#bane the dark night rises

[wouldtheybecomeafearavatar]

Would Bane from The Dark Knight Rises be an avatar of the Slaughter?

[wrongweaponsdrawn]

Tippet: Was getting caught part of your plan?

The Narrator: Of course.

(Source: The Dark Knight Rises)

[urdreamydoodles]

Bat-Villains x Reader

They realize they love you after a nightmare about you dying

Characters: Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Bane, Scarecrow, Two-Face, The Riddler & The Penguin

The Joker

- The Joker had always laughed at the idea of love. It was messy, inconvenient, and far too human for someone as “elevated” as him. So, when the nightmare came—your lifeless body crumpled beneath the rubble of some grim Gotham alley—it caught him off guard. His cackles turned to hollow echoes as he screamed your name, the vibrant color of his world bleeding into dull gray.

- He jolted awake with a gasp, his face covered in a rare sheen of sweat. His usual smirk was absent as his wild eyes darted around the room, landing on your sleeping form beside him. You were alive, breathing softly, your face peaceful in slumber. The sight of you alive was a jolt to his twisted heart.

- For the first time in a long while, he didn’t laugh. He sat there, his thoughts in chaos, a war between his denial and the crushing realization that he couldn’t imagine a world without you. It scared him more than Batman ever could. He clenched his fists, trying to suppress the emotions bubbling to the surface.

- “This is ridiculous,” he muttered, his voice shaking. But his hand moved on its own, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. You stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent, and he froze, a flicker of vulnerability flashing in his usually unhinged eyes.

- He stayed awake for hours, staring at you, convincing himself that this was just some fleeting weakness. But the image of your death lingered, gnawing at him, turning his denial into reluctant acceptance. “You’ve done it, haven’t you?” he whispered bitterly. “You’ve made the Clown Prince of Crime care.”

- The next morning, his usual theatrics were toned down. He stayed unusually close to you, his hand lingering on yours longer than normal. You raised an eyebrow at his behavior, and he waved it off with a manic laugh, but deep inside, he knew he’d never let you out of his sight again.

- That night, he held you a little tighter than usual, his arms wrapped around you as if to shield you from the world. “You’re mine,” he whispered into the darkness, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “And no one will take you from me. Not even death.”

Harleen Quinzel aka. Harley Quinn

- Harley’s dreams were usually chaotic, filled with explosions, bright colors, and nonsensical antics. But this one was different. It was dark, quiet, and horrifying. She saw you, broken and bleeding, calling out to her with your last breath. No amount of laughter or jokes could save you.

- She woke with a start, her heart pounding and tears streaming down her cheeks. “Puddin’?!” she gasped instinctively, but then her eyes landed on you. You were there, next to her, your chest rising and falling steadily. Relief washed over her, and she let out a shaky laugh.

- Harley wasn’t one to dwell on emotions—she usually masked them with jokes and a bubbly exterior. But this dream? It shook her to her core. She sat up, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch your face, as if reassuring herself you were real.

- “What’s goin’ on with me?” she whispered to herself. She knew the answer deep down but wasn’t ready to admit it. The thought of losing you had torn her apart in the dream, and the intensity of her feelings scared her.

- For the rest of the night, she stayed awake, her mind racing. She replayed every moment with you, every smile, every laugh, and every time you’d stood by her side. “Guess I’m hooked,” she murmured with a small, bittersweet smile.

- The next day, she was more clingy than usual, following you around and cracking even more jokes than normal. You noticed her odd behavior, but she brushed it off with a wink and a kiss on the cheek. “Just feelin’ extra lovey-dovey today, sugar!”

- That night, as you lay in her arms, she finally whispered the words she’d been too scared to say aloud. “I love ya, ya know? Like… the real kinda love, not the crazy kinda love. Well, maybe a lil’ crazy, but still real.” She kissed your forehead, her heart lighter than it had been in years.

Pamela Isley aka. Poison Ivy

- Pamela’s dreams were rarely nightmares. But this one? It was a haunting vision of you lying lifeless among her beloved plants, your blood staining the green foliage. The image was so vivid, so horrifying, that it shattered her usual composure.

- She woke with a sharp inhale, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes darted to your side of the bed, relief flooding her as she saw you curled up peacefully. The nightmare lingered, though, its dark tendrils wrapping around her thoughts.

- Ivy wasn’t one to let emotions control her. She prided herself on being logical, detached. But this dream forced her to confront the truth she’d been avoiding. She cared for you—deeply, irrevocably—and the thought of losing you was unbearable.

- She reached out, her fingers lightly tracing the curve of your cheek. Her touch was soft, almost reverent, as if she feared you might disappear if she pressed too hard. “You’ve rooted yourself in my life, haven’t you?” she whispered.

- For hours, she stayed by your side, watching you sleep, her mind racing with plans to ensure your safety. She’d protect you, no matter the cost. “No one will harm you,” she vowed quietly. “Not while I still breathe.”

- The next day, her demeanor was gentler than usual. She handed you a cup of tea, her green eyes soft as they met yours. “Drink this,” she said. “It’ll keep you healthy. And stay close to me today, alright?” Her protective side was in full bloom.

- That night, as you lay in her arms, surrounded by the soft glow of her plants, she finally let herself be vulnerable. “You’re the one thing I can’t afford to lose,” she admitted. “I’ve spent my life fighting for the earth, but you? You’ve become my world.”

Bane

- Bane’s dreams were typically filled with battles and conquests, but this one was different. He saw you, broken and defeated, your life slipping away because he hadn’t been strong enough to protect you. The sight of your lifeless form was a blow worse than any he’d taken in the ring.

- He woke with a start, his chest heaving as if he’d run a marathon. His eyes immediately sought you out, relief washing over him when he saw you safe and sound, curled up beside him. But the dream lingered, the pain and helplessness gnawing at him.

- Bane wasn’t used to feeling weak, but that nightmare had shaken him. He sat up, his massive frame tense as he stared down at you. “You are my strength,” he murmured, the words foreign on his tongue but no less true.

- For hours, he sat there, replaying the nightmare in his mind. He realized then just how much you meant to him, how deeply you’d carved yourself into his life. “I cannot lose you,” he vowed, his voice low and resolute.

- The next morning, his protective instincts were in overdrive. He insisted on accompanying you everywhere, his large hand resting possessively on your shoulder. When you questioned his sudden behavior, he simply replied, “You are important to me. That is reason enough.”

- That night, as you lay in his arms, he finally let his walls down. “I have fought many battles,” he said quietly. “But the thought of losing you? That is a battle I cannot win.” His voice was thick with emotion, his vulnerability laid bare for you to see.

- Bane’s love was fierce and unwavering, and from that moment on, he made it his mission to keep you safe. “You are my heart,” he admitted softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “And I will protect you with every ounce of strength I possess.”

Jonathan Crane aka. Scarecrow

- Jonathan’s dreams were often macabre reflections of his own fears twisted into nightmarish landscapes. But this time, it wasn’t about him. The nightmare was about you—your lifeless body crumpled in a dark alley, surrounded by shadows, your voice calling his name in desperation before falling silent forever.

- He woke abruptly, his breath shallow and ragged, the echo of your scream still ringing in his ears. For a moment, he sat frozen, his hands trembling slightly. Then his eyes darted to the bed, where you lay peacefully, your chest rising and falling in soft rhythm.

- Jonathan wasn’t one to embrace vulnerability, yet this dream left him shaken. He stared at you, his mind racing with an uncomfortable realization: he cared for you far more than he’d ever allowed himself to admit. Losing you, even in a nightmare, felt like losing a part of himself.

- He leaned closer, his hand hovering over your cheek but not quite touching, as if afraid to disturb the calm you radiated. “You’re more dangerous than fear itself,” he murmured quietly, his voice tinged with a rare warmth. “Because you’ve made me weak.”

- The following day, Jonathan was quieter than usual, his sharp words softened when directed at you. He lingered in your presence, finding excuses to stay close, though he masked his concern with his usual intellectual aloofness.

- That night, as you stirred beside him, Jonathan finally let his guard down. “You don’t realize it, do you?” he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “You’ve made me care… and that terrifies me.” His fingers brushed against yours, a silent vow to keep you safe.

- From that moment on, he became even more meticulous in his plans, ensuring no one could ever harm you. Jonathan Crane, the master of fear, had found something he feared more than anything: a world without you in it.

Harvey Dent aka. Two-Face

- Harvey’s nightmares were like a coin flip—sometimes they reflected his inner turmoil, other times they felt like cruel twists of fate. This time, it was the latter. He saw you, the one person who made him feel whole, bleeding out in his arms as he screamed for help that never came.

- He jolted awake, his hands clutching the sheets tightly as he gasped for air. His scarred side twitched involuntarily, but his eyes sought you immediately. Relief washed over him as he saw you sleeping soundly beside him, completely unaware of his inner torment.

- Harvey sat up, running a hand down his face. The nightmare had been too vivid, too real. He couldn’t shake the image of your lifeless body, the way your eyes had stared at him, full of trust even as the light faded from them.

- “You’re my anchor,” he whispered, his dual voice cracking slightly. “You make me believe there’s still something good in me.” The thought of losing you wasn’t just painful; it felt like losing the last shred of humanity he had left.

- The next day, Harvey was unusually protective, his coin flipping idly between his fingers as he shadowed your every move. When you teased him about being overly cautious, he brushed it off with a half-smile. “Can’t be too careful,” he muttered, though his eyes betrayed his deeper worry.

- That night, as you curled up beside him, Harvey wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “You’re the one thing in my life that doesn’t need a coin flip,” he admitted softly. “I’ll protect you, no matter what.”

- From then on, his duality softened slightly when it came to you. Both sides of Harvey Dent—man and monster—agreed on one thing: you were worth everything. And he wouldn’t let anyone take you from him.

Edward Nygma aka. The Riddler

- Edward’s nightmares weren’t random; they were puzzles of his subconscious, riddled with hidden meanings and twisted scenarios. But this time, the riddle was cruelly simple: you were dead, taken from him in a moment of chaos he couldn’t control or predict. The answer to the nightmare was devastatingly clear—he couldn’t solve it.

- He woke in a cold sweat, his mind racing as if trying to piece together clues to prove the dream wasn’t real. When his eyes landed on you, still peacefully asleep beside him, he let out a shaky breath, relief flooding his system.

- For once, Edward was at a loss for words. The nightmare had shaken him in a way few things could. He prided himself on his intellect, his ability to plan for every contingency, yet the thought of losing you felt like an unsolvable equation.

- “You’ve become my greatest mystery,” he murmured, brushing a hand through his hair as he watched you sleep. “How did you manage to make me feel this way?” His voice was tinged with frustration, but beneath it was an undeniable warmth.

- The next day, Edward was more attentive than usual, his riddles and taunts aimed at others rather than you. He stuck close, his sharp eyes scanning for any potential threat, though he masked his concern behind his usual arrogance.

- That night, as you curled up against him, Edward allowed himself a moment of vulnerability. “You’re the only thing in my life that doesn’t need a riddle to explain,” he admitted softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. “And I’ll make sure no one ever takes you from me.”

- From that point on, Edward’s plans always included you at the center, his mind working tirelessly to ensure your safety. For a man obsessed with answers, you had become the only certainty in his life.

Oswald Cobblepot aka. The Penguin

- Oswald’s nightmares were usually filled with power struggles and betrayal, but this one was personal. He saw you, his constant companion and solace, gunned down in a rival’s crossfire. The sight of your blood pooling beneath you was enough to send a chill through even his cold heart.

- He woke with a start, his usual composure shattered as he sat up, his breath heavy. His sharp eyes immediately sought you out, relief flooding him as he saw you beside him, alive and unharmed. But the nightmare had left its mark.

- Oswald prided himself on his control, yet the dream had revealed a vulnerability he couldn’t ignore. He sat in silence, his mind replaying the nightmare over and over, each iteration driving home just how much you meant to him.

- “You’re more valuable than all the riches in Gotham,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff. He reached out, his gloved hand brushing against yours, the gesture unusually tender for a man like him.

- The following day, Oswald’s protective instincts were in overdrive. He doubled your security, barking orders at his henchmen to ensure your safety. When you questioned his sudden behavior, he simply replied, “You’re too important to risk.”

