#oathbreaker knight fanfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

galeorderbride · 4 days

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Burn in my Skin

I call this primordial filth.

Honestly idk what this is lol. I was in my feelings and horny for Oathbreaker Knight. No more Dark Souls ambiance for me.

Inspired by a NSFW audio you can listen to here. The audio is NOT about Oathbreaker Knight, just gave me this brainrot.

Pairing: Oathbreaker Knight x F!Tav

Words: 5.5k

18+ MDNI: shameless smut, dom!oathbreaker/sub!tav, consensual possession, sex via possession, religious imagery, light allusion to war and violence.

*Mind the tags! While this isn't dark enough to be dead dove, this fic involves dark themes.

Full fic under the cut, or you can read it on ao3 here.

Summary: Tav knows the Oathbreaker Knight has been watching her. Tonight, she will find out exactly why.

It started as a mistake. Some complication, perhaps driven by the influence of the tadpole, that summoned the Oathbreaker for Nightwarden Minthara. Unbeknownst to him that she’d been killed at the Grove raid along with the rest of the goblin’s leaders. Tav wondered how such a miscommunication could occur with rulings beyond the physical realm, causing her to lament the true, dangerous power of illithid tadpoles in the hours after the knight departed. There was nothing Tav or any of her companions could do, taking the issue in stride just as they had with everything else.

This couldn’t be let go, as Tav noticed stirrings in the dark of night two days after the Oathbreaker visited. Brought together by a glow of burning orange, so faint it could only be noticed by one seeking it out. Or one right next to it.

Fiery light flickered across the canvas of her tent, nights upon nights of the aura’s presence. Tav began to wait up, anticipate the faded torchlight greeting her like a ghost in the corner of a dusty room. Whatever possessed such a glow grew more confident with each, passing evening. Closer, nearer, approaching until a figure could be pieced together through the fabric. Large, ornate armour cut in the intricate carve of an undead warrior. Enflamed iron emanating from his broad silhouette, so still and rigid, Tav wondered if she wasn’t dreaming of a fragmented picture. Nothing more than a memory stuck in time.

No. He was there. Blurred against the blackened midnight and the thick tent. Tav stayed in her bedroll, lying flat as she watched him outstretch a plated hand, shadows stretching across the sky of illuminated cloth, shading the weak, wooden bearings that held her shelter up. He didn’t touch, just reached toward a pursuance unmet. Her heart froze in her chest, filled to the brim with suspense, unable to beat. Sweat lined her palms, covered by the thin quilt that masked her body from the walled off eye of the Oathbreaker. Had he been watching her this whole time? Did the heat of his immortal fires burn hot enough to radiate into her, or was she simply boiling with uncertainty, roused by confusion and desire.

Tav became paralyzed, awaiting the next step with baited breath—if there would be one. Would he just sit there like he had for several days? The creeping closer, each night representing a new step towards his curiosity, had to have an end. He had a choice, between remaining walled off, sheltered under the safety of a dividing line where he could not falter. Or, step across the precipice, collapse into the temptation of a mortal sensation he had not felt in lifetimes. Minutes passed, Tav staring at him, wondering if he knew she was awake. In those moments, her stomach burned with a yearning to know. To hear him speak in that gravelly, brimstone voice what he wanted with her. But, she also craved to stay the same, to not break the attractive immersion of being observed. Watched.

Did he have the power to see through the tent? Even if she couldn’t?

Dark lust began to tickle between her bare legs, peering out from the quilt, bending upward as the fabric fell to her core. Tav stretched her arms above her head, forcing the exhaustion from her body, replacing it with sensual awareness of her own skin. Maybe she should’ve been offended, terrified of his presence scanning her in the dead of night, when the others were too asleep to notice. Afraid of the reality that he could do whatever he wanted, in a tunnel fit for only them. Fear did exist, breathless tension of being at the mercy of someone else, but she embraced it. Enjoyed it. Remembering the strong curvature of preternatural shoulders wrapped in rusted, bloodstained armour. Perilous sword held between gloved hands, ones that commanded competency, obedience, attention. And, of course, the voice. How could a man so faceless become so addicting to look at?

For the first time in what felt like an hour, Tav released a heavy, wanton breath. Nearly a moan with the whistle of her voice floating along the wave of humid oxygen. If he could see her, she would put on a show for him. Implicitly decipher what exactly it was that he wanted. No paladins needed oath renewing, he had no reason to be present, and yet he was committed to standing by her tent from the moment the moon rose.

Tav pushed the quilt to the side, leaving her slightly cold as her blush pink nightdress did little to warm her. Her legs brushed against each other, motioning across the bedroll in a seductive exploration of limbs. The most intimate parts of her remained hidden, knees locked together in a salacious bend, her torso still flat on the ground. She didn’t wish to move, but she did find her voice.

“Can you see me from out there, Oathbreaker ?” She asked, letting her voice trail at the end in a lusty sigh.

Several seconds passed, hesitation becoming a palpable tension between Tav and the shadow behind her tent. So much push and pull, these mortal games were. Constant side stepping around the unsaid fantasy. There was a frustration to it, but so too was it irresistible. A mockery of the idea that an undead heart could still stir. That the impossibility of his form made room for yearning the physical. For the knight, he’d considered such sentiments a relic of the past, until he saw the fearless, little adventurer, eyes never leaving him even when he’d instilled fear in the rest. And now, she spoke to him, invited him in for the ‘more’ he’d wanted for days. The very force that kept him returning to her pointless, paladin-free camp.

“I see what I wish to see,” he finally said, each word like an ironclad chain to her wrists.

“Has watching me from afar been enough?” She asked.

“Soul and form were vanquished from me long ago. If they were still intact right now, they would be in pitiful agony,” he replied.

