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twola · 3 months

Note

i know arthur is a giver but sometimes i think he’d like being cruel. i have this image of him leaned back in a chair taking a drag out of his cigarette with reader writhing on his lap with tears in her eyes practically begging for him to do anything to her while he watches with feign indifference

Hooo boy. Okay, this is my first shot at a true low honor Arthur.

Lookin' for Trouble

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

The afternoon light was more than enough for you to finally get to reading after getting Grimshaw’s list of chores done. Finally, you’d be able to crack open this book that Hosea lent you all those weeks ago.

All of a sudden, the light is obscured over the pages of your book, and when you look up, you place a hand over your eyes to see the mountain of a man before you, peering down at you with a cigarette hanging off his lips.

“Oh, Arthur, I didn’t realize you’d be back so quick.” You smile up to him, closing the book and moving to your knees to stand up.

An outstretched hand juts into your view, “Ain’t nothin’ interesting in that backwater town.”

You take it and allow him to pull you up, but you frown up at him and don’t let go, turning both of your hands so that his knuckles face the two of you. The skin is broken and oozing a small amount of blood.

“Oh dear, let me clean that up for you in your tent.”

You drop his hand and he follows, smoking that cigarette without a reply. On its head, it must be a funny sight, the grizzled outlaw following your small frame back to his tent so dutifully.

He pulls the canvas down after the two of you enter the tent, tall enough being built off his wagon. The perks of being the enforcer of the group. You make yourself busy looking in the chest at the foot of his cot for some alcohol as you pull a handkerchief from the pocket of your skirt.

Arthur sits down on the edge of the cot, taking that old black hat from his head and dropping it atop the pillow that had seen better days.

“Here we go,” you dab your handkerchief with a bottle of god-knows-what and move back toward where Arthur sits.

He places the still-lit cigarette in the little glass tray at his bedside, the end of it continuing to smolder as he blows smoke toward the top of the tent, away from you.

You frown, twisting your head to change your view of his outstretched knuckles. “It’s an awkward angle, I-”

He cuts you off by making you yelp as his free hand shoots around your hip and pulls you down, your rear colliding with his firm thigh, his hand on your hip balancing you as you regain your composure.

“Oh… thanks…” you blush slightly, having been caught off guard. You return to dabbing at the broken skin of his knuckles, his large hand outstretched and dwarfing yours, as you perch upon his thigh, your back flush to his barrel chest.

“How did this happen?” You ask softly as you pick at the dirt in his inflamed, broken skin.

“Y’know, a bit of this, bit of that.”

You sigh, “I really hope you ain't out pickin’ fights, Arthur.”

Arthur hums dismissively in response, jostling you slightly on his thigh. He props the cigarette between his teeth and his free hand moves forward and begins bunching your skirts up, the hem of your dress being pulled higher and higher.

“Arthur-” You go to scold, but his searching hand gravitates right over where he’s looking for, pressing against your cunt through your bloomers. You give another yelp as his finger digs at the cotton, prodding and stroking and petting.

“A-Arthur, I’m tryin’ to-”

As you go to grip his forearm with both hands, his injured hand darts downward, grasping both of your wrists and holding them away from your body, essentially binding you and leaving you unable to stop his ministrations.

A low, satisfied noise rumbles out through his chest as you pant, his fingers edging the leg of your bloomers open and touching your bare skin. Just barely touching, teasing, as you squirm in his lap, his hold on your wrists as strong as iron.

You honest-to-god whine, tears welling behind your eyes as you squirm in his lap, trying to break free of his hold on your hands, trying to jut your hips into his hand more.

“A-Arthur- god, please-” you gasp aloud, squeezing your eyes shut tightly as you beg. He removes his hand entirely and you nearly sob at the loss.

Cracking your eyes open, you see him pull the cigarette from his mouth and place it in that glass tray, mashing the butt into the ash as he puts it out. He bounces his thigh as his hand returns to your cunt, chuckling darkly as you continue to squirm.

“Ain’t you just the prettiest little thing when you’re all needy like this?”

A fresh set of tears burst from your eyes as his hand snakes into your bloomers again to rub at you.

“P-please-”

“Please what, what d’ya need darlin’?”

He cups your cunt fully and helps you roll your hips over his thigh bone, and it’s all you can do not to sob loudly at the frustration.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Arthur please, please god, please touch me.”

“I am touchin’ ya’.” He responds, pleased with himself as you struggle against his grip, iron-like in its strength.

“In-inside-” you pant, continuing to squirm against him.

“Hmm, like this?”

You are able to bite back the scream you nearly let out as Arthur slides his trigger finger into your dripping cunt. He curls it with a practiced precision, and you buck in his lap, throwing your head back against the curve of his shoulder. Your temple brushes against his days-old beard before he leans in against you.

“There’s my girl,” he nips at your earlobe with haughty pride, fully taking satisfaction with the way you writhe atop him, “Makin’ them noises like a whore.”

There’s no snapping back at him, no retort back at his dry, teasing humor. You are able to do nothing but give a breathy sigh, almost agreeing with his statement.

Arthur grabs your hips and hoists you up to stand, quickly following and pushing you two stumbling steps to the table where a few of his guns are spread out. One sweep of his arm and the guns clatter into the grass before you're abruptly bent at the waist and spread out on the table.

“Arthur-”

One of his large hands splays across your lower back as he fiddles with the buttons of his pants. Essentially keeping you pinned down on the table, you have no option but to lay there and take whatever he is going to give you.

Arthur pulls your skirts up, tossing them over your hips before yanking your bloomers down and over the swell of your ass. His hand is between your legs quicker than you can sputter in indignation, and you bite your lip to keep from moaning as he strokes his thick fingers in and out of your wetness. Your eyes tightly shut as you breathe out your nose, and for a moment, you’re empty as he pulls away.

The hot, blunt head of his cock prods your entrance before he pushes himself inside you, in one strong thrust. Your fingers clamp on the edge of the table as you clench your teeth at the intrusion, fluttering on the edge of pain as his thick cock stretches you. It’s always like this, he’s not much of a gentle man.

“Tha’s it, what a good girl you are, takin’ everything I give ya.” Arthur drawls as he begins to buck his hips forward into yours, unflinchingly setting a rough, fast pace.

You’re unable to last after all the stimulation before, and it’s not long into the slamming of him into you that you begin to get that feeling that your release was imminent.

“A-Arthur-” you gasp out as you reel toward completion, the table squealing beneath you as he rocks his hips into yours faster, harder - punishing - all six foot of him hunches over you as he fucks you into a wet, messy orgasm, you pressing your forehead into the table as you clench around him.

He grunts, jerking his hips backward as his hands clamp harshly around your hips, squeezing so hard you’re sure there will be bruises in the morning. You feel the hot splatter of his spend on your rear as he lets out a long breath through his nose, trying himself to be quiet within the confines of the tent.

You pant, still bent over the small table, your skirts flipped over your hips as your knees shake. You hear Arthur fiddle with his pants before returning to you, his hands grasping at your thighs greedily before pulling at your skirts to right them.

He swats, albeit gently, at your rear before your skin disappears under your skirts.

“You gonna let me finish cleaning you up?” You ask, leaning over slightly to pick up your discarded bloomers from the ground, tucking them into your pocket.

Arthur sits back on his cot, his pants still unbuttoned and open unapologetically, as a sly smile creeps across his face.

“If yer really gonna clean me up, I think there’s a lot less clothing involved.”

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead fanfic #twolafic #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #red dead smut #twola1k #prompt request

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outsideratheart · 5 months

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41 with Alexia

41 //looking at their lips as they talk//

The sun shon bright in the Barcelona sky as you stood pitch side ready to report on the infamous El Classico. It was a match that you loved to play in but you picked up a serious ankle injury a couple of months ago and you weren’t quite fit to play or even to train yet.

5-0 was the end result yet throughout the halftime and post match media you tried your best to remain fair even though everybody knew you bled Blaugrana.

Like always the team did a lap of the pitch. You knew they were getting close as the fans behind the camera erupted, all of them wanting a shirt signed or a photo with their favourite player. So whilst you did expect to see one or maybe two of your team mates what you didn’t expect was to feel a hand of the small of your back and the sight of Alexia standing next to you. Here she was, the woman who hated doing media with every fibre of her being, voluntarily giving an interview.

“Ladies and Gentleman, La Reina herself”

The use of the nickname she loved to hate earned you a playful shove.

One of the official presenters made the most of having both you and Alexia in an interview given that you hadn’t done for in months. Much to you surprise Alexia was in a chatty mood and you spent most of the interview taking in her beauty. It wasn’t a huge secret that you and her were dating but you never got round to doing a hard launch so to say.

You notice some of Alexia’s hair fall in front of her face so as if by instinct you place it gently behind her ear. This earns you a look off Alexia as if saying are you going to do what happens next when you do this at home. It’s safe to say the thought did cross your mind but you knew now wasn’t the time or place. It didn’t stop you from glancing down at her lips as she spoke about how proud she is of the team. Her passion is one of the things you loved most about her and you know the look in your eyes will show this but you didn’t mind.

Alexia’s hand squeezes your hip, an act which she knows will earn a reaction given you’re ticklish.

“Que?”

“La pregunta?”

You turn your attention to the presenter and it’s clear she asked you question.

“Lo siento” your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“Don’t apologise. Alexia gave us everything we need about the game and I’m sure you gave us enough material to make the fans happy”

You both thank the presenter and Alexia waits whilst you give back your mic pack. The two of you are some of the last players on the pitch and walk into the tunnel together. Even though you weren’t playing you did plan on joining in on the locker room celebration but just before you reach the door Alexia grabs your wrist and pulls you back to her.

“What?”

“I thought maybe you wanted to look at my lips some more seen as though you refused to look at anything else out there”

“Why you got to call me out like that?”

“I’m not. I’m simply giving you a chance to do something other than stare”

Alexia’s lips was on yours before you had to chance to reply. She has you pinned against the wall with no care in the world who could see you. Alexia rested one hand against the wall beside your head and her other grabbed your hip. Yours travelled up her back beneath her loosely fitted leather jacket.

For a brief moment you forget where you were and when you felt Alexia’s tongue brush against you lips you allowed her entry.

“Well well well, look what we have here. Our dear captains the celebration are in the locker room but I can see that you are having a very good time out here in the hallway” Mapi says rather smugly.

“Leave them alone Maria” Ingrid pushes her towards the locker room “Not that I want to interrupt but the rest of the team is on there way so you might want to go somewhere else if you want to continue”

All three of you begin laughing at the situation and whilst you wanted nothing more than to pick you where you were before getting interrupted, you knew that it was best to be done at home away from prying eyes and teasing team mates.

#prompt request #ficlet #alexia Putellas x reader #woso x reader

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littlejuicebox · 4 months

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Hi! I'm not sure if you take requests so if you don't, please ignore this and I hope you had a wonderful Christmas.

I just read your Astarion X Tav fanfic where Astarion proposes. It is said that the ring he got glows whenever Astarion thinks of Tav. I was just wondering if you could write a slice of life about the ring glowing at the most random times. Maybe during a stealth mission where Tav has to stay hidden or when he is smiling in his sleep and the ring glows. I just thought it would be cute and fun to write about. You can get creative with it.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, whether you end up doing this request or not. I hope you had an amazing Christmas and I hope you will have an amazing New Year's!

Hi Anon! I don’t think this is quite what you were asking for but… this is what came out! 🤷‍♀️ The smut gods blessed me and I cannot deny their gifts. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Smut below the cut.

If you haven’t read my other work and would like context, Anon is referencing a two part mini story I wrote. Click here for part 1, and click here for part 2.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ only please, smut, masturbation, sex pollen, swearing/cursing, game spoilers

Word Count: 1.5K

-----

“I think we’re just… a bit out of practice, darling. It has been nearly a year since we were down here last, you know.” Astarion whispers, crouched next to you behind a Funguswood tree. He’s wiping bits of dirt, twigs, and mushroom pollen off himself with a handkerchief.

“Admit it, Astarion. You just weren’t fast enough.” You respond with a small, teasing poke of your tongue as you rearrange your weaponry and count your arrows.

The pale elf finishes wiping off the debris, and you return your attentions to the mission. You’d been contracted to scout out the vampire stronghold in the Underdark and report your findings back to Wyll and the Flaming Fists. Rumor was that the vampire hoard had wreaked absolute havoc on the Underdark; the city feared the creatures would soon return to the surface if they could not find sustenance here.

“Would you have preferred I let that wild Rothé ram you into those mushrooms in my stead?!” Astarion hisses in return while rubbing his hand over his arm, which now felt unbelievably tingly and was starting to radiate significant warmth, “Hells, what mushrooms were those, anyway?!”

