#Dwarf with long limbs

[lairofdragonagelore]

DLC: Jaws of Hakkon - Frostback Basin, Stone-Bear Hold Avvars - Part 2

Although it is often referred to as a single entity, the Avvar are actually groups of small tribes who share their beliefs and culture but otherwise operate independently of each other. They were part of the tribes of the Alamarri who crossed the Frostback Mountains in -1222 TE [more than a thousand years before the creation of the Tevinter Imperium] to escape what legend says it was a "shadow goddess".

In this post, the following topics inside the DLC are treated

Stone-Bear Hold: houses and statues

Trials and Justice

Miscellaneous objects

The Hakonnite and Avvar’s understanding of their Gods

 [This is part of the series “Playing DA like an archaeologist”]

[Index page of Dragon Age Lore ]

Stone-Bear Hold: houses and statues

The Hold has two entrances; one through the Swamp, which path is guided by statues of a variation of the Keepers of Fear.  

This entrance guides us to the cliffs where we see more avvar statues made on stones over the sea, in this case a variation of a Keepers of Fear. It’s curious they are giving their backs to the sea, and the scream is directed to the Hold.

The other entrance of the Hold is placed at the south of the map. In this part, we find people carving the stone, creating a standard Keeper of Fear and, for the first time, we see a statue of Korth, the Mountain-Father.

The throne of Thane is very tribal and humble. We find these monoliths with ropes, that are easily seen all over Ferelden [Crestwood], and behind the throne, a big statue of a Dwarf with long limbs, probably as a tribute to the presence of Dwarven lineage among the Avvar [and other descendants of the Alamarri like the Chasind]. There is a spooky pottery beside the throne too.

In another house, we see a room for celebration such as a marriage. It’s particularly cosy and well decorated.

Inside this celebration room, we find a bard who explains to us the legend-marks, the names that replace the "family name” of the Avvar. These marks work like a title related to their actions or to an iconic aspect of a person.  We also can infer the avvar surname system: it’s basically a way to say of who you are daughter or son. Men use *name_of_parent*-sen while women use *name_of_parent*-sdotten. 

The rest of the houses look like ibero-celt houses, circular buildings with a central fire in them.

Visiting some houses where they work on the storage of food of the hold, we trigger codices such as The Naming of Stone-Bear Hold, where the legend of the stone-bear hold is explained: time ago, the people of this hold had lost hope in finding food and shelter during a hard winter, but one of them saw a great bear that guided him to his place. When the person inspected the bear closely, he realised it was made of stone, thus the name of this hold.

Another codex triggered in a house that was curing meat is On Avvar Cuisine where it's explained the hard work Avvar have to do all year in order to preserve and storage a good amount of food for the winter. They live the rest of the year preparing for the next winter in an endless, hard-to-endure cycle. Despite this rush, they always leave high-quality food offerings to the spirits around the hold, because they protect them.

Curiously, on top of the hold there is a statue that in Emerald Graves: The open we have found with the unreliable landmark called The guide, telling us that this could potentially be a representation of Falon'Din, but I doubt it. We know that Falon'Din being the "guide" was a posterior misinterpretation of the Dalish. The truth is that we don't have a more or less reliable source to know what or who this statue represents beside this codex.

By the end of the Hold we find the house of the Augur, which I talked about in the first part of this post, and the Trader Helsdin’s house, quite a peculiar, funny character. 

Trader Helsdim is the one responsible for the codex Mysteries of the Frostback Basin that we collected all over the Basin. Pretty much like his codex, his house is a mess of magical glyphs, items, papers, portraits, and cheese. He feels to me like a joke of Bioware, to laugh at the most wild theory-crafters of the fandom. “This is how you look like, people”, Bioware seems to say, lol.

We know that the older trader taught him how to read, write, and trade with lowlanders, and this man used these skills to get lost in conspiracy theories, lol.

 Trials and Justice

With an offering to the battle master, the Inquisitor can participate in the Hakkon's trials.

As the Avvar have these trials, their gods [aka spirits] see them. Solas explains us that in this way, spirits are taught to help the avvar by giving them small improvements in these trials that they could be vital in real conflicts: such a second of strength or a glimpse into the future to see a deadly attack that can be avoided.

Beside the trial arena we find this variation of Keepers of Fear.  

The arena for the trial of Hakkon is surrounded by four statues of Korth, the mountain-father, observing the combat from the four cardinal directions.

These trials are sometimes used to solve petty conflicts in the community. When there is a fight, a Thane can determine to settle things with tests. Tests of the Lady of the Skies is a contest of climbing, the test of Korth, mountain-father, is to fight with verses, and for the test of Hakkon, is a non-lethal fight with blunted weapons.

 Miscellaneous objects

Interesting miscellaneous objects can be found in Skyrim after playing this DLC  and picking the Avvar decoration: 

We have this statue of an owl, representation of the Lady of the Skies. I find interesting in her design the ring around her head: small little spikes that may be related or may have inspired artistically other symbols in the game: the thorns that we have seen many times in vines, which have elven influence [after all, the Avvar have a strong elven influence in their culture if we can consider the tale of  Tyrdda Bright-Axe Path as more or less reliable with respect to her lover of leaf-like ears], 

or could be an inspiration of a sun, later taken to accompany the figure of Andraste in a cult that will turn out to be the main religion of the land. 

This piece of art also appears when you activate the Avvar decoration inside the Skyhold. If anything, it looks like a branch-hand holding a bowl.  It gives me the impression of a sylvanian hand. 

And the last decoration: a very detailed representation of Korth, the Mountain-Father. His face, so filled with beard, and his body, short and thick, makes me see a dwarf in him, which would make sense with the dwarf influence that the Avvar have. In another post I will compare the common roots or similarities that Korth has with Elgar’nan and with The Stone / Titans.

Also, as a very curious detail that I’m not sure how much I can trust, is seen in the Arena of Hakkon: during combat, some avvar warriors use these tower shields. This could mean nothing, but I think this drawing reflects a bit of elven influence that the Avvar have [maybe because Trydda’s lover has a deeper mark in the Avvar culture, or maybe because the Avvar have always been too related to spirits, learning from them, and Elves and spirits have a long History in common as well]. The Avvar shield shows a ram with horns depicted in a similar style that the elvhen golden halla.  The animals on the shield have “google” eyes, which are similar to some of the eyes we found in those elvhen murals as well. They even have a “mark” that could be considered a rudimentary vallaslin or even a tear-like mark. 

We also find this statue of a Dwarf with long limbs. A bigger one is present in the main chamber of the Thane throne. As I said before, it makes sense considering that the avvar have dwarven lineage in their blood. As inhabitants of mountains, Avvar also have some relationship with the stone, reflected in their respect to Korth, the Mountain-Father. 

 The Hakonnite and Avvar’s understanding of their Gods

When we meet the thane of the hold, we have a lot of information about the Avvar, the Thane herself, the Hakkonites, and the way Avvar see their gods. This information can be summarised as:

Svarah Sun-Hair was born as Svarah Janesdotten, and her legend-mark ended up being Sun-Hair because she fought with her hair on fire once.

Their hold-beast is important for their hold, the hold draws strength from it. When it gets sick and dies is an ill omen. This creature ties them to the gods/spirits. 

The hold-beast is free to roam everywhere like the Avvar are, because it’s considered kin. This implies that Avvar are a culture free of slavery.

Avvar respect their oaths and don’t break them easily, but they can find some holes in any promise that can take advantage of. When their promise is broken, they try to fix it with gifts.

The hakkonites’ current thane is Gurd Harofsen, who lost too many of his hold to the Darkspawn during the Fifth Blight, so he became obsessed with fighting.

Hakkonites only care about the god Hakkon, they gave their back to the rest of the Avvar gods. This is a similar situation to the one we saw in DA2 [Mark of the Assassin] with that cult of the Lady of the Skies: a tribe sometimes wants to focus entirely on one god, and something terrible happens later. In the case of DA2, the whole tribe disappeared, although it is implied that eagles saved them from the Tevinter invasion and slaughter. In this case, the Hakkonites end up disappearing as well due to the excess of fighting. 

Hakkon, god of war and winter, is not evil. He represents the times for fighting.

 After some time showing good-will, the thane of the hold trusts us with a truth that seems to be common knowledge for her: What the Hakkonites are trying to do is to free the god who was bind to a mortal form ages ago, and bring war to the lowlands, which is what we learnt that Ameridan fought against. They did it in the past, and in doing so, the "avvar lost Hakkon".

When a god/spirit is bound to mortal form, it cannot hear prayers nor speak with the augur. He was felt to the Avvars as if he had vanished, instead of dying and returning in the typical cycle that spirits follow. 

There is a deliberated resemblance with the silence of the Old Gods for Tevinter or the silence of the Evanuris [who had a spirit-like nature] for their first priests, such as we read in The Lost Temple of Dirthamen. There is a lot of potential in this DLC to tell us why the Gods of the past went silent.

  The avvar would not fight a war against lowlands unless there is a need for resources.

If the hakkonites succeed in freeing Hakkon, they would have freed a great beast. She explains that the wars, when they are needed, should be done without the intervention of gods/spirits.

Avvar consider that the gods/spirits belong to the land of Dreams, they don’t take mortal form.

Curiously, we can discuss that the Lady of the Skies took mortal form as Tyrdda’s lover according to Tyrdda Bright-Axe Path. Strangely, Svarah seems to dismiss this aspect of the tale.

As a note of my own interpretation, I think it’s worthy to look for the truth of the past understanding the Avvar and not dismissing their knowledge just because they are humans, the last race that appeared in Thedas. After all, Avvar are too related to spirits and elves, Avvar is an elven word, meaning our taking [check the wonderful explanation here] If the elves and the spirits lived and coexisted in a pre-Veil time, the avvar are living with the spirits and coexisting with them in analogous way to the elves but in the Waking World [having been guided by an Elf/spirit/their own goddess of the Skies]. The fact that they allow the possession of child mages gives them access to a lot of knowledge lost in the past that only the creatures of the Fade still remember and reflect. For this alone, their knowledge should be taken into consideration to perceive how much of it has been twisted along the ages or merely misunderstood in the translation spirit-human. 

Honestly, anyone who is interested in a deeper understanding of the Avvar, go check posts like [this] or [this] or read Avvar History Reconstruction in AO3. Ammocharis’ work is very detailed in terms of naming sources, which is something I appreciate a lot, and anyone who reads this blogs probably will enjoy as well.

[foli-vora]

once again in your arms

joel miller x f!reader

A/N: mwahah, hello boys i’m baaack (10 points to whoever knows what movie that quote's from). took an unexpected break coz life, but i’m ready to get back on track. this was requested by a beautiful anon a while back (sorry for the wait angel), but i hope you enjoy! x

Request: hello! so this is kinda angsty: joel and the reader are married and have a baby (plus sarah, obviously). the day of the outbreak, reader and baby were in town and she couldnt call joel (or viceversa) cause the phone lines were down. they were separated for a few years until they arrives at the quarantine zone he's in, and he recognizes them in the crowd.

Word count: 4.5k-ish

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, birth and having a baby, domestic fluff, angst, pre and post outbreak, some spoilery things if you haven’t seen the show yet, heartbreak, loss of a child, apocalypse things, i sweat at the idea of caring for a baby during the end of the world, soft reunions, fluff, cameos of my fave oc’s made in a different series

It’s a fact you had learnt in the very early days of your relationship... the Miller men knew how to care for a lady. Whether it was Tommy sliding in to open the door for you before you could reach for the handle, or Joel draping you in blankets and taking on the responsibility of keeping your hot water bottle warm to fend off cramps for the evening, not a moment went by when you didn’t feel the constant reassurance of their care.

Especially now, fresh from the hospital and tender from your days of excruciating pain and an extensively long labour, Tommy quickly slaps the pillows into something plusher, hands gentle as they guide you down until you’re reclining into the armchair.

Joel keeps an eye on you from across the room, the brief wash of concern slipping away with the easy smile that grows along his lips when your eyes meet.

He rocks the wrapped bundle in his arms softly, a big hand dwarfing the small head that peaks from the blankets. His fingers brush through the light smattering of hair peeking out from the cotton burrito, his index running along the tiny peak of a nose and you feel your heart swell in your chest.

“Dad,” Sarah whines with an eager smile, shifting restlessly on the couch, “come on, I’ve been waiting all weekend.”

“Oh my god,” Joel drawls sarcastically, “all weekend? Baby girl, how are you survivin’ right now?”

“Shut up,” her grin widens, “give me my baby brother before I explode.”

“Well, we don’t want that mess all in the livin’ room,” Joel quips, stepping over your weekend bags tossed on the floor and closer to the couch, “ain’t treadin’ your brain all into the rug—thing was damn expensive.”

Sarah shrugs, readjusting her body to sit straighter and holding her arms out expectantly, “Least I have a brain.”

Tommy snorts in amusement, grinning at his brother's expense, “That’s true.”

“Are you still here?” Joel side eyes him, barely fighting the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

They bicker, throwing their little snippy sibling comments back and forth before Sarah clears her throat, her eyebrows rising in impatience.

“Alright, alright. Here, watch his head,” Joel instructs gently, a smile playing along his lips, “that’s it, baby, you got him.”

It’s a beautiful picture, Sarah carefully bringing the baby closer and tucking him carefully into her arms, and the sentiment is shared with Tommy as the flash and click of a camera goes off. He removes the polaroid sliding from the slot and sits it on the coffee table to develop before instructing Joel to slide in next to her and smile.

Both Joel and Sarah are oblivious to his instruction, lost in the bubble that has overcome them. You find peace watching them, warmth spreading along your limbs by the sweet tenderness of it all. The love is clear between the three of them cuddled on the couch, and it’s almost too much for your heart to bear.

Sarah beams down at her baby brother, cooing soft words and stroking a gentle finger down Matthew’s cheek. Joel throws an arm to rest on the top of the couch behind Sarah, turning into her and answering her questions quietly.

8 pounds, 3 ounces. Smaller than you. No, he didn’t cry at all—gave me and the docs a damn heart attack. She sure did a great job. 

Your Joel was never a man to wear his heart on his sleeve, but the emotion shines from his eyes, bleeds through the lines in his face and it’s enough to bring tears building along your lash line.

“You okay over there?”

His familiar drawl brings your attention to him, and you smile at him, tired and fully at peace. It’s bliss, despite the ache of birth still hanging in your limbs. M

“I’m fine,” you respond quietly, lids heavy with exhaustion, “I’m just so happy.”

He fucking beams. His grin creases his cheeks and he nods softly.

“Me too, honey,” he mutters, turning his attention back to his children and playing with a strand of Sarah’s hair as he gazes down at Matthew, “me too.”

—

Four months later.

Chaos.

Matthew wails against your chest, the deafening sounds of screams, bullets, sirens and explosions setting him off into hysterics. Your arms tighten around him, keeping his face tucked closely into your throat so your scent could hopefully provide him some reassurance.

You crouch beside cars, you run until your legs ache. You take cover in stores, the soles of your shoes crunching over broken glass of the shattered windows. Every phone you try gives nothing but a dull tone. Radios are filled with static and emergency broadcasts play on the view screens you run past in your effort to escape whatever the hell is happening.

Worry stirs along the edges of your mind. Is Joel okay? Sarah? Tommy? You can’t call him, you can only run and hope nothing takes you down in your effort to get back to your car. You pass people crouched over others, blood smearing along their lips as they tear unforgivingly into the flesh of another.

It’s a nightmare, and it’s everywhere you look.

Almost there.

You see the sign of the parking lot and it only makes you run that much faster, even though your legs threaten to give out at any minute. You pass an elderly man crouching beside a woman, blood flowing from the open gash on her throat, and the ache clutching your heart only increases when his pleas reach your ears over the mayhem.

“Gloria,” he mutters in an aged rasp, “up you get, love. You’re alright, come on now—”

You can’t help it.

Somewhere in your mind you can feel Joel screaming at you to keep running, to get yourself to safety and not give a damn about anyone other than Matthew, but the image of this man cradling his wife’s wrinkled, bloodied hand is enough to get you advancing to him before anyone could hurt him. 

“Sir—”

He ignores you, too busy with brushing the woman’s blood soaked white hair from her face.

“Sir, we have to move—”

You wrap your fingers around his shoulder and shake firmly. His head gives a shake of denial as he clutches his wife’s hand tighter.

“No… no, she’ll need help—she has a bad ankle.”

Shifting Matthew unsteadily onto your hip, your fingers wrap under his arm and tug him onto his feet. He fights you, bats your hold away with an infuriated expression at your rough handling of him.

“I’m so sorry, but she’s gone—we have to run. I—I have a car, please… just come with me, please!”

“I won’t leave her—”

“Please… they’re coming! I—would she want this for you? To die like this?”

He blinks, his frown softening ever so slightly before screams pierce the air, much closer than you anticipated, and terror claws up your throat until you feel you’ll vomit.

You hold out a hand, relieved when his own rough, calloused hand finally takes it, and then you’re running, albeit slower than before, but you make it to your car with no issues.

You dive into the driver's seat, passing Matthew over to the stranger when he makes an impatient gesture to hold him and then you’re tearing out of the lot, running down the few rabid looking beings that advance on you with bloodied expressions of hunger.

