#male adaar | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meowsgirldrawing · 5 months

Text

Dorian and his elven daughter

Word Count- 2,706

AO3- Link

Masterlist- Link

“Oh, fuck that.”

Dorian laughs, gripping the amulet in his hand tightly. His laugh echoes against the interior of his office, which is big enough to be considered a master bedroom honestly. He hears Bellatrix’s giggles emit from the crystal as his calms.

“I mean, the guy acts like an indecent asshole-”

“Are there any decent ones?”

“ You would know. ANYWAY-,”

Dorian bursts into more laughter.

“then turns around, acting shocked when you give it back to him- mind you, in a civilized manner. Jeez. Tevinter sounds great. ” She retorts, causing him seconds from wheezing in his chair.

After a moment, he breaths. He leans back in his chair and chuckles finally evening out. His hand holds against his chin, smiling wryly, “Maybe you can come to the next Imperial sphere, it’ll be grand! We can comment on the man’s attire- scare him into thinking the worst.”

“ Oh dear! I saw the Inquisitor and Magister Pavus speaking ill, I hope my luscious seat still shines afterward! ” Her voice deepens, the scornful attempt at a Tevinter accent could make his grandparents and father turn in their graves.

“I thought you didn’t like your former title though? A change of heart maybe?” He teases.

“Dor Dor, I’ve had to accept by now that it will follow me to my grave and even afterwards, whether I want it to or not. Might as well get some use of it.” She shrugs in spite of the fact he can’t see it, “Especially against some entitled, fucking wise-ass who tries to insult one of my favorite nieces.”

“Yes well, you’ll be glad to know that he not only looked like the most miserable, silliest person there, but I saw him practically run out with his tail between his legs soon after.

She snickers, “Good.”

“Thankfully, there was no falter in the new arrangements so everyone matter-of-factly expected Briva and I at the next gathering without trouble.”

A low whistle, “Damn, Dor, look at youuuu! Already some change in the social rank. Metaphorically, of course.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Tis similar, still have much more work that will last well over a lifetime or two.”

“Yeah, well- good thing you- wait… FUCK! TURNIP, NO!-” A thud, Bellatrix coughs, and some shuffling. Dorian pauses, looking down at the crystal in his palm. It flicks from light to off, indicating more to the commotion. He hesitates, “Bella?” He taps it, all the same of knowing it’s alright- just something to check, “Bellatrix? Is everything alright?”

Soon, the crystal shines bright again with the elf’s voice coming through, albeit, breathless.

“The dog…jumped..on me.” More shuffling, “I think he heard my.. grt- whistling. …This is why I’m a cat person.”

He breaks into laughter as she huffs, “Are you alright?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, fucker.” She growls, her tone still light.

“Ass.”

“Shit-talker.”

He goes to continue their game when he notices Gilmi, one of the head servants of his household, standing nervously by the door, waiting patiently.

“Bella?”

“Yeah? Is everything alright?” She clearly picked up his change of tone.

“Not sure. I’ll send back for you once I’m done.”

“Got it, Dor Dor. Tell Briva her favorite Aunt said hi.”

He motions for the servant to come in, snickering, “You know she has close to 6 other Aunts, yes?”

“Un-noted. Take care.”

“You do the same.” The connection cuts and he stashes the amulet carefully back into his desk, giving the servant his full attention.

“Is something the matter, dear?”

“Not…exactly sir, Miss Briva is the library. Uhm, something occurred and now she’s scared. Mister Jervah told me to just come get you.”

The moment Dorian heard the second line, he jerked from his chair, his gut clenched. He doesn’t waste time, quickly thanking the elf before making his way down to the library. The clicking of boots doesn’t help his nerves. They only add to the ever-growing fear, his hands tight, and mind racing at any horror his daughter was frightened of.

Possibilities flood though. An assassin paid to kidnap or hurt her- Well, he knows the guards would have stopped and alerted him immediately, but still…. An animal at the window?- Briva absolutely adores them, she would have been running in, wanting to show him honestly. A book she shouldn’t have read, Then again, he holds all of the spell tomes or spell-based ones on a high shelf or locked in his office, safe……STILL-

Arriving at the doors, he makes haste in opening and coming through.

All right, time to throw all the previous worries out the window, along with his sanity- specifically the barely hanging nail one from across the room, shattered glass scattered around on on top of the window seal. One that completes the look of a tornado, fire, and ice-mixed wonderland.

Books are thrown off shelves, some burned with others frozen in crystal cold. The curtains scorched from the bottom up, continuous crackles hitting his ears. The floor has puddles of water, as well as short layers of ice in some spots- his foot almost slips but he steadies himself on a half-burned desk near the door.

He trudged slowly around the room, tensely looking everywhere with wide, fearful eyes, also casting out swift but small spells to counter the others. All the while, calling out for his little girl. Fear has him caged at this point; with all this mass of destruction, no wonder his little one was terrified.

“Briva, darling. Papa’s here, I-”

“Ser Pavus,”

He turns, presently holding a piece of paper, one that Briva had obviously been working on beforehand. The ink was fresh and oily.

“Jervah, where’s my daughter?” Maintaining his calm and ever-resounding nature in his voice. In spite of this, the older elf looks upon him with understanding. He motions towards the door across the library. It’s an extra room, made specifically for when he and Briva are focusing on her studies.

As Dorian crosses the foothold, Jervah speaks up assuringly, “I let the others know to leave you two be. You will need it.” Not understanding this but knowing he will soon, the Magister nods, before returning to his most important.

He casts a minor spell, a light orb that lights up the room. “Briva?...Briva, honey.” His voice is tight, trying his damndest to sound heartening- despite his own heart currently moving-

He stops at the shuffling. Moving the orb closer in its direction, he sees a small figure under the middle table- scooting further under it as if to hide from the light. He sighs, relief flooding over him when realization hits.

Dorian takes his time, hands behind his back as he sends multiple orbs around corners of the room, lighting it up more until it turns into a soft, light blue hue. Her favorite color.

“...Briva? Is everything alright, my dearest?”

She doesn’t respond, concealing her face in her knees, arms wrapped around her tightly. With a kneel, he takes notice of the ice around her fingertips.

Oh..

He blinks.

So that’s what happened��.Another wave of relief, Her powers just manifested. That’s all..

