#found out what the phantom pain on my neck is

[freakyandcool]

Text box that says this user needs his neck frills back

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hal congrats on the 5k you absolutely deserve it.

I have a request for the 5k event so here it is

The reader is John's wife who's 9 months pregnant and basically about to burst. Reader goes into Labour while John is out on the field.

Again congratulations on 5k you absolutely deserve every single follower since your Storys are just chefs kiss. I'm very glad i found your blog when i did!

—Here Now

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [He nearly misses one of the most important moments of your lives together.] ❞

You had told him you would be fine, and, of course, John knew he could take your word—even if over these nine months he’d been more worried than he had been in his entire life. It would have been difficult for you to say how you were truly feeling about being home alone two days past your due date with no one but the birds outside to give you company. 

He had been up at arms about being with you through this, and the man’s stubbornness about that fact had made your face go soft with love. John was the most loyal man you’d ever met; add in a child on the way and he became no better than a hound baying at the scent of a fox. But this had apparently been so important that he’d asked you about the idea of being away for a day—a single day, the man had emphasized, even if the others had to stay wherever they were going for longer. He’d take the red-eye back the second after the time was up, a whole military Heli and all.

One day was far better than one week—far better than one month. So, you’d agreed albeit a bit reluctantly as the man reassured you he’d be back safe and whole. He’d be back for the birth. 

Yeah, that was a load of bullshit. 

You lay in the hospital room, panting and trying to keep your eyes open as the contractions hit once more; a whimper hidden as you bend your neck forward to let your chin hit your chest. 

“Shit,” you breathe, the nurse moving out of the room quickly to grab more water and the doctor for you. 

This had been going on for a good four hours—levels of shaking pain that lasted upwards of a minute and had been increasing in frequency more so in the last sixty minutes. They’d finally had you lay back on the bed only a little bit ago, and you knew at that point that John would be unable to make it for the birth of your first child.

The thought terrified you. 

You place a hand on your stomach and blink down at it, the raised half of the bed behind you and the chill of the room making you shiver. The buzz of the lights—the closed windows. Your heart is running not only from the thought of this, of all that could go wrong, but also because you now lacked the most steady rock you’d had in your entire life: John. He’d know what to tell you to make you calm down, to make your mind stop with all the panic. 

But he’s not here, and that alone makes you want to—

The door opens so quickly it nearly busts off of its hinges.

Your heart sputters, head jerking back as you wince from another contraction, this one far more painful and promising to stay for longer. Closer now. But your eyes blink on something more important. 

“I’m here, Love.” As if a phantom, John hurries through, a gaggle of wide-eyed nurses behind him before the door to your room is shut by firm hands. “Fuckin’ hell, Sweetheart, I’m ‘ere, it’s alright.”

He’s still in his gear—lacking weapons as those had probably been tossed away on Base—but vest and hat are present; the large boots with tucked pants and that compression shirt. You watch in shock as he speeds up to the side of your bed, taking your hand in his large one and squeezing. His other grabs the motion-less chair and drags it over with a grunt. 

“Now,” John says, shaking his head at you as you simply stare. “You squeeze my hand as hard as you well please then, yeah? Don’t care if you break a few fingers, Love, I’ve been through worse.” 

“How…” You mutter, tears welling in your eyes. “How did you…?”

He blinks those tiny blues at you, twitching his nose as his gaze darts down your body. 

“Had a feeling,” is all he says. 

You laugh through a sob and he presses his forehead into yours, hand on the base of your skull. 

“I’m here right now,” he utters. “Gonna have to have a few words with the little Muppet when they’re out about timing. Nearly made me bloody miss it.” 

“John Price,” you scolded lightly, laughing. 

He only hums and tries to hide his wide grin, eyes shimmering. 

By the time it’s all over, he holds the both of you to his vest-less top as he leans back beside your bare dewy skin, the small bundle kept to your chest with its gripping hands. John’s arm was around your shoulders, drawing you to him. You had fallen asleep not minutes prior, and the soldier kept watch as he always had when his girl was needing him. 

Well, girls now. 

He watches, not speaking, barely breathing, only pulling you closer to him as you sigh and shift. The baby, his and yours baby, gargles and kicks her little feet until he shifts a hand to assist your own in cupping her higher. His smile is uncontainable, just like the sudden glossiness to his eyes at such a tiny weight in his grip.

John watches, and he comes to a conclusion as he presses a deep kiss into your scalp, his thumb taken into the smallest grip that has ever held it. 

There was never a more beautiful sight than the one right in front of him. 

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎDon't Worry Darling (The Aftermath)౨ৎ꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: signs of trauma, mentions of kidnapping pairing: coriolanus snow x fem reader summary: you and coriolanus comfort your daughter in the wake of her kidnapping author’s note: thank you sm anon for requesting this! <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Nobody ever talks about the after of the unimaginable. The end of the story is supposed to be assurance that the ones who went through it are safe and sound. How you wished everything had been neatly tied with a bow in your case.

As you attempted to console your baby girl as she cried, the memory of her horrible ordeal fresh in her mind and causing her distress, you wished the burden of her pain was yours to take away. With every sob that wracked her little body, you felt a stab in your chest.

Penny had been in a state of nearly perpetual anxiety ever since the events of a month ago You were aware of very little of what had actually occurred, the details kept quiet by your husband. The only thing you knew was that Penny was suffering for it.

Nightmares disturbed her sleep, phantoms invisible to you playing out in front of her. It had become a regular thing for Coriolanus and you to be roused from your slumber by the piercing, heartbreaking sound of her crying.

While she was awake she clung to the two of you, primarily her father. You suspected her preference likely had to do with his hand in her rescue. It was a sweet sight- him holding his daughter and whispering to her that everything was okay, that she was safe with him. He was often the one who went to her when she had a nightmare, insisting you needed your sleep due to your ongoing pregnancy. To his credit, he was often able to calm her down within a few minutes, returning to you with assurances that she was okay.

But now, as you knelt on the floor of the nursery with Penny, attempting to soothe her, Coriolanus was nowhere to be found. He had phoned to say he'd be running late due to a meeting that ran overtime. Of course this was when Penny needed him this badly. It was sorely unusual for her to have an episode during the day, when she hadn't been asleep.

Sniffling, with crystal tears staining her cheeks, Penny clung to you, fitting into your arms around your belly, her face buried in your neck. Fingers roving over her light silken hair, the same color as her father's, you murmured, "It's okay, sweetheart. You're safe, my love. I'm right here with you."

"Mama," she sobbed into you, little hand clinging to your dress. "They're gonna come get me."

"Nobody's coming to get you," you promised, holding her a little tighter. "You're safe right here."

"I want Daddy!" Her words trailed off into a sob, and you rocked her back and forth, rubbing her back

"Daddy's gonna be home soon." You pressed a kiss to the top of her head, humming a lullaby you used to sing her to sleep with. The sound of the familiar melody seemed to calm her slightly, and she grasped at you, breaths slowing down.

You shifted in your spot so she was more comfortably positioned against you, and the baby within the safety of your stomach did too, tapping a kick against your side.

Penny lifted her head, staring up at you with wide eyes. "Mama?" She looked down at your belly in surprise. "What's that?"

Running a hand over your bump, you squeezed her against you, following her eyes. "It's the baby. Your brother or sister."

Her eyebrows lifted in shock, and she touched your stomach carefully, feeling the baby kick you again. She gasped slightly, looking back up at you. "Why's the baby kicking."

Smiling gently, you rubbed your hand over her back, relieved to have distracted her from her tears. "Baby's worried about you."

She blinked once, eyes falling to your stomach again. Leaning forward, she whispered, "Hi baby." The child inside you kicked the space under her hand, as if responding to her.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and you looked up just as Coriolanus appeared in the doorway, his sleeves already rolled up, tie discarded. His hair was messier than it had been this morning, and you could see his curls beginning to form through the gel. It was your favorite version of his hair, and you knew he'd let you run your fingers through it once you were in bed.

He smiled tiredly, taking in the sight before him and coming forward, kneeling at your side. Pressing a kiss to your cheek, Coriolanus held out his arms for his daughter, who ran promptly into them. "Daddy!"

"How's my shiny Penny?" Coriolanus kissed the top of her head, and she fisted his shirt. His cerulean eyes found yours, and the corners of your lips lifted sadly.

"We've been calming down," you explained, and he held out his arm to you, understanding instantly. It was no easy thing bringing your daughter down from her anguish. Leaning into him, your belly pressing against his thigh, you found your usual place under his arm. He rubbed your side, kissing your hair gently.

It was a lovely picture: you and your daughter nestled against him. You knew that nothing brought Coriolanus more joy than holding his girls. Indeed, to the both of you, his arms were a safe harbor that kept you warm. And he was the protector, the one who held you tight and assured you of the fact that everything was okay.

In your marriage, you had always been secure in his feelings for you. Not once had you ever questioned his utter devotion to your being, to your family. It was nearly illicit for a man of his stature and power to hold such tender love, but he did anyways. This was one of the things you loved the most about him. Your Coryo.

He insisted on putting Penny to bed, sending you off to prepare for sleep on your own. You removed the day's clothing, donning a lacy nightdress that your belly poked through. Behind the window you could see that it was beginning to rain, droplets of water sliding down the glass pane. The sound of water beating against the roof had always brought you comfort, and after your daughter's earlier distress you found you needed it.

You settled yourself under the covers, pulling a blanket over your lap. Coriolanus appeared much sooner than expected, stripping his clothes away and getting in bed with you, engulfing your tired form in his arms. The warmth of them was welcoming, and you snuggled close, body instantly sleepy. He had that effect on you- the one that instantly relaxed you and knocked down any walls you held up for your safety. There was no need to protect yourself here.

The night's gentle touch kissed your tired body as your husband whispered that he loved you, and you felt the call of sleep beckoning. Like a nightingale's song, you followed it down a path so familiar, drifting into your dreams.

In the quiet of the night, a scream that made your blood run cold wrenched you from the sleep you'd so desperately needed.

Sitting up suddenly out of Coriolanus' arms, you looked around wide-eyed, sure it had come from your bedroom. Thunder rumbled outside, tapping out a beat against the roof in rain's morse code. When you turned your head to the side, a flash of lightning like two fingers lit the distance.

Even now you could still hear it- the long wail that echoed from down the hallway like a ghost's call. Immediately you recognized it. Penny.

Sitting up beside you, your husband looked alert, hardly any sleep lingering in his eyes. He was as light a sleeper as you were lately- hardly able to keep unconscious with your daughter's affliction in mind. You knew his own dreams tormented him- he'd never breathed a word of what he'd seen or done when Penny had been taken. But it haunted his being. Anyone could see it.

You moved to throw aside the covers and run to your crying baby, but he put a hand on your knee, quelling your motions. "I'll get her. Go back to sleep." The both of you knew you wouldn't.

Combing fingers through your hair, you pulled the blanket securely around you, turning your head to the window. Another shock of thunder boomed like a church bell, and it hit you then that the storm must have been what scared Penny. The notion broke your heart as it was wont to do lately. Bringing a hand to your belly, you rubbed it absentmindedly, hoping and praying this baby wouldn't have to go through anything near as earth shattering.

The door opened and shut, and the sight of Coriolanus carrying a sniffling Penny met your vision. In your mind's eye you could see what must have happened- him walking in on her crying and reaching for him, scooping her up into his arms and muttering words of comfort. Despite everything, you smiled lightly, endeared as you always were by what a good father he continually proved himself to be.

Once Penny was on the bed, you reached out for her, gathering her close and hugging her tight. "Oh my sweet girl..." You cradled her close, rocking your body back and forth. "Everything's okay. It's all okay."

Lifting your eyes to Coriolanus, your chest heaved with a tired sigh. His eyes held a similar contempt. You knew what he was thinking because it was on your mind too.

Burying your nose in your baby girl's hair, you rubbed your hand up her arm. The mattress dipped, and then his arms were around you, holding the two of you just as he had earlier. Penny murmured for her daddy in a sweet little voice, and you shifted closer to Coriolanus, guiding her to turn around and snuggle up to him.

"Make the loud stop," Penny mumbled into his chest. You took in a breath, reaching over and rubbing her back, trying to comfort her the best you could. Coriolanus kissed the top of her head, holding her steadfastly.

"It's almost over, sweetheart," he promised, sliding his arm under you to pull you into him as well. "Just close your eyes."

Settled between you, Penny's little hands found your belly, where the baby had begun to kick once more. She whispered. "Baby isn't sleeping."

"Baby wants you to feel better," you murmured, stroking her hair.

Penny held a fistful of your nightdress as she felt the baby kicking again. She mumbled sleepily, "It's okay baby."

Touching your belly seemed to soothe her, and you watched in awe as her eyes drifted shut, her breathing quickly lulling with sleep. Looking up at Coriolanus with wide eyes, you felt a slight smile of pure relief come over you. She was calm. She was sleeping.

Coriolanus settled in closer, pressing his lips to the top of your head for a long moment. The way he looked at the two of you expressed nothing less than absolute devotion. You hadn't known how visible an emotion could be in someone before now.

His love knew no bounds. In a swoop of everything good in the world, the way he held you promised a future of light though the present was unclear. You knew he would stop at nothing until Penny was better.

The universe was at his fingertips, and he gave it all to you, every last speck of stardust. You and Penny were his treasures, and he treated you as such. As the storm raged outside, you felt it bloom within you. The only worthy thing in this world, the feeling every person desired.

He would take the Fates' pen and write the happy ending himself if that was what it took. Your life, your love, your heart. You put it in his hands as he rocked you and your daughter back into the deep throes of sleep.

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

Working Away

Summary: Your boyfriend is away murdering people and calls in the middle of the night to get some help coming down.

Jason Todd x Reader

1.2k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, SMUT, masturbating, phone sex,dirty talk, pet names, implied choking, praise.

AN: two things, 1 Im bored, so take this. 2. I can't keep up with the tag lists and soz.

"Come on babygirl, pick up," Jason paces through the loft of his new safe house. This is the longest he's been away from you since you started dating. He wanted to call you when he landed days ago, but things thinged and he just didn't have time between all the killing and patching himself up. Today was mania, he finally found the head of the group he was looking for and it ended in a slaughter.

Its been a few hours now and he can't seem to come down from this high. His blood is pumping, his cock throbbing in his jeans, fuck he just needs to hear your voice. If that's all he can have for the moment he will take it until he can get back to you.

"Good mornin," you whisper into your phone, your voice still full of sleep, "you ok?"

"I'm alive if that's what you mean."

"Kay, goin back to sleep."

"No, wait. Sugar, can you," he hears the rustle of your blankets as you adjust yourself in bed, "can we just talk for a while?"

"Okay, just let me put ya on speaker."

"Are you comfy?"

"Yeah I am now."

"Got all your pillows?"

"Ah, hmm."

"Are you cold without me?" He asks as he slips his pants off and lounges back on the bed, "or are you wearing my shirt?"

"Yeah, but it's losing your smell," you roll over resting your head on his pillow, the scent of his shampoo still lingering, "what did you want to talk about?"

"You. How pretty you are, how much I wanna kiss you, how I wanna lick every inch of your perfect body and how fucking badly I wanna be inside you."

"Blood-lust, daddy?"

"Yes, Sugar. I need you."

The sleep rushes from your body as your pussy starts to ache, slipping your panties to the side you slide your fingers through yourself. "I miss you, it's not the same when I do it. I can't-'' you shiver when your fingertips graze over your clit, "-can't reach all the places your big hands do."

"Tell me what you want me to do." He spits into his hand once, twice, before sliding it down the inches of his hard cock, "I promise to do it when I get home."

"First I want you to kiss me," your hands grasp at your akin, "like that night in the alleyway."

"Mm.. I remember that night, the way you melted under my hands," he closes his eyes, recalling how your eyes watered when his hand slipped around your neck and he thrust you against that wall, "how pretty you looked under that light. Then I picked you up and had you against the wall."

