#ps i tried to give ziah all ur love... but lucio mugged me n ate ur letter :(

[cedarmoons]

Oooh if ur taking those nsfw prompts, how about 44 with nadia/ziah/asra maybe? ;o anyways thnx for considering! always makes my day seeing ur writing on my dash ! P.S. send ziah all my luuuv xoxoxo

i got TWO anons for my arcana kids I have the BEST anons. god bless.

@buttsonthebeach also wanted this for ziah/asra, so i’m gonna combine them!  post-game, ot3 already established.

i’m always happy for more nadia/ot3 practice, so thank you, anon!

contains: pegging, sub(by) asra, threesome, praise kink

nsfw under the cut!

He honestly thinks he’s going to lose his mind.

“Look at you, Asra,” Nadia says behind him, her fingers—three, now, she’s managed to fit three inside him, and every drag of them inside him sends sparks of sensation up his spine—slowly pumping inside him. Ziah is draped at his side, her hand smoothing down his back, to his ass, to his thigh, nails scratching lightly over his skin, making him shiver.

“Beautiful,” Ziah says, and he groans into the pillow. She traces something into the flesh of his inner thigh—the distant part of his brain that isn’t mush tries to decipher it but fails—and he feels her kiss his shoulder.

“Yes,” Nadia agrees, slowing her pace to an crawl. “He always is, isn’t he? Beautiful… and ours.”

Asra shivers, warmth blooming in his chest. Nadia presses her fingers in, and Asra lifts his hips toward her, taking them to the knuckle. The wet sounds of the oil feel like they echo in the room, making his cheeks burn. “Ours,” Ziah agrees, her hand running down the inside of his thigh to his knee. She tugs his knee toward her, making him groan as he is spread wider for Nadia.

“Yes,” he gasps out, squeezing his eyes shut, hugging the pillow propped under his head. “Yes, please, I’m—’m yours, loves, please, I need—”

Nadia’s fingers brush his prostate, and they have teased him so long—he shudders, moaning into the open air, and Nadia pulls her fingers from him at the same time Ziah withdraws her hand, leaving him bereft of anything that might push him over. He lingers on the verge of climax, shaking, tears beading his eyes before he blinks them away, as his body backs down, denied for the—fuck, the second time? Third?

“Look at you,” Ziah says. Her hand runs down his side. “I love you like this, sweet. You’re perfect, Asra.”

“Good,” Nadia soothes. He feels her kiss his spine, rest her cheek against his heated skin. “You are so good for us, Asra. Look at you, so beautiful and undone for us. I love seeing you like this.”

He hadn’t thought that Nadia’s praise would have an effect on him, not like it affected Ziah, not like Ziah’s praise affected him—but the sincerity in her voice, the warmth, it makes him want to please her all the more. Asra groans, back arching as he tries not to focus on the aching pain in his cock, gone too long denied. He wants desperately to stroke it, just once, just to ease that need—but he can’t; he isn’t allowed, just as he isn’t allowed to come until they decide to let him.

His mouth is dry, and he turns his head, cheek resting on the damp pillow. Ziah is reclining on her side beside him, smiling as Nadia massages his lower back, the roundness of his hips. She reaches out, brushing her fingers over his cheek, and he closes his eyes. “Mizi,” he chokes out, voice hoarse and rasping, already wrecked.

“You’ve been so good for us, Asra,” Nadia says behind him. Her fingertips press against his entrance and he rocks back, helpless to stop his moans. Nadia laughs, pulling her touch away, and Asra bites his lip.

“No,” Ziah tells him, gently. “We love hearing you. Let us hear you. You can hold on a little longer, can’t you? You’ll be good?”

He shivers at the way she says good, at the expectant, knowing look in her eyes—normally silver, now stormdark gray, with blown pupils. He can’t turn to look at Nadi, but he can feel the heat of her gaze on his back, just as intense as the way Ziah’s looking at him now.

“Asra?” Nadia prompts, and, dry-mouthed, Asra swallows and nods. Ziah smiles and leans forward, kissing his heated cheek. She helps him back up onto his hands and knees, smoothing her hands over his trembling arms, pressing her hand over his.

“Ready?” Nadia asks, and when Asra nods, he feels her fingers at his entrance again. He can take two of them immediately, but she has to work the third finger in again, stretching him wide, the sensation pulling a moan from his throat. His arms and thighs shake, and it takes everything he has to stay upright, to not collapse on the bed like he had before. Ziah shifts, lifting his wrist and moving underneath him.

Nadia finds his prostate again, but every touch is a feathery tease, providing sensation but not enough to give him any relief. Asra’s back bows and his forehead lands on Ziah’s chest, fingers clenching in the sheets, already half-undone by his clawing at the bed. 

