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slytherizz · 3 months

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Playing God - Auror!Sebastian x Dark!MC

Tags/Warnings: 18+ | Non-Con | explicit sexual content | Dark!MC | Polyjuice Sex

All tags can be found on Ao3

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: Decorated Auror, Sebastian Sallow had not anticipated how his life would diverge so sharply from the woman he once loved, the most wanted and notorious witch in Britain. Or how their paths would continue to cross - their fates still bound together.

A/N This fic has been living in my WIPs for about 6 months...I wanted to reverse the dynamic of my longer fic with Sebastian being the Auror this time and in doing such explore some darker themes. Short multi-chapter that will probably end up being three chapters at most.

She was pretty enough he supposed in a homely sort of way.

Petite, with neat shoulder-length hair that brushed against narrow shoulders and, a soft bow to her overly thin top lip. But her dress was old-fashioned, a severe high-neck buttoned almost to her chin, ruffled layers of her underskirts impractical and lumpy. Layers upon layers, of an unflattering shade of yellow washed out her otherwise pleasant features.

Compared to the other witches that would frequent such a seedy establishment with their low necklines and light skirts, she would be considered dowdy.

If it wasn't for her eyes. Keen and alert as if beneath the sheep-like exterior lurked something dangerous. He most likely would have overlooked her too.

To even the keenest observer it wouldn't look like Sebastian had any particular tastes when it came to women or men. Much to his displeasure, the qualities that drew him in were rarely mere aesthetic.

Barked laughter like an ill-tempered hound. The smell of mallowsweet. Aromatic and earthy. Teeth pressed lightly into a bottom lip like they held all the cards in a game no one else knew they were playing. Until they spread the winning hand. Smile so wide it unnerved, bore too many teeth.

Tonight, it was keen and dangerous eyes that reminded him of her.

They shared no other similarities and from what Sebastian could discern from her well-manicured nails, and unblemished skin, bar a pale line around her finger where he supposed an engagement ring would usually sit - this was no fighter.

This was a proper young lady - who had wandered onto the wrong side of town looking for a sensible amount of trouble as her wedding day, most likely to some equally wellbred suitor, loomed over her like a dark cloud.

As if Sebastian were screaming his thoughts at her across the crowded tavern, those sharp eyes flicked their attention to him. Raked over the thinning patches of his civilian cloak, the shadow across his jaw, the dark circles under his eyes he'd given up glamouring. After years they were as much a staple of his face as the freckles on his nose.

The marks of a man who hadn't enough time to shave let alone visit a tailor, a man who would scarcely have enough time to ask her too many intrusive questions.

She smiled. Jarring was the only way Sebastian could describe how her face seemed to split horizontally across its centre. Neither half quite belonged to the other. The demure and polite curl of her lips was offset by the razor-edged scrutiny of her darkened gaze. Predatory. Hungry. In a way that made his mouth go dry and cool sweat beads on the back of his neck.

Ice clinked against the side of his glass as Sebastian knocked back the remaining dregs of whiskey. Disguising the way his lip twitched at the corners under the weight of her eyes. Amber liquid burned his throat was nothing compared to the heat prickling across his skin.

Sebastian held up two fingers to indicate to the Barmaid over the raucous patrons of the pub. She placed a second glass on the bar filling them both with a more than generous pour.

"Cheers," Sebastian said, placing the coins into her hand, a little extra for her trouble as he always did. The barmaid smiled brightly, flushed and preening, over a few extra sickles as if he'd declared some great love for her. Though he supposed generosity was not a trait of many that frequented the Ogre's Arms. She leaned a little further over the bar than was strictly necessary, her fingers linger too long against his palm as he hands over his sickles.

Sebastian did not miss the way that the strangers' eyes tracked the interaction. As swift and deliberately as he had been trained to be with every motion, he slipped his hand from the barmaid's grasp deftly hooking his fingers into the rim of the grotesquely full tumblers as he spun on his heels.

Whatever the poor girl had been about to say faltered in her throat. Crackling out of life like a dying gramophone. He really should have felt some sympathy for the poor girl.

She'd made her fondness for him quite obvious over the years. Despite how Sebastian would sidle out the door with what must seem like any witch but her. Too worried about any kind of arrangement that would ask for more than he was willing, or able, to give. Nor did he wish to find a new hole to drown himself in.

And regretfully - her gentle honeyed voice and hopeful doe eyes that delivered longing glances had never stirred anything inside of Sebastian. As much as on some nights he wished they would.

Sebastian weaved through the sparse gathering around the bar of the more rambunctious patrons. Turning a blind eye, to the corner booth and the two witches poorly disguising their face under their dramatic hoods, exchanging money, a rather suspicious-looking sack at their feet which gave a periodic shudder and what looked like spines protruding from the burlap. It may be his job to investigate suspicious behaviour such as this but- he'd rather not have to explain to his sergeant exactly what he was doing in this pub in the first place.

Approaching her solitary table nestled in the corner, she inclined her chin up towards him. Smug. Sloped oak beams cast a thick shadow, and candlelight flickering against her cheekbones made her features waxy like an oil painting against a grimy canvas.

"May I?"

She tilted her head, as though she expected nothing else but was amused by his gesture nonetheless."Only because you brought a bribe."

Sebastian hooked the heel of his boot around the chair leg pulling out further. Placed the two glasses on the table as he sat, careful not to spill any against the oak surface. Not that it would be such a shame if it did. Cheap whiskey from a smudged glass was hardly a waste.

Sebastian tipped his glass to her in toast, she did not feign even the slightest interest in her glass or his hollow act of chivalry.

"I haven't seen you here before," Sebastian said.

Flexing her fingers, she admired those well-polished nails. "No. I don't suppose you would have."

West Country. Quaint. As out of place amongst the sea of London accents as her dress was from this decade. Confirming a very important fact for Sebastian she was certainly not from around here. For the best.

"This doesn't seem like the place for such a nice young lady such as yourself."

Chin resting on the back of her delicate hand. A feline grin spread across her face, as she lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Nor the place for well respected Ministry men."

Tension seized Sebastian's shoulders. Unnerved by her perception, his eyes darted across the sea of faces. He'd left the scarlet cloak with the gold badge adorning his lapels in his flat long before he'd made apparated to the bottom of Knockturn Alley. Places like these didn't take too kindly to rozzers scrambling their clientele. Nor would he want it to become common knowledge at the Ministry that he frequented grimy drinking holes on his off hours. He was certain she'd been alone but that prickle of unease had his hand reaching towards his wand.

She caught his arm swiftly, delicate fingers folded up the cuff of his cloak. Ministry insignia branded into the tan leather strap that secured his wand to his forearm.

Chuckling breathily to himself, Sebastian felt the tension ebb as, just as swiftly, she turned down the sleeve. "Half the people here carry their wand tucked up their sleeve. You have a keen eye, to have spotted that mark from halfway across the room, lass. Do you make it a habit of checking if every man who approaches you is an Auror?"

