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messrmoonyy · 1 year

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Come to mommy

Tess Servopoulos x Fem!reader

Prompt: this is an whole amalgamation of the absolute onslaught of Mommy!Tess requests. To name a few snippets of some of them ‘ okay but mommy tess with the strap? 👀’ , ‘ can you write Tess fucking reader over the table or the counter ‘ , ‘ mommy!tess gives off big ‘ wearing the strap under clothes ‘ energy. Do with that what you will ‘, ‘ honestly need mommy Tess to fuck me brainless ‘

A/n- first of all, everyone say thank you to my fav anon Tess thirster for bringing up the idea of Mommy!Tess and sending you all cuckoo for coco puffs. so. Ugh. Yeah. I did not realise how feral you all were for Tess with a mommy kink. Like. Holy shit. I had just, so. So. Many varying asks asking for something or other that included it so I honestly just smashed them all together into this.I only proof read this once. EDIT: this fic has been reading weird if you are viewing in app, I recommend reading on browser or over on my ao3 instead! The link is over on my masterlist

Warnings: 18+ || tess, smut; soft Dom mommy kink tess, use of sex toys ( a strap on ), fake p in v ( reader receiving ) , praise kink, overstimulation, mild dumbification, tiny bit of choking, oral ( reader receiving) , mild degradation

Word count: 4.5k

Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

The first time it happened it had been an accident.

You were a sobbing mess of a woman, shaking and sore and overstimulated beyond belief. She’d been working at you for hours. Well, that’s what it felt like at least, you’d long since passed the point of even knowing your own name never mind telling the time.

She’d gotten jealous after some nobody on your work detail had flirted with you, Taken you home and made sure you remembered exactly who you’d belonged to, her hands, her mouth, even the small selection of toys she’d scavenged over the years had made an appearance. And you were a total wreck.

And it had just… slipped out.

“ mommy please “ she’d froze, the hand currently fucking open your abused cunt with… you didn’t even know what toy it was at that point, stuttering for a moment. You hadn’t entirely even realised you’d said it, far too spaced out to process a straight thought. But Tess had processed it. She’d heard it. And Lord did she like it.

“ I know pretty girl, you’re doing so good for mommy arent you? “ she continued her prior actions, dragging the toy in and out of you at a brutal pace and eyes locked firmly on your face. Not that you could see clearly anymore, eyes blurry with tears and so drunk on the sheer presence of her “ come for mommy baby, it’s okay “

You’d never come so hard in your life you were certain of it, half hour after you were still shaking and floating. Brain on vacation somewhere sunny and warm and no longer in your body. To say it had been intense would have been an understatement.

You’d not discussed it at all afterwards. Maybe because you didn’t actually have a one hundred per cent certainty on if you’d actually even said it, or just simply imagined the whole thing.

But you had. And it had unlocked something practically primal inside your girlfriend.

She’d waited a few weeks before bringing it up again, leaving you to stew on the idea of whether or not you’d actually said it. Some internal debate on whether or not you should be embarrassed as hell or not. Was she not talking about it because she thought it was weird? Or because you’d not even said it? You didn’t know. And you weren’t about to ask her either. So you tried to forget it.

But it soon came back around.

Tess could always tell when you were in a bad mood. Granted, You weren’t exactly good at hiding it but she could read you like a book. She knew from one glance what mood you were in. But you weren’t exactly subtle about it in that moment. So you were not in a mood to talk to her that morning.

It was a rare thing for you to leave without saying goodbye, even if she was sleeping you’d shake her awake enough to drop a kiss to her lips and tell her you’d be back soon. But you’d woken up in a foul mood, whiskey hangover lingering in your skull even though you’d not drank half as much as Tess and Joel had. They could handle their drink. You couldn’t.

You’d debated staying in bed all day, but you had shit to do. So you’d reluctantly gotten up, silently changed, grabbed your bag and headed for the door. Thanking your lucky stars that Tess’ usual ability to wake up at the slightest sound was hindered when she was sleeping off an entire bottle of whiskey. So you’d scribbled a quick note and left.

The fresh morning air actually helped your head a little. October was in full effect, the air crisp and the early morning sun granting a little warmth as it cut though the fine layer of fog covering the QZ. The city air wasn’t particularly what you wanted, you wished you could be outside the wall and inhale some mildly fresher air. But you had shit to sell, and you weren’t stupid enough to go out there alone.

You started with the FEDRA officers. Knowing they were a little less dickish in the morning, not enough time for someone to have pissed them off yet. You knew who wanted what, and how much you could get for it. Knew exactly who to avoid too. Some of the guards would have arrested you on the spot, others would’ve taken far too much advantage of the fact that you were a woman. But you’d been at this for years now. You knew your clients.

So after a couple hours the pills, cigarettes and varying other stuff you’d taken out with you were gone. The space in your bag had been replaced with stacks of ration cards, ammo and a few other bits and pieces.

At least by the time you made it back to your apartment your head was much clearer, Your little hangover practically gone but still a niggling feeling of annoyance scratching at the back of your mind. The same way it had been for the last 3 weeks debating if you were gonna bring up the whole… mommy thing again. Or wait for her to. It was silly that it was still bothering you. You’d been with Tess for years, you should just talk about it.

But what was it. Maybe some sense of embarrassment that yes, it had slipped out by mistake, but it had only slipped out because you’d been thinking about it. That you’d wanted to say for ages and unfortunately in that moment you’d slipped up. Is that why Tess hadn’t brought it up? Had she thought it was weird? Had she thought talking about it would only embarrass you more?

Either way. It was pissing you off.

You unlocked the front door to find her sat at the table, looking far too alert for someone that had drank as much as she had the night before.

“ where the fuck have you been? “ she asked, eyes following you as you kicked off your shoes and headed for the kitchen.

“ working “ you said, dumping your bag on the counter and pulling the box of ration cards from your bag ready to count them. You heard the chair she was sat in scrape against the floor, the sound of her heading your way. She came up behind you, arms looping around your waist as you continued counting out your cards, her chin resting on your shoulder.

“ what’s going on? “ you didn’t answer her, counting under your breath and stacking the cards into piles “ baby “ you sighed as you lost count of the stack in your hand, her lips pressing softly against your neck distracting you immediately.

