PSA. Activity is gonna be pretty low for Elyse until the semester wraps up. I'll try to get things posted every now and then. Find me primarily at @knivesfirst.
( just a little missionary ) our muses are having romantic sex in the missionary position. (if you waaant it.)
JUST FUCKING AROUND - tentatively accepting // @jainenkept ✧
The night was soft and calm, the warm light of a steadily dying fire illuminating the walls of Elyse's quarters, bathing them in somber tones. She lounged comfortably upon her bed, Ignatius spread languidly beside her. Between both waking and sleeping nightmares, it was rare for Elyse to have a peaceful night; she didn't want to waste the opportunity to be close with him. Intimacy both thrilled and frightened her - a journey shrouded in mystery and intrigue, and there was no one she’d rather embark upon it with than him.
She started with what was comfortable, what was familiar: poetry. It was a passion of hers that she desperately wanted to share with him. The poetry of others allowed her to express all the things she couldn’t say - her own works allowed her the bravery to, hopefully, show Ignatius just how much she loved him. The depths of her love for him threatened to drown her at any moment, but in this case, Elyse wasn’t afraid to sink.
At last, she shared a poem written especially for him - a work of literature that Elyse poured her heart and soul into. She may as well have written the words in her own blood. Her voice wavered as she spoke, emerald eyes sliding from the pages before her to his face every other moment. Her body was tense with anxiety, doubt gnawing at the corners of her mind. He must hate it, she worried. As the final word fell from her mouth she sucked in a breath, held it in her lungs as she patiently waited for his response.
That breath was let out in a great huff as Ignatius moved closer, his lips meeting hers rather than spilling any dissatisfaction. Elyse had opened herself to him, mind and soul; she bore the most intimate parts of herself for him to do with as he pleased. A soft whimper escaped from her as a new need made itself known in her very core. She had surrendered most of herself to him already, all that was left was physical intimacy. The prospect of it made her shiver in sweet anticipation.
Before long, they were devoid of all clothing, Ignatius positioned above Elyse on the bed. She couldn’t help but look at him with eyes filled with wonder and awe as her body thrummed with carnal need. The new sensation was both intoxicating and demanding - Elyse’s body bowed and arched up into his, desperate for the friction of skin on skin. The soft chuckle that slipped from Ignatius’s lips only encouraged her further, emboldened her resolve. Slowly his hands found her skin, his touch light and tentative at first, before finding confidence of their own.
As his hands explored the expanse of her body, Ignatius's gentle touches left trails of fire across Elyse's skin. It was such sweet agony, a torture her body craved - she'd burn for him for an eternity. She could scarcely keep her own hands from roaming across his skin. Oh how she wanted to memorize the map of his body; she needed to commit him to memory.
❝ Ignatius… please. ❞
Her lower lip was caught between her teeth as another whine escaped her. Ignatius didn’t make her wait for long - he slowly pressed himself into her and stilled to let her adjust to him. The action drew a cry from Elyse and her nails dug into the skin of his back. Head was thrown back at the brief moment of pain, sharp and sudden; eventually that pain melted from her and was transformed into pure bliss. This was a euphoria that was completely foreign to her but oh maker was it divine.
His name fell from her lips like a prayer repeated as he began rocking his hips into hers, his thrusts slow and languid. The length of him stretched and filled her fully; it sent her to the precipice of pain and pleasure and held her there. She greedily met his motions with her own enthusiasm as she matched his pace and desperately countered his strokes with her own. Elyse was slowly losing herself to the haze of her lust - Ignatius was hitting just the right spot to make stars bloom behind her eyelids, a constellation of pleasure designed solely for her. The intensity of it all nearly brought tears to her eyes.
Trembling fingers slid into his pale hair as she pulled his face down to hers. She captured his lips with hers hungrily, tongue darting out to sweep across his lower lip - she enticed him for more. Please give her more. She clenched around him and drew from him a low groan, coupled by the whisper of her name. That was almost enough to push her over the edge - almost. She wasn’t ready to give up this feeling. But love and lust swirled together to make a heady concoction, clouding her head and her heart. Couple that with just how Ignatius was looking at her ? It was enough to ruin her.
She came with a cry as she tumbled further and further into the abyss of her own pleasure.
send in one of the prompts below for my muse’s response. these are very nsfw ! please feel free to specify or change something where you see fit.
( just a little missionary ) our muses are having romantic sex in the missionary position
( lotus flowers ) our muses are having romantic sex wrapped around each other in bed in the lotus position
( bubble bath ) our muses are enjoying a romantic soak in the bath when things turn very heated - and it's not just the lit candles
( talk dirty to me ) our muses are having very intense sex with a lot of dirty talking to get each other to orgasm
( tongue twister ) our muses are in a very intimate position where they are able to perform oral sex on each other at the same time
( g-spot ) one muse is teasing the other with their fingers, fingering them and making them squrim
( rug burn ) our muses can hardly wait to find a bed or some other soft surface before they're falling to the floor together and having sex right then and there
( steamy windows ) our muses can't make it out of the car without steaming up the windows and finding interesting positions to get into while having sex in the car
( frisky business ) our muses have sneaky sex at one of their places of work
(morning sex ) our muses are just waking up when they begin getting frisky before the coffee is even put on!
