wtv-my-current-hyperfixation - Tumblr blog

wtv-my-current-hyperfixation · 23 days ago

Text

Okay the descriptions in this are downright beautiful 💕🥺

I only pray, don't fall away from me

(F!Rook/Emmrich Volkarin HURT/COMFORT)

Summary:

Never in her life had she admired the small details of a person before, but Emmrich Volkarin was made of tiny treasures. *** We didn't get a "the battle is over I'm going to kiss my partner now" moment, so I had to write one myself Contains spoilers for the end of Dragon Age: The Veilguard Title from "I, Carrion (Icarian)" by Hozier

Word Count: 2.5k

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, vignette, rook is a woman, regret prison mention, canon universe, mythology references, self doubt, regrets, reunion kiss

Rook didn’t know how to feel anymore. All around her was carnage— bursted pustules of blight covering the walls and the floor of the once beautiful throne room, and the crumpled body of Elgar’nan near her feet; the god, as he believed himself, reduced to nothing but a husk of mortality after the death of his archdemon. The indomitable battle was over— finally, undeniably over, and all she could feel was the buzzing in her sensitive ears and the dust sticking to her sweat-slick skin like a second set of armor. Everything around her was coated in a layer of death and destruction— blood and gore, blight and red lyrium— stemming from the grandiloquent throne at the center of the room and spanning all the way to the double doors she had barged through what felt like a millenia ago. The world felt false in its peaceful slumber. She could hear the crashing waves off the coast of Minrathus just below her, but even that felt too quiet. She was used to loud— shattering mosaic glass and the screams of darkspawn echoing in her ears, only to harmonize with the cries of Venatori calling for their fallen gods as she silenced them with a wave of her hand.

She stared at the point in the sky where she had watched Solas and the Inquisitor disappear and felt nothing but the inhale and exhale of air into her lungs, a cough bubbling up inside but refusing to leave the tightness of her throat.

All was gone now.

War was fickle in that way. For months on end she thought of nothing but battle strategy and the Fade— Antaam, Venatori, Demons, Evanuris, and how to defeat them all and remain in one piece. She fought more battles than she could count and lost more friends than she could name, only for everything to cumulate in one last clash of sword and magic, and the never ending silence of victory. One last death rattle before the comfort of stillness. The weight of the world slowly shed from her shoulders and before she could revel in the sweet feeling of relief the air whistling through her ears seemed to hiss, “what next, hero?”

The world was quiet, and it felt wrong.

“Rook,” breathed a whisper at her back, tone exhausted but teeming with more life than she thought possible.

She could hear the soft jangle of her lover’s bracelets as his arms fell to his side, his pointed staff clamoring to the ground as the feeling of his magic in the air disapparated. Even still, Rook refused to turn around at the sound of his voice— his reverence. Even with the confirmation of death at her feet, she couldn’t bring herself to turn and find this all a lie. That is what Solas was known for, of course. He trapped her in her fears once before, and he could easily do it again. If it was all real— if she looked and found her sweet necromancer there— it would be over. All the adrenaline would shed from her body and she would collapse into his arms like a fainting damsel suffering from the vapors. Not a damsel by any means, nor a hero outside of name, her paramour still treated her as if she was pure heaven spun by the gods themselves.

He doted on her— kissed her like she was the reason the stars existed in the sky and all he could do was hope to breathe the same air that exited her lungs into his own. A love like his could only rival that of the poets he quoted into her skin, his musical voice whispering against the column of her neck and mustache tickling the delicate skin behind her ears. He loved her like she was history— experience and understanding in the deepest form as if the cosmos themselves whispered their findings about all that there was and could be into his ears and her name was the answer. And, stars, did she love him in return.

Right now, though, she didn’t want any of that flare. She didn’t want the poetic words or the magic along her skin. She wanted her Emmrich— the soft spoken professor with a heart of gold and limbs that could wrap around her body until she wasn’t sure where he started and she ended.

But, if this was all a trick? If Solas was once again a whole scheme ahead and using her emotions as kindling in his world-ending fire? It would destroy her— shrike soul from body with his lyrium blade until there was nothing of her left.

