skyrimkinkmeme | Comment!Fic Page 1 - "Oh, a little bit of this...a little bit of that."

Comment!Fic Page 1 - "Oh, a little bit of this...a little bit of that."

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Welcome to the new Comment!Fic Thread. Some of you may know what this is, and others may not - comment!fics are small one - two comment (the LJ word limit for comments) fills based off of one word or one sentence prompts. All ES games are welcome here, as well as the DLC's. Please don't disclose spoilers for Skyrim's DLCs in your prompt, and if you have them in your fill please place warnings.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

But would love some Dunmeri goodness. No non-con.

Word for prompt: stars and moons

After a few hundred years in Tamriel, there was very little left that could make Seravyn feel anything but apathy. She had long since gotten used to the distrusting looks of Nords and the haughty smirks of her "higher" cousins. To these faces and attitudes she could only ever muster disdain and little more. No weather or storm could drive an arrow from its course if she held the bow, and shadows enveloped her as lovingly as a lovers arms. Weapons and armors and enchantments had become afterthoughts, minor considerations, where once a single day could be fraught with managing and studying them all. She saw the secrets of men and women and could end a dozen lives without ever being noticed.

It was in this way that she became a walking shadow within Skyrim. Her allies in the Thieves Guild and her followers in the Dark Brotherhood had been dismissed oftentimes for being too noisy, too unwieldy in her delicate tiptoeing across narrow bridges within vacant caves. Companions and brothers in arms and mages all dismissed as well for not being swift enough in plains-wide chases on whimsical hunts for bear pelts or mammoth tusks or mudcrab chitin. So often she walked and ran and hunted and slept alone. Laying on the grass in the middle of the plains of the Reach, or huddled in a thick fur under a tree in Haafingar hold, she slept alone. And though she had homes in many of the holds, and company in her housecarls at each, she preferred her solitude in the open. Under the stars, staring up at the old, familiar constellations and moons to remind her of home. Nightmares had driven her from her Morrowind home not a week before the Red Year had begun, and since then she had lived homeless, travelling and learning and exploring.

The stars alone stayed constant in her life, and so she could not sleep without them, her one reminder of comfort and constancy.

So it was quite unexpected when on a small rescue mission for the heavy-handed Companions that she felt not only an immediate attraction for the captive she rescued (for prurient wants and behaviors were common in the mental development of Dunmer women), but a warm, deeply affectionate admiration for him the moment she laid eyes on him.

The cave itself was familiar, the tight corners and turns, the reliable footholds and trustworthy shadows. It seemed to have housed a dozen different bandit clans even the short time she'd spent in Skyrim, though that was becoming less and less of a shock everywhere she turned. Nords, by and large, seemed to recover quickly and dramatically from even the most devastating of blows. So what if Skyrim's underbelly was merely as tough as it's middlefolk and upper crust? So she crept, silent step by step through the narrow passageways and broad cavernous openings until she heard nothing but the echoes of the last two inhabitants of the cave.

Must be the chief holding him... Thonnir, was it? Her memory blurred and she almost regretted doing another job for the infamous mead hall mercenaries. For certain, the money was good, but she had enough money. Had she a desire, she could settle down at any township or hold in any of the nations and live the rest of her life in comfort. The risk wasn't great, but she'd come too close to losing rescued captives before. Times when she would miss a bandit or vampire or what-have-you and both her meal ticket and sense of accomplishment would be nearly slaughtered before she'd have the chance to take aim with an arrow. Restoration spells and a bounty of potions guaranteed they never died, but the trouble of it was often more stress of the unfriendly kind than she truly cared for.

But nonetheless, she had taken this job and was now stretching the limits of her hearing to be certain only two voices remained. She gathered her breath and spoke the dragon language into the darkness of the final ancient nord-style antechamber, and had her suspicions confirmed. Her minds eye and soul were instantly flooded with the sight and knowledge of two souls ahead, their beating hearts pulsing through their skin, through armor, through walls. One on his knees, facing the door; the other standing, facing away. Through the door she could hear the low rumble of their voices, but could not make out the particulars. Carefully, Seravyn tread forward, pushing the door open by hairs breadths then slipping through and sliding it shut behind her.

The brief movement caught the attention of the bound captive, who seemed to lean forward, searching the darkness for an unfamiliar shape. Seravyn was somewhat surprised to have been noticed but satisfied herself by sinking into the shadows, soundlessly praying for Nocturnal's favor, and crept closer.

