, that there was no way any other man could compare to him. You could sense his unease and longed to erase it with your lips, desperate to admit that anytime you were intimate with anyone it was him who you imagined being with.
Kili glanced over his shoulder, rolling his eyes when they met Fili’s who nodded at him to continue talking to you. He rubbed a hand over his face, strongly considering getting his next pint and heading back to the table without saying another word. There was no way he could muster the strength to push his jealous feelings aside and just tell you he fancied you.
But he was quickly persuaded, feeling the gentle touch of your hand on his shoulder.
“Kili, what’s wrong? You know you can tell me,” you said faintly. Even through the noise of the crowd your voice sang to him clear as day, and he longed to hear what other soft sounds he could coax from your lips.
“I can’t stand seeing you with other men,” he declared, the words leaving his mouth involuntarily as if staring at your lips had him in some sort of trance.
Your eyebrows flew up in shock as you processed his words, making him panic slightly. He reached for his full tankard and turned to leave, but stopped when you spoke.
“Why is that?”
He sighed again and brought himself to face you, looking at you with an unashamed need.
“I want you to be mine.”
You nodded slowly, hoping you heard him correctly over the commotion around you.
You’d had your eye on Kili ever since you were young, and seeing him now as a grown and proud warrior after reclaiming Erebor had you yearning for him even more. The truth was that you were often jealous of how much attention he received from other dams throughout the kingdom, constantly having to listen to them all gush over him. And now he was telling you he wanted you?
Not daring to miss your opportunity, you leaned your body close to his, pulling him toward you by tugging on his coat with one hand, the other moving to wrap around his muscular torso.
“I want you, too, Kili…”
His gaze made you squirm where you stood, his expression enough to break your boldness and make you want to submit to him right then and there.
Before you had any more time to think up the things you wanted him to do to you, Kili grabbed your hand and gave you the cheeky smile that made your heart do flips, spinning on his heel to drag you through the crowd behind him.
“Where are we going?!” you asked, surprised at his sudden ambition.
“Away from all of these people!” he explained over his shoulder, a mischievous look plastered on his face.
The pace of your steps matched his, equally zealous to get away from the crowd and find a quiet spot to be together, but before you even made it out the back door Kili turned toward you and pressed you against the wall, eagerly taking your lips in his.
His hands groped at you while your tongues collided, the warmth of his mouth and body radiating through whatever part of you he touched.
You moaned into him, his large hands pulling at your dress, trying to expose more of your chest to him. Kili’s lips left yours and flew to your neck, kissing a trail down your ticklish skin which made your moans turn to giggles. Just as he drove his thick thigh between your legs to part them someone walked past, interrupting your activities. You both broke out in laughter, unable to believe you were actually fondling each other in the hallway of the busiest tavern in all of Dale.
He attached his lips to yours again in a hurry, backing up to remove you from the wall and pulling you with him. You were stumbling over each other in your search for the exit, bumping into walls before finally crashing against the door that led outside.
You couldn’t get enough of each other and before you even made it around the corner you had successfully torn open his tunic, revealing dark hairs covering his strong chest. Your hands carded over his bare skin and you pushed your tongue deeper in his mouth, ecstatic to be in this moment with him.
You couldn’t help but squeal when he lifted you up and wrapped your legs around his middle, carrying you the rest of the way over to a more secluded area behind the row of buildings.
“Kili, someone could see us!” you worried, but you didn’t truly care, knowing just how much you wanted the dark-haired archer. He placed you down, but you didn’t trust your shaking legs, your arms remaining around his neck for support.
“I know, but I need you, Y/N,” he looked at you with an ache in his eyes and you knew he meant it. “I need you now.”
You tugged at his hair as he consumed your mouth again, his hard cock pressing against the material of your dress which was straining to get through his trousers.
Your fingers fumbled with the laces on them, desperate to feel him in your hand. Teeth nipped at your neck in response to your endeavour, a deep groan leaving his mouth to air over your flushed skin as you reached in and freed his length. You knew he would be impressive in size, but this was more than you were expecting and your thighs squeezed together at the thought of him stretching you.