The tension in his body coils, tighter, tighter, but it’s not enough. He is held immobile by Ziah’s and Nadia’s hands, and all he can do is feel.

“Please,” he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut, “please, Mizi—Nadi—Nadi, fuck, please—I need—”

“What do you need?” Nadi asks, with enough warmth in her voice to make his breaths come ragged. “Would you like it harder?”

He can’t reply—he keens when she pulls her hand from him, his arms giving out underneath him, leaving him pillowed against Ziah with his ass in the air. Ziah hums, the sound reverberating through her chest and up to his cheek, running her fingers through his sweat-drenched hair. “Answer her,” Ziah reminds him, her other hand massaging his cheekbone. Asra wants to straddle her thigh, to rock against her until he comes, but he knows better. He keeps his hips in the air, legs spread. 

Ziah lifts his chin. “Do you want it harder, sweet?”

“Please,” Asra rasps. “Yes, please, I—I need—”

“Good, Asra,” Nadia says, and he groans when he feels the head of her phallus press against his entrance. He wishes he could turn around, could watch her face as she fucks him, but Ziah is soft, warm, and the look in her eyes—enraptured, full of warmth and love he’d thought he’d lost to him three years ago—keeps him captive, unable to look away from her. 

Nadia rocks into him, her hands tight on his hips, and this time he can’t stop himself from bucking back against her, taking her deeper. She hisses a curse and Ziah laughs, and Asra grins against the curve of her breast, moving his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth. Ziah sighs, fingers carding through his hair, nails scratching his scalp.

But he’s so wound up, he jerks away with a gasp, resting his forehead over her heart as Nadia begins to fuck him in earnest. It isn’t long before that tension returns, before his thighs are shaking under Nadia’s hands, before trembles are running up his back and he is moaning against Ziah’s skin.

He can’t come, not yet, not yet, not until Nadi says so.

“Close,” he warns, panting against Ziah’s skin. She’s whispering beautiful things to him, her hands roaming over his neck and shoulders and face and through his hair, and Nadia is also telling him how beautiful he looks, how much she loves him, them (and isn’t that what he’s always wanted, for them to be them), but he barely hears it. Neither of them seem inclined to heed his warning.

“C-close,” he says again, pleading. “Nadi, fuck—”

“It’s all right,” Ziah says, and Nadia hums her agreement, not sounding the least bit winded for all she is fucking him, all hard thrusts and shallow rolls of her hips, deliberately angled to make him shudder.

Ziah reaches down, cupping his cock in her palm. “It’s all right, sweet,” she croons. “Come for us.”

Asra keens, lifting his head, and when Ziah kisses him he comes with a low groan, hips jerking between her hand and Nadia’s false cock. Nadia guides him through it, Ziah doing nothing but holding him and kissing him, feeling him pulse and twitch in her hand as he spends on her belly, just as he wants, just as he’s always wanted—

He gradually slows, twitching in the aftermath, and Nadia drapes herself over his back, sandwiching him between the two people he loves most in the world. Her hands smooth down his arms, and she kisses his throat as Ziah grins at him, her own eyes hazy with arousal. 

Asra tries to catch his breath, unwilling to look away from Ziah, unwilling to move and risk jostling Nadia, who is pressing kisses all across his upper back. Nadia ends up being the first to move, pulling out of him with a sigh. Asra moves off of Ziah, and Nadia returns with a washcloth to clean Ziah’s stomach and Asra.

When she is done, she tosses the rag in the general vicinity of the bath and leans forward, pulling him into a kiss. Asra is left breathless, looking up at her through half-lidded eyes. “Let me,” he says, and though the rest of his request goes unsaid, they all know what he wants. He wants to hitch their legs over his shoulders, to lick and suck and drink down the wetness between their thighs, to make them come—to keep going until Ziah is shuddering and Nadia’s breath catches and she cannot speak from pleasure. He wants to be as good to them as they are to him.

“Ziah and I will care for each other,” Nadia replies, kissing him again. “You were wonderful, Asra, just what we wanted. Lay back.”

He does, and Ziah leans over to kiss him as well, before she pulls away and Nadia pulls her into her lap. He watches Nadia take Ziah apart, watches Ziah shake and clutch at Nadia’s arms, making the most delicious noises. He watches Ziah shimmy off the bed and drag Nadia to the edge of it by her hips, kneeling between her legs. Nadia laughs, then moans, head tipping back, and he wonders if he’s ever been happier.

Vesuvia is healing; let them have each other. He doesn’t want anything else.