Now, he speaks up, “Briva, dear, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

She takes a moment before shaking her head, just barely. “Do you want to come out?”

Another shake of the head.

“Alright,” He sits down and tucks his legs under him. His robes fell around him, touching the ice residue and crowding around the two of them. She moves her head up quickly.

“No!”

He stops, looking at her.

She gnaws on her lip. Her eyes were blotchy and red, with tears streaming down her bubbly cheeks as her pointed ears droop slightly.

“Y-you’re gonna mess up y-your outfit.”

Dorian can’t help himself- a short laugh escapes from him. Mae, the loving sport, was always saying how Briva could be his blood by how she acted at times; it’s clear as ever even now. Still chuckling at her confused and worried look, he gently coaxes her out from the table.

“Please, it’ll soon be water. It’s fine, I promise.”

She’s hesitant, bunching her light florid, green dress in her tiny hands. Reluctantly she moves and settles into his lap. Now sensing she wasn’t in trouble, she buried her face into his chest. Unfortunately, she starts tearing up again when his arms wrap around her in a tight, but soft cradle.

The patient quietness gets mellowed out as Dorian runs a soothing hand through her curly hair, “Are you alright, my dear?”

She doesn’t speak but nods. “What about your hands? Are they cold?”

A pause before another small nod.

“Here.” With an easy hand, he warms it just enough yet pauses when she flinches. He frowns, concerned. Briva has never been afraid of his magic. Nor Mae’s, Estel’s, or any other of her mage Aunts and Uncles. Curious yes, but never frightened. Only when she sees it in public or from other Magisters in general is when she gets somewhat nervous- that’s when he pulls her closer as to soothe her thoughts.

Kaffas- she just discovered herself that she has mage blood and after experiencing something such that is emotionally reeling to most young ones- especially at her age! Dorian curses inwardly at himself. The first thing I go and do is use one of the main elements.

Dorian moves his hand away an inch, “Is this alright, dear?”

She looks up before glancing down at his hand. She gives a small nod and lends her hand back.

As the frost disappears from her fingers, Dorian leans his back on the table side. It digs into his upper back, but he pays it no mind. He could care less when his daughter is his main concern at the moment.

“What happened?” Her body stills at the question.

“Briva?”

“... I-im sorry.. ” Dorian tilts his head, “Whatever for, my dearest?”

Her hands wipe her eyes, sniffling and whimpering. “I ruined the Library. The b-books are ruined! I-i didn't mean to- I was only reading what Mister Jervah gave me and then-,” A small sob escapes her, tearing at his heart. Every urge in his body fights against the instinct to hug her tightly to him, to hide her away from it; as much as he wants to, she needs some room to speak.

“A-and then! -Ice and fire came… I think I h-hurt Mr.Jervah!” Briva cries.

“Mr.Jervah said he was alright, dear. No need to worry.” He assures, brushing the curly hair from her face.

“B–b-but, in the Library! I-”

“The books, curtains, and any other affected object there can be replaced. You cannot, however.”

Briva looks down as her hands fumble in her lap. “..I’m sorry, papa..”

Dorian smiles, pulling her closer, “Briva, darling.”

She glances back up. The tears get gently wiped away by him, swiftly pulling down his long sleeve to dry her cheeks. As he does this, he continues, “Dear, you know what happened exactly, yes?”

She pauses. “I’m like Papa?”

He chuckles, nodding along, “Yes, you have what many consider, mage blood. You will learn more as you grow, but, “ He adjusts himself, still holding Briva in his lap, “You understand what that means, correct.” He checks.

“Yes, But,” She bites her cheek, “Isn’t it…dangerous? Aunt Mae said some people think mages are scary.”

He sighs, “Unfortunately people believe that, of course. It’s just like how many believe your other father is a scary beast all because of his appearance.”

“But father is nice! He’s not a beast.”

“I know that. But it’s an undeserving fact, sadly.”

She goes quiet again. A less tight grip on her dress, the same one that bundles around her, barely touching the ground underneath her father’s lap. She studies the way to fabric lay, thinking through her next words. Dorian is patient, only humming and brushing through her hair contently.

She’s hesitant, “ Can I…can I use my magic like yours?” She looks up, “Like how you used it to help Aunt Bellatrix and Estel?”

He smiles as she continues, “You said you only use it when the aid for people is needed, you helped people…I wanna do that.”

“With time and careful studies, indeed. It can be done, my dearest.”

It’s almost like she was never crying, never scared- her bright smile grew on her face before she erupted in giggles and hugged him. Like every time, he never hesitates to reciprocate, holding her close as chuckles leave him.

After leading her out of the study, Dorian and Briva find Jervah standing near the entrance of the Library. His grin matches Dorian's, as he greets Briva, who runs up to him with a worry in her brow. “Mister Jervah! Are you alright?”

The older man chuckles, kneeling down, “I am alright, madam. No need to worry.” She gives a shy smile and hugs him.

As Briva talks with Jervah, Dorian’s happiness starts to dwindle. Slowly and awfully as new anxiety kicks in. She’s a mage. His hidden gaze ponders over his daughter, who’s giggling as Jervah holds her up.

An elven mage….In Tevinter .

She’s going to have many troubles try and run through her. People are going to look upon her as nothing other than a unique piece for a stealer’s collection, or an unwanted soon enemy. People will want to hurt her.. His darling little girl. The dear one that his husband, Fuliz, saved close to 6 years ago.

Well….He perks up, “Briva?”

She looks over, smiling, “Yes, Papa?”

“Would you like to go with Miss Gilmi and get cleaned up? Papa and Jervah will take care of things here.”

She tilts her head, “Surely I can at least gather the saved books?”

Oh bless her , he instead shakes his head but keeps his smile plastered, “I’m quite sure, my dearest.” Leaning down, he welcomes her quick hug, placing a kiss on her head, “Run along now, we’ll be fine.”

With a nod and a small grin, she does so. Grabbing onto Gilmi’s outreached hand, she waves as the two leave.

He waves back, waiting for them to be completely out of view before he speaks in a quiet but firm tone, “Jervah, for now on: please notify the guards and staff to keep an extra eye on all entrances, no matter the circumstances. And if anything happens that concerns Briva or strange behavior from staff, tell me immediately.”

