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inuhalfdemon · 2 days
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“Have you…- did you ever have sex?”
The radio, still playing the soft notes of something jazz briefly rattled with an irritating static, before tuning back in clearly to what had been playing. Alastor was holding his whiskey glass, still close to his smiling face, but his eyes were sharply on her.
“Isn’t that a rather…distasteful question, Adeline?” He held one eyebrow raised.
“What?” She wasn’t really sure why he seemed so bothered by it, but he was almost glaring at her despite the grin he held in place. “You could just skip it…” She told him. “And, I really only meant to ask if you had while you were human. Is it really that big of a deal?”
He slumped into the couch, taking a dragging swallow from his whiskey, all the while holding his other hand up, giving her one raised long and very pointed middle-finger.
“Oh, wow.” She said, laughing. “You really didn’t like that question.”
“No.” He said darkly. “I didn’t.” The radio filter completely absent from his voice for a moment.
Fanfiction excerpt from Chapter 6 of "Dirty Dealings"
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lambsouvlaki · 18 hours
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The Hand That Feeds Bit Me First (Ao3)
Rating: Mature Category: F/M Fandom: Batman (Comics) Relationship: Jason Todd/Original Character Additional tags: Slow Burn, BAMF Jason Todd, Friends to Lovers, Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Civilian love interest, Idiots in Love
Jason had known Louise for years. She’d been his getaway driver, his alibi, a co-conspirator. He had bailed her out of the trouble she always got herself into more times than he could count. With a straight face she told Batman she had never even heard of the Red Hood, while he was passed out on her couch. He confirmed to many an HR department that she definitely worked for him, uh-huh, five years in accounts? Absolutely, best accountant he’d ever had. She’d been ‘borrowing’ his vacuum cleaner for years now. He attended her grandpa's funeral. Boyfriends and girlfriends came and went. Heroes and villains, dubious costumes and harebrained schemes. They remained.
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bluelotuswrites · 8 hours
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hi <3 so i’m on my like 5th reread of red is the color of sinners and i know the term rent free has kind of lost its original meaning now, but when i say i think about this fic series CONSTANTLY, i need you to know i think about it daily. i genuinely think i’ve thought more about this fic and it’s universe more than any other fic i’ve ever read :’) that being said i have a couple questions!! so i know you have a lot planned for this series and i was wondering when jason knows matt is DD and starts helping him out more on missions and stuff like we’ve seen him start doing as his guy in the chair, do you think if they were doing field work matt would learn tactile signing to communicate with jason? i feel like that would be sooo cool to see and also it feels like another step of trust between them with how almost intimate the act of needing to physically touch someone or even hold their hand to communicate is. also as someone who is also obsessed with hellblazers apprentice, im curious if you’ll drag constantine into this fic? i’m not sure if you think he would really have any place in this AU, but it would be fun to see a little cameo, i love their dynamic. anyways i have so many thoughts about this series, i sometimes just bounce it around like a ping pong ball in my head throughout the day and i can’t wait for more! <3
You have no idea how long I was reading this ask. Legitimately, I was laying on my bed and kicking my feet while giggling like a school girl.
As for your first question, in field work is gonna be a bit ;)
Tactile signing (which I did not know that was it's proper name was so thank you for that bit of info!) would definitely be something that Matt and Jason would use. Honestly, how I see their ways of communicating is very diverse. Later on, it'll be revealed that Matt can pick out some signs thanks to his enhanced senses, but they have to be ones Jason does a lot, don't have a lot of nuance requirements (ex. smaller motions or an expression), and it's still a mix of context clues (i.e., conversation topic, others' responses to them, etc) when he's translating them. Otherwise, they'd use tracing when they're close by. Matt and Jason would also use morse code to communicate (Matt has to learn it and Jason has to kinda relearn it/brush up on it).
As for your second question, I may or may not have some ideas I've been toying with...
Here's a lil snippet as a thank you for the ask.
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(Rough draft atm so ignore that it's not up to my standards >_>)
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one-dumb-fucker · 1 day
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Jason Todd/Red Hood x anyone (I don't think it really matters who)
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His body made a hundred percent killer but not if you looked close enough; knew him well enough.
Arms: big and strong to protect and hold.
Hands: kind and caressing, like the kind that'd hold pup pup and fluff pillows.
