#I need it for me so bad it will not fix me but it may help

[thedemonofcat]

What if Jaskier was cursed or something, and it was not only fatal but likely to kill a whole bunch of people.

Jaskier puts out a contract with a stipulation: "Not Geralt of Rivia".

It's not because of the mountain. As hurt as Jaskier still is, he has faith in Geralt's abilities and his compassion. There was no witcher Jaskier trusted more.

However, Jaskier had seen many curses. He knew his was a bitch and may very well end poorly. If that happened, Geralt would have to kill him.

And, Jaskier knew Geralt hated killing people. Especially ones he knew well. Despite any resentment Geralt may hold, Jaskier knew the wolf would be burdened by the deed. He wouldn't be able to see it as the mercy it was.

Unfortunately, the witcher who did answer the contract was one of Geralt's brothers, and he took it upon himself to write the white wolf.

The sound of hooves jolted Jaskier awake. He had been feeling increasingly exhausted ever since the curse had taken hold, draining him in ways he couldn’t fully describe. With a weary groan, he swung his legs out of bed and shuffled toward the front door.

“Let me see him,” Geralt’s voice rang out, tense and commanding.

“I will, but you need to calm down,” Eskel replied, his tone firm but understanding. The witcher Jaskier had hired to end his suffering sounded exasperated. “He’s sick, Geralt. It’s a curse, and it’s bad.”

Jaskier hesitated, eavesdropping as guilt and frustration churned in his gut. Finally, he stepped outside, interrupting the heated exchange. “Geralt, what are you doing here?”

At the sight of him, Geralt strode forward, his movements urgent yet careful. He cupped Jaskier’s face in his calloused hands, his expression softening with both relief and alarm. “I got a letter saying you were cursed,” he murmured, his golden eyes scanning Jaskier’s pallid face. “It’s alright. I’m here now. I can fix this. We’ll figure it out, and everything will go back to the way it was.”

There was a crack in Geralt’s voice, a desperation that Jaskier hadn’t heard before.

“You can’t save me,” Jaskier rasped, his voice breaking with emotion. If he weren’t so drained, he might have wept.

“I have to save you,” Geralt whispered fiercely, his grip tightening. “I have you back. I won’t lose you.”

“Just stop!” Jaskier snapped, his voice rising. Suddenly, a faint glow emanated from his skin, and Geralt’s hands jerked away as though scalded. He glanced at his palms, now marked with small, reddened burns.

Before either could fully process what was happening, Eskel stepped in, casting the Axii sign. Jaskier’s frantic breathing slowed as calm washed over him.

“You’re alright. You’re calm now,” Eskel said, his voice soothing as he gently took hold of Jaskier’s arms. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

As Eskel guided him inside, Geralt stood frozen, staring at his singed hands. His jaw tightened.

This was the curse Rience had inflicted on Jaskier: a slow, insidious burn from within, one that worsened with strong emotion. If left unchecked, the bard’s fiery outbursts could ignite into an inferno capable of devastating everything for miles.

[pennyold]

truck driver | d.s

Summary: alone with the car a mess and a truck driver letting her in, would it end well? pretty well.

Warnings: older!drew, age gap, swearing, humping, cum play, oral (male receiving), use of word “daddy”, no use of y/n (oc reader), plot then good sex. I think that's all, hehe.

a.n: first fic, so please don't be rude, if there are any grammatical mistakes, please let me know. Enjoy!!

w.c: 1.9k

peace and love, penny ︎︎︎★

So there I was, stuck in the middle of nowhere, with my car a mess. I started thinking of many ways to solve it, but I could not fix it anyway. I’m 6 hours away from home, and no one is willing to come and help me, I’m alone right now; fortunately, it is afternoon, and the sun is still shining barely. It was 6:40 pm when I got into the car looking for some things. I won’t stay here forever; with my stuff in hand, I recharged in the car. I put my thumb up when I saw a big truck, ignored. This is going to take so long.

The sun was almost hiding when a truck-long one finally gave me lights. He stopped by my side, and I turned by the driver’s side. “What happened to you, sweetheart?” shit, my tongue got stuck in my mouth, I didn’t know specifically, but he was not too old, with his hat backward and a little smirk “How can I help you?” watching that I didn’t say any word, he talked.

“Uh, yes, my car got stuck here, so I was wondering if you could drive me to the close motel here.” I bite my middle finger nail, anxious.

He nods “Of course I can, there’s one an hour, wanna get in?” I nod, then I check my car for one last time, and with all my things, I get in the truck, hopefully, large in the pilot and copilot place, and clean. Well, it is not that bad. With my thing in my lap, I watched the landscape while 90s rock music played at a very low volume.

“So,” he broke the silence, “what happened with your car?” he asked “The battery died.” I explained. “Mmh, there was no signal of that happening before?” he asked with a curious look. His eyes were blue, a dark blue. “No, sir.” “It may be a battery problem.” he says.

Oh, thanks for telling me I didn’t notice.

“I mean, comin’ from the company.” he knows what I think when my face is confused “I know my answer sounds stupid, but it can happen.”  “Yeah, sure.” Maybe I sound rude, but I was just exhausted, and I don’t want to talk, not right now.

After a while on the road, I opened my mouth. “How much rest?” I shyly grab my things hard, nervous. When I looked at him for a little second, he watched my move, he shut his eyes away and rapidly looked at me. “Not too much, a 40 min we are there, don’t worry. I promise.” he slightly smirk, and I saw some awkwardness on his face.