- That night, as you rested your head on his shoulder, Oswald finally let his walls down. “You’ve done the impossible,” he admitted quietly. “You’ve made the Penguin care about something other than power. And I won’t let anyone take that away from me.”

- From then on, his love for you was evident in every action. For a man who thrived in Gotham’s cold, dark underworld, you were his one source of light—and he’d do whatever it took to keep you safe.

[000-pawz]

" fantasy romance tropes " bnd series masterlist °｡⋆⸜ 🪽♡🪄

coming soon!

a/n: i was listening to dawn in the adan by ichiko aoba and got inspired to start a series! i barely see any fantasy stuff on here and i'm a big lover of it so here this is :3 <3 (p.s. there won't be an order to posting! it'll be random >3<) i tried to put my own spin on these tropes, so i hope you guys look forward to them! <3

"bloom for me" - sungho x reader ˚ ⋆｡˚

angel sungho x human!reader | modern-day au, forbidden love, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

"sungho has been assigned to be your guardian angel, to look after you from afar, and to make sure you stay out of harm's way. the only rules? don't get too close and never interfere with true fate. but when you find yourself in a dark place, unsure of whether life is truly worth living, sungho finds himself unable to simply sit around and watch you fall apart. he wants to show you the light; even if he must sacrifice everything he has even known for it."

"night life stars" - riwoo x reader ˚ ⋆｡˚

elf!riwoo x human!reader | old fantasy au, forbidden love, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers

"growing up, you've always been told to never pass the flower field in the woods and to stay far away from elf territory because everyone knows that elves are the most violent creatures in the forest. one summer, a drought spreads throughout your village, and while fetching water from a stream in the woods for your family, you end up slipping and hitting your head on a rock. when you finally wake up, your eyes immediately lock on to a pair of glimmering green ones. eyes that belong to the enemy itself."

"safest sounds"- jaehyun x reader ˚ ⋆｡˚

hybrid!jaehyun x human!reader | modern-day au, hybrids & humans, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers, living together

"after another tiring day at work, you're walking back to your apartment when you hear soft cries coming from an alleyway. with your undeniable curiosity, you go to find the source of sound—and much to your surprise, you find an abandoned hybrid curled up in a ball, shivering from the cold. with a promise to take him to a shelter when the sun rises, you let him come home with you so he can eat and have a warm place to sleep for the night. in the morning, though, you discover that this hybrid has already claimed you as his owner."

"seneca" - taesan x reader ˚ ⋆｡˚

magic!taesan x non-magic!reader | modern-day magic, rivals to lovers, fluff, hurt/comfort

"han taesan. the bane of your existence. he's been your academic rival at your boarding school ever since you transferred a few years ago, and you have despised him ever since. on your way home one day, you end up encountering some people looking for trouble. in the blink of an eye, taesan is there to help you get away, but something is off. might it be his glowing hands and eyes? no, no, no. you must only be imagining things... but taesan's threat to keep everything a secret says otherwise."

"dance on the moon" - leehan x reader ˚ ⋆｡˚

mermaid!leehan x human!reader | pirate au, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, hidden love

"there's nothing more that you hate than working as a maid on this deck. your captain and crew are worse than scum and you miss home every day, but you must do as they say if you want to survive. one stormy night, the crew catches a mermaid in their net while in the pits of the sea and your captain declares to sell him on the market as soon as they reach land. but when you become tasked to watch over the poor mermaid every night, you end up promising to help him escape back to his home. maybe he could find a way to help you escape too."

"seek for warmth" - woonhak x reader ˚ ⋆｡˚

vampire!woonhak x vampire!reader | vampire au, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

"woonhak never asked to be a vampire; he never wanted to live a life he didn't choose and be cursed to live forever. thankfully, there's another fledgling in the coven who sees the light still shining in his undead eyes. you're there with him through the insatiable hunger and the yearning for a past he never had the chance to live, holding his hand through it all. eventually, he begins to find solace in your warmth despite his fingers being cold to the touch."

masterlist

[lingerina]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 // day eight

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓 ➛ voyeurism 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ➛ gp!yujin (ive) x fem!reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ➛ 1.5k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ➛ degradation, spanking, choking, dirty talk, tummy bulge, squirting, multiple orgasms, creampie 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ➛ one fateful look into your window evolves into a routine of ruined boxers and a trash full of used tissues nearly every night. 𝐀/𝐍 ➛ i blacked out for this one lol. i didn’t intend for it to be this long but 😮‍💨🤌🏼 i hope y’all enjoy.

Having your apartment unit across from her was a blessing and a curse for Ahn Yujin.

As a sleep-deprived and overworked college student, she typically drew her curtains closed in the early evening because sunlight was the bane of her existence. Any type of light, really. She preferred the warm light of her desk lamp that barely stretched through all four corners of her room, but even darkness was her best friend.

One that’s equivalent to the devil on her shoulder that told her to sleep when she’s dozing off in the midst of studying.

She did end up falling asleep once, and had woken up when nightfall had long made its arrival. The first thing she did upon getting up was shuffle towards the window to close her curtains, but found herself rooted to the floor when she discovered the silhouette of two people through the sheer curtains on the other side of the building. 

They were fooling around in bed. Getting a somewhat censored show for free had definitely woken her up, along with the raging boner protruding from her boxers. Watching the shadow of a phallus disappear into the woman sprawled on her back, observing the way her legs rise and wrap around the other’s waist to pull her closer, filled Yujin’s head with images that she wished were more than just a daydream.

And it occurred almost every night.

Two silhouettes through sheer curtains.

Except it seemed like a new person was being brought home each time, and Yujin wished she was amongst the lucky handful.

Just when she thought she could get away with jacking off to a neighbor getting dicked down, the sheer curtains in their unit were fully open one random night. Panicked, Yujin swiftly drew her own curtains closed but peeked through between them out of curiosity.

To discover that it was you, the pretty neighbor that she frequently passed by on the way to school. The pretty neighbor who also frequented the café down the block from university. The pretty neighbor that started greeting her due to the dozens of run-ins over the course of two months.

To discover that you were the needy slut who brought home different people to sleep with.

Yujin desperately wished for her turn. If it wasn’t already a routine to watch then, it was definitely a routine now. 

You were bold to have sheer curtains, but you’d grown even bolder to have them open for potential lurkers to see. A few partners seemed concerned about it, but you somehow persuaded them to continue forth.

And then it seemed like you were doing it on purpose.

It seemed like you were doing it on purpose when one morning, Yujin threw her curtains open and caught a delectable view of you getting dressed. Having a full-length mirror against the wall opposite of your window was a gift–a feast–for her eyes as her gaze traced over your naked breasts and pert nipples, typically littered with fresh bruises and marks from your rendezvous the previous night. She got a view of your cute ass whenever you slipped a skirt on and turned your hips to look at your own reflection.

It became a struggle to suppress the urge to march up to you and fuck you against the wall every time you greeted her. She saw right through that gorgeous smile of yours. That in your pretty little head, resided the filthiest thoughts because why else would you get run through by half the women on campus and willingly put it on display for onlookers?

Ten minutes ago, Yujin was caught staring into your bedroom window as you were undressing.

Ten minutes ago, she had watched you scribble on a sheet of paper and held it up to your window.

Ten minutes ago, she went searching for the unit number that she saw on that paper.

And now, the reserved and studious Ahn Yujin has you bent over your small dining table, her cock pummeling your aching cunt and earning throaty moans from your kiss-swollen lips. You claw at the surface of the table, grunting as each thrust lurched your body upwards, forcing your tits to drag over the cold surface. Neither of you exchange anything more than a ‘hello’ and a ‘good morning’, so hearing her mutter the most degrading things in your ear causes you to drip even more.

“Such a pretty little whore,” she remarks between gritted teeth, one hand squeezing your hip while the other frequently swings down on your reddened ass. “Can’t get enough dick, huh?”

“You’ve–augh!–been watching me?”

You yelp when her palm lands on your burning cheek once more. She pauses to slink her arm around you, drag her hand up the valley of your breasts, and wrap around the base of your neck. With her chest pressed against your back, the feathery touch of her lips on the junction of your neck sends a chill down your spine.

“Don’t play dumb with me.”

The combination of her sliding out to slam back in, her hand striking your ass thrice, and her fingers squeezing at your throat has your eyes rolling back and shutting. 

“You know damn well you had your shit open for everyone on the block to see. Why so?”

Her words go in one ear and out the other, even if she’s saying it to you right there. “Not enough dick in the world for you? This little pussy-”

You wail when she grabs at your naked cunt still stuffed full of her dick, your engorged clit pulsing against her touch.

“-isn’t getting stretched out enough?”

The force of her grip on your neck drags you off the table and straightens you up. 

Your first impression of Yujin, a colleague that you frequently pass by, was definitely not that she is handsy or rough. Gentle or reserved, but not aggressive and… mean.

Your mouth falls open as her massive cock is shoved back in, stretching you open unlike anyone else, and filling in the deepest crevices that you didn’t think could be reached. She palms at your lower belly, and you moan at being beyond full.

“Feel that?,” she chuckles. “Greedy little whore.”

Keeping her hand in place, she tests another turn, thrusting upwards and nearly bursting at the feeling of her dick bulging against your tummy. She’s fucking your brains out, rendering you speechless and mindless. Not a thought runs through your head, which feels light as a cloud. You only muster choked moans and whiny pleas as she has you under her mercy.

This could be a once in a lifetime opportunity for her. She finally gets to experience this in person, and not just as a show through her window.

She’s going to play out all her fantasies, even if it will take her all night.

She pins you on your back on the table, and you make a mess. Your release puddles on the surface beneath you, spattering all over her pelvis and dripping to the floor. It’s plentiful, filthy, and glorious.

She moves you to the couch, and it doesn’t take long for you to create the same scene.

When you finally make it to your bed, when you think you can’t possibly have any more to give, she pulls out and gets drenched once more in your squirt. She didn’t think a view so lewd and filthy could be so pretty. 

Your words slur when her cock runs through you again. Only this time, the priority is her. She pushes your legs up and subjects your aching cunt through another round. You have reached the brink multiple times and she’s now dangerously close to hers. The advantage of you barely recovering is your walls closing so tightly on her, suctioning her in and creating the most friction for her veiny girth.

Your back arches as she bottoms out. She hugs your thighs against her chest, pinning herself in the depths of your pussy as her load fills you. A few shallow thrusts force every drop back into you, bringing you to ecstasy as she reaches hers. You gently press a hand to your lower tummy, a brief bulge of her cockhead fucking you brainless serving as a reminder that only Ahn Yujin can satiate your needs.

That your high sex drive can finally get a few days of rest and recovery.

When Yujin slowly removes her softened cock, her cum spills out of you. It dawns on her the damage that she’s done to you: her marks atop the faded ones of others, the cum that stains your sheets and all the other places she’s ruined you in, the tremble of your thighs, and the fucked out pleasure on your pretty face.

She admires her work until your eyes slowly flutter open, and you peer up at her with a small smile.

Since then, your curtains have remained closed. What happens between you and Yujin stays between you and Yujin, leaving just your silhouettes through the sheer curtains being the only preview for any curious onlookers to see.

[jeonqbunny]

sounds like denial

megumi fushiguro x reader smut ♡

summary: megumi & you never got along as roommates, until one day you found him using your panties to get himself off.

content warning: dom!megumi x sub!f!reader, degradation, pussy slapping, choking, cnc if you squint, edging, use of petnames (slut, whore, good girl) MEGUMI IS AGED UP!

word count: 3.7k

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI!

megumi fushiguro was the absolute bane of your existence. his cold shoulder was one that made you fume with anger. he was a neat freak, constantly moving your items from the place where you had left them to leave you frantically searching for them in your time of needing them.

“megumi– i swear to god if you move my keys again, i will strangle you.” you growled under your breath as you snatched them out of the top drawer in your shared kitchen. he shrugged, not paying much mind to your anger as it didn’t intimidate him like you thought it did. his spiky raven locks fell into his face when he snapped his head to look at you scurrying out of the kitchen and heading towards the front door.

“yeah yeah ye– wait, where are you going? don’t you have something better to do? like y’know.. study for your finals?” he crossed his arms over his chest, his dark blue orbs burning holes into your skin. you reached up to tug at your hair in annoyance, shooting back the same glare he gave you.