“Of course, sir.” Jervah bows, and makes his way out. Dorian turns, hands behind his back as he casts out spells. As chairs and tables float back to positions, the curtains being pulled down for replacement, and frost being melted and dried away, he stands near the window. His eyes ogle at the gate that guards his home.

He once felt shame and dishonor for who he was, for where he was from, for his decisions on who to love and be around. He feels his jaw clench, no matter what, he will make absolutely sure Briva will not ever feel the same still lingering feeling he feels now.

While his fears from before have just become stilling nightmares and comments he can now brush off without a blink,

While he now has a wonderful and sweet husband waiting to come visit him and their girl in between mercenary missions,

While he has multiple friends all over Thedas that wouldn’t think twice to help him when heeded-

The judgment and disdain from his peers continue like an endorsed flame. People look upon him and send assassins of words or people in their wake, in their distaste. People fight to stop his coming dent in their country, and all would turn towards his little girl when she joins his side. All for her pointed ears and now magic.

Well…he smirks lightly, spinning back to the room and out the door.

They best send their biggest armies at him and his own growing power, cause the Fade will have to destroy itself before he allows any of them to even step a foot near her.

She is his daughter, no matter the blood. As long as he lives and breathes, she doesn’t have to be afraid. Never like he once was.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #Dorian pavus #Brivia Pavus #Dorian is a dad #papa dorian pavus #oc insert #Dragon age fanfic #Post Tresspasser #male adaar #Fuliz Adaar #dorian x inquisitor #Dorian x male adaar

8 notes · View notes

grimweaver · 11 months

Text

Now THAT'S a thing of beauty

#dragon age inquisition #male adaar #adaar #Dragon Age #Getting a lot of Skyrim energy from this

17 notes · View notes

sinnamondadd · 2 years

Text

had to play through this cutscene twice bc i needed this screenshot.

#dragon age inquisition #dorian pavus #my inquisitors #inquisitor adaar #male adaar #oc: akksul adaar #sin’s thoughts

34 notes · View notes

bluerose5 · 2 years

Text

Punished

Might post on ao3 later. Prompt fill that got away from me, but what else is new? 😅