“Do you live here?” I asked, I’m feeling he’s giving the green signal. “Yeah, in the south, what about you?” I looked out the window, seeing the sun in the middle of the mountain. “A 6 hours away, to the north.” “Alright,” he nodded, then a little gas station with a market appeared “Do you need souvenirs?” “Oh, no, don’t worry,” I smile shyly, not to bother him, “I will come at midnight on my own”

“What are you sayin’? I said it cuz after would not be safe and worse if you go alone.” he denied it, and I disappointed him, good job. “It’s not safe out here, trust me when I say it. “Yes, sir.” “Do not call me ‘sir’, I’m not that old.” Then he looked at me. I feel guilty “It’s not in a bad way, I didn’t want to be rude to you.” “No, it’s fine, I get it, don’t worry. Can I call you by your name?” I smiled. “Call me Drew, what bout’ you, hon?” I feel a slight heat in my body with that nickname, shit. “Alisha or Ali, whatever, it’s good.” he smiled “Alright, Ali.” 

I turned my body to face him “If you are not too old, how old are you?” “42.” he says firmly “Well…” He interrupted me. “Damn it, kid, what’s young for you?” I slightly blink. “25, mostly in the 20s.” “How old are ya now?” he side-eyed me, still looking at the road. “22.” “Sure… you look like 19, kid.” he looked at me, not convinced by my age. “I can show you my driver’s license; I’m not playing.”

“Nah, I’m just messing with you.” he laughed “We arrived in 10 minutes, Do you want me to leave you in the reception while I park the truck, or you wanna wait for me?” “I’ll wait for you.” he nods “Alright, hon.” 

We arrived at the parking lot of the motel, graving all my stuff, we got out of the truck. He helped me to get down, I thanked him, and we started the walk through the motel. As we entered, a weird smell got into my nose, really bad. There was no one in the reception, so Drew knocked the bell that was just there. Minutes later, a lady came, which wasn’t very happy. “Hey, ma’am, two rooms, please.” she checked the notes in her book “Good, it’s gonna be 40 for the two.” I grabbed my wallet, taking out 20 dollars, when I was going to give it to the lady, Drew had already given her 40 dollars. “Here.” I gave him the 20 dollars, but he denied it “Drew, please.” he whispered “By my own, Hon, don’t worry. Keep it.”

I smiled at him. The lady gave each one their key, just 1 room separated us. I waved to him and wished him good night, leaving my stuff on the little couch, I went to the bathroom, my hair was so dirty and awful. After the quick shower, I put on a tight shirt, which was the only clean I had in my backpack, and a pair of sleepy shorts. My stomach started hurting, and I was starving, I took my wallet, locked the dorm, and after I started walking to the lobby, a voice echoed behind me. “Where are you going, sweetheart?” It was Drew, out of his dorm, smoking a cigarette. “To the lobby, there is a snack machine.” he stands up “I go with you,” he throws the cigarette, turning it off with his boot. I wait for him, who’s right by my side, as we walk by the lobby, I notice it's lonely in the lobby. “You want something, Drew?” “No, sweetheart, I’m fine.”

I nod, and I buy some cookies and drinks. Ignoring that, he told me he didn’t want anything I gave him a Pepsi cola. “Hon… I told you.” “It’s for the dorm.” He smiled and thanked me. Walking to the rooms and watching the food, I thought something. “Would you like to watch a movie? Still early.” With anxious feelings, I bite my lip button. “Sure, why not?” he smiled.

As we entered the room, I left the food on the table and turned the TV on. I started curious about the area of the TV, and I found a hidden fridge with some sodas and beers.

“Wanna?” I said as I showed him the beer. “Sure, bring it, hon.” Giving him the beer, I sat next to him on the little couch, not very comfy, but we could not be in the bed, right? Quitting that question, there is where we were, my hips rocking over his crotch. “Shit baby, you make me get so hard.” I moan, kissing him again. As he put his big hand over my hips, my pussy started pulsing for the stimulation. “Drew…” I moan. “I cannot, baby. I can’t fuck you.” he denied touching my back softly. “Please.” I look at him with lust, my body is demanding him inside me. “We can do another thing. You wanna try it?” I nod immediately “I need you to trust me. I would never try to hurt you, but if I do, just tell me, and I'll stop, alright?” I nod “I want you to be rough with me. I need it.” “Baby…” he whispered. “Please” I beg.

Slowly I get out of his legs, sliding my shorts out while I watch him wake up the bed and unbelting his pants, the singular sound of the belt clinking, my pussy got more wet. I showed him my bare legs wanting him to remove my panties; he understood, sliding his fingers around the sweet material of my panties, as he took it over, he looked at my now bare pussy exposed for him.

“Open those pretty legs, sweetheart, wanna see the pretty cunt you have” As he said, I opened slowly, feeling how my folds parted and the cold air conditioner slap my pussy “Jesus, what a pretty pussy, baby, are you going to let me take care of her?” I nod “Words, baby.” “Yes, Daddy.” I bite my bottom lip. “Fuck, turn around, now” 

As I did it, I heard how he slid his boxers down, and without advancing, his cock started to run over my folds. I moan, feeling his tip, trying to get insane out of my hole. “S-shit, drew, stop teasing.” “You are not into birth control, right?” I denied I don’t have an active sexual life; I only use condoms and after-day pills. “Sorry, hon, I wanted to fuck you, but we cannot” he rubs his cock again over my folds, my sticky arousal covering his hard cock, I moan feeling his chubby tip against my entrance. “Shit, Daddy, please” I move my hips backward, wanting more of the friction. “Am I your daddy, baby?” the rub of his cock got faster, and my pussy started clenching around nothing. “Y-yes, shit, I-I’m cumming” my legs shaking and my hands gracing the sheets harder. “Cum baby, let that sticky cum cover my cock” his body fell slowly over my back, then I felt his mouth close to my ear. “Then you are going to suck it till I cum, alright, baby?” “Yes, Daddy, I will.” I barely say, feeling my high, I cum, moaning uncontrollably, shaking my legs like a weak doll. 