“ nothing “ you didn’t have to look at her to know she was rolling her eyes at you. You stacked the cards neatly as her arms tightened around you with a sigh, placing the cards into the box you stored them in ready to be tucked away under the floorboards again.

“ nothing “ she said, sarcasm lacing her words “ come on, tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours. Why’d you leave without waking me up? “ you sighed debating just coming out with it and asking her. But you really weren’t in the mood for that conversation.

“ I just woke up in a funny mood. I’m fine” you reached into your bag again, making a note of how many cards you had and what stock was left. Tess shifted slightly behind you, her fingers slipping under the hem of your sweater.

She was quiet for a little while, watching you jot things down until you sighed. Putting down your pen, fingers pressing at your temples as your hangover threatened to make itself known again.

“ headache? “ you nodded and she pressed a kiss to the side of your head, then trailed her lips down across your jaw, nuzzling her nose behind your ear in a way that actually made a smile tug at your lips.

You almost hated her for how simple it was for her to pull you out of a bad mood, just by being sweet on you.

“ is that a smile? “

“ no “ you felt her smile against your skin and you forced yourself to suppress your own. Just to prove a point.

“ but you look so pretty when you smile, why are you in a bad mood? “ she was kissing at your neck again, her cold fingers moving further under the warmth of your sweater “ do you need mommy to make you feel better? “ you tensed as she said it, her voice in that low sultry tone that made you wet instantly. Never mind when she was saying… that.

“ i- Tess- “ words failed you, brain short circuiting as you tried to comprehend what was going on. What she’d just said. She’d really had you worrying all this time, when she liked it? Had she been worrying too? Or had she done it purposefully, waited a while to get you wound up thinking about it ready to pull the rug from under you by dropping it so casually?

She was evil

“ is that a yes? “ the way you could feel her grinning as she pushed at the collar of your sweater to nip at the juncture where your neck met your shoulder. She grabbed a hold of your hips with her hands, pulling you back against her and you gasped at what you felt.

“ is that- “

“ answer the question “ she said, pulling at your collar again to try and find more skin to smother in kisses. You wiggled your hips, trying to determine if you really were feeling what you thought you were.

“ yes “ you breathed out, hand reaching behind you and slipping into her sweats. Your breath stuttered as your thoughts were confirmed, fingers wrapping around the warm silicone of her strap “ you’ve been waiting for me to get home? “ you turned around in her embrace, resisting the urge to moan just at the sight of her.

“ figured when you left without telling me you were in a pissy mood. Only way to fix that is to fuck you until you forget why you’re mad in the first place. Isn’t it?” Your cheeks flushed and more embarrassingly, you could feel your clit throbbing in your pants as if it had its own fucking heartbeat.

God you were fucked.

She stepped impossibly closer to you, your back pressing against the edge of the counter, fingers nudging under your chin so you’d look at her face and not down at the phallic shape between her legs.

“ and I know nothing else gets you more braindead than taking mommy’s cock, isn’t that right pretty girl? “ your brain short circuited at her words, glitching as it attempted to process what she was saying to you. Whilst looking down at you like you were tiny, vulnerable. You could already feel your brain turning to nothing but a pile of mush inside your head.

Because she was right. Of course she was. You loved nothing more than letting her mould you and use you and turn you into brainless little toy, not a single care or thought in your head. Nothing to worry about except for her. The most perfect escape.

“ yes mommy “ it came out as a whisper, your voice already starting to fail you. You were certain you caught her breath hitch as the name fell past your lips, clearly enjoying it just as much as you were.

She captured your lips suddenly, a kiss so desperate that told she really was enjoying this. Your fingers grabbed at the hem of her shirt as she kissed you, hard and bruising in a way that would leave your lips swollen when she was done with you. Not that you cared.

Her hands were pushing at the waistband of your leggings, shoving them down as far as she could without breaking her lips away from yours. She grabbed at your waist then, hoisting you up to sit on the counter and standing between your knees and pushing your leggings the rest of the way off.

You whimpered as the toy brushed over your still covered cunt, already becoming desperate for her. You pulled away from her lips, pushing her shirt up and urging her to take it off.

“ please. Wanna see you “ she let you take it off, smirking at the way you practically drooled at the sight. Your fingers ghosted over the scars and bruises that littered her chest, her ribs, her stomach. When she was feeling particularly accepting of your affections, she’d let you smother every single one with kisses. Replacing the harsh memories and the pain, with your gentle touch.

You leant forward, unable to resist the urge to touch her when she was standing so close to you. Exposed in a way only you saw. Eyes flickering up to hers, waiting for her to stop you as you took a nipple between your lips. You sighed dreamily when she didn’t tell you to stop, relishing in the joy you got any time she let you touch her. She laced a hand into your hair as you covered every inch of her that you could reach in kisses, taking the opportunity to graze your teeth over her skin and mark her how she so often marked you.

You knew any other day she’d have scolded you for it, but today she was feeling nice. Letting you get away with things you wouldn’t normally because you were in a bad mood. Or had been anyway. It was impossible to be moody when you had a woman like her half naked in front of you.

“ feeling better already? “ she asked, her voice low, tugging lightly on your hair in a way that made your scalp prickle but not enough to hurt

“ mhm “ you mumbled, happy to just sit there and keep your lips on her tits all day. But she’d never let you do that.

“ I guess you don’t want me to fuck you anymore then “ you let go of her immediately, a pout on your face.

“ no no- please “ she smiled, a smugness that was almost annoying. You looked back down between you, wrapping your fingers around the toy as if to prove your point. That you very much did want her to fuck you. God you wanted nothing more.

Her eyes were locked on your hand, watching intently as you shifted closer to the edge of the counter, as you ran the tip of her cock against your still covered cunt. You sighed softly at the small amount of relief you got at finally having some kind of contact.

“ someones eager “ she gently moved your hand away “ baby girl you’re wet for me already? “ your cheeks flushed pink, squirming on the counter under her gaze. Her fingers brushed over the wet spot on your underwear and you let out a shaky breath “ what does my pretty girl want? “ she asked, pushing your underwear to the side, too impatient to even bother taking them off.

“ need you to fuck me “ you whispered, watching with blown out eyes as she spit onto her fingers, rubbing her hand over the toy in a way that shouldn’t have made your cunt throb the way it did “ god. Please “ you whined “ please mommy “ you sounded pathetic. Desperate.