Your name came out of him with a hiss as you began stroking him, your thumb running small circles on his leaking tip, your touch turning him feral.
He bucked into your hand and attached his lips to yours once more, one hand clutching your waist to pull you closer while his other tore at your neckline to expose your breasts to him.
He parted from you to take the sight of you in, your bare chest heaving in anticipation, nipples taught in the cold, night air.
Kili’s face plunged to your cleavage, his hand squeezing the soft flesh of your breast as he sucked on your peak while he gathered the material of your dress to ruck it up over your hips.
Although you were almost delirious from his actions, you continued to slowly pump his throbbing shaft, pausing only when he glanced up at you with a possessive look. His fingers grazed up your quivering thigh and now lingered against your wet folds, waiting for your consent. You pushed your hips forward, a signal of your need for him to touch you more. He happily complied, plunging a large finger inside your warmth, his thumb finding your swollen bud to circle and press on it. A moan left you and your body shuddered to his touch as he moved his finger in and out of you, then adding another to stretch you further.
“Kili…” you gasped, gripping onto his broad shoulder as you rode his hand while still jerking your own along his length in a steady rhythm.
He removed his fingers from your fluttering folds and gripped around the back of your thigh, pulling your leg up to wrap around his waist. You felt his spongy head press against your wetness and you gasped at the sensation, more than ready to take him in.
“I will make you forget any other man who has ever touched you,” he vowed in a rough tone, and you knew it would be true.
Kili grabbed onto your bum, pulling you closer to his body as he pushed through your entrance. Your head fell back against the wall as you stretched to fit him, thankful for how wet he had made you. But even with the amount of slick that coated your walls, his girth was enough to make you whimper and cry out.
“Am I too big for you, amrâlimê?” he asked in a low, husky voice, his breath tickling beside your ear, still continuing to push deeper into you regardless of your answer.
“No, Kili,” you managed to say through a moan, “Please don’t stop.”
He moved to rest his forehead against yours, placing a gentle kiss on your lips as he bottomed out in you, his hips pressed firmly against yours.
“Good, because I want you to think of me with every step you take tomorrow.” His eyes were black in the moonlight, his words and his stare making you shiver. Kili moved so he was almost all the way out of you, making you miss the fullness he created, but thrusted back into you in one swift motion and you cried out again.
The sound of hips slapping against each other and your combined panting filled the quiet air as he worked to set a tempo, the tip of him contacting your deepest spot with every plunge that sent fire through your veins.
“You’re mine, Y/N,” he declared, increasing his pace, determined to prove it.
You tugged at his hair and nodded in agreement, pulling him closer to you to capture his parted lips once more, eager to have him fulfill his promise.
As much as you didn’t want this to end, you knew neither of you would be able to last long. Feeling every inch of his thick cock slide in and out of you, hitting the perfect spot every time had your head spinning, each pump rubbing his coarse hairs against your swollen clit, getting you closer to your end.
His name fell freely from your raw lips, a mantra to the ecstasy he was giving you, which only brought more inspiration to the Prince.
“Kili…”
“That’s right, say my name,” he begged as he gripped harder on your hip to allow more traction to pound into you with even more force.
In addition to his ferociousness, the things he was saying to you wasn’t helping to prolong your session either. Kili continued spilling possessive proclamations from his mouth any time your lips weren’t locked together, making you feel powerful to have such an effect on him.
“I will be the only man who gets to make you feel this good,” he said hoarsely beside your ear, his intensity somehow increasing.
A cry escaped your lips as you began to climax, your walls clenching tightly around his member, your nails clawing at his back.
“That’s it,” he coaxed you, “let go. Let me have you, ghivashel.”
Allowing your body to give in to what it longed for so desperately, you did just as he told you and let yourself fall, shuddering around him as you came harshly, Kili not holding back as he pounded you over the edge. You felt him pulse inside you, filling you completely with his spend. He growled and with a twitch came down from his own high, your bodies in sync with each other, working as one. His lips met yours again in urgency while he still rocked slightly within you, the thickness and heat of his seed feeling exquisite against your fluttering core.