You stifle a chuckle, knowing your fiancé is already past his limits of patience. You two need to get to the scouting point, set up camp, and hunker down for a few days… all while avoiding detection from the vampires or any other nefarious creatures in the Underdark. Best to do it without an ornery Astarion by your side.

“I don’t know what mushrooms those were. I’ve never seen them before.” You admit with a small shrug, “Come on my love, not much further now and then we can get you properly cleaned up.”

Astarion follows behind you in silence, apart from the occasional cursing and swiping at his skin. Gods, the heat had spread up his entire arm now. The scratching seemed to make it worse, but by the hells, he couldn’t stop no matter how much he wanted to. The two of you finally got to the cragged rock that led to a small cave where you would make camp, and he never felt more relieved in his life. He couldn’t wait to clean himself properly and be done with this burning sensation.

You glance at him briefly and then begin climbing the rock. Astarion remains below to keep you covered in case anything decides to attack while you’re left defenseless. He looks up to watch your progress and cannot help but to notice the overwhelmingly attractive curve of your bottom. It was always attractive, of course, but something about it in this moment was entirely… irresistible. Had you been working out recently in preparation for the wedding?

You’re halfway through climbing the rock when your engagement ring bursts into a spray of light. It often glows significantly at the surface, but in the blackness of the Underdark, you’re practically a beacon. Your stomach drops. Gods, how had you forgotten to take it off?

“Astarion!” You hiss in a panicked whisper, “Cut it out! Every being in all of the Underdark will know our position.”

Astarion had realized the issue as soon as the light had flared, of course. He was trying desperately to avoid thinking of you and all the delicious things he wanted to do when you two made camp, but gods he couldn’t control it. What in the hells was wrong with him? He wanted to stop, to ensure your safety, but your plump, perfect ass was practically calling his name, begging for his attention, and he wanted nothing more than to bend you over and—

He shakes his head, trying to rattle the lewd fantasies from his psyche, “I’m trying, my love! I don’t know what’s come over me I just—“

Hags. Hideous shoes. Ghouls. Manual labor. Gale.

The pale elf tries to think of all the most grotesque, unsexy things he can and push you entirely from his mind. You continue to climb, hoping to quickly reach the top and take off your ring as soon as possible. The ring is still glowing like a single star in the blackest night.

Ogres. The smell of Araj’s blood. Rats. Gale.

Gods, it was useless.

Finally, you reach the top. You rip the ring off your finger and shove it in your pack as soon as your limbs land on the surface of the cave. Astarion quickly scales the rock behind you, and when he reaches the top, you’re positively glaring at him.

“Darling, I’m sorry! I really tried. It’s just— gods damn these mushrooms!” The vampire is ripping off his shirt and scratching at his skin as the two of you walk into the little cave. Before long he’s down to his knickers and cursing as he rubs desperately at his flesh.

You’re trying to ignore your fiancé and quickly pitch the tent so you can handle whatever the hells is going on with him. A sideways glance to your pack reveals that the ring is still glowing quite intensely… perhaps more than it ever has before. Was that even possible? At any rate, you can’t get closer to the stronghold with it glowing like that.

“Astarion, I don’t know what—“ You spin around, and you’re surprised to see the elf fully nude on his blanket, doing perhaps the most provocative thing you’ve ever witnessed.

Astarion is beaded in sweat by now, and his hands are wandering over himself, chasing the burning tingle as it travels through his body. Gods, the feeling was becoming absolutely unbearable. He kept seeing visions of you and him in the throes of passion in his mind.

He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. Did he want to stop? He couldn’t decide. All he knew was the intense tingling and burning coursing through his veins and the wonderful fantasies filling his brain. He needed release from this torture; his limbs were on fire and the sensation was spreading to his groin.

The elf knows by the throbbing pulse in his cock that his erection is at full capacity, and he feels the dribbles of precum slowly sliding from the head, down the shaft. Astarion is, admittedly embarrassed knowing you are mere feet away and witnessing such an erratic show, but he grabs his own cock regardless— gods, it felt like being possessed. He needed release and he needed it now.

As his fingers wrap around his shaft, a burst of relief travels through his body. The tingling ceases for a moment. But then, it flares again and he’s consumed by the burning feeling and vulgar thoughts of the two of you once more. He pumps his hand a few times, bucking into the sensation, and once again the torturous tingle halts.

What in the hells?

Astarion is now rolling his hips towards his own hand, groaning in pure ecstasy at the relief from the burn as well as the delicious sensation of his hands stroking his uncharacteristically sensitive member. His eyes are clasped closed, and his other hand is still wandering over his torso, chasing that burning itch.

Through panting, shaking breaths he murmurs, “Darling, is it— oh gods, is possible that those— fuck — mushrooms contained sex pollen? I’ve never— mmh, fuck.”

You’d been so enraptured by the vision of your lover touching himself in such an uninhibited display of lust that you almost didn’t hear what Astarion asked. The slickness of your arousal was starting to become apparent as you instinctively squeezed your thighs together.

“I’m… I’m not sure, my love. I’ve read of such things but I’ve never come across it… until, perhaps, now I suppose.”

Astarion isn’t really listening. Instead, he’s bucking wildly into his own hand, chasing his own release. He falls apart in front of you, with his limbs tensed and mouth agape in pure, unadulterated pleasure, clasping tightly onto his own length. The gasping, strangled moan of relief that escapes him as he reaches his climax and shoots sticky streams of hot white seed onto his abdomen ignites a fire in your groin. He’s shuddering with the rippling aftershocks of his orgasm and you feel yourself dripping with arousal as you rub your thighs together once more. This display was entirely feral.

For a few moments the vampire is breathing contentedly, eyes still shut. He’s still holding his cock, which continues to twitch insistently despite its significant spend. Your lover brings his unoccupied hand to his hair and rakes it through his disheveled, sweaty curls.

You flick your gaze to your pack and notice that it’s no longer emitting that ethereal glow. But then Astarion groans in dismay and you see light flare from your bag again. When your attention returns back to your fiancé, he’s already grasping wantonly at a second rapidly growing erection.

“Darling, I can smell you,” He hisses desperately, now slathering his own milky juices around the swollen, reddened tip of his thick cock. The veins in his arm and on his shaft are pulsing as he begins to stroke himself again, “Don’t be coy just— come over here and help me with this. Please.”

And by the gods, he asked so nicely, how could you say no?

#astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate astarion #bg3 fanfiction #baulders gate tav #bg3 fanfic idea #astarion x reader #astarion smut #astarion x female tav #astarion x you #astarion x female reader #bg3 smut #prompt request #prompt response #astarion prompts #smut

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temptacioun · 5 months

Text

yandere ! ryomen sukuna

requested by anon

prompts: “do you think i like hurting you? because i fucking love it.” “you’re so cute when you’re struggling.”

for a long time the curse had wondered what he felt about you. a mere annoyance at first, when he was forced to listen to your squeaky voice whenever the brat was talking to you. a form of amusement when he noticed the crush the pinkette had on you and the fun he found in embarrassing him. a strange feeling of possession, when you got into a relationship with his host.

love? no. but endearment, while you were laying on your back, stark naked and crying for him to leave you alone. cheeks decorated with red handprints, thighs poked by his sharp nails with bloody streaks over your pretty little tits. maybe he did find you pretty like this, covered in blood and bruises.

“do you think i like hurting you? because i fucking love it.” now that was something he loved. your squeaky voice didn’t sound as annoying when it came out in little whimpers and cries — begging him “please, please stop—” so sweetly. how could he not completely violate you? the brat screaming in his head was just an added bonus.

your face wasn’t as annoying like this either ; eyes red and puffy from crying, cheeks stained with tears and lips slick with spit. his own curl up into a grin at the sight, watching you twist and writhe — trying so hard to get out of the rope around your wrists and rubbing your skin sore in the process.

“you’re so cute when you’re struggling.” struggling would be an understatement, but he did love mocking your pain. maybe if he was human he’d actually sympathize with you, but he’s not and he won’t. not when his cock inside you felt so good, not when he presses his hand down your stomach to feel it bulge with his length.

not when your pretty cries sounded so sweet in his ears, he couldn’t possibly stop.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere ryomen sukuna #yandere sukuna #yandere sukuna x reader #yandere x reader #prompt request #request

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saltofmercury · 1 year

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hii its me again, can you do one where könig is handling a totally wasted and drunk reader? like where the reader just got done celebrating and having a few drinks with some co-workers. (got this idea after my tipsy friend pointed to a big bulky guy and said "i want him to take me home" and the guy just shyly waved at our crowd and it really reminded me of könig.) i'm not much of drinker since i don't have a high tolerance

Yuhhhhhh I loved this request. Takes me back to the times… now I can barely drink a pint without priming myself with Advil.

Pairing: König x reader (more so f!reader?)

Summary: You come home tipsy to König’s house.

A/N: a lil jealousy mention, but nothing too serious. Playful teasing? (Can you guys see the development of him falling in love with you and being more vulnerable maybe just a bit?)

“Home”

Your shoes knocked under you. Your feet ached. You weren’t sure how exactly your group of friends and yourself were able to squeeze into the Uber. The woman inside the Uber was intimidated, begging everyone to please use the plastic bags she had behind the passenger seat if they felt sick.

You and your group of friends had gone out to a bar for the night. It had been months of not seeing each other, one round turned to many, soon all of you clearly intoxicated, releasing the built up stress of your day to day.

You rode in the Uber, your head spinning. Maybe the plastic bag was a good idea. You just wanted to go home, take off the tight clothes on your body, hide your annoying shoes, and wipe off the sweat on your face.

Your friend kept talking to you, asking to describe the house.

You had picked König’s house to come home to, promising to spend the weekend with him for some sort of gaming event he had got tickets to. You were just happy to come home to him.

“It’s got little stones in the driveway” you mumbled, the window of the car starting to spin.

“The color you idiot.. maybe even a car?” your sober friend in the passenger seat directing the driver to slow down so she could watch.

“like dark gray rain clouds” you closed your eyes, clearly nauseated. “He’s got a g-wagon.”

“Dark gray rain clouds?” They giggled uncontrollably.

“We get it you’re fucking a German.” Another one said.

“Austrian.” You mumbled back. A finger in the air.

You searched for the house in your mind, your muscle memory focusing on the left curve the driver took, then a right up a hill. You kept ignoring the laughter behind you. The house soon came into vision, one light on outside, but the rest of the lights off inside. His car was parked in the driveway, and as soon as the Uber parked behind it, the motion sensor light went off.

“Are you sure this is the house?” You friend asked skeptically, feeling unsure. The rest of the neighborhood was asleep, the top of the hill had only a couple of porch lights on in the distance.

“Yeah it’s just a quiet neighborhood” you hiccuped, started tying your shoes up again in the dark.

You looked up again, recognizing the figure coming outside the door. His broad stance, his weight shifting equally on both of his legs, bulky arms hidden underneath a gray crew neck sweater.

God… just his figure made you fidget in your seat. You felt the anticipation to touch, feel him. Your hands itched. His stride to the car made you tingle.

He was covered up… in a face mask? He approached the car while you tumbled out of it excited. The rest of your party teasing you, as you yanked yourself away from them, and pulled towards him.

“Whoa! You’re gonna break your knees..” he lunged forward, caught you swiftly up into his arms, pulling you up, then shifting your weight onto your legs. He held you there, but could see you swaying. He held back a laugh, tucked your chin between his thumb and index finger.

“schatz…” he spoke softly as he held you closer, your chests touching, one arm wrapped around you.

“’m okay!” You held a hand up in the air. More so towards him than your friends hysterically laughing in the car behind you. Most of them were staring at him. Attempting to get any peak of his face.

He nodded gently towards them, made his voice a little deeper, huskier— “Thank you guys, goodnight.”

Another fit of giggles.

Annoying. You freed yourself underneath him and walked towards the door, him trailing behind you, which quickly shifted next to you because of how much you swayed. He chuckled as he put an arm over your shoulder and opened the door.

You walked towards the kitchen, opening the refrigerator, then proceeded to gulp down one of the cold water bottles in there. You gulped the last drop and then turned around.

His face mask had been taken off. He was biting his lip, trying not to laugh, his fingers lightly drumming on the countertop.

“What?” Were you that drunk? You spoke in an accusatory tone.

He scoffed, eyeing at you. You weren’t going to come at him with that attitude,

“You don’t even have the shoes that you left with on.” He laughed.

You looked down, the dress shoes you had worn were not on your feet.

