#gods of blood and powder

[chiefmcclane]

Brian McClellan's Powder Mage two-part trilogies (hexilogy?) are seriously great fantasy and hardly any one I know has even heard of them.

I'll pitch it to my friends, "Yeah take the French Revolution, add in sorcerers, blood witches, and soldiers that snort cocaine gunpowder for fighting powers and you have the beginnings of the series" and they're like fuck yeah sounds awesome

The only think I can think of for why they're not more popular is their size. Each of the six books is huge, about a 20 hour audiobook or 1000 or so pages. To which I say, "THE NOVELLAS RULE TOO"

[mapas-fantasticos]

Map of the world from the Sins of Empire from the Gods of Blood and Powder series by Brian McClellan.

[wispforever]

gai has a rough mission and kakashi is relieved to have him back. bonus under the cut

[thegreatestheaver]

never ever ever be sorry hal i love when you tag me in bug posts♥️

we just keep naming bugs like this

[nebulaafterdark]

The Succession (Part 2)

Summary: After the battle of Rook’s Rest, Queen Y/N is forced to rule alongside Prince Regent Aemond, in an attempt to keep her children safe and eventually seat her mother, Rhaenyra, on the throne. While attending her husband, on what appears to be his deathbed, she begins to unravel the dark truth of his near passing.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Part 1

Y/N wakes to a knock at the door. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she sits upright. Aegon is still there, unmoving beside her. “Come.”

“Good morrow, your grace.” Her lady in waiting, Chérie, bows her head upon entry; a powder blue gown draped over one arm. “You must break your fast.”

“What ungodly hour is it?” The Queen grumbles, stretching both arms above her head.

“Nearly midday, my Queen.”

Y/N nods, taking her hand. “I need a favor of you.”

“A bath?” Chérie smirks.

Y/N stares down at herself, nightgown stained with blood and gods know what else. She huffs a laugh, “that as well.”

“I will ready the tub.”

“Chérie?”

“Are you seeking comfort, your grace?” She has lost her grandmother and her husband’s good health, “I could tend you.”

“No.” Y/N stares down at her hands.

“Forgive me for assuming.” She takes a step back, “I only want to help.”

Y/N moves forward, closing the space between them. “It was kind of you, Chérie. I appreciate your devotion, more than you know. There is something different I need of you.”

“Name it.”

“You know things…I must know them.”

“What is it you need know?” Chérie wonders.

“The truth of what happened at Rook’s Rest. I do not pretend to understand Aegon’s motivations. Gods willing, I may be able to ask him one day. But for now, I need know what befell him. Cole dances around it, the Hightowers will never be truthful with me.”

“Is there anything you do know? A talking point that might be of use as I consult the servants?” Chérie wonders.

Y/N leans in. “Helaena and Aemond stood at the foot of his bed last night. She asked if it was worth the price. Aemond denied any knowledge of what she meant. Still, Helaena does not speak to cause upset, she speaks when she has something to say. If he’s done this…the whole of our line may be in danger.”

Chérie sighs, “somedays I am glad to’ve been born a commoner.”

“For that I do not fault you.” Y/N forces a smile.

Chérie steals a glance at the king. “Will he live?”

“We’ve no way of knowing. I pray to the gods for his recovery, but it is a long road. He will never be as he was, so long as he lives, it matters naught to me.”

————————————————————————

“There’s been word from King’s Landing.”

Rhaenyra’s head snaps up.

“Aegon has fallen, the stranger looms over his head. With Vhagar weakened in the attack, now is the time to act.”

“And what of my daughter?” The Queen ticks a finger against the table. “Has she been spotted since Aegon’s coronation?”

“We believe the princess lives, your grace. But upon second hand testimony, smallfolk in the streets, we cannot say for certain.”

“What was she doing?” Rhaenyra wonders, “my girl, when they saw her in the streets?”

The lords look to each other, “she marched beside the carriage with Aegon’s body.”

“That is proof enough. I must send word to her, she cannot think we have turned our backs on her. With Aegon gone, she may very well be Aemond’s next attempt.” Rhaenyra is sick over it.

“You must trust, as we have, that Aegon will care for her.”

“He cannot care for her, upon his deathbed. Should he pass, we leave her to whom? Aemond and Alicent? She will be put to the sword.” Rhaenyra shakes her head.

“Meleys was our largest dragon, your grace.” Ser Alfred reminds her.

“Which is why I must go.”

“You cannot, my Queen. You are the crown.”

“I will go.” Jacaerys fists the hilt of his sword.

“No,” Rhaenyra scoffs. “It is out of the question. You will be taken or slain.”

“Would you rather my sister or me?” Jace squares his shoulders. “Those are your choices.”

————————————————————————-

Y/N forces her meal down, spending the evening in her children’s rooms.

“Mama,” Visera calls to her, “I’ve made something for father.”

“I helped!” Dahlia chimes in. “Laenor wanted to, but he rubbed his hands all over it. The painting was nearly ruined.”

“Say it isn’t so, my loves.” Y/N lifts her eldest son onto her hip. “Shall I kiss his head off?”

“Yes.”

“Do it.”

Y/N smiles, peppering Laenor’s sweet face with kisses as he squeals, thrashing wildly in her hold.

Dahlia and Visera giggle, entertained for the moment.

“And you, my prince, best have learned your lesson.” Y/N says, releasing her son onto the floor.

He scampers away, still screeching with glee.

“Mother?” Dahlia tugs at her mother’s skirts.

“Yes, my darling?”

“When will we see father?”

Y/N sighs, “come, sit with me.” She pats the cushions on either side of her.

Her daughters look to each other, then join her on the settee.

“Do you remember what Papa told you about sickness? How it is a war we wage alone, within our bodies?”

“Is he ill?”

“Not exactly,” Y/N explains, “nevertheless, his body is at war now. Battling to repair itself from great wounds, some we cannot see. Every hour, he is fighting his way back to us. But he must remain abed for now, in a state of sleep.”

“May we watch him sleep?” Visera wonders.

“I fear you might be saddened by it.”

“Why, Mama?”

“He looks a bit different, on the outside. But on the inside he is the same.” Y/N says, fighting for composure, “we mustn’t touch him, lest we cause more pain. And it is hard to keep our distance, when all we truly want is to wrap him in an embrace.”

“Mayhaps when we see him, we might hold each other instead.”

Y/N looks to her eldest daughter. “On the morrow, after his bandages are changed, I will bring you. And if it is too much for you, there is no shame in saying so. We love him dearly and he knows it.”

“That is what matters, I think.” Visera says, “if I were waging war, I would want to know someone loved me.”

————————————————————————

Y/N sneaks down to the kitchens for a bit of cake, heading to Aegon’s apartments to eat it. The doors open onto Aemond, leaning over Aegon’s body.

“What are you doing?” She has no weapon, if she’s to kill him now, it will be with her bare hands or a serving spoon.

Aemond turns to her, with sly smile. “My brother was asking for you. He woke in pain, I was merely supplying him with milk of the poppy.”

Y/N forces her mouth to turn upward, “very kind of you, I thank you for looking in on him.”

Aemond nods, setting the empty cup on the bedside table. “Of course.”

“When he asked for me, what did he say?” She wonders, lying her plate of cake beside it.

“Only your name.”

Y/N nods.

“You have been a good and faithful wife to him. Aegon is blessed to have you.”

“Aemond,” Y/N breathes, “might I ask you something?”

His eye flickers about her, “of course, sweet niece.”

“What do you think was his undoing?” She motions to Aegon, “if you had to say?”

“Vanity…pride.”

“It would be suited,” Y/N forces the awful words past her lips, “for someone to take that from him.”

“You should not say such things, my Queen. The thought alone is truly depraved.”

“Of course, forgive me.”

“What befell my brother is nothing short of a tragedy.” Aemond purrs, “you must keep your wits about you.”

“Were they locked in battle?” Y/N asks, “when my grandmother gave Meleys the order?”

Aemond purses his lips, “when dragons fly to war, it is men who burn. Aegon is not the first, he will not be the last. You should be grateful he returned to you.”

“I have lost a brother to war.” Y/N says, as if he needs reminding. “I know its cruelty.”

“A shame, indeed.” Aemond hums.

“I hope it was worth the price.”

“Y/N.” Alicent calls, “Aemond, what are you doing here?”

The prince looks to his mother, “I was merely checking in on our king.”

“You are kind to do so,” Alicent swallows, “as his wife is now here, you are relieved of said duty. Unless you wish the three of us to hold vigil.”

“Perhaps another time, mother.” Aemond nods, “I’ve more pressing matters to attend.” He brushes past them, closing the door to Aegon’s bedchamber behind him.

“What were you thinking?” Alicent demands, in a hushed whisper. “My son pleads for your life and you stand here tempting the very man who-”

“The very man who what?” Y/N dares her to say it. “Killed my brother? Or are you referring to some other atrocity I am not privy to?”

“Your children are in danger, my grandchildren, let me help you.” Alicent reaches for her.

Y/N bats her hand away, “don’t you touch me! My children are in danger because of you.”

“You know what Aemond is.” Kinslayer. Alicent swallows, hard. “My only concern is keeping you safe. What is to stop him from taking out the whole of Aegon’s line to make room for his own? The smallfolk riot in the streets, demanding we open the gates. Even they wish to flee, it is all going to ruin. They need to see you.”

“They will see me as you parade my body through the streets after my murder, not a moment before. I will not betray my mother or her claim.”

“I am not asking you to stand against Rhaenyra, I am asking you to stand for my son. Before it is too late. You owe him this. You forced him onto that saddle as much as I forced him upon the throne.”

“I?” Y/N snaps, “I am the one you blame for this? You think I would have my husband reduced to ash over a fucking chair?”

Alicent presses her lips together, “all Aegon has done is in your name. He rose and he fell for you alone.”

“I wanted this to be peaceful, you know. I truly did and my mother did, then again and again I was taken for a fool.”

“Aegon loves you. He went to meet Rhaenys for you, in hopes of creating new terms with your mother. Mayhaps others have used you, like a pawn to carry out their own agenda, but not Aegon. He never plotted, he never wavered, even in his condition, you are the agenda.”

“And I love him for it, but please know I did not ask him to meet with her. I would have gone myself rather than risk his life. That is why I have not fled, or stole away with my children to Dragonstone. Aegon is equally important to me.”

“You must ready yourself then, in the color of our house.”

“No,” Y/N narrows her eyes, “this is for my husband, who hangs precariously in the balance of life and death. I will attend this procession in the color of mourning, not Hightower green.”

————————————————————————

In the absence of Daemon, Rhaenyra turns to Mysaria for counsel. “You know the ins and outs of King’s Landing better than any. I need an in.”

“Criston Cole made a mistake, parading a dragon’s head through the streets, like a prize of war. The people see an ill omen.” Mysaria tells her.

“Yes, as do I.”

“They are afraid, bread is scarce. The king has fallen, they whisper to each other that when Viserys lived there was peace.” They question the succession.

“But will whispers tear down stone? Break shields?” Save my daughter?

“Do not underestimate them, to the discontented, rumors are feed.” Mysaria continues. “What you cannot do, let others to do for you. There is more than one way to fight a war.”

Part 3

Series Taglist: @oh-you-mean-me @barnes70stark @lovelyteenagebeard @niyahnotnia @narwhal-swimmingintheocean

[2hightocare]

DOWN BAD! 02

Synopsis: Despite undeniable chemistry, your guys’ relationship remains undefined, caught between playful teasing to deeper, unspoken longing.

Pairings: bad boy! jungkook x fem! reader

Genre: friends to lovers. college au. slowburn!

Warnings: angst, drug use, profanity, explicit content, talks about abusive home, fighting, arguing, screaming, crying, flashbacks, oc and jk are nineteen (freshmen’s in uni) mentions of death, daddy/mommy issues.

a/n: GOSHHHHHHH! pray for my girl yn😓😓 she’s down bad and she fr ain’t getting up. Left you guys on a cliffhanger hehe. enjoy🤍🤍

01! playlist

"What do you want?" He says, the smallest glint of amusement on his face has Jungkook's stomach recoiling.

"The regular," Jungkook found himself saying, reaching into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. "I don't have opioids. My supplier said there was a shortage—want to try some new shit?" Yoongi says as he balances his cigarette on his lips, looking into a cabin.

"You've tried snow before, right?" He looks up at Jungkook who stands there. "No, I told you l don't fuck with that shit," Jungkook shakes his head, putting his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans.

"It's on me, just try it," Yoongi hands Jungkook a small bag filled with white powder. "Just snort it and let it do its thing, boy," Yoongi chuckles as he watches Jungkook look down at the drug in his palm. "It won't kill you if that's what you're thinking," he continues, taking a drag from his cigarette before exhaling.

Jungkook's mind immediately goes to you as the words leave Yoongi's mouth.

“You’re going to kill yourself,” you scream, your hands pulling on your hair as Jungkook watches silently—his heart breaking as he sees the tear fall from your eye. Whatever he wants to say stays stuck in his throat.

“I’ll be fine,” Jungkook finds himself muttering, a loud scoff heard from you as you hold his face in your hands, making him look up at you. “Tell me what’s wrong, fuck! I’ll fix it, just tell me,” you cry out. Jungkook watches as your legs give out and you drop to the floor in front of him.

Jungkook feels his stomach drop, his heartbeat stops, and his mind goes blank. He wants to drop to his knees and beg you to not care and run away as far as you can from him, but the selfish part of him wants you to stay.

“Baby,” Jungkook slurs, the drugs in his system not letting him speak normally. “I’m so fucking sorry,” he apologizes again for the hundredth time in the past few days. Jungkook drops beside you, removing your hands from your face as another sob racks through your body. Your eyes red and puffy as tears continue to cascade down.

Jungkook knows nothing about love, but there’s you. The highlight of his days, the only reason he even wants to wake up in the morning.