“god, is what i do really any of your business megumi? you’re my roommate, not my fucken dad.” you spat, adjusting your stance as you rested against the door frame. “you’re in a pissy ass mood and i’m not having it. if you’re gonna go, just go.” he barked back, a hint of annoyance coating his words. kicking his feet up on the coffee table in front of him, he rested his arms behind his head as his eyes closed as if to instigate some more.

he tried his very best to act nonchalant, but you were genuinely striking a nerve at this point. normally, as much as he hated to admit it, he did enjoy getting a rise out of you, but only when it really benefited him. and right now, you weren’t benefiting him in the slightest.

you swallowed thickly, biting back the venom that your thoughts threatened to spit at him. you let out a scoff, pivoting on your foot to leave the apartment dramatically. you had a meeting with your teacher to go over your exams, and no thanks to megumi, you were now running late. when megumi heard the door click shut, one of his eyes opened to the side as if to make sure you were really gone.

he hesitantly stood to his feet, a thought weighing on his mind as he lugged himself to his bedroom. he threw himself onto his plush mattress, a small ‘squeak’ sounding from the extra weight added to the wooden bedframe. he let a soft sigh fall from his pretty lips, his eyes closing once again as he tried to gather his thoughts

suddenly, memories of his friends constantly teasing him about his supposed crush on you filled his mind. it angered him to think about, there was no way in hell he would ever find you, of all people, attractive. at least that’s what he told himself every time he took a huff of your panties while fisting his throbbing, leaky dick.

the view of you walking around the house in nothing but a t-shirt and underwear began flooding his mind, his member stiffening and straining against the fabric of his sweats. the way your hips swayed with every step you took, the moans he would hear coming from your room late at night when you felt lonely. god, he wished he was the one to make you moan so prettily like that.

his hand ghosted along the expanse of his toned abdomen, slipping under the waistband of his sweats to palm at his needy cock. a whine bubbled in his throat, his hips gyrating forward into his hand to cause more friction. his hand shot over to his nightstand, haphazardly tugging the drawer open before stirring around his belongings. that’s when he felt it, the fabric of a fresh pair of your panties he stole from your dirty laundry hamper the night before.

he gripped it in his clutch tightly, slamming the drawer shut before sniffing them. a wanton groan fell from his throat, his eyes closing tightly as he inhaled your scent. his hand moved against his cock faster, pants and moans of your name filling the air as he continued his more than sinful ministrations.

the lustrous fabric of his boxers decorated with precum became increasingly more annoying, causing him to huff in frustration before tugging his pants and boxers down. he sighed in relief when his needy dick sprung free, the tip flushed a shade of angry red as his precum dribbled down his shaft to his balls.

a pang of guilt filled his chest as he began to fist the tip of his cock, his thumb brushing over his aching slit. he used his precum as lube, a loud squelching sound following each swift stroke of his hand. he ran his tongue along the fabric of the panties where your pussy would sit, shivering in ecstasy as his head flopped back in pleasure. “i’m so sorry y/n.. i– i’m so sorry..” he whimpered under his breath, gripping his member tighter and thrusting it into his hand.

he felt this climax approaching rapidly, the scent of your pussy lingering on the panties he was lapping at so desperately. the knot tightening in his abdomen and threatening to burst at any moment, and just as he was right about to finish.. he heard his door slowly creak open as you began to talk.

“sorry for wh– oh. oh my god?” there you stood, looking like a deer in headlights as you took in what laid in front of you. you chortled in shock, your palm smacking your mouth to stifle the laugh that threatened to come out. you didn’t really know what to say or do at this point, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you stood there, entirely unable to move as it all processed.

those were your panties, a pair you’ve been trying to find for a hot minute, in fact. megumi ceased his movements all together, scrambling to try and pull his pants over his hips as he tossed the panties to the side in an attempt to hide them. but it was already too late, he had been busted jerking off with your panties pressed to his face. his cheeks were just as red as yours, the both of you exchanging a look of ‘what the fuck’ for a brief moment before you padded over to sit on the edge of his bed.

“that’s literally humiliating, i would not want to be in your shoes right now.” you mocked, a toothy grin growing on your face as you watched his chest heave in anxiety. he didn’t know what to say or do, wanting nothing more than to just disappear from existence in that moment. “shut the fuck up oh my god. just– just get out!” stammering, he sat up in bed and huffed at you in exasperation. this only caused you to giggle under your breath, shaking your head gently as you slide your hand up the length of his leg before reaching the erection twitching in his sweats.

“well you started, might as well finish it.” your head was spinning in confusion, you never in a million years would have thought that megumi saw you like that. you were palming at his erection teasingly before his hand flung down and gripped your wrist tightly. you gasped, slightly taken aback, your eyes flickered into his with confusion written all over your expression.

he wasted no time in pushing you to your back, crawling on top of you before he made the decision to let go of your wrist. “listen, if you think that i’m actually attracted to you, you’re–” you cut him off swiftly, letting out a scoff and smirking at him. “oh, so you only find me attractive enough to sniff my panties while getting yourself off?” you retorted, your head tilting to the side as his body caged you in. “sounds like denial to me, ‘gumi.”

this only provoked him further, his eyebrows knitting together in frustration before looping his fingers around the waistband of your shorts and yanking them off with little to no effort. you shrieked, squirming to escape his grasp as you began to protest. “stop bein’ stupid and let me go, you asshole!” you whined, your body writhing underneath him only stroking his newfound ego all the more.

“oh, so your little pussy soaking your panties means you don’t want this? sounds like denial to me.” he snapped back like a rubber band, a cocky smirk gracing his glossy lips as he looked down at you. you rolled your eyes, a slight pout forming on your lips as your legs quivered. his hand reached in between your legs, pressing two fingers against the outline of your soaking wet folds through the panties. he didn’t expect you to give in so easily, but it didn’t exactly surprise him, either.

he rubbed up and down your aching slit with two of his fingers, entirely neglecting your swollen clit as if to tease you even more. you struggled a bit more, bucking your hips on his fingers for at least some stimulation on your swollen nub. he tsked, leaving a harsh smack on your sloppy cunt before rubbing his palm against it to soothe the sting. “you’re such an annoying slut, even in bed.” he husked out, his steel blue eyes eating up the way the thin fabric of your panties stuck to your pussy.

you mumbled out a small ‘sorry’ as you bucked your hips forward, in urgent need to get your pussy touched by him again. “not so hard, now is it? i just knew you were a cock hungry whore, scampering around the house in your dirty little panties to tease me..” he trailed off, two of his digits ghosting over your clit. “just admit it, you need me to fuck you.”

“i hate you.” you hissed back, your eyebrows furrowing in anger from the way he teased you. he pulled his fingers away, throwing a glare your way before shaking his head. “nah, i don’t think you do, y/n.” he cooed, his fingers running along the edge of your panties to provoke you further. “but i could make you hate me, if that’s what you want.” he snickered, his eyes darting between your angry expression and your throbbing core.

“fuck you, disrespectfully.” you still tried to show even an ounce of control, but deep down you wanted him. you knew it, and he did too. “so that’s how you like it?” he asked in a low grumble, slowly sliding your panties down your plump thighs. his gaze never left yours, your panties now hanging loosely at your ankles before you kicked them off to the end of the bed. 

megumi felt his breath catch in his throat from the sight of your leaky cunt, swallowing thickly, causing his adam’s apple to bob in its wake. he visibly shuddered in excitement when he finally made contact with your bare heat, his tongue sliding across his bottom lip in concentration as he swiped the pad of his thumb over your clit.

you let out a whiny yelp, reaching up to grip his shoulder as he continued pleasuring you. his chest was swelling with pride at this point, his pretty blue eyes fluttering closed as he felt your grip tighten with every movement of his finger. “such a pretty pussy.. i wanna taste it..” he groaned, his eyes snapping open to look at the way your arousal dripped down to your ass and onto the bed sheets below.

“i thought you said you weren’t attracted to me.” you snorted, batting your eyelashes at him with a knowing smile pulling at your lips. with this, megumi wasted no time in grabbing your panties and shoving them into your mouth. “do you ever shut your whorish mouth up or what?” he shoved them further into your mouth, causing you to gag and whine. the sight of you choking on your own panties made his cock twitch in his pants, a dark stain bleeding through his gray sweats.

“doesn’t feel so nice does it? choking on your panties, and you still need more. now you really understand how i felt.” still rubbing quick circles on your aching clit, his other hand gripped your inner thigh, digging the tips of his fingers into your skin and holding your legs open with ease.

“can’t say much now, can you?” your reactions amused him, his thumb never relenting from the pace he set on it. he reached up with his spare hand, spitting on his middle and index finger before swiping them against the edge of your needy little hole. he pushed them in slowly, his forearm tensing up from the way you gripped onto his digits.

“fuck, you’re so mmnhh– tight. for a greedy slut, that is.” he pumped his fingers in and out of your heat, his jaw falling slack as he watched his fingers slip in and out with a loud ‘squelch.’ you mewled at the feeling of his fingers sliding against your gummy walls, your eyes closing tightly as a sheer coat of sweat started to grow on your forehead. “please ‘gumi.. please fuck me.” you cried out, your syllables breaking with every thrust of his fingers.

the sight was absolutely marvelous from megumi’s point of view. the way your lips parted, your legs trembling and the way your eyes slammed shut in pleasure as he ravaged your insides with his fingers, fuck it was all almost too much for him to handle. he was finally able to put you in your place after months of torture with your bratty and unbearable attitude. 

“now you’re begging, such a good little whore.” he chimed, his fingers curling upwards into your g-spot, his wrist moving back and forth rapidly. your body tensed up, your hands gripping the sheets below you until your knuckles turned a pearly shade of white. “i’m so close.. i’m so close.. please..” you sobbed, your hips lifting off the mattress to match the thrust of his fingers.

megumi halted his movements, watching you writhe and cry from your orgasm fizzling away. “you’re not gonna get to cum that easily, sweetheart. you gotta work for it. you can do that for me can’t you, slut?”  he chuckled deviously, his fingers moving inside of you once again, you immediately clenched around his fingers, that familiar feeling building in your tummy again.

“gonna cu–” you were immediately cut off, his fingers pulling all the way out and leaving you empty. you squealed in displeasure, a flood of frustration filling your veins as your hips stuttered forward in a desperate endeavor to reach an orgasm. megumi tsked again, biting the inside of his cheek briefly before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your clit. 

“don’t worry, i’ll let you cum. eventually.” he goaded, running the tip of his tongue up your slit to lap at your juices. this elicited a blissful groan from megumi, his tongue diving into your throbbing hole and licking upwards to gather more of your slick. your hands shot down to tangle in his jett black hair and pull him closer to your pussy, your moans unwavering as he slurped up your cunt like his last meal.

“me– megumi!” you gasped, your thighs slamming closed around his head. he removed his tongue from inside your cunt, licking up your folds to your clit and sucking it into his mouth. he swiftly pulled your thighs apart, pinning them down to the mattress as he continued to suck your clit hungrily, his tongue sliding against it. your eyes rolled into your skull, your head falling backwards onto his silken pillows. “i’m– fuck. i’m gonna cum.” you choked out, your voice muffled from the panties in your mouth as your fingers grasped at his hair tighter, your hips grinding against his lips.

he let out a hum of approval, the vibrations of his voice shooting through your mound as you squeaked out in pleasure. your long awaited orgasm finally crashed over you, your back arching off the bed and your legs trembling as your tight walls pulsated and fluttered continuously. megumi collected your cum on his tongue, swallowing down every last drop that dripped from your pleasure-ridden cunt.

your chest heaved as you finished riding out your high, looking down to find megumi already slipping his painfully hard cock out of his sweats. “your pussy tastes better than i could have imagined, the panties didn’t do you nearly enough justice.” he said, his voice laced with pure and utter arousal. he gently plucked the panties from your mouth, shooting you a devilish smirk. you whined, your head falling back again as he pressed the tip to your entrance.