He proceeded to mimic your voice, “I’m gonna have 3 adios motherf-“

You cut him off. He wasn’t going to have the opportunity to make fun of you, not in this state.

“Shuuuuuut up, what’s up with the face mask?” You laid back against the steel fridge, the coolness feeling good against your back. Somewhat trying to regain composure. Holding the water bottle close to your cheek, to hide away any evidence of redness. Now it was his turn to blush.

“Your friends.. like a little mystery, I’m happy to offer that to them.” he smirked, clearly aware that your friends had begged and begged to see him, but never had the opportunity to catch a glimpse of his face in person. He became so vain once you told him about how they oohed and ahhed about him. You smiled, he needed a little attention. And you liked that he gained it.

Now it was your turn. You made the best impression of him. You made your voice huskier, as deep as it could go —

“Ohhhhh, thank you guys gooodnight!” “Really König— we get it. Six foot fucking seven and your deep voice.”

He burst out laughing, shaking his head, the corner of his eyes forming crinkles, hiding beneath his hand.

“You’re so ridiculou-“ he cut you off.

“Have you ever been told how much of a little brat you are?” He spoke a little deeper now, his voice still full of admiration, he smirked, his voice echoed down the hallway. He came closer to you, holding your chin between his fingers again.

He could kiss you— you looked so disheveled, your makeup running across your eyes, your hair matted on your head. Some of your clothes had been tidier and tighter when you left. He looked at your eyes, wondering how on earth you had continued to come back to him. Your head barely touched the bottom of his chin, you stood on your toes trying to get some affection but he drummed his fingers down the side of your waist, hauling you up the kitchen counter.

You sat, quiet and excited. How much it made you burst that he could pick you up and place you anywhere.

“So how was the bar?” He began, then turned to grab condiments out of the fridge, strawberry jelly, peanut butter, butter, and bread. He grabbed another water for you, opening the cap.

“It was good!” You sat there watching him prepare his favorite, a peanut butter & jelly banana sandwich.

“No one really got there until 2-3 hours after us,” You rambled on, telling him about how your friends peer pressured you into shot after shot. Which you didn’t mind, you needed a distraction. Small glimpses were thrown back to you, with eyebrows raised, lips pursed, and smirks as you animatedly told him about your night.

“I think the best part was when a group of barely turned 21 year olds tried to buy us a round” you didn’t make eye contact. You knew what you were doing.

“Kind of hilarious seeing them pool their money together to buy 5 shots.”

His right eyebrow raised. A small smile formed at his lips. He swiped a banana from the hanger, began slicing it at an angle. The way you like. You were going to be in big trouble for that comment.

He arranged the banana on top of the peanut butter on the warm bread, and began to spread jelly on the other. He cuts it diagonally, then swipes the oozing jelly off the end, sucking on his finger before handing it to you on a plate.

He put the stuff away, then settled his arms on either side of you. You chewed slowly, making eye contact with him. Smiling, wondering if you looked innocent enough. Then took another bite, jelly getting caught on the corner of your mouth, before you could even grab with your tongue, he spoke low,

“Bet a 21 year old wouldn’t make you a sandwich, or keep you hydrated.” He got so close to your face, you practically felt the mint toothpaste from his breath on your tongue. Yup. You definitely struck a nerve.

He then proceeded to do the one thing you absolutely hate. He grabbed your face with one hand, then licked the corner of your mouth, followed by a firm kiss on your lips.

“I swear….to god!” You made it seem like it was disgusting, dramatically wiping your face, hiding the smile, sobering up slowly. You shoved the remaining bites of the sandwich in your mouth. He took the plate and placed it in the sink.

He hauled you up again, legs wrapped around his waist as he walked over to the bathroom, sat you down on the counter. Began removing your shoes, clothes, then he picked up the “melt” cleanser you used (he called melt because it melted in your fingers) and began to rub it in.

You closed your eyes. König could be so soft with you. He was surprisingly gentle with your face, rubbing in circular motions, gently swiping underneath your eye and eyelid, then grabbed a washcloth to take it off. Put the second cleanser in your hands, he walked into the bedroom.

As you finished the routine, he came back with warm pajamas for you. You held them in your hands… “Did you place these in the dryer?”

He shrugged, picking up all of your hair in a scrunchie.

“Come on babe, brush your teeth and get ready.” He said softly. A small pat to your bum.

You were definitely sobering up now, as you brushed your teeth, admiring the way he collected the hair away from your face.

He had laid on his side of the bed, both arms behind his head, leaving your side open. The side of your nightstand had a hydration packet with another cold water bottle. You slipped in.

But of course, he needed the last word.

“A 21 year old wouldn’t have done all this. As a matter of a fact I think they would’ve let you go to sleep drunk.”

“König…”

“A 21 year old,” he scoffed, “you should be ashamed.”

He leaned in towards you, cupped your face in his right hand, and deeply kissed you. Rubbing the side of your face, a small moan came out from him. He looked at you with so much admiration and love, happy you were back home.

A small smile from him, his lips parted as he began,

“A 21 year—“

“Oh my god goodnight” you bury yourself beneath his arm as he laughs uncontrollably.

“Goodnight schatz.”

#könig #könig x reader #ask #prompt request #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig x you #könig mw2

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year

Note

Number eight with Azriel please!

Hi, love! Here you go. A mishmash of angst, fluff and smut. Hope you enjoy!

Number eight: “I want my mate to tell me where the hell he was. Then he can get his comfort.”

Warnings: Depictions of toxic family relationships. Smut. 🌶️

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“Are you alright?”

A warm hand landed on your arm, the pleasant scent of Mor’s perfume hitting you. The hint of vanilla was a source of comfort, a feeling of home.

Over your shoulder, you offered her a smile that didn’t meet your eyes. Nodded. She saw right through it.

Nobody understood better than she did — what it was like to return to the poison of the Court of Nightmares, where your estranged family lived. It had taken you years to get out of their vitriolic clutches, and the unexpected mating bond between you and the High Lord’s spymaster had been a saving grace; a reason to leave, a place to go. Life had been so colourful and vibrant since he’d taken you to live in Velaris with him; you’d never looked back.

Until tonight.

It had been entirely your choice. You knew nobody would have judged you if you’d chosen to stay behind. But a couple of months earlier, you’d grown sick of feeling useless and idle. You’d asked — begged — Rhysand to give you some sort of official role in his court; something for you to do. He’d been more than happy for you to play courtier, to perhaps even strengthen relations between the Night Court and the Court of Nightmares that had become strained over the years. Yes, you’d insisted, you could do it, and take away that sort of pressure from Mor, too. You’d sooner face your family than she have to face hers.

And perhaps you’d been a tad naive about how easily that might come to you. You’d had confidence in yourself, right up until you’d come face-to-face with your father, your brothers. They’d sneered at you at Azriel’s side and sneered at the Night Court attire you were decked head-to-toe in and sneered at your confidence. And sneered and sneered and sneered.

And suddenly you’d found yourself to be that cowering, tongue-tied victim again. You felt like an utter farce, parading around in such clothes and pretending to be confident. You weren’t sure you’d ever really gotten away from them, or ever really would.

And when your brother had feigned leaning in to kiss your cheek, and had uttered words that had sliced you all over, you’d known — you had failed.

“Whore.” He’d growled, his lip curling at the form-fitting, revealing dress you’d once felt comfortable in. “Mother would be ashamed of you, whore.”

You didn’t know if anybody else around you had heard. But the way your mate had tensed was indication enough that he was on high alert and ready to strike out if necessary. He remained that way for the entire evening.

You turned to face Mor, now, all of you having returned to the Town House. You didn’t bother to force a convincing tone as you answered, “I’m alright.”

“Let’s open some wine.” Her arm linked through yours, and she tried to pull you towards the doors to the kitchen. You planted your feet.

“Where is Az?”

The beautiful blonde pursed her lips, glancing over at Rhys and Cassian, who had also heard your question. You stared between the three of them, awaiting an answer. Your mate was nowhere to be found; had disappeared after setting you down on the doorstep.

“Where’s Azriel?” You repeated.

“He’s probably gone flying — to let off some steam.” Cassian said, not sounding at all convinced by his own words.

You heaved a sigh. What you needed, right now, was your mate with you. To hold you through the echoes of what had been an awful night. His absence was just another horrible layer.

“Come.” Mor tried to pull on your arm again.

“I’m really tired.” You slunk back. “I think I’m just going to head to bed.”

Her gaze swept over you for a moment, before she nodded, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Sleep well, then.”

It was as you passed Rhys and Cassian that you stopped, utter exhaustion weighing you down.

“When he gets back,” you said, “tell him to just come to bed. Please.”

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Hours passed. You didn’t sleep. Couldn’t. And still Azriel did not return.

You’d settled yourself at the glass doors that opened out onto the balcony, noting that you were as cold there as you had been in your empty bed, without a hard, warm body and wings to warm you. You tugged on that golden, glimmering cord of your bond, waiting for some response. But…nothing. Anxiety bloomed in you like nothing you’d ever felt.

It shaped a little into anger when you finally glimpsed a passing black form and, moments later, heard the front door opening and shutting downstairs. Relief was a weak flame snuffed out by irritation. Perhaps a little bit of hurt.

You caught the deep tenor of the three male voices below, deliberately lowered to make their words indiscernible. Perhaps it was that which snapped your tether and had you pushing to your feet. If he wasn’t going to come up and speak to you right away, give you some sort of explanation as to why he’d taken off and blocked you out, you would go to him and demand the answer.

You shucked a robe on, practically ripping your bedroom door off its hinges. There was a pause in the murmurs below, and you knew Rhys, Cassian and Azriel had all heard you leave your room and were awaiting your appearance. You hoped your footsteps padding loudly down the stairs were warning enough that you weren’t happy.

As you appeared in the doorway to the sitting room, all three males looked up. Azriel’s eyes swept over you — your nightgown and robe — and he looked just about ready to jump up and shield you from sight. You held a hand up, cutting that thought off before it could properly form.

“Don’t even start with the territorial male bullshit.” You said coldly. “No one’s staring at my tits.”

Both Cassian and Rhys cleared their throats, very deliberately making sure that their gazes were anywhere but on you. Azriel’s jaw ticked as you turned to him.

“Where have you been?” You demanded.

He said nothing, his eyes boring into yours. You raised an eyebrow in expectation, but it was Cassian who spoke up.

“…it’s been a long, tense night for everyone.” He reasoned. “Visiting the Court of Nightmares is never a pleasant experience. What you both need right now is each other’s comfort. Surely you just want to forget about tonight and—”

“I want my mate to tell me where the hell he was.” You snapped, not tearing your eyes from Azriel. “Then he can get his comfort.”

Cassian slunk back in seat, raising his eyebrows as he lifted his glass to his lips, drained it, and then reached for the bottle. You folded your arms over your chest, waiting.

Finally, Azriel shrugged. “I went back to the Hewn City to have a catch-up with my wonderful brother-in-law.”

You clenched your jaw. “Why.”

“Because he’s a cunt.”

You almost flinched at the utter venom in his tone. He was always soft-spoken, always guarded, precise and measured in the words he used. It wasn’t like him to just…let his anger speak for him.

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” You stared at him. “Why would you—”

“Nobody talks to — or about — my mate like that.” He seethed. “Nobody.”

So he’d heard exactly what your brother had said. And he’d bided his time — before striking.

And of course, a part of you, somewhere beneath the anger, adored him even more for it. But it would just make things worse in the long run. It would make it harder for you to return to the Hewn City and represent the Night Court without your family seeing it as their personal mission to terrorise you whenever they could. You’d left to get away from that. To grow.

“So…what?” You shrugged. “You killed him?”

Azriel stared at you, his eyes molten. “I could have done, you know. The Mother knows, I wanted to. But that kill is yours, should you ever want it. I just took the time to remind him that his death could come a lot sooner if he chooses to disrespect you like that.”

“You had no right, Azriel—”

“He called you a—”

“I know precisely what he called me. What he said.” You spat. “I grew up around it. I’m used to it. But you’ve gone and made it worse.”

Az’s jaw clenched. “How.”

“Do you know what they think?” A lump formed in your throat that you swallowed down hard. “They think me weak and foolish. They think you seduced me away from them. They think that I was brought to the Night Court merely to service you, and Cassian and Rhys.”

You took a shuddering breath, your eyes pricking with tears. “And those thoughts? I couldn’t care less about them. They’re pathetic, and they mean nothing to me. But I do care that they think I’m weak. I care that they think me too much of a pathetic, cowering female to speak up for myself, because I’m not.”