Tav’s eyes followed the glowing form, armour gently clanging with the friction of plate-to-plate. Not too loud, he handled the weight well, as if the steel upon him was forged into his body. Light floated across the fabric, ending in a metallic hand pulling back the tent flap, slowly peeling the entrance to the side. So, painfully, slow. Tav bit her bottom lip, muscles twitching with a newfound impatience. She lifted her body, sitting cross-legged, unable to sit still. Breath hitching with each step he took into her quarters.

He towered over her, standing in front of the bedroll. Tall, mighty and domineering, the jagged helmet lowered, as if to face Tav from where she sat. Amber flame warmed the vicinity, dancing in the air between stoic and passionate. Two halves, staring at each other, burdened by a polarising force drawing them back and forth, never quite reaching. Fascination embroiled her mind, eyes glazed above, observing the ominous beauty of the Oathbreaker. Something about him was unsettling, deeply threatening to the point of innate fear. An uncanny product of being not-quite-human, but rather the remnant of a man once living. Once committing sin, drawing eager breath in the decision to either rend or caress flesh.

Tav was nearly a supplicant, moving to her knees but keeping her head raised toward him. “You are war incarnate. Aren’t you?”

“Do not get up,” he demanded, sinking into her question but disregarding an answer as he revelled in her obedience. Any movement to stand ceased at the husky sound of his voice.

He had total command, and the unscratchable itch within him grew in voracity. Watching, talking, even tasting and touching would not suffice. As doe-eyed desire pooled from her, ethereal face beckoning him closer, he knew what he wanted. To consume her very being, have her reach the absolute zenith of pleasure-pain, past the mortal threshold. For that, she needed to lend him her soul—just for the night. He’d return it to her…maybe.

Tav’s breath shook, giving away her vulnerability with the snap of a finger. She said, “What do you want of me, exactly?”

“It is not what I want of you, but what you want of me,” he said, stalwart in place as if no being existed within the armour.

He continued, “Ages have come and gone since I’ve had a proper body. Left only with the purpose of guiding oath broken paladins to redemption…or retribution. One, single task given for an eternity as recompense for the deeds I committed in life. Until you peered from the water’s edge of your camp, unafraid of my terror. You watched me, and you could not see it, but I watched you. Abandoned everything to keep watching. Such a debauched distraction, having what I lacked even in mortality. Little temptress, with your supple flesh, beautiful skin, walking like an angel leading me to paradise. Do you like what I’m saying to you?”

Excitement bubbled between her legs, leaning on her palms as she let her knees spread a little further. A ghostliness permeated his voice, guiding her into a strange, addictive arousal. Dancing on the precipice of unpredictability, unaware of what he wanted to do and how he intended to do it. Rushes of heat, both from his aura and the titillation of is intimate words, infected her veins, burning the underside of her skin. She wished he’d speak to her all night, whisper sinful musings unthinkable to a mortal mind.

One of her straps fell down her shoulder, bearing more untouched flesh like a blooming flower petal after a storm. A tightening feeling within him, familiar but distant, a fragmented memory of having a body. None such as wondrous as hers, though, even in the long gone prime of his soldierly youth. No bludgeoning hurricane, no lust-laden priestess, no charge to bloody battle ever compared to her. He wanted her confirmation, and then, he wanted her primal nakedness.

“Yes, please, I like it. Give me even more,” she replied.

Oathbreaker took two, small steps closer. Enough to bring his armoured hand to her face, cold metal dragging along her skin from jaw to chin, stopping to lift her head even higher to see him. Sharp edges threatened to cut with each stride, sending shivers down her straightened spine. Tav bore down on her knees even more, torso sinking forward as she let the neckline of her dress fell haphazard around her chest. Breathing heavy with desire, the mounds of her breasts tried to escape the confines of fabric, hardening nipples tickling against the cloth. He could see them poking out, rising with the touch of his armoured glove along silken, bare skin.

“What I have for you goes beyond the simplicity of skin on skin. I do not have a body to match yours, no heartbeat to fall asleep to. Let me take you elsewhere, meld my essence into your flesh. Bring you to the brink of agony and ecstasy. I promise, with every ounce of existence that clings to my broken form, to give you rapture so divine a cock could never compare,” he said, keeping her chin up with his index finger, “Will you give yourself to me, little temptress?”

Each time he ended a sentence, his voice couldn’t contain that guttural crescendo. Breeding feral lust within her with every tongue clicking consonant. She couldn’t quite tell what he meant by ‘melding essence’, but for the first time since the nautiloid, she didn’t question a thing. Wanting only to see the extent of his capabilities, reach the edge of unreal pleasure. Delving deep into the arcane subconscious of his primordial nature.

Taking a chance to bring him into the mortal plane one, last time, Tav slid her tongue against the cool surface of his gloved hand. Tasting the forged metal like blood from a sliced lip. The knight wasn’t the type to play games, however, grasping her jaw tighter, jerking her slightly forward. Near enough to his waist to face his codpiece, imagining a thick, throbbing cock aching to be sucked. Not tonight, though, she’d have something more than that.

“Answer me, sweet girl. I’ve razed entire towns to the ash for a less desired word. Tell me,” he ordered, growling at her in his already gruff voice. Music to Tav’s ears, feeling herself wetter than she ever imagined herself capable.

“Yes! Yes, I’ll give myself to you. Tell me what to do, I want to know what you feel like inside me,” she said, words soaked in decadent arousal.

A raspy, subtly maniacal laugh escaped him, a sound that Tav didn’t expect him to ever make. As if she signed her soul over to him. Maybe she did. At his beck and call forever more once she’d agreed, no turning back now. In far too deep to say no, and never wanting to. If he were to become the harbinger of every sensation from torture to euphoria, so be it. Oathbreaker made her spellbound, her fixation over him so quick and obsessive that she wondered if he used some otherworldly magic to lure her into his embrace.