Kili remained encased by you, enjoying the feeling of you around him as he slowly softened. His forehead pressed against yours as you shared the same breath, and he couldn’t help but relish in the satisfaction of having you. You were his…
“I’ve needed you for so long, Y/N,” he admitted, “I needed to make you mine. I couldn’t bear to watch another man touch you, let alone look at you for another night.” He brushed his nose against yours, his lips moving against yours faintly while he spoke. “I should have done this long ago.”
You gave him an eager nod, “Yes, you should have, Kili. But we can make up for lost time.”
His mouth consumed yours again, a silent agreement that this wouldn’t be the last time he would prove to you that you belonged to him.
After a moment he pulled away from you, breaking the seal on your lips as well as the connection that remained of him inside you. As if feeling the loss immediately, he looked at you with a worried expression and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.
“Will you stay with me tonight?” he asked you, searching your eyes with a gentleness that contrasted to his earlier passion.
“Of course I will,” you responded with a smile, seeing how your answer instantly brought one to his own face, his brown eyes glowing.
He kissed you sweetly and cupped your cheek with his warm palm, “Thank you. I want to be with you any moment I possibly can.”
Your smile grew at his confession, seeing the love he had for you, your heart swelling at what could come to fruition between you and the Prince.
Now that Kili had you, he knew he could never be without you. He took your hand in his and thanked Mahal as he led you through the night toward Erebor that he was now with his One, the only one he ever needed.
———
Everything: @guardianofrivendell @midearthwritings @cassiabaggins @lilith15000 @trishthedishofreis @linasofia @unbeatablecurlgirl @the-poldarkian
Kili: @valquiria3000 @fandomfaery
#kili#kili smut#kili smut request#request by anon#the hobbit#the hobbit kili#smut#smut fic#jealous Kili
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Just One Hug
Request: Yes / No can u do a draco x fem!reader smut pls.. literally anything idc Anon
Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night
Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader
Word count: 2085
Warnings: Smut!
Y/N: Your Name
Y/L/N: Your Last Name
PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!
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Masterlist
(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)
Draco has been acting so odd lately. He’s been glaring at me the whole train ride home, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why! Normally he would glare at me because he was jealous of someone I was with or some other stupid reason, but I was currently just sitting with Pansy.
“Pansy, do you have any idea what’s up with Draco?” I whispered. She looked over and shrugged.
“I have no bloody idea. Maybe it’s because you hugged Harry goodbye?” She suggested and I shook my head.
“There is no bloody way he’s jealous over a hug! Even if it is Harry.” I said as I thought back to a few hours ago.
“Harry’s hands were pretty low.” Pansy said and I furrowed my brow.
“Were they?” I asked and she nodded.
“I swear I thought he was going to grab your bum.” She said with a laugh.
“Are you being serious?” I asked shocked.
“How the hell did you not feel it?” She asked and I shrugged.
“Suppose I wasn’t paying attention.” I said and she shook her head.
“You’re a bloody idiot Y/N.” She laughed and I sighed.
“So Draco is jealous of a damn hug.” I shook my head.
“A very steamy looking hug.” She said and I glared at her.
“Oh Merlin, I’m going to have a lot to deal with this vacation.” I sighed and she smirked.
“Maybe it’ll work out in your favor.” She wiggled her brows and I shoved her.
“Pansy!” I shrieked and she laughed.
When the train finally stopped Draco grabbed my hand and pulled me along with him. We silently walked through the crowd and were met by one of his house elves.
“Master Draco, your parents are on a short trip and sent me to receive you and Miss Y/L/N.” He said.
“Take us home, now.” He ordered and the House elf obayed. We were instantly transported to Malfoy Manor and Draco wasted no time taking me to his room.
“Sit.” He ordered and I sat down on his bed. He walked into his bathroom without another word and I didn’t dare move. I could tell where this was going. Draco returned after a few moments completely naked, I simply looked up at him.
“Are you ready to be a good girl?” He asked brazenly.
“Yes Sir.” I answered softly.
“Are you going to be my slut and let me use you however I’d like?” He asked and I had to bite back my smile, he always no matter what, asked for consent before any play time.