Was the battle really over? Had they truly won? She had seen Solas cut himself with the blade, tie himself to the prison of his own creation, and leave the world with his own love not far behind like a whisper of rain against paned glass, but even still she couldn’t fully believe it. The Fade was listless— inordinately large and encompassing. Who’s to say she wasn’t still there, among her regrets and the fading ghost of the only person she had ever considered close to family? If she turned around, would Emmrich be there? Would she see his salt and pepper hair falling across his forehead, face dusted with soot and splatters of blood from their fallen comrades, expression twisted into one of unfiltered respite and love? Would she hear his whispered thanks to the Maker and feel the ease that settled over his body once she entered his arms? The thought of turning on her heel and finding him gone, dragged deep into the Fade until he was too far for her to reach, or finding him dead, nothing but a shell of his former self and the remains of his glowing green magic fading from his sugarcane hued eyes, filled her with a dread only rivaled by the Dread Wolf himself. Even with their night of passion before the fight with Elgar’nan— even with his reassurance that she was home and safe, she was still unsure. The twigs of uncertainty in her gut grew and grew until they were a forest, and all she could see was the dark of night and dead leaves. Whether in his arms or not, she was bound to break. Only one would bring the comfort she craved.

In that moment she remembered a story Varric had told her after a long day of searching for Solas, much more ale in his body than should have been physically possible and a look of longing for times long past in his glassy, unfocused eyes. Something romantic, Rook remembered, and with less sexual innuendos than she thought the dwarf was capable of reading— something with names that were too fancy for her to recall other than the starting letters of O and E— Orlesian, probably. She knew the gist, though. Two lovers separated by death, only to be reunited by the lonely gods of a religion she was unsure of and told to leave some strange version of the Fade that would only allow you to walk one way safely. They couldn’t look for the other, lest they be separated again by the passage of the living and the dead. They had to walk, one foot in front of the other, in an ordered line, until the sun met their faces. One turned, though. Be that because they heard their lover stumble, or they thought they were safe to do so, or the doubt finally took hold of their soul and bid them to do something foolish, they still turned, and their lover was gone.

Everyone knew, especially the poets, that love was complex. Both selfish and selfless— overflowing desire to know and be known.

Rook was cognizant of the desire to know— to know that her heart was behind her and not out of her reach. How could she not? To finally understand what the bards of old meant when they talked about love was not in her plan, but who was she to deny the obvious whims of fate? Here she stood now, feet shuffling on the edge of a battlefield she tried so hard to keep from spreading any farther, covered in the gore of things considered godly but, somehow, her relieved soul feeling brand new against the rising sun, and that desire still thrummed in her veins.

Her regrets were what stalled her now, just like they did in the Fade prison.

Regret for the fallen she never learned the names of.

Regret for not killing Solas herself and confirming that this was all real.

Regret for stealing the future that Lace Harding and Varric Tethras deserved.

Regret for not running into the arms of her lover right away and instead wallowing in her own self mutilation.

Was this what the mysterious O felt after he turned? Did he regret his choices? His love? His loyalty?

Did he regret not forgoing the steps out of this “underworld” all together and making a home on the stairs?

“Darling, please…” Emmrich’s voice came again, desperation leaking into every word like a broken faucet.

Rook was tired of being the hero. She was tired of the pedestals and the praise— the looks of wonder and the pleas for help. Under her love’s soft voice she finally caved to the pressure and turned.

The first thing she saw were his eyes— so molten and gold that they could be confused for stars blinking their goodnight song against the rising sun. Tears blurred her vision and gave everything the softness of a charcoal sketch, but his hazel irises were the clearest thing in her tiny world. Forget what she told him on their first date, brown and green were her favorite colors— the hue of the earth after fresh rain and grass with its soft morning dew— mud between her toes and soft flower fronds against her callused fingers. As the tears slipped down her face it was like seeing him for the first time all over again.

Never in her life had she admired the small details of a person before, but Emmrich Volkarin was made of tiny treasures.

His fingernails, normally pristine, now coated in the dirt that clung under his nails and shaded in the soft yellows and browns of sunflowers in Arlathan forest. The creases by his eyes, habitually squinted in a smile now just streaks of his pale skin shining through the grey of lingering debris staining his face like a riverbed after a storm. The point of his wrinkled elbow peeking out of his sliced armor, bruises trailing up his alabaster skin in shades of purple, red, and black, and his scattered freckles straining to be seen through the discoloration— symphonies of supernovas over the mountains of Ferelden. How could he believe he was anything other than lovely? Emmrich Volkarin was made out of the beauty of both life and death, beginnings and ends and all things in between— a book of poetry made from periwinkle veins and starlight hair that quickly became Rook’s favorite novel. A novel that her hands longed to hold again.

She was so scared to annotate his precious skin when they first began their dance of a romance, but now she desired only to mark him as her own— leave notes along his margins and publish a version of their love that was just their own— a first edition, his words nestled against hers until their souls joined the passages years down the line.

Rook was running before she realized what she was doing.