The men were arguing and to herself Seravyn wondered at the stupidity of a captive arguing with his captor. From previous jobs, she'd come to expect travelling merchants and farmers daughters, none of whom had the moxy to argue with strong, powerful bandit leaders with weapons of greater danger than a pitchfork or iron dagger could contend with. But this apparent farmboy was headstrong enough to respond to all the bandit's insults with his own. Unfortunately, judging by the armored mans voice, he was an Orsimer, and an angry one at that, and her charge was running out of free passes before the Orc lopped off his head, ransom be damned. So, as she had millions of times, she nocked an arrow, took a deep breath and held it in, then released with the arrow, rising from her crouch once the bandit fell dead, an Orcish arrow straight through his throat.

The gurgling of a dying bandit to cover her steps, she walked airily forward, ever-aware of how she placed her weight and the sound of her own movement. As she came into the light, she took a better look at the young man and put away her bow. He raised his face to the light as she passed him, ripping her arrow from the Orc's throat, then disgustedly tossing it away when she saw the head had snapped from the arrow itself.

"Did my family send you? Are you here to take me home?"

Seravyn didn't immediately respond, examining what she thought was poison, shaking and sniffing it before returning it to the bookshelf. Pocketing the loose coins on the table nearby, she asked, "Are you Thonnir of Morthal?"

"Yes, yes I am. Is my family alright? Are they not too worried? It's been so long, I doubted help would ever come."

"I came as soon as I could."

It was a lie. She'd ridden south of a borrowed house to her home near Falkreath to drop off some treasures; swords and maces and bows from her latest enemies, enchanted armor she admired but had no desire to wear, potions she could not fathom a need for but wished to keep anyway. From her home she'd gone west in a carriage overnight to Riften, gazing at the half-moon while laying on the bench in the back. She'd met liaisons in Riften, checking on jobs and new recruits before heading back out again. Only then had she trekked northward on foot toward Windhelm, searching by memory for the now-familiar break in the trees where the cave entrance that led into old ruins would be found.

It had only truly added two days to her trip, but given that from Windhelm it would have been a one-day ride, a mote of guilt sharpened her defensive statement and silenced her newly-free charge.

She undid his binds from behind and helped him up. When he turned, she decided to be grateful for the shroud covering the lower half of her face as sudden attraction left her jaw slack and her lips suddenly dry. He was not quite beautiful, but his features were striking. The ice blue of most Nord eyes stood out on his somewhat more richly tan skin. The dirty blond hair pushed back enough to frame his face but not distract from it. His lips looked soft, his jaw firm, and most striking of all, his blue eyes looked squarely into hers without fear or doubt.

"I didn't mean to sound ungrateful. Forgive me for losing my manners."

His accent was definitely that of a farmer, and she doubted his manners were exactly enough to please a court in Blacklight even at their best, but she was charmed and responded warmly enough in turn. "Don't trouble yourself; I doubt many people deal well with being held at knifepoint for a sum beyond their family's means. Come, let me take you home."

"What of the others?" His gaze flickered from her to the corpse of the leader on the floor not steps from them. "Are they... gone?"

"Ye-es." She was mostly certain, but placed a hand on his forearm and bade him still with a look before taking a breath and once more whispering into the emptiness of the room and feeling knowledge of life around her flood her mind. There was a single light to be seen, and he shone brilliantly before her. Blinking, slightly dazzled by the light, she confirmed, "Yes, they're all gone."

She flashed him a smile, but then remembered her face cover. Though even after giving him a reassuring, confident twitch at the corners of her lips, he seemed disturbed. For a moment, she simply stared at him, looking into the pulsing, whorling, nebulous mass of energy only she could see in him, but one moment dragged on into another and he looked away, clearly embarrassed.

"Perhaps we should, uh, go?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, yes let's." I was probably staring too much. It's a shame all that life will be extinguished someday, though.

The thought struck Seravyn as deeply hollowing, and so she led Thonnir out of the cave through the backway she'd now traversed many times with no further conversation. She led through the trees, heading ever north.

From Windhelm she could hire a carriage, but looking through the trees to the sky, she saw it was much later in the day than she'd estimated. Windhelm wasn't far, but she had a small bounty to dodge while in town, and her hearts desire was to travel straight to Morthal and to get this simple farm boy back to his family. But as she planned the nights arrangements, from startlingly close behind Thonnir near-whispered, "Is there any chance of us making it to a town before nightfall? I'm not familiar with these woods."

