#fic: bad blood

[astarionancuntnin]

Bad Blood

summary: it was meant to be a nice, simple plan. get the sorceress to fall in love with him to assure his own safety, nothing more. what he didn't plan was to fall for her as well, and all the complications that came along with it.

or

my own twist on the astarion confession scene with the reader!tav from my previous fic, Undisclosed Desires

rating: M

word count: 3.6k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader, sorceress!tav)

cw: angst, hurt/comfort, self-destructive tendencies from tav, dissociation, mention of past trauma (rape/abusive relationship), toxic coping mechanism, near death experience, talks of manipulation tricks (Astarion's confession speech). full list on ao3

a/n: a follow up to Undisclosed Desires (master list can be found here), now featuring astarion POV! reading the previous fic isnt mandatory but i do highly suggest it to get a feel of their relationship + reader!tav's character and the build up that brought them there (mind you UD is explicit).

read on ao3

my masterlist

or keep reading down below ~

How do I try? I don't know why I wanna fall in love

I wanna die, every time I see you parking up

Forget about the fights, remember the nights we had, it's not enough

I wanna lie, pretend I'm alright, but-

-

I’m… not expecting you to say it back, but I meant what I said yesterday. I don’t know where this’ll go, but I know I want to be with you.

The words resonated in Astarion’s head.

He pretended to be sleeping back then, but he heard everything she said. Her confession had struck him harder than he had expected, leaving him at a loss for words.

Of course, this was the expected outcome; he did everything to make her fall for him. It was easy after all, a routine of sorts. She might've been a challenge at first, but she was always meant to fall for him; everyone does. Everything had gone exactly according to plan. Everything but for one simple detail.

I think I’m in love with you.

Astarion has had those words in mind ever since her declaration, a few nights ago. Those little words that shouldn’t have meant as much as they did when she spoke them.

They didn’t talk about what happened, but their relationship was stable. He had what he wanted; security from the leader of the group, assurance that she wasn’t going to turn on him, and a meal every night. She was less aggressive towards him, which was an added bonus, although he admired that fire in her that made her a menace on the battlefield, without taking away that softness in her character, even, if he had to be honest, it bothered him that she didn't save that energy for their own group.

That balance in her personality, this goodness mixed with this fire within that drifted him towards her, that made him love her in return.

…Love? No, that couldn’t be right. He found himself enjoying the banter between the two of them, it’s true. She was just as witty as he was, and their back and forth was the most fun he had during the day. She challenged him, kept him on his toes, ready for anything, and the few times they had sex were great, he couldn’t deny that either.

It might've started out as a ruse to have her trust and protect him, but then it became much more intimate when she opened herself up to him during those precious moments. He was able to know her unlike anyone else among their group.

She was more than he expected her to be, more than just a victim meant to be disposed of. That’s why this situation turned out to be such a problem to him now.

At first, he hated the feeling; couldn’t believe how his own plan had turned against him. But then he saw how she cared, when no one else did, and she let herself be vulnerable for him when she came forward with her own feelings. When he held her close that morning, he didn’t want to let go. She sounded so sincere, felt so warm and soft against him, a safe haven.

Until he could come forward with his own feelings — if he ever did — he would have to resign himself to accepting any form of affection from her only when she was the least likely to notice.

After all, he couldn’t let himself show any type of vulnerability, lest fall for her. It would go against his meticulously crafted plan.

And yet.

It was just so difficult not to, when she was always taking a stand for him. She was merciless and cruel to those who posed a threat to their group, protecting him as much as she protected herself. She was probably the most courageous member of their party, but as of late, this courage had turned into recklessness; casting strong spells that could have wiped an entire village when a simple, smaller one, would’ve done the trick. Every fight made her take more unnecessary risks to secure their victory, and given the shadowlands were dangerous territory, she believed it justified her recent impulsiveness.

It didn’t make any sense coming from her — she used to be more strategic, she was resourceful and able to lead battles using everyone’s abilities; that’s why they had put her in charge of their group. But their latest fights had been too close for comfort, and tension had risen around camp.

It has worked so far, she had claimed, not seeing the issue with her behaviour, and dismissing everyone who came forward to express their concern.

But what if it happened to fail? What then?

Astarion's fellow companions blamed it on the shadow-cursed lands that must’ve been affecting her, surely, as she was growing back to her cold, distant self, but Astarion noticed the change in her behaviour specifically following their visit at Last Light Inn.

She was fine when they first entered the vicinity, but by the time they were leaving, the sorceress seemed anxious and eager to go back into the woods, away from the security the inn provided, which went against everything they had fought for.

When she was asked about it, she blamed it on a bad gut feeling, dismissing any of their concerns, and when Shadowheart agreed and blamed it on the presence of the Selûnite cleric — who they didn’t even get the chance to discuss with — the rest of their party didn’t push for more information. She stayed mostly silent for the rest of the day and even ignored Astarion’s remarks.

Her behaviour was odd, but he couldn’t let himself care too much. Stick to the plan, he repeated to himself.

She let him feed the following nights, but she seemed away during their sessions. She wasn’t exactly the talkative type and he didn’t want to pry, but she caught his attention when she walked out of her tent, panting, a few times throughout these last nights. When he had taken a peek, he found her clutching at her chest, struggling to breathe as she was pacing nearby.

Astarion knew better than to ask, but curiosity got the best of him. Tonight, after everyone else had gone to bed and he joined her in her tent, he would confront her about her nightly troubles.

She was dabbing her neck, cleaning the traces of his recent feeding, her eyes lost in the distance, when he spoke up.

“I’ve noticed you seem… away, during our little sessions, as of late.”

“Hm?” She’s snapped back to reality, proving his point, but still avoiding any eye contact. “Oh, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” She tried to push the matter aside.

“Believe me, I would if it was anyone else but…” he stopped himself from saying anything he might regret, sliding back into his careless self. “You're the leader of this group. Our very lives are between your hands and I would quite like to keep mine.”

She chuckled humourlessly, “I'm telling you, I'm fine.”

“Allow me to doubt that, Especially with those nightmares you’ve been having lately.”

Her gaze locked with his, a dread settling within her.

“Is that what they are then?” He asked. “Night terrors?”

Her eyes darted across her tent; he could see the internal fight she was having with herself, deciding to come clean about her condition or not.

She sighed deeply after a few seconds, taking in a moment to find the words and it took her a few tries to finally speak up.

“When we passed by the Last Light Inn, I… recognised someone. He…” Her breath cut short. “We used to date. Or something like that. It wasn’t a great experience, to put it lightly. I was young and naive, and he took advantage of it. He–”

The words got stuck in her throat, unable to carry on as her breathing quickened. Her eyes blinked uncontrollably, still staring ahead, lost in a world of her own. It took her a moment to finally come back and continue.

“I hated myself for so long. I felt guilty of what had happened to me. It took me years to get over it– I thought I was over it, but the second I saw him again, it all came back at once.”

She paused once more, trying to regulate her breathing. “I spent all those years thinking about how I could make him regret what he did to me, if we ever crossed paths again. And when it finally happened, I froze. I. fucking. froze.”

Tears were threatening to fall and she pulled her knees close to her chest, turning her head aside; she couldn’t bear to let him see her in that state. “I’m sorry– you need to leave.”

Except that was the last thing he wanted.

He wanted to stay and comfort her, tell her that he would be by her side no matter what, that he would help her get her revenge if that’s what she desired, just like she promised to help him out against Cazador, but he simply couldn’t. The words remained caged in his chest as he got up and opened the flap of her tent before bidding his goodbyes.

The next morning, she avoided him like he used to avoid the sun; anytime he was nearby, she would turn to face someone else among their group, as if she couldn’t stand to look at him. Her speech was concise, mathematical, she had lost any sign of the emotions she had experienced the night prior.

When she selected the members of the party for the day, he was surprised to be a part of it. He wasn't scared to be left in camp, after all, she made it clear in the past that his ability to lock pick any and every thing made him a valuable asset, but he had his doubts after how she had been acting this morning.

The sorceress proposed to visit Moonrise Tower to get to the heart of their problem, but the shadow curse had made it tedious to navigate further and Karlach urged the group to revisit the Last Light Inn to get the help of the Selûnite cleric. With the majority of the party agreeing, their leader had no choice but to step over her current feelings for the sake of their mission, but she made it clear that they wouldn’t stay a second longer than needed in there.

To her dismay, that moment would take up most of their day.

After receiving the blessing of the cleric, a winged man, that Isobel referred to as Marcus, arrived from the skies claiming that she needed to leave with him, and when it was made clear that it wasn't an option, a fight ensued with his own army of undead.

They should've been able to handle them, it was their first fight of the day and they were prepared for anything. Or so they thought.

The hits from their enemies were stronger than anticipated and Shadowheart barely managed to keep everyone alive with Marcus who used his necrotic powers to drain them dry at every chance he had; against their best attempt, Isobel was knocked out and captured by the winged man.

Without the moon cleric to protect the inn, all its inhabitants were claimed by the shadow curse; one by one, the group of adventurers watched them die and turn against them, prolonging their already lengthy battle.

They defeated all the harpers within the inn before making their way outside, where another group of possessed fighters were waiting for them. The fight had been going on for what felt like forever; waves of new enemies kept coming in and the party was running short on spells and patience. More worrisomely: Shadowheart had used her last healing spell.

With everyone’s health running dangerously low, the sorceress knew she had to act fast to assure their victory. She was scanning the battlefield to evaluate her options when she froze, her gaze stuck on one of the Harpers that was approaching them. Astarion recognized her behaviour from the night before and he knew he had to step in.

He screamed her name, trying to make her snap out of it, but she remained motionless, unable to react to her environment, as a range of emotions visibly flooded her all at once. Without Karlach by her side to slash the undead that was coming for her, she would’ve been downed right there and then. The fiery tiefling screamed her name again and grabbed her by her shoulder, grounding her back to reality.

“Soldier, hey! You with me?”

Their leader blinked quickly, taking back her surroundings, “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine, sorry.”

“What’s happened to you? You were this close to being a goner.”

She didn’t answer back, but when her eyes fell back on the Harper she recognized seconds ago, an uncontrollable anger started boiling within her, and although Astarion noticed the fists clenching tighter and tighter at her sides, he wasn’t expecting what came next.

She freed herself from Karlach’s grasp on her shoulder as she bolted straight to the Harper she had in her sights. No one was able to stop her before she casted flaming hands on the undead, with a guttural scream that was cut short by the explosion that followed.

Blinded by rage, the sorceress missed to notice the multiple barrels of smoke powder that surrounded their last enemies as she cast her spell, blowing them up and herself in the process.

The rest of the party remained far enough to be spared by the explosion, Karlach receiving barely any damage. As the smoke settled down, the figure of their friend appeared, spread on the ground among the corpses of their fallen enemies.

No… No, it can't be—

Despite his distance from her, Astarion was the first one to reach her. He quickly rushed past the cleric and barbarian to land next to the fainted sorceress, bringing her head close to him. He tried to look for her eyes, but they were shut tight with no sign of life.

“Wake up… Wake up! Come on now. Please…” His hold of her became desperate, looking for any sign of consciousness; her body’s warmth was turning to a familiar coldness, and the soft melody of her heartbeat was getting quieter. Dread started to settle in and he shot a deadly stare at Shadowheart who was still standing next to Karlach, checking on her smaller wounds. “What are you waiting for? An invitation?! Heal her!”

“I used my last spell on you earlier!” She tried to explain. “We need to bring her back to our camp.”

“Would it kill you to try?”

Karlach nodded to Shadowheart, agreeing that their friend was in bigger need of care than her, and Shadowheart approached the fainted party member begrudgingly, knowing fully well she would be of no help, and knelt next to her as she tried to cast a healing spell, but nothing happened.

She tried again, and again, but her magic had run out. “I'm sorry, I– I can't.”

“What do you mean, you can't?!” Astarion spat out. “That's your sole purpose! What good of a cleric are you if you can't even heal her!”

“Hey!” Karlach stepped in before Shadowheart could retort. “Yelling won't get us anywhere, alright? We're all exhausted, and Soldier here needs serious help – let's just all go back to camp? Halsin might be able to take a look at her.”

His eyes narrowed, looking back at his lover, and he nodded to his friend. Without wasting any more time, Karlach picked her lifeless body from the ground, leading the march to their campsite without muttering another word.

Back at camp, the party rushed to bring the burned sorceress to Halsin’s tent. At the brief sight of her lifeless body, everyone else rushed to see the state she was in.

“By Sylvanus, what happened back there?”