Emmrich met her half way, catching her in his trembling arms and pressing her to his chest like she would disappear at any moment. His skin hummed with the remnants of his magic, pleasantly tingling her cheeks as he pressed his face into her neck, hands firmly grasping at the back of her head and lower back, holding her there but still with all the gentleness and grace she fell in love with. His lips pressed against the thrum of her pulse point, breathing heavy and quivering but no longer from fear, just from the sweet relief of her safety. She carded her fingers through his hair, digging her nails into the base of his head and held him as tightly as she dared— any closer and they would become one. Emmrich didn’t mind in the slightest, meeting her pressure with his own as he breathed in the scent of her like it was the last thing he would ever do.

“Oh, my love. My heart. My life.” He whispered like a prayer.

Down to their knees they went, his long lost darling cradling his forehead to hers as he breathed declarations of love undying into her sweat-slick skin. She silenced his rambling with a kiss, all the love and longing she felt pouring into him through their pressed lips like it was the last time they would ever touch. Before the events of today, the future was not certain. Now, even though she knew they had all the time in the world together— finally, finally together— she found that she couldn’t bring herself to ever let him go again.

Screw Solas. If this was a dream, she never wished to wake up again.

The kiss was not debauched, like some would expect from an “end of the world” reunion, but it was not lacking in passion. She felt her beloved Emmrich wrap her in his strong, lithe arms, pressing her chest to his in a way that proved he felt as strongly for her as she did him. Like he never wanted to part her soul from his until he breathed his last breath. There was no stealing of air, or tongues fighting for battle, but pure, unfiltered love.

It took them many moments before they separated, heads pressed together once again at the brow as they bathed in the wonderment of their success. Everything they could ever want was at the tips of their fingers, and no gods, blighted or not, could change that.

“Let’s go home,” Rook whispered, voice steady and content for the first time in months.

Her necromancer nodded his head, standing first before offering his partner a hand. She stood with him, side by side at last, the weapons she wielded already being buried by the dust and ash flooding the throne room around her, and looked forwards to her new destiny.

Leaving the scene of the battle hand in hand, the couple walked towards their future with a smile.

First time posting for DA! Love this old man :)

#emmrich romance #da4 emmrich #emmrich the necromancer #dragon age emmrich #emmrich x reader #emmrich volkarin x reader #emmrich x rook #emmrich volkarin #dragon age veilguard #dragon age #good god this is so beautiful #this is also one of the most romantic things I’ve ever read

88 notes · View notes

wtv-my-current-hyperfixation · 23 days ago

Note

Reblogging again just simply cause I love this fic so much🥰

Prompt suggestion <3 Rolan/Tav NSFW. Tav really likes it when Rolan speaks to her in infernal. She doesn’t understand it, but it doesn’t change the fact that it turns her on. He starts to notice her subtle reactions to when he curses or something in infernal. Which leads to bedroom shenanigans lol. My username is the same on A03 ^^

this has taken me a minute, mostly because i had to spend some time literally making up the infernal language for the purpose of this fic LMAO. if you're interested in my process it's in the end notes on ao3.

i changed the prompt a little though; rolan doesnt notice because he's very silly and keeps failing the perception check. lia notices immediently.

NSFW read on ao3 here

~~~

The first time Tav hears Rolan speak infernal, she doesn't even register it as a word. It slips past his tongue and it's all consonants and noises that she's not sure she could emulate properly with her non-tiefling tongue.

"Zurgan." He mutters it under his breath as he drops a pile of books.

Her quill stops midair where she's busy writing up an inventory of magical items they've found. With everyone else busy or gone from the city, she offered to help Rolan with organising the tower. It's been a nightmare, frankly. The previous tower master (she wont do him the privilege of speaking his name, the bastard) had apparently spent the last who-knows-how-many years stuffing things into random shelves and boxes.

She frowns as she tries to repeat the word, "Zu- Zurgan? What's that mean?"

Rolan jumps, clearly having forgotten she's in the room, "not zurgan, zurgan. It means- well, I don't know if it translates literally to common. It's... an expletive, I suppose ."

She laughs, "so it means 'fuck'?"

He huffs, and rolls his eyes, "I suppose that's a close enough approximation, yes."

"I don't think I've ever heard you swear before."

"Well," his brow is furrowed as he thinks, "I suppose I try not to, really. It's not becoming."

Tav snorts at that, "Gods, how old are you, 150? Besides, how is swearing in tiefling any different?"

"The language is called infernal, you uncultured swine. I'm a tiefling, I speak infernal."

"You speak something alright. Usually a crock of shi-"

"What did I say about it not being becoming, hm?"

She rolls her eyes at him, "so sorry, Master Rolan, please accept my humblest of apologies for disgracing your presence in such a regard."

He rolls his eyes at her, but she hears him snort and sees the quirk of his lip. "I suppose as far as apologies go, that one will suffice."