Azriel’s eyes softened. “I know you’re not.”

“But by dealing with my brother on my behalf, you’ve only confirmed that for them. It’ll only make it ten times worse the next time I visit.”

You could see understanding dawning in his eyes. And a rational part of you knew that he’d acted on the carnal impulse of a male protecting his mate — that he hadn’t stopped to think about any of this. That he loved you.

But you…you couldn’t give over to that rationality right now. Not when you were still so angry, still so shaken by what had happened. You didn’t blame Azriel for wanting to protect you; to act without speaking to you first, however, made you feel as weak as your family thought you to be.

You wiped your tears away, shaking your head. “I’m going to bed.”

“I’ll come with you—”

“No.” You turned. “Stay and enjoy your drink.”

The words hit their mark, and you saw the scathing hurt in his eyes as he slumped back. You’d probably regret it later.

But in that moment, you were too tired to care.

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Despite your exhaustion, sleep didn’t find you properly. You drifted in and out fitfully, every little noise seeming to jolt you awake. Every single time, you found yourself glancing over to the empty space beside you.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there for, but your anger steadily morphed into loneliness, and trying to sleep without Az curled around you left you feeling as empty and cold as arguing with him had. You hated fighting with him.

And you knew he’d meant well. That he’d just been defending you because he loved you. Already, you were wishing you hadn’t been so hard on him.

You jerked awake again as you heard the door slowly creak open. You watched through heavy eyes as Azriel filed in, making a conscious effort to be as quiet as possible — before noticing you were awake.

He studied you for just a moment, and then dragged his feet to the end of the bed. He slumped down onto his front, his long body stretching from the foot of the bed, right up to where you lay. You watched, allowing him to slot himself between your legs. He rested his head on your belly.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, pressing a kiss against it. He gazed up at you through thick, dark lashes. “Really sorry.”

You breathed a soft sigh, your hand reaching out to brush strands of hair from his face. “I’m sorry, too.”

“What could you possibly have to be sorry for?”

You shrugged. Your fingers toyed absentmindedly with his hair as you said, “I shouldn’t have been so hard on you. I know you were only defending me.”

“I was blinded by my own rage at your brother, though. I should have thought more about how you felt. You must never, ever think yourself weak. You’re the furthest thing from it.”

A soft smile played on your lips. Az’s chin dug into your lower belly as he peered up at you, his fingers brushing indolent circles on your outer thighs. Your own eyes were hooded as you stared back at him — your mate. You loved him so ferociously.

He hadn’t even thought twice about defending you, even against a baseless insult.

“I really am sorry.” He pressed another kiss to the soft skin of your belly, the muscles there contracting at the sensation. “It’s such an honour for me to defend you that I sometimes forget you don’t need me to.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Az.” You watched him — watched his nose graze the silk of your nightgown. “I love it when you stand up for me. And had that been anyone else, I would have left you to it. But with them, it’s just…complicated. I suppose I still feel like I have something to prove.”

“You don’t. But it’s going to take time for you to realise that.” His tongue poked out, licking the fabric of the indentation where your belly button was. “You know, don’t you? That what your brother said was ridiculous. The only people your mother would feel disappointed in are them.”

Your breath hitched at the sensation of his tongue moving through the fabric. You tried to stay your thoughts, to remain on subject. “I…I know.”

“You’re incredible.” He shifted down, pulling your nightgown up as he did. “Beautiful.” He pressed a kiss to your now-exposed navel. “Strong.”

The cold air of the room brushed over your bare sex, and you jerked as Az nuzzled his face against your fine dusting of hair just above. He grazed his lips there, breathing in your scent.

“Why don’t you come to bed?” You breathed, brushing his hair back. “It’s late. You must be tired.”

“Mm.” He hummed. “After I’ve apologised.”

You had no objections as he finally dipped his head, levelling his face with the very centre of you. His eyes flicked up momentarily to meet yours, and then he dove in.

Your head fell back, a low moan escaping you as his tongue swiped out and licked a stripe right up you, from your entrance, up, up to your clit. He kissed the area first, his lips a sensuous scrape against the sensitive nub of nerves. Your hips lifted off the bed, and he slid his hand up, pressing them back down.

“I love you.” He breathed the words onto the damp heat of you — a place he had worshipped time and time before, and would continue to do so as the world and its stories changed around you.

“I love you too.” You breathed, and another moan broke from your throat as his tongue swirled around your clit. “Gods, Az.”

You felt him smile against you, and you utterly melted into the bed as he began his expert worship of your body, always knowing which areas drew which sensations from you, which touches had you moaning the loudest.

His tongue built up its pace, working at your clit as he slipped a hand down, gathering up your wetness on his fingers. He slipped one into you, pumping a few times, curling it inside you, and you gasped.

“Another?” He murmured against you, teeth grazing just slightly.

A small whimper left you. “Yes. Yes.”

And so he slipped a second finger in, and you were happy to give over to every sensation in your body as he began to pump in and out, his fingers moving in tandem with his tongue. Tension coiled low in your stomach, a dull, pleasant ache that was building and building until your legs were trembling.

“Az.” You groaned, hips lifting again. “Fuck, I’m gonna…”

“Take it.” He lapped at you, lapped and lapped as if he might never get another taste. “Take everything you need. Cum for me.”

Only a few more thrusts of his fingers, a few more strokes of his tongue, and you were tumbling off that precipice into place of weightless elation, stars bursting in your eyes, your ears ringing, your body shaking. Az continued to lick and stroke you through it all, murmuring encouraging, soothing words.

And when the force of your climax subsided, and you were utterly spent, he pulled his fingers out of you. Sucked your wetness from them. And then climbed up the bed to lay beside you.

He was very clearly hard as a rock, the outline of his straining cock visible. You made to reach for him, but he gently took your hand.

“No.” He said softly. “This was about you. We have tomorrow. And the day after that.” He leaned down, kissing your head. “And all the ones after that. But now it’s time for sleep.”

You didn’t protest as he lay properly beside you, tugging you against him and pulling the blankets around you. His fingers laced through yours, both your hands resting on your stomach.

“I’m so proud of you.” He whispered into the darkness, kissing the nape of your neck. “So fucking proud.”

You smiled, relaxing into him. Closed your eyes.

You were just drifting off as you heard him murmur, beneath his breath:

“My mate. My entire world.”

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azriel tag list: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere

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astarionslittletreat · 3 months

Text

Eat You Alive

Gortash x female Durge/Dark Urge

Rating: Explicit

You must be 18 years or older to interact with this post in any way

Word Count: 1k

Tags: smut, sex, piv sex, over-stimulation, bleeding, blood, biting, bondage, domination, threats of violence, threats of murder, sadism, masochism, unhealthy relationship, established relationship, dub-con, unethical use of magic, cock warming, forced orgasm

Author's Note: This is not meant to depict how a relationship should function in any way. Neither character posses any redeeming qualities or are meant to be idolized. This is a work of indulgent fiction. Please read the tags before proceeding.

Summary: She's returned to him, his Bhaalspawn. After vanishing from him without a trace, he's got her exactly where he wants her. Tied up and waiting for him with murderous lust.

Wrists and ankles shackled by purple translucent magic, the Bhaalspawn strains against the spell holding her down. Muscles tensing, she flexes her arms, tries to kick her spread legs but to no avail. She cannot break free. It’s not explicitly uncomfortable. She’s naked, true, exposed to the dark room and her surroundings, but the silk sheets she retrained on have been freshly laundered. The spell curling around her extremities is warm and radiates the feeling of pure magic that sends shivers down her spine as she tries to pull away. She’s of two minds at the moment. The Dark Urge that usually slumbers like a dragon in the back of her mind is wide awake–demanding to be freed. Ordering that they be let go this instant and repaid in blood and flesh and bone. The other part of her mind, her true self, her weak self, nearly lost. Drowning in the madness of her carnality. Aching, wanting, dripping for her lover to touch her. To unburden her of her desires–every single last one of them.

“You’re fucking gorgeous like that–” Lord Enver Gortash’s dark eyes grow hungry as he watches his Bhaalspwan arch her back in a futile attempt to break free. “Spread out like a good girl who just wants to be eaten.” He purrs. Taunting her until she’s so filled with rage, Enver can feel it radiating off her bare skin. “Look at me.” It’s a command tinged with magic, and the Bhaal babe meets his gaze. For the briefest–shortest moment her eyes go soft. It’s so quick, he would have missed it if he hadn’t been staring directly at her because it instantly vanishes. Consumed by the fire burning through her veins. Her murderous rampage simmering in the pit of her stomach. Enver’s cock throbs at the sight of his dark and demented love.

Her eyes dart back and forth across his bedchambers. A feral animal caught in a trap. Searching for a way to get out. To get to him. Restrained as she is, the Bhaalspawn flinches as Enver traces the scars on the inside of her thighs with his fingertips. Some he recognizes, some are new, requiring him to catalog her body once more. She trembles at his touch with a rage and bloodlust that makes Enver grow hard. His cock swells as he palms himself. Stroking just enough to take the edge off as he lowers himself to the bed. Drawn in by her tender fury he moves to worship his lover. To take her into his mouth and press his lips against every new scar she acquired without him by her side.

A sinful mix of Infernal–and possibly Abyssal, if Enver heard correctly, falls from the lips of the Bhaalspawn. Spit like venom. Sung like hymns. “That’s right my love,” Enver praises the words he doesn’t fully understand, but knows all the same. He knows exactly what his love needs before biting down, hard. Blood blooms over Enver’s tongue and the Dark Urge moans in delight.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.” She threatens beautifully. Spitting and hissing in the common tongue for Ever to understand.

He chuckles, “I sincerely hope so, my love.” He had thought himself dead once already. He certainly hadn’t been alive these past few months at the very least. Not when she had disappeared. Gone, without word. Without trace. Without any explanation that was due to him. Of course, he knows now what happened, but the bitter sting of life without what made Enver whole had scarred him. Changed him. A piece of himself vanished when his love disappeared. Abandoning their well-laid plans, the city–him. The fury and indignity at being left behind after so long never quite left. Orin’s death helped, true, but this– this is so much sweeter.

“I’m going to break every bone in your worthless body before I filet you alive!” Spit coats her lips as the Dark Urge screams, and her body fails in painful delight. More–she wants more. She needs Enver now instead of him taking his sweet fucking time.

Evner doesn’t spare her the prep time. She doesn’t need it, doesn’t deserve it. Between her scarred and bleeding thighs, Enver presses the head of his cock to her entrance before pressing in in one long stroke. Settling himself until he’s fully seated inside his love. Oh how he’s fucking missed this. Her mewling gasps of his name. The drool sliding past her lips. The way she tightens, squeezing him as he presses his thumb to her clit. Circling and toying with her. Forcing her into a breakneck speed while he sits there. He spits on her clit for good measure. There will be time for pain later. Right now, the only thing he desires is to feel the Bhaalspawn breaking apart around him.

“Wait!” Panic. “Stop, I can’t–”

“You’re going to fucking come, now.”

Another command, bold but dangerously quiet. Tinged with venom and love. She doesn’t need a spell to obey this time. His familiar heavy weight, his clever hands working her body better than her own self knew how. It was inescapable. Her release surges through her body as she clamps down hard. Her body strains against the magic holding her down, her muscles taught and aching as she tumbles recklessly through the pleasure forced upon her. It hurts. It hurts and she likes that it hurts. That it’s messy and quick. That her legs are weak and she can feel wetness seeping out of her cunt where Enver is still seated and hard. She gasps. Gulping down air as she falls from her high. Her mind floats. The Dark Urge temporarily calmed like a wild beast to music.

Enver allows her a few seconds respite. She had earned that much at least. But the night was young, and he still missed his deadly little Bhaalspawn. He waited until her gasping died down just a bit before he began to circle and toy with her now oversensitive clit. “Another, my pet.”

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gale 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #enver gortash #lord enver gortash #enver gortash x dark urge #gortash x durge #gortash x dark urge #the dark urge #gortash smut #enver gortash x durge #prompt request #astarionslittletreat

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rosenallies · 3 days

Note

May I propose to you the idea of either Jane getting jealous over Mirage being all over Nymphia/or Mirage and Nymphia as exes who are strangely good friends afterwards?

Idk if it'd work in any of the Planymphia AUs you currently have, but I was inspired by this post: https://www.tumblr.com/biblewaterzzz/748398423015915520

Idk if you wanted to just discuss or a prompt but I wanna write this as a prompt so thank u for the idea <3 sorry I made this kinda h/c and soft I’m just sad today <3

——

Jane watched them from across the bar with a deep ache in her stomach. Nymphia’s hips swayed to the music in tandem with Mirage, who pressed into her, whispering in her ear every now and then and laughing.