“Does it matter, druid? She clearly needs help!” Astarion shouted.

“She was in the middle of an explosion, it was pretty bad.” Karlach stepped in, providing an answer for the archdruid. ”Can you fix her up?”

“I’ll do what I can, my friend, but I’ll need some time��� “ He turned to Astarion who was hovering. “And space. Do not worry, I will come to you once I am done.”

With those last words, Karlach laid their fallen friend down in Halsin’s tent and guided Astarion out with a pat on the shoulder and a soft “Come on, Fangs''. He followed her, giving one last look at the woman he grew to love, a mix of anger and worry painted over his face.

Astarion remained at his tent, trying to take his mind off of her by sewing up his torn clothes, but his mind kept going back to the moments before the explosion. He had pieced together what had happened, but he couldn't understand why she had put herself at risk like so. She was the smartest among them – he even enjoyed taunting Gale about it – and she was logical in combat. Why would she go as far as to risk her life over this? He kept pacing around in circles for the rest of the evening, expecting the worst as time went by.

As night time approached, the flap’s of Halsin's tent opened to reveal an exhausted healer. Astarion hurried to him, his worry circulating to the druid with unspoken words.

“I stabilised her.” He tried to reassure the pale elf. “She will be alright, but she needs to rest. Her wounds were… a lot to bear. If she didn't have her strong resolve, she might’ve not made it.”

His eyes darted to the opening of the tent, mindlessly walking in, not ready for what was before him: the sorceress half naked, her clothes having been replaced almost completely by bandages. The few bits of her skin left bare showed old scars and new bruises covering them. She lifted her eyes to meet his, only to turn away at the vision of his visible worry.

“It's bad, isn't it?” she sighed heavily. “He said I shouldn't use my powers for a few days. Said it could ‘compromise the healing process’.” She mocked the archdruid’s voice. When Astarion didn’t say anything in return, her eyes darted back to him to notice his expression hadn’t changed in the slightest. “You shouldn’t have to see me like this.”

“And you shouldn’t have blown yourself up, dear.”

She scoffed, “It’s not like I did it intentionally.”

“Not unless your intention was to end your life,” he snapped.

“Gods, what’s wrong with you?”

“Me?! What's wrong with me is that I happen to care for a brat who's prone to self destructive behaviour!”

“Excuse me?!” She raised herself up on her elbows.

“That stunt you pulled back there? You almost died!”

“We all could've died! I made the right choice to save our skins and nobody is grateful for it.” She groaned in pain, her body reminding her of her recent wounds.

“What choice?! Blowing yourself up? You blindly rushed in and put your life at risk. Gods, do you even realise the danger you put yourself in?”

“It was a calculated risk,” she hissed, her voice lowering. “And… I needed to do it.”

“What, kill yourself? Are we really that bad of a crowd, darling?”

“Ugh, I don’t even know why I’m trying to justify myself to you – It worked out, didn’t it? Why are you making such a big deal out of it now?”

“Because I care about you!”

"Oh right, it would be such a shame if something happened to your precious meal."

"You are more than that to me!”

She froze, the anger vanishing from her face, “...What do you mean?”

Shit.

“When you… when I held you in my arms, back there I – I thought you were gone.” His voice cracked. “I didn’t think I would care, Hells, I didn’t plan to, I–”

She quickly blinked in confusion, “Plan?” and he realised just then what he had let out; he needed to come clean.

“I know how it’s going to sound but, please, just hear me out. I… I had a plan. A nice, simple plan - seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. It was easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was not fall for you… Which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart.”

She stayed silent, taking in everything he confessed, her gaze going back and forth as she was considering his words, and Astarion was starting to fear this was a mistake; this was meant to show her he cared just as much as she did. He couldn’t afford to lose her, not now that he laid out his feelings, not after almost losing her. He reached out for her hand, trying to bring her back to him.

“I swear this plan is long gone by now.”

She scoffed, finally finding her voice again. “So all this time…” Her chest rose as her breathing accelerated and she pulled her hand away from him in disbelief. “Everything you said, what we did–… Gods, were you even attracted to me?”

“Of course I was!” He exclaimed. “Look at you, for goodness sake – you’re a vision. And you’re so much more than that.”

“Right. Then all of this,” she points at the two of them, “The flirting, the teasing, the soft words, you caring about me… It was an act, all along?”

“Yes— No! I mean– only at first, but then what we had – after that first night – it was real, I swear.”

She looked away as her eyes teared up, removing her hand from his grasp. “Why are you telling me this, Astarion?”

“I… I’m not sure… But you deserved to know.”

“I cannot believe I let myself fall for you. I’m such a fool.”

“Please–” He reached out for her hand again and she backed off abruptly.

“Don't touch me.”

The familiar words made his undead heart clench in pain and he backed off slowly. Despite her visible tears, Astarion knew she was boiling with rage.

“Please… say something.”

The tears streamed down her face as she blinked, her gaze stuck on the ground before them.

“You better have had your fill yesterday, because that was the last time I let you feed on me.” Her eyes met his, in a fury that he had never seen before, and she spoke with a shaky but dark voice. “I don't want you anywhere near me anymore.”

He nodded, “I understand–”

“I don't think you do,” she cut him off, her raging eyes piercing through him.

He looked at her incredulous, until she confirmed his worst fear.

“I want you gone from this camp by tomorrow morning.”

-

But every time I see those eyes

I wonder if you know you're keeping me up late at night

I don't know where to go

I pretend, I don't care, I tell myself you're right here

It's nothing but a nightmare, nightmare

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

tag list (comment or message me if you want to be added!): @grimistheangerinmystares @silverfangmarks @roguishcat @nyx-knox @anacdoce

[altschmerzes]

I’d love to see a little bit of Patrick Jane absolutely destroying James McGyver over his parenting decisions, if you’d like to share

WITH PLEASURE

this needs some revision and some fleshing out, it's still very barebones but it's one of the first things that came into my mind for bad blood. some explanation of what's going on here found here.

“How long did he spend in the system, James? How long did you just leave your son in foster care while you ran around doing whatever it is you do?” “Oh cut it out, Patrick, he was never in the system.” There’s a mocking tone in the way he repeats Patrick’s words back to him, as if that were a ludicrous assumption rather than a perfectly logical conclusion to have drawn. “He was with family.” “We had no other siblings and mom is dead, who the hell could you possibly have-” It clicks in that moment, and it all makes sense. Harry’s house, the slight tinge of guilt at the edge of James’s expression. “Your father? You dumped him on Harry? Because he was the epitome of emotional availability and responsible parenting and absolutely up to the task of raising a kid who lost his mother and his father. Jesus, James.” “What else was I supposed to do, since apparently you have all the right answers. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t take him with me. So please, by all means, enlighten me.” A hand sweeps out between them, James indicating that Patrick has the floor. It’s clear he thinks he’s pulled the trump card, ended the argument then and there, but Patrick has the answer ready before James has hardly posed the question. “Me, Jamie, you leave him with me. You know I’d have taken him in a second.” The childhood nickname slips out, an endearment worn and warped and soured into a curse.

[allurilove]

Yandere Stalker x you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: Stalking, blood, fem reader, stealing, he’s weird as fuck, male masturbation, he’s infatuated with you.

*This fic is influenced by You—a great tv show btw. I’m trying to give him a joe goldberg vibe. I really thought of the weirdest and freakiest shit he could do… Here is part two! He is referred to as “your stalker” and this is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: Your stalker goes to extreme lengths to feel close to you. Nothing really phases him, and that includes your period blood.

What’s more dangerous than a man madly in love?

He stalked you to a coffee shop. He sat a couple tables away from you, and he ordered a random drink. He never really cared for the overpriced concoctions these baristas made, and he really was here for you. He watched your white straw turn into a different color when you sip on your drink, and he sighed happily as he thought you looked hot with your lips puckered.

Sure enough, every sip was like a punch to your bladder. You got up from your seat and you walked to the restroom.

Was this disgusting? He asked himself as his cheek hit the cold tile floor. He was currently hiding in the women’s bathroom, spying on you as you did your business. And to his elation, you were on your period. He watched as you pulled down your pants, and you sat down onto the toilet, his eyes honing in on the pad that lays on your panties. As you changed your sanitary pad and wrapped up the old one, you pulled your pants back up and walked out of the stall. His eyes following the sight of your shoes and you stopped at the trash can, he hears a faint noise, and then the sound of the water turning on.

When you finally left, he walked out of the stall he was hiding in, and he approached the trash can. He gently pushed the opening, and his arm traveled down inside to look for the pad you threw away. He prayed that all of the wet substances that he was feeling was just soggy paper towels.

He then feels a plastic film, and it was sort of short but thick in width, and he grabbed onto it. He pulled it out and he inspected the orange colored wrapper. He was curious since he didn’t have a uterus, and also didn’t know what it was like to have a period, and he then sniffed it.

It definitely smelled odd… It sort of tingled his senses, the aroma of metallic blood and the natural scent of your body was…. sort of triggering a deep rooted instinct inside him. But that didn’t stop him from stashing it away into his pocket. He quickly put his hood up and he walked out of the restroom.

He had to jog a bit to catch up with you, he saw you sharply turn the corner, and he almost panicked when he couldn’t see you anymore. The last time this had happened, a crowd swarmed him and he hasn’t seen you in months. For five hellish months he had to try to find you again. It certainly wasn’t easy to find someone that didn’t document every single moment of their life on the internet.

A year prior before he started to stalk you in person, he wanted to stalk you online. He was pretty sure everyone stalks their crush on their socials, he remembers seeing your name on the coffee cup you were holding, and he scrolled through endless usernames. He squinted his eyes and he tried to look at the tiny profile pictures.

None of them looked like you.

He couldn’t find your perfect face anywhere! He slammed his fists onto his desk, and his mind was racked with potential username ideas. Maybe you liked flowers? He started to name every single flower he knows, and he typed that with your name. He frowned when the page ended up empty, zero profiles showing up.

He soon found out you had zero social media presence.

He shoves his way through, bumping into seemingly everyone’s shoulder, and after handing out half hearted apologies…he finally saw you enter a store.

He looked up at the sign: “Rated: Adventurous,” it said. There was apparently a huge sale going on… whips and leashes half off… wait what?

He didn’t peg you to be the kinky type, but to be fair he didn’t know much about you. You keep your cards close and have a small knit of friends. He walked into a different aisle from you, trying to look normal by grabbing a random adult toy as he glanced at you. His eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as you held a ten inch dildo in your hands, jesus. He looked down at his own crotch, his cheeks burning red and he cleared his throat. He put away the leather mask in his hand, and he inched a bit closer to you when you walk to the cashier. He notes that you mostly pay in cash, rarely using your card, and he noticed how you barely look around your surroundings. You didn’t even look his way—even when he was standing right in front of you, you just brushed past him and walked out of the store.

Huh.

He stands a couple of feet behind you as you hailed a cab, he makes sure to take a good look at the driver, and he saw you get in and buckle up. It’s not safe in the city, and even cab drivers had partaken in dangerous and criminal activities. Just last week a driver kidnapped a couple and fled out of the state. If you were to disappear—he knows exactly who to blame.

He quickly ran to his car and he followed after you. Running a couple of red lights doesn’t hurt anybody— maybe his wallet— but it’s worth it if it means protecting you.

He felt like he could finally relax as you made it home safely. He is now sitting in his parked car, idly fiddling with his fingers as you walked up to your front door.

He hoped that when you were pleasuring yourself you were imagining a man like him. Because he thinks of you when his pants are down.

Night has fallen and he’s been parked outside of your house for hours. He liked that it was dark out, because when he stares into your lamp lit apartment- all he could see is you and everything else is blocked out. You’ve always been a little tease, and the outfits you wore were always a bit scantily clad. But even now… it was like you were purposefully trying to trigger a response from him. You were just standing there, your arms crossed, and dressed in just a robe.

Just a tiny peek of your ankles and calves sent chills down his body. His hands started to work to unbuckle his belt, his zipper becomes unzipped, and he pulled out his hardened cock.

He wished you would’ve flashed him right there and then. He wanted a glimpse of your tits, just to see if they sag or if they were perky, and to see if your nipples were pink or brown. He would want to hold them in his hands. He wonders if you are shaven down there, or perhaps you liked to grow a bush. He wonders if your blood continued to flow out of you, dripping down your leg for him to lick and lap up. Would you like that? For him to spread your legs and help soothe your cramps?

He wouldn’t mind to have his fingers turn red, to have his hands and mouth stained of your heavenly essence. He wouldn’t mind if you got frustrated that his fingers couldn’t reach the deepest part of you, and that you wanted him to use his dick to impale you. A little blood never hurt. His eyes rolled back, and the muscles in his arms tightening as they furiously worked hard to jerk him off.

