Giantess Raven Novels & Stories

“I saw the fire. You lit it. I’m inbound. Don’t move.” Callum raised an eyebrow. “Friend of yours?” “She saved my life once,” I said. “Now she’s saving it again.” Raven arrived less than four hours later—low orbit drop from a stealth glider, hitting the snow with a controlled roll and rising like nothing had happened. She pulled off her helmet, dark eyes scanning us with sharp efficiency. “You look worse than the intel,” she said, brushing snow off her flight suit. “But you did it. The Echo Seat. The virus. Even Marek’s scream got caught in the net. Nice touch.”

Girls get ready in front of vanity tables, music thumping faintly through the walls. Raven walks in slowly, clutching her stomach. She’s pale, moving a little slower than usual. Mama G, who’s checking something on a clipboard, notices her. Raising an eyebrow, she says, “You look like hell. What’s wrong with you?” Raven gets closer and quietly responds, “It’s… that time of the month. I’m cramping bad. I can’t go on stage like this.” Mama G sighs, clearly annoyed. “Of course. With you, it’s always something—never a quiet moment.” She pauses. “Wait here.”

I said, hurrying to the bed to get my shirt before we hurried outside together. Outside, Raven stood beside her bike, her back turned against us. Her black leathered clothes clung to her skin, shimmering. Sunny tapped me quickly and whispered. “ Ghost's in a bad mood today. Don't trigger it” I nodded, fixing my attention on Raven who stood leg akimbo. I wondered why she was in a bad mood. It can't be about yesterday right? But Raven didn't act like someone who was mad. What happened to her overnight?

Wren found one heading to Istanbul. “It’s a woman,” Wren explained. “Goes by Raven. Real name’s Claudia Miren. Former MI6. Now freelance.” Adrian looked intrigued. “Freelance spy? That sounds like trouble.” Wren smirked. “The best kind.” We split into teams. Luca and Amara set up surveillance. Adrian and I would approach Raven at the Grand Bazaar. No guns. No backup. Just charm and lies. The Bazaar was a maze of scent and sound—spices, silk, jewelry, and heat. I spotted Raven near a stall selling antique daggers. She wore sunglasses and a black hijab, blending in without effort.

~Eira “We were told about you,” I said, squinting into the shadows. “A troll said you could get us gigs—fights we could earn from. Said you ran things.” The Raven stood in the half-light of the glade, her silhouette more shadow than flesh. She didn’t speak immediately. Instead, she tilted her head, like a crow trying to see from another angle. Then she laughed. “Are you the ones wrestling?” she asked, voice silk-wrapped steel. “Or is there a troll galloping in behind you?”

"Oh, fuck off, Valen. I wasn't being insecure at all. It's called being modest." Raven wasn't even paying a bit of attention to our bickering. She was just staring admiringly at my dick, her eyes wide and dark with curiosity. Seeing that look on her face caused a warm, incredibly proud feeling to bloom right in my chest. Even Sage was pacing happily in my mind, growling, Mate looks very impressed with us. "It's my first time seeing one of these up close," Raven admitted softly, her voice tracing the air. "I had no idea they got this big. How is it even going to fit?"

even if one of those wolves was supposed to be mine. Raven stood in the centre of it all, her red curls cascading like a waterfall down her back, a silver thread woven through every lock. Her dress was nothing short of ethereal, a masterpiece of moon lace and frost-spun silk, with a bodice that glittered like starlight and a flowing train kissed by ancient runes. She looked powerful. Beautiful. Untouchable. And Declan... gods.

I follow wordlessly as Hannah checks on Sienna. Raven is short, but her deadly demeanor makes her 3 inches taller. She has the body of a warrior, broad shoulders, hips, round ass, and legs that have climbed many mountain tops in her days working with air force’s extraction team. Too bad she preferred the company of a woman. Her light green eyes are small, but get smaller when she’s worried, and the lines around her eyes are the only giveaway that she is in her late 30s. “River just called. Apparently Natasha is the one with the problem, not Sienna.”

Just beyond it was a small patch of trees and a gravel path. That’s when I saw her. A woman in black leaned against a tree, her posture too casual, too calculated. It was as if she had been waiting for me. She motioned towards me, stopping right in front of me. “You must be Tessa,” she said, pushing off the trunk. She was stunning—tall, dark eyeliner, crimson lips, and a silver pendant that shimmered in the sun. Something about her felt… off. “I’m Raven,” she said with a chilling smile. “Ryder’s ex.”

It seemed they didn’t care too much about the gruesome battle raging outside; their eyes were on the invisible barrier surrounding the house. As the witches walked along the edge, creating a semicircle around the barrier, another figure stepped out from the growing fog outside the tree line. The tall Raven had straight black hair that ran almost the entire length of her back. She was thin and had strange black markings all over her pale skin, which seemed to whirl on her skin as she began muttering something. A black film emerged as she chanted, swirling around her body in pulses.