“now it’s my turn, greedy slut.” he pushed the tip in, your walls struggling to accommodate his length as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. he trembled, taking a deep breath through gritted teeth as he pushed in to fill you up to the hilt. you shrieked, a sting shooting through your inner walls from the sudden stretch. you reached upwards, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold yourself together while you adjusted to his size.

he remained still, his patience running thin as he felt your hot gummy walls coil around his cock. “i’m gonna move now, so be the good little slut you are and take it.” he growled, reaching up with one of his hands to grip your chin firmly. he slowly pulled out and pushed back in, letting your slick cum coat his dick entirely before setting a pace.

his hips slammed into you ruthlessly, the bulbous tip of his cock grazing over all of your sweet spots with every thrust of his hips. he fucked you like his life depended on it, he’d rather die than have to stop fucking you. months of fantasizing about your tight pussy, and he was finally getting it.

your cum from your previous orgasm splattered with every harsh thrust into your pussy. still reeling from the way your walls gripped him like a vice, megumi let out a strained moan and slammed his eyes shut tightly. his hand slid down your chin to your neck, squeezing the sides lightly while his other hand grazed your hardened nipples through your shirt.

“i want this off, wanna see how pretty your tits look when they bounce.” he grumbled, his hand getting closer to the hem of your shirt to pull it over your chest. he gasped slightly, his eyes drinking up every curve of your breasts before capturing one of your nipples in his mouth and sucking softly. you wiggled underneath him, the sensitivity making your head feel like it was going to explode. he pulled off your sensitive bud with a subtle ‘pop’, his dark eyes finding yours to send you a threatening glance. you immediately knew what it was for, trying your best to hold still as you clamped down on the cock that was currently splitting you open. 

“that’s more like it, good girl.” he praised with a hum, running his slick hot tongue across your nipple again before sucking it between his lips. he drifted the hand that was gripping your neck tightly down to your other breast, kneading at the flesh. his hips began to stutter from the way your gummy wet walls clenched around him, an exasperated huff coming from his chest.

you could tell he was getting close from the way his manhood twitched inside of you, and you really weren’t far behind him. “i– i’m gonna cum ‘gumi.. ‘m so close..” whimpering and moaning, megumi rutted his hips into you faster. a breathy chuckle leaving his lips as he looked down at you all fucked out on his cock.

“i– fuck. i’m close too. go ahead and cum for me, slut.” he permissed harshly, his hand gripping your tit tighter as he felt you unravel around him. your second orgasm hit you like a truck, your head light and spinny as it rolled to the side. sobs and moans tore through your throat, pleads of his name rolling off your tongue as your slick absolutely drenched his dick.

this threw megumi over the edge, gritting his teeth, his thrusts became a lot less calculated and a lot more sloppy. “gonna cum inside of you, make sure you really know your fucking place.” he mumbled in finality– his cock now pushed right against the entrance to your womb as he filled you up with his load.

you hissed, sucking in air through your teeth as you felt his hot cum paint your walls. megumi’s arms shook as he held himself up, choking back moans as he came down from his high. once you were both finished and panting, you looked at each other in a certain way that had you both holding back laughter.

he pulled his softening dick out of you, hurriedly getting up from the bed to grab a rag. “fuck fuck fuck such a mess.” he stammered, reaching you to wipe up the cum that was beginning to leak from your insides. you cackled breathlessly, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him as he cleaned you up, his eyes narrowing in concentration.

“you literally just came in me, and you’re worried about the mess?” provoking him in your fucked out state was the wrong idea. he laid another harsh smack on your clit, causing a loud shriek to rip out from your lungs. he smirked, swiping your leaking slit once more before tossing it in the dirty bin.

“you just became a slut for my cock and you already forgot how to speak to me?” he paused, sliding on a new pair of boxers as he looked down at you all sprawled out on his sheets. “i thought you were pretending to be stupid, but maybe you really are.” you scoffed, your hand gripping your chest in faux offense before speaking. “i hate you so much.” you mumbled, your lips forming into a small pout causing a throaty chuckle to bubble up in megumi’s chest. “i promise, i hate you more.”

[astra-ravana]

Ghost Water

Water enchanted by the dead. Useful applications include necromantic workings and baneful magick.

Needed:

• A bottle of spring water

• Coins or some manner of offering for the dead

• Access to a cemetery/graveyard after dark

Instructions:

Go to the cemetary around 10pm on the night of a full Moon. Be sure to leave some of the coins at the gate for the guardian of the cemetary. Find a grave that resonates with you and quietly ask its owner for permission to be there and to use their energy to imbue the water with their essence. Wait for some sort of confirmation such as winds, voices, sensations, shadows or even intuitive nudge before proceeding. Once you have the spirit's permission, leave some coins and the water on the grave. Return to retrieve it in the early morning hours, before the sun rises.

[nonbinaryeye]

Forced to Take a Break

Written for @gortash-week

Day 4 - Relax

Enver Gortash is a busy man; he has no time to relax. Not of his own free will at least. Sometimes the circumstances force him though.

Read on AO3

...

His pocket watch is neatly tucked in his breast pocket. He assembled all the fragile metal parts, all the little cogs inside them, himself. Yet they keep betraying him over and over, again and again, by ticking a time away a bit too fast for his liking. He thought he had more time. He always thinks he has more time and no matter if it is true or not, he also always needs more time. Sometimes he is willing to cheat and buy it through any accessible means. Yet he is always surprised when the hour to pay the price arrives.

Gortash does not remember falling unconscious. He was working late, even later into the night than he usually does. There are so many changes he needs to make as the newest Director of Foundry and it is always so hard to find people who are not only loyal but also at least a bit competent. At one point he was doing the last revision of the newest instructions for Bane’s faithful – servants to himself as much as to their Dark Lord – and the next one he finds himself in a dream-like hastened state. He is still vaguely aware of everything happening around him but the reality seems to be several layers of thick fog away. It would be so easy to fully forget of it, if it had not been for the familiar voice cutting right through like a dagger through flesh.  

“Has someone finally managed to kill you or has the tyrant forgotten again that a body requires sleep?” The Dark Urge chuckles, tone filled with playful teasing reserved just for their Banite ally. They appear to stand right behind his chair. Gortash has not heard any steps nor doors or windows being opened. But even in a much more awake or straight out vigilant state it is almost impossible to notice them before they themselves wish to be noticed.

“For someone who criticised where I can fall asleep, your choices do not seem to be that much more comfortable…”

You can hardly compare falling asleep on the desk to taking naps in piles of viscera or freshly dug graves. Gortash attempts to scoff at them and slowly rise so he can with no doubt see them baring their deadly sharp teeth in amusement. But he cannot.

His limbs feel so heavy. Unmoving. No matter how hard he tries or how much he wills for them to raise up or at least twitch, his body is refusing to respond. Gone on a strike for the mistreatment he has put it through. No matter the effort he puts into it, no coherent sound comes out of his mouth. His tongue does not feel like part of his body right now, it is just a dead slug lying in his mouth uselessly.

“Enver…?” they do not let any sign of worry slip into their voice but the fact that they called him by his first name is proof enough of their concern on its own. As much as Gortash has a bit of complicated feelings towards his first name he enjoys the way they roll it on their tongue. But his mind is as slowed down as the rest of the body and he struggles to put his thoughts together properly, draw some conclusion from their worry, his name on their lips and how he is feeling about it.

Gortash senses them moving closer. The Dark Urge places their fingers on his neck to the side of his windpipe to check his pulse over his carotid artery. The deadly claws, so often covered in blood, so used to ripping throats, touch him gently and linger over him much longer than they need to. Gortash fails again trying to turn his head, wondering what expression might be on their face right now. What is going through their head?

“Hmph, this thing again,” the clinging sound of empty glass bottles meeting each other lets him know they have noticed the used-up speed potions. “You should be more careful with this stuff. It is not good for you,” they lecture him because they can never understand, they refuse to consider that sometimes his work cannot be postponed and he needs to push through to finish what he is doing. So sometimes he needs a little boost of energy.

The Dark Urge leans to his ear. He can feel the tingle of their icy cold breath – a feature of his dragonborn heritage. Their tongue must be almost licking his earlobe as he speaks.

“You would be so easy to kill like this,” morbid flirtation sneaks into their tone as their hand is placed on his throat again in suggestion of a longitudinal cut through his trachea. One movement, easy and natural for their sharp claws to make, and he would be dead.

That would not be very satisfying though, would it? To kill me like this? Gortash does not answer as he still cannot force his tongue to work. At this point even he recognizes he maybe should feel a sparkle of fear, being so helpless in the presence of a predator, but all his senses are too numb. Besides he knows them well enough to be able to tell when they mean their threats.

“What should I do with you like this, Enver?” they sigh and Gortash is not quite certain what they mean. This is their cue to leave. Maybe laugh at him for it later during their next meeting, start another pointless discussion about his habits and that he should be more careful about his substance abuse. To which he will point out that no one but them can sneak up on him unharmed by all his various traps and that he really did not intend to fall hastened and this is a really rare one-time occurrence which they unfortunately get to witness.

But they stay. He feels their arms wrapping around his body in an embrace and he does not realise what they are planning to do till he feels himself being picked up. He is not a lightest man and his muscles and limbs are uncooperative. Dead weight. Yet they do not seem to struggle at slightless in handling him. It should have not come as a surprise. They must have enough of experience in carrying unresponsive bodies around.

He instinctively tries to protest against being manhandled but there is nothing he can do nor say to stop them. Completely at the mercy of a bloodthirsty killer. They can choose to do with him whatever they desire.

And what they seem to desire to do is to carry him and put him in bed. He feels the silken sheets of his bedding welcome his immobile limbs as the Dark Urge lays him down. There is a pause and Gortash starts to suspect they are done with him, that maybe they left and his mind starts slipping to a proper darkness before he feels their hands on his body yet again. Tugging at his shoes, slipping a coat of his shoulder, rolling him around and undressing him before they wrap him under covers.

Maybe he should feel embarrassed over his ally seeing him like this. Helpless. Vulnerable. Defenseless. Weak. But only emotion embracing him and filling his mind is satisfaction, a strange pride because who else can say to have a murder incarnate tugging him gently in a bed.

“Your work will not run away from you, unlike mine,” they chuckle and Gortash would like to object. So what if the victim they set their mind to kill slips through their claws one evening. The Dark Urge could just get them the next one. There is no place in Baldur’s Gate to hide away from them. They do not really have to worry about work running from them. Gortash, on the other hand, is the one who needs to be always alert, every time he blinks there is a chance he missed some fleeing chance to further his goals.

Of course he says none of those things as he still cannot speak nor move and in the end there would be no point to saying any of this even if he could. Because he can imagine them being just as amused by his worry. They would argue that he is doing well enough, his achievement and their speed is impressive enough. Yes, he knows he is doing well but he could still be doing better. He has no time for their foolish suggestions that he should take more breaks from time to time. That it might even do him good.

“Get some rest for that brilliant mind of yours,” the Dark Urge brushes his hair off his face, their voice uncharacteristically gentle, filled with a suggestion of fondness he cannot properly decipher for now. “Sleep well, my tyrant,” their claw lingers on his face longer than necessary with gentleness that he did not believe they might be capable of. It feels right, and as crazy as such a thought must be, it feels safe. Something in Gortash yearns to reach for it, reach for them and pull them closer.

Luckily, he is still trapped in hastened state and so no matter how much he longs for their touch, how much he desires embrace of the deadliest assassin, his hands will not move and his mouth will not speak and even his eyelids remain shut.

He wonders if they are aware he can still hear them or if they think they are talking just to themselves. It already feels like a dream. He wonders how much of their action will he remember in his conscious state in the morning and how trustworthy he will find his own mind and memory.

Gortash hears them no more and that is as good indicator as any that they are probably gone for good. He has a lot of things to think about now but it is still as if he has forgotten even how to think. He needs to hold this feeling while it is still lingering in the room before it disappears with morning light. He needs to analyse and draw conclusions and make use of it. But the more he is trying to get his brain matter to work the quicker the final threads of consciousness seem to be slipping away from him. Till at last it all goes to black and he is embraced by peaceful darkness of dreamless sleep bringing him much needed rest.

[marigoldenblooms]

Unica Semper Avis - Prologue

Pairing: Cleric!Wanda x Fem!AvianShifter!Reader x MonsterHunter!Natasha

Prompt: Ever since you’ve come of age, you’ve never been able to stop yourself from transforming into a monster. Whenever the sky would dim with a New Moon, you’d ravage the world with a fury unknown by many. Such is the bane existence of your species. This time, however - something was different. Now, you need help. On the feeble doorstep of the so-called ‘Spirit Healer,’ you found yourself both at the mercy of a cleric, and of a monster hunter’s blade. Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

MINORS DNI - 18+

TW/General Tags: No mention of Y/N, slow burn, stranger to lovers (Wanda), enemies to lovers (Natasha), eventual smut (lord have mercy), Swearing, Fantasy violence, occasional descriptions of light body horror during transformation, slight self harm, slight restraint, angst, fluff, will add tags as they appear!