“Keep your hand in mine, I’m going to take you somewhere. Somewhere private, away from the crowded turmoil of this camp. I’d be very surprised if you weren’t loud,” he said. With his passion came intimidation, a rare forcefulness carried only in the beings beyond the physical world. Transcending boundaries mortals like Tav could never dream to touch. Not without his guidance.

Holding onto his wrists with both hands, warm wind began to breeze through Tav’s hair, dotting gooseflesh on her bare skin. The environment around her began to dissolve, sparking and burning as if grinding across a searing anvil. A weightlessness captured her body, thrown high speed against the fastest current imaginable, closing her eyes with a calm sense of trust blooming within her. Whatever lie ahead, a careful voice inside her promised exultation, to be unmade and reformed again.

Soft, cotton sheets met with Tav’s skin as the movement slowed to a halt. Oathbreaker placed her in the middle of a candlelit temple, surrounded by sandstone columns and wrought iron chandeliers. Who the temple belonged to was unknown, as Tav didn’t realise he’d formed the room in an image she’d find beautiful. Summoning a bed in the very centre, draping her in comfort and decadence before he dominated over her entire being. Anticipation broke her patience, what little she had of it, as she practically writhed on the mattress, wishing for his touch so unfairly kept from her. Oathbreaker remained stoic, composure invincible next to the little temptress he’d fallen so heavily for. If anyone would compromise his restraint, it would be her, but not yet.

“So eager for me, and we haven’t even begun. You are an impatient little temptress. You don’t even know what this will feel like. Radiating lust, oh my beautiful dove, I’ll be savouring this,” He said, pacing around her on the bed, circling her like prey.

He returned to the foot of the bed, glowing eyes of alien flame gently waving out of the helmet. Transformed from burning orange to an excited, assertive red. Tav examined him at length, no solid mass between the crevices of plate, replaced by the same fire that flowed everywhere else. Without a body, how would he merge the two of them?

She didn’t have much time to think before he was throwing commands at her again.

“I want you naked, sweet girl. Then lie on your back, so I can see what will soon be mine,” he said, watching carefully as she began.

All she had was a nightgown, easily slipped off with one swift gesture. Her naked flesh exposed before him as she slowly rested her back on the downy sheets, comforted by the feather pillow under her. Nervousness dotted her movements, lying with her arms at her head, fingers playing with loose strands of hair. Legs closed, bent upward as she felt her ankles rub together. Cool air soothed the rushed heat within, charged with trepidation over being nude in front of him. How he might feel to see her bare for the first time.

Little did she know, a part of him reached a boiling point. Something akin to butterflies in the stomach, shocking Oathbreaker with razor thin accuracy, leaving him confused over where such a feeling could take root. A sliver of hope that, perhaps, his heart had not decayed into oblivion.

“Beautiful. Known to me already since the moment I saw you. I’ve watched you undress, before you noticed me lurking. Seen parts of you in such teasing flashes, but never meant for my gaze. Now, I want to see you open for me , split your legs. Let me see your pretty, little cunt,” he ordered.

Under the firelight of the chandelier above her, Tav slowly parted her anxious legs. Feeling fatty skin from her thighs separate as a tickling chill kissed the surface of her pussy. Wet, glistening to the point of madness, and swollen beyond belief from such a lack of stimulation. She feared for her own sanity if he didn’t touch her in some way soon. Running her hands across her hips, so tempted to touch herself, yet stopping because he didn’t ask her to. Thinking back to when she licked his finger, the discipline of being pulled forward; she grew hotter thinking about what he’d do if she played with her clit before he could.

But she’d done something right, as a sharp, predatory growl emanated from the Oathbreaker, a light echo from the armour. Watching as he hooked his armoured hands around the iron posters of the bed, grabbing so tight the metal creaked with a threat to shatter like frosted glass. More flames began to slowly wade out of him, like soothing vapour from an incense burner, bright with supernatural fervency.

“When are you going to touch me, Oathbreaker? Am I to be sprawled naked for you until the end of time?” She asked.

“If I want you to, yes. Imagine it, tied to this bed for an eternity, laying blissfully bare. Awaiting my return so I can bask in the beauty of you. My one, little connection to reality. Touched only when I decide to ruin you, piece by piece,” he said, musing as if he was telling himself the story rather than Tav, until he continued: “But I’m merciful, especially with a darling thing like you. Stay very still, and we can begin.”

Tav breathed out a liberating sigh, letting her muscles relax against the soft fabric, fingers stretching across the silhouette of her naked body. Relieved to finally know what he had in store for her, prepared to beg for his mercy if she had to.

He just wanted to look at her, flood his senses with the elements of mortality, experiencing all he’d tried to forget. That’s why he spent days observing her, drawn to every part of her as the image of what he remembered existence to be. Many mortals crossed his path, paladins seeking to rebuild their broken oaths, or do away with them entirely. The result mattered little, as did they to him. Simply the conduits for which his eternal purpose sought refuge. She wasn’t even a paladin, no sworn fealty or divine crusade, a mortal more meaningless than the ones he guided. And yet he could not stop. Engrossed in a lecherous bubbling within him, wrapping his enflamed spirit in a sensation so captivating he swore it was human . Making him claw at skin he did not have, scream out the beats of a nonexistent heart.

And now, she lied before him, naked and eager for him. Him. Everything, everything for him. Arms outstretched above her head, presenting to him the rise and fall of perfect breasts, nipples pointed with excitement. Smooth skin running down the flesh of her thighs and rear, thick and warm blood—alive. Lively whimpers escaping lush lips as her fingers trailed around her aching cunt, the pulsating excitement of her core almost an injustice to him. For the first time in a long, long time, he was infuriated that he couldn’t touch her. Not the way a human could, anyway. What he could do was possess her, entrench himself in her body, pleasure her from soul to bone.