"Yes, Jay. I want you to pick me up," your hand slips further down your body, "then throw me on the bed."

"I'll rip that shirt off you, " His hand pumps faster on his cock, “and anything else that gets in the way of my lips on your skin.”

"Your marks are fading," your hand holds your throat, "I need new ones, daddy."

"I can't wait to give you more. To mark up that soft skin of yours while my fingers are deep inside that pussy."

"So deep, my nails stabbing into your back." You moan as the picture starts to form in your head, your fingers thrusting inside of you, trying so hard to reach that spot that he always finds straight away.

"You sound so wet, Sugar. Fuck, I need to taste you.” he growls as he cock starts to drip on his hand, “What you to taste all this pre that's dripping down my hand right now."

"I love the taste of you.” your tongue darts out, the phantom taste of him in your lips,” Love feeling it drip down my chin and my throat.”

“Fuck, it stretches that pretty mouth so wide, doesn’t it.”

“Makes me feel so full.”

“My favourite is feeling your teeth graze over me.”

“You love that tiny bit of pain.”

"I do, Sugar. We're perfect together. Fuck, I love you." He groans, "I need to cum, you think you can-"

"Me too. I want you so bad. Need to feel you stretch me out," you pant, your back arching off the bed as your fingers attempt to get deeper, "I can't do it on my own, daddy."

"Yes, you can. I need you too." His hand tightens on his cock, the way your pretty pussy always does when he fucks up into you, "you know I can’t until you do. Now be a good girl," he smiles to himself when he hears your breathing pick up, "press your palm into your clit for me and let all those pretty noises out."

"Jay, fuck. Keep going." you imagine him, sitting in his room right on the edge, his hand wrapped around his cock, his eyes shut as he imagines you touching yourself. Sweat falling down his hardened brow as he tries to focus while also trying not to cum.

"You're such a good girl, wishing for me. Yes, let them out, fucking h'll. Like music to my ears, sugar."

"I'm getting close, fuck. I ah- I- Jason."

"You wanna cum for me? You wanna come for daddy?"

"Yes, please, pelase, pelase."

"Then do it, I wanna hear all of it."

Your orgasm cascades over you, days of pent up pleasure exploding all over you at once. Your limbs shake and your mind spins and you can hear Jason's pleas all around you.

“Sugar, I need you. Fuck, can you beg-” he moans, his words choppy as he tries to form a coherent sentence, “beg for it.”

“I need it, please,” your voice still hoarse, “I want it.”

“Do you? Not- Ah, fuck me. -more”

“Please cum for me, daddy. I can’t- please please.”

“Yes, Sugar. You want it, you want it in your mouth?”

“Yes, please, cover me in it.”

“I- Fuck, I’m gunna- I am- fuck, yes, Sug-ahhh.” he screams and you wish you were really there to drink it all down for him. You lick your lips, listening to Jason's incoherent praise as he comes down.

When he lets out a little sigh and you hear the thud of his back hitting the mattress you ask,. "Jay, when are you coming home?"

"I still got a few more days, Sugar."

"Okay," you roll over, snuggling into his pillow. The smell should be comfortable but at the moment it just makes you feel even more alone.

"You still there?"

"Yeah, I just. I need a bundle."

"I will give you all the cuddles when I get home. I promise."

"You better and that's not all I want."

"Tell me and it's yours."

"Everything you promised. Plus 3 days of uninterrupted Sugar time."

"You know I'd do anything for you."

"I know." You pause, shifting the blankets up and shoving a pillow behind your back, "Jay."

"Yes, baby."

"Can you stay on the line until I fall asleep?"

"Want a lullaby?"

"Yes please."

You start to drift off to the soft hums of a slow song, Jason's low baritone seeping into your dreams and keeping you safe until he returns.

[miyaagis]

 ெ˚❀ no shame in greed. geto suguru

all men are evil and will act upon their vicious nature if given the chance—and a man in love is not the exception.

explicit content‐mdni. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ phantom of the opera au, fem!reader, yandere themes, obsessive behavior, agalmatophilia, feminine pet names, unprotected sex, mentions of violence/injury

word c. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ 642

kinktober m.list

it's surprisingly tender how his lips touched the juncture of your neck and shoulder, considering the coldness that met his mouth. he was used to the silence, to the lack of reactions from you, and yet it never deterred him from his goal—to make love to you.

"darling," his usually gentle voice carried a hint of desperation, breaking slightly to give room to a breathless moan. "fuck– they don't deserve you."

a string of small kisses were peppered from your collarbone to the swell of your breast, jolts of arousal pulsing through his body like heartbeats. you were so beautiful.

his shaft, placed between your thighs, moved back and forth, gliding effortlessly thanks to the streams of cum from his previous release. the engorged tip glistened with beads of pre, weeping translucent pearls onto your skin. suguru found himself gripping your waist as he came with a broken groan, rutting his hips desperately as he sloppily kissed your lips, dragging out his orgasm.

"i love you..."

he clung onto you as the last tremors subsided, his touch gentle as he gazed at your eyes lovingly.

if only the lifeless mannequin could say it back.

—

your eyes were glued to his face—wondering what hid behind the mask. his promises sounded sincere and very appealing, the gentle timbre of his voice soothing out your apprehension.

"and how will you do that?"

he smiled. it wasn't eerie nor unsettling, quite the opposite.

"you're already so talented... so beautiful," he took a pause loaded with admiration. "leave it all to me."

suguru seemed pretty harmless from what you had seen, he obviously had a crush on you. it was cute, even. so it really came as a surprise when the main ballerina got badly injured before your very eyes.

your eyes frantically looked for him amidst the chaos, the screams of pain and horror successfully concealing his shadow lurking behind the stage.

with your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, you stared at him as he placed a single rose on the floor and ran away.

he actually did it.

—

suguru found it ironic that now that he could hear you, cotton seemed to plug his ears and concealed the delicious moans you were gifting him.

"suguru... ohhh that's good," you licked your lips, your throat parched after several rounds of intense sex.

the look in his eyes was crazed, and you found his little obsession with you oddly arousing.

his heavy sack smacked lewdly against the curve of your ass, his position on top of you allowing him to be close to your face as it contorted in bliss. after a while, his pace quickened significantly, signaling his impeding release. with a thumb on your swollen clit, he circled it tenderly at the same time his lips attached to your nipple.

"they're all idiots," his grunts against your breasts were desperate, breathless chants laced with disgust directed at those who were blind to your talent. "...with peas instead of brains. you're special, gifted with so much talent, my dear. my darling girl..."

his body shivered with pleasure pulsing through his nerves, bursts of warmth spreading from his loins as he pumped his seed inside of you.

in the throes of passion and climax, his mask allowed a sliver of the tainted skin to be shown under the candlelight. the mix of horror and pleasure made your pussy flutter deliciously around his girth, squeezing every drop of semen out of him while your own orgasm took over your body.

"I will give you the world, my love." he promised in between kisses, his dark gaze heavy with love and lust. "that's your rightful stage, and this is your home. you'll be the star of every show."

after what he had already done for you, you knew you had no reason to doubt him.

[sink-me-in-your-ocean]

Equilibrium

Phantom Ghoul x fem!Reader Smut

Summary: (Kinda) Part of a "Choose your own adventure" series in progress, but it works well enough on its own so I thought I would post it now.

WC: 3620

A/N: This one has bewitched me, (feral) body and soul. Fellow Phantom simps, this one is for you, but mostly me.

Content warnings: no plot - only spice, fingering, P in V sex. 18+ only. Minors DNI.

NSFW below the cut.

Your hard fist hit the door three times. Impatience was one of your most prominent traits and you’d be damned if you didn’t hate waiting on somebody else. Especially when that somebody else was the one who had plagued your thoughts for weeks. And at night his name was the one uttered from your lips from your own self-pleasure.

You grabbed the door handle and twisted, discovering much to your chagrin that was unlocked and you had been standing out here all this time. You walk into the room, scanning the space, noting the chill that bit your limbs. Fucking hells it was freezing. Your sisters told you that the ghouls run hot, but it was like a blizzard had hit the room. The room was also, to your dismay, empty of occupants. Maybe he’s not here? 

Your ears perked up, hearing water running from an adjoined room. The joints of your fingers started to lock up as you lifted them to the wood of what you assumed was a bathroom door. You knocked, this time feeling a slight pain in your cold hands as you did so. 

“Phantom?” You call out just loud enough, dragging out the vowels.

“Hey! You weren’t supposed to come ‘till later!” His voice echoed from inside the closed room, and you heard the water shut off abruptly.

“I can come back if you want.” You offered, giving him an out.

“Hells no!” He opened the door wearing nothing but a white towel.

Your mouth went dry at the sight. It hung low. Dangerously low. But that wasn’t the only thing you noticed. His human glamor was nowhere to be found. 

Phantom’s true skin was grey, just the same as you had heard about the other ghouls, but his shoulders and chest had sparse midnight blue clusters of freckles. You marveled at the hard planes of his chest and stomach, at the way the water from the shower still clung to his arms and drenched his mostly-black hair. His signature white streak plastered itself to his forehead and the side of his face, while the rest stuck to his ears and neck. He had two near-black horns protruding from underneath his soggy hair. Finally, you settled your gaze on his face, his fangs slightly poked out through his parted lips. His beauty mark was also visible on his left cheek, several shades darker against the grey tones of his skin. 

A half-smile spread on your face as you noticed his beauty spot, and you fought the urge to reach up and touch his cheek. 

“Like what you see?” He cocked his head to the side, making you grin wider. It was truly no wonder why you were so drawn to him. In his human form he was cute… but as a ghoul? Strikingly handsome. Nine hells you wanted to kiss him.

“Maybe I do.” 

“Set in your choice?”

“Maybe I am.” You nibbled your bottom lip, tempted to rake your gaze over Phantom’s body again.

Instead, you walked past him and into the bathroom, leaning yourself over the vanity to feign checking yourself out. You mostly just needed a break from looking at him half-naked. “My darling ghoul,” you called absently, “you’re not wearing your glamor. Sister Imperator would not be pleased, I wouldn’t want to tell on you, but…”

He looked down at himself, “Oh shit, you’re right.” He shrugged, “I thought you were going to change your mind or something. Figured it wouldn’t matter too much either way if I just ‘let it all hang out’ so to speak.”

“No, no, I just wanted to tell you so you could change back.” You played with your hair, tucking back a few strands that had come loose from your braid.

“Well, I can if you want me to. Do you?”

You opened your mouth to answer but he cut you off.

“Wait, did you just call me ‘my darling’?” Your eyes flicked back to him through the mirror, heart temporarily quivering as he repeated your words back to you.

You regained your composure before his teasing look could disarm you further. “That’s what you heard out of me talking?”

He advanced on you suddenly, barely giving you enough time to turn around to face him. You backed up against the counter top, your spine arching as you shrunk back, and your fingernails digging into the underside of the cold marble. His arms came down on either side to trap you in place.

There was a mix of anticipation and cockiness in his expression, “You like me, don’t you?”

“Phantom, it’s a wonder why Sister Imperator doesn’t consult you for logistics.” He made a face, clearly missing your sarcasm, and you liked him even more for it. “Of course I like you. I wouldn’t be here if not.”

A shy smile ghosted across his lips, and you caught another glimpse of those fangs. You filled the silence by speaking again, “Well? Don’t just leave me hanging.”

“I like you too.” His admission was softer than a feather but weighed as much as concrete.

You stifled a knowing smile, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I do.” 

“You’re a little trickster then.” You cocked your head, “you had me thinking I was the only one.”

His smile matched yours, “I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out sooner, for a while there I thought I’d burst into flames because you kept giving me those eyes.” You laughed at that, knowing full well what he meant, and he continued, “And just so you’re well aware, there’s nothing about me that’s little.”

“Oh, you nasty ghoul.”

“Yes?”

Your eyes narrowed, “You lured me in here on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Hard to say, really,” you watched, hypnotized as his tongue wet his bottom lip and then he leaned in close. “But that’s not the only thing that’s hard.” His breath coasted along your neck and goosebumps raised along the path, as if your skin was subconsciously reaching for him. You felt his lips barely hovering by the shell of your ear, causing a stirring sensation that shot through your entire body. 

You shoved at his chest playfully and he smirked at you, both of you knowing where this is going. You felt a fluttering in the pit of your stomach and finally allowed yourself to reach your hand up, brushing the white and black, slightly air-dried, hair away from his face. No more hesitation. Something inside you gave you the gumption to raise up on your tiptoes and kiss him. You planted a single smooch on his lips, closing your eyes as you did.

You drew back, studying his features. He was so still, his eyes scrunched closed in a combination of tension and serenity. 

“Phantom?”

He opened his eyes, his dark gaze devouring you. The air in the room changed and all ambient sound seemed to have been sucked into a void. You couldn’t look away from him. Afraid for a half of a second that maybe he didn’t like the kiss, you opened your mouth to allow the doubt to pour out. But you never got a single syllable out before his hands were on your face, tilting your head up to kiss you.

His mouth met yours in a breath-stealing kiss. Your hands immediately laced through his damp hair, touching the sides of his face, his neck, pulling him in closer. You parted your lips slightly on the next kiss and he used it to his advantage, his tongue swiping ever so lightly between your lips to taste you. You open your mouth more, allowing him full access. Feeling his tongue brush yours made you lightheaded. 

Phantom grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against him. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss. The hunger shared between the two of you felt as though it had been building for years, your entire life even. A tickle on the back of your thigh made you jump, opening your eyes and breaking the kiss for a moment.

He huffed a laugh, “Sorry, my tail seems to have a mind of its own sometimes.”

“It’s okay,” you kissed him again, “I like it.” You brazenly reached around his waist to feel the base of his tail. He jerked involuntarily towards you and you felt his hard length pressing against your abdomen. How that towel was holding up you had no idea.

Touching, tasting, breathing him in, it wasn’t enough. You needed so much more. Your core ached in a way that silenced all thoughts of self-doubt and modesty. 

Your hands moved up his back, feeling his warm skin and the tight muscles underneath. He unzipped the back of your dress, and you felt it fall open, the air and his hands touching your bare skin underneath. 

“No bra?” He said, sliding your dress down while moving into a crouched position in front of you. 

“Hm.” You purse your lips, drawing it out, “That’s not all.”

He made a sound like you’d imagine a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles. Astonished but intrigued. “No underwear?” 

You shrugged, “Surprised? I thought I could just ‘let it all hang out’, or however you put it so eloquently.”

Phantom stared up at you, trying to hide a smile, and you could see a color creeping up over his cheeks. Could a ghoul even blush? He giggled lightly, shaking his head at you in what seemed like amazement. 

He helped you step out of the dress, his eyes sweeping over your naked frame, drinking all of you in. Phantom rose slowly and his long fingers trailed up the inside of your legs. The calluses of his fingertips tickled, making you twitch slightly as they neared where you wanted to feel him the most. His right hand moved around to your waist, the other hesitated between your legs, just an inch or so from your core. 

“Sit.” He commanded. You obeyed, your ass meeting the countertop, your legs parting on their own accord in silent invitation.

“Please, Phantom, touch me.” 

“As you wish.” 

You inhaled sharply as his middle finger swiped through your folds, dragging languidly in the wetness there. He let out a needy noise, leaning down to breathe you in, kissing and sucking your neck. You wanted him so badly, and now that he could feel that, the implication made you even more weak for him. 

His middle and ring fingers dragged again through your wetness, lingering for a moment before pressing inside you. 

You cried out at the intrusion, wincing slightly. It had been so long since you had a partner, and still your fingers never made you feel like this. Phantom knew all the right moves, drawing in and out at a steady pace. His fingers felt exquisite as they lazily fucked your slick cunt. And when his thumb pressed lightly against your clit, you whined his name. Suddenly you needed to see him exposed too, because if just his fingers made you feel so good then…

“You won’t be needing this.” You pulled his towel off his body, baring him before you. Your eyes widened at the size of him. Fuck. Your mouth salivated at the sight of his long, hard cock. You couldn’t stare too long, as his lips moved from their place on your neck and collarbone back to your lips.

