#Tav is a bottom with the confidence of a top

[shirojikimattari]

You can post nsfw under a read more. I know a couple of artists that do this and it seems to work. Also I'm offering my firstborn for you to post that alternate end to the comic👀👀👀

Im flattered by all the support you guys have given to my little brain fart but please lower your expectations bc i am first and foremost a RomCom writer and Action illustrator next, not a Smut writer :’)

But here is my storyboard before I decided for a PG end to

Shadowheart has a thing for praises pt. 2

It’s a sketch and will remain a sketch bc I will cry

[leighsartworks216]

The Sound of Being Loved

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Possibly OOC. I'm posting this at like 12am and I am so tired sleepy but I needed to finish this Or Else

Warnings: some hurt/comfort, talk about The Scar™️

Word Count: 737

Masterlist

AO3

Astarion let out a stiff breath as your fingers brushed over the scar. The poem. The sigil. Whatever it was Cazador'd carved into his back.

You'd asked him about it before. He'd answer curtly and bitterly - as he’d always done when his master was the subject of conversation. But that was so long ago now. At least, it felt quite long ago. He couldn't really be sure. All he knew was things were finally dying down and becoming normal. As normal as things could be, anyway. And you couldn't stop yourself from asking again.

That's how you ended up straddling his thighs as he laid chest-down on the bed.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," you reminded him softly. You kept repeating the phrase when he tensed beneath your fingers, or got that quiet, distant aura about him.

He hummed, turning his head to peek over his shoulder at you. He offered the most reassuring smile he could muster. "Go on," he encouraged. "He's dead - it doesn't matter anymore."

You tilted your head. Sharp eyes studied him, searching for any hint of a lie. He sighed quietly as your hand massaged the back of his neck. "But it still happened," you said, "you still hate it."

He smirked, but his quiet voice gave away the false confidence. "You know me too well, darling."

"Yes," you leaned down to kiss his cheek, "I do." He turned his head slightly more to catch your lips for a momentary kiss. Your lips hovered over his, eyes boring into his soul, searching. "I can stop."

"No. Please. I... I want you to know every part of me. I trust you."

You kissed him once more, languid and sweet, before sitting back up. He closed his eyes and tried to relax under your fingers. They danced across his back, tracing each line in their circular pattern. One hand slid to his waist to thumb circles into his side. He wondered why for a moment. Surely it would be easier to feel each infernal letter with both hands? Then he realized: it was a distraction. You were giving him something to focus on while you studied his back. His undead heart stuttered in his chest.

“I could translate it,” you whisper. It’s a gentle offer. “If you wanted to know what it says.”

Cazador is dead, he reminds himself. Whatever the bastard carved into his skin, it shouldn’t hold so much power over him anymore. But the thought of knowing exactly what was written there… His lips pursed.

You pressed a kiss to his spine, in between the circles of text. He lets out a breath. “No. Let it die with him.”

You’re quiet as you go back to tracing. He wonders if you’re translating it in your mind. He… doesn’t mind the thought - not as much as he thought he would. He trusts you, enough to know you would take the words to your grave. They would never be used against him, held over him as leverage. They’d just sit in a corner of your mind and collect dust, until their meaning is lost forever. He doesn’t mind that at all.

Once you’ve felt all of the letters, your hand traces the circles themselves. Starting right at the center, you go out ring by ring. Where scarred lines branch off, you ghost your touch up and down the ridges. There are several at the bottom of the scar. It almost looks like dripping wax, sealed into his skin forever. Imagining what it was like hurts too much.

He peeks over his shoulder again as he feels your hands, full, flat-palmed on his skin, sliding over his sides. You lay on top of him, sliding your arms around him, squished between his stomach and the bed. You’re so warm. Your head rests between his shoulder blades, breaths sliding across his back and shoulders like a warm summer breeze. His body fully relaxed into the affection. All tension faded away, and he allowed his eyes to close in the comfort.

“I love you,” you hum near his ear. “My beautiful star.”

Astarion smiles. “I love you, too. My dearest blood donor.” He relishes in the way you laugh against him, full and bright and free. And he hopes, when he’s lived for centuries more, and loses the spark of life in his eye, he remembers exactly how it sounds to be loved.

[tinosawruswrites]

A Punishment Fitting the Crime

Magistrate Astarion x Rogue Fem!Tav precanon One-Shot

Word count ~ 8600

Synopsis:

Tav is a petty criminal that got caught and is sentenced by magistrate Astarion Ancunín (prevampirism) in the privacy of his office.

TAGS/WARNINGS:

Rogue thief (Fem)Tav, Pre-vampirism Magistrate Astarion, DomAstarion, Sub(Fem)Tav, power play, minor dubcon, bdsm, sexgames with punishments, blowjob, hairpulling, spanking, edging, orgasm denial, vaginal fingering, penis in vagina sex, vaginal penetration, nippleplay

(If the tags are lacking, feel free to suggest any!)

Other notes:

Tav's looks are left ambiguous but her height is mentioned once as being a head shorter than Astarion.

Magistrate Ancunín’s office was located on the top floor of the court house building. Tav made her way up the numerous rows of polished marble stairs, almost compelled to count them from sheer boredom as she went.

The air was clean, almost sharp, with a lingering node of citrus to it, making it relatively easy to inhale while keeping up her steady pace.

Choosing to wear a light jacket, simple pants and shoes had been the right call after all, compromising style for comfort and ease of movement. If she got too hot after the climb, she could simply remove the jacket and still look presentable in her unassuming, common variety undershirt.

The high arched ceiling above her bent with the elevation like a strange, wide funnel, guiding her further along as water would through a pipe – except water would have refused to defy gravity and slid down the stairs.

Such was the life as a sentient, bipedal being. A continuous struggle against the laws of nature.

And regular law, Tav supposed.

Her case had been deemed too insignificant for a full trial. She was to receive a quick and efficient ruling by visiting the chosen magistrate’s office instead, and that happened to be this magistrate Astarion Ancunín.

Their immaculate signature decorated the bottom of the summons letter right next to the official stamp of the courts, both of them equally as artificial in both size and decorum. The way the A’s in magistrate Ancunín’s name had been written to dominate all the other smaller letters signaled Tav everything she ought to know about the man.

Another pompous, bigger than they actually were, holier-than-thou prick that loved to punish bad people and get paid to do so, maybe even keep a shifty side business giving out less harsh punishments and shorter sentences depending on how much gold his pockets got lined up with.

Then again, it was an open secret there were corrupt officials within the courts and that you either knew the right people or had to get really lucky to “do business” with them, as they said.

Nothing too unusual for Tav. Being a rogue sometimes happened to rope her in some less than legal gigs by working for shady people in need of light feet, nimble fingers and keen eyes for suspicious things.

She didn’t care where her skills were needed or who they were for, just that she got compensated for a job well done, like any good, hard working citizen – it wasn’t directly her fault if a customer had an enforced vault with mysterious origins that needed cracking open, or a particular door in the Upper City in need of unlocking without anyone finding out about it. At dead of night. When the owners were on holiday.

Those were all circumstantial details at best and did not in fact make her a criminal.

Tav’s inner justification to absolve herself of any guilt worked wonders for her confidence. Convincing the magistrate ordered to rule her legal punishment for allegedly: “Getting caught giving an aiding hand in breaking in to a high noble’s Summer palace and trespassing” did not.

It was a different thing entirely to lie to oneself and succeed, than to lie to an agent of law and walk away free of charges.

Tav finally reached the top of the stairs panting lightly and found herself standing inside another long, all too bright and polished hallway, almost an exact copy of the ones she passed below. All the whiteness was thankfully broken by the occasional dark paneled door and extravagant painting depicting some form of righteousness or an act of justice being given out.

She peered down at the letter and started systematically checking every door for the right name on a golden placate next to it. A large, vertically slim window opened a view into the dark city at the end of the corridor. Tav peered at the lit streetlamps glowing in the growing darkness leading away from the building she was in.

A road to freedom.

Alas, if she managed to wiggle herself off the hook and get away with a slap on the wrist, that was.

It was late in the standards of a regular day worker and Tav had to wonder if there had been an increase in petty crimes, or if it was an effect of some new government policy for a magistrate to be working this late into the evening. It was so late in fact, that there was barely anyone around, not even guards apparently, except for the random ones patrolling the hallways every now and then.

Must have been a real harsh pay cut to everyone.

Tav found the corresponding name and placate next to the door at the end of the hallway. She peered at the letter again and read the instructions stating her to arrive before the designated time, knock on the door and wait for it to be opened before entering. Otherwise, she was to sit aside and wait until she was let in.

Clenching her fists, Tav took a deep breath before tapping a couple stern knocks on the door and waited.

No response.

She looked around and found herself to be alone, then stepped closer and pressed her ear against the door to listen.

No sounds could be heard through the door. Either the room was empty, or the walls were magically enchanted to keep all sounds inside. Potentially to keep any incriminating statements out of curious outsider ears. She stepped back when a distant metal clinking echoed down the hallway. She took a quick seat at one of the small wooden stools lined next to the wall.

A lonesome guard wandered down the hallway, gloved hands balled to tight fists at their side, weapon ready at their hip, face like carved stone, stiff and unreadable. The guard marched before Tav, gave her a tired little smile, turned around and marched back the way they came from.

The metal clinking of the guard’s feet grew distant, finally disappearing into the distance. Tav was left alone once again.

Her gaze wandered around the space, the white walls, unassuming braziers and finally the sizable painting on the end wall of the corridor. It depicted a blindfolded maiden holding a golden scale – a common depiction of fair justice.

She peered at the woman’s covered eyes, wondering if justice was served blindly and without prejudice even by tired, overworked magistrates that were forced to work late into the evening.

She hoped the magistrate had at least been well fed, having heard terrible things about verdicts changing drastically depending whether a judge was hungry or not.

Time oozed by like thick oil and there was still no answer from the door beside her. Tav checked the letter in her hands for the time and date, comparing them to her pocket time-piece and the small calendar handily plastered above the magistrate’s name placate.

All was correct.

She had arrived on time, did as instructed and waited for an answer, and now it was way past her appointment and it wasn’t her fault that the proceedings would take longer. She seated herself once more and smirked smugly, pondering on using the magistrate’s potentially exhausted state to negotiate herself out out as quickly as possible.

Maybe, just maybe he would be so pent up from today’s proceedings he’d just dismiss her case altogether and they could both just go home.

The door clanked open and an older gnome exited. Tav made brief eye contact with him, recognizing them from another gig she partook in months ago.

This one was a peppy, we-can-do it kind of guy, but his current state reflected worn out desperation, like his spirits had been broken and what remained of them had been chewed out to the bones. He shut the door and turned away wordlessly, dragging his feet down the corridor, away from Tav and magistrate Ancunín’s office.

Tav swallowed nervously.

She recalled the gnome only had a small part in the gig, working as the handyman offering tools for the group. If the man responsible for tool handling looked like he had been sentenced for life, what would her door opening services get her?

The rope?

Tav felt a cold sweat rise to her neck and she gripped the edge of her stool until her knuckles turned white.

Perhaps she should have started being more honest with herself and admitted to having wandered to the wrong side of the law before someone else forced the truth upon her face like this.

The door cracked open again and Tav jumped to her feet, back stiff as a statue.

Magistrate Ancunín looked exactly what she had expected him to be and nothing like it at the same time.

Curly, silver locks swiped back from his face. One loose curl elegantly leaning over the right side of his forehead, as if by design, not accident. Pointy, pink tipped elf ears poking from under a tuft of more, unruly curls lining the side of his face. Two piercing gray eyes, glaring tiredly at her under stern eyebrows.

A handsome – No, beautiful – collection of features.

Tav felt a blush creep up her neck and cheeks, shocked at the surprisingly young looking magistrate’s beauty.

Magistrate Ancunín’s lips formed an unreadable, straight line, prominent laugh lines caging it on both sides of his face. He looked Tav up and down briefly. A wry, forced smile climbed upon his lips, bringing his laugh lines more into view.

“You’re late.” He stated coldly.

Tav’s eyes widened and whatever brief attraction she had for the man evaporated. She wanted to retort back and correct him, but bit her tongue instead.

“Inside.” The magistrate ordered and waved an uninterested hand at her before returning inside his office.

Tav forced a smile on her lips, determined not to show her displeasure and in turn prod the clearly very impatient magistrate further. She followed suit and shut the door as she went, quickly making her way deeper into the office.

The room was spacious and surrounded by heavy, tall bookshelves housing heavy, tall books of law. Miscellaneous scrolls poked out here and there in between them both, with an occasional paper and envelope to accompany them.

The middle of the office was left empty, decorated by an ornamental red carpet, handmade and expensive by the looks of it. At the end of the room sat a heavy mahogany desk littered with documents, letters, an inkwell, quills and a lone, uneaten red apple of all things.

An odd, magically infused crystal lamp provided dim light to the otherwise dark room from the side. Heavy purple curtains covered any leaking light from the streetlamps outside behind the magistrate’s desk, clouding most of the back room in darkness.

Magistrate Ancunín sat behind his desk on his immaculate, leather chair. Head leaned against his bowed elbows and crossed fingers, hiding his mouth from view, gray eyes inspecting Tav keenly.

Tav stood in the middle of the dim room, waiting for further orders.

“Sit.” Magistrate Ancunín commanded.

Tav grabbed the vacant chair in front of the desk and took a seat, polite smile still forced on her lips.

“Do you know why you are here?”

Tav felt like retorting and asking the man the same back, still miffed by the unjustified ruling over her punctuality. He could as well be leaning on her to recite her misdemeanors to him instead of having had prepared accordingly. That, or maybe he was testing her. Or worse, enjoyed verbally tormenting her before slamming a merciless guilty verdict on her.

She smiled and tilted her head, stealing a glance at the side.

“I believe the exact wording was: For aiding in breaking and entering. Oh, and trespassing.”

“Correct.” The magistrate said and picked up the document in front of him and looked it over.

He flapped the paper down and gave Tav a sly side smirk.

“...In addition to suspicions of aiding in other similar activities, not limited to: Breaking and entering. Robbery. Theft. Smuggling. Fencing stolen property and evading law enforcement. Oh. And trespassing.” He added and leaned back on his chair.

Tav’s smile broke a little and a scowl threatened to take over. She willed her face to stay neutral.

“Ah, but the key lies in the wording itself, your honor; suspicions, not proof.”

Magistrate Ancunín’s gaze sparked with interest and he leaned over the desk again.

“Observant one, aren’t you? It must have been bad luck on your end for getting caught that night. Otherwise, I have an inkling you wouldn’t be gracing me with your presence here. In this late hour. In my humble office.”

Tav smiled and read the tired frustration seeping between the magistrate’s words and demeanor.

“Bad luck indeed. Must have been equally bad luck on your part to be stuck in my presence. In this late hour.Iin your humble office.” She repeated and placed a hand on the table, leaning in.

“I believe it’s all just an inconvenient, circumstantial little mishap. Not worth a full trial, certainly not big enough to steal more of your precious time, your honor.” Tav pleaded confidently.

Magistrate Ancunín grinned.

“And what would you suggest we do about this, inconvenient, little mishap stealing my precious time?”

Tav leaned in further, meeting the magistrate’s gaze head on.

“A slap on the wrist, as they say, and I will disappear. We’ll both be free to go home for the night.”

He laughed.

“I’m afraid that’s not how this works.”

Tav leaned against the backrest, her smile now fully gone, replaced by a sullen frown.

“You see, while I appreciate your suggestion to save my time and yours, I however, cannot overlook the fact that this would benefit you more than me.” He mused and grabbed a pencil.