You don’t think you take a proper breath until you’re past a military barricade that had seemingly been destroyed in the attack, flying down the highway and around other panicked drivers with sweat slicking your skin. 

Taking a deep breath to slow the brutal pounding of your heart, you look at Matthew, now calmed and looking up at the stranger with an obvious shine of curiosity. The old man is clearly softened by the baby, letting his small hand wrap around his finger and wiggling it playfully in his hold.

“That’s Matthew,” you mutter shakily, meeting the eyes of the elderly man before gazing back out the windscreen. You take another breath before giving your own name, tears biting at your eyes when you utter the name Miller.

Do you still have a husband? A step daughter? A brother in law? The unknown scares you, outright fucking terrifies you. 

The man nods in your peripheral vision.

“Harold,” he finally says, voice rough and tired.

—

There are people everywhere, screaming, crying.

People run, shout, wail over family and friends.

Tears have long dried on his face, his head thumping relentlessly with the remnants of his heartbreak. Tommy’s grip is firm on him, tugging him out of the way of people tearing down in their direction, pulling him to where a makeshift table is thrust under a tent as a reception of sorts.

He doesn’t care about the people already there asking about their family and friends. He shoves them out of the way, hands shaking as they clutch the edge of the weak table.

“I’m lookin’ for a woman… she’d be with a baby boy, not even four months old—”

His voice shakes. He can’t get it to stop. He struggles to get out the detailed descriptions of you both down to the clothes you were wearing, speaking your names through trembling lips. His stomach jolts at the thought of you somewhere, lying helplessly on the floor with your flesh getting torn into while Matthew screams in his car seat.

He’s a damn baby. He wouldn’t know what’s happening, wouldn’t know why his mama’s not there with him—

The woman gives a small expression of sympathy over the thin surgical mask covering her mouth, “I’m sorry, sir. We’ve had no babies that young come through, and nothing like that has come in over the radios.”

He retches. 

His body heaves, almost as if it’s rejecting the mere idea that you weren’t somewhere safe waiting for him. He had failed. Failed to keep Sarah safe, failed to keep Matthew safe, you—the vows he had made now meant shit. He hadn’t been there for better or worse. He’d hadn’t done what a father should have and kept his kids free from harm.

Sarah had died, terrified and in agony, in his hold. Her bloodied handprints remain dry and caked on his arms. Matthew had died, not even making it to six months. A baby, still fresh to the world, only just able to hold his own head up. You had died, not knowing where he and Sarah were, if they were even safe.

Tommy hauls him to a close trash can, rubbing a firm hand up and down his back as he chokes on vomit, tears soon streaming down his cheeks when his body eventually has nothing left to give. His heart hammers in his chest, thundering against his ribs and filling his ears until he’s unaware of the noises around him. 

“They’re gone,” he whispers hoarsely, clutching at the rim of the trash can in an effort to keep himself up.

“Now we don’t know that—”

“God damn it, Tommy, you saw what it was like out there!” 

Tommy sighs, his own eyes filling with tears. “We gotta keep hope, Joel—”

“Hope?” Joel spits at his brother, “What good is hope against that shit out there? She would’ve been alone, you know as well as I Matthew only would’ve slowed her down. They were in the city. We couldn’t even keep safe out here! They’re—they’re gone. My wife… my baby boy, my baby girl—”

The sobs tear from his chest, harsh and painful. He mourns for hours, unseeing of the flurried movement still happening around him, his sorrow mixing with the flood of agony filling the makeshift safe zone with every new unhurt civilian looking for someone familiar.

Tommy doesn’t take his arms away from around his brother until dawn starts to pierce the horizon, 

—

Two years later.

He still fills your thoughts daily.

Your life, your old life, would flash behind your eyelids at night when sleep would finally claim you. You’d feel his touch, kiss his lips, touch his face. It all felt so normal. The dreams would be nothing but memories, and somehow, it made them feel more like nightmares.

Mornings making breakfast with Sarah, dancing to the music falling from the radio. Family game nights, watching Tommy and Joel get more and more competitive with each game. Grocery shopping with Joel, simply wandering down the aisles and relishing in his comforting touch warming your lower back. 

You could never quite make peace with the possibility that he was dead. It didn’t sit right. The idea that your Joel had been lost to the disaster that had claimed the world just seemed impossible. Your heart rejected the notion, refused to accept that its counterpart wasn’t somewhere out there, living, breathing, surviving,

Sarah and Tommy, too.

They had to be somewhere, holed up safely and keeping well. They had to.

“They’ve established a quarantine zone close by,” you say quietly, mindful of Matthew sleeping on your lap, “it’ll be a lot safer there than out here. I think we should give it a go… find a more secure place to live. I’ve heard they have work available, good flow of food and medicine…”

Harry snorts quietly, shifting under his old, thick jacket, “That doesn’t mean they’re happy giving it out. There’ll be a catch somewhere.”

You eye the long carved frown in his features and lean forward to fix the blanket covering his tired legs, “Don’t you think we should try at least?”

“Maybe they’ll put a bullet in me,” Harry grumbles moodily, “I’m old—I can’t work like they’ll want me to. Although, it’ll beat living through this bloody nightmare any longer.”

“Harold,” you chide softly, heart aching at the thought of losing the grumpy old man after spending so long by his side.

He’d quickly become a grandfather figure of sorts, to both you and Matthew. The little boy was obsessed with him, and had been since the day you had come together, and though he tried to hide it behind his usual icy facade, Harry was smitten, weak from the boy learning to call him pa.

“He’ll be safer in there,” Harry finally grumbles, gazing at the sleeping toddler. “This is no life for him out here. It’s getting worse and worse. Stability will do him good.”

“And you’ll come with us?”

He sighs sharply, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine—I’ll come. But if they don’t kill me, I’ll be bloody upset with you.”

You snort in amusement, a grin curling your lips. “Fair enough. Now drink your soup.”

“I’m not hungry. You have it.”

He shoves it away, pushing it in your direction, as he usually does. It’s a daily fight—him refusing food in favour of giving you and Matthew more, ensuring you both never went hungry despite his own hunger and rapid weight loss due to the sudden lack of food.

You give him a playful frown and hold the small cup out to him.

“Don’t make me force feed you, old man, drink it.”

—

The walls of the Quarantine Zone are a lot more daunting than you had originally thought they would be. They tower high, and the barely there movement of soldiers along the front and top of it have nerves start to build in the pit of your stomach.

Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Surely they wouldn’t shoot without asking questions? Would they even give you a chance? What happens to you if the zone is full? Would they let you go on your merry little way?

God, you feel sick. 

The ice creeping along your skin doubles, and you tighten your grip on the baby carrier strapped to your chest. Matthew hums quietly against your back, his little fingers tracing random patterns along your shirt as he bounces with your each step. Harry walks somewhat steadily beside you, his cheeks reddening with the more distance you cover.

He gives you a reassuring nod when you look to him for guidance, and you continue forward, swallowing the lump building in your throat when you become aware of them yelling about your presence.

Their guns are raised when you eventually make it closer, and it’s automatic to throw your hands up in surrender.

“We’re not infected!” you shout, hoping they’d listen. 

A soldier steps forward. “On the ground, now!”

“Shit. Okay! Please, I—we’re not infected—”

“Get. On. The. Ground!”

“I have a kid! I have a—please, we’re not—”

“Get the kid out.”

Panic flares to life in your chest. You fight the tremble in your fingers as they raise to the clip across your chest, winding a supportive hand around to your back to keep Matthew from falling out of the carrier as it loosens from your torso.

After a bit of shifting, Matthew stands on shaky legs, his eyes darting between you and the few soldiers with their weapons raised.

“It’s okay, baby,” you soothe softly, “we gotta do what the man says, okay? Can you do that for mama?”

You continue to lower until your front hits the rubble covered ground, and you motion for Matthew to do the same, heart breaking as he cowers in fear and falls to his knees before copying your posture and hiding his face against the road.

More voices fill your ears, the obvious presence of more soldiers swarming from the gate causing your pulse to skyrocket as Harry lowers on the other side of the small toddler.

“Check ‘em.”

“Everything’s fine,” you murmur, keeping your gaze on Matthew and smiling when he peeks at you from between his fingers, “we’re okay. Keep your eyes on me, baby. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

It stings.

You automatically flinch away from the device someone holds at your neck, freezing when more weapons are raised in your direction. The device gives a small beep and the soldier gives a loud clear, before moving for Matthew.

He cries out at the pain, his chest heaving with his growing sobs. The guns move in his direction and you’re flying towards him before you can even think, yelping when arms pull you away from your baby before you can console him. His screams worsen. 

“Please,” you beg, “he’s just a baby—!”

The soldiers remain emotionless.

Another beep, another clear.

The fingers digging into your arms loosen and then you’re free, hurriedly crawling on all fours until Matthew’s in your arms, his tear stricken face pressing into your throat. You soothe him softly, murmuring how well he did and that he’s safe with you while the soldiers move their attention to Harry.

When the device gives a final clear, another soldier steps forward, a small smile stretching his lips.

“Sorry about that,” he says, stepping forward until he’s only a step away, “but we can’t be too careful.”

It’s surreal being around people again.

For the longest time, it’s just been you, Matthew and Harry. The people left after the event had turned cruel, desperate for any remaining resources and resulting to violence left, right and centre. It’d been sheer luck that you three had escaped some of the nastier characters you’d come across during your treks. Sure, you’d lost a few supplies every now and then, but you were thankful you all were still here at least.

The man leads you into an office of sorts, with rusted old chairs to sit on while he goes about ‘registering’ you. You’re surprised at the process of it all, confused when he says you’re in luck because after this morning, there are new rooms available. What does that mean? Had something happened to the occupants?

Your stomach turns, but you dare not dwell on it.

Safety for Matthew, that’s all that matters. That’s why you’re here.

It feels like hours before you’re stepping into the sun again, lead out onto a relatively normal looking street with written directions to your new accommodation. The door bangs loudly behind you, fully closing you from the horrors of the outside world, and you try not to focus on the looks of curiosity, borderline hostility, as you start to walk further into the QZ, the height of the wall casting a large shadow over your path.

There’s a main square of sorts, filled with small stations of people selling various items. Your stomach grumbles at the sight of shitty looking food, desperate to eat something other than the random old bits and pieces you’d find through your looting, but you’d have to begin work to even afford a single half burnt bread roll. The two ration cards you had received at your ‘registration’ wouldn’t make a dent in what you’d need to afford any of it.

You pass the sellers, sharing a sullen look with Harry as he too realises he wouldn’t have enough for any of it.

There’s crowds, and you try to keep to yourself as you move, but something catches your eye, as if your sight had been automatically pulled to that direction and you’re oblivious to the people bumping into your frame.

For a moment, you’re sure you’re dreaming.

Did they end up shooting you at the gate? This couldn’t be real, couldn’t be unfolding right before your very eyes. You feel alive. You feel your pulse, your breath. You feel Matthew shift in the carrier, you hear Harry making comments about the people and the surrounding buildings.

You can’t look away.

You’re pulled in his direction, certain with every bone in your body that it’s him. It’s him.

The man turns, and his eyes are meeting yours through the crowds before you can even brace for it, and you see the moment it hits him.

He freezes, his eyes unblinking as if they don’t want to risk losing the hallucination his mind had conjured. He steps forward, and again, and again, slow in his movements, cautious.

“Joel?” You breathe, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear you over the bustle of your surroundings and the distance between you, but he must see your lips mould his name because then he’s running, ducking through the people and heading straight your way.

You start to jog, careful not to disturb the carrier holding Matthew too much, and then he’s there. He’s there and he’s real and he’s saying your name so sweetly, a broken rasp of disbelief and a tremble taking over his hands as they raise to cup your cheeks.

You sob at his touch. 

The tears flow from your eyes and you grasp at whatever you can on him, your fingers tightening around the jacket hanging from his frame as you attempt to pour two years of loss into your embrace. He cradles the back of your head, keeps your face pressed tightly against the dirtied skin of his throat as he mutters brokenly about how he thought you were dead and that he’d missed you so damn much.

“Oh baby boy,” he rumbles, noticing the baby carrier and the toddler within it with tears filling his lash line, “look at you.”

You hurriedly unclip the harness and sweep Matthew out of it, bringing him into the middle of your embrace. Joel runs a hand along Matthew’s cheek before sweeping down and kissing him on the forehead, his tears dropping over the toddler’s cheeks in obvious relief and utter joy. 

“How—”

You shake your head, nuzzling into the rough hand holding your cheek. “Later. We’ll talk later about everything, I just—god, I’ve missed you so fucking much, Joel.”

His head lowers until his forehead is pressed against yours, and his eyes flutter closed. You feel it in the simple gesture, how much he had missed you, mourned for you. He gives a small nod, followed by a quiet okay, before another presence suddenly makes themselves known.

Your body jolts with the weight hitting your side, and you jump in fright before your eyes come across a slightly skinny looking Australian Shepherd desperate for attention.

His tongue lolls from his mouth as he attempts to lap at your cheek, and you chuckle through your stream of steady flowing tears at the cheerful dog.

“Chip,” Joel grunts in slight annoyance, shoving the fluffy beast away from where he tries to jump and sniff at Matthew’s cheeks, “down—down, boy!”

“You have a dog?” You ask in curiosity, reaching out to pet the animal. Your smile widens when he eagerly nuzzles into your touch with an excited whine.

“He was wanderin’ the QZ when I came in,” Joel replies, one of his hands leaving your waist to deliver a rough rub to the dogs head, “followed me home one night and hasn’t stopped botherin’ me since. Tommy said he’d be good for me.”

“Tommy’s here? And Sarah?” You perk immediately in excitement, your eyes flying past his shoulder to look for his brother and the other part of your heart that’s been missing for years. “I’m so glad they’re alright, where are they?”

You don’t notice how considerably quiet he’s gone until you look at him. He’s defeated, guarded, his dark eyes drawn to the floor. He can’t look at you. Why can’t he look at you? What’s happened?

“Joel?”

“Sarah… she—she—”

He struggles to finish the sentence, the words stick uncomfortably on his tongue. His features twist in clear anguish and you feel the world around you shatter. Sarah, she… she’s gone? When? How?

Your heart sinks, weak and broken by the unexpected news. Your mind struggles to wrap itself around the notion that you’d never see her again, that the last time you saw her was truly the last. 

Regret begins to build in the pit of your stomach. That last day… you should’ve hugged her tighter, kissed her forehead, told her how much she meant to you and how lucky you were to be in her life—

The tears begin again.

“Oh Joel, I-I’m so sorry,”

You both share the heartache, wrapped in each other's arms and breathing in the other. His tight hold doesn’t loosen for a second, and you attempt to put every ounce of energy in your tired body into returning it.

The world stands still, just like it did that cursed day.

How can you be so elated that he’s here, and yet be filled with so much pain at the same time? How long has he been lost, no doubt blaming himself for his baby girl not making it to where he is now? You mourn her, mourn him for being lost, stuck on a path of despair and believing he had lost everything for so long.

What had become of him? What had the pain done to him? Surely it would’ve been pure torture for the man who practically breathed family. 

Harry can wait. Introductions can wait. Food, drink, sleep—you care for none of it. Not now. All that matters is that Joel is here, truly here in the flesh, wrapped in your arms and holding the child he hasn’t seen for two years. All that matters is that you had found one another in the violent hellscape the world had become.

Peace, but that tranquillity will forever be tainted by loss, a void hanging in the midst of relief, never to be filled again.

-

tag list 1: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld,

tags that have continuously not worked will be deleted from my taglist soon x

[waokevale]

I gave Dwarf and Krobus some well deserved lore.

I haven't seen much content of them in SDV fandom, especially Dwarf, which is a bummer, so I'm taking the matter into my own hands.

So here's my take: They both appear to have lost a lot during the Elemental Wars, it's just one decided to go and hide, letting go of most of his resentment, while the other stewed in their own grief and hatred.

Consider this: Due to sustained severe injuries, the shadowkin's void essence sometimes gets chipped off, which results in the closest to the injury limb being dematerialized, they can also no longer heal on their own. Other times, they can lose their entire bodies, but as long as their void essence is intact, they can be revived by the Shaman. ...However, let's say if their void essence were to be completely destroyed, no reviving that one. I think it wasn't just the numbers alone that secured the shadow people's victory, but their ability to heal and revive themselves.

Another thing: The Smoluanu have the tradition of preserving their fallen members' helms since it's their most essential piece of armor; The curvature of the horns shows off their profession, experience, and identification. If they were to raise their rank, they'd get a new helm. Dwarf is technically a higher rank, than what their helm shows, but they weren't able to upgrade it, since most of their superiors are deceased and it would've been seen as disrespectful to do so by themself. The Smoluanu rarely take their helms off in front of others, unless they wholly trust the person.

That's what I got for now!

[hanasnx]

arm kink: revisited

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: for @justadmiringanakin WARNINGS: f!reader | arm kink | size difference | choking | squirt & hump mention.

“Anakin?” you call, craning your neck over equipment to spot MODERN!ANAKIN SKYWALKER as he works through his set of pull-ups. You swallow, coming to a stop a couple feet away from him. Ashamedly, you’re in awe. With every jut of his chin over the bar, his biceps swell with the effort of lifting himself. Ankles crossed neatly behind him in perfect stance, there’s not a muscle of his out of place. All of it on display while he wears a black side slit shirt. Precise, and well-taught, he releases grunts through his teeth with each crest, controlling his breathing to the second to maximize his energy. That concentrated crease in his brows is intimidating, set features, pursed lips that expel a shot of air, eyes that unwaveringly focus on his task.