Prompt from @butter-and-too-much-bread for Bull putting on a chastity belt to punish m!Adaar. Nothing too explicit, at least in my opinion. Sorry this took so long, but I hope you enjoy! Leave it to me to go for extra tenderness on this one. 😄

~~~

If nothing else, Adaar was what many would call a "people pleaser."

While his innate sense of selflessness was often an admirable trait, the Iron Bull knew better than most that it could be just as much of a burden as well. On days when it was particularly bad, Adaar always had trouble saying “no” to people, even when it was to the detriment of his own health.

Which is why it was so hard for Bull to not intervene, but he knew his place.

Out there, for others to see, Adaar was the boss. He was their Inquisitor. He called the shots, and Bull wouldn’t dare undermine his authority.

In private, however…

Well, that was a completely different story.

Still, what was supposed to be a relaxing day to themselves quickly became anything but. Every time Adaar finished one task, someone else would pull him aside with another menial request. “One last thing” became the mantra for the day any time Adaar happened across Bull’s path.

Usually, the Iron Bull knew better than to let that get to him, but he was finding it more difficult to suppress his annoyance as the day wore on.

When even the tavern failed to restore his jovial mood, Krem all but dragged him outside to spar. Their practice session went on until sunset before the Inquisitor finally found them.

The instant Krem let his guard down to wave at him, Bull rammed into his side.

Krem hit the ground with a grunt, but refused to let that deter him.

He flashed a grin in Adaar’s direction.

“Here to take the boss off my hands, yeah?” he asked.

Adaar shuffled from foot to foot, taking in the sight of Bull.

“If he will let me,” he murmured, his eyes cast downwards as he tugged idly at his shirt.

Krem tossed Bull a pointed glance, then jerked his chin in the Inquisitor’s direction.

With a grumble, Bull said, “Yeah, I’ll let ya, kadan.”

How quickly Adaar perked up at the reassurance. His head shot up, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Handing the training equipment off to Krem, Bull’s second-in-command lugged it away without so much as a backwards glance, undoubtedly rushing to get back to the tavern with the other Chargers.

The corners of Adaar’s lips started to quirk up into the beginning of a smile, but Bull’s warning glare made his expression fall again.

Scanning the area, Bull made sure that the coast was clear, no one around to overhear them.

“This doesn’t mean you’re out of trouble,” he bit out.

“So, I am in trouble then?” Adaar sighed. His bottom lip poked out into a semblance of a pout.

With his arms crossed over his chest, Bull leveled him with a scathing look. He raised a brow at him, unimpressed.

“Oh, most definitely.”

“I’m sor—”

“Don’t,” Bull retorted.

Adaar snapped his mouth shut in the blink of an eye.

Bull stood there for a moment, letting Adaar squirm in all of his uncertainty.

He gave Adaar a thorough once-over before closing the distance between them.

He crashed his lips against Adaar’s into a bruising kiss.

Adaar melted against him without hesitation, but Bull caught his wrists when the Inquisitor tried to wrap his arms around his shoulders.

Bull pinned them to his sides, kept them in place as he pulled away.

A sweet whimper was coaxed free from Adaar’s swollen lips. When Bull parted from their kiss, Adaar tried to chase after Bull’s lips, but the latter remained firm in his resolve, simply resting his forehead against Adaar’s.

“Please,” Adaar breathed, desperate for more. Excitement spread through him like a wildfire. An all-too-familiar glaze settled over his eyes, his pupils blown wide enough that they threatened to consume his irises whole. “Please, Bull. Let me make it up to you.”

It was all too tempting, the urge to get swept up in the heat of the moment. To let that haze cloud his mind, where the lines of authority blurred.

But Bull had to be stronger than that. In situations such as those, Adaar relied on him to be.

He took Adaar’s chin in hand with a gentle squeeze. Not hard enough to leave marks, but tight enough to get his attention.

Only when Adaar’s eyes focused on him did he ask, “What’s our watchword, kadan?”

It was a test that Adaar knew all too well. If he couldn’t even recall their word when Bull got a bit handsy, then he was hardly in a headspace to proceed further.

Using the word needed to be instinctive, something done without thought or concern the second Adaar felt like he was in over his head.

By that point in their relationship, he didn’t even need to think twice about it.

“Katoh,” he said, eager to please.

That time, Bull couldn’t help but to smile in approval. Adaar’s excitement proved too contagious, even for him.

It sent Adaar’s heart racing. Oh, how it sang with joy.

Clearing his throat, the Iron Bull smoothed out his face into a neutral expression, ignoring how his emotions so easily betrayed him.

“That’s right,” he murmured. “Now, what you’re going to do is go straight to your quarters, strip down, and wait for me there. Got it?”

Adaar nodded.

He turned on his heel, only to jolt when Bull delivered a playful smack to his ass. Glancing over his shoulder, Adaar’s responding grin sent Bull’s heart aflutter.

Bull watched him walk away, fixated on the movement of his hips and thighs with every step.

By the time he disappeared out of sight, Bull had to shake himself free of his thoughts.

While he was certain that Adaar made haste to follow his instructions, the Iron Bull took his time in preparing himself. He strolled at a leisurely pace back to the Chargers’ quarters, taking in the sights of the evening sky. If anyone stopped him on his way, he made sure to chat with them. He hummed a lighthearted tune, savoring the light chill to the air.

After all, the longer Adaar waited, the more anticipation would build, and the more impatient he would become.

After the day Bull had, he figured that it would do Adaar some good to see what it was like.

Once he arrived at his bunk, the Iron Bull dug through the chest that contained his personal belongings. He hummed to himself as he appraised the items, his expression brightening when he came up with the perfect idea for the evening.

The journey to the Inquisitor’s quarters took just as long, if not longer, than the walk to his own.

Nevertheless, when Bull arrived, he let himself in with the key he had, locking the door behind him.

The last thing they needed were any interruptions.

Climbing the stairs, he ignored the various aches and pains that ailed him, focused instead on getting to his Inquisitor.

As soon as he entered the room, he stopped to lean against the doorframe, drinking in the sight of Adaar.

And what a fine sight he was.

There, before the bed, he knelt with his thighs parted and his skin bared. His back was slightly arched to display his chest more openly, his wrists resting one over the other behind his back. He held his head high, yet his eyes remained fixated on the floor, ready for whatever Bull had in store for him.

Obviously, Adaar was well-aware of his presence by then, but Bull made sure to drag it out.

Each step towards him was heavy and loud, deliberate in its purpose.

When Bull finally stood in front of him, Adaar sank his teeth into his bottom lip to bite back the noises that threatened to escape, resisting the urge to throw any remaining shame he had out the window.

Bull watched him closely.

Then, he took Adaar’s chin in hand. His thumb freed his lip from its hold, swiping along its enticing curve.

Breathless, Adaar parted his lips. His tongue darted out to press tentatively against the pad of Bull’s thumb, but Bull withdrew his touch before Adaar could get any bright ideas, his brow raised in amusement.

Taking a step back, Bull cocked his head to the side before tossing the rope he had gathered onto the bed.

He took one of Adaar’s horns in hand and yanked his head back.