“Yes Sir.” I answered.
“Are you going to do everything I command?” He asked.
“Yes Sir.” I answered.
“Who owns you?” He asked, his voice getting deeper.
“You, Sir.” I answered and he smirked.
“Take off your top.” He ordered. His eyes never left mine as I removed my shirt.
“And now your bra.” He ordered. I reached behind me to unclasp my bra and it dropped down my arms onto my lap. Involuntarily I crossed my arms over my now naked breasts.
“Don’t act like you don’t know what you are, whore.” He said, now completely in character.
“Put your arms down.” He ordered, the last words sounded a little deeper in his throat.
“Yes Sir.” I said and dropped my arms.
“Stand up.” He ordered and I did as I was told.
“Take off your skirt.” He said. I unzipped my skirt and bent down to push it down, but his hand grasped my hair, making me gasp.
“Oh your knees.” He growled. I was forced down, his erect cock in front of my face.
“Suck it like you need it.” He said. I lean forward, my tongue slipping past my lips. He pulled me back by my hair causing me to whine.
“You suck it, lick it, and want it, whore or there’s a punishment waiting for you. Do you understand?” He asked.
“Yes Sir.” I answered breathlessly. My head is forced down onto his cock this time. His size fills my mouth and the tip touches the back of my throat. I moaned as I gagged and choked on him.
“Like that, or I’ll do it for you.” He said huskily as he released my hair. I nodded and moved to take him fully into my throat. I alternated between sucking and licking, sometimes taking him fully into my mouth so I could choke on him. It was just what he liked. His hand reached down and held my head, pushing me further. Tears began falling down my face as my breath escaped me, but I still moaned.
“You really love my cock in your mouth, don’t you? You just love sucking my dick. What a cum slut you are.” He said with a smirk. I felt like I couldn’t take anymore, but luckily his hand wrapped in my hair and pulled me until I was standing.
“Look at what a mess you are. Do you enjoy being a mess?” He asked. I nodded, feeling his strong hand starting to grip my throat. After a moment his hand left my throat and moved to my breasts, grabbing them roughly. I gasped at his touch. His hands grabbed them and twisted my nipples, making me moan. The pain is intense and runs through my body, making me gasp in pleasure.
“You like being used by me, don’t you?” He asked, calmly.
“Yes Sir.” I answered, just barely managing to get the words out.
“You like being my whore, don’t you?” He asked, his voice getting deeper.
“Yes Sir.” I whined as he pulled me towards him by grabbing my ass, still in my panties. He moved his mouth towards my breast. He started biting, sucking, leaving his mark on my breasts. I moaned loudly and arched my back. My pussy was wet and my hips reached for his body. I wanted him no, needed him. I needed him inside me.
“Turn around, slut.” He whispered as he grabbed my breasts roughly and spun me around. His arms wrapped around me, pinning my arms to my body as his other hand reached into my panties. I felt his fingers slide into my wetness. I moaned and moved back against his hard cock.
“You’ll cum when I tell you you can, and not until I say you can. Understand?” He said huskily into my ear. I moaned deeply.
“Yes Sir.” I whisper. His fingers continue their exploration inside me, circling my clit and pinching it. I started losing all my thoughts except the one command he gave me. No cumming. My body was in agony as his fingers continued grabbing my clit and sliding into my soaking wet pussy. After what felt like a lifetime, he pulled away and let go of me. I felt him pull my hands behind my back, then muttering a spell. Ropes circled my wrists, binding them tightly. He grabbed me by the throat from behind and I felt his cock pressing against me.
“No cumming until I allow it.” He reminded me. I nodded slightly, his strong fingers still around my windpipe.
“Get on the bed.” He said letting go of me. I kneeled forward and clumsily kneeled on the bed. He grabbed my arms and laid me on my side.
“Look at you with your sluttiest panties on.” His voice was deep with desire and slight mocking. He muttered another spell and suddenly my panties were off.
“Look at me.” He ordered. I turned my head towards him and found him watching me with one hand holding my ass and the other held my panties.