“It’s been a long, hard day and as much as I would love to let you go with a slap on the wrist and go home for the night, I believe there is a serious threat of you repeat offending and being sent back here to steal even more of my highly valuable, highly limited time again. A throughout punishment is in order, I’d say. To make sure you don’t forget why you don’t want to return to my office.” Magistrate Ancunín fixed Tav a sadistic gaze.

It was like he was playing with his food, uninterested in eating it before it jumped up and down, flipped around, pranced and finally begged and pleaded how he liked, before he would even allow it to see his tongue – or declared he wasn’t hungry in the first place and left it to rot on his plate.

“Well?”

“Yes, your honor?”

“You aren’t going to counter my accusations? Plea to soften my verdict?”

“I haven’t heard you come to a clear verdict yet, sir.”

“Guilty. Now, what do you suppose would be a fitting punishment for your misdemeanors?” He arched a brow, tilting the pencil to start writing onto the document in front of him.

“The punishment should fit the crime I would assume. You tell me, your honor.”

“As you wish. I’ll just add in ‘arriving late’ and ‘refusal to cooperate’ to the list first…” The magistrate grabbed the pencil properly and pulled the document closer to himself.

“I wasn’t late.”

“Pardon?” His gaze snapped back to Tav.

“I wasn’t late. I was here before you were finished with your latest customer. I knocked on the door, didn’t hear and answer and sat down to wait, as instructed on the letter.” She pulled out the summons letter and placed it on the desk.

Magistrate Ancunín didn’t even glance at the letter she offered.

“Are you implying I am a liar?”

“Not implying sir, accusing would be the correct term.”

The magistrate sat back on his chair, eyes wide and wild.

“You’re accusing me of being a liar?”

“Yes, your honor. I think we both know you are.”

“Interesting.” He tilted his head.

“… And what will you do with this bold accusation of yours? Convince someone of my wicked ways? Put me on trial?”

“Well I-”

Tav knew this wasn’t a good idea. Even if she knew the magistrate was full of lies, she didn’t have a proper leg to stand on against him. He would just push her down with his superior power and influence, as all great men tended to do to those they perceived to be standing beneath them.

“… Forgive me. I think I spoke out of line, sir.”

“That’s more like it. I’ll correct my notes to read ‘complicit and cooperative’ instead.”

Tav remained silent.

“Now. Back to your punishment. What do you think I should do with you?”

“I don’t suppose letting me just go is an option?”

The magistrate chuckled.

“Persistent, aren’t you?” He sounded almost amused.

“If it’s the verdict you come to, it would be the truth. After all, you aren’t a liar, sir.”

Magistrate Ancunín fixed Tav an intense kind of stare. She stared equally as intensively back. He resumed playing with his pencil before setting it neatly on his desk. He crossed his fingers and leaned comfortably over the desk.

“You would be absolutely correct about that. Alas, the problem lies not in what the truth will be, but what you have on offer for me to enforce said truth.”

Tav perked up slightly. She had gotten lucky after all. Magistrate Ancunín might have been an asshole and a liar, but one of these traits would benefit her if she just knew the right cards to play.

“You don’t suppose some good old gold would settle all this?” She offered.

“Mmh. I doubt whatever amount it is you’re thinking is enough to make up for this.”

“How about community service then?”

“What kind of community service?”

Tav shrugged and peeked around the office.

“You need something opened very late at night, perhaps something small delivered some place without detection…” Tav listed nonchalantly.

“Anything else?”

She returned her gaze to him. He looked slightly interested and more at ease, almost relaxed, if it wasn’t for the ever present frown on his brows. The man looked tired still, exhausted even. He was definitely overworked and hadn’t had a proper break in awhile. He was stressed, tense, like a piano string wrung up too tightly, ready to snap at any moment.

“A massage…?”

“A massage?” The magistrate repeated in surprise.

“Forgive me if I am mistaken, but you look rather... tense, sir.”

“You aren’t mistaken on that part.” He admitted with a raised brow.

“Would you allow me to relieve some of that tension, your honor?” Tav asked sweetly.

“Ever so polite, aren’t you, darling?” Magistrate Ancunín said with a smile.

The petname caught Tav by surprise and she felt a blush rush to her cheeks. She blinked and forced a smile.

“Always, sir.”

“Why not? I suppose it couldn’t do any harm.”

Magistrate Ancunín stood up from his chair and gestured for Tav to stand up with him. She did as commanded and circled the desk to where he was. The magistrate moved his chair to the side to give them free roam near his desk.

He was over a head taller than Tav. His body was slim and his shoulders looked much broader in contrast thanks to it. The air around him gave off an atmosphere of patient authority, something one would expect from a man working in such a high position.

He wore a frill collared jacket made of the finest light blue silks. Silver threaded peonies adorned the front of it. Trails of ornamental threads ran along the cuts of the fabric, every piece carefully tailored to fit his shape.

His legs were covered by similarly colored straight trousers. Plain and uninteresting compared to his jacket that screamed wealth and dignity. His shiny leather shoes provided a dark contrast to the rest of his outfit, having a grounding effect to his looks.

A striking difference to what Tav was wearing. What she had on currently, were some of her more nicer clothes. It was like setting a polished sapphire and a nice, water smoothed stone next to one another. It clearly paid well to be a professional liar in the right place.

Tav settled behind him and the magistrate watched her each move from the edge of his vision. She reached her hands and gripped over the magistrate’s shoulders, starting to rub the firm, tense muscles there in circles.

“Mmmh.” Magistrate Ancunín hummed in pleasure.

“Is that good sir?”

“Very good, darling.”

Tav smiled at the praise and kept going. She worked the top of his shoulders, sometimes dipping over towards his collarbones, to the sides of his biceps and down his back, closer to his shoulder blades.

Even through his fine layers of clothes it was evident to Tav that this man was in excellent shape despite his lanky proportions. He started to noticeably relax the more she massaged him.

“...What else did you have on offer?”

Tav thought through the question as she continued to work on the magistrate’s stiff shoulders. She let her hands wander down along his arms a little.

“Perhaps I could ease the tension on some other parts of your body?” She offered.

The magistrate peeked over his shoulder before fully turning towards her. Tav removed her hands. The magistrate had an inquisitive brow lifted.

“Such as…?”

Tav felt a nervous sting in her stomach. She realized the accidentally loaded implications of her words and let her gaze fall to the man’s chest.

“Your pecks- I mean back, sir.”

He chuckled.

“Aren’t you just adorable?”

Tav froze as a violent rush of heat flooded to her face. Magistrate Ancunín looked proud of himself and searched through her eyes, considering.

“It would be more efficient if I were to undress slightly, wouldn’t it?”

“Eh?”

Magistrate Ancunín smirked deviously and pulled his frilly collar loose and unbuttoned the top layer of his tailored coat. Tav followed his hands with her gaze and felt her heartbeat increase the more buttons popped open.

He pulled his coat off and settled it over the back of his chair, then started on his long sleeved undershirt.

Tav wanted to speak up and tell him it was enough, but she couldn’t. Something in her urged to remain silent and let the events unravel before her as they did. Soon, magistrate Ancunín stood before her shirtless, his well defined pecks and abdomen in full view.

Tav gawked at his perfect skin, her fingertips itching to reach and touch him. She looked him up and down, admiring his figure. The smile on magistrate Ancunín’s lips told her everything she had to know.

“Well, you aren’t just going to stand and gawk there?”

Tav blinked in an attempt to get her wits back, but the sight of magistrate Ancunín’s naked torso had chased most of them away, possibly permanently.

“Oh, of course sir.” Tav moved to stand behind him again.

The magistrate turned with her, staying face to face.

“Ah ah, not my back. You said pecks first, didn’t you?”

Tav froze and her eyes widened. Her gaze dropped at the half naked man’s muscular pecks and remained there.

“Yes. My mistake, sir.” She said half out of breath.

“You are absolved.”

Tav reached to touch magistrate Ancunín’s pecks and began massaging them in circular motions. She tried to keep her breathing calm despite her body’s increased need for more air. She faked appearing confident and stole glances up at the magistrate’s face every now and then, finding his eyes transfixed onto hers each time.

“You’re doing excellent, little pet.”

Tav couldn’t force down the smile and an accidental giggle escaped her. She tried to hide it with a loud clearing of her throat, but the magistrate had noticed it.

“Enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

“Ih… forgive me sir, I didn’t mean…”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head at her.

“We can’t have that, now can we? You are to be punished for your crimes, not rewarded for them. Although… if you behave, I suppose a little reward is in order…”

“A reward, sir?” Tav’s voice pitched from excitement.

“Punishment first, pet.” He nodded.

Tav locked eyes with him and nodded with him. He peeked down her body, then leaned close to her face.

“Strip.”

Tav’s eyes widened and she looked herself over. She studied the look on magistrate Ancunín’s eyes and determined he was serious.

“And… if I don’t?”

“Is this not what you want…?” He countered and lolled his head to the side curiously.

Tav felt heat surge to her loins. A pressure formed inside her lower abdomen and she was suddenly aware of the growing slickness between her legs. She sucked on her lips and nodded.

“Yes. Yes it is… your honor.”

“I thought so.” He smiled and snapped his fingers.

“Now, strip.”

Tav bit her lower lip and stepped back, removed her jacket and dropped it on the floor. She began to unbutton her undershirt while magistrate Ancunín watched her with a smirk.

She struggled to hop out of her shoes and trousers, somewhat clumsily ridding herself of her clothes all at once. Soon, she stood before magistrate Ancunín in her underwear.

He gave her a questioning look.

“Naked.” He said.

The breath in Tav’s lungs halted and she nodded, slid the straps of her bras off her shoulders and reached behind to unbuckle them without question, setting her breasts free. Her nipples hardened against the cool air of the office.

She discarded her bra on top of the pile of her other clothes and pulled down her panties, letting them drop down to her ankles. Panting, she stepped out of them, feeling hot slickness rub along her inner thighs.

Magistrate Ancunín grinned and stepped forth.

“Why are you here?” He asked, slowly circling around her.

The repeat question caught Tav off guard.

“Because of my crimes, sir?”

“Because you’re a bad girl, no?”

“I’m…”

The situation she was in started to catch up to her. Tav realized she was inside the top floor of the court house, alone with a shirtless magistrate, naked. Like a scene straight from some cheap smut chapbook circled around Amn. This wasn’t how she expected things to go or how she would negotiate herself off trouble, but didn’t really mind how things looked for her currently.

“B-because I’m a bad girl… magistrate sir.” She panted with a smile, playing along.

“Bad girls need to be punished accordingly before they can become good girls. You want to be a good girl, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Yes who?”

“Yes, magistrate Ancunín!”

“Good girl.”

Tav felt herself grow wetter over the praise and gnawed on her bottom lip harder. She watched as magistrate Ancunín stopped in front of her, his gray eyes dark. She focused on the way he slowly wet his lips before speaking up again.

“I couldn’t help but notice what a beautiful mouth you have, darling. Not only is your tongue clever with words, I’m sure you can put it to good use on other matters.” He alluded.

Tav nodded, stealing a glance down his front. He extended an arm and curled most of his fingers up into a fist, pointing down at the floor with his index finger.

“On your knees darling.”

Tav’s mouth gaped slightly and she obeyed wordlessly. She got on her knees and looked up at the magistrate as he approached. He unbuckled his belt. Tav ogled as he pulled the belt off and tossed it over the arm rest of his chair. Her eyes flickered down to the man’s crotch and the way his long, deft fingers unbuttoned his trousers.

Unsurprisingly, his underwear seemed to be as fine and expensive as the rest of his clothes, fitting the rest of his getup seamlessly. A man of style and principle. The blue and silver threads of his undergarments were stretched at the front, strained by the growing weight of his half erect cock underneath.

Tav let out a tiny whimper when magistrate Ancunín pulled out his heated flesh. The lean shaft of his cock was as pale as the rest of him and deliciously flushed closer to the tip. The word ‘elegant’ described it perfectly. His trousers folded below his ankles and he stepped out of them while adjusting his underwear lower.

“Lips apart, darling.”

Eyes adoringly fixated on the magistrate’s cock, Tav parted her lips as commanded.

“Lick.” Came the order.

Tav wiggled closer on her knees and leaned in, mouth open, tongue extended, hearing her pulse drum in her ears. She slithered the flat of her tongue from the underside of the magistrate’s engorged dick to its swollen tip with a sigh.

She repeated the action and peeked up momentarily to see the approving smirk on magistrate Ancunín’s face.

“That’s a good pet.” He praised and Tav felt something akin to butterflies flutter inside her chest.

Eager to hear more, she continued her ministrations and started to lap all over the magistrate’s cock. She began properly from the base, continued up the underside of his shaft, twirling around his cockhead and went back down to its base around the sides, then repeated the motions like a ritual.

Magistrate Ancunín’s breathing was starting to grow heftier, as was his hardened length. His erection reached it’s peak as Tav kept lavishing his member with the slick attention of her tongue, her own loins already soaking wet at this point.

A droplet of precum formed at the tip of magistrate Ancunín’s dick and Tav pulled back briefly to admire it.

“Suck.” Came the one word order from the slightly hoarse voice of the magistrate above.

Tav huffed hot air over the glistening wet tip and opened wide, let the cocktip slip between her lips and gave it a gentle suck.

Magistrate Ancunín tensed and let out a muffled growl. One of his hands found its way among Tav’s hair and grabbed a hold, before starting to pet through her soft locks gently, encouragingly.

Tav closed her eyes and swallowed more of the length in front of her, minding her teeth and carefully applying pressure with her lips and tongue. She began to bob her head back and forth slowly, listening to the tiny grunts of approval elicited by magistrate Ancunín above her.

She had experience sucking up to authority, but this was a new form of doing so entirely. Despite the clear, outrageous imbalance of power between them, she found herself feeling safe and pleased by the situation she was in – trouble like this was what she enjoyed finding herself in the most.

She felt oddly powerful down on her knees in front of him. The thought of being able to render a man of such high status as magistrate Ancunín into a whimpering mess just with her mouth excited her further.

The wet heat between her legs demanded attention and one of her hands slipped to soothe her aching clit. She got so lost among the pleasure of sucking the magistrate off while touching herself that she lost the rhythm of her mouth more than once.

A snap of fingers brought her out of her zone.

“What do you think you’re doing down there? Both hands where I can see them. Now.”

Tav furrowed her brows and huffed with her mouth stuffed with dick and removed the hand attending to her own growing need. She placed both of her hands up against the magistrate’s thighs and focused back on sucking him off.

“Eyes on me, darling.” Came the call from above.

Tav’s gaze snapped up and above, meeting magistrate Ancunín’s pleased gaze and self-satisfied grin. His gray eyes looked down upon her with a glint of sadistic joy, the thrill of having power over someone.

“You’re being such a good girl. Keep going.”

Tav couldn’t help the smile that wrung to the edges of her lips and blinked a couple times, slowly starting back up again. Her gaze ate in the way the magistrate above her shivered and twitched each time she pushed his length down as far as she could muster, feeling the hot flesh throb against her own.

Her fingers dug against the soft skin of magistrate Ancunín’s thighs, both in search of support and to heed the earlier command to keep her hands in his sight. The man above her shut his eyes, lost in his own pleasure, his surveillance of her growing lazy. She could easily slide one of her hands off his legs and he wouldn’t notice it returning between her legs.

Yet the new need to obey and be recognized as ‘a good girl’ somehow overpowered Tav’s natural urge to disobey – for now.