“On your knees.” recuperating the control of my legs, I get on my knees in front of him. I look at him, then I grab his hard cock, veined and the tip red and so chubby like I feel it. “Open your mouth with your tongue out.”  I did it as he said it, his tip over my tongue, slapping in, then he told me to suck it, putting my tongue under his cock and sucking it all. Shit, my pussy started pulsing over the feeling of his tip hitting my throat too deep, he’s big. I suck him slowly, tasting all of my cum. “Yeah baby… feel all your cum” he groaned, bringing his head back, he grabbed my hair starting to fuck my mouth, he’s so close, I could feel his cock twitching inside my mouth “Fuck, hon, I’m gonna cum” fucking my mouth he pulls it out, and his sticky fluids spank over my face, breast and some on the floor. As he released himself, he watched the cum over my face. “Shit baby, I’m sorry.” Desperately look for a towel and clean my face and breasts.

“Did it get inside your eye?” I denied. “Come, let me take you to the shower.” I pull him back, whispering in his ear that my pussy still wants attention. “Oh, sweetheart, want to be fucked? That’s what she’s going to get.”

divider: @/enchanthings-a

[ebodebo]

Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away)

—thinking about meeting the big bad arkham knight for the first time…consume at your own discretion.

current warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, dark themes, fem!reader, dubcon, p in v, angst, some biting (literally just one lol), jason being a little meanie, ooc bc it's hard for me to write him being overly mean, no aftercare, blindfolding, depictions of violence, orgasm delay & denial.

please heed the warnings before reading!

When the Dark Knight himself called on your help, you never imagined it would involve sitting on the edge of an abandoned shopping mall on Founder's Island, of all places, to keep an eye on a new vigilante whose name you didn't even know.

You had been sitting quietly on your perch for what felt like an eternity, your muscles ached slightly from remaining so still, but you knew that patience was key.

You glanced down at your watch waiting for the slightest signal from Babs—heart racing with anticipation, hoping for the moment she would finally give you the signal to proceed.

"You find out anything else about him, Babs? You speak through the intercom in your mask to Barbara, unable to deal with the dead silence any longer.

"Negative," she mechanically says.

"Does anyone know anything about this guy?" You question, eyes glazing over some military militia fililing in and out of the mall.

"His background is fairly limited, which is why you're there—to gather more intel," she says, tapping away at her computer. "Sources can't seem to agree on much more than his name," she briefly pauses, "The Arkham Knight."

"The Arkham Knight? Who calls themselves that? Must be a fuckin' lunatic," you remark, narrowing your eyes to get a better look at the figures.

"If only that were the case," Babs sighs. "He's shrewd and sharp. More importantly, he appears to have a vendetta, which makes him particularly dangerous. He seems to understand Bruce thoroughly—he's done his homework."

"Could it be an well-adversed escapee who made it into the city? Maybe Bruce left a bad taste in his mouth after being thrown in the asylum, so now he holds a grudge against him?" You prob, the uncertainty hanging in the air.

"Highly unlikely. No one within the asylum would have the capability to organize, let alone lead, such a massive assault," Babs states firmly, her conviction unwavering.

"Well, one things for sure, this 'Arkham Knight' may think he knows the ole' bat, but nobody really knows him," you say, making a conscious effort to ease some tension.

"His militia is heading to the north side," Babs states decisively. "Approach from the south side to avoid detection."

"Gotcha," you aver, using a grappel gun to maneuver yourself off the side of the building, and into the gritty dirt beneath you.

"Be careful. He's—he's dangerous. Stay alert," Babs warns, her voice wobbiling ever so slightly.

"I will. Over and out," you affirm, with a nod.

You make your way to the south side entrance, staying low and quiet to avoid the militia thugs patrolling the area.

As you approach the stairs leading to the generator that Babs disabled earlier, you climb up and squeeze into the vent, positioning yourself just under the entrance of the department store.

Peering through the grates, you spot several armed thugs escorting someone into the building.

Gripping the voice synthesizer strapped to your thigh, you bring it to your mouth and quietly issue a command.

"Got another three out by the front gate. Three more by the other. Need backup out here," you say, your voice altered to sound like a guard's.

"Affirmative," one of the men responds, signaling to his comrades where they need to go.

They acknowledge him and shuffle out.

"It's almost too easy," you think to yourself before dropping through the grates and sneaking down the maintenance corridor leading to the upper floors.

Bruce had already done the bulk of fixing the broken elevator.

All you need to do is press the panel behind the elevator door to reveal the large shaft below, where the fans, thanks to Bruce, are now stationary.

You ease your way down the elevator shaft silently with your grapple gun. You find your way down with ease, feeling a little overly cocky.

Turning to your side, you see two thugs that are sprinting over to you, weapons in hand.

"Shit," you curse, propelling yourself up to kick one of their weapons out of their hands, before swinging your foot across his face with much force, sending him to the ground.

The other is more stubborn.

He shoots at you, but he misses.

You kick the weapon from his hand, but he swings at your face, sending you back before he slams your body into the ground.

You use what strength you have to rock yourself up, slamming your head against his, catching him off guard, and sending him back off of you.

You haphazardly stand as he sprints back towards you. You swipe your leg across, tripping him and making him fall to the ground.