He hates how he drags you along with him—in every bad decision he makes. Jungkook’s life hasn’t been easy; an abusive household isn’t something anybody wants, but he’s one of the unlucky ones who got it. He knows he’s a legal adult and can move out, but his feet stay glued inside that house because of her, his mom.

God. Jungkook has seen everything fucked up in the piece of shit he calls his house. The blows his mom would take from the man whose blood Jungkook carries. He wasn’t a father to him, that’s for sure. Screams and fighting are the only things his house is filled with. He never heard a bedtime story or got a good night hug. The hug was replaced by a hit on the cheek, jaw, face—or anywhere his dad could get his hands on.

Jungkook blames his dad for the way he is, and every time he looks at you, he imagines the what ifs. Jungkook has done everything he could do to push you away, but instead of leaving, you stayed. It’s scared the shit out of him.

He’s in love with you. Jungkook has never felt anything more in his life than his love for you—it’s almost pathetic how much you make him feel. If your love were a drug, Jungkook would do it every day, every hour, and every minute instead of all the shit he put in his system to forget.

Your love is pure and innocent—everything that Jungkook isn’t. Every time he looks at you, he’s afraid he will break you. He wishes you could realize how unfixable he is and leave—but instead, you’re on your knees begging for him to be better.

How badly did he want to be better; so he could be with you.

“Stop saying sorry and stop doing it, fuck,” you sob, your fist holding onto his hoodie—your knuckles turning white from fear that if you let him go, he’ll vanish.

“You’re better than this. I know you are,” you cry, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, wetting his hoodie with your tears. “Please stop, you could die.” you beg desperately, like a child would.

“Shh,” he comforts, his hand rubbing your back as you sob into him, “I’m sorry.”

As Jungkook walked, the guilt inside him consumed him more and more. The hurt expression on your face after he disrespected you remained etched in his mind, feeling like someone was poking his heart with a needle with each step he took.

Similarly, the weight of the small bag in the pocket of his sweater sent a sense of panic through his body. He hadn’t planned on taking it, but the moment it was placed in his hand, he couldn’t bring himself to give it back. Instead, he bit his tongue and shoved it into his pocket.

His heart sank as an image flashed in his mind of what your reaction would be if you ever found out. With a shake of his head, he buried the thought deep within him before reaching the main door of his house.

Jungkook’s hand trembles as he holds onto the doorknob. He had nowhere else to go, it was either yours or this. He felt his throat close up as his mind went back to you, his heart screaming for you. To turn around and run back to you—like always, his safe space. The only place where he could let his guard down.

The aching sensation in his chest reminded him of the first time he told you about his dad. You were both seventeen—laying on the carpet of your room, staring up at the ceiling. The broken expression on your face after he confided in you made him feel worse than any hit he had ever taken.

“Did you seriously get into another fight?” you groaned as you examined his face, the purple and blue marks beginning to form twisting your stomach in knots. “Who was it this time?” you frowned, your hand reaching out to touch his bruised cheek.

“Didn’t fight anyone. I actually hit myself with the car door,” the lie flowed smoothly out of his mouth.

“A door?” You raised an eyebrow, not fully believing him. Jungkook had a tendency to throw the first punch after someone lightly touched him—he had more suspensions and run ins with the police than anyone could count. Every time you saw him, there was another bruise decorating his skin, always brushed off like it was no big deal.

“Who was it?” You tried again, your face turning to him.

Jungkook's eyes remained locked with the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling. “I can’t tell you,” he mumbled softly into the darkness.

“Why not? Is it a secret?” You quipped, scooting closer to his side—your finger tracing his features as he let out a deep breath. “It’s a really big secret,” he hushed, to which you only nodded eagerly.

“I can keep a secret,” you smiled, your heart beating fast in your chest as you noticed the proximity between you two. You raised a pinky into the air. “Pinky promise,” you bit your lip anxiously, watching him interlock his pinky with yours. “Okay, now tell me.”

“My dad,” he said, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“What?” You stuttered out, hoping you had heard him wrong.

“My dad, he's abusive,” he restated. The color drained from your face, and Jungkook saw it.

Sadness written all over your face. Words didn’t come out when you opened your mouth; instead, an ugly cry replaced the words.

“That’s why I can’t stand someone’s hands on me,” Jungkook says, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried to escape the pain in his heart. It felt as if he was being kicked and thrown.

“Fuck.. I always touch you,” you bit your lip, trying to contain your sobs. “Your touch is the only touch that doesn’t repulse me, baby. So if you plan on not touching me, don’t,” Jungkook quickly interjected, grabbing your hand and intertwining it with his.

Jungkook loved your touch; your fingers on his skin felt like heaven. It almost confused him how much he looked forward to it—sometimes he found himself initiating it. You were the only exception with such privilege; anyone else who laid a finger on him sent a sense of nausea and shivers down his body.

“I didn’t know. I’m so fucking sorry, baby. Let me help you.. we can tell the police, he deserves to be in jail. Please,” you sobbed, placing your palm on his cheek.

“You think I don’t know he needs to go to jail? For all I know, he should be put on a electric chair,” Jungkook spat out, shoving your hand away from his face.

“And fuck. Yes, my mom knows. She fucking gets hit too,” he rambled, his chest heaving as he tried to look anywhere in your room that wasn’t you, and for the first time, you saw him break down.

As Jungkook crumbled down with a loud sob, his hands cover his face as his shoulders shake as he weeps, you wasted no time dropping to your knees and pulling him into you, whispering reassuring words in his ear.

"She doesn't leave," he cried. "I keep telling her he's going to kill her if she doesn't leave, but she stays." The cracks in his voice mirrored the cracks in your heart as you listened, feeling the weight of his pain, as the double meaning clicks in your head.

"And I can't leave. Who's going to protect her if I'm not there?" he sobbed quietly, his hands tightening around your waist. "I'm scared that if I leave for too long, I'll come back to a house with a dead body in it," he confessed, sending shivers down your spine.

"Baby," you cooed, tears streaming down your cheeks,

"we should tell the police. They'll help you. I promise."

But his response shattered your hopes.

"No," he croaked out, untangling himself from your embrace.

"Listen to me. If you even think about telling a policeman what I just told you, I swear to god yn, I will never fucking forgive you," Jungkook shook, his face contorted with pain and panic.

"I trust you enough to tell you, but I swear if you say anything about this to anyone, we're done. Whatever the fuck we have, it's done. I will never fucking forgive you."

Jungkook pushes the door open, and he’s met with silence. Without thinking twice, he rushes to his mom's room, slamming the door open to be met with her limp body on the bed.

His heart stops beating, and suddenly everything stops—his hand trembles as he makes his way to her. He nudges her once.

“Mom,” Jungkook calls, only to be met with silence.

“Mom,” he tries again. She stirs in her sleep.

“Jungkook?” She croaks, her voice hoarse as she peeks from her lying position. Jungkook's heart picks up again, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Mom, are you okay? What happened?” Jungkook asks, dropping beside her on the bed. His fingers move her dark hair off her face carefully, revealing a bruise on her cheek.

“He hit you again?” Jungkook lets out a growl, his fist tightening beside him.

“I made him mad. It’s not his fault,” she defends, almost automatically making Jungkook scoff. “Mom, that's not an excuse!” He grits his teeth.

“He isn’t a bad man, Jungkook. He's still your father,” she sighs, the look of tiredness clear on her face as she winces when she moves to her side. Jungkook watches dumbfounded.

“You know, you remind me of him,” she shakes out a laugh, the whole sentence feeling like a punch in the stomach for Jungkook. The more he tries to breathe, the more difficult it becomes. “He was just like you, you know? Every time I look at you—it’s like I’m seeing him. He is a good man underneath it all, Jungkook. You have to understand that I could never leave him. I’m in love with him,” she continues, and every word feels like a hit in the gut.

“W-what do you mean.. I’m just like him?” Jungkook stutters, his throat drying up and the familiar feeling of tears picking up in his eyes have him clawing his nails into his palms.

“Do you think when I met your dad, he treated me wrong?” She finally locks eyes with Jungkook. The light in her eyes she once had is now gone, replaced with dull, tired eyes. “He was gentle with me, he was sweet, caring, he was everything to me. He’s still everything to me,” a tear rolls down her cheek, making Jungkook suck in a breath.

“What about me?” Jungkook's voice cracks, the knot in his throat tightening as he watches his mom shake her head.

“Am I not everything to you, Mom?” Another tear falls, followed by more.

“It’s more complicated than you think, Jungkook,” she sighs. Jungkook feels his heart crack into a million pieces as he watches the woman who brought him into this life discard him.

“He’s going to kill you one day,” Jungkook speaks, wiping the tears from his eyes before clearing his voice. “He’s going to kill you, and you’re going to let it happen.”

“He wouldn’t do that to me,” she whispers into the silence.

“He wouldn’t?” A shocked laugh leaves Jungkook's lips as he can’t believe what he just heard. “He fucking wouldn’t? He fucking hits you? Aren’t you fucking scared that one day he throws the wrong punch?” Jungkook shouts, anger taking over.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” she snaps. “I’m your mother, and you don’t get to fucking talk to me like that.”

“Well, you’re a shitty mother. A good mother would put their child first. The only reason I’m still here is because of you!” Jungkook snaps back, his frustration growing stronger as he watches his mom stay motionless.

“I keep coming back because I’m scared he’ll kill you. But apparently, you don’t give a fuck,” he breathes out, his hand tugging on his hair—feeling almost manic at the lack of his mother's reaction.

“Every hit he took on me, you blamed it on me. When all I did was try to protect you. But you always choose him. So fucking next time he comes in through those doors and has his way with you, don’t come running or yelling my name to come and save you,” Jungkook spits out before walking out of the room and shutting the door behind him with a loud bang.

Jungkook's mind kept racing, never shutting up for a moment, allowing him to think. His brain was filled with repetitions of everything his mom just said. The words "he was just like you, you know? Every time I look at you-it's like I'm seeing him" kept getting repeated in his head over and over again without a break.

Screams of his mom asking for him to save her echoed in his brain, the weight of his guilt and the haunting memories that plagued his mind had Jungkook pulling out the small baggie from his sweater, moving to the small desk in his room.

Jungkook dropped the white powder on the surface, making a line. Without hesitation, Jungkook leaned over, pinching one of his nostrils before snorting.

A sharp burning, stinging sensation spread through Jungkook's nose as he sniffed, rubbing off the remaining powder.

Jungkook dropped onto his bed in a star position as he stared at the ceiling, the feeling of numbness taking over his body. His muscles relaxed as the drug entered his bloodstream, sending a sense of euphoria—a warm feeling spread throughout his body, making him groan in pleasure.

And for once, the voices finally stopped.

It was embarrassing how you found yourself looking for the man you were in love with every corner of the campus. You started with the lockers and hallways, peeking through every classroom, hoping you’d catch a glimpse of the boy who left you standing in your angel costume Saturday night.

You had debated on running after him; the guilt that weighed you down from the slap was intense. Your touch was supposed to be his only gateway, instead, you used it against him to hurt him the same way his dad does. As messed up as his words were, it didn’t compare.

“Have you seen Jungkook?” You ask, poking Dahlia on the shoulder. She turns to look at you, mouth filled with food as she nods without saying anything.

“You have?” Your eyebrow raises as she continues to nod eagerly.

“Y-yeah, he’s ou-outside, in the corner,” Dahlia finally says, swallowing her food. You throw a small ‘thank you’ and rush outside.

As you run to the corner where everybody meets up to smoke, you curse out loud as you trip on the crack of the pavement before changing your pace to walking instead.

Your eyes meet his in an instant as you pass the corner, the lit-up joint hanging from his lips. You look around to see Taehyung and Jimin with worried looks on their faces. As you walk closer to them, Jungkook passes the joint to his friend before crossing his arms in front of him, flexing his muscles. If you weren’t so mad at him, you would find it hot.

“What’s up, pretty,” Taehyung says, trying to break the awkward silence as he takes a hit off the joint before passing it to Jimin, who looks uncomfortable as hell.

“Hey,” you acknowledge them both, giving polite head nods before turning your attention to the boy in the middle, his eyes bloodshot red with a small grin decorating his handsome face.

“What’s so funny?” You snap, crossing your arms in front of you. A loud laugh slips out of his mouth, shocking the boys beside him. “Hi baby,” he says, his eyes dropping low as he moves closer to you. You push him away with a hand on his chest, making him pout.

“Rude,” he playfully scoffs, leaning back onto the wall and reaching for the blunt on Taehyung’s fingers as he raises an eyebrow at you.

“That’s enough,” you say, taking away the joint from Taehyung’s hand as Jungkook was about to reach for it.

“This is our cue to leave. Let’s go,” Taehyung hurries off, pulling on his blonde friends arm, before they both mutter something under their breaths as they disappear around the corner.

“Don’t throw that, it’s some good shit, and I just bought it,” Jungkook chuckles, reaching for it only for you to push him away.

“Alright then,” you pull the rolled-up paper up to your lips and take a drag. Jungkook's face drops, and suddenly nothing is funny. His hand immediately shoots up and yanks the joint out of your mouth before throwing it on the ground and stomping on it.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jungkook roars, watching you cough loudly as white smoke rushes out of your mouth.

“Fuck, what were you thinking?” He panics, rubbing a hand over your back to coax your coughing fit. Your throat and chest burn as you continue to cough.

“Don’t ever do that shit again, do you hear me? It’s not good for you,” Jungkook sighs, his rough hand drawing circles down your back as you finally calm down.

“So, you agree it’s not good for you?” You say, your voice hoarse from all the coughing. “Let’s not do this right now, yn,” he pulls on your arm as he walks you to the parking lot. “You never want to do anything,” you yank your arm from his grip. Jungkook takes a deep breath, trying his best not to snap at you.

“Just get in the car, baby,” he continues, opening the passenger door for you. Instead, you push him off and slam the door shut.