Sharp eyes glinted with mischief. "Only the ones that interest me."

"Must be my lucky day." He leaned in closer, bitter whiskey breath disturbed a loose curl around her ear as he whispered. "Unless there's a reason you have to be on such high alert for authority I should know about?"

"Do I look like the kind of woman who would have much trouble with the law?"

He cast his eyes down, at her unblemished hands. Free of callouses and scar tissue, the tight restrictiveness of her bodice ill-suited for battle, her polite disarming smile - even those eyes, so reminiscent but not quite right. Despising the remorseful pang in his chest. Nothing like her.

"Well if that's the case this," he gestured around the damp crooked hole masquerading as a tavern. "Certainly isn't the place for you."

"Nor you. Unless the requirements for holding such an esteemed post has gone severely downhill and they let swindlers and murderers into their ranks." He almost winced at the sting of the insult she unwittingly delivered.

"Perhaps lurking around in dingey bars with terrible whiskey isn't suited to either of us. Perhaps, upstanding members of society that we are, should go somewhere we can feel more…relaxed."

"And where exactly is there such a place for me?" Most women would have covered that glaring tan line on her finger, under gloved hands or glamour, but she seemed to flaunt it as she ghosted it across his knuckles; an invitation.

Sebastian's grin widened. "I have a few ideas."

"I don't have much time. So you better make every minute count."

***

Sebastian unlocked his front door with a snap of his fingers. Gestured her inside, his hand pressed into the small of her back. She inclined her head towards him, a smirk playing on her lips at the hollow politeness of his gesture. Knowing full well his intention of inviting her back to his flat was far from gentlemanly.

Exaggerated skirts shifted as she stepped inside. Soft lamp lights scattered around his living room sparked to life in welcome illuminating the small living area. Her formal attire looked out of place; more suited for high tea than the sparsely filled space Sebastian inhabited.

Files strewn across the long velvet settee, scattered teacups and candles burned down to the wick littered every available surface. He knew the larder would be just as barren save for some tea bags and a half-empty bottle of gin the department had cobbled together to purchase for his promotion. He didn't even like gin. The presence of female company always seemed to highlight just how every inch of his flat screamed bachelor.

Sebastian shrugged off his cloak, hooking it on the back of the door. Never once taking his eyes off her. Odd little creature that she was. Against the faint moonlight that trickled in from the arched window on the far wall, her face cloaked in darkness, she cast a dramatic silhouette.

Not quite her. No. But her dress despite its bulk could not disguise the dip of her waist, an alluring swell to her chest. With her face masked from view, he felt his drink-fogged mind teeter dangerously on an edge he would not let it wander past.

She'd bent down, and pinched the corner of a piece of parchment he'd discarded the previous night between her thumb and forefinger. Sebastian slipped his wand from the holster. With a flick, the paper pried itself free to rejoin the rest which were shuffling themselves back into their file before shooting across the room into the waiting drawer of his bureau. The gold lock clicked shut, locking them securely away with an audible snap.

Her head whipped around, her chin jutted out in irritation, and her eyes narrowed slightly into a glare. Sebastian shrugged, as he unbuckled the holster on his arm, placing it on the narrow kitchen island. "Classified information. I'm sure you understand."

Sebastian couldn't have nosy witches trawling through his case files. He'd seen plenty of Aurors sacked for lesser sins. And reporters from the Prophet certainly weren't above seduction tactics to get their stories. That knowledge did nothing however to stop the tingle that spread down his spine that the defiant look in her eye ignited in him.

"I suppose." She shrugged, a forced display of indifference. Before proceeding to further inspect his residence. Striding about like she owned the place and Sebastian was merely some troublesome tenant.

The cramped flat he'd started renting in London straight out of Hogwarts could hardly be considered a home. Sebastian never planned to make it one. Or stay for as long as he did. Merely a stepping stone, at the start of his career. Close to the Ministry, so he could collapse after a long day.

Eat. Sleep. Breath. Work.

That desperate desire to prove himself more than what he'd been. Never satisfied with his lot in life. By the grace of Merlin, he'd been given a second chance to make himself a man - his parents, his sister, that he could be proud of.

He had planned to settle down eventually. Fix the decaying bones of his parents' old house on the hill with her by his side. Both were now a faded, hopeless dream. Sebastian's life had rarely gone to plan.

Tracing a finger across the well-worn spines on his overstuffed bookshelf she pondered each title with interest. "Quite the collection you have. Some rather questionable titles you have here for a man of your profession."

"Special Ministry approval. They're charmed to be bound to my place of residence - before you get any ideas. Can never be too prepared in my line of work. Knowledge of magic of a more…delicate nature can be the difference between life and death."

Strictly speaking, this was not a lie. Any Auror worth his salt would have at least half the books in Sebastian's collection on curse-breaking, dark magic and deadly creatures. Admittedly, his robust library wasn't necessary for his career nor was all of it purely academic interest.

Eyewitness accounts of skinwalkers he'd picked up on a short trip to America, liaising with the MACUSA on their rising troll problem. Journals, written in the maddening scrawl of a witch who'd fancied herself a revolutionary scholar. Wanted to test the corruption dark magic had on the soul. Daft bugger used herself to test her theories. Now all that was left of her was crammed into a bachelor's bookcase.

Smallest in number and size, a thin collection of children's stories and a letter correspondence from crackpot conspiracists. He'd been too late to salvage anything that remained of Miriam Fig's research and this pitiful array was all that he'd discovered over the years with any reference to Ancient Magic. A small house fire could destroy what Sebastian could only assume was the largest collated materials on the subject.

It had been foolish to try to love her, but perhaps more still to hunt the vengeful wraith.

"Well read. Good career. Seems you are a rather eligible bachelor-"

Sebastian smiled moving closer towards her. "I'm not bad to look at either."

"Despite your proclivity for skulking around dingey bars. It's unusual to find a man such as yourself…unattached."

"What can I say - I'm married to my work. Not much time for anything else; not many witches would put up with the lifestyle long-term. Never been interested in marriage."

Liar.

She looked up at him through dark lashes, from how those sharp eyes stripped him back until he was raw and exposed - she scented his dishonesty. "Sounds like a lonely life."

"Depends on who you ask."

Sebastian leaned heavily on the shelf above her head, elbow brushing against well-loved spines. His calloused palm slipped around her waist, running up her side. Felt the curved bones of her corset under his thumb. Leaning in closer still, enough that his breath disturbed the loose curls around her temples. Her lips parted, tongue dancing along her bottom lip as she tilted her chin up towards him like a cat basking in a warm breeze.

She didn't waiver. Not a single flicker of hesitation in those sharp, piercing eyes. For a moment, Sebastian pitied the man who intended to marry her. But not enough to stop him from capturing her lips.

Tasting the tang of cheap whiskey in their mingled breath. Not a slither of remorse as her delicate hands found the nape of Sebastian's neck. Used chestnut curls to pull him closer to kiss him more deeply. Their breath was little more than stolen gasps for air and an opportunity for her tongue to seize and slip past parted lips.