You hit him in the head with your grapple gun, so he'll pass out. You exhale deeply, catching your breath, eyes catching sight of a hazy figure to your side.

"Ah. Look what we have here. A stray bat," a modulated voice spoke.

You turn to face the person wearing a militaristic version of a bat suit. "Who the hell are you?" You gruff, spitting some blood out.

"Who the hell am I?" He retorts, sounding amused, before his voice turns cold and distorted. "No. Who the hell are you?"

"A fuckin' fairy," you dryly say, spitting more blood out.

He lets out a gravelly, mirthless chuckle. "Got jokes. Huh?"

You narrow your eyes at him. "I'm not a bat."

He hums, inching closer, his heavy boots making a metallic thud with each step. "It's in your best interest to not lie to me," he leers.

"I'm not," you hiss. "I'm just helping him."

He hums, low and ominous. "Didn't think the big bat needed help," he sneers. "Guess I was mistaken."

Before you could speak, a low voice echoed around the room. "Commander," a militia thug says, addressing the man you were speaking to, not sparing you a glance.

"What do you want?" The modulated voice grits, clearly agitated by his intrusion.

"Someone's hacked our communication system. Impersonated a guard," the militia thug says in a reverent tone.

The Knight lets out an irritated sigh, eyes darting to the militia thug. "Little late on the heads up," his tone cold and calculated as he gestures to you.

The military thug draws his gun up to point at your head.

The Knight holds his hand up. "Don't bother. I'll take care of her," he exasperates. "If anyone else slips in these walls under your watch, I'll kill you."

The militia thug nods, dropping his gun to a resting position.

"Get out of my face," the Knight spits, striding the thug out of the room.

"You're him," you state with complete certainty. "The Arkham Knight."

"The one and only," his tone is smug and oozing confidence.

This doesn't make sense.

Bruce said he never comes to lower floors, especially with so little protection around him.

"What? Cat got your tongue," the Knight jests in a sarcastic, mocking tone, boots clunking as he inches closer.

"No. I'm—I'm just in awe of how ridiculous that suit looks," you sputter without realizing what you're saying, anxiety clawing up your spine as he steps in front of you.

He lets out a condescending laugh. "Was gonna go for black, but I didn't want Bruce to get all jealous," he drags out his words lazily, sarcasm apparent in his tone, before grabbing you by the arm.

You knew better than to try and fight him.

He had a whole militia on his side and you, a mere grapple gun.

He moved you through several corridors, passing several militia men strapped with weapons.

He had converted the once cheerful, bright mall into a military base with sandbags, barricades, and checkpoints around the area.

"Must have cost a fortune," you murmur under his tight grip as he leads you through another dark corridor.

"The cost is irrelevant. What matters is the results," his tone is dismissive and arrogant. "And soon Gotham will see the true value of my investment."

You nod weakly, turning to look forward as he leads you into a room heavily guarded by more militia members. Your eyes glaze around the room he pushed you into.

The room was sterile.

It had a bed to the side, maps, strategic plans scattered across the walls and various gadgets.

If you had to guess, it was a bedroom.

Though it was devoid of any personal touches.

Seemingly serving only as a place of respite.

"What is this room?" You ask curiously, staying stationary as he closes the door behind him.

"Rest room," his voice is dry.

"Why so sterile?" You ask, feeling a surge of confidence.

He hesitates a moment, deciding how much to reveal. "This room...serves its purpose. It's a place to rest and recharge. Nothing more," he says in a guarded tone.

"Why'd you bring me here?" You question with caution.

"You're a liability," he rasped. "I should eliminate you for the sake of my mission."

As he spoke, he closed the distance between you, his face inches from yours.

"What?" Your eyes lock with his, bile rising up your throat. "You're just...going to kill me?"

"I might," he answers, cold and dark. "If you prove to be resourceful to me...perhaps I'll let you live."

You let out a shallow breath. "How do you mean?"

"How do I mean?" He dryly chuckles as he retorts your question. "How do you think I mean?" He questions, already slightly irritated.

He bends down next to you to pick up a loose piece of fabric. "Put the blindfold on," he says hastily, ripping off your mask.

You jerk your face to the side as he does so.

"Why?" You timidly question as he presses the fabric to your chest.

"Stop asking so many God-damn questions," his words were icy and clipped. "You want to leave?"

"Yes," you whisper.

"This is the price of your freedom," he asserted.

"Put it on."

You hesitate for a moment before taking the piece of fabric and placing it over your eyes, tying it tightly in the back. Then you stand there, fingertips playing the hem of your shirt to try and suppress your uneasiness.

All you hear is a faint hiss from what you assume is his mask as he pulls it off his face, revealing a simple black mask that covers the majority of his face except his eyes and mouth.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, inhaling a deep breath.

"What's wrong? Nervous?" He taunts, his voice unmodulated, gloved fingers coming up to trace down your jawline.

You pull away slightly, not expecting it.

"Ease up," he says, his hand coming back up to brush up on your skin.

You don't move under his touch this time, letting his hand explore your body.

"Never touched a woman before?" You sarcastically question, as his hands skim to the bottom of the shirt, easing it up a little.

"What business is that of yours?" He asks, his voice a little defensive.

"Need to know what I'm working with," you jokingly say.

He jerks you towards him by your hand. You squeal at his harsh touch. "Make no mistake. I am in control. I can kill you or have you killed with the snap of my fingers," he snarls.

"Do not test my patience."

You release a shaky breath at his sudden change.

"Nod, so I know you hear me," he adopted his signature authoritative tone.