“ shh baby I know, I know. Mommy’s gonna make you feel better “ she cooed, one hand grabbing onto your hip and the other pressing her cock against your clenching hole. You whimpered as she pushed in, adding inch after inch until she was flush against you “ such a good girl, look at you taking every inch of mommy’s cock “ you looked down at where your two bodies met, marvelling at the way you managed to take the whole length of her.

You eyes fell closed, trying to make your brain think a single tangible thought. But all you could think about was how full you felt. How deep she seemed to be inside of you, your walls clenching around the silicone.

“ fuck “ you breathed out as she started moving, her movements proving she was just as eager as you seemed to be. You wrapped your legs around her waist to keep her as close and deep as you could get her, nails digging into her shoulder as she drew a string of lewd sounds from your mouth.

“ that’s it baby, taking me so well “ you forced your eyes back open, locking them on hers as she fucked into you an increasingly brutal pace “ you like that, hmm? Like it when mommy fucks you like a little slut? “ you couldn’t answer her, high pitched moans the only thing leaving your throat. Her hand slipped around to the nape of your neck to keep you looking at her “ answer me “

“ yes “ you said breathless, forehead dropping onto hers for a moment. She was hitting the perfect spot with every thrust of her hips, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with every bruising move. It had only been a few minutes and you already were creeping closer by the moment.

You didn’t know what was more addictive, the look on her face as she slowly worked away any remains of your bad mood, or the feel of the tip of her cock as it brushed over the spot that made you see stars over and over again. In the past, with your ex, you’d found it incredibly difficult to come. So the way Tess could have you there with such ease baffled you every time.

“ fuck it’s so good “ she smirked at you as you tightened your legs around her waist, clinging onto her for dear life as you tried to stave your orgasm off. Not wanting it to be over yet. But she knew you too well.

“ already baby? “ you shook your head and tried to focus on keeping it away. But all you could think about was the stretch of your cunt, the pressure of her fingers on your hips. She’d pushed you into that far off space in your head, where your mind drifted and you didn’t have a full control over your body. It didn’t take much anymore.

“ don’t stop “ you begged, letting yourself drift further and further into your own head, arousal clouding your thoughts.

“ look so pretty when you’re taking cock baby” she said, breathless, that smug grin still plastered on her face “ taking it so fucking well for me “ you were reaching a point where it felt impossible to hold on any longer, your orgasm so close you could taste it. Silently you begged she wouldn’t make you hold it off, wouldn’t be her usual mean self and edge you for hours.

But it was like she read your mind.

“ I won’t make you beg baby it’s okay, come for mommy. Show me how pretty you look when you come on my cock “ her filthy words were the final piece of momentum you needed, eyes screwing shut as your first orgasm hit you like a freight train, cunt squeezing around the thick silicone buried inside of you “ that’s my girl, that’s it “ she said a softly, slowing her movements until she came to a stop.

You leant your head back against the wall behind you, trying to catch your breath. Your mind wasn’t your own, far off somewhere leaving you with no control over your own body. Brainless, unable to form a single thought other than Tess.

She pressed kisses across the damp skin of your neck. You pulled weakly at the hem of your sweater, too hot to leave it on any longer. She gently pushed your hands away and took it in her own hands “ i got you baby girl “ she said softly, pulling it over your head before going back to trailing kisses across your skin. You arched into her touch as she pulled at the cups of your bra, kissing at your neck as she squeezed your tit in her hand. You moaned as her thumb brushed over your sensitive nipple, cunt fluttering around the toy that was still buried inside of you “ was that good baby? “

“ yes mommy “ you sighed, eyes closing again as she grazed her teeth across your neck.

“ can you give me one more baby? Mommy wants one more “ as the afterglow began to lift you gave her a nod, opening your eyes again to look at her “ that’s my girl “ you whined as she let you go and she pressed a soft kiss to your lips to silence you. You winced as she slipped out of you, feeling too empty without her there “ can you stand pretty girl? “ your legs felt like jelly but you gave it a try anyway.

She held your waist as you slipped off the counter, grabbing onto her arms to keep yourself steady for a moment. She finally helped you out of your soaked underwear, then took your face in her hands once you got your balance, brushing her lips over yours for a moment before kissing you. You melted into her, hands wrapping around her wrists to keep her there. It was so unbelievably gentle compared to the way she had just fucked you. It always baffled you how quickly she could switch between the two.

The way her body pressed against yours had you getting worked up again embarrassingly easy, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to find some relief. She noticed your squirming, reluctantly pulling away from you and glancing down at the way you were squirming around.

“ aw baby girl “ she cooed, reaching down to cup your sticky cunt with her hand. You whimpered at the touch, hiding your face in her neck in some desperate attempt to be closer to her. She pressed a kiss to the side of your head and you just thanked your lucky stars that she was being nice to you today. Granting you the chance to come without begging, even wanting you to go a second time and not spend hours edging you until you sobbed.

“ mommy “ you whimpered into her neck, nuzzling your nose against her. Her other hand cradled the back of your head as she pushed a finger between your swollen, sticky lips.

“ I know baby I know “ she gently circled your clit as you whimpered against her skin, gripping onto her bicep “ so needy huh? “ you hummed an answer as she kept up her gentle pace on your clit. She loved it when you were like that. Desperate to be close to her, clingy and needy. You wrapped your hand around her wrist, trying to urge her to give you a little more. As if she hadn’t just fucked life out of you once already “ turn around for me baby “ she said after a few moments. You reluctantly let her go, turning around as she gently pushed at your back “ that’s my girl, just like that you got it “ your breath hitched as you felt her brush the tip of her cock between your sensitive folds, gasping when she caught your clit.

“ please “ you said, voice quieter than you’d expected. But she heard you anyway.

“ so fuckin needy “ she said, hand sliding down over your waist to your hip and squeezing lightly “ don’t worry baby. Told you. I got you “

You whimpered as she re entered your over sensitive cunt in one smooth thrust, giving you a moment before settling herself into a steady rhythm again. She was slower this time, but just as deep. Just as bruising. And you knew you wouldn’t last long at all.

Your brain was shattered. A pile of broken, useless mush rattling around inside your skull. Able to think of nothing but the feeling of the heavy silicone dragging against your tender walls, Tess’ fingers pressing at the flesh on your hips, the obscene wet sounds your body made as she used you. Tess.