Chapter Warnings: Initial prologue, swearing, slight descriptions of transformation.

a/n: This is my first fic, working off/on for a slight while. I’ve been a long-time lurker, and I’ve finally got a few ideas and the brain power sufficient for at least a good ‘ol attempt! I’d love any feedback y'all could offer! This is just the initial prologue, and true interaction of the trio will begin in the following chapter. Thanks again!

Word Count: 1.9k - Read Length: 7 minutes, 11 seconds. Pictures aren't mine, credit to their owners!

~~~ 

You couldn’t tell where the feathers started, and your skin began.

It had been weeks of incessant avoidance to getting help, or facing the truth of your affliction - it was now, above all else, time to face the music. However, you wouldn’t sing. For you, it had been days of fatigue, the inability to catch your breath, and the hiss of your skeleton rearranging itself. What difference was it than any other succession you’d been through? You’ve always survived alone. Well, if the whispers among your forest’s cool leaves were any indication, this molt wouldn’t play fair.

Your skin itches with a frenzy your dull fingernails couldn’t soothe, the ripple of pin feathers beneath taut skin an uncomfortable ache. Once your campfire’s embers are fully extinguished, the feeling would get much worse. The transformation wouldn’t go too far if you remained in your home, you thought- your dwelling refurbished caverns, the soft drip of percolating water into your carved wooden bowls a welcome sound. You’d have enough to drink through these next difficult days..and a part of you hoped that it’d be enough to satiate your thirst for viscera, for marrow. If the new moon’s presence never struck your subconscious, perhaps you wouldn’t even feel it.

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

Your head would throb as you’d rise from your bedrolls, unable to find the sleep you begged for. A keen sense told you it was evening, the night’s chill rolling over your exposed shoulders in waves. If you were truly going to transform, as had been your normal for countless years- there was no point in ripping more clothes in the process. The earth felt rough underneath you, becoming more sodden as you’d trek towards the mouth of your cave, the evening’s darkness doing little but sharpen away the humanity you had left. It had rained, the air’s scent carrying the fresh smell. Recently, to be noticed by your unresponsive nose..and yet, it couldn’t rival the majesty of the sky. Stars speckled across its tapestry, a sigh escaping you at its sheer beauty. It was a enchanting reminder of what you would see when you woke up after your succession, after the molt had picked you clean and rebuilt you. At least that’s what it’d feel like, when you’d regain your mind.

You could feel the dull pain of feathers beneath skin even further, as though your body craved to soar up into its expanse. You’d pat your shoulder down as if brushing dirt from it, knocking sense into your own instincts. You couldn’t afford to further the transformation now- it’d never started this early before. The moon was a mere sliver within the sky, last shades of light due to leave within the next day. “The soil is what I deserve,” You’d grit aloud like a mantra, echoing in your thoughts, soothing you into begrudging complacency. The sinful sky would murmur to you, a voice slipping out through the darkness, and you’d shy away from her. It was your conscience, or perhaps your instincts. They were always mouthy this close to the new moon.

“You must soar,” She’d breathe, her words like rustling leaves in the howling night air. You’d have turned your back to the sound, head low as your arms would cross to cover yourself. She wasn’t real. She wasn’t real. She wasn’t-

“Hunger plagues you..” The voice would coax, fanning across your back, swirling between the crackled down which speckled new growth on your shoulder blades. You’d turn again, a hiss sparking in your throat- the sound raspy, incomplete, feeling raw on your tongue as it’d clip between barred teeth, gnashing against your words. “I am sane..” You’d breathe, the words harsh in your mouth. You’d done this dance hundreds of times, and yet the voice inside your mind was oddly corporeal today. “I am lonely..” you’d admit, shaking your head out as though it’d rid you from the illusionary tone, giving yourself a reason to be hearing voices, “You are nothing but my own mind. You aren’t-”

“Real?” The voice would ask, before the air sliced against your jaw- finger-like, pulling your gaze back as your body would turn around to follow it. Your eyes would see her then, fully for the first time- spotted in starlight, not just a figment of your own mind’s trickery. Vaguely humanoid, spectral feathers would blanket her arms, slackened wings framing her back as though an angel- ghostly, as her entire form was vaguely translucent, made of a soft white glow. One hand would have pulled your chin to meet her gaze, entire body tensing as her ‘grip’ felt like the crisp embrace of the night’s air. The voice had never had a body before.

“Who are you?” You’d ask, spitting vitriol even though your hands shook, her touch iron-clad even though it seemed to be crafted from the wind itself.

She’d chuckle, tilting your head so she could get a better look at you, and you got the feeling that she could peer at much more than just your skin. “You haven’t heard of me, fledgeling?” The voice would question musically, her tone a soothing balm to your transformation, and yet seemed to aggravate it further. You could feel the low pop of sinews contracting to allow the slow re-arranging of your skeleton, grunting at the uncomfortable sensation.

And even still, she wouldn’t release your head from her hold, tongue tsking at your lack of an immediate answer. “You..aren’t like me-” You’d scoff beneath your breath, expression radiating fury. It was easier to feel angry towards the apex of a lunation, and you harnessed it now. She was no monster, some kind of partial Aegypius- she was not chained to the moon as you were. What audacity did she have to mar your affliction with her words? “Leave me, before I-”

“Silence-” She’d interrupt, the sound layered with the voices of many. Your jaw would close shut before she’d finished the first syllable, something in the word beckoning complete and total submission. “Ah, so they can be trained..” She’d rasp, a sickly sharp grin plastering her see-through expression. She’d pull your jaw up higher, thumb resting underneath your chin, “I know you…and I think it’s time you remember me.”

You’d feel her before you heard her again, the contraction of your stomach causing you to double over. Within an instant, you were no longer yourself, the sharp crack of bone and tendon filling the air as feathers would blanket shifting skin. You’d blink, and see your eyes change into an overwhelming hyper-vigilance, until you felt nothing at all but hunger.

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

The fabric beneath you was quickly forgotten as you’d jolt awake, breath shaking as your vision would correct itself to the soft daylight emanating from cracks in your cavern’s walls. Your headache would only intensify, hissing as the soft rays would accost you. It seems you had found fitful sleep, although the harsh feeling of cold against your form would persist longer than you liked. It was all a dream. Just a dream..

In your sleep, you hadn’t known who that woman was. Scrounging through your waking memories bore different fruit, however. Your hands cycled through old tomes- the few you managed to obtain on your species. You'd have to nudge the manacles near your things with a shard of rock to get to them though, keeping even the slightest wisp of your skin away from its metal. It wasn’t the material you feared, but what was carved within it- some kind of passage you’d long forgotten the translation to. All that mattered is that it hurt like a bitch, and did its job of keeping you restrained when a lunation was at its peak.

After a few minutes, you’d find your answer in an especially unweathered page: Matron, the Aegypius creation deity. Another name was below it whose dialect you’d long forgotten; Your birth tongue. With a tight-lipped grumble, you’d close the book shut before rising to weathered feet. It wouldn’t take a historian to tell you that seeing a goddess in your dreams was a bad sign.

You’d don your belongings quietly, the silence calming against breaths which shuddered your slowly-hollowing skeleton. As you’d slip your bedroll atop your fraying rucksack, you could feel the shifting curvature of stretching muscle which had begun within your shoulders, preparing the form for flight in a day's time. Soon, it wouldn’t be your body anymore. The manacles would join you, shoved hastily within your kit with a stray cloth blocking your fingers from direct contact. You’d feel their burn that evening, once you’d return to the cave later that night.

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

With a final glance towards your cavern, you’d set off towards your destination; the ‘Spirit Healer of Bellmoor’, although you could care less if they were a toad masquerading as a human. If they could help you, as it’d become rapidly clear that was necessary, then the hike was worthwhile. It’d take a few hours of travel, weaving through tree trunks as your legs carried you where your wings begged to go. The sky was a saccharine prize, and yet you kept your expression forward- gazing at its majesty would only strengthen your molt’s urge to progress.

You’d take the long road to avoid any prying eyes, or any eyes at all, for that matter. You valued solitude, the one hardened aspect of your species which allowed them to not be culled as soon as they came into existence- it kept your kind mysterious, more of a figment than truth, and kept other Aegypius from tearing each other apart for territory. The healer’s house would come into view a second later. It was wooden and humble-looking, the cabin lit with a warm interior glow from within its small grove. Approaching its brass knocker, you’d clang on the door three times, praying that’d be enough. As the second ticked past, you’d raise your knuckles to rap a second time, but the door opened before you could bother. Behind it, claret-colored irises would greet you, accompanied by high cheekbones, fiery red hair, and an inquisitive glance. You wouldn’t meet her gaze as your own turned downward, your voice roughened from lack of use.

“Are you the healer?”

You’d see her face morph into a cheshire grin in your peripheral, as she’d step aside to allow you further passage into her home. “Yes, I am. Welcome, and come in.”

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

Heavy breaths would thunder through the open forest, the woman sinking deftly through the trees, in sight of her quarry. A cavern decorated with slung beading, woven from thin, flexible vines and hollowed, pecked-out rocks. The alcove would’ve almost been homey to Natasha, if it wasn’t the den of a monster. Her longsword would be clasped tightly in gloved hands, held forward as the hunter would skulk towards her prey.

She’d settle her back to the cave’s entrance, a trickle of sweat staining her brow. The chase had been long and arduous, but it was finally complete. With a hardy swing, she’d growl her war cry into the air and-

See nothing. The cave was empty.

Natasha would pant, eyes dilated as she’d grit her teeth in rapidly fuming, silent frustration. Her pupils would bounce from corner to ceiling, taking in the scene before her..the monster had fled. It ran. She’d scoff at that, barking a cruel laugh beneath her breath as she’d coat her fingers in leftover charcoal, pulling her glove off to feel its texture. Crumbled and thick, not weathered terribly by elements..this fire was burned recently. The creature’s departure wasn’t long ago.

Her confidence would only return as she’d trudge outside, noticing escaping footprints she hadn’t noticed prior. In her focus to kill, obviously- she would’ve found them ages ago if she were actually looking for them. She’d smirk to herself, before beginning the hunt anew.

“I’m on your tail, гриф..” Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

~~~

[porphyriosao3]

Day 7 - Family

(Author's Note: this is a continuation of the same scene from Day 6, Mother)

Later, after the roast and potatoes had been served and duly enjoyed, the washing up done, and the evening drinks poured, Bilbo surprised himself by saying "You asked earlier about my family."

Thorin nodded, a cautious expression on his face. Bilbo had been able to tell that the dwarf wasn't certain of his reception with any such question, yet asked them anyway. He loved him more with each passing moment for such thoughtless courage. "I did. My apologies if..." Thorin began, but Bilbo leaned over from where he sat and pecked him on the cheek, causing a flush to rise and the flow of words to cease rather abruptly.

"No apologies needed, silly thing," the hobbit chuckled. "I was only surprised because you so rarely mention your own family. Fili and Kili I know, of course, and they themselves have told me of their mother though you have been startlingly reticent on the subject. Tell me of your mother. I feel I barely know anything about you beyond what I've seen." This was the sort of social bagatelle that everyone in Hobbiton knew how to interpret, and it was Bilbo's startling ill-fortune that the recipient of this statement took it literally. Nodding once, Thorin squared his shoulders and began.

"My family was not as yours. In my childhood, the center of my family was always my grandfather Thror, not my father Thrain. As king, he was... well, you've seen how the dwarves treat their kings. I am told that he was kind to my father and my cousins when they were young. He was... otherwise by the time I was small." Thorin's face had become cold and remote and Bilbo wasn't sure whether to hug him, change the subject, or punch himself in the face for such a clearly ill-advised question. "He was mad. I see that now. I felt that, in my own way, when the gold took... took..." He shuddered and Bilbo resolved the matter by throwing his arms around Thorin before he even thought about it.

"Forget I asked," Bilbo said. "You are past all that now, my love, and I am here, and you are here, and none of those problems are here with us." Thorin smiled over at him, still with a hint of that distance in his eyes.