You nodded fervently to not piss him off again.

"Good girl," he praises, fingers gripping the hem of your shirt again, pulling it over your head and throwing it on the ground.

The tension was palpable as you stood before him in your simple bra and pants.

You were at his mercy.

The thought didn't scare you as much as it should have. Instead, you found a strange thrill in the unexpected, a pleasure in the unknown.

He steps closer, the metallic clank of his boots giving away his position. You can feel his warm breath on your skin. The feeling made your chest tighten and palms clammy with disquiet.

You jumped a little as you felt his lips press into yours with a blazing kiss, though your lips moved with much haste against his, moving a mile a minute.

What the hell were you doing?

Your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, but your body seemed to have a mind of its own.

This was a recon mission, and yet here you were, kissing the very same guy you were supposed to help take down.

The internal conflict was tearing you apart.

This was you bartering for your freedom, you try to rationalize.

But then, why were you so hot and bothered?

You couldn't help the knot that twisted in your stomach at the fiery exchange and the pool of wetness you're sure had gathered in your panties.

"Take your pants off," the words fall off his tongue in a mumble into your lips, almost as if it was an ask.

But you knew it was an order.

Your hands move quickly to the waistband of your pants, tugging them down rather quickly. Then, you step over them to push them to the side.

He hums a sound of satisfaction. "So obedient."

You release a sigh, notably unlike your previous ones out of apprehension.

This one was all pleasure; there was no mistake about that.

His lips press back to yours briefly but powerfully before his hands tug down your panties.

"Christ. Do you like this?" His tone is incredulous and skeptical as he sees some of your glistening arousal.

You don't answer, only swallow hard.

"Answer me," he commands, firm and detached.

"Yes," you swiftly say.

He huffs at your revelation, outwardly revolted though internally pleased. You feel his hands push you back until your legs hit the edge of a bed before forcing you to lay back.

You lay docile as you hear the soft hiss of seals releasing as he shed his suit. The creak of armor plating echoed around the room, followed by a rustle of fabric and wiring as the suit's inner layer was exposed.

His fingers skim your thighs, eliciting a whine from you as he maneuvers himself on top of your body. Without warning, his cock slides into your aching cunt.

He grunts at the contact as he slips himself deeper into you.

Your body jerks forward, mouth hanging wide open as he pumps himself in and out of you, gripping your thighs tightly.

He moves quickly and has no plans to slow down anytime soon, and you need to come.

So, you slowly move your fingers down to rub small circles around your clit, moaning loudly.

He scowls, leaning down to bite your shoulder in warning.

You hiss as his teeth sink into your flesh.

"Behave," he instructs, pulling your hand away from your aching clit.

He grips your leg so it lays flat against his chest, letting him hit a deeper angle that has him groaning.

"What would the Dark Knight have to say?" His tone is venomous as he continues. "Huh?" He urges. "His latest project getting fucked by me?" He grits, fingers digging deeper into the fat of your thigh.

"Should I make you ask him?"

"Ask him your fuckin' self," you grit out, trying to concentrate on the orgasm blooming in your lower stomach.

He lets out a harsh, menacing chuckle.

"Won't have time to ask when I kill him where he stands."

You lean your head back, mouth agape, feeling yourself on the cusp of relief.

"Don't come," his voice booms around the small room, clouding your ears.

"I can't—I can't hold it," you whine, squirming with desire.

"You can and you will," he spat, pumping into you faster—testing you.

You let out a strangled moan as you grip the sheets under you tight, feeling your nails dig into your palms through the fabric, attempting to think about anything other than your raging need to come.

He lets out an anguished groan.

You could tell he was painfully close—as were you.

While he comes, certainly feeling euphoric, you are left with the feeling of tightness and a looming release.

"Can I—please," you beseech.

A twisted smile you can't see overtakes his face hearing you beg.

"Go on then," he stoically says—like he's being generous.

Your fingers reach down to rub your clit with speed; it doesn't take much time until you're moaning loudly, and your arousal coats your fingers, even dripping onto the sheets beneath you.

Legs shaking, you pull your fingers away, trying to recuperate.

You aren't sure you've ever had a better orgasm in your life.

"Flip over. We aren't done here," he issued in a low tone, just as you were coming down from your high.

You paused briefly before weakly flipping your body over so your stomach lay flat on the bed.

He grips your hips upward, positioning you so your hands and knees are pressed into the mattress, making you hiss due to soreness.

Pulling you by your hips back, he positions his cock into your entrance, slipping inside you with ease again. You wail at the contact, still delicate—he doesn't care.

He pumps faster and faster with no regard to your sensitive state, fingers digging into your hips as he pushes you back onto him.

You're already starting to feel a tightness in your stomach, signaling your impending orgasm.

You won't last long with him drilling into you so rapidly, and the groans that fall from his lips have you panting and wailing.

Since he appears to like a beggar—you beg.

"Please. Can I—can I?" You plead, feeling your cunt start to tighten around his cock.

"Oh. You're not coming again," he spoke, his voice gravelly and breathy. "This one is just for me—just for me."

You let out a whine as you feel him come, cursing under his breath again as you are left with the feeling of tension and longing.

His breathing is labored as he shuffles to put his gear back on. You stay in the same position he left you in until he orders you to do otherwise.

"Get dressed," his voice is modulated again.

It's colder.

You slowly get off the bed, stand, and attempt to skim for your clothes with the stupid blindfold on.

He rips it off. "Leave. Now. Before you find I'm not so merciful the second time around," his tone was eerie.

You nod feebly, gripping your clothes and slipping them on impetuously, not even checking if they are inside out or facing the right way.