You don’t know how many of these things he’s done, but there’s a sheen of sweat that glistens on his skin in such a delectable way you just wanna lick him clean. Curly hair weighed down from moisture, beads at his forehead, you feel faint.

Tendons emphasize their paths through his arms, swollen biceps thick and veined pulse as he moves. Briefly you fantasize what it’d be like wrapped around your neck, and the fantasy furthers the longer you watch how his muscle redistributed his weight on his limbs. His brutish hands that connect to his hefty wrists dwarf the bar they’re wrapped on. His sides, exposed by the cut of his top, ripple with motion, like a bag of fucking ropes. You can see a flash of his abs every so often, but the defined lines of his serratus catch your eye as they shift under his skin. They remind you of the cut of a shark’s gills.

You barely register he’s stopped while your mind runs away with you. He drops to the floor, wipes his face with a towel, and chugs water all while you stand practically comatose. If you hadn’t been, you would’ve drooled over the way his larynx bobbed from every gulp. With how horny you are now, you could’ve sexualized that as well, conjuring a plan to sit on his neck to hump his Adam’s apple and choke him with your thighs.

“Angel?” his affectionate nickname for you snaps you out of it, jumping in place as you recognize the towering figure looming over you. Failing to explain yourself, you trip over your silent words, re-forming your gaping mouth until he quiets you indefinitely. “Let’s go home.”

By home he means the shower, he means bed, he means cunt. Forced to swipe at your clit with your own hand while he’s rolling his hips into you, showcasing every muscle that works so hard for you. He peacocks for you, deliberately this time, and you would’ve been soaked even without his fat cock shoving its way into you. Massive hands rest on your legs to keep your spread while he’s on his knees, arching his spine to push his cock into your propped-up pussy. “Getting fucking tired of your staring, you know that?” he breathes, hypocritical considering his most obvious staring problem, and his most obvious enjoyment of your voyeurism. He likes showing off. As if to scold him for it, you squirm and try to escape him, weakly crawling back on your hands only for him to yank you back easy. “Gimme that cunt, baby, don’t run away.” You’d disobeyed him taking your fingers off your clit, so he keeps his grip on your hips to draw you into his thrusts which makes his already bruising and long cock fit that much deeper into your hole. Practically kisses your cervix, jerking your entire body.

“I can’t take it, Ani! Can’t take it!” you insist, thrashing and clawing at the sheets.

“Well, if you listened to me—“ he begins, speaking while he rearranges you harshly, manhandling you onto your stomach and peeling your pelvis off the mattress to meet his. He muscles his dick back in, feeding it right to your puffy folds. You cry out, but he doesn’t even afford you that dignity. He curls over you, making you feel small with his hot skin against yours, enveloping you. An arm winds around your neck, tucking your larynx into the crook of his elbow. When he gets a good grasp, he ruts into you, and you’re slick as fuck. “Now get your fucking hand back on that clit.” he spits into your ear, his swollen bicep pushing into the side of your neck. Eager to please him again, you do as he says, clumsy fingers massaging your bud. “Atta’girl.” You breathe hard through your open mouth, pulling in air as his arm keeps you right where he wants you, using it to pin you into taking whatever he gives you until you squirt all over him from just his cock.

[drunkenlionwrites]

Heavenly

Warnings: fem bodied g/n reader, pwp, cockwarming, double penetration, teratophilia

At the end of the day, Syzoth comes back to your welcoming arms to unwind, relax and to warm up. He seeps into your embrace, his body completely dwarfing yours on your shared bed. The only thing that is saving you from being crushed by his weight is him supporting a part of his weight by his elbow, his face buried in the bedsheets beside yours. Once your bodies are fully connected, he barely moves for hours on end: both of his cocks filling what feels like the entirety of you. The feeling of your walls stretching around him is long gone and now your whole body just feels like enveloped in the most intimate embrace, which is partly true. Something about this hits so alien: the feeling of his body slowly but steadily growing warmer around you. His heartbeat dropping slower to the one you’d expect to feel.

That is, until your lover finally starts stirring on top of you: movements barely there, but somehow each miniscule shift of his cocks feels as if it is a violent thrust. Your body so attuned to the feeling of his lithe muscles moving and shifting as he grinds into you at an excruciatingly slow pace, that it almost hurts. He mumbles something mindlessly, voice coarse and the vibrations born inside his ribcage only add to the tormentous bliss you’re experiencing now. Eyes closed and all the limbs relaxed, the only thing you do is cradle him closer to your chest as your walls start to twitch around him. His pace is steady, slow, and almost non-existent, yet you already know how misleading it is – Syzoth has already taught you that. You feel your pleasure slowly building up, all the nerve endings of your internal clitoris having been constantly stimulated before: enough to make you feel numb and thoughtless for hours without the feeling of overstimulation, yet not enough to make your orgasm then and there before.

You’ve come to love this type of intimacy with your cold-blooded lover more than any other, for it is something you have experienced only with him, your previous fully human lovers being incapable of doing this due to their natural physical disposition. Once he basked in your warmth long enough, his movements become more purposeful – hips grind into yours steadily, rhythmically, but even when those are barely a few centimeters shifts, he just hits every needed spot inside you so fucking right, that it takes Syzoth less than a minute to bring you over the edge you’ve hanged at for the whole evening. Overstimulation finally catches up with you and you wail as your pussy clenches around his cock. His second cock, filling your other hole is so gratifying that all you can do is pathetically whine after each contraction of your muscles as Syzoth whispers gentle praises into your ear while you come down from your bliss.

He carefully slips out of you only to cling back to you back again, sighing contentedly. You want to hold him back, want to tell him how amazing this was once again, want to apologize for him not cumming yet today – but when you open your mouth, only a pathetic little whimper leaves it, prompting your boyfriend to chuckle with a hiss. ‘Relax and go to sleep, my love’ he whispers into your ear as if reading your mind. ‘This was jussst…what you said it’s called? Cockwarming.’ the mischief in his tone obvious. ‘We’ll continue tomorrow when we’re both well rested’.

You remembered how flustered he looked the first time you’ve described and named this kink of yours. And now it’s you who’s rendered speechless although due to different reasons.

[ceilidho]

prompt: pretty little witch who lives in a cottage in the forest who sometimes eats wayward travellers but Ghost has some kind of magic repulsion aura that doesn’t allow her to use her powers on him (part 2) (read part 1 here)

-

The masked man staring back at you tilts his head, the skin under his eyes crinkling with a smile that you cannot see. Suddenly eldritch, blood-curdling. 

“Now, what are you?” he asks with a rumbling voice, rough from disuse, and takes a step towards you.

You trip over your feet scrambling back. Branches from a nearby tree scoop towards you, catching you before you tumble down into the soft dirt. He advances quickly on you, big hand finding now the hatchet strapped to his side and pulling it out, the thing dwarfed in his massive paw. 

“Stay back—stay back—” you hiss, the branches listening to your fear and dragging you away from the man. “Leave—I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Do what?” he asks, taunting. Just a twinge of it, as if he can’t help that he has a predilection to mock.

He catches up to you fast enough, the strides of his long legs enough to eat up the distance. When you whip the branches towards him, they stop mere inches from him, giving him ample time to bat them away. The ones that get close enough meet his hatchet, a single cleave enough to sever them from the tree. You don’t feel the tree’s pain, but where his blade meets your magic—a thin coating along the branches, like extended, ghost limbs of your own—it stings. 

“Stay back!” you shriek, heart pumping away ferociously. Your voice comes out like a caterwaul. He’s too close now though, towering over you, the bitter smell of old sweat and musk. Up close, he does not smell like anything you know. He smells sun bleached, the rust of old blood like the blades in your shed after a long season’s hunt. 

“What sort of girl—” he starts, hand fisting in your hair and wrenching your head back, “—ambushes strange men in forests? Do you have a death wish?”

To have him touch you is singularly terrifying. You haven’t been touched in a hundred years, certainly not by a human. His touch sends you skittering back, but he has you trapped in place. Your shoes dig into the dirt when you try to push yourself away, hands pressed against his chest much to your distress. 

“Men can’t kill me,” you hiss, fingers clawing at the hand holding you in place, scratching at him with the little nails that you never bothered to grow out. 

You can’t see the whole of his face, but his expression is undoubtedly unimpressed. “I could kill you easily, girl.”

“I’m not a girl—I’m a witch.”

“A witch is a girl.”

“I eat girls,” you snap, so angry now that spittle drips from your mouth. You shrink back when he wipes it away with a gloved hand. “I eat men like you too. If you are a man.” 

You say that because the way your magic curls away from him has you on edge. Humans may not scare you, but eldritch, ancient monsters do and they hunt little witches like you. Usually not in your own woods, but stranger things have happened. 

“‘Course I’m a man. Look at me.”

He presses the whole length of his body against yours, dragging you so close to him by your hair that you almost rise up onto your toes. He’s solid all the way through, only a bit of give around his middle. There’s something distinctly hard pressing against your low belly. It leaves you flustered, hot under your collar. An unfamiliar heat in your core, legs clenching on nothing. You give in to the instinctive urge to look down, but pressed so close to him, there’s little to see beyond the wideness of his chest, covered by a brown tunic laced up the front. 

“Means nothing. Plenty of things look like other things. I look like a girl but I am not,” you stutter. 

“Were you trying to eat me then, witch girl?” he breathes, amused. You yelp when he gives you a little shake by the hair. 

You flash your teeth at that, hoping he takes that as a threat. You have chewed off flesh far tougher than his. “Still might, human. If you don’t let me go.” 

He stares down at you, eyes giving nothing away. “It’s not every day that a little girl threatens to eat me. Not very nice, you know. I’ve cut down men twice your size for less.”

“You like bloodshed?”

“I trade in bounties; it’s part of the job. But, yes, girl. I like bloodshed.”

It’s not reassuring to hear that when his hands are fast on you. You wish now you hadn’t dreamed of this strange man immune to your magic and left him to his wandering. There are bears in these woods that could have dealt with him for you. 

“I’m—I’m not going to anymore,” you say, quieter now, hands falling back to his chest, trying to shove yourself just the slightest bit away. You don’t move an inch. “I’ll…I can find something else to eat. Just let me go.”

The man widens his stance, feet bracketing yours. In two hundred years, you haven’t felt small. You’ve felt tremendous, expansive, big as the whole forest; monstrous some days even. The most ferocious predator in the woods, the haunting lurching her way through the trees, belly hungry for iron blood and the ripe taste of fear. 

You feel that fear now in your mouth for the first time, sour.

He smiles behind the mask again. “Maybe later. Need to teach you a lesson.”

“A lesson?” Maybe the fear hasn’t sunk in all the way because you ask that when he lets go of his hold on your hair and drops his hands to your waist, getting a tight hold there. Twisting you around while he walks you back. 

“You all alone in the forest?” he asks instead of answering you. “Is there a house that I missed? Been here for months and haven’t seen one.”

“Of course, I—I live here.” You don’t want to say more than though, lest you reveal too much about yourself. You’re still wondering whether surviving this ordeal will be as simple as getting away. There’s something savage in his gaze now, the mealy taste in your mouth translating that look like the hunted looking upon the hunter. 

There’s a tree stump that he guides you to, shaded under the canopy. When he tips you over the stump, the breath rushes out of you. The edge is rough against your stomach. You don’t even notice him pulling up the back of your dress until a few seconds later. 

“Wait, hold on—that’s my indoor dress!” you cry out, the front of your dress scraping against the stump and sure to tear. “Let me go—stop it!”

Your drawers are next, slid down your hips while you squirm and wail, feet kicking out behind you. 

“Behave.” It’s punctuated by the sudden sting on your cheek, bottom flaming red by his hand. Pain is such a foreign concept to you that it initially leaves you speechless. 

He props you against the stump with little care for how your knees drag in the dirt and whether your underwear gets dirt on them. He keeps you pinned there with a big hand on the centre of your back. Your shimmying gets you nowhere, only planted farther into the dirt; it only scuffs up your knees and pulls wretched little noises from your throat. 

The terror comes when you’re bare to him and he draws his hand back. You gasp at the first smack, shocked; it’s a broken, stupid sound. At the next smack, you react properly, going into a frenzy, twisting left and right to get away, but helpless under just a fraction of his strength. Your magic does no good for once in your long life either. You feel it sit on the periphery, unsure of what to do because it cannot come close to this strange man for some reason. 

You yelp every time his hand comes down on your bottom. Red fills your vision. Tears do as well. 

“I am going to—” you break off on a yowl, back arching, “—I am going to eat the flesh off your bones for this! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”

His chuckle is bone-chilling, ices you right over. “You oughta at least know the name of the man you’re going to eat. They call me Ghost.”

“I’ll call you—” The caustic name you were about to call him is ripped from your lips by another well-placed smack on your ass. 

You shriek so loud that the birds flee from their perches within the trees.

[aethes-bookshelf]

we promised we'd save you || astarion/tav/halsin

This chapter took me way longer than I expected it to. I had to finish my biggest commission to date a few weeks after posting part one. It seems it took a lot out of me ^^"

But! I promised comfort, I deliver comfort. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Astarion/Tav/Halsin

Warnings: implied/referenced past character death, hurt/comfort (mostly comfort)

Wordcount: 1.3k

Summary: The first thing Tav felt was pain.

ao3 link || part 1

When they came back, Halsin carrying Tav’s dead body, stunned silence washed over the camp. The entire time the party knew Tav, they seemed indestructible. Larger than life, powerful and confident. But now, with their limbs limply swaying with Halsin’s movements, they looked like a little doll; fragile and lifeless..

Their skin was much, much paler than usual, dirty with dried blood and grime. They weren’t wearing their armor; it might have been lost or destroyed at the bhaalist temple. Without their shoulder guards they seemed so much smaller, dwarfed by Halsin’s broad shoulders.

‘What happened?’ said Wyll, eyes wide.

‘Orin happened,’ said Karlach. She had a look of grim determination on her face. ‘Where’s the skeleton?’

* * *

The first thing Tav felt was pain. Every single muscle in their body ached with that deep, crushing kind of pain that made even the slightest movement hell. Their head wasn’t doing any better. Their pulse pounded in their skull, each beat of their heart bringing an uncomfortable sensation in their temples. They were parched, their throat so dry and tight they were sure it would start bleeding at any moment.

They were hurting all over. But if they were hurting, that meant they were alive.

That realization slammed them right back into themself. The last thing Tav remembered before everything went black was being thrown onto the sacrificial altar in the middle of the bhaalist temple.

Tav opened their eyes. Above them was the fabric of their tent — they were back at camp. They were back at camp! Relief flooded their system. Their friends must have come for them before it was too late.

Granted, they couldn’t really move much because of the pain, but it probably wasn’t anything a bit of healing magic couldn’t fix. And a little pain was to be expected after whatever the hell Orin did to them. They would manage with a few more healing potions and Shadowheart’s help.

Tav groaned at the ache as they tried to adjust their legs under the covers. A puff of white hair suddenly came into their vision. It disappeared almost immediately when someone crashed into their chest with a relieved sob. Tav made a short, pained sound.

‘Shit,’ Astarion hissed and reluctantly moved away. He settled for holding Tav’s hand instead. ‘You made me forget myself there, my sweet.’

‘Oh, I’m sure you must’ve been so worried,’ Tav said, their voice teasing and hoarse. They squeezed Astarion’s hand just a little bit tighter; he squeezed back. ‘Still, there’s no need to break my ribs over it, is there?’

Astarion was strangely silent for a beat too long. Tav tried to rise to get a better look at his face but decided against it after the pain pushed them back into their bedroll. ‘What, no witty banter? Are you okay, love?’

That made Astarion snort, unamused. ‘It’d be quite hard for me to be okay after you went and quite literally died on me.’

It was Tav’s turn to go silent. ‘...What do you mean “died”?’ They said after a few moments.

‘I mean “died”.’ He sounded annoyed. Still, his voice shook all the same. ‘You… you died. Orin killed you.’

‘Oh.’ Tav cleared their throat. They refused to let the true weight of that statement reach them. ‘Well, then I’m glad you brought me back. Though we’ll probably have to restock on scrolls of revivify. We’d been running low for a while now, anyway.’

‘See, that’s the thing,’ Astarion had to grab onto the fabric of his pants to stop his hand from shaking, ‘we couldn’t bring you back. We tried the scrolls, they…’ He swallowed, grief thick in his throat. ‘They wouldn’t work. We had to rush you to that blasted skeleton. For a moment I thought I’d…’

…lost you.

Astarion couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. He felt as if he was on the brink of a cliff, staring down a bleak, lonely future. He’d rather not think about what his life would be like if Tav had not come back to him.

Tav wished to sit up and cradle Astarion to their chest. But they couldn’t; and they cursed all the gods, devils and hells for it.

‘Lovely, look at me,’ they said instead.

Astarion did as they asked. He was trying very hard not to cry again; he wasn’t sure if he had any tears left to spare.

‘I’m here now, okay? I’m still here.’ They tried to give Astarion a reassuring smile, but it came out as a weak grimace. He smiled back anyway.