Each kiss, every touch was hotter than the last, igniting the two of you. He was burning up. He felt perfect against your ice cold skin. Like a day of sun in the middle of a desolate winter.

You had half a mind to beg him to fuck you on the counter, and it’s like he knew were about to speak, because he interrupted your thought with an even more tantalizing suggestion.

“Can I fuck you in the shower?” 

You moaned, his fingers curling inside you deliciously, “What do we say when we want something, darling ghoul?”

He groaned, his hand moving from your waist to the nape of your neck. He gathered your braid and yanked sharply, exposing more of your neck for him to lavish. “Fuck,” he uttered between bites along your soft skin, “can I please take you in the shower?”

“Yes.” Your word was barely out of your mouth when he planted another fierce kiss to your lips. His fingers left you empty as he helped you off the counter. You would have followed him anywhere at that moment, anything to get him touching you again. 

He took you by one hand and walked towards the shower with you, kissing you every step of the way until your feet hit the slick stone of the shower floor. He gave your hands a squeeze to turn around and turn the water on. You smirked at seeing his cute butt, his tail protruding from just above. You were filled with the sudden urge to bite him when a large waterfall nozzle poured water out from above the two of you, bringing you back out of your thoughts.

Phantom turned to face you again, and all the sustenance in the world couldn’t quench the hunger in his eyes. Your adrenaline spiked then - or maybe it was the momentarily cold water splashing on your feet. Maybe it was the anticipation of knowing that you were finally living the fantasy you had wanted for so long. 

He pressed you against the tiled wall of the shower, the now warm water flowing down providing sweet relief for your chilled naked body. Your back was cold against the tile, so you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck to pull him closer. For warmth.

The two of you shared a series of messy kisses, your lungs suffocating from the intense lack of air as steam circled you. He closed the open space between your bodies quickly, his strong hand taking hold of your right leg and lifting it up to meet his waist. Once there, you were just one slight move from being as close together as you could possibly be. The head of his cock nudged at your opening, and you felt yourself instinctively clench with want. The water from the shower did a great job making your whole body wet, but you were dripping with need for him. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Your gaze moved up to his. Phantom’s dark eyes were clouded with lust, but wavered in slight trepidation. He was serious, wanting your full consent before going any further. For a beat, your heart stuttered in your chest, knowing there would be no going back if you two did this. You couldn’t say no, though, there was something primal in you that screamed with demand. He was the only one you wanted, and you wanted him desperately.

Heart still pounding, you reached up to touch his cheek and pulled him down into a passionate kiss. You broke the kiss to give him your answer, “Yes, yes Phantom, I want you.”

He nodded, eyes flicking over your face to search for any hits of doubt. Satisfied with your sincerity, he nuzzled his face into your neck, breathing you in deeply as he pulled you in. His cock pressed inside you with ease, meeting no resistance. You bit back a moan, teeth sinking into your bottom lip so hard you tasted iron on your tongue. If kissing him for the first time was ecstasy, feeling him inside you for the first time was oblivion.

“Oh fuck.” Your foreheads pressed together and you exhaled heavily as he sheathed himself inside you.

It was like a switch had flipped, you two went from frantic grasping and fevered kisses to slow, intentional movements. His right hand cradled the back of your head as he thrust into you with a deep rhythm that made your stomach tighten. He raised your right leg up higher so you were on your tiptoes, trying to press further inside you. 

The water from the shower head cascaded down your skin in rivulets, adding a tickling sensation over your breasts and your stomach as it trickled over you. It felt like something out of a fucking romance novel. The heat, the chill, the need, the gratification; a perfect equilibrium.

His hand grabbed greedily at your left thigh, “I need you closer.”

A feather of a laugh lifted the corners of your lips, “I don’t think that’s possible.” You kissed him again, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and biting it. He growled, fangs jutting out to try to bite you back. You moved your face away, seeing the playfulness in his pitch-dark eyes mixed with something mischievous.

“It is.” That was the only warning he gave before he lifted you up effortlessly off the floor. Your legs wrapped reflexively around his waist and you gasped at the sensation of weightlessness.

You felt a furious blush burn over your face and neck, flustered at the ease with which he picked you up. Flushed at the way his cock bottomed out inside you fully. Your walls tightened from the additional intrusion, and you moaned into his mouth. Your lips collided together in a series of heady open-mouthed kisses, becoming a mess of teeth, tongues, and fangs. 

Your hands tangled themselves perfectly in his drenched hair and you rested your head against the tile to get a good look at him.

His dark brows were drawn together, and he had the look of utmost concentration and pleasure on his face as he drove into your heat. There was a deepening of the color on his cheeks again, a soft blush. He adjusted his hands from your thighs to have one arm firmly around your back, the other hand holding the roundness of your ass. Phantom’s eyes were turned down, and you followed where he was looking.

You let your gaze drift down, admiring again his toned, hard body against your soft, squishy one. When you looked all the way down to where you two were joined, watching and feeling everywhere each and every thrust of his cock inside you, you felt like you would melt.

It was all so intimate, too intimate for your first time together. Seeing his true form, being held so tightly in his arms, fuck, he had you. He had you so well. And the way he felt inside of you was divine. Like you were made for each other. 

Your body burned, your muscles trembled, your jaw twitched. Phantom tightened his hands on your waist and back, his claws scratching at your supple skin while his teeth and tongue took turns with your neck. His tail snaked up and twisted around your ankle, locking you further in place as if you’d run away on your own. You couldn’t even think of being apart from him. You never wanted him to leave your body.

As if the passion in the moment wasn’t enough, he reached a hand between you two, finding your clit and rubbing slow circles. You keened, bucking your hips forward, trying to grind harder against him, but he was in full control, holding you steady while he increased his rhythm. You felt a tension building in your abdomen, and you closed your eyes tightly, trying to resist your impending orgasm. You didn’t want to come yet, you wanted to draw it out more, but the added pressure on your clit from his thumb was butchering your resolve. Your breathing increased, every exhale punctuated by a whine as you felt yourself getting closer, and closer.

He noticed your futile writhing in his arms, “Are you going to come for me, pretty girl?”

You mewled, “Yes - but I want you to -” you couldn’t finish the sentiment, incoherent babbling becoming all you could muster. You were so close.

“You want me to? Where do you want me to come?”

“Inside me -” Your legs tensed, your abdomen tensed, your whole body locking up as your pussy clenched around him. You could no longer breathe or think.

“Fall apart for me, only me.” He kissed your neck, sucking on the skin there before drawing back. “Look into my eyes, sweet girl.”

You did, his near-black irises melted you from the inside. That taught string that had been holding you snapped, sending you spiraling. Your mouth fell open and a moan tore its way from your throat. He planted his lips to yours as you shattered in his arms.

His hands both moved up to your shoulders, pulling you down hard onto his cock as he drove himself as deep within you as possible. You felt him twitching inside you, warmth spreading as he came for you. 

You stay there for a minute, your breathing returning slowly to a normal cadence as the water continues to run over the both of you. You were wholly grateful for his inhuman strength; Phantom held you like you weighed nothing. He put one hand under your rear and the other came up to your face, his thumb stroked your bottom lip. His fingers caressed your chin, tilting you up and into one final searing kiss to seal your shared passion. 

“Can you stand?” He withdrew himself from you and moved to gently place your legs back down on the stone floor. 

“I - I think so.” Your stubborn legs wanted to give out, all your body wanted to do was collapse in a heap. 

He offered you his hand, helping steady you. “Want to get cleaned up? I mean, we might as well since we’re already in the shower.” 

“Yes,” you answered, before playfully adding, “please.”

“What am I going to do with you?” He whispered, kissing your forehead as you both relaxed in the steady stream of water.

-

[thesassypadawan]

Absolutes (Sith Obi-Wan x FemApprenticeReader)

Summary: You didn't choose this path…he did.  He was the one who found you, spared your life.  Took you in and will mold you into his perfect apprentice.  No matter how many ‘lessons’ it takes.

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because all the lovely smut. Dom Negotiator, doggy style, little rough, age gap (about 10 years, apprentice reader is of age) and…Obi’s big, fat cock.

Notes: Happy Sithtember all you, lovelies! ❤️🖤

- Moans and grunts fill the air, mingling with the sound of skin slapping…  Echoing off the training room walls, spilling out into the corridors…  Ringing in the ears of servants who were unfortunate enough to pass by during your ‘first lesson’…

- Invisible pressure wraps around, squeezes the nape of your neck.  Bruising the already tender flesh as he pins, holds you to the floor…slams into you.  Cheek pressing against the hardwood, cunt clenching his thick length.

-  “My my…aren't you a fast learner?”  Obi-Wan coos; voice low, charming.  Deceptive compared to the way he abuses, bullies your poor cervix.  “Already taking me so well, little one.”

- Mouth falls open at his words, a pathetic whine escapes.  “M-master, I…I…”  That’s silenced when his long fingers slip past your lips, the simple order of ‘Suck’ coming through your newly formed bond.

- Obediently you close down on them, suckling greedily.  “You what?”  Tongue running along the underside of his digits…sniveling, mewling.  “Can’t do so?  Can’t go any longer?”  All to his twisted delight, enjoyment.

-  “Because your thoughts betray you,” he chuckles darkly.  Fingers sliding deeper, reaching further; gagging you.  “They tell me how much potential you possess…how much you desire to have more.”

- Gummy walls tighten and flutter with each gag, every sputter.  Drool leaking out from the corners, pooling.  The sight so embarrassing, utterly debauched; you clamp your eyes shut.  Try to disassociate from reality, weakly attempt to throw up your mental barriers.  However…

- Phantom digits tangle, grasp your hair; abruptly, harshly tugging.  High pitched squeal bubbles from your throat, barriers falter.  “That's not the proper way for an apprentice to treat her master.”  Eyes snap open, meet and lock with his golden ones.  “You must be open to me at all times…” 

-  With a wet pop, he pulls his fingers from the warmth of your mouth.  “Connect, be one with me…”  Trailing them up your body, leaving streaks of your spit it their wake.  “Allow me in whenever, wherever I please…”

-  Cupping, caressing your bottom; he kneads, fondles.  While using the force to tease, rub circles on your clit.  “Is that…”  Breaths come out in ragged pants, small puffs.  “…understood!”

-  Landing a harsh blow, your curves ripple.  Breasts scrape across the floor as you lurch forward.  Nipples stinging, burning in near orgasmic bliss…and you can’t help but cry out in pleasure.  “Ye-yes, master!”

-  Pleased hum rumbles in his chest, pace begins to pick up.  “Good girl, knowing your role…”  Speed blinding, brutal; pounding into you unbridled.  “…your place.”

-  Tears prick at your waterlines, your release fast approaching.  Whimpers grow more frantic, desperate…pussy grips him so needily.  “Yes, m-master!  But I’m…I’m not sure…I-”

- Movements stutter, hips falter. “Unsure?”  Pressure on your sensitive bud increases, becomes painful. “We siths only deal in absolutes.”  The word ‘Cum’ fills your head, accompanied with a hard pinch.  And…

- Fingers dig in, scratch at the floor; scrambling to anchor yourself.  While waves of ecstasy wash over, overwhelm you.  Heightened by the feeling of Obi-Wan painting your insides white, pumping you with his warm seed.  Claiming you as his, completely…totally.

- Brushing a lock of hair from your face, he leans forward…placing a tender kiss on your neck.  Muttering sweetly into your skin.  “And I am absolutely certain that soon enough you’ll be molded into my perfect apprentice.  Now…” 

- Cheek pressing against the hardwood, cunt clenching his thick length…body a sore, trembling mess.  You whimper from his loving touch, but wail out when he grabs a handful of your ass…delivers another hard blow.  ���…onto the next lesson.”

Tag List: @cacti5539, @espinathena-17

[someloserjay]

“Star, I’m sorry..”

Spawn! Astarion x GN! Tav

Tw. Blood, nudity, vampiric feeding

I got this idea from a prompt @the-phantom-otaku posted

“When Astarion's siblings realize they won't be able to take him, they take Tav back with them instead. They present them to Cazador, and though he's pissed it isn't Astarion, he decides to turn Tav and use them as his replacement.

The party busts in before he's carved the ritual scars in their back but unfortunately not before he's bitten Tav.”

I hope you enjoy💛💛 this is my first time writing my pale elf

—————————

It's been two days since Astarion’s siblings attacked camp, they had disappeared without a word. Tav had assumed that would be all from them until they made their attack at the Szarr Palace. They assured Astarion he didn’t want to believe it but he trusted his beloved. They’ve been right so far. Right?

“Astarion! Karlach! Shadowheart! ” The sounds of his lover screaming for their party to save them broke his deep meditation. He and the rest of the camp all bolt up just in time to see Leon disappearing with Tav using a quickly cast Misty Step. Nothing but a note and crickets remaining, Astarion stared at the small sheet of paper, terrified to even see the handwriting of his former master. Gale grabs the note and reads it aloud for the party.

“If I can't finish my ritual with Astarion, I’ll take the pet he's found for me. -Cazador Szarr” Gales voice wavers as he reads it. Astarion let’s out an angry, guttural scream.

“We’re going. Now.” Astarion says as he quickly makes his way to his tent to pull his armor over his head. The others quickly follow suit. The party gets stopped at the gate to enter the city, adding a very long 2 days to get around the bridge and into the city another way, and another day to reach the lower city.

Meanwhile in the palace Tav is covered in dark bruises and cuts from fighting, they fought being brought here, being stripped nude, being tied, and being forced to kneel. They were tied with their hands behind their back as they kneel at the feet of Cazador, the very monster that hurt their sweet Star for centuries.

“Here’s what’s going to happen and I’ll be honest with you. I’m going to turn you and let you starve. You’ll starve until you lose control, you’ll lose all humanity, and then I’ll let you have a single mouse. That’s just punishment for protecting that filth Astarion, then I’ll very slowly crave my ritual into your pretty back.” He says running a sharp nail down Tav’s back.

“Like hell’s yo- '' Cazador cuts Tav off with sharp fangs digging into their neck similar to how Astarion often does. But rougher, painful, messy he isn’t doing this out of hunger. He plays with Tav like they’re a mouse caught by a cat. Tav fights to stay conscious through the pain and blood loss. They try to fight, eventually there’s not enough blood left in their body and they fall limp.

Astarion, Karlach, Shadowheart, and Halsin quickly make their way through the lower city of Baldur’s Gate. Once they approach the palace Shadowheart casts Disguise on the party, matching the look of the other spawn of Szarr to easily pass by the guards. The spell dissipates once they enter the palace and begin searching. Astarion is trying to sense the heartbeat of his love, unable to find it; he begins to fear the worst. They make their way downstairs into a room he knew all too well. A torture chamber and in the back of the dark damp room there His Tav was. Shackled to the wall, nude and covered in dried blood from their neck down their collar bone and chest. Cazador was always messy with how he fed, unlike Astarion who refused to waste a single drop. Astarion ran to his love wasting no time in looking them over for injuries. Seeing the deep bite, the dark bruises, the cuts covering his love his eyes start to well with tears. Astarion is quick to pick the lock holding his loved one's hands. He pulls Tav close to his chest, reaching for a blanket out of his pack, using it to cover Tav.

“Star?” Tav weakly says looking up

“I’m here, we’re her-“ his voice drops as he sees two all too familiar fangs in Tav's mouth that weren’t there days before. He looks over Tav’s face recognizing the face of hunger, pure painful hunger.

“Please Star. Please tie me up. I don’t want to hurt them.” Tav says tears falling from their eyes. As much as it pains him he knows it is what’s best. He reaches deep into his pack, pulling the length of rope he had picked up along their travels. It hurts him tying ropes over red marks he knows caused Tav so much pain. He picks up his love as they lay limp in his arms. He aches for his love as they quietly make their way out of the Palace.