Turning on your heels, you head for the door you came in, looking over your shoulder when you hear his voice again.

"And remember, you owe me for not slaughtering you," his voice dripped with malice.

You turn back, forcefully pushing the door open as you walk with intention and speed toward the back exit.

He knew you wouldn't tell the Bat anything.

What could you tell him?

That the Arkham Knight fucked you so good you're going to be sore for the weeks to come.

You slip your mask on to alert Babs that you are leaving the area.

Her voice booms through the intercom in your mask.

"Find anything of interest?" She questions, none the wiser.

You continue to walk, half listening.

"You there?" She implores.

"Huh? Oh, no. Nothing worth noting," you suspire.

"Are you alright?" She asks with a concerned tone.

"Yeah. Just...tired. Talk later," you hurriedly say, cutting the line and making your way over to your vehicle a bit away from the facility.

The sex was transactional, you remind yourself.

Though, that reminder didn't stop the Arkham Knight's presence from lingering on your skin for days after the interaction, a haunting reminder of the forbidden thrill you'd shared.

Gotham's darkness had never felt so alive and so painfully tempting.

a/n: so, anyways...it's back lol

divider!

[s-nebul0sa]

Lena injures herself in the lab and requires stitches. Kara gets the call and goes into a worried frenzy and rushes to Lena’s side. As Kara dotes on her as Lena gets the stitches, Lena plays it off that it’s just a scratch and child’s play and starts brainstorming new tech for instances that requires stitches. Typical genius CEO and golden retriever gal story with fluff and romance 😄

Stitches

(Read below or on AO3)

The pain does not immediately register. The erlenmeyer flask that was in Lena’s hand just a moment ago has exploded into at least a hundred pieces. One of which liked Lena’s hand so much that it want to be inside it.

Flabbergasted, Lena stares at the offending piece of glass jutting out from her skin. Red welling up along its edges and slowly forming rivers down, dripping on the floor to mix with the solution that was previously contained inside the flask.

Shit.

At least there does not seem to be any glass in her face or anywhere else in her body. Her hand has a few small scrapes but those are just flesh wounds. Instinctively, Lena lifts her hand so it’s at head-height and both above her heart and her elbow, a trick used to slow down bleeding.

With practiced eyes, Lena scans the laboratory for any other glass pieces that might pose a future risk. There are some dangerous materials stored here, and though they should be locked away in safety boxes, it would not be the first time that someone made a mistake and left something out.

She does not notice anything that should not be out. Most of the glass is on the floor, either having hit nothing or having hit the hard wall and work bench and made their way down from there. Nothing to worry about.

Well, except that one piece stuck in her hand.

And now that she has determined there are no other threats, she starts to worry about herself. Lena never does well when she worries about herself.

With trembling hands, she wrestles with the end of her lab coat to get her phone out of her jean pocket. She almost loses, but determination wins. With her left thumb hovering over the screen, Lena thinks of what to do. This is not a 911 situation. There is just a little blood, not a lot. And it is not that bad.

Part of her just wants to fix it herself. Drive herself to a doctor or even just stitch up herself. But for the latter, she has neither the skill nor the steady hand at the moment. And the former seems like a very bad idea with only one hand functional and the other having glass sticking out of it. If she were to make one wrong move, the glass might be pushed further into her hand and do even more damage. Lena breathes out deeply.

Okay, first things first.

She tests her right hand. Carefully, she tries moving each finger and seeing if she can still feel them. They all seem to function as well as can be expected, so that is a relief. Hopefully no really deep damage. Or nerve damage, the worst kind.

With that settled, she focusses back on her phone. Debating for a minute whether she should worry her girlfriend, she ends up deciding Kara will be even more worried – or worse, hurt – if she does not call her immediately.

She pulls up Kara’s contact information and presses dial, then clamps the phone between her ear and shoulder. Lena walks over to the sink as she waits for Kara to pick up.

Kara answers quickly. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I’m okay but can you come pick me up and fly me to the DEO or the emergency room?” Lena asks casually, as she slowly takes off her lab coat. Thankfully, the piece in her hand is not so big that her hand no longer fits through her sleeve.

“What?!” Lena hears the worry in Kara’s voice through the phone followed by the telltale whoosh of Kara taking off in flight.

“I may have gotten slightly cut in the lab and probably need some stitches but it’s nothing life threatening,” Lena says in an attempt to take away Kara’s worry. Not that she feels like it is working. Lena turns back to the sink and cautiously washes her hands, carefully applying soap and hissing as it stings in the cut.

“Lab left or right?” Kara asks as Lena picks up that the wind has stopped ringing in Kara’s microphone. She must have landed.

“Left, but wait outside. I’m just going to finish washing my hands and I’ll meet you there.”

She hardly gets a chance to get some paper towels to dry her skin before the laboratory door flies open.

“Wait outside?!” Lena hears Kara yell both through the phone and the open door.

Lena looks up at her girlfriend, worry etched in her eyes. The crinkle between her brows even more pronounced than when Lena beat her at chess that one time.

“Yes, wait outside. This is a lab, Kara,” Lena scolds, but she cannot keep it up for long and walks to the safety of the superhero.

“Lena, that looks painful,” Kara points out when she notices the glass in Lena’s hand.

“That is why you need to fly me to someone who can fix it,” Lena responds, locking the door behind her when they leave. She will have to get her spill cleaned up later. She was not working with anything dangerous today so the biggest risk is posed by the broken glass and it is Friday evening and her personal lab so she has plenty of time to make sure it is cleaned up. Nobody is allowed in there without her explicit permission anyway.