~~~

Several weeks later, Cal shouts through the door to the study where they're cataloguing evocation books, "Rolan! Lia and I are heading to the market, do you want us to pick up more of the wine you like?"

He laughs, which is rare enough in itself, and leans out the door to reply.

"Fazit drakon'ziz orum?!"

She hears Cal's responding cackle from down the hallway. "alright, alright, little drakon'ziz. I'll get 2 bottles, 'cos I love you."

When Rolan comes back in, chuckling to himself, Tav doesn't say anything. She wants to ask what it means, but she's... distracted.

Something about the way the words sound when he says them is... enticing. She's not sure if she could repeat them without butchering them, but even if she could she's sure they wouldn't sound as delicious as when they come from him. It's something about the rich tone to his voice, which she's always liked, coupled with the harsher edge it takes on when he speaks the foreign language.

Gods, she's been spending far too much time with him,

She clears her throat, "drakon'ziz?"

Rolan turns to her, still smiling, " drakon'ziz , but close. It means dragon."

His lopsided smile, aimed at her, coupled with the gruffness of the unknown word, is a little bit intoxicating.

"What about the rest of what you said? Fa- Fazit something?"

"'Fazit drakon'ziz orum?' It means 'does a dragon want gold?' It's a tiefling saying, basically means 'yes, obviously.' It just sounds better in infernal."

Tav agrees. It sounds rather lovely in infernal, in fact.

When Tav doesn't reply, he raises an eyebrow, "I could try and teach you some? Infernal, that is. If you'd be interested. Tell me something you want to be able to say, I'll try and teach you how to say it."

She thinks for a moment.

"What if I want to call someone a shit-head?"

He barks out a laugh as he rolls his eyes, "of course you'd just want to know how to insult people. I think the closest translation would be uzterku'zereb. That means 'shit-for-brains'."

Despite the small jolt her stomach gives as he utters the phrase, she starts cackling. "That's even better!"

~~~

It's been about a month and a half since they started cataloguing everything in the tower, and it's basically become a nightly occurrence that Tav stays for dinner with them. Rolan has finally sat down at the dining table, after bringing all the dishes and cutlery through, and right as he hits the chair there's a sheepish voice from beside him.

"... Rolan~" It's Lia, in a singsong voice, and he huffs.

"What do you want?" It's a question, but it sounds more like an admonishment.

"How could you?! Assuming I want something from you. My beloved big brother. I look up to you so much. Also I left my drink in the sitting room."

You and Callum both laugh, and he makes a very dramatic show of pushing his chair back out with a huge sigh.

"You're such a..." He flails for a moment, as if the word in common has escaped him, "an uztanatez. Next time, you're getting it yourself."

She laughs, "My dear brother, I would fall on my sword for you."

"Mhm." He grumbles, " gladiz zurzum kuluz ..."

Cal nearly falls out of his chair laughing as Rolan trudges from the room, and Lia has a grin on her face from successfully riling him up and getting what she wanted.

Tav is blushing.

"What did he say?" She feels hesitant to bring attention to herself when she knows she's bright red, but she's also too nosy for her own good.

Lia looks at her and opens her mouth to answer, but pauses as she takes in Tav's face. Cal, blissfully, doesn't notice.

"Well the first bit was him calling her a suck up," he laughs through his explanation, "and the second bit was him telling her exactly where she could shove her sword."

She laughs, and thanks him for telling her. Lia is still looking at her. Her face warms more.

"What?"

"Hm." Lia smiles in a way that looks slightly threatening; the way Tav imagines a shark would smile at a seal before taking a huge chunk out of it. "Nothing, really. Only, you weren't that flushed before Rolan spoke in infernal. Got a thing for the devil's tongue, have you Tav?"

Cal furrows his eyebrows in confusion, before his eyes widen and his mouth drops in an 'o' of understanding.

She's about to deny it but she can feel that she's even redder now, so instead she buries her face in her hands. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare say anything!"

"Say anything about what?" Of course Rolan would walk back in now. He places Lia's cup in front of her and turns to Tav expectantly, but Lia speaks before she can.

"Tav is just embarrassed because she didn't understand what you said, she felt left out."

His face breaks into a look of confusion, "You shouldn't be embarrassed by that, Tav, you don't speak the language. Uztanatez-" Tav sucks in a breath, and Lia snorts, "means 'bootlicker'. Gladiz zurzum kuluz means... well... 'shove your sword up your rear'."

Cal and Lia are both sporting shit eating grins. Tav thinks now is a good time to pick a God and pray.