"Ahh--" There was no reason for her to be this caught unawares by a sudden need for intimacy, but the rumbling voice at her ear and the warmth of his body near behind her reminded her just how long she'd been sleeping outside with no one, no warm body, to keep her company under the moons of Tamriel. "Ahh, uhm, I actually know an, um, friend in town. Windhelm! Just ahead. Just another hours walk, I promise." Her eyes sought out the horizon through the trees and she pointed, guiding his gaze to the faint border of the City of Kings' wall touching where the sky met the land. Stumbling through her words like she was only a century old again, she mumbled, "It won't be any trouble, just gotta cut through the market and Calder'll be there to take care of us for the night."

"Is that your husband?"

The look on his face read of apprehension, a concern she did not expect. Some of her experience in reading people nonchalantly read the hopeful romantic in his eyes and in her younger days, that would've been all the invitation she needed. But something about it spoke to her of taking advantage and so she shook herhead and answered his question but not his meaning.

"No."

OP here! I like this, looking forward for more :D

A!A here, sorry for the delay!

P.S., I just remembered Thonnir is involved in the Laid to Rest business. XD Damn my memory. Creative planning, ahoy!

When they reached the Windhelm stables, Seravyn held out her arm to stop Thonnir where he stood, and quickly removed her hood. She handed the shroud to him, along with a heavy, dark cloak she nicked from one of the fences along the horse pens. From her satchel of treasures she pulled a carved mask (a hard-earned prize) and took a deep breath of fresh air before yanking it down over her head. In her experience, guards recognized armor as easily as faces, but without armor and face together she could avoid immediate attention. Besides, anyone looking for her wouldn't look for someone traveling with a companion, but a lone ranger.

She turned to Thonnir, who still held the shroud and cloak, clearly uncertain. But again, his eyes held no fear, and that was enough for Seravyn to feel a comforting swell of emotions.

"I have more friends than enemies in town, I assure you. Just... the enemies are a might bit more attentive." She tried to smile but again forgot he couldn't see it. Instead she inclined her head and gestured with her hands. "Go on."

He slipped the cloak over his shoulders, wrapped the shroud about his mouth and nose, then lifted the hood. She nodded approvingly, but before they started towards the city gates he stopped her, grabbing at her elbow and tugging her close enough to whisper.

"Am I still in danger, then?"

His eyes, ever fearless, bore into hers and she felt a chill as her mind and body reminded her that he was attractive, and it wouldn't be very difficult to run the whole 'I saved your life' thing in her favor. But again, she looked at him and felt her years, her decades; he was barely a child in comparison. She wasn't much older than 300, but she'd never quite settled into the idea of takings humans as lovers. Her adolescence she'd experimented with Argonians and Khajiit as well as with fellow Dunmer, but they were either in her age bracket, or impossible to cite an age for.

"You are safe as long as you stick with me."

No. She couldn't risk getting involved with some child just because he was beautiful. So when he accepted her answer, albeit with understandable confusion, she bade him follow her to the gates.

They wove through the main yard of Windhelm, ducking into the cemetery, Thonnir close on her heels, to dodge a guard murmuring a distracted, "Wait, I know you...", before they were out of sight and soon forgotten. Pressed against the shadowed side of a large headstone, Seravyn suddenly felt the firmness of an arm about her waist, holding her tight to its owners body. Has he been holding me the whole time? It felt good, and this time her arousal became more pronounced and it took all her focus not to lean back and softly moan at the firmness of his body. This was trying her strength of will, and so she bolted upright, dislodging his arm from her waist and her mind from it's fog. However, shame remained, so she merely whispered, "Follow me to Hjerim," before dashing up the backway stairs to the upper district.

She had no trouble avoiding the familiar cracks in the stones and dips in the somewhat uneven path, and felt guilt as she heard Thonnir stumbling noisily behind her, catching his toes on loose rocks and swearing under his breath, barely up the stairs by the time she passed that Viola woman's house. But she ran anyway, sprinting as silently as she knew how to her front door and slipping in, leaving the door ajar enough to let light out to show her young farmboy the way. Calder was where he usually was, sitting in a chair by the fireplace in the kitchen, reading some book or another. Pleased, Seravyn noted that it was one of the Falmer books Urag at the College had translated for her. I may not take out my housecarls, but they are surely the best read in this whole damn nation.