“You’re high as fuck; you can’t drive, asshole,” you snap, throwing your arms in the air in anger. “And you’re not?” he clenches his teeth. “I took one hit,” you shove a finger in his face.

“Yeah, a big-ass one. Before you know it, you’ll be high, so get in the fucking car or I’ll put you in it myself,” he snaps. “You wouldn’t dare,” you spit out, and before you know it, your ass is in the air as he hauls you over his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t?” Jungkook mutters under his breath as he opens the car door and sits you down on the seat, reaching for the seatbelt and strapping you in. “Where are you taking me?” You roll your eyes as he sits down beside you.

“To your fucking house,” he says, pulling out of the parking lot of the school and driving you home.

The whole car ride is filled with silence; neither of you decides to utter a word. The moment the car stops in front of your house, you hurriedly unbuckle your seatbelt and open your door before sprinting to your door, unlocking it, and disappearing inside. Jungkook almost screams into his hands, wanting to throw a whole tantrum in this car, but he decides otherwise.

With a loud sigh, he turns off the car, turns to the back seat, gets his sweater, and jumps out of the car. He takes the same route he always did when he showed up at your house, climbing himself over the picket fence before climbing the tree next to your window.

The window is opened as you sit on the ground of your room, your knees up to your chest. Jungkook throws his sweater in first before jumping in.

Then his heart dropped, your small hands hold the tiny bag that was in the pocket of his sweater that had fallen out.

“What’s this, Jungkook?” You voice out, and Jungkook doesn’t miss the wavering of your voice as you finally look up at him. His heart might just have been stabbed by your shocked expression, the betrayal and the pain etched in your expressions send a shooting pain in his heart.

“Baby-“

“Don’t fucking baby me! What the fuck is this?” You interrupt him, your hand shaking as you think of every possible drug that could be in the bag. Jungkook didn’t reply; the words suddenly died in his mouth.

“Is this a way of pushing me away?” You ask, tears starting to flow down your cheeks, mixing with your anger and heartbreak.

“Did something happen at home again? Why? Fuck, why?” You cry, a soul-crushing sob that comes out of you, which has Jungkook coming back to his senses. He feels like shit, and that word doesn’t even cover half of what he’s feeling.

“Please tell me why? I’ll do anything. Let me help you, just fucking stop doing this shit, baby.” You cry, pulling his body to yours, wrapping your arms around his waist, crying into his uniform.

“Use me, scream at me, tell me horrible shit if that helps. Just don’t ever touch any drugs, Jungkook. I don’t know what I would do if you died.” You whisper the last words as you sob into his arms, begging for him to stop. “I’m never leaving your side, so get that into your head. If this is your way of pushing me away, it won’t work.” You sob.

And that’s where everything clicks for Jungkook. His mind thinks back to his mom, “You have to understand that I could never leave him. I’m in love with him,” and his heart drops to the ground. All the walls he took so long to build collapse. He was just like his dad—Jungkook wanted to say he wasn’t, but here he was, hurting you, making you sob into his arms, begging for him to change. The same thing his mom does anytime his father would get drunk.

“I’m not good for you,” Jungkook finally speaks, his hands cupping your face. “I’m not good for you.” He repeats, and you shake your head disapprovingly repeatedly. “Stop.” You cry, your tears wetting Jungkook's palms as he repeats the same thing over again.

“You deserve someone so much fucking better, baby,” Jungkook whispers, dropping his forehead to yours. “You deserve so much better than me. I can’t give you anything, baby, besides heartache and pain.” He continues as you repeat ‘no’ over and over again under your breath.

“Please don’t leave me,” you cry, as he untangles himself from you, pushing your hand away gently when you try to reach for him.

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t leave. Stay the night; we’ll talk about this in the morning.” That was the last thing Jungkook heard as he jumped out of the window and ran to his car, leaving his heart in the hands of the girl crying on the floor, praying for him to be safe.

[babygorewhore]

Perverted

Rafe Cameron x virgin reader

When Rafe offers you a ride home, he reveals he knows your dirty little secret.

Part of Dolly and Morgan’s blurb prompt game! W.C 1.5K! Dividers by @xxbimbobunnyxx

Warnings! Masturbation! Daddy kink! Unprotected sex! Spanking! Choking! Quickie! Oral! Fem receiving! Virginity loss! Small amount of blood! Perv!reader kinda! Degrading and praise! You’re Barry’s sister! Not proofread!

Sneaking into Rafe Cameron’s room was probably a bad idea but your brother Barry already told you he wasn’t going to pick you up tonight if you went to this party. So, Rafe offered you a ride home a few minutes ago and you made up an excuse that you needed to powder your nose. When really…you needed a souvenir.

You tip toed around, finding his desk and you took one of his pens. You shoved it in your purse and quickly exited, shutting his door. Rushing out of the house, your short black skirt rode up as you jogged to his car. A spike of adrenaline heat your veins as you opened the passenger door, your heart pounding. It wasn’t the first time you’d taken something of Rafe’s. Not by a long shot. And one time…when you came over, you overheard him jerking off in his room, riding his pillow. When he left, you went inside and licked up his mess.

The collection of pens you took, a shirt and pair of boxers, you used to touch yourself with. Creaming all over anything of his you could get. You slide in the seat, listening to the music coming from Rafe’s radio and glances over to you. You look down, seeing your skirt hiked up so high you can almost see your panties underneath but you leave it.

“You remember my address, right?” You ask and he nods.

“Mhm, been there before remember?” He says and pulls out of the driveway. You’re mindful not to bite your lip not wanting to smear your lipstick but your nerves cause your knee to bounce as he starts to take another way to your house.

“Thought you knew how to get there.” You mumble and look at him. Rafe smirks, his SnapBack secure on his head as his muscular hand grips the steering wheel.

“I do, baby. Don’t play dumb. You know what I’m doin.” He chuckles as your cheeks heat up and you swallow.

With all your dirty thoughts, skilled fingers that knew your body well and foul mouth whenever you imagined this moment, the reality always managed to slip your mind.

You’re a virgin.

No one knew and they wouldn’t believe you if you said. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to fuck anyone rather it was that you wanted to fuck Rafe. And you waited. You gave it time. Made sure to always be around whenever Barry spoke to him, despite your brother’s clear distain for the idea, and you managed to get an invite to this party tonight.

Rafe pulled into an empty parking lot, one not too far away from your neighborhood and he shut off the car. You took a deep breath, mustering the courage to look at him again.

“You went in my room again, didn’t you?” The glint in his eye made you aware that lying wouldn’t work.

“I can explain-“ You stammer but he starts laughing and leans in close.

“Yeah? And how’s that, princess? Why don’t you explain to me what you did with my shit you stole?” Your face burns from getting caught but the way he looks at you, hungrily and bordering on desperate makes you grab the back of his head. You slam your lips to his in a searing, heated kiss and you shove your tongue in his mouth.

Rafe moans before his palm firmly grips your ass, pulling you across the seat and sitting you on top of his lap. He nips your lower lip before smacking your ass, sliding his hand up your back into your hair. “God damn, baby. Didn’t think you’d be so fucking aggressive,” He says against your mouth and you grind down on his covered cock.

Your fingers tangle in his hair and you pull his head back, lips finding his neck. You drag your tongue along his skin before sucking underneath his jaw. Rafe reached underneath your skirt, ripping your panties off and his fingers swirled your swollen pulsing clit. You didn’t expect him to be slow with you and you didn’t want him to. You wanted him and your slick pussy fluttered as he tugged down his pants.

“I want you so fucking bad. Touching myself isn’t enough, baby. I need you-“ You whine as his cock slaps against his thigh and he taps the tip against your clit a few times.

“Yeah? You fuckin needy girl. Need my dick to fill you up and split you in half, baby girl?” With an inhale, you sink down and your eyebrows pinch together from the pressure.

You accidentally make a wincing noise before Rafe’s fingers slip inside your mouth, making you drool on them as your discomfort morphs into pleasure. His dick drives into you, hard and deep as you bounce on him, your ass moving as your hands settle on the seat.

“That’s it, princess. Bounce on daddy’s cock, cream on it. Being such a good little slut for me, huh?” His words make your cunt pulse around him as you rock your hips harder, your clit rubbing against his shaft. You were already getting close.

Your moans shift into whimpers as your eyes squeeze shut, your orgasm hitting you quickly as you shriek and tremble on his dick. Rafe makes a surprised noise but he keeps thrusting upward, his wet fingers wrapping around your neck.

“That good, huh? Cumming already?” Rafe’s movements speed up and soon you feel his creamy substance spill into you, your pussy pooling as you squeal. Your head falls into his neck and your hands find his chest.

You both sit there and breathe heavily for a few seconds before you start to climb off him. But when you glance down, you see a small amount of blood on your inner thighs. Rafe’s eyebrows shoot up. “Are you a virgin? Were you a virgin?”

You swallow and nod making him groan.

“Fuck, baby. Why didn’t you say?”

“Why would it matter? It felt good,” You begin but Rafe makes you stop short by leaning forward, his eyes flickering to your lap.

“Princess, we can do better than a quickie in my fuckin car. Hold tight, I’m taking you back to my house.” He starts the car and you pull out your phone, seeing texts from Barry.

“And tell Barry you’ll be home tomorrow.”He adds making you smirk as you click off your phone.

When you get to Rafe’s room, he wastes no time lifting you up and tossing you on the bed. You rise to your elbows, skirt riding up to expose your bare cunt. He leans down, resting his hands on your knees, tugging your knee socks. “Fuckin perv. Stealing my shit, riding me in the car only to be a little virgin?” he shakes his head with a dark chuckle before yanking you forward, spreading your legs apart.

“Gonna taste this pussy, princess. Lick up all the cum since you’re being a fuckin slut for me,” He shoves his face in your pussy, tongue flicking against your clit before sucking it between his soft lips. Your head throws back against the bed and your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling hard.

He moans and moves his head around, shoving his tongue inside you before lewdly lapping your swollen center. “You taste so fuckin good, baby. I want you to cum on my face, ride my jaw like the good whore you are,” He offers a slap to the side of your ass.

You hump his face, tits bouncing from how hard you’re moving as he slurps and sucks you. Rafe adds two fingers inside, curling them to hit the sweet spot in you. You cry out, cumming all over his mouth and fingers, giving him more slick as he tongue fucks you through it. “Good fucking girl, Angel.” He praises before pulling away, sucking his fingers clean.

“Fuck me again, daddy. I need you inside me,” You pull him down on top of you, kissing him and tasting the leftover cum. Rafe sucks on your tongue before he presses your knees to your chest and manages to take off his pants.

He smears your arousal with the tip of his dick before he slides it down to your entrance and your cunt takes him in effortlessly.

The angle he has you makes him move so deep inside you, it almost feels like you’ll burst but your eyes roll back as his balls slap against your ass. Rafe’s free hand wraps around your throat as he rocks his pelvis in and out, “shit, princess, you feel so fucking good. Nobody else gets to touch you but me. Say it,”

“No one else,” You whimper as he pounds into you.

Rafe captures your lips in a kiss, sucking your lower lip as you get close to your third release. “Mhm, you’re a freak, huh? I can fuckin tell. I’m gonna make those dirty thoughts come true, baby. You won’t have to sneak in here anymore, just use me whenever you want.”

He cums inside you and your own peak follows almost at the same time. Your sounds mix with his thick moans as he lets go of your throat; moving to squeeze your tit as he pushes his seed deeper in you. “You’re mine now, princess. Gonna fuck you all night. Can’t get enough of this sweet pussy,”

Tagging some @marchsfreakshow @slvt4jamesmarch @redhead1180 @drewstarkeyslut @emsgoodthinkin @rafesthroatbaby @rafescurtainbangz @voyeurmunson @oceandriveab @gri959

[cl-0v3r]

Mel is alive, but at what cost

Mel was nearly killed TWICE, her mother began being a struggle, she'd been thrown aside and trying her best to stop her, her boyfriend is not doing well, neither is anyone else (can't blame them) and the fact that she hadn't cried or spoke much about this situation to anyone a single time?? She IS upset about every single thing, yet she stays strong and enduring every bit of torture. The most she did was tell Jayce that Ambessa put her palm on the table, and let him know that she is going to push for hextech. That's it, nothing remotely related to her feelings.

The fact that she was constantly looking at Caitlyn, being able to understand her grief and knew she was in pain?? Mel knows this feeling. She'd went through it.

And in the end SHE has to pay the price of her mothers incompetence.

The intro is very much foreshadowing, we know the hands represent black rose/LeBlanc.

This is what happens in act one, she gets kidnapped by them. The lyrics do correspond to the characters as well (not just Mel, everyone.)

"Tell you you're the greatest" plays as a petal of the black rose floats down the screen, I think it adds significance to the power this organization holds, possibly the Medardas greatest foe.

"But once you turn, they hate us" both Ambessa and Mel were present in this line, I think its foreshadowing for when Ambessa switches up for whatever reason and goes against both Piltover AND Zaun. And Mel WILL go through change as well, a change that could hurt her relationship with others, and receive interest from others too.

"They hate us" could be read individually too, I feel like its a sort of "realization" ?? Perhaps Ambessa WASN'T the one that switched up, maybe Piltover switched up on them, and maybe Mel JUST got out of wherever she's taken to, and saw the mess Ambessa had done to her city??

I think this represents ACT TWO.

The hands pull away and it sort of looks like Mel is fighting back, a "get away from me" type of scream. you know what this reminds me of??

Don't mind me just pushing my Jinx/powder-Mel parallel agenda

Here is when i think Mel truly learns about LeBlanc/BR, she curiously and slowly goes to grab the rose, she learns about the history between her Mother and them, Kinos death, and most of all, learns about HERSELF. The lyrics speak otherwise.