‘I know, love. And am I not grateful for it,’ Astarion said, quietly. He wiped his eyes with the back of his free hand. ‘Give me a moment, I have to tell Halsin you’re okay.’

‘Is he alright?’

‘He’ll be now.’

The tent fell into silence when Astarion left it. Tav’s world shrank down to the pull of their muscles and the pounding in their head.

They died. Almost for good this time. The reality of that crashed down on them so suddenly they felt like they couldn’t breathe.

But they were still here. Was Orin dead then? Did the rescue party get her Netherstone? What of Gortash? Had any progress been made while they were out of it? Just how long had they been out of it?

Their racing thoughts stopped when the flaps of their tent parted and both of their lovers came in. Halsin rushed to their side, worry clear on his face.

‘My heart!’ He was by their side in an instant. He grabbed their hand, just as Astarion had before, and planted a kiss on it. He held it to his face like a drowning man would hold a piece of driftwood.

‘Hi,’ Tav smiled. ‘Glad to be back in the land of the living.’ They could taste the copper tang of blood in the back of their mouth.

Astarion settled next to Halsin and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s okay, you big oaf,’ he said, doing his best to sound exasperated, ‘they’re okay.’

‘You say it as if you, too, haven’t been beside yourself with worry.’

Astarion scoffed. ‘Yes, yes, the pot calling the kettle black and all that.’ Despite his tone, Astarion’s eyes, locked on Halsin, remained soft.

Halsin rested his and Tav’s intertwined hands in his lap. ‘How are you feeling, my heart?’

‘Like I just died,’ Tav said, in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘Everything hurts, I can’t really move.’

Halsin’s brow creased with worry. ‘Let me.’ He lifted his free hand and passed it over Tav’s body. The soothing coolness of healing magic did away with some of their pain.

Relief must have been clear on Tav’s face; Astarion perked up almost instantly. ‘I take it you’re feeling better already, aren’t you?’

‘I suppose I do,’ Tav adjusted their legs under the covers, this time without most of the pain. ‘I wager I’ll be up and about soon enough.’

‘You should rest for a few more days at least,’ Halsin’s voice was firm. Tav suspected there would be no changing his mind.

‘I know, I know.’ They sighed, bored already. ‘And thank you for the healing spell, honey.’

Halsin smiled. ‘The pleasure is mine, my heart.’

‘How long was I out?’

‘Almost a week,’ said Astarion. His head was resting on Halsin’s shoulder. The druid laid his free hand on the vampire’s lap. ‘None of the others knew what to do without you.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I didn’t, either.’

‘None of us did.’ Halsin sighed. ‘Until now,’ he said and gave Tav a look so full of pure, unfiltered adoration they had to look away for a moment.

‘Until now,’ whispered Astarion.

‘Rest, my love.’ Halsin’s voice was warm and soft. ‘We’ll be here, watching over you.’

Tav nodded and closed their eyes. Sleep came for them quickly.

Their head was no longer pounding.

[cannibalcaprine]

subspecies below the cut:

Human:

Sapiens: Bog-standard human.

Neanderthalis: Stockier and more resilient to the cold.

Erectus: More archaic, may have been covered in hair.

Dwarf:

Mountain: Classic miners and brewers.

Cave: Deeper-living, may have chitinous shells or fly-like wings.

Abyss: Very similar to the maggots that one ate Ymir, may have additional limbs and lack eyes.

Elf:

High: Long-limbed and graceful, your usual depiction of elves.

Ork: Green-skinned and strong, with impressive tusks.

Wood: As beautiful as the High Elves, but more mysterious. Probably forest-dwellers.

Gnome:

House: Regular gnome, lives in a hole.

Hill: Less magical and more lucky.

Goblin: Bat-like and green-skinned, with poor eyesight and flat, leaf-like noses.

Reptilian:

Lizard: Scaley and swamp-living, your typical lizard persin.

Draconic: Small and mischievous, they appear similar to the dragons they worship.

Carnal: Quick-footed and carnivorous, they usually have feathers and claws.

Felinid:

Felis: Typical anthropomorphic cat.

Panthera: Larger, stealthier, akin to Orks compared to High Elves.

Homo: Less cat-like, more like a human with cat-like features such as ears and a tail.

Automaton:

Steam: Clockwork mechanics and steam-driven pistons, your good ol' robot man.

Ushabti: Former servants, these men of clay are animated not by machines, but by magic.

Marionette: A puppet brought to life, whether that be internal mechanisms in your wooden hull or through a fairy's gift.

Undead:

Putrid: Whether skeletal or zombified, this is a resurrected corpse.

Patchwork: Formed of many pieces, these promethean creations search for their long-lost creator.

Vampire: Blood-starved, sunlight-loathing, you know what this is.

Star-Spawn:

Cthonic: Squid-faced aliens from beyond the stars, they best exemplify the Star Spawn.

Rural: More humanoid than others, you can blend in with others as long as your full body is not revealed.

Amoeba: The most shapeless of all, you're more or less a sentient mass of protoplasmic jelly.

Elemental:

Solid: A being of animate Earth, sand, stone, glass, ice, and steel.

Liquid: A being of animate Water, Mercury, magma, and other juices.

Gas: A being of animate Air, Fire, hydrogen, steam, and dust.

[lairofdragonagelore]

Hinterlands: Tyrdda Bright-Axe Path

Tyrdda Bright-Axe was a legendary Alamarri chieftain attributed with founding the Avvar.

I personally thought that following the stanza [complete saga here] would point me out to Avvar sculptures. But I had strange results.  Also, the way these stanzas are written are quite difficult for me to understand, so any misinterpretation or mistake pointed out would be appreciated.

Updated December 2022

First stanza is given by the wolf/horse statue. It makes sense because it’s an Avvar/Alamarri statue, in the open, surrounded by avvar/alamarri arcs. The first stanza mostly says that Tyrdda was gifted in diplomacy and wisdom, and had a spirit as a lover who had the shape of an elf and it was considered The Lady of the Skies. Here is where the presence of elves among the Avvar shows.

Second stanza… things begin to look very strange. It’s triggered inside the Calenhad’s foothold, which is a recent construction, but we can assume that Tyrdda lived in the zone [close to the Calenhad Lake, after all]. Inside, there are many Ferelden paintings on the walls, and in a corner, we find the statue that triggers this stanza: the one usually considered elven, representing Dirthamen [Or Falon’Din, read the post Exalted Plains: Northern Ramparts and Citadelle du Corbeau for more details on this statue]

This stanza speaks about one of Tyrdda’s suitors: Thelm Gold-Handed, who apparently was a strong warrior; took weak clans, fed them and turned them into his army giving them weapons and armour. Apparently a demon [whispers in his dreams] encouraged him to reach a Golden City in the north. Even though it sounds similar to the Chant of Light, we also have Arlathan which was considered a “golden city in the north” by humans [We know in the Shattered Library that it was blue and more like a sky], so this stanza may mean Arlathan as well as the Golden City for all what we know. 

The third one is the mysterious Faceless figure holding a crown. It’s this same statue which allows you to rise an undead, which tomb shows Elvhen funerary lids. Is this statue Elven related? If the executors are an odd elvhen faction, and if that statue is an executor [simply because we can’t see their skin or face], maybe this situation could make a little more sense. So far, to me, makes no sense at all. 

Updated December 2022: I finally managed to understand and justify the statue Faceless figure holding a crown. It's andrastian and represents the Maker. The stained glass of Andraste's life represents him as a figure without face with a crown that looks very similar to this one. As The Maker, it makes a lot of more sense for it to appear in the places it does.

The third stanza basically says that Thelm wanted to marry Tyrdda to have her men as part of his army to reach the Golden City. She was tempted, since her tribe was starving due to the hard winter and the promises of food in the Golden city made her hesitate. She looked for the counsel of her elven lover, who saw the lies in Thelm. So that Tyrdda rejected him.

The fourth one is nicely marked on a hill through a path guided by the little guys of long arms and moustache [that I’m fond to consider the avvar representation of Dwarves with long limbs]. On its top, we find this eroded statue that looks like a dragon head [See the post Hinterlands: Statues, paintings, and structures found in the open]

The fourth stanza explains how Thelm did not take the rejection of Tyrdda well and fought her, wearing armour. He damaged her leg, but she killed him by burning him inside his armour, using the staff of her elven lover. 

The fifth staza is triggered by a screaming head, one of the Keepers of Fear.

The stanza tells that Tyrdda took her tribe and left the Calenhad lake heading to the Frostback Mountains. They took shelter in a cave where a dragon was found.  She asked for help to her elven lover, shouting her: "You I chose above a crown!" and the dragon was struck from the skies, saving the tribe.

The sixth stanza confirms my supposition that this statue is the avvar representation of a dwarf: it tells how after the battle, strong and shaped by the struggles, she went deeper into the cave reaching the Deep Roads, meeting the dwarves for the first time: Hendir’s men. The encounter was tense, ready to attack each other, until Tyrdda’s lover whispered her information to understand these men. She explained her that they were honourable, so Tyrdda chose to trade with them instead of making war.  

The seventh stanza is found in the central massive sculpture  of crossroads [Hinterlands] that must represent Tyrdda herself. It explains that after spending a night with her elven lover, the elf left her, whispering in her dreams that she needed to have a child in order to continue with the tribe. She had a baby with the dwarf prince Hendir, following the advice of her lover, who told her that one of her line, Morrighan'nan, “will shine in strength”.

The last stanza is found in this place where we can see one of these small sculptures with a dove that I thought were Andrastian.  It says that once Tyrdda saw her tribe stable, strong and safe with the alliance with the dwarves, she put her child as chieftain of the tribe and left to the skies to reunite with her elven lover in the afterlife [sky burial].

[Index page of Dragon Age Lore ]

[sweetbutpsychobutsweet]

Knock Before Entering

Chapter 13

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Thorin will have to exercise a great amount of restraint to not maim Kili and Fili, and when it comes time to grace the Wandering Widow with an encore performance you will have to find a way to take the stage with the rest of the company being none the wiser.

Warnings: no use of y/n, angst, 18+, NSFW, minors do not interact, brief descriptions of bloody wounds/injuries, mentions of sex work if you squint

Author's Note: This chapter ended up being waaaaaay longer than anticipated so I've broken it up into multiple sections. Which means the next one is already mostly done🥳 Thank you all so much for the love for the previous chapters and the cockblocking nephews😂

Word count: 2505

“Sooo,” Kili tries to suppress a smile as you pull the last shards of glass from the cut on his hand. “How long has this been going on?” He looks over his shoulder at his uncle, who is sitting in a chair across the room. Arms crossed over his chest and a scowl etched on his face, Thorin hasn’t said a word since you were cock blocked by his nephews. Instead, he elected to just pull his shirt back on and remain in the room, brooding in the corner while you patched up Kili.

Fili still remains in the doorway, refusing to step foot in the room as if that will help save him from his uncle’s simmering rage.

“You know I have some sewing supplies,” you remind Kili. “If you irritate me enough I could decide this wound is in dire need of stitches.”

“He only wants to know whether we won the bet or not,” Fili sighs from the doorway.

You lift a brow in question, not lifting your gaze as you continue cleaning his brother’s wound. “The entire company placed bets on how long it would take the two of you to jump into bed together.”

Your head snaps up, immediately looking over at Thorin. He doesn’t meet your gaze, he just tips his head back to the ceiling with a heavy sigh.

“When did this happen?” you scoff.

“In Bag-end,” Kili winces when you start to apply the salve to his palm. “The others will be relieved to hear the wait is over.”

“The others don’t need to know,” you warn him as you reach for the roll of gauze beside you. As you do you catch Thorin’s gaze. Finally falling back on you, his eyes are filled with an emotion you can’t quite place.

You had expected him to agree with you. But instead, he looks…surprised. Like he hadn’t expected you to be so adamant about hiding your complicated relationship from the others.

Everything is still so messy and new. You don’t even know what you would call it yet.

You’re certainly not courting. Thorin could never be formally involved with someone from your background. He is a king. And a king is meant to marry a proper lady of good standing. Not a rebellious half-dwarf such as yourself. If there’s one you know, it’s that you are not meant to be his queen.

So does that make you… lovers? The term makes you cringe. It implies a much longer relationship than the situation will allow. This will only last as long as the journey to Erebor. Thorin will marry another and you will be on your way with the mountain at your back once again. This is all meant to be a temporary arrangement. If anything, it feels more like you have stumbled across an alternative way to tolerate each other’s presence.

These days it feels like the two of you only get along when you have your limbs are tangled together in secret.

And Thorin hasn’t exactly gone out of his way to make your relationship known to the others. He isn’t the kind of person to indulge in any kind of public displays of affection or to insist on putting a label on whatever it is the two of you have. Perhaps you misinterpreted his desire for privacy as an agreement to keep your relationship a secret.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost say Thorin looks hurt that you want to hide it. The look he gives you brings a stab of guilt into your chest. Tearing your gaze from him, you busy yourself with binding Kili’s hand. Whether you misread things or not, Thorin still takes your side regardless.

“What either of us do behind closed doors is no one else’s business,” he grumbles at his nephews. “Let this be a lesson to the both of you on the courtesy of knocking before entering.”

“Did uncle knock before entering you?” Kili whispers with a smirk and Thorin jumps from the chair so quickly it clatters to the floor. Fili leaps from his place in the doorway fast enough to block his path to Kili.

You quickly tie off the bandage and rise to your feet, inserting yourself between Fili and Thorin before they can start throwing punches.

“That’s enough,” you hiss at the both of them. Thorin still has murder in his eyes as he towers over you, glaring at his nephews.

“He was only joking,” Fili defends his brother, who’s now come to stand at his shoulder.

“I don’t want to hear either of you speak about her in such a manner again,” Thorin growls at them.

“Please forgive me,” Kili looks at you with a genuine nod of remorse, before stifling a laugh when he whispers “auntie” under his breath.

Thorin goes to take another step towards him as the two start to snicker. You bring a firm hand to his chest before he can make it past you. “Quit it,” you hiss as you shoot a warning look his way. You can feel the barely suppressed growl in his chest beneath your fingertips, but he does as you say and remains planted firmly in place. Keeping your hand on his chest, you turn to look over your shoulder at the boys.

“We’re done here, so you’re both going to go back to your room and go to bed.” You instruct. “And neither of you will breathe a word of this to anyone. Otherwise, those eagles will send you back to your mother in pieces. Understand?”

They both nod their heads grimly. Knowing better than to test you when you’re this close to resorting to violence. They silently turn to leave.

You walk them out. Latching the door firmly closed behind them and sliding the lock in place.

Letting your hand linger on the rusted metal, you dread turning to face Thorin now that it’s just the two of you again.

This time being alone together doesn’t carry the same implication. The moment has officially passed. The previous mood dead and buried.

With a steadying breath, you turn to face him. And just as you predicted Thorin is looking at you with an expression you’re all too familiar with lately.

“Care to explain what that was about?” he crosses his arms over his chest again.

“You’re the one who didn’t lock the door,” you deflect as you brush past him to the bed. Beginning to pick up the discarded supplies and tossing them back into your bag.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he grumbles. “Why didn’t you want them to tell the others?”

“Why is that so wrong?” you turn to face him again, a hand on your hip. “Are you obligated to keep the company informed on everyone you sleep with?”

“No, but I don’t feel the need to go out of my way to hide it.”

“If you want to be the one to answer the endless tirade of questions about us, be my guest Thorin,” you roll your eyes. “Questions that I’m not sure either of us even have the answer to.”

“Only because we haven’t discussed it,” he reminds you.

“Is that really how you want to pass the time now that they’re gone?” you set a hand on your hip with a scoff. “Talking?”

He clenches his jaw, taking a step closer to you.

Your breath catches in your chest as you look up at him towering over you.

“I can’t help how much you infuriate me,” he growls, bringing a hand up to run through your hair. “No one drives me as crazy as you do.” His hand slowly comes to the side of your face, caressing your cheek.

“Every time you open your mouth I lose control.” He starts to trace your bottom lip with his thumb, watching in awe as you wrap your lips around the digit, beginning to suck. He growls as you gently scrape your teeth over his skin.

His other hand wraps around your waist, beginning to pull you in closer to him. You bring your hands to his chest, sliding them up the hard planes of his pectorals.

As your hands slide up, his starts to slide down. He grabs a handful of the soft flesh of your ass, eliciting a moan from you around his thumb.

Knock knock

You both groan and turn to glare at the offending door yet again.

“Not now,” Thorin shouts but the knocking persists.

Reluctantly stepping away from you with a huff, Thorin stalks over to the door. Unlatching it and yanking it open roughly.

Gandalf stands in the doorway. “Apologies for the interruption,” he says. Not looking the least bit sorry as his gaze bounces between the two of you in a knowing look.

“Can this wait?” Thorin grumbles at the wizard.

“I’m afraid not,” he replies, “we need to discuss the path we’re going to take for the journey ahead. The others are already gathered down in the kitchen for supper.”

“Very well,” he huffs, looking over his shoulder at you. “Shall we?”

“Actually,” Gandalf raises a hand to halt you both before you can head out the door. “Your assistance is needed in the tavern.”

He gives you a pointed look and you sneak a glance out the window behind you. The sun is already going down. You had promised Bertram you would put on your encore performance at sunset tonight.