Smirking, she cleared her throat and placed her hands on her hips. He hadn't seemed to notice her yet, or perhaps was ignoring her, as some of her more wanderlust-driven allies were wont to do when she failed to show them great adventure, instead leaving them to tend to caretaking for an empty home. The noise roused him and he turned his gaze lazily to her and grumbled, "Honor to you, my Thane."

"An honor to see you again, Calder."

"Was there some chance I'd not be here?"

"I always expect that one day my housecarls will all band together and go have their own adventures. Sadly, this dream has yet to bear fruit." She smirked and he finally smiled a crooked, toothy grin before returning his eyes to his book.

"What brings you to town, then, my Lady?"

"Well, actually--"

She was interrupted by a loud bang on the door, then the unmistakable sound of a guard swearing and the thunk of a weapon being dislodged from her wooden door.

"-- you'll excuse me."

Concern flooded her thoughts as she realized Thonnir hadn't exactly followed her in yet, and she swung the door open wide to the sight of a supremely embarrassed Thonnir held by the scruff of his shirt by an irritated-looking Imperial guard. The guard had taken off his helmet and had the beginnings of a black eye; Thonnir was favoring his left leg and appeared to have a cut or two across his knuckles.

"Ah... miss?"

She realized the guards confusion after a moments pause and she quickly removed her mask, apologizing. "Oh, sorry, I just got this from some of those travelling Khajiit when I was out of town on a trip." She blinked her large, ruby eyes and tilted her head, pretending she was something less three centuries old, and more deeply respectful and awed by guards and law enforcers.

"Your armor, too?" He seemed easy enough to convince, relaxing with the ease of her explanation and calm demeanor.

"You wouldn't believe some of the other things they were selling! They had a handful of weapons that seem like they must have been forged in Oblivion itself." Obliging her facade of simple enthusiast, she deftly unhooked her ebony gauntlets and undid some of the straps of her leather guild armor, making certain to reveal the deep dip of her undershirt. Her skin fared well in the Skyrim sun, deepening ever slightly to a more even deep gray, shining flatteringly wherever she perspired. So, the line down between her breasts somewhat more visible, and all threatening aspects of her armor disengaged, she stepped forward. Lowering her voice, and glancing with deeply curious and trusting eyes to the guard, then his weapon, then his crotch, then back to his eyes, she murmured, "So what seems to be the trouble here? Am I in trouble for something?"

In her peripherals she saw Thonnir boggle slightly, and with her keenly trained hearing she heard Calder's relatively gentle footfalls behind her and imagined he was silently laughing at this display, but she paid neither fact notice. Her attention went to watching the guard lick his suddenly dry lips and stammer, "This, er, this man here insists that, uh, well, that he has business here in your home. But he only knows your home's name, my Lady, but no clue in mind of your name. All that and the fact that he was blundering about in the dark in the upper district seems very suspicious."

All while he spoke, she had meandered closer, somewhat invading his personal space, and on his conclusion, she dared to touch his face, running her fingers over the outline of his black eye and cooing, "And look at what happened to your eye! Were you struck by this man?" She glanced witheringly at Thonnir, and back to the bordering-on-adoring guard. "Please allow me to help you treat that. It would be my," she paused and leaned in, "deepest pleasure."

She looked deep in the guards eyes, and saw what she needed to see-- his complete trust and willingness. Theatrics, flinchingly bad and depressingly demeaning as they were, seemed to work on any guard. But to keep him from alerting the other guards that there'd been any disturbance in this area, and potentially upping security, she had need to convince this guard that there was nothing dangerous to report. So before he could answer, she sighed and raised her hands and said, "But wait-- first let us solve the matter of this young man."

Seravyn turned to Thonnir, who all in all seemed pretty bewildered, and demanded, keeping a free hand gently resting on the guards chestplate. Her eyes alone spoke imploringly for him to play along while her body stood poised aggressively for the guards benefit (not to mention, at this angle, surely he could see a bit further down her shirt).

"So what are you doing here, so late at night, and unaware of whom you seek, merely where?"

Though he obviously had no answer prepared, Thonnir stumbled out, "I was sent here to seek the new owner of, er, Hjerim in order to offer you a discount on my family's, ah, fresh... lentils?"

On a dime, her mood reversed and she turned back to the guard, giggling, "Oh, now isn't that just sweet of them? I mean I've lived here for months, but I guess not all good news travels fast!" Placing both hands on his chestplate now, she once more looked deeply into the guards eyes. "Now about that eye..."

