#elf ears are superior

[strangecowplant]

took a break from decorating and popped into cas

[sportsthoughts]

elf!sid spotted - pregame 19/3/24

[yelmor-boots]

drawing some more greek gods

[limethechef]

Inconciveable dwarben ranntungg aboourt El*es

[theendofuno]

nya

[yeehaww-sims]

Public request for more LONG elf ear cc please

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Ok, I’m a little confused on how to word this request so bear with me.

Would you be willing to write a short fic about Astarion and The Main Character, sharing a tent at camp because relationship, and the main character giving Astarion a massage because he got hurt in battle, but Astarion starts moaning too loud on purpose, and making the other people at the camp think they are having sex?

I realize how weird and specific this is, but I love the idea of Astarion being an absolute Ham, and making the others uncomfortable XD

(Bonus points if the Main Character plays along)

LOL. Yes, I am willing. CW: Actually not many? Allusions to sex I guess? Maye spoilers to be safe? Brief mention of sadboy back story? This is honestly pretty tame.

~

Astarion wasn't against adventuring. If anything he was a fan, especially when comparing it to his old life. But he was only a fan when it was him doing the bloodshed, not when he was the one being knocked around into walls by massive ogres.

It hadn't been the worst pain he'd ever felt, far from it. But it had been fairly intense. Intense enough for it to take multiple tries for him to get back on his feet. And to have you fawning over him.

"Are you sure you're okay?" You asked as the two of you entered the tent hours later, still hovering behind him, "Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm fine darling," Astarion sighed as he plopped down onto his bedroll, exhausted beyond belief, "Nothing that a good night's sleep can't fix."

The healing from Shadowheart had done wonders, even if his muscles were still screaming at him. He was sore yes, but it really was nothing dire. But that wouldn't stop you from fretting, a fact that Astarion was a fan of.

It was no secret that he liked it when you agonized over his well-being. At first he had been a bit offended at your constant worry, taking it as a lack of belief that he could take care of himself. But then he realized you just... cared. About him of all people. Deeply and intimately, in a way that Astarion had never known, but one he could certainly get used to.

"Want me to have a look?" You asked as you sat next to him, your hands already helping to do the work of taking his armor off, "Maybe a massage?"

"That would be perfect," Astarion sighed, more than happy to let you pamper him. He had been hoping that you would ask that. You did have talented hands, "Thank you darling."

After he was divested of his armor you had him lay on his stomach, his back bare as you straddled his legs. Then you got to work, kneading his sore flesh like a pro. Astarion could feel the tension seeping out of his muscles. You really were so good at this, just one more perk of accidently falling in love with you.

He was moaning before he even knew the sounds were out of his mouth. But he didn't give it much thought, not when he knew you didn't mind. If anything you liked hearing him feel so content, even if he could get a little loud.

"Tch."

Astarion blinked his eyes open at the sound. Was... was that a scoff he heard? Astarion strained his ears, listening out of curiosity as you worked wonders on his back. That was one benefit of being a spawn and elf hybrid, he had vastly superior hearing abilities.

"It's happening again," That was definitely Lae'Zel's voice, the gravely cadence instantly recognizable.

"Oh come on, it's not that bad!" He heard Halsin say quietly, only to be met by collective groaning, "Whiners, the lot of you. I would have expected better from you Karlach."

"All I'm saying is that they could pitch their tent a bit farther away, that's all!" She laughed back at him, "Can't a girl be a little jealous?"

"Or a little annoyed," Shadowheart grumbled.

"Or a lot," Gale agreed, grumbling in that very specific way that made Astarion want to slap the frown off of his face.

Astarion rolled his eyes, finding himself to be a bit annoyed as well. While it was true that the two of you could get... excited, you weren't that bad. And Astarion had made it a point to sneak you far away from camp when he really wanted to have his way with you. What more could they ask for? It just felt like envy at this point, an envy that Astarion was petty enough to resent.

"All I'm saying is if I lose one more wink of sleep because of those two, they're getting a piece of my mind," Gale continued, "I'm sure we all can agree on that."

Oh. Well in that case...

"You're so good at this my sweet," Astarion moaned loudly as you worked over a hard knot in his back, "The best I've ever had."

He could hear more groaning from the peanut gallery, but better yet he could hear the smile in your voice as you quietly answered, "I'm just happy it helps. You're so bruised sweetheart, I'm surprised you're still standing. Your pain tolerance is really something else."

That was unfortunately true, a natural consequence after decades and decades of torture. But at least it served him in his newfound freedom.

"Maybe I just like it when it hurts," Astarion groaned loudly, an obvious lie. Especially to your ears.

It was enough to have your hands pausing on him. You leaned in close, whispering a question in his ear, "Are you doing what I think you're doing?"

"Darling, I'll do anything you want me to do," Astarion murmured, hoping that the ridiculous line would get his point across. And it did, of course it did. No one understood him better than you.

Astarion glanced at you as you leaned back, pleased to see the telling smirk on your face as you got back to work.

"Do you like that baby? Should I go lower?" You asked loudly, biting your lip near the end to keep in a giggle, "Would you like that?"

"Please," Astarion moaned out, only half of the sound faked. You really were just that good at giving massages. And the show you were both putting on was having the desired effect.

"For the love of everything that is holy keep it down!" Gale yelled out into the night, doing nothing more than encouraging Astarion to get even louder, "Perfect darling, right there. Gods, I'm close."

"Mm, flip over. I wanna see your face during," You shot back. Astarion could hear it in your voice, that barely contained laughter. And he wasn't doing much better himself. If anything he was a little surprised the others hadn't caught on yet. Maybe even a little offended. The dirty talk you had together wasn't this bad, a fact that they would know if they had actually ever heard it.

But before Astarion could belt out his big finale, the flap of your tent was being pulled open, Gale's voice yelling into it, "For the love of Mystra would you two shut up- oh my gods. They aren't even naked!"

That was the end of the façade. The two of you burst out laughing, you falling down to Astarion's side as you erupted into a pair of giggling idiots.

Karlach joined Gale at the door to the tent, her voice cracking halfway through on a laugh, "I told you they were hamming it up! Wyll, you owe me ten silver!"

Gale was already turning back, a pout on his lips as he muttered, "You're both lucky it was fake. We were five seconds away from sending Lae'zel in to shut you up."

"The threats aren't going to help my desire to continue fucking with you in the future," Astarion called after him, wiping amused tears from his eyes as they both stepped away. You turned to face him, still giggling up a storm as Astarion wrapped an arm around your wasit.

He kissed your cheek, still grinning ear to ear, "I think it's safe to say that I feel much, much better now."

[lunastrophe]

BG3 Elven Lore 🌙 Astarion's Life In The City

I was thinking recently about Astarion's past and how his childhood could look like. Did he spend it in Baldur's Gate, or somewhere else?

According to D&D lore, elves have their own cities, laguages, cultures, customs and deities. They are not meant to be simply prettier, pointy-eared versions of humans with longer lifespan and some other superior traits. They are different on many levels: biological, psychological, even spiritual one.

Elven parents usually want their children to be born and spend the first decades of their lives in elven communities - mainly to ensure their safety (children are not common among elves), but also to allow them to grow up in connection to elven way of life: language, cultural values, spirituality and so on.

Sometimes it is not possible, though, and elven child is born and / or grows up in predominantly non-elven community. Perhaps Astarion's childhood looked like that.

🌙 City Elves - some elves, for various reasons, choose to spend some time away from elven lands, adventuring or travelling. Some of them may decide to stay for a few decades or centuries in a large, cosmopolitan city like Baldur's Gate - and even start a family there, becoming a part of local community.

It is quite possible that Astarion's parents were such "city elves" and because of that, he was growing up more or less disconnected from a typical, traditional elven way of life. That might explain why at 39 he had a career and quite responsible position - while typically, a young elf of a similar age would not even be considered an adult.

🌙 Fostered Out - upon reaching the age of twenty, a young elf is usually fostered out to another relative who lives in the same community or somewhere else, mainly to learn various skills and family lore, and to study. This process of fostering and studying can be repeated for the first hundred years of young elf's life (based on Races of the Wild, D&D 3.5e).

So, another possibility: maybe Astarion was born somewhere else and was sent to Baldur's Gate when he was twenty or so, to spend some time (like, a few decades) with his relative(s) and to study.

🌙 Orphaned - some elven children after losing their parents are adopted by their relatives, but some may end up being raised by non-elves - for example, by humans.

Among elves, such a thing is typically considered a great misfortune. Non-elf-raised elves are often not prepared for the prospect of centuries stretching before them - they are forced to grow up quickly, they try to live like their non-elven teachers and later, they have no idea how to manage the weight of their much longer lifespan (based on The Complete Book of Elves, 2e).

This is yet another scenario that might explain why Astarion, being a very young elf, had a life of a very much adult human (39 definitely does not sound like "adult-enough-to-work-as-a-magistrate" from elven point of view).

🌙 Astarion's Family - assuming that Astarion was raised by his elven parents or other relatives, it seems a bit doubtful to me that they would never, ever stumble across him somewhere in the city for around two hundred years. Perhaps after his death, they decided to leave Baldur's Gate - because, for example, staying there was too painful for them?

And if he was an elven orphan raised by humans - even if his human family did not leave the city, it is certain that they are not around anymore after two centuries...

[mintmatcha]

a meet cute

cw: cisfem reader, reader is part gnome, dungeon meshi universe, it's about an insane side character, sorry

A gentle breeze cuts across the shop, just over the front counter. You have to lean into it to get any sort of relief from this summer's heat. Your shop door's bell chimes as a customer walks in. It's unusual that anyone is out this time of day in this type of heat, let someone fully robed, scarf and hat included. He's dressed in dark, rich colors, the types of dye that drip with indigo and money, a contrast to the reddish tuft of hair of his head.

He'd be cute, you think, if he wasn't a gnome.

It's not that you don't like gnomes-- you are one, mostly-- but gnomes around your age are boring. The men nod along to anything you say, try to impress you with pleasantries and tidbits, all with that glint in their eye, they've found their next wife. They are dictated by societal niceities and traditions, topped off with a strange sense of superiority, all while they still eye you like a piece of meat-

But this gnome isn't looking at you like that. No, he's marveling at your wears.

The stranger tilts the glass in the sunlight and rainbows refract across the floor, dancing in looping, wonderful patterns long after his movement has stopped. Figures of dancers twirling around each other, bowing and dipping with ease, disappate into the air. His hands are actually a bit small for a gnome, thin fingers, uncalloused and delicate with the way he inspects the magic.

"The runes on this are subtle," he notes, mostly to himself. "Gnome magic on elven crystal."

"You have good taste." You lean more forward on to the oak surface and he jumps a bit, as if he hadn't noticed you were even there. "And a keen eye."

The man melts into a polite smile. His eyes are downturned and his cheeks are round, tickled pink from the sun. He approaches you, a prickle of chill following suit. There must be some elemental magic sown into his clothing or something.

"Thank you."

"No, thank you," you say. "It's my work."

"You have a talented hand for magic, then."

"And you have a talented eye."

His nose wiggles in that delightfully gnomish way that only old men do. "No talent, all practice."

You give him your name, he gives you his. Holm. Classic. Boring. Standard.

"Is this a gift for your wife?"

"Oh, I'm not--" He waves that thought away with disinterest-- which happens to peak yours. "My party mate is getting married."

"An elf?"

"Dwarf, actually." He twirls to glass again and the waltz of light resumes. "To be honest, we aren't very close. I don't really know what she likes, I just think she deserves something nice."

"The effect won't be as brilliant for her, because dwarfs don't tend to have a very good mana flow, but it'll still be pretty. A couple glasses for her and her beau-" You wipe away a bead of sweat that's begun to roll down the side of your neck. "And maybe a bottle of chilled wine. I think that's a very good present for anyone."

He nods, button nose crinkled with delight as he places the glasswork on the table before you. "I'll get a sex then."

A beat passes. You can't help the wild smile that sneaks out. "What was that?"

"Hm?" He hasn't moved, frozen in place, still holding the glass. His expression doesn't change, but you swear there's a touch of pink creeping over his ears.

"You said a sex."

"No, I said a /set./"

"No, you didn't." You cock your head to the side in the way that makes your neck look long and your smile charming. "Are you thinking about sex, Mr Holm?"

He swallows and you think maybe you've gone too far. Your brand of needling is more of a half foot type of humor, which isn't universally appreciated, to say the least.

"I'm- I don't--" Holm surprises you by laughing at him self. "I don't do that."

Interesting. A gnome with a sense of humor. You didn't know those existed. You lean back, trying to bite back your smile as you speak. "What? Think about sex?"

"Or anything else to do with that word."

You inspect him a bit closer. The colors, the hat, the symbol burnt into his pouch-- they're religious symbols. He's a spirit worshipper, one of the religions in the south. You aren't sure of all of the intricacies, but you know the most devout are completely celibate.

Holm shrugs rather casually. "Close enough."

"Oh, you're one of those monk-things, aren't you?" For some reason, you're a bit disappointed. Of course the man you have a nice rapport with is one that won't fuck you.

Not that you want to fuck him.