Getting to camp Astarion sets Tav down on a cot in his tent.

“Star, I'm so hungry..” Tav begs, looking at Halsin.

“Halsin can you, I don’t know, go catch them a boar, a stupid goblin, a deer, anything?” Astarion snaps at the built elf.

“Are you sure a consenting creature wouldn’t be better?” Halsin asks

“I’d be willing to feed them, they’ve done so much to help us.” Shadowheart chimes in.

“No! You don’t understand! Whatever creature Tav’s fangs hit, will not live. As much as they believe they have enough control to stop, I promise they don’t! So please get them something to eat!” Astarion yells. Halsin casts wild shape. A bear now runs off into the night.

“ALIVE HASLIN, BRING IT ALIVE!” Astarion yells behind the bear. Shadowheart brings over a warm washcloth. As she steps closer Tav reaches up trying to bite at her arm, their eyes have turned a bright crimson red. Shadowheart jerks her hand away as Astarion grabs the cloth. His hand goes towards Tav’s shoulders to start wiping the blood and they attempt to bite Astarion, getting part of his forearm in their mouth.

“Tsk, if you drink you’ll get sick.” He says as his other hand wipes some blood off his lover's shoulder. Tav takes a single mouthful of blood before pulling away, spitting it back out onto the ground, gagging as they try to keep from throwing up.

“You taste foul.” Tav hisses at him as he wipes them clean.

Halsin returns in Elvin form, an injured deer fighting against his shoulders. Astarion urges everyone far away from the tent as Gale casts hold beast on the creature before making his way away from Astarions tent. Astarion slowly starts untying his love.

“Try to drink slow my love, its better for you.” The moment the rope is off their wrist Tav bolts towards the deer, sinking their fangs deep into the creature. Blood again covers them, this time from their mouth. Their own doing. By the time Tav is finished with the creature it’s cold and ridged. Tav looks at Astarion

“I'm sorry. Cazador was right, I lost myself to hunger.” Tav collapses in front of their beloved.

“Please forgive me for biting you.” They yawn, their body exushased. Astarion barely has time to catch them as their body succumbs to rest.

“You're always forgiven My Tav, for eternity. I understand better than anyone.” He says gently rubbing their hair. He reaches over and cleans off his love again with the cloth, gently getting them dressed in his own clothes. He makes sure they’re comfortable on his cot before grabbing a chair to sit with them until they wake.

[welcometosasakiworld]

To be Human a Third Time

"See you tomorrow for a movie marathon?" A girl with black hair and purple eyes asks. She was wearing a black tank top with purple markings, a black skirt with green accents, and under it, there were purple leggings and using a pair of black combat boots.

"Sure thing Sam!" A boy with black hair and ice-blue eyes responds. The teen wore a white hoodie with black details, ripped black jeans, and dark blue converses.

"Bye then, Danny!"

Walking inside his home, he noticed one thing.

The house was dark and quiet...

Too quiet.

Danny didn't have time to turn around before his head hit the floor, and everything went black.

Danny woke up to the sounds of his parents' muffled desperate cries, seeing his parents tied into chairs while he was on the ground with his hands tied, close to something that felt wrong.

Extremely wrong...

Looking behind him, he found what was messing with his ghost senses.

A Lazarus Pit...

But this one felt wrong... corrupted... or tainted.

This particular pit was reduced to something lesser than a blob ghost.

Danny still remembers his lessons with clockwork. The master of time told him how Pariah Dark had, in his reign, created sentient pools of ectoplasm to better feed the habitants of the Infinite Realms, and while those pits still did their jobs to feed ghosts, they weren't used like in the past.

But something must have happened when they lost control of those pits, and CW could not see what happened but knew a human interfered with them and now had control of the Lazarus Pit.

He needed to get away!

Whatever happened to the ectoplasm, he knew it was...

Danny had to stop to dwell on his thoughts when a man came out of the shadows of the dark room, which only the ectoplasm to light the room, giving it an eery vibe.

"I will offer one more time, help me with my... project, and I will not introduce your son to my ranks..." The mysterious man said to his parents, who were looking in fear at the man while trying to look brave.

Danny's parents started to scream, desperation very clear in their voices. The teen couldn't clearly hear what they were saying but knew the man wanted something if he kidnapped his parents and used Danny as a bargain.

The man seemed to have lost his patience as he grabbed Danny by the neck and dumped him in the pit.

The moment he touched the tainted ectoplasm, he felt immense pain he never imagined was possible. The tainted ectoplasm was invading his core, messing with his body and ghost-half.

He could faintly hear his parents scream before he blacked out.

___________________

He didn't have a name.

As master told him so.

He was a weapon, a tool to his master.

He killed, sabotaged, pleased his master, and was everything his master needed him to be.

So... why did the other weapon insist he was a human being with rights?

It began when Onryo had to nurse someone back to health, and the new weapon thought it was human and wanted to go after his murderer and old owner.

All for revenge.

Onryo did not understand, especially when Red Hood called him Danny or Phantom.

It made no sense, but there was something about the name Phantom that reached something inside of him. It made him warm... complete.

Like... he should remember, know why the name was his.

________________

They were running from the league.

Well... not exactly them, but Red Hood decided to kidnap Onryo and take it with him.

Now they were on the run.

They had reached Gotham some weeks ago, and now Red Hood, who insisted Onryo call him Jason, was hunting down the Joker while Onryo was ordered to find a school and blend with the population.

It didn't make sense.

Jason gave him some identification papers so he could apply to university. They said he was Danyal Phantom, a student who finished high school with high scores and aspiring to become an astronaut and work at NASA.

Should I continue this on ao3?

[kaibutsushidousha]

The Hundred Line - Famitsu interview June 19th 2024

What does the title Hundred Line mean?

Kodaka: The simplest way to describe this game is: student have to live together in a school while fighting to survive 100 days. This "100 days" timeframe became a major keyword, so we decided to express it through the title The Hundred Line - Last Defense Academy.

The game has been described as "a tale of extreme x despair produced by the creators of Danganronpa". This "extreme x despair" keyword reminds me of the Concept Art 1 presented September 2018 at the announcement of Too Kyo Games. Caption: Extreme x Despair. A game co-written by Kodaka and Uchikoshi!

Kodaka: As you can imagine, this is the game from Concept Art 1. We finally managed to announce, but at first, The Hundred Line was developed as Too Kyo's first original IP. However, our company isn't capable of self-publishing, so now we're working with Aniplex, on a half-half split on production costs.

When did development start?

Kodaka: Since we founded Too Kyo Games (2017), so that has been 6 or 7 years. At first, Uchikoshi and I partnered with another major publisher to release our game, but unfortunately, the project was canceled...

In a previous interview, you mentioned a title not coming out as planned, but I didn't think you mean an actual cancellation...

Kodaka: I have so much I could talk about on this one, but I don't think the first talk about this game should be about what went wrong, so how about we save it for another day? Haha. Although The Hundred Line's project was canceled for a while, now, after finding what we needed to make it a good game, we rebranded it and restarted our whole internal development cycle.

We were initially fine with it being indie-sized, but as the story and character designs were getting polished, and the concept gained a more solid form, we started thinking we couldn't make our ideal game unless we went bigger. Determined to put our hand to the test... we took a loan.

A loan!?

Kodaka: It wasn't guaranteed that we'd have the working capital to maintain our enlarged development scope even if we sold all of our stocks. We advanced the production with the phantom of debt on our necks while we searched for a new publisher, and that's where I met Aniplex and smoothly sold our pitch.

However, since this game has simulation RPG sections, they said that'd need a third-party developer. For that, they introduced us to the accomplished Media Vision and had them join the dev team. We're also cooperating with Jet Studio, who worked with us before in Danganronpa and Rain Code.

After all that it took to get this game to a presentable state, we of Too Kyo Games consider it a proud symbol of our persistence, or better yet, the culmination and conclusion to the current stage of our careers.

Staking your life on your work has never been so literal...

Kodaka: True, if this game flops, we won't be able to pay our debt. In that sense, this also provides a rare opportunity to the playerbase too. They get to witness how much a single title's sales can influence the future of a creator and company.

That's not the kind of suspense I want as a game fan, haha. Still, with six years of development, is it safe to assume you've been through a fair share of hardships?

Kodaka: I did. That was my first time dealing with a full cancellation. Also, to enable to Too Kyo to continue its work, to partner up with a new publisher, etc, we couldn't continue the development in the direction we were before. We needed to restart on our semi-complete project, and that's already painful labor in itself.

In terms of creative workload, I can't say I was much busier than I was in the Danganronpa V3 days, having to work in the game and the anime at the same time, but in this situation, aside from my directing, writing, and screen composition duties, I'm also Too Kyo Games's president and producer, meaning I have more work outside my craftsmanship... Making the game and managing the funds at the same time would have given most people a mental breakdown (laughs).

It was mentally and financially taxing, but I don't think I'll ever get another opportunity to pour this level of effort into making a game happen. Putting my life on the line was a very valuable experience.

You mean to say you can feel Too Kyo Games's entire soul in the game? On another note, I couldn't find any of the characters from the concept art in the new key visual or the screenshots. Does the restart mean that those characters got shelved?

Kodaka: The game's general concept is still the same, but to put a new, clean start on it, we changed a few things completely. One of them being the character designs. But despite their changed appearances, they maintain the characterization of their predecessors, so you'll see characters similar to what those would have been.

However, the old politician you see in the upper left corner won't be in the game (laughs). He's a character Komatsuzaki made up on the spot for this illustration, so I know as much about who he is as you do. He's doomed to disappear shrouded in mystery.

(laughs) By the way, considering how The Hundred Line is "the tale of extreme x despair", I'm curious about how this keyword "despair" relates to Danganronpa.

Kodaka: The tagline "tale of extreme x despair" is to signify that this is the first game Uchikoshi and I are directing together. It has nothing to do with Danganronpa, but it is a game made leveraging all of my previous experiences. With that plus Komatsuzaki's and Takada's involvement, I consider it a spiritual successor to Danganronpa.

Who from the main Too Kyo Games roster is working in this and what are their roles?

Kodaka: Uchikoshi and I are splitting the directing and writing work, Komatsuzaki is on the character design, Shimadrill is doing the enemy design and the backgrounds, and Takada is in charge of the soundtrack. Also, Uchikoshi and I do screen composition for the scenes we write.

I didn't think I'd have to do the screen composition job here myself, but I'm the best at handling Komatsuzaki's art and Takada's music, so that job is dumped on me. I got a lot of material to work with. Maybe more expression options than Yuma had in Rain Code.

The Danganronpa series also had me personally choosing faces and soundtrack one by one, so I hope the fans of that series enjoy the familiar vibes in the visual novel sections.

The new announcement came with a key visual. Are these characters in uniforms going to be the main cast?

Kodaka: Yes. They're the students of Last Defense Academy and are living in the school for unknown reasons. The students have special powers called Hemoanimas. They normally have their own sets of clothes, but upon activating their Hemoanima, they change into this uniform and fight against their enemies.

Is the white character a mascot?

Kodaka: Yes. He's the squad coordinator character. So his name is just SIREI, from shireikan; commander. By the way, SIREI is the reincarnation of the raccoon illustrated in the key visual. Both forms of this character were designed by Komatsuzaki. I pointed him in a general direction I wanted but overall let him do whatever he wanted. Meanwhile, the students followed the usual process going through a lot of back-and-forth until their completion.

In Danganronpa, their designs reflected their Super High School Level talents. Does The Hundred Line have any kind of keyword or characterization element that informed their designs in the same way the Super High School Level talents did?

Kodaka: Each student masters a different Unique Subject and has a different weapon of choice. That's what their designs mainly reflect. I'll talk more about Unique Subjects and weapons of choice later.

I'm looking forward to the update. Next question. Danganronpa and Rain Code had all-star casts of voice actors. I have expectations for The Hundred Line's cast.

Kodaka: Unfortunately, I can't reveal the actors at the moment, but I will say half of them have performed in previous Kodaka or Uchikoshi game and the other half is people we're both meeting for the first time. But look forward to it, it's going to be as all-star as any previous game. I know the released PV is voiced by the protagonist, but who is voicing him is still confidential.

Will the creatures depicted flying above the main characters be enemies?

Kodaka: Correct. The enemies are unknown entities attacking the school. They're called School Invaders. If you take a really close look at the key visual, you may notice the academy is protected by a pink flame. That's called the Unextinguishable Flame and that's what prevents the School Invaders from attacking 24/7.

When the School Invaders get past the Unextinguishable Flame, the students will need to repel them. The students aren't informed about the academy's or the unextinguishable flame's secrets, nor they know why the School Invaders are attacking. The story progresses as they fight School Invaders day by day unaware of their circumstances.

Do you have anything noteworthy to say about your interactions with Shimadrill regarding his work designing the enemies?

Kodaka: My priority for the character design of the weaker School Invaders was that they had venomous pop aesthetics. At my first discussion with Shimadrill, we arrived at the idea of making their designs intentionally similar to the monsters of a famous game franchise, but we changed plans along the way. Ultimately, we got likable enemies with that pop aesthetic.

Playing aggressively even on the designs, huh? That's the Too Kyo Games I know.

Kodaka: We changed our aim because copying designs was a really bad idea we took too far. Our mindset at the time is that, true to Too Kyo's name, we wanted to make a game that was indeed too crazy. Too Kyo Games is a company that prides itself on its writing, designs, and music.

However, compliance is a lot more important nowadays, so there's a lot more we need to keep in mind. We were defanged by the corporate structure of our partner for the cancelled version of the game. Depictions of violence and dirty jokes that were acceptable in our previous works weren't fine with them. We had to be on our best behavior to adhere to their compliance demands.

Now that I got to remake the game as something else, I can see that not releasing it on its previous state was for the best. Because I couldn't express my strengths in full there.

The Hundred Line was my first collaborative work with Uchikoshi and our first original IP. Making a game that's simply good wouldn't be enough. There'd be no point in starting this over if we couldn't go all-out. We developed The Hundred Line determined to make a game someone with good sense couldn't make. A title to be considered a product of deranged minds. In the sense, we were very lucky to land on a partnership with Aniplex.

Tell me more about what do you mean by "lucky" here.

Kodaka: To leverage the strengths of Too Kyo Games, we're writing a very controversial narrative. Aniplex is being thankfully quite flexible with what we're allowed to depict, as they understand our fortes and respect our vision. For that reason, Uchikoshi and I were able to depict the crazy story we wanted to.

Kodaka, in a previous interview, you expressed determination toward making this game a story that make people question your sanity. A game people wouldn't expect to be possible to make. Would you say managed to fulfill this ambition?

Kodaka: I can't comment about the gimmick without getting into spoilers, so I have no plans to reveal the answer to this before the game's release. Playing the game for yourself should be enough to convey Too Kyo Games's outlandishness. I believe my reason to pair up with Uchikoshi will be equally evident, and it'll be easy to make sense of why this game needed multiple writers and recruiting new hires.

I know perfectly well this is a tasteless request, but can you drop a hint?

Kodaka: Fine, I'll tell you some details after the interview. You're allowed to address what I'll say in your opinion post (laughs).

I appreciate the gesture, but let's see if I'm up for the challenge (laughs)

Tell us what the general gameplay loop is like.

Kodaka: The Hundred Line follows a cycle of 3 parts: a visual novel section, an exploration section, and a simulation RPG section. I already explained at the opener that it's a game where you survive 100 days of combat, but that doesn't mean time will pass uneventfully.

Like in Danganronpa, something will happen each day, and you'll get chances to talk with your schoolmates and deepen your relationships. You'll get Free Time, you'll get training sessions to increase your stats, and you'll be able to get other power ups by sharpening your weapons. The goal in the visual novel and exploration sections is to enjoy life with your schoolmates while also preparing for the enemies that can appear at any moment.

Got it. Now explain the simulation RPG section too, please.