"No, it is right that you know. You were right to ask. I am not proud of the history of my close family, but if you are to be tied to me, you should know of these things. My grandfather was gold-sick before ever the dragon thought of us at all. Losing the mountain... unhinged him completely. He was raving as we fled, shouting curses at all of us as we carried him away from the ruin of our home." Thorin sipped his wine, hesitating for a moment, and Bilbo ached for the pain in his eyes. "He left us all one night. Slipped away with only a retainer from where we all slept in Dunland. He and Nár went to the gates of Moria, Khazad-Dûm, the original kingdom of our people, lost these thousand years to orcs and evil, and we were told he went inside alone. His head was flung from the gate by orcs not a day later."

"Thorin..." Bilbo shuddered, the image clear in his mind. "That's terrible. I'm so sorry."

"That event began the War of Dwarves and Orcs. Stupid name, but it was a stupid war that never should have started." Thorin glanced down, mouth a tight line. "My grandfather's madness and hubris embroiled us all in a vendetta that slew far, far too many. The orcs died by the legion, but so what? Dwarves died too, good dwarves, for whom there was no reward possible to claim. Even if we killed every orc in the entire world, still we could not return. Durin's Bane was still there."

"Durin's... Bane?" Bilbo said, hating to ask but curious nonetheless.

"We don't know what it is, but some great evil came up from the depths long ago," Thorin sighed. "It slew dwarves by the hundreds by itself. We have only records of fire and darkness that walk with it, but it remains. While it is there, we cannot return. Legend says Durin himself will come one last time to lead us back, but..." he shrugged. "At any rate, my brother Frerin died in the last battle. My father lost his own wits. My mother..." he stopped, tears running down his cheeks.

"Oh Thorin... Lady of the Green, I'm so terribly sorry," Bilbo said, cradling him as best he could. "None of that is your fault, though. So your mother died in that battle along with your brother? I didn't even know you had a brother," Bilbo murmured.

"No," Thorin snorted, "she wasn't there. We try our best to keep our women off the battlefield if we may. There are too few already. No, my father took my brother against her wishes. She was pregnant and about to bear... a fourth child would be," he grimaced and shrugged. "The best omen. Dwarves are not very fertile. My mother knew my father had to go, he was the king, but my brother... he was far too young, just a pebble practically. Far too young. My mother died in childbirth as my brother died to orcs. My sister has never forgiven our father, and likely never will; I cannot say for certain she does not blame me as well, in part, though I was only the heir."

Bilbo's mouth set firmly at the very idea. "If she is anything like the dwarf I understand her to be from her sons, she is far too sensible for such a thing," he said sternly. "And I will hear no self-recriminations from you, my dear. None of that coil is your fault, and none of it is anything you should bear the blame for. You, yourself, Thorin Oakenshield, were the one to take a mountain and a home back from a dragon, and you did not cause a tragedy in so doing. You, Thorin Oakenshield, are a hero to your people, and if your family has sinned, well, to me you have redeemed it." He kissed Thorin on the tip of his nose, something that always made the dwarf snort and grin. Thankfully, it produced the desired effect. "I shan't be argued with on this!" he said, wagging a finger somewhat ridiculously.

"I shall not, then," Thorin said softly. Oh why must he look at me like that, Bilbo thought. Just when I think I must love him sufficiently already he makes it even worse. Drat the dwarf! Fine. If he hadn't had a supportive, loving family up until now, he would have one going forward. Belladonna Took's memory demanded it.

[iamnmbr3]

you've talke about how you aren't against ppl read/writing darkfic content. do you have recs for some really well written darkfics / "problematic" fics. (sex is ok but not just straightup porn pls). can be any fandom.

These fics are all really excellently written in my opinion. Check them out (though obviously read the full tags on the ficbeforehand).

Stiffen the Sinews (Summon Up the Blood) by Whisky (whiskyrunner) (Fandom: Dark Knight Rises | Words: 80,666 | Rating: E | Warnings: Noncon, dark themes)

There are only men in the pit, and John's not strong enough to protect himself forever. But Bane is strong enough for both of them.

Dead wings carried like a paper kite by illwynd (Fandom: MCU Thor | Words: 48,612 | rating: M | Warnings: horror, tragic themes)

In the heat of battle, Loki kills his brother. As soon as Thor lies dead at his feet, though, he realizes this is not what he wanted. So he brings Thor back, and surely all is well again. Right?

and lead us not into temptation by Anonymous (Fandom: Star Wars | words: 7,361 | rating: E | Warnings: consensual but not especially safe or sane)

Hux looks him up and down, this Resistance golden boy, gangly and ungraceful and so appallingly soft. Takes a drag of his cigarette. “You’re weak,” he says. Solo looks up at him. “Please.” He draws in a long, broken breath. “Please.” Or: General Hux thinks about Ben Solo a lot more than he probably should.

A Tithe to Hell by Aja (Fandom: Death Note | Words: 33,910 | Rating: E | Warnings: dark themes)

Light has thirteen days to find out how it will feel--not just to kill, but to destroy.

a glass essay by fairbanks (Fandom: Magnus Archives | Words: 63,680 | Rating: T | Warnings: manipulation, tragedy)

Right out of university Jon's run out of time to run from the Web. The only way he knows to escape one domain is to give yourself to another, and he's always been good at being alone. He really wasn't imagining the Lukas family would take him in at all, let alone arrange him to marry some smarmy ass named Peter Lukas.

Ouroboros by Metalomagnetic (Fandom: Harry Potter | Words: 258,416 | Rating: E | Warnings: various dark themes)

A strange man adopts Tom Riddle and it is not his father, as Tom desperately wants to believe. Stranded in the past, Voldemort once again comes to the conclusion he's the only one he truly needs.

Sanguinem; Imperium by deluxekyluxtrashcan (rhoen) (Fandom: Star Wars | Words: 15,710 | Rating: E | Warnings: Self harm, dark themes)

Kylo might have a different way of dealing with his own inner conflict and turmoil, but he can still recognise the signs of someone attempting to cope when he notices the crack in Hux's exterior.

Omnipotent to Arms by tenrousei_kuroi (Fandom: Harry Potter | Words: 6,441 | Rating: E | warnings: noncon, horror)

For the 2021 Regulus Black Fest. Prompt: The dark lord decides that the youngest Black is to be his for the night. Regulus is mortified, but saying no is hardly an option. He hopes that compliance will be enough to live another day as unharmed as possible. (You can put a dose of Bellatrix getting jealous and being another menace to Regulus or not, as well as another DE romantically interested in Regulus and potentially helping him in some way, your choice.)

A Scream is a Wish Your Heart Makes by mswhich (Fandom: I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream | words: 13,024 | Rating: E | warnings: horror, noncon)

On the long list of things that AM hated, Ted was first, but boredom was a close second.

the pleasure, the privilege by asterismal (asterisms) (Fandom: Harry Potter | Words: 19,901 | Rating: M | Warnings: general dark themes, graphic violence)

It begins with Vernon Dursley's body, dead across the table. In which Voldemort is dosed with amortentia, and nothing is better for it.

[fandom-friday]

Thank you so much to everyone that submitted recommendations this week! A comprehensive list of this week’s submissions can be found under the cut! Recommendations are organized by show/media, and any main pairings will be listed after the title.

❄️ = 18+ content

Fics:

The Clone Wars: New Beginnings (Corrie!Dogma x f!Reader) by @reader6898 Forbidden Masks (Kix x f!Reader) by @deejadabbles ❄️ Second Chances (Commander Wolffe x f!Reader) by @cyarbika ❄️ I Yearn, and so I Fear (Commander Wolffe x OC Kazi Ennari) by @enigmaticexplorer ❄️ Unwritten (Captain Rex x OC Mari Vontas) by @rexxdjarin ❄️ Captain's Log (Captain Rex x f!Reader) by @rexxdjarin ❄️ Invisible Barriers (Fi Skirata x f!Reader) by @the-rain-on-kamino The Clone Wars Gets a New Victim (Ahsoka Tano x OC Grim Kennet) by @chaosgod4life Even Though You're Gone, You're Still Around (Commander Bly x Aayla Secura) by super_heroine_addict (AO3) A Way Out for Two (Cad Bane x Obi-Wan Kenobi) by @feybarn ❄️ One Step at a Time by @wild-karrde Let Me Do It Right by TrickyTricky (AO3) Like Real People Do by Witless_clown (AO3) The Night Comes Down Like Heaven by @galacticgraffiti

The Bad Batch: ❄️ Same Heart (Echo x f!Reader, Fives x f!Reader) by @dumfanting ❄️ Doctor's Orders (Captain Howzer x f!Reader) by @grampsoninspace Happy Hatch Day by @eclec-tech

The Book of Boba Fett: True Rumors (Boba Fett x OC Seba) by @kimiheartblade On the Dome (Drash x Jo) by @btwxsixesandsevens

Star Wars Prequel Trilogy: A Murderous (and Talkative) Legacy by Dom_Avner (AO3) The Rising Darkness (Obi-Wan Kenobi x f!Reader) by @marierg

Star Wars Original Series: Stars In Their Multitudes by @jedi-valjean

Batman: In Another Life (Selina Kyle x Bruce Wayne) by @dlaugh Bouncing Baby Bat by EmpressGeek (AO3) Maybe with a Shift in Planets by @sunflowersandink Apartment Policy: No Dragons Allowed by Bricksheep (AO3) The Night Shall Call Your Name (You Must Answer) by Fandom_Trash224 (AO3) "And it's Cassandra with the Steel Chair!" by destiny919 (AO3) QUARANTINED: RED ROBIN'S TIK TOK ACCOUNT by @justthatonegirl1815

Marvel/MCU: Hopeful (Bucky Barnes x Sarah Wilson) by @philtstone

Fire Emblem Series: Kulning (Annette Fantine Dominic x Felix Hugo Fraldarius) by @Star_on_a_Staff (AO3)

Art:

The Clone Wars: Fox-Inspired Tooka Art by @st4r-t3ars Commander by @finpews It's Commander Cody with a steel chair! by @merlyn-bane Captain Rex Art by @pinkiemme Gregor, Wolffe, and Rex Art by @comradewolfe ❄️ Captain Rex and OC Mari Vontas Art by @rexxdjarin What was I made for? by @spicyclones79s Your Bodies Seed the Stars by @aliettali ❄️ In the Meadow by @the-rain-on-kamino Jet is Doing His Best by @for-the-sake-of-color Hogsteed Concept Art by @art-of-wackylurker OC Nihlus Meets a Hogsteed by @art-of-wackylurker OC Ayyshu Family Art (Chuckles, Arni, and Nita) by @ninjigma

The Bad Batch: Tech and Omega Art by @jedizhi Crosshair Art by @melymigo The Baby Batch: Shaak Ti Meets the Bad Batch Babies by @ladykagewaki

Bloodborne: Good Hunter by @artofchinara

The Legend of Vox Machina: ❄️ "We're going to start with the Courage" by @lyaholya

[aladaylessecondblog]

why does Michael Kelly's "Jolene but HP lovecraft version" make me think of Lorkhan returning (or hell even a Shezarrine dragonborn? idk.) (wait Alduin would work too)

The universe’s screaming scars Your shadow is the death of stars Your birth was all our primal fears, Jolene Your piercing howl, the bane of light The wolves obey and bats take flight Your servants now through longest night, Jolene Cities perish in your wake Your laughter makes the mountains quake Your fury is the howling storm, Jolene

[CHORUS]

From abyssal depths you rise Mocking mortals' wailing cries In your bid to end all things, Jolene Its easy for us all to see How you'd devour all land and sea Oh lord we beg you give us peace, Jolene In ancient dark and shrouded halls Your evil forms a cloying pall The bindings failed, God save us from Jolene Your screech depicts the sins of man Our time of judgement just began Our fate is in your awful hands, Jolene

[dramatisperscnae]

@arobinwithoutbatman

Ooohhhhh no. Noooooo no no no no no not now! This is the worst time for this! Okay... okay... just breathe. Mid patrol is the absolute worst time to feel that itch under his skin and hear that static in his ears. In his defence, it's been a long few nights plus attending school and he's only just gotten over the mess with Azrael and he hasn't exactly had a chance to mention his broken brain to Bruce. Not that he really wants to... Robin will likely be taken away. But he can't exactly hide the way he's getting more agitated by the sound of distant sirens. Everything has been scratching and grating at his frayed nerves for the last couple of days, he hasn't had a minute to just be. There's always something. And he feels like he's going to vibrate out of his skin and he just wants dark and quiet and... and... he's hiding under Batman's cape before he fully registers what he's doing.