"So, you must think about sex a lot." You call as you walk to your backroom. There's a couple of different versions of the glasses, so it takes you a moment to find another set of dancers. Really, this guy has nice taste; this is your favorite piece. "Since you can't have any."

"Probably less than you do-" he calls back. "Since you heard is when I clearly said set."

Despite yourself, you laugh. It's not particularly funny, but there's butterflies in your chest and a tremble in your hands. You wrap the glasses in pieces of cloth and ribbon-- purple, to match his scarf-- before bringing them back up. The stranger is still watching you with that look on his face, the crinkle in his eye-

"It's on the house," You slide the gift wrapped presents over to him.

"I couldn't possibly."

"Just come back again some time. Or buy me a beer if you see me at the bar."

You both know that isn't a fair trade. Crystal is expensive, magic work even more so; you could charge him a couple hundred gold if you wanted, but... conversation is sometimes more valuable than money.

"I don't drink." He rubs the back of his neck, almost sheepish. "I eat, though."

The flutter in your chest gets worse. "Food then."

He nods. Taking the gift, he picks it up and starts towards the door, a hum on his voice and a deeper smile creeping up on his face. When he gets to the door, he puts up an arm to open it, then pauses.

He turns back around.

"I want to pay." The strange says, firmly. "I'll still buy you food, but I want to pay for these."

He pulls a bag of coins from his belt and presses them into your hand. It's heavy with gold. He doesn't pull away until you meet his dark, stern eyes and close your hand around the bag.

"I don't want to lead you on," he says, softly. "I find you very..."

He says more with silence than his words.

"Don't worry," you say, even though a worry does creep up your spine. "I'm not so desperate that I'll fall in love with a priest."

"Not a priest, but thank you." His cheeks puff with smile and you immediately know that you may have lied.

[underdark-dreams]

Fellow Rolan lovers forgive me 👀 I have no idea where this came from. I just encountered Harper Geraldus in Act 3 again in my playthrough last night, and my brain said, that boy needs to get [redacted]

Harper Geraldus x afab!OC (unnamed, description kept vague)

Wet Behind the Ears

"What would you like, Geraldus? You can tell me." Harper Geraldus has had a very bad, terrible, absolutely no-good week. His superiors decide he needs a night at the Sharess's Caress to cure what ails him.

Tags: Size Kink, Sexual Inexperience, Face Sitting, Explicit | afab!OC

Word Count: 5.6k [Read on AO3]

No sooner had she stepped from the bathwater did the door to her chambers swing open.

“Hope you’re not headed to bed,” called a sing-song voice.

She wrapped a towel around her wet middle just as Irenya flounced brazenly past the wooden screen beside her bath. Privacy was a rare luxury in Sharess’s Caress, but her workday was well over—she’d earned the right to a bit of it.

“Do come in,” she drawled. 

The elf only gave her a coy smile as she toyed with the laces of her tiny bodice. Even for a courtesan, Irenya wore as little as she could get away with. And the bar downstairs owed her half its profits for it.

“Good, you’re up. Mamzell’s got another client for you.”

“At this hour?” A bit of impatience crept into her voice; it was far past midnight. Whoever they were, they’d better be paying well. “Don’t suppose they’d prefer one of our lovely drow.”  

“You know that’s not how this works,” Irenya laughed, a tinkling sound. “Mamzell handpicked you. Said you’ll be his type.” 

That meant he was either quite green, or quite reserved—she knew her niche well. She busied herself with toweling off and wondered which. “Patriar?”

“Harper,” answered Irenya.

That did stir a mild curiosity. Harpers were even rarer than Guild members on the upper floors of this place, and that was saying something. Folk who dealt in secrecy and under-dealings were strongly discouraged from visiting pleasure houses—though she knew from personal experience that they didn’t always listen to orders. 

And why should they? Sharess’s Caress kept secrets better than any of them put together. But unlike the Guild or the Zhent, most Harpers weren’t known to have pockets deep enough for after-hours trysts. 

“If this is another favor for Entharl Danthelon,” she warned, cinching a gauze robe around her waist. “I swear, Amira turns into a giggling maid around that bloke. Don’t tell her I said that,” she added swiftly.

Thankfully, Irenya didn’t seem to hear. She took an eager step closer. “Just wait till you see, you might have fun with this one. He’s so pretty,” Irenya groaned, biting her lip in the way that earned all that coin.

Pretty or not, her body yearned only for her empty bed. But telling Irenya that would ensure it got back to Mamzell Amira, and the house mother’s patience had its limits. She put on a practiced smile instead.

“Then kindly shoo,” she told Irenya. “And send the pretty man up.”

As the door swung shut behind the elf—who was no doubt headed for a good night’s sleep, unlike herself—she heaved a sigh and moved to prepare her room for clientele. A second goblet on the tray; a pass over the covers and pillows to ensure they looked fresh and unslept in. She shook her hair down from its clasp, glancing in the mirror by the bath to smooth it. Then she perched herself on the edge of the mattress and arranged her robe to show a sliver of leg. Just enough to catch the eye. 

If this Harper was openly visiting the Caress, he must have done something very impressive worth rewarding. Or else survived something awful enough to warrant a professional distraction.

Gods, let it not be the latter. She’d comforted her share of men and women who only wanted to be held while they cried, but tonight, the prospect made her groan. A tumble in the sheets would be far less work on her part, and the customer usually left just as satisfied in the end.

A soft tap at the door broke her reverie. 

Her brow furrowed for a moment—knocks were rare. “Come in,” she called.

When the youth stepped slowly into her room, it was immediately apparent why he hadn’t just opened the door like any other patron would.

Irenya hadn’t lied—he was certainly pretty. But gods, he was young. Couldn’t be older than twenty or so, with an angular jaw and wide hazel eyes framed by long, dark lashes the same color as the hair curling just past his shoulders. He had the look of a fawn who’d just stumbled into the middle of civilization.

She watched his large eyes quickly take in the room. When they fell on her where she sat, the blush that traveled up his face was noticeable even in candlelight.

Her mind switched tack at once. She rose to her bare feet, wearing her friendliest and least wanton smile. 

“Please,” she invited, drawing an arm out to welcome him in. 

His eyes flicked down her figure once, then settled firmly up on her face. “Thank you,” he managed, and strode briskly into the room as if afraid she might rescind the offer. 

It took only a few seconds to size him up. His leather jerkin was well-worn but clean, same as his boots. He was tall and fit, yet he moved with more of a cautious ranger’s gait than that of a soldier or swordsman. Perhaps that was just down to nerves. As she watched him close the door, she noticed his pale fingers fidget and shake on the latch slightly.  

Few of his age and apparent rank could afford this place, particularly by special appointment. Someone must be very fond of this young man.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she told him, filling the inevitable silence before it could form. “Would you like a drink? I’ve got something excellent from Amn.”

She turned away to uncork the bottle and give him a chance to look around. In truth, this was a vintage she’d been saving for a quiet moment alone tonight—but it would taste just as fine with company. As she filled both cups, she could hear him shifting on his feet behind her.

“Thank you,” he repeated again as she turned back. His voice was a gentle tenor, and there was a nervous tremble on the first word. 

“So.” She offered the wine out to him—he was careful not to touch her fingers as he accepted it. “What shall I call you?”

“Geraldus,” he blurted out. Clearly not taking up her veiled offer to give a pseudonym. When his doelike eyes finally met hers again, they were unsure. “Can—could I ask your name?”

She gave him another easy smile and replied with the usual. Not returning his honesty—but when did she ever?

“Very nice to meet you.” And young Geraldus actually dipped his head in a little bow to her. Oh, she would have this one fast asleep in half an hour.

“What a gentleman,” she laughed, finding herself harmlessly charmed by the gesture. “The pleasure’s all mine. Seat?” 

She sank back down on the edge of the bed while leaving plenty of space for a gap. For a moment Geraldus froze, and she was afraid she’d broken him. Then he followed suit wordlessly, wine in hand, and took a seat on the very far corner of the mattress.

Really should bother Amira for some chairs, she noted to herself. Then again, most of the clientele didn’t mind beds as much as Geraldus apparently did.

At least he was drinking. It would help him forget his nerves, and she was pleased to see Geraldus take a long drought as his eyes roamed across the room again over the edge of his cup.

She took a savoring sip. “Good, isn’t it?”

“It’s sweet,” he agreed in surprise. “It doesn’t burn like—” He caught himself, looking sheepishly at her. “That is, it’s better than the wine back home.”

“Where’s home for you, Geraldus?” She tried and failed to imagine such a gentle soul growing up on the streets of Baldur’s Gate.

“Nowhere special,” he said, looking down to swirl the liquid in his cup. “Just a little village in the Greenfields.”

“Ah—” She half-reclined with an elbow on the mattress, and felt a grin rise to her face in spite of herself. “Yeah, that’s firmly ale country. Damn good ale, though.”

Geraldus’s face finally relaxed. “You’re from Greenfields too?”

“Just lived there for a while. Long enough to miss it after a few years in the Gate. Let me guess, was your family in barley or sheep?”

“Sheep,” he laughed, and she admired how handsome he was with a touch more confidence. “On rainy days I can still smell the wool.”

“You think sheep are bad? Try pigs.” She cocked a brow at him and took another drink.

Geraldus looked at her as though trying to tell whether she was joking. “There’s no way someone like you has mucked out a pig stall.”

“Why not?”

“You’re a lady,” he protested, as if that ended the discussion. “You drink Amnian wine, you smell like lavender—” Geraldus straightened up slightly, looking as though he'd given too much away. 

She found she enjoyed his guilelessness. She had no regrets about the comforts this life afforded her, but ‘lady’ was a stretch. Still, manners were always appreciated.

“How else do you think I paid my way here?” She teased him. “Selling my best sows set me up quite nicely my first year in Wrym’s Crossing.”

The subjects of life in the country compared to life in Baldur’s Gate took them far. She refilled their wine twice, eventually just leaving the bottle within arm’s reach on the floor. Geraldus had relaxed enough to mirror her pose and lean back on his elbow; she brought her feet up on the bed to curl into a comfortable shape beside him.

Perhaps sleepiness and the wine were going to her own head…but Geraldus looked prettier by the minute. She watched the rose-petal curve under his lower lip as he spoke, not catching what he was saying. His eyes were more of a pale green than the hazel gold she’d taken them for at first. Or maybe that was just a trick of the candlelight?

As she pondered, she realized that he had grown silent and was watching her face in turn. She'd angled herself closer to him involuntarily while he spoke. They were close enough she could hear the shallow note of his breathing.

“Can I ask you something?” She requested, breaking the quiet. Geraldus nodded.

“Why exactly did you come here tonight? You’re not the usual type,” she added, and touched her fingers to his free hand in an attempt to soften the observation.

“Oh.” Geraldus fiddled with the neck of the wine glass in his hand. “It wasn’t really my idea. Not that—this is nice,” he said in a rush, and she felt his fingers twining up through hers on the bedspread. “Not like I expected.”

She cocked her head. “Did you expect me to eat you up?” Not a bad idea, she thought, glancing over the lines of his body under his jerkin.

“No!” He blurted out in surprise. “Maybe? I don’t know…it just happened so fast. Entharl pushed me out the doors before I knew where I was. Said I was too gloomy for usual company,” he added, looking down at his boots. 

So that confirmed her earlier suspicions. Harpers may be discreet, but it was hard to miss things when you worked down the street from what was almost certainly one of their safehouses. Which meant poor Geraldus must have been sent here tonight for comforting as much as pleasuring.

“Have you had a bad day?” She asked gently.

His large eyes met hers with a long look. For a moment, he almost seemed close to tears. “Bad week,” he answered.

She brushed the back of his hand with her thumb. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Vehemently, he shook his head at her.

“What would you like to do then, Geraldus? You can tell me.”

“I don't know…I’m not sure.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Can I kiss you?”

In answer, she took the wine glass from his hand and set it at the foot of the bed beside her own. Then she reclined parallel to him, tilting her face up in an open offer.

Without another word, he leaned down to press his lips to hers. He trembled slightly against her, whether from nerves or from a more sober emotion she couldn’t tell. She brought a hand up to his hair regardless, smoothing and tucking the dark waves back behind one lightly pointed ear.

Their lips slid together softly like that for a long moment. Eventually she felt Geraldus relaxing against her mouth. But his frame still hovered over her, as if he wasn’t sure where to put his weight.

Without breaking the kiss, she guided his far arm to her side. Though she’d placed it there herself, the feel of his large palm pressing against her waist stirred a pleasant warmth in her belly. She clasped both hands behind his neck, encouraging him to lean down further over her while they kissed.

When he left his lips parted for a few seconds, she took the chance to gently touch her tongue to his. Geraldus made a soft, eager sound against her, returning the gesture with enthusiasm. His mouth was warm and sweet and tasted of rich Amnian wine.

While kissing him was lovely, she was increasingly curious to know how else she might take this poor boy’s mind off his apparent troubles. When she pulled away, Geraldus’s face trailed after hers as though reluctant to end the kiss.

“Would you like me to kiss you anywhere else, darling?”

Geraldus blinked down at her, perhaps thrown by the pet name. “Where else is there?”

It brought a laugh from her, and she curled her fingers through the dark locks behind his neck. “You really don’t know how this works, do you.”