You gripped onto the edge of the counter as her hips snapped against your ass with every thrust she made, knuckles blanching with how tightly you were holding on.

“ fuck baby you look so pretty like this “ she gripped tighter to your hips, pulling you back as she fucked you harder “ doing so well “ she praised, earning another whine of an answer from you as you relished in the words that left her lips “ taking mommy’s cock so well baby. Such a good girl for me “ her words shouldn’t have made your cunt flutter the way it did, words so filthy but said with such a gentle tone.

Your legs were shaking and you were almost afraid your knees would buckle beneath you, especially once your already looming orgasm hit you.

“ I need- I’m gonna- mommy “ you were far too deep inside your own head to form a coherent sentence. But she understood. She looped an arm under your waist and pulled you back up against her, your head falling back onto her shoulder.

“ want to come for me baby? Gonna come on mommy’s cock again? “ you nodded, unable to keep your eyes open anymore. The new angle was almost too much, the way she fucked up into you making your vision blur, hitting a spot you didn’t even know existed. Her fingers wrapped lightly around your throat, squeezing gently “ god look at you “ she breathed out “ mommy’s braindead little slut huh? “

And with that you were gone. The lack of oxygen reaching your already useless brain made it somehow more intense than the first. Your eyes rolling back as your whole body shook, trembling as you came for a second time.

“ that’s it. That’s my girl, there you go “ if it wasn’t for her arms around you you were certain you’d have fallen. Your body didn’t feel like your own anymore. Your bones made of jelly, your mind blank of anything but the woman who still had her cock buried in your aching cunt “ I want one more “ she said softly by your ear, nuzzling her nose against your cheek “ one more pretty girl. I know you can give mommy one more, can’t you? “ you weren’t entirely sure you could. You didn’t think in that moment you could even recite your full name, your legs were useless, your brain was gone. She’d done as she always did, turned you into a wreck.

“ I don’t- fuck “

“ you can take it baby girl, I know you can. Hmm? “ as much as your body felt done, you were actually curious if she could draw another orgasm out of you. It had been a while since she’d kept you going that long.

So you nodded, trying to steady your breathing.

“ that’s my special girl “ to your relief she scooped you up into her arms, carrying you over to your bed and laying you down. Thankful that she wasn’t going to make you try and stand any longer. You watched through half open eyes as she rid herself of her strap, climbing on top of you and pressing a kiss to your cheek and then your lips “ you’re doing so fucking well baby “

“ thank you mommy “ you whispered and smiled up at her, keening at the praise and sighing as she started trailing kisses down your body. She took her time, kissing along your neck, your collarbones. Take extra time to toy with your nipples and lick at the underside of your tits in a way that made your cheeks burn. She carried on further, lips trailing over your tummy and thighs. She gently nudged your legs apart, soothing her hands over your still trembling legs.

“ you gonna be a good girl for me and give me one more? “ you gave a small nod, lifting your hips off of the mattress to urge her to move. She gave a small laugh, patting your thigh lightly before dropping a gentle kiss to your cunt “ okay pretty girl, I got you “

It bordered on a little too much as her tongue made contact with your swollen clit, still sensitive from your previous two orgasms. She was the most gentle she’d been since you’d started, small gentle licks from your clit down to your abused hole.

You looked down at her, watching as she slipped her other hand down between her body and the bed. If she hadn’t wrecked you so much you’d have begged her to let you help her. But you knew in that moment she wouldn’t let you. And you were okay with that. Watching her devour your cunt, whilst toying with her own clit was enough to make you drool.

“ fuck “ you whimpered at the sight, feeling her smile against you as she suckled at your clit. Your skin prickled with goosebumps as she worked you towards the edge again. Your nerves were frayed, every single one buzzing from the never ending stream of pleasure you were being gifted.

Watching her hand pick up speed made you want to force your exhausted body to move and replace her hand with your own. It made your entire body blossom with warmth that she was so turned on without having even being touched by you. That fucking you, watching you, touching you, was enough to have her chasing her own orgasm.

As your back arched off the bed, orgasm number three wracking your body, you felt her hand tighten its grip on your thigh. A stuttering breath leaving her as her own climax peaked. You forced your head up to watch her, desperate to see the way her eyes screwed shut at the pleasure washing over her. You had the face committed to memory, seeing as you so rarely got to see it. It was often an image you replayed to yourself when she disappeared from time to time, using it to get yourself off.

She took a moment to compose herself before crawling back over you, a gentle hand cupping your cheek

“ hey baby girl “ she said softly, brushing your hair way from your damp forehead “ you did so fuckin well. So good for me “ you leaned into her touch, eyes too heavy to open now “ I’m gonna clean you up okay? “ you shook your head weakly, grabbing at her arms and tugging her down next to you

“ no “ you whined “ not yet… stay. Please “ she hesitated a moment but then moved to lay beside you, pulling you to lay on her chest. You snuggled against her, pressing your face into the crook of her neck and sighing dreamily. Looking well and truly fucked out “ hmm…better “ she stroked your hair softly as you both caught your breath, and you let your mind piece itself back together again.

And you took a moment to try and remember why you’d even been mad in the first place.

#well #there you have it #tess servopoulos x reader #tess servopoulos #the last of us #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us fanfic #Anna torv #lesbian #lgbt #other characters for exposure:#Joel miller #ellie williams #smut

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yeraskier · 1 year

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five times everyone questions jaskier's sanity, and the time jaskier realizes he was (sort of) right all along. [inspired by yesterday's events... you know the one]

also on ao3

Geralt looks… different. Very different. Like his entire fucking face has changed different.

He looked just like himself at supper last night, but now it’s morning, and suddenly, he looks nothing like himself. It doesn’t even make any sense. Jaskier briefly considers that maybe he had a bit too much ale the night before, but he’s drunk more than he did last night and this has never been the result.

Geralt definitely looks different. Very different. Like a whole new face different. He looks a bit taller, too, which is completely unfair.

Jaskier eyes him suspiciously, and he’s probably completely losing it, but even the man’s Adam’s apple looks different when he swallows. Gods.

He doesn’t realize he’s reached out until the tip of his index finger makes contact with Geralt’s cheek. The witcher freezes, spoon stopping midway to his mouth before he slowly turns his head.

Jaskier pokes his cheek again, and then his jaw, and then his nose.