"Pray away, I swear

I'll never be a saint, no way"

This feels like a parallel to caitlyn of sorts if that makes sense. Caitlyn had done everything to try and stop the council from attacking the Undercity, she kept her mouth shut when Jayce asked about Jinxs grenade, she was willing to protect Vi and the undercity, but how many times has she been tossed around? She'd been burned, exploded, kidnapped (god knows what happened during that time) and hit in the face by the same person, her MOTHER died because of the same person. She has every right to go insane. And she is hunting ONE person, which is Jinx. Although she is harming the people around her along the way.

What if Mel goes through a similar situation? Her mother pushed for war in her city, she dragged the enemy along with her even if she didn't mean to, she manipulated everyone around her INCLUDING Jayce, she LITERALLY got Mel hurt from the chembarons attack and killed so many people during a MEMORIAL to get her hextech weapons, Elora is most likely DEAD, not to mention whatever happened in the past between them. And the thing is, this will NEVER end throughout the entire season.

And what if she learns what she is? That she's 'blessed' by Kindred? The fact that the wolf is quite literally in her blood?

I feel like the "ill never be a saint, no way" also sort of indicates Mel will realize she'll never be able to push for peace and mercy like she always hoped for no matter what, and she comes to accept that as much as it hurts. But not like how ambessa accepted the wolf, but she sort of realizes she needs to push a little violence, towards nobody but the one and only, Ambessa "fine, if you want me to be like you, I guess I'll be like you towards YOU." Type of acceptance.

I think its also related to Mels new outfit too, she's dressed like her mother, in red and all of that. I will still stand by the idea that she has plans to decieve, but she will do something she doesn't want to do.

Mel was left with no choice, that lyric sounds like realization, acceptance, but also like a plea at the same time, an "I'll never be who I wanted to be" because in the end, she's still a Medarda, she's still her mothers daughter, she still has violence in her veins, she will never not suffer from the weight her name holds, and she will never escape it either, its like a shadow.

The Characters won't be themselves at their core this season. And those vital parts of their characters that represent them are no longer there in the intro, they all have given up what makes them, THEM design wise. (e.g.) Vi without her tattoo, Viktor hiding his identity with the mask. And the thing is, they did that to themselves because they do self-harm, they're changing themselves because THEY want to, they're forcing themselves to do that, they think they're undeserving and they're erasing their past selves.

But Mel? Mel doesn't have her gold accessories, Jewelry, or her Armor, she'd been stripped bare and hidden away because of the brutality of her name. She pays the price her mother brought to HER city. She's forced to change herself against her will, because nobody is giving her a chance to push for her ideals.

This entire theory never ends, and with all of this? I kinda do see Mel actually committing Matricide, it lifts the "Ambessa will die" theory further.

[cheesecakethots]

“Whore.”

You could’ve sworn the teacup in your hands cracked a little from how hard you’re gripping it. If you were Illumi, it would’ve shattered into a fine powder by now. But you’re not, which makes you susceptible to being called such things.

They’re at it again. You’re unsure as to what you’ve done to upset some of the butlers and maids, but god do they not like you. No matter. You hate everyone in this stupid boring ugly manor anyway. Huh. Maybe that’s why they hate you, too.

It must’ve been a shock to see Illumi of all people one day bring home his future wife. One he never cared to mention to anyone else beforehand, and one that was still kicking and screaming over his shoulder.

You’re not really sure how long you’ve been here. Months? A year now? However long it’s been, it didn’t take anytime at all to realise that maybe you’re not as safe here as Illumi swears you to be. His mother most definitely hates you, but, oh well, she’s never really tried anything, as far as you know.

The help started muttering things when Illumi wasn’t around, things that hurt more than you wanted to admit. When you didn’t go running off to Illumi at the first few instances of it, it got worse, as though they knew you would never tell him about it.

First off, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being your saviour when someone says mean things to you. Secondly, you may hate these assholes, but you have a conscience.

Only last week Illumi came into your shared bedroom, absolutely drenched in blood, asking if you could shower together. You quickly found out that whoever he had been torturing wasn’t dead yet, and he still had more to do.

Thinking about what Illumi does to people he doesn’t care about, those he’s only hurting for a job, makes you shiver at the thought of him actually harming someone who did him, or you, wrong. But, despite your mercy on them, this time you’re considering just telling him. Only a little.

You’ve had a notably stressful day, being pranced around by his mother who’s insistent on ‘training’ you to be the perfect wife for her son. Her explaining to you that the family expects at least six children from you both had you rushing to the bathroom to vomit.

Then you ran into his father, on your way back to your room. He doesn’t seem to actively dislike you, but he scares the absolute shit out of you. The man seems to think you’re some house pet rather than an actual person with thoughts and feelings, but you suppose that’s a modicum better than wanting you dead.

You also bumped into Illumi’s grandfather. You’re not sure if you can bring yourself to hate him, but you do hate the look of pity in his eyes whenever he sees you. Sometimes he’ll save you from a lecture Illumi’s mother is giving you, so he’s nice in that regard. He’d never free you, though, so he’s just another kidnapper you can’t become friendly with.

You eventually got back to your room, expecting a nice nap before being forced to attend family dinner, only to find Illumi had gotten back earlier than expected. You cringed at how hungry he was, and not for food, but just allowed him to do as he wished. You were too tired to argue. After he was done, he seemed to take note of how quiet and exhausted you were. Too bad, dinner time. You hated dinner times more than anything else.

You ate the admittedly lovely food in pure silence, but quickly became sick to your stomach at hearing Illumi and his mother discuss the prospects of you becoming pregnant. You didn’t eat anymore after that. You’re pretty sure his brother, Milluki, made some comment about you that Illumi didn’t like, which explains why his wrist was snapped in half a few seconds later.

Illumi tried spoon feeding you when noticing how full your plate was, but you managed to convince him that you weren’t hungry. That got you another lecture from his mother about how you’ll soon be eating for two. You were tempted to tell her that if you ever got pregnant you’d throw yourself into Mike’s jaws, but managed to refrain.

After that, you finally got to go to bed. It wasn’t something you were looking forward to anymore; you struggled to sleep when Illumi was home because he’d spend the majority of the night just staring at you.

“Can I go outside?”

You don’t remember why you blurted it or where the thought came from, but you remember the confused blink Illumi gave in response.

“Um.. just for.. ten minutes? O-Or five..? I just want to sit in the garden by myself for a bit… If not, it’s alright..”

You hated how pathetic you sounded, unsure as to what Illumi was thinking when he stared at you with that expressionless face.

“Alright.”

“What?”

“Would you like me to ask a maid to bring you out a cup of tea?”

You didn’t really think about his words too much, just happy you got something your way for once, and nodded rather enthusiastically. You should’ve said no.

The first few minutes of being in the garden, sat on the bench and allowing the cool nights breeze to settle on your skin had you relaxing for the first time in a while.

“Your tea, mistress.”

Oh. It was one of the ones you were sure hated you, and behind him was another. Oh, well. You took the tea from his hands, thanking them nonetheless.

It was much more bitter than you liked it, but you didn’t complain. You didn’t really want tea in the first place. They didn’t leave, but you didn’t complain. Illumi probably asked them to watch over you, maybe to make sure you didn’t try to run. It’s alright, you still have a nice view to relax with.

“Whore.”

Your eyes widen a little, and your grip on the cup increases. They continue muttering amongst themselves, but you catch small, demeaning phrases that you’re certain are aimed at you.

Why are you a whore? You’d never even had sex before you met Illumi, and if you had, it wouldn’t be their business. You’re hardly allowed to interact with anyone other than who Illumi allows you to. Where would you have the chance to sleep around? The insult doesn’t make much sense.

That’s what you tell yourself, despite the fact that your shoulders and hands are shaking and you feel something cold and wet running down your cheeks.

Shit.

You put the cup on the floor, hands moving to cover your face and wipe away any evidence of tears. Illumi hated when you cried.

Why are you still crying? What they said doesn’t make any sense. Stop crying, enjoy the view. You don’t have long left before you have to go back inside.

You’re still crying. You don’t notice that it’s gone eerily silent aside from your own muffled sobs, too busy working on shutting yourself up.

“[Name].”

Shit. Shit!

He’s been sat next to you for god knows how long now, and you didn’t even realise. God, this sucks.

“Why are you crying?” Illumi asks, and you can feel him move closer to you on the bench.

“I-I’m not,” you say, a hand still covering your eyes. What excuse do you give? If you say hay fever will he never let you out in the garden again? If you say you have a cold, will he keep you inside your bedroom for a few weeks? Months?

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel him staring at you.

“Would you like to stay outside for a bit longer?”

Oh.

“Ye-Yeah. Y-Yes please,” you eventually reply, gulping down another sob.

He doesn’t leave, but you’re less bothered by his presence than usual. Despite it being… him, it’s not horrible to have some company, even though you’d never admit it out loud.

You’re not sure how long you sit outside before he stands, prompting you to do the same. Neither of you say anything, not until you reach your bedroom and Illumi tells you in a tone softer than you’d usually hear from him that he has something he must do, so you’ll be sleeping alone tonight.

You turn to go to bed, but he grabs your wrist. He doesn’t look at you for a moment, seemingly considering something. Then, he stiffly leans forward, pressing his lips to your forehead rather robotically. Sometimes you wonder if he is a robot, it really would explain a lot.

The kiss ends soon after it begins.

“Get some rest. You look bad.”

You huff a little, but can’t bring yourself to actually be offended due to the thinly veiled concern in his tone.

The sleep you get is better than you expected. Maybe not having a mass murderer eyeing you up while you try and rest is a reason for that.

Illumi doesn’t show up for the entirety of the next day, which is a little strange. He likes seeing you off in the morning, giving you a kiss before he departs - you’re certain he copied it from a romance movie you used to enjoy watching from time to time. You don’t question his absence too much, you don’t exactly enjoy his company, after all.

The day you have is better than the last. Illumi’s mother seems to be a bit less of a bitch than usual. That’s a win in your book.

It doesn’t take long for you to be back in your warm bed, wrapped up in covers and drifting off to sleep.

You wake up to the feeling of something wet hitting the tip of your nose, and quiet breathing above you.

“Are you awake?”

You are now. It’s pitch black in the room, but you can make out Illumi looming over, his hair framing around you like some makeshift cage.

Still sleepy, you groan a little, “Illumi? What… time is it?”

Something wet hits the bed.

“2:57 AM.”

Huh. You breathe in through your nose. Illumi absolutely reeks. Metallic, is it? You’re not sure it’s the best idea to comment on it.

“Oh. Okay.”

Another drip of something onto the blanket. He doesn’t seem to be in the talking mood.

“Have I done something wrong?”

“… Yes.”

Another.

You gulp. “Are you mad at me?”

“I don’t think so.”

Another drip, this time it hits your arm.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes narrow in the darkness.

“No.”

The silence is deafening. Your hands clutch onto the end of the blanket. He leans impossibly closer, and the stench of whatever is on him becomes all too familiar. He’s smelt like it before, but never this strong.

“How long were the help bothering you?”

“Since I got here.” There’s little point in trying to lie about it now.

“If you hide something from me again I’ll break three of your fingers.”

A little specific, but the threat certainly does the job.

“Okay. I’m… sorry.” You’re not.

Finally, he pulls away, eyes still trained on your face.

“Go to sleep.”

You don’t. You’re certain that you can’t, at least not for tonight. Especially not after hearing him turn the shower on, and after he’s done leave the room once more.

Instead, you sit and stare at the ceiling, and wonder if any of those in the basement will even have three fingers left of them, by the time he’s done.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic idea: Fishbowl Bones

Jason Todd regrets a lot of things in life. He regrets how he hurt others in his Pit Madness and how he made Tim's eyes turn weary, filled with unease, like the younger boy is watching a bomb timer tick down.

Regrets how distant he feels from his family and from his friends like the part of him who knows how to socialize stayed buried in that blasted grave.

Regrets that his stupid teenage decisions lead him to his death.

Sometimes, in the darkest corner of his heart, he even regrets being taken in by Bruce. Hewonders what life would have been like if he had stayed on the streets, if he had lived as a regular unfortunate boy.

An earlier grave, maybe, but one that didn't have him come back broken like this. He would have just been another lost soul in the city, forgotten and remembered by no one, but free of the torment of fighting all his life.

It's not good to think like that, he knows, but Jason can't help the thoughts from racing through his mind on the roughest of nights. When the smell of gun powder, copper and sweat cloat him, as screams ring in his ears.

When his soul is soaked in blood.

It's hard not to think that.

Jason has so many regrets that when he stumbles across the Bracelet of Reverse on a mission in the Infinite Realms, he slips it on without second thought.

He knows the myth surrounding it. Apparently, it belonged to the old Ghost Queen, the unfortunate wife of the old Ghost King, who abused her for years with his ring of Rage and Crown of Fire. She created it to flee to a world the King could not reach.

This is a world in a timeline similar to the moment of her biggest regret—accepting Pariah Dark's proposal. She could correct the moment and live a whole new life in that timeline, trapped in a fantasy as Clockwork closed her in, caging her within her new life.

The time god made it a punishment for her overstepping into his domain, cutting that world off from the multiverse and letting it float in its solution.

"You gain what you wanted." The Ancient of Time said, "But you will lose what you had and could have had."

No one knows how her new world went—if Pariah was sealed or not, seeing as the Queen was the one to gather the Ancients in all other timelines—but the idea of correcting the biggest mistake of one's life was tempting enough that people scrambled for her bracelet, even if the world was a trap.

The very same one Jason stumbled upon. He uses the same one, ignoring the cries of his brothers, who watch helplessly as Jason slips it on.

The bracelet picks up the regrets from the darkest corner of his heart, and in a flash sends him away. Jason blinks, from one moment to the next, his world shifts and he finds himself a homeless child with a tire iron in his hand.

In front of him, rest the Batmobile all wheels ripe for the picking.

Jason stares, the weight of his choose, hanging in the air before he turns and runs. He runs away from his future, from the pain, from his salvation and damnination in equal parts.