“You are horrible, painful perfection. I am so limited in the ways of showing you how you make me feel. But I am going to consume you, dear. Ripple every, single fibre of myself into your body. Slipping inside from each opening of your purified flesh, until I am within your nerves, your veins, your skin. Taking you as mine, and soon, whatever you feel, will be me. Fear is normal, in fact, encouraged. I will not harm you, but to feel your entire being tightening around me will be nothing short of bliss. Let me warn you, that the start may hurt just a little, much like the first time a cock thrust into you. But this ache will be much shorter, and I will vow to take you into an unmatched rapture,” he explained.

Tav was resplendent, glimmering with golden desire as her body lay under the warmth of a hundred candles. Oathbreaker moved to the side of the bed, so close she could play with the fabric wrap around his armoured waist, wondering if he felt anything when she ran her hands across the metal between his legs.

No sound came from him, but little currents of fiery red flowed from his plate, travelling around her body like the tips of delicate thorns on the stem of a rose. Electrified tingles climbed up her skin, light burning heating the surface of her body as more and more enflamed current flowed from the armour. The entire bed was awash in his primordial essence, floating above the fabric as the waves transformed into a calm turquoise, wrapping her in a tidal sea of curious intrigue. They produced a similar sensation to fingertips, brushing across with a gentle caress. Hands were localised, centred around a single area, but not the Oathbreaker, his energy emboldening every part of her, from the nape of her neck, the path from ankle to calf, and the peaks of her hardened nipples. Rapturous moans sang out of her throat, dancing on the precipice between the touch of someone and the ethereal sting of a magical breeze.

In her ears, she made out the sound of heavy breathing. Not from her, but the weighted, combative sighs of a herculean man; the mortality of the Oathbreaker borne from each doctrinal purr of his voice. Knowing she could hear him as he invaded her body made the experience even better, undone by the feeling that he was both inside her and next to her.

“Do you feel me on your skin, little temptress? Turning your form into a husk fit just for me,” he said, noise emanating from inside her ears rather than the armour, each word coming from an epicentre within her very being formerly untouched. His voice echoed more, as if he had become a faint dream in the back of her memory. Letting the flames of his essence wrap around her limbs, twisting across arms and legs, swimming across her chest. He was relishing in this, she could sense it, claiming ownership of every inch.

Oathbreaker continued, unable to ignore the mad pleasure of talking her through the scorching of her earth. “Kiss me, sweet mortal.”

An azure stream floated up to her chin, dancing around her opening lips in a flirtatious waltz before slowly sinking into her mouth. Tav gasped, wind taken from her very lungs as the warm current tingled like ice and fire, imitating a tongue slipping inside. Crawling from the corners of her lips, all the way to the back of her throat, capturing each pore and sinking in, a faint glow shimmering against her cheeks. Tav couldn’t help but point her toes in ecstasy, an indescribable heaven found in his extraordinary kiss.

Once the first tide of Oathbreaker’s essence travelled down her mouth, Tav felt the source of that complex weightlessness. All control of her body ceased, muscles no longer her own as his invisible force guided her limbs where he wanted. Her toes loosening as limbs disconnected from brain, her legs lifting up to her stomach, bent and spread. Those preternatural vibrations of aquamarine going right to the destination she’d wanted him for what felt like hours. Circling around her pussy in a hurricane formation, grazing against the sensitive bundle of nerves at the very centre. Energy throbbed around her, creating the sensation of wet friction against her clit, so vivid yet a translucent vision occupying her most vulnerable spot. She could not grind or buck her hips, couldn’t move her fingers to rub alongside the currents, all she had was to bask in the strange pleasure of being brought to climax by a phantasmal vitality.

“Do you feel that? Using every ounce of my energy to make you cum for me? Yes, pet, that’s me. Although you cannot see, you can hear and you can feel ,” he said, ending the sentence in a primal, mischievous whisper. “Sweet, sweet cunt, I can taste you from the inside. Moving deeper into you. Let go, love, ready your little hole for more of me.”

Hearing him gave little time to spare before a blooming, unearthly orgasm buzzed through her entire body, pushed forward by the hellfire of the Oathbreaker gloriously warming her insides. Tav cried out during, a strained moan high enough to be a squeak in some parts, so shocked by the incredible sensation of his sex. Sweat beading down her back, arching over the covers in unshakeable pleasure, suspended under his control. The entire time, she could hear him laughing in every corner of her ears, violent clicking in each chuckle like an incubus harnessing his victim.

Tav yelped out loud when his current of flame sunk inside of her cunt, nothing but ethereal air yet creating a sensation of stretching. Sharp, stinging tingles seared inside her, true to his word when he mentioned there’d be some pain. But the agony melded with the ecstasy, an orgasmic combination that reddened her cheeks over how much she enjoyed the sensations together. Cold ache faded, conquered by the increased formation of flaming waves around her, sculpting into almost a body on top of her. Remnants of shoulders, the large, arched back of a mighty soldier, the thrusting of a burning cock inside of her. The figure ebbing and flowing, never fully materialising before dissolving once again into a burst of ephemeral energy. She craved to reach out, touch the river consuming her body, but still, she was paralyzed by his sensual invasion. Focused on the alluring choir of his fantastical moans in her skull.

“Oh, I love drowning in you. Taking over every part of you until you scream, scream over and over for mercy that I will not give. No, no, no mercy for you are mine now, pet. I will visit you nightly and take you like this until I find a way to keep you in my realm forever. Would you like that, little temptress? Do you want to be mine?” He mused, the gnarling shift of his voice so deep in her ears that she swore she felt the moistened breath of him dotting her lobe.