There was a slight wince of discomfort, but Adaar didn’t complain in the slightest. If anything, he followed through with the motion easily enough.

He didn’t speak without permission, nor did he lift his eyes to meet Bull’s gaze.

It made what Bull had to do all the more difficult.

For someone so obedient, Adaar really did manage to get himself into trouble more often than expected.

Bull sighed, releasing his grip on Adaar’s horn.

“Stand,” he told him, his voice low and even.

Adaar sprang to his feet without a second thought, almost knocking Bull back on his ass in the process. The Iron Bull recovered quickly, though, taking note of Adaar’s sheepish grin.

With a fond shake of his head, Bull stepped forward until they were chest-to-chest. His hands settled upon Adaar’s hips.

“You may look at me,” he murmured. He pressed a careful kiss to Adaar’s temple, his words soft against his skin. “You may touch me, if you wish.”

Adaar let out a loud whine, as if a great pressure had been relieved.

Tossing his arms around Bull’s shoulders, he didn’t waste any time before he pressed himself flush against Bull’s body. Reverent kisses trailed along Bull’s jaw, starved for his attention.

The second Bull felt Adaar’s lips on his, he knew he was a goner.

Adaar kissed with the same passion and intensity that he approached all else in life. Getting lost in the moment was as easy as breathing when it came to him. Everything about him weakened Bull’s resolve, made him want the Inquisitor unlike any other. Made Bull crave him until his entire world was consumed by his presence.

Of course, as soon as Bull took control, Adaar melted against him. His hands roamed over Bull’s body, always wanting more yet never getting enough.

Bull parted Adaar’s lips with his own, deepened the kiss with an insatiable groan.

Their tongues explored each other’s mouths until they had little choice but to part for air.

Even then, while Bull struggled to catch his breath, Adaar covered his neck in a flurry of open-mouthed kisses. He panted against Bull’s skin, face flushed when Bull had to pry him off to get some distance.

It was a stark reminder that, though Bull still held the reins in some sense, the influence that Adaar wielded over him was nothing to turn his nose up at either.

With a snort, Bull chuckled.

“You’re a dangerous one,” he stated, more so as a word of caution to himself. Bull reached out and trailed the tips of his fingers down along the outline of Adaar’s cheek while he spoke. “One kiss, and my willpower crumbles.”

Adaar leaned eagerly into his touch, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks while his eyes slid closed.

“But that doesn’t mean you’re getting out of trouble that easily.”

The instant Bull pulled away, Adaar’s eyes flew open, blinking owlishly at the loss.

“I—”

“Do you even know why you’re in trouble, kadan?” Bull asked, to which Adaar flinched.

Adaar curled in on himself, as if to make himself appear smaller. Which would have been quite the sight, had it not been for the sudden tension that blanketed the room.

Swallowing thickly, Adaar struggled for words, but he eventually managed to force something out.

“Be—Because we were supposed to be spending the day together,” he mumbled, albeit uncertainly. Bull stared at him, unimpressed, which only served to put him even more on edge. “And I kept you waiting…?”

It came out as more of a question than an answer.

Adaar started to wring his hands together, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

After a minute or two of unbearable silence, Bull’s expression gentled.

When he offered his hands, Adaar swiftly reached out to slide his own into Bull’s warm grasp.

Bull led him away from the bed.

“Come,” he whispered, and Adaar followed.

His blind devotion quickly turned into confusion, however, when Bull tugged him along to stand in front of the full length mirror that was nestled in the corner of his room.

Confusion was instantly followed by realization.

Bull twirled Adaar around so that Adaar was standing in front of him. Both of them faced the mirror with Adaar’s back pressed against Bull’s chest.

Adaar tried to turn his face away, but Bull caught his chin and forced his face back in the direction of the mirror.

Adaar averted his eyes, feeling the sting of unshed tears growing worse by the second.

“Kadan, look.”

And because it was Bull telling him to do so, Adaar found himself unable to resist.

Slowly, he met his eyes in the mirror, taking in the sight of himself from head to toe.

Never had he felt so vulnerable, so exposed, before.

He could taste salt upon his tongue as the first few tears trailed down his cheeks.

“Now, tell me what you see,” Bull ordered, but Adaar shook his head in defiance, unable to find the words to encompass what he felt in that exact moment. “No? Alright, then I’ll tell you what I see.”

Bull reached out to trace along the dark rings underneath Adaar’s eyes.

“I see a man who hasn’t slept well in days. I see a man who hasn’t allowed himself a proper break in weeks.”

With a tender kiss to the nape of Adaar’s neck, Bull’s hands roamed down the front of his chest.

“I see a man whose horns have lost their luster, whose eyes no longer sparkle with excitement at the start of each day.”

He caressed the curves of Adaar’s stomach, what once used to be fuller and softer than at present.

“I see a man so caught up in his role as Inquisitor that he forgets to eat as he’s supposed to. Have you even noticed how your clothes have been hanging off of you?”

Overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of emotions, Adaar could barely draw breath, let alone form an answer.

Instead, he nodded, because the sad truth of it all was that he had noticed.

He had noticed, and he had ignored it.

Adaar always told himself that he would do better the next day.

There was always some excuse. Always something to be done.

All at once, the weight of the world came crashing down on him.

Turning in place, he threw himself into Bull’s arms without warning. He clung to him, buried his face into his throat.

“I—I’m sorry,” he sobbed, the apology noticeably more genuine than the one from earlier.

Bull held him as he cried, tightening his arms around him.

“Put yourself in my shoes,” Bull whispered. Carefully, he brushed Adaar’s hair back from his face. “Us not getting to spend time together as we planned felt bad, don’t get me wrong, but that is not why you’re in trouble.”

The Iron Bull took a deep, bracing breath.

“I can tolerate being stood up for a date, don’t worry about that,” he said, “but what I absolutely cannot tolerate is you neglecting yourself, kadan.”

When all he received was a sniffle in response, Bull pressed the subject.

“Tell me,” he insisted, “how would you feel if you found out that I wasn’t eating or sleeping or resting like I was supposed to?”

Adaar didn’t miss a beat.

“I’d be upset,” he answered, his voice muffled into the crook of Bull’s neck.

“Then, do you understand why I’m upset?”

“Yes.”

“And do you understand why I’m going to punish you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” But Bull would like to think that he knew Adaar well enough by now.

If he kept pushing too hard and too fast without some offer of reassurance, without some show that they were well and truly okay, then Adaar would use his watchword and withdraw to one of those dark corners of his mind.

Bull would make sure that didn’t happen.

Tangling his hand into his hair, Bull carefully peeled Adaar away from his neck. He took a second to wipe away the snot and tears, undeterred by the mess.

After all, through the puffy eyes and the splotchy face, he was still just Adaar, as breathtaking as always.

Bull cupped Adaar’s cheeks with a tender smile.

He leaned his forehead against his.

“I adore you,” Bull said, “if that wasn’t obvious enough.”

Reaching between them, he took Adaar’s necklace in hand, brushing his thumb along his fragment of the dragon’s tooth.

Adaar watched him. A shiver trailed down his spine.

“I know,” he breathed, his responding smile bashful, sweeter than it had any right to be.