Sebastian crowded her further against the bookshelf. Held tighter to the bunched fabric of her skirts, hands fumbling desperately to feel the shape it disguised. Frustrated by the garment, his lips left her mouth. Travelled down to her jaw, her breathing hitched, head tipped back to thunk against the shelf as Sebastian nipped and sucked at the column of her throat. A little too sharply. But she only pressed into him further. Blood and bruises bloomed wild across her skin as his teeth grazed along her heightened pulse.

He knew what it was like to try to ensnare creatures such as this. How they bit when cornered. Fool that he was, he desired to tame them, change their nature; almost as much as he craved to be bitten.

Maybe that was why he held her so firmly in his grasp. Petticoats balled in his fists, as he pressed himself awkwardly against her. Her dainty form didn't quite fit the stocky mould of his own.

Not that anyone witch or woman had since.

Not that she seemed to care. She pulled Sebastian in like he alone was hers to drink from. Like he belonged to her and she would bend and break him to fit her. Some part of him prayed she succeeded. He'd snap every bone in his body, boil down his sinew in the hope that when at last he healed - he would fit another.

Sebastian pressed his mouth into the crook of her shoulder and burrowed his face, inhaling deeply, as he mouthed at her skin. Soft and supple as an over-ripe peach. Desperately, pathetically trying and failing to make himself fit. But the bridge of his nose bumped harshly against her clavicle and his back ached from stooping.

He'd never melted into anyone since her. No matter how many times he tried with countless trysts with all the ways they reminded him of her in their laughs, smiles, and eyes - they were not her.

Pained groan against her shoulder. Cloth ripped as he tore past her outdated petticoats and the silk of her undergarments. Desperate hands kneaded at her bare flesh. Thigh. Hip. The curve of her arse. Every inch of her skin grew hot, flushed under his touch. If Sebastian had been in his right mind not addled, by drink and frustration he would have handed it to her; for such a wellbred lady, she did not startle easily or cringe from his working hands. With a strung-out whine, she simply displaced the torn fabric so Sebastian's knee pressed between her thighs could provide her with more friction.

Sebastian sank to his knees, hooking her thigh around his broad shoulder. Balanced precariously, her back pressed against the stacks and her leg suspended quivering. Heel dug between his shoulder blades as she sought stability. Her limbs were lean…soft. Delicate like a lamb. No coiled muscle battle worn and firm disguised under her skirts.

That did not stop Sebastian from groaning against the sparse hair as he nestled himself between her thighs. Her muscles clenched tighter. Not with apprehension. No. With blinding unhindered desire. Whining breathlessly, as she urged him to fulfil his role, drop any pretence to do what they came here for. This was no budding romance. And there was no time to pretend otherwise.

Sebastian's tongue darted out teasing the tip through her folds. Eagerly seeking out her bundle of nerves to curl his tongue under her hood. Satisfied, a mewl passed her lips to at last have Sebastian where she desired him most. Hips bucked and writhed with every broad stroke and teasing lick against her soaking entrance. Brown tresses tangled harshly in her grip, those neatly filed nails scratching encouragingly against his scalp.

Her taste was unfamiliar on Sebastian's tongue, but he only lapped at her more fervently. Desperate. As if he savoured enough of her desire for him - he could burn away the memories of sweeter nectars.

Bunching her skirt closer to her stomach, Sebastian's view of her was unobstructed. The collar pulled open where she'd made swift work of the buttons of her high neckline; they hung like loosely strung pearls cascading down her chest which heaved with every breath. Breasts dimpled against the restrictive tightly laced corset.

Sebastian's eyes flicked up to meet hers. Not the right shape or hue but that intensity to them. Storm raging across a riptide, Sebastian, vulnerable in their depth. He could drown in them and would do so gladly.

Blood rushed south, and Sebastian groaned low, pained. He sucked on her clit, coaxing more slick to coat his lips and chin. Hoping beyond hope that her eyes locked on his would flutter closed in pleasure. Her mouth was ajar, each drawn-out moan growing louder as she approached her peak. Clever calculating gaze fixed on Sebastian. He knew he was exactly where she wanted him. Prey to her predator. His cock strained and achingly hard because of it.

Her back arched against the stacks, toes curling against the centre of his back, legs shook with the strain to hold herself upright. Sebastian was relentless. He devoured the quivering nub, tongue teasing as he sucked. Her passionate cry was unrestrained, legs threatening to buckle bringing her down like a house of cards as she collapsed over the edge. Aftershock of pleasure rolled over her, he kept a firm grip on her hip as she rested more heavily against him. His desire for her is confusing and just as precarious.

Sebastian unhooked her leg from his shoulder, palms running along the backs of her calves. She was still propped up feebly holding herself against the bookcase. Pads of her fingers clutching pathetically at the shelves with the ball of her heel holding purchase on the floor.

Orgasm ebbing, softening her predatory edge. A smirk played at Sebastian's lips as he looked up at her once polished appearance now dishevelled. Rattling, with a lust-drunk gaze that defiant chin hanging slightly ajar as she greedily gulped down air.

She narrowed her eyes at his smug expression and gathered her composure before slipping her ruined dress from her shoulders letting it puddle at her feet. Nail digging under his chin as she beckoned Sebastian upwards, pulling him in.

It made Sebastian's heart beat wildly against his chest. A caged canary faced with a falcon.

Teeth grazed his bottom lip, tongue seeking his own. Sebastian's clothes fell away easily from his broad frame. His shirt was discarded, followed by breeches which tangled around his ankles as they fumbled towards the settee. Muffled grunts into her mouth every time her palm grazed his cock, hard and throbbing, through his undergarments. Sebastian moved to lie her swiftly across the settee. One hand pressed into the small of her back the other tangled in amongst the pins now falling loose from her hair.

Inexplicably, she moved faster than Sebastian thought she was capable of. Leg hooked around his ankle like a snake pulling him off balance. Backs of his knees connected with the settee as his legs buckled and Sebastian collapsed bodily onto cushions. Rarely with his extensive training did anyone get the jump on him.

Her lips curled as she observed the way his enlarged head twitched against his belly more eagerly. "Now, I think it's my turn." Laces from her corset pulled loose, she let the camisole shift to the floor with it. "-And you looked far too pretty beneath me."

As she straddled his lap, Sebastian spluttered on his groan and the intoxicating sensation of her wet centre against his shaft. Her palms were flat, braced against his chest, nails scratching at the coarse hairs that grew there. Every inch of her soft, naked flesh pressed against him. His hands settled on the curve of her hips, sliding along her flushed skin with hands that seemed too large.

She really was quite pretty. Sebastian just wished the parts that didn't remind him of her made his heart race as much as the ones that did.

She caught his lips, fingers cupped against his jaw, her mouth moving against his. Teeth and tongue. Hot breath came out in short dulcet pants as she greedily tasted the remnants of her arousal on his lips.