Realistically, they looked like a pair of close friends, nothing more, but watching them made Jane start to spiral. She wasn’t sure if whatever she was feeling could be classified as jealousy, but whatever it was, she hated it. She hated the way her stomach turned and tears pricked at her eyes as she imagined Nymphia coming up to her and explaining that she’d be much happier with someone like Mirage. And really, who could blame her? Nymphia deserved someone as positive and lighthearted as she is. Deep down inside, since she and Nymphia started dating, Jane wondered how long it would take for Nymphia to get sick of her pessimism and leave her for someone else.

The downward spiral continued into the night, even after they’d said goodbye to their friends and were walking hand in hand back to Nymphia’s apartment. Jane’s mood had sobered her up while Nymphia swayed happily as they walked, wistfully chatting about how much fun she’d had all night.

“Janey, I wish you would’ve danced with us, we were having so much fun!”

Jane laughed to herself, shaking her head. “Looks like you had plenty of fun with Mirage.”

She hadn’t meant it to come across the way it did, but Jane was never one to come across very softly. Nymphia looked up at her, brows furrowed together. “What do you mean?”

Huffing, Jane shook her head. “Nothing.”

“No,” Nymphia stopped them, grabbing ahold of both of Jane’s hands, “it’s not nothing. What’s the matter?”

Jane felt as if she was about to cry, Nymphia looking up at her so tenderly. “C-can we just get back to the apartment, please?”

“Okay, baby,” Nymphia said with a soft smile, lacing their fingers together as they walked the last block back home.

Once they got back, Nymphia kicked her heels off, Jane following suit, the pit still sitting heavy in her stomach. Nymphia turned to her, grabbing both of her hands and kissing the back of them. Jane felt she didn’t deserve her. “Do you want to talk now or get comfy first?”

Jane shrugged. “I guess now would be okay.”

Nymphia nodded and led her to the couch, curling into her side and resting her head on her shoulder. “Tell me what’s on your mind. What’s making my PJ sad?”

“You were having a lot of fun with Mirage,” Jane said plainly, afraid of letting too much spill out, all her secret insecurities she hid with jokes and jabs and a deluded sense of self confidence.

“I would’ve had more fun of you joined us on the dance floor. Is that what you’re upset about? Are you jealous?”

Feeling her cheeks burn, Jane shrugged again. “I don’t know, I guess?”

If Jane were in a better mood about it, Nymphia might’ve teased her, but Nymphia could tell this wasn’t a playful jealousy, it was one laced with uncertainty and insecurity. “Jane, Mirage is just a friend. You have nothing to worry about with her.”

“Maybe not with her,” Jane whispered under her breath.

“What do you mean? Who else would you have to worry about?”

“Just-just forget it. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Jane should’ve known Nymphia wouldn’t allow her to shut her away, but she was taken off guard when Nymphia gently turned Jane’s face toward hers. “We really should though.”

Sighing, Jane nodded, Nymphia was right. “I worry you’re going to leave me for someone like Mirage. I know you two are just close friends but I watching the way she was touching you and was all over you made me start thinking about how you deserve someone better than me.”

“Better than you? I don’t think there’s anything better than you, though. I want to be with you, no one else.”

“You don’t think I’m a bad person or that I come across too abrasive?”

“I don’t think that at all, I wouldn’t be with you if I thought that and trust me, I want to be with you. I want to be with you all the time.”

“You do?”

“Mmhm,” Nymphia hummed, nuzzling into Jane once more, “all the time.”

If Jane had thought about it some more, she would’ve chosen her next words more carefully but as she laced her fingers with Nymphia’s, she let her heart speak for her. “I love you.”

It was the first time either of them had said it, even though Jane had been thinking it for weeks. For a moment, Nymphia looked taken aback and then her face softened. She leaned over and gently kissed Jane before whispering quietly, “I love you too.”

#planymphia office au #prompt request

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cosmophoriia · 2 months

Text

੭ — there for each other : found family.

ღ request from: @apparitionauthor — I'm a big fan of platonic duos/found family. Could you do a prompt list of something from that arena? If you need something more specific, some of my favorites are mentor&mentee, brothers (not by blood), black cat&golden retriever.

ღ warnings : slight angst but mostly fluff.

“thank you for always being there for me when i needed you.”

“why haven’t you given up on me yet?”

“you’re the only family i got and i wouldn’t change it for anyone else.”

“i always wanted a brother… i finally got my wish.”

“you took me in when i needed a home, i’m so grateful to have you in my life.”

“how are we friends, we’re total opposites!” “well they say opposites attract.” “… i hate it here.”

“choose your own path, don’t let anyone choose it for you.”

“you choose how your future goes, no one else can choose it for you.”

“even though we’re not technically brothers, i still tell people you are since you always have my back and i’ll always have yours.”

“i heard you weren’t feeling good and brought you some soup.”

“you’re more family to me than my real family.”

“be careful.”

“i don’t know what i’d do if you got hurt.”

“you’re never a burden to me.”

“come to me if you need anything.”

“don’t stay up too late, you need some rest.”

“stop worrying, i’ll be fine.”

“look how far you’ve have grown.”

“what happened to the [name] that always wanted me to protect them? “they’re still there [character a name], they just need a little less protecting.”

“never apologize for being you.”

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ohraicodoll · 1 year

Note

PUHLEASE bitter was SO GOOD!! you write angst so well it makes my chest hurt 😭 but what about what happens the next morning when joel decides to keep going with them 👀 how does feral reader react

Thank you all so much! I didn't expect people to really want a part 2! I really appreciate how everyone has really latched onto this character and want to see her react so feel free to always send requests my way! Here's part 2!

Bitter| Part 2 Joel Miller x f!Reader The Last of Us 4.7k Words/ 3rd POV Feral Reader Masterlist Summary: The morning after the blow out. Joel is gone. Part 1

Ellie was still asleep in her arms when she heard the door across the hall open. She listened with her heart in her throat and anger fresh in her blood as familiar footsteps entered the hallway, seemed to pause, then walk down the steps away before the front door shut. Joel was gone and the world seemed a little bit more bleak.

She didn’t go back to sleep, but laid there holding onto the young girl with her thoughts a swirling mess until dawn broke through the thin curtains. The two of them were silent, somber, getting their packs together and dressing again for the rough weather they would have to travel in. She had never liked the cold before and liked it even less now, but it almost seemed to match how she felt all over. She was a coal fire, burning deep in her core but frigid outside. Ellie’s bright disposition had dimmed drastically. There was no snark, not even any bitter comments about their missing companion. The night had broken her in a different way, grief and disappointment almost making her meek. When the knock sounded, Ellie’s tentative “come in” pierced the silence and her heart broke a little more for the girl. Tommy peeked in, looking over his new charge then catching her eye with hesitation. She knew Joel’s brother was cautious with her, hadn’t known how to take her presence and stares and the way she watched everything. But he tried to offer a small sympathetic smile, understanding pulling his lips that he wasn’t the brother they had come to be familiar with but were stuck with all the same. He led them out the way before pointing over to the stables where they would be mounting up for the journey. She kept her hand on Ellie’s pack the whole walk there through the still sleeping streets of Jackson, reassuring them both that they had each other. Even though she was stuck with someone she didn’t know, she was glad to be leaving Jackson and going back out there. Out there she knew how to survive, how to deal with everything. The small town was out of her element and she felt like everyone knew it, would watch her with accusatory eyes.

Her thoughts tried not to stray to the man who had dumped them there. Found his brother and promptly got rid of them, brushing his hands of the burdens he’d had pushed onto him. If she focused on him, the anger would turn to hurt and hurt didn’t have a place outside the walls of safety.

With a sigh, she followed Ellie into the stables only to stop short behind her as they reached the first stall.

Joel stood there, checking over a horse that had been prepped already with a saddle and bags. His eyes found hers, then Ellie’s, then his brother’s before going back to preparing the horse. The air was tense and suffocating, the weight of everything between them all occupying the space. She held her breath, clenched her teeth. “You came here to say goodbye or something?” Ellie bit out in anger. The words were mocking, but she could hear the almost underlying hope in them. For all he had said and done to hurt her, the girl wanted him to stay and choose her. “No,” Joel replied and she could see her shoulders fall in disappointment, but he continued, “I came here to steal one of these horses and go.” She wanted to scoff, but bit her tongue, jaw clenching so hard her teeth groaned. Tommy looked between them and shrugged to his brother, ever placating, “Well, I woulda gave you one.” Because Joel only ever had to ask and his brother would always give. At that Joel turned, patted the horse and looked at him with a sigh, “I know.” It was an acknowledgement that Tommy would always be there, always want his approval and love. There was a small smile, tinged in sadness, but Joel only sniffed and turned to the two girls that were his companions, “Anyway…that was thirty minutes ago and I guess…” The words were stilted, awkward, as if he didn’t know what to say but knew if he stopped the words wouldn’t come out at all. He sighed again and walked towards them, licking his lips and decidedly avoiding her eye contact.

Swallowing, he pulled his bravado back off the floor and looked at Ellie, “You deserve a choice.”

Instantly, she could see Ellie’s eyes light up the moment the words were out in the open, that hope a bright shining beacon even as he continued, “I still think you’d be better off with Tommy-”

She nodded and shoved her bag into his hands quickly and with force, cutting him off with an enthusiastic, “Let’s go.”

He paused with his next words halfway on his tongue, frozen as she simply looked at him and brushed passed to the horse. “Okay,” the words were a hammer, cementing the decision and the path going forward. Joel stared at the empty spot where the girl once stood then his eyes flickered up finally to meet hers. She was stuck in between feeling that boiling anger from the night before and relief. He wasn’t leaving them behind, wasn’t abandoning them. All three were back together, but now she wasn’t sure how to feel.

It was easier to just hate him and never see him again than deal with this rift between them.

Tommy seemed to understand there was still something else at play beyond Joel’s decision. With a small smile, he nodded at them both before shrugging, “I better go get a second horse prepped for y'all. I’ll be back.” He gave his brother a pointed look, patting his shoulder, before quickly exiting further into the stables.

Joel swallowed, dark eyes meeting hers. Nervous. Joel Miller was nervous and she wanted to sink her teeth into that, use it to gain an upper hand because it was better than him making her feel unsure and lesser. He sighed for the thousandth time before calling back to Ellie, “We’ll be right back.” For once, the girl didn’t make a comment or ask for an explanation. She was sure some part of their conversation had been overheard from across the hall and Ellie didn’t protest giving them their space. Walking forward, he nodded to a spot a little bit away but she didn’t move. She didn’t want to be alone with him, didn’t want to talk about what had happened. Joel wasn’t leaving Ellie, that was her only concern. They didn’t have to get along to make this work. If anything, they’d proven that months before when both had hated each other vehemently. It’d only been sex. There were no hurt feelings, couldn’t be because feelings had never been involved. But she found herself turning around and moving, his hand hovering over her back as he guided her a distance away, and the sting of anger still coating her throat along with something that felt like pain. “Listen, last night-” “Don’t,” she hissed, surprised to feel herself slightly shaking and yanked away from him to put space between them, “I don’t need your morning after regret apologies. You said what you had to say and you’re right. My only point is to help Ellie and that’s it. There’s nothing else, we won’t be crossing that boundary line again.” “Red, stop,” he shook his head and took a step closer, wincing, “I- fuck, I didn’t mean-” She scoffed, baring her teeth, “Didn’t mean what? The part where you didn’t want me around? Where I was just a hole for you to fuck? Where you didn’t give a shit what happened to me?” She smiled bitterly, “There’s a long list, Tex, you’re gonna have to be specific.” His brow furrowed and hands went to his hips as he stared down at the ground, lips pressed tightly together. He seemed unable to get the right words out, mouth opening and closing in frustration. He’d never been good at hard discussions, especially about things like emotions, and whatever apology he had planned caught in his throat. So she pushed forward, fueled by the anger she felt burning in her chest and the urge to make herself or him hurt for no reason other than her bruised feelings needed to find a release, “You were right. I’m not Tess. I’m not anything. There is no happy ending for me. We get Ellie to the Fireflies, I make sure she’s safe, and then no one has to deal with me any longer. I’m out. She’s good with you but I’m not going to abandon her mid-journey.” The unspoken “unlike you tried to” settled into the space between them, a live wire. He frowned, teeth clench, and when his eyes met hers they seemed to plead, “I want to fix this.” Joel had to be the one to fix things, no matter how impossible. Protect, fix everyone’s problems, be the savior. But that wasn’t always possible. “You can’t fix everything,” she bit out and turned, walking away, trying to ignore the glimpse she had gotten of his hand reaching out to grab her wrist. _______________________________ She tried to focus that first day.