Magistrate Ancunín whimpered above Tav and held onto her head, gesturing for her to stop. She could tell he was close, having felt his flesh tremble and his balls constricting in anticipation of his release. He pulled back and shot Tav with a mirthful glance.

“On your feet.”

Tav swallowed the excess spit still in her mouth and licked her lips. She got up on her wobbly feet, knees feeling slightly achy from supporting her against the office’s hard plank flooring. A trail of hot wetness trickled down between her legs as she did.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” The magistrate raised a brow.

Tav met his strong gaze and nodded sheepishly, lips still wet and gleaming.

“Bad girl.”

He raised his hand once again and gestured for her to turn around. Tav spun on her heels and found herself facing the magistrate’s work desk. Magistrate Ancunín reached past her and swiped the documents and items crowding the center of the desk to the sides, clearing empty space in the middle.

Tav stared at the shiny dark surface of the mahogany desk and was sure if it was polished a hint further, she could see the wild arousal burning behind her eyes reflected from it.

“Bend over it.” Magistrate Ancunín ordered.

Tav closed the gap between her and the desk, then laid her hands over its gleaming smooth surface to test it. She bent her upper body over it until the base of her legs stopped her from going any further along it. She felt a firm grip take a hold of the back of her head and gently force her face down against the table. Her chest and perk nipples squashed against the table’s cool surface. She sighed from the contact.

She felt another hand trail up her spine sensually, the magistrate’s surprisingly calloused palm feeling up the arch of her back and the dip between her shoulder blades.

A cool, leather shoe tapped below on the insides of her bare ankles, ushering them apart. With the domineering hand laid over her neck keeping her head in place, Tav felt cornered enough for the will to disobey rise back up again. She kept her feet where they were.

“No?” Asked the magistrate curiously.

Tav breathed against the hard desk, glancing back at the magistrate standing at the edges of her vision. She heard the floor creak lightly as he stepped closer and felt the heat of his flushed skin hover near hers.

“Don’t you want to be a good girl for me?” The magistrate asked softly, petting her hair.

Tav shook her head as best as she could and smirked disobediently.

Magistrate Ancunín tutted at her and she could barely make out the way he shook his head in disapproval. The hand at the back of her neck tightened its grip and pressed her face harder against the desk.

She whimpered.

“Quiet.”

She stilled and listened.

“Maybe I need to remind you why you should behave?”

Tav swallowed heavily and waited. She felt deft fingers slide between her thighs and brush over her wet folds to her neglected clit. Her hips shivered at the contact and her lungs let out a gasp. The fingers kept rubbing at her ache and the heat at her center wound up tighter. She let out a pleased moan.

“You like that, don’t you?”

The magistrate’s clever fingers glided over her wet folds next, teasing around her hot entrance. Tav shivered at the growing feeling of emptiness around her yearning flesh. The fingers poked at the twitching entrance leading to her leaking canal, never breaching in deeper than that. Tav huffed out of frustration.

“Beg for it.”

Magistrate Ancunín’s touch froze near her entrance and Tav bit her lower lip in excited silence. She relaxed her lower back and parted her legs, sighing deeply before peeking back at the magistrate.

“Please, magistrate Ancunín?”

“Please what?”

“Please… feel up my cunt with your fingers, sir?”

“Hm. Better.”

Tav hummed as a warm digit slid up to the knuckle within her wetness and curled.

“A-ahh…!” She jerked at the sudden stimulus.

The magistrate kept rubbing at the roof of her depths, clearly aware of the sweetspot lingering around there. Tav’s legs shook with every jolt of pleasure, her hips starting to rock against the invading pressure.

“Hold still.”

Tav halted on her tracks, her breathing shallow and laboured. The finger inside of her pressed up against the ache and she struggled not to move.

“I’m certain you’re aware it could be something entirely different easing all this tension within you, yes?”

“Yes, magistrate Ancunín, I am aware.”

With a chuckle the magistrate rubbed his hard cock along her inner thigh and outer folds for emphasis. The finger inside of her curled again, applying more relieving pressure against her lustful ache. Tav sucked in her lips to keep her voice in.

“Ask for forgiveness and I might consider giving you more relief than just my finger.”

He rubbed his finger against her inner walls a couple more times before pulling out entirely. Tav whined as she felt the emptiness around her, the need throbbing inside of her, craving to be filled.

“Please forgive me, magistrate sir. I’ve… been such a bad girl and I must be punished.”

“As you wish, my sweet. Punished you shall be.”

Tav felt the comforting heat of magistrate Ancunín step away from her. He settled out of her view, but kept the hand over her neck firmly in place. Tav waited, listening to him rummage around his shelves.

Suddenly, an hourglass was placed in front of her face. The sand was all piled at the bottom and the magistrate’s fingers tilted it to show it off to her.

“This hourglass will be the length your punishment will last. You can endure until the last strand of sand has fallen, can’t you darling?”

The hourglass seemed relatively small and would last a minute, maximum of three, or more. Tav had no idea how long it would actually take, most definitely a calculated move on magistrate Ancunín’s part. Another devilish way to amp up her discomfort in addition to the sweet torture he was about to inflict upon her.

Tav bent the arm next to her face to see the item better and tried to look where magistrate Ancunín was.

“But you must not make a sound, otherwise I will tip the hourglass over again until you remain completely silent, understood? This is a punishment, after all. Knock on the desk once if you understand.”

Tav clenched her fingers into a fist and knocked on the desk once.

“Good. Now, as to not sully our fun little punishment game, knock repeatedly against the desk if it becomes too much to bear and I will stop. If you stop however, there will be no reward for you, unfortunately. Only good, obedient girls get rewarded. Knock once if you understand.”

Tave knocked once.

“Excellent. Now, lets play.” The magistrate said with a notable thrill in his voice.

Tav took a deep inhale and braced herself for what was to come. The hourglass in front of her was flipped and the sand began to drain.

A sharp smack hit her left buttock. She jolted from surprise. Another slap hit her right buttock and left it tingling the same way her left side did.

She knocked repeatedly against the desk before the third strike could land. The magistrate halted and leaned over her to peek at her face. Tav gave him a coy little smile.

“Sweetheart, are you testing me?” Magistrate Ancunín’s voice sounded playfully shocked.

Tav knocked once.

He chuckled delightfully.

“Do you want me to stop altogether or was this just a test? Knock once to stop, twice to continue.”

Tav watched as the sand in front of her in the hourglass kept draining. She knocked twice.

“Very well then, but ah, would you look at that. I left the hourglass running. Interrupting me like that will extend your punishment, I’m afraid.”

The magistrate resumed spanking Tav with his bare hand, lavishing both of her ass cheeks with plenty of attention. Tav managed to keep quiet through it all, feeling her ass start to tingle and warm up from the repeated strikes against it. The vibrations from each strike traveled to her folds and clit, granting her a teasingly small amount of stimulus that only served to increase the want in her.

The sand drained to the end and magistrate Ancunín paused to tip the hourglass over.

Each slap echoed inside the otherwise silent office of the magistrate as he continued on. He alternated between light and hard strikes, randomly switching between each ass cheek every now and then, pausing at times to create anticipation and hoping to catch Tav off guard.

The pain ebbing on Tav’s behind was starting to sting and she bit down on her lower lip to keep herself from whimpering. She panted hard against the wooden desk, her moist breath misting its gleaming surface. Eyes focused on the slowly draining hourglass in front of her, mustering herself to keep quiet.

Tav began to sweat from the heat of the situation, small droplets trickling down her back and sides in tandem to the heavy trickles of wetness seeping down between her thighs, smearing the hard wooden floor below.

She wanted to disobey so badly, but felt the pain on her backside starting to turn uncomfortably numb with each new spank. She licked her lips, glaring at the hourglass to drain faster, eager to taste the reward for enduring her punishment so well.

Then the final strand of sand fell and the spanking halted. She let out a loud hum of exhaustion, feeling her neglected cunt throb in need.

The hand over her neck was removed and she raised her head to peek over her shoulder.

“That’s a good girl. You endured so well despite the interruption at the start.”

Tav flashed a brief smile.

“Now then, as promised. Good girl’s get rewarded for their efforts.” Magistrate Ancunín said and moved to stand behind Tav.

His still erect cock slid under Tav’s swollen cunt and his hips pressed flush against her aching behind. She hissed at the contact.

“Shhhh… I’ll make it better soon. Now, what do we say when we want something?”

Magistrate Ancunín began to rub her aching ass cheeks with both hands while waiting for her reply.

“Please, sir?”

“Please what, my dear?”

“Your cock, sir. I need your cock inside of me, please?”

“Good girl.”

He pulled away and nudged the head of his cock at Tav’s leaking entrance. He grabbed her hips and pushed in with little effort. Tav moaned wantonly and moved to accommodate him further. The magistrate sighed with pleasure and his grip on her hips tightened as he bottomed out. Tav felt his hot breath against her neck as he bent over her back.

“Oh, you sweet thing. So wet for me.” He panted and began to rock against her softly.

Tav gasped and wiggled under him, her knees shaking from their continuous efforts to stay afoot, backside still tender from the punishment.

“Mmhh… Hold still.” His hand snuck into Tav’s hair and yanked her head back.

Tav whimpered and stilled as best as she could. The magistrate continued to pound into her in languid motions, slow and relaxed, his cock hot and rigid inside Tav’s needy cunt. His grip on her hair kept her head bent back.

She bit her lower lip and enjoyed the way the magistrate’s cock filled her, relieving the heated tension building inside of her. Her wet folds wrapped around him, tightening whenever he pulled out, relaxing as he pushed in, welcoming him back into her depths, begging him not to leave.

She felt the coil in her lower abdomen tighten and felt her release getting closer. Her breathing grew heavy and erratic. Her sweaty fingers grasped at the desk underneath it desperately, her head bent back by magistrate Ancunín’s hand pulling on her hair.

“M-magistrate… Ancunín…!” She whimpered breathlessly.

A broken yelp left her when the magistrate pulled out of her unprompted. His hand released her hair. She shivered and turned to look behind her.

“Turn over.” The magistrate panted.

Tav blinked and pushed herself up from the desk with some effort. She flipped over and magistrate Ancunín helped her lay down on her back on top of the desk. He grabbed her knees and spread her legs, aligning himself between them and pushed back inside her with a loud groan before crashing their lips together.

He licked at her upper lip and wasted no time pushing his tongue between her teeth and intertwined it with hers. She kissed him back with the same fervor, both of their moans muffled by each other’s hungry mouths.

Tav blinked at him through the kiss and watched as his face softened with pleasure. The tense frown was gone, replaced by a pleased furrow instead. He broke off and a broken string of spit fell onto Tav’s breasts. Magistrate Ancunín grinned as he gripped Tav’s sides and fucked into her harder.

“You were so obediently quiet before. I want to hear you scream in turn.” He panted and smirked wickedly.

He slammed his hips into Tav and her eyes rolled back in reaction to the mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Ahhh!” She moaned.

“Louder, darling. Nobody except me can hear you inside these walls.”

He slammed into her again.

“AhhHHHnh!”

“Louder.”

“AHHHHH MAGISTRATE ANCUNÍN!!!” Tav shouted blissfully.

“You’re so pretty when you say my name…”

Tav’s face contorted and her whole body shivered.

“M-magistrate… Ancun… ín… I’m going to… going to…!”

“You’ll cum when I say you can, darling.”

Tav heaved in blissful frustration, her back arching off the desk, ass tender, legs shaking against the magistrate’s sides as she fought against her approaching orgasm. The magistrate slowed down to help her come down, his own body jerking every now and then to chase his own building release.

He stopped still and lifted his hands to play with Tav’s chest. He cupped both of her tits and massaged them, rubbing her perk nipples with his thumbs. She moaned and clawed around his desk for something to grab hold of. The magistrate chuckled.

“Why are you here?”

Tav whined and struggled for words.

“B-because I’m a… a bad girl, your honor…!”

The magistrate pinched her nipples and pulled on them while sliding out of her painfully slow.

“Do you want to be a bad girl?” He questioned and rubbed Tav’s nipples sensually.

Her head thrashed from one side to the other.

“N-no… sir!” She whined, her legs trying to wrap around his waist and pull him back inside of her.

“I-I… I want to be a good girl!” Tav added and pleaded at the magistrate with her eyes, nodding frantically.

She was so agonizingly close. Her abdomen was beginning to hurt from the unfulfilled need. She felt her eyes grow moist from the tears that welled in them.

Magistrate Ancunín gave her a warm smile and gave her nipples one final pinch before releasing them. Tav sighed from the loss of contact, her chest now tingling the same way her ass was.

“You promise to remain a good girl after you leave my office?”

Tav nodded.

“Yes! Yes, I promise magistrate Ancunín sir!” She panted enthusiastically.

“Good girl.” He grinned and slammed back into her.

Tav screamed and threw her head back, letting her voice out in long, broken moans and whimpers as the magistrate began to fuck her in earnest. Her wet walls relaxed to let him in, allowing his length deeper inside.

“P-please… Magistrate Ancunín! Please let me cum!!” She pleaded weakly.

“Not yet, darling. You can hold off a little longer.”

Tav whined and nodded.

Magistrate Ancunín’s own voice broke out and he whined in rhythm to his hips. He hissed and bit his lip, his punishing pace losing focus.

Tav writhed under him, her wet folds pulsing from her barely held back release. She groaned almost painfully, tears breaking free from the corners of her eyes.

“Now darling, cum for me!” He commanded and Tav’s pleasure exploded beneath him.

She screamed his name from the bottom of her lungs and arched her back, her needy cunt milking his throbbing length. Magistrate Ancunín followed soon after, losing himself in her and let go with a husky little whimper. His whole body shook against Tav as his hips rocked into her, jerking the last of his pent up need into her.

He stilled and gasped for air, trickles of sweat now streaming down his face and chest. Tav panted under him, her eyes shut tight as the aftershocks of her orgasm still shook through her nerves. The magistrate pushed himself up, pulled away and stepped back shakily before slumping onto his leather chair.

Tav’s legs felt like uncontained liquid and as soon as they had nothing to support them, fell open and dangled over the firm mahogany desk she was laid on top of.

The office was filled with nothing but their heavy breathing for a good while before an oddly comforting silence took its place. Tav blinked up at the ceiling above, her heartbeat and breathing now calm and steady.

She finally came to enough to push herself up to sit on her still aching ass. She found magistrate Ancunín leaning on an elbow, seated comfortably on his leather chair, legs crossed, his underwear pulled back up and trousers firmly buttoned up again.

His chest was still rising and lowering noticeably heavy, his brows gleaming with sweat.

“I think this concludes your trial. I deem you free to go with a warning. This time.”

Tav managed a weak smile and inched herself off the desk. Her knees felt wobbly, her buttocks ached, and her nipples were swollen, but the pleasant heat now thrumming at her core made everything feel better. She was free to go and more than that, exhilarated by the success of their negotiations.

The magistrate allowed her a moment more of his time to clean up before exiting his office for the night.

On her way down the hall and the near infinite amount of stairs, Tav thought back on her little gigs at the edges of law and was glad to have trailed off to the wrong side of the law for once.

Feeling the combined fluids of their heated negotiations slick the insides of her underwear, she itched to be bad again, in hopes of finding herself back within magistrate Ancunín’s office to be reminded how to be a good girl once more.

[thechaoticdruid]

Winnie (my Tav) and the weirdos have stolen the orphic hammer, freed Hope and are currently about to flee through the portal back to the Gate. Alas! Raphael arrives home in time to confront them. Winnie is able to convince the Orthon to fight by their side, but the theatrical devil is still fully confident he'll come out on top!