Her hand snaked down between them, taking Sebastian's throbbing length in her hand. He hissed, as her thumb smoothed over the leaking slit, aligning him with her entrance. Eyelashes fluttered a satisfied sigh, as she sank down, taking him inside of her. Dainty as she may appear, she appeared to relish the stretch to accommodate his size, almost as much as he did. So tight she gripped his cock, it almost sent him hurtling over the edge.

Barely giving herself time to adjust before she canted her hips. Weight shifting so she could slide up his shaft until only the head of his cock remained before sinking back down onto Sebastian's girth more demandingly. Needy grunts reverberated in Sebastian's chest as he matched her frantic desperate pace. Forehead braced on her chest as he bucked his hips into her tight core. Pebbled nipple caught between his lips, her head thrown back in a wanton moan as Sebastian ever so gently grazed the peak with his teeth.

Sebastian closed his eyes. Whiskey fog coupled with the godly feel of her clenched around him, he relaxed into her eager pace. Inhibitions lowered, his mind straying to the well-worn path he rarely let himself tread.

Face striking contorted in ecstasy; a savage beauty like lightning striking the ocean. Mallowsweet scent; that soothed like a botanist's herbal balm. How perfectly her body wrapped around his own as if by design. Sebastian's teeth pressed hard against his tongue as her name danced upon it. With his eyes closed, hands held back - that shameful part of him could pretend it was her.

"Sebastian," the witch moaned. He didn't remember giving her his name. Nor asking hers. The voice he heard was not that polite West Country lilt but one conjured from Hades - his divine pleasure and punishment.

Can't let it be her.

Sebastian forced his eyes open, to look at the woman from the bar. Her neat hair, narrow shoulders and thin top lip. Only to find the lines separating fantasy from reality blurred and contorted. His stomach lurched.

Maybe he'd had more to drink than he thought.

Whiskey had crowded and garbled his senses as well as his inhibitions. Sebastian's vision was merely blurred. She looked like her. Not just in her eyes but the sloping curve of her neck, the arch of her nose, her hair longer and tangling against the neat pins that had once held it back.

It's all the whiskey.

If he could bring himself to look away from her face for even one moment he would see the room spinning. But he couldn't look away.

Those keen eyes bore into him, locked with his own and he swore they changed colour. The fire that had been smouldering within sparked, roaring, melting her irises into that familiar hue.

He didn't just have to squeeze his eyes shut to see her and pretend it was her impossibly tight walls clenching around him with every thrust.

There she was.

"You," Sebastian spluttered, disbelief tight in his chest. "No. No- It can't be you. This can't be happening." Who cares if he sounded mad? His mind was spiralled and scrambled, desperate to bring back the visage of the woman from the bar and right himself. This face; her face didn't waver. She rolled her hips once more, bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she cast her gaze down. Over her breasts and the faded scar that curled under the left from the crucio, he'd administered. Firm muscles of her legs earned from years of battle. Calloused hands of someone who knew little of comfort. All were once again her own.

Sebastian's world was spiralling, tipping on its axis. Tension in every muscle in his body. Still as beautiful as she was in his nightmares, even the ones where she tore out his heart. She clicked her tongue, amused then smiled. So wide, it bore too many teeth.

Fucking exquisite. Sebastian despised the way his heart faltered in his chest.

"Pity. I guess the kneazle's out of the bag," she purred, teeth raking sharp across his earlobe. So sharp it shocked his spiral back into sickening clarity like ice in his veins.

Like a shot, Sebastian wrapped his hand hard around her throat forcing her face away from him. Thumb pressed harshly into the corner of her jaw with his iron grip on her windpipe. Any sane woman would tremble to have his large hand like a vice around her throat in anger. Cower, under the venom in his eyes.

But she was far from sane; perhaps never had been. She gasped involuntarily choking around where his fingers so deeply pressed into her flesh, but the smile on her lips never faltered despite how he could feel the hammer of her blood against his fingertips.

"You should know I don't share," she wheezed. It wasn't the polite West Country drawl she'd adopted at the bar - but that feminine purr he knew far too well. Velvety, like a caress that sent shivers down his spine; and if it were possible simultaneously made his blood run cold and his cock impossibly stiffer where it was sheathed deep within her. She whimpered approvingly, hot breath ghosting his freckled cheeks.

"Fuck- how did you-" Choking on his groan as she expertly rolled her hips, grinding on his cock. Evil, manipulative witch. She knew exactly how to turn practically every rational thought in Sebastian's brain to smoke.

"Polyjuice. She was pretty don't you think? You seemed to like fucking her while it lasted. Maybe not as much as that curvy redhead from a few months ago...I had bruises on my thighs for weeks."

Somewhere deep in his psyche, Sebastian knew he should push her off. Bind her. Gag her. Put as much distance between himself and her and the mixed-up way she made him feel. Preferably in a cell in the deepest part of Azkaban the Ministry had long ago allocated for her when they signed the warrant for her arrest. At that moment, over the cacophony screaming through his head the only coherent thought was how to keep her desperately bouncing on his cock.

"I thought it was my turn to have some unsanctioned fun."

No - rose, bubbled and died in his throat. Caught somewhere amongst the shameful rasping groan as she began to rhythmically rock her hips. Never quite releasing her entirely, but Sebastian's grip on her throat loosened as his muscles slackened in shameful pleasure.

Using every bit of her newfound leash, she leaned forward to kiss him. Sin, like ambrosia on his tongue. Lips slotted against him, they moved in perfect harmony to a melody he wished had never been composed on his bones.

She wrapped around him as if the wild thing that she had always been had sprouted from the earth, and curled her tendrils around him. Or rather, like a constant wave beating against him she'd worn his surface. It was a marvel he hadn't crumbled into her sooner.

"You're mine you know," she cooed, her breath hot against his ear.

"I am not," Sebastian spat. But try as he might to deny it, curse her until his final breath - his words rang hollow. And he loathes himself all the more for it. She was not his any longer, but something else. Twisted by cruelty and power that simply wore the face of the woman he once loved.

Shame stirred in his gut; desire coursed through his blood.

"Denying it doesn't make it any less true. You know me blind. When my face is not my own. Fate has bound us, Sebastian. Just as I would know you in any life."

Sebastian gritted his teeth, cheek pressed against her sternum. Fingers digging into her shoulder blades, as he pounded his cock up into her harder, faster. If he was stronger, he would not be prey to her illicit designs for him - but he was not. She keened, greedy to take all he could give her. Consume him entirely if she could. Sebastian closed his eyes and cursed himself for being weak.

Vision narrowing, Sebastian groaned, low and pitiful into the curve of her neck. Ashamed of what he knew was coming. "I hate you," he cursed. Repeated it like a mantra, his lips against her sweat-salted skin as if he could transcribe the words onto her flesh.

Deep plunges into her warmth growing erratic as Sebastian's coil tightens. Her body clenched, tightening around him, with every thrust teased against her sweet spot coaxing more slick onto his cock. His punishing words merely rolled off her curves like water off a duck's back.