It was like resettling into an old skin that was slightly too tight. Her eyes would track their surroundings, feel the motion of her horse underneath her, hand on the strap of her rifle but every now and then she would feel his gaze on her. Ellie quickly got back into the groove of being with them, much happier now that her favorite person was back with her. Her hands gripped his waist and she would send small smiles her way as if to say, “Look, he came back to us.” She tried not to openly frown so as to not dim the girl’s spirits and listened to them chat without much input. But it was hard to ignore how he looked over to her every so often, how he seemed more open and relaxed around the kid behind him, even answering whatever questions she had and not once telling her to shut up after her tenth pun. She tried to ignore how he seemed lighter, more at ease, even chuckling and smiling more. The Joel Miller riding the horse with Ellie at his back was different from the one the night before, proclaiming she wasn’t his daughter, that they were parting ways and that was that. And she wasn’t sure what to do with that knowledge. A decision seemed to have settled in his mind. What the question had been, she wasn’t sure, but he’d make a choice. The wall that had been so high, steel and concrete thick, and been so slow to come down and fast to resurrect was almost decimated completely. This was a glimpse of the Joel Miller that he had existed back in Texas and she wasn’t sure what to do with that. She felt more like a stranger than ever. When they stopped to make a fire and eat in the cover of some rocks, he didn’t argue about the smoke, about the placement of their sleeping mats with his in between theirs, and even served her himself, eyes unwavering as they met hers. Ellie wasn’t stupid, she knew that. She could tell the kid was quick to understand some of what had happened between them, what had been going on before Jackson, and that she wasn’t so quick to forgive as the kid was. Ellie was a soft spot for her, both of them, one the kid knew and manipulated often, but she was slower to trust others and it had taken months to let Joel in only for him to blow that up. She wasn’t sure when both the teenager and gruff man next to her had climbed under her skin, but they had and she wasn’t sure she liked it. It made losing so much harder, the thought of leaving them behind a tight knot in her throat. The problem was she wanted to forgive him. She wanted things to go back to how they were because it was so much less complicated. Yes, sex had been involved and even when it wasn’t, she often found herself wrapped around the man in their sleep, but denial was easy to hang on to. She clung to the excuses, like that they still hated each other or there was nothing there but raw need and a means to an end when it came to release. But she had liked the attention she had gotten, his hands on her body and lips on her skin. The late night chats about nothing that somehow meant everything. They’d handed over small pieces of themselves to each other, calling them junk when really they were treasures. He’d been a good southern boy, taking care of his brother. His favorite musician had been Johnny Cash and he’d worked his first job at fifteen so he could buy his own guitar. Little bits of Joel that had been castaway comments, but she’d kept them close to her chest. Now, with his eyes constantly on her, something in those dark irises, she wasn’t sure what to do with this kind of attention. She was used to Joel being on equal or higher footing and now it felt odd to have him almost silently pleading with her, asking for her grace. Like a supplicant asking for forgiveness. She went to sleep first if only to escape, saying she’d take second watch, and could feel his eyes on her as she slipped into darkness.

When Ellie asked to use the rifle the next day, she expected to hear his usual grumbling in protest. She’d been given her pistol and that was as far as he’d ever let her use a weapon. But she watched now as Joel gave in, watched Ellie’s smile bloom into a huge grin as he told her he was going to teach her how to shoot it properly first. And she continued to watch in uncertainty as this new Joel made a target out of scrap material and walked far out, setting it up a good distance away in the small field they were crossing. The girl was giddy, practically bouncing on her heels, and kept looking to her in celebration. Ellie grinned wide at her as he did so, almost in amazement that he was giving in to her, and she had to smile back though her heart hurt at the childlike excitement. She knew this was Joel’s way of making things up to her. He was bonding with her, teaching her, like most fathers would. And she was unable to keep her eyes off the man as he walked back with an easy step. She sat on the ground a foot or two away from them as he showed her how to hold the rifle, load it, and aim down the scope. A toppled log served as their brace and they both bickered, tucked into each other closely, as he watched through binoculars and she flinched with each shot, bullets going wide. Ellie was stubborn and so desperately wanted to be a natural, wanted to prove herself to the man, thus leading to her blaming the faulty weapon. As time went on, their conversation loosened the tight knot inside her and she found herself relaxing and smiling at them. The thought floated that this must have been how Joel was like when he was a dad, staring down at Ellie with humor and ease.

When they switched and he shot the target centerpoint, she had to swallow a laugh at the dumb face he made at the girl and the wide eyed amazement Ellie tried to disguise. There was a sense of pride about him at that look, like in her eyes he had grown ten feet tall and was capable of anything.

As he turned to look at her, she knew she hadn’t stifled her smile fast enough. She got up and went to the horses, getting them ready to head back out, if only to hide for a bit.

This was a different Joel. Warm and sometimes gentle, patient and reasonable. But she was still the same, rough and sharp and broken edges.

Maybe leaving was for the best before she cut one of them.

Night fell again and they went through the same unwinding process. Ellie was talking in between bites of food, asking questions about what they used to do back in the day as if recognizing that there was no longer a barrier prohibiting it. At least when it came to Joel. She was still tight lipped, keeping the ugliness that was her own history away from the light conversation. She had already given enough of her story to the girl, the good parts, and didn’t want to stain her with the bad.

But Ellie was so smart sometimes and could see the unresolved tension. When the food was done and everything put away for the night, she feigned a yawn, arms stretching high above her head, “Man, I’m pooped. All that shooting really tired me out so I think I’m gonna turn in early. Night!”

And then she’d dragged her sleeping bag to the opposite side of the campfire flames, furthest back into the alcove they’d found, and turned her back on them to sleep. Distance. She’d given them distance to be alone together.

She sighed, feeling the pressing silence between them both now that Ellie’s presence was no longer acting as a buffer. The campfire and the night sky made them feel like they were in their own bubble, sitting at the edges of the light with the darkness at their backs. The small ridge they’d taken shelter in hid them but also trapped her there with him.

Before, she hadn’t ever been good at relationships or feelings. She’d been in her early twenties when the world fell to pieces and had been with Harry for six years. High school sweethearts. A romantic notion back then but now eye rolling in the current state of reality. She hadn’t gotten the chance to experience getting to know other men, to deal with anyone other than meek Harry.

Joel wasn’t him. Joel was all bristles and rough charm, dry humor and hard stares. And twenty years later, decades of being alone, she was even worse at people than before.

She didn’t know how to do this.

“Red-” “I’ll take the first watch,” she cut him off, standing quickly and grabbing the rifle from its spot, “You get some sleep.” She needed to get away from him, get away from his stare and the feeling of rage that was quickly falling away to showcase the pain it had been covering up. The reality of being alone with him, of him bringing up the argument, was a pressing weight that was threatening to suffocate her. It wasn’t anything she could fight. She couldn’t claw or bite or shoot or stab this feeling and needed to get away. But she’d forgotten. Joel was persistent. She would only be able to dodge him for so long when he was determined and that luck seemed to run out already. “Red, stop,” he was quick on her heels as they both walked a bit outside their camping spot, the fire casting faint orange light on their skin, “Please, I’m sorry-” His hand was on her wrist and she tried to shake him off, but couldn’t, “I don’t need your fucking apologies-” “Will you just fucking listen to me?”The pressure was too much, her breath thin rasps from her lungs as it all threatened to choke her. Jackson, the argument, this new easier Joel with his stares, Ellie’s happy smiles, and her like a looming storm cloud behind them. The pressure was mounting and mounting, tearing at her skin, stabbing her heart.

Then it finally erupted. She punched him. It was a quick, hard snap and her knuckles stung, but that anger inside her rose and rose and she couldn’t stop herself. She was hurt and like all wild animals when they were hurt, they lashed out. They were dangerous. Joel stumbled back a couple steps and released her wrist, eyes findings hers in the darkness, and his hand rose to touch his lip. Drops of blood sparkled in the distant firelight. “Starshine-” she swung again and this time met air as he leaned back, dodging. Again and again, she punched wildly, stance forgotten, frustration building as he moved out the way or she only managed to clip skin or clothes. The rifle she’d been holding had dropped to the ground forgotten. He caught her fist and held it in his grip tightly, grabbing her free wrist in his other hand and backing them up to the ridge wall until her back met stone. She bucked and fought against him, knees raising to kick and knee him until he pressed even closer to keep her from being able to lift them. “I- fuck, Red, stop. I’m sorry!” he hissed as she struggled against him like a trapped animal, “I am, I’m sorry for all of it.” “Fuck you,” she snarled in his face. “Come on-” he pleaded and the words were a sad sigh, wincing when she knocked against him particularly hard. “I hate you,” she growled and tugged against his hold, hands trapped between their chests and the heat and smell of him all around her. “I know,” he whispered back softly, remorse dripping into her skin. Everything was a mess inside her, lava filling her blood and bones, his fingers and touch scalding. She didn’t know what to do with everything bubbling inside, didn’t know what to do with herself, but it all felt like too much. This man had hurt her, had comforted her, had fought and raged against her and also raged for her and protected her. He’d left and come back and now she didn’t know how to deal with this version that looked at her with soft eyes and apologies. It was too much. She needed a release so she took it.

Her mouth smashed against his, bridging the space between them and catching him off guard. He quickly caught up and sank into her, kissing her back with equal force though not letting go of her. His blood was on her lips, on her tongue, and she dug her fingers into the fabric of his coat with a groan. She wanted to devour him, eat him whole and never let him go. It hurt being with him, never quite knowing how to operate, but the pain made her feel more alive than she’d had in a long time. Her skin hadn’t known touch in so long, lips cold and alone, that she wasn’t sure if she could go without his now and that made her angry. It made her desperate and those small few hours where she thought he’d left them had made her realize that hollowness was a possibility. Finally one of his hands let hers go, but she didn’t pull away. She didn’t take his relaxing as an opportunity to run. So he took that as permission to run his fingers through her hair, twisting the still freshly cleaned strands between them. She bit down on his lower lip, swallowing his groan, and when he opened his mouth her tongue found his. This wasn’t like the other times where it was nothing but gnashing teeth and tongue and lips, almost brutal and bordering on painful. He wanted her, she could feel it in the press of his hips against hers and the eagerness of his mouth, and was so gentle with her. While she took and took, he freely gave and let her take the charge. It wasn’t a battle, but a surrender. Her hand drifted, frustrated at his lack of fight, and went to his belt buckle before working to get it undone. She needed to feel him, to get him to fight and be aggressive and not be so fucking soft with her. It wasn’t something she was ready for, what him being this way towards her meant. But Joel paused, forehead against hers as he broke their kiss, whispering his protests, “Wait, hold on.” She didn’t want to stop because stopping meant talking and she felt rubbed raw, naked before him and the cavity of her chest ripped open. As her hands continued to underdo his belt, his hand came to rest on top of them, stilling her fingers. One hand in her hair, he used it to lift her chin up and meet his eyes, bringing them both back to awareness. His lip was still bleeding, some of it smeared across his chin and beard, eyes so dark in the firelight as he looked her over, “I…you aren’t nothing. Not to Ellie… and not to me.” He sighed, brow furrowed and she wondered if he could feel her shaking, “And…you aren’t Tess-” She pulled back, the name a wound with ripped open stitches, and tried to walk away but he stopped her, “Just wait.” With a hard frown, she whipped back to him, “Were you this bad at apologizing before the world ended or is this a new thing?” “I was bad before,” he huffed out frustrated and paused, the words stuck in his throat and like he was trying to force them out, “Sarah…my daughter used to get after me and feed me the words. I’ve never been good at it.” Pausing herself, the name of his kid felt big between them. An admission, an acknowledgement. He hadn’t ever talked about his kid, but here he was. It was enough to freeze her in place, keep her there and silent so he could continue.