His eyes widened with a nervousness that only confirmed her suspicions. 

“I've been with a woman before,” he answered defensively. 

“Oh?” She continued petting his hair, keeping her tone light and unteasing. “Have you been kissed other places, then? By men or women?”

From there, it was easy to suss out the exact limits of his experience. It came as no shock that no one had ever put their lips anywhere but his mouth. Not his neck, his chest, his cock—that last fact she withheld her kisses from him until he admitted, flushing profusely right up to his dark hair all the while. 

She found herself speaking more plainly than usual. “Geraldus, first I’d like to help you out of these clothes. Then I’d like to suck you off before I ride you. How does that sound?”

That had most certainly broken him. He stammered and blushed somehow darker; she could practically feel the heat radiating off his face above hers.

Finally, he managed a breathless response of “yes, please.”

She drew his lips in against hers again as she went to work. She felt him reach a hand to the buckles under his side, but she was already springing them open on both right and left.

“How do you know—” He began, impressed, before quieting as the realization hit him. She slid the leather pieces up over his head and leaned in to give him a quick, enthusiastic kiss. When his linen tunic followed, she kept him held back for a moment with a hand splayed over his sternum.

Gods damn, but they grew them right back in Greenfields. 

Geraldus was broad-shouldered and lean, with firm bands of muscle beneath the pale skin of his arms and chest and stomach. From the sinews in his forearms and the strong cut of his shoulders, she guessed he handled a longbow quite often.

As her eyes raked over him with open appreciation, she caught sight of a shining scar across his left side. Young he may be, but his body already bore evidence of his chosen profession. She reached to brush down the line of it with her fingers; Geraldus shivered but tilted slightly into her hand.

“Didn’t get that shepherding,” she observed.

“No,” Geraldus agreed. He licked his lips again—the gesture was much more intriguing combined with shirtlessness. She hooked her thumbs over the waist of his pants in suggestion.

“Wait,” he requested, his gentle voice trembling again. She watched his eyes moving over the curves under her thin robe. “Can I?”

She leaned back and stretched her arms up over the pillows, arching her back in invitation. 

Slowly and deliberately, as if unwrapping an expensive gift, his fingers reached for the tie at her waist. She watched with satisfaction as he drew the garment open to each side to expose the bare length of her body. His lips parted in admiration as he took her in.

“Can I touch you?” Geraldus asked in a whisper.

“Anywhere you like,” she assured him.

To her delight, Geraldus fell over her and began eagerly exploring her chest with his lips. When his hot mouth closed over the hard peak of one breast, she hummed in approval and ran her nails up through his long hair. It seemed to encourage him; his calloused palm moved to cup the other.

“Tonight’s for you, darling,” she reminded him lazily, not really in a hurry to interrupt him.

He responded between hungry swirls of his tongue. “I’d kiss you here if you’d let me,” he said, and his hand actually slid from her breast to land boldly above the apex of her thighs.

“Absolutely not,” she laughed against his brow. “Gods, you’re unbelievable—how dare those Harpers keep you hidden away so long? Sure you don’t have a little sweetheart in Rivington?”

“Of course not—” There was a wet sound as he released her breast to stare up at her, wide-eyed. “I wouldn’t be here if—if I was—”

She clasped his jaw in a hand to kiss him again, drowning out whatever earnest response he was trying to make to her teasing. “If you’re very, very good tonight, I’ll sit on your pretty face. How about that?”

“Gods,” he groaned, and that pretty face landed between her breasts. “Would you?”

She looked down at him quizzically. “You honestly want to, don’t you?”

His cheeks flushed a deep pink. “Yes,” he admitted.

“As long as you’re a good boy, then,” she told him. With a firm shove, she sent him sitting back on his heels at the end of the bed. “Now take off your pants, Geraldus.”

He scrambled to obey, kicking off his boots before his fingers fumbled at the laces of his trousers. She lay back and watched him with genuine anticipation. From the size of the tent straining at his front, she already suspected that the gods had given to him with both hands.

And what a delightful bit of justice in a harsh world—for young Harper Geraldus to be blessed with such a big cock.

His impressive length stood stiff at attention, skin a lovely smooth pink—and the size of him. Not the biggest she'd had, but much closer than his blushing shyness had led her to believe.

She crooked one finger at him where he stood in a come-hither motion. He crawled up the bed eagerly, but she shifted away to the side at the last minute. “On your back,” she directed him. 

Geraldus obeyed again, his tall frame collapsing into the pillows as he watched her shuck the robe all the way back off her shoulders. She curled up into his side, tracing a finger down the firm, fair planes of his chest and stomach. He shivered under her touch.

Then her fingers closed gently around his base—barely fitting a third of his length in her grip. She pumped him a few slow times from base to tip. It would require most of her creativity to take him, either with her mouth or her cunt.

But if anyone deserved both, it was the young man currently squirming and whining in her bed. She could tell Geraldus was struggling to quell the instinct to thrust up faster into her grip. No doubt trying to be good enough to earn what she’d promised, judging by the way his wide eyes were fixed in anticipation on her face. She clenched her thighs together at the thought of having his eager mouth between them.

“I can see why no one’s put lips to your cock before,” she mused, enjoying the way his dark brows screwed up just from the unhurried strokes of her hand.

“W-why?” His tenor had shot up to a strained pitch. She loosened her grasp completely—it would be too easy to finish him like that.

“You’ve got enough to choke on,” she told him, and climbed between his legs. “But don’t worry, I’m quite good at this.”

Before he could clear his expression from its jumbled mixture of shock and hope, she leaned to take his tip softly over her tongue.

His body made a sharp jackknife at the waist, and Geraldus let out a word much filthier than she expected. But she was ready for his physical reaction—the weight of her forearms on his hips kept them firmly planted into the mattress.

She slid her mouth over him, relaxing her jaw to take him all the way to the back of her throat before releasing everything but the very tip of his cock. She continued the motion several times until saliva trickled down the rest of his length. Then she returned her hand to his base, twisting her grip to meet her lips with each motion.  

She took him just like that, giving attention to his full length, relishing the way his smooth tip bumped the back of her throat with each thrust. He whimpered and begged incoherently above her at the sensations of her mouth and hand taking him in tandem. Could he already be as close as he sounded?

Just as the thought occurred, she felt his legs tense on either side of her own. Almost disappointed, she instantly slid her mouth off him with a wet kiss of release. 

Geraldus made a sound like a sob at the absence. When she glanced up, there were actual tears pricking at the corners of his dark eyelashes.

“Dearest,” she murmured up to him. It was far too tempting to apologize to that face; she placed nipping kisses along his thighs instead. “You deserve to feel my cunt first, don't you think?”

“Yes,” he groaned, obviously trying to master the strain in his voice. It suddenly seemed like a very good time to reward his patience.

“Be a good boy and slide down,” she urged him, already moving up around his straining erection on her knees to straddle his waist.

That brought a spark of hope to his eyes. Geraldus frantically gripped her torso for leverage, tugging her bodily up the bedcovers as he somehow nudged each of his broad shoulders through the gap in her legs. As he settled her above him, he stared up at the slick view between her thighs like a penitent.

“Smack me twice if you can’t breathe,” she told him, giving his dark locks a teasing pull to try and get his attention. The way he nodded left her unconvinced he’d heard.

Deciding he looked ready enough, she lowered herself firmly over his waiting mouth.

For all his obvious inexperience, the instant heat and enthusiasm of his tongue was a pleasant start. Her eyelashes fluttered in satisfaction as he painted firm strokes up her folds, just barely reaching her peak.

“Good,” she praised with a sigh. “Higher—”

He listened attentively despite wearing her thighs clasped around the delicate points of his ears. His hands rose to her hips as he angled his mouth higher, finally hitting the spot where she needed him most. Her toes curled where they were pressed over his biceps.

He was completely unpracticed, but he had good enough instincts to keep the pace steady as she rocked herself against his face. She imagined his hips bucking uselessly into the air behind her, desperate to wet his neglected cock in the folds his tongue was parting.

“Pretty Geraldus,” she sighed, her hand a fist in his dark hair, trying to keep her wits about her as she felt a twitching climax build at her core. “Shall I come on your tongue?”

His eyes flew wide between her legs. In answer, strong forearms gripped tighter over each of her thighs, holding her down onto the now-frantic lapping of his tongue over her slit. She closed her eyes and arched her back against him, giving way to the heat of his mouth desperately sucking and licking her closer to the edge.

With one last tug on his hair, she shuddered against him and rode out her orgasm over his tongue. She felt a gush of arousal from her center flow out over his lips. Geraldus moaned something against her flesh, but the words dissolved into a hum that ran straight to her core and reverberated as another shiver of pleasure up her spine.    

With effort, she pushed herself back to sit on his chest, freeing his arms. Geraldus gasped for air slightly, but his expression was drunk with pleasure and a bit of pride. His mouth and chin were painted wet with her arousal.

“Such a good boy,” she purred in praise. “Getting me ready to take that big cock of yours—” Before he could respond, she reached to swipe her thumb along the wet line of his jaw, then nudged at the juncture of his lips.

He understood immediately, obediently sucking her finger into his mouth and cleaning her release off with his tongue. She felt his hips rocking involuntarily behind her.

With a smooth shift of her weight, she landed with her bare chest pressed to his and pushed her wet slit back against the top of his cock.

“Oh,” Geraldus whined above her, and his beautiful eyes squeezed shut at the feeling. She continued slicking her folds up and down his length to wet him, all the while watching the way his face screwed up as if pained. His fingers flew to grip around hers where they lay over his ribs. 

It was difficult enough to line up her opening with his cock from this angle—let alone while having both hands held hostage under his own. Using his firm stomach as leverage, she pushed up to straddle him against her and then sank down. It seated the tip of him perfectly inside her. 

Just that first stretch was delicious. Geraldus seemed to feel the same; his hands released hers, instead landing on her hips with an enthusiastic squeeze. But he panted obediently under her, eyelids still shut tight, waiting for her to take him further.

Little by little, she eased herself down onto each inch of him, her jaw falling slack as he stretched her walls to their limit. Finally her hips landed to slot against his own. 

She stayed there for a moment, relishing the utter fullness of having his cock entirely buried within her. The ache at her opening was slowly tipping from a twinge of pain to a throb of pleasure.

But she wouldn’t be able to ride him from this angle. Instead, she leaned forward to grasp his strong shoulders and braced her arms straight against them. “Geraldus, look at me.”

His eyes fluttered open then, and landed on her face where it hovered above his. She took in his parted lips, the aquiline line of his nose, the youthful smoothness of his brow marred by a pleading wrinkle as he waited for her to move. And his expressive eyes, which she now decided with certainty were a pretty shade of hazel—currently traveling over her face as if trying to read her thoughts. 

“You are the loveliest man,” she told him with utter sincerity. And I’m going to fuck you until you forget everything but my cunt.

With his eyes still on her, she slid her hips up and back down over his length. A guttural, breathy sound rose straight from his chest. She continued working him in and out of her tight wetness, finding a slow but steady pace that was just barely past the edge of teasing for both of them.

“Oh, Gods—” His hands spasmed against her hips, as if he wanted to bounce her faster on him but wasn’t sure whether it was permitted.

She took the cue herself. She ground her hips into his at a more brisk clip—and bit her lip hard at the sensation of his tip knocking deep inside her with each thrust. At this angle and pace, he filled her to the point of incoherence.

After being taken up to the edge of release by her mouth, she could tell Geraldus was already close again. When her fingers brushed up over his hard nipples, he let out a shuddering whine of pleasure. His hard length twitched against her walls.

At once, she slowed to grind her hips into him, relishing the pressure of his hard cock filling her so fully. He panted at yet another denial, and she felt his calloused fingertips digging into the flesh of her hips. Geraldus gazed up at her with a plea for more.

“Have you been good enough to come in me?” She studied his face unhurried, admiring the way his fair brow screwed up in anguish and pleasure at the question. “What do you think, darling?”

“Yes,” he begged, too sweet to know he was strong enough to fuck her at whatever pace he wanted, even from this angle. “Please, yes, I have—”

She splayed her fingers across his chest, rocking herself deeper atop him. “Ask me for it.”

“Please,” he whined prettily, his eyes shining with tears again. “Please, please, I’ve been good, I swear—Gods, let me come inside you, please—”

He was so earnest, so beyond desperate, it would be unthinkably cruel to deny him. She leaned both hands back on his thighs and rode him hard, using the angle to drive his cock into her center again and again. Stars swelled across her vision; each thrust sent his considerable length pounding against the limits of her insides. She closed her eyes against another rush of pleasure to her core, listening to the sweet way Geraldus whimpered her name.

Large palms pressed hard against her lower back—the angle of him shifted inside her as he leaned up to muffle his sounds into the skin of her breast. Then his arms and legs shuddered as he released inside her, spilling and twitching against her walls. She rode him out through it, as best she could with the way he clutched her to him, wanting him to feel every last scrap of pleasure.

Her own climax hit her like the snap of a bowstring. She found her arms clenching around his shoulders for balance, as if she might tumble away on the wave that rushed through her body. 

Geraldus supported her firmly, sweet thing that he was, holding her tight despite the way his own limbs trembled.