"S-Sebastian," her hoarse cry pierced through his resolve. Sebastian bit into her neck trying and failing to hold back from the precipice of the inevitable. Unwilling to surrender any more of himself to her. It only served to send her hurtling over the cliff. His cock buried deep inside of her, her head thrown back, cunt quivering as her climax broke. Orgasm, wracked through her in waves. Engulfing Sebastian's every sense.

Fire and Brimstone. Gentle breezes and mallowsweet.

Beauty. Terror.

Rhythm faltering, Sebastian's hips spluttered as that mounting coil finally snapped. Her name on his lips, her scent on his skin. Everything that remained of Sebastian Sallow was consumed entirely by her. He came hard - with a broken pathetic whine that forced itself from his body as he spilt inside of her.

It was no little death - it was all-consuming. A part of him would never come back from. Another piece of his soul surrendered along with what was left of his dignity.

Sebastian fought for breath. Unforgiving waters filled his chest, ice seized his joints, heart thundered as dark edges clouded his vision, threatening to drown out the light and sound. Choking on his saliva he wheezed, shoulders heaved forward violently. Fresh tears pricked in his eyes.

She shushed his soothingly, thumb tracing idle patterns on his skin with a sickening gentleness that curdled his stomach. He whined pathetically against her chest but she only gripped him harder. Fingers carded through his hair as she hummed a sweet tune peppering kisses to the crown of his chestnut hair.

Perhaps, in another life, he had the strength to overcome the guilt and sickness now seizing his bones. In another, perhaps there was no deception to be ashamed of.

He wasn't sure how long they sat entwined, soft cock still inside her, his spend leaking onto his thighs matting in the hair. When at last Sebastian's violent sobbing eased he felt the enchantment stretch across his body, taunt ropes strapped his arms to his sides, and bound his ankles. A chaste kiss against his temple as she slid from his lap.

Sebastian watched her and tried to pretend for a second, that he was not bound, she was not mad and hips swaying hypnotically as she pranced naked around their flat as she did every Sunday evening. Not his. Theirs. Another life, unstained by dark magic where she was still his.

Fussing with her dress, eyebrows pinched together, frowning as she examined the shredded yellow gown. She sighed, holding the unlaced corset over her breasts, gathering up the remnants to haul them to the kitchen island. She found his wand, with its emerald and onyx handle, the one that had belonged to his paternal great-grandfather. Back and forth she toyed with it in her hands.

"Put that down." A feeble attempt at a threat from a man bound, naked, cheeks streaked with stale tears. Tight from salt they felt stretched like a drum.

"You ruined my dress," she pouted. "The least you can do is help me fix it."

Traitorously, Sebastian's wand didn't so much as shudder in retaliation. It obeyed her easily, stitching up the splintered seams, her corset tightened, cinching at her waist. Her hairpins reorganised themselves. She looked almost like her old self, the girl she'd been at school, with a spark of fire in her eyes that mirrored his own.

"Before you go running off to the next little witch who bats her eyelashes at you, Bash. Try to remember - I don't share." She placed his wand back on the counter and slipped a canteen from her purse. She drank deeply. Gagging, hand smacking into her chest to keep down whatever foul liquid it contained.

If Sebastian had still been drunk the way her face bubbled like stew on a boil would have turned his stomach. Her lips thinned, her hair shrunk back into her scalp, her scars paled and her muscles softened. The woman from the Pub returned, exactly as he'd met her. It did nothing to quell the sickness churning in his gut.

"Au revoir mon amour." She was gone as quickly as she came, but her presence lingered like a gaping, festering wound.

Sebastian sat in the dark. Hatred for her that he cultivated in public and the private yearning he tended to as it grew like persistent weeds in his garden he tended had given way to emptiness. A void that for a time he was content to let swallow him whole as he stared at the cracks in his floor. Mourning the woman he'd loved. But most he mourned for himself, for all she took from him.

Shadows inched across the floor as dawn eventually broke. Long after the bindings had dissolved. Sebastian hadn't slept or moved for hours and his joints stiff, groaned as he got to his feet. He trudged to his bathroom and ran the water until it was scalding. Intent on scrubbing his skin raw. As if she could un-touch him.

#Please mind the tags #dark fic #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x f!mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow fanfic

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annikin-annotates · 6 months

Text

Tear You Apart - Chapter 1

Hi hello, back with another chapter! This chapter deals heavily with SA trauma, so if that isn't something you feel comfy reading; please take care of yourselves first, love ya'll.

Content warnings: Non-con, Cannibalism as a metaphor for love, Smut, Dom/Sub, BDSM, Choking, Antagonist is NOT Astarion, Collaring.

Word Count: 5,282

Sunsets were always gorgeous this time of year, when the waters became frigid and the pack moved on to warmer waters. She would always spend the last night watching the sunset from the mouth of the Chionthar. The deep gold of the setting sun waning to hues of purple and blue, broken up by mottled clouds of violet and gold. It sent the waves around her shimmering with the last moments of sunlight as it dipped below the horizon, giving way to the moon.

She had always found great comfort in these moments, the tranquillity of being surrounded by nothing but the ocean and all those who lived under her protection. Her pack had found safety and protection beneath her waves for centuries, each generation more fearful of the surface than the last. They had every right to be terrified, humans had hunted them to near extinction for the sake of their own selfishness and curiosity, sentencing them to a miserable life on land, forever longing for the touch of the sea.

Another head surfaced from the depths of the water, slitted eyes and familiar dark tresses spreading a smile across her face. “Decided to brave the surface, have you?” she asked her friend, her eyebrows raised as she watched her sink below the surface again and popping up closer to her.

“No Na-Mara, I’m here to tell you to hurry up. Everyone is leaving,” she huffed, feigned annoyance crossing her delicate features as she rolled her eyes.

“Oh come on Muir - Who knows how long it’ll be before we see another sunset like this. I mean, look at it, it’s gorgeous isn’t it?” she countered, grabbing her friends shoulders and angling her towards the sunset, the hue changing almost entirely over the course of their short conversation. The light blues and violets traded for deep indigo, the seemingly endless expanse beginning to sprout stars that glittered like jewels.

Her eyes scanned across the cityscape, watching shadows pass by windows in houses and lovers walking along the boardwalk arm in arm. She couldn’t deny the pang of jealousy that shifted in her, digging its claws into the pit of her stomach. What a delight it would be to walk among them, to enjoy the sunshine and cool breeze as a human.

Muir sighed and rolled her eyes before agreeing “Yes, I guess it is somewhat enrapturing,” Na-Mara couldn’t help but chortle. Both of them floated idly, resting their heads on one another, taking in the scenery before it would become nothing but the endless expanse of deep inky blackness of the ocean.

Creaking of a ship pulled both of them from their daze, it was a sound she had heard many times before, and yet this time was all the more harrowing. The shouting and pointing of the crew alerted them to the fact that they had been seen; a pit settled in her stomach. Na-Mara turned her head towards her friend, “They can’t catch us both, get out of here!” she shouted.