"It'll only take a moment for me to finish you."

"Funny, I've heard that's twice the amount of time it takes for Haarlep to finish you, ya little bottom bitch!" Winnie cackled with a mischievous little shit eating grin.

"How dare you!" The devil snarled.

"Not to ruin your witty little one liner my dear, but are you certain you're in any position to mock someone for being a bottom? I've had you whimpering beneath me since I first took you to bed." Astarion spoke up, eyeing Winnie with a smug mischievous smirk.

Winnie turned bright red. "Astarion! Not in front of the weasely devil man!"

Just something that's been in my head for a while.

~Druid

[nocanonhere]

Happy Wyll's Week! Day 6/7

-Say Yes (NSFW, finally) Set the night of his proposal, and what happens after. (centered around my Tav, Aiya. Elf-Dragon Sorceress)

“Here?” She huffs, on top of him but still being cautious about lowering onto him.

“Right here,” he answers confidently, then his eyes widen. “Or rather, over there, where I put the blankets.”

She laughs, leans back down to kiss him. “And the pillows. And the candles. And the wine.”

“I wanted us to be comfortable,” he answers in between kisses.

The slide of their lips against each other is drawing something down Wyll’s chest, through his core and lower still.

“Comfortable for what?” she asks innocently, as if her hands hadn’t already started unbuttoning his shirt. As if he isn’t already straining against his pants. As if he hadn’t just told her a moment ago, before they started this tumbling, to get down here so they could start their happily ever after.

She had seemed pleased with his surprise throw, letting him revel in the success for just a moment before locking her thighs around him and flipping them both.

He’s going to get her on her back again, because he has things to do to her that require it. But for now, he is enjoying this view of her on top of him; he is enjoying the tease of her hovering over him instead of sitting.

And he recognizes her goading for what it is. He’s eager to play along. What good is him being long-winded if he couldn’t utilize it where it really counted.

“Would you like me to tell you, or show you?” he asks, stopping their kissing for a moment.

She smirks at him then; its slow, sure, and coupled with the glint in her eyes, predatory.

She leans back in, hovering above his lips before moving to the side of his neck instead.

“Both,” she answers, pressing her lips against his skin. He groans, shifting a bit, hips raising up minutely, searching for the contact he wants there.

“In that order,” she continues, moving her kisses across his throat to the other side. He likes her on top, wants to get her back there later. But as she darts her tongue out and licks the shell of his ear, he curses, moves his own legs around hers, and flips them again.

He’s careful about keeping a hand on the back of her head as he does so. And they still aren’t on the blankets, but they are getting close. He presses himself to her finally, letting her feel just where his intentions lie.

She licks her lips, and it is a gesture he has noticed she always does. When she’s lost in thought, particularly.

It’s not just a quick slip of the appendage over her mouth. It’s a slow, circling trail from her top lip to her bottom lip. And he has always found it distracting, silently chiding himself for thinking too hard about the action. It’s even more disarming now, with that look in her eyes again.

She likes being thrown around a bit.

He notes that for later as he leans down, mimicking her from a moment ago, and moving to the side of her neck. He decides to do worse than her, and lets his tongue make the first contact, followed by his lips.

The sound it brings out of her is a stifled moan, held back by her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. He wants more of that, unbound and louder.

He groans at the knowledge of what he’s about to do; what he has refrained from doing every time they steal away to run their lips over each other.

He moves up, and trails his tongue over the high point of her ear. He had always wondered if they were sensitive, and if they were, how sensitive. But he never asked.

He’ll never have to, now.

He got his wish from just a moment ago. She moans for him, open and needy. He does it again, and he can very well tell that an addiction to her noises is going to form.

He keeps doing it, dipping down to tease the middle of her ear instead of the shell, and she bucks against him.

He switches to the other side, hands clenching the grass around her as she begins to undulate against him.

“First,” he begins, moving to trail light kisses over her neck. “I’m going to lay you out on those blankets.”

She exhales a laugh.

“I’m going to get you out of your clothes, and anything underneath.”

He pulls back to look her in the eyes, bringing their noses together. He grabs one of her hands with his, lacing their fingers.

“I’m going to kiss you, everywhere. Your wrists, up your arms, over your chest. And then down.”

He shifts again, lining the hard ridge of him up with her core.

“And?” she asks.

“I’m going to kiss your beautiful legs, then grab them behind the knee and push them back.”

She moves against him faster, a little frantic, compared to his expectations. He wonders how long it has been for her.

He is going to give this first round his best try. Because it’s been a while for him too, and coupling like this was an infrequent thing as well.

Contrary to their group’s jokes, yes, he had done this before.

“And you’re going to hold them, so I can have some room.”

“Oh,” she says.

“And I am going to spell out the rest right between your legs.”

She exhales sharply. “Wyll, come on.”

He adores her impatience, reveling in how it contrasts to her usual demeanor. She’s not a mess, not yet. But this is already so different from how she is with everyone else. She’s always focused, quiet, and collected.

He doesn’t want any of that tonight, not in this setting.

He gets off her, and they both move over to the blanketed area he set up earlier under the tree.

If she ended up not wanting to go that far tonight, that was fine. He had brought the wine, and a few snacks in a backpack hidden behind the tree.

She decides to start on herself first, unlacing her sandals and flinging them off her feet.

“You too,” she orders, moving her hands to unlace her pants.

“Not yet,” he answers, to both. He grabs her hands and moves them back to her sides. “Allow me.”

He slowly trails his hands up her stomach to her neck. He lets them linger there, lighting grasping the sides of her face.

She is jittery. Maybe he doesn’t need to draw this first one out.

He brings his hands back to her stomach again, but this time it’s to ease her shirt up, revealing skin where he doesn’t normally see it.

He sighs, and she sits up to help him take her shirt off easier.

What’s underneath catches him by surprise.

“Oh,” he says, staring at her chest. “That’s…where did that set come from?”

“Figaro’s,” she answers, smug. Glad to have caught him off guard.

“Noted,” he says, leaning down to kiss her again.

It’s a flattering, sage colored bralette. The material is no mere cotton. Rather, shimmering with what is supposed to resemble snake skin. It looks gorgeous on her skin. He wasn’t aware Figaro’s was making wares such as these. But he knows where to shop in the future for her, if he wants to see more of their work.

He moves down, kissing over her neck, and stopping at the top of her chest, reaching for one of her arms instead and starting there.

“Wyll,” she says. “Don’t tease.”

“So impatient,” he whispers, trailing kisses up her inner arm. “You told me to tell you, then show you.”

“Then can you tell me more?”

He smirks, reaching her inner elbow and planting a kiss there before mirroring his actions on the opposite arm. He kisses up this one slower, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

“I want you quivering on my tongue.”

“Oh my-

“I want you moaning for me.”

She nods, lip drawn back between her teeth, thighs pressed together.

“I want to taste you, especially when you peak.”

“Wyll,” she moans.

“And I want to see it. Because I have to know how you do it.”

“Wyll,” she says more urgently.

He puts her arm down then leans back to finish unfastening her pants.

“Have to know if you go silent or if you scream.”

“Oh hells.”

“If it rushes out of you, drowning me in your essence. Or if it trickles out of you.”

She exhales again, a high pitched whine in her voice.

He has her pants undone, and reaches for her waist to start sliding them down.

“If you’ll let me keep going, even though you just came. And if I can slide a finger inside you and feel where I know you’re going to devastate me the most.”

She moans, long and needy. “Wyll, please. Please.”

He’s done teasing her for now, because he’s messed himself up in the process of trying to mess her up as well. He reaches for his own pants, undoing the laces and giving himself a little more room. He finishes sliding the fabric off her legs, smiling at the matching set of underwear covering her.

She looks so pretty in them. But she’s going to look better with them off.

He hooks a finger under the line of fabric on her hip, and teases.

“Wyll, for the love.”

He laughs at her insistence. Likes that he’s got her bossy here. He hopes his love for her will grant him enough stamina to stroke that tone out of her.

If not the first time, then later on. They really have all night.

“Take that off” he points to her bra, and starts to undo the lacings at her hip.

He undoes both sides, using a hand to grab them off her at the middle and tossing those to the side.

“Fuck,” he says lowly. “No, keep them spread,” he adds on, once he sees her closing her thighs out of sheer reaction.

She whines, doing as he said, and opening her legs.

For now, he’s done teasing. He grabs one of the pillows from the side and plants it under her lower back. He grabs another and asks her to sit up so he can set it under her head.

He grabs her legs and folds them back, and she remembers what he said and grabs the backs of her knees, fully baring her lower half to him.

He places a palm over himself and presses down as he stares at her. He stares at the hair there, getting a little light headed at how shiny she already is.

He looks further, daring to stare at something else he’s been wondering about, but isn’t ready to confess just yet.

He look at her face, sees the slight nervousness there, mixed in with her attraction.

“So beautiful,” he assures her, leaning down to kiss her stomach. “May I kiss you?”

“Please do.”

He kisses above her lower lips first, sighing at the touch of her curls against his mouth. When he goes lower, she jolts hard, already losing her grip on one of her legs.

“You alright, my love?” he looks up to ask.

“Yes,” she says. “You can keep going.”

He nods, maintaining that eye contact as he leans back down, pressing a kiss to her again.

He continues to do it, holding her gaze and watching her chest heave the more intense he goes with it. He slips his tongue out, adding it to his kisses, filling the air around them with the sounds. She is whining gently, but she is keeping her legs supported still.

He wants to make her buck again.

He opens his mouth and latches it onto the nub he was slowly coaxing from between her lips.

She hisses. “Oh. Oh, Wyll.”

He hums into her, closing his eyes for a moment and indulging in her taste. She’s already so aroused, it is strong on his tongue.

He wants to know specifically what she likes. Every body is different, and he wants to learn which actions were going to get her mewling for him the fastest.

So he tries a few things; he continues to suck at her, which causes her to grunt behind her bitten lips. He licks her; long, deep laps from the flat of his tongue. She likes it, and it causes more of her arousal to slip out of her.

He takes one more lap before curling his tongue and flicking it over her gently.

“Fuck,” she yells. “Yes. Yes, like that.”

He continues, alternating with flicking his tongue, sucking her into his mouth, and pulling back to breathe.

He chooses to move the time clock up a bit. He wants to slip a finger into her now. He shifts a bit from where he’s laying, bringing his right hand up to rub over her.

“Is this okay?” he asks, mesmerized by the motion of his own hand over her.

“Yes.”

He brings his hand down, flipping it palm up, and teasing his pointer finger against her opening. He gently eases it in and out, sinking more into her every few strokes. He’s panting, because she feels so silken and wet and-

“I cant wait to be inside you,” he says, continuing to move his finger in and out.

He goes back to her nub, continuing the pattern of flicking and sucking, along with moving his finger in and out of her.

“Can I put another one in?” he leans up to ask. “Huh?”

“Yes,” she whines. “Just…be gentle.”

“Of course, my love,” he whispers, bringing his middle finger up and teasing its entry as well. “I’ll be very kind to her.”

He slides it in along his first finger, and already feels that this is a tight fit for just two of his fingers for now. He gets lightheaded just thinking about pushing his cock in.

“Hmm,” she says. “It’s okay if you’re a little mean to her sometimes.”

He laughs, dark and suggestive. “Is that so? My love likes to be roughed up a bit?”

“More than a bit.”

“You’ll have to teach me how,” he reminds her.

“I will,” she assures, throwing her head back and letting herself get lost to the sensations.

He isn’t sure how long he’s at it, but he switches from staring at her glistening, heaving chest to his own fingers pumping in and out of her. He experiments with the speed, finding that a moderate pace with intermittent flicks of his tongue is what keeps her mewling. It takes him a moment to notice, but his own hips are thrusting into the ground.

She manages to keep her legs balanced while reaching her hands down to grab his horns. And though he had hoped she would, though he had thought about this, and picked this position specifically for that reason, it throws him.

He pulls back and hisses, feeling himself get a bit more untamed, opening his mouth slightly and letting drool slip down onto her.

She says something in praise, but it’s slurred and unintelligible. He thinks it was something in astonishment at his boldness. And he will be smug about that later when he can focus; he’s too lost in her right now to make sense of it.

It has been a while since he’s done this. A long while. But even when things went no further than this, he was always happy to engage in this activity. There was something so thrilling about having someone supplicate to him for something he could provide. Power of the tongue, and all that.

“Move,” she orders.

He takes his mouth off her and looks up. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m…I’m close.”

He grins, looking back at his current obsession, languidly thrusting his fingers in her. “Aiya, I didn’t know you were hard of hearing,” he accuses her.

She starts to curse him, head glued back to her pillow, and he laughs.

“You told me to tell you, and I did. I want to see how you do it.”

“You fucking-

“Are you going to soak me? Did you get shy about flooding my tongue?”

“Wyll,” she cries out. “I just…wanted to warn you.”

He thrusts harder. He might, unfortunately, finish in his trousers due to this. It’s fine. He has time with her tonight. Time he is going to spend stopping the clock.

“And I’ll heed your warning,” he says, before he sucks her once more. “But I’m ready.”

She exhales, and starts panting.

He discovers that when she’s finishing, at least from this, she goes relatively quiet. It’s just her breath, no bass to it. No true use of her vocal cords. Just her heaving chest, dry throat, trembling legs, and seeping cunt.

The tell-tale sign of her climax is the forceful stream that hits his mouth, rushing over his lips and down his chin. Some of it rushing up to his nose.

This is a prepossessing form of torture. He can’t breathe, and he doesn’t care because he is taken by the rush of her covering his face. The uncontrolled rise of her hips to his mouth is enough to melt his mind, and he stays there, letting her thrust against his face and push out that onus that’s been locked in her walls.

He notices he’s been separated from her because she is pushing him back by the horns. He stops resisting when he hears her whines, knowing she needs a break. But his brain-to-mouth grapevine is still telling him to use his tongue, and he latches onto one of her inner thighs and makes out with her there.

She is coming down, whole body trembling. It’s only when she sobs his name that he is broken from his reverie, lifting up to look at her face. And it is better than what he even imagined. Because she didn’t scream, and she wasn’t exactly silent either.

When she comes, she cries.

The tears flowing down her face are in pleasure, but he still swallows and moves over her, coming up to wipe them.

“Aiya,” he breathes.

“Fuck…you,” she responds, no real threat in her voice at all. Only the horrible realization of what he’s done to her; what he can do to her, when given the chance.

He leans down, letting his lips linger above hers before she demands a kiss, and meets her with tongue. Her taste is on him, in him. And he shares it with her freely.

It’s nothing else, for a bit. Nothing but their lips, tongue, and spit; swapping back and forth while she settles. He is bristling, but he can hold out a bit longer for her.

“Soon,” she says, disconnecting her lips and gazing up at him. “I’m going to shove your cock down my throat and keep you there.”

“Hells,”

“But right now, I need you inside me. I need you to stretch me more.”

He thrusts against her without thinking, letting her soak through the seat of his pants. “Are you sure?” he breathes. “I can let you take a moment.”

She sits up, pushing him further back while rising to perch on her elbows.

“The only thing I want to take is you,��� she says confidently. “But I would prefer to be on top. It’s easier for me, that way.”

He nods, kissing her deeply once more before pulling away completely so they can switch their positions.

He adjusts the pillow supporting his head the way he needs it for his horns. Since his pants were already unlaced, he starts removing them without her assistance.

He pulls them down, and sighs in annoyance that he didn’t grab his underwear along with it too. Once his pants are off, he reaches for the top of them, but she stops him.

