#OC: Vittoria de Riva

[toritelling]

They need a moment 👉👈

[tethrras]

show me where my armor ends, show me where my skin begins

vittoria de riva x lucanis dellamorte. smut/porn with plot. click here to read on ao3.

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Vittoria de Riva is going to die tomorrow.

She is tired of deluding herself. Tired of pretending that she’s going to survive this. She will tell the others that this is not the end, of course, insist that there is still so much more left in the fight, but Harding and Neve are dead, their allies are tired, and Vittoria herself feels like a dead woman walking. She’s going to die tomorrow. One moment - a lapse in focus, a mistimed assault - is all it will take. 

But for now, all she needs to think about - all she deserves to think about - is Lucanis.

Spite’s wings come to settle on either side of them. Lucanis kisses her. Like all his other skills, his kissing is well-honed and precise, and for a moment, she’s left struggling to find an even footing. She hasn’t done this in a long time, after all, doesn’t know where to put her hands or how to move her legs, but in a few seconds, and after enough distraction, all those unwelcome thoughts and worries leave her head. In their place is a list of sensations: the scrape of his beard on her chin, the gentle intrusion of his tongue in her mouth, the feather-light sensation of his hair falling against her cheek. One of his hands comes to rest at the base of her neck, the other fisting the fabric at the curve of her waist, and Vittoria arches her back on an instinct she didn’t know she had. She feels sensitive, vulnerable, like a burn with no scab.

“Lucanis.” 

“Vittoria.” Even the sound of her own name makes her shiver when it comes from him, and she’s so distracted that she almost doesn’t notice him pulling the tie from her hair and letting it fall across the cushions. “What do you wish of me?��� he asks, running a hand through the tangles above her head. “Tell me and I will do it.”

What does she wish of him? She wishes he could bundle her up in his arms and take her far from here. She wishes he could go back in time and take notice of her sooner - train with her, stroll the canals with her, invite her to coffee at Cafe Pietra in the evenings and watch the sunset over Treviso for another decade. She wishes that he would take off his pants and fuck her. “Everything,” she answers instead.

He chuckles and presses a kiss to the skin beside her mouth. “You’ll have to be more specific than that.” 

“Fuck me,” she says, then nips at the lush curve of his bottom lip. “Fuck me however you want. Make me forget.” Make me forget I’m going to die tomorrow. Make me forget that you might die first.

He takes a sharp inhale. She knows him well enough to know that he’s thinking about the next steps before he’s even started. “I can do that.”

Of course he can. He can do anything. It’s why she loves him. “Then show me.”

Lucanis sits back in her lap and reaches for the buttons of his shirt. Vittoria sits up, at first to watch and then to help, pressing kisses to each sliver of bare skin as it’s revealed, reveling in each of the sounds that he makes - the helpless sighs and strangled groans and breathless invocations of her name. She didn’t know he would be so sensitive - he, with all his confidence and experience - and like all good assassins, she takes note of it for later as he shrugs the shirt off and tosses it into an unseen corner of the room. “Your turn,” he tells her, reaching for the buttons of her shirt the same as he had with his own. But she swats his hands to the side instead.

“Let me look first.” 

Scars cover his torso, some sharp and white, others dark and deep. In another world, at another time, she would ask him where each of the scars came from and listen to the stories that lie beneath them, but she makes peace now with the knowledge that it doesn’t matter where the scars came from - all that matters is that none of the blades responsible for the scars struck true. 

Aside from the scars, decades of fighting has sculpted him into a marvel of muscle and flesh. While she can’t see his back from here, she runs her hands over the muscles there at the same time she trails kisses down the front of his chest, over those scars. How long she spent wanting this, she thinks, how long she spent watching him train, watching him walk the halls of the Diamond or the streets of Treviso, wishing that he would look at her the way he’s looking at her now; how long she spent wanting him, then wanting him to want her in return, and all it took was the elven gods returning to Thedas to get his attention. If Vittoria could find a way to tell her younger self that, she wouldn’t have believed it - which is good, because if she had, then she wouldn’t have trained as hard as she did to get where she is right now, and instead died a meaningless death all those lonely years ago.