Muir shook her head furiously, her wet tresses skimming the water, “Not without you!”the panic rising in her voice as a net was tossed over the side, ensnaring Na-Mara.

“Go Muir! Get out of here! Save yourself!” she begged, hoping her friend would find the bravery to flee. One of them had to make it out alive, one of them needed to live; it had to be Muir, she was sweet - new to the world and all of its cruelties. Muir looked up at her in horror as Na-Mara was lifted from the water and onto the ship, before diving back beneath the waves to the darkness below.

She landed on the deck of the ship with a wet slap, a dry gasp tore through her as the air was knocked out of her lungs, her back colliding with the hard wood of the deck. The worn rope net was thicker than what she had seen normal fishermen use, which indicated that they weren’t out here fishing - they were hunting something, and with the way several people descended on her, Na-Mara figured that it was her kind they were after.

She lashed out with a swipe of her talons, though it only caused her to become more tangled in the net. Voices overlapped all around her as her body became heavier and heavier, her willingness to fight dwindling. This was it, she was going to die. She was going to be slaughtered on the floor and thrown back into the ocean, all for the sake of a pelt.

In her final conscious moments she casted her mind to warm memories of the life she had lived - however short it was. Her mother would weep for her, they all would - she would no doubt be the source of insurmountable grief to her family for centuries to come. She regretted not embracing her mother before she left, she wished she could tell her not to worry, and that she loved her. Blackness danced at the edges of her vision, a sign her end was nearing, she used the final breath she had in her lungs to let out a bitter laugh.

Fucking humans.

The rocking of the sea pulled her from her forced slumber, waves lapping against the worn hull of the ship. A yawn escaped her as she tried to stretch her arms and legs, only to be met with the resistance as she did so, the rope groaning as she tried to slip from the bonds.

Her heart began to thrum in her chest: Why could she not move? Why could she not see? Why was she bound? Why was she still alive? The memories of how she got there were foggy at best, whoever had captured her did not want her to escape.

Capture?

She felt cold. Colder than she had ever been, the type of cold that reached the very marrow of her bones. Her skin pulled taught over her trembling fingers, flesh groaning each time she flexed them. She tried to focus on any prominent sounds she could hear, she could see naught but darkness, unable to see her fingers if she held them directly in front of her face - the bastards had taken her eyesight from her.

Her head swam with thoughts, all of them screaming over one another to be heard, You fool, why did you stray so close to the harbour? The only thing you have gained from this is your obituary, the voices spat. How could she be so stupid? Hot tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, Gods, the last thing I want to be before I die is a crying maiden.

“Where’s my pelt?” she asked out into the expanse of nothingness that surrounded her, feeling the air in the room shift as someone new entered.

“I am sorry, truly, but I cannot tell you,” he replied, almost sounding remorseful, though something in his voice told her that it wasn’t the first time he had done this, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Please, I’m begging you. My pelt is important to me, I need it to get home!” she cried, desperation becoming clear in her voice. Her pelt was the key to get home, she was nothing without it.

—

Time passed in a haze of blackness, without the use of her eyes she could hardly tell up from down, never mind how long she had been…well, wherever the hells she was. But she could feel that she had been placed on a bed of straw and if she focused hard enough, she could hear footsteps overhead. Every now and again she could hear soft voices and clinking glasses, though even with her hearing she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

There were chains around her wrists that pinched and nipped at her skin when she moved, anchoring her to an unseen point in the room. Her knees pressed to her chest as she tucked herself tightly into a ball. Rocking herself back and forth softly, emulating the ever changing push and pull of the ocean; her only source of comfort.

Gods, if you can hear my prayer, please offer me a kind hand. The prayer rolled around in her head, spilling from her lips away from the safe confines in her mind, like a snapped string of pearls tumbling away never to be seen again. Something shifted beside her, causing her to press herself against the cold stone wall backing as far as she could from the noise.

“I-Is someone there?” a male voice asked softly, she could taste the fear in the question. She nodded, though she was unsure if he had his sight taken like she had.

“Yes, I am here. What is this place?” she responded, back still pressed firmly against the wall.

Silence hung between them for a moment, both of them too terrified to acknowledge the fact that they didn’t know, the fact that they were on borrowed time. “Do you know where we are?” she pressed again, panic beginning to thrum in her veins. More silence followed.

“What’s your name?” she asked suddenly, surprising even herself, it seemed like such a personal question - given the circumstances.

“It’s uh…” he trailed off as if lost in thought, “I don’t remember,” he replied after a moment; he sounded sad.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to dredge up anything painful,” she said, scooting closer towards him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “My name is Na-Mara,” she added softly.

“Na-Mara,” he repeated softly, “I like it - it suits you.” There was a solemness that hung in the air, as if the entire place was steeped in pain and terror. She opened her mouth to speak again, to ask him if he knew anything about where they were, or who was keeping them here, the words had hardly formed on her lips before he was shushing her.

“Sh! They are coming,” he hissed, she went to bite out a reply when shuffling came from her left, thudding boots upon creaking stairs sending her heart thrumming from her chest. The footsteps landed heavily on the stones, multiple by the sounds of it, all of them branching off in different directions. Clinking of bottles and creaking of opening crates, perhaps they were not here for her or her friend just simply gathering supplies before moving back upstairs.

There was silence for a few moments after that, then movement along her chains. She had opened her mouth to begin pleading with her captors when the air was taken from her lungs, being forcefully thrown over a strong shoulder. She wriggled and writhed in their muscular grip, though there was nothing she could do - he felt as though he was made from stone.

They ascended the stairs again, the hinges of the cellar door groaning as it opened. The room they entered was well lit, though she couldn’t see the light, she could feel the warmth of the candles.

The world shifted around her once again as she felt solid ground beneath her feet, “Ah, there she is lads, isn’t she a beauty?” a hand gripped her cheeks between his thumb and forefinger to get a proper look at her.

“Give me my sight back!” she hissed, though with the days without water, it came out hoarse and barely more than a whisper.

There was a chorus of gruff laughter, it sounded as though it was coming from everywhere, “What was that? You’re going to have to speak up darlin’ -”

A smooth voice cut him off, the air in the room changing as he spoke, “Come now gentlemen, surely you have something better to do than to terrorise my merchandise?” he asked, even though he wasn’t looking for an answer. Candlelight seared her eyes, her hand coming to shield them as the blackness ebbed away. She scanned the room, there were three men to her right, she assumed they were the ones who had brought her upstairs.

The man in front of her - by all means - was attractive. Half of his wily chestnut hair was tied back in a bun, the rest hanging loosely over his shoulders, stopping at his mid chest. His eyes were a stunning shade of green, almost glowing in the light of the room. Long healed scars puckered the skin along his chin, cheek and eyebrow, though it did not distract from his beauty.

He stood a foot above her, enough to stare down at her as he began to speak “I apologise on their behalf, they are not used to handling such…pretty merchandise.”