“What happened to your face?” He asks, sliding in closer to inspect. He pokes one of Geralt’s cheekbones, twice. Three times, for good measure.

“Do that again,” Geralt growls in a way that tells the bard he most definitely should not do that again.

Jaskier drops his hand.

—

“Has anyone else noticed that something's wrong with Geralt's face?”

Ciri lifts her head from the book she’s been scribbling in as Yennefer eyes him skeptically through the mirror she’s facing.

“What are you on about now, Jaskier?”

“Geralt. His face. It’s different,” he says, stepping further into the room. “And so is his physique.”

Yennefer arches a perfectly done brow at him.

“Not that I’ve been paying, or have ever paid any attention to his physique or anything,” he amends quickly, “because I don’t…”

Ciri’s snicker covers up a muttered, “right,” which Jaskier pretends to not notice.

Yennefer sighs as she turns to face him, “Geralt is fine. He looks the same as he did yesterday, and the day before, and last week, and the week before. He looks the same as he’s looked for decades. It comes with being a witcher.”

“But—”

“Geralt is fine,” she says with a level of finality that lets Jaskier know he is not winning this argument, “and you’re an imbecile.”

—

Jaskier’s not going crazy, okay? No matter what anyone says (fuck you very much, Lambert!) he is not going crazy.

The man still walks like Geralt, and talks like Geralt, and acts like Geralt, and knows things that only Geralt would know (like the fact that Jaskier has also needed chamomile rubbed on his bum… more than once), so it must be Geralt, except for the fact that looks nothing like Geralt.

“Do you really not see a difference?”

Ciri groans from beside him, clearly irritated at her reading being disturbed. Oh well, she’ll have plenty of other chances to read during their little hiatus. “No, Jaskier, I do not see a difference.”

The bard sighs as he watches Geralt, or whoever the fuck that is, from across the library. It’s all he’s been able to do for the last three days, which, well… isn’t new since watching Geralt has become one of his favorite past times over the last decade or so, but that’s how Jaskier knows he isn’t going crazy. Something is different.

Jaskier has spent hours on hours taking in the man’s defined jaw, and his expressive brows, and his pouty lips. He’s spent so much time trying to depict the specific shade of yellow in Geralt’s eyes, and the curl pattern of his hair, and how long it takes his stubble to grow back after it’s been shaved. He’s spent far too long picking up on every little detail to be told that nothing about the man has changed, because so much has changed.

“How could you not see the difference? Everything about him is different! I mean look at the shape of his face!” Jaskier exclaims, waving his hand wildly in Geralt’s general direction. “And look at his nose! Gods, look at that nose!”

Ciri blinks at him once. Then, again. She doesn’t blink for three beats and then, she blinks again.

“Look!”

She does look this time, and she even squints. Jaskier waits, watching her, mentally begging for that realization to dawn over her.

Her lips do a thing where they press together and push upward, almost like a frown. “I think you’re right,” she tells him.

Jaskier’s eyes widen, posture straightening in alert.

“His skin looks much more vibrant, I think that new soap Yen got him is working.”

His eyes narrow into slits, and Ciri turns to him with a cheeky grin.

“Very nice, Ciri,” he drawls, “very nice.”

Jaskier huffs as he slumps back in his seat, turning his attention back to Geralt.

She’s right, though, his skin does look more vibrant.

—

“Triss, you’ve got to believe me,” Jaskier whines.

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Jaskier,” she says, “but I just saw Geralt, and he looked fine, same as he’s looked the last ten times I’ve seen him since I got here.” She continues her journey down the hall, and Jaskier is truly surprised by how fast the woman walks.

“But he isn’t! He isn’t himself, Triss, I swear, and I’m the only one who realizes!”

Triss comes to such an abrupt stop that Jaskier almost crashes into her. When she turns around, her head rolls, along with her eyes. She looks as exasperated as Jaskier feels.

“Suppose Geralt’s face somehow did change, how would that have happened, Jaskier? Explain that to me.”

“Well, I don’t know how exactly, but it must have been the work of a mage. Or maybe one of his potions!”

Triss levels him with a flat look. “A potion? Really? Right, because witchers are running around making potions that can help them shapeshift.”

And when it’s put like that, Jaskier realizes how insane he sounds. “That doesn’t rule out the possibility of a mage!”

“You guys have been in Kaer Morhen for weeks now. Just you, Ciri, Yen, a bunch of witchers, and now, me. And last I checked, Yennefer warded this place so well Melitele herself could strike this area right now and everyone here would remain untouched.” She’s talking with her hands, something she does when she’s at her wit's end, something she does when she’s refraining from turning the person she’s talking to into a toad. “That, alongside the protections that were already set up, means that the possibility that any mage could waltz in here uninvited, or even come close enough to this place, to cast some face-changing curse on Geralt is absolutely zero.”

“Yes, but—”

“You need rest, Jaskier. You’re starting to sound diabolical.”

With that, she turns on her heels and leaves him in the hallway.

—

“So… you and Geralt have known each other for quite some time now, huh?”

Vesemir looks unimpressed.

It’s an expression he’s becoming quite familiar with.

Jaskier flashes his most charming smile, “have you by any chance noticed any changes in his appearance?”

Dead silence. Great.

“Anything at all?” He presses on hopefully.

The witcher’s expression goes from unimpressed to murderous.

Jaskier has never bolted from a room so fast in his entire life.

—

Jaskier knows this isn’t really the smartest plan he’s ever had, it’s probably in the top five of the dumbest, actually.

He doesn’t know what he has to gain from watching Geralt sleep, but it’s better than just sitting back and waiting for answers to come to him. And alright, he’ll be the first to admit that it’s kind of (really!) fucking creepy, but Jaskier has to get to the bottom of this. So, watching Geralt sleep has to hold some kind of answer.

Many years of sleeping alongside the witcher have taught him how to maneuver without waking the man up, he’s grateful for that now in a way that he’s never been before.

Despite what many may believe, Geralt’s quite the peaceful sleeper. He barely moves, he breathes softly, his face remains soft and pliant— he sleeps like… well, an angel. Even with this brand-new face, all of these little things still exist.

There’s always a certain level of alertness, though, something Jaskier realized early on, but that seems to be nearly nonexistent tonight. It must be Kaer Morhen. Geralt’s at peace here. It’s probably one of the few places, if not the only place, where he truly feels safe. The thought makes Jaskier’s heart melt.