“That’s enough touching.” He pulls at her collar, the roughest he’s ever been with her, at the same time he pushes his lips onto hers. The following command is muffled between kisses as he fists at the fabric of her shirt: “This. Off. Now.”

She pulls her hands from him and fumbles with her own buttons while Lucanis watches. His face is dark and shadowed, and she knows without question that he holds all the cards now. She can feel it - feel Spite stirring under the surface, feel that Dellamorte stubbornness rearing its handsome head. When she finishes with the last button of her shirt, he tears it from her torso and throws it onto the other side of the room. He uses that same hand to grip her shoulder and shove her down onto the cushions, not giving her a moment to catch her breath before reaching for the laces of her pants.

“It’s been… a while.” Vittoria watches as he works the piece of clothing off. She’s not sure which of them is breathing harder. “Since I did this.”

“Vittoria.” He shakes his head and, despite his fervor, a small smile appears on his lips. “Do you honestly think that matters to me?” He moves off her lap for a moment so he can pull her pants down over the swell of her muscular thighs and then stops, looking up at her from underneath his eyelashes. “Does it matter to you?”

“No.”

“Good.” He finishes with his task and then crawls on top of her to kiss her hard and flatten her underneath him. “All that matters to me is that you’re here, that you’re alive, and that I get to do this.” 

She hears the words before she feels his fingers, first one and then another, brushing through the hair between her legs, his hand moving to cover the surface of her cunt. It feels indecent to have him touch her there, to watch his brow furrow with focus, not for a kill but for delving deep inside of her, deeper than she’s ever gone herself. She’s so wet that she can hear it, and she’d be humiliated by the sound if it weren’t for how much she loves him. She loves him, she loves him, she loves him. Her hips cant upwards into the cradle of his hand, chasing the pressure, the pleasure, the relief that his fingers offer her, and when she reaches for his face, he turns his head to take her thumb into his mouth. 

To have him taking her in so many ways at once…

“Lucanis.” She has said his name so many times but knows she’s never said it like this, like she’s trying to suck the marrow from each letter. “Please, I -”

Her thumb falls from his lips and she winds her arm around his shoulders to hold him as close as possible. “I am fucking you with my fingers, Vittoria,” he states with a raised eyebrow, somehow managing to sound unimpressed even with his pupils blown black the way they are. “Is that not enough?”

“No. It’s not.”

“You want my cock, then, hmm?”

He moves his fingers fast inside of her, pulling farther out and diving further in each time, and her face flushes with a heat she's never felt before. This is the most vulnerable she’s ever been with another person, after all. As a Crow, you learn to never let your guard down - anyone can betray you, any location can leave you exposed. And right now, all of her weakest points have been exposed to him. Any assassin worth his salt could kill her in an instant without even pulling his fingers out from inside of her. But Lucanis does not want to hurt her. He crooks his fingers inside of her like he wants to anchor himself to her forever. She did not know it was possible for a man to feel that way about her, let alone this man.

“Lucanis...”

“I’ll give it to you, Vittoria, I promise.” He nuzzles his nose against her cheek. “On one condition.”

“Anything.”

His fingers slow to a crawl. She doesn’t know if it’s better or worse, but her thighs tense regardless. “Tell me that you won’t leave me again,” he says, “now or ever.”

She’s glad he didn’t ask for a promise, because she can’t give him a promise. “I won’t leave you,” she tells him anyway. It’s not a promise of her survival, but a vow that she will do whatever she can to achieve it. Because she will. Even if she has to go to the end of the world and kill a god to prove it. “I won’t leave you again. Now or ever.”

“And tell me that… that...” His mouth opens and then closes and then opens again, uncertainty creasing his features. “Tell me that I’m yours.”