The guard stammered but didn't say no, so she hooked her arm into his and dragged him inside, cheerfully chirruping to her housecarl, "Calder, be a huge help and show our little farmer friend upstairs to the bedroom. He can sleep there for tonight since he's had such a rough time. I'll be in the alchemy room. Don't disturb me or my new friend, though, alright? You know how sensitive healing magics can be."

Every word she felt called for emphasis was purred into the guards naked ear, and her efforts bore clear success as the guard shifted and chuckled nervously without trying to free himself from her grasp. Calder merely smirked and did as he was asked, grabbing a confused-looking Thonnir upstairs and out of earshot while his Thane made certain that the only things the guards would chatter about when Hjerim came up would be the wild Dunmeri woman who lived there and the deeply exciting effects her potions could grant.

For Seravyn, the next hour or so wasn't exactly going to be the time of her life, but with the help of some personal potion recipes, she knew how to at least make sure she spent it with a deeply handsome man who would enjoy a more prominent... willingness to thank her for healing his eye. And if she happened to close her eyes and think of the young farmer upstairs as she toppled over the edge both times the guard gratefully thanked her for her services, that was no trouble. And if when she quietly showed the guard out, falsely begging for him to keep their tryst a secret, knowing that he was honor bound to report his successes to the fraternity of guards he lived with, if she ever so wistfully stared longingly at the constellation of the Lady and wished for the millionth time that she didn't look so lonely up there, then so be it.

At first, I thought I'd end up with more of a plot, but my brain decided to go with a short PWP. Anyway, hope you enjoy, Anon.

~*~

The road to Riften from Windhelm is long, even by wagon and since Lorelei’s run herself ragged these last months, between scaling the 1,000 Steps and playing page to half the Jarls in the country, the fact that she can barely keep her eyes open and nods off before they even reach Kynesgrove is not surprising.

When she wakes, it’s to the sight of the moons cresting the mountain peaks, the sky turned dark and sprinkled with the glitter of a billion stars, and red eyes watching her intently.

“You’re staring.”

“Forgive me,” Revyn says, voice smooth as Cyrodiil silk and not at all contrite.

“Afraid I’ll vanish?”

“Considering your recent experiments with invisibility potions, I wouldn’t put it past you.” He reaches out, pushes a dark curl away from her face.

“I did promise to wait until after the ceremony…”

“And I’ll hold you to it. But I’m still not letting you out of my sight. Not until I have to.” He slides off the back of the wagon, holds out a hand. “I had the driver take a minor detour. Now, come.”

The command in his voice is subtle but firm and it sends a shiver down her spine. She’d be lying if she said it wasn’t his striking, non-nonsense demeanor that had attracted her in the first place. That he applies it in his intimate relationships as much as to his dealings with traders and customers was a pleasant surprise.

He keeps his hands on her as he helps her from the wagon, hot fingers curving around her hips, leading her across the rocky terrain and in front of a pool of steaming water.

“I seem to remember you bemoaning the lack of a good, hot bath,” he says and she raises an eyebrow, smiles out of the corner of her mouth, unbuckles the dagger at her wasit, slips out of her shoes and begins loosening the laces on her dress, watching his eyes follow the movements of her fingers.

“Are you going to join me?” she asks, turning toward the pool as the dress slips over her shoulders and falls to the ground. She’s not wearing anything underneath and the gasp that accompanies her reveal sends a little surge of want through her belly.

Lorelei steps into the water without looking back, wades toward the smooth, dark rock face on the other side of the pool. She’s halfway there when arms wrap around her, pull her back against a sturdy chest; she hadn’t heard him disrobe, barely heard him disturb the water in her wake.

She leans her head against his shoulder, catches the bright curve of his smile out of the corner of her eye. His erection stirs against her backside as his hands slide against her breasts, calloused thumbs tweaking her nipples before he cups the weight of them in his palms, leans close and runs tongue and teeth over her neck.

“Yes,” she sighs. “Would be a waste of a nice bath if I wasn’t good and dirty.”

She turns in his arms, looks up into his face; the moons highlight the planes and angles of his face, make his red eyes burn and just for a moment finds him unreal, a being carved out of shadow and hot starlight.

His mouth burns too when she takes it, sliding her tongue against his. They spark like two pieces of flint and then he’s pushing her back against the rock face, lifting her until she has to wrap her legs around him; the night air is chilly after the heat of the water.