“Ah yes,” you clear your throat, “I…promised one of the barmaids I would help her with some… lady troubles.”

Thorin raises a brow in confusion. “Can’t it wait? You’ll miss supper.”

“Oh, I’m afraid lady troubles never wait. I’ll join you all later.”

You shoulder your way past the two of them, Thorin looking confused at your abrupt departure.

You shoot Gandalf a pointed look as you head for the stairs and he gives you a small nod in understanding. You can only hope that he fulfills his promise to keep the company occupied long enough for you to secure the night's lodgings

------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’re late,” Bertram grumbles from behind the bar. “The crowd’s starting to get antsy.” He nods to the restless patrons filling the dimly lit room. The musicians are already tuning their instruments and drunken folk from the nearby towns gather around the stage impatiently.

Considering it was on such short notice, you’re quite impressed word traveled this quickly. You already recognize many regulars in the audience from when you would take to the stage on a nightly basis.

“Apologies,” you mumble while pulling up the sheer fabric at your chest yet again. “I had some wardrobe troubles.”

Either you’re misremembering how uncomfortable the costume was or it’s somehow become tighter and itchier since the last time you wore it.

There are several loose layers of fabric over your hips and chest that are meant to be removed with a flourish throughout the performance. But it’s the pieces underneath that cling tightly to your body. They cover the only parts that will be left to the imagination so you don't want to risk them slipping off.

“Pretty sure this is the only profession where wardrobe malfunctions work to your benefit sweetheart,” he scoffs nodding to the musicians on stage to signal your arrival.

“Now break a leg, and make me some money,” he waves you off and you saunter away towards the stage.

The musicians begin to strum the opening of a familiar melody and the crowd starts to hoot and holler as you slowly climb the steps to center stage.

Blowing a kiss and waving to the crowd your feet tread a familiar path as your hips start to sway, seemingly of their own accord.

Muscle memory kicks in as you let yourself get carried away by the music. Swaying and twirling, smiling and winking as the onlookers cheer.

The music rises to a crescendo and with a roll of your neck and a flip of your hair, you begin to ever so slowly slip the fabric off of your shoulders.

It flutters to the ground, leaving nothing but a long strip of fabric covering your upper body.

Everyone cheers, and you lift your arms above your head with a dazzling smile. Maintaining the pose just long enough for them to drink in the sight.

Continuing your path across the stage, familiar patrons start to clamber closer to the edge of the stage. You’ve done this routine so many times they know the grand finale is drawing near.

With another spin, you quickly slip the tie at your hip free. Holding it taut in your hand your eyes quickly scan for a volunteer.

A big burly man with a long beard calls out your name with a cheer, holding his drink high overhead in a toast. You extend the piece of fabric out to him and he gladly accepts.

“Hold on tight,” you instruct with a wink and he does exactly that. Holding the end of the fabric in place, you begin to twirl away from him in a whirlwind, the skirt unraveling around you as you do so.

The crowd goes wild as the rest of the fabric disappears, sliding down your legs to pool at your feet as you strike another pose showing off your now bare legs.

Gingerly stepping over the pile of fabric you resume your dance, twirling to the other end of the stage.

Your next move is to reverse the movement and travel in the exact opposite direction. But before you can, a strong pair of arms reach around your waist from behind, dragging you backwards off the stage.

With a shout, you are abruptly set on your feet in front of the absolute last person you want to see right now.

“What are you doing?!” Thorin growls, keeping a firm grip on you as his eyes take in the very small amount of fabric in such a public place.

“I’m a little busy right now,” you hiss. The crowd has already started to shout in protest and the musicians have stopped playing, looking at each other in confusion.

You’re more than a little pissed they let someone just grab you from off the stage but that’s a conversation for another time.

You try to pull yourself from his grasp, if you get right back up there and finish the performance you’re sure you can remedy the situation.

Bertram is already pushing through the crowd, red in the face with his sights set on you.

Thorin’s grip only tightens on your arms, a muscle in his jaw tensing. He releases you for a brief second, and you foolishly think he's letting you have your way. But before you can climb back on stage, he is suddenly wrapping his cloak around your bare skin and tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"You and I are going to have a little talk," he growls as he carries you out of the tavern kicking and screaming.

Taglist:

@mrsdurin @thetaekwondofeline @enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog

@exhausted-humxn-being @marsmallow433 @sverdgeir

@champagne-glamour@yve-barr @krampus236 @nerdthickly

@lyl1pad @bruhk @eri-s-big-sis

[alphynix]

Spectember/Spectober 2023 #08: Various Filter-Feeders

Admantus asked for a "freshwater baleen whale":

Rostrorutellum admantusi is descended from small cetotheres that became isolated in a large inland body of water (similar to the modern Caspian Sea), eventually becoming landlocked and gradually reducing in salinity towards fully freshwater.

Highly dwarfed in size, just 2-3m long (~6'6"-9'10"), they're slow swimmers with broad duck-like snouts that are used to scoop up mouthfuls of sediment and strain out their invertebrate prey in a similar feeding style to gray whales.

Due to the murkiness of the water, and the lack of large predators in their environment, they have poor eyesight and instead use sensory bristles and electroreceptors around their snouts to navigate and detect prey.

———

And an anonymous submission requested a "whale-like filter-feeding marine crocodile":

Sestrosuchus aigialus is a 6m long (~20') crocodilian closely related to the modern American crocodile, living in warm shallow coastal waters.

It's adapted for an almost fully aquatic lifestyle convergently similar to the ancient thalattosuchians, swimming with undulations of its long tail and steering with flipper-like limbs. But unlike other crocs it's specialized for filter-feeding, with numerous delicate needle-like teeth in its jaws that interlock to sieve out small fish and planktonic invertebrates from the water.

———

A couple more suggestions also asked for "fully aquatic pinnipeds" and "future crabeater seal evolution":

Euphausiolethrus volucer is a fully aquatic descendant of the crabeater seal. About 5m long (~16'4"), it occupies the ecological niche of a small baleen whale in the krill-abundant Antarctic waters that lack most actual baleen whales.

Its jaws contain numerous finely-lobed teeth that are used to strain krill from the water, and it utilizes all four of its wing-like flippers to swim in an "underwater flight" motion similar to that of plesiosaurs.

Highly social, it tends to congregate in pods that cooperate to herd swarms of krill for easier feeding.

[itsabouttimex2]

Hiii, can you please write a part 2/continuation of the platonic Yan monkiefam? It was really good 🩷🥰

Monkiefam: Part Two

Smothering Simians

(Part Zero) (Part One) (Part Two)

(Fun fact! The Flower Fruit Mountain monkeys are very likely Rhesus Macaques!)

It’s not that you dislike MK. He’s a good kid, really. He’s a little immature, and still unsure of himself, true. He’s a bit high energy and a little too desperate to prove himself, to prove that he’s good enough…

But he’s a good kid. Really.

He seems to switch between playing older and younger brother on a dime, happy to wear either mask as long as he gets to spend time with you.

One day he’ll be dragging you along to show you all his new drawings and staring at you with puppy-dog eyes as he hopes for some kind of praise or approval. Another, he’s rubbing your back to comfort you while you cry over not being allowed to leave Flower Fruit Mountain. Then he’ll wake up early the next day to bring back some comfort food for the two of you to share. And afterwards it’ll be right back to him showing a new skill he’s learned, eyes sparkling as you politely clap and praise him for his dedication.

He’s easy to be around, most of the time. At the very least, he brightens up whichever room he happens to be in at the time. Even though his endless energy can be a little grating, you have to admit- having him around usually makes things a little bit easier to handle. He helps.

Usually.

But right now?

This is miserable. And he’s certainly not helping you one bit.

You sit on Wukong’s lap as he ties a red ribbon around your neck, cooing all the while. Since you hadn’t figured out how to turn yourself back yet, your ‘father’ and ‘brother’ had decided that they’d need a way to tell you apart from all the other monkeys on Flower Fruit Mountain. The monkey demon ties the ends of the silky strip of fabric into a bow, and then flips you around to add a ribbon to your tail, as well.

All the while, MK watches with delighted eyes, drawing out the scene in his sketchbook.

It had been a surprise to both of them, seeing you transformed into a monkey, having learned the technique only by watching them practice and overhearing a couple of their conversations. Of course, learning to transform doesn’t necessarily mean learning to turn back, so here you were, stuck in the form of a little mountain monkey, absolutely dwarfed by your companions. A characteristic that Sun Wukong was delightedly taking advantage of.

“Hey, can I hold them?”

Wukong chuckles, and holds you out to MK. You get the feeling that he’s used to handling all the little monkeys around the mountain. He holds you gently, taking mind of your prehensile tail and your wiry limbs.

MK does not.

He snatches you against himself, rubbing his face into your fur as he laughs with delight. “Aww! You’re so, so soft! I didn’t even know monkeys could be this soft! No offense, Monkey King! I mean, you’re kinda soft, but not soft soft, you know?”

He turns to Wukong, gauging the demon’s face to ensure that he hadn’t accidentally offended his mentor. He receives a casual thumbs up in response.

With that reassurance, he’s right back to doting on your new form. He toys with your tiny fingers and brushes the velvety fur of your tail, grinning as he does. He begins to squish your face between his hands, watching your simian face contort in his grasp as he moves your cheeks around. He only pauses to ask another question.

“Hey, how long do you think it’ll take for them to learn to change back?”

The whole world freezes. Depending on Wukong’s answer, this whole situation could go from uncomfortable to hellish. But at least you’d have some sort of frame of time, a general indicator of when things would go back to semi-normal.

“Hmm… I dunno! I’ve never met someone who got themselves stuck like this!”

Great.

[rynneer]

Misty Memories Cold

When you wake in Fíli’s bed with no recollection of anything after a disaster in Mirkwood, he’s ready to risk anything, even his uncle’s wrath, to bring back what you had together.

Cold.

You’re cold. It’s dark. You’re falling. Someone reaches for you. Too late.

The water folds in around you. It floods your nose. It floods your ears. Your limbs don’t work. You can’t swim.

Muffled shouts. You open your mouth to cry back. It fills with water.

Choking.

Drowning.

Drowning.

Drowning drowning drowning dr–

You wake with a jolt, sitting up in bed.

Bed?

You pat the sheets around you. Yes, you’re definitely in a bed, not curled up on the leaf litter in Mirkwood.

“I guess it really was a dream,” you whisper, shoulders slumping. But as you run your fingers across the hem of the blanket, you frown. It doesn’t feel like the old quilt on your bed. It’s thicker, softer.

Something is wrong.

You look around the room as your eyes begin to adjust. There’s a fireplace across the room, the dying embers casting just enough light to let you make out the vague shapes of furniture in the darkness. The walls and floor are stone, adorned with plush rugs. The wind rattles the shutters outside the window, hidden behind thick curtains.

This is not your bedroom… and you are not alone. A dark figure stirs next to you beneath the covers. You scramble out of bed but find the floor farther away than expected. You land hard on your side. “Ow!”

You slap your hand over your mouth, but it’s too late. The figure sits up with a groan, rubbing at its face and leaning to peer over the edge of the bed at you. There’s no mistaking that mustache, those braids.

“Fíli? What… where are we?” And why are we in bed together?

Fíli blinks a few times to clear the sleep from his eyes. “What do you mean?” he asks hoarsely, his voice rough. He rolls out of bed and kneels in front of you. “We’re home. In Erebor? You know, the mountain? Big pile of rocks and snow? It’s rather hard to miss.” He raises an eyebrow, trying to coax a smile from you.

Instead, you scoot backwards, putting space between you and the prince as you process his words. “But we were just in Mirkwood,” you protest. “How did we get here?”

Fíli’s confusion turns to concern. “Y/N, that was a year ago.” He shifts closer and brushes a thumb over your cheek. “Are you feeling alright?”

You stiffen against his touch, heart in your throat. Ever the gentleman, he’s never touched you without permission before. But something about the way his palm cups your face feels familiar. “I don’t know,” you whisper, shaking your head. “All I remember is falling into the stream.”

“You don’t remember the elves? Fighting for the mountain? All the time we spent together?” He uncovers a long braid in your hair. “Our wedding?”

“Wedding?!” It’s true, you’ve harbored feelings for Fíli since the two of you met in Bag End. You’d admired him in the book and movies, and to see him for real… it did something to you. But you never thought he would return your affections—how could he? You’re a plain, young woman from another world, and he’s a handsome prince, heir to the throne.

Fíli searches your face, expression unreadable. Finally, he stands, offering you his hand. “Come on.”

You take it hesitantly. His fingers lace through yours, and he helps you to your feet. Strangely, you find that instead of being taller than the dwarf, you’re just level with his chin. But before you can comment on this, Fíli pulls you out the door and down a narrow hallway.

He leads you to a large sitting room, taking you to the sofa next to yet another fireplace. “Wait here,” he orders softly. “I’ll fetch Thorin.”

“Thorin’s alive?” you breathe. “What about Kíli?”

“Kíli would like to know what the pair of you are doing up and chattering in the middle of the night,” replies a voice from behind you. The youngest Durin leans against the wall with his arms crossed, hair still tousled from sleep.

You tip back your head and close your eyes. “They did it,” you sigh in relief. “Oh, thank God, they did it.”

Kíli raises an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Fíli pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let me get Thorin first. I would rather not explain this twice.”

 

“Again.” Thorin paces in front of the fire.

You rub your forehead. “I told you, that’s it,” you groan. “I fell in the water and woke up here.”

Kíli shakes his head. “It makes no sense.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Thorin flashes you a warning look.

“It was no ordinary stream,” Fíli points out. He sits with you on the couch, his hand resting on top of yours. Every once in a while, he gives it a reassuring squeeze. “It had some sort of foul magic. She wouldn’t wake for days.”

“If it’s magic that we’re dealing with,” you glance at Thorin warily before continuing, “it might be a good idea to talk with the elves.”

“Absolutely not,” Thorin snaps. His lip curls in disgust. “I refuse to invite them to interfere in our private matters.”

Kíli’s eyes brighten. “What about Gandalf, then? Where would we find him?”

They all look to you. You close your eyes, teasing and tugging at the cobwebs that cloud the part of your mind where your Middle Earth knowledge is stored. “He’s… there’s no guarantee we even could find him. Gandalf doesn’t have a home, exactly. He wanders. They don’t call him the Grey Pilgrim for nothing.”

“So we don’t know where Gandalf is,” Fíli starts slowly, “but we do know where the elves are.”

“And Gandalf wasn’t in Mirkwood with us,” you add. “There’s no guarantee he even knows about the enchanted stream—but Thranduil definitely would.”

Thorin crosses his arms. “Out of the question.”

“Did you not make peace with Mirkwood?”

“Peace does not mean friendship,” Thorin retorts. His voice, raised in frustration, echoes off of the polished stone walls. Down another hallway, you hear a door slam. Thorin groans at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“And just what in Mahal’s name is everyone shouting about at this hour of night?”

A new dwarf steps into the firelight. In the dim light, she almost looks like a copy of Thorin. But as she approaches, you can see her features are softer, her eyes rounder, her beard thinner. And there’s no mistaking the Durin glare that she levels at Thorin, her blue eyes just as piercing as they are tired.

You glance at Fíli with uncertainty. He squeezes your hand and leans close to murmur in your ear. “It’s just Amad. Mother,” he translates when you don’t seem to understand.

Dís. You nod quickly.

Thorin looks at you, then back to his sister, standing with arms crossed and an eyebrow raised expectantly. As they exchange words in their rough native tongue, Dís’s expression of irritation turns to one of soft, motherly concern. She comes closer to you and gently brushes away a few strands of unruly hair from your face. “You must be tired, natha.”

“Daughter,” Fíli whispers.

“A bit,” you reply quietly, finding yourself suddenly shy with the full attention of a mother focused on you.

“Poor dove,” Dís tuts. She straightens up and pats you on the shoulder. “Fíli, take your lass back to bed. We will speak in the morning.” Thorin looks like he means to protest, but Dís silences him with an icy glare. Planting a kiss on the top of your head, she pushes Kíli and Thorin back down their opposite hallways. Fíli pats your hand and follows her quickly, his words in Khuzdûl fading as he gets further away.

Finally alone, you let out a long sigh. For the first time, you get the chance to look yourself over, to see what has changed. Your hair is longer, brushing the small of your back. When you run your fingers through it, you find braids styled to match Fíli’s. A dwarven marriage custom, perhaps? There’s a thin, gold band on your finger, too, lined with tiny sapphires that sparkle in the firelight. A little smile tugs at the corner of your mouth; at least you kept some piece of your own marriage customs.

And while Fíli has been bare-chested this whole time, you’re wearing a dark green shirt, no doubt one that used to be his. It’s long enough on you to serve as a nightgown. A blush rises on your face when you realize the deep v-neck exposes the dip between your breasts—and has been exposing it to everyone else this whole time.

“Amrâlimê?” Fíli’s voice from the hallway is soft. He pokes his head into the sitting room. “Aren’t you going to come to bed?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, suddenly very interested in the fireplace. In anything that isn’t Fíli’s too-kind face. “Do you want me to?” you ask hesitantly.

It’s silent for a few seconds. Fíli sighs heavily and comes to kneel before you, taking your hands in his. “Y/N, you are my wife. Of course I want you to come to bed. It is our bed.” His eyes search yours, desperately looking for the light he knows should be there. “Do I not have your love?”