~~~

" Pulch'zer."

He says it as she walks through the door to the study one morning.

"Sorry, repeat that?"

His eyes widen, and his face flushes a deep crimson colour. She's never seen him blush before, or at least she's never noticed because of his skin's natural shade.

"Sorry I was just..." He averts his gaze, looking back at the paperwork he's working on, "I was just thinking out loud..."

She chuckles lightly. "Ah, that text will be kicking your ass then. Pulch'zer. What does it mean?"

He looks up at her again. His eyes lock with hers.

"You're close, it's not pulch'zer, it's pulch'zer . You have to put more emphasis on the 'Z' sound."

Gods, she needs to stop asking. He always ends up correcting her, and she always ends up going bright pink. He pronounces the words more precisely when he's teaching her how to say them, it drives her insane.

"Pulch- Pulch? Pulch'zer."

He chuckles, stands and walks over to her. "You're close, but now you're putting too much emphasis on it." He's only an arms length away from her now. " Pulch'zer ."

She gulps. He needs to stop repeating it.

"P- Pulch'zer." She can't tear her eyes away from him, she stares right into his gaze as she repeats it. He sucks a small breath in, so small it's barely noticeable.

"Yes. Very good."

There's a pause.

"So. What does it mean?"

He's flushing again. "It... Well. It..."

She raises an eyebrow, "that bad huh?"

"... it means 'beautiful'."

Tav's face twists in confusion. "What about your book is beaut-"

Rolan surges forward and plants his lips on hers. She gasps into it, the rest of her words swallowed by her inhale and his tongue. She sinks into it. His hands fall onto her waist, and he uses them to drag her closer, pulling the whole length of his body against hers. When he pulls away it feels far too soon, but in his defence he's breathless. He only leans his chest away, his hips still against hers.

"I wasn't talking about the book."

The look in his eyes is vulnerable in a way she's never seen him before. As though he desperately wants her to understand, and yet is terrified that she will. Like he's scared to fracture whatever comfortable thing they've fallen into together.

"Well..." She takes a deep breath, rests a hand on his chest. "Then I'd like you to know that I think you're very pulch'zer."

He sucks in through his teeth and lets out a single disbelieving laugh. "That sounds ridiculously good when you say it, you know."

She snorts, dismissive, "please, it's far better when you say it. I love when you speak infernal."

He stares at her.

She feels her eyes bug out of her head as what she said hits her. "I mean! Not that- I don't mean that like-"

"You love it? What does that mean?"

She can feel the heat in her face. Suddenly everywhere he's touching her is too much, she needs to fall through the floor to a new realm and start her life over with a fake name.

"I don't- I didn't mean-"

As she fumbles over her words, Rolan's face starts to lift into an understanding smirk. "Oh. I see. You love it."

He leans forward towards her, and his lips brush her ear.

"Tibiz plazet link'zon mezoq ?"

She shudders, "Rolan, I have no idea what you're saying."

He chuckles lowly against the shell of her ear. " Zedzit'n, nul'umne? Zede illizquit diko ."

Gods, it's torturous. He's dropped his voice an octave, giving the already heavy words an even more gravelled tone. Her breath is coming out in pants and she whines. The way it's affecting her is ridiculous.

He doesn't stop, " morentez me'zam? Notzo'illi ."

"Rolan, please."

He grins against her, and she feels his length pressing against her body through his robes. " Quid plaket, dilekt'miz ?"

" Rolan , common tongue, please . I want to know what you're saying."

"I said 'please what?'"

Tav huffs in irritation, "I don't know."

He brings his lips up to brush hers, smiling against her as she tries to pull him closer.

"Do you want me to kiss you again?"

She swallows hard around the lump in her throat and nods.

"Mhm. Ask me nicely."

The noise she lets out is embarrassing, a high pitched whine that she couldn't stop if she tried, but she feels his breath against her lips as he exhales in excitement.

"Kiss me, Rolan. Please."

His smile is wide against her, "as you wish, pulch'zer."

When he kisses her, his lips are gentle against hers. Soft and pliant, eager but restrained. When he parts them slowly, she responds in kind and finds his tongue with hers, and he rewards her with a deep, sensual moan from low in his throat. His lips are warm and soft, his mouth tastes of spearmint, his breath flows through her. She feels her small-clothes growing damp.