(The whole story was too long, so the second half is in my next reblog.)

[theambitiouswoman]

how to not worry when people say mean things about you or be weird with you or love to pull you down? like how to not be affected by the things other people do? you seem like an awesome , happy , smart , and amazing person and i don’t know if people do weird things but how do you not take it personal and handle it? i feel as though i give my energy away by confronting everyone and i need to learn to not engage and treat them like they’re irrelevant but it can be hard so i need a new mindset

I know it can be hard to not feel affected about what people say about us. What’s helped me is realizing that most of the time, when people are mean or try to pull you down, it says more about them than it does about you. None of those people I would switch places with. And none of those people pay my bills. I think once you become secure with yourself and have goals that are important to you, you stop caring about outside noise.

To be honest, I don’t know what people say about me anymore lol I don’t think people say bad things behind my back but who knows. And if someone says something hurtful to me I extremely quick to cut someone off, ignore, laugh, if I’m bored I’ll say something spicey haha It’s just irrelevant to me. Personally I am only receptive to people when I know they care about me and that’s the only opinion I’ll trust come with good intentions. I can tell you with absolute certainty that no one disrespects me IRL.

Before I used to get so much hate, bullying and judgement literally just for existing and I actually believed it. Looking back I realize now that none of those things were even real and those people were actually absolute miserable insecure jerks :) still are too. Lesson in there!

You shouldn’t have anyone in your life that makes you feel bad about yourself. No matter who they are. If they care about you and you express that what they said hurt, they would fix it. If they don’t fix it, they don’t care and have to GO! We worry about others because we crave connection and fear rejection or judgment. We seek validation, compare ourselves to others, or avoid conflict to stay in others’ good graces. If we are unfulfilled, we might cling to others to give us the approval were not giving ourselves. Past negative experiences can also make us overly focused on people’s opinions. But the truth is, others’ opinions don’t define you—what matters is staying true to yourself and your values.

With that being said!

Don’t take it personally. Their their actions are a reflection of their issues, not your worth.

It’s your world and you decide who you want to be in it. Not everyone deserves to be in your world and not everyone deserves a response either.

If it triggers you, it’s something you should address with yourself. It’s not your fault and it may not be true but it bothers you for a reason, so address it with yourself so you can gain confidence in that area.

When you know your value, it’s easier to let irrelevant people stay irrelevant.

It’s a skill and it takes practice, but it does get easier 🤍

[utilitycaster]

If I can make a small inference about Laura as Imogen, is that she's not indecisive. She had some major swings - opening with her (at the time) highest spell against Otohan before initiative and Psychic Lanc-ing Zathuda are two examples (and she was actually heavily judged by the internet police both times).

I think she is able to be decisive when the story speaks to her directly - another sign that the Predathos plot does not. Imogen's personal arc, IMO, finished when she saved her mother from being absorbed. The Predathos fight feels like an epilogue, and not an exciting one at that.

The problem, I think, is that the overarching plot is too abstract and uncertain to warrant a gut reaction. It's always a "I guess this is it".

I disagree on all points:

Two cases of attacking a pretty obvious enemy does not undo pretty considerable indecision with regards to the campaign-long choice of unleashing Predathos; the complaints about indecision are largely based in RP. I do not give a solitary fuck what the "internet police" say. Their opinion has no bearing on mine and is entirely irrelevant to this discussion.

There are multiple problems I have with Imogen and Liliana that I've outlined previously, namely, it really feels like she saves Liliana, who has almost never helped her and whose alliance with her is predicated on a lie (and who even outright failed in her own attempt to prevent Imogen from getting involved, and who, as a character, suffers from kind of the same problem of "I think Ludinus is a bad person but I am going to carry out his cause, which is ultimately exactly what he wanted and the action that led him to do all the things that lead to our assessment of him as a bad person") out of some vague romanticized sense of "but she's my mother". It feels like a path of least resistance, and as I've said before it feels like someone handed Laura a script an hour before and said "okay you're a woman begging for the life of your estranged mother." Imogen's dedication to Liliana is genuinely one of the weakest throughlines in a campaign that does not lack for weaknesses. You're welcome to feel differently but this doesn't feel remotely satisfying or even convincing as a character beat at all to me let alone the culmination of a character arc. The endpoint has always been facing Ludinus and deciding whether to become a vessel, and doing the latter with absolutely no conviction and barely any intent is pretty dull.

The overarching plot is extremely simple: "Ludinus Da'leth, due to trauma incurred during the Calamity that led him to hate the gods, wants to release a god-eating creature that needs a Ruidusborn as a vessel, and is taking the actions to do so, among which involve straining the very fabric of magic and killing a massive number of people. Much of the world is trying to stop him." Now, the choices involved (ie, should Bells Hells ally with much of the world to stop him, or should they join this cause) are, I think, something Matt wanted to feel complicated. However, I and I think a lot of other people here have found that the case for eating the gods has never been presented as anything but a combination of petty vengeance for personal slights that in some cases are outright imagined; or a vast overreaction that fails to address root causes (ie, colonialism and the death of the titans will not be remotely fixed by this) and introduces a host of new problems. I do think there is something to be said for cast members missing some things that were pretty repeatedly directly stated (the shard being bad for Ashton; Predathos being a cosmic entity from outer space that required a Ruidusborn vessel) and that perhaps the messaging from DM to players was lacking in a way that wasn't clear from an outside view but the core plot is perhaps the simplest one across all campaigns, poorly paced though it may be.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

secret wars secret love you will ALWAYS be famous

bonus:

[rooolt]

I’m truly always saying this, but like I desperately need riz gukgak to shatter to pieces emotionally this season. for me

[scissorcraft]

i really want to make isat friends…

[lord-squiggletits]

What do you think is Tarn's favorite part of being ordered to do something? That he's worth something/seen as valuable or the idea of the reward at the end? Or something else entirely?