“Open your mouth.” He said. I opened without a word and he shoved them into my mouth, enough to muffle my moans.
“Are you going to take it like the good little slut you are?” He asked, his hand roughly spreading my legs. He moved one under him and pushed the other towards my chest, exposing my wet pussy to him. He looked at me and reached over, grabbing my hair roughly.
“Yes Sir.” He said, moving my head up and down. I moaned loudly as he started to slowly slide into me. He pulled back and I looked up at him with wide eyes.
“No cumming. Only I decide when you can cum.” He growled and I tried to show him how much I needed it. He slid into me again, I moaned and squirmed. I shoved my face into his blanket, fighting against my need for release. He smiled as he pounded into me hard. He pulled out until only his tip was teasing the inside of me. I moaned loudly, a desperate attempt to show him how badly I needed to cum.
“Is this what you like, slut?” He asked, the tip of his cock just barely stroking the inside of me.
“Please!” I moaned, but it was muffled by my panties. He pushed deeply inside me for two strokes and then teased my pussy with the tip again. Two more times and I’m completely needy. My muscles tensed as I tried desperately to push myself onto his cock. My pleas grew louder and I thrashed my head widely, fighting for release. He pushed deep inside me and I cried out in pleasure. With every stroke he reminded me that I can’t cum.
“Please, please, please, please!” I begged with tears streaming down my face.
“You’re such a good little whore.” He said with a smirk in his voice.
“Tell me who you belong to.” He growled as he started fucking me harder and harder.
“You! I belong to you Draco!” I nearly screamed, well as much as I could gagged.
“You may cum now.” He said as his hands grabbed my ass and pulled me roughly to him with every stroke. I cried out as I came and my body loosened as I felt the waves of relief wash over my body. It took no time for my pussy to tighten around him as I came hard on his cock. He continued riding me hard as I came. Once I was finished I felt him pull out. He pulled me up by my hair, my body shaking from the intense orgasm. He pulled the panties from my mouth and replaced them with his cock. He moved my head rhythmically on his cock. I slurped and slid over his wet dick. He moves my head as he needs to and I felt his body tighten as his cum fills my mouth. His cum slides down my throat as his cock throbs against my swollen lips. I swallow every drop with a content sigh. He released my hair and I looked up at him. He bends down and captures my lips in a deep kiss. He mumbled a spell and the ropes disappeared from my wrists.
“Stay here.” He said softly. I watched him walk into his bathroom and heard his shower starting. He walked back into the room and took me by the hand, leading me into the hot shower. The warm water feels so good on my tired and sore body. Once I finished I got out and changed into the nightgown Draco left me. I walked into the room to find him reading and smiled. He looked over at me with a smile and opened his arms. I gladly crawled into bed and cuddled into him. His arms wrapped around me and I sighed happily as I laid on his chest.
“Did I hurt you?” He asked and I shook my head.
“My wrists and head are a little sore, but nothing horrible.” I answered with a smile. He kissed my head and held me a little tighter.
“I’m sorry love, but I honestly can’t stand seeing Potter putting his hands anywhere near you.” He growled and I rolled my eyes.
“So Pansy was right.” I said and he looked at me confused.
“She said you were jealous because apparently Harry was pretty much grabbing my bum.” I said and he started at me shocked.
“Apparently? He was a hundred percent grabbing your arse!” He said and I sighed.
“I think you two are exaggerating.” I said and he shook his head.
“Are you trying to be punished again?” He asked, but with a playful tone.
“Possibly.” I smirked playfully back at him.
“It’s going to be a long week for you Y/N.” He smirked and I pecked his lips.
Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @schisbro87 @lover-of-books-and-teas @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches2 @genius2050 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @in-slytherin-we-trust @accio-rogers @sambucky8 @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @answer-the-sirens @andreasworlsboring101 @vanessa-kom-skaikru @dracoswhvre
#Harry Potter#Harry Potter Smut#Draco Malfoy#draco malfoy smut#draco x reader#draco x y/n#draco malfoy imagine#draco x fem!reader#draco malfoy x fem!reader#draco malfoy x reader#fanfic#request#Smut#draco smut
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