“Allow me,” she says, on her knees between the spread of his legs.

He moves his hands and lets them fall to his sides, fingers already sporadically curling into the blanket underneath them.

He suddenly feels a slap of bashfulness as her hands are pulling his underwear off, because while everyone has seen these horns, they haven’t seen-

“Fucking hells,” she says.

And he knows it’s a compliment, but his face still gets warm.

“You weren’t joking,” she continues.

And he knows he’s talking about the comment he made about himself the night of the Tiefling party. The ridges and prongs in unmentionable places. He is surprised she remembers.

She pulls the garments the rest of the way, sliding her thighs on either side of his waist while looking down at him.

“How are you going to explain this to the others, hmm?” she asks, lowering herself to grind against his pubis. “How are you going to tell them how I died out here?”

He is so swept by the movement of her hips right above the head of his cock, but he burst out in laughter anyhow.

“You are dramatic,” he says, shaking his head.

“And you,” she combats, sliding down further to nudge herself against him, “are going to kill me.”

He moans, low and long because gods above and below she is drenched. She is wetting his cock with herself and he is now fearful that this will last exactly however long it took for him to realize he found her pretty. Which was no time at all. He realized it as soon as they had dispatched that small troupe of goblins outside the grove; noticed it while she was panting and sweaty and somewhat covered in blood.

And it’s not as though he’s had much alone time lately. With their new and temporary sleeping arrangements, he has less privacy than he had before. The luxury of a bed and four walls around him, but no luxury of a tent, perched a certain distance from others.

He hasn’t been indulging himself that much. But he certainly had, once or twice, slipped his hand underneath his bedroll and thought about her while he pleasured himself.

The contented attitude he had about taking her apart with his mouth has evaporated under the weight of her gaze and the thrust of her hips.

She sits up, lifting her hips up with it, and he still moans because he knows what’s coming.

“Let me know,” she says, grabbing him by the base, stroking her fingers around the ridge there, “if you need to stop.”

“Don’t let me finish inside you,” he responds. And it’s not because he doesn’t want it; it’s because it isn’t smart. And because he just knows once she sinks down, all higher thinking for him will cease.

Her smirk at him then is just fiendish, and perhaps he made a mistake, thinking that he had this force of a person bested.

“Is the Blade of Frontiers feeling beside himself?” she asks, letting her head loll back for a moment while she enjoys the heat of his tip teasing her opening.

He exhales, clenching his fists tighter. “I’ve never faced a threat like you.”

She doesn’t smile. In fact, her face falls. It settles into a gaze so serious and all-encompassing that he has to hold his breath.

When she attempts to make him sink into her, it’s only by a bit, and it’s enough to make him groan openly and loudly.

“Is that so?” she asks lowly. She leans over his torso more, keeping her hand where it is on his cock, and continuing to move herself up and down on his tip.

The wet squelch of her already has him undone. He wants to ask her to not talk while she does this, at least not now. Because it will be over embarrassingly quick.

But he can’t say anything right now. He is trying to even his breathing while feeling the best he has in his life, in a setting like this.

She does this for a few more moments, eyes closed and biting her lip while she concentrates. Despite his attention on her earlier, she isn’t quite opening up how both of them want her to.

Power of the tongue, truly. A maxim that extends to all kinds of settings.

He moans and speaks to her. “Let me in.”

Her jaw drops and her eyes widen, and she presses down onto him harder and lets the tip of him stretch her.

They both groan. The feeling is like coming home after a long, arduous day. It feels like he was supposed to know this all along. It feels like he’s supposed to be here.

She moans and moves her hand, letting both of them support her on his damp chest while she slowly moves back and forth, letting him breach her bit by bit.

When she reaches the first ridge, she squeals. She compliments him and sinks lower, more of her arousal covering his cock.

“Aiya,” he breathes, already feeling dangerously close, and she hasn’t even reached the root of him.

She doesn’t respond, just continues to undulate her hips so that more and more of him can fill her. When she sinks to the root, his lidded eyes are still open enough to see a tear slip out of one of hers.

He reaches a shaky hand up to her face.

“Are you alright?”

She shakes her head no, closing her eyes and letting her neck fall back again. “You’re perfect.”

It’s not exactly an answer, but he understands it well when she starts lifting and sinking herself on his member, slowly and steadily.

He keeps his hand there, despite his arm trembling. And the other takes place on her stomach, pressing there while she moves.

“I love you,” she whispers, eyes still closed. “I fucking love you.”

He should warn her now, he thinks. Go ahead and tell her that she maybe, at best, has a few minutes before he erupts. But he doesn’t; there is something more pressing he has to tell her.

“I love you too,” he responds, feeling the joy of the statement wash over him. “Now, show me.”

She makes him eat those words.

Despite his impending loss, he knows that as long as he gets to have her like this, he’ll never stop challenging her. He wants to continue winding her up with his words as much as he can, making her take it out on his tongue and throbbing cock. He wants this woman to end him, over and over and-

“Aiya,” he says, urgently. “I’m-

She answers by leaning back down, causing his hands to move and plant elsewhere instead. They support themselves on her ass as she continues moving on him.

“It’s okay, Wyll,” she whispers, leaning down to kiss one side of his neck. “Do it.”

“I am,” he groans, gripping harder. “But you need to move.”

She continues laving at his neck, moving up to his ear to entice him. “No.”

He loses it then, lifting his legs up at the knees and beginning to thrust into her instead.

“That’s it,” she encourages softly. “Take it.”

He doesn’t register the sounds leaving him that much. He knows they are open and needy and flowing through a staccato beat. But he keeps moving.

“It’s okay,” she continues, licking over his ear. “We’re okay. Magic has all sorts of uses.”

He growls, thrusting into her harder. Trembling with the implications.

“Yeah?” he asks, eyes closing.

“Yes,” she answers. “Inside, Wyll. Let it out inside me.”

He gasps, thrusting once more before feeling his entire body quake as he finishes inside her. His eyes are closed, yet he’s still dizzy. There’s no one out here but them, yet he’s sure he’s too loud. He should pull out still, but after the third rope, he’s locked to her.

Even as he comes down, he fears he’s too loud. But he will excuse it, this time. He hasn’t finished like that in…ever. Not even his first time, with the one he had known longer than Aiya.

She kisses him for a long time, moaning in annoyance when he slips out of her. But he can feel a drop of the mix of them fall back on his member, and knows it won’t be long before he’s ready to fill her again.

-

“So have you done this a lot, or…” she asks, trailing off to take a sip of her wine instead.

He huffs, caressing a hand over her stomach. “Define a lot?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure how to measure this by human lifespan standards. And honestly, it doesn’t need a measurement at all. I suppose what I’m asking is have you done this with more than one person?”

“Yes.”

“And,” she continues, setting her wine goblet back down on the flat stone by her head, “were they all partners of yours?”

He hesitates.

She turns to him then, long hair flowing over her pillow, and stares with something in her eyes. He asked her to get comfortable and take her hair down while he re-arranged the bed set he brought out here so they can rest for a bit.

“I see,” she whispers. “I know about your first one. Nasina, who I would like to meet, by the way.”

His brows show up. “You want to meet her?”

She shrugs. “You are the next Duke of Baldur’s Gate, if you choose. Gortash will cease to exist and your father will step down eventually. I assume all of those who were one your friends will want to come back. Especially your real friends.”

“I feel so stupid,” he begins, “asking you this now. After all this time, but Aiya…how old are you?”

She laughs; cackles. Loud enough to cut the air. “Oh my gods, I thought I had told you already. I’m one-hundred-forty years.”

He lets it sink it for a moment, not able to stop himself from making the very expected joke. “You are old.”

She’s gasping, trying to gather her bearings. “Wyll, I swore I told you.”

He is educated enough to know that is not that far above the age of maturity of Elves. He is unsure about Dragonborns.

“You certainly did not,” he says, bringing his caressing hand up to her face. “But it’s no matter.”

She smiles at him, bare body hidden underneath the sheet. “The last time you did this, when was it?”

“You insist on bringing up the past,” he laughs.

“For a reason.”

He studies her face, only finding intrigue there. He thinks he knows where this is going, but the only way to know is to jump over the edge.

“I was in Plainwater.”

She hums. “Nothing plain about that place. Anyway, go on.”

He swallows, turning to look up at the swaying tree branches above. “They do not use the standard terms of monarchy there, but by all definitions, this person a monarch.”

“I’m already hooked.”

“It was a deluge,” he says, setting the scene. “And it had ruined half their house’s crops, which were the most plentiful in the town. Without those, the support it provided the community was smashed.”

“Ah, so not a monster.”

“No,” he sighs. “Just the forces of nature, but it gave me the opportunity to help their house, and sharpen my diplomacy skills. The town had a meeting regarding their status. Their name was Ainsel, by the way.”

“Go on,” she encouraged.

“Somehow, I was involved in mediation. And somehow, I convinced the prominent townspeople to continue to respect their house as an authority. They were kind, and good. Had I not thought so, I wouldn’t have gone out of my way to defend them.”

He looks at her, and notices her eyes are closed, taking in the story. “I am unsure what I said that turned the tides, no pun intended, but it worked.”

“Congratulations.”

“And Ainsel was so…gentle about suggesting they thank me in a more…intimate way than gold. They still paid me in gold, by the way. But yes. It became physical.”

She opens her eyes then, gold staring back at him.

“Go on.”

“You are terrible,” he says. “What about this is enticing for you?”

“If you don’t want to continue, you don’t have to.”

“I…okay. Well, they insisted on thanking me in the most based way you could think of. And I tried to resist, truly. I didn’t believe doing good was a cause for any compensation like that.”

She turned toward him, supporting herself on her right shoulder. “So, what happened?”

“You want to know the details?” he asked with incredulity in his tone.

“I’ve only been asking.”

“Okay. Well, they cornered me behind their library door and insisted on using their mouth on me.”

“Now we’re getting to it.”

“It was…lovely. I truly was not going around the Coast looking for that kind of entertainment. But that time, I agreed to it.”

“That is so sexy.”

“What about that do you find sexy?” he asks, reaching a hand up to run through her loosened locks.

“I’m a bit too old to deny how gorgeous the image of one pleasing another is” she answers, a serious note in her voice. “You are handsome, and kind, and conscientious. To gift those qualities to another…I don’t know; it’s nice to think of.”

He loves the compliment, even if he has difficulty understanding the appeal of it.

“I gained an appreciation for the art of the tongue, after that.”

“As if you didn’t already have one.”

“Yes, but in an intimate way.”

“Yes, and I just bore witness to that.”

He runs his thumb over her bottom lip. “And what about you? Do you have an admiration for the same?”

“Oh, Wyll,” she answers. “You have no idea. And if you want an idea, I’m glad to show you. Only if you’re ready.”

And he is ready, except he…isn’t.

“Actually,” he says. “I need to…relieve myself first.”

He turns away, expecting her to laugh, but when she doesn’t make a sound, he looks back at her, only finding curiosity in her expression.

“You don’t have to go too far,” she suggests.

He is shocked; speechless.

She sees the look on his face. “Too soon? Another time, perhaps.”

“Please, have mercy,” he says, rolling over to go find a distant bush.

-

The wine is half empty, but it’s a good thing he packed water to keep them hydrated.

He’s on top of her, kissing her again. It is slower this time, lacking the desperation from earlier. But it still builds heat in his core.

He’s going to let her make good on her earlier comment, about what she wanted to do with her mouth. This time, instead of lying on his back, he props himself up against the tree trunk; a couple pillows supporting his back.

She’s lying down between his legs, already reaching for him. He’s already erect for her, but when she pauses her mouth right over his tip and looks up at him, he hardens even further.

He closes his eyes and tilts his head back a bit, wincing at his sensitivity, then moaning at the soft acceptance of her mouth.

Without thinking, he ends up propping up his legs at the knee, reaching his hands down and placing them on her head. He’s not moving her, but he just wants to feel her move.

She translates the action a different way.

She inhales through her nose and moves further down, taking him to the hilt. He groans and asks her to keep going, keep moving. But she doesn’t.

He looks down at her, and sees her looking up at him expectantly. He tests the waters by rolling his hips up first, languidly. She moans around him, and it causes his grip to tighten in her hair.

The next few moments are bliss for him. He’s gently thrusting his hips up, reveling in the soft sounds of him pressing against the back of her throat. She’s focused on being an opening, so she’s not focused on the mess that drools out of her mouth and onto his pelvis.

He pulls her off, keeping one hand buried in her hair while the other fists his cock.

“Will you, shit…Can I?”

She smiles at him, and that’s all the answer that he needs before he is releasing on her waiting tongue, holding her in place so she can take all of it.

He’s not as loud this time, groaning tenderly while he comes down. He welcomes her body coming up to press against his; enjoys the taste of himself in her mouth.

“You’re so handsome,” she whispers, kissing his cheek. “So beautiful.”

He gets her to lay back down and finds his face between her thighs again. She is less sensitive this time, as in she’s not shaking at every movement of his tongue, but she is responsive.

He wants to be on top his time, and he makes sure that’s okay before moving back up her body. He grabs one of her hands and laces their fingers, placing them by her head. His free hand is what he uses to tease himself and her; rubbing his cock over her.

“Get inside me,” she says, moving her hips up.

He presses against her opening, and slips inside, bit by bit. She hasn’t been opposed to the size of him at all, and she seems to adore the features this form has given him. But he is still cautious about moving in and out of her until he feels her open up and accept the rest.

He raises his other hand and links their fingers there too, leaning down to kiss her and thrust lazily into her.

It’s quieter this time. It’s just them, the wind, their sounds of love, and the slide of the sheets against the grass. Neither of them are thinking about anything outside of this moment; not what came before, and not the near future. He’s just a person loving another person in an archaic way.

He moves faster when he hears her gasping; he’s determined to get her to finish around him in the way he didn’t have stamina for earlier. It requires a steady, sure thrusting of his hips, and one of his hands slipping between them.

This thumb is pressed to her nub, and his fingers are splayed against her pelvis and the bottom of her belly. He presses down and she whines.

“Keep going, just like that,” she begs.

He does. The rock of his hips is only difficult to hold because he wants to move harder. But he is barely letting the fronts of his thighs kiss the back of hers. This is less about force and more about aim.

Her eyes are watery again, and he sighs, tells her he loves how she looks when she cries for him like that. When she asks for more, that’s when he thrusts harder, adding more sound to the air.

“Wyll,” she says, voice cracking. “I…

“It’s okay, love,” he says, biting his lip momentarily. “I have you.”

She locks eyes with him, letting the shine of them coupled with her whimpers tell him her end is near. He feels a prick behind his eyes as well, although it’s not from his oncoming climax.

He just loves her, and he loves this moment. He would never forget it for the rest of his life. And he hopes she understands that he meant what he said earlier before they started this physical dance. He wants her forever.

“Aiya,” he breathes, wavering. “I love you.”

She whines, whole body tensing. “I love you too, Wyll….Wyll, can I-

“Yes, love.”

Her face scrunches, and her high pitched keen falls to a low, broken moan as she releases around him. He thinks he might enjoy this feeling more than tasting her while she does this. He couldn’t pull out if he wanted to.

The fitful pulse of her orgasm does bring him closer than he thought he was. When she loosens, when her shaking stops, he lets force overtake aim, just for a few more thrusts, before pulling out and releasing her on stomach.

They are panting, covered in sweat, and so, so in love.

-

“Is there something you really enjoy doing in bed that we haven’t done yet?”