“You aren’t…Tess and I don’t want you to be. You’re not a replacement,” Joel chewed on his lower lip, head bowed, “I like you how you are, rough edges and all, and I shouldn’t have said any of it. I’m sorry. I was angry and I thought you both would be safer with Tommy-” “I don’t care who I’m safer with,” she cut him off, surprised by the adamency behind her own words. “”Well I do,” his own reply was biting, not angry at her, but frustrated at her own lack of care, “I care if you’re safe, both of you. I thought you both would be better off without me and I was trying to pull away…only for you to try and claw me back. I was really fucking stupid and I know yesterday or tonight won’t make up for it.” His thumb caressed her cheekbone and she let out a shaky sigh, biting on the inside of her cheek as he continued softly, “But in the same way I need Ellie, I need you too.” Joel, at his core, was a builder. Before the world tanked, he’d worked with his hands because that’s what he could do. Fix things. That was how he operated. He wasn’t a master strategist, wasn’t a leader. He was good at figuring things out when needed and putting things right. And she could see how desperately he wanted to fix the damage between them. It was just a matter of if she wanted things to be fixed. And maybe she did, even though she knew the path they were going down was going to be so much more complicated. Fixing things also terrified her. “You’re right,” she replied hesitantly, “It doesn’t make up for it.” “I know-” “We’ve got a week until we reach the Fireflies and before I decide if I’m leaving. Guess you have time to work on it,” she let the statement hang along with that dangling hope of forgiveness. In truth, he didn’t have to work hard. If he kept smiling at her, kissing her, she was done for. It was the stubbornness and pain that was clinging on like the last vestiges of a war. She didn’t know if she would actually leave, if she could leave them both. But they had a week at most to figure that out.

Joel pressed into her, forehead resting against her own once again. She could feel the relief flood him, the way his hands wrapped around her waist in thanks. And this time she didn’t fight him when his lips turned to meet her own, this time with gentleness instead of rage, a whispered apology in each kiss.

Maybe this new Joel wasn’t bad, wasn’t entirely different if he still wanted her.

_________________________________________________ Tag List:

@sunfairyy @oscardopedropascal @intoxicatedapple @faceache111 @beebslebobs @spaacerabbit @hawsx3 @stilldreaming666 @buckywenal24 @sl-ut @kagajgajaguwbeidheubqk @alouise20

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x feral reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller fanfic #joel miller #tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfic #feral reader #series: feral #raicodoll writes #anon #anon asks #prompt request

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twola · 5 months

Note

idk if this is too vague, but arthur/f!reader in the classic trope of, oh my god I can't believe we both almost just died sex? did they both almost drown? Was there a fire? did he save her life? who knows! i feel like arthur would sees the woman he loves almost die and immediately fuck about it

Okay this has been in my asks for WAY too long and it’s such a good one and I wanted to do it justice.

Left Unsaid

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

When he think's he's almost lost you in a run-in with a rival gang, Arthur quickly gets over his nervousness in approaching you.

The bloodcurdling scream jolts him from sleep, making him stumble up from where he was sitting on a rickety chair in the main room of the old cabin. At first, he thinks it's a dream, but when the sound of breaking glass pierces the night, Arthur shoots up; the chair falling to the ground in a clatter as he quickly shakes the vestiges of sleep from his mind.

This abandoned cabin off of Eris Field seemed the perfect place to spend the night instead of making the trek all the way back to Shady Belle tonight - your yawning from behind him on his horse had him chuckling as he made the decision to stay - doing the gentlemanly thing and giving you the bedroom with the old single bed. As much as he’d like to be sharing it with you - he remained externally aloof - proclaiming that he’d sleep on the chair in the main room. He certainly did not dare to ask to share your bed - not now, probably not ever.

But the rustling and thumping behind the door where you sleep has his heart racing - his hand flies to his revolver as he readies himself to throw his shoulder into the door and shoot whatever it is that is making that noise, but the door bursts open before he gets the chance.

A man stands on the threshold - dirty, and grimy, with a faded gray woolen military uniform and a yellow bandana around his neck.

Of course, goddamn Lemoyne Raiders.

The raider holds up his knife in front of him, and in the din of movement and chaos around them, Arthur can see the liquid sheen over the steel in the man’s hand.

The knife, dripping with blood. The man, seemingly unharmed. The door, slightly ajar, to the bedroom where you slept.

A cold stone settles in Arthur’s gut as he puts the pieces together. In an instant, he snarls, diving toward the man with little regard for his own person, tackling him to the ground and ready to rip him apart with his bare hands for what he’s done to you. As Arthur mounts himself on the man’s chest and begins to strangle him, the movement knocks the oil lantern off the table, crashing to the wooden floor and immediately bursting into flame.

The man’s neck snaps between Arthur’s hands and he immediately leaps up, moving toward the bedroom where you were sleeping.

Another body crashes into him, a Lemoyne Raider dressed like he is straight out of a Civil War battle tackles Arthur to the ground, the two of them tumbling along the floor and breaking through the rickety door to the porch. Arthur rolls backward, unsheathing his hunting knife as he grits his teeth, ready to slice this damn bastard into shreds.

Of course, the wannabe soldier is no match for the hardened outlaw. They sure as hell don’t make them like they used to. Arthur easily dodges a swing of the man’s fist and throws his weight forward. He sinks his knife into the raider’s gut, and immediately shoves him to the ground. He gurgles blood from his mouth as Arthur rushes over him, back toward the house.

The flames burst out the windows as he barrels back toward the door, grabbing at the handle and cursing aloud as it burns him.

The constriction in his chest has settled into a churning in his gut as he prepared to kick the door in. At this point would he be finding your charred, lifeless body, having bled out on the floor because he couldn’t protect you?

“Arthur-!”

He steps off the porch, not sure if he is lightheaded or hallucinating, but you move toward him, hitching your skirts, blood covering your blouse, your hair wild.

“Jesus-” He crashes into you, having nearly leaped the final few steps, crushing you into his chest, nearly causing you to stumble.

He yanks you back, large hands on your shoulders, and looks you up and down, eyeing the blood patch on your blouse.

“N-not mine.” You breathe, but he does not move his hand from your ribcage. It presses inward, against the wet cotton, splaying across your side as if he did not believe you, checking for where the knife would have marred your flesh.

“Arthur-” You whisper, your hands tight on his biceps, “I’m alright.”

His eyes dart back up to yours, searching, pupils dilated, breathing heavily.

“Ar-”

You’re cut off completely as he pulls you against him and presses his lips desperately against yours, muffling your surprised yelp as his tongue demands entrance into your mouth. After a moment of shock, you melt into his embrace, fingers tightening on his shirt sleeves as you open your mouth to him.

He kisses you like you are the air he breathes. Like you are some kind of salvation… like he thought he almost lost something.

Arthur pulls back, breathing heavily, a flush having taken over his face, “Christ-” he goes to unwind his arms from you, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

It’s his turn to be cut off as your hands immediately travel to the collar of his shirt and you pull him down to your lips to kiss him again, needy as you moan into his mouth.

His arms immediately recircle you, hands moving down from your ribs, down, down to your waist, your hips, your rear. Hooking his arms around the back of your thighs, you’re lifted up, squealing in surprise into his mouth as you wrap your legs around his waist.

Continuing to press into each other's mouths, you barely notice him walking the two of you back, further from the flaming cabin, into the woodline, and finally against a tree trunk a safe distance away. He pulls back, panting as you recline against it, his arms tight under your thighs.

He gazes upon your kiss-swollen lips; your heaving chest as you breathe heavily, your pupils blown wide in arousal. Arthur takes the opportunity to roll his hips once, his hardening cock pressing against your cunt, and your eyes flutter closed as a needy, breathy whine escapes your lips.

“Arthur-”

He does it again, maybe for his sake as much as your own, the blood rushing to his groin and filling his cock properly. He grits his teeth as the rolling becomes rutting, your gasps driving him insane.

Before he gets to the point of no return, he slows his hips and leans over to recapture your lips in another kiss. As he pulls his

“Thinkin’ you was dead back there-” He pushes his lips to yours again, “Christ- I… I never told you-”

One of his hands leaves your thighs, but you have no fear he’s going to drop you. He buries it in layers of cotton, pulling at your skirts to move them from his way, reaching your bloomers and pressing against your cunt, watching your face intently as you moan, the cotton separating you quickly dampening against his fingers.

He leans in again and groans against your neck. Grabbing the cotton tightly, he yanks until he feels the seams give way, the tearing sound ringing in his ears as he delves within the ruined fabric to your soaking folds. You jolt against him and whine loudly as he slides his fingers along the seam of your body.

Arthur covers your mouth with his own as he sinks his fingers into you, working you open as you clutch desperately at his shoulders.

After you’ve cried out several times in the night, his hand leaves you and you sigh at the loss, he shushes you gently as he works at the buttons of his trousers, finally freeing his cock from his pants after moments of fiddling. His hand returns to your thigh as he adjusts you in his arms. The head of his cock presses gently against the rim of your cunt.

Your hands move from his shoulders to cup his face, your thumb tracing his lower lip gently before he sucks the tip into his mouth, his eyes trained on yours.

He pulses his hips and his cockhead slips inside you. Your brows crinkle with the first vestiges of the ache of penetration, and he leans forward again to press his lips upon your forehead.

“What did you never tell me?” You whisper as he holds you on the cusp of joining, the precipice of sheathing himself into you.

One of his hands leaves your thigh, though you are completely unafraid of falling with your legs wrapped around him and the strength of his other arm. His fingers brush back a strand of your hair from your forehead, tucking it gently behind your ear before his rough and calloused palm rests on your cheek.

“You’d have died and I woulda never told you I’m in love with you.”

Your eyebrows raise in shock as you clutch at him, and while you remain silent, after a moment, you pull him closer with your legs, nudging his back with your ankles, and he slowly slides himself inside you, inch by inch, until your hips touch and you mewl with the stretch. He hums softly before slowly, gently, rocking his hips, starting a slow rhythm as you get used to him.

His powerful arms keep you suspended against the tree trunk with each roll of his hips, each glide of the inches of him in and out of you, well glossed and hot with your slick.

Arthur’s lips press to yours incessantly, muffling your gasps and whines as he presses into you. After one particularly deep thrust, you throw your head back in ecstasy, bumping against the trunk of the tree.

“Careful there, darlin’,” Arthur slows his hips, and tightening his grip on your thighs, he pulls you away from the tree, you yelp and tighten your legs around his hips. He chuckles softly as he walks you, still joined, a few steps from the tree and slowly lowers the both of you to the ground on a patch of grass. Spreading himself out over you, he buries his head against your neck as he lets go of your thighs, his forearms on either side of your shoulders, rocking his hips into yours again.

The staccato whine of the syllables of his name escapes you as you hook your ankles around each other over his back. Carding your hands through his hair, your fingers interweave between his honeyed strands, his hat long gone in your desperation to join yourselves.

He presses himself up above you as his thrusts become more erratic, his breathing loud and heavy as he pounds you into the ground.

“God-” you cry out as your hands grasp his shirt, “Arthur, yes-”

He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, looming over you as he careens toward completion.

You arch your back, your thighs wrapping tighter around him as you begin to babble - “Yes- Arthur… I love you too-”, another gasp as he hits that spot within you, “God - I love you so much-”

That’s it. There it is, stripped bare and bleeding out like an open wound, his heart catching in his chest at your confession, and his amazement leaves him speechless as he thrusts into you once more, holding himself as deep as he can possibly get into you, feeling you pulse and clutch around him, wailing your pleasure into the night. It’s only a moment more before he has the wherewithal to yank himself from you, in the nick of time as he spurts his seed over your cunt, dripping white into the dark curls at the joining of your legs.

He’s gasping, you’re gasping, and he groans as he settles himself to the side of you, barely able to hold himself up with the exertion. Your legs hang open as you pant, flushed from your cheeks down your neck.

One of his large hands spreads out over your chest, against your racing heart, and you turn your head toward him, breathing out through your nose as a smile graces your lips.

“Probably should get outta here before any more stragglers find us.” He says, out of breath as he removes his hand to tuck himself back into his trousers. You nod and sit up, pulling your skirts down over your legs.

“D’ya think…” you trail off as you watch him rebutton his pants before he pushes himself to stand. His hair is ridiculously ruffled from the amount of times you've run your fingers through it.

“Mm?” He holds out his hand to you to help you up.

You take it, and he pulls you up into his embrace, his hand secure on your lower back.

“Was wondering if we could spend the rest of the night in Rhodes or somewhere instead of heading all the way back to camp…” You ask as you lay a hand on his chest.

He squeezes you closer to him.

“Sounds mighty nice… certainly wouldn't mind a stay in a hotel room tonight.”

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead fanfic #red dead redemption #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #twolafic #prompt request #red dead fandom #rdr2 fanfic

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kissingghouls · 11 days

Note

'leave me behind' and Terzo if I may ☺️ you can chose if you want to break my heart or just let him be the drama queen we know and love 💜

Oh my goodness Cake this took so long! I am so sorry 😭

Here's 1k words of Drama Queen Retired Terzo Fluff 💜 (Terzo x Reader [gender neutral reader, but there is a mention of wearing a dress], established relationship, relatively SFW but suggestive, MDNI, not beta read)

Terzo Emeritus is a magnificent bastard. Magnificent and beautiful. The warm light of the morning shines on your lover’s bare face—a luxury very few are allowed to see even now in his retirement. Trouble is, he’s as charming as he is handsome. The Third has completely stolen your heart and—if you were inclined to search through his room—probably some of your clothes as well.