“Shit baby, that feels so good…” He groaned, his back arching as he was teeming for his release. His imagination running wild with the thought of you coming to his car to pleasure him. “I’m close I’m close I’m close—“

He used his other hand to reach into his pocket and he fished out the used pad, his teeth ripping the plastic, and his nose digs into the cotton. He let out a loud moan, your scent bringing him comfort, and his cock twitched as he came all over. His cum dribbling down his shaft, and dripping onto his hand. He sighed, and he cleaned himself up. He kept a box of tissues in the glove box, he wiped himself down and he looked in the mirror. There was a bit of your blood on his nose and chin, his tongue swiping at the area and he savored the taste.

The orgasm was so good that it lulled him to sleep, his soft cock still in his palm, and he snored away.

[aurorawritestoescape]

JOEL’S VISIT | Bad Blood Extra | 3,8k

Summary: Joel pays you a visit and makes your night unforgettable.

Tw: +18, mdni, smut, step-cest, big age gap (reader is 22, Joel is in his late 40s), step uncle!Joel is a warning in himself, stepdad Tommy makes an appearance (kinda), fingering, ass play, anal, sex toy, spit as lube, pussy slapping, cum eating, creampie, degradation kink, praise kink, alcohol consumption, swearing.

A/n: written as a naughty bday present for my love @milla-frenchy 🥳 happy birthday, baby!😘🩷 ILY! Hope you’ll enjoy my little gift❤️ and Joel’s huge gift🍆🍑😏

Pics are only for the mood. Reader has no specific physical description. Reader wears a skirt. Dividers by @strangergraphics-archive

Series Masterlist || MASTERLIST || Milla’s MASTERLIST

You step into your favorite bar in your college town and search for him. You notice the familiar broad shoulders far away from the crowd and saunter there, on the way turning heads of the other patrons but you don’t care about them. As if by a magnet you’re being pulled to the man, who’s sipping whiskey in a dark corner booth. Joel Miller.

You hate to admit it but you really missed the fucker. Missed his rough hands, his dirty words, his assholish attitude. No one else can make your blood boil like that but the hate you often feel towards him morphs into passion so fast that you wonder if your relationship is meant to be. As toxic as they are, you've never felt such a strong pull towards anyone. Except your stepdad Tommy of course.

Right now Joel’s in the dog house. You’re still fuming over his intention to fuck someone with the hard on YOU gave him. So you don’t sit next to him and instead settle in front of the man at the booth.

Joel looks up from his drink and a smirk tugs at his lips, shining with drops of whiskey.

“Hey, uncle Joel,” you greet him with a reserved smile. He’s wearing a denim vest with a white tank top underneath and his huge arms make your heart skip a beat. Why does he always look so delicious?

“Hello, angel.”

His eyes slide down to your lips and then cleavage, with your tits almost spilling out of your top by design. He adjusts himself before asking,

“Doncha wanna give your favourite uncle a kiss?”

“Not really,” you reply as your eyes are boring into him.

He huffs a laugh and rubs his scruffy cheek.

“Being a cold bitch doesn’t suit you, baby. I prefer you needy and with my cock between your pretty lips.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, but your mouth waters at his words.

“It’s a health issue, Joel. I don’t wanna catch anything after you fucked every hole in Austin.”

Joel’s brows rise up and he leans forward, planting his elbows on the table. Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you ogle his arms and shoulders.

“Oh, little slut’s jealous.”

You cross your arms making your breasts almost jump out of your top and lie,

“No, I‘m not.”

He narrows his eyes at you and takes a sip of his whiskey before talking again.

“Here’s a thing, angel. You can keep Tommy’s balls in a cute box under your bed. I don’t care. But ya definitely not getting mine.”

You scoff and he leans back against the seat.

“So let’s make it clear— I fuck whoever I want whenever I want.”

You clench your jaws as anger and jealousy squeeze your throat.

For some time you two sit in silence, the air between you electrified and heavy.

Finally Joel gets up with a grunt and you look up at him scared that he might leave, abandon you, but to your relief he comes up to your seat and plops down next to you. He turns to you slightly and puts his huge arm on the backrest behind you. He’s so close that it feels like a hug. His scent immediately envelops you and you gush as if on command.

“Look at me,” Joel gruffs but you keep staring ahead of yourself.

“Look. At. Me.”

The steel in his rumbling voice makes you throb and you turn your face to him, hiding your true emotions, your expression angry and cold.

“I’ve had a shitty day, angel. Don’t make it worse.”

He sounds serious and you furrow your brows with worry.

“What happened?”

Joel grabs his drink and finishes it. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand and talks to the empty glass.

”Paid Jess a visit today. Tommy left some stuff at your… her house.”

“Why didn’t he go himself?” you ask, feeling a pang of sadness that Tommy didn’t tell you anything.

Joel laughs.

“I don’t think he wants to meet your dear mother. He fucked her daughter on their marital bed. She ain’t exactly waiting for him there with open arms.”

“And you? I’m sure she wasn’t happy to see you either.”

“I don’t give a fuck. The bitch can curse me out all she wants. Tommy’s just too good of a guy. Feels bad.”

“Whatever,” you grumble.

Your gaze drops and you sit quietly, deep in your thoughts. Does Tommy feel bad about what happened? If so does he regret your relationship? Does he regret you?

“Hey,” Joel calls and you immediately look up at him, noticing a trace of softness in his voice. “Tommy asked me to give you something.”

“What?”

Joel turns to you more, his thigh presses against yours, and he brings his hand to your jaw. He pinches your chin and slowly leans down.

You slightly open your mouth, welcoming him, and he kisses you. In a second he’s licking into your mouth with passion, claiming you in front of everyone, and you melt, tasting whiskey and cigarettes on his hot tongue. He grabs the back of your head and devours your mouth, swallowing your needy whimpers as his other hand settles on your bare thigh, close to your naked pussy under the short skirt. He squeezes your leg and, feeling how much he wants you, you gush more. Your soft moans are drowned in a sea of chatter and music at the bar. It takes just a few seconds of this, of him, to make your pussy uncomfortably wet. Your core is crying for more and you open your legs wider, signaling him to touch you.

Joel’s plush lips part from yours as he mumbles,

“Here’s my needy slut.”

You reply with a flirty smile and press your body closer to his.

“Take me to a motel. Want you to fuck me like one of your cheap hookers.”

You drag your nose up his neck and Joel groans, roughly kneading your thigh.

“My sweet niece needs to get railed, uh? Dontcha have some fuck boy on standby at your dorm?

“I don’t cheat on daddy,” you whisper against his neck.

“Oh?”

”It’s ok if it’s you. It’s different.”

Joel huffs and then his expression gets serious.

”I can’t do motel today, baby. Need to get going.”

“Already?” you whine, pouting your lips.

“Yeah. Have work tomorrow. And if I get you all to myself in a room I won’t be able to stop fucking ya for at least a week.”

You smile and playfully bite the skin of his neck, before purring, “Sounds good.”

Your pussy is tingling for him and you desperately need to alleviate the ache.

“Please, Joel,” you sit straight and plead, batting your lashes at him. “I miss your big cock so much.”

Joel's wolfish grin makes your clit throb with the beat of your heart. Your tactics seem to work because he adjusts his big bulge and groans,

“My truck. Now.”

You can’t get up fast enough and then hurry to the exit, feeling Joel’s eyes on your swaying ass.

The parking lot is dark, illuminated only by one street light, and almost empty except for a few cars. Joel motions to his truck and you shiver when you walk there but not because of the cold. The culprit is an anticipation of his hands on your body, his cock deep inside you.

Before getting in you stop with your back to your step uncle.

”Wanna show you something.”

You bend over slightly and then lift your skirt. He sees your bare ass and you hear a whistle.

“Juicy.” He grabs your asscheeks but you swat his hands away.

“No, Joel. Wait.“

You push your ass out and spread your cheeks so he could see a pink jeweled butt plug, shaped like a heart.

“Fuck, angel, this for me? Been training your ass to take my big dick?

“Yeah. I thought you might miss it.”

You sigh when he presses his whole frame to yours. His big hands start kneading your naked cheeks and he licks the side of your neck and sucks a hickey into your delicate skin.

“Tommy asked me to leave this as a message for everyone.”

“What’s the message?” You breathe out, grinding your butt against Joel’s bulge.

“This pussy‘s taken. You’re ours.”

You moan, reveling in the possessiveness of the brothers and the sensation of Joel’s heavy body, pressing you against the truck, and you’re slowly but surely drenching your inner thighs. Soon the need overtakes any pride you have left.

“Fuck me, Joel. Fuck my ass. Please.”

“Sure, angel,” he growls, taking a step back, and pulls you off the truck. ”Inside. On your back.”

You do as you’re told, drunk with desire and excitement, and lie down on the faux leather seat at the back of the car. Joel settles between your thighs and throws your left ankle on his shoulder, opening you up for him.

“You often fuck here?” you ask, noticing how fast he found a comfortable position.

He replies with a smirk, “No, only on special occasions.”

You shoot him a playful wink.

“Aww. I’m flattered.”

“Ya should be. I’ll probably spend ages cleaning everything off your slick, little slut.”

“Fuck you,” you giggle and spread your thighs wider, as he grabs your hips and lifts them a little.

The hem of your skirt slides to your waist and Joel leers at your exposed pussy. In the almost dark car his eyes are glinting like those of a predator in a night forest. Your breath hitches as you marvel at his handsome features, accentuated by the dim yellow glow from the outside.

Joel seems to be mesmerized by you too.

“Here she is. Wet little pussy.”

He covers your cunt with his big hand and you shiver when his warm palm squeezes your cold folds.

A gasp crawls up your throat as Joel begins playing with your slippery cunt, drawing soft moans from you—he slides his fingers over your lips, massages your mound, lightly grazes your eager clit and when he lowers his hand and brushes the pink heart of your butt plug, you buck your hips, calling for him to take you.

His light ministrations feel so good you might cry but they are not enough to satiate your thirst so you yank the neckline of your top down and start kneading your naked breasts.

“Fuck, angel, never met anyone this horny and cock hungry.”

You don’t reply, fully lost in the sensations, but Joel demands your attention by flicking your clit and you cry out as a jolt of pain mixed with pleasure shoots through your body.

“Joelllll,” you whine but then a hazy smile blooms on your face and your step uncle notices it.

“How could I forget that my little niece likes a lil bit of pain with her pleasure? Dirty fucking girl.”

You smirk and Joel continues,

“I see you clenching your holes, baby. That pretty plug of yours nearly jumped out of your asshole. Let’s make it dance.”

Suddenly he slaps your pussy with an open palm and you whine,

“Fuck, Joel.” Your body jerks and all your muscles contract. His hot palm lands on your blooming cunt again and again, the strokes light but precise and sharp. Your soft moans fill the truck, sometimes interrupted by Joel’s encouragement.

“Doing good, angel— ya know ya deserve it—look at ya asshole sucking in the plug— your pussy’s winking at me—can ya come like that, baby?”

Through the lustful fog in your head, you barely register what he wants from you but when you do, your fingers start twitching your nipples, pushing yourself closer to the edge.

Slap—slap—slap, Joel spanks your slicked puffy folds and when his wet hand hits your clit just right, you cry out. Your head dips into the seat, your back arches as you come undone from Joel’s rough caress and he praises,

“Yeah, like that, angel. Good fucking slut.”

It takes you some time to stop trembling and when your limbs and body relax, you find Joel’s obsidian eyes drinking in every sign of your ecstasy.

“That was…Wow. Never came from spanking before.”

“‘s weird considering what a bratty bitch you can be. I’d think every second lover wants to slap your cunt.”

You smirk and flutter your eyes shut, still melting after experiencing such an incredible pleasure.

But they immediately snap open when you feel your butt plug move. You see Joel’s eyes glued to your puckered hole, held open by the jeweled toy.

“Joel?” Your voice is strained by the overwhelming sensation of the plug shifting its position inside you and you lift yourself on your elbows to see what he’s doing.

“I really missed your tight hole, angel. Very. Much.”

Joel empathizes each word by moving the plug in and out of your asshole. It glides smoothly, covered with lube and now your slick. You bite your lip, and whimper at the sight and feeling of your tight hole, stretching around the shiny head of the plug and then clamping around its base.

“Damn,” Joel mumbles to himself, as his fingers leave the plug and he begins unbuckling his belt. “Your asshole‘s drenched by your needy pussy. Might do without lube.”