“Asala. Kadan.” Bull tugged him forward, rewarded him with a brief kiss. “What would be left of me, if not for you?”

“You won’t ever have to find out." His expression turned coy. Violet eyes tried to lure him in with promises of more. "Now, let me take care of you."

Adaar thought himself sly, but he should've known that it took more than a pretty face to get one over on ole Bull.

The Iron Bull was more than capable of playing along with his little game, though. Adaar obviously thought that he could work his way around his punishment by earning Bull’s forgiveness in one way or another, but little did he know that he was already playing right into Bull’s hands.

Besides, Adaar’s trick wouldn't be much of a punishment, not when he so clearly enjoyed the idea.

Still, Bull would let him have his fun, at least for now.

"Heh." Bull snorted. "That's my line." When Adaar squirmed, looking to Bull for permission, the Iron Bull nodded at him. "Go ahead, kadan. Undress me. You earned that much."

Adaar didn't even let him finish before he was fumbling with the brace on his shoulder. One by one, the clasps came undone until it fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

Bull's belt soon followed, Adaar covering his scarred skin with appreciative kisses as Adaar sank to his knees before him.

Staring up at Bull, Adaar smirked when Bull shifted, attempting to alleviate the growing pressure.

"I want you," Adaar sighed, trailing kisses down his stomach.

When the muscles clenched beneath his lips, Adaar traced the outline of them with his tongue.

"Need you," he mumbled.

After helping Bull out of his shoes, Adaar took the waistband of his pants in hand. Slowly, he eased fabric down over Bull’s hips, teasing the newly-exposed skin with teeth and tongue alike.

At least, that was the plan, but Adaar instantly stopped short when he encountered leather.

Brow furrowed, he pulled away, only to scowl at the leather harness that blocked his path.

Adaar knew from the instant Bull bought the damn thing in one of Orlais' more "risqué" shops that it was going to be trouble.

Leave it to him to decide to test it out, today of all days.

"Bull…" Trailing off, Adaar turned his glare onto his lover.

The Iron Bull roared with laughter.

"Bull!" Adaar scolded, more insistent this time.

Before Adaar could object, the Iron Bull bent down at the waist and slung Adaar up over his shoulder. Allowing his pants to fall loosely to the floor, he kicked each leg free, sporting the rather snug harness with pride.

"What's wrong, kadan?" Bull taunted. He smacked his ass for good measure, his hand lingering with a tight squeeze. "Is my sweet boy talking back now?"

"You could have given me a heads-up!"

"Yeah, I could have, but I didn't."

Adaar couldn't find an exact angle to make it perfect, but he struck out nonetheless. His teeth clamped down onto Bull’s side, but the sharp bite didn't even so much as get a flinch in return.

Bull snickered at his antics, strolling over to the bed at a leisurely pace.

"Oh…" He hummed in delight. "Getting feisty, are we? You know, if I knew you'd get this riled up, I would have done this much sooner. You so rarely act out."

With a huff, Adaar tried to wiggle free.

"Put me dow—"

He landed on the bed with a grunt, tossed down onto the mattress before he could even finish speaking.

Bull towered over him at the end of the bed, amused.

Adaar gave a long, languid stretch atop the sheets. White, wavy hair fanned out around his head, cascading down over the pillows.

“Hmph, such a tease,” Adaar muttered, bright purple eyes darkening with desire.

“That, I am,” Bull said, not even bothering to contradict him. “Now, arms up.”

Adaar obeyed his command without second thought.

When the Iron Bull started to bind his wrists to the bedposts, Adaar watched him while he worked, tying the rope with sure, steady hands.

He’d never get tired of the sight.

Once Bull was done, Adaar tested his handiwork with a couple of pointed tugs.

The rope tightened around his wrists in warning, but they showed no sign of coming loose, not without intervention at least.

Adaar eyed Bull, adjusting until he was comfortable.

“I just want to make you feel good,” Adaar admitted in a whisper, less confident than intended.

His words were so small and uncertain that Bull couldn’t help but to go easy on him.

Perhaps his affection for Adaar was his weakness after all, but it was one he would gladly accept.

As he placed a knee on the bed, Bull’s expression gentled.

"Then let me take care of you," Bull told him. "That makes me feel good."

Leaning in, Bull smirked up at Adaar when his legs instantly parted to make room for him. Adaar smiled sheepishly, yet made no move to hide just how eager he was.

A slow, swirling heat gathered in Bull's chest until the pressure that built up was near suffocating in its intensity. With few places left to go, it spread.

While Bull remained in complete control of himself, desire permeated his mind. Everything else melted away until the only thing that remained was the man spread out before him. Bull stared at him through a haze, yet he felt as if he had never known such perfect clarity, committing every last detail of Adaar to his memory.

The portion of that heat that spread to his gut settled there like a heavy weight. His legs grew weak. His thighs became sensitive, that leather turning into more of a burden by the second.

When his cock eventually did swell, it quickly met resistance. Bull refrained from wincing at how fast the harness constricted around him, but Adaar was nothing, if not perceptive.

A wrinkle settled over his brow.

"Bull, please," he begged. "Let me—"

"No," Bull answered, and that was that, his tone leaving no room for argument. When Adaar grumbled under his breath, Bull gave a sharp pinch to one of his thighs, causing Adaar to jolt in shock. "Listen, as hard as it might be for you, let's have one night that's only about you, alright?"

Hesitant, Adaar thought it over, then nodded, swallowing thickly.

"Yes, sir."

His approach was timid and compliant, but the way he searched for even the slightest hint of approval from Bull was unmistakable. The weight of his gaze felt all too familiar.

Nevertheless, the Iron Bull figured that he could spare Adaar a small treat.

Pressing his lips to the spot right below his navel, warm praise caressed Adaar’s skin.

“Good boy,” Bull murmured.

One would swear that he hit Adaar with one of those fancy lightning spells that Adaar loved to fling around so much.

A sharp gasp tore through the air.

Adaar took some of the rope in hand and tightened his grip, tugging thoughtlessly until it pulled taut. It strained ever so slightly when faced with his strength, but ultimately refused to give in.

The coarse burn of rope against his wrists only enticed him further, the sting more of an encouragement than a deterrent.

His back arched, seeking out more attention from Bull’s lips.

“M–More,” he pleaded.

Bull took a moment to marvel at how responsive he was, watching Adaar’s teeth sink into his bottom lip.

Adaar writhed in an attempt to roll his hips against him, his face and chest flushed with need.

Grabbing Adaar by the hips, Bull forced them back against the bed, his hold on Adaar unbreakable. He earned a breathless whine in response, to which Bull simply tsked.

“You want more?” Bull questioned. “You’ll have to be more specific than that. More of what?”

As if Adaar could string together a single thought, let alone an entire sentence.

Frustrated, he grunted, “More of you.”

“Heh, now we’re getting somewhere,” Bull said, rewarding him with a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses. He kept Adaar’s hips pinned to the bed while he forged a path down his chest. “Come on, kadan. You can get more detailed than that.”

“I—”

When Bull finally teased his tongue along the curves of his hips, Adaar cried out, trembling beneath him.

His hands clenched into fists, the lines of his muscles stretched tight.