“I mean, sure,” you reply softly. Your voice is strained. “I just… I don’t understand how I have yours. You’re the crown prince, you’re perfect. And I’m just… me.”

“You are so much more than that,” Fíli murmurs. “You are everything to me.” He kisses your forehead and stands. Before you can say anything, you’re swept up in his arms. Startled, you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck to avoid falling, but he carries your smaller frame with ease.

You frown, remembering your observation from earlier. “Shouldn’t I be taller than you?”

“Ah. Well.” Fili’s chuckle makes his chest vibrate against your cheek. “That’s all that we thought the stream did. Make you properly sized.”

“Properly sized?” you repeat in disbelief. “You call this properly sized?”

“You complained about it endlessly,” Fíli continues. A playful smile tugs at his lips. “Until you realized how well you fit in my arms.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re very funny.”

“I’m also handsome, charming, brave…”

“Shut up.” You smack his shoulder lightly, but hide a smile as you tuck your head beneath his chin. Maybe you can get used to this.

But as he kicks open the door to his—your—room, and you see the bed with its rumpled covers, you tense.

“Y/N?” Fíli’s breath tickles your neck.

“It’s… just a lot, all at once,” you mumble.

He squeezes you, then lowers you gently to the bed. “I understand,” he murmurs.

“You really don’t, though.” Pent-up frustration simmers within you. “When’s the last time you fell into a stream, woke up, and found out a year had passed and you’re married?”

“Are you upset that we’re married?” Fíli asks, his face falling.

You feel a pang of guilt for snapping at him. This can’t be any easier for him. Running your hand through your tangled hair, you shake your head. “It feels like one moment, I was a girl with a crush, and then I wake up, and suddenly I’m a married woman. I’ve missed out on everything.”

“It’s in there, somewhere,” he whispers, stroking your cheek. You flinch away, your body unsure of how to react to his touch. Hurt flickers across his face, but he pulls back. “Can I fix your braids?” he asks. There’s desperation in his eyes.

Recognizing his need to touch you in whatever way he can, you nod slowly, and turn. The gentle, rhythmic tugging as he combs and re-braids your hair is hypnotic, and you find your eyelids drooping.

“There,” Fíli says, turning you back to him. He smiles sadly. “Beautiful as ever.”

Your heart aches. Whether it aches for him, the dwarf searching for his loving wife in the uncertain girl before him, or yourself, longing to be that loving wife, you do not know.

After a moment of hesitation, you lean in and reward him with a quick kiss on the cheek. His beard is prickly against your lips. “I’m tired,” you whisper when you draw back.

The kiss brings a real smile to his face, however small it may be. Fíli pulls back the covers and you wriggle underneath them. You settle into a dip worn down into the mattress from hundreds of nights before. Fíli slides into place behind you, his chest against your back. You stiffen slightly, but force yourself to relax.

“Is this alright?” His deep, quiet voice vibrates through your body.

You nod. He can have a little cuddle, as a treat. As an apology.

He takes that as a signal to test the limits further. You can tell he’s holding his breath as he drapes his arm over your waist. “Is this alright?”

“It’s cozy,” you mumble sleepily, letting the warmth of his body overwhelm you.

Fíli lets out his breath, pulling you tightly against him and nuzzling his face into your hair.

As you drift off, you do your best to pretend you don’t notice his quiet tears.

You began to stir, finding your face pressed into something warm and firm. As you tried to pull away to look around, you were met with resistance. You made a disgruntled noise.

“Y/N?!” Suddenly, a hand yanked your head backwards. Wide eyes searched your face frantically. You just barely registered who held you before he pulled you back in a crushing embrace. “I thought we’d lost you.”

“Fíli?” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his coat. “Can’t breathe.”

He released you, finally letting you get your bearings. The two of you were alone in a small, stone cell. Torchlight flickered just outside the wrought iron bars, casting a dim, orange light into your cell.

A shadow crossed over the door. “Oh, so she is alive. Here, then.” An apple landed on the ground in front of you, followed by a waterskin. “That’s the most you get until tomorrow. Make it last.” The shadow retreated, footsteps echoing down a long hallway.

Pieces began to slot into place in your mind. You nodded slowly. Mirkwood, elves, imprisonment. “How long have we been in here?”

“A few days at most, given how often they’ve brought food and water. But it’s hard to tell.” Fíli seemed distracted, eyes scanning your body. “How do you feel?”

You frowned and patted yourself up and down. “A bit sore, but I think I’m fine.” You untangled yourself from Fíli and tried to stand on shaky legs, your knees instantly failing beneath you.

Immediately, he jumped up and grabbed your waist from behind to steady you. “Y/N?” His voice was soft. “Y/N, please do not be alarmed when you turn around.”

“What?” You twisted in his grasp and looked up into his concerned face.

Up. You had to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. He was big. You tried to back away but the space was so narrow, you collided with the wall after just a single step. “You’re taller,” you stated, almost robotically. “But you’re a dwarf. You can’t be taller than me. I’m supposed to be the taller one. How did you get taller?”

“I did not get taller,” he corrected you. “You got smaller.”

You just stared at him blankly. Fíli sighed, gently taking hold of your arm and easing you back to the ground. He took the apple from the floor and placed it in your hand. “Eat,” he ordered quietly. “You haven’t had any food in days. It was hard enough to get water into you.”

Instead, you rolled it between your palms absentmindedly. “How long was I out?”

“Just over a week. We were trying to cross a stream, and you fell in.”

“Instead of Bombur,” you interjected.

Fíli raised an eyebrow. “If you say so. Glóin managed to snag you,” he continues, “and when he pulled you out, you were… well, smaller. But you wouldn’t wake up. You even slept through the spiders. I was so afraid that you were gone before I could tell you–” he broke off, his voice thick. He tore his eyes away from yours, a blush rising on his face.

“What?” You reached out and took hold of his chin, turning his face back to you. Yet his eyes still avoided you. You crawled closer, kneeling between his outstretched legs. Your traitorous heart pounded hopefully against your ribs. “Tell me what, Fee?”

He shook his head. “No, no, it’s foolish. I shouldn’t… you wouldn’t…” Finally, he looked back up at you. “I love you?” He phrased it as a question, his blue eyes filled with hesitation. It was strangely endearing, seeing the normally confident prince so bashful. Fíli lifted a cautious hand to your cheek, fingers just barely brushing your skin.

Surprise temporarily robbed you of your voice. Mistaking your silence for rejection, Fíli quickly pulled his hand away. Shame and hurt flashed across his face. “Forgive me,” he blurted out, ducking his head. “I should not burden you with feelings you can never return.” He pulled his legs back in and moved further into the shadowy recesses of the cell.

But you crawled after him, refusing to let him go that easily. “Fíli, why didn’t you say anything?” When he remained silent, you wound your fingers up in one of his braids and tugged, forcing him to turn his head towards you. “Why are you so sure that I can’t feel the same?”

A cautious spark of hope flared to life in his eyes. “Because you’re perfect, you’re beautiful,” he murmured. “You deserve so much more than I can give.”

You smiled, eyes tracing his face. The gold locks that framed it, the sky blue eyes, the flushed cheeks. And those soft, pink lips, parted ever so slightly as he awaited your next words.

But words were the furthest thing from your mind. Refusing to hold back any longer, you grabbed Fíli by the collar, lunging forward to claim his mouth.

His eyes widened, then fluttered shut as his hands grabbed at your waist. Fíli pulled you back into his lap and wrapped his arms around you, reaching up to comb through your tangled hair with his fingers.

A rock clanged against the bars of your cell. “Get a room!” came Kíli’s voice, echoing down the hall.

You broke away with a laugh. “This is a room!”

Kíli’s only response was a disgusted groan as Fíli grabbed at your face for more.

[stoutpancakes]

special: könig x reader

female reader in mind! please do not read if you are under 18!!!! also i used google translate because i only speak english, so i apologize for any bad german. this was for a friend and partially self indulgent. the drabble starts under the cut. enjoy :)

It was when his cock hit the back of her throat that a low groan is pulled from his thin lips, and he realized just how special you were. His broad chest rises and falls, the pale skin covered in scars short and long: from bullet wounds to knife slashes alike.

“Scheisse…”

The word adds to the symphony of the wet slurps and soft gags that come from the woman on her knees before him, looking comically small against the Austrian man’s long, thick limbs. His flexing, hair covered thigh was the size of her head, and the realization alone caused heat to shoot through his veins like pure molten lava. He had always loved how much smaller she was compared to him; hell, everyone was smaller when it came to König. But it was something far more special when it was her, especially when he was able to pick her up with such ease – when he was able to dwarf her in both size and height. Then again… everything about her was special.

Special in the way that her eyelashes bat upwards at him and her orbs meet his half-lidded ones. And oh so special in the way that her tongue circles his oozing cockhead with one of her hands squeezing what couldn’t fit in her mouth. Yes, she was something special indeed.

“So besondere.”

Translations:

Scheisse = shit

So besondere = so special

[uncertainwallflower]

GIGGLING GROWN MEN For @jilymicrofics March 2024. Prompt: horrified. Words: 447.

“What did you do?” hissed Lily in her most venomous whisper, watching, horror-stricken, as Sirius and Peter totted her husband—one of his arms slung over a shoulder each—down the little pathway from the gate to the front door in which she stood. Amendment: her very drunk, very nearly unconscious, and very bald husband.

Remus, who made up the rear, shutting the gate—which he dwarfed with his long lean frame—behind him, shyly offered what to Lily was no explanation at all but to the boys—not men, boys—supporting James was funny enough to nearly drop him into the azaleas. “Sirius bet him his broom he couldn’t down a bottle of firewhisky then walk across the river and back.”

“On the ledge!” adding a guffawing, evidently also pissed, Sirius.

“Yes, on the ledge.”

A million and one thoughts raced through Lily’s mind. Did he really drink the whole bottle? What if he drowned? How fast was the river? He’s probably got alcohol poisoning! What was the spell charm to induce vomiting? Had they had dinner like they planned? What if he caught hyperthermia? Oh, god, he definitely had alcohol poisoning. Why are they so stupid? She gnawed at her bottom lip, flattening herself against the doorjamp to allow the giggling grown men into her hallway. They carried James through to the small loungeroom and dropped him on the small sofa, his long limbs sprawling out in his mindless state, then deposited themselves in various squashy spots about the room; and Lily picked her way around and over their legs to reach James, pressing a cool hand to his warm cheek.

He peeked a bleary eye open, probably only enough to gauge light and shadow. His glasses were bent and smeared with algae. He cracked a grin. “Lily.”

“Hello, love.”

His smile fell away and he frowned, closing his eyes again with a groan as he pressed his cheek into her palm. “It’s all his fault,” he said to no one and everyone, but probably meaning the one who proceeded to kick out at his foot. James muttered a groggy “Fuck off, Sirius” and Lily sighed, turning on the other three. She pulled her palm from James’s cheek—he protested with a whine, reaching blindly out for her—and set both hand on hips, brows raised.

“And what happened to his hair?”

James paused his search for his wife and reached instead for his scalp which sported a few uneven tufts and fair amount of short stubble, the result a poorly—or intoxicatedly—performed sheering charm.

Sirius and Peter fell into another fit of giggles and Remus sighed heavily. “That would be the other bet.”

AO3

[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; Yes Ma'am (Sub!Kili x Dom!Fem!Reader)

Summary - A night's rest at a tavern during your painful journey seemed like bliss, it would have been pure bliss if not for the peculiar hatred a certain young dwarf had for you. Now being forced to share a room by orders of the king, you accidentally stumble upon the hidden truth behind the young dwarf's hatred'.

Warnings - Smut, language, afab reader, female reader, harassment, violence & mention of violence (poorly written), implied she-elf fancying you (brief), yelling, sub!kili, dom!reader, female genitalia, male genitalia, masturbation (male), pet names (mainly for kili), calling kili a good boy (a lot), reader being called ma'am (a lot), praise kink (male), degrading (male), oral (female receiving & poorly written), slapping, hair pulling, unprotected sex, bodily fluids, creampie.

Pronouns & POV - She/her, third-person-ish

Word Count - 8,800+

A/N - One of the few smuts I vividly remember...we are all whores here, ain't we?

Read on AO3

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

The long journey towards the lonely mountain was a treacherous and painful one. The sore limbs, endless amounts of scrapes and bruises, and sleepless nights were almost nothing compared to the peculiar hatred from the youngest dwarf within the company.

A hatred you had not understood, possibly insulting him by the lack of understanding of his culture yet you had still seen it as an unfair hatred. Though it was well-known dwarves were rather secretive when it came to their language, cultures, and customs, many within your group had taught you what to avoid for the sake of avoiding an unneeded fight.

Nothing they had spoken of had come to mind as you reflected upon your short interactions with the brunette dwarf, you had even avoided joining in on their jokes when it came to his beard and came to his aid countless times yet he would simply turn his back on you in disgust before returning to his post beside his brother. Stupid dwarf.

The bubbling anger within your stomach quickly subsided as the leader of your journey announced all would be stopping in a tavern for the night, finally a good night's rest. Though the oddly sticky rooms and the scent of smoke were not what you had envisioned when it came to a proper room, far too spoiled by the elves of Rivendell during your short stay, yet it was pure bliss compared to the harsh grounds you often slept upon.

The cheers and discussions of sharing a room quickly died down as another announcement boomed out, "To save on our resources, I will be pairing you up with another for the night." A wave of disappointed groans followed their king's announcement, groans he ignored as he began listing off names.

The pairings which appeared more reasonable than the last, pairs of dwarves receiving their shared key before rushing off to receive their fix of ale. Only four members of the company standing without their shared keys, Fili, Kili, Bilbo, and yourself.

All wordlessly agreeing that Fili and Kili would have a room, they were brothers after all, and the hobbit and yourself would share one, both being quiet and ready to rest without the onslaught of snores from the rowdy dwarves.

"And finally, Fili, you will be with Bilbo." The elder dwarf announced, the calloused palms thrusting a rusty key in Bilbo's direction. "Y/N, you will be with Kili. Do not disappoint me." The sternness in his tone sending a cold shiver down your spine, all four mouths agape as he thrust the second key into his nephew's grasp.

"You cannot be serious, Thorin!" The youngest dwarf whined, his amber eyes refusing to even gaze in your direction. "Oh, I am. We are here to rest not be bothered with your jokes, you two have proven you cannot be trusted unsupervised." "This is unreasonable! Cruel!" The youngest dwarf continued to whine as the faint thump of his uncle's boots rang out through the rowdy tavern, the faint tap of his following shortly.

"Ignore him, Y/N, he is simply stressed from the journey." The golden-haired dwarf smiled as he clasped a calloused palm around your shoulder, his lip curling upwards in a friendly smile. "And if he is too difficult to handle, you are more than welcome to sprawl out your bedroll in our chambers." The offer lightly soothing your annoyed heart, at least one son of Dis was kind towards you.

"Thank you, Fili. Though I would prefer not to disrupt your or Bilbo's rest." "Oh, nonsense!" The hobbit announced while a wide smile spread upon his lips as his soft palm clasped on your opposite shoulder. "It would be a pleasure to have you visit even if it is for a mere cup of tea before returning to your chambers." The kind words momentarily distracted you from the young prince's hatred, the once sturdy weight upon your shoulders being lifted away by their gentle grasp upon them.

"I appreciate that offer, I just wish I knew what I have done to offend him." A soft sigh escaping your lips as their sturdy hands eased from your shoulder, the pair staring at one another before momentarily opening their mouths and shutting them. "I am sure it is nothing that cannot be resolved with some well-deserved rest, now off you go." The golden-haired dwarf began gently nudging you in the direction which his brother ran off to, either desiring to get some rest of his own before too late or simply wanting the discussion of his troublesome brother to end.

The slight thumps of your booted feet on the oddly sticky tavern floor were heavily masked by the cheering of ale-fueled patrons and clicking of their mugs against one another, your eyes darting from one patron to another as you looked for that small thorn in your side you called a dwarf. Had he gone to your shared chambers already? Thoughts wiped away as the sight of the dwarf cheering with his other company caught your jewel-colored eyes, and though you despised it, a sigh of relief left your slightly chapped lips.

You were certain if he had gone into your chambers he would have locked you out forcing you to fend for yourself out in the cold. His brother or that sweet hobbit would most likely come to your aid if that thought were to come to fruition yet all you wanted was some moments of peace by yourself before another pathetic battle with him.

"There you are, lass! Come have a drink with us!" The gruff warrior's voice boomed throughout the tavern, the once serious tone he held had surprisingly turned into a joy-filled one as he took another swig of ale from the pint in front of him. Ale running down all of the dwarves' beards except for one, his chin lightly stained with ale as his honey-colored eyes threw daggers into your form, his nose scrunching up in disgust as he murmured something to the hatted dwarf beside him that you couldn't quite catch.

"Thank you, Master Dwalin," The title the wise wizard used fell out of your lips in more of a tease aware of how much he despised you calling him such. "however, I am afraid I came to retrieve the key to my chambers so I may rest. Sadly ensuring none of you die by your own hands is more tiring than fighting any orc we've come across." The wide smile that had spread upon your lips never leaving them despite the onslaught of distressed yelps from your friends and the burning gaze from the one you did not know to call friend or foe.