“Yeah, Joel, fuck me raw. ‘s ok if it burns a little.”

“Shit, angel. Naughty slut. Look what ya doing to me.”

Joel unzips his jeans and tugs them down and your eyes are graced with the sight of his huge hard cock. The tip looks like a fat shiny lollipop and you almost drool seeing it bob over your naked cunt.

“Let’s replace the toy with something better, baby”.

Joel’s hand confidently wraps around the base of his stiff manhood while the other pulls on the plug. Your asshole clenches around it tightly, not letting it go, but Joel slowly slides it out and your ring closes.

Your chest is heaving with a mixture of excitement and nerves as Joel slides his cock between your soaked folds, wetting it, and then nudges your asshole with his leaking tip. He pushes in and you take a deep breath to relax but your hole is too tight.

“C’mon, little slut, relax for me.”

”Yeah,” you nod obediently and lie back down, looking up and trying to relax your muscles.

”‘s like that, open up for me, angel. You’ve taken me before.”

“Yeah, but … when I took your huge dick Tommy was there. He knows how to make me relax.”

You find Joel’s obsidian eyes, and then look down at his lips. The man scoffs.

“I ain’t gonna smooch ya forehead, baby. And ‘good girl’ for sure ain’t about you, little slut. So let’s try something else.”

Suddenly you feel Joel’s cock bump into your hardened clit. You whimper, hazy eyes locked with Joel’s, and he drops his head and starts drawing circles over your sensitive bud with his slippery tip.

“Ya like when I do this?”

”Yeah.”

“Good, breathe, baby. Unclench for me. Uncle wants to ruin your tight ass.”

He’s swirling your clit for some time and when the sensation of him, massaging your pussy, brings you close to the second climax, he slides his cock down to your crack and pushes into your tight ring.

With a gasp you feel your asshole give in as he inserts his mushroom head inside your ass, slowly but assertively. Your nails dig into the faux leather of the seat while Joel groans and closes his eyes and you watch his handsome weathered face twist in pleasure.

“Fuckkk,“ he growls and your heart sings, seeing him enjoy your body that much. Not minding the dull pain and the feeling of fullness, you whisper,

“Deeper, Joel. Want your whole cock in my ass.”

He opens his eyes and smirks at you,

“‘Course, angel. Gonna use you so good, you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

His promise should probably make you nervous but lust has completely taken over your body and mind so you bend your legs and press them to your sides, submitting your body to him like an offering.

Joel’s huge hands grab your asscheeks, he spreads them and holds you open before rolling his hips, pushing his cock deeper into you.

He’s grunting and groaning while you’re breathing in and out steadily, opening up for him more and more. Letting him claim the deepest part of you.

Soon Joel bottoms out with a satisfied sigh and stops his movement.

“Look at that, angel. My dick’s fully inside ya ass.” His eyes are focused on the place where he’s sheathed inside you. ”Fuck, I’m so happy Tommy married your mother. It brought me here.”

He chuckles and drops his head back in pleasure and you lift on your elbows to see the way you are joined and watch your asshole flex around the base of his cock.

“Yeah, glad we met, Joel. Now can you please move?” You whine, desperately needing more. Joel doesn’t make you wait- he grabs your hips tighter and slowly pulls his cock out almost to the tip and then slams it back inside as you moan and grab onto the seat.

He starts off slow, rhythmically moving his stiffness inside your ass, then pulls out his glistening shaft half way out of you, spits on it, and plunges back in your canal. You moan as the wetness adds to the pleasure, coursing through your body, and soon your sweet sounds and Joel’s groans fill the inside of the truck.

You whine your step uncle’s name and your hand slithers down to your cunt.

“What is it, little slut? Aw, your needy pussy’s lonely,huh?”Joel mocks, through gritted teeth, and you gloat inside thinking that he must have a real hard time trying not to burst inside you.

But you decide to be a good girl for him so you bite your lip, pull your eyebrows together and nod.

“You’re cute, let’s fill your sloppy hole too then.”

Joel leans down and brings his index and middle fingers to your mouth.

“Make ‘em all nice and wet, angel.”

You smile and take his thick digits between your lips and lick them, glide your tongue over his skin, coating it in your saliva.

When Joel decides it’s enough, he pulls them out and straightens, slowing down his thrusts.

With his cock deep in your ass, he pushes two of his fingers into your crying pussy and you both watch both of your holes being spread wide around Joel.

“Fuck, I’m so full. Your fingers are like another cock inside me.”

“Ya welcome,” he mumbles and starts fucking both of your entrances— your ass with his cock, your pussy with his hand.

If you were enjoying yourself before now you’re in heaven.

“Yes, Joel, don’t stop,” you moan and the man growls in response. His thick and long cock in your ass takes so much room that your pussy channel feels tighter, his fingers stimulate you so much better, that in no time your walls start contracting around his fingers. Squelching sounds of your weeping cunt makes Joel fuck into your holes faster and soon you unravel under his ministrations, crying out his name and arching your back off the seat. You’re trembling all over, cock dumb, pleasure drunk, biting your puffy lips and leaving scratches on the seat.

When you relax and melt under the man, he pulls his fingers out of your pussy, and slowly thrusting into your ass, lets you clean them up.

”Lick it off, angel, be a good girl.”

You lazily taste yourself and then he covers your body with his, pressing you into the seat, his hips flush with your asscheeks.

“Gonna come soon, baby. Gimme some sugar.”

With that he kisses you passionately and begins hammering into your ass, reaching the deepest spot inside you, feverishly chasing his climax.

Seizing this moment of unity with him, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and hold him tight, while your tongues are moving against each other. You’re gladly letting him take everything from you and soon his muscles tense under your touch and he makes a few hard thrusts and then moans into your mouth and begins spurting ropes of hot cum inside you. He’s filling you up to the brim, his throbbing cock moving in and out of your tight canal, pushing his cum deeper into your stretched ass.

You’re nuzzling his cheek, tasting his skin with your tongue, and the overwhelming feelings in your chest make you forget your complicated relationship with the man stuffing you so well and you purr his name into his ear, softly, gently, pouring so much into these four letters. Joel locks eyes with you, while his cock still twitches inside you from time to time.

His gaze is relaxed, soft and satisfied, rid of the usual sharpness, mockery, guard.

Your throat squeezes and your breath hitches when you realize that you’re staring at someone else, someone deep inside Joel you know and before he disappears, hides behind the wall, you kiss him gently, hug him close, and he gives you all of that back.

A few minutes later Joel’s tucking his cock back into his jeans, groaning about your slick and scratches all over the seat. The asshole is back.

“Maybe ya wanna lick off your mess, angel?”

“Fuck off,” you snap, fixing your clothes, and then get into the front of the truck and carefully sit down on the passenger seat. Your ass is sore and plugged up again with Joel’s cum inside. ”A warm farewell gift for ya,” he laughed.

“Going raw was a mistake,” you complain with a hiss and watch him get behind the wheel with a lit cigarette between his lips.

“Take me to the dorm,” you command and Joel glares at you without moving.

“Please, uncle Joel,” you bat your lashes with exaggeration and he starts the car.

You immediately take out your phone and call Tommy.

“Hey, baby.”

“Daddy! Guess who just fucked my ass!” You chirp with excitement into the speaker.

You hear Tommy chuckling, Joel curses and smiles at you.

“I need the details, baby.”

You give Joel a wink and start talking.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

SERIES MASTERLIST I MASTERLIST | Milla’s MASTERLIST

Tag list for the series: @milla-frenchy @iamasaddie @koshkaj-blog @survivingandenduring @nana90azevedo @mermaidgirl30 @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @obscurexsorrows @tammythr @ratoonstown @anama-cara @pedge-page @huskyfox5 @ashleyfilm @neverwheremoonchild @stevie75 @untamedheart81 @puduvallee @theoraekenslover @eloquent-dreamer @ashhlsstuff @evolnoomym @pinkiec6-rubi @guelyury

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

---------------

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[gbirrd]

6/9 - Jason Todd tarot card designs for Complete Candor by @vexfulfolly as part of the @batfam-big-bang

Read the fic here!

Other cards:

1-Babs 2-Cass 3-Bruce 4-Tim 5-Damian 6-Jason 7-Duke 8-Steph 9-Dick

Image IDs

Image 1:

A design of "The Devil" tarot card. It has the texture of recycled paper and reads "THE DEVIL". A symbol of a gravestone is visible behind the numeral "XV".

A young Jason Todd in his Robin uniform tugs at a thick chain around his neck that comes down from the top of the frame. Matching shackles are around his wrists and he is buried up to his waist in dirt. His head is tilted up towards the chain. There is blood on his hands, arms, chest, and dripping down the right side of his face as well as from his nose.

Image 2:

A design of "The Devil" tarot card. It has the texture of recycled paper and reads "THE DEVIL" upside-down. A symbol of a flame is visible behind the numeral "XV".

Jason Todd faces forward, filling most of the frame. He is in his Red Hood uniform and has narrowed pupil-less white eyes. He is holding the end of a thick chain in his right fist. Flames fill the background and bathe him in an orange light. The entire card is upside-down.

[fawn-tongues]

Drawing of a scene from chapter 7 of @entryn17 ‘s fic uncanny all along

[afterartist]

⚠️⚠️CW BLOOD⚠️⚠️

He’s so me

[dandylovesturtles]

this is a brain worm that spawned as soon as I read the second injury prompt, bad future timeline, from the prospective of someone outside the family (civilian, fellow resistance fighter, etc), where one of the brothers/april/or either of the casey’s are injured, “Someone get the medic. Get the medic!” and the medic is leo, unknowingly responding to a gravely injured loved one

shit this is a good prompt anon, thanks

credit to @promptsbytaurie for the injury ask meme!

cw: ROTTMNT bad timeline, mentions of blood and injury

———

He finds her leaned against some rubble, the carcasses of four krang hounds strewn around her. They don’t bleed like earth creatures, but the stringy bits of their mutilated bodies are strewn across the ground, and all he can think is, Good.

There is blood, though: her blood, gushing from a set of lacerations in her side. She’s so still that he thinks, for one awful minute, that she’s dead.

Then she shifts and groans and he stumbles quickly to her side, dropping to his knees and putting pressure on the wound, the way he was taught in ROTC a million years ago.

She sucks in a breath, gritting her teeth, and then her eyes open. They rove the battlefield with a dazed confusion, and he wonders if that’s a concussion or just the blood loss. Or both.

“Commander O’Neil,” he says urgently. “We need to move you.”

Her head turns and her searching eyes find his face. She blinks rapidly and squints at his face.

“Who…?”

He smiles, because it’s a kindness he can give her. Kids in school used to make fun of his buck teeth. Weird how an alien invasion makes some things easier. “Jake West. I joined your squad last week.”

“Oh, right.” She grunts and starts to shift. “New guy. Help me up, will you?”

Jake shakes his head. “I don’t think you can walk with that wound.”

“Well, I’m not letting you carry me out of here like some damsel in distress,” she says stubbornly. She slings an arm over his shoulders, gritting her teeth. Her brow is sweating, but she repeats, “Help me up.”

Jake’s only been part of this resistance colony for two weeks, since the tattered remnants of his last group was found by one of their scouting parties, but he already has a lot of respect for O’Neil. She’s a foot shorter than him, but she embodies toughness in the set of her shoulders and her refusal to back down. She’s more fearsome than most of the old military guys Jake’s ever met.

So he helps her up.

She stumbles when she’s on her feet, and he moves in to keep supporting her. The blood drips down her side, and she hisses when she sees it.

“Can’t believe I let those hounds get a piece of me. Dee’s gonna be insufferable.”

Jake wonders who “Dee” is, but doesn’t ask. They have to get out of here - the onslaught may have calmed for the moment, but the krang always come back.

O’Neil can’t move very quickly - Jake finds himself dragging her more than he helps her walk. He suggests carrying her again and she turns it down, though only with a shake of her head this time. They stumble through the rubble in mostly silence, making for the base’s hidden entrance.

Above their heads, there is a noise like a sonic boom, a streak of orange lighting up the sky as it goes past, latching onto an approaching krang drone ship and pulling it out of the sky.

“There goes Mikey,” says O’Neil, without even looking up.

Right; Master Michelangelo, one of the turtles. Jake had felt a little trepidation, when he had first learned this resistance group was full of - and even run by - inhuman mutants.

Then he’d seen what they could do, and that feeling faded fast.