“You’re mine.”

“And tell me that you’re mine.”

“I’m - I’m -” She wants to tell him what he asked of her, wants to reassure him of her feelings, but his fingers shift inside of her, and even that small movement renders her speechless. 

By now, her fingernails are cutting crescents into the meat of his neck, but if he feels the pain, he doesn’t let on. His fingers start to move again, faster and deeper and harder than before, and he clenches his jaw in concentration. “Come for me, Vittoria,” he says through gritted teeth.

The pleasure splits her open at the seams and seems to fill her with the same blinding light of a falling star. She can’t remember the last time she came like this. Perhaps she never has. Perhaps she was waiting her entire life for Lucanis, for his touch to bring this ecstasy out of her. When the wave finishes washing over her, she tries and fails to catch her breath, and when her vision clears, she notices that he’s doing nothing but watching her come back to herself with a gentle tilt of his head. She meets his gaze and gives him her best attempt at a reassuring look. He gives her a look of his own and then raises his fingers out from between her legs, lathing his tongue along them and licking them clean.

The silence hangs between them for a moment, dense as a fog. And then, as slowly as she can manage in her near-delirium, she draws his hand towards her mouth and repeats what he had done moments ago, licking the last remnants of herself from his skin. A flash of violet light flickers through his fluttering lashes, and, sensing his impatience, she pushes her hips towards him. 

“Now,” she demands, and though the word is muddied around the width of his fingers, she doesn’t want him to take himself out of her mouth. She won’t do it, either. She wants him everywhere inside of her all at once, and even when she has him, that might not be hard enough, fast enough, deep enough. Nothing with him could ever be enough. But she’s tired of waiting, and she can tell that Spite is, too. “Please, Lucanis, please.”

“Whatever you want.” He pushes his pants down his thighs with his free hand and kisses the part of her mouth where his fingers aren’t. “Anything you want.”

Lucanis makes quick work of the rest of his clothes and shifts on top of her to line himself up with her entrance. Vittoria would watch if she could look anywhere other than his face. How is she so lucky? Yes, the world is ending, and yes, she might die tomorrow, and yes, there are people out there with the power to move the moon over Thedas, but she gets to be here, with him, gets to count the moles on his forehead, gets to press her hand into the small of his back, gets to feel the burn as he stretches her out around his cock. She wouldn’t change a thing. Glory, godhood, all the gold in the world - she wouldn’t take any of it if it meant losing this, and none of it matters if she loses it tomorrow.

There’s pressure that she’s not used to as he pushes inside her, and fresh tears cling to her lashes. He kisses her closed eyelids, and then, in one quick move, sheathes himself to the hilt.

“Mierda.” She almost doesn’t hear the word over the sound of her own moaning. He tucks his face into her neck. “You feel so good ,” he whispers, starting to move with slow, exploratory pumps of his hips. “So tight. Mmm… So wet.”

She answers with a whimper, wishing she could take his fingers further down her throat.

“You are so beautiful, Vittoria. Have I told you that before? How beautiful you are? It's too much, sometimes, to look at you.”

Another whimper. Her face must be as red as the blood in her veins, but her embarrassment means nothing if the sounds bring him pleasure.

“You have saved my life more times than I can count.” The confessions sound strained in his effort not to come before she comes a second time. “You have not only saved my life, but you have… made my life.”

It’s impossible to lie still with the onslaught of feelings and she throws her head back, breathing hard. He takes it as an invitation to sink his teeth into her neck, and when she clenches around him, the answering bite is strong enough to draw blood. But she doesn’t care. How many scars does she have on her body from people who mean nothing to her? She would take a scar from the man that she loves. She’d take a hundred.

Instead of continuing to bite her, he sucks a bruise into the skin of her neck. She clenches around him again. The even pace of his hips stutters. She’s not going to last much longer, and she doesn’t think that he’s going to, either.