He eventually stops running. Surprise, his feet take him to his Red Hood safe house. Right now, it's still the broken-down and condemned arcade because it's years in the past. Because he's there is no Red Hood, defender of Crime Alley, just a lonely, underfed boy standing in the middle of the room.

Outside, he hears the Batmoible race down the street, revving its powerful engine and fading away in the distance like his fading future.

Jason Todd, age thirteen but soul twenty-five, is no longer a Bat.

Life goes on, and he learns to survive the streets again. He trains his body to move as he used to, using his skills to not be a hero but a survivor, stopping crimes if they happen in front of him.

He never goes looking for danger.

Nightwing leaves the city, and Batman no longer has his bright colored shadow. There are times Bruce gets hurt when he shouldn't have because he was supposed to have back up there to help him.

Jason ducks his head and pretends to not see.

Then, one day, Robin returns because Bruce never learns. Jason expects it, having been counting the days as they move on. He's been in this world for two years and has built a reputation for being forcefully neutral.

He won't join any gangs, but he won't let them push him around. He steals from the stupid rich with the hacking skills of his past and sends it to himself as a false insurance claim for his mother. He bought the old arcade with it- under the table in a shady deal for far more then the place is worth- and slowly build his old safe house.

He's armed to the teeth, living nocturnal, only leaving his safe haven at night. Some street kids think he's a vampire, which is amusing. Jason doesn't try to go back to school. He has the money but none of Bruce's resources.

He can't fake grades or proof of guardians. CPS is a genuine threat again, and he refuses to give them a chance to try and drag him to those houses working as fronts for trafficking or, worse, the Court of Owls recruit centers.

Jason doesn't have a plan or goal to work towards. He has no friends, family, or even small connections. He sometimes goes to cafes with TVs, watching the news while drinking coffee. He also reads the newspapers, trying to keep up with whatever mission Bruce is working on.

Crime Alley citizens are weary and dismissive of him in equal parts. They know he's little Todd, but they don't know anything else, which scares them.

How is he surviving? Where is he getting the money? How does he move like that? No one knows, but they can see it—the skills of his past life resting just underneath his skin, waiting for anyone to test him.

Jason doesn't bother reassuring them. He doesn't bother with much besides the occasional food run, laundry mat visits, gas station travel centers with showers, and TV viewing in public spaces. He stays inside his arcade- still looking bad from the outside but homey and comforting inside- filling his days with books and building machines.

He just wants to survive—nothing more, nothing less.

The entire time, he wonders when Tim will finally snap and force Bruce to take him in. It makes sense to him that the only Robin who actively makes himself a vigilante would eventually become the next Robin. Tim knew Bruce's real ID for years before his death forced him to act.

This Bruce isn't that close to the violence he was when Jason died, but he's getting there. He is becoming reckless. Tim will be forced to act sooner or later, and Jason makes bets with himself on what night will be his debut.

He is not expecting someone else completely different being the new Robin.

Jason is shocked to see the hero re-appear, rescuing Tim Drake on TV, and realizes he doesn't know who this world's Robin is. Worse, his costume starkly differs from every Robin he's known. Jason risks exposal by breaking into the Batcave, having to avoid traps never before placed and hack the Batcomputer.

When he finds Robin's file, he is even more confused by what he reads. It makes no sense, especially for Bruce to bring to this level, for a Robin to have so little information.

Even Tim's clone friend Kon-El had a bigger file when he was first found.

All he gets is a name, an age, and a meta confirmation. (Even if the word meta isn't used yet in this timeline.)

Who is Danny Fenton, age fifteen, and why does he have Clockwork's amulet on his Robin costume?

Jason prays it's not because of him. He never asked for a rescue, and he won't go without a fight. He logs out, and slips though the back caves, mentally planning on hacking Lex once more to upgrade his home against "Ectoplasm" since that what this Danny's powers are based on.

Worlds away, the Waynes wait for the Ghost King outside a swirling portal. He went in to save Jason from a fantasy world before it could trap him in his worst nightmare. Before it made him forget his real life.

He may have to follow that world's rules and play whatever role the world needed him to, but the King swore he would find Jason and bring him home.

[peachesofteal]

The Crypt anthology

“You dropped this.”

You whirl on a dime, legs twisting together and rolling you off balance at the last second, the stranger’s hand shooting out to try to steady you before you catch yourself. “Alright little love?” Powder blue eyes hold you tight, some sort of virose thrall bearing down into your temples, rooting around in the matter between your ears.

“I’m fine.” You manage, but the words lack conviction. Long fingers dig in the soft spirals of your brain, looking for something, picking and pulling.

“Lookin’ a bit peckish there, sure you’re alright?” All you can manage is a nod, one foot sliding behind the other, placing you firmly out of reach.

“I’m fine.” The two words are all you can manage, still trying to escape the trance, the dark tug behind your ribs. Long silence plays out, and with a closer look, you register him fully. Tall. Broad. Shoulders wide enough to close in around you, green jacket faded into sun parched moss. It wouldn’t button around his chest, the waffle henley beneath doing you no favors by the way it tapers to his belt, a strong jaw cloaked by a swath of beard and moustache.

Older than you, stronger than you, an astral man amidst a city of depravity.

Step closer.

A storm cracks outside, thunder rattling the windows, your vision tunneling inside the market, people doing their shopping ebbing around you, a rock in water, stalls and their goods fading into the distance.

The only thing you can see is this stranger and his bright blue eyes. “Thanks,” you croak, knuckles tense on the strap of your bag, net of spilled oranges now safely tucked inside the canvas. When did that happen? Your smile is forced, seasick though the ground is solid beneath you, and when the eye contact breaks to flicker over your shoulder, you jolt back to your sense, and turn away.

The blue eyes stay with you all the way home, into your flat, through the night. You think about them as you cook yourself dinner, as you pour yourself a too generous glass of wine. You feel them as you curl up on the couch, malignant presence lingering just outside your window.

It’s only once you undress and slip under your blankets that you finally feel a semblance of peace, as if the gaze has moved on, the undying focus abated in a sliver of moonlight.

Your dreams are filled with blood.

An oil slick across an ocean, too vast to know where it ends and begins, you fight to keep your head above water, legs kicking frivolously in the dark, terror tight around your throat, horror lurking on the outside of your mind. Thalassophobia renders you almost useless, the panic just enough to keep the drowning at bay.

Can you die in a dream?

A hand appears from nowhere, and you cling to it, wailing and gasping until you’re pulled ashore, laid flat on your back against black stone sand.

“Alright little love?” Him. The same eyes peer down, shining like the sun, chasing away the darkness settled in around you. He stuns you.

“Y-yeah.” He’s close enough cigar smoke permeates your air, your fingers gripping the front of his shirt like a lifejacket. It takes a moment, a second of realization-

You’re covered in blood. Hands, feet, forearms, face. It coats your lips, iron and earth in your nose, soaked all the way to your lungs. Heavier than tar, slicked to your windpipe, drowning your beating heart in ichor.

“Oh god, oh my god, what- what is this, what is this-“ You’ve never heard your own voice at this pitch, shrill, piercing, the sound of someone crying, the sound of someone freefalling.

That can’t be you, can it?

“Easy now.” He holds you by the shoulders. The sun and moon cycle overhead, light and darkness rotating, disorienting you further, a whimper crawling from your throat. “Shhh, I know, I know,” he rubs your temple, thumb stained ruby red, and then lifts it to his mouth, lips curled into a devilish smile, “knew you’d be perfect f’me.” The ground begins to shake, the sky splitting apart, white tendrils snaking across the sea to your ankles, and he frown, disappointment lingering in the lines of his face. The rough scrape of his beard presses to your cheek with a kiss, and he nestles a coin into the palm of your hand, the dream turning opaque before disappearing completely, your eyes opening to ceiling of your bedroom.

Just a dream, you remind yourself throughout the day. Just a dream, though it’s nearly impossible to keep your mind from wandering, remembering, tasting the salt of the ichor like it’s still fresh on your tongue.

“Hey!” Your coworker snaps her fingers, alarm flashing across her face. “Are you okay? You look… sick.”

“I’m just tired.”

“Maybe you should call it a day. Seriously, you look like death.” Your agreement is weak as she practically shoves you out the door. “Go home and take a nap or something.”

“Hello again.” Your heart jolts, battering against your bones in a frantic beat. “No need to be scared.” You blink. “I’m John… from the market yesterday? You dropped your oranges?”

“John.” Your tongue ties around his name, and though its polite to give yours, you can’t force it out. His brow furrows.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Good sense and manners appear, spurred on by years of chastising by your mother, and you grimace.

“Oh. Sorry. I’m a bit under the weather.” He looms ahead of you, blocking a portion of the sidewalk.

“Headed home then?” You nod. “I’ll walk you.”

“Oh, no. That’s not necessary.” He gives you a sharp look, the dispel to an argument, razored, jagged teeth closing in around your attempt at a refusal, and pulls at your wrist, thumb holding steady over your pulse point, heart rate slowing from a panic to a lull.

Your head hangs, and you slump, exhaustion tugging your limbs down towards the ground. The path doesn’t split before you, no way to choose one way or another, hedgerows too tall to peer over, lost and unable to discern the way. Your hands find your pockets, and brush across something unfamiliar and cool.

A coin.

Darkness closes in around you-

And the word goes black.

You wake in a bed.

Not your bed.

It’s big, wide enough your legs and arms spread out with touching the edge of the mattress. The sheets are fine, cotton you could never afford, threads delicate, spun silk. Luxury. A far cry from your one-bedroom flat.

“There you are.” Time jolts, bringing you into the present with startling speed, a hand clasping over your mouth before you can release a scream. “No need for that.”

“John?” You mumble into his palm. Your head is natant, woozy with the rocking, feet scrambling on a ship far away, desperate to hold tight to a rail, a lifeline, a moment of balance in a violent storm. “I’m gonna be sick.”

There’s a haunting, familiar taste on your lips and you lick them over and over, the tip of an iceberg, a memory just barely visible above placid water. You grasp at it, tug yourself closer, swallow the nostalgia until it rears its head-

Blood.

Horror wraps an unforgiving fist around your throat.

“What-“

“Welcome home.” What? Your feet tangle in the sheets, a net around your ankles. His big, warm hand flattens over your chest, blue gaze honing in, the predator ready to devour his prey. “Can hear your heart, little love.”

“This isn’t my h-home.”

“It is now.” He’s casual, leaning by your hip, now stroking deft fingers over your ribs. “This is my home, and now it’s yours too. You don’t need to worry, you’ll be well cared for.” The cold green sick feeling surges, and you roll over to the side of the mattress, spewing the contents of your stomach onto polished hardwood floors.

It’s not bile, or water, or even food.

It’s red. Dark red, dripping off your lips like rain, flooding the grooves beneath you. He rubs your back like you’re a child who needs soothing, grip tight on your arm when you try to rip away.

“It won’t always be like this,” he coos, clucking his tongue in sympathy, “the taste is difficult to get used to.”

“The taste of what?”

“Blood.”

[chiefmcclane]

Map of Fatrasta, from the Gods of Blood and Powder book series by Brian McClellan

[the-californicationist]

Please! I need the part 2 of “Captain Price opens a package, thinking it’s intel, but it’s a sex pollen.“ I'm on my kneesss pleaseee it was so good! 😭♥️

Anyways, I'm your new follower 😍, and some of the stories you write is just so damn good😍 (Sorry for bad grammar's, English isn't really my first language, uwu)

im sorry but idk what a part two even looks like. i know a lot of people have asked for it but its... just some couch sex?? idk i'll try.

Laswell clicked the door shut behind her, and part of you wished she had locked it. Gaz was sure to tell the rest of the team, but you could do without an audience. What would they even see if they barged in here?

The captain had let his cock loose from the confines of his pants, and they were sliding down his thick, muscular ass with every selfish thrust. He was rubbing himself like a naughty dog against your clothed pussy, begging for entrance with every forward movement. Your shirt was pulled down, revealing your breasts, and now they were covered in pink marks from the roughness of his beard as he moved his mouth across you.

Feeling him take each nipple and suck it so gently into his mouth, pulling it in like delicious nectar through a straw, drinking you although you were dry, tasting you even though you had no flavor. It was too much, but he couldn't stop.

You felt a little wrong to be enjoying your commanding officer so much. His humping was making your body respond even as it waited for your guilty conscience to catch up.

"Cap... oh, my fucking God... No, Captain. We shouldn't..." you tried to protest on his behalf, knowing he was being controlled by the powder.

"Corporal," he spoke with his mouth full of your flesh, "I can stop... now. It'll give you... enough time... to run..."

His bright pink eyes flashed up at you in warning and he used both his arms to pin you on either side of your head, forcing you to look at him, the intensity of which went right to your rapidly-melting core.

Suddenly, in a moment of lucidity, he looked you right in your eyes and finished his sentence,

"But that will not be bloody true for long."

As if warning you, he rubbed his hardness up and over your belly, letting it ruck up your shirt, and you felt its incredible heat. It was like a long, steel brand. His skin was smooth, but it was scalding and swollen with his blood. The huge tip left a wet trail of desire wherever it went.

"It's okay, Captain. You can have me if you --"

There mere suggestion of your consent was all he needed to let the dam burst and the river run free. His need crashed from him with an explosive force. He all but ripped your clothes from you, nearly hurting you in the process, making your ankles ache from the sudden pressure as he shucked your pants and boots away in one go.

Your panties were torn from you, sturdy though they were. The fabric made a whining, popping noise as the elastic split. Air rushed across uncovered skin, and your body doubled down on its plans to produce as much natural lubrication as possible. It seemed to know you'd need it.

He didn't touch you. Not with his hands. There was no preparation of any kind. Price fed himself into you like a hand into a glove, a body part in need of sudden and immediate warmth. He took control of your head again, pinning you in that same furious way, and you had a singular view of his face, twisted in a sort of sublime agony as he sank himself into you for the first time.