They’ve done this before—several times in their rambling and strange courtship—in a shadowed corner outside the New Gnisis Corner Club, in her room at the Candlehearth, in the low light of his store and on the rough hewn mattress of his bed. And every time, it’s hot and quick and urgent.

It has to be. Because she’ll be gone the next morning, off on the next errand, the next quest. And who’s to say she’ll be coming back?

But tonight, tonight is all about them.

And he thrusts—just so—seats himself inside her with one fluid move, sinks his teeth into the meat of her shoulder and the stars in the sky explode outward, obscuring her vision.

“Come back.”

Lorelei opens her eyes; she doesn’t remember closing them.

He smiles. “That’s it.” He moves. Slowly, achingly, drawing his cock nearly all the way out of her before pushing back in, pressing her body firmly against the rock face and gripping her hips so hard she’s sure she’ll bear his fingerprints later. “Come back, dearest. I want you to look at me. I want to see your eyes. I’ve hardly gotten to enjoy your face the times we’ve done this. It’s over too quickly.”

“Yes,” she sighs, flicking her tongue over his lips. “Fuck me slow, Revyn. Make it last.”

“I plan to.”

She’s content to let him lead.

And he keeps up the unhurried pace, the maddening drag of his cock against her walls, the brush of wiry dark hair along her clit; her body heats slowly until it feels as though she’s swallowed the sun and it’s trying to burn its way out of her belly.

When he comes, his eyes lock on hers and he exhales a harsh, low gasp against her lips, pulls his cock out far enough that she can feel him pulse, feel the warmth of his come splashing, sliding out between them and then she’s coming too, clenching around him as he thrusts again, deep inside her, one last time.

He rests his forehead against hers.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispers.

“I believe that’s my line,” he says with a chuckle.

“Oh, by all means.”

“You’re beautiful,” he says, raises his hand to play with the rings on the chain around her neck; the rings they will exchange tomorrow at the temple. “And you’re mine.”

~*~*~*~

And I hope other AuthorAnon didn't mind my butting in on the prompt. :)

Ah, Revyn! Not the prompter but I really liked this, hot and sweet.

Thank you! Glad you enjoyed. :)

Poor Revyn is really under appreciated here. Thanks for this lovely fill!

Oh, I know. I made a request involving him on one of the main fill threads and it remains unfilled. :( I may have to try writing it myself.

Glad you enjoyed.

For the sweet love of Azura where is this and why did it slip past me?

The request (if that's what you're asking about/I'm reading the thread right) is here:

http://skyrimkinkmeme.livejournal.com/3288.html?thread=1950168#t1950168

Author!Anon. :) I rather enjoy yours more. I can't quite grasp how to do good sex. So I largely skirt it. XD

Thank you!

Good sex scenes are hard to write...granted, it's fun trying to get to a good scene. ;) I usually like to revisit some of my favorite author's (both fandom and non) sensual/sexual scenes for inspiration. If nothing else, it gets me in the right mindset.

Fgkjhgurg I didn't see for way too long there was a double fill! Oh my, oh my, A!A, that was delicious and sweet. Thank you so much!

You are very welcome! :)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Comment!Fic Page 1 - "Oh, a little bit of this...a little bit of that."

Any het

Stars and Moons 1/?

Stars and Moons 2a/?

Stars and Moons 2b/?

Stars and Moons 2c/?

Re: Stars and Moons 2c/?

Re: Stars and Moons 2c/?

Stars and Moons 3a/?

Stars and Moons 3b/?

Stars and Moons 3c/?

F!PC/Revyn Sadri, Shadow and Starlight 1/2

Re: F!PC/Revyn Sadri, Shadow and Starlight 2/2

Re: F!PC/Revyn Sadri, Shadow and Starlight 2/2

Re: F!PC/Revyn Sadri, Shadow and Starlight 2/2

Re: F!PC/Revyn Sadri, Shadow and Starlight 2/2

Re: F!PC/Revyn Sadri, Shadow and Starlight 2/2

Re: F!PC/Revyn Sadri, Shadow and Starlight 2/2

Re: F!PC/Revyn Sadri, Shadow and Starlight 2/2

Re: F!PC/Revyn Sadri, Shadow and Starlight 2/2

Re: F!PC/Revyn Sadri, Shadow and Starlight 2/2

Re: F!PC/Revyn Sadri, Shadow and Starlight 2/2 OP

Re: F!PC/Revyn Sadri, Shadow and Starlight 2/2 OP