He hasn’t actually met the turtles, only ever seen them in passing. He’s heard from those have been here longer that they’re actually really friendly, or at least all of them but Master Donatello are. More importantly, they put their lives on the line every day for what remains of the people of earth. Jake hasn’t needed to be here more than a few weeks to see that.

They fight like they have everything to lose. Jake respects that.

Master Michelangelo’s cover makes the trip back to the base easier, even as O’Neil flags more and more against his side. By the end he’s carrying her whether she wants it or not, draped half across his back in a fireman’s hold. She’s too out of it now to object. He hopes that doesn’t mean he’s too late. He’s so tired of losing people, even those he hasn’t known long. He likes Commander O’Neil.

He stumbles through the tunnel and into the bright synthetic lights of the entry checkpoint. Most combatants have already returned by now, but there are still people milling around, checking for any signs of krang infection in those coming back.

“Someone get the medic!” he hollers as he enters. “Get the medic!”

There’s a few echoing shouts, and then a door flings open and out walks Master Leonardo himself. He’s wearing a makeshift surgical apron, covered in blood, gloves, and a mask hanging loose around his neck. Jake’s never seen him this close, and now he’s a little taken aback, the way the turtle towers over everyone, moving so lithely despite the bulk of his shell, a commanding but easy air to his presence that seems to demand respect but also offer reassurance to everyone else in the room.

Every time Jake’s seen him from afar, he’s been grinning, laughing, smiling. He isn’t now.

“Don’t yell unless someone’s dying,” he says, eyes scanning the room until his gaze locks with Jake’s. He sees the body slumped across Jake’s back and grimaces. “I need to learn to keep my mouth shut.”

He crosses the room and directs Jake toward one of the cots. “Alright, put ‘em on the triage bed and let’s see what we’re working with.”

“Lacerations, sir,” says Jake, as he lowers O’Neil to the cot. “She was conscious when I found her, but she’s lost a lot of blood. Maybe a concussion.”

He trails off as he turns back and sees Master Leonardo’s state. His eyes are locked on O’Neil’s face, like he’s only just recognized who it is on the cot. His mouth hangs slightly open, and there’s an open, vulnerable devastation, a naked fear on his face. One Jake recognizes too well.

Even the mutants, with all their powers and all their strength, can be afraid.

Then, just like that, he pulls it together again for a fleeting glimpse Jake saw Leonardo, but now the Master is back, and barking orders.

“Marta!” he calls, turning his head to address a woman standing at the inspection line. “Prep OR now! And get us ready for a blood transfusion- B positive if we have it.”

“On it,” says Marta, and she’s gone just like that. Jake turns his attention back to Leonardo, who has taken O’Neil’s wrist in his, feeling for a pulse.

He’s quiet for several seconds, then he nods to himself and starts asking questions.

“Any idea what did this?”

“It was hounds, sir. I found her with several dead ones.”

“Sounds about right.” Master Leonardo sounds almost amused, though he doesn’t stop his work. “Any sign of infection?”

“No. She was talking and able to walk most of the way.”

Krang infections take over the host so quickly, they would know by now, with a wound like that.

“Hounds can only infect with their bites, and these look like scratches from claws.” Leonardo comes out again, as he reaches for O’Neil’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “Knew you wouldn’t let them get a bite in.”

The way he looks at O’Neil is so tender. They clearly know each other, and not just as fellow resistance commanders. Jake can’t help but wonder how they know each other; how a human and a mutant came to have a bond this close.

He doesn’t have time to ask, of course. Seconds later, O’Neil is being moved to OR, and Leonardo is making to follow them.

“Sir!” Jake calls after him. “Is there anything else I can do to help the commander?”

Master Leonardo barely pauses. “Get yourself checked for infection, and donate blood if you can. Then get some rest. You’ve done enough today.” He glances over his shoulder. “And stop calling me ‘sir’. Makes me feel so old.”

Then he’s gone.

Jake watches the door Leonardo just disappeared through for a second, then moves to do as he was told. He thinks about the way Master Leonardo looked at Commander O’Neil. Like she was part of what he was fighting not to lose.

And he thinks, maybe, that they’re lucky here. That this just might be the resistance that saves the world.

[rynli]

emotional support plushie

[astarionancuntnin]

WIP Whenever

thank you for the tag @nyx-knox!! im finally getting to work on chapter 2 of bad blood. angst train is departing, all aboaaaard:

Gods, why did he have to say the things he said? Out here, he was vulnerable again and without the artefact near, who knew how long he could make it before turning into a monstrosity? He could only hope they were near enough if only to keep the effect of the artefact working on him. It’s not like he could go back to them either. Now, he was on his own, again. Truly, utterly alone. As the dread started to set in into his mind, he shook his head, seizing himself back with an artificial confidence, one that accompanied him like a devil on his shoulder.  To the Hells with them, I don't need them, he thought. I don’t need her.  I don’t need anyone. I'll go to Baldur's Gate and face Cazador on my own. He kept repeating this mantra to himself over and over again while he made his way through the Shadow Lands, and as the words echoed in his head, he realised how wrong they were. His false bravado might’ve worked once upon a time, but after bonding with this group of weirdos, the lies he tried to tell himself only got him so far. In truth, he could never face Cazador alone. Hells, he barely managed to hold his own in their group, often getting saved in extremis, whether it be a healing spell from Shadowheart or a close kill from Karlach, or even a destructive spell from the sorceress. Tav… Just as he thought about her, his eyes fell upon the carnage they had experienced at the Last Light Inn. How he felt when he thought she was dead, the suffocating fear of losing her, how he would've given everything he didn't have to have her back, only to ultimately lose her for what he had done. Shit. I need to fix this.

tagging if you have something to share (no pressure!!): @tragedybunny @bardic-inspo @spite-made-me @marlowethebard and @dabblesindrabbles uwu

[altschmerzes]

i would like you to know that the concept of bad blood has in fact made me fully feral (in a good way!!) so if you would ever be like. inclined to discuss it further. please know that there is at the very minimum one person (me) that would be absolutely ecstatic to learn more about it

I LOVE BAD BLOOD. IT'S MY MOST RIDICULOUS LITTLE PET PROJECT BUT OUGH. MAN. IM SO GLAD SOMEONE ELSE IS EXCITED ABOUT IT.

here's some more about the relationship and background of patrick jane and james macgyver - half-brothers in this au. james is older but not by much at all. they had the same mother but different fathers and they grew up spending time together sort of on and off, there was a thing where like. patrick's dad was unreliable at the best of times, and he like, would take patrick with him to where he was travelling with the circus for work on and off, and when patrick wasn't with him, harry macgyver felt obligated to his son's half-brother and would let patrick stay with them. james and patrick never had a very good relationship, they grew up tolerating each other at best and hating each other at worst, and harry was... subpar, as a parent. he let his kid's brother hang around, fed him and clothed him and whatnot, but what we heard of his uh, approach to parenting on the show wasn't exactly. yikes.

patrick and james were never close, and it just boiled over when patrick's wife and daughter were killed and james didn't even go to the funeral. he sent a sympathy card. that was that. their relationship was Broken and they never interacted again. and even before that, james never saw fit to mention his wife or kid to patrick in the first place.

and now here we are where there's been a murder on mac's house's street, and the team that patrick is a consultant on is investigating it. (james pulled some strings. it's not phoenix jurisdiction, it's just an ordinary murder investigation, but much as he and patrick never liked each other, they both respected the other's intelligence and skills. so he wants patrick's team on this. he wants the best.)

so this becomes this opportunity to get to know the nephew he didn't know he had! got into this a bit in make of us a bridge, the oneshot i posted in this crossover a while back in mac's pov. bad blood is mostly, if not all, in patrick's. my fave part of it so far is the absolutely explosive fight that patrick gets into with james when he sees him for the first time in years and immediately eviscerates him for walking out on mac. that's been a lot of fun.

i've been watching a lot of the mentalist lately and it's been making me want to work on this one...

[musical-chan]

Only For Emergencies

@kikker-oma A gift fic for you! I just had to return the favour after all the amazing art you've done this month. So I dug around in your tumblr until I found something that inspired me. I hope you enjoy!

He said he would never use it again. He promised Malon, promised himself, though the draw towards the power was constant and inescapable. He rarely looked at his reflection anymore, not since the marks had clung greedily to his face. Not since his scarred eye had started seeing things again, things it shouldn't see.  Not since the last time he had worn the Fierce Deity's body as his own. 

And yet for some reason, Time couldn't let it go. He kept the mask with him, buried amongst the others, held for a day when he might need it again. Even though he had promised.

He had even shown it to some of the others in those early days of meeting other men and boys with his name. The young Hero of the Winds had been so interested and Time had appreciated the childlike wonder the teenager still held. It reminded him of his adventuring days, of being even younger than Wind and wanting to save the world, no matter what it took. It reminded him of when he had innocence and wonder before Termina had ground that all away into dust, before the mask had claimed his soul. 

Only for emergencies, he had told the boy.  Never to be worn in play or as a joke.  None of the other Links had cared or listened when he talked about his masks, but Wind had.

(Read the rest on AO3!)

[aurorawritestoescape]

BAD BLOOD part 5

Pairing: step-uncle Joel Miller x f!reader x stepdad Tommy Miller

Summary: the one with a late night visit, a hot breakfast and a surprise from Joel.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, step-cest, big age gap (reader is 22, Joel and Tommy are in their late and mid-40s), dark!Joel, dark!reader, mfm, unprotected piv (wrap it up), cockwarming, rough!Joel, Tommy is sweet (for now), somno, f/m oral, face slapping (2), creampies, cum eating, degradation, praise kink, daddy kink, fingering, exhibitionism, masturbation, swearing. Reader has hair that can be pulled. Tommy can pick up reader. The pics are for the mood only. Reader has no specific physical descriptions.

Word count: 5,8k

A/n: I’m so excited to share this part with you all! It’s filthy and even sweet at times, until it’s not😅 Big thanks to @milla-frenchy for holding my hand, hyping me up and beta-ing this depravity😘Thank YOU ALL for your interest in this story!🥹 Hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it. Love you all💖

Part 4 || SERIES MASTERLIST || Part 6 || MASTERLIST

*****

You feel ticklish, when a warm breath fans the inside of your thigh. In a second soft lips kiss your pussy and a hot tongue delves between your folds. Your back arches from the sudden pleasure and you open your eyes.

You’re lying naked in the middle of the table in the dining room, where your stepdad Tommy ate you out, while your step-uncle Joel watched.

You look down and see Tommy’s head between your thighs. He glances up and gives you a playful wink, before diving back into your pussy. He’s sucking on your clit and you’re softly moaning, while fruitlessly trying to gather your thoughts and remember if your mother is at home or not.

You’re drowning in pleasure but suddenly you hear a growl behind you. Scared to death you hastily tilt your head back and to your surprise find Joel sitting at the head of the table. With confusion you see that he’s eating a steak. He’s stabbing his fork and knife into the meat, loudly cutting it while watching his brother having another type of meal.

What the fuck? You try to say but can’t. Rage begins bubbling in your stomach, tinting the pleasure Tommy’s giving you. ‘Why is he just sitting there? Why is he only watching? Arrogant motherfucker!’

Joel seems to notice your anger, because the next moment he leaves the fork and knife on the plate and gets up. Planting his hands on the wooden surface of the table, he leans forward and his face hovers over yours.

Your eyes lock for a few moments before Tommy plunges his tongue inside your crying hole and you gasp. Joel smiles, then leans closer and kisses you.

He’s gentle and soft, a stark contrast to his behavior when you spent a night together. His tongue tangles with yours while Tommy licks deep into you, gathering your arousal and drinking it, humming with satisfaction against your pussy.

You’re in heaven for a few seconds until you hear your mother’s voice. Your heart drops and you wake up.

You’re in your bedroom and the moon is peaking through a crack in the drapes. You’re breathing heavily, trying to calm down, as your heart is about to jump out of your chest. Suddenly a realization hits you that not everything from the dream dissolved into the reality. You still feel the lips, caressing your pussy. After hastily throwing off the blanket, you see Tommy devouring your cunt, his hands holding your thighs open while his mouth applies light suction to your hardened clit.

“Tommy,” you half whisper-half moan and he parts from your pussy and raises his head.

“Hey, baby. I’ll be right up,” you hear him whisper, before he gets back to work.

You look around the room, calming down bit by bit, and then put your head back on the pillow. You smile to yourself, thinking that the reality is almost as enjoyable as your dream.

You’re so close to the climax, your whole body vibrates, and when your stepdad rubs your clit with the flat of his tongue a few times, you’re already wriggling on the bed while euphoria is coursing through your body. You’re breathing out Tommy’s name and he laps up your juices and when his ministrations start hurting, you slightly push him away and he climbs up your body.