After a while of him holding her straddled on his lap, the pressure between her legs turned to an ache. She stifled a wince as she shifted to slide off him. Even his softening length was a stretch for her tender and likely now bruised insides. She chided herself for riding him so enthusiastically before—she knew better than that. 

As she began to pull away further, Geraldus clutched his arms tight around her back.

“We just need a towel,” she explained, turning to kiss the tip of his ear. “Did you think I was leaving?”

“No,” he lied, growing sheepish again, but his arms loosened to let her up.

She returned with a soft cloth for each of them. He reached for one, but she knelt beside the bed to neatly clean him. Even now, he was still too green to grasp exactly how this all worked.

And the mess between her own legs could wait; by now his release had already dripped out of her to generously coat her thighs.

Once they were both tidy, she rose to her feet and smoothed back a stray lock of his hair. “Would you like me to draw you a bath?”

Geraldus shook his head, looking up at her with sleepy affection.

“Would you like to go to bed, then?”

His eyes filled with innocent delight. “I can stay?”

She considered telling him that after the sum his keepers had no doubt paid, he could do a great many more things with her. But it might be nice to surprise him with that in the morning. 

Instead, she raked her fingers through his hair and tilted his face up for a soft kiss. “Of course, darling.”

She moved on rather unsteady legs to snuff all the candles, then helped guide him under the covers through the dark. 

When it came to sleeping, she didn’t usually care to share her bed with others. Tonight she found herself in an unusually generous mood. Geraldus was long-limbed and full of wiry muscle, yet every bit as gentle as a lamb. 

As she settled herself under the blankets, he notched his face up against her shoulder and rested an arm securely across her middle. She leaned her cheek against his dark hair like a pillow. The feel of being weighed down by his body against her side was comforting in a way she didn’t expect.

“I love you,” Geraldus abruptly sighed against her neck.

She let out a sleepy breath of laughter that ruffled the locks of his hair. 

“No you don’t,” she told him gently, and pressed a kiss to his brow. “You just really, really needed that.”

[getthembees]

I'm thinking thoughts about The Winged Lion and his relationship with Mithrun, which feels very out of the ordinary compared to other victims of the demon. Namely, it feels like TWL's actions towards Mithrun are a lot more personal than they are with other characters.

It's established that TWL doesn't revel in killing humans, he only eats desires and will go along with whatever role humanity thrusts upon him if it means he is eating people's desires.

He loves humans, even, the same way someone might love steak, but he nonetheless becomes distraught at the thoughtless destruction brought upon them when a human wishes to destroy the world. He is actively interested in continuing humanity for the sake of filling his belly.

He is driven by his hunger, he's not quite 'evil,' he's just top of the food chain and has a penchant for gorging himself (especially after the initial mass destruction he commits above). He harms at the will of humans, and after he eats someone's desires he doesn't destroy their bodies at all, just leaves them on the floor in a sort of stasis that could be considered a sort of 'death.' (as we see with Thistle, and the first humans he eats at the dinner table).

So, why does he hurt Mithrun?

From the framing of the shot the destruction of Mithrun's eye seems like a symptom of the pinning, TWL is careless and focused only on devouring his prey, so he pins Mithrun in such a way that obviously is not ideal for his well-being. But that doesn't explain why TWL would tear his ears off? There seems to be no rhyme or reason for this violence, and it's only with Mithrun. He is bizarrely exceptionally cruel only to Mithrun.

I know Mithrun believes this to be the demon seeing his inner vanity and sense of superiority and was therefore punishing him for these reasons. But this also just, doesn't seem like something TWL could or would care about. If he's a creature that lives only to eat he doesn't need to teach this random elf he trapped a lesson, he just needs to cultivate his desires and eat them.

But...if this isn't just Mithrun's perspective and is actually true (and the Adventurer's Bible is a sort of 'word of god'/world-building clarification) then... why? Why did TWL choose to do this to Mithrun and only Mithrun?

It's even when they meet again, too! TWL is very mocking towards Mithrun in a way that seems personal.

I don't actually have an answer for this, and unless I've forgotten/missed something it feels like a very targeted act of cruelty towards Mithrun that is not usually part of the lions MO. Would love to hear what other people think.

[dunmeshistash]

It's very interesting to me that there are only a few elves on the island. That Kabru was able to narrow it down to Laios' team when they got "mugged", I mean. Was it ever explained in the world bible why elves don't really explore dungeons? By the existence of Canaries, you'd think they'd want to be involved from the beginning.

[SPOILERS]

I'm also curious why the two known elves to the island adventurer community are both half-elves. (Especially when Fionil was sent by the canaries.) Part of me wonder if elven superiority makes pure elves not want to mingle with other races, so half-elves are tasked with the more "dirty" jobs... Marcille being a half elf was very apparent to almost all the elves (except Pattadol) (and they made fun of her for ever thinking she could "pass" as a pure blood) but most adventurers don't seem to see elves enough to know the difference.

Elves have a way smaller population so it makes sense that there's less elves overall. It's also said that most of them live in the central continent while the story happens in the eastern continent, It's a not specially notorious new dungeon on a tiny island on the coast of dwarven territory. They might explore them if they exist closer to their territory?

About Fionil I wonder if her being a half-elf was just a retcon? Cause she had round ears like marcille and showed up right away and nobody acted like it was weird there was an elf there lol. I wonder if the elf scarcity was decided after her introduction and the pointier ears too.

But I guess it would make sense that they don't really want to mingle with other races, since they mostly stay in the same continent where its 80% elves.

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 27th

Double Penetration In Two Holes, Papa Emeritus III, Dracopia x GN!Reader

Masterlist

Words: 6.3k.

Warnings: Double penetration in two holes; bisexual Terzo and Copia; mild olfactophilia; fellatio; spit as lube; anal sex; public sex; sex in a chapel; loss of virginity; voyeurism; fingering; degradation kink; praise kink; multiple orgasms; spanking; cum eating; finger sucking; vaginal sex; unprotected sex; piv sex; GN!Reader; throat-fucking; minor blood play;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost @zombiesnips-blog

!! Terzo and Copia are not related in this fic !!

🔞 MDNI 🔞

In the hush of the night, the chapel stood as a silent sentinel, its ancient stones cloaked in the silver glow of the moonlight. The air inside was still, carrying a sense of reverence that hung heavy in the dimly lit space. Stained glass windows, adorned with intricate designs of Satanic saints and demons, cast their vivid colors onto the cold, polished stone floor. Each pane was a jewel of “evil” history, its hues now muted by the darkness but still whispering tales of faith and devotion in the bright light of the moon.

Cardinal Terzo, unable to sleep found himself, barefaced, chested and footed wandering down to the peaceful place to gather himself and calm his racing mind. Candelabra clutched in his thick fingers so as to not disturb his superiors; the slaps of his feet hitting the stone as he entered the chapel echoing throughout the ancient walls. He stood still, silent for a moment, eyes darting around the nave as his ears picked up something he never expected to. Wracked sobbing, faint but audible, was coming from somewhere nearby.

Terzo, slowly, made his way up the aisle, looking in the darkness for the source of the anguish, heart pounding in his chest in fear - he didn’t know what, or who he would find. As he approached the crossing, a dark figure came into view. A male, slender, dressed in black and hunched over. He was sat on his knees, with his head in his hands, sobbing into the palm of his hands, brunette hair a mess from the tugging he’d subjected it to no doubt in whatever stress he had felt in that moment. Terzo got a peak at the nose, the strong, rather large appendage he’d grown accustomed to seeing around the Ministry since his teenage years some two decades ago. This was none other than Brother Copia, the lanky, weedy young boy who had been raised here since birth now a 21-year-old Sibling of Sin who showed great potential. He was bent on the chapel floor, red from the stained glass window reflecting off his body in an artistic fashion. And, given the pain of his sobs, no doubt his heart had shattered like one of those very windows.

“Brother Copia?” Terzo gently called out to him, a safe distance away but his gentle, concerned voice amplified by the Gothic dome in the centre of the crossing.

Copia’s head snapped up towards Terzo, his eyes red and puffy from the tears but his irises now the colour of blood. His ears, Terzo had finally noticed, were longer than usual and much more pointed, like an elf. In that moment, it had become apparent to Terzo what had occurred here on this night.

“C-Cardinal,” Copia sobbed, hand flying to his chest where Terzo had scared him, “I didn’t hear you… you startled me.”

“My apologies, it wasn’t my intention. Why are you crying?”

“I ache… everywhere. I’m tired; exhausted, even. I’m starving but no amount of food I eat even begins to hit the right spots. I was down in the kitchens just trying to get food but the siblings were looking at me as if… as if…” Copia sobbed again, much louder this time. “I was a monster!”

Terzo had only read books on this growing up, had only heard stories from decades prior. Never had he come across this in real life, nor had anyone that he knew. Somehow Copia had ingested vampiric blood and in the time between then and now, he’d died and been reborn as a vampire; one of Satan’s darkest soldiers. And the worst part of it all was, Copia had no idea about any of it. He had no idea what he had become was, indeed, the monster the kitchen Siblings had feared, but it was by no means a bad thing. This sweet, awkward young man, who instilled feelings of pity and irritation was now one of the most important members in the Dark One’s fight against the oppressive forces that plagued their world - and no one had prepared him for it.

“What is wrong with me?” Copia asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Fear was in his eyes, prominent in his shaking hands and wobbling speech. He was scared of himself - or maybe deep down he’d already understood what he was capable of.

“Brother, I think there is something you should know.” Terzo began recounting everything he learned as a child, sitting beside the lost Sibling as he told tales of immortality, and the Devil’s hand touching those He wished to bless with the gifts of life and death. Copia, once a mere, male mortal capable only of dying, could play God, could choose whoever he wished to join him in undeath, and create his own children using his blood, now still around his dead heart.

Copia didn’t believe the Cardinal at first - who would? There were times when his own Satanic faith wavered and he found himself doubting the power of the Olde One. If he didn’t even believe in his own father in Hell, how could he believe these old wives’ tales of night stalkers and blood drinkers? It wasn’t until Terzo reached into Copia’s mouth and sliced his index finger on his canine teeth that Copia began to believe these stories were true.

The way his nose twitched at the smell of Terzo’s blood; at first inhalation, the dominant note is one of iron—a metallic tang that is inherent to blood itself. The metallic undertone carried with it the essence of life, a reminder that within this crimson fluid lies the very sustenance that nourishes the body and fuels existence.

Yet, beneath the metallic foundation, there was a subtle and alluring note of coffee. It was as if Terzo’s blood had absorbed the essence of freshly ground coffee beans, the aroma of a rich and robust brew that invigorated the senses. The coffee note was warm and inviting, conjuring images of early morning rituals and the comfort of a steaming mug in hand. Warm and inviting, the perfect two words that could sum up the Cardinal and how he had always made young Copia feel.

These two scents had Copia’s stomach growling as if there was still life inside him. The way saliva pooled in his mouth at the sight of Terzo’s blood pouring down his finger and pooling in his palm. Copia had no idea his body was reacting, that he was turning to face the Cardinal, crimson eyes now glowing with the need to quench his thirst. That his mouth was drawing ever closer to Terzo’s palm. That his lips were parting enough to expose his fangs.

Terzo, in an effort to escape and not get blood everywhere, tried sliding backwards, dragging his ass along the stone. But the force of Copia’s body landed on him, pushing him backwards and forcing him to lie flat on the floor, Copia crawling on top of him to reach the blooded hand that was now extended above his head.

Somewhere in the struggle, humanity returned to Copia and he suddenly realised what he was doing. He was going to back away, apologise profusely for his behaviour and beg for forgiveness. But he was aware of Terzo beneath him, of the Cardinal’s legs spreading ever wider and allowing Copia to settle nicely in between them. His brain, one of the few organs that survived the change, recognised this moment as intimate… sacred… sexual. His still blood warmed in preparation and began to travel down to a very familiar appendage, filling him up nicely underneath the looseness of his tunic. With the closeness of their bodies, there was no way Terzo was unable to feel the hardness of Copia’s cock.

Terzo, like Copia, wasn’t thinking. He should have let Copia get off him and walk away. He should have fought harder for his life and allowed Copia to leave before things took a turn for the worse. But Terzo’s brain was also aware of the position he was in, how he was trapped underneath a fledgling vampire who barely had control of his own fangs. He was also aware that there was only two items of clothing separating his fluttering hole from Copia’s deliciously thick and hard cock. That thought was what clouded Terzo’s judgment, and had his clean hand wrap around Copia’s neck and pull him down.

Their lips met in a passionate kiss, mostly awkward with tongues and teeth smashing against each other until a rhythm was found that was pleasurable for both. Copia’s one hand kept him propped above his superior, while the other made its way to Terzo’s thick waist and pinned him down desperately, despite the fact that Terzo had no intention of going anywhere.

Terzo was the first to break the kiss, reaching up slightly and attaching his lips to Copia’s neck causing Copia’s hips to buck forward and rub his cock against Terzo’s. Both groaned at the sensation. “Th-this is wrong.” Copia said. “We should s-stop. I might k-kill you.”

Cardinal Terzo pulled away and looked directly into Copia’s eyes. “I can’t think of a better way to go, no?”