“I am not losing you.” He hits a place inside of her that feels different than the others and her hips jerk into him of their own accord. It punches a moan out of him, which prompts a similar one from her. She loves the sounds he makes. She loves the feeling of him inside of her, and clenches around him again in the hopes that it will keep him there. “There it is. Ohh. Oh, there you are, mi vida. Stay with me forever, Vittoria, just like this.”

“I will.” A tear falls down Vittoria’s forehead. Lucanis keeps fucking her into the cushions. “I’m yours, Lucanis. I’ve always been yours.”

After they finish, after they return to themselves, he draws his fingers out from between her lips, brushes the hair from her face, and laughs. She laughs, too. Whatever happened in the previous months, whatever happens tomorrow, she forgets it all for one long, shining moment, and for that moment, it’s just the two of them held tight in each other’s embrace. She and the man she loves. But did she tell him that? In her mania? She can’t remember. Unwilling to waste the moment but unable to form words, she kisses his forehead, across his temple, down to the hollow of his cheek, hoping each brush of her lips serves as a confession. He chuckles as she continues to make her way from one side of his head to another. After her eyes have been opened long enough to focus, she can see that he’s blushing.

And then his lips meet hers again, the resulting kiss intense enough to make her toes curl. He licks into her mouth like he thinks he can find salvation inside of it, inside of her, and... maybe he can. Maybe he already did. She knows that she found the same in him. Because no matter what happens, no matter how hard it gets, she does not want to die tomorrow, and, if nothing else, loving him has taught her that the things you want the most have a way of coming true, even when it seems impossible.

[wetcatspellcaster]

oooooh since you said we could, tell us about your rook ideas please! (also sending you all the love on your thesis things coming up!)

sorry for the delay in replying, i'm a bit busy rn between work and thesis!!! (so thank u for the love).

I fought off a concrete idea for Rook for the longest time, bc I didn't want the game to disappoint me for things i'd invented inside my own brain, but I think I know now what my first playthrough character will be! :)

Vittoria de Riva (mage antivan crow, bc that armour slaps so hard and I thought the crows would be class-specific), alias and clearly-made-up name for Victoire du Lac (even though Riva means 'shore', not 'water'/'river' etc. she's just that dumb).

She's a former Orlesian circle mage who ran away as a teen when the circle mages were freed during Inquisition, before the college system was introduced. She is a mage who has both profited from and 'hidden' her powers by 'disguising them' as highly skilled assassinations (the level of success with which her powers have remained hidden is up for debate, and certain people have debated about informing her that the Crows allow mages to join)

All i know about her is she's purple personalitied, and she's going to sleep with as many companions as possible. too many of my OCs have been nervous and repressed, time to play a hot dumb bitch with a compulsive lying and compulsive can't-keep-her-mouth-shut problem

[toritelling]

- Careful. Sweep me off my feet, and who'll watch your back?

[toritelling]

Rook de Riva and Lucanis making fun of Teia and Viago made me giggle

[toritelling]

Coffee with the Crows ☕️🐦‍⬛️

[toritelling]

Thank you, Neve!

[toritelling]

De Riva family photos 😑😤

bonus: Viago and Teia being like: "Damn, look at these two flirting in front of us"

[toritelling]

I don't think I'll ever be able to get over tenderness of this love scene 💔

[toritelling]

More of Vittoria de Riva i love how soft she looks🥺

[toritelling]

Kisses, kisses and almost kisses

[toritelling]

Being a Crow = being stylish af 🤭

[toritelling]

More "family photos" of Teia, Viago and their adopted little goblin, Vittoria "Rook" de Riva 🐦‍⬛️

[toritelling]

Am I going to do similar Rookanis gifset I literally did a few days ago, but with my new Rook? Yes, yes I am.

[toritelling]

I started my second playthrough as Antivan Crow and another Lucanis kisser 🐦‍⬛️⚔️

[toritelling]

Vittoria de Riva standing like <( ⸝⸝•̀ - •́⸝⸝)>