It's taken a little adjustment, coming back to the suit after Bane. There are nights when, even after Shondra healed his back perfectly, he still feels that phantom pain, still wakes up in a cold sweat panicking about not feeling his legs. Add that to trying to mitigate the damage Jean-Paul did while wearing the cowl, and Bruce has had quite a lot on his mind in the past few weeks.

Enough, in fact, that he hasn't even noticed Tim having issues. The boy is surprisingly capable, and while they've been pulling some long hours recently it shouldn't be too much for the lad. And he'll speak up if he does have trouble, or so Bruce assumes; Tim's been fairly forthright about such things in the past, unafraid to speak his mind and even badger him into basic self-care when needed.

That should never have been Tim's job, of course, but by now that's a very moot point.

Shifting his weight, Bruce is about to rise from his crouch on the edge of the roof only to pause when he feels the weight against his back, the faint warmth through the suit that has his heart stuttering for a moment. Fortunately he catches the name he was about to say even as he glances back; this is Tim.

Tim, not Jason.

And Tim looks…overwhelmed. A shade too pale, head ducked down, breath uneven…

"Robin?" He keeps his voice low. Soft. Audible over the ambient sounds of the city, but hopefully gentle enough not to make things worse.

[crappymixtape]

i hate you ( not )

REQUEST → anonymous, 500 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION ❝ love a good enemies to lovers smutty fic – anything works, just lots of sarcasm and name calling to build up the tension • 18+ | ( 3.6k – a nice lil mountain of angst that rolls down into a big ol’ valley of smut, steve x reader )

I H A T E Y O U ( N O T ) 🎶 dopamine, julius black

“Are you seriously following me right now?” you didn’t even bother looking over your shoulder as you shouted over the crunch of Steve’s shoes in the gravel behind you trying to catch up.

He was fucking impossible. Always finding a way to get under your skin. Telling you the way you stocked the shelves at Family Video was wrong. Making fun of your beater of a car. Chewing his chips so loudly in the break room you thought it’d make you go certifiably insane. Always obnoxious, but easily dealt with til now. When he’d gone too far.

A party down at the quarry. Too much beer and smoke and haze and the crack of the bonfire against the inky black sky. You were trying to talk to a boy you’d run into at the store, a cute boy. One that didn’t smack his lips or slurp his soda. One that didn’t look at you like you were the bane of his existence and it had been going so well for once.

Had been.

Until Steve.

“Yeah, they’re so fucking good live. Maybe I can take you next time they’re in town?”

“I’d love that,” your stomach flipped over, grin pulling at the corners of your lips as Liam looked down at you through his dark curls. Smiled at you warm and soft. Eyes deep and green, like the trees along the fence line at night and god, it was just nice to be treated like this for once.

“You don’t even like them,” Steve’s voice cut in as he stepped up next to you beer in hand, and your cheeks burned. Bright red, embarrassed and angry.

Liam looked over at Steve, confusion pinching between his brows and then glanced down at you.

“Oh, I thought you said–”

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” you insisted, turning your back to Steve and trying your best to smile up at Liam, but the warmth on his face had faded.

“Okay,” Liam said, drawing out the vowel. Drinking the rest of his beer he tossed the can into the fire and jammed his hands into his pockets, “Well. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Wait! A-are you leaving? You just got here,” you protested, trying not to sound desperate. Liam was so sweet and all you wanted for once was just to have a nice time, but he was already turning to walk back up the hill.

“Yeah, sorry. I gotta be up early for work. I’ll call you,” he said, but you knew he wouldn’t as he forced a smile. Gave you a small half wave before heading across the gravel of the quarry and up to his truck.

“But–don’t you want to–” you stopped yourself short knowing it was useless. Steve chuckled behind you and you felt heat rise in your chest again.

Eyes squeezing shut and hands balled into fists, your nails pressed half moons into your palms as you spun back around to Steve. The glare you gave him wiped the grin right off his face and his lips twisted into a scowl.

“What?” he asked stupidly and you huffed a sound of disbelief.

“What d’you mean, what?” you shot back, taking a few steps toward him, “You just fucked that up for me. On purpose!”

“I did you a favor, that guy’s an idiot,” Steve grumbled and you laughed then. A hollow, humorless one that pushed itself from your lungs.

“You’re a real dick, Harrington,” you said, stepping up to him in defiance and he crowded down over you. Looked at you like a challenge. Eyes lit up bright in the firelight. Melted caramel. Amber. Whiskey and honey and you didn’t shy away from it.

“Oh, yeah? Well you’re no ray of sunshine, princess,” he was close enough now you could feel his breath warm over your cheek and the air grew thick, too hot, and it had nothing to do with the summer heat or the fire.

“Asshole,” you half whispered, using what little resolve you had left to tear away from him and stalk up the same hill Liam had toward your car, leaving Steve behind in a lurch.

You could hear gravel crunching behind you, the slip and slide of rock on rock punctuated by Steve’s sharp breaths.

“Are you seriously following me right now?”

“Yeah, if you just–Jesus Christ–slow down!” Steve’s feet skidded as he nearly tripped, but you kept going, digging in your purse for your keys.

You didn’t want to stay, didn’t want to hear whatever bullshit excuse he had loaded. You couldn’t. Not without ripping into him. Fumbling your key in your hand you jammed it into the lock just as Steve caught up, hands on his hips as he sucked in gasps of air.

“C’mon. Can you just–can you just gimme a minute?” he asked, out of breath and tone edging on pleading, but you resisted turning around.

“Why the hell would I do that?” you asked against your car door.

“Shit, princess. D’you really hate me that much?” his tone was even softer this time and you shook your head.

“Only as much as you hate me,” you snapped.

Finally getting the lock undone, you tried to wrench the door open, but Steve’s hand stopped you. Pressed into yours and kept it shut.

“God, what’s your problem?” you turned to hurl daggers at him, but the words died in your throat when you realized just how close he was.

Toes bumping into yours, hair falling all messy across his forehead, chest still heaving with the effort of jogging up the hill and everything blurred. Dizzy and spinning and even though you hadn’t been the one running, you couldn’t catch your breath.

“I don’t have one,” he said voice low and you felt your lips fall open at the way it made your stomach twist.

The anger that had settled in your chest shifting into something else. Something that felt dangerous. Swallowing thick you tried to shake your head, shake him, and you pulled your hand away from his.

“Sure seems like it,” you mumbled, mouth firmed in a line, trying so hard to stand your ground.

His brows pinched together. A mixture of frustration, uncertainty. Struggling to put words to the feelings that were squeezing in his chest, just as conflicted as you were. He looked at you through the long sweep of his lashes, eyes searching yours and bit at the inside of his cheek.

He thought he’d been in love with you the minute you walked into Family Video. Wearing your cut off jeans and an old baggy Hawkins High basketball jersey. Hair pulled up away from your face so that he could see the soft curve of your shoulders, the baby hairs that curled at the nape of your neck. You looked grumpy, frustrated, and the frown twisting across your lips drove him crazy. So did the heat in your tone as you talked to Keith, telling him you wanted was ‘a stupid job’ to pay for your ‘stupid bills’ and god if he didn’t feel stupid for staring.

There was no way you didn’t have a boyfriend. You were too hot. Too funny and sharp and cool. Hell, even if you didn’t have a boyfriend he figured there was no way he’d have a chance, so he did what he always did. Acted like he didn’t care. Needled you, pestered you, got under your skin. Got a little mean with it, but he hadn’t expected it to backfire. Hadn’t expected you play back and fuck if it didn’t make it worse.

Took to calling you Princess because he loved the way you glared at him.

Ate half your lunch just so he had an excuse to walk you across the street for a bag of chips.

Said you did things wrong just so you’d shove at him, tell him ‘if he was so good at it why didn’t he show you?’

And when he finally figured out you were single he felt like he’d fucked up. Like he’d taken it too far and there was no way he could be what he really wanted to be for you. No way to tell you how badly he wanted to take you out. How badly he wanted to treat you right. Hold your hand and call you baby.

Hey, baby.

How much he wished he could press his lips into yours and see if you tasted all sweet and tart at the same time. Sour on the outside, sugar on the inside. How he wanted to run his hands up your legs, feel you under him, tell you things that’d pull sweet sounds from your lips, but now you were here at this stupid party. Now there was Liam and he couldn’t help it.

Anything to keep him away from you and now he felt like he was answering for everything.

“See?” you insisted at his hesitation, huffing a sigh and turning back into your car, but Steve grabbed at your hand and spun you around again.

“S’not you!” he said a little too loud, cheeks burning with his admission and he bit his lips between his teeth, “It’s everybody else.”

Your face shifted skeptical, a little cynical, but he was so damn close. Too close and you tried to pull in a breath. Tried to hold onto your anger, but it slipped through your fingers like water. Scattered like wishes on a breeze as the scent of his cologne made you go all hazy. The look in his eyes pouring into you like kerosene on a fire. Made you want to grab fistfuls of his shirt in your hands and feel the full weight of him on you and–

“I don’t see what that’s gotta do with me,” you sniped, trying to keep your tone short, but it came out softer and he took the opportunity and ran with it.

“Everything, actually,” his lips tugged up into a small sheepish smile, but dropped again as he realized there was more to say. “I know I’m a dick–”

“You think?” you cut in and he leveled you with a look.

“Thanks,” he muttered and it pulled a little grin from you, but the next thing he said wiped it off your face, “M’sorry,” and your stomach flipped over at the way he was looking at you. “I just…I wish it were me,” he said, lifting a hand to your cheek and tucking a few stray locks of hair behind your ear.

Wish it were me. Your heart was racing.

“Wish what was you?” you whispered. Afraid to hear the answer. Holding your breath as he leaned in. Nose nearly brushing over your cheek. Close enough to kiss you if he wanted and god did you want him to.

“The one askin’ you out,” he whispered back and it struck you silent.

How was that possible? He was awful. Annoying and irritating and obnoxious and now he was telling you he wanted to ask you out?

“So ask me, Harrington,” you murmured and watched as his brows lifted in surprise, lips parted into a little ‘o’ as his brain raced to catch up.

“Wai–what?” he stumbled over his words and you pressed a hand to his chest.

“Ask me,” you said again and he huffed a laugh, tongue jammed into his cheek as he looked back down at you.

“Okay,” he managed, licking over his lips as he gathered himself back up, “C-Can I take you out?”

“Mmhm,” you murmured, nerves giving way to confidence and you pulled him down into you a little closer. Pressed your lips against his ear and whispered, “Kiss me.” And it nearly knocked him over.

Pulling away you looked up at him, whispered his name like a question and it blew his pupils wide. Dark at the center and fringed in gold and it was enough to make him lean back down. Soft and tentative at first, but bolder and braver when you sighed into him.

An exhale. A release. A realization of what you’d wanted this whole time and it made you grab his shirt in your hands, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and the sounds you pulled from each other were greedy.

More more more.

Hands splaying out over his chest you slid them up his shoulders and into his hair, pulling it lightly as his tongue licked into you and the moan he loosed made you press your thighs together.

“Shit,” he hissed, fingers pressing into the plush of your hips, mouth dragging hot down your neck and across your collarbone. Kisses messy and slipping on your skin and god you needed him. “Christ, princess, you drive me crazy,” he admitted and you grinned, all smug and holding the upper hand, but then he slotted a leg between your thighs and you lost it.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Felt like he was the only thing keeping you from falling away and it made you hold onto him tighter. You could still hear the laughter and the music down at the bonfire, but it sounded so far away. Both of you hidden in the thick, indigo shadows that fell out under the stand of trees, dark enough to not care what you were about to ask.

“Steve,” you pulled away just enough to speak and he stopped, both of you panting short breaths into the space between you.

“Sorry, can slow down if you want–”

“No–shit–” you squeezed your eyes shut to focus, “Don’t stop.” Swallowing thick you opened your eyes again and looked right up at him, “Just get in.”

Hands slipping against your car you fumbled to open the door to the backseat and half shoved him in before piling in after. When you closed it behind you the small space was suddenly filled with the sounds of your breaths. Quick and nervous and anticipating.