Copia chuckled and rested his forehead against Terzo’s bare and hairy chest. “Cardinal!” He grumbled, trying to pretend he wasn’t amused.

“Look at me.” Terzo ordered. He waited until Copia obeyed and looked into his mismatched eyes. “I trust you.”

“But I’ve never… You would be… my first.”

“First… meal? Of course.”

“First time. Wait meal?”

“You are a virgin!?”

“Hold on,” Copia pulled back, “I feel like we’re not on the same page here.”

“I would be your first meal and your first fuck? What contract do we have to sign? Get inside me already.”

“Cardinal.”

Terzo sat up and took Copia’s head in his clean hand. “Do you trust me?”

“Sì.”

“I trust you. Now,” he patted the pew they were sat in front of, “pull up a pew. Get comfortable.”

Copia sat on the seat with his legs spread and watched as his superior awkwardly walked on his knees towards him, settling in between his thighs. With his clean hand, Terzo began lifting Copia’s tunic and once Copia got the hint, he helped, taking it off entirely and throwing it somewhere in the chapel leaving him naked and vulnerable to Terzo’s whim. His cock, thick and hard now, rested on his stomach, leaking precum and waiting for Terzo’s… well, something. Copia wasn’t sure what Terzo would do to him.

Terzo removed his sweatpants, revealing his own cock to Copia, which became the second part of his body that Copia drooled over. When Terzo got back onto his knees, he wasted no further time, spitting directly onto Copia’s cock and taking him into his mouth.

Copia gasped at the foreign feeling, unable to fathom the sheer pleasure he was feeling. He had touched himself, of course. He spent most of his late teenage years exploring his own body, but his own hand never compared to this. To the sloppy feeling of Terzo’s mouth dragging up and down his shaft; to the way Terzo’s tongue took care at the tip of his cock, and played with his frenulum. How had Copia gone this long not putting his cock down people’s throats? How had he spent as long as he had not partaking in carnal lust as was required of him by Satanic law?

“Oh, Sathanas!” Copia exclaimed. Terzo had hollowed his cheeks and increased the suction on Copia’s cock, intensifying the feeling. At the same time, he pushed down so his nose was flush with Copia’s pubic mound and the tip of his cock was down Terzo’s throat. Copia’s hands flew to Terzo’s black hair and grasped on as tightly as he could, trying to keep himself grounded, but it was unsuccessful. His head flew back and his throat released a shout, so loud it echoed against the walls and could have drawn attention to the chapel had this been a different hour.

Terzo pulled off with a pop. “I know my mouth feels incredible, but you do need to be quiet. Unless you want to be caught?”

“I’m sorry, Cardinal. I couldn’t help it.”

Terzo smiled, a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face clearly proud of his work. He bent down and went to take Copia into his mouth again, but Copia’s hand stopped him. “Please, don’t. I’ll cum if you do and I don’t want to. Not yet.”

Terzo laughed and stood. “Ah, virgins. Three minutes and they’re done.” He straddled Copia’s lap. “We’ll have to work up your stamina, sì? Keep you nice and hard for all the Siblings you’re going to fuck in your future.”

Terzo lined Copia’s cock up with his ass. “Wait!” Copia said. “Don’t we need lube?”

“That is why I slobbered all over your cock, my sweet boy. You’re also,” he began to sank down on Copia’s cock, “lucky I am a seasoned slut.” Copia’s hands flew to Terzo’s hips and gripped on, sinking his nails into the flesh. Terzo wasn’t gentle with his movements, bottoming out immediately. “I got railed by Cardinal Secondo’s Ghoul this very evening after his duties were finished. Though, I must say,” Terzo grunted, “you are much thicker than he is.”

“Cardinal,” Copia leaned up and kissed Terzo deeply, “please stop talking.”

Terzo laughed but nodded, allowing Copia the mental relief of his blabbering so he could focus on not cumming instantly. Little did Terzo know, it was already a mental struggle for Copia to just be this close to him, especially with the scent of Terzo’s blood still strongly wafting throughout the room and directly up his nostrils. The coffee smell and the feeling of being balls deep inside Terzo had Copia’s head reeling. It was almost too much for the poor boy. He was unbelievably hungry and now he was achingly hard and trying not to cum, he was losing his virginity while also mourning the loss of his life. So many thoughts in that little brain of his, so much to think about, but all quietened by the fact that there was a Cardinal ready and waiting to bounce on his cock when he gave the go ahead, tightening his walls every so often as if he were trying to drive the poor vampire mad.

“Are you ready, my little bat?”

Copia swallowed hard and nodded, nerves getting the better of him.

Terzo tentatively bounced, and tried not to laugh at the face Copia pulled at the feeling of it. He bounced a few more times, slowly, making sure that Copia was doing well enough before he picked up the pace. His hands holding onto Copia’s shoulders for leverage, well aware that his dried blood was now touching Copia’s skin and exceptionally close to his mouth. He saw Copia’s nose twitching as he smelled it, but Terzo said he trusted Copia and he meant it.

“Sathanas!” Terzo moaned softly.

Desperate moans were spilling frantically from Copia’s lips in time with each movement of Terzo’s hips.

Terzo bent down to kiss Copia once more, before uttering, “Touch me.”

Copia swallowed once more and nodded, moving his large hand down to Terzo’s cock and began stroking it as if it were his own. Terzo, already sensitive from his previous escapades, was on the verge of cumming himself, he just needed that extra push. And the feeling of Copia’s hand wrapped around his cock was the push he so desperately needed.

“I’m cumming.” He announced, and then moments later began spilling his seed onto Copia’s stomach, his mouth open in a perfect ‘o’ and his eyes watching the way his cum gathered on Copia’s skin.

Copia, now almost at his climax, pulled Terzo down and kissed his neck at the most sensitive spot before sinking his teeth into Terzo’s neck and feeding from him for the first time.

Terzo’s blood smelled sweeter than before, almost like a toffee nut latte. It could have tasted like it too had it not been for the metallic undertones. Copia released a deep and gutteral groan at the first lick of Terzo’s blood, and pulled his body closer and closer as he took his fill, all the while Terzo was lazily stroking his own cock to oversensitivity. When Copia was full, or close to it without hurting Terzo, he pulled away and thrust into Terzo’s ass several times before cumming deep inside it, watching as the blood from the open wound cascaded down his neck, across his chest and fell onto Copia’s body, dripping and mixing with what was left of Terzo’s cum.

For a while, all that could be heard in the chapel was their heavy breathing as they recovered from their short, but sweet encounter, Terzo dizzy from the loss of blood but alive. Copia did everything he could to stop the bleeding, and was successful eventually. But Terzo had lost a significant amount and it would take him a while to recover.

That night, he was able to guilt trip Copia into carrying him back to his room, and Copia watched as Terzo slept after Terzo’s quick, replenishing meal, making sure that Terzo was, in fact, okay and he didn’t take too much of his blood. That was the scariest first night as a vampire for Copia, terrified he’d killed one of the few people to show him kindness at the Ministry. But when Terzo’s eyes opened the next morning, Copia could breathe a sigh of relief.

As the years had marched on and the weight of time settled upon his shoulders, Papa Emeritus III often found himself drifting back to the vibrant tapestry of his youth, like an old, cherished book whose pages he couldn’t help but reopen. He often thought back to the night in the chapel and how it felt to be woven within Copia’s life so imperatively as he was. How he still wore the 30-year-old bite scars on his neck with the utmost pride, a badge of honour representing the baby bat’s first successful feed.

There had been casualties throughout the years, Copia’s lack of confidence triggered a particularly rough dry spell for the vampire where he refused to drink another drop from a living being again, which ended up doing more harm than good, especially when there was a raging, bloodthirsty vampire on the loose around the Ministry. He was able to reign it in as he got older, of course, and he grew into his abilities both vampiric and sexual.

It had been so long since the last time they touched each other; after the night in the chapel they would sneak off to that very room regularly for a quick fuck and feeding. But one day, presumably after Copia became Cardinal their meetings just stopped. Copia’s dark, yet intoxicating aura kept drawing other members of the Clergy in and Copia was enjoying his meals from various playthings, a harem if Terzo was being honest. Terzo’s own Cardinal duties meant their schedules never aligned and so the two drifted apart. But there were times when Terzo would be bouncing on a cock where he would allow his mind to drift off to that night, and remember how it felt to take many of Copia’s firsts. Terzo was sure he would never relive that night.

Yet, in the hush of the night, the chapel stood once more as a silent sentinel, glowing silver in the moonlight. The air inside retained a palpable sense of reverence, just as it had in ages past. The very same stained glass windows, adorned with intricate designs of celestial angels and unholy saints, cast their vivid colors onto the cold, polished stone floor.

Papa Terzo, troubled and restless, found himself in this sacred haven once again. Barefaced, chest exposed, and feet clad only in the softest of slippers, he had ventured here to seek solace and tranquility, just as countless others had before him in days of old. Clutching a candelabrum in his sturdy hand, he moved with deliberate care, ensuring not to disturb the tranquility of the sanctified space. The echo of his footsteps reverberated through the ancient walls as he entered the chapel, standing motionless for a moment, his vigilant eyes scanning the nave, and leaving the candelabrum by the door. It was in that timeless silence that he heard something he had never anticipated.

It wasn’t sobs he heard echoing off the ancient walls this time; not sounds of anguish and despair; he couldn’t taste the fear and woe that he could thirty years prior. He smelled sex, he heard the breathless moans of two enthralled in the most cardinal of sins. He saw Cardinal Copia’s bare back, brunette hair messy atop his head and pale white skin littered with dark scratches. In his lap on the pew, he saw you, the prettiest of all the young things gracing Copia’s harem, straddling the Dark Cardinal with your eyes closed and your face contorted with such pleasure. You had no idea your Papa was there in the nave, watching you both with morbid fascination as you rode Copia’s long, slender fingers.

He knew how it felt to be Copia at that moment, knowing firsthand how good your tight, wet cunt felt. You were, as it happened, his favourite plaything. His most obedient, good, little slut who always promised him that your cunt was his to play with. Though he never actually believed it, he just found it amusing to see you so pliant and willing for another man when you always seemed so shy. He wondered how many others you gave yourself to, how many others you’d lied to so that you could reach orgasm. What a truly, devious, desperate little whore you were.

“I remember when you used to do that to me, Cardinal.” Terzo announced, making you jump and your eyes snap open to look at him.

Both Terzo and Copia laughed at you.

“I borrowed your whore, I hope that’s okay.” Copia said. He didn’t care if it wasn’t okay, he always took whom he wanted and challenged anyone to challenge him. He could be a dick sometimes, that was part of the reason he had so many people fawning over him.

“Papa-” You reached for Terzo, your body weak and exhausted. Your voice was hoarse, no doubt from where Copia had had you screaming for him before Terzo had got there. Terzo recognised the sounds, and knew from your reactions that you’d cum multiple times already. And judging by how pristine your body looked, Copia hadn’t had his fill of you; rather, he enjoyed watching you beg for mercy.

Terzo gave you his hand and moved towards you both, kissing the back of your hand and stroking your hair gently. “How many times have you made them cum?”

“Two. Working on the third.”

Terzo tutted. “Were you never taught to not play with your food? Or in this case, torture it.” Though he was talking about you, he was looking at you, revelling in the way your face showcased your ruin.

“Of course, Papa. But,” Copia moved his free hand to your ass cheek, “I want this one sweeter than a fucking peach.” He slapped your bare ass, hard, and had you yelping out and tightening around Copia’s fingers. He bent down to bite your hip - not hard enough to puncture and draw blood, but hard enough for you to feel it.

Terzo feigned sympathy and finally addressed you. “Oh, tesoro. Is he torturing you?”

“Papa, please!” You were begging him, clutching onto his hand and staring up at his bare face in desperation. But you didn’t even know what you were begging for.

“You want your Papa to help you, è corretto?”

“Please!”

He moved his hand from your hair to your face and tenderly stroked it. “Do you think you deserve help when you lied to your Papa?”

Copia gasped. “They lied to Papa?”

“They did. They told me that sweet, little cunt of theirs belonged to me. Yet here they are allowing another man’s fingers inside of them.”

“Oh mi povero Papa! You should have heard how they were begging for my cock earlier.”

“Well this just won’t do, will it, Cardinal?”

“No it won’t.”

Your desperate voice sounded as your hips bucked faster and faster against Copia’s fingers. “Cardinal, I’m so close, please!”

“They want to cum, Papa. Should we let them?”

“Well, seeing as they’re so desperate to orgasm, I think we should.”

You came for the third time on Copia’s fingers, clenching around him so tightly he found it difficult to move them. Instead, he had to focus on your clit to keep you overstimulated and brain dead as you came for him, for them both. Both of their eyes were trained on you, focussed on how your face contorted again, how your body shook with the force of your orgasm, and how you tried, but failed, you keep your voice low.

Copia pulled his fingers out of you and raised them to Terzo’s mouth, and he sucked them in willingly, hollowing his mouth around the digits and fervently licking every drop of your cum off Copia’s skin. He groaned at the taste, and only pulled away when he had deemed them acceptably clean.

“Are they ready for your cock now, Cardinal?” Terzo asked.

Copia nodded, “They are. And I’m ready for yours.”