Again, Adaar yanked mindlessly at the rope. And again, it held.

Bull chuckled darkly, so close to where Adaar wanted him yet denying him even a sliver of relief.

When he skirted around Adaar’s cock, sucking and nipping at his thighs as he pleased, Bull smirked at Adaar’s petulant growl.

“Come on,” Bull insisted. Adaar jolted when he felt the pad of one of Bull’s fingers trail down along the seam of his ass, stopping only to tease over his puckered entrance. “Tell me what you want, kadan.”

Considering the day Adaar had so far, telling someone what he wanted was definitely a change of pace, albeit a welcome one.

Few had thought to ask, and Adaar had shied away from the thought of burdening others with his problems.

So, he held his tongue. He let his exhaustion fester.

Now, when Bull made it so clear that his opinions did matter, all of that pent-up frustration hit him at once.

There were so many emotions to sort through, but there was one thing Adaar was certain about.

Turning his head to the side, he averted his eyes as he mumbled, “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I guess that I just want you to take care of me…?”

He trailed off, suddenly uncertain.

“Not to say you don’t take care of me enough already, but I—”

Before he could get himself worked up, Bull interrupted.

“Kadan.”

“Yeah?”

Bull spared him a soft smile.

“I think I can handle that.”

Sighing in relief, Adaar nodded.

“Anything else?” Bull asked.

“Well…” He gave a pointed tug at the ropes. “I want to touch you, but only if that’s okay!”

Before he could finish, the Iron Bull had reached up; and with a few deliberate tugs, the ropes came undone.

Massaging Adaar’s wrists, Bull watched him closely while he coaxed the blood to flow freely once more.

“Good?”

Adaar nodded. “Good.”

“Great,” Bull said, his voice rumbling through his chest, “because I’m not letting you go until you’ve been properly spoiled.”

When he dove in for a kiss, Adaar released a brief squeal, silenced only by Bull’s lips on his.

He wrapped his legs and arms around him, refusing to let go.

From there, each brush of his fingers brought him closer to his peak. Each curl of his tongue stoked the flames that burned bright inside him.

Adaar’s magic grew thick in the air, spurred on by the tension between them.

Little sparks of electricity played over their skin. It teased along their nerves, but the Iron Bull simply took it in stride, admiring the power he wielded, all while surrendering it in the heat of the moment.

In time, he spread Adaar open on thick fingers, slick with that fancy oil that he favored so much.

When Bull’s lips eventually wrapped around him, Adaar cradled the back of his head, guiding him up and down the length of his cock, each thrust of his hips sending him deeper down Bull��s throat.

Everything about the act soon became sloppy and desperate and rushed, but Adaar couldn’t find it in himself to care in the slightest. He squirmed. He panted, ultimately unashamed when his voice grew louder with need.

He scratched at Bull’s back with his free hand, but Bull allowed for no apologies on his part, all but ordering Adaar to use him as he pleased.

And when Adaar finally did find his release, the Iron Bull held his hips in place, swallowing around him until he collapsed against the bed.

Only after Adaar rode out the remnants of his orgasm did Bull release him from his hold, briefly departing from his bed.

Sated for the moment, Adaar basked in the tingling rush of endorphins until Bull returned with a rag in hand.

In between sweet kisses, Bull gently cleaned the mess that they made of themselves. His harness soon found its way onto the floor, abandoned as the need to be together soon overpowered the desire for punishment.

They snuggled up to one another underneath the sheets, legs tangled together.

For a while, they simply laid there.

They only had eyes for each other.

Loving caresses said all that they needed to know, even as they stayed up, talking about anything and everything late into the night.

#dragon age #dai #the iron bull #inquisitor adaar #male adaar #adaar x bull #adaaribull #i think that's the ship name???#my first dragon age romance and i don't even think i've written for it before #shame on me smh #warning for d/s elements of course #word count is close to 5k #because i have no control #bluerose writes

25 notes · View notes

ladydarksbane · 1 year

Photo

Qunari Inquisitors - Kataar, Asharaas, Ashkost, Sataareth, Kathas, Verush, and Ash.

#dragon age inquisition #dai #adaar #male adaar #modded #inquisitor adaar

8 notes · View notes

thejewishgaymer · 10 months

Text

Why No Qunari Mods?

I’m trying to play DA Inquisition, but god damn there’s virtually no mods for Qunari men. I have some complexions and hairs, but seriously? There’s *one* good custom armor and it doesn’t even work for me (shaders are all wrong and the textures’ all white for some reason). Why doesn’t anyone play Qunari men? (Below are screenshots of what I mean by the armor glitching out)

#Dragon Age Inquisition #DAI #Dragon Age #dai mods #Dragon Age Inquisition Mods #Qunari #Male Adaar

5 notes · View notes

drawingsphopho · 1 year

Text

Katoh Adaar. He’s called that because when he started manifesting his magical ability, everyone kept yelling at him to “katoh!” AKA stop.

He’s one of the strangest inquisitors I’ve ever played. He’s a magical prodigy despite his only training being reading smuggled Circle books. I didn’t intend on him being a prodigy, but it came up as I was playing. He’s in love with Josephine (though he had a crush on Solas early on). He wanted to be a bookkeeper, but no-one was willing to hire a “Qunari” for that particular profession. So, he joined the Valo-Kas. Shokrokar saw his talent and quickly assigned him to train the other mages in their quickly-growing mercenary group. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing. He still didn’t as inquisitor. Right now he’s chilling in Antiva with his wife, trying to figure out his purpose post-Inquisition.

he’s soft-spoken and gentle. Animals seem to like him. The ambassador certainly does. :)

#Katoh Adaar #inquisitor adaar #male adaar #dragon age inquisition #art #doodle #dragon age art #dragon age #Josephine Adaar #hm yes quite

5 notes · View notes

taslin-strider · 9 months

Text

Chapter 1 - beneath the stars, between the mountains

I started writing my Cassandra x male Adaar fic about a year ago, and at this point I update it once a month. Here's the first chapter if you want to check it out! It's a modern grad school AU set in Haven, with a coffee shop, sports teams, a supernatural mystery or two, and themes of chronic pain and grief.

Although this chapter is SFW, please note that the overall fic is rated Explicit/18+, minors DNI.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41369142/chapters/103738425

Content warning for this chapter: chronic pain from an old sports injury

---

Cassandra likes her espresso. She’s honing her technique. Between work, grad school, and fencing, there isn’t time for much else, although she wishes there were.

Tuesday morning, the assistant hockey coach orders his usual. It’s full of caramel (ugh). His deep, warm voice carries over the chatter and her heart pounds. Meraad.

She’s been stealing glances at him for the past few months. He’s around her age, maybe thirty at most, with handsome, slightly tired-looking features and dark hair that he keeps neatly tied back behind his curved horns.

He usually leans against the wall and reads a paperback while he waits. He took a seat nearby once, but the table was too low for a seven-foot-tall qunari. So, he got up from the too-short chair and turned it sideways before sitting down again, apparently unfazed. This must happen a lot.

The bar stools at the counter under the window have adjustable heights. He could stay for a while and watch the street scene, but for some reason he never does.