The suite is just as dreamy and over-the-top as he is, all luxe velvet and silk in the deepest violet built to house royalty. An opalescent gleam dances over every surface thanks to the large stained glass window on the far wall. Touches of gold and marble from the fireplace to the valet where his suit waits for him seem to sparkle at this hour. Even the bed feels softer than the night before—as if Papa Emeritus III would sleep on anything less than a cloud.

It's hard to leave this place. As much as you’d love to dramatically drape yourself over every opulent piece of furniture in the room and pose like a Victorian woman waiting for a letter, there were things to do. You were happy Terzo was enjoying retired life—even more so that he was spending his leisure time with you—but he’s been pretending to be asleep for a half-hour and you really need to get out of this bed.

You’ve tried wiggling, huffing, and physically trying to pry his fingers away from you, but Terzo will not let go. Normally you think it’s sweet the way he clings to you, but he knows you have important meetings to attend. And he knows exactly how it will look if you are late.

“Terzo, please,” you finally try, your voice hitting a pitched whine you hadn’t intended. You hope it helps to make your point.

“Amore,” he whines back. His eyes are still shut tight, but he’s fighting that sweet Terzo smile you usually enjoy.

“You have to let me go, Terzo.”

He groans in response, tightening his grip on you. “I will never.”

“Terzo, darling, I need to get dressed. You know how they get if I’m late for a meeting.”

He sighs heavily and slowly releases his hold. Before he can change his mind, you slip from the bed and gather your clothes for the day. He watches you dress, eyes following the line of your body as you move through the room. He knows every part of you now, loves every part of you. There isn’t a dip or curve he hasn’t traced with his fingers or his tongue. He’s committed each freckle and scar to memory, knows them better than all those songs he used to sing. Songs he’d still sing at your request, but only for you.

Maybe he is a selfish man, but he can’t help but want you to stay in his arms. If not forever, then at least ten—no—sixty more minutes.

“Go on then,” he laments, dramatically throwing his arm over his eyes. “Leave me behind.”

The mattress dips under the weight of your knee as you sigh and climb back onto his ridiculous bed. You straddle his waist, leaning forward to press a kiss against his chest—that perfect pretty space right over his heart. “Terzo?” Your voice is soft, but you know he can hear you. You repeat his name, but he doesn’t respond, doesn’t move at all. “Terzo, look at me.”

“I can’t,” he pouts, his bottom lip jutting out a little more as he keeps his arm in place.

“Why not?”

“You’re too beautiful. Like staring into the sun,” he admits with a sigh. “And if I look at you now, you will never make it to that meeting. What kind of man would I be then? Contributing to your delinquency?”

You bite your lip and pry his arm away from his face, pinning it to the mattress instead. “I think you would be the same man you were last night—the same man who spent the entire evening with a hand up my dress.”

“Well, that’s not my fault, amore. You have bewitched me, temptress. I’m nothing more than a possessed man.”

“I wasn’t complaining.”

“Oh?” He asks, his left eyebrow quirked up. “Perhaps you could tell me what you meant, so I can understand.”

“I like you. I like being with you. I like being around you. I would rather stay here with you and let you worship me than sit in that stuffy conference room for even one second.”

“Sì, sì. I like where this is going,” he teases, raising his hips under you.

“But—” You pause to pin his other arm to the bed, holding him firmly. “If I miss this meeting, you better make it worth it—”

“Oh, amore, I—”

“And you are coming up with a much better excuse this time.”

He frowns. “And what was so bad about the last one?”

“Telling you brother I ‘choked on something’ isn’t exactly subtle.”

“Copia? He wouldn’t know an innuendo from his own fist.”

“You know the Siblings call him ‘Fuck Machine’ right?”

“They what—”

“It doesn’t matter, but you should be very proud.”

“Ah, sì, good for him I suppose…Why do you know they call him that?”

“Shush darling, it’s just girl talk.”

“Wait, what do they call me?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m going to work.”

His body shifts and twists until his hands are free. He grabs your waist, easily pushing you onto your back before he climbs over you. He softly traces his lips over your jaw as he speaks. “You said you’d stay.”

“I said if I stay. And that you better have a good excuse.”

“Hmm,” he hums, drawing a hand between your legs. “I don’t know, amore. I think it feels like you might be getting a fever.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm, Hell Flu is deathly contagious too. We should quarantine for at least a week I think.”

“A week, huh?”

“At least. You may need even longer to recover. I’m afraid you are very, very ill. I’ll call Copia and let him know you aren’t feeling well. You go ahead and get undressed, amore. Let me take care of you,” he says with a wink and hops up to call in sick for you.

#my writing #prompt request #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #reader insert #the band ghost fanfiction #terzo fanfiction #papa emeritus iii fanfic #x reader

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sallowsunshine · 1 year

Note

Sebastian x F! hufflepuff where he starts getting more jealous of her and ominis being closer, as he goes down the path of the dark arts gets a bit obsessive about it!! I just love angst and fluff so if it could also have a happy ending MSNSKDB

Got a little carried away with this one. I forgot to include Hufflepuff specifically, so can be read as any house. Also, not a happy ending, but definitely a hopeful ending. Contains spoilers for Sebastian's quests.

“Perhaps I should have a chat with Ominis,” you say to Sebastian. The two of you were outside the Slytherin common room, where Sebastian had been hoping Ominis would help him open up the Scriptorium.

“You?” Sebastian laughs. “Well I suppose it’s worth a try, but don’t get your hopes up. Ominis is annoyingly stubborn.”

You gesture Sebastian over after talking with Ominis, appealing to a more sympathetic view point that exploring the Scriptorium and finding out what happened to his aunt would honor her memory.

“Now you’ll share? You wouldn’t tell me when I practically begged.” Sebastian exclaimed.

“It wasn’t you who told me what I needed to hear.” Ominis replied.

Their first obstacle is a locked door, and Ominis knows how to get through. He’s ready to turn back, but Sebastian isn’t. You’re stuck in the middle, nervous at what lies ahead.

“Believe me, I am having thoughts- but I’m still convinced we should go ahead.” you say after Ominis expresses his wish that you’re having second thoughts.

The door opens to whatever he says in Parseltongue. “It worked! Ominis, you possess a rare ability indeed!” your excitement washes over into your voice.

Sebastian crosses his arms. “Between the two of you, I’m starting to feel left out.”

“Between the two of us?” Ominis raises his eyebrows.

“I- never mind.” Sebastian shakes his head.

You assume he’s referring to your ability to see ancient magic, but you wonder if there’s more behind his comment.

The three of you are trapped. Ominis is at the other end, pacing back and forth, his head in his hands. “I knew I shouldn’t have listened to either of you!”

Sebastian pulls you to the side, “I know what to do. We need to cast crucio. Ominis knows how. You seem to be in Ominis’ favor- will you ask him about this?”

“I cannot ask this of him. I don’t understand how you can even think about asking him to do this. Are you sure you don’t know how to cast it?” You’re scared. This is more than you bargained for. This is more than what you wanted. No answers were worth ruining a friendship like this. No answers were worth losing their lives for.

“You would rather die, than cast a curse, Ominis?” Sebastian calls out to him. “I think I know how. I can either teach you, or I can cast it on you.” he says to you.

“If you cast Crucio, you will regret it forever,” Ominis calls back.

“I don’t want to learn the Cruciatus Curse, so you must cast it on me.” You’re shaking your head.

“Very well. I shan’t forget this.” Sebastian takes his wand out. “Ready?”

You can’t even reply, your body is frozen in fear.

“Crucio”

Instantly, you’re down on the ground, screaming. White-hot pain laces its way down your body through to your bones. As quick as it starts, it’s over. But you body still feels the toll. You can’t even think of getting up, so you curl in on yourself.

“You alright?” Sebastian moves to help you.

You flinch back and whimper, “Please. Don’t”

“Are you alright?” Ominis calls out. He’s found his way near you, and has his hand extended out to you.

You take it, and a flash of hurt crosses Sebastian’s face. “That pain. It was excrutiating, but I’ll survive. Let’s keep moving.” your entire body feels weak and you have to lean on Ominis.

“I’m sorry Ominis, I don’t think I can stand on my own right now.” you groan.

“Let me help-” Sebastian tries.

“You’ve done enough, Sebastian.”

“-Not all goblins”

“Not all goblins what? Have you forgotten Feldcroft? Have you forgotten the mines we just went through?” Sebastian sneers.

“No, I haven’t forgotten, but you’re not listening to me!” you try to reason with him.

“Why would I listen to someone so ignorant?”

“Please, stop it, Sebastian. You’re don’t know what you’re saying.” you shake your head. “You’re being cruel. Ominis-”

“Unbelievable.” without another word, Sebastian storms away.

You didn’t think things would go this far. Sebastian was going to explore the catacombs with or without you and you had promised Ominis you’d keep him out of trouble. The relic had been found, and the desire to help Anne had begun to turn Sebastian power-hungry. He was becoming increasingly irritable and snappy. You were a bit relieved when Ominis showed up in the catacombs.

“You cannot let him leave with the relic.” Ominis pleaded.

“There’s no stopping him, I’m afraid. I’ve already tried to reason with him.”

You continue to explain to him how this will be the last time. No more after this. If Sebastian continues, you won’t- can’t associate yourself with him anymore.

“Fine. Fine, I’ll let you pass. You have to help him, though. Don’t let it go any further.” Ominis pleads.

You return to Sebastian. “What is it? I haven’t changed my mind.”

“Ominis has, let’s go.”

“What? Ominis? What happened back there?” Sebastian questions suspiciously.

“Ominis and I found a compromise,” you answer.

Sebastian pulls you around to face him. “Ominis simply needs a moment with you and he’ll change his mind. Is that it?”

“You’ve started to go too far, Sebastian. Everytime you say this will be the last time. But it never is. You are lying to Ominis and me, and you are lying to yourself. I understand you’re doing this for Anne, but this wouldn’t be what she wants. The answer does not lie within the dark arts. Please stop now, while you still can.”

“Oh, I see. You and Ominis have both turned against me. I knew there was something between you two. And don’t you dare use Anne against me. I refuse to give up on her.” Sebastian’s voice rises.

“Between Ominis and me?” you scoff. “The only thing between us is our desire to keep you from doing something you’ll regret. We’re begging you, I am begging you to please stop this.”

“You’re lying. I see the way you two are together, the way you talk about me behind my back. I saw the fear in your eyes when I tried to help you in the Scriptorium. You’re scared of me. You’re scared of the power the Unforgivables can grant you.” You stop in your tracks and turn to him.

“Sebastian, you’re seeing things that aren’t there. But you are right, I’m scared. Not of you, but of what you are becoming. You are not the boy I first met in Defense Against the Dark Arts. You rarely smile anymore, and you rarely laugh. You’re letting this sick obsession with finding a cure consume you. It’s going to tear you apart. Tear us apart.”

“Ominis, we’ve lost him. I’ve tried to defend his actions but I just can’t anymore.”

The two of you are in the Undercroft. You hadn’t spoken to Sebastian since he left the catacombs with the relic.

“We cannot give up on him. He needs us.” Ominis’ hand finds your shoulder and you turn and embrace him, wrapping your hands around his waist.

“I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to help him, but he’s making it impossible.” The tears begin to slip down your cheeks.

Neither of you hears the gate to the Undercroft opening. “I knew it!” Sebastian’s voice echoes.

You and Ominis startle apart.

“I knew there was something going on between you two.”

“Sebastian! You are looking for something that is not there” Ominis tries to reason with him.

“Please, Sebastian. There is nothing between Ominis and me. It’s you I want to be with!”

Silence. You can’t breathe.

“I - I didn’t mean to say that.” You don’t know what else to say.

Silence.

“But I cannot keep watching you do this to yourself. You say we should not be afraid of the dark arts, but it has begun to consume you. I will not be a part of this any longer.”

Sebastian’s face falls. “But- I need you. I need both of you. I can’t do this without you.” He pleads.

“This time, we will give you one more chance. You will not use that artifact. You will not use the dark arts. Or we will no longer be around to help you.” Ominis ordered.

“I- I will do my best to make it up to you. To the both of you.” Sebastian looks to you. “I- I think we need to talk.”

#sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy #prompt request #fic #my writing

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