For the second time this week, he finds himself reaching out almost involuntarily. The back of his fingers run along the side of Geralt’s face, and the witcher releases a hardly audible sigh. Jaskier smiles, allowing his fingers to wander a bit, lightly tracing the lines of Geralt’s face, both sharp and smooth.

Geralt’s nose twitches, and Jaskier taps a finger to it. Definitely number one on the list of the dumbest things he’s ever done.

The witcher startles awake, sitting up so fast he nearly headbutts Jaskier. He probably would’ve had the man not fallen off the bed, and flat onto his ass onto the cold, hard ground.

“Ow,” Jaskier groans.

“Jaskier?” And oh, fuck, that sleep-worn voice always did things to him, and right now is not the best time for any of those things to be happening.

Geralt’s eyes zero in on him, and Jaskier offers a weak smile and a wave.

“What the fuck are you doing, Jaskier?”

“Trying to figure out what happened to your face,” he responds, and it comes off as more of a question than an answer

Even in the dark, Jaskier can feel Geralt glaring at him. Then, the witcher lights up the candles beside his bed, and Jaskier can see Geralt glaring at him.

“This again?”

“Yes, this again.” Jaskier hisses defensively, dusting his buttocks off as he rises to his feet. “There is something incredibly wrong with your face, and no one else sees it, but I do.”

“Jaskier—”

“No! I’m being serious right now, Geralt. Your face has changed, alright? It’s completely changed, and I don’t know why I’m the only one who has realized but—”

“Wait—”

“I’m starting to feel kind of crazy over here, and I—”

“I think I know what’s going on. Yen—”

“...don’t understand how everyone else can just—”

“Jaskier, you’re not listening.” Geralt’s standing, now, and he’s all up in Jaskier’s space the same way Jaskier was in his mere minutes ago. And he’s shirtless, which is very, very distracting.

But not distracting enough, Jaskier is on a mission here, Godsdamnit.

“No, you’re not listening. Your fucking face—”

“My face is fine. Yennefer—”

“Your face is not fine, Geralt. I mean, it’s not like you look like a gremlin or anything, but—”

“Yen, she—”

“You’re still beautiful—”

“Yennefer is fucking with you, Jaskier.”

“I don’t think any curse could ever make you less beautiful—” Wait.

“Wait.” That was Geralt’s voice, as if he’d read Jaskier’s mind.

“Yennefer’s fucking with me?!” Jaskier exclaims at the same time Geralt says, almost breathlessly, “you think I’m beautiful?”

“Huh?” The bard answers dumbly, “what? Yes, of course, I think you’re beautiful. Woo-hoo, this isn’t news to anyone. Now, what do you mean Yennefer’s fucking with me?”

Geralt doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t do anything. He just stares. He stares for so long that Jaskier starts thinking that maybe Geralt’s the one fucking with him.

“Hello?” Jaskier snaps a few times. “Continent to Geralt?”

The witcher seems to blink out of it and huffs a laugh.

“Remember last week when you replaced the soap Yennefer uses for her hair with an ink of sorts?”

Yes, Jaskier does remember. Vividly. It’s one of the best pranks he’s pulled on the sorceress since they started their little game. “And it turned her hair red.”

Geralt hums in confirmation, “well, you know Yennefer. She said she’d do something about it. I didn’t know what, but… seems like it was this. She casted a beholder spell on you.”

“A what?”

“It’s a spell that makes whoever it’s put upon see whatever the caster wants them to see. In this case, it was… my face.”

Jaskier gasps. “That witch.” She’s a genius. Evil, but a fucking genius. “Do you know how long until it wears off?”

“How long did it take Yen to get her hair back to black?”

“Five, maybe six days.”

“That’s probably your answer.”

Jaskier groans. Knowing Yennefer, it’s probably double that. “Gods.”

Geralt hums, thoughtfully. And then, “so…”

Jaskier doesn’t know where this is headed, but he doesn’t like it.

“About you thinking I’m beautiful…”

He gulps. Right. “I said that, did I?”

The witcher takes a step forward, and it was a big step, and there wasn’t that much space in between them, to begin with, so that single step has them toe-to-toe. “You did.”

“Well, everyone thinks you’re beautiful,” Jaskier grins, nudging him as he tries to play it off.

Geralt tips his head to the side with a slight furrow in his brows, “not everyone.”

“Everyone who isn’t an idiot, I mean,” says the bard, “or a jealous prick, or a prejudiced waste of space. You’re beautiful, it’s hard to look at you and not see that. Most people see that, it’s not just me, ask anyone in this keep. I may not have had anyone on my side about your face looking different, but they all agree about your face being beautiful trust m—”

“Jaskier.”

“Yes?”

“You’re doing that thing you do when you get nervous.” Geralt smirks when he says it, the prick.

“What thing?”

“The rambling thing.”

“I’m always rambling,” Jaskier tells him, “and I know this because you’re always telling me to shut up.”

“No, you’re always talking,” Geralt corrects, “and when you talk, it’s controlled. Whereas when you ramble, it’s hardly coherent because you’re going a mile a minute. You only do that when you’re nervous.”

Fuck.

Geralt leans in closer, lips stretching even further, “am I making you nervous, Jaskier?”

Fuck.

“I—”

Gods, they’re so close. They’re so close, and they’re only getting closer because Geralt is still leaning in like he’s going to—

“Stop.”

They’re not close anymore. Geralt is suddenly several feet away from him. He no longer looks smug, he looks confused, and… small.

“I know where that was headed,” Jaskier begins, licking at his lips and realizing how dry they’d gotten from Geralt trying (and succeeding!) to seduce him, “and trust me when I say I am on board, like all the way on board.”

Geralt cocks a brow, as if to say, then why aren’t we already naked?

“But, I want my first kiss with you to be with you.” At the witcher looking confused again, he continues, “I know it’s you, but I want you to look like yourself.”

The witcher sighs. “I don’t think I’ve ever been irritated by Yennefer more than I am at this moment.”

“I feel your irritation, believe me,” says Jaskier, “and I promise once this wears off I’m all yours, but in the meantime… we can still sleep together in a completely clothes-on kind of way.”

Geralt smiles.

And that’s how the two end up spending the rest of the night cuddling while plotting how Jaskier’s going to get Yennefer back.