She hums, content in her position of lying on his bare chest. “Quite a few things, actually. But I did not assume we were completing the entire itinerary tonight.”

He smiles and keeps his eyes closed, running a hand over her back. “To narrow it down, then. Is there a position you prefer that we haven’t already done?”

“You’re asking me what my favorite position is.”

“Well, yes.”

She sits up, gazing at his relaxed expression. He cracks his eyes open slowly when he feels her fingertip trailing over his nose.

“We haven’t done it, yet,” she answers. “I’m tempted to let you guess.”

And Wyll knows there are so many angles they can do this from. So many ways they just can’t get done before the sun splits the horizon.

So he’d rather her just tell him, or show him, what angle truly ignites her so he can learn it, thoroughly.

He moves her searching fingertips, and kisses them.

They make out for a bit, more weight in their kisses this time. She seems primed and ready to go with the knowledge that he will be taking her in the way she favors.

She moves, asks him to move, and takes the space where he was, with her back toward him.

“Is that so?” he groans, one of his hands already wrapped around himself and stroking weakly. She is on her hands and knees, and she answers him.

“No,” she says, her tone leading elsewhere. Then, her body sinks onto the ground, front pressed against sheets. “This is so.”

He feels sweat prick the back of his neck. He may not be able to see her face, but he will still be close to her this way.

He leans over her, letting his length thrust between her cheeks and kissing the back of her neck when she sighs.

“Are you ready?” he asks. He prays she is.

“Fuck me,” she answers, pushing her hips up.

The angle allows him to slowly thrust into her, moving in and out until he gets the signal to start pounding her back to the ground.

This round feels a bit more primal. She’s loud and encouraging, and he’s propped up on his hands while dripping sweat onto her back.

His own sounds are high pitched and breathy. He does what she asks, and moves against her harder, disturbing the air around them.

It’s still the dead of night, but he has a brief wonder of what would happen if someone walked by. They are secluded, he made sure of that. But what if…what if-

He’s sure her cries would attract any potential passerby. They would clearly know what was happening just by the sound of it, but would they follow her siren call?

She makes him think of things that he hadn’t seriously considered, previously. He doesn’t want anyone else to see her like this, per se. But he doesn’t not want them to see him pleasing her like this.

It’s strange, yet the unfamiliarity of it entices him to fuck her harder, loving the whip-crack of her sounds.

“This is it?” he asks. And obviously. Obviously. She put them in this position. But questioning her seems to turn her on, in this environment. She mewls an affirmative, and turns her head to kiss one of his inner arms, right by this wrist.

“Together this time,” she whispers against his skin, resuming her peppering affections.

The soft press of her lips against his arm while he is doing nothing short of knocking her into her next orgasm makes him growl. And she doesn’t seem to want to raise her hips, so he cant really get a hand underneath her. But the wet sounds from between her legs makes him wonder if she’s already as close as he is. He can’t really tell this time around, because she’s been pulsing nonstop.

He learns down, licking one of her ear tips. “Are you close?”

She groans. “Yes. Yes, Wyll. Can you…just a little bit more?”

“As long as you need,” he lies. He doesn’t know why he says it, when everything about him right now is telling of his approaching climax. But something about the statement seems to kick her into high gear, and she nearly yells.

“Oh. I’m…oh. Wyll, love. Wyll!”

“Now?” he asks, burying his face in the side of her neck.

“Yes,” she hisses.

“Yeah?”

“Yes!”

“Inside you?”

“Please.”

“Deep?”

“Wyll-

“Say it.”

She’s already crying, and nearly out of breath. “Come inside me, please. Please, love. You feel so good; I want it.”

“Yeah? I make you feel good?”

She can’t answer him anymore. Any remaining breath she has is expended on her panting and moaning. And that’s answer enough for him.

It’s not quite synchronous. She is wailing, and she was already clenching, so the staple sign of it is the forceful rush flowing out of her and soaking him.

“Holy-

He can’t finish that statement. He grunts hard, keeping his hips locked to hers, filling her over and over. There’s nothing holy happening here, not in a pure way. Perhaps in a divine way.

 Exhaustion finally seeps in. He slides out of her to flop on his back, cringing when his horns remind him they are there. But he reaches for her and pulls her in, letting her pant into his neck.

“I love you,” she whispers. “I love you so much. I-

He grabs the back of her neck and gently moves her away so he can lean up and kiss her. “I love you, too. My time-stopper.”

-

The sun is barely up by the time they return to the Elfsong. They are quiet as they enter, hoping no one was already awake.

He swats her ass right as they get to the hall door, making her gasp and laugh before to leans back to kiss him over her shoulder.

She opens the door as quietly as she can, steps silent as they creep in. No sunlight has breached the room yet, but they do both stare at the companion sitting by the unlit fireplace.

Jaheira is sitting in a chair, book in hand. Yenna and Grub are a few feet away from her, still asleep.

She gives them a knowing look, smirking and whispering into the air. “Really, you two? All night?”

Aiya shakes her head and tries not to laugh. Wyll smiles and places a finger over his lips, warning her not to wake the others.

It is very much back to business once the sun is present and everyone is awake, but Karlach cannot read a room, and asks what time they got back in last night.

“Last night?” Astarion responds. “They crept in with the sunrays this morning.”

A few of their companions praise them for finally breaking the mold. Aiya is so clearly embarrassed, and Wyll pities her. But they are not too cruel, and he doesn’t care too much.

He loves her. And he wants everyone to know it.

[dispatchwithlove]

7 Snippets, 7 Mutuals

Thanks for the tag @misseffect @otemporanerys @dwarrowdams @diaphanouso

I'll tag @dulcidyne @westernlarch @sinelaborenihilsr2 @angry-jager @jtowwwn @serendipitys-teapot and @kalliesa

This is what I've been working on 😊 We've got some shakarian, some Halsin/Tav, and some Astarion/Tav

1) Singularity (shakarian)

Before Archangel opened his eyes his touch was tender.

Seconds after the words “you’re alive” left his mouth like a curse, he’s cupping her jaw as if he’s somehow found a tenuous hold on a ghost. He’s not hurting her, but it’s unsettling. If she could only take his hand again, beg the tenderness back by brushing her lips over his skin, kissing his knuckle.

His other hand is still anchored on her waist, holding her tight. His hips are tucked between her thighs. And he’s still inside her, though noticeably the pressure that had stretched her so deliciously is rapidly softening.  

The kindness in his ice-blue eyes is gone, too. They’re sharp and intimidating, scanning every inch of her face. Is he looking for proof? A sign? 

“You know me?” she asks, though she already has his answer, it’s written on him in quivering mandibles and stricken eyes.  

“Shepard,” he repeats her name, withdrawing his tight hand from her jaw, slips his hand from her waist. “What is this?” Guilt stains his expression as he tilts his hips back, pulls out of her like he’s violated her. Looking at the floor, he tugs his pants up around his hips and fastens them closed with agile flicks of his fingers; even horrified and spiraling, he’s steady.

So this is her kick.

2) Singularity (shakarian)

Jane looks down, and realizes her pants are still dangling from one knee, one boot discarded and cast to the floor. She pulls her pants leg up, jerks the waist back over her hips. ”Have we never…” she begins to ask, but the look in his eyes makes her embarrassed to say it. 

“Have we had sex before?” she finally manages. 

“No.” Archangel can’t get the words out quick enough, and it fills her with shame. “No,” he repeats. 

One no would’ve been sufficient. 

3) In Your Arms (shakarian)

Casually leaning against the bar in a black suit that cut against him in all the right places, Garrus looked like an absolute rake with a confident grin, a half-empty glass in hand, and eyes that drank her in. A little sigh snuck from the top of her tight throat.  

“Definitely worth the surprise,” he said. “Even better than I imagined.” 

Jane shrugged, even though it felt like her heart was melting straight down, gathering behind her sternum into a little pool and making it hard to breathe. 

4) In Your Arms (shakarian)

“I’d like to dance like turians this time, if that’s all right.”

“You’re in charge tonight,” Jane said with a little salute and a wink.

An amused rumble started in his chest. “I enjoy you saying that too much.”

“Then let’s get out of here.”

“Nice try, Jane, but you’re dancing with me.”

“Fine. Teach me how to dance like turians.” She smirked, holding her hands up ready for posing. “Use my body.”

5) Honey on Your Tongue (Halsin/Tav)

You tip your finger in, capture a dollop and because the honey begins to drip you quickly slip your finger into your mouth. Divine. Nectar of the gods. It warms your tongue, sweetens your palate. With your finger still between your lips you moan, nearly as loud as Halsin, though higher pitched, softer, more like a sigh.  

Embarrassed, your eyes dart to his, but the kindness in them settles your nerves. 

“Ah, a kindred spirit, you enjoy honey as much as I do.”

Those kind eyes blaze with heat when you pull your finger from your mouth, trying to catch the last bit of stick with your bottom lip.

6) You Wear the Sun Well, Darling (Astarion/Tav)

You open your mouth on his shoulder to let your teeth glide over his skin, his tight muscle. What goes through his mind when his teeth prick into your skin and your blood flavors his tongue? What goes through his heart? In your body is a bone-deep want, to know every bit of him, his body, his heart, his thoughts. At the curve of his neck you pause, 

He takes your chin with a curved knuckle and brings your face to his. Amusement sweetens his voice. “Are you going to bite me, my pet,” he traces his fingertip along the flat line of your incisors, presses against your minuscule canine, “with these little teeth.”

Excitement bubbles in your chest, you grin and nod.

After a short, dark hum, he clicks his tongue and his words drift out like glinting particles in a wash of light, “Naughty pet.”

7) You Wear the Sun Well, Darling (Astarion/Tav)

“Would you touch yourself for me?” he asks. 

Without a thought you move a hand to your thigh. It’s wild how instantly you want to do what he asks, always. Every word could be a command and you’d provide without hesitation, anything he wants, everything he wants. Your palm is hot against your skin, your fingers ready to feel, but you keep it planted in place to ask, “Would that make you happy?”

“It would make me something,” he says darkly, hungrily. “Call it whatever you’d like.”

You kiss him again, your lips kneading into his, plucking them like a bow string.  

“I will, for you,” you say. “But tell me what you want me to do, every step, tell me.” 

His eyes close, he presses his nose to your cheek, nuzzles into you with a vulnerable, kinetic affection that nearly makes your heart burst with both satisfaction and longing. 

“Slide your finger against your cunt, but don’t press it inside,” he says against your jaw.

“Only one?” you ask, hoping he tells you two is fine.

“Only one. I want to be the only thing that fills you completely.”

[mercymaker]

Tav NSFW Questions

As seen here, compiled and posted by @tragedybunny

What is your Tav’s sexuality/orientation preference?

Mal is very much bi (or pan, I guess?). She is weak for the ladies because they're so pretty and it can make her flustered so she tries to combat that by pretending that she's all calm and cool and unbothered. An absolute dork.

What are their biggest ‘NOs’ they will never consider doing during sex?

I'd say anything you'd consider "extreme", or anything that would seriously hurt her. The mental aspect is also quite important to her, so any words or actions that would harm or degrade her would be out of the question.

Are they a Top/Bottom/Switch?

At first, she's quite passive and submissive when it comes to sex, purely based on her inexperience and just being unsure of what to do and how to do it. There's a little bit of that pride in her that wants to do something well that prevents her from even trying in the first place, but eventually, as she gains more experience (and encouragement), Mal becomes more assertive and less passive, even when she lets someone else take the lead. So, I guess, once she gets to the place where she knows what she wants, she's kind of a switch? Maybe with a slight preference to letting her partner(s) take the lead?

Favorite Position?

Alright, so one time Astarion pinned her to the wall and fucked her till she saw stars and the whole thing is etched in her memory forever. There was something about that lowkey claustrophobic feeling of being trapped combined with his body pressed firmly against hers, getting overwhelmed by all the sensations and also not having to worry about finding support. Just wrapping her legs around him and enjoying the ride. I think that's the one.

Do they prefer giving or receiving? 

God, I can't believe I'm doing this to my own beloved character, but I do think that Mal's a wee bit of a pillow princess. At least at the very beginning. She just sort of... relaxes and enjoys whatever she's given. BUT! With time and experience her role does shift, especially when she realizes that her actions can absolutely melt her partner under her, so that newfound sense of power is very intriguing to her and in some way a bit intoxicating. Maleane becomes much more active and wants to learn how to give and be good at it, so in the end it depends on the day and the mood.

Tits or Ass?

Tits, chests, torsos, tiddies, boobies, all of that stuff! It's where the heart is! It's where love lives! But nah, Mal likes seeing, touching, suckin, lickin, all that good stuff, she might bite your nip nops a bit, so watch out!

How experienced is your Tav?

Before all the tadpole business and getting involved with the pale elf, Mal was a 100% forest-grown virgin, so not experienced at all! She does eventually pick up a thing or two from her vampire boyfriend but having no and then one partner for quite a while doesn't really make her someone I'd consider experienced.

Do they have any traumas around sex? 

It's not necessarily a trauma, but the first time Mal had sex was quite a complicated experience that left her somewhat hesitant to do it again. While she did feel attraction and wanted to experience getting all wild and dirty, Maleane was also pretty scared (there was a very real possibility she might get killed) and nervous, but tried to compensate for it by playing it cool and looking confident. In turn, she made it worse by encouraging roughness as she thought it would mask the fact that she's just a wee lil virgin girlie. So yeah, it was a mixed bag, and Mal would probably like to go back and change the way it happened, but not the fact that it happened. They got better at it, eventually. Mutual trust and all that stuff.

Do they have any taboo kinks?

I've been on this site so long, I honestly don't even know wtf is considered a taboo kink. Like.. is getting blood, biting, and ropes involved in your bedtime activities considered too nasty these days? Or is it the other way around? 🤷‍♀️

Would they want a polyamorous relationship? 

I don't think she'd necessarily seek a polyamorous relationship, but I also don't think she'd be completely against it. Mal wants to try so many things, so being with more than one person, when all the parties involved are cool with it? Yeah, pretty sure she'd be down to try. But then again, I'd consider Maleane a somewhat jealous person and considering how she doesn't exactly have a basis for a super healthy relationship, I'm not sure how long the whole shebang would last.

How do they feel about voyeurism? And would they do it?

Not to be a complete freak, but watching other people from afar is kind of her whole thing. Growing up, Maleane was not allowed to approach others, so she mostly just watched and observed them while being unseen herself. She witnessed some sexual acts as well, and that was sort of her first look at sex and intimacy. It doesn't feel weird to her at all, because that was just a part of her life.

How big is your Tav’s sex drive?

Mal struggles a bit with disconnecting her overthinking noggin, so it can make it quite difficult to relax and just fuck. As with most things, she learns how to manage it better with time, but she never quite catches up with Astarion. They find ways around it, though.

How many rounds can they last?

Not that many. I see her as someone who gets overwhelmed and overstimulated pretty easily, once it gets to that point. And considering how often times fighting discomfort in her intimate life is a pretty significant issue, the last thing she wants is to get more of it by pushing herself past her comfort zone. That being said, though, Mal does have her moments that surprise even Astarion, but those aren't very common.

What is their aftercare like?

Lots and lots of touch. She might not necessarily need a word of reassurance, but a touch with the same intent is what Mal needs. Holding hands, cuddling, soft caresses, all that. She wants to feel safe and appreciated, and it goes the same both ways.

What lingerie does Tav wear?