Kodaka: The simulation RPG section has tower defense elements. It's not just about defeating the enemies, you also have to fight defending the school. Also, since the School Invaders come in large flocks, the main gimmick here is that you need to fight on multiple grids of the board at the same time instead of taking it one grid at a time.

Our developer, Media Vision, has a lot of experience in simulation RPGs. We'll disclose more details about the gameplay later, but I'm glad they were able to come up with and implement hype combat ideas (such as unique traits and ultimate moves for each character) in a way that can satisfy the fans of the genre.

You mean to say the simulation RPG sections are going to be solid?

Kodaka: Correct. That said, a lot of people who buy my games are casual gamers, so I always put emphasis on ease of play.

Then first-time simulation RPG players will have nothing to worry about.

Kodaka: Another point of interest is Takada's soundtrack. I requested the battle BGM to have the intensity of an action game. It's inspired by technical rock bands from the 90s, mainly The Chemical Brothers and Boom Boom Satellites. The visual novel sections, on the other hand, have a more sci-fi-adjacent OST to match its strong sci-fi aesthetics.

Tell us a release date and the consoles.

Kodaka: Early 2025, Switch and Steam.

Less than a year before release. Do you think the team can make it?

Kodaka: We're still working on it, but I think we won't have to delay the release. To be honest, The Hundred Line is progressing faster than Rain Code was (laughs). Besides, Too Kyo Games can't afford to delay a game our creators are staking their lives on.

Messages to players and readers usually often saying things like "We're doing our best" or "Cheer for us", but for this title, I can't bring myself to be so casual about it. I feel like I'm issuing a challenge to the players here.

I have a marketing strategy to draw attention to the game, and I'm polishing it to make anyone who buys it say it's a good game, so I'm feeling more of a "Just watch me!" or a "Wait until you see this thing released!" for a closing message.

Giant Kuroda's editorial comment

As outlandish as promised.

That's the interviewer's honest impression on what Kodaka told me about The Hundred Line's gimmick. I [Giant Kuroda] have been the Famitsu interviewer in charge of Danganronpa since Danganronpa 2. I interviewed him pre-release for a game launched in 2012, which means I've been talking to Kodaka for at least 12 years.

Kodaka and his art surprised me many times. In a good way.

Danganronpa 2's final boss. Danganronpa V3's first case culprit, finale, and the secret hidden in the title. Danganronpa 3 simultaneous broadcast of Side:Future and Side:Despair. Rain Code's first case...

The list could go on forever, but The Hundred Line's gimmick is more impactful than of those. I can't deliver a final judgement until I play the game for myself, but depending on what the game has to offer, it could be his uncontested best. That's how much potential I felt in that spoiler. I get the point of staking their lives on it now.

Also, in what's rare for a Kodaka title, the game will be allowed to be streamed relatively far into the story despite earlier spoilers (information subject to change). Kodaka's story-heavy games are a double-edged sword. It's possible for players to feel like they experienced enough by simply watching a Let's Play that spoils all the twists. However, I believe this game actually benefits from unrestricted streaming. But I can't say why. It's a spoiler...

At any rate, this game is Kodaka's and Uchikoshi's first collaborative story, and as Kodaka said, its narrative is a product of deranged minds. I wait with bated breath to the day I can finally play it, and also look forward to reading opinion posts about it online. You can get your hopes up, Kodaka and Uchikoshi fans.

[ghostlychief]

First of all Hi! I so far have loved your other ghost fics and can’t wait to read more!

Secondly, I was wondering if maybe you could write something where the reader and ghost are like married (possibly have a child but that’s optional) and the 141 find out that ghost has a secret family and sees him being so soft with you and are just in huge shock (especially soap)?

Again love your other writing and completely understand if you don’t have the time to do this! Hope you have a nice day!😊

HELLO!! thank you so much for reading my other works, I'm glad you enjoyed reading them <33333 it always means a lot when someone says they love reading the fics you wrote, so thank you again. I hope you enjoy what i threw together for your request!!

-Lee

--

Phantom Pain

pairing: oneshot; ghost x reader

warnings; none really

wc: 1.1k+

--

Ghost rarely ended up in the hospital. If he did, you knew it was bad.

--

To task force 141, Ghost was an anomaly, an enigma. No one really could crack his code or figure him out. Even though he has been on the team for over seven years. The closest anyone has gotten to him was his team member Soap, but even then, Soap barely knew him.

For Godsakes, even his profile didn’t have a picture of him, it was just a blank spot where his face should be.

His teammates really only saw his eyes. They were a deep blue like the ocean. Turbulent, but held all the cards Ghost held. If you figured out what his eyes were conveying, you figured out him.

Looking back at it now, no one ever figured out Ghost, or what his azure eyes were saying. No one on 141, at least.

--

This mission was supposed to be an easy one. In and out. No casualties, no injuries. But things never seem to go to plan. Typical for task force 141.

Even though the team didn’t suffer any casualties, they did suffer quite a few injuries, Ghost being in the worst shape of the lot.

He had two gun shot wounds and a couple of lacerations on his arms and legs. Could be worse, you guess. But honestly looking at the state of him now, you would be shocked he wasn’t already dead, laying in a casket.

This is where you come in. The secret wife, partner of Ghost, aka Simon.

He always kept you hidden away from his world, never wanting to tarnish you red. But sometimes you had to step into his vicious world, tending to him in ways you never wished you had to. You didn’t mind the deep color maroon though. Maybe that’s why you found yourself drawn to Simon, like a moth to a flame.

It usually ended up with you and Simon in your shared home, you tending to his wounds in any way you could. For some reason the man hated hospitals, and avoided them at all costs, so you always tried your best to fix him up.

So, when you got the call from your local hospital that your husband was admitted and currently being operated on, you knew it was bad.

You immediately dropped what you were doing and drove fast to the hospital, hoping to catch Simon right out of surgery.

Your timing was near perfect, because by the time you arrived, and talked to the nurse’s station, he was already tucked away in his room, fast asleep but breathing.

That’s all that mattered - that he was breathing. Slow and steady.

You pull up a chair and take his large hand into yours, already noticing the usual warmth is lost, which makes you grasp his hand even tighter, hoping to transfer some of your warmth to him.

--

It’s hours later when you find yourself waking up. Your neck is sore and cricks as you lift your head. The bright lights of the hospital room cloud your vision for a second before your eyes adjusts.

You notice that you’re still holding Simon’s hand. You must have fallen asleep, your head halfway resting on his forearm and the bed.

When you fully come to, you notice Simon is awake as well, and he’s looking at you with a tenderness you only wish to see every time he comes home to you.

You now notice his thumb is tenderly stroking your knuckles, and he gives your hand a squeeze every once in a while, to signal to you that yes, he’s here, and alive. He’s alright.

“Hey baby.” Your voice carries across the room, travels its short way to Simon, who’s once again looking at you adoringly. His lips upturn slightly, something you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t solely focused on your husband.

“Before you ask, I’m alright.” His voice is soft, as if he’s trying to pacify you, quell you by the best of his abilities. Even though he’s the one who’s injured, he doesn’t want you to hurt.

He knows you hate it when he has a mission. He pictures you pacing around your shared home, willing him to come back to you, and he hates himself for it.

You let out a sigh, all too familiar with the scene playing out before you.

Now it’s your turn to squeeze his hand.

“I don’t know how many times I can watch you do this to yourself, Simon. Every time you go away, I always prepare myself that you won’t be coming back. And I just- I don’t want to think like that anymore.”

Simon shifts on the bed, “Come here.”

Even though you’re concerned about his injuries, you still settle yourself on the bed with Simon, his arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you down to his chest.

An accustomed position that you’ve missed recently. He’s been gone too long.

His familiar scent pulls you even further into him, and you bask in his warm embrace, only hoping it won’t be ripped away from you anytime soon.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me, ok?” You feel him kiss the top of your head, and you tighten your arm that’s wrapped around his torso.

“Besides, you can’t get rid of me that easily, bug.”

 You can feel the smirk that draws up his lips, and you mentally roll your eyes at his statement. He was always so flippant about his life, yet you still can’t help but love him dearly.

You also know he purposefully played the ‘term of endearment’ card, which he knew would make you go easy on him.

You hum against his chest, “We’ll see about that. You know, after you get home, recovered and healthy.”

You just feel his rumble of laughter, and you smile against him. Glad that his humor hasn’t left him despite all the tragedies he’s seen throughout his career. He leaves another kiss atop your head, and his hand comes up to stroke your arm while you stroke his stomach.

You’re so caught up in your moment with Simon, that you don’t notice a pair of familiar light blue eyes watching you both through the glass window of the hospital room door.

They’re eyes that only hold curiosity, wishing to know what they are witnessing.

The owner of said eyes slips away before you or Ghost notice him, and he figures he’ll just have to causally bring it up to his colleague the next time he sees him at the base.

He imagines he’ll say something like, “Didn’t know you had a soft side, Ghosty.” He then pictures the punch Ghost would aim at his bicep, already feeling the phantom pain.

--

Ghost Masterlist

[sugutoad]

— IN PAIN AND LOVE

For my beloved @coffeebooksrain18 . This is a little thank you for listening to me ramble about Myrielle and Aegon and always being so supportive. You are the Aemond lover to my Aegon. My Myrielle to your Aelys. And obviously, My Criston Cole to your Alicent. So please accept this little smutty one-shot for Aemond and Riley’s oc, Aelys Targayen (who will definitely appear if you read The Red Queen by @ashblooddragons as Daemon and Reader’s daughter).

Summary: Aelys was furious at Aemond for ruining everything from her gown to her promise to her best friends heart. When confronted, she wants to drown him in the river of pain she is suffocating in, but a simple kiss (and more) is all it takes to calm the Princess down. WARNINGS: swearing, anal sex, violent thoughts and threats (its Aelys, duh) obsessive behaviour, fingering etc.

  Aelys clenched her jaw, the tips of her fingers grazing against her wine-stained dress. It had been a beautiful beige dress, adorned in silver jewels bordering the deep v-line (that the Queen and High Septon raised a brow at in pure disappointment — at least they could have had some sort of humility to hide their true feelings in a room crowded by so many faces that would haunt Aelys in her dreams), the fabric clinging on each and every one of her curves. So rarely did she ever wear gowns that weren’t shades of red and when she did, it was stained in a wine, dark as blood as it trickled down her leg.

Stupid Aemond. 

 Aelys had specifically told him to not cause any sort of commotion and he promised. He fucking promised and he broke it as if she did not matter. As if her words held no effects over him. Though the halls were dim-lighted, Aelys found Myrielle Vallici. The golden hair girl looked at her for a split second, her brows furrowed in confusion. Her hands were curled up in small balls against her azure dress, red smudged on her lips (Myrielle never smudged red berries on her lips). And then she was gone like a phantom in the night and the halls were dark once again without her friend's golden silhouette. 

 

 A part of Aelys wanted to scoff. To scoff at herself. It had been Myrielle who wanted to be perfect because her Father would be present. She had begged Aelys to not do anything, fully knowing that the Targaryen girl always had some sort of tricks hidden behind innocent smiles and twinkling violet eyes.

Aelys was cross about her dress. 

Aelys was mad at Aemond breaking what he swore. 

But Aelys was furious at Aemond for making someone she holds close to her heart upset. 

  She felt her knees buckle. Myrielle could have gotten hurt by her father because of her. Did she do anything else to make people suffer? Or perhaps it was the lack of what she did that always hurt people. 

 A chuckle builds up in Aelys’s heart at the thoughts clouding her head, the sound becoming giggles and bordering hysteric cackles.   

  Why should she care? She was a Targaryen. She was a dragon rider. How people felt about her has never bothered her, but the way Myrielle looked at her twisted a knife in her guts. And now every step she took, a trail of blood would follow her. She stretched out her fingers, the tips coated in red wine from her dress (it sickened her stomach. It looked like blood, yet it smelled so sweet. So sweet and so sickening) and placed her fingers against the bricked wall. The familiar, cool touch followed her in every step. 

 

 She knew every corner, every ridge and cracks on these walls. She could hold on to them and they wouldn’t let her fall down. Not like how Aemond let her fall. Not like how she let Myrielle fall. Her fingers gripped on one of the bricks, her ring fingers slowly moving along its corner.

 She held in her breath as an arm slithered across her back, fiddling with a jewel near her bosom. Long fingers grasped her arm, intertwining with her own fingers. 

 Aemond was so close. His breath danced circles around her neck and she felt a sting as he gently sank his teeth around her skin, sucking until a red blossom would emerge and then he would water it with his own tears.  

“Aemond, stop,” She asked, trying to run away from his touch, but her body betrayed her and sank deeper and deeper into Aemond’s arm. “Please.”

  A simple ‘please’ is all that it takes Aelys to put the One-eyed Prince under her order. “You are mad, are you not?” Aemond had the nerve to ask such a question! Aelys turned back at him, baffled and took a few steps back, the shadows of the dark halls wrapping her in. 

“You think I’m mad?” She chuckled, haunting violet eyes wide open. Before Aemond could open his mouth to say anything, she interrupted him. “You ruined everything!” Aemond had no right to say she was mad. He fought with Rhaenyra’s brood of bastards, he spilled wine over her dress and he was why Myrielle was so upset. Myrielle with her soft heart and teary blue eyes was fucking upset because of stupid Aemond. 

 He let out a simple hum, the sound so low that it stirred something in Aelys’ heart, cocking his head to the side and gritting his teeth against one another softly, his eye downcast. Aelys wanted to roll her eyes at him. It appeared as if Aemond did not care and if he did, he sure wasn’t letting it out. 

 Aelys shut her eyes, trying to block out every thought in her head. Rage was not an emotion she was a stranger to. Rage was her domain as it was her fathers. Like Daemon, she honed it better than any knife, waiting to lunge at anybody. She let her nails sink into her palms, trying to grab anything, but the dagger settled near Aemond’s hip, clothed in a leather pouch with gold embroidered around.

“Aelys, darling, ‘twas a simple tribute,” His steps echoed in the silent hall and he stood mere inches away from her. She craned her neck up and…. Well he had always been beautiful. Silver hair cascaded down his back, pulled back and showing each and every feature of his face. His face had always been otherworldly to her, each feature angular and carefully structured by the Valyrian Gods. It wasn’t the blue sapphire he hid behind leather patch nor his father’s periwinkle eyes (Helaena had lilac eyes, Daeron had his mother’s soft brown eyes and Aegon — according to Myrielle — had eyes that were ‘glossy lavender eyes yet they seemed like some sort of shade of pink with a brown lining around’ her friend would end up sighing happily). But even though she was a dragon through and through (unlike Aemond and his siblings with their Andal Mother), he made her feel small with the way he would watch her. Watch and examine each and every one of her moves carefully. She was a dragon caught in a trap. 

“You are stirred up for nothing.”

 Although the rasp of his voice would cause Aelys’ knees to buckle, something stirred in her heart. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, playing with it as if she weighed so little (she felt little again). His other hand reached up and he placed her chin between two fingers, his leather gloves itching against her skin. He lifted up her face, his thumb gently running alongside her jaw. 

 And she felt red. She might have called Aemond her other half before, but he did not understand her. He did not know her. He did not have the fucking right to play with the strings of her hearts and act as if he had done nothing. As an instinct of her anger, her hand lunged for his dagger. The hilt was in her hand at last. It was lighter than she had expected, a slightly rough texture, but in perfect condition. She flicked the blade in her hand, swivelling on her heel and pushing Aemond back, hitting the cold wall. Aemond stayed calm under her touch, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. She felt heat rise to her face. 

 Surely out of anger she thought in an attempt to think of anything else, but the cold hand placed on her back. She angled his dagger, placing it against his throat. She could go deeper until he would bleed. For him to be covered in red as she was seemed the only way that was deemed right in her eyes. But she couldn’t move an itch. Aemond had her laced in some sort of magic, his hand on her back, nails digging in her dress. A periwinkle eye stared back at him, and she could see his scar poking out his brown leather patch on his hollow cheeks. 