As you sank down onto Copia’s cock, his thickness stretching your wet walls beyond comprehension, you watched Terzo pull his sweatpants down and off completely, to reveal his achingly hard cock to the coolness of the room. Your hands rested on Copia’s shoulders for purchase as you began bouncing, setting a slow pace to begin with and allowing your little whimpers to echo throughout the chapel. Copia tipped his head back, his neck exposed to you and resting on the back of the pew, his mouth open and waiting. Terzo, eyes focussed on you, began feeding his cock down Copia’s throat, inch by inch until he was fully seated down his throat. You watched Copia’s slim neck expand to accomodate Terzo’s length, and clenched when Terzo let out a deep groan formed at the pit of his stomach.

“Just like that, Cardinal.”

With each of your bounces, you jolted Copia’s body which in turn had him move against Terzo’s cock, only a little though. It was for that reason Terzo moved his hips and began to fuck Copia’s throat. Slowly at first, he didn’t want to hurt Copia, but eventually his need was too great and he found himself thrusting harder and harder. His body leaned forward, and was supported by two of his hands on the back of the pew and one of his feet, the toes curling around the bench to give him leverage to thrust. This position allowed him to, when you leaned forward too, get right up into your face and pepper you with sweet kisses. “How does the Cardinal feel, tesoro?” He asked.

“He’s s-so big. So deep!”

“Where can you feel him?”

“I-in my stomach.”

A muffled growl could be heard from between you, Copia’s voice reacting to your words. That growl vibrated around Terzo’s cock, which pulled another moan from his throat. The good thing about vampires, both Terzo and Copia had discovered during their youthful escapades, was that they didn’t need to breathe, which meant that Terzo didn’t have to do the courteous pull-out.

Terzo removed one of his hands from the pew and wrapped it around the back of your neck, pulling you in for a deep and passionate kiss. Your face, red and sticky from sweat, too irresistible. Terzo needed your lips on his, and he needed them immediately. Though when he pulled away, he gripped onto your hand and brought your fingers to his lips. Like he did with Copia’s fingers, he sucked them into his mouth, the action entrancing you like a witch’s spell.

This time, however, your fingers were getting sloppier and sloppier each second they were in his mouth, and eventually, he released them with a pop. “Open your asshole for me, tesoro. Get yourself nice and stretched.”

You did as you were told, taking your now lubricated fingers and stretching yourself out to fit Terzo’s cock. Copia, now registering that your mind was preoccupied, held your hips still and began to thrust into you at a rough pace from beneath, getting his pleasures while you were preparing for your Papa.

Terzo, at this point, had moved back to almost his original position, except the hand that was on your neck had begun resting on Copia’s, squeezing his esophagus and making that hole so much tighter around his cock. “Cazzo!” Terzo shouted. “This throat takes me just as well as I remember, no?”

Copia grunted in response.

“Always so willing for my cock, Cardinal. Always took what I gave so willingly.”

Copia’s hips slammed into you harder at the memory, his cock hitting against your cervix every time and forcing loud, uncontrollable screams out of you.

Terzo gasped, as if something had shocked him, and pulled out of Copia’s throat completely, sitting down on the pew behind him and catching his breath. “Fuck, that was too close.”

“Losing your stamina, old man.” Copia taunted, his voice deep and gravelly from the exertion. His smile exposed his fangs, and his tongue ran over them, teasing Terzo. His Cardinal makeup, the black eyes and upper lip, was completely ruined by Terzo’s efforts. The tears that Copia had cried while Terzo was deep in his throat had rubbed off in a perfect tear line down the sides of his face, and the lipstick he wore had disappeared completely, replaced by pale pink, swollen lips. A particular thrust inside your cunt, however, had the Cardinal pulling his head off the pew and looking at you, mouth wide open and brows furrowed in animalistic pleasure. “This fucking cunt!” He yelled, continuing to slam into you at such a rate that stole your breath.

“Now you see why I keep fucking them.”

“I might have to steal them from you - make them my own.”

“We share them.” Terzo stood and walked around the pews, settling himself behind you. One of his hands went to your waist, just above Copia’s, while the other went to your hair and pulled your head to the side, exposing your neck. He began to kiss up and down that sensitive spot, both men ignoring your overwhelmed cries and using you for their own pleasures and agendas. You saw the possessive look in Copia’s eyes as he watched Terzo kiss right on that sweet spot on your neck, the very spot Copia was going to feed from. Unbeknownst to you, Terzo was also staring at Copia as he was taunting him, living for riling the vampire up and thoroughly enjoying what it was doing to you. “We share them.” Terzo said once more.

“We share them.” Copia repeated through gritted teeth.

“I’m r-ready, Papa!” You screamed as Copia maintained his speed and intensity. This only slowed when Terzo ordered him to.

You heard Terzo spit on his cock to re-lubricate himself, give himself a quick tug, before he started pushing into your ass.

Your eyes almost bugged out of your head as Terzo entered you. He was gentle, of course, Terzo usually was at first. But with Copia’s thick cock already buried so deep inside you, it was more than difficult accommodating them both at the exact same time. “Almost there, tesoro.” Terzo said, kissing your shoulders to comfort you. “You’re doing so good for me. Taking us both so well.”

Copia’s eyes and hands were now roaming all over your body hungrily, feeling the life rush through you as your heart pumped faster with adrenaline. He could smell the spike in your blood, the extra sweetness released by the three orgasms he’d already given you. Copia’s sensitive senses detected a multifaceted aroma from the scent of your blood. Initially, it was a delicate floral fragrance, reminiscent of rare blossoms that only thrived under the full moon, creating an ethereal and intoxicating essence. Underlying this was an earthy, grounding note, evoking ancient forests and damp soil. Deeper still, there was a subtle, forbidden sweetness, like condensed nectar from countless flowers, tempting yet taboo. Lastly, a comforting warmth permeated, suggesting hearth and home, sparking a longing for connection beyond Copia’s immortal existence. In the end, the scent of your blood was akin to the finest aged wine, a treasured and savored rarity.

And Terzo, after all those years apart, still smelled exactly like coffee.

“Are you ready, tesoro?” Terzo asked with one final kiss to your shoulder.

“Yes, Papa.”

“What do you want, dolcezza?” Copia asked.

“You.”

“Who?”

“Both of you.”

Terzo smiled, “you have us.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“As you wish.” Copia said.

They both began thrusting, picking up a pace easily. This, of course, wasn’t the first time they’d shared a sibling more than willing to whore themselves out for the pair of them, and this wouldn’t be the last. They both fell into a perfect rhythm, only thrusting in when the other had pulled out, and maintained this even as their speeds picked up. Copia was slouched on the pew, allowing him more leverage to fuck into you, but Terzo was immediately behind you. His skin touched yours. He was so close, you could hear his grunts and whimpers directly into your ear.

“Look at you,” Copia began, his voice low and strained, “taking us both like a fucking whore.”

“Merda!” Terzo exclaimed. “Cardinal, that filthy mouth of yours. Be kinder to our tesoro.” Those ‘filthy words’ though, had both of your holes fluttering around them, and even got into Terzo’s head. He got off on the fact that you got off to being abused in such a manner, thoroughly enjoying your tightening ass.

“They want kind? Fine.” Copia’s hand moved down to your clit and he started to lazily play with it using his thumb, causing you to cry out once more.

“They love it when you play with their clit, Cardinal.”

“So good for us, aren’t you, dolcezza?”

When you didn’t reply, they laughed.

“Poor little thing, so cock drunk and brain dead.” Copia said, feigning sympathy. “I think we’ve ruined them.”

“I guess they want us to stop.”

“No!” You screamed. “Don’t stop - please don’t stop! F-feels so fucking good. I love your cocks!”

“Which is better?” Copia asked.

Your eyes widened, fully comprehending the question. “I c-can’t choose.”

Terzo, “You have to, or you won’t cum.”

Copia, “We’ll pull out and leave you like this.”

You, “No, please! I can’t decide. I want them both. I need them both! Fuck, I’m so close, please!”

Copia, “You want us to share you, eh? You want us to keep fucking you like this?”

You, “Yes!”

Terzo, “You want to hang off our dicks like this whenever we want to use you?”

You, “Yes! Fuck! Please, please, please!”

Copia, “Aw. Papa, since they asked so nicely…”

Terzo, “Cum, tesoro. Cum for us.”

You came hard, stilling against them and grabbing onto any limb you could possible grab onto. Your head fell back against Terzo’s shoulder, exposing your beautiful neck to Copia, who, while you were in the midst of your orgasm, had leaned forward and sunk his teeth into your neck, sucking your blood down his throat. The first bite of you, the taste of your blood had him cumming deep inside you, hitting your cervix at the final thrust and painting your walls white with his seed. The tightness of your ass from the orgasm and the eroticism of watching Copia devour you, had Terzo’s cock twitching and cumming into your hole, also gripping onto whatever part of your body he could find and burying his face in your shoulder. He had to restrain himself from biting you, too, knowing that it would hurt you more coming from him than the vampire attached to your neck.

From the exhilaration of the whole event, you passed out cold. After your orgasm, you don’t remember a thing, except when you woke up, you had a pounding headache and your bottom half ached deliciously. You opened your eyes, only to be met with the almost total darkness of Terzo’s bedroom, and no doubt, Terzo lying behind you, his arm over your waist protectively as his sleeping frame held you close to him. As your eyes opened further, you saw Copia sat on the armchair in the corner of the room, a book in his hand. But his attention was on you now that he knew you were awake.

“Good morning, dolcezza.” He said. He placed the book down and walked over to the bed, lying down in front of you and scooching up to press his body close to yours. He placed his arm over your naked waist where Terzo’s body hadn’t claimed. As you moved your neck to watch him, you felt a twinge of pain as though it were bruised at Copia’s bite. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore.” You replied, honestly.

“Mi dispiace, amore mio. It seems I overdid it last night. I took a little too much blood than I ought to.” He kissed your forehead. “Can you forgive me?”

“Nothing to forgive, Cardinal.” You yawned. “Just a mistake, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then nothing to forgive. Forget about it.”

“You need to rest more, dolcezza. When you wake up, Papa will order his Ghouls to get you some breakfast.”

“Will you sleep here with us?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes… please.”

Copia smiled at your adorableness. “Then, sleep here I shall. Good night, little one.”

“Good morning, Cardinal.”

And sandwiched in between Papa and the Cardinal, you drifted back off to sleep.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[sorcerous-caress]

to dance with you | Astarion

[ fluff, heavy angst, bad end, character death, trauma, nb!reader ]

[Before the events of bg3, Reader is one of Astarion's victims ]

I am very sorry.

There was no taste to numbness, no colour, shape, or smell.

Just an absence, an emptiness. 

You couldn't escape it, no matter how much you tried. Much like total darkness, the abyss waited for you back home at the end of the day.

And while you knew it was hopeless to attempt to rationalise your way out of it, to cling to some justifications that explain that lack of warmth in your life, that just maybe it somehow made you superior to endure, you knew deep down it was a waste of time.

There's no dignity in suffering. There's no prize for enduring agony. 

Your drink was getting cold.

Lifting the cup to the edge of your lips, you swallowed down what you could of the lukewarm liquid. Barely registering the taste of it.

You're spiralling again. You always did around this time of year.

People say one must imagine sisyphus happy, and yet you've dragged your own corpse up this hill too many times to count. Clawed your way out of rot and into a resemblance of a functional adult.

Staring out the cafe window into the snow-covered city, you finished the rest of your now cold drink. It was barely night, and yet the sun has already said its goodnights.

The streets will fill out soon. The buzzing of the nightlife was just on the horizon. 

You found it ironic in a way, for how much Lathander's followers loved to proclaim the sun as the symbol of absolute goodness, then how come people only felt like being their true selves at night.

It felt like a curtain being drawn at the end of the show, when the angels slept and the pressure to perform melted away.

You should take your leave soon.

Your eyes shifted to stare into the bottom of your empty cup, traces of the remains of your drink have dried up in various shapes. 

"Good evening" a voice called out to you, someone standing in front of your table, next to the empty chair.

Looking up, you were met with ruby eyes. Silvery hair and curling around pointy ears, framing the pale face and.

"Would it be alright if I joined you, my dear?" The elf continued, voice gentle as if coaxing a rabbit out of its nest.

You don't know why, but at that moment you nodded.

He sat down on the opposite chair.

You weren't superficial. At least you didn't think so. People couldn't control their appearance, so what right do you have to judge them based on it?

Yet when you took in the man in front of you. His half lidded eyes made you the sole point of his focus, the subtle smile to his lips. You would've been blind to pretend that it didn't affect you in some way.

"Do you mind if I buy you a drink? Something to warm you up, maybe?" Clear concern in his voice, "it tends to get very cold quickly at night, and we don't want someone as lovely as you getting sick now, do we?"

He was…worried about your health? A stranger you've never met before?

You shook your head. "No, it's alright." He was probably just trying to be nice, "I wasn't aware I looked miserable enough to worry a stranger, I was just about to leave anyway."

His eyes widened, his smile dropping. "No wait…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend" he cleared his throat, seemingly embarrassed by the misunderstanding he caused, "But where are my manners? You may call me Astarion." 