Coming from someone who lived nearly three decades in the woods wearing whatever the fuck was available to her, Mal quite likes all the pretty fabrics and clothes. I'm pretty sure that, when they can, Astarion likes to indulge this side of her by getting her pretty things, including lingerie. He gets to peel all of it off of her, after all. Maleane quite likes all the lacy stuff, but it's pretty expensive and not that common, so.. yeah. It's a bit of a special something.

Double penetration?

Gods, when I think of Mal she always seems so tense and tight, like a little clam, especially in the early days. I think it takes her quite some time to open up, both physically and mentally. She would like to try and maybe with some proper prep it could be achieved, but it's no easy task. It also depends on the, uh... dimensions we're working with here sdfsdfdsf.

Least likely person they’d ever consider themselves sleeping with.

Mal does have a bit of an issue with her fellow drow, so it takes her a looooooooooooooooong while to be comfortable to even be around them, let alone sleep with any of them. It's a lot of trauma in that department, so it's understandable.

How long since their last sexual encounter?

Considering she's in a relationship with Astarion, probably not that long, lmao.

Ok with period sex?

I think, yeah. Mal's nasty, she grew up in the woods wading through all sorts of stuff. The blood itself might not be an issue, but feeling like utter crap might not be the best premise for some "fun times", however, hormones work in mysterious ways so.. yeah!

Are they loud or quiet during sex?

She is surprisingly quiet in her little moans and whimpers. Which Astarion, naturally, takes as a bit of a challenge, he wants to make her truly sing. And yeah, eventually, Mal does let go a little bit, it helps her with the overall "shit, why am i constantly in my head through all of this?" problem, and allows herself to be just a tab bit more vocal.

Alright with Dub-con/CNC? Role Playing? 

I think Mal sits at the very edge of this very definition to the point of getting into the semantics of the word. Role-playing? Yes, that's one of her fantasies. But even that whole scenario comes from a place of tremendous trust, as she's quite fragile and just a single thought on how the situation could be real entering her mind would cause her to absolutely crumble. She doesn't want to be forced to do anything, but she does find the idea of pretending to be in certain risky scenarios very appealing.

Are they more serious at the moment? Are they humorous? 

Oh boy, at first, she's too serious. All tense and overthinking and making it more serious than it actually is. As with her general attitude, her views on it shift with time. She allows herself to have more fun, both in everyday life, as well as her sex life.

If your Tav has a vagina, do they like anal?

I wouldn't say she's someone who'd enjoy it often, but considering some of her kinks and fantasies, there are situations where it feels fitting and Mal prefers it in those scenarios. Like when she's feeling particularly submissive or when they're role-playing something or when she's feeling very naughty and wants to give someone "a treat".

Does your Tav want other people in a relationship? 

Yes and no. On one hand, she wants to experience a lot of new things and what life has to offer, just explore what's out there, so getting other people involved does sound tempting. But on the other hand, she's also quite jealous, so it depends on which devil on her shoulder wins that day.

How well groomed are they? Shaved completely? Does the carpet match the drapes? Etc.

I'm actually not sure how it all works with elves and stuff. Slippin' n slidin', no?

What is your Tav’s favorite place to have sex?

Mal likes to be comfy and relaxed, so... bed. But! A patch of nice comfy grass somewhere in a private location works just as well when one's not available. I know, quite boring, but you argue with her!

What about quickies?

She's not a big fan of those, but when you're on the road a lot getting into all sorts of situations, they just happen! When you're someone like Mal, it takes a bit of preparation to get her to a place where things feel good, so she tends to lean more towards, uh... less rapid scenarios.

Would Tav like to participate in orgy?

I think so! Just to see if it's something she'd like or not. After all the game events, Mal is out on a journey to explore the world and everything it has to offer. And I do think getting sandwiched between two bodies would do her good, maybe allow her to relax a little bit. She would need to build up a little bit of courage and experience for it beforehand, though.

Would Tav like to use gags?

Yes, if the situation calls for it.

Soft and slow or hard and rough?

It depends on the day and the mood. Considering how difficult at times it is for her to get into the right mindset for sex, it helps when things move slow and she's allowed some room to breathe and keep track of things. That being said, there are days when she's just horny and wants to be bent over and pounded. And then we have those situations where things start soft and slow and eventually lead to hard and rough.

What’s their favorite toy?

Considering that she spends a chunk of her time alone in the woods, I think a very simple dildo does wonders for her. The good ole reliable, as they say.

Does your Tav have sexual fantasies?

Oh, yes! For the longest time that's the only thing she had. Just imagining scenarios where she gets to experience all those things she read about or observed in the outside world. It helps that eventually she gets a boyfriend that she trusts enough to share those fantasies with, so they can both work on bringing some of them to reality.

Is there a companion they would sleep with but not want to date and why?

I'd say it's probably Wyll. He is incredibly attractive to her, but their personalities would lead to constantly clashing over things. She could put up her good girl appearance, but who wants to build a fake persona for a relationship to even have a chance of lasting?

Can your Tav not have sex for a long period?

Yes, I'd say so. Being able to be on her own is one of her core strengths, so not fucking someone for a while wouldn't bother her too much.

Who was your Tav’s first sexual experience?

It was Astarion. And it was stressful and scary, but also kinda hot at the same time? It's very complicated, but they managed to more or less figure it out, eventually.

Blood kink?

I mean, she's dating a vampire spawn, so you can't really walk around the whole blood thing, can you? Mal does indulge him in quite some blood-drinking during their activities, but she's very uncomfortable with Astarion putting those fangs on her neck, so he makes do with what he can: shoulders, wrists, thighs, tits, etc. And then one night when he returns from a particularly messy hunt, Mal opens the door to her boyfriend being absolutely drenched in blood and that, uh, that very much turns her on! So not only does she kiss his bloody mouth, tasting all that sticky red on his skin, Maleane also gets a bunch of it on herself when she fucks him like there's no tomorrow.

Spanking?

A cheeky slap on the bum every once in a while, especially during the act, I can see her entertaining. Anything more than that, she would probably decline.

Will they want to have sex during pregnancy?

Does she want to? Yeah, those hormones be wildin, after all. (Un)fortunately, for ms. preggers Mal she's all alone in the woods with no one to smooch, so wish all you want lmao.

What was the worst moment your Tav felt lust?

I mean. She finds watching Astarion doing his thing very attractive. They also kill a lot of things on their journeys. You put two and two together.

What is your Tav’s class and how does it affect their sexual life?

She's a storm sorcerer, so magic's always brewing somewhere within her. However, Mal tries to not involve it in her sexual endeavors as her type of magic is quite dangerous and a lot of it is tied to her emotions so creating an association between those sort of feelings might lead to some literally explosive orgasms sdfdsf. Besides, while traveling with Astarion, she already uses quite a lot of her spell-power, so there's usually not that much left for the, uh, extracurricular activities.

How naughty are they? Does Tav like to tease?

I think somewhere along their journeys she finds quite a bit of mischief in her bones. It's sort of hard not to when you're constantly volleying with someone like Astarion. She does like to tease him quite a bit, especially in order to "provoke" him to do things to her. Often times, he doesn't need much, but he enjoys seeing her get all playful, so at times he pretends to be much more resilient to her charms.

What is your Tav's safe word?

It has to be "red", no? Because blood and vampirism and all. Yeah, I think that works.

Does your Tav like oral? Giving or receiving

Yes yes yes, Mal loves getting her pussy devoured. With Astarion, at times it comes with some nibbles to her thighs, but she considers it a fair exchange. When it comes to giving, she's a little bit more hesitant because she's not very experienced and also she can't handle a lot. But she tries, god bless her heart, she tries so hard!

Does your Tav like handjobs? Giving or receiving

She actually does! Considering Mal's not always comfortable or willing to do penetration, sometimes she chooses to employ her hands to please her partner. And with a lot of pointers and questions, she gets pretty good at it!

Does Tav like bondage? Being tied up or tying up your partner?

If there's enough trust between them involved, then absolutely yes. She likes being tied up, pinned down, restricted, but she also likes to tie her partner up when it's her turn to take the lead. And because early on she's a bit unsure and not that comfortable in a dominant role, restraining her partner gives her a bit of a prop to work with.

What does Tav consider “cheating”? 

Probably getting involved in any sort of sexual or emotional situation without her knowledge. After all, her and Astarion go on some wild adventures that involve sucking and fucking a bunch of other people, but as long as they keep communicating with each other, it's all good.

What spells does Tav use during sex (i.e. “silence” because they are too loud)

I have a feeling she would try to keep the use of magic in the bedroom minimal, BUT I can also see Astarion coaxing her into trying some things out. Definitely everyone's favorite Mage Hand and something like Hold Person for some uh... fun times.

Is your Tav into breeding?

No, she already took one creampie too many and had a case of a baby. Though, she does brew some plan b tea alongside all of the other potions and poisons, so she doesn't particularly mind her partners coming inside (for some tea dgdfg).

What makes your Tav absolutely horny?

Not to sound like a nun or something, but seeing her partner naked and doing some suggestive shit. When it comes to Astarion, him + a blade does something to her she cannot fully understand. Just the way he handles a dagger, how quick and precise he is.. HIS FINGERS???? HMMMMM YES.

What part of their partner’s body does Tav like the most?

Arms, hands, fingers, cock. Maleane gets a bit mesmerized watching Astarion do things with his hands. Picking locks, playing with cards, handling a dagger, all that good stuff. Mal's all heart eyes over that.

I've also answered this before in an ask so I'm just gonna drop it here as well:

From the moment she met him, Mal thought that Astarion was absolutely beautiful (yea, peak drow features - red eyes and silver white hair sdfsdfsd). But very quickly she gets somewhat obsessed with his arms and fingers. The way his muscles flex when he holds a bow? How quickly and precisely his fingers move, making all the traps and locks just crumble under his delicate touch. The way they eventually find what makes her body quiver too.

And then I reckon it would be fair to include Halsin since Mal's actively smooching him in my mind as I'm typing this. She loves his chest! It's so warm and fuzzy and when she rests her head against it, she can hear his heartbeat and it feels very intimate and calming. It's also a pretty good base to rest her hands on when she's on top of him.

What parts of Tav’s body does their partner love the most?

I also answered this before soooooo:

Astarion loves her mouth, her lips. He's quite in awe how she makes other people open their doors the way he does with locks without a key. And he soon finds out that often times it's that smile, one that could only be described as "disarming", that makes people drop their defenses. Sure, there's something playing behind her pale lilac eyes as well, but the man's focused on her mouth more often than not. And throughout the years he notices the very subtle differences when that smile is honest and when it's not. He's drawn to the way she laughs around him. How her lips feel and taste when she kisses him, how warm they are when she presses them against his skin or when they're wrapped around him.

Lights on or off?

I mean, they both have darkvision, so it's not like it matters too much.

How sensitive are your Tav’s nipples?

The normal amount?

Does Tav like using sex potions \ spells? (which make them more horny or allow to make more rounds)

Honestly, I kind of see them experimenting with some things, for sure. Just to try them out. Like shrooms that makes you mega horny? Why not?

Does Tav initiate sex more often than their partner?

While Mal does initiate it at times, it's nothing compared to Astarion. I think it's also because he's much more comfortable and suave in that department and Maleane feels like she's stumbling in the dark more often than not.

i'm tagging either the closest pals OR any of you that encouraged me to do this ♥ if you don't want any part of this, let me know and imma promptly remove your tag!

@ruinbringer @euryalex @arduath @baldursgaye @sorceresslodge @vspin @kiaransalee @ansburg @sageofthestrange

[druizard]

OC Smash or Pass

I was tagged twice so I'm doing one for both my Tavs!

See Aislyn's here!

Thank you @callmethebrightness and @orangekittyenergy for the Tags!!

Copy-pasted Rules: pretty self explanatory. include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. the “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc).

TAV: Beetle of Elturel

Species: Asmodeus Tiefling Height: 5'8" Age: 32 Gender: Female (she/her) Sexuality: Pansexual/Polyam

Pros:

Empathetic and compassionate. Confident enough in herself to hold you and keep you on your feet.

Never expects anything of her partner except respect.

Rarely loses her temper.

Sensitive, prehensile tail. (think about it)

The definition of a switch. Perfectly happy as bottom or top, no matter what you look like or identify as.

Cons:

Sleeps so deep, only a thunderwave can wake her up. Probably drools in her sleep too.

Clingy Sleeper with a very warm (hot, even) Tiefling body.

Spends all her time with her chosen family. If Lia, Cal or Rolan doesn't like you, you're shit out of luck with Beetle.

Comes with A LOT of baggage from a traumatic past.

Big horns get in the way sometimes (But make good handlebars!!)

You are tagged if you wanna be!!!! <3

[snotsloth]

There's this really great writing advice post:

Basically it's about how if you have a major defining trait of a character, you should subvert that trait at some point. For example, "if you write a confident genius, make them be wrong, or get stumped once in a while." Characters, like people in real life, should have a certain amount of inconsistency.

But more than that, it's important to show a character reach a point where their normal skills and behaviors are not enough to get them through it. This is often a turning point, a scraping of the bottom of the barrel, a revelation, a fuck it might as well moment. A character falling to pieces is an opportunity to build themselves back into something new.

Of course, I immediately started thinking about Baldur's Gate 3 because the worm has eaten my brain. But this is one of the reasons the writing in BG3 is so good. Every character is their own foil. They're all inconsistent, multi-dimensional, and messy. And it's in the mess we see who they really are. Not only are all the companions this way (maybe minus Minsc) but so are many of the side characters also have this level of complexity.

Here's just some examples from the top of my head:

Astarion, the seductive flirt is actually viscerally averse to physical touch

Shadowheart, the emotionally distant bitchy character who keeps more secrets than Tav keeps loot is actually so compassionate and loving that her goddess has to keep wiping her mind to keep her in line

Gale is the most gifted wizard in generations, and he knows it and will talk about it brazenly but he has spent the past handful of years as a complete shut-in with only a winged cat for company.

Wyll is the brave folk hero, full of bravado and braggadocio, but he agonizes over every major decision and frequently doubts his own judgement on things.

Karlach is a giant, super strong warrior who can literally set herself on fucking fire, but she has a heart of glass and just wants someone to be gentle to her.

Lae'zel is a true believer who has to come to terms with the fact that her goddess is a conwoman.

Halsin is set up as this wise, powerful leader who has been arch druid for over a century but once you get to know him he confesses that the role was kind of forced upon him and he's felt trapped the whole time.

Jaheira similarly is a wise, clever and experienced older adventurer but dislikes reminiscing on the past and prefers to only look forward.

The Emperor claims to be on your side, that your fights are the same fight, but if you refuse to do what it wants, eventually it will abandon you because the Emperor's top priority is its own survival. But on the other hand! It also demonstrates the capacity for sentimentality and regret over the companions it has lost to fate or its own decisions over the centuries.

Even Zevlor! In act one, he comes across as a hyper-competent leader who has kept the core of his community together and alive through literal hell. But at the end of act two you can find out that he ultimately failed when The Absolute promised to restore his former paladin powers to him if only he swore himself to her, AND HE DID! Like he quickly comes to regret that decision but he still fucked it up when it mattered most. And the game doesn't show this as necessarily "he was a shit leader all along" it's more like "everyone is capable of terrible things under the right circumstances."

Okay enough rambling. This game is really fucking good y'all and the character work is fantastic and I probably will not shut up about it for at least a few months.

[nsfwordwitch]

Kinktober 2023 Day 9

Prompt: Stripping Pairing: Gale x agender hafliing Tav 767 Words

🔞Adults Only Blog🔞

"I appreciate the patience with which you wait for me to finish speaking, my love, but if you have something to say, it might sometimes be wise to interrupt me."