—

The spell wears off a day later, and by the time Jaskier emerges from Geralt’s room the following day, he forgets what he was getting Yennefer back for in the first place.

He ends up baking her a chocolate cake as a thank you, with the words THANK YOU, THE SEX WAS GREAT on it.

The look of mortification when she sees it is priceless. Unintended, but priceless.

As it turns out, the best revenge is a bit of kindness.

#naturally.... a fic is the only answer to this #im still in mourning okay #the ending couldve went many ways but this is what my tired brain came up with at 1 in the morning and i still liked it while editing it so #there you have it #yennefer because of course it was yennefer #and because i refuse to make a liam hemsworth geralt EVER #even after s4 has aired it will always be henry #sorry lili #i wish i knew how to make my humor/fluffy fics artful but i unfortunately only know how to do that with angst #im sorry #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #my writing #geraskier #yennefer of vengerberg #princess cirilla

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buck2eddie · 1 year

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buddie x misery business by paramore

#LOOK I CAN EXPLAIN #the explanation is that this song goes hard and it started playing in the car and my head went buddiebuddiebuddie so #there you have it #beth i hope you see this cause i think paramore i think of u #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 fox #buddieedit #buddie edit #911edit #911 edit #lyrics #m*edits

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galedekarios · 7 months

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Oh wait now I’m curious what the backstory reasons behind Alton’s physical design are! He’s very handsome and I crave the oc lore.

thank you so much for asking about altonaufein. i really truly do appreciate it a lot! 🖤he's the favourite of my bg3 ocs.

his development and growth as a character is mostly tied to his hair and how he presents himself, so this is what i focused on for my choices throughout the game:

altonaufein was born as the third child but first son to matron ithrana of house hlarahel, a younger brother to his eldest sister nadriina and the second-born iraeae.

house hlarahel of ust natha has produced a long line of powerful clerics in service to lolth so altonaufein, with his natural talent and inlination for both the divine and the art of combat, was trained as a cleric to aid drow scouting and raiding parties:

this is how his hair would have looked then--perhaps even longer as the cc allows us--white hair worn long and open, symbolising lolth's demon webs, her reach and control on her drow, despite altonaufein's dreams of a bright moon hanging in a dark sky he has never seen.

i will put the rest under a cut because a) it's very, very long so sorry in advance and b) because it deals with some very heavy themes so if you aren't comfortable reading, you absolutely do not have to!

(cw assault/rape, cw mind manipulation, cw enslavement, cw drow society in general tbh)

drow society is a matriarchal society, where male drow are considered lesser, and it functions under a particular set of rules:

"The cruelty and injustice of Drow society are utterly familiar because they are constants, from the womb onward. Drow mothers punish and manipulate from the start, and Drow women rule each household. Typically, nobles are divided up into houses which jockey for position in the city, and each noble house is headed by a cleric of great skill. A wise matron mother will have several cleric daughters to ensure that her line and influence continues, but she will watch them carefully. Inheritance is passed through daughters, with children ranked in importance by gender, and then by age. A matron will guard against her eldest daughters and pit all of her children against each other to ensure her own survival." "Drow children are not coddled. They are raised together and sent to schools with high standards of conduct. Drow children are trained to compete with one another and to show no mercy. Some children do not survive the intense childhood games." "The Drow are infamous for their torture practices, as well they should be. Among the elves of the beginning times, they were the first to experiment with the sensation of pain. They have honed torture into science and psychological treatment. Drow parents will punish their children with pain and humiliation in very tactical ways. Drow students are publicly punished in front of their fellow students and class clowns are rare (although pranks for which no one was apprehended are remembered by Drow students as legends of a sort). Drow adults are not all masters of torture, but they have seen enough pain to know how to make others hurt. Not all Drow use physical pain as their modus operandi. A good many are adept at humiliation and terrible mind games. Some slaves are so broken mentally that all they can do is concentrate on the task at hand. Some Drow actually do not like to put forth the effort that torture requires and would rather kill someone than waste their energy. The worst punishments are said to come from those closest to Lolth - the yochlol and the clerics. They are whispered to be divinely inspired."

these are the circumstances that shaped altonaufein as much as it did nadriina and iraeae, who, in the tradition of house hlarahel, are both striving to become powerful priestesses of lolth in their own right, seeking to inherit control of the house from matron mother.

drow house politics are insane and it's all encouraged by lolth. lolth wants to determine who of her followers are worthy enough to be supported by her, so all drow have to pass a test of faith, a trial of lolth.

after altonaufein foolishly (he truly did love--in a way that drow are capable of--his sister iraeae and confided in her visions that spoke not of lolth or a great spider swallowing the world, but of a moon, shining bright silver.

iraeae felt conflicted. she, too, loved her brother in her own way. of course that weakness was what made her realise what she had to do: weed it out. so she told not only nadriina, but her her mother. it was then decided that altonaufein was not simply to die.

they would not further shame their own house like that. instead he would be put through his trial of lolth, to weed out that weakness and corruption within their own ranks. should he die, he'd be a sacrifice to lolth, should he live, he would prove lolth's favour to their house and advance them further in ust natha's society.

altonaufein with that was sentenced to undergo the test of strength. power and resourcefulness, whether or not the subject is strong and clever enough to defeat a powerful foe. the test is only fulfilled by a battle to the death between the test subject and another, stronger person, sometimes a creature.

the fight is usually difficult, and the test subject often has to expend all their resources to survive and vanquish their foe, who must be slain: the more brutal, the longer drawn out the fight, the more you've suffered and the more your foe has suffered, the more it will satisfy lolth.

altonaufein earned his first brutal kill like that. he had just reached maturity.

nadriina had hoped he would die. winning the trial had garnered favour and attention. a strong male could be just as dangerous as a scheming female. she devised a plan with iraeae to ensure that they would not be threatened and, with that, iraeae passed her own trial of lolth: chwidevbrii, or the test of betrayal.

it's a punishment that strikes particularly deep. trust is a distasteful concept to drow, though they understand that sometimes it does happen and is even necessary. to rid themselves of this, to succeed at this test, the drow must betray someone who has garnered her trust or in whom she has placed her trust.