You stared at the hand that he extended to you, he didn't seem phased by your hesitation to shake it. In fact, he patiently waited for you.

Not wanting to make this more awkward than it already is, you took his hand. He smiled again.

You told him your own name, and he said it suited you. His cold hands let go of yours after running his thumb across your hand.

"Please excuse my previous…failed attempt. I'm not used to approaching people." His eyes looked to the side, probably to mask his nervousness, you thought.

He seemed so bold and confident moments ago, yet the second you mentioned leaving, he immediately switched. 

Huh, people really aren't what they seem like, you thought to yourself. Who knew behind his confident facade was just someone like you.

"It's alright, I'm sorry for my rushed assumptions." You felt bad. This person was just trying to be nice, and you were rude to him for no reason but your own paranoia.

"I noticed you since you walked in," he admitted, "you looked…simply breathtaking." His eyes drank you up, taking in every detail of your form.

You've barely noticed him. You've barely noticed anyone in the cafe. You were too occupied wallowing in your own misery to give the outside world more than a passing glance.

"I'm flattered, really." You admitted, "but I'm not sure if I will live up to your expectations…" as shameful as it was to admit, you thought it was better to warn him early on than to pretend to be someone you're not.

Astarion's hand reached over the table, holding your own in a loose reassuring grip. Giving you enough space to pull back if you wanted to.

"Oh no, trust me." He gave your hand a comforting squeeze, "you're simply perfect." His voice dripped with honey, warm and sweet sliding down your throat.

You held his hand back.

"Then let me make it up to you, how about I buy you a drink? To warm you up." There was a playful edge to your voice as you repeated his words, "well by how cold your hand is, you probably really need this drink."

Amusement filled his face as he chuckled. "You clever little thing." Your eyes followed his tongue as he licked his lips, "I'm starting to like you already."

After a couple of drinks and some time, the two of you ended up leaving the establishment together. Light conversation flowed seamlessly and weaved into one another between you both.

To say he was easy to talk to would've been an underestimation. You felt like you're hanging out with a lifelong friend instead of a stranger you've met a couple of hours ago.

You really didn't pay much attention to time flying by, not when the night sky looked so mesmerising above you. Not when Astarion sat next to you on the garden bench.

And while your conversations didn't stay light for long, he didn't seem like he minded as he leant you his shoulder to lean on while you expressed your worries.

"I think you should tell them. They're your parents, after all." His arm kept you close to his body, "Isn't it their job to help you during rough times and all of that?"

"I don't know, I'm supposed to be an adult." You hid half your face in his shoulder, "I much rather suck it up until I find a new job, and then maybe I'll tell them."

Easier said than done. It's been a week since you've handed in your applications, and yet not a single letter was sent back to you.

"I just don't want to be a burden," you continued "sometimes I wish I didn't worry them so much. Maybe they'll do better without me holding them back." 

Astarion didn't reply. His hold tightened around you.

"Sometimes…I wish I could just disappear." You buried your face in his neck, taking in his scent and closing your eyes.

Again, no reply, only the sound of the night breeze rustling the nearby bushes. The moon looming over the both of you and showering you in her light.

A waning moon.

"I ruined the mood, didn't i?" You let out a bitter laugh as you pulled away from him, "I'm sorry."

There was a somber expression on his face, his usually sharp eyes appearing soft and round.

"No, not at all." He said, "I was just thinking about your words. Wishing to disappear."

With a heavy sigh, he turned to you. "I could preach to you all night about how valuable a single mortal life is like they do all morning at those temples, but we both know that's bullshit." His voice sounded more natural, vastly different from the smooth sultry tone he had before. "Life will still move on, with or without that person."

You snorted, "What, not a fan of the church and gods?" 

"More like they're not fans of mine. But I suppose we can't all have taste." Getting up from the bench, the moonlight illuminated the edges of his hair like a halo, completely facing you.

"I suppose they're missing out." Walking by his side, the two of you strolled through the garden at a slow pace. Hands occasionally brushing against each other.

"Definitely, who wouldn't want this face on their side. I'd probably get them more visitors than their clerics ever could." Leaning closer, Astarion stopped in his tracks as his hand held your face.

"Actually, something tells me you'd do very well at that job, helping others." You leaned into his hand, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

With a sarcastic laugh, he said "Please, me?" 

"Yes, you." When you opened your eyes, you were met with his intense gaze, "you're really good at making people feel at ease, letting them speak their worries. Like you did to me."

"Darling, I did no such thing." He lowered his eyes to your lips, licking his own. Maybe he was using this as an excuse to avoid your gaze.

You gently lifted his chin to look at you again, "Sometimes the best way to help someone is to listen to them, truly listen." 

His lips pressed into a thin line.

"I have been cold and rude to you, and yet you've treated me with warmth…that's a gift, you know. I won't ever forget it." Your own hands cupped his face, contrasting against his pale cold skin. "So yes, if you ever consider being a cleric or something one day, you'll definitely have my recommendation." 

Closing the distance between the two of you, your lips gently pressed against his forehead. Wishing his safety and well being with a quick peck as you pulled away.

His own hands left you long ago, laying abandoned on his sides. His fingers twitched.

Taking a deep breath, you saw his usual easy going smile come back. You felt at ease again as he returned to what you knew as his normal self. "I can think of a way or two you could repay me then, something we would both enjoy greatly." he said.

You felt a subtle touch against your hips, his hands asking permission to hold you.

It was getting really late, you realised. Your dogs must be worried sick back home. Their anxious figures waiting in front of the doorstep, you remember kissing them goodbye before you left.

...

It will be alright, it's just one night. You always left them more food than normal just in case, so they'll be safe and happily fed until your arrival.

Maybe you can even introduce Astarion to them tomorrow. You have a feeling they'll absolutely love licking his face until his hair is a mess.

"Yeah." You pushed his hands to fully grip your hips, his smile grew. "That sounds good to me."

-

The time spent during the walk to his home flew by. He was very good at making you lose yourself in the moment. 

Stepping inside, he kept a tight hold on you as he led you through the corridors.

Huge oil paintings adorned the crimson walls, a red carpet to match. You immediately noticed the lack of windows, and whatever ones you could spot had a thick layer of black curtains drawn closely shut over them.

He ignored any servants you passed by, and likewise, they seemed to pretend you didn't exist either, as if you were invisible like a ghost.

Astarion's demeanour shifted the second you stepped foot inside the palace, and his replies reduced to one word or less whenever you tried to start a conversation. 

You had a sinking feeling in the pits of your stomach, gnawing at your flesh and slowing down your steps.

"Is something wrong?" You asked him after he led you into a bedroom at the end of the hall. "You don't seem well."

His back was turned to you.

You took a step forward, placing a hand on his back. "Astarion?"

He flinched away from your hand the second you touched him, as if you burned the flesh on his back. A low hiss of pain escaped his lips.

Turning to face you after a few seconds, his expression was schooled back into the most charming smile.

"I just tend to get nervous when it comes to initiating intimacy." He told you, a nervous look in his eyes as he shifted slightly.

Oh, is that why he has been acting this way? You offered a comforting smile. "That's completely alright. We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with."

"... really? Even when you came the whole way here?" He said with a sceptical tone, "nonsense, my dear, I will get over it in time. I just…need a couple of minutes, yeah."

"I really mean it, Astarion, we don't have to do anything." You repeated yourself more firmly.

You thought your words might offer him some relief, yet the subtle frown to his lips only grew deeper. 

"How about we just get comfortable on the bed and see where the night takes us?" He offered, unbuttoning the cuffs of his embroidered shirt and sitting on the lush bed.

You didn't like his total disregard for your offer. You could tell he wasn't believing you. But you didn't want to push him at the time, so you just let it go.

After making some adjustments to your clothes until you were in a comfortable state, you joined him on the bed. He immediately turned to face you. His body was so close to yours.

"Now…" he whispered so close to your ear. "Just how much I wanted to make you mine since the moment I saw you."

One thing led to another, a teasing touch there, a promising squeeze here, and the taste of his lips against yours.

He just knew how to take your breath away, how to get you to melt into the kiss. Wanting more, chasing after his tongue for another taste.

His hand going down your body, feeling your throat, your chest, your waist, and then your thighs. Heat collected between your legs. You could feel your body respond back to his expert touches, completely ignoring your brain and forming a mind of its own as it grinded against his hands.

Pleasure was overwhelming you. It was both too much and not enough at the same time. It was addicting and consuming.

Was he enjoying it, too? Did seeing you this needy and responsive to his touches make him burn with lust and desire for you?

You tried breaking the kiss to get a good look at him, but he wouldn't relent. Wouldn't give you a chance to even think about anything else but your own pleasure.

When you finally managed to pull away from his lips, you couldn't get more than a glance at his expression before he immediately went for your neck. Sucking and marking the flesh with vigour, teeth sending shivers down your spine.

You didn't realise how sharp his teeth were until you felt them graze your neck. They were almost alarmingly sharp, one wrong move, and they'd glide easily into your flesh.

"Astarion…" you called out to him. His lips left your neck and took it as an invitation to kiss you again, stealing your breath away. "Astarion no wait- " you mumbled between each kiss.

That got him to stop, his hands pulling away from your body.

"Yes my love?" He breathed against your lips.

Your eyes met his, you took in his dishevelled appearance, the flush to his cheeks and his wet glistening lips. His eyes looked like they held desire in them, inviting and tantalising.

But the more you stared into them, the less they seemed to look at you and instead look through you. Deep inside his eyes, he was a thousand miles away. 

You couldn't even see a hint of desire in them if you took away the facade.

"I don't want this." You whispered.

"Did I do something wrong?" 

"No…I just don't want this."

He got off of you, giving you your space back.

Neither of you mentioned it, instead each of you stuck to their own side of the bed.

It was clear he didn't know how to proceed forward, a crease to his eyebrows while in deep thoughts, as you assumed.

The silence was uncomfortable, unbearable even. Your mind wandered back to your home, your comfortable safe haven. 

In an attempt to lighten the mood, you said, "one time, Luna cost me over 5000 golds."

Seemingly coming back to reality, it took Astarion some seconds to fully register your words, "Luna?"

"My dog," you said, "the sweetest shepherd you'll ever meet. I came home from work late one time and she wagged her tail so fast that she fractured it." 

"She sounds charming." Astarion let out a soft laugh, "although, why Luna?"

"She's black and white, you know like the phases of the moon. I thought it was clever at the time." You admitted, "or are you more of a cat person?"

"I'm not an animal person at all, honestly." 

"What, are they also not fans of you?"

That got another chuckle out of him. "They tend to be too smelly for my liking, but I'd take a cat over a horse any day." 

He turned his body to face you again, you did the same.

"Really? Luna adores horses, she could teach you a thing or two."

"Are you really not only suggesting that the dog and I meet up, but that she'd also take me as her pupil?"

"I mean…well yeah, I was kinda hoping I'd take you to meet her tomorrow morning." You cleared your throat, "well that's if you want to.

His focus seemed to drift again, "...you don't happen to have cats, do you?" His tone was quieter than before, eyes not fully meeting yours.

"There's a stray that comes to visit Luna daily, he's not very friendly to other people but who knows." As corny as you thought your line sounded, you still proceeded to say it in hopes it will lift his mood up, "maybe he'll also fall victim to your charm like I did."

Instead of the reaction you expected, you were met with genuine scepticism.

"Ha" his laugh was bitter, "you don't have to spare my feelings darling, I know you don't see me that way."

You sat up on the bed.

"What do you mean?"

He looked up at you, you felt like he was attempting to make himself smaller against the pillow.

"Oh I'm not holding a grudge or anything." He claimed, "I can admit it when I'm not someone's type or whatever."

Brushing a strand of his hair behind his pointy ear, you tried to coax him to meet your eyes again. "...Astarion, I am very attracted to you.

He leaned away from your hand. "Then why did you want to stop?"

The truth burned in your throat to admit. "I just…I didn't feel like you were enjoying it. Like you wanted it."

That look, the eyes staring through you.

Astarion seemed very conflicted, about what? You weren't sure. But you wanted to comfort him, to take away his pain and carry it yourself instead.

He never denied your words.

You pulled your hand away from his hair, still not laying down beside him as you watched his body curl under the covers.

"It's alright, you don't have to explain anything." You got up from the bed, "I can leave if it's-" just as you were about to pick up your clothes, his hand immediately grabbed your wrist in a desperate grip.

"No," he said with dread in his eyes, "you can't."

It was a complete switch from his previous state, you weren't sure what to even make of it.

"I can't?" 

He seemed to catch himself, letting go of your wrist.

"stay with me, at least for tonight." His eyes were pleading, "we can just hold each other, isn't that what you want?" 

He sat up from the bed, gently taking your hands in his as he led you back to the comfort of the sheets.

"It's what I want." He whispered, voice so inviting and beckoning you closer, "I swear." 

You weren't strong enough to resist.

Following after him, your bodies pressed together under the soft sheets. You only felt your own heartbeat in your chest as he held you close. He was cold, so you shared your own body warmth to warm him up. 

The candles in the room were burning out, a calming silence fell. Lulling you to rest and let the day end.

You could only hear your own heart beating.

This was nice, it felt nice and safe so it must be.