The entire time, rough, passionate stretching vibrated her soaked cunt. A puddle of her wetness pooling onto the blanket, a primordial cock made from hellfire thrusting into her. Real or not, his possession made everything authentic, drenching her in unequivocal magic accessed only by powerful beings such as him. Perhaps she was really lying there like a limp corpse, nothing but stale air existing around her, but in her mind’s eye, she was in paradise. And nothing else in the world could compare to the threading of blood, to bone, to marrow controlled by another. Ready to submit to any carnal desire he craved as the impatient heartbeat of another orgasm began to creep within her nerves.

He hadn’t taken over her voice on purpose, hell bent on hearing the vocal contract to give herself to him. When she did speak, pride emulsified his death ridden soul, if one was generous enough to call it that. Invited to massacre her love of the living domain and become transfixed with his, for he would make sure she was endlessly addicted. Swear a new oath of fealty to suspending her in a garden of mystical, feverish pleasure. This feeling had so long been absent from him that it became brand new, willing to do the impossible to keep himself tattooed to her form.

“Oh, Gods above, yes! Make me yours, take me, please! I c-can’t stand it…I’m gonna…” She cried out.

Oathbreaker’s breath shook, a sharp, rigid inhale like a dry crack of a throat. Animalistic, primitive, containing a bone snapping, beguiling carnage that brought Tav to another explosive climax. Blood curdling from the base of her stomach, rushing up to her mouth to end in a mangling howl. Her muscles thrashed under his hold, trying and failing to break free from his powerful spell, far too embedded within her to be so easily removed. And he was positively ecstatic, driven insane by the flood of ecstasy caused by him inside his little conduit. She was at her most beautiful this way, collapsing upon herself as she twitched from her release.

“Such a well behaved supplicant,” he said, “I hope that was enough for you, my most enticing mortal. It is my turn, and you are so small, my entire release will flood through the entirety of you. Set you aflame from the very core of your soul, but it will not hurt, I promise. Burn with my seed, little darling, take me in.”

Hot, infernal heat tore across her body, as if she was reborn in fire. Oathbreaker’s virile, echoing moans rumbled within, each syllable coating her ear in demonic clicks of an invisible tongue. Sweat dripped from the back of her neck, down her arms, even her feet, enduring the heat of ghostly flame annihilate all corporeal essence. But he was right, nothing burned or scarred, caught in the embers of domination, leaving nothing but the aching glee of being totally, completely possessed. No deceptions, no going back on promises, only the solid reality that he wanted her, desired her.

A divine hush radiated the vicinity, Tav’s body lulled away from the flames and back into the coolness of midnight air. Shivering at the caress of Oathbreaker’s spirit exiting, leaving her a buttery, melted mess on the mattress. Tranquillity enveloped her more than ever before, his flame breaking her to pieces, only to heal her into something more flawless. Never in her life had she felt so…beautiful. Or, perhaps, cohesive. Every mismatched piece of her puzzled together with detailed intricacy.

Oathbreaker returned to the armour, the currents that once occupied her body brought into the impenetrable iron. Remaining on the side of the bed, he outstretched a gloved hand to move perspired strands of hair away from her forehead. Tender despite the harsh surface of metal against her skin.

“It took until now to realise I’d not had a reminder of what ecstasy feels like. Not for centuries, maybe even more. How perplexing that a mortal like yourself, not even touched with the divine, can have such an effect. Did I please you? Did I live up to your…expectations?” He said.

When asking her questions, he never said them as if he was truly uncertain. Rather, the confident drawl of his razor sharp accent didn’t need to validate what he already knew. He had pleased her, because he had been her. Merging his being with hers and feeling every, single sensation needling her body. No, there wasn’t a shred of insecurity. He wanted her to confirm his own open secret.

Tav could hardly muster words, exhausted and reeling with a futile attempt to understand what kind of magic coursed through her. “It was…amazing.”

He chuckled again, that same tone of deceptive villainy. Demonstrating a capability to be entirely destructive, yet choosing something else.

“Good, now sleep. When you wake, you will be back in your tent. Sorry to say that you will likely feel melancholic, as if rising in a world of black and white. But do not worry your pretty head about it, for I will return. Night after night after night, you will see me approaching. Only next time, I will not ask to come in. I simply will.”

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lizziemajestic · 2 months

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Look, the voice had me in a chokehold so smut was inevitable.

This is Ottilie, my former Oath of Ancients Paladin.

Here’s a little encounter she has with the Oathbreaker Knight (bonus Rugan content for any fans of the Zhent)

I hope you enjoy 😏

Unbound

#bg3 fanfic #bg3 smut #oathbreaker paladin #oathbreaker knight #Oathbreaker knight smut #Oathbreaker knight x Tav #Ottile mo chridhe

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tacitwhisky · 5 years

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Feeling the blues now Game of Thrones has wrapped as a series? Don’t worry, I’ve got your jonsa recovery fic list right here. This is by no means a comprehensive list of all the great fic out there, just the best of the best I’ve read. If there are any other fic you think should be on this list that I missed reblog and tag them.

Season 8 Fix Its (Pt 1 / Pt 2)

In Love and Death We Don’t Decide [Link] | @pardonmymannerssir | Her siblings arrive like leaves carried on a sudden breeze, alighting upon the placidity of her life and casting wide ripples before being swept away again. Their movements are cyclic, changing and shifting like the seasons, but one thing will never change: Winterfell is home.

Come out of hiding (i'm right here beside you) [Link] | @noqueenbutthequeeninthenorth | After the death of Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow goes to live beyond the Wall, while Sansa Stark, the newly-named Queen in the North, marries a Dornish prince. Three years later, when Jon finally gathers the courage to return to Winterfell, he finds that while many things have changed, one hasn't: he's still in love with Sansa.