Steve sat on the bench, just as anxious as you were, and watched with heavy lidded eyes as you climbed over him. Straddled him with a leg on either side. Your dress hitching up and bunching at your hips and all he could do was grab onto your thighs for dear life. Pressing a hand into the seat behind his head you bit your lip between your teeth and pulled in a steadying breath.

“Here,” you whispered, taking one of his hands and sliding it between your legs. Making him feel the heat that had pooled there, showing him what he was doing to you and he groaned. A filthy sound that fell from his lips as he pressed his fingers against your soaked panties.

“Fuck,” he rasped, already wrecked from feeling how wet you were. “Okayokayokay. So fuckin’ hot, babe. Shit,” nonsense fell from his lips and you had half a mind to laugh at him, but his fingers were pulling your panties aside and touching you not your panties and it pulled a gasp from you.

At the sound his eyes darted up to look at you, make sure you were okay and you put your hand back over his. Moving his fingers in slow circles as they slipped against your slick.

“Like that?” he asked eyes still on you, keeping up the motion as your hand fell away.

You tried to say yes, but it melted into another moan and he leaned in to press a kiss to your neck. Mouth open and messy. Licking against the softness of your skin and sucking a bruise on it.

“Tell me,” he said into the hollow behind your ear, trailing kisses as he went, your hips rocking against his fingers as his circles grew tighter and faster.

“Like that–ye–yeah–yes. God, don’t stop,” you stuttered over your words hands moving to grip onto his shoulders as he slipped first one then two fingers inside of you.

He filled you up better than you could at home, your cheek pressed into your pillow, tears welling up in your eyes in frustration as you struggled to reach the spot you wanted. The hot drag of him sliding in and out in and out made you see white, made your tighten your hold on him and as you loosed another moan he bucked up into you.

You could feel how hard he was through his jeans against the bare skin of your thigh and it only made you want him more. “Steve,” you leaned forward and pressed your forehead to his, “Please tell me you have a condom.”

His fingers stopped moving and he loosed a heavy sigh, swallowing down the nerves that had pushed themselves into his throat. “Yeah, course, lemme just–” lifting his hips, and you, from the seat he yanked his wallet out of his back pocket.

He had stopped carrying them around after high school. Felt like it was fucking juvenile, but one time after Steve had watched you leave work, put his returns in the wrong spot and upside down, Robin had thrown one across the store at him. “Here, dingus,” she’d grumbled, “Don’t be an idiot.” And he’d been so embarrassed, afraid to tell her he didn’t think he’d ever need it, but he silently thanked her now. Always saving his ass.

Gently nudging you back into the headrests on the front seats he put his wallet down and fumbled his fingers against the button on his jeans. He was hard as a rock and when he undid his zipper it sprang out without any encouragement.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him as he ripped the foil of the condom wrapper between his teeth and thumb. Of course he drove you crazy at work, but you couldn’t deny you’d thought about him when you were alone in your room. Touching yourself beneath the sheets. Fantasizing about what it would be like and now that you were seeing it for real your heart hammered in your chest, legs slipping together as you grew wetter by the second.

He wrapped a hand around his length pumping once, twice, three times before rolling the condom down from tip to root and looking back up at you.

“Y’okay?” he asked, hands moving to hold onto your hips and you realized how ridiculous you must’ve looked.

“Mmhm,” you murmured and let him pull you slowly back into his lap.

“Gotta tell me if you aren’t,” he whispered and you nodded as he gave you a little smile, brushed your hair out of your face and looked just a little longer. “So pretty,” he said softly, words lighting a fire in your chest, and you pressed a kiss to him again. Sucking on his bottom lip and letting it go with a dirty pop and he thought he was going to come right there on the spot. “Sh–shit, okayokay,” he breathed, pressing his tip against your entrance, hesitating just a little and you helped him the rest of the way, pushing down slowly.

You watched as he filled you up, stretched you out until he was buried deep inside you, the tight fit making you squirm over him.

“Ohhh god, so tight, feel so good babe, Christ,” he rambled and you chuckled a little until he hit the soft, squishy spot at the back of you and you moaned loudly. Fell forward onto his chest and rolled your hips forward, silently begging him to move as if he could do anything else. “I got you,” he promised.

Hands gripping your hips again he slowly turned and lowered you down, your back against the seat bench, his arms on either side of you to hold himself up. Murmured soft, dirty things under his breath as he crowded over you, started rocking his hips into you, the wet sounds of you filling up the car.

“Wish you’d asked me sooner,” you whined, wrapping your legs around his waist and he gave you a smug little smile.

“Yeah? Worth the wait?” he asked, breath hitching in his throat as he picked up the pace, fronts of his thighs slapping against the backs of yours.

“Shut up,” you gasped as he bottomed out inside of you. Tangling your fingers into his hair you pulled and it dragged a groan from him as he started to fuck you faster. Slipping a hand between your legs you drew tight, messy circles over your clit, pushing yourself closer and closer to the edge. “Ste–shit. Steve, harder,” you practically begged and the pleading tone in your voice sent him.

“Harder,” he said back, it was all he could muster, wrecked and chest heaving with each breath he sucked in, fucking into you with heavy thrusts, “M’so close.”

Opening your mouth a so close almost fell from your lips too, but the coil in your stomach had been so tightly wound that the combination of your fingers over your clit and Steve finally made it snap.

You clenched tight around him as you both rode out your climax. Head pressed against the seat and eyes rolling back to look out the window at the stars. The moon as it hung lazy in the sky. Steve spilling sweet words of praise into your ears and bringing you back down to earth. Wrapping you up soft and warm in his voice.

He rested his forehead against yours, both of your brows dewy with sweat, and let out a contented sigh as he softened inside you.

“Wish I’d asked you sooner too,” he murmured, poking fun at himself with your words from earlier and you leaned up to press a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“Worth the wait,” you finally agreed and he grinned.

God damn, was it worth the wait.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

[dd122004dd]

Hi could I request jealous Ardeth Bay x fem reader smut?

Yours. Only Yours.

Author's Note: Hello dear reader! Thank you for the request! Unfortunately, I didn't feel like writing smut for this one, so I gave it a bit of a spicy ending. But I might or might not make anther part, just with smut in it. I hope you enjoy this, though!

P.S. Sorry for the delay, was going through some writer's block but now I'm kinda back.

Warnings: None, I don't think.

The scorching sun was setting in the west, birthing vermillion tinged skies as it hid among the sandy dunes in the distance. As Nuit laid a dark cloak over the earth and twinkling stars shone through, making the cool night almost tranquil. Within a camp in the distance hidden among the cooling dunes were people bustling about, preparing for a grand feast. The Medjai were celebrating the vanquishment of their ancient enemy, the one from whom they’d protected humanity for millennia. It had been decided by the chiefs that the five tribes would come together to celebrate their victory against the dark one.

A large bonfire was created in the center of the camping grounds with large pots of food bubbling around in anticipation for the hungry soldiers. The women within the camps wore their finest clothes with various colors and jewels adorning their bodies. Among them was her, Amaira, the one who adored the leader of the Medjai, Ardeth Bay. Her attraction to him was not unfounded. Rising through the ranks quickly, Ardeth had become the youngest leader that the Medjai had seen in decades. Not only was he a capable leader and strategist, he was also an excellent swordsman and gunman. Many women in the camp were attracted to him for his strength and military prowess yet he paid them no heed, choosing to ignore their advances and focusing on his duties.

Amaira too was one of his admirers yet she did not trip over her words whenever she saw him, rather she had a tongue that could cut through steel, injuring anyone who dared cross her path. She engaged the young Medjai in a battle of wits every time he came across her.

The two had been at each other’s throats since the fateful day they had met each other ten years ago when he was a young trainee and she was learning the art of crafting armor for the Medjai. Her father came from a long line of armorers and they had been making armor for the Medjai for generations. Their secret practice, however had been passed down through the matriarchal line, with the sons becoming warriors for the Medjai and the daughters crafting armor to defend their beloved family. ‘The swordsman attacks and the women defend,’ was their family’s motto.

Within her tent she dressed herself, lathering the perfumed oils reserved for special occasions. Lips colored with red rouge and a slight blush adorning her cheeks, making her look youthful and flushed. She wore beautiful navy robes, embroidered with tiny beads that caught the light, shimmering like stars among the night’s sky.

Ready for the feast she emerged from her tent, looking for her friend, Maria. As she made her way towards the festivities, she finally spotted her friend amongst the crowd. She quickly made her way towards her, almost barreling into the younger woman. The women greeted each other before deciding to mingle.

As her friend and her went around the campfire, meeting new friends and talking about the guests and some of their atrocious attires she suddenly caught sight of him, Adreth Bay. The object of her desires yet the bane of her existence.  Her friend noticed her halt, turning towards the direction the woman was staring at Maria noticed a young woman talking to Ardeth, well, rather she was flirting with him. With a large smile on her face as the man in front of her let out a joyous laugh at something she said. “That’s Zaina, the daughter of Chief Akhned,” Maria said.

“How disgraceful,” Amaira scoffed, “Flirting with a man four years her senior, and in front of everyone, too.”

“Are you angry because she is flirting with a man in public, or is it because you wish you were in her place?” Her friend knowingly asked.

Scoffing at her insinuation she replied, “Never. I’d rather eat a camel’s foot than flirt with that arrogant son of a donkey.”

“You say that yet your glare speaks otherwise, dear friend,” Maria rebutted.

Amaira glared at the cozy couple, noticing them drawing closer to each other as the young woman placed a fair hand on the Medjai’s arm, giggling at something he’d said.

Having enough, Amaira stalked towards the cozy couple with a saccharine smile on her face, “Asalaim walaikum.” She greeted.

“Walaikum Al Salam.” The Chieftain’s daughter replied before Ardeth cut in, “Zaina, this is Amaira, her family makes the armor that all the Medjai wear.”

“Aah, how wonderful! I’ve heard of your family. The women in your family must be incredibly talented to have made such incredible armor,” Zaina complimented.

Pride filled her chest as she replied, “Yes, they are. I heard your father was looking for you, you might want to hurry along and see what he wants, afterall, no one should keep the chief waiting.”

Zaina looked at Ardeth, reluctant to leave, yet after a few moments she moved away from the man, bidding him farewell she went to look for her father.

Turning towards the Medjai before her Amaira glared.

“What was that for? I was talking to her.”

“Please, a blind goat could see you flirting from on top of the pyramids.”

“My, my. Jealous, are we?”

“Pssh. Jealous? Over you? I’d die before I admit that.”

“It doesn’t make it untrue, Amaira.”

“You have no proof of anything.”

“Really? I don’t have proof?”

“Really.”

“Then I suppose you glaring daggers into my back wasn’t enough proof? Or perhaps you looking at the poor girl like you wanted her head? Or perhaps the sweet smile you plastered on your face as you swayed your way over here? Or maybe, when you told her, her father was looking for her when you know very well that the chief hasn’t arrived to the feast yet. So tell me, little snake, what proof could you possibly desire? Or perhaps it’s not proof you desire, but me.” Ardeth breathed close to her ear, whispering the last words as he stalked forward with each word till, she was cornered against one of the tents.

“You’re delusional. I could never desire you!” Amaira stated determinedly, unable to breathe from the proximity of the warrior.

“You could never desire me? Or you could never allow yourself to desire me?” He questioned, with a grin on his face, finally glad to hold something over the fiery woman’s head, yet his happiness was short lived as he found himself being pushed to the ground. Before he had a moment to react, a weight deposited herself on his thighs, preventing him from getting up.

“Amaira! What are you doing?!” He asked, frantically.

Smirking down at the man, she replied, “You were right, Ardeth. I do desire you. I have from the moment we met. And your little display with Zamiya really pushed me over the line. What did you think would happen, hmm? That I’d cower and bow before admitting my feelings? If you really thought that, you know me far less than I thought.”

“What’re you trying to do?” He asked as she leaned closer to him, caging his body under her own.

“Showing you, how much you belong to me.” Saying this, she captured the Medjai’s lips with her own. He was stunned at first before melting into the fiery woman, surging upward as he claimed her lips. Yet she didn’t allow him to dominate the kiss, pulling him closer as their mouths clashed together. A battle as old as time among the dunes of the desert. A depiction of their relationship with each other soft at certain moments yet harsh at others.

The couple eventually separated, resting their foreheads against each other’s, slowly panting.

“‘Only I am allowed to touch you this way, to claim you for myself. You belong to me.” She stated.

“Yours. Only yours.” He vowed.