The pressure was almost unimaginable. Your body was making a lurid, wet, slicking noise as his cock forced you in half. You tried to allow him in, tried to relax, but there was little you could do. He was immense and heavy. It felt like a fist on a strong arm, like a forge hammer, hot and searing. The only thing more tormenting was his voice purring darkly in your ear.

"Fuck, you're warm..."

He pulled himself out of you inch by inch, leaving a terrible hollow where you were once whole.

"Wet for me. So wet. How?"

Back in. And in. And in. It seemed to go forever in and it made you wonder how deep you were.

"It feels so good to have you 'round me, love..."

When the rosy head of him found the end of your wet hole, it sort of... settled there. Locked in, like a key into a tumbler, and each fold of you a lifted pin, fitting him as if you were crafted for it.

"Thought 'bout how you'd feel. Sometimes... dreamt it."

You felt your body give away your surprise. He was too gone to notice it, but not you. You would have been able to feel the planets shift an inch to the left if they dared. You could feel everything. Each and every pore and hair and breath was awake and alive and living in the rawest possible way. Could he have really been thinking of you like you were thinking of him?

"Bloody fuckin' hell. So tight. Too tight."

He was right. It was too tight. He was squeezing himself in with each of these aching, crazed thrusts, shoving himself inside of you hungrily, all the way up to your pounding heart, it seemed. You felt yourself slipping around him like hot oil, running down his shaft and matting the coarse, dark hair that cradled his root.

"John..."

You used his name in place of his title, and he noticed. Noticed it like a hawk notices a hare. Right in your ear, up against your cheek, he responded, too quickly, too much teeth,

"Yes, love. Yes. Yes? Tell me."

He was grunting now, clearly on the edge of his pleasure. You aimed to take him over it, to plunge him into blinding darkness. You whispered, and each word hit its mark like the straight shaft of an arrow, striking into the target one after the other, tearing through the bullseyes like they were nothing but air.

"You're gonna make me come, John."

Again, that unearthly snarl came from his chest, the one you'd never heard before come from the mouth of a man. It was a cry and a scream and a prayer and a plea and had he not been pinning you down prone with his own prostrated body, he would have been growling it from his knees. He commanded you as he worshiped you,

"Give it to me. Give it to me. Give. It. To. Me."

Your body listened before you could even register his words.

From the bones in your hips, you felt your muscles tighten along his iron rod like a fist, closing in on him knuckle by knuckle, and each closure brought you closer to that brink where the darkness turned to blinding white light. You could feel the sparkle of it, that peppery gunpowder flash and then...

"Holy fuck, love..." He stared at you as if you were the sun lighting up his whole life. Like he'd seen you before, all sherbet pink and blazing orange, in the dawn, in the mornings, cutting over the horizon.

Price had come in you. You felt it. It slid along the cleft of your ass and soaked into the fabric of the couch. He didn't mind it. You couldn't. His body was still thrusting as hard and as heavy as before, fucking up into you as if he hadn't just filled you with his thick, hot cream.

"I can't... " he gasped, wrenching his eyes shut, "I can't stop..."

"It's okay, John..."

"I can't bloody stop, love. I'm... fuck, I'm sorry..."

"I'm okay. It's okay," you whispered to him, trying to soothe him.

You pet the hair back over his brow and he leaned into your touch like a cat, purring for more of it. You laced your fingers through his hair and held him tight at his scalp, turning his head so that you could talk to him right into his ear,

"Fuck me how you need to, Captain."

Did you enjoy this tale or maybe some other work by me? Consider buying me a coffee, if you have the means. Kudos, likes, reblogs, and feral comments also work as well ^_^ Thanks!

AO3 Link

[klaus-littlestwolf]

would you make a Klaus fic, where he and reader are under a sex spell? just a sex magic fic, you can decide on the plot🥰

love your fics btw💕

Warning:Dubcon cause sex pollen, talk and use of sex toys, desperate/passionate fucking, needy Hybrid sex, brief realization of Yandere behavior at the end

‘You’re joking!’ I exclaimed, unable to unhear what Bonnie had just told me.

‘No, not at all. We need to keep you away from everyone else because this spell can potentially effect others who come in contact with you. Caroline has already said you can stay in her parents cabin, Damon is taking you there now.’ She shooed me out of the room and outside to Damon’s car.

‘Get in the back!’ He snapped as I moved to slide into the passenger seat. ‘I don’t need this shit effecting me next-‘

‘Why can’t I just stay in the cell in the basement? That way I won’t be alone…I’m scared-‘

‘Because Klaus was hit by that shit too, we don’t know if he knows what it was yet and with how desperate he is for you every other day without being bewitched, I can’t even imagine what he would do with you now.’ He explained as if I were a small stupid child and I wanted to hit him desperately.

A warlock coming after Elena (as always) for Doppelgänger blood for one of his spells had attacked us. I had grabbed a potted plant outside of the Grille and cracked it over his head which gave Elena enough time to run and find Damon, though as he whirled around to me there was suddenly an angry Hybrid standing in front of me which gave the Warlock pause.

Klaus had seemingly taken an interest in me as soon as he arrived in town and while I don’t encourage him, I’m also not cruel or mean either, which seemed to make him think he had a chance.

The man reached into his jacket and pulled out a small spell bag before dumping some pink powder into his hand and blowing it at the both of us. I couldn’t help but inhale it, only breathing in more when I began choking and hearing Klaus do the same, my eyes and nose burning as I felt his hands holding onto me. Though he was still coughing himself he checked on me (which I found very sweet), hands on my face and inspecting me before brushing the powder off of me leading to me returning the favor. He had no clue what it was and neither did I but after a quick thanks I left to find my friends and a witch to tell me what the fuck I just inhaled.

Turns out we had both been choking on a very powerful potion that people had dubbed “Sex Pollen”. Many witches used to use it several hundred years ago but most stopped once people began insisting that it led to way too many people becoming effected (since all you needed to do was injest a drop) and ending up sexually assaulting whoever came across their path. The potion is typically in a liquid form but talented witches can make it in a powder, however it is about ten times more potent.

‘Stay here, theres food and water, TV, books. Everything you could possibly need. Caroline also bought you some…play things…to help. God this is so gross, they’re in the bedroom. Get out of my car-‘

‘No! How long do I have to stay here?!’ I snapped making him roll his eyes.

‘Bonnie said in the powder form it can take several hours to kick in but it lasts a few days, though with how much you breathed in probably a week at least. Go! Before you infect me too and we really have a problem!’ I grabbed the bag that Elena had packed me and slid out of the car, walking inside and locking the door behind me with a heavy sigh.

‘Fuck All Of You Assholes!’ I screamed, hating my friends for abandoning me just so they wouldn’t suffer as well before I looked around the cabin, finding the bedroom with a large California King that was quite comfortable. I also came across a basket on the bed which contained a rechargeable wand, a 7 inch pink suction cup dildo, a butt plug and a bottle of salted caramel flavored lube. ‘Why The Fuck Was She So Thorough?!’

I set the basket aside and stripped out of my shirt and jeans as I began feeling warm, climbing into the bed under the sheet and deciding to try and take a nap before I get hit with killer horniness.

The nap didn’t last more than an hour before I woke up rolling around restlessly, my body sweating now as a hot feeling in my stomach began intensifying. I couldn’t tell you how long I laid there writhing in misery before I heard a loud knock at the door, instantly hating the world that much more.

‘What are you doing here?!’ I snapped as I finally dragged myself to the front door, moody and uncomfortable which made me unable to be kind.

‘I thought I would come and assist you. Wouldn’t want you suffering through this alone, now would we?’ Klaus asked, looking every bit as put together as always but I could see in his eyes how desperate he was. I could also see his impressive bulge tenting his jeans.

‘How did you find me? I was-never mind. Go away Klaus!’ I groaned, moving to shut the door.

‘I followed Damon, he wasn’t very careful, my guess is he didn’t much care if I found you. They just wanted you away from them before they had to suffer too, your friends that you protected sent you away to save themselves. Seems really selfish to me.’ Any other day I would disagree but with how I was feeling I couldn’t argue with him, prompting me to agree.

‘You’re right…Fuck them! Couldn’t even put me downstairs! Had to leave me all alone!’ I raged as I was overcome by a cramping pain straight down to my pussy causing me to double over.

‘Invite me in Love, let’s help each other? It’s going to be days with only brief hours of relief between…let me help you get some relief?’

‘Klaus, I can’t-‘

‘You want me just as much as I want you, don’t lie!’ He growled, eyes glowing gold now as he showed how desperate he really was, so far gone that he wasn’t able to hide it anymore.

‘It’s just this stupid magic-‘

‘No! No, I’ve wanted you since I first set eyes on you, and you…you need me too.’ His hand reached down to grab his crotch, pupils nearly swallowing his entire eye whole. ‘I can make your pussy feel so good baby, you need me! Who else could go anywhere near as long as a Hybrid, huh?’ He was right, if anyone could help me it was Klaus, especially with how pent up he is himself. ‘Please Y/n? I need to be buried in your little cunt, and you know you need it too! Your fingers can’t help you the way my cock can and I know you’ve dreamt of my cock in your needy little pussy since long before this ever happened-Fuck! I Need You! Please?!’ He begged and as I felt a rush of wetness coat my panties I whined, nodding my head. ‘Say it Y/n…Say It!’

‘Come in Klaus! Please?! I need-‘ I didn’t get to finish my statement before I was tackled to the floor with the Hybrid yanking his pants open and shoving them down enough to free himself before tearing my panties off of my body and shoving himself into me roughly.

‘So Fucking Perfect! Knew your cunt would be perfect! Tightest little cunt-Fuck! Never gonna stop fucking you baby!’

‘Yes! Don’t Stop! Fuck Klaus, your cock! So good!’ Tears leaked from my eyes as he continued thrusting into my body. The sound of skin slapping together echoing through the house and out the front door that hung on one hinge from where the Hybrid had nearly ripped it off as he entered. ‘Oh Fuck!’ I threw my head back against the carpet as my first orgasm rushed through me out of nowhere, only realizing he had finished with me when I felt the hot cum inside of me as he continued thrusting, never once even slowing down.

‘I need to feel you squeeze me again Babygirl, cum for me! Cum for your Alpha!’ The second orgasm was just as strong as the first as I came and felt his body tense up as well before he finally stilled, breathing heavily into my neck.

‘I think…we’re in trouble…’ I panted heavily and he chuckled before looking down at me, hesitating only a second before pressing his lips to mine in a soft, lovely kiss. ‘Don’t stop.’ I insisted when he pulled back, grabbing onto his neck and pressing my lips to his this time as I enjoyed our kiss.

‘This isn’t how I wanted it to happen, I wanted to take you on a date, show you how much I love you…then I was going to fuck you…wanted to make you feel so good you would never leave me again-‘

‘It’s okay, you’ve just done it backwards…you can still take me out, just after this is over because I don’t think people would appreciate you fucking me over our table.’ I teased, enjoying the genuine smile that I got from him, only ever seeing it when he looks at me which has always made me feel special.

‘That’s the spell talking-‘

‘I liked you before that you idiot! I just never really thought you were all that serious.’ I admitted, pushing him up and feeling his (once again) hard cock slide out of me as he helped me stand up.

‘How could you think that? I’ve gone out of my way to show you-your friends told you I was using you, didn’t they?’ I nodded and he huffed a heavy sigh before wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into a rough kiss. ‘I love you, regardless of any doppelgänger or your awful friends. After all of this I will take you out properly, I promise…but until then-‘

‘No! No more floor fucking, there’s furniture and a bed here for a reason, no more carpet, it hurts.’ I explained, feeling the rug burn against my back and ass.

‘No more rugs, but I need you now.’ He growled, lifting me by my thighs and appearing in the bedroom instantly, dropping me onto the bed. Just as he spread my legs he paused, glancing over to the table and reaching out to grab the basket with the things Caroline had left. ‘What-‘

‘Caroline left them for me. I guess she wanted to help me since I’m all alone.’

‘Interesting…does she know you well, or not?’ He wondered, picking up the butt plug and raising his eyebrows making me blush as my body started sweating.

‘Klaus! Stop the teasing and get inside me! The cramps are starting, so if you’re not going to help me then get the Fuck out and I’ll do it my-Ah!’ I cried out, feeling the rounded end of the plug pressing to my tight hole and rubbing against it. ‘Oh God!’ Klaus took the lube bottle and squeezed a healthy amount onto the plug before tossing it to the other side of the bed and pressing it back against my ass.

‘Relax Precious, this is going to make it feel so much better!’ He promised, pushing the plug harder until it popped into my hole. Klaus could feel his cock throbbing even harder at the sight of the jewel on the end of the plug. ‘You are so fucking perfect! How do you fee-‘

‘Klaus! Please?!’ I begged, pulling him closer and yanking at his shirt before getting it off and sighing in relief at the feel of his hot skin against mine.

Klaus shoved his jeans and boxers the rest of the way off, finally naked as well before taking hold of his cock and pushing himself back inside of me. ‘There you are love, feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Both of your slutty little holes stuffed up?’

‘T-Too much-Never-‘

‘Never been so full before, I know Baby! I-Fuck!’ Suddenly as if he could no longer control himself he began thrusting into me frantically. ‘Mine! My Fucking Cunt!’ He snarled, Hybrid visage taking over as he fucked into me so hard I briefly wondered if he could shatter my pelvis like this.

‘Yes! Yours! All yours, don’t stop! Please don’t stop?!’

Y/n couldn’t have said how long Klaus continued like that. How long he thrust into her cunt at a painful speed, how many times the both of them had climaxed together while he still continued to fuck his (somehow still) hard cock into her, she couldn’t even say how many times he had buried his fangs into her throat in an effort to mark her as his like a werewolf marking his mate…and maybe he was. Odds are she was never getting away from him now-not that she wanted to.