As he deepens the kiss his movements grow more insistent, more intense, and he squeezes her hips as he grinds her into him. She moans in response and the noise flips a switch in him. All of a sudden his lips are frantic, the kiss turning messy and needy, and his hands are running up and down her body as thought they don't know where to settle.

He pulls back enough to speak, his breath dancing along her lips, his voice barely above a whisper. " Nezkiz quid'mih fakiaz. Volui'illi tamd'umne ."

Tav moans, long and slow as the words rush over her skin, "Gods, Rolan. I wish I knew what you were saying. Fuck ."

He chuckles quietly, "perhaps I'll teach you Comprehend Languages. Then again... Forzit adv'illi."

She groans. "Rolan, please ."

He grins, grinding his length against her, "please, what?"

The huff she lets out is impatient, "you know what."

His mouth traces the shell of her ear again and she shivers. "Perhaps. But tell me anyway."

She groans, "please fuck me, Rolan."

He needs no further invitation. Rolan undresses them both rapidly, swift and efficient just as he treats his work, and they're both bare before each-other in a few moments.

When he looks over her, sweeping his eyes across her form, he lets out a low noise of appreciation. "Hells, Tav, you're beautiful."

She feels nervous, all of a sudden, bare before him, but she smiles despite it. "So are you."

He's back on her, trailing his lips along her throat and collarbone, leaving teasing bites and grazes with his canines. She's a whimpering, writhing mess beneath him but she doesn't care. She can feel his length pressed against her stomach, can feel the grooves of the door on her back, and she's absolutely aching with need.

"Is this okay? Are you comfortable?" His questions make her chest ache with a different kind of need to the one pulsing through her core.

"Yes, Rolan. Please, for the love of- fuck me against this door."

His moan in response to her words is loud and wanton. " Hells , Tav. Lift your leg for me."

She does, and he grabs under her knee, lifting it up so it wraps around his hip, the heel of her foot against the base of his tail while her other foot stays planted against the floor. His other hand comes between them, grips the base of his cock and rubs it against her folds. She throws her head back as she keens, and at the same time he lets out a groan closer to a growl.

"Fuck, you're so wet. Is- This is still okay? You want this?" His voice wavers with lust.

Hearing him curse is almost as incredible as hearing him speak infernal. "Yes , Gods if you don't-"

He's sliding himself into her before she can finish her threat, and the rest of her words fizzle out into a high pitched moan as she throws her head back. His length is ridged and she can feel every notch as it slides into her. He works his way into her slowly, thrusting only an inch at a time until his pelvis comes to rest against hers, and he folds over to rest his forehead against her shoulder.

His first half of his sentence is muttered, the second half directed at her, "Tam strikta , fuck. Ita infek'tum strikta. Tell me when you're ready, dilekt'miz."

"I'm ready, please, fuck me."

He silences his own moan by clamping his mouth over the meat between her neck and shoulder, and begins thrusting shallowly. The slide of him inside her, the ridges on his shaft dragging against her walls, has her tightening her leg around his waist and dragging him closer. He grunts through his mouthful of her skin and starts to pick up his pace, until he's thrusting hard and fast into her.

She's a mess, and she knows it, but it doesn't matter. She's digging her heel into his ass and arching her hips away from the door to get closer to him, head thrown back and eyes wrenched shut. It's too much, but it's not enough. She grabs his hand that isn't holding her knee up and places it round the back of her other thigh. He's a quick study as always, taking a firm hold on the back of her leg and hoisting her other leg up around him, so she's held up against the door by just his weight against her and his bruising grip. It changes the angle, he drives deeper into her, and they both moan in tandem.

He's speaking again, infernal dialect spilling from him freely into her skin, " Nezkiz. Nezkiz quam di'tez vellem. Quamdiu korpuz tuum'kontraz petivi. Vid'tez habzeq. Miz'tib animez'umne ." He speaks the words with a reverence that that has her keening, clenching around him.

"Rolan, I'm so close, fuck don't stop."

He shakes his head, thrusts into her harder, "Hells, I won't, Tav. I won't, I won't, adv'illi, adv'illi -"

The utterance of more quiet infernal words against her tips her over the edge, and she finds her release around him. His movements become stuttered, desperate, " Tez amorez. Tez amorez taz'multo. Perfik'miz. Amaz, amaz, num'quam latuz dezeraz. Morent'illi anim defendam."

He follows her over the precipice and empties himself inside her. She tightens her hold on him with her legs and kisses his neck as his hips twitch through his release, and as he stills they both try to find breath against each-other's skin.

"Gods, Tav." His voice is hoarse, "you- that was- I-"

She chuckles, which makes her walls clench and his hips stutter as he gasps at the feeling. "That was amazing, Rolan. What... Um. What were you saying?"