( go downtown ) one muse performs oral sex on the other
( keep quiet ) our muses are having to be very quiet when having sex. think muffled moans, keeping their hands over their mouths, little giggles, and shushes.
( the great outdoors ) our muses are having sex outside. please feel free to specify where.
( bondage ) our muses are playing around with bondage; cuffs, blindfolds, etc. feel free to specify what.
My muse is blindfolded and listening. Go on anon and whisper something into their ear. It can be anything you like, a confession, a secret, a memory – there are no limits.
no, i am not blackwall. i never was blackwall. warden blackwall is dead and has been for years. i assumed his name to hide like a coward from who i really am. [ … ] it’s over. i’m done hiding. i gave the order. the crime is mine. I AM THOM RAINIER.
If possible, Dama’s ears would have perked right up, much like a dogs. Curiosity was written all over her features, her head cocking to the side as she studied the other mages’ face. Personally, she found blood magic to be interesting, not that she’d ever practice it herself. There was far too much stigma around the practice for her to attempt to partake and risk herself in such a manner, especially given that she’s been an apostate her entire life. With that in mind, she understood why Elyse looked so nervous.
“Really? Certainly wasn’t the answer I was expecting– may I ask why?”
She allows herself to chuckle, relief blooming across her features and melting away the tension held tight within her body. It was freeing to be able to speak so plainly about her interests. The topic of blood magic was a touchy one, even back in Tevinter. Curious mages could quickly become dangerous (or so the Circle warned)
and nothing described Elyse better than "a curious mage".
❝ When you are locked away and told something is evil for so long, with little explanation offered, you begin to wonder why people are so afraid of it. I figured I'd start at the beginning. Maybe if we could understand blood magic better than it wouldn't be so panic inducing. Perhaps we could use it for GOOD rather than harm. Though I suppose that is little more than wishful thinking. ❞
Settled in his spot at the Herald's rest, it was looking to be an average, boring kind of day. Grim and Rocky were in the midst of a high-stakes Wicked Grace game, Skinner was probably outside sharpening one of her many sets of knives, the Boss was off doing maker knew what ( or who for that matter ). He'd only just settled in to have something for dinner when the door burst open and the Herald came running by. He raised a brow, lips quirking just at the corners before he carefully dismounted from his precarious seating.
"My dear lady, you're not going to have to worry about me telling a soul, but there are plenty of eyes still around." He chuckled lowly as he followed her. The poor thing looked like she was on the verge of a break, and Krem was already coming up with a plan.
"You know, I heard of a very very important requisition that needed to be addressed. Desperately low on blood lotus and elf root."
There's a fleeting look of panic that crosses the Inquisitor's face. Fatigue had slowed her both physically and mentally - it takes a moment for Elyse to comprehend just what exactly Krem is suggesting. Her panic stricken expression smooths into understanding before transforming into something warmer: gratitude.
Lips curl into a gentle smile as trembling fingers work to comb through disheveled hair, a rather PITIFUL attempt to make herself look somewhat put together. Though she had a suspicion where they were headed for this "requisition", her appearance mattered very little.
❝ Yes, of course. Blood lotus... elf root... And given the dangers that have rooted themselves all across the country, I'll need someone to accompany me. For SAFETY reasons, of course. ❞
“ With respect, Inquisitor...you’ll be of no help to anyone if you run yourself into the ground. ”
INJURY PROMPTS - accepting // @winterfollows ✧
Hal is right. Elyse knows he's right. She can feel it in her bones; she sees it evidenced by the GHOST of a reflection that haunts every mirror she passes. Dark purple encircling tired emerald eyes, dulled by the stress of her new reality. Oh how she longs for a peaceful sleep. She aches to simply lie down and allow herself a moment of respite from the demons that gnaw at her heels. But it would take a miracle to relieve this burden from her shoulders she was supposed to be the miracle. Or so the people say.
❝ If I stop... people die. Better me than anyone else. ❞
i had it under control. you didn't need to do that.
AN ASSORTMENT OF PROMPTS - accepting // @pentaghest ✧
Elyse simply pins the Seeker with a borderline exasperated look - a look that quickly softens into something warmer. Something more grateful. Cassandra was INCREDIBLY able, Elyse had no doubts about that; she was sure the woman would fight the world on her own if she could. But Elyse wasn't about to sit idly by and let her companions do ALL the fighting.
❝ We're a team. You don't have to do everything by yourself. ❞
Elyse cannot hide the frown that curves her lips or the furrowing of her brows. Death was inevitable it was a force of it's own that no one could stop. Sure, there where those that could fight it off for a while; but in the end, Death spares NO ONE.
❝ I understand that if the Inquisition does not defeat Corypheus, then even more will die. But I have a hard time stomaching the fact that those men are dying because of me. ❞
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