She tried to keep her tone as even as she could, ignoring the hummingbird that had taken up home in her heart. Anger began to simmer in her veins, her temper getting the better of her before she had the chance to control herself, “You abduct me from my home, take my sight - which I don’t much appreciate by the way - and then you have the gall to call me merchandise?” She laughed incredulously.

In that moment, as the tall form stalked around her, tracing the curve of her cheek with a softness unbefitting of what was to come. She pulled away from him, a grimace clear on her face. “Do not touch me,” she spat, venom dripping from each syllable. He merely stared down at her in response, a lightness in his eyes - he was amused. She swallowed thickly as it dawned on her, she was no longer the predator - she was the prey.

She was moving before she could process it, running through hallways, blindly pushing her way through disgruntled patrons of whatever establishment this place was. She turned a sharp corner, colliding with a silver tray full of crystal glasses, the sound ear piercing as they shattered on the floor. Jagged shards sliced open the bottoms of her feet, causing her to cry out as she continued to run, leaving a trail of blood in her wake.

“Run child, you cannot hide from me forever,” he called after her, the lilt in his voice sending fear coursing through her as he trailed her through the halls; like one would walk through a park with a lover. She pushed down the urge to cry out in fear, as she continued to rush down the long hallway. The hum of chatter broke the ever flowing stream of fearful thoughts, relief flooded her body, its soft warmth leading to a sigh of escaping her.

“Please, someone help me! I am not meant to be here, please!” she cried, the patrons did nothing but stare at her for a moment before continuing on as if she didn’t exist. Her teeth ground together as she searched the room for an exit, she didn’t have much time before her captor would descend upon her. A door! Her thoughts cried out, she twisted and weaved through the patrons to cross the room, she could taste her liberation - it smelled of salt and petrichor.

She pushed the door, the chill of the rain flooding around her. She had her freedom, only for it to be snatched away from her at the last moment. An arm wrapped around her middle, heaving her away from the door, away from her freedom. She struggled in his grip, kicking and twisting to escape the vice that only seemed to tighten.

“Let go of me you beast!” she hissed, trying to jab her elbows into any soft flesh she could find. Her nails bit into his forearms hard enough for small droplets of blood to well on his skin, like rubies on a string.

“Well aren’t you just adorable,” her captor chuckled, like she was a petulant child asking for a sweet before dinner - an inconvenience and nothing more. The room followed suit with laughter, she screamed in frustration, still kicking and twisting in his arms as he carried her back through the halls.

“Please! I beg of you, let me go!” she begged, a broken gasp escaping her lips as he dropped her unceremoniously on the floor, the hardwood sending a jolt of pain up her spine.

“You sound so pretty when you beg, pet.” he crouched in front of her, reaching out a finger to lift her chin to look at him, she bit down on the ring clad finger without hesitation, hard enough for his blood to flood her mouth.

She wasn’t sure what came first, the crack of his knuckles connecting with her cheek, or the sting of her lip being crushed between her teeth. The crack reverberated through her body, both his and her own blood intermingled with saliva, dripping from her maw in long strings. She must have looked like a vicious animal.

Good.

She hissed at him, a guttural sound she didn��t even know she was capable of making, blood splattered across his face he recoiled from her. A silence hung in the air as they stared at each other, she glowered up at him as he stared down at her, hungrily. Her assailant lunged at her as she tried to shift away from him, trapping herself between him and the bed. His hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her forcefully to her feet, soft skin dimpled under the harshness of his grip.

“Come now, love, surely we can enjoy each other’s company for a while?” he whispered, she could feel the hotness of his breath fanning out across her face, she shook her head.

“I want to go home,” she begged - if he could just see reason, perhaps he would let her go and she would be free to reunite with her family. Maybe he would find it in his heart to take pity on her, or see the error in his way, to see that what he was doing was wrong.

His eyes darkened as he backed her against the bed. “You are not going anywhere. I am going to devour you, again and again, until there is nothing left of you,” he hummed into her ear, a nip punctuating the sentiment.

“Then I hope I rot in your stomach,” she gritted. If she was going to die, she might as well go out with a fight.

He chuckled again, the sound off putting, sending her stomach heaving and twisting painfully. “Oh my dear, sweet girl, I’m going to have you wishing for death.”

Fear enveloped her.

There was nothing more bitter than betrayal, but to be betrayed by one's own body was something else entirely. She couldn’t fight the feelings that washed over her, waves of pleasure lashing against her like waves upon a shoreline. How could she enjoy this? Why was her body doing this to her? She didn’t want this. Disgust had begun to take root in the pit of her stomach, making home within the darkest depths of her being. She just wanted it to stop.

Please Umberlee, if you can hear my plight, I beg of you. Please do something - anything, I will give you my flesh and bone as recompense, anything you ask of me and I will do it. Please, just make him stop.

There were no gods that answered her plea, nor did any passerby acknowledge her cries for help. All she could do was let fear consume her, to let it ravage her from the inside out. Like a wild animal clawing at the soft confines of her body, she was too soft, too young, but maybe this is what she deserved. Maybe this was her penance for her stupidity. She cuocooned herself within the confines of her own mind, residing herself to the fact that she would have to bury part of herself tonight, but on the morrow she would emerge changed.

A metamorphosis.

—

She awoke to the cold darkness of the cellar again, though now she had been afforded the ability of her sight back. It was the very least that monster could do after what he did to her. Her skin rippled and hissed as though she had been set alight, pain encompassed her whole body in its shroud. She sat up with a groan, rubbing her eyes and trying to piece together what happened the previous night.

She saw flashes, fingers tracing her skin, kisses that were all teeth and tongue, and pain, pain, pain. A sob wracked her body as she pulled the tattered linen of a dress she wasn’t sure how she got towards her mouth, desperately wishing to breathe life into it; desperately wishing for comfort. For her mother.

Her mouth was dry and her lips were cracked, her tongue darted out to relive it only for her to realise that it was dried blood. He had struck her when she bit him, she recalled, touching he had to her cheek hissing from the tenderness. There was tightness around her throat that wasn’t present before, her hand instinctively came to rest on her neck to find a thin silver band around it.

“Are you alright?” she jumped as that same gentle voice from the night before broke the silence in the cellar. She could see him now, a large red tiefling, his horns curling around his head in a regal crown, his hair was as white as fresh snow and his eyes as blue as the summer sky.

Fresh tears bit the corners of her eyes, “A-ah, yes I am fine, do you know how long I’ve been sleeping for?” she asked, trying to change the subject. She just wanted to forget that the night prior ever happened.

She could see him shrug slightly, eyes beginning to get used to the light once more. “You have only been returned to the cellar a few hours ago. But you were above for a day.”

She scoffed in disbelief. A whole day? It only felt like hours. “Thank you for telling me, I do not remember being away for so long,” she apologised. It was a lie she wished that she could believe, she remembered more from that night than she wished.

More silence hung between them, only their breaths, the near constant dripping coming from somewhere in the cellar and the low chatter coming from upstairs.