Soon he’s kissing you and you whimper, tasting yourself on his lips. You can’t get enough of each other, making out, while he’s lying on top of you. He starts slowly grinding his clothed crotch against the apex of your thighs and you feel him hard and big on your naked pussy.

“You’re back,” you whisper, when he parts from you.

After her weekend away, Jess took hold of Tommy and you haven’t seen him for a whole day. You haven’t seen Joel either, which was on purpose. You avoided him as hard as you could, having spent the whole day at your friend's place. You were trying to decide what to do next.

Joel wanted you to ruin Tommy’s marriage by sending the recording of their conversation to your mother. But after that night, you started to feel pity for your stepdad, especially after he asked you to delete the audio. He promised that you’d continue fucking and that was exactly what you had ever wanted from the plan. So you avoided Joel, hoping that he’d leave for Austin soon and your stepdad and you would sneak around to fuck any chance you got.

“Hope I didn’t scare you. Couldn’t help myself. You are so hot when you’re sleeping, sweetheart.”

Tommy kisses you again and you're practically melting in his arms.

“Fuck me, daddy,” you whine and he growls.

“When you put it this way, I can’t say no,” he whispers, getting up to sit on his heels between your thighs.

He looks down at your naked pussy and swirls your clit with his thumb, making you jerk from the sensitivity. You ask him quietly,

“Where’re my shorts?”

“Took ‘em off. Was careful not to wake you”, he replies with a wink, his eyes glinting with mischief in the moonlight.

You whine, as your core burns harder because of his words.

He frees his cock and it bobs over your waiting pussy. Your legs part, inviting him in, and he doesn’t make you wait. Tommy slides his cock into your already soaked cunt with a soft ‘yeah’, digging his fingers into your thighs and you echo him with a moan.

“Quiet, sweetheart,” he reminds you and whispers, “Fucking love your pussy. ‘s the best.” You feel flattered at the same time driving away the thought of who he’s comparing you with.

He starts pushing his cock in and out of your cunt, his moves slow and thorough. Tommy takes your ankle and puts it on his shoulder, while pressing your other thigh down, opening you up to him completely.

Even in the darkness of the room you see his cock glisten with your slick every time he pulls it out of your sopping cunt. His thumb is on your clit again and you cry out with the added pleasure, and he quickly shushes you,

“Shh, you don’t want anyone interrupting us, right, baby?”

You shake your head and when his finger returns to your throbbing bud, you whimper against the back of your hand, trying to be discreet.

For a few minutes it’s just this—him fucking you as you’re watching.

“Sweetheart,” Tommy murmurs and your gaze slides up from his cock, pounding your pussy, to his beautiful face. He’s smirking.

“Would you want Joel to be here with us?”

“No, I love being alone with you,” you whisper back, and he laughs.

“Your pussy clenched on me so hard when I said my brother's name,” Tommy says and slightly bites your ankle. “Don’t lie to me when I have my cock in you like this. She’ll always tell me the truth.”

You smile back at him.

“My pussy is a slut. But my heart—There’s only you.” You’re not sure if you’re lying or not but you know that this is what he wants to hear.

“Fuck, little minx”. Tommy breathes out and picks up the pace. You bite your lower lip, trying to keep quiet, and squeeze your eyes shut, enjoying the way his big cock massages your walls.

“Bet you’d love to suck him off right now. Or have him in your ass. You need all your holes stuffed, right, baby?”

“Yes, daddy,” all you could manage to say while he’s relentlessly railing you.

“What if we plug all your holes, sweetheart?”

“Oh, fuck, yes,” you purr, feeling your core tighten.

“We can easily find a third guy. Anyone would be willing to fuck you, baby.”

The image of three men claiming your holes intoxicates you and you whimper, “really?”

“Yeah, sure,” Tommy says through heavy panting, “I don’t have anyone in mind here but in Austin— Joel surely knows someone who can gangbang you with us.”

You moan and he grunts, trying not to be too loud, but your pussy is too good to enjoy it quietly. His sounds make you clench even more and in no time you’re coming on his stiff cock, mouth open in a silent scream, back arched.

When your climax subsides, Tommy keeps going, rolling his hips deep and hard.

“Where, honey?” He asks with a little moan.

“Inside. Want your cum. Please, daddy.”

“Good girl.”

As soon as he praises you, he erupts into your wet heat, and you feel his warm seed kiss your walls and slide out of your hole, while he’s drawing pleasure from your cunt.

Tommy stills and gently pulls his cock out. He splays his palm on your lower belly, slightly rubbing your skin and asks,

“Do you feel me here?”

“Yes, it’s warm. I’m so full,” you mumble, putting your hand over his.

He whispers ‘good’ with a little smile and lies down next to you.

Your stepdad pulls you close and kisses you. You wish he’d never stop, never leave your bed. You fall asleep, happy and satisfied, on his broad shoulder.

*****

When you wake up, Tommy’s gone and you lie in bed, remembering the night before. You still sense your stepdad's hands, sliding over your body, his mouth on your pussy, his cock buried deep inside your burning core. You throw your blanket off, feeling hot and horny. You’re naked from your waist down and your pussy is still wet. Your needy cunt makes you bring your hand to your tingling center and you lightly trace the edges of your slicked up hole. Then you push a finger inside and pull it out completely wet with Tommy’s cum.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe out and get more of his load from your leaking entrance. Then you swirl your clit, using Tommys cum as lube, and every nerve in your body lights up. You moan louder than last night, rubbing your throbbing clit, soaking the sheets with your sweat. As soon as you imagine Tommy’s tongue on your twitching bud, you come undone, limbs shaking, pussy clenching around nothing.

When you calm down, trembling legs carry you to the shower.

***

Before going downstairs you stick your head out of the bedroom door and listen. You hear Jess’s annoying voice downstairs, so Tommy must be there too. Wearing your slutty pjs - your stepdad’s favorite, and a crop top, you head downstairs, your hair still wet from the shower. You find your lover at the kitchen table, yawning and listening to your mom with a blank stare.

“Slept badly, Tommy?” you tease him, walking up to the table and taking a seat next to him.

At first he beams, seeing you, but quickly makes his face serious in the presence of your mother.

“I slept like a log,” your mom says and you smile to yourself, thanking her for it.

You grab a toast and nibble on it, just enjoying Tommy’s presence and trying hard to tune Jess out.

Her yapping about something stupid and boring is soon interrupted by a door ring.

“It must be Cindy,” she says, getting up and leaving the room.

As soon as she’s out, your hand flies to Tommy’s thigh.

“Is she leaving?” You ask, rubbing his leg with a devilish smile.

His breath hitches and you notice that he matches your excitement, judging by the bulge in his sweatpants.

“Yeah. Be patient, baby.” He takes your hand and moves it from his thigh up on the table. He’s trying to keep his composure but his blown eyes, sliding over your body, tell you that he’s as desperate as you’re.

You turn to the door, hearing your mom’s steps, and to your disappointment, see Joel following her into the kitchen. He’s wearing a low cut shirt that exposes his sexy chest and a pair of tight jeans, accentuating his huge package. As always he looks like a slut.

An involuntary ‘fuck!’ escapes your lips and you drop your gaze, trying to appear invisible to the man you’ve been avoiding.

Apparently Joel has heard you, because he comes up to you and kisses the top of your head.

“Happy to see you too, sweet niece,” he rasps and you jerk away from his lips but gush anyway, remembering him fucking your ass just a day ago.

He pats Tommy on the shoulder and goes to pour himself a cup of coffee. Jess is visibly displeased by his visit.

“You three have a nice morning. Cindy and I are going to Madison’s. Jack is leaving her for a 20 year old bitch. Can you imagine?”

“Maybe they’re in love,” you say, raising your brows, and your mom scoffs. Tommy glances at you, his gaze is full of warmth and affection, and you answer it with a little smile.

“Good for him,” Joel booms behind you and Tommy nervously squeezes his coffee mug.

You turn back to the older man, glaring at him, scared he might say something about your relationship with Tommy. He’s leaning against the counter with a coffee mug in hand.

“You shouldn’t be surprised, Jessica,” Joel continues, “men are not meant to be monogamous. It’s nature. They will always want someone younger and hotter.”

Jess rolls her eyes at him and you can’t help but follow her suit.

“They can be if they meet the right person,” you dispute and he smirks.

“Yes, angel, until they meet the next right person.”

He laughs and you’re boring your eyes into the man. Soon your staring contest is interrupted by Jess, saying that her friend is here.

Tommy goes to see her off and as soon as Joel and you are left alone, you get up and try to sneak out of the room as soon as possible.

You’re almost at the door, when a rough hand grabs your arm, unceremoniously spins you around and pins you to the fridge.

“Not so fast, missy,” Joel growls and your stomach drops, “Ya ghostin’ me, girl?” He presses you with his hips into the hard surface of the fridge and you feel his soft cock, which is still huge, against your lower belly and fire ignites in your core. You hate him but you can’t deny the pull he has on you. His scent, his body, his dominance overwhelms you and you get wet and push your thighs together.

You try to wiggle your way out but he’s too strong and big.

“What? No, Joel. I was just busy.”

“Doin’ what? Being a cum dumpster for my little brother?”

You avert your eyes and he chuckles, nodding his head, before bringing his face closer to yours.

“I need you to get his dick out of your mind for a second and do what you promised me. Send the fuckin’ recording to Jess. Now!” He roars and fear grips your heart and at the same time makes your arousal spike. You use all your strength not to moan. You need to stop thinking with your pussy for a second, need to concentrate, so you take a deep breath and try to reason with him.

“Joel, listen. I can’t do it now. I still have to live here for a week. Do you think she’ll be ok with me after she hears the recording? She’d hate me. Even more than now. I really don’t wanna be here for that shit show.”

You make your cutest pleading face and beg, “Please. I’ll send it as soon as I leave for college. I promise, Joel.”

His piercing stare under the furrowed brows makes your stomach churn, but you try to seem calm. After a few moments of consideration, Joel’s face softens and he slightly pulls away. He’s still very close and your chest brushes his, when you shift on your feet.

“ ‘k. But as soon as you’re out of ‘ere, send it. I’m tired of waitin’.”

“Yes, Joel.” You’re batting your lashes at him, feigning obedience and hiding the excitement that you just got yourself a week of fun times with your stepdad. Feeling bolder, you lower your gaze to Joel’s lips and a memory of him kissing you flashes in your mind. You crave having his mouth on yours. And more than that.

As if reading your mind, Joel leans to your face and his lips brush your cheek.

“Missed me, baby?”

Your breath hitches and he smirks, “ ‘s what I thought. Tommy may keep your pussy full but we both know how much ya want this cock.”

He bucks his hips into you and a new surge of arousal makes you throb.

Joel’s lips kiss your cheek and then get lower as he latches on your neck, immediately sucking a hickey into your delicate skin, while his hands grab your ass and he pins you to the fridge again.

Yet now you don’t want to escape, to run from him, you welcome his mouth, marking your neck, his hands, getting under your shorts and kneading your ass. He’s groaning, as his lips travel up to your mouth and you readily open yours, welcoming his tongue inside. The kiss is heady, sloppy and hot. He tastes like black coffee, cigarettes and something so uniquely Joel, you can’t get enough of it. Of him.

Your pussy cries to be touched, so you start grinding your mound on his stiff crotch and he smiles against your lips.

“Knew ya hungry for uncle’s dick, little slut.”

You’re not wearing any panties, and when his hand slides under your shorts, he grabs a handful of your tingling pussy, making you gasp into his mouth.

“Fuck, angel, is it all for me or is it Tommy’s cum dripping out?”

You don’t have time to reply, before he pushes two fingers into your soaked hole, and you gasp from the sensation, grabbing his massive arms.

Joel starts fucking your pussy in a steady rhythm, pushing his fingers in and out and rubbing your bud with his thick thumb.

Suddenly he grabs your throat and lightly squeezes it, his hot palm sending chills down your spine.

“I asked you a question, angel.”

“Fuck you, perv,” you bite back with a smirk, as your whole body is revelling in bliss from his hands on your pussy and throat. Joel’s nostrils flare but he smiles. You both know the rules of the game you’re playing. You love when he’s rough with you as much as you love Tommy doting on his precious stepdaughter.

Your heart drops, when you hear footsteps, and you freeze, while Joel is nonchalantly keeps fucking you with his fingers. To your relief, you see Tommy walking into the room and after a surprised ‘the fuck?’ he comes up to you two.