Before any further conversation could ensue a strange male began to approach the table, you quickly moved aside thinking it was a tender coming to see if they needed more for their fill of ale but instead, they moved along with you. "Hello there." His attempt at singing the words came off as an oddly pitched slur, all eyes from the table quickly shifting their joyous gaze on the ale within their grasp to the stranger who had approached you.

"Erm, hello?" You uttered, an eyebrow-raising in his direction before turning your attention back towards the grumpy brunette. "As I was saying, I would appreciate that key now." Your eyes silently pleading with him to save you from this drunk. "Ooh a key, ey? I have a key for you right here." The delirious drunk motioning his lower regions, though you were facing away from him you knew this by the displeased and disgusted looks which spread upon your friends' faces.

"I am not interested in the tiny padlock key you own." The blandness in your tone and the mocking of his size surely gave no other interpretation in your mind, you did not want him and would never entertain such a thought. "Oh come on, baby. You've had too many dwarves in you, let me show you what a real man can do." The sudden pressure of his thin arms wrapping around your upper waist forced your lips to press into a thin line, a harsh exhale escaping your nostrils while your friends sprang onto their feet.

The sudden low pitched slap of your balled fist connecting to his nose echoed rang throughout the ravenous bar, the pressure of his slimy arms around your waist quickly easing as he stumbled back with a hand clasped tightly around his bloodied nose. "You fucking bitch-" The words dying in his mouth the moment you booted foot came into heavy contact with his groin, a loud groan falling from his ale-drenched mouth. "Listen here and listen good," You began grasping tightly at his greasy hair, low whimpers of pain falling out of him.

"I am not your baby. I do not want that pathetic excuse of a dick within five steps of me nor do I want it near any other women within this tavern." You continued yanking up his hair forcing a loud yelp out of his mouth while your friends simply stood their mouths agape at your sudden outburst, many later on blaming it all on the stress of your travels.

"If I find out you did this to another woman I will personally take you outside and make sure you will never bear an offspring, got it?" The hiss booming throughout the tavern, his head forced back at another tug of his hair as he attempted to nod through the stinging pain. "I'm sorry? I didn't hear you!" "Yes ma'am! I'm sorry!" The suddenly sobered male stuttered out, the pain of his injuries and the embarrassment of his degradation amongst fellow patrons enough to discourage further actions from continuing for that night.

"Good, now get out of my sight." The drunken male quickly scrambled to his feet after a rough shove from you, a sigh of relief finally escaping your lungs as you turned your attention back onto your friends. "Now that, that is handled. May I have the key...please?" The sight of your lightly blood-stained hand extending towards him was enough to snap him out of his dreamlike daze, though he had seen you fight numerous times he always managed to find himself captivated by your strength.

"Oh, erm, right!" The faint pat of his calloused hands against his clothes was followed by the clearing of his throat caught your ear, an attempt to scare away the blush that threatened to creep upon his cheeks. "Here." The cold metal quickly being concealed by your warm palm as you snatched it from his grasp, the tension in your shoulder quickly easing away at the sensation. "Thank you! I'm off to wash up, do not disrupt me." "Yes ma'am." The soft mutter barely caught your ear as the dwarven prince returned to his seat, an onslaught of teasing ensuing from the table as you strolled down the long hallway to your chambers.

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The plush towels gently embraced your bruised skin, a sensation you had yearned to feel again after all those cold sleepless nights on your journey so far. The lids of your eyes shutting softly while you soaked in your moment of bliss, the warmth of your bath's water still fresh on your skin along with the delicate floral scent of the tavern's oils, a scent vastly different than any troll or orc sweat you had gotten on you during battle.

The moment of bliss cut short by the loud pounding against the wooden door, a displeased groan escaping your lips as you mindlessly wandered towards the door. "Hold on a moment! I said hold on!" The pounding against the wood coming to an end as the door creaked open, the sight of your door's foe causing another groan to slip out of your plump lips. "I thought I told you not to disrupt me, Kili." The words coming out as a whine as you turned your attention away from the grumpy dwarf, slowly strolling towards the side of the bed you had assigned to yourself as you payed no mind to your lack of clothing.

The annoyance which flooded the dwarf's body quickly subsided at the glorious sight of you in nothing but a towel, the heat quickly rising towards his cheeks yet again as the cloth which restrained his cock suddenly grew tighter. "Come on then, spit it out already." The commanding tone that slipped through those soft lips of yours forced the fire beneath his skin to burn brighter.

"Oh! Well, erm, uncle wanted to know if you would be joining them for supper. There's a plate set aside for you...if you wish to join that is." His voice began to crack at the end while he quickly averted his gaze from your heavenly form, an image he would forever have ingrained into his mind.

A soft hum making its way out of your mouth as you sprawled out on the soft bed, your weight slowly sinking into the soft furs. Food, a thought that had slipped out of your mind during your hot bath. The low grumble within your belly showing that an actual meal compared to the odd scraps you had found throughout your journey would be greatly appreciated. "Let them know I will join them in a moment." "I was planning on staying in here...I have eaten already." Your gaze shifting from the tall wooden walls over to the prince, his smoky ones occasionally greeted yours before darting back onto the grimy floors. So much for his hatred being merely stress.

"That is fine, there is still hot water in the tub if you wish to bathe." A small creak escaped the mattress as your weight shifted upwards on the bed, the plush towel slowly beginning to slide down your upper chest. "The oils are on the second shelf and I will be bringing the key with me so you may rest." Though he despised you, you were still civil towards him for the sake of your friends and the shared goal to help them reclaim their home.

"That sounds fair." The mutters barely caught your ear as you allowed the towel to continue its trail down your oiled body as you strolled across the room, he had seen much worse on his journey so this would surely not phase the stubborn prince. "I will do my best to be quiet on my return, do not mess with my things while I am away." You scolded as you began to bend towards the small pile of clothes, the dwarven prince's gaze lifting upon your nude form in both the worst and best timing within his mind.

Every curve and imperfection on full display for him to take in, perfection. Pure utter perfection is what he saw you as, his hardened act towards you merely being one to avoid the hardening within his trousers which was always a failed attempt. Your kindness and charm were far too alluring to make him stay away and yet your abilities on and off the battlefield were enough to instill fear and curiosity within him.

He dreamt of nothing more than praising every inch of your heavenly body, kissing over each scar and bruise your soft skin held, and making you cry pleasure-filled moans with him in between your strong legs. The fabric which tightened underneath his dirtied trousers went unnoticed to him but not to you, your gaze shifting from your assortment of clothing you wore onto the young dwarf, finding it rather odd he had gone quiet so quickly on you until you caught his displeased gaze on your nude figure.

Though you had not wished for him to eye you as if you were a leg of meat similar to which the drunk had done an hour prior, you had not expected such a displeased look from him nor did you expect for it to sting within your chest as much as it did.

"It is rather rude to stare, is it not?" Your low tone startling the brunette out of his lust-driven thoughts, the subtle heat of his blush growing to overtake the paleness of his face. His mouth opened and closed quickly as if he were a fish fresh out of water before his gaze darted away from heavenly form, your jewel-colored orbs quickly looping around your skull while you pulled the scratchy fabric onto your softly oiled skin.

"I will be back soon, do not burn anything down while I am away." "This again? It was an accident, I was a dwarfling!" The dwarf's annoyed muttering barely catching your ear while you strolled towards the door, hands gliding across your clothing ensuring every inch of once revealed flesh was no longer on display. "I believed you of all people would know one time is far too many when it comes to fire, now be good." The low clicks of your booted heels rang throughout the silent room, the low muffle of cheers and glasses clinking together filling your ears as you furthered your trail down the dimly lit hall.

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The quiet thumps of your boots against the creaky oak floor began to fill the halls again as you strolled back to your chambers, your once empty belly now full of all the ale and food your heart's or rather stomach's desired.

Content hums echoing off of the walls of which your friends resigned in, many leaving before your meal was done to get as much rest as possible, an action you could not blame them for due to the unpleasant sleeping conditions they had endured for far too long.

The heavenly food and gentle conversation had nearly allowed you to forget of the bitter dwarf who stayed behind and though his lack of presence had not bothered you personally, you finding the meal more blissful without his cruel gaze burning holes into you, yet the way his brother's goofy smile faded into a saddened line plucked at the strings within your heart.

"Stupid dwarf." The thought of his kicked puppy look upon his face had reignited the subtle flame within your belly to a full-blown blaze. If that stubborn brunette dwarf truly hated you that was fine, you were merely staying for the friends you had made throughout the journey rather than any payment they could offer, yet it bewildered you he could go so far as to promise his brother of his return and purposefully break it in the sake of avoiding you.

Your annoyed thoughts coming to a halt while you inched closer to the massive doors, a loud sigh escaping your lips as you pulled the metal key out of your back pocket. So much for a peaceful evening.

The quiet creak of the wooden door filled the empty room, that's odd. That stubborn dwarf had surely been in here before you had left, the memories of his displeased gaze upon your nude form still freshly burnt into your mind. As if he would look any better than you after the drastic changes your body had dealt with in mere months, an annoyed sigh escaped your lips while you made your way towards the bed.

A silk slip still nicely folded upon the fluffy pillows, at least he had not messed with your things. Your soft hands embracing the smooth material, your thumbs grazing over the smallest lace detailing whilst you admired your gift. A gift from a she-elf in Rivendell, she must have felt rather badly about your conditions due to the way her face grew red as she handed you the soft fabric in front of your friends, the kindness not going forgotten as you kept the silk dress within your possession throughout your journey despite the few attempts to destroy it by that stubborn dwarf.

Once your clothing was entirely shed from your floral-scented skin, you made haste in slipping that soothing silk over your bare form. The thin straps on your shoulders and the shortened length of the slip left little to the imagination, the slip hugging in all the perfect areas as if it were made for only you.

The momentary bliss being cut short at a peculiar noise that arose from the bathing room, curiosity getting the better of you as your limbs began to move at their own accord, quietly inching closer to the oak door. The soft sound of splashing accompanied with the melody of soft moans and whines dancing within your ears as you inched closer to the door, the blood beneath your skin boiling as you could not help but listen to the same dwarf who mocked you daily's pathetic little melody.

"A-Ah! Y/N, please!" The desperate higher-pitched whimper stalling your heart, was he pleasuring himself to the thought of you? Your inner thighs glistening with slick wetness as you pressed your ear against the wooden door, the muffled whimpers and pleads which accompanied your name all too alluring yet infuriating to you.

His head drooped back against the metal tub, eyelids glued shut as his mouth hung open in pleasure. Images of you tugging at that male's hair and your nude form replaying in his mind as the knot within his belly tightened, the cool water clinging onto his skin along with the faint sheen of sweat that glistened upon his forehead and hardened muscles.

"A-Ah! Oh, fuck!" The pathetic whimpering signaling he was on the verge of his release sparked something deep within you, how dare he be so cruel only to cum at the thought of you. The creak of the heavy oak door swinging open was silenced by his loud moans, his mind swarming with images of you bouncing upon his cock and pulling his hair as if he were the man from earlier.

"You treat me as if I am lower than waste, attempt to destroy my personal belongings, disrupt my peace, and yet you have the nerve to pleasure yourself to me?!" The angry scoff stalling all motion in his body, his eyes growing as wide as the plate you ate upon moments before while he attempted to jump up from the tub, watering rolling down his toned abs simultaneously as heat spread across his face.

"I-well you see-I just, erm." "I do not want to hear your pathetic excuses, gods you are insufferable!" The heavy slap of your bare feet against the cold floor echoing within his ears, that damned shocked look fueling more rage within you. "Please let me explain I- '' The snap of your hardened gaze forcing his mouth to dry out as both fear and lust roamed throughout his veins, the remaining water droplets trickling down his scar-tattered form before dampening the floor beneath him.

"You what?" You snarled back, face burning red with rage as his face matched with a similar flush fueled by embarrassment. "What is there to explain that I haven't seen already?" A displeased laugh slipped through your plump lips, arms crossing in front of your chest while your eyes looped around your skull. "That you are cruel to me so you may have material to stroke that pathetic cock off to?" Your gaze burning holes into his muscular form, each inch of flesh looked as if the gods had hand-carved him.

"What? No that's not it at all!" He blurted out quickly, trying to inch closer to you as the rouge flush on his cheeks began to spread throughout the entirety of his face. "I just-" He groaned, halting his words as his fingers roamed through his hair, an action he mindlessly did frequently due to stress.

"I began having these thoughts after we met, I thought putting distance between us would stop them but they never ceased from my mind." "That gives you no right to be insufferable towards me and proceed to turn around and stroke that pathetic cock of yours whilst moaning my name." A bitter laugh slipping through your lips while your head shook in disbelief at his pathetic excuse.

"Tell me, was I down on my knees before you with that little cock in my mouth, or was I bouncing on it like one of those tavern whores?" His mouth opened and closed quickly at your bold question as if you had not caught him pleasuring himself to you mere moments before, the pounding beneath his skull and within his cock speeding up.

"Well? Come on now, speak up, whore." "Bouncing on it." He muttered under his breath, silently hoping the words would fall silent upon your ears, the lewd images still playing freshly throughout his mind as his cock flexed against his lower abdomen.

"Oh? So that's how you see me, is it? A tavern whore who will bounce on your little cock until you fill her up with your cum." His answer alone would have simply annoyed you but the way his cock twitched as he responded made your burn hot.

"And here I thought your brother was right, that all your idiotic actions were due to stress. I cannot wait to tell him how perverted his younger brother truly is." "Please do not tell anyone about this! They'll never let me live this down!" His voice rising in pitch with his panicked pleads, his hands clasped tightly in front of his chest while he stared at you in fear.

"Oh? And why shouldn't I, my dear prince?" Your plump lips curling upwards into a mischievous smirk. "I promise this will never happen again!" The sight of your eyes looping around in your skull made his heart drop to the pit of his stomach.

"I will do anything you want! I swear I will, please just do not tell anyone about this." The pathetic pleads of the prince made the mischievous smirk upon your face grow wider, a single finger tapping on your plump lips whilst you pretended to be in deep thought.

"Anything at all?" You questioned, an eyebrow quirking in his direction as you slowly strolled over to his bed, hips swaying slowly with each step you took. "Yes, anything! Anything you want, you name it and I will do it!" The smirk still plastered widely upon your face as you sat down on the soft mattress, the mattress creaking softly under your weight.

"What if I want you?" "Oh?" The panic in his veins was quickly replaced with relief and lust as he drank in your heavenly form, his lips curving into an equally mischievous smirk as he began to inch towards you.

"Ah, ah, ah." You tutted, the clicking of your tongue stalling his steps allowing him to admire your very being from afar whilst you spread your legs open, glistening pussy on display for the desperate dwarf. "If you want even a small taste, you will get on your hands and knees and crawl for it." "What?" The word barely coming out of his stunned mouth, the glint in your eye darkening as you rose from the bed, an annoyed sigh escaping your lips at the loss of comfort.

"I said, get on your fucking hands and knees and crawl like the little bitch you are." Your snarl accompanied by the low swoosh of your silk slip falling onto the floor. "If you truly want to fuck me, you are going to work for it. Now crawl, slut." On your command he knelt onto the cold wooden floor, his weight resting within his dampened palms as he slowly made his way towards you. His amber eyes burning holes into your heavenly frame, a pleased smile spread wide upon your lips as he sat down a few inches in front of your feet.

"That's a good boy." You cooed while resting your hand beneath his chin, his lightly stubbled chin resting on your balled-up fingers as your thumb gently grazed over his rough lips. "And that's all you want to be, isn't it? My good boy?" "Yes ma'am, I want to be your good boy so badly. Please let me please you." The tune of his pathetic mewls against your thumb allowed laughter to bubble out of your lips, you had a future prince of Erebor kneeling before you desperate to please you like the little whore he is.

"Aw, you sound so cute when you beg." You cooed, the mattress creaking yet again as you sat down upon it, the brunette dwarf following close behind now sitting directly in front of your feet. His smoky eyes blinked mindlessly up at you, watching as you began to spread your thighs apart.

"I am feeling rather generous at the moment. If you can make me cum with your mouth, and I mean only your mouth, I'll ride that pathetic cock of yours." The words barely left your mouth as the eager prince made his way in between your thighs, your legs dangling over his shoulders as his calloused hands grasped tightly around your thighs.

"Someone is eager-oh fuck!" The eager prince wasted no time as his warm tongue quickly lapped at your soaking cunt, his long licks up towards your clit sending small electric waves throughout your body. "Mmm, that's a good boy." The soft wet sensation of his tongue lapping up and down from your clit slowing in speed as the lids of his amber eyes fluttered shut, soft moans of his own vibrated against your dripping cunt.

The prickle of his stubble against your sensitive flesh furthering the waves of pleasure throughout your body, the motions of his tongue turning from lapping the entirety of your drenched pussy towards tracing delicate circles around your clit. "Just like that, don't you dare stop." Your words grew higher in pitch as your hands grasped tightly around the soft fur beneath you, legs beginning to tremble as a familiar knot began to weave within you.

His lips enveloping your sensitive bundle of nerves, switching from tracing small circles around it to sucking upon it making your toes curl as heat spread throughout your body. "Oh, holy shit!" The higher-pitched moan ringing throughout his ears as the dwarf continued toying with your clit, the soft pinch of his nails embedding into your thighs further tightening the knot within your belly.