We are buried in broken dreams [Link] | @snowsinthenorth | Prompt: Sansa and Jon sleeping together before he goes to Dragonstone and when he comes back he finds out she is pregnant. A full on s8 fix-it fic at this point.

Essential Reading

The Cold Inside Our Bones [Link] | @xylodemon | 1,904 | The Wall is no place for a woman, but Jon looks at Sansa's gaunt cheeks and hollow eyes and knows he will not send her away.

At a Funeral [Link] | @justadram | 5,231 | There's something about the funeral that makes Sansa need Jon more than ever. Too bad she threw it all away.

What a Disappointment [Link] | @justadram | 7,836 | Sansa Stark and Jon Targaryen are married and neither of them is pleased about it. Set in a world where Rhaegar lives and Jon was raised in King's Landing as a legitimized bastard.

Tree of Hearts [Link] | @uchihabat | 7,239 | It was a secret, shameful thing. The more he denied it, the more unruly it had become within him: a sleeping dragon, around which he tread carefully. There was nothing good about his half-sister, he told himself, but her beauty. "I am not beautiful anymore," she told him through teeth clenched. "It is ugly inside my heart. I am ruined."

Subject: La Bamba [Link] | @ghost-of-bambi | 16,441 | Trust Margaery Tyrell to turn Sansa Stark's 21st birthday party into an exercise in matchmaking.

More fics under the cut.

Canon Divergent

From the fire we rise [Link] | TheEagleGirl | 2,367 | In another world, perhaps Jon would have been the heir to the throne. In this world, his father died on the trident, his mother in childbirth, no witnesses to their union. In this world, Jon is just the bastard prince, and in this world he still wants more.

Brine on the Tongue [Link] | @orangeflavoryawp | They pause, afternoon light shifting in through her window like an accusation – a slant of clarity against their panting forms. “Then leave.” (He doesn’t.) - Jon and Sansa. What breeds in a house of wolves.

Found In Forbidden Nights [Link] | @alienor-woods | 16,777 | In which Robb Stark still refuses to trade Jaime Lannister for his sisters, but Jon Snow decides if being an oathbreaker means he can tell strategy and politics to fuck off, then it's worth it to take matters into his own hands.

Jon of the Kingsguard [Link] | @tacitwhisky | Jon goes to Kingslanding instead of the Wall, there’s no war, and he becomes a knight of the kingsguard even as Joffrey marries Sansa. As Joffrey’s true colors inevitably show Jon is forced to choose between the vows of a knight and the duty of a Stark.

Southern Wolves [Link] | @tacitwhisky | Jon leaves the Wall to save Sansa from Joffrey. Together they wander the war ravaged Riverlands to try and return home.

Missing Scenes

A Cartography of Vulnerability [Link] | @subjunctivemood | 1,720 | Jon is the only one Sansa trusts to do this for her.

Stitch Up All Your Hopes [Link] | @subjunctivemood | Sansa is sick, but she refuses to rest.

'Cause I know that it's delicate [Part1 / Part2] | @noqueenbutthequeeninthenorth | 4,865 | Set during "Book of the Stranger," immediately after Sansa arrives at the Wall. Jon goes to build the fire back up, and for a few minutes he stays silent, kneeling at the hearth, not looking at her. Finally he clears his throat. “I know,” he begins, “it’s not exactly what you’re used to.”

We can brave the dark [Link] | @thatgirlnevershutsup | 2,320 | When Arya dares Sansa to spend the night in the crypts, it’s Jon who comes to her rescue.

Modern AU - Short

Caught [Link] | @jonnsansa | 4,055 | The first time they sleep together, she's on a break from Joffrey and they're both a little drunk.

Like real people do [Link] | @thatgirlnevershutsup | 2,749 | For the Twelve Days of Christmas project, have an AU Sansa Stark and Jon Snow doing one of those “first kiss” videos.

Beans [Part1 / Part2 / Part3] | @justadram | Jon and Sansa never seem to be on the same page about their relationship.

Never knew I had it all [Link] | TheEagleGirl | 3,130 | Sansa feels bewitched. She’s never noticed Jon before last month. He was Robb’s silent shadow, outshined by Robb himself, or his friends Theon and Dacey.

Trust & Control [Link] | @jonnsansa | 4,444 | Sansa first sees him at the Tyrell fundraising gala. In a sea of drunk, happy people, he is the singular solemn one, standing as still as a statue against the far wall with a glass of untouched champagne in hand. Or: the 50 Shades AU no one asked for.

Baby, It’s Cold Outside [Link] | Tate | It starts at one of Robb's Christmas parties, with Harry Hardyng and a kiss Sansa's avoiding. The two that follow are another story altogether.

Modern AU - Long

Happiness throws a shower of sparks [Link] | @pardonmymannerssir | 14,115 | “I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Sansa Stark says through a swollen, bloody lip, a pair of sunglasses perched on her nose that don’t completely hide a black eye.

Battlefield [Link] | @uchihabat | 17,264 | “God, we might as well just start a family together,” she blusters, half-joking but of course not joking at all. “We both want kids and we both don’t care how. We’re both single. We’ve known each other all our lives. It’s like a movie.”

I'm Feeling Younger, Every Time That I'm Alone With You [Link] | Tate | 19,872 | Jon's got a crush on Sansa, Sansa's got no idea; it's kind of about a production of "Florian and Jonquil" but it's also just kind of about Jon and Sansa.

Tipsy in a Red Push Up Bra [Link] | @tacitwhisky | 21,320 | Of course the first time Sansa Stark sees Jon Snow in God knows how long, the first time since they lost the house and she’d come to live with her aunt Lysa, it would have to be at a house party where she’s already tipsy on schnapps. And of course it would have to be the one time she’s wearing the ridiculous red push up bra Margaery talked her into buying.