You slightly turn your head to him, Joel’s hand on your throat still keeping you in place. Your stepdad’s expression, worried at first, gets softer when he sees your hazy eyes and parted lips and he gives you a warm smile.

“Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” Tommy asks, while Joel is shamelessly working your cunt.

“Yeah, Daddy,” you whine and Joel chuckles.

“She’s still full of your cum, Tommy. Ya played with her tonight?”

“Yeah,” Tommy replies in a proud voice, “filled her up good. Right, sweetheart?”

You try to nod, which is difficult, as Joel is holding you by the throat.

Tommy bends down and yanks your shorts down, until they pool at your feet. He plants his elbow on the fridge next to you and tilts his head to the side, watching Joel’s glistening fingers slide in and out of your needy hole.

You feel your orgasm coming up and whine a pathetic ‘daddy.’

“Yeah, sweetheart, let it go. Wanna see your pretty face, when you come.” Your stepdad leans closer and kisses you. Joel’s hand lightly squeezes your throat and you breathe in Tommy's air. The hard bulges of your stepdad and step uncle, snugly pressed to your body, Joel’s hands, Tommy’s lips make you throb and you cry out, as your climax sets you ablaze.

“Good girl,” Joel mumbles while Tommy’s kissing you on top of your high. You’re whimpering into his mouth, your pussy squelching, still being finger fucked by Joel. Tommy parts from your lips and watches your face twist in pleasure.

When your orgasm dissipates, Joel pulls out his digits, coated in your creamy cum, and brings them to your mouth.

“Clean up your mess, angel.”

You do as you’re told, licking and slurping on his thick fingers, while his hungry eyes are watching your every move. When you’re done, he pulls them out and grabs your breast.

“Time for your second breakfast.”

He unzips his jeans and you see his cock spring out. His fat tip is glistening and you lick your lips.

Joel chuckles and goes to the table. He sits down on one of the chairs, manspreading and holding his throbbing length in his hand.

Tommy steps up to you and hugs you, his hands quickly finding their way to your bare ass and squeezing your cheeks in his big palms. You nuzzle his neck, leaning on his broad chest after the hard orgasm.

“C’mon, angel. My cock won’t suck itself,” Joel’s gruff voice breaks the silence of the room.

Tommy pulls away, takes your chin between his fingers and tilts your head up to face him.

“Do you wanna sit on my cock and blow your uncle, baby?”

These depraved words coming from your stepdad, your mother’s husband, make your head spin with lust. You’d do anything for him right now. For both of them.

“Yes, please, daddy,” you whimper and he leads you to the table. Mugs and plates are still left on its surface, making the situation hotter for some reason.

Tommy sits in the chair next to Joel and pulls his gray sweatpants down. They’re already stained with precum and when he takes his cock out, you see it weeping for you.

Joel gets your attention with a slap on your bare ass, growling, “Can’t even suck a dick without your daddy stuffing ya? Needy little slut. Fuckin’ whipped.”

“Don’t be jealous, Joel,” you purr, standing between two men half naked, your inner thighs glistening with your cum in the bright morning light.

“It’s his pussy, but you get to have my mouth and ass which is too generous on my part. You should be grateful.”

“Oh, I am, angel. Let me show you how grateful I am by fuckin’ your pretty face.”

With that he gets up and lays his heavy hand on your shoulder.

“C’mon, time to sit on your daddy’s cock,” he chuckles, and you’re enjoying how impatient he is to feel your mouth.

You get between Tommy’s legs, your back to him and after planting your hand on the table, start lowering your hips. Your stepdad guides you with his hands on your waist and soon you feel his tip nudge at your sopping hole.

With Joel’s cock bobbing in front of your face, you start sinking on Tommy’s length. Your languid moan fills the kitchen as you take him deeper and deeper. Joel’s hand on your shoulder pushes you roughly down and you sit on your stepdad’s cock with a gasp.

“Joel, be gentle,” Tommy scolds his brother and you look up at Joel with a triumphant smile.

Tommy pulls you closer to his torso while your pussy is adjusting to his thickness. He's pulsating inside you as your cunt gushes around his girthy length.

Joel doesn’t give you time to revel in the sensation. He grabs you by the hair, tight but not hurting you, and pulls your face closer to his cock.

His fat wet tip hits your lips and you look up at him with defiance, not taking it in your mouth. You want it, but the opportunity to make him boil is too delicious to miss.

“Can I slap this bitch, brother?” Joel asks Tommy, not tearing his eyes off your smug face.

“I asked you to be gentle, Joel,” Tommy scolds him but your ears perk up.

“But I want it, daddy,” you whine, your lips brushing Joel’s velvet head.

“ ‘k then.”

As soon as Tommy says it, Joel's palm harshly lands on your cheek and you grab the side of the table as your head sways to the left. Tommy’s hands grip your hips harder as he growls,

“Fuck, you do really love it, baby. Your little pussy clenching me so hard.”

“Yeah,” you whimper, rubbing your cheek, while Joel’s fist is still clenching your hair. The slap burns a little and you love it.

“Anytime, angel, we all know you deserve it. Now open your fuckin’ mouth,” Joel commands and you do it with a content gaze.

He pushes his throbbing cock between your lips, and you taste his salty precum. You suck on his head, cockwarming your stepdad.

Your hands are planted on Joel’s hips for stability and you take him deeper into your hot mouth until his tip hits your throat.

“Oh, yeah, angel. Ain’t ya happy I finally let you suck on my dick?”

You hum around his cock and both men chuckle.

“I think it’s a ‘yes’”, Tommy chuckles as his hands squeeze your thighs, then glide up over your belly and then pull your top up. He gently kneads your naked tits, as your whimpers are muffled by your step uncle’s fat cock.

You begin bobbing your head up and down, lips curled over your teeth, saliva dripping down your chin, sliding down to his balls. You try to keep your gaze focused on his face, lust and pleasure painting his features. His blown half-lidded eyes watch you blow him and then lower to enjoy the way Tommy’s playing with your pebbled nipples, twisting and tugging on them. You roll your eyes, dancing on the verge of orgasm from Tommy’s ministrations, his length throbbing deep inside you like the second heartbeat and Joel’s cock filling your mouth. You clench hard around Tommy.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he moans behind you and gently nips at your shoulder, “you’re incredible. Wanna live in your perfect cunt.”

Joel chuckles, “your wife may object.”

No one reacts to his quip, Tommy’s too entranced by your pussy, you’re slurping and gagging on Joel’s member.

He pats your head after a contend groan. “Ahh, doing great, baby. Told ya it’s all ya good for, sucking a cock and sitting on it.”

His warm hand cups your cheek and your eyes lock. “Make her come, Tommy, my little niece deserves it.”

“She does. She’s choking my cock so well.”

“Speaking of choking,” Joel pulls you off his member and you whine.

“Hungry little slut. Don’t worry, ya gonna get your favorite lollipop back. I’m gonna fuck your mouth and ya gonna come on Tommy’s cock, got it?”

You take a deep breath, knowing fully well that Joel won’t spare you, but you nod, biting your lip, “I’ll do my best, daddy,…uncle,” you reply to both of them and the men hum approvingly.

Tommys hands brush your soaked folds, spread open by his cock, filling your core, and his thumb finds your clit, already puffy after Joel’s fingers.

You clench around your stepdad and he moans, “fuck, baby, I won’t last..”

You want to say it’s ok, but Joel already takes your head between his giant palms and pushes his cock back into your mouth. Tommy’s fingers start rubbing, swirling your little clit, while Joel begins fucking your mouth. The roll of his muscular hips is slow at first, merciful, but getting closer to an orgasm, he moves faster and rougher.

His fingers pull at your hair, as his cock plunges into your mouth, hitting your throat again and again. You try to breathe around him, gasping for air any time he lets you, but it’s hard because of how huge he is and you scratch his hips to make him pause.

He pulls you off and slightly slaps your cheek, scolding you, “no scratching, bad kitty.”

You gasp for air and then giggle, being absolutely cock drunk and drowning in the pleasure of having two fat cocks inside you. You feel like you could faint from the ecstasy.

Your core tightens when the flat of Tommy’s palm rubs your whole pussy. He’s rapidly shaking his hand left and right, making your sloppy cunt squelch as you start coming. Joel stuffs your crying out mouth with his cock again, muffling you and fucks deeper, harder into your throat.

You feel yourself like nothing but holes for their cocks, a fuck doll, made solemnly for their pleasure, and the thought makes your pussy pulsate harder.

Your limbs tremble, your whole body jerks with every wave of euphoria. Saliva is drooling down your chin as your pussy coats Tommy’s thighs with your creamy cum.

“Such a good girl for us,” Tommy praises, choking on his words, as he explodes inside you. Loud groans escape his mouth, as he’s painting your walls with his hot cum.

“Yeah, like that, good slut” Joel moans as your lips, tongue and throat are massaging his cock. He starts coming too, his load squirting inside your throat and you drink it all, without any need to swallow.

When your orgasm subsides and they stop pumping their seed into your spent body, Joel takes his cock out of your mouth and you try to catch your breath, leaning against Tommy’s hot chest.

With his cock still inside you, he’s peppering kisses over your shoulders, neck, cheeks while his gentle hands are caressing your body, thanking you for the pleasure you gave him. Joel tucks his cock inside his jeans and plops on the chair. He lights a cigarette and takes a deep drag with a satisfied hum.

Your eyes half-closed, your limbs pleasantly tingling, you’re watching him watch you. You hate how good this handsome fucker makes you feel. He’s an asshole but deep inside you have to admit he’s closer to you than Tommy. Just like you he gets what he wants, no matter the feelings of people you might hurt in the process.

Tommy brings you out of your thoughts, gently turning your head to him to kiss you. You moan into his mouth as he’s hugging you tight, while his cum drips out of your pussy.

Joel interrupts you two after a few seconds by getting up with a grunt.

Tommy and you stop making out and look up at him.

“Can I get a kiss, uncle?” You ask, smiling with a twinkle in your eye. You expect him to refuse tasting his cum on your tongue but he surprises you,

“ ‘course. C’mere,” he motions you to get up with a jerk of his chin, and with widened eyes you get up, as Tommy’s cock slides out of your hole.

Joel pulls your half-naked body to him and wraps his arms around you. Your heart flutters when he’s being so affectionate with you. You can’t help but moan when he presses his lips to yours. Soon he’s licking into your mouth, as you’re melting against his chest.

His lips shift to the side and brush your ear, “thanks for the blowie, angel. One day I’ll return the favor.”

Your spent and used up pussy aches again, imagining him on his knees between your legs.

“Can’t wait,” you whisper back and plant a kiss on his scruffy cheek.

When Joel leaves, Tommy takes you in his arms and carries you to your bedroom. He lays you down on the bed and you roll under the blanket. You fall asleep while he’s caressing your cheekbone with his thumb.

****

You wake up with a jerk. It’s still sunny outside, you must have slept for a couple of hours. Soon you realize the reason for your abrupt awakening. Jess is screeching downstairs. You hear Tommy’s voice too, he’s not as loud as her but he’s definitely trying to over shout your mother.

You’ve heard them arguing before but not as bad as now. You furrow your brows and chew on your lip, still staying in bed.

Listening to them, by habit you grab your phone and check notifications. There’re a few messages from your friends, a missed call from your grandma, and then you see it.

A set of instant messages in your family chat.

The last one from Joel Miller.

You wonder why the fuck he’s in your family group chat at all and then your heart freezes and you start feeling nauseous when you open the last message. It’s a photo.

Of Tommy sitting on the bed in the master bedroom and you straddling him. Both of you are naked. It was shot from the back so your faces are not visible but it’s clearly you two.

Your hands start shaking and you drop your phone, that almost hits your terrified face.

You’re lying for a few long moments almost motionless, while a whirlwind of emotions is swirling in your stomach and your mind is screaming, trying to decide what to do now.

There’s only one way out.

Out.

You get up, put on some clothes and hastily start packing. You take whatever you see and throw it into your suitcase. Then you pad downstairs and sneak out of the house, fortunately, not getting caught by anyone.

Soon you’re walking along the street, with the luggage behind you, running away from the place you definitely can’t call home anymore. Your heart is pounding in your ears, though a part of you feels free, free of your mother, free of the old life. Fuck her. You call your friend and ask if you can crash at her place. She says ‘yes’ and offers to pick you up at the nearest bus stop. While you’re waiting for her, you look at the family chat again.

The fear that you felt before gives way to anger. You’re so mad at Joel, your eyes well up with tears and you wanna scream and break things. Just when you thought that your step uncle believed your promises, he goes and pulls this shit?!