—

Time seemed to pass differently in the cellar, perhaps it was the lack of natural light or the fact that she had been so thoroughly distraught from being plucked from her home. She had just begun to settle in again, eyes growing heavy, the little patch of hay feeling more comfortable by the second.

Light spilled into the cellar from the opening door, sending her heart pounding once more, feeling the throbbing in her ears and fingertips. Fear prickled the base of her spine as heavy footfall came down the flimsy steps, making her way towards herself and her tiefling friend. For a brief moment she had hoped they were there for him, to take him up to do gods knows what - just anyone but her, she couldn’t bear it.

Once again her prayers fell on deaf ears as the man in front of her unlocked her chains and hoisted her to her feet. “Come on, get up,” he replied gruffly. She looked pleadingly towards her friend, or perhaps the better term was cellmate, his eyes suddenly finding the mason work far more interesting.

The moment her feet touched the soft carpet, she was ushered onto a raised wooden stage, the thin tattered linen of the dress doing nothing to shield her from prying eyes. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he started, making a show of turning around and addressing the people in the room. “I would like to formally introduce you to our newest attraction. Our gorgeous little Selkie,” he hummed, lifting her chin with his thumb and forefinger to look him in the eyes.

The delicate fabric of her dress was torn away from her, she gasped in shock, unsure of why she was now naked in front of all these people. She could do nothing but stare out into the crowd, looking at them with pleading eyes, her cheeks aflame with both fury and embarrassment. She had been abducted from her home, placed in shackles, sold into slavery and now stripped bare in front of a room full of people who now ogled her like some oddity - like she wasn’t real.

Her captors arms snaked around her waist, inching towards the apex between her thighs. “Let go of me!” she hissed, trying to free herself from his iron grip. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly at her outburst, hand encircling around her throat hard enough to elicit a gasp from her. A choked cry fell from her lips as he placed more pressure, blackness beginning to dance at the edges of her eyes. “Please…” she wheezed.

Air rushed back into her lungs with a gasp that tore through her, sending her stumbling forward a few steps as he released her, while the crowd murmured with various tones of approval. What kind of awful place is this? I just want to go home. She scanned the crowd again, looking for any sign of sympathy, any form of guiding light to lead her home. She turned to her captor again, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “Please,” she begged, “I just want to go home, please let me go home.”

“You have no choice in the matter. I have your pelt - I own you,” he hummed, that ever present predatory glint in his eye catching the candlelight. Anger boiled in her stomach as she took a step towards him, her teeth bared in a hiss, he only raised his eyebrows at her before holding his hand up, stopping her in her tracks. A humming surrounded her, so overwhelming in its volume that it forced her to her knees with a surprised cry. Hushed voices circulated around the room, their eyes bulging and gawking at her, vaguely reminiscent of fish.

“And look at that, a perfectly subservient Selkie,” he turned to face her again. “Now, was that so hard, pet?” he asked her, his tone indicating that he found her childlike - less than.

“I hope you fucking rot!” she hissed, spitting in his face. A quickly hidden grimace crossed his features, his dark eyes clouding with something sinister.

“Now, now, is that any way to speak to your betters?” his voice like poisoned honey, “I think I deserve an apology. What do you think ladies and gentlemen?” he was making a show of it, making a show of her. And whatever was to come, she had no choice but to take it.

Another hum surged through the crowd, scrutinising eyes looking down their noses at her. He tapped his chin in mock thought, “I want you to beg, I want to hear those pretty lips beg for forgiveness.”

The air crackled around her, every bone in her body bent to his whim as she leant forward onto her forearms, head resting at his feet. The words came clawing up her throat and spilling from her mouth before she had the chance to force it down; they tasted sour on her tongue. “I am sorry,” she gritted her teeth, a desperate attempt to stop the words from pouring out. “Forgive me.”

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly, “Hmm…I think that performance was a little lacklustre, shall we give it another go?” Every muscle in her body felt poised to strike, to launch at him and rip out his throat; and yet, she could not move, he would not let her move. She was still in that meek and mild position - the very picture of subservience. “Though this time, I would quite like for you to address me as master,” he added, she could hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke.

This time she could not stop the words that flowed from her, though they were words of subjugation, they were laced with vitriol. “I apologise, master - truly, from the bottom of my heart, I am sorry. Please forgive me.”

—

They had hauled her back to her captors office after her stunt on stage, she had no doubt that her disobedience would be swiftly punished. The side door of the room opened, and her captor sauntered in with all the satisfaction of a cat who had dined on cream for dinner, a wide smirk across his face. Instinctively her shoulders moved upwards to her ears, if she could make herself small enough perhaps she would disappear into the fibres of the carpet beneath her.

He rounded his desk, leaning against the intricately carved wood, looking her up and down again, surveying the peaks and valleys of her body - it made her skin crawl. Without warning he began to speak, jolting out of her disgust, “I want you to work for me,” he stated simply, examining his cuticles as he spoke.

She cut him off, taking a step forward as she shook her head. “No,” she started, steeling herself. “I will not do it, do with me what you will. I am as good as dead anyway,”

“You will work for me, you lure in patrons with that exquisite voice I know that you have. You will tend to every need that I may have and you will do whatever I ask of you,” she felt him tug on the invisible bond that connected her to him, a reminder that this was an order, not a suggestion. He sighed longingly, as if evaluating the situation. “In exchange I will give you everything you could ever want; gold, jewels -”

Desperation laced her voice, she was scared. “I want water, I need water.” She felt disgusted, she had to beg him for something as basic as water, her life’s blood - the thing that keeps her alive, she couldn’t help the shiver that ran up her spine.

“You will find that given your rather precarious predicament,” he started, placing emphasis on the last two words. “That you won’t have a need for it, but as I am benevolent, you may have what you ask for. I will allow you to think it over, I shall await your answer on the morrow,” he replied, leaving her with her thoughts.

That felt entirely too easy, she thought as she was ushered down the hall by one of the many servants he had bustling around his establishment. She couldn’t fight the sinking feeling in her stomach that screamed at her: You have made a deal with something worse than a devil, much, much worse.

—

She had been pacing for hours at this point, eyes tracing the grain of the wood in the simple room she had been afforded. She needed to come up with a plan as she would not survive long if she kept going the way she was. They would keep her alive as long as she was useful, so she needed to find ways to continue doing so. She hadn’t had water in weeks and she was growing weaker by the hour, she wouldn’t last long like this.

If she agreed to her captors terms then she would be forced into servitude, luring poor souls just like her into this monster's grip. But what choice did she have? The bastard had her pelt, she was already his slave.

She knocked on her door and stepped back, waiting for it to be opened from the other side. It cracked just enough for another elf to poke his head into the room with a sneer. “What do you want?” he snapped.

“Tell your bastard master I accept his terms,” she replied, returning his tone in kind, before the door was closed and locked once again.

And so it begins.

#astarion x oc #astarion ancunin #astarion #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #astarion romance #astarion x female reader #dead dove do not eat #dark fic #dead dove fic #please mind the tags

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