Alternate Universe - Crossover AUs

The Seasons of My Love [Link] | @noqueenbutthequeeninthenorth | 48,275 | Months after Ned and Robb are murdered, Sansa returns to Hogwarts for her final year of school. Far from home, she finds she must rely on family friend Jon Snow, now an Auror, to help keep her family together -- and perhaps to help solve the mystery of her father and brother's deaths.

Put a spell on me [Link] | TheEagleGirl | 2,346 | Somewhere along the line, this became less about release and more about him. Or, a Hogwarts au with lots of making out, saving the world from the Dark Lord, and feelings

Saskatoon Berry Pie [Link] | @justadram | 23,179 | When Sansa loses her family in a rail accident, she makes her way to Saskatchewan in search of sanctuary with her cousin, Jon Snow.

As Long As We're Going Down [Link] | @alienor-woods | 37,096 | Four years after Stannis Baratheon wins the Battle of the Blackwater, Sansa Stark finds herself summoned back to King's Landing to serve as a bridesmaid at Crown Princess Shireen's wedding. When King Stannis tries to marry Sansa off to his illegitimate nephew, Edric, she thinks quick and tells him she's already married-- to her bodyguard, Jon Snow.

Post Series

With the Wild Wolves Around You [Link] | @redbelles | 3,782 | Jon finds Sansa at the Vale after his Targaryen lineage is revealed.

And the Geese Are Headed North Again [Link] | @yekoc | 13,316 | In the dark and honest part of her that Sansa is no longer afraid of, she had thought that Jon would die, and she was no sadder than she was relieved. Seeing him now, she notes the absence of the relief and joy that marked her first glimpse of him at Castle Black. Instead, she feels a too-familiar grief: my brother is gone.

The world is still round, my compass is true; each step is a step back to you [Part1 / Part2] | @dialux | 3,655 | Endgame fic, where Jon goes south and he returns to Sansa only after the Long Night. Trust isn’t easily built after all that’s happened, but Jon and Sansa manage it well enough.

Jonsa Fic Lists:

Follow me @tacitwhisky for jonsa fic recs, meta, and fanfic. I swear I’m good at at least two of those.

#fic recs #fic rec list #gotfic #jonsa #jonsafic #jonsa fic #jon snow #sansa stark #got season 8 #got s8 #fic rec #actually jonsa

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lariskapargitay · 5 years

Text

So I’ve seen a lot of Twincest negativity and snarking and calling Braime ‘fanservice’ on our tag.

So, purely in the interest of education, I’ve compiled SOME of the book canon Braime lines. Like these aren’t interpretations, these aren’t fanfics, these are straight up canon quotes from the books.

Jaime watched her eyes. Pretty eyes, he thought, and calm.

Brienne's big blue eyes were full of hurt as Balon Swann and a dozen gold cloaks led her away. You ought to be blowing me kisses, wench, he wanted to tell her.

“Blue is a good color on you, my lady,” Jaime observed. “It goes well with your eyes.” She does have astonishing eyes.

She did as he bid her. “The white cloak...”

“... Is new, but I’m sure I’ll soil it soon enough.”

“That wasn’t... I was about to say that it becomes you.”

She must not fail Jaime. Would that Jaime had come with me.

“The Kingslayers whore.”

She flinched. “Why would you call me that?”

Another part that wondered if Jaime would would comfort her should she weep upon his shoulder. That was what men wanted, wasn't it? Soft helpless women that they needed to protect?

“Jaime!” she wanted to cry. “Jaime come back for me!”

She must not fail Jaime. He trusted me with his sword. He trusted me with his honor.

The thought of failing him as she failed Lord Renly made her want to weep.

“Jaime!” She heard herself scream. “Jaime!”

"Give me the sword, Kingslayer."

"Oh, I will."

The swords kissed and sprang apart and kissed again. Jaime’s blood was singing. This was what he was meant for; he never felt so alive as when he was fighting, with death balanced on every stroke.

Left, right, backslash, swinging so hard that sparks flew when the swords came together, upswing, sideslash, overhand, always attacking, moving into her, step and slide, strike and step, step and strike, hacking, slashing, faster, faster, faster... until, breathless, he stepped back and let the point of the sword fall to the ground, giving her a moment of respite. “Not half bad," he acknowledged. “For a wench."

He laughed a ragged, breathless laugh. “Come on, come on, my sweetling, the music’s still playing. Might I have this dance, my lady?"

The dance went on. He pinned her against an oak, cursed as she slipped away, followed her through a shallow brook half-choked with fallen leaves. Steel rang, steel sang, steel screamed and sparked and scraped, and the woman started grunting like a sow at every crash, yet somehow he could not reach her. It was as if she had an iron cage around her that stopped every blow.

His point scraped past her parry and bit into her upper thigh. A red flower blossomed and Jaime had an instant to savor the sight of her blood before his knee slammed into a rock. The pain was blinding. Brienne splashed into him and kicked away his sword. “YIELD!"

Jaime drove his shoulder into her legs, bringing her down on top of him. They rolled, kicking and punching until finally she was sitting astride him.

Brienne lurched to her feet. She was all mud and blood below the waist, her clothing askew, her face red. She looks as if they caught us fucking instead of fighting.

In this light she could almost be a beauty. In this light she could almost be a knight.

She looked so miserable that Jaime almost found himself wanting to comfort her.

He wondered where she was. Father give her strength. Almost a prayer.

She was strong, and gentler then he would have thought. Gentler than Cersei.

One day, instead of back to front they bound them face to face. “The lovers,” Shagwell sighed loudly. “And what a lovely sight they are. ‘Twould be cruel to separate the good knight and his lady.”

His world shrunk to the throb of agony that was his phantom hand, and Brienne pressed against him. She’s warm, at least, he consoled himself, though the wenches breath was as foul as his own.

