#faeven

[sasshole-for-rent]

Faeven, running off of five elfroot blunts, three hours of sleep, an orgasm, and one inconvenience away from a mental breakdown, absolutely stabbing the fuck out of a bandit: ...

Blackwall, shocked to his core, no brain cell, just standing there with his sword at the ready and with a noticeable boner: what a woman

[herald-divine-hell]

Faeven high off her rocker and getting fucked slow by Amayian and he's giving her a long deep back massage while in it and she returns the favor by giving him the best head of his life

I can definitely see that. He would even implement some magic into the massage to really get her loose and relax. And of course, you can’t have a massage without a few marks now, can we? :3

[lyrium-lavellan]

@sasshole-for-rent ‘s Faeven Lavellan! I just love her so much 🌺🔥💖

[sasshole-for-rent]

[sasshole-for-rent]

For DWC: Wicked, Watching, Accident, writer's choice but I hope it's a little steamy? :-)

A Choice and Consequence

Established Relationship | Post Revelations | Smut for @dadrunkwriting

Summary: Faeven and Thom find an 'abandoned room in Skyhold to blow off some steam. When will they learn there are consequences to their actions.

***

Fat raindrops slam against the window of their borrowed chambers. Well, whoever owns this wasn't using it, judging by the smell of dust. At least, they were out of the rain. Someone really just abandoned a room as luxurious as this. A shame really.

"You like when I do this, puddin'?" Thom asks. Faeven moans her approval as his fingers explore her depths inside this old bed. His fingers give her pause to adjust, before those too, move in time with the rain. Fast, unrelenting. She can hardly catch her breath. 

"Get...your...cock...out." Faeven pants. Her eyes shining with desire. 

She looks down as he backs up to untie the front of his trousers. His cock flying free of its confines. Thom wastes no time rubbing it through her slick folds. Over and over and over. His cock slowly being covered in her juices with each slow thrust. Faeven growls, "Just get your cock in here already." She gives her folds a quick slap. "Come on!"

Thom gives her folds another rub with it. He hesitates. "You're almost ready. Not quite. Be patient. " He states, calm and careful. 

Faeven sits up, face aglow with pleasure and impatience. "I can handle it. Stop being so fucking gentle with me. You've always taken your sweet ass time to make love to me. Please just fuck me already." 

Thom sighs, and shakes his head. "Fine." She blinks, and he pins her hands above her head. The air rushes out of Faeven. "Hold your breath until it's in." 

"Oh please, I've had it before." 

Thom adjusts, hips aligned like an overcast. He reaches down between them, parts her lips with his tip. He waits, she holds her breath, and then he leans. She knew why he was spreading his fingers inside her and stretching and curling soft moans out of her throat. 

“Oh.” She gasps, hanging on to his shoulders as he fills her. He waits, steeping himself inside her. He waits, until she is dripping around him in anticipation. Hot, dark, and steamy as if brewing cloves and cinnamon on a cold fall day. She wants him to stay inside her. He waits, until his thumb is barely rubbing her clit, but she’s shaking under him. She runs her tongue over her top lip. She’s mumbling something, lips trembling. It is his name. Thom. 

He stops rubbing her. She’s so fucking wet and his fingers, his hands are holding her head now. She blinks. Something drips from his thumb as he brushes it over her lips. One bear palm on the crown of her raven-colored hair, the other cupping her cheek. Fingers curling into the damp hair at her nape. It's her juices, Faeven realizes as she sucks on his thumb. The wind picks up sneaking through the window, cooling the wetness on her dimple. 

“Tell me when you're ready, puddin'.” His nose is pressed against her cheek as he holds her head. Steeping. His breath is hot in her ear and she’s burning in the fine linens. “I can stop if you need me to.”

She wets her lips again, swallows or tries to. It's so hard to swallow and he has such a girthy cock. Creators, why is he...? He’s leaning again. “Sathan,” She slips into elvhen as he slips further into her, thoroughly cutting off all her thoughts. “Sathan, lasa...” She finds her clit, rubs it. Fast. “aman na’mis!” 

“I don't know what you just said, but it's making me harder.” He still isn't moving, but she feels his cock throb inside her. She wants to scream in frustration? Desire? She really doesn't have room to think. 

“Please, fuck me!” Faeven let's out the scream she was holding in. Distantly, she is aware of its echo down the corridor. 

Thom gives her a smirk that she is damn sure means trouble, as he shakes his head, and pulls his cock out of her. The strained noise coming out of Faeven made it twitch, and she dissolves completely. "No, no, no please. Please get back inside me! Thom please!" She begs. "Thom!"

Thom sits up on his knees, a wicked smoulder on his face as he commands: "Fuck yourself for me." 

Something changes in him, Faeven senses it. The utter dominance radiating off of him as he sits there, expectant. 

Faeven bites her lip, and obeys. 

***

Thom watches her impatiently as she pleasures herself. 

How her fingers dip and delve into her wet folds. Fingers that he wants to be clawing at his back as he nails her into the silky linens, like the temptress she is. 

How her juices drip down her freckled skin covered in ink, pooling ever so nicely on the thin linens. Juices that he couldn’t wait to have dribbling out of his starving mouth. 

How her luscious lips part into the perfect shape. Lips that should be wrapped around his cock.

Her breathing quickens, then slows. His eyes are honing in on the rhythm of her fingers synchronizing with her breath. It all sounded like an extravagant melody. Her voice sounded otherworldly, like silk woven from the sweetest of dreams. The way those moans nip at his eardrums, teasing him, hardening him. 

Faeven is spitting out some sort of elvhen, and he has butter for brains. Something in him turned more and more unhinged for her. 