mentors, teachers, leaders, friends, family members. as long as there has been a solid connection of dependence made in the past. the relationship between master and slave or servant does not count; the goddess knows that no betrayal can happen in such a relationship. it is simply a slave. the drow must utterly destroy the other drow in a way that allows her to advance in some manner. the method is not important: blackmail, slander, torture... magic. in the end, the victim must die or be thoroughly disgraced and dominated. usually, the victim is murdered by the drow herself, commits suicide, or is killed as a result of the drow's action.

so what better way to show to her goddess that she is a true drow, that she is worthy, what better way than to serve the house than humiliating and dominating someone who was once a little brother.

drow females are able to take over the mind of a male drow just like that, with a spell, akin to a thrall. all thoughts are gone, all will is gone. your mind is not your own anymore.

iraeae did just that: after he was beaten, whipped, mental and physical defences exhausted, the spell on altonaufein took hold and, as perhaps a final "kindness" in her utter triumph, altonaufein was discarded in ust natha's dark underbelly.

ust natha has a tavern. to entertain both those lusting for blood, for sport, and for more carnal pursuits. altonaufein still remembers szordrin and sondal, the keepers of the tavern. their taunting faces. mind gone, he and others were kept in a cage. he served there for a while. to fight. to please. to be of use. to those who asked. to those who had power or gold. for battle. for pleasure.

he was there, under that spell, until it broke: iraeae dead by her sister's hand. betrayed just like altonaufein had been by her. altonaufein doesn't remember how long it lasted, remembers only parts of it: the many hands, more than hands, the pain. he remembers fighting. other drow. other prisoners. the surface. running. the moon. fever. then nothing for a long time again.

and finally, karl:

karl is an ilmater cleric, a part of a small settlement built around a modest church of ilmater that, unknowingly, is very close to an entrance to the underdark.

during one of his patrols with another of the settlement, karl found altonaufein: delirious with fever, malnourished, ravaged by old wounds that never truly healed, hair tangled.

any other man might have killed the defenseless drow, thinking it to be a ruse, or perhaps to put him out of his misery, but karl is an ilmateri through and through, for better and for worse, and so he shouldered this suffering and brought altonaufein to the temple. he was tasked with caring for him. and watching him.

so karl came to care for the drow: he cleaned and dressed his wounds, sat by him. tried to talk to him, engage him in moments of clarity and despite the obvious language barrier. karl, an ex-soldier and deserter, was forced to fight for his homeland cormyr against sembia. he saw a lot of cruelty during that war. a lot of violence, both in battle and outside of it. in the villages and cities that were torched and conquered and pillaged. he saw a lot then and sees a lot of it now in altonaufein, who survived a different kind of war.

as for altonaufein himself, he tries to settle into that new life, tries to come to terms with what he remembers of his old one... it was incredibly violating. he remembers only snippets. moments. sudden movements and motions, that send his heart racing.

the clearest memory is a hand gripping his hair so tightly, pulling and guiding. it's not anymore, but he still feels it.

he hasn't brushed it or touched it since his rescue, it's a tangled, matted–and it’s also something that hasn’t escaped karl’s notice.

altonaufein goes to cut it with the only blade he could find (stolen and kept on his person from one of the meals karl had shared with him).

(ilmater clerics and priests are good and nice, but they are also no fools who would give a drow access to sharp weaponry. kindness goes only so far, even here, no matter how much karl vouches for altonaufein.)

so altonaufein begins to cut it with a dulled blade and it goes about as badly as you'd imagine: it's hard to do, it hurts, and the strands that he manages to cut are choppy (which is the least of his worries). he still manages to hurt himself simply by the virtue of hard he is trying and how badly his hands are shaking with it.

karl would find him, take one look at him and leave, coming back with honeyed tea to soothe frazzled nerves and a sharper blade, one of his own. he drinks the tea first from the little teapot, pouring himself one cup and another for altonaufein, to show him it's not poisoned or meddled with. he had noticed how skittish altonaufein was with things he hadn't seen being prepared.

they sit there for a while before altonaufein, too, calms enough to drink his cup, and it is only then that karl begins to speak, voice soft but clear.

he takes up the sharp blade, lets it rest on his hands just so, where altonaufein could reach out and take it at any time, and tells him of what could happen: he could leave the blade with altonaufein and he can try again, but karl would prefer it if he could help, clean the cuts and nicks and heal them, and help altonaufein cut his hair.

altonaufein looks at him for a long time, searching his eyes, still holding onto that dull blade as a last defense, but there is no deception in karl, none at all. only that strange kindness that he has come to associate with the human.

it was one of many, many small gestures, things, that karl did for altonaufein that made him trust karl. trust him enough to at first take food and drink from him, later to help fix injuries like this one--and finally, to let him cut his hair.

he turns his back on karl--even though the human might not realise fully how meaningful that truly is--so he can do as he had said he would. and karl does. he keeps his word.

time passes and altonaufein settles into his new life, bit by bit. he helps with that he can at the temple and the settlement: repairing fences, caring for the animals, the harvest, building and repairing things.

he still wears his hair short, but here and there, he allows it to grow just that bit longer than it had been for a long while now:

and it's this way when the settlement is attacked and he is captured on the nautiloid.

on his journey to find a cure, and to find karl, he meets another human, just as kind as the ilmateri. one who knows the goddess behind the light and moon he had dreamed of, prayed to, albeit not knowing just how to, and gives her a name that altonaufein had not known until then: eilistraee, lady silverhair--and a close friend to the man's own goddess, mystra.

this bond between them, beginning with a moment of connection, grows ever closer and brighter.

through them, karl and gale, with them and alongside them, altonaufein begins to heal and helps them heal in return, begins to find his purpose and helps them find theirs:

he is a cleric of eilistraee. he can be more than a tool for bloodshed and violence.

he's not kulg llarzoran ithrana qualla hlarahel (his designation as a male of his house). he's not auflaque (dog) as he was called during his captivity. he is simply altonaufein and that's what he is to gale, to karl and the friends he has made.

settling in waterdeep with them, altonaufein joins the promenade and its leader trelasarra zuind. to help others as he had been helped.

🖤

#i am SO SORRY this got so long #idk where it came from but #there you have it #the alton lore drop #i love my drow son a lot #and why it lowkey hurt me when people made disparaging comments about the hair i picked for him #ch: altonaufein #ch: gale dekarios #ch: karl eifers #otp: a soul that steels my own #otp: battered and wrecked i come to you first #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3 #bg3 spoilers

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