Your hips rising and falling against the patterns of his tongue as your hands entangled within his damp brunette hair, the pinch of your nails against his scalp, and the tug at each silky lock forcing moans from his wet lips. The heavenly vibrations against your soaking cunt allowed your moans to grow louder, all care for your fellow guests thrown aside as the handsome dwarf continued to work eagerly in between your thighs.

The pressure against the sensitive bundle of nerves tightening against it while you mindlessly rolled your hips into his mouth, your nails digging into his skull as your toes began to curl. "Oh, gods yes! Shit don't stop!" The knot within your stomach finally snapping as you tugged tighter at his hair, the acting forcing him to moan against your clit furthering the electric waves that rang throughout your body.

The speed of your chest rising and falling quickened as you attempted to catch your breath, legs still trembling at the aftershock while your fingers loosened around his hair. A blissful smile spread upon your lips as you gazed down at the smiling dwarf, his dampened hair now tangled and clinging onto his face as a lopsided smile spread upon his thin lips.

"You were such a good boy." You cooed as you finally caught your breath, the cold air feeling like heaven within your lungs. "I think it is time for your reward, don't you?" The honey-colored eyes widened with glee, his grip around your thighs releasing as he leaped onto his feet. "Excited, are we?" "Yes ma'am." He grinned at you, the bed creaking at the new weight, his gaze never leaving your form.

Sweat still glistening on your heavenly form, the soft moonlight reflecting off it and each curve and imperfection it held. A pure goddess, one who was gifting him with moments in heaven for worshiping you. "Now, you still cannot touch me." The words making him whine as you raised from the bed, after your angelic moans all he craved for was to touch you, to please you like the good boy he is.

"Don't whine, you are lucky I am even considering this yet alone acting upon it." A chuckle escaping your plump lips as his bottom lip stuck out in a pout, your soft hands gently gliding up his toned body as you climbed on top of him, the tips of your fingers dancing upon the indentations of his muscles and scars. "Now, be a good boy and stay still for me." A soft whimper escaped his thin lips as your soft palm wrapped around his throbbing cock, lining the swollen tip up to your drenched entrance as you stared into his amber eyes.

"Fuck!" The slight pressure and burning stretch of his aching cock finally sliding within your soaked walls forced a moan out of the both of you, his hips mindlessly bucking up into yours at the sensation which you stilled with a palm on his chest. "I said stay still." The pathetic excuse of an apology that slipped through his lips was accompanied by a string of excuses in a high-pitched whine, his knuckles turning white as his fingers dug into the furs beneath him.

"I thought you wanted to be a good boy for me." You scoffed, your hips raising ever so slowly off of his allowing your tight cunt to clench around his throbbing cock. "I do, ma'am. I want to be your good boy." He whined as the lids of his eyes squeezed shut, throwing his head back against the mattress as his grip tightened further around the soft furs. "Good boys don't make excuses, do they?" You snarled, your hips slapping against his making him jolt upwards at the sudden embrace of his cock.

"They don't, I am so sorry ma'am." "Apologies mean nothing now, you have shown that you cannot control yourself and now I must punish you." The exaggerated sigh you let out was quickly accompanied by the tsking sound of your tongue, the nervous prince swallowing down a mouth full of air as the bed creaked under your shift towards his ear.

"You are going to lie still like the good little fuck toy I know you can be. You will do nothing other than moan unless instructed to, this includes touching and looking at me. Understood?" His mouth shooting open desperate to show he was listening but before any words could slip through your palm covered his mouth, the lids of his eyes twitched threatening to open only to squeeze close tighter at your disapproving tuts.

"I didn't say to speak, did I?" His damp hair tapped against your hand as he quickly shook his head no. "That's right, my little fuck toy can be so smart when he wants to be." Cooing as you lift your hips away from his, soft whimpers vibrated against your palm as you slid back down onto his aching cock. The heavenly stretch of his enlarged cock carving itself into your damped walls made soft hums slip through your lips, more intrigued by the moans your toy made while your cunt clenched around the throbbing mass than the volume of your own.

The silent room quickly filled with the pathetic mewls of your toy along with the squelching slap of skin against each other, the creak of the rickety bed completely masked as you leaned back onto his aching cock. His knuckles turned bright whine as his nails embedding themselves into the furs, his heavenly form glistening with sweat while you continued your slow speed.

"You're being so good for me, letting me use your cock however I want." Taking the entirety of his length within your drenched walls, you slowly rolled your hips in small circles, the swollen tip of his cock hitting the most sensitive parts of your core with each movement you made.

"Mmm, you want me to go faster? To bounce on your cock like in your fantasies?" You hummed as you began to slowly raise your hips to the aching tip, rocking your hips in tiny circles at the top as he quickly bobbed his head.

The lids of his eyes still glued to one another tightly as he clenched every muscle within him, desperate to be good, desperate to please you. "Oh, well that's too bad." The displeased look that scrunched upon his face making you laugh with each word you spoke, your hips lowering back onto his making him whine louder. "Oh shut up, you are lucky I have this pathetic excuse of a cock in me." His cock twitching within your core at your degrading tone.

"Aww, someone likes being made fun of. Doesn't he?" A mischievous smirk spreading upon your lips at the prince's desperate nodding, his throbbing cock twitching again within your as your walls tightened around him before releasing.

"I want everyone in this tavern to know how much you love being degraded by me." His muscles restricting at the thought, torn between being good for you and of the onslaught of embarrassment he would face if he did as told.

"I love being degraded by you, ma'am." The mutter barely catching your ear, your eyes looping around your skull at his worthless excuse of an attempt. The flesh beneath his cheeks burned hotter than any tales of dragon's breath he had heard, the harsh crimson spreading to the tips of his ears.

"Louder, pet. I know how loud you can be, out with it!" The stinging impact of your palm against his cheek accompanied by your commands pushed him over the edge of complete submission for you, his mouth flying open with a string of 'yes ma'am's before his loud decree.

"I loved being degraded by you, ma'am. I love it so much, Y/N. Please don't stop, please. I need to know how pathetic I am." The pathetic pitch of his pleads sounded heavenly compared to the off-pitched songs your company would attempt to perform. "There it is, there's my good pet." You cooed, a loud gasp escaping his chapped lips as the slapping of your hips fastened.

The heavenly sensation of your cunt squeezing around the thick cock as you slid up ever so slightly from him made his moan grow louder, your hips rocking against his as you rested upon the base allowing his cock to carve further into your drenched depths. "I haven't heard a thank you yet, what do you say slut?" A high-pitched whine replaced any attempts of words as he loosened the grip on the furs while you continued to grind against your hips into him.

"Thank you, ma'am." The sudden grasp at your breasts forcing you to stall your movements, a honey-colored eye opening at the lack of movement. "Oh, you think you get to be handsy and stare at me now? And here I thought you were going to be a good little slut for me." The soft slap against his wrists accompanied your displeased scoff, leaning forwards pinning them above his head.

The lids of his eyes flying open at the sudden movement, a soft mewl escaping his lips as his cock stirred within you. "I am so sorry, ma'am. But I just-" The words were cut short by a thwack which rang throughout the room, his wrists encased by your soft palm as the other firmly struck his cheek.

"No buts, now you're going to make me cum by your tongue again and if I catch you looking at me you will not be allowed to touch yourself for an entire week." The loss of your warmth embracing him made him whine as you shifted up from his lap towards his face, wet cunt inches away from his lips.

"You may hold my hips and only my hips, anything else and I will leave this room." The empty threat dying upon your tongue as his tongue slipped within your warm damp walls, small circles and tuts of his tongue earning pleased hums from you.

The grip upon his slender wrists released at the new flicking sensation within you, your hips rolling in slow circles allowing his tongue to graze the most sensitive spots within you. "Oh fuck yes! Right there!" His tongue flicking against the most sensitive spot in your core, hitting it repetitively as a knot began to form within your belly yet again.

Your eyes looping towards the back of your skull as small static waves pulsated throughout your body, your upper teeth sinking into your plump lower lip to stifle your moans, the sensation of the tips of fingers delicately gliding up towards your lips sending a shiver down your spine.

"If you keep being a good whore like this I'll consider letting you fuck me." A loud whine escaping your lips as the flicks grew closer together, his nails piercing into the flesh of your hips as he hummed against your cunt happily. Each vibration sent tiny electric waves throughout your core as his tongue stroked that heavenly spot, each movement pushing you further into the edge of bliss.

"Yes, yes, yes. Holy fuck, don't you dare fucking stop!" The muscles throughout your body trembling as you tangled your fingers within his hair, tugging it to guide him back to that heavenly spot over and over again as you hunched over his face. The prickly stubble against your bare cunt further fueled the burning fire within you, the knot within your belly tightening on the verge of snapping with each fast click of his tongue.

"Ah!" Your screams echoing throughout the tavern as the knot within your stomach finally snapped, his calloused palms were the only thing preventing you from collapsing on top of him, your thighs tightening around the sides of his face as your inner walls fluttered around his tongue. The rising and falling of your chest quickened, cold air catching in the back of your throat as you freed his damp hair from your harsh grip.

"How are you so good at that?" Letting out an airy chuckle while sliding off of his face, the lids of his eyes still glued together tightly as his lips pursed out in a pout at the sudden lack of weight. "You may look at me and speak on your own accords. I hate to admit it but I do miss that smart mouth of yours." His eyes quickly opened as a lopsided grin spread upon his lips, the bed creaking while he shifted his weight onto his elbows, his dreamlike gaze burning holes into your barest form.

"I think you have proved that you can listen and I have done all the work here. Haven't I, pet?" The sight of his brunette mop bouncing quickly at the nodding of his head allowed a soft smile to grace your lips. "I know, I work so hard but now it's your turn." The soft prickle of his stubble on his cheek graced your palm as you purred, his eyes widening at your words as his heart stilled hoping this was not but another tease.

"Well? Come on now, hurry up before I change my mind." The moment your scold caught his ears the dwarven prince leaped out of the bend and onto the cold floor, quickly making his way between your thighs as his hands hovered above them. Though he was allowed to speak and look he still waited for your permission to touch, his smoky eyes staring back into yours while he waited patiently for an answer to his unspoken question, such a well-trained bitch.

"You may touch." His calloused palms made haste wrapping your thighs around his waist, a hand going between his muscular legs to line himself up with your soaked entrance. The graze of his swollen tip against your core sent a soft hum through your lips, still sensitive due to the pleasure you had received from him moments before.

"Ah!" The soft whine slipping through his lips as he pushed his aching cock into you, the familiar stretch and pressure earning a pleased hum from you. "That's a good boy." You cooed, a finger curling in front of his gaze motioning for him to lean forwards which he did so without question. A pleased exhale slipping out as he inched his face closer to yours, your gentle palm rested upon his opposite cheek while your soft lips finally graced his.

The slow speed of his throbbing cock carving its way into your heavenly cunt accompanied by the soft melding of your lips sent a spark of pleasure throughout his bruised body, all stress and worries gliding off of his toned shoulders while his hips slapped against your arse. "Fuck." The soft whine against your lips accompanied pleased moans which slipped through yours, a heavenly melody that further sent blood to flow within his aching cock.

His hips stilled as the squeezing sensation around his cunt ingrained within his memory, the sight of you under him with your mouth opened slightly in an 'o' making the memory all the more pleasurable, one he would later reflect on during nights he could not sleep without the ease of his aching cock. Taking in a steady breath, hands tightening around your thighs while he slowly slid his cock out, whimpering in disappointment at his actions before sliding back within the warm depths.

"That's it, love. Let it all out." You cooed as your thumb caressed his softly stubbled cheeks, the steady pace of his cock carving within you stalling at the sudden use of a sweet name as he melted into your gentle touch. "You can move, pet. You have held yourself back for long enough, you may relax but you mustn't cum until I say so." A renewed energy spread throughout his body, his head bobbing quickly with excitement.

A squeak flying out of your lips at the sudden harshness of his hips ramming into yours, your sensitive walls fluttering around him while he further carved himself within you. Each thrust turned sloppier as he fell into the darkness of his lust, pathetic whimpers slipping through his lips as he buried his face within the corner of your neck.

"I know, it feels so good. Doesn't it?" The tickle of his scruff against your neck, a burn rising in his hips far earlier than he had hoped for wanting nothing more than to be fully immersed in the pleasurable moment. Memories of you catching him in the tub flooding his mind while his cock twitched yet again within you, pounding faster into your core as the familiar knot began to tie within him.

Each milking squeeze of his cock becoming all too painful, his knuckles turning white around your thighs while he whimpered against your neck. "I can't." The softness of your hands gliding up and down his scar-tattered back making him tremble within you, soft whines escaping his lips as he tried to stop the knot from further hitching within him.

"Oh but you can, my love. I want you to let it all out, that is an order." Your soft coos encouraged the speed of his aching hips, the knot within him tightening each painful moment that passed. His animalistic thrusts growing more sloppy as his eyes squeezed shut, his head tilted backward into your line of sight allowing you to see how beautiful and pathetic he looked.

Thin mouth agape with a string of pathetic mewls slipping out of them, the thin sheen on his forehead which strands of hair would cling onto, and the overwhelming beauty of his entire being relaxed in his most blissful state. A sight which would be forever burned into your memories and force heat to rise within your cheeks whenever you gazed upon the idiotic dwarf, your idiotic dwarf.

"Oh fuck! Please, ma'am. I am so close, I can't. Please." His hips stuttering with each sloppy thrust he made, your walls fluttering and squeezing against the aching cock. "Aww, does my good little whore want to fill up my pussy?" You cooed softly gliding a hand from his back onto his prickly cheek. The thin pair of lips quivering with every whimper which left them, the side of his face nuzzling against your palm yet again as his pleading honey-colored eyes bore into your jewel-colored pair.

"Do it, cum for me." The soft command was the final tug to tear the knot within him into two, his eyes rolling up into his skull as he trembled against you unintentionally dragging you off the same cliff with his high-pitched whines.

The sensation of your inner walls pulsating around him further encouraged him to release the burning white ribbons within your soaked cunt, his pathetic gasps and whines echoed throughout the tavern for all to hear. Your nails gliding down both his upper back and his stubbled cheek, a mark showing he was yours if the loud whines had not given it away already.

"Fuck! Thank you." The syllables clinging onto his lips while he leaned down onto you, his head resting on top of your breasts as you both rode down from your shared highs. Hazy smiles staring at one another as each grip released, his swollen cock still resting deep within you keeping your inner walls painted white.

"I'm sorry...about earlier." The tips of his fingers delicately tracing each scar that rested upon your skin, all attitude from him melted away while your sturdy arms wrapped around his upper back. "I forgave you the first time you made me cum." The admission forced a fake gasp from the prince's lips, your lips pressing together tightly to stifle bubbling laughter within you.

"You liar! I thought you were infuriated with me." His bottom lip sticking out in a dramatic pout as he rose away slightly from your chest, and despite your best attempts, soft laughter escaped your lips. "I was at first, you had been cruel to me for months." The sternness in your tone forced him to gulp down a mouth of air, guilt trickling into his veins at his past actions towards you out of his stupidity.

"However, I cannot be mad at such an adorable excuse." "Then what were the punishments for!" The prince scoffed at your words as a familiar crimson tint spread upon his face. "They were meant to teach you a lesson, which they did." The warming sensation of your lips melding into his easing some of the annoyance from the dwarven prince, the same dramatic pout still glued upon his lips as he stared at you.

"Are you alright?" The gentleness in your tone shocked him as you looked over his body, the red marks lighting a small flame of worry within you. "What do you mean?" A thick eyebrow raised in your direction while he watched your curious actions, though he had pleased women before none had taken the time to look over him after. "Are you feeling alright after...well..." The words dying off on your tongue as a similar heat flooded beneath the flesh of your cheeks as if you had not used him as a personal fuck toy moments ago.

A soft chuckle escaping his lips along with a pleased sigh as his calloused palm rested beneath your chin, his thumb tilting your head up towards him while the corners of his lips curved up into a bliss-filled smile. "I am fine, I promise. Dwarves can take quite the beating, ma'am." The title coming out in a teasing tone, an amused sigh escaping your nose as your eyes rolled around in your skull. Though his joking manner could be tedious at times, especially tender moments like these, you could not imagine the dwarf without it nor would you trade it for any gem within all of middle earth.

"If that is true, my pet, would you at least accompany me while I bathe?" The question barely escaped your lips as he pulled his softened cock out of you, the odd sensation of his cum trickling out of your cunt sending a shiver down your spine. "You will hold me after?" "Yes, my love, I will hold you after." A gleeful look spread upon the dwarf's face as he hooked his arms under your legs and back, a surprised squeak leaving your lips as he lifted you with ease.

The high-pitched complaints and concerns missed his ears as he happily strolled to the tub with you resting loosely in his arms. "Dwarves are stronger than any men, my dear." He reminded you with a goofy smile, oh how you could've seen yourself now when this all began.

In the arms of your 'foe' as bare as the day you came into the world, though even if you could you wouldn't have changed anything about it as you finally received a night of bliss out of all of those torturous nights of travel and battle, blissful nights which would continue in secret throughout your journey with your idiotic dwarf.

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