She pulls away to look at him, and his face is incredibly red. His freckles are barely visible through the violent blush. "Oh, um. Nothing- Nothing, really. Nothing important. Just... babbling. You know."

She laughs, slowly lowering her legs to the ground, both shuddering as he pulls himself from her. He mutters a quick incantation and they're both clean.

"You're going to have to teach me Comprehend Languages, now. I'm far too nosy to leave it at that."

"Hm. We'll see."

~~~

Translations:

"Tibiz plazet link'zon mezoq?" ("You like when I speak to you in my native tongue?")

"Zedzit'n, nul'umne? Zede illizquit diko." ("But you don't care, do you? It's not about what I say.")

"Morentez me'zam? Notzo'illi." ("Moaning for me already? Aren't I lucky.")

Quid plaket, dilekt'miz?" ("Please what, my beloved?")(he lies and tells her it means "please what?")

"Nezkiz quid'mih fakiaz. Volui'illi tamd'umne." ("You have no idea what you do to me. I have wanted you for so long.")

"Then again... Forzit adv'illi." ("Then again... Perhaps I won't.")

"Tam strikta, fuck. Ita infek'tum strikta. Tell me when you're ready, dilekt'miz." ("So wet, fuck. So tight and wet. Tell me when you're ready, my beloved.")

"Nezkiz. Nezkiz quam di'tez vellem. Quamdiu korpuz tuum'kontraz petivi. Vid'tez habzeq. Miz'tib animez'umne." ("You have no idea. You have no idea how long I've wanted you. How long I've craved your body against mine. I have dreamt of having you like this. My soul burns for you.")

"adv'illi" ("I won't.")

"Tez amorez. Tez amorez taz'multo. Perfik'miz. Amaz, amaz, num'quam latuz dezeraz. Morent'illi anim defendam." ("I love you. I love you so much. You complete me. Please, please never leave my side. I would protect you to my dying breath.")

#rolan nation #baldurs gate 3 rolan #rolan vibes #holy rolan empire #rolan x tav #rolan bg3

750 notes · View notes

wtv-my-current-hyperfixation · 1 month ago

Text

Made these a bit ago for the dnd campaign I’m apart of and totally forgot to post them lol

#digital aritst #artists on tumblr #digital art #my art #original art #dnd #dungeons and dragons #fantasy world #dnd campaign

15 notes · View notes

wtv-my-current-hyperfixation · 3 months ago

Text

Hot take of the day: someone should make an edit of Astarion to the song Outlaw by Selena Gomez & The Scene🫣🤭

#astarion acunin #astarion fluff #astarion smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion edit

8 notes · View notes

wtv-my-current-hyperfixation · 3 months ago

Text

Okay Tumblr, can you help me out?? So my comfort character is Jace Wayland from mortal instruments but specifically played by Jamie Campbell Bower and I want to know what songs give Jace vibes. Like what would in a playlist for him??

#jamie campbell bower #jamie bower #jace wayland #jace herondale #the mortal instruments #comfort character #playlist #help a girl out #jace vibes

7 notes · View notes

wtv-my-current-hyperfixation · 4 months ago

Text

Drew my Fae and the party!! Took me forever and I think I'm finally happy with it lol

#artoftheday #artist #artists on tumblr #original art #my art #digital aritst #digital art #fantasy world #drow oc #dnd art #dnd #dungeons and dragons

31 notes · View notes

wtv-my-current-hyperfixation · 4 months ago

Text

Slowly making an arm of bg3 bracelets lol

#baldur's gate 3 #bracelet making #bg3 shitposting #bg3 #bg3 art

2 notes · View notes

wtv-my-current-hyperfixation · 4 months ago

Text

I'm not sure if anyone knows how to help me here but I thought I'd ask. So I just recently got my 4 wisdom teeth removed and got to keep them. I would really like to get them made into earrings, a ring an maybe a necklace if possible. Turn something that caused me pain into something beautiful and something useless into something useful kinda thing. I will definitely be cleaning and disinfecting them myself but does anyone know any artists or such that is willing to make custom jewelry with teeth?? I'd really love to work with someone to create some cute earrings and let them use their creativity for the other two pieces. Anybody got anyone they know of or any advice?? Would love anything y'all can offer

#pls help #advice #questions #custom jewelry #bone jewelry #vulture culture #custom bone jewelry #artist #small business

0 notes

wtv-my-current-hyperfixation · 4 months ago

Text

Freckles

Rolan x GN!Reader

A/N: based on this request - hope you have a happy birthday nonny!

Word Count: 988

Warnings: none

*tried to make this gn! Please let me know if anything slipped through*

It took you longer than expected to settle into the tower at Socerers Sundries. Mainly because the thought of staying in a place that caused Rolan so much pain and suffering made you so angry your blood boiled. But after a few mornings waking up to the sun filtering in through the windows…You started to love it.

Now you relish going to sleep beside Rolan in your chambers on the top most floor of the building, knowing you’ll wake up to a most perfect sight each morning.