With trembling fingers, you find an audio recording on your phone and send it to Tommy, mumbling under your breath,

‘Thought you could fuck me over like that, asshole? Let’s see who gets fucked now.’

The message to your stepdad goes through and you press ‘play’ and in the quiet of the suburban street you hear Joel’s gruff voice, telling you the plan of getting Tommy move back to Austin, “step one, angel - we record my little brother sayin’ that he wants to fuck ya…”

*****

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic💖 it motivates me to write more filth for you wonderful people😘 and I’d love to hear your thoughts/thots/ideas. What’s gonna happen next? 👀

Part 6 || SERIES MASTERLIST || MASTERLIST

Tag list for the series: @koshkaj-blog @survivingandenduring @nana90azevedo @mermaidgirl30 @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @obscurexsorrows @ratoonstown @tammythr @anama-cara @pedge-page @huskyfox5 @ashleyfilm @neverwheremoonchild @stevie75 @untamedheart81 @puduvallee @theoraekenslover @eloquentdreamer @talaok

Tommy tag @huskyfox5

Main tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @missannwinchester @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog

If you'd like to be tagged in the series or in anything else let me know!💕

[birrdies]

dead; by birrdie 14.9k, 1 chapter (complete*)

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Vampirism would never be Voldemort’s preferred form of existence, but needs must.

It’s unfortunate that the Ministry seized his body for examination instead of burying him – or even putting his corpse on display, he merits at least that much. But alas, when his back-up plan finally kicks in (well, the horcruxes were his initial back-up plan, but hardly the only one. One can never be too careful when it comes to ensuring one’s continued survival), he’s on an examination table surrounded by Aurors and Unspeakables. Not ideal for making his escape, especially when he’s weak and disoriented.

He manages to latch onto the nearest mage and drink enough of their blood to mount a defence and get to the exit, but being a vampire is different enough that he’s taken down before he makes it more than two steps through the door. How humiliating.

So now, here he is, tucked somewhere in the bowels of the Ministry with guards posted just out of sight, interrogated frequently on such matters as who his Death Eaters are, the extent of his crimes, what he knows (far more than these dunderheads can comprehend), and on and on. He gives them nothing, unless it doesn’t matter anymore and will just frustrate them to know. Then he provides more detail than they would ever want. Their methods of information extraction are laughable, anyway.

They only try to starve him to death once. After he rips through the wards and bars containing him and drains one of his guards dry, they don’t try it again. Now, they bring him some kind of blood in pouches once every few days. It sustains him, but that’s about all that can be said for it. He doesn’t feel hungry, per se, but too long without blood makes a headache pound behind his eyes and worsens his already irascible nature.

He’s certain he could escape this cell if he wanted to, but it’s taking him far longer to adapt to being a vampire than he had expected. His magic functions differently, his senses are heightened and inconsistent, and he’s unsure what his reaction to sunlight will be. (Or even regular indoor lighting – it’s kept quite dim in this corridor.) He’s willing to be patient and make his move when the time is right.

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

It’s during one of the Minister’s occasional visits – as though he has any respect for the position and will give up his secrets more easily – that he appreciates his intensified sense of smell for the first time.

(His guards could stand to brush up on their cleaning charms. They don’t appreciate it when he shares this knowledge with them.)

It’s enticing, the fragrance, and strong enough that it almost feels visible, wafting down the corridor from the open door. He feels himself drawn to the scent, only stopping when he hits the bars. It takes a fair bit of self-control to resist pulling them apart and pursuing the delicious smell. “Who walked by just now?”

“That isn’t of any concern to you,” Shacklebolt says flatly.

One of the Aurors snaps, “We’re asking the que–”

“Bring them here,” Voldemort commands. “Or we’ll find out exactly how well these new wards will hold up against me.”

His ability to enthral the Aurors guarding him might be limited by the amulets they wear, but the fact that it still affects them at all seems to terrify them more. One looks to the Minister, hands shaking; he races off once he gets the nod.

Shacklebolt attempts to stare him down, which would be more impressive if he’d been able to do it before Voldemort had his metaphorical wings clipped. Once he realises Voldemort has no intention of engaging in a childish staring contest, the other man chats quietly with the remaining guards.

The Auror returns, looking pale and pinched. “Er, Minister Shacklebolt…”

“Who is it?”

The Auror slides his eyes over to Voldemort before returning to meet the Minister’s gaze and shaking his head.

The look is telling. He makes an educated guess and calls out, “Harry Potter.”

After a brief pause, the tense, angry silence is shattered by the thud of footsteps rapidly approaching before the boy skids to a stop before Voldemort’s cell, panting for breath and looking horrified and enraged by what he finds.

“What the hell is he doing here–”

“Harry, wait–”

“He’s alive?!”

“Let’s go talk about this–”

“Hello again, Harry Potter,” Voldemort cuts in. “So kind of you to finally visit me.”

“How in Merlin’s name did you survive?” Potter shouts, sounding a touch hysterical.

“Come closer and I’ll tell you.” A rather transparent ploy, but the scent of the boy’s blood has his head reeling. And, well, Potter has never needed a sophisticated touch to lure him in.

Shacklebolt snarls at him and quickly raises the silencing barrier that prevents him from being heard beyond the walls of his cell. What a pity.

He says, “I’ll see you soon,” ensuring his mouth moves deliberately enough for the message to get through even if it can’t be heard. Potter’s brows furrow at him, eyes aflame, before he follows the Minister down the corridor, irately demanding to know everything.

No matter. If Shacklebolt thinks Potter won’t find a way back here, he doesn’t know the boy at all.

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

It takes four days before Potter skulks out of the shadows around Voldemort’s cell. 

Voldemort knows from the moment he enters the corridor, even if he can’t see the boy getting closer. Wild, black hair and a lumpy jumper emerge from under an invisibility cloak directly in front of his cell, just inside the sound barrier. Clever boy.

“Come now, you’re not afraid of me, are you?” he taunts. “I’m no danger to you from in here. You can step closer.”

A vampire’s power of suggestion works just as well as the Imperius does against Potter. He’d expected it, but the boy’s mental resilience remains irritating.

“Did you seriously think that would work?” Potter says incredulously.

“I have so little entertainment, I’m not in a position to be picky,” he mockingly laments. “In any case, congratulations. You’ve exceeded my admittedly low expectations of you.”

“Tosser,” the boy mutters, before demanding, “What are you doing here?”

He raises a judgemental, nonexistent eyebrow. “Well, when the Ministry offered me room and board in perpetuity for the low cost of my freedom and privacy, how could I refuse?”

If looks could kill, Potter might actually have a chance at putting him in the ground permanently. “You know that’s not what I was asking,” he snaps. “How are you here, alive?”

Voldemort observes the boy for a moment. Deep bruises under his eyes, still too skinny – no one at home to notice if he goes missing.

“I propose a trade,” he says, moving ever so slowly closer towards the bars. “I have something you want, and you have something I want. Surely we can come to a mutually satisfying agreement.”

“What could I possibly want from you?” Potter grits. 

“Isn’t it obvious? Your curiosity, Harry Potter, would put the proverbial cat to shame. You have questions.” Voldemort reaches out and wraps a hand around one of the bars. “And I have answers, if you’re willing to barter for them.”

Potter considers this, looking torn. Voldemort is confident the boy's need to know will win out. And he's correct.

“What do you want?”

“Something that I am certain will answer at least one of your questions. Come closer and you’ll find out.”

That nets him an unimpressed look. “I’m not stupid, you know,” Potter says. 

“No, you aren’t, but you are rather gullible at times,” he replies with a grin. 

“You are such a prick,” the boy says, almost wonderingly. “Fine. How are you alive? I saw you die. I checked your pulse, even.”

“You want to know how I am alive,” he says mysteriously. “How do you know that I am?”

Potter gives him a flat look. “Well, the whole walking and talking thing kind of gave it away.”

“Animate and alive are two different things,” he corrects.

“You pedantic–” the boy begins cursing, before pausing and considering the words more closely. Voldemort smiles and ensures his fangs are visible. “You’re a vampire,” Potter concludes quietly. 

“Thirty points to Gryffindor,” Voldemort mocks.

Potter is still staring at him, and he can almost see the dots connecting in the other’s mind. “What you want is the answer… You want my blood?!”

“Oh, well done, Harry Potter. We’ll make a scholar of you yet.”

“Absolutely not,” Potter says firmly. “You really must think I’m stupid, if you think I’d let you bite me.”

“Where’s your sense of fairness? I’ve answered some of your questions, but you won’t keep up your end of the bargain?”

“You want to kill me!”

“Not anymore,” he maybe-lies. He’s fairly certain the prophecy lost its relevance once he died at Hogwarts. If so, he’s not particularly fussed about what happens to the boy now.

Potter shouts, indignantly, “Like I’d believe that!”

And, well, he can’t blame Potter for his scepticism. He has spent the better part of eighteen years repeatedly attempting to kill the boy. But that’s neither here nor there.

“You made a trade with me,” he reminds the boy. “It’s hardly my fault that you failed to clarify the terms of the deal beforehand.”

“Fucking…” Potter tugs on his hair, looking frustrated. “Fine. But you’re not allowed to kill me.”

Voldemort gives him an indulgent look. “I swear.”

“I can’t believe this…” the boy mutters. “How…?”

“Give me your hand.” He’s close; he’s so close…

Looking like he’d rather be anywhere else and giving Voldemort a warning look, Potter slowly slides his left hand between the bars. Voldemort pulls the boy’s wrist towards his mouth, ignoring the wary glare boring into the side of his head, and bites down.

Finally.

He feels like he’s been starving for years – a feeling made all the more intolerable by the complete lack of hunger he’s felt since his bodily resurrection. Slaking his thirst for the first time is revelatory – if he’ll experience this transcendent feeling each time he drinks, he finally understands why vampires accept the troublesome aspects of their nature.

He drinks deep, revelling in the euphoria coursing through his veins. On the periphery of his awareness, he can hear the boy making noise, but the wards will prevent the sounds from escaping. He feels Potter’s other hand pushing at his shoulder, his face, and wonders whether he should kill the boy here and now.

But he’s not so lost in bloodlust that he forgets how disappointing the Auror was when he’d drank from her. The taste of her blood was barely different from the blood bags they give him. Perhaps, much like the scent of his blood is rare, the intoxicating taste of Potter’s blood is equally uncommon. He can survive with the blood of others, but…

Existence is so much more enjoyable with little luxuries to break up the monotony.

So he stops before the boy’s blood levels fall dangerously low. Potter will even be able to walk out of here, if a little unsteadily. If this becomes a regular thing (and he hopes it will, until he makes his escape and can steal the boy away to feed on as he pleases), he’ll have to recommend Potter bring blood replenishers.

He floats back down to earth slowly, enjoying the warm, effervescent feeling filling his body and mind. When he opens his eyes again, he sees he’s not the only one affected.

Potter is leaning heavily against the bars, left arm limply hanging from Voldemort’s grasp, and panting like he can’t catch his breath. His face is flushed – though the unflushed sections of skin are decidedly paler than usual – and his body keeps twitching. Perhaps he’d taken too much blood. Or the boy is having an adverse reaction.

Voldemort licks the bite wound to help speed the healing – can’t have his portable meal bleeding out, after all. As his tongue slides across the boy’s wrist, Potter whimpers. Needily.

Hmm.

That recontextualizes the boy’s other physical cues.

“Why Harry, did you enjoy that?” he asks, exhaling an unnecessary breath over the damp flesh of Potter’s wrist. A low, soft moan and a glassy-eyed glare are his only response.

This could be entertaining.

He passes Potter’s hand back through the bars and watches the boy straighten up on wobbly legs. 

“May I offer some assistance–”

“No!” Potter gasps, pushing away from the bars, though his hand remains firmly gripped around one to hold himself up.

“Very well. I appear to have taken more than was fair for the questions you asked, and you’re in no state to ask any more at the moment,” Voldemort says smugly. “I’ll be sure to answer a few extra queries for you next time in exchange.”

“Next time,” Potter says, a slight rasp to his voice. From the frown on his face he means it to come out angrily, but the breathiness makes it sound more like a promise.

Voldemort reaches through the bars to take the boy’s invisibility cloak from his pocket and fasten it around his neck, pulling the hood up as he says, “Yes, next time. Until then, Harry Potter.”

Potter lingers outside his cell for a minute, likely gathering himself for the walk back, before Voldemort hears his slightly unsteady steps moving away.

He starts to think of all the avenues this opens to him – and all the fun he can have while he waits for the opportune moment to leave here.

After all, Potter will be back.