His hand was always between them. Urswyck has hung it about his neck on a cord, so it dangled down against his chest, slapping Brienne's breast as Jaime slipped in and out of conciseness.

Jaime caught a glimpse of the thick blonde bush at the juncture of her thighs as she climbed out. Absurdly; he felt his cock stir beneath the bath water. Now I know I have been too long away from Cersei. He averted his eyes, troubled by his body’s response.

The wench looked ridiculous, clutching her towel to her meager teats with her white legs sticking out beneath. “Has my tale turned you speechless? Come, curse me or kiss me or call me a liar. Something.”

All of a sudden, he knew what was happening. Have we come too late? His stomach did a lurch, and he slammed his spurs into his horse... They had her in the bear pit...

"Her name's Brienne... Pull her out of there."... There's the wench I remember... "I'll pay her bloody ransom. Gold, sapphires, whatever you want. Pull her out of there."

“If you want her go get her.” So he did.

Brienne tried to dart around, but he kicked her legs out from under her. She fell in the sand, clutching her useless sword. Jaime straddled her, and the bear came charging.

"I am grateful, but...you were well away. Why come back?" A dozen quips came to mind, each crueler than the one before, but Jaime only shrugged.

“I dreamed of you," he said.

“The sight of Brienne naked might have made the bear flee in terror.” Connington laughed. Jaime did not.

Connington glanced into the pit. “The Bear was less hairy than that freak, I’ll-.” Jaime’s golden hand cracked him across the mouth so hard the other knight went stumbling down the steps. His lantern fell and smashed and the oil spread out, burning. “You are speaking of a highborn lady, Ser. Call her by her name. Call her Brienne.”

Brienne’s sword took flame as well, burning silvery blue. The darkness retreated a little more.

“The flames will burn so long as you live,” he heard Cersei call. “When they die, so must you.” “Sister!” he shouted. “Stay with me. Stay!” There was no reply but the soft sound of retreating footsteps. Brienne moved her longsword back and forth, watching the silvery flames shift and shimmer. She was as tall and strong as he remembered, yet it seemed to Jaime that she had more of a woman’s shape now.

Then his sword went dark, and only Brienne’s burned, as the ghosts came rushing in.

Naked, she raised her hands to Jaime. “Ser. Please. If you would be so good.” The steel links parted like silk. “A sword,” Brienne begged, and there it was, scabbard, belt, and all.

She put a hand on his shoulder and he shuddered at the sudden touch. She’s warm.

“There's a bay mare in the stables, as homely as you are but somewhat better trained.” Brienne's mare was sweet to look upon and kept a pretty pace.

Jaime’s mockery had cut her deep; the little man’s words hardly touched her.

He clawed at his belt and came up with a dagger, so Brienne cut his hand off. That one was for Jaime.

She went to sleep dreaming of the fight they’d had, and of Ser Jaime fastening a rainbow cloak about her shoulders.

“And the boy is just a king... who is to rule is until he comes of age?”

“Lord Tywin’s brother,” said a guardsman. “Or that Lord Tyrell might be. Or the Kingslayer.”

“Not him,” declared the innkeeper. “Not that oathbreaker.” He spat into the fire. Brienne let the bread fall from her hands and wiped the crumbs off on her breeches. She’d heard enough.

She wanted to protect him, but her limbs felt stiff and frozen, and it took more strength than she had just to lift her hand. And when the shadow sword sliced through the green steel gorget and the blood began to flow, she saw that her dying king was not Renly after all but Jaime Lannister and she had failed him.

"You have two hands." One more than you left Jaime.

“I have to find her," she finished. "There are others looking, all wanting to capture her and sell her to the queen. I have to find her first. I promised Jaime. Oathkeeper, he named the sword. I have to try to save her... or die in the attempt."

"My sword. Please, I have to find my sword... Jaime called it Oathkeeper. Please."

Oathkeeper. I have to find the girl. I have to find his honor.

Jaime would not do that. He was sincere. He gave me a sword and called it Oathkeeper.

Jaime. The name was a knife, twisting in her belly. "Lady Catelyn, I... you do not understand, Jaime... he saved me from being raped when the Bloody Mummers took us, and later he came back for me, he leapt into the bear pit empty-handed... I swear to you, he is not the man he was."

“She says that you must choose. Take the sword and slay the Kingslayer, or be hanged for a betrayer. The sword or the noose, she says. Choose, she says. Choose.”

Brienne remembered her dream, waiting in her father’s hall for the boy she was to marry. In the dream she had bitten off her tongue. My mouth was full of blood. She took a ragged breath and said, “I will not make that choice.”

Jaime sat alone at the table while the shadows crept across the room. As dusk began to settle, he lit a candle and opened the White Book to his own page. Quill and ink he found in a drawer... Returned safely to King's Landing by Brienne, the Maid of Tarth.

As he lowered himself into the steaming water, he recalled another bath, the one he'd shared with Brienne.

Jaime had come walking through the mist naked as his name day looking half a corpse and half a god. He climbed into the tub with me she remembered, blushing.

Brienne looked at him. "You do not believe he did it." Jaime gave her a hard smile. "See, wench? We know each other too well... There's the stubborn stupid wench that I remember." She reddened. "My name is..." "Brienne of Tarth." Jaime sighed. "I have a gift for you."

“Jaime,” Brienne whispered, so faintly he thought he was dreaming it. “Jaime, what are you doing?”

She is such an innocent.

“And what is it you like in a woman, M’lord?”

“Innocence.”

Jaime scrambled to his feet. “My Lady. I had not thought to see you again so soon.”

#game of thrones #asoif/got #asoiaf #braime #jaime x brienne #JxB #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #oathkeepers #got8

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