It was a week later that Damon finally came back to the house to check on her finding the front door ripped open.

He ventured inside, not hearing anything and figuring that it was over for Y/n and who was inevitably Klaus that had torn the door off the hinges. He was prepared with jokes galore for the the drive back, excited to pick on the young girl for giving into the monster that had been after her for months but sadly he never got to use those jokes.

Damon opened the door to the bedroom to find his girlfriends friend snuggled into Klaus Mikaelson’s naked chest fast asleep. The Hybrid however seemed to have awoken as soon as he turned the doorknob, his yellow eyes finding his with an intensity that he had never seen. He bore his fangs, lifting his head and Damon (one of the only people who had never truly feared Klaus Mikaelson) was instantly terrified. It was like a bucket of ice water dumped on him, alarm bells ringing in his head declaring the danger that he is in prompting him to throw up his hands instantly. As Klaus moved to sit up, the young vampire shut the door promptly and hightailed it back to his car, peeling back down the driveway.

He doesn’t know how long that stuff will take to wear off but it definitely hasn’t yet and he would not be disturbing them again!

Y/n and Klaus were in the house for nearly 2 weeks before they felt as if their bodies were back to normal though they stayed for another week after that. No one could have imagined how close such a spell would bring them…no one except Klaus of course.

The witch he had hired to make that powder had done a wonderful job, money well spent in the Hybrids mind. The spell had worked better than he ever could have imagined and it had gotten him exactly what he wanted.

The only thing left to do was to kill the witch that had helped him and ensure that his mate never learned that he was the one who had dosed her.

He finally had his girl, he couldn’t let something so trivial ruin it.

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

[ch4mpagnedrought]

compensation

[full series]

mdni ! art donaldson

summary: you and art cant help but try and compensate for everything you’re missing out on now that tashi and patrick are together.

ever since tashi had suggested a game of tennis for her number and patrick won, its left you and art to roam around the stanford campus like two little lost puppies, begging for their attention when patrick comes to visit tashi.

patrick has made it impossible to get a hold of the girl, her dorm room always locked and her absence in the daily work-outs the two of you usually have made very obvious. not to mention the betrayal art must be feeling, having his best friend be only in the adjacent building to him, but never coming to actually see him.

you’ve had to find ways to preoccupy yourselves, and stop you from going on an angry rampage, like;

hitting racket to ball in the middle of the court, not even bothering to play a real game. “my prof is making me rewrite my whole assignment this week.” you complain, aiming the ball at the green fencing at the sides and watching it bounce back in art’s direction for your own botched version of squash. he laughs loudly, “who knew you were so bad at everything besides tennis.” you shoot him a scowl and his eyes widen, shoulders shrugging unapologetically as he swings his arm once again.

spring fading into summer means that evenings still have a little light in them, and you fight the urge to lie straight down on the tarmac and look up at the greying sky. the light breeze washes through art’s strawberry blonde hair, swaying it to the side to expose his brows that furrow when you let the ball bounce away between your legs, looking at him with a tense expression. the thought that tashi and patrick were somewhere doing god knows what (you knew what) and completely ignoring you made a reappearance in your head suddenly, and it boiled your blood. “ugh! im gonna kill them!” you huff out, grabbing the ball from the ground and stomping to where you left your stuff. art’s arm finding the both of your shoulders, “ditto that.”

having lunch at the food hall together: waiting in line for the same exact salad that you get every day, curtesy of your game-preparation meal plan and taking a seat on the bar stools that overlook the rest of the campus. stabbing your fork into the frail pieces of lettuce in your plastic bowl, art taking another bite of his churro in silence and licking away all the rouge sugar particles from his lips. “you know, patrick didn’t even bother to call me about his visit.” art says, taking off his red baseball cap just to put it back on his head again. “what a dog.” you scoff, shaking your head and taking a sip of your smoothie that tastes a little grainy from the protein powder. you would’ve continued to rant if you hadn’t spotted tashi and patrick walking hand-in-hand in the distance, all smiles and giggles; it makes you sick. “look.” you point it out to art and he mocks patrick in a high-pitched voice, “hey tashi aren’t i so cool? i play pro and i’m totally not cheating on you.” you chuckle, leaning over to snag a bite of his churro.

and confiding in each other in art’s dorm late at night, when the haunting noises coming from the other side of your wall get too much.

his room is surprisingly so…boyish. a couple posters of tennis stars on the walls that seem so out of place, like he put them there for the sole purpose of taking up space. his medals are hung up on the corner of his wardrobe, tinkering on the edge and there is an unidentified pile of clothing in the corner.

his sheets are a deep maroon colour and you lie flat across them, both of your heads leaning on the single flat pillow he owns, legs crossed. his ceiling has remnants of a water leak the university tried to paint over and you study it from below. “i wonder what they’re doing right now.” art hums, putting his hands behind his head, and letting you rest your head on his bicep.

you shoot up, glancing down at him, one brow lifted and eyes narrow, “i can tell you exactly what they’re doing right now,” you say, scrambling up onto your knees, “’patrick i need your racket right now!’’’ you moan tauntingly, rolling your eyes back and crossing your arms over your chest. art cackles, stomach contracting and grabbing onto your shoulder for support. his hand is pumping warm with blood, hovering over your skin for longer than socially acceptable, and his fingers caressed by the long strands of your curly hair that fall at your sides.

running over to his room meant that you hadn’t had enough time to grab a change of clothes to sleep in, so he graciously lent you one of his t-shirts, a navy one with white embroidered writing that you hadn’t bothered to read, which prods at the aching in his head to see you without it.

“when was the last time you slept with someone?” your question catches art off guard, lying back down next to him and watching the blush creep up onto his cheeks, eyes darting away somewhere to think of an answer. “oh come on, was it that unforgettable?” you laugh. he knew when exactly when the last time was, but the thought that him sleeping with someone had crossed your mind, putting the idea of the two of you together into his own had clouded his head, making it unbearably difficult to think, or speak.

“maybe last month” art estimates when the last time he saw the girl in one of his classes that he casually slept with from time to time, your expression remaining unchanged, which whirls something inside of his stomach. you nod, smile spreading across your lips, and eyes glancing down to art’s partially parted ones. art adjusts himself, propping his head up with his hand and looking down at you, “when was the last time that you slept with someone?”

its unclear to him whether you're joking with your response. “ask me that tomorrow.” it spins his head until he sees double, having to shut his eyes for a second to regain consciousness. your nonchalant smile quite frankly irks him, because you seem so unaware of how he is sliding the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip, preparing just incase you decide that you want to kiss him. or the fact that he moved his leg upwards along the bed to cover his raging boner at just the mere idea of you and him together.

the shirt he lends you rides up on your hips, obviously showing off the black panties that you’re wearing and the neck-line hangs low enough to show the indent of your collarbone that he imagines licking a stripe over.

you thrum, looking up at art through dark eyelashes, “isn’t it so unfair how tashi and patrick can ignore us just to get at each other?”

he got the hint, every crumb you’ve put down he’s followed and scooped up all in one go, sighing out a weak, “yeah” that sounds more like a whine, and leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

the taste of your lip gloss he had missed sweetens his mouth immediately and the faint smell of a chocolatey lotion on your skin sends him into complete overdrive, left hand desperately reaching for the side of your face to take you deeper into him. he sinks himself down, pressing his chest into yours and disconnecting his lips to breathe out a groan at the sensation of your boobs against him like a boy who's never felt them before.

his face is burning hot, lips even hotter as they move simultaneously with yours, covering the perimeter of your mouth with long and drawn out movements to fully get the taste of you hes been dreaming of ever since that hotel room. his hands roam down to the curvature of your waist, taking a strong grip to it to make sure his fingerprints forever remember it, then down to your hips, kneading the flesh.

with him over you, he pulls away from your arms that are wrapped around his neck, pulling the hem of his shirt to unveil your midriff and the black lace that frames your lower waist, your thighs pressed together to catch the heat that he manifests within you, “oh my god.” it might just be the lewdest sight he has ever seen, along with your swollen lips that are glistening with his saliva.

he can barely keep away the moans that try to escape his mouth when he lowers himself down to you, eager lips pressing into your hip, lapping at the surface of your skin with a desperation only art could have, along the hem of your panties, and back up your stomach while your fingers entangle with his blonde locks.

your pulse quickens, exhaling his name out when his finger pulls your underwear to the side, letting the air hit your leaking core, a smile playing at art’s lips. “please, please art.” you moan out, squeezing your eyes shut and letting the sensation of one of his digits swiping through your folds overcome you.

he nibbles at your inner thighs, soft licks soothing the area as one of his fingers slides inside you, while the other gropes at your breast through your shirt. his mind is completely consumed by you, watching every change in your expression with his fingers pumping in and out of you, flush on your face and brows knitting every time he draws back.

your legs instinctively move over his shoulders, trapping him around you to continue the motion and giving him the chance to tilt his head to the side, pressing a kiss to the thigh that is thrown over him. “is this okay?” he asks, caressing a hand down your calf and watching the way your hand reaches out to grab him by the wrist.

“lie down art” you keen, his eyes narrow and he pulls back with a sense of confusion that is overrode with your impatience, ushering him below you. so he does, leaning against the headboard whilst you throw yourself onto his hips, his jaw tilting upwards to unconsciously fulfil the want of his lips devouring the whole of your figure.

the shirt he lent you doesn’t last long, ending up in the pile on his floor and letting him ravish in the sight of your bare torso. he gasps out your name, wandering hands reaching out to massage your breast, flesh filling out the gaps between all five of his fingers. “take this off” you strangle out, gesturing to the shirt he is wearing, disheveled hair falling back into his face that burns hot when you let your eyes roam down to his abdomen. even the weight of your ass pressing into his dick through his shorts is teetering him to climax, hands not knowing where to put themselves when he wants to grab a hold of all of you.

your fingers wrap around the waistband of his shorts that he is wearing, pulling down his boxers at the same time and freeing his erection to slap back onto his stomach, recalling something patrick said about the time he taught art to jerk off. the palm of your hand ghosts his cock, restraining yourself from taking it into your hands there and then, “can i?” even the way you sigh out the question has the hairs on art’s arms standing up and mouth swallowing saliva in anticipation. “yes, yes.” he whines, brows furrowing up at you and all of his muscles tensing.

with a gentle touch, he guides you above him, his hands at your sides as you spread yourself open for him, sinking down only to the tip before he grabs your waist and pauses in the position. he looks like a little helpless, bottom lip between his teeth and an alarmed look in his face that says if you go any further he’ll come right now. “i’ll go slow,” you whisper, a small smirk on your face that’s hard to resist when his shimmering eyes try to find the last slither of dignity within him, “i promise.” you smile reassuringly and he glances away, the flush in his cheeks getting a little deeper.

you keep your promise, slowly lowering yourself down onto him, goosebumps fevering your skin and palms laying flat across his abdomen to steady yourself.

taking him in completely, you whimper out his name and his hands journey to graze your back, up to your shoulder blades where he presses them into you to pull you into him, mouth suctioning down the valley of your breasts. his moans vibrate back into your skin when you pull back up from him, stimulating every single nerve ending in his length like it never has before. you set a pace, slow and steady for art, snapping your hips down onto his in a way that knocks the wind out of you each time, gasping for air. he keeps you close to him, rolling his hips to meet you in the middle and put some of that athlete stamina to use and murmuring your name with every movement.

his finger moves your hair from your shoulder, so he can press soft pecks onto the surface, whilst you clutch the wooden headboard, growing impatient and consequently pounding him into you. his moans purr into your ear, grabbing onto your ass to keep you still as he thrusts himself into you from below and shakily calling out an, “im gonna come.”

you nod, clasping around his biceps and leaning down to nip at his neck, losing composure the more your walls contract around him. you ignore the muscles in your legs that ache and your lungs that can’t seem get a hold of the air that is shared between you to continue to mercilessly plunge him deeper into you until it feels like you’re melting into one another, a shudder sending itself down your bare back and deepening the heat that builds in your core.

art is panting, popping your tit into his mouth one last time before falling still, twitching inside of you and releasing all of his seed into you until it overflows from below. your name echoes out of his mouth, whimpering and whining it out until he can open his eyes back up and centre his vision on you burning every last bit of energy to bounce on his dick.

you lean forward onto him, eyes rolling back into your head when reaching your climax and pressing your burning cheek against his face to feel all of him. he brushes his hand down your back comfortingly, you heaving into the crevice of his neck that glistens with sweat and feeling your walls contract around him the last couple times.

art sighs your name out, pressing his lips into your cheek and letting a smile spread across his face when you brush the dampened hair out of his forehead to get a better view of his eyes.

your body feels limp, falling back down next to him with a post-sex fatigue that follows you all the way into the next morning, where you sit at a table in the food hall, thanking art for bringing you some breakfast and trying to ignore the echoing of all the noises he made last night in your head.

“fuck i really need to work on that assignment today” you groan, taking a bite into a slice of honeydew with your head in the palm of your hand. art watches and nods, a false portrayal of an active listener when what he’s really focusing on is the way your lips curl around the slice, biting off a chunk and closing your lips around it in a way that makes him reminisce that he was right there too only a couple hours ago. “i can help.” he offers, truly from the kindness of his heart that kindly wants to spend the rest of his life looking at you.

“you wish.” you scoff, “i’m not allowed to be alone in a room with you anymore.”

art takes a swig of his water to hide the grin that spreads on his face, and when he makes eye contact with a random student from across the hall he feels like they heard that too. he wishes they could hear, and know that you, the best tennis player stanford has probably ever had, are having to physically restrain yourself from him.

“what are you smiling about?” the familiar voice of patrick calls out from a few strides away, in a pair of indigo levis and a white tee, grabbing onto arts shoulders and lowering himself down to his level to grab his chin playfully. art swats him away immediately, pushing patrick down into a chair. and tashi grazes your shoulders softly with her hand when taking a seat next to you and stealing a piece of your fruit from your bowl, “good morning.”