Just as sleep was about to steal you away, Astarion's voice nudged you back awake.

"What do you like about me?" His voice was raw, sincere.

You couldn't see his face, "you, of course."

He moved against you, "obviously, now be more specific."

You tried to think about it. It felt like one of these important questions that'd shape your future relationship with him, so you tried to give it all of your thoughts.

There were so many things to love about him, but many of them were things you'd still love him without.

Yet they were still parts of him, but how many parts were actually him.

"Your nature." Was the answer you gave, still not quite satisfied with it.

"Oh shit." His serious tone didn't last long before being replaced by a playful one, "I didn't invite a druid to my bed, did i?" 

You snorted, "very funny, but I meant it." 

Even without seeing his face, you felt his lips curl upwards against your skin. Claiming that small victory was enough for you.

"You know" you found yourself rambling, "my day was going absolutely horrible until you showed up. I don't usually really believe in gods or miracles, but…you were the closest thing to a guardian angel I've ever had."

A yawn escaped your lips, you continued.

"I was too inside my head. I forgot that a whole world outside existed. A world with people like you." Your eyelids fluttered, sleep lurked behind them. "As shitty as life can be, somehow I believe things will be okay." 

Adjusting your position so you could face him in the dark, you felt his body stiffen against yours.

"Goodnight Astarion." you gave his forehead a small kiss, wishing for his safety and well being. "Rest well."

-

The deep hours of the night is when the Szarr palace fell the most silent. Merely an hour or two separating them from dawn.

A warm living breathing body laid next to him, just like many others before. And Astarion embraced them just like many others before.

But the waves of emotions swirling inside him like poison were definitely new.

He didn't get a hint of rest, he couldn't. As much as he wanted to just close his eyes for the remaining hours and ignore the waking world. After all they will definitely disappear in the morning, so what's a few hours of blissful ignorance?

But he just couldn't, the thought itself threatened to turn his stomach inside out. Disgust he has never felt in years lurching at his insides.

It's their fault, it's all their fault.

They should've made it easier for him. They should've just closed their eyes, spread their legs, and ignored his existence. 

They shouldn't have mentioned their stupid moon dog. They shouldn't have made him leer inside at the idea of having parents to support you yet still choosing to suffer alone.

How dare they be so cruel? How dare they kiss his forehead so tenderly.

He was choking. His throat burned so much that every breath felt like needles being dragged against the inside of his neck.

Worst of all, he could still hear their heartbeat. Did his own sound like that before? Is this what it felt like to have a speck of evidence that you're alive? 

A constant reminder of your mortal life, of your endless potential, of your stupid naivety and your pointless kindness.

His whole body was shaking.

Cazador will be here soon. Just like so many times before.

He needed to act fast. He needed to do something. Otherwise, he felt like he would go crazy.

They don't deserve whatever that monster did with all the others. They don't deserve a fate that cruel, not someone like them. Please God, anyone else but them.

He prayed, holding them closely as he begged and pleaded with each one of the Gods he could recall the name of in his state of panic.

If not for his miserable life then please do something for them, they're still a mortal, they're still one of your children. Please god just save them.

Like always, no answer came.

Astarion felt hopeless, useless and small. 

He stared in horror at his own hands, still in the same praying position. He truly had nothing to offer.

Nothing except a dignified death.

Death would save them from Cazador, Death would save them from torture.

Death was what he should've picked that night almost two centuries ago. 

Careful not to disturb their peaceful rest, Astarion grabbed a pillow.

He took one last good look at them in the dark, he engraved their face into his memory.

He wanted to lean over and give them one last kiss. He didn't feel like he deserved to.

The pillow pressed against their face, slowly cutting off their oxygen.

Astarion held tightly. He kept his hold firm even as they struggled.

He couldn't take his eyes off of the pillow, his tears falling and staining its white cover. A drop after another.

As their struggles died down, by that time, he had gotten his side of the pillow entirely wet. He still held firm, despite his shaking fingers, despite the blood slowly joining his tears onto the pillow from how hard his teeth dug into his lips.

At these hours, the Szarr palace was the most silent. He couldn't risk making a single sound.

Only when a heartbeat ceased to exist did he let go of his grip.

He got off the bed, closed their eyes and covered their face with the sheets. He sat on the floor, head next to their cold dead feet.

Despite his clean hands, he swore he felt their blood on them, seeping into his skin and marking him forever.

Not just their blood, but the blood of every innocent miserable person he lured back into this hell.

He just wanted to save them, to save this one person. Take a life in stride and carry the guilt to the end of his days. 

It was just one life, one very precious person.

Was a very precious person.

But he forgot to account for the hundreds of lives he has taken indirectly before, it was easier to forget when it wasn't his own hands stopping their heartbeat.

His whole world felt like it stopped because of one life.

As he sat there on the cold floor, naked, shaking with tears streaming down his face, he heard the very familiar tapping of a staff against the floorboards.

All of his feelings vanished in an instant, as if he was drowning in a deep volcanic abyss before getting pulled into the freezing surface.

He could not feel his fingers, numbness spread throughout his whole body.

The tapping got closer. It was heading towards him.

Cazador was heading towards him.

There were no feelings left inside him, just pure numbness.

There was no taste to numbness, no colour, shape, or smell.

Just an absence, an emptiness. 

He couldn't escape it, no matter how much he tried. Much like total darkness, the abyss waited for him back home at the end of the day.

[magewisdumb]

Greetings & Partings

Dark Justiciar Shadowheart HCs

A/N: I was listening to a really ethereal cover of down by the river and starting about reuniting and departing with DJ Shadowheart. I kinda wanted to capture SH's more sensual side in this and yes I know her being a DJ she definately hardcore dommy mommy, but how I consider Selunite Shadowheart Light Silk, I consider DJ Shadowheart dark Velvet. Both have their softness in the variance of texture. Enough of my rambling, enjoy!!!

CW: Some NSFW sprinkled in there

Shadowheart knows as choosing the fate of a Dark Justiciar, her run ins with you cannot last long... for now

When meetings Shadowheart, you do not look for her, she looks for you.

She doesn't actually like to meet at the cloister either, she'll meet you in the woods outside the city.

Being a mistress of shadows gives her the edge and she loves the feeling of tracking you through the forest gives her a release from her mother superior duties.

There's a clearing in the forest that you always reunite with Shadowheart in. Bending down at the creek along the side at the clearing, you reach to dip your hands into the clearing to rinse your face when you see her reflection behind you, eyes glowing purple in the night shining with mirth before dragging you to your feet lightly by the collar.

Shadowheart herself is in a loose fitting silky black dress that embodies the endless dark that she worships.

Ok ok so my headcanon is that Selunite Shadowheart develops a love for swimming, Dark Justiciar Shadowheart develops a love for dancing 💃

To her a dance can be full of passion and life, but all dances come to an end and Just like night orchids, Shadowheart finds that cycle of life and death, gain and loss beautiful however tragic.

She always leads. No ands buts or ifs

Hums or sings a tune next to your ear making sure you're well aware of her breath fanning out across it as she pulls you close.

Always chooses to meet you out on a full moon to spite Selûne with her presence.

When the dance dies down, she'll pull you into her tent (which is soaked in the scent of lavender btw)

Wine glasses are ready to go and she'll propose a toast. Expect a small bittersweet expression to flash across her face before she masters it back to one of relaxation.

As the night goes on expect her desire and want of you to grow, and she starts to get handsy. She's feeling emotional and the wine doesn't quite burn enough for her liking.

Takes a swig before kissing you deeply, wine spilling between the contact of your lips

She quickly divests of your clothes and hers and goes down on you

Hickeys and bites ftw she wants to leave whatever impact she has on you.

Her eyes water as your sighs ring out into the space in her tent.

She's missed this more than she'll ever admit. She knows she can not call it love, but deep inside, she knows your heart is hers.

When you cry her name, she rides the after shocks with you before climbing up your body, leaving kisses as she climbs back up and pulls you into a languid kiss.

In the after glow, the pillow talk is mostly about new recruits, nocturne shenanigans, and new changes in the city.

When the night pulls the moon further behind the canopy of trees, Shadowheart knows her time draws short.

When you fall asleep in her arms, she solidifies by casting magical sleep (if you're an elf pretend it works) as she uses a teleportation scroll to bring you to your room in the city or anywhere you live in the surrounding area before taking a longing glance at your sleeping form.

She vanishes through the cracks of the window in a dissolution of smoke.

She leaves a small note along the lines of "till next time"

A/N: OK OK I KNOW I GOT LAZY ABOUT THE DEPARTURE BUT I NEEDED TO GET THESE THOUGHTS OUTTA MY BRAIN. Listen I firmly believe DJ Shadowheart can love (just don't call it that)

[sky-kiss]

Shadowheart/F!Tav: Ephemeral

A/N: Named Tav. And this is highly indulgent and just for me lol. But y'all can look if you want. Post Haarlep encounter. Because we stan a kinky queen.

Shadowheart/F!Tav: Laughing, Thriving, Gloating, at your Expense (Affectionate)

"Far be it from me to gloat," Shadowheart says, gloating. "But I recall speaking to something like this—what was it again?" 

The rush of blood in Joi's ears makes it difficult to think, let alone reflect. She tries to speak and ends up swallowing the words, chin dropping to her chest. It's a frankly surreal sensation—there are hands on her body, cupping, caressing, someone is mouthing at her throat…but it's nothing. The phantom pleasure is equal parts too much and too little, nerve strokes without pressure. 

Shadowheart hums. The heat of her makes it…better or worse, it's difficult to tell. She is blessedly solid, real, when she presses close, fingers stroking through Joi's hair. "Ah, I recall.  Unlikely to dispense carnal pleasures out of the goodness of their heart…does that sound correct? Feel free to nod your agreement. You seem quite…preoccupied." 

Joi nods. 

Some rational part of her brain realizes the half-elf is within her rights to feel this superiority—she had warned her about Haarlep's intentions. It's just that there's another part, the one not currently buzzing with abstract pleasure, that wants to protest. She'd had no choice—a lie, there'd been no reason to break into the House to start aside from her own wounded ego—but to play with Haarlep. 

"I thought," the tiefling starts, only to stop, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from moaning. "You'd be at least somewhat bothered." 

Shadowheart's lips curl up, bemused, a touch patronizing. "Not at all—I quite like you like this. And I rarely get the chance to just…observe." The phantom hands shift down her body, and she suffers the jarring impression of her legs being spread, even as she stands perfectly still. Something must show on her face because Shadow laughs again, walking her further into the alley. The cleric has the presence of mind to tuck them in a little alcove. "Go on—don't stop for my sake." She drags her lips across Joi's cheek. "If you can summon the presence of mind, I'd welcome any particularly sordid details."

Joi shivers, screwing her eyes shut against the sensation of something pushing inside her. Her mind struggles to adjust, trying to justify the texture, the duality of feeling achingly full and empty all at once. 

"My, that must have been good." Shadowheart's smiling, too damnably satisfied. She eases Joi's legs apart, slotting herself between her spread thighs. 

"Just…" she chokes. Shadowheart saves her with another kiss, swallowing her moan. It's a little like being at sea, the sensation of being rocked, something thrusting lazily into her. For the briefest moment, she feels the link to Haarlep solidify. They're more present, sticking inside her head, dragging their teeth across her mind. Their hand, her hand, ghosts down her stomach. Shadowheart marks its path, smirking, tangling their fingers together. 

"If your only intent is to stand here slack-jawed, I'll be tempted to put your mouth to better work." The cleric murmurs, and something in her tone, dark and authoritative, makes Joi clutch around nothing. 

And she feels something like Haarlep's approval, violently hungry, driving themself down on their partner in response to Shadowheart’s words. It steals the air from Joi's lungs. 

"You try holding a civil conversation when you're being…" She hisses, hugging her lover tighter. A shock of electric pleasure kisses along her spine, the sensation of being stretched to her breaking point, the phantom pleasure pressing and pressing for just a little more. Haarlep coos in her head, and she feels the point where her body gives. There should be nothing left, but Haarlep ensures she takes it. Joi fights to swallow, voice hoarse. "No elegant way to say you’re feeling...very full." 

"Mmm. Any guesses what you're full of?" Shadowheart laughs at her incredulous expression. "Not so strange a question, is it? I'd like to know if I'll be competing with an Orthon to satisfy you in the future."  

"You'd rise to the occasion." 

"But of course. But it would necessitate a touch more effort." She hums against Joi's lips, rocking against her thigh. Shadow chews her lower lip, mischief twinkling in her eyes. "Do we think it's Raphael fucking you, sweet one? Should I be jealous?" Joi gasps, trying to push the image out of her head. "Of course, if you can't explain what they're doing to you…well, there's always the option of showing me later?" 

"Yes." 

"No need to convince you at all. Shame." Shadowheart pats her cheek. "You’re so eager. It’s sweet." 

It's openly patronizing. It still manages to twist something low in the tiefling's belly, naked want flooding through her. On principle, Joi grumbles, "You're upsetting Haarlep."

Shadowheart laughs. "Liar.  But I shan't keep you so…mentally occupied. Allow me." 

Her lover's hand steals under her robes and between her legs, adding a blessed solidity to the otherwise ephemeral pleasure.