His paperbacks have creased spines and dog-eared pages. Once, Meraad looked up and caught her squinting at the back cover of his latest read. He raised his eyebrows and turned the front cover toward her. Well, now she knows he’s a fan of Varric Tethras, and he knows how quickly she can turn beet red.

Cassandra makes the horrible drink with too much caramel, wondering why he likes it. She wonders a lot of things about him. He’s never been anything but friendly and courteous, which she appreciates. A few customers have tried to flirt with her, and all it’s done is make her anxious. They can leave; she can’t.

“Thanks, take care,” says Meraad, at the pickup counter. His eyes are so kind.

“You, too.” It’s the same response as always, but this time, she decides to smile.

Meraad looks startled, but he smiles back. One of his incisors is crooked.

Cassandra begins another order and runs her tongue over her teeth.

---

The rink is covered with ice shavings and trails sliced by skate blades. Meraad stays after practice to talk with Bull about the upcoming game. They sit in the bleachers under the fluorescent lights and go through their notes, coach and assistant, conversing in Qunlat.

The Frostback Heralds had a wobbly start this season, but they’ve held on to a decent ranking in the league. They have a good chance of making it to the championship tournament this spring, in Denerim. Where, of course, they’ll face the highly ranked team from Corypheus University.

“To old rivals,” says Bull, clinking their metal thermoses together in a toast.

The hot cocoa slides down Meraad’s throat. It's not coffee, but it's still pretty good. He thinks of a certain barista with kohl-rimmed eyes—what was that smile about, early this morning? She's usually kind of brusque with him. Not that he cares, or anything. It just so happens that her caramel lattes are the best damn coffee in Thedas. That's what he's there for, and nothing else. Small pleasures, right?

It really isn't worth thinking about. Nope, not at all. Meraad has kept his skates and practice gear on, so he decides to get back out on the ice. It's something that he'll enjoy in the moment, but is bound to make his physical therapist sigh with frustration when he fesses up.

“Shootout, boss?”

Bull grins, never one to pass up a challenge. “You’re on.”

---

Cassandra parries and ripostes. She aims for Leliana’s shoulder, misses, and feels the swift jab of an epee in her side. Completely unguarded.

“That is why you will make it to the finals this year, and I will not,” she says afterward, in the locker room. Steam wafts over from the shower cubicles. The last of their teammates has just gone home.

Leliana’s copper hair is plastered to her forehead. She folds her sweaty uniform, briefly grimacing at its state. “Give yourself some time. You've just been focusing on your research.”

“Such as it is,” says Cassandra wryly, as she packs her helmet into her duffel bag.

“Stop that!" There's a hint of a laugh in Leliana's voice, but Cassandra knows she means it. "We all have rough days. Maybe you just need to trust yourself on this.”

“So I should trust myself to be rash and impulsive?”

Leliana shrugs. “You’re more direct than me. You see what needs to be done, and you do it. I like that.”

It’s true, at least. Cassandra decides to take the compliment.

Leliana switches the subject to something easier, and they keep talking as they push open the gym doors, facing mountain peaks wreathed in sunset.

---

Cold, clean autumn air gusts through the dining room window, sending a lightning streak up Meraad's left hand. He drops the red pen with a grunt of pain.

He shouldn't have messed around on the ice after practice yesterday. It's easy to forget why he ended his professional hockey career, since the mysterious nerve injury doesn't bother him too much anymore unless he overtaxes himself. Temptation.

Bull noticed the problem before Meraad was willing to admit it to himself. It’s uncanny how much the guy picks up on. If Bull hadn’t glided over for a clap on the shoulder and told him to go home and get some rest, well, Meraad isn’t sure if he would have said anything. He would have stayed out there on the ice, caught up in pretending that he was still a grinder back on the Amaranthine Bears. He can just hear his younger brother’s exasperated sigh when he tells him about it on their next phone call. Then he'll tell their younger sister, and it'll be a whole thing…

The pile of midterm papers waits patiently as Meraad shuts the window and massages his hand. He casts a simple warming spell to ease the pain. Ah, there we go.

It’ll tide him over until his appointment tomorrow and get him through his work in the meantime. Being a TA this year is an energy sink, but to be frank, he needed the money. He also needed more on his resume. Who knows how long this coaching thing will last.

These days, it doesn't hurt as much to think long-term.

---

Friday night means dinner and a movie with friends. Cassandra knocks on the apartment door and Josephine pulls her in for a lavender-scented hug. From the kitchen, Leliana shouts a hello.

They talk through an Antivan action movie and devour an Orlesian-style roast chicken. Midnight comes and goes, and they sprawl on the sectional in a tipsy haze. Josephine untangles the recent drama in the international relations department, semi-incoherent and giggling behind her hand. Leliana shares travel photos from her long-distance girlfriend. They crowd around to see the jagged heights of the Hunterhorns and the spectacular stained glass windows of Serault.

All the while, Cassandra sips her wine and holds a small secret close to her chest, until her friends notice (oh, but of course) and pry it out of her.

---

When he has a sliver of free time and no particular plans, Meraad likes to go for a browse in the used book shop near campus. There’s that vanilla smell of old paper, and the aisles aren’t too cramped for his large frame. It’s a respite from grad school and hockey.

The counter is deserted this afternoon. A few bright chords float out of the back office, followed by a discordant note and muffled curses as Hawke tries to follow a new piece of sheet music on his lute. Meraad finds his way over to the room marked Genre Fiction.

He steps through the door and almost walks right back out again.

Too late. She’s already seen him. Her eyes are the size of dinner plates and she’s hastily shoving a paperback onto a shelf.

“Oh, um. Hey.” Meraad waves. He has no idea what to do with himself.

The barista steps closer to the central table, the one that Hawke has covered in books with elaborate recommendations. Her short black hair is sticking up, as if she’d been ruffling it absentmindedly while she browsed. Her strong features are usually so composed, focused. He’s never seen her this shy when she’s behind the espresso machine, except for that one time when he was reading Hard in Hightown. Maybe she’s a Tethras fan.

She fiddles with the strap of her leather bag. “Meraad? I… well, I suppose I knew you came here, but…”

“I wasn’t expecting this either,” he admits. It’s strange to hear so many words come out of her mouth at once. Maker, that voice.

“I’m Cassandra,” she blurts out. That name.

Meraad pushes a nervous grin across his face. “Glad to meet you. Again. Sort of. You know what, I’ll just go. You okay if I come in next Tuesday?”

“Of course.” She brightens, just a bit.

He gives her a little salute, feeling relieved, and ducks his head so he won’t hit his horns on the way out.

“Wait!”

Meraad turns back. Cassandra fishes a pen out of her bag and scribbles something on a free bookmark from the table.

“Only if you want to,” she says quietly, as she hands it to him.

He takes it and realizes that he absolutely does.

---

(Thanks for reading! Again, here's the link to the rest of the story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41369142/chapters/103738425)

#fanfiction #writing #ao3 writer #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #au fanfiction #college au #coffee shop au #sports au #modern au #cassandra pentaghast #dragon age adaar #male adaar #inquisitor adaar #mage inquisitor #chronic pain #sports injury

0 notes