“morning.” you sigh out, taking a sip of your tea and hoping that it isn’t totally obvious that you slept with your friend. but tashi takes notice of the slight frizz in your hair, a dishevelled-ness that is never usually there, so it wasn’t her intention to call you out in front of the four of you when she asks, “why do you look hungover?” she even moves a piece of your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear to get a better look at the colour under your eyes. your brows furrow, eyes glancing to the left of you at the two boys whose expressions couldn’t be anymore different. art’s poker face is awful, he’s trying to keep his face composed but his posture slumps under the weight of patrick’s hand that spreads across over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk.

you shrug nonchalantly, taking another bite of your breakfast to act like your lungs aren’t constricting and you aren’t going into fight or flight, “late night i guess.”

theres a moment of silence, everyone in their heads peacefully while you wish you could get into art’s and find out what he’s thinking about your pathetic lie.

“nice shirt.” patrick says.

“thanks." you reply, swiping over the embroidered ‘mark rebellat tennis academy’ with a finger and looking up at patrick, who meets your eyes with a knowing smirk that makes you feel silly for not assuming that patrick would have memorised art’s whole closet, or recognise the school they went to.

and when patrick squeezes art’s shoulder and asks whether he is “up for a game?” you suddenly become hyper aware of how much his gaze slips past art’s eyes and down onto you as they stand up from the table, eyes squinting and a stupid smile on his face. the combination is so piercing you’ve become aware that even if tashi believed your lie, and art thinks he’s got away scott free—he knows, and he’s letting you know.

his hand ruffles the hair on art’s head, arm falling over his shoulders and drawing him into himself, “we have a bunch of catching up to do, art.” he keeps art close to him as they walk away towards the tennis courts, leaning in to whisper something into his ear after the both of them briefly turned around to wave you and tashi goodbye.

tashi seems unphased by their behaviour, continuing to braid a small of piece of your hair that she unconsciously started. “you know patrick’s about to tell art all about your get together.” you chuckle and tashi scoffs, leaning back into her chair, “he wouldn’t say anything” she reassures, “also we didn’t even do anything.” she adds in quickly, stealing another piece of watermelon from your bowl and taking a bite to avoid talking about the topic like you hadn’t just done that. you smile at her, and she widens her eyes to let you know that she’ll tell you all about last night later.

“i wouldn’t be so sure.” you shake your head, stealing back the half-bitten melon from in between her fingers and finishing it off.

[a-jynx]

care to stay? (astarion x reader)

i'll let you guess, it's kinda angsty!

warnings; a lot of blood talk, injuries, hurt/comfort, a bit of angst to keep it spicy, and maybe some ooc astarion! enjoy!

Sharp whines pierced your skull, licking at the contents inside as your eyes twitched open. Squinting at the ache in your thundering bones, you slowly rolled onto your back, sitting up onto your elbow with a groan.

What in the Hells happened...? Pushing up with your shaking limbs, you staggered, falling into a cracked and crumbling wall. Squeezing your teeth that caused a dull ache behind your jaw. Glancing around, you watched as the flames flickered and danced among the rubble. The crumbling surface around you reeked of smoke powder and copper, along with the putrid stench of smoked flesh. Swallowing thickly at the dirt that coated your throat, you gripped your side while stumbling through the scattered bodies. Flashes rippled through your groaning and thrumming mind.

Your party. Your brain scattered, thinking of everyone within the walls. Shadowheart, Gale, Karlach... Astarion.

Goblins had ambushed you. Shadowheart and Astarion were busy trying to keep them off of you and Gale, whilst Karlach had gone into her fit of rage.

The smoke powder barrel. You remember shouting as the Goblins fire arrow whizzed past your lot, your eyes wide as you all ran towards the exit as the explosion boomed.

Groaning, you dragged your feet through the clutter, your boots catching on jagged stones and the thick, blackened goop of blood stuck to your boots like sap. Swaying towards another door, it's once oak colored darkened from the blast, a handprint of blood smeared across the handle. Wetting your lips, you drew your dagger and shouldered through, only to sigh as you spotted Karlach helping Shadowheart with Gale's wounds.

"My Gods," Karlach laid Gale back against the bed, quickly moving towards you as you stumbled into her hold, not caring about the sizzling as she moved you towards the other bed. "Solider, are you alright? You took the blunt of the blow, if I'm being honest, I'm shocked yet thrilled to see you alive."

You winced away from the burning sensation as your back met the soft, yet dirt-covered mattress. "Thank you, Karlach," your voice rasped, soot still coating it and resting among the blood in your teeth. "Where's Astar-"

"He went to find-"

You jumped as the door slammed open. "I can't find them anywhere! There's more goblin guts and d" his voice staled when his eyes landed on your shaking figure, Karlach's hand still hovering over. "By the Hells! Watch where you're aiming those torches," he hissed, moving to the other side of the bed, his arms over his chest as Karlach rolled her eyes.

"They're fine, Astarion, they're our fearless leader, remember?" Her comment held bite as you winced, searing pain rippled through your melting mind. Astarion's lips moved to speak, his eyes glanced towards you as he gently gasped. Blood leaked from your ears, decorating the mattress and your hair below. Eyes clenched shut as you gritted your teeth, more pain shooting through as if your jaw would splinter.

"Heal them now, dammit!" Astarion shouted as Shadowheart finished healing over Gale, who slowly sat up in bed, groaning and clenching his shoulder. The cleric moved quickly, her hands already glowing a crisp, bright blue before laying them on your temples. More searing caressed your aching skull, yet this time it felt calming. Like that of an animal licking at its wounds. Soothing. Your body shook, feeling the bond shake and mend within your soup-like mind. The sharp whines became whimpers of your own voice. A gasp ripped through your burning throat as the crackle of your rib mended itself back into place.

"Is it working? Will they be alright?" Karlach stood closer to Shadowheart as she sighed, her fingers began to shake. She was growing weak...

"I'm not sure how much more I have in me-"

"You'll continue to heal them until Avernus freezes over if it'll help them," Astarion snipped, one of his hands had moved amongst the blood and dirt, caressing your fingers in a way of saying 'I'm here'. Your chest clenched as a blood-curdling scream wretched through your throat, rattling your still bubbling mind. Shadowheart grimaced, yanking her hands back with a shout, her hands stung with a rose-like red blistering her palms. Karlach gently caressed Shadowhearts' armored shoulder and moved towards Gales' bed, who stood in shock. Astarion had moved to sit on the bed with you, his arms holding onto your shoulders as you shook and cried out.

Her healing had worked, but its' effects worked through each injury like a professional seamstress. Weaving through your veins, smothering in and over your bones' marrow, and licking at your popped eardrums and rattled brain damage from within. You withered in Astarion's grasp, shaking as tears streaked down your dirty cheeks. "I- I tried to save us," your voice shook. Astarion frowned, his thumb brushed against your skin. "Just rest, darling.." His voice was a gentle whisper, his cool skin pressed against your sweat-covered skin. Sighing against his chest, your eyes fluttered close. The soot and dirt caused a soft grimace, yet there was a comforting scent hidden amongst it.

*******

You blinked awake, wincing as you slowly sat up from the bedroll beneath you. "What the Hells," you winced more at the sound of your gravel-like voice. Humming, you took in your surroundings. Soft pillows and carpets surrounded you, a gentle candlelight flittered within the bright red tent. Goosebumps travelled up your skin as you glanced down, noticing your tunic missing and dull-white wrappings secured around your ribs. Crimson blossomed across the wrappings causing you to frown.

Jumping as the tent flaps opened, revealing Astarion with a bowl and prime white wraps resting across his forearm. His movements paused, your eyes met as he sat the bowl down and moved towards you, grabbing your flushed cheeks and slamming your lips together. You gently moaned into the kiss, flinching at pain that shot through your side. "Thank the Gods you're awake," he mumbled against your lips, resting his forehead against your own. "I thought you were gone..." His voice lower, barely a whisper.

With a smile, you rested your jaw against his rough palms, relishing in the callouses he's gained over your time together. "And leave you all alone with Gale? I couldn't." You couldn't fight back the grin as he rolled his eyes, leaning back on his calves and helping you lay back against the cot. "Because you know he'd be insufferable for me to endure alone," he smiled gently, brushing your hair from your eyes. Sighing, you leaned further into the bedroll, Astarion reached back and grabbed the bowl, dipping the piece of cloth into the cool water and dabbing it against your sweltering forehead.

"How're the others?"

"They're fine, we need to worry about getting you back to proper health, my dear," he hummed, dropping the rag back into the bowl. His fingertips dragged gently over your ribs, watching as your body jumped from the soft touches. Your brows furrowed, gently grabbing his flittering touches. "Star... Please,"

"They're alright, my love, I promise.." He sighed, gently undoing the wraps and frowning at the snarled wound. The blast had cut through your flesh like butter. Soot and dirt had embedded itself into your wound and clung to your hanging flesh, it had caused him to cringe inward at the sight of your gnarled flesh. He worked quickly, dabbing the wet cloth against the charred skin, sighing as you flinched away. Wrapping the new bandages, he sat back while wringing out the blackened and bloodied rag. "And how're you...?"

The water dripping ceased as his lips pressed into a tight line, the rag dropped next to your arm as you pushed up onto your elbows. "Star..?" You frowned, rolling onto your non-injured side as he turned towards you, his hand cupped your jaw as you reached up, catching his with a sigh. Tears brimmed his ruby colored eyes. "I thought we lost you when you fainted. There was just... So much blood. Your blood mixed with that dirt and soot, and I couldn't-" His voice caught, choking in his throat as he shook his head. "The mere scent of your blood mixed with such retched things; it made my stomach churn. Caused the bile to claw up my throat."

You stared at Astarion - you both had found safety in one another. Trust had built quickly with how many battles you both had gotten into together, the stories shared amongst with goblets of wine, confiding in one another when everything seemed hopeless. And of course, with your shared comfort came... Feelings.

Astarion hated it.

He wasn't supposed to fall for you, it was the simplest plan for him to follow, yet here he was. On the verge of crying while he coddled you close, his fingertips ghosting over your new bandages. Gently wrapping your arms around him, you tugged him down to the bedroll, racking your fingers through his thick, white curls. You shared a comfortable silence as he wrapped his arms around your chest, as carefully as he could, his hands still trembling. You fitted yourself against his chest, sighing while twisting a wild curl around your finger.

"You can touch me, my Star, I'm not made of glass-"

"No, but you need your rest... I should go-"

"Please... I don't want to be alone," you murmured into his shirt, tightening your arms around his waist as he moved to leave. Blinking, his hands hovered over your shivering skin. His lip slightly trembled before he swallowed thickly. "Ask me to stay," his voice shook as you squeezed him close, feeling your own tears well up. He believed he would hurt you more than help you. "Ask me to stay, and I will." Leaning up onto his chest, you leaned up and pressed a tight kiss to his lips.

Your mouths moved together. Teeth and tongue clanking and grinding against each other. Astarion's hands settled on your hips, soft circles tugged at your loose pants, his nails scrapping by the edge of your bandages. A gentle shudder ran through your bones as you maneuvered yourself on top of his lap, gritting your teeth to keep the pained moan buried in your throat. Pressing soft kisses to the corner of your mouth, his lips trailed down your throat to the scarred bite mark. Your body moved gently against his lap, rolling circles into his hips before he rolled you off of him, chest heaving.

"Astarion, wait,"

"We're... Resting." His voice slightly wavered, his nails gently digging into your shoulders before he moved to lay beside you. Tugging your body closer, smothering his nose into your hair, deeply inhaling as you wrapped your arms around his chest.

"When you're not constantly bleeding," his voice muffled as you rolled your eyes. His fingers gently pinched at your thigh. "Then, we'll have all the fun you deserve, my darling."

*****

You awoke to quiet murmuring - distant, gentle - as if not wanting to break the silence the moon had brought on. Lighting your pinkie, you moved to light the candle beside your bedroll, only to jump when a pair of arms tightened around your waist.

Astarion's body quivered against your own, his arms tightened. You cringed at the pain shooting through your body, but gritting your teeth, you turned over as much as his grip would allow. Grasping his shoulder, you gently shook the somewhat whimpering elf.

"Astarion, honey, wake up." You murmured into the air, huffing as he released your waist, one arm slipping from around you as it grasped at his tunic, tugging on the slightly tattered tunic. "My star, please," his fangs dipped into his bottom lip, blood dribbled from the nibbled skin. "Astarion, wake the hells up!" You shook him more, ignoring the searing pain as his claw-like nails dug into your skin. His eyes snapped open; a gasp choked through him as tears leaked down his cheeks.

Elvish ripped through his lips before he could even comprehend the words his tongue spilt. Your eyes widened, quickly setting up on your knees, both hands grasping his sticky cheeks. "Astarion, my love, breathe, please." Grasping one of his shaking hands, you placed his palm against your heaving chest, your heart beating heavily. His eyes caught yours, more tears leaked past your hands as you rubbed your thumb against his cheeks. "Breathe, my Moon, follow my rhythm."

His hands trembled against your skin, slowly his eyes blinked as he seemed to finally focus on your eyes. Swallowing thickly, he licked his lips and slowly reached up, locking his hands through your locks. Astarion tugged you into his body, his hands shook as he held you close. His breathing shook as he tightened his grip, making you whimper in his hold.

"Astarion, are you alright... Do you need a minute?" Your voice was low, attempting to keep the peace within your shared tent. You held each other close, gentle kisses caressed his skin as he leaned further into you. "Ask me to stay, and I will." You murmured into his hair, cradling him further into your body. You wanted to shield him away from everything. The fear and anger that tries to eat away at him. He looked up, slowly leaning back, but keeping his hold on you. Astarion licked his lips slowly, a shaking sigh passed through him as he moved to hold your cheeks.

"Care to stay?"