The sun always manages to creep in the window above your bed, rays turning from orange to soft pink and then eventually the gentle morning yellow that manages to wake you most mornings.

The sunlight kisses your skin in a warm caress, wrapping both you and Rolan in its gentle embrace as the day begins. You’re almost always the first to wake, Rolan only beating you when he has important tasks to take care of.

Today is one of the days he does not, allowing him to sleep peacefully beside you as your eyes peel open to greet the warm rays of sun. Slowly, as not to wake your partner, you stretch your arms above your head, yawning wide as a cat basking in a pool of light before settling back into the soft sheets.

You roll over to your side just as Rolan mumbles something unintelligible in his sleep, one of his arms reaching out to slip around your waist as he pulls you subconsciously closer to him before settling once more.

He’s laying on his side, hair loose from its usual hair tie, allowing the chestnut locks to lay errant on the pillow, some strands even falling haphazardly across his face and around his horns. Gently, you reach up to tuck the hair behind his ear, revealing more of his face to you.

Rolan is one of those people that always has a look of worry or thought seemingly permanently stuck on his face. His brows drawn together, lips pulled tight, nose scrunched adorably. When he sleeps, however, all of those things slip away, leaving his face blissfully smooth.

You’ve always told him he actually looks his age when he sleeps, his youth coming out when he isn’t constantly worried about one thing or another. You always take a moment to admire him when he sleeps, the moment allowing you to see him truly at peace. It also allows you to take in one of your favorite features of your partner.

His freckles.

It was one of the first things you noticed about him when you met, immediately finding them curious as you hadn't seen many other tiefling with the same markings. You’d always fantasized about tracing over them before you both confessed your feelings, and now it was something you did more often than Rolan liked.

Although as much as he complains when you do it, he never stops you, and you never mention the way his lips twitch upwards ever so slightly at your ministrations.

Slowly, your fingers trail down from his ear to his cheek following the faint trail of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Your eyes and fingers trail lower then to where they travel down his neck to his chest.

That was another pleasant surprise. That Rolan has freckles other than on his face. They’re pretty much everywhere on his body, darker in some places like his cheeks and shoulder and lighter in places like his chest and belly.

But you love them all the same.

Finally, after you’ve completed your roaming, your eyes flick back up to his face, still peaceful in his undisturbed sleep. And you can’t help but lean in to press a kiss to his cheek and the smattering of freckles there.

Then you press a kiss to his nose. Then his forehead, before dropping down to his other cheek.

You plan to travel lower, following the trail down to his jaw and neck, but another arm sliding beneath you and a soft groan stops you in your tracks, a smile splitting your lips.

“Hmm…” Rolan hums tiredly. “What are you doing, my love?”

His words are thick with sleep, voice deeper than usual as he turns to brush his lips against your own before moving to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, eliciting a small sigh from you as he presses featherlight kisses there.

“I was admiring you,” you say simply, smiling as Rolan pulls away to look at you, eyes fluttering sleepily.

“Admiring me?” He repeats. “I should be flattered, a beautiful partner waking me up like that…”

You raise an eyebrow. “But…?”

Rolan smiles, wrapping his arms tighter around you until he rolls you both so he’s lying on his back and you lay atop him on his chest.

“But I was up late last night working on research, and I would very much like to keep sleeping with said beautiful partner in my arms. If that’s amenable?”

You roll your eyes and give a dramatic sigh before settling against his chest, pressing one last kiss there before wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Fine,” you say in mock annoyance. “I suppose if I have to stay here my admiration can wait.”

Rolan chuckles, eyes slipping closed again. “Oh, feel free to admire all you want, my love. Just don’t wake me up this time.”

You scoff, hitting his chest playfully as he tugs you closer to him. “You’re a jerk sometimes, you know that?”

Rolan hums contentedly before sitting up just enough to capture your lips in a quick kiss before settling back against the pillows once more.

“You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

You smile, shaking your head before finally settling against him as sleep tugs lazily at your eyes.

“I love you, Rolan,” you murmur.

And as sleep finally pulls you both back under, you hear Rolan respond in kind.

465 notes · View notes