Probably closer to your first theory: my first instinct is that Tarn seems to derive a lot of his self-worth and purpose in life from an attachment to others/an ideology (see: his whole thing with Megatron), although I honestly doubt he was like that before Megatron fucked him up with brainwashing. Being ordered to do something = being needed, and being needed = having value and a reason for living.

It also seems to me that, even as Damus, Tarn has a bit of a rash/emotional/passionate streak: very much the type to fix an ideology/set of instructions upon himself, then charge forward with a sense of purpose. If we look at Damus getting irritated at Orion for "just sitting around and waiting for the Senate soldiers to show up," it seems this guy really wanted to ACT and DO, perhaps to the point of slight recklessness/thoughtlessness. As if he equated active "doing" with productivity and "having a plan" and taking initiative, but thought of waiting as a form of weakness/giving up/not being prepared. (Ties in rather neatly with his tendency for organization maybe... weird how he's simultaneously reckless with his individual actions but also needs a sense of Order And Hierarchy to feel fulfilled on a general life level.)

So I think Tarn also gets enjoyment from following orders bc eh... I'm genuinely not trying to make this a petplay thing 🤣but I'd say that maybe he gets a sense of comfort/security from being able to just charge forward and act, no need to worry about morality or questioning his own motives. Just outsource his thinking to someone else beloved, trusting, and all-wise (Megatron) so he can experience the pure bliss of fanaticism and utter self-righteousness/confidence in his own actions. He even admits to Deathsaurus that he let himself conflate Megatron with the Decepticon ideology when instead Decepticonism is based on a dream, an idea.

So on that note, it also seems to me that Tarn might like following orders specifically bc he feels a personal connection to Megatron? Megatron groomed him as a protege/his most dedicated and fanatical follower. Their conversation on Necroworld shows that Tarn quite obviously thinks the world of Megatron and wants to see him as that figure of legendary competence/willpower. I don't think Tarn just wants to have The Right Ideology so that he can Feel Good About Being A Good Person (TM); it seems like Tarn specifically wants* to have a personal connection, some sense of approval or specialness, a bond with some authority figure who not only assures that he can trust them, but that they also trust him utterly. I think it says a lot that Tarn was even able to fall in love (figuratively) with Megatron more than he was with Decepticon ideology itself. It points to the fact that what he's really missing is interpersonal connections. Er, as much as an incredibly toxic and manipulative parasocial relationship is an interpersonal connection, but I never said that it was a good connection.

*In light of recent panels of Damus I reviewed from a Tarn/Damus post I reblogged last night, Damus seemed to actually be quite comfortable challenging/questioning Orion to his face and wanting to know what their plan is and why. I think it says a lot that Damus' relationship with Orion was one between a leader and a soldier, yes, but it was also informal and non-hierarchical enough that Damus felt completely free to question Orion. When you contrast this with Tarn talking to Megatron ~4 million years later, he's suddenly switched to an attitude of absolutely worshipping Megatron and believing he has utterly absurd/impossible levels of ability, vision, confidence, willpower, etc. Seems to me like part of Megatron's brainwashing of Damus was specifically centered on wrapping his heart around his little finger for the purpose of cultivating that blind obedience. Given Megatron's thoughts at the end of his Spotlight issue (he refers to his soldiers basically as blind idiots who can be whipped into a furor with the right propaganda lines), this is a pretty common emotional manipulation tactic he used in general. It just seems like Megatron concentrated this manipulation by singling out Damus and making him feel special, that he saw himself in Damus, and that he truly cared about him and wanted him as a student. You know, an emotional connection.

Honestly, this is kinda dark tho, bc now I'm kind of sad and thinking that Tarn doesn't naturally have this level of codependence/slave-like devotion to a person and it was actually just something Megatron shaped him into as a leash of sorts... Damn, I can be horny about people sublimating their trauma/emotional issues through kink, but not in a guilt-free "haha he's a dog" way. 😔 JK I'll still call Tarn a dog (affectionate) bc it's just so true.

[lord-shitbox]

U guys dont understand what a situation im in. Guys. Crossfaded at the function & I wrote porn during the whole entire christmas movie we watched. high off my ass writing dialogue for two characters doing the nasty while a movie about lesbian christmas sex is playing. ???? im so serious the loneliness crushes me no matter what I do I think becoming a fuckboy is the answer

[a-story-teller]

I was in a major car accident yesterday (got t-boned) and was very luckily a) alone in the car, as the passenger side got walloped and b) not injured. However I took care of everything and then went home and proceeded to sleep for 19 out of the following 24 hours.

[daemon-in-my-head]

Weekend plans:

Download the BG3 update

Romance wife again

Feeeeeeeesh

Finish a WIP I'm working on so I can do a fun lil 'concept vs final result'

And now the realistic plan:

Download BG3 update

Spend the next 48h simping hard for morally dubious drow women and being gay

[thedrotter]

redrew a few old expressions from february!!! one never notices how much their art style changes in some months till you compare side by side www

(the old ones for comparison ↓)

[manicali]

The weekend isn't enough I've literally been passing out on the bus.

[dirt-grub]

Yea I didn’t rly acknowledge it continuing off that post you need to be normal about people who do drugs recreationally as well as addicts especially if you’re a self proclaimed leftist