  He was a thing of beauty to her. A person who could harm so much yet love as much. A person who was blessed with both beauty and rage. Aemond’s finger went up to his neck, poking into the small distance between his dagger and neck and carefully held on to it. 

“I am sorry.”

 Aelys sucked in her breath at his comment. He was a liar just as she was. Perhaps it was their nature as humans who were cursed with Targayren blood to truly ruin everything. “You are not,” she hissed at him, her voice as sharp as a shard. “You are a fucking liar and I do not need you to say anything! I need- I need you to fucking keep your promise and stop saying sweet things to make me for-“

 He placed his lips on hers, not in the gentle manner she was used to, but this time Aemond kissed her roughly, devouring her whole. She was weak to none, but Aemond’s touch was as familiar and comforting as that of her Mother and Fathers. Her grip loosened on the hilt, Aemond hand intertwining with her and clawing on his dagger back before he let it drop to the floor. Aelys flung her arms around his neck, grabbing him in until he was a part of hers. Until he was hers and she was his. Aemond’s arm snakes around her waist, bringing her closer till she could breathe no more, her teats pressed against Aemond’s slender build. She let out a shaky breath, trying to let out a sound, as Aemond sank his teeth in her bottom bottoms, tugging on it before licking it once again. 

 Slender fingers delved in  her silver hair, tugging slightly. He held up her legs in his arms, letting her crumble in his touch. Aelys wanted to memorise the very print on his hand, his soft breath and the touch of his lips. He tasted like the wine Aegon forced him to drink earlier and she sucked and sucked on his lips until she was drunk with his touch. He held her gently now, as if she was the most frail thing ever and in that moment, she felt like a glass vase tipping off the table. But that softness only lasted a second before her back hit the wall. She wanted to rip Aemond open, to see his bleeding heart trickle down onto the floor. She wanted to see him bleeding and naked and hers. 

He wanted her to know that he was in control. 

 An unexpected whine leaves Aelys’ lips as he pulls himself away. “Do not leave.” She whispered softly to him. Aemond made her forget everything and he can not just leave her to be. Aelys knew it was not of his nature. Aemond closed his eye for a second. Aelys knew he was a sweet boy underneath all his nature. A man who was still a boy, listening to what she wanted. He snapped open his eye, a smirk playing across his lips.

“Beg.”

  Aelys’ eyes shot up at him. What a cruel joke. Aemond knew Aelys would never beg. She does not cry in front of others and only when she does, she denies the truth. She does not beg forgiveness from others. She was Aelys Targaryen, not some soft hearted girl swayed by a man’s touch or words. She stood up taller, her lips lingering near Aemond’s once again, but he only hovered. 

“I want you,” she breathed, begging him at last. The pleas almost felt foreign on her tongue. “Have me however you want, but do not hide yourself. Do not leave me. Please.”

 Aemond groaned at her words, a soft yet low sound from the back of his throat. His knuckles grazed Aelys’ cheek, so gently. Aemond’s behaviour at times still baffled Aelys, even though she had been his childhood playmate and the closest of his friends. He was always so gentle, yet he was so harsh. “Hmm, what should I do with you, ñuha jorrāeliarzy.” He craned his neck to the side, silver strands falling down his face. He licked his bottom tongue and Aelys held her breath. 

 His hand roamed down her leg, slowly while he kept his gaze at her. Slowly lifting her up, she wrapped it around Aemond’s waist, her hand digging in his hair. Aemond fiddled with her dress, the bottom white lace tangled in his fingers and his hand disappeared beneath her dress.

 Aelys let out an agonising sigh, her shoulders tensed as Aemond lazily stroked the heat of her flesh with a single finger before taking two of his fingers to open her fold. Aelys leaned against the cold wall as Aemond’s finger caressed her skin. Aemond stopped and she let her shoulders relax, the guilt of disappointment gnawing at her heart. 

 His free hand cupped her face once more and under the soft illuminating of the flickering light, his face once so hard, was soft and full of eagerness, a smirk, a smirk so unnoticed, but a smirk nonetheless plastered in his lips. “Tell me. Tell me how I should have you.” Aelys knew Aemond was not truly asking her, but simply toying around with her. 

 Aelys had Aemond before in the comfort of their bed, on his study table, the stables to speak of only a few, but everytime she was bare in his arms, she wanted him in every possible way. At her silence, she saw Aemond’s throat bob, as if he was scared of all the way he could have her and ruin her for all to see. She pressed a hand against his hand, the one editing at her fluttering entrance, and pressed tightly. “I want you… I want you to touch me.” Though a confident woman, she squirmed under his gaze, fair skin flushed pink at his touch. Aemond tilted his head, his middle finger tracing circles before sticking up his fingers and parting her. “I shall take you however you want, Ñuha zaldrītsos,” Aemond traced the skin, his slick finger moving forward before pulling out again. “I should have you kept here, locked in chains waiting for me to take you whenever I want.”

 Aelys bit her bottom lips to prevent any noise, a small smile on her face before nodding, her thighs trembling underneath. “Aemond, Aemond.” She couldn’t let his name stay hidden on her tongue once he added another finger, curling it toward himself. He thrusted deeper and Aelys threw back her head and cried in a feeling she still couldn’t quite describe. Pleasure was not the word for Aemond brought her so much more. Aemond pressed his head against her hers, the tip of his nose pushed down as it rested on her forehead before he kissed her forehead. “I shall tell you next time.” He huffed out something else, something like an apology, but not quite yet Aelys never heard a word, her back arched back. She wanted him. She needed him. 

 “My Aelys, may I?” His breath was as shaky as hers. She nodded, a bit too quickly, her hands fiddling with laces of  his breeches, undoing all that was tangled underneath. Aemond lifted up her second leg, both wrapped tightly around him, and she felt something hard nudge against her. She was still clothed fully, but underneath she was bare and flushed for Aemond to take. For Aemond to rip open and to let her be born again and he would take her again. And shall anyone see them, she shall gladly show them how Aemond belonged to her.

 Giving her only a moment, he rolled his hips into hers and she let out a hiss, throwing back her head. She held tighter as skin parted at his tip and he let out a groan. “Oh Gods,” He let out. “You take it so well, my love.” Aelys blinked back tears, her hands flung around his neck, bringing him as she could, only whimpering at Aemond’s words. Aemond was breathless, thrusting deeper into her. She rolled her hips slightly to match Aemond’s quicker tempo, her palms sweaty against his skin. 

“You were made for you, y’know,” He muttered in her shoulder, his teeth sinking in her shoulders once again, grating along her skin which was a constellation of red peonies. “No one else, but you.” 

 “Only yours.” She murmured in the silence. She was made for him. Perhaps when the Gods had created Aemond, they had taken his soul in half to give to another. To give to her and it with him where she is not a puzzle with her missing piece. Aelys let out a noise — somewhat of a mix between a moan and a whine when pressed himself in harder, his rhythmic actions almost now savage. Aelys cried out, her nails digging in Aemond’s neck and a metallic crimson coating the tips of her fingers.  

 Aelys’ eyes fluttered, her mouth agape as black dots filled her vision. Aemond grinded into her once more before heat blossomed from below. She hid her face in Aemond’s shoulder, refusing to let him see the crimson on her face. Aemond huffed a laugh, a wild glint in his eyes. “Gods, you are so perfect,” he stopped for a second before letting her go on the floor, his hands lacing back his breeches. “Do you forgive me?” 

“Yes.” She almost felt as if she was lying, he had not asked for her forgiveness, but he looked so hopeful at her that she couldn’t let the truth escape her lips. Fluffing down her dress, she looked up at him, still breathless, but with a smile covering her face. She traced a line down her husband’s chest, a sudden confidence blooming in her heart. “Shall we continue this…. My husband ?” She batted her lashes at him, bursting into little giggles at Aemond’s smirk as he tilted his head towards her.  Taking her hand into his, he smiled.

 “Of course, my wife.” 

  With each little step, she felt as if she was swinging and dancing in his arms. Reaching towards the halls that had been used, unlike the vacant one they had just been in, she fell into Aemond as servants rushed back and forth, the hallway a little maze of its own. And in the middle, was Myrielle, her face covered in her hands as she violently sobbed. 

 Aelys left Aemond, her heart beating so loud she swore that anyone could hear it even in this chaos. Holding her friend in her arms, Myrielle looked up at her, her once blue eyes now rimmed pink and red. Before Aelys could mutter anything to soothe Myrielle, the girl with the sun in her hair looked up at her, her voice trembling.

“Uncle Viserys is…” she hiccuped at the mention of the King. “Is dead.”

[ivonhart]

the moon | steven grant x fem werewolf!reader

+ marc spector & jake lockley

— chapter four

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cross posted on ao3

gif credit: @paper-n-ashes

summary: You've always hated the moon. Hated the way it made your body bend and break into a new form every month. Hated the way it tied you to one of the many gods of it. But you couldn't hate what the moon connected you to...who it connected you to.

!! chapter warnings !!: Previous su*cide attempt mentioned / Marc being a lil toxic :3

By the time you caught up to the area Steven was taken to, the sky grew dark and the moon rose high into the air. Despite the head start that the cultist had, you still managed to figure out where he was. The unseen tether that seemingly connected the two of you telling you where to go the moment you stepped out of his apartment.

That connection brought you and Layla to a secluded neighborhood. On the surface it simply looked like an active community; people communing within the main plaza with bright smiles as children ran around their legs with giggles of joy.

On the surface it looked like a pleasant environment…but with a closer look you took note of how their eyes lingered on any outsiders for too long, how they turned their back and whispered once they believed you were out of range…how they all shared the same scale tattoo. You finally made it to what you would say was the “main area.”

The building it was in reminded you of an old castle of some sorts. The exposed brick and chipped walls showing the wear and tear it experienced through the centuries. You and Layla managed to make your way into the building and when you got into the structure you saw Steven being surrounded by Harrow’s people. Circling him like a pack of wolves would do to a wounded deer. “Where is the Scarab?”

Adamant to get the attention away from Steven, you nodded to Layla before she raised her hand in the air and spoke. “I have it.” All eyes snapped towards Layla and the Scarab that she slowly brought back into her chest as the two of you slowly moved through the crowd. However, one pair of eyes was stuck on you. You could hear the slight skip in Steven’s heart and the hitch in his breath as his gaze bore into your soul.

Only mere hours before, the man watched as your body fell to the ground and became soaked with the blood that poured from the gunshot wound. A wound that no one would be able to walk away from. Yet here you stood…a tad worse for wear…but alive. You had to tear your eyes away from him in fear that you would break away from Layla and run to him. Wanting…needing to feel his warmth wrapped around your body to calm not only him down, but you as well.

“You couldn’t possibly understand the value of what you’re holding.” The closer the two of you got to the man, the more his people were able to surround you, making the hair on the back of your neck rise. “Let me have that, I’ll keep it safe.”

“About time you found us.” The god sneered over your shoulder as Layla turned to Steven. “Why would you bring the Scarab here…you idiot dog!” Both you and Steven flinched at his outburst and you tired focusing on Layla who pleaded for Steven to summon the suit. But, like you, he could hear the curses from the god.

“Summon the soup?” Steven’s question dripped in confusion. Why would he summon soup? What would soup do? What kind of soup? With a hushed curse you finally blocked out Khonshu and grabbed hold of Steven’s hand. “We have to run.” With Layla ahead making quick work of anyone who got in her way, you managed to pull Steven inside a storage room with Layla not far behind.

The moment all three of you were inside, you and Layla bolted the door. When you knew the door was secure you finally allowed yourself to hunch over with a groan. One of your hands grasping the area where you had been shot. Pain, phantom or not, shooting through your body from the movements. “Oh, my God. I’m going to die in an evil magician’s man cave.” The sound of Steven’s panicked voice brought you back to the situation at hand. “And you…” The man’s wide eyes eyed you up and down in terror. “Y-You got shot. You died!”

You could hear the sound of his heart smashing against his ribs as he grew more and more panicked. SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! It rattled your already unfocused mind, making your ears almost ring. “Look…Steven. I’m…I’m different. I work for Khonshu because of how different I am.” Your words came out in between heavy breaths as you struggled to find the right words. “I can’t explain it right now, but the bullet didn’t affect me like it would a normal person because of certain things.”

The sudden pounding from the other side of the storage door caused Layla to march her way to Steven. With a harsh yank, the woman pulled his attention to her. “Listen to me. Your name is Marc. There’s a suit.” You tried to intervene, but she shook the man with panic, cutting off any chance where you could butt in.

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! You could now smell the sweat that was forming in his palms and the unsteady breathing that ripped past his throat. “Where the hell are you, Marc?! We need you to fight.” You watched as Steven’s eyes latched on the mirror behind you. Marc. You believed he was talking to him by the rate in which both his breathing and heart rate went up. Knocking your brain around from the flood of sounds and smells.

Just like you, Steven was getting overwhelmed which caused him to fall to his knees with a shout. “LEAVE ME ALONE, BOTH OF YOU!” His screams managed to break through the fog that was clouding your brain and you were quick to kneel down in front of him. Your hands moved to grasp his that were clutched over his ears. “Steven.”

His eyes were wide and distant as his breathing grew more and more frantic. He was going to go into a panic attack if you didn’t act quickly. The pounding on the door and the yells from Layla made your body grow hot as you tried to figure out what to do. The wolf scratching in the depths of your head out of anxiety. She wanted to get out. SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

Without much thought, you smashed your lips onto his. The man’s hands dropped to his sides and yours slid down to cup his cheeks after you did. The pounding on the door grew quiet and the rattling in your head stood still as your lips molded together. What felt like minutes was, in reality, only a few seconds and when you pulled away the man softly spoke your name.

Slowly, your eyes opened and you looked at his now softened ones. “There you are…” Your words barely passed your lips with how quiet you spoke. The gentle stroke of your thumbs on Steven’s cheek slowed the man’s heart down as you continued to speak; your long nails occasionally hitting his puffy lips with each caress. “I know you are scared…confused…” The pounding on the door grew more intense, causing all three of you to tense up. Steven tried to look over but you kept a firm hold on his face. Your eyes pleading whilst looking into his. “You need to give Marc the body. Please.”

Unfortunately, before the man could utter a response the door finally gave away, allowing the Jackals to finally get in. One for Steven and one for you. What happened next was a blur; one second you were holding Steven and the next you were knocked to the ground by one Jackal whilst Steven fell from the back window thanks to the second one. With a harsh growl you looked up at the Jackal as your eyes fazed white.

-

After you managed to take care of the Jackal in the building, you found out from Layla that Steven had run off. You knew better though; you could smell Marc in the air. Him and Steven both shared the same cologne smell, but each had their own unique scent that you could distinguish.

You did a quick once over on Layla to make sure she was alright before taking down Marc. It took you a few minutes before you finally tracked the man down to find him in a vacant courtyard. “Marc…” His name came out breathless as you jogged over to him. He was facing away from you and when you got closer you took note of the damaged mirror that was there. 

“Where is the Scarab!?” The man’s hands latched onto your arms in an instant, causing you to yelp. “WHERE IS THE SCARAB!?” Marc’s eyes were wide with frustration as he shook you. “I DON’T KNOW!” You shouted back before shoving him away; a small growl unintentionally passing your lips at the harsh contact.

The man shouted in anger as he started pacing back and forth. His hands running through his hair. “Fuck, I cannot believe you!” Your eyebrows shot up as he continued. “I can’t fucking BELIEVE you let Layla get into this.”

“Excuse me?!” You snapped back with a scoff. He was angry. He didn’t mean it. What was he saying? You stomped towards him. “I didn’t do anything–”

“EXACTLY!” Marc spun to you with heavy uneven breaths. “You didn’t fucking do anything. You didn’t do the only thing you’re here for. You didn’t protect Steven.” His words felt like a punch to your gut and before you could fight back a bitter laugh fell past his lips as he hung his hand on his hip.