Thom groans, gripping the silk of the sheets in fists, desperately wanting it to be fistfulls of her hair. Desperately wanting to pound her scrumptious cunt until those delectable screams resembled the likes of his name.

Thom waits for it hungrily. 

The aggravating torture of her pleasure and the lack of his threaten to overpower him. 

He gazes at her soaking cunt with lust-drenched eyes, mouth salivating at the thought of tasting her.

Savoring her. 

Devouring her. 

Taking her.

“I need you.” Thom demands through gritted teeth. “Right now.”

“Just…” Faeven whispers in between pants. “Wait.”

Her breaths become quicker.

She is on the verge of climaxing. 

No. 

The heavenly juices threaten to spill out of her lovely cunt with every whimper and moan she emits. 

Faeven was going to waste her glorious concoction on the fucking silk sheets, and he wasn’t going to have it.

He wants to ravage her with his tongue until her cunt pours its salty juices down his throat. Until it drips off his beard leaving it smelling like her, like lotus, intoxication and sex. These things that were unapologetically Faeven, and now they were his too.

He just needs to make it known. To her, to him, and to the fucking Inquisition holed up around them. He will have her singing for him and to everyone this maker-damned castle. 

Thom grabs her by her thighs, pulls her to him, and throws her legs over his shoulders. His mouth descends onto her mound. Tongue exploring the deepness of her. The sea he gets lost in. He would happily drown in each morning and each night for the rest of his life. Her back arches, her throat too as she uses her head to lift off the bedroll. To ascend. She was screaming now. Maker's balls, how did she get so loud? He loves it. His tongue is deep inside. Her muscles shuddered around it. He curled it slightly, started bobbing. The milkiness of her ecstasy drizzling down his chin, soaking his beard. He licks his lips. A passion-splashed smile against her clit.

He enjoys pestering it, pushing the hood back and unveiling the bundle of nerves she keeps hidden. He tickled it with his tongue, and she squirms,  breathless and laughing. He loved this aspect of them too. How comfortable she is during this. How she can laugh and tease him when he is in her or tasting her. He holds her down by the dips of her hips. 

“Thom!” She squirms some more. He feels her thighs press against his head.  “Creators, have mercy!”

He lets up, if only to reclaim his face from the trap of her thighs. He traps the bundle of nerves between his lips. Faeven cries out. Her body shudders at the sensation. He suckles on the sensitive bundle apologetically, not wanting to hurt her. Her body hummed with sheer unbridled pleasure. Her legs shaking from the stimulation of those nerves. It pulses angrily, wanting more. 

Faeven grinds her twice-ruined slit against his cock, awaiting the torment Thom was about to unleash upon her. Her hand found a way to pump his cock. Soft hands and slippery dew. 

Thom flips her on her back, he doesn't wait for her to settle around him. He just dove in, thrusting into her with reckless abandon. Her moans help him set his pace. He rocks into her like a ship on the waking sea. The scent of black lotus and the feeling of her tightening around him drives him mad. Her muscles clenching and unclenching like his fists in her hair. Her tits are heavy, bouncing. He leans down to suck at one that had pebbled before him. She is falling apart in the best sense under him, quaking, and everything is wet. His name. Andraste’s tits. His name on her lips. It was liberating. He was fucking free. He could hear it forever, bottle it and drink it. Drunk on his own damn name on those wicked lips. It didn't matter who the fuck he was when he was inside her. She was an endless drizzle, just like the coast. Her dew raining down on him, and washing his soul clean as he lost himself in his own completion. Fuck, not yet. He didn't have time to pull out. 

It is a long while until either of them speak. Only breathing, rain, and the smell of sweat permeate the silence. 

“Would you look at that? I made a mess of things.” It's Thom who breaks the silence. "Fuck, I'm sorry, Fae. I didn't mean to finish early. We can get some deathroot, if necessary." 

“That’s more me than you.” Faeven dips a finger into the mess that is her cunt, pulling it away to reveal the sticky seed trailing her fingertip. "I don’t mind." 

“Well someone has to clean it up.” His face hot with consequences. 

She shakes her head, accepting. "I would like to keep the mess you made." 

He rolls on his side and grabs the shirt-turned-rag, but her tongue is already on his balls. She licks their mess off of him. Seaglass pinning him there. His fingers found a home in her hair, ruffling it with love. The rag dropped, so did his head. Some strange noise bubbled out of his throat, he believes it is words. It is. 

“Oh, what did I ever do to deserve you?” 

She pops off his bits. “You’re fucking blessed, aren't you?” 

“I am.” Thom states. 

He lifts his head. Her spit connects her mouth to his bits in ivory bridges. He groans, bearlike and drops his head into the pillow.

“Maker damn you, woman.”

It is then that Thom hears footsteps. They scramble to put their clothes on when the door flies open. He hears his voice before he knows who it is. "What in Andraste’s name, is going on here?"

Then it clicks. Maker's ball's! Harriet. Again? Thom knew what was coming to them. He tugs on his trousers almost tripping onto his face in the process. "How is it that its always my bed you two happen to fall in?!" Faeven throws on her blouse, before making a run for it. "Get the fuck out!"

***

[sasshole-for-rent]

Some somft faewall sketches for your night...

[sasshole-for-rent]

Blackwall: Dare I ask why that dagger of yours has that for a hilt?

Faeven: Well, His name is Poppycock for a reason.

Sera: You're really out here whacking baddies with stabby dangles? *titters*

Varric: Andraste's ass, are those flowers sprouting from it?

Faeven: Yes, that's the poppy part. How did you only just now notice?

[sasshole-for-rent]

Scout Faeven Lavellan recruits a lonely bastard who goes by the name Warden Blackwall