"I'm just thinking that…well, we have um. Shared each other's bodies a few times now, but I still have yet to see you…completely…naked. Each time we've laid together outside of the Weave, you've stopped me from taking off your shirt."

Thistle, usually so calm and collected, is fiddling with one of their cuffs. "That's true," Gale says, guarded. "Is that something you consider, well, necessary?"

"Necessary? No, nothing between us is necessary, Gale. It's just that you seem reluctant and I wonder if there's anything I can do? If there's a reason you're holding back…"

"Not in so many words. I…" He looks at Thistle, considering his words. "After spending a year in seclusion, I do somewhat fear my body is not quite in the shape I would like. Or which I feel you desire or deserve."

"What?" Thistle asks with a laugh, and Gale feels worse than he already did. "But when we were in the Weave–"

"It's possible that, in my fervor to delight you as much as possible, I…embellished my appearance on that occasion."

"Oh Gale," Thistle says. "That was not at all necessary. Or wanted."

Gale takes a deep breath. "It is silly, in retrospect. But I don't know if I have the confidence for it, just yet. Not while the orb still marks my skin."

Thistle puts their hand on his and holds his gaze for a moment. "I don't want this to be a debate. If you really aren't comfortable with it, we'll drop it. I just want you to know…that…I want to see your body. Top to bottom."

The embarrassment and pure desire on their face lights a fire in Gale's belly. He huffs a laugh, and smiles. "Well, when you put it like that…" He leans in and kisses Thistle softly. Their lips tremble below his.

"How about we go piece for piece?" Thistle suggests. "I can start."

"Respectfully, my blossom, that's hardly a fair trade. You are much freer with your body than I am with mine."

Thistle shrugs as they unlace their waistcoat. "I'll be wanting my clothes off soon enough, anyway. Won't I?" They raise an eyebrow on that, and Gale laughs. They toss the waistcoat over the side of the bed, then lean back against the headboard expectantly.

Gale takes a deep breath and rises from the bed. He undoes the button at the back of his tunic and pulls it over his head. Rather than drop it immediately, he holds it in place over his chest and looks at Thistle. They are looking back at him with wide eyes and parted lips, and a wave of feverish lust crashes over him. He lets the shirt fall, grateful to have the layer of his undershirt still on him.

"What next, Gale?" Thistle asks.

"Trousers," Gale says firmly. Thistle reaches below their belly and unties their trousers, then shimmies out of them and kicks them aside. They stretch out on the bed, lounging on their side and watching Gale with a smile. Gale is quite gratified to see the growing bulge in their underwear.

He follows suit, untying his own leggings and bending over to remove them–so inelegant a motion! But Thistle watches him still, with that hungry look in their eye.

"Shirts next?" they ask.

"Shirts last, please."

Thistle nods, and puts their thumbs in the waistband of their underwear. Gale watches their member spring into view before the underwear is tossed away. He feels embarrassed of his own erection, obvious even before he strips away his own nethers. Such an outward sign of his inner thoughts…but why should he be? The only person who can see it is the one person he wants to see it.

Thistle looks from his crotch to his face and smiles. "The last piece," they say. Gale nods. Thistle sits up to kneel on the bed and pulls their shirt off, laying it carefully beside them. They say nothing, and watch Gale.

He takes a deep breath and finally removes his last stitch of clothing. He forces himself not to cover his too-soft stomach with his arms, but feels foolish with his alternative of letting them hang at his sides. He looks at Thistle looking at him, and finds no disappointment, no distaste. Only an expression of lust, and love. They meet his eyes.

"Come here," they murmur, "where I can put my hands on you," and he obeys.

[cutsliceddiced]

New top story from Time: “My Mother Taught Me Exactly One Thing.” Bess Kalb on Being the Only Daughter of an Only Daughter

My grandmother Bobby Bell helped raise me. From the hour I was born, she was a constant presence in my life and as I grew into adulthood, she became my closest confidant. When she died in 2017 at the age of 90, I started writing her life story in her voice, speaking to me from beyond the grave. Nobody Will Tell You This But Me is the story of our relationship as only she could tell it.

  THE FRUIT OF THE VINE

  MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME EXACTLY ONE THING and it’s how to make brisket.

It doesn’t take a genius.

The key is you just leave it alone. You put the side of beef in a large pot, pour in whatever—red wine, tomatoes from a can, some carrots cut up, a half an onion, a fistful of kosher salt, a potato for your grandfather—and let it sit on a very low flame. I’d pour in some water if it got too dry, but otherwise, it required very little effort. You could forget about it for the entire day and there it would be. Don’t say I never taught you anything.

How you loved my brisket. You didn’t care if it was tough. You loved the taste of the gristle on the edges and the char from the bottom of the pot. Before you came over to the house in Ardsley for Passover or break the fast or what have you, you knew there would be brisket. You’d talk about it like a fiend. “Is it time for brisket yet?” “Grandma, is there going to be enough brisket?” Always with the appetite. Your parents never made beef because of your father’s cholesterol, so you were probably very anemic. You needed the blood running through you.

It’s my mother’s recipe, more or less. She wasn’t religious, but she felt it was very important to have everyone over to the house in the Greenpoint neighborhood of Brooklyn on Friday nights for Shabbat dinner. There wouldn’t always be beef, but there’d be liver or sweetbreads or tongue. If you stew it long enough, what’s the difference?

My brothers were all grown up and out of the house, and every week she’d invite them with their wives and their children to her dining room table—the same table where we were all born. She’d preside over the whole thing. She’d stand up, bang her fist on the table, take one of my father’s matchbooks from her apron pocket, and strike a match. You could hear a pin drop. She’d lean her enormous breasts over the table and light two long candles in their brass holders she brought from Russia and shake out the match.

Then she’d put a kitchen cloth over her head. Like a looming ghost, she’d very slowly lift her hands up in front of her eyes and chant with her head bowed, her hands lilting back and forth with the incantations.

“Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvo-sav”—which was incorrect, it’s b’mitzvo- tav with a t not -sav with an s, but that’s how it was in the Yiddish pronunciation—“vitzivanu l’hadlik ner shel Shabbos.”

Then still under the cloth she’d say to my brother, “Georgie- zun, vayne!”

Georgie would wink at me and foist up a cup of wine, his chest all puffed out. He’d mouth along dramatically like an opera singer, and I’d try not to laugh as she continued on in her trance.

“Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, boreh p’ri hagafen.”

Blessed are you, Adonai, for giving us the fruit of the vine.

Imagine calling a jug of my zayde’s forty-cent kosher wine “the fruit of the vine.” Hardly.

Then she’d take the cloth off her head and fold it back up on the table, just as her mother had done before her, and hers before her, and hers before her, and so on. And there she’d stand, solemn as a statue, beholding all her creation.

  So decades later I’d have the family over for Seder and we’d all be at my house in Ardsley in our nice clothes under the crystal chandelier. I’d stand at the head of the table and everyone would shut up. I’d light the candles in the same brass holders and I’d blow out the match and put my cloth napkin over my head. I didn’t say the prayers—I never really learned the words. But I hummed softly to myself and rocked back and forth under the veil. You asked me what I was saying. “Rose, Rose, Rose.” My mother’s name.

Bessie, you are the only daughter of an only daughter of an only daughter. The fruit of the vine.

  THE SLEEPOVER

  Neither of us has ever been any good at falling asleep. We’re wired the same. Always something to do. Something to read. To eat. To worry about. The two of us, lying awake at midnight, staring up at our ceilings, two minds whirring in the dark.

Do you remember Eleanor Porter? You adored her—she was a kind, polite child. You both read those historical fiction books about colonial dolls who came to life. Do you know whatever happened to her? You mustn’t lose touch with your friends, honey. Look her up online.

Anyhow. When you were about eight years old you were over at Eleanor’s house for a sleepover and you couldn’t sleep. You had tossed and turned in your sleeping bag on the floor, and you had worked yourself into a cold sweat. You got in your own head. What could you possibly be so stressed about at eight years old? Whether your dollhouse was up to code?

This had happened before. At that girl Rebecca’s. At Claire’s on her birthday. At Stephanie’s just a few weeks before. Your mother had warned you it would happen again. She told you to leave after dinner. That she wouldn’t pick you up later than ten. That you needed to “know yourself.”

But you wouldn’t accept defeat. Not on her terms. So dinner came and went and you felt fine. And you changed into your pajamas and you watched the movie with the other girls with your teeth grinding in your skull, and you felt the adrenaline rise in your chest and you readied yourself for lights out. You got into your sleeping bag and you were immediately in hell. The clock on the wall was ticking too loudly. The carpet beneath you had a staple in it you could feel through all your layers. The tag in your pajama pants was stabbing at you. You were doomed.

And there was no way you could call your mother. You refused to hand her this victory, no matter how desperately you needed to get into your own bed. But there was another way. Grandma.

It was eleven p.m. and you wriggled out of your sleeping bag and tiptoed down into the kitchen, picked up the phone, and dialed my number in Ardsley. It was one of the three numbers you knew by heart.

I was at the front door in my cream-colored Acura in thirty minutes. I insisted you tell the girl’s parents—I didn’t want everyone waking up and calling the police. You had to walk into their bedroom with your tail between your legs and tell them you were leaving. They didn’t mind the late hour, they were sympathetic; Eleanor’s mother was a kind woman.

You gathered up your things, handed me the sleeping bag, and I piled you into the backseat and drove you straight to your parents’ house. It was only fifteen minutes away, but you were sound asleep by the time we pulled into your driveway.

I sat with the news on the radio and let you sleep like that for half an hour before I scooped you up and carried you inside like a rag doll.

You were eight, not some toddler. My back hurt for a week.

Your mother was in the living room wide-awake, of course. She’d been expecting your call.

Excerpted from NOBODY WILL TELL YOU THIS BUT ME by Bess Kalb. Copyright © 2020 by Bess Kalb. Excerpted by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

via https://cutslicedanddiced.wordpress.com/2018/01/24/how-to-prevent-food-from-going-to-waste

[leighsartworks216]

Designated Lockpicker

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Inspired by this post

Saw this and I HAD to write something about it. It only took me until 11:45 to finish it but it's okay I'll suffer the consequences

Warnings: one swear word, reference to Astarion's past abuse, mention of a terrible texture, innuendos

Word Count: 1,219

Masterlist

AO3

You poke your head into the room. Dust motes float through the air, which reeks with musk and mold. You'd probably cover your nose and seek fresh air if this wasn't the millionth time you’d smelled it.

Your eyes scan along the walls, floor and shelves, searching for anything interesting. Food would be nice - Gale wouldn’t stop pestering you for ingredients to cook with. Bandages wouldn’t hurt either if it would ease Shadowheart’s workload every time you got into a minor scrape.

The room was rather sparse, but it looked like it may have been a study at some point. Books were scattered everywhere, chairs were tipped on their sides or had broken legs, a desk was angled oddly for its placement. Whoever lived here before, they must have left in a hurry. Which was excellent news. Maybe they left something behind.

From the other rooms of the building, you can hear your companions’ muffled voices. You can only make out one or two words as they speak. Karlach seemed to be talking to Astarion; Wyll and Gale were going back and forth further away. You couldn’t hear Shadowheart or Lae’zel, but this didn’t surprise you.

The floorboards creak and groan as you step into the study. Stray beams of light keep the gloom away, for the most part. You can almost imagine how lovely it once was.

You go to take a book off the shelf, but immediately draw your hand back when the binding squishes at the slightest pressure. You scowl in disgust and wipe your hand on your pants to remove the gross sensation. Unfortunately, your more learned companions would not be getting any new reading materials today.

Against the far wall, stationed behind the desk, was a dresser with a glass case on top. All the case had was scrolls, damp and turning green. Any information they may have held was gone.

You grab the handles of each drawer in turn, sliding open the dresser to reveal its contents. A vial of ink here, another useless scroll there - nothing exciting. Until you open the bottom drawer.

Poorly hidden under some loose paper was a chest. It appeared to be made of metal, hardly rusted despite its surroundings. For its size, you were shocked how heavy it was when you lifted it out and set it on the desk just behind you. The lock didn’t look too complicated. You had some spare lockpicks in your pack, you could easily grab one and get it open. You could.

Instead, you leave the chest where it is and step into the hall. You try to listen for your friends, again, but they seem to have done deeper within the establishment. So you do the next best thing: “Astarion?”

The shout travels down the building, and from one of the rooms pops out the vampire spawn. He seemed confused why you’d be calling him of all people. But the confusion is quickly masked with suave confidence as he sauntered down the hall to you. “Yes, dear?”

You smile sweetly at him. “I found a locked chest. Could you help me open it? Please?”

He smirks and taps a finger under your chin, getting you to tilt your head upward with just one motion. “Since you asked so nicely.”

He follows you back into the room. His nose scrunches with the smell of rotting books, but the look is gone as soon as he sees the chest. You round the desk and turn it around toward him. He can’t stop his smile as you rest your arms and chin on top, still fixing him with that darling look.

This had become a habit, to his mind, anyway. For you, this was an enrichment of sorts to provide Astarion with a sense of purpose. Late night talks had made it abundantly clear just how much he loved feeling useful. For two centuries he was used, his autonomy stolen from him for the sake of his master. But little tasks like this did not feel like an imbalance in power. He would open whatever lock you wished for the praise you showered on him alone, but you also ensured he got his pick of whatever was inside. He was being rewarded for his services, something that never happened before - nothing good, anyway - and you loved giving him his moment to shine.

He just assumed you couldn’t pick a lot to save your damn life.

“I’m beginning to think you just like watching me,” he teased. He produced a pick from his pocket and began working away at the lock. “Trying to learn my trade secrets, are we?"

You hummed, looking down at his hands as they moved together fluidly. He could do this in his sleep. “Never. I just love watching you work, that’s all.”

He chuckled. “Really now?” He lifts his attention from the lock to look at you, hands pausing in their ministrations. “And what is it about my work that you enjoy so much?”

You meet his gaze. He can only describe the look you give him as fond. Love seems to rest in your irises, gleaming back at him, on display for the whole world to see. “Your hands,” you answer, and while it was supposed to be part of your playful banter, you say it so genuinely. “You’re always so precise, like you just know exactly what needs to be done before you even start. It reminds me of your embroidery.”

“And here I thought it was for more depraved reasons.” It’s a deflection. He still isn’t used to being seen like this. Seen by you. He still thinks of the way you describe how his hair curls around his ears, and how his face wrinkles when he laughs. “I’m always happy to give you a hands-on lesson, my sweet. Just say the word.”

“And if I ask for you to teach me how to embroider?”

His devious smirk relaxed into a soft grin. He nods. “It would be my honor.”

Silence takes over as he returns to his work. It’s warm and welcoming, despite your surroundings. Basking in the quiet felt easy around him. He could be reading a book, and you’d slot yourself right next to him, and never was there an expectation for him to stop to entertain you. You just wanted to be around him. It meant more to him than you could ever know.

With a final turn of the pick, a faint click comes from the chest. He seems to puff up with the success, like an all-too-proud bird. He slips the pick back in his pocket and steps back as you round the desk. Instead of going straight for the chest, you cup his cheek in one hand and press a kiss to the other. His cheeks would be positively flushed if he had the blood for it.

“Thank you, Astarion,” you whisper against his skin, pressing another kiss to his cheek right after. He leans into the heat of your hand.

“It was my pleasure, darling.”

You pull away with a grin that could put the sun to shame. You turn to open the chest, eager to know what hides behind those metal walls, and he cannot stop admiring how perfectly a stray beam of light hits your skin.