“And now Layla is mixed into all of this and we know she’s not going to let it go and Harrow most definitely has the Scarab.” A nasty growl ripped through the air as you barked back at him. “You’re the one that didn’t let Steven in on all of this. You’re the one that left your damn burner phone at Steven’s place for him to find. I have been doing all I can to make sure Steven is protected.” You took a step forward and shoved your finger into his chest. “You’re the one that’s too fucking stubborn and look where it got you. Got us.”

Marc’s jaw tensed up before he moved his face closer to yours. “There is no us. There will never be an us." Suddenly, the man grabbed your hand that pointed at him and exposed the scars that ran up your arm. Messy, uneven lines that bore a striking resemblance to that of a wolf’s claw.

“There is no us because you should’ve killed yourself that day.” All the air was pulled from your lungs as the words left his mouth. His grip grew tight. “Everything would’ve been so much easier if Khonshu didn’t make you serve him.” He yanked you closer with a sneer, causing a whimper to escape you. Tears formed on your lashes as you turned away from him. Like Marc’s sensitivity to his mother, you had a sensitivity to the reason behind your scars. And he knew that. “But he did and now I’m stuck with you.”

Marc could feel Steven trying to gain control…feel the way Steven was desperate to console you. Marc didn’t mean it. You were everything to him…and that was why he had to make distance from you. The kiss you shared with Steven shook him to his core. Finally being able to feel your lips on his, even if it was through Steven it made him realize just how much he cares for you. How much he loves you. So he had to do this. He had to make distance. 

“Marc…please don’t push me away.” Marc’s breath hitched in his throat at your soft words. Your broken words. Even after all he just said you still held on. Despite the sobs that came from you and your inability to meet his eyes, you still pleaded to him. Still knew him…inside and out. The man ignored the shouts from Steven as he pulled away and without another word he was gone. Leaving you to fall to your knees with sobs over the words that he said.

-

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[uselesseaweedbrain]

Supercorptober - 5. Alone

Kara considered herself luckier than most. 

She had been among the sole survivors of a dying planet, had survived the Phantom Zone, had found a sister and a surrogate mother - had found her mother again on Argo, her father again in the Phantom Zone, had found a pupil in Nia, friends and support in J'onn, Brainy, Winn and James. 

Really, Kara was lucky. 

Kara was lucky. 

What did it mean, then, after all the luck bestowed upon her, that one of her deepest desires remained to have stayed on Krypton to weather its explosion with her people? 

What did it mean that Kara had never articulated her deepest fears to anyone - never wanted to? 

What did it mean that Kara felt orphaned even with both her parents alive? 

What did it mean that Mon-El had only filled half of the dark hole inside her, that his exile had felt like ripping off a barely holding band aid instead of her whole heart? 

What did it mean that she had wanted Lena to find out, to figure her out, to confront her, all the while pushing her away? 

What did it mean, really, that Kara felt alone when most surrounded? 

Kara had experienced loneliness and she hadn't wanted to let it go - she had companionship, and she had crutches, and that was enough; until she sapped the foundation of her most vital pillar. 

Until she snapped at Lena, vicious and cruel the way only hurt animals are. 

From that moment on, Kara had simply waited. For loneliness to reclaim her entirely. For Lena to rip her scarred heart out. 

Kara had waited eagerly - another source of guilt, another reason for shame. 

When, at long last, the moment had come, Kara hadn't understood her feelings. 

Hadn't understood her desperation. 

Hadn't understood the depth of her grief. 

Most of all, hadn't understood her relief. 

Lena had cut her deeper than expected, deeper than anyone or anything ever had, deeper even than Kara had thought possible, and yet- 

And Jesus Christ, if you tore my heart out, the only thing I'd feel is less alone 

Kara, in her Kryptonite cage, had felt a surge of relief so potent that she'd wanted to cry. 

Because, then and there, on Lena's heart, she'd spotted a similar wound, a similar cut, and the mark of her hand on it. 

Twin gashes, gushing blood, inflicted on one another. 

Twin pains, twin offences. 

Twin souls. 

Damaged beyond repair. 

It was only natural, then, that Kara should step in front of Lena and get thrown into the Phantom Zone once again, without ship or protection or hope of finding a way out. 

Only natural that Lena would sacrifice the world to bring Kara back. 

Only natural that Lena would find a solution when there was none, that Kara would know she was coming. 

Twin scars and an intangible string pulling their hearts together. 

Only natural, when all was said and done, for them both to fall into each other's arms like long lost pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. 

Only natural for Kara's face to hide in Lena's neck, for Lena's pulse to quicken and Kara's head to lift. 

Only natural for their lips to find each others' and meld in a dance older than time, filling them with nectar to the brim, soothing and burning and all-consuming. 

Only natural for them to finally give in to the pull and collide like opposite magnets, irrevocably bound together and finally whole.

[punderdome]

The Fine Print: Chapter 7

Summary: Raphael and Tav share a honeymoon, and Haarlep provides her critical information to help her survive it.

[AO3]

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

Chapter 7: The Honeymoon

Tav awoke groggy and naked in Raphael’s bed.  Everything ached.  She felt the aftereffects of Raphael’s passions between her legs, and her inner thighs were coated with a layer of dried Infernal seed.  Her neck and shoulder felt raw, as she reached to lightly brush over the bite marks her husband left on her skin.  Her chest felt like someone had stabbed her in the heart with a dagger before healing her poorly, leaving behind acute sensations of pain and the throb of phantom inflammation.  She touched the scales on her chest where the Orb fragment used to reside.

She sat up.  Raphael wasn’t present.  He must be out playing with his new toys.   She rose from the bed and looked down at the sheets, half expecting to see bloodstains everywhere from bites and passions and Karsite relics.

Her silk robe had been neatly left on a table by the window.  She retrieved it on unsteady legs.  As she donned her robe, the depth of her new reality started to dawn.  How many mornings just like this was she going to have?  Waking sore and alone, left to stumble back to her bedchamber.  For how much of an absolute bastard Raphael could be, a piece of her missed the way Raphael held her the morning after their wedding feast.

She left his bedchamber to seek a bath in her room.  She was silently praying to the entire Faerunian pantheon that she would not run into the incubus.  None of them, apparently, were allowed any involvement in the Hells.

“Little Wife,” Haarlep addressed her.  Tav sighed and turned around.  Haarlep sauntered over to her.  “I can smell the scent of the Master’s seed all over you.  You walk as though you’ve been thoroughly ridden.”  Their gaze burned through her.  There was definitely no point in hiding it.

“My Lord Husband and I consummated our marriage contract,” she confirmed.  Haarlep grinned with absolute delight.

“Come with me, Little Wife, and tell me all of the details,” they purred.  

“I thought the Master specified that you weren’t allowed to play with me.  Besides, I’m not in the mood.  It feels like the Master of the House has repeatedly fucked me with a warhammer.”

“I never claimed to desire a playdate, Little Wife.  I am only offering you a healing bath.”  She weighed the options in her mind.  Healing bath with Haarlep.  Bath alone.  Bath with a demon that could potentially offer any amount of insight into taming Raphael’s passions into something pleasurable.  Bath that would be blissfully silent.

“Alright, show me the way.  First, I need to find a servant to bring me some kind of breakfast.”  Tav turned to locate someone, but Haarlep grabbed her wrist.  They led her towards the door of the Boudoir.

“I forget sometimes that mortals lack the ability to make requests of the staff with any real efficiency,” they mused.  Haarlep bowed with Raphael’s characteristic flair, and opened the door to the Boudoir for her.  She was completely unsure exactly what to expect.

The Boudoir was grand with a dim, romantic lighting at the entrance.  There was some sort of large in-ground bath at the center of the room, surrounded by candles and rose petals.  The columns framing the bath were dark marble with gold trim.  Everywhere around the room were comfortable looking carpets and pillows.  A screen hid most of the back of the room and the windows from view, but Tav anticipated that was where most of the debauchery in the House truly occurred.

“Come, relax and enjoy your bath.  Do not mind the voyeur debtor.”  Haarlep made an absentminded gesture to a debtor who had immediately found a corner and was lying prostrate, covering their eyes.  Tav gave a small sigh of relief that the prohibition towards addressing her or even looking at her was still in effect for the debtors.

Haarlep was in the Archduke’s form and quickly shed the harness they were wearing.  They walked straight into the warmth of the bathing pool and relaxed at one side.

Tav hesitated before starting to untie the silk robe.  “You should not worry, Little Wife, I have seen, tasted, and fucked the flesh of thousands of mortal forms.  I don’t think it’s likely that there’s anything truly surprising under your robe, though Raphael clearly thinks that there is.”  She shed her clothing and descended into the bath.

It was the most incredible warmth she had ever felt.  The aches and pains plaguing her body immediately seemed to dissipate.  She no longer felt the sting of the Orb fragment’s absence or the ache of Raphael’s machinations.  She touched her neck and found that her husband’s love gnawings had healed themselves.

“Thank you,” Tav offered slowly.  “This was what I needed.”

“Now, give me some of the details.  Was the Master pleased?”

“I believe he enjoyed himself,” Tav was reluctant to answer too much more.  She grabbed a sponge by the side of the pool and started to wash herself, starting between her legs.

“I’m sure he did,” Haarlep grinned.  A maid brought in a small tray of sliced bread, fruit, and cheeses, setting it by Tav’s shoulder.  She nodded quickly to Tav before exiting the room as fast as she possibly could.  Tav paused her bathing to eat the plate set before her.

“Were you pleased?” Haarlep asked her directly.  This had to be a trap.   Raphael had mentioned that Haarlep was a gift from Mephistopheles.

“The Master of the House has kept me safe,” she offered instead of answering the question.

Haarlep laughed.  “He truly did.  I was forbidden from mentioning anything about you while the attachment from Cania was here.  In return, Raphael offered all of them to take turns with me in the Boudoir so I could feed from their lusts.  I got to play some of my favorite forms.  I was an Elven maiden being defiled, a gruff and well-bearded Dwarven warrior pounding his subordinates with his giant hammer, and a Drow dominatrix who was exceedingly Drow.  It was such a delightful evening.  It gave me a wonderful reprieve from being you.”

The incubus grabbed a sponge and started to wash themselves, starting with their wingtips.  “He loved it, when I would read to him.”  Tav paused scrubbing herself clean to watch them.   Haarlep slowly ran the sponge over the ridges on their chest.  “The book didn’t matter, as long as it was written in Infernal.”  Haarlep promptly thrust the sponge deep underwater, cleaning their nether regions in long, drawn out motions as a pleased sigh escaped their lips.

Tav rose from the bath and grabbed a towel to dry herself off.  “Thank you for the bath,” she quickly offered Haarlep.

“Little Wife, you have a permanent invitation from me to bathe as often as you wish.  Something tells me that you will need it.”

Tav dressed in her robe and quickly returned to her room.  She summoned a maid to ask for a cup of kaeth with milk.  When the hot drink was brought to her, she seated herself by the table where the ‘Histories of the Conquerings of Asmodeus’ sat only slightly read on her table.  She stared at the Infernal copy laid open before her.  It was going to take a long time for her to be skilled enough to read this text.

The bitterness of the kaeth failed to soothe her, and Tav immediately wished that she had ordered tea.  Tea.  She desperately needed tea.  She went to summon the maid again.

“What can I do for you, my Lady,” her maid asked.

“I need you to bring me nara root tea,” Tav insisted quickly.

The maid looked away with a nervous glance.  “I’m afraid we do not have that for you, my Lady.  Is there something else I can bring you?”

“Any tea then.  Thank you,” Tav responded curtly, her stomach lurching.  She was going to need to have a very long talk with her dear husband.

Later in the afternoon, Tav heard a knock at her door.  “My Lady, the Master of the House would like you to join him in his study.”  She realized she hadn’t even dressed for the day.

“Very well,” Tav responded through the door.

She went to her wardrobe to select a dress, and her eyes went to the red one that Haarlep had commented on during their conversation on her wedding night.  There was something she desperately needed from Raphael, and flirting with him might make him more inclined to deal with her.

She laced up the dress and looked at herself in the mirror.  The neckline plunged too low, and the slit up the side was too high for her to wear a corset or chemise.  She made a tactical decision not to wear smallclothes underneath.  She applied some kohl to her eyes and didn’t bother with styling hair or applying pigment to her lips, as both were likely to be messed up again almost immediately.  

Knowing where things were likely to go with what she had planned, she laid down on her bed and started to pleasure herself through the slit in her skirt..  At least this way, she would be wet enough.  When she signed a contract to receive the Orphic Hammer, she didn’t think that part of the agreement would be teaching Raphael what foreplay was.

Tav made her way to the study and knocked on the door.  She didn’t wait for a response before heading inside.  Raphael was sitting at his desk, reading over some documents.  He looked up at her and his eyes widened.  His gaze roamed up and down her form several times, hungrily lingering on the plunging neckline that slightly revealed the scales down by her navel and the slit up her thigh.

“Good afternoon, dear husband,” Tav greeted.  “You wished to see me?”

“Come.  Sit.” Raphael purred.  Tav obediently wandered over to him and sat in his lap, uncaring whether he actually meant for her to sit across from him, so they could engage in an actual discussion.  Raphael’s hands immediately attached themselves to both sides of her waist, and Tav heard a long, deep inhale as he smelled her hair.

“Hells, you look stunning,” he growled in her ear before placing gentle kisses on the back of her neck, sending a shudder trailing down her back. She couldn’t let either of them get too carried away before she completed her mission.

Tav placed a chaste kiss on his jawline before rising and moving to take the chair opposite him.  She crossed her legs, so the slit on her dress showed more of her upper thigh.

“So, you wanted to see me?” Tav started again, seeing tense frustration in Raphael’s jaw.  She smiled innocently.

“I succeeded in removing the fragment of the Orb of Karsus from your chest.  You didn’t seem to wake, so I trust you slept through its removal.”

“I was quite sore when I woke, but Haarlep treated me to a bath in the Boudoir.”  The tension immediately built on Raphael’s face..

“Oh, so you met Haarlep this morning?” he inquired.

“I made my acquaintance with the incubus on our wedding night.  They stopped by to welcome me to the master’s bed.”  Raphael tried to keep a stony face, but hints of displeasure started to seep through the mask.  “I did feel much better after the bath this morning.”  Tav had thought that Raphael knew about all her conversations with his incubus and realized that the conversation was slipping into a direction that would not end in her favor.

She quickly changed the subject.  “Have you repaired the Orb of Karsus?”

Raphael settled down slightly.  “It’s a long and difficult process, but it should be mended within a tenday.”

“I am quite curious to see the Regalia of Karsus completed.  How do you keep the Orb?  Is it internal for you?”  She hoped this line of questioning would relax him.  Her secondary plan involved letting a breast conveniently fall out of her dress.

“I will be able to contain or remove it at will.”  Tav flashed a smile.

The conversation slowed rapidly to a halt.  Tav swallowed.  It was now or never.  She needed it as soon as possible.

“Raphael, can you get something for me?” she asked plainly.  He raised an eyebrow.

“Go on,” he gestured with a sweep of his hand.

“I want some nara root for brewing into tea.”  His eyes narrowed dangerously.

“You did sign into the contract that you would provide me with heirs,” he reminded her, his voice low.

“I know-” Tav started, her fingers lightly fidgeting with the skirt of her dress.

“The tea you request is quite at cross-purposes with that obligation.  Don’t you agree?”

“I want some time to settle into life here.  In the House of Hope.  With you.”   Tav took a long pause before continuing.  “Being with child makes that process a bit more complicated for me.  We can revisit the issue in a few months.”

Raphael sat back in his chair.  One of his hands took a position firmly on his hip, while the other claw tapped lightly on the wood of his desk.  “Well then, what do I get out of this deal?”

Despite her red dress and lack of undergarments, Tav was trapped in the weaker bargaining position now and was unlikely to reclaim a stronger position.

“What is it that you want?” 

“I would propose we have a honeymoon together, seeing as you want to settle into a life with me.  You will relocate into my bedchamber, and I will provide you with the nara root that you seek.”  He leaned back and rested both of his hands behind his head.

Duration.  More defined terms.   “How long of a honeymoon, and how long will you provide me with nara root?”

“A month seems appropriate, it is the traditional length of a honeymoon.”  That was definitely not enough time for Tav.

“A month for the honeymoon and a year for the nara root,” she countered quickly.

“A year?  What are you to give me for that?” Raphael asked smugly.  Tav immediately pulled open the neckline of her dress to expose both breasts.  Raphael gave out a genuine laugh.  “A very clumsy argument, my love, but effective.  Very well, I agree to your terms, but I do hope you understand that our honeymoon starts now.”

Raphael quickly rose from his chair and went to meet her.  Tav stood up slowly.  Raphael wordlessly tranced his hands up through the slit in her skirts, expecting to find something that wasn’t there.

“You really are so naughty, my Little Mouse,” Raphael breathed as he realized she neglected smallclothes.  Her breath hitched as he tested how wet she was.  “My my,” his voice became a deep growl.  “Someone is eager.  I think I may just indulge you.”

“Don’t move,” he ordered gently.  Tav wrapped her arms around Raphael’s neck.  Raphael gently parted her folds and pressed one of his fingers deep into her.  She was incredibly wary due to the nature of Raphael’s claws, but he was careful not to scratch.  Tav let out a deep, gasping moan of pleasure that Raphael consumed greedily.  He moved his finger very slowly, drawing a series of whines from his beloved wife.  The second finger that he inserted drew a deep gasp.  Yes, please.  More of this.   Her breathing became heavy, and Tav clung to the front of Raphael’s doublet for dear life.

He withdrew from her and licked her arousal from his fingers, grinning at the state he left her in.

“Shall we return to the bedchamber?” he proposed greedily.  No!  Put your fingers back!

“Yes,” Tav gasped out before taking the elbow Raphael offered her.  Raphael’s pace was again brisk as they walked towards his bedchamber.  He stole glances down her neckline to see the sides of her breasts.  His breathing became significantly heavier.

They passed a doorway leading to a balcony overlooking the horizon of Avernus, and Raphael pulled her quickly outside onto the balcony.  He pushed her up against the back side of the wall, and his mouth immediately claimed hers.  Tav reached a hand down to feel how much he was straining his trousers, and his chest seemed to growl.  Raphael’s hands went quickly down to unlace his trousers and pull them down.  She did say she wasn’t going to fuck him in a hallway, but at least the balcony gave slightly more privacy, though Tav was confident all of the debtors were eagerly listening to them fuck.

Tav only had a few seconds to pull up her skirts before Raphael sheathed himself between her legs.  She wrapped her arms and legs around him and held on tightly as he fucked her into the wall.  His hands tightly gripped her ass.

Raphael had lost all control over himself.  Each thrust was hard and unrelenting, and the moans he made were loud and throaty.  He grinded against her clit each time he thrust, and Tav leaned into the pleasurable pressure of having him inside her.  More.   

“This feels so good,” Tav moaned, not caring about the uneven surface of the brickwork digging into the small of her back.  Raphael growled in response. 

His thrusts grew harder and sharper.  After a few more thrusts, Raphael moaned deeply into her ear as he came.  Tav could feel his hot seed dripping out of her.  So close.   She unwrapped her legs from his waist and he set her down gently.  Raphael kissed her again, and when he broke the kiss, he stared deeply into her eyes.

His gaze was filled with adoration and freshly-satiated lust.  He cupped her cheek.  “My wife,” was all he said before dressing again, and they departed for his bedchamber.  His seed was dripping warmly down the inside of her thighs.

Raphael opened the doors to his chambers and bowed grandly, allowing Tav to enter first.  There was a snap and the dozens of candles around the room instantly went aglow.  

Raphael closed the door behind them, before roughly scooping her into his arms and depositing her roughly on the bed.  His hands worked deftly on the laces to her dress, removing it as quickly as he could.  He snapped his fingers and his clothes disappeared, leaving them both naked with one of them eagerly planning another round.

Raphael climbed on top of her and didn’t even bother kissing her before entering her again.  He was rough and hard with each thrust.  While Tav was still slick with arousal and seed, the depth and angle led to some discomfort as he hit her cervix.  He was clearly still excited from their round of lovemaking on the balcony, and it didn’t take long before he was spilling himself inside her again.

Raphael rolled off of her onto his back.  Tav was sore and sticky and definitely not wanting to go again.  He pulled her over to him, so that her head rested on his warm chest.  His wing hugged her tightly and his tail wrapped gently around her ankle.  He gave a long deep hum of approval.  “Such a pleasurable deal we made, my dearest.  Should you wish to extend the duration of our honeymoon, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Tav mumbled absently.

“I am, my love.” His response was low and smooth.

His breathing started to slow, and Tav saw that he was falling asleep.  She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but Raphael’s tail and arm held her tightly against him.  With a sigh of exasperation, Tav closed her eyes and tried to rest.  She could feel his deep, slow breaths in his chest below her.  Sleep not coming, she gently traced the Infernal ridges on his chest.

A bath in the Boudoir sounded heavenly right now.  She wanted to wash off the seed and sweat.  Laying next to him like this, Tav just felt used.  A bath and a meal would make her feel like a person again.

With great effort, she managed to disentangle herself from Raphael’s grasp and unwound his tail from her leg.  She crawled off of the bed and found her discarded dress.  She slipped it back on and made her way to the Boudoir.

“Little Wife!” Haarlep exclaimed with glee.  “I am so glad to see you.  Are you here for another bath?”

“Yes,” Tav stripped off the dress and unabashedly climbed into the pool.  She floated in the water for a while, trying to relax.  She closed her eyes and let the healing water do its work to restore her to pristine condition.

When she opened her eyes, Haarlep was standing over her with a wide grin on their face.

“He does so enjoy playing with you, doesn’t he, Little Wife?”

“He doesn’t seem to like you talking to me, though,” Tav noted.  She began to wash her hair using some of the oils at the edge of the bath.

“The Master prefers to keep his toys separate and orderly.”  Haarlep dangled their legs in the water.

“He’s already forbidden you from touching me, so what exactly is he afraid of?”  Tav rinsed out her hair and grabbed a sponge to wash her body.

“Haven’t you already guessed that, Little Wife?  We both exist for his pleasure.  We don’t exist for ourselves.  We are contracts and that is all we will ever be.”

Tav nodded quietly before getting out of the bath to dry off.  She dressed and went back to her room without another word.  She found a comfortable silk nightdress that was at least slightly modest that she could change into.  She covered it with the red robe.  

Tav went to her mirror and took a solid look at herself.  She was a far cry from what she was before.  She missed her blue sorceress robes and her companions and camping out in the wilderness.  She missed the university and spending tendays reading in the library from dawn until dusk.  She missed her small rented apartment that was entirely filled with books and an herb garden.

Now here she was: no longer Tavara Aureum but instead the Archduke of Avernus’s wife.

She looked over at her nightstand where the ring box sat unopened.  She sighed and lifted the lid.  Inside was a silver and sapphire ring with imprints of dragon scales embedded into the metal.  She slipped it on her ring finger.

Tav returned back to Raphael’s chambers, hoping he was still asleep.  His eyes opened when she shut the door behind her.  He sat up and saw her standing in the doorway, significantly more dressed than when fell asleep.

“Dearest Mouse, where did you scurry off to?” Raphael questioned playfully.

“I went to clean myself up a little, so I returned to my room,” Tav carefully left out the part about the Boudoir.

Raphael climbed out of bed and snapped to dress again in his doublet, looking pristine and refreshed.  “Come, my dear,” he motioned to the settee.  She settled next to him.

“Do you want to take our evening meal in the dining hall or eat here in your chambers?” Tav asked him.  

“It would be nice to seclude ourselves here for an evening.”  Tav smiled and nodded at him.  Raphael snapped.  “I informed the staff to serve us here.”

“That sounds nice.”

Raphael noticed her left hand and quickly grabbed it to get a better look.  “You’re wearing your ring,” he started to muse.  “I hope you find the design to your tastes.”

“Thank you, it suits me very well,” Tav complimented his choice.

After a few minutes, there was a knock at the door.  Raphael waved his hand and the door opened on its own.  Several valets entered and quickly set two table placings at a dining table on the other side of his chambers.  Another brought wine and goblets.  Several small plates of various dishes quickly followed before all of them scurried out of the room.  One final maid entered and left a stoppered brown bottle in the center of the table before leaving.

Tav took his elbow quickly as they went to eat, and Raphael gave an affectionate chuckle.  They seated themselves at the table.  The meal was much simpler than the previous two evenings, but that suited Tav just fine.  Raphael poured them goblets of wine.  Tav took portions of the sliced beef roast, rich buttery potatoes, and braised greens.  Raphael continued his carnivorous streak.

Tav raised a goblet.  “A toast?”

“To?” Raphael waited for her to continue.

“Our honeymoon,” she suggested.  He grinned.

“To our honeymoon,” he agreed and they clinked their glasses and drank.

The dinner conversation was pleasant enough.  When they were finished eating, Raphael motioned to the brown bottle.  “The tea you requested, my dear.”  Tav picked up the bottle and removed the stopper.  Sure enough, she recognized the nara root tea to prevent conception.  The earthy scent and taste of dirt were unmistakable.  Gale had spent many tendays brewing different batches and trying to make it more palatable for her.  He tried other herb mixtures, honey, and milk.  Mint improved the taste slightly as did brandy, but neither could completely remove the taste of soil.  The tea had gone tepid, but she drank it down without complaint.  

There was a snap and all the dishes and excess food disappeared.  “Shall we play a game of Lanceboard?” Raphael offered.

“I suspect I will be learning some new openings,” Tav joked.

“I will not, as I am already quite familiar with your openings,” Raphael quipped back.  As much as she tried to hold back, a laugh escaped from her lips.

Raphael kept a Lanceboard set on a shelf and they set up the board together.

“White or black?” Tav offered, holding out two pawns of the different colors.

“I believe your scales indicate the color you should play,” Raphael countered.

Tav was by no means an expert at Lanceboard, and she knew she was likely to lose as soon as they sat down.  She was competent enough to have beaten Gale a few times, but Raphael had millennia of practice and had probably seen every possible combination of gameplay.  His moves were calculated and precise as they played.

“Checkmate in three,” Raphael offered slyly.

Tav studied the board, considering the different options.  “Son of a bitch!” she exclaimed before resigning and giving a big sigh.  “Well played, husband.”

“I would like my spoils,” he said smoothly.

“What spoils, aren’t we playing for fun?”

“Your robe, dearest.  Take it off.”  Tav removed the silk robe, leaving her down to her nightdress.  The fact that Raphael was fully dressed put her at an extreme disadvantage.  She was certain Raphael saw no disadvantages to this situation.

He reset the board with a snap.  “Again?”

Tav grumbled, she was going to beat that smarmy asshole husband of hers and get just his doublet.   Fuck.   

She performed better the second game, having seen how Raphael played in their first match.  She took more of his pieces and tried to set up a gambit, but he clearly recognized immediately what she was doing.  He moved his Razor’s Edge diagonally and gave a grin.

“Checkmate in two.”

“Fuck!” Tav exclaimed, realizing the trap he had set for her.  The trap he had set for her.   She needed a trap she could set for him.

Haarlep had told her that he liked it when she read to him in Infernal.  Perhaps it was time to experiment.

Tav switched into Infernal with the best translation into Devilish that she could manage.  “Well played, my dear husband.”

It was like a switch flipped in Raphael’s mind.  His mouth went slightly slack.  “I suppose I need to remove this,” she continued to flirt in the language of the Hells.  Her nightdress came off over her head.

Raphael immediately picked her up and carried her to the bed.  He could barely snap his fingers to disrobe, he was so excited.  He kissed and caressed quickly and eagerly.  Tav tried to bring his fingers down to stroke her clit, but he was surprisingly resistant to her instruction on how to please her.  Foreplay was short, as was his number of thrusts before he came.  He kissed her deeply and curled his body around her as they prepared to sleep.

Haarlep wasn’t lying about the Master's preferences.  A plan formed in Tav’s mind.

Tomorrow, she was going to visit the Archivist.

[ktkat99]

While ao3 is down, I'm going to see if I can figure out how to post directly here.

Two Weeks Of Whump Challenge Day 9. Branding

Tim reached over and behind his head, grabbing his shirt by the back of his collar and pulling it off. He tossed it towards the laundry basket and flopped face down on the bed, ready to drift off to sleep.

Until something poked him.

"Your pants, too." Conner reminded.

"Mm. Nng. Leave me 'lone." Tim grunted in response.

"Tim, baby, this isn't up for debate. You've got mud, blood and… what I hope is rainwater, caked everywhere."

"Vigilante aesthetic."

"No."

Tim huffed, but pushed himself up anyway. "Fine." He stumbled to his dresser and grabbed out a pair of sweatpants to change into.

"I'm so sorry for insisting you at least change out of your uniform before getting into… bed."

Conner finished his sentence softly, and Tim turned to see what had caught his boyfriend's attention.

"What."

"Who's 'JJ'?"

Tim froze, and he could swear he felt his heart stop.

'My dear son, JJ! Now doesn't that just have a nice ring to it?'

'Sure does, Puddin'!'

Their voices echoed in his mind, accompanied by phantom pains.

The feeling of the electrical shocks.

The prick of needles.

The far-too-tight cuffs keeping him from fighting back or defending himself.

He was back there.

No!

He was here!

He'd gotten out.

He'd survived.

He'd beaten them.

They were gone.

… Right?

"... What?" He finally managed.

"Your leg. You've got a tattoo that says 'JJ'. I was just wondering, cause I've never heard you mention them. Were they an ex?" Conner got up and came over, face concerned. He must have seen Tim's reaction to his question.

Tim didn't know what to say.

How long..?

He had been rid of them.

"W-what..?" He couldn't breathe.

They were…

They were gone.

"Tim? Are you okay?"

Tim closed his eyes.

Everything was… way too much right now.

He felt sick.

Dizzy.

Sounds were too loud.

He was too close.

Tim stumbled back, falling against the dresser.

'There's a good lad. Now why don't you help your daddy with a little something?'

Hands pulled at his hair.

His own?

He didn't care.

"Tim!"

'Ah, ah, ah! That's not your name anymore, is it? Naaah. You look more like a Junior.'

"Get away from me."

He felt himself slide down to his knees, heard… someone screaming.

Who was screaming?

Him?

"I'm here. Baby, I'm right here. I've got you."

'Now that I've got you, my boy,' His voice echoed in Tim's head, 'Killing Batsy will be a piece of cake!'

He wanted to go home.

He wanted his family.

But he couldn't move.

He couldn't move!

Something was restraining him!

"Stop! Tim, baby, please! You're going to hurt yourself!"

He had to get free.

He had to.

They were going to kill him.

They were going to use him to kill Batman.

He felt a prick in his neck and redoubled his efforts to free himself.

He couldn't do this again.

He didn't want to lose himself again.

"Shh. Shh. You're going to be okay. You're going to be okay. Just give it a minute."

He felt himself relax against his will.

He…

He had to fight.

He… had to get free.

He couldn't give in…

But whatever he'd been injected with didn't give him a choice.

His mind started to clear and he found himself lying on his back, head and shoulders resting in Conner's lap.

"You're okay. You're okay, baby. I'm so sorry. Bruce is on his way. Just relax."

Conner…

He looked scared.

The room began to grow dark, but Tim reached up, shakily.

Conner looked scared, but Tim's brain was in too much of a fog to figure out why.

His fingers brushed a tear away from his boyfriend's cheek before falling limply back down, resting across his own chest.

Conner grabbed it and held it. "You're okay, sweetheart." He whispered.

Tim thought he might have said something else as well, but he couldn't make it out, already drifting off.