Thighs: so big and cushiony, to hold oneself in his lap or to wrap around oneself while he sat on their's.
Booty: so bubbly it made the perfect pillow.
Back: broad and strong, able to hold anything, including a drowsy head in the early morning apon it.
Belly: human in every way.
Chest: akin to the booty but firmer, and allowed oneself to hear his heartbeat as oneself was lulled to sleep.
Face: gorgeous and made to hold as you get lost in his green eyes that sparkle with so much more, so many kinder things than violence.
Lips: soft and all too easy to drownd in or merely get dazed looking at.
Ears: so cute, especially when dusted with that pink heat known as blush.
Heart: not just an organ that beat adrenaline, but was made of gold.
-
Apr. 7. 2024.
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medusapelagia · 2 days
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Battle cry
written for @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘Fool’ wc: 454 rated: M TW: blood, injuries, war, battlefield, cliffhanger
(I had the idea of trying to write a longer fic using Steddie Microfic Prompts, I don’t know if this will work out! This fic is intended as a sequel to I’ll make you proud but can also be read as a stand-alone)
Their camp is burning.
The ground is dripping blood and the soldiers are screaming and running while Steve stares at the huge creature that's standing in front of him.
At his side, Robin, his squire, is trying to drag him away from the battlefield: their enemies have a fucking dragon, and there is no way they can even hope to defeat them. But Steve isn’t moving. His eyes pinned in the dragon's ruby ones. The creature's nostrils flare and he snorts some smoke, trying to intimidate the prince. There's no need. Steve is already terrified. Still. He can't retreat. He must protect his men and his family, or at least die trying to.
"Run," Steve says to Robin, without turning.
"Steve! Don't be foolish! You can't fight a dragon!" She insists, her grip around the boy's arm even tighter.
"I know, but I can still buy you some time."
The dragon is studying him like a big cat ready to jump and catch the mouse he's playing with.
"Think about Eddie! Think about your kid!" Robin begs, her eyes full of tears, but she has been at Steve's side since he was a child, and she knows that she'll not be able to convince him.
"Listen to me." Steve says, his hand already on the hilt of his swords, "We don't know how many dragons they have, but if this is the only one and I manage to keep him busy long enough for you to get back to the castle, we might still have a chance," he whispers, "Find Dustin. Tell him that they have a dragon. I'm sure he'll come up with some clever plan."
For a brief moment, Steve turns toward Robin with a sad smile, then he pushes her away and starts running toward the dragon. He's on foot, he lost his horse during the fight and all he has now are his sword and the medallion with Eddie's mischievous expression. He didn't even have the time to add their son's portrait.
His armor clangs while he gets closer to the enormous creature that stares back at him. Some soldiers try to stop him. An arrow, coming from Steve’s blind side, finds its way under his arm. Steve yelps but keeps going, feeling the blood pouring down his arm: if he's not quick the arrow will kill him before the dragon.
There's a flare of fire at Steve's side and he barely avoids getting burned. He rolls on the ground, whimpering when he hits the ground where the arrowhead is still embedded, and when he finally stops he's so close to the dragon that can count all his scales.
Steve lets out a battle cry.
And then the dragon hits.
(Do I have an idea about how to continue this? Yes, I do and I need at least 2 more prompts that I can use... maybe three to get it more coherent but who cares XD)
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theamityelf · 3 days
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The killing game survivors of Hope's Peak Academy all had their different ways of testing the waters of their new job at the Future Foundation. (Deliberate ones, and ones that just came as a result of who they were as people.) Kyoko tested the waters of being frequently late. Byakuya tested the waters of being frequently insubordinate. Hina ran laps around shared work spaces, Hiro scammed their coworkers, and Toko still wasn't technically a member.
Makoto...okay, he challenged the leadership's patience in a lot of ways, but one example that he genuinely couldn't help was that he was the first of the survivors to have to take a sick day.
And the second.
And the third.
Makoto lay in bed, groaning through a throbbing headache and feeling gross. He hadn't even had it in him to let anyone know he was sick, which just made him feel worse, because it reminded him of another time he hadn't let anyone know he was sick, and he'd almost been executed over it.
(Well, it wasn't like that was really the reason, but he still felt anxious.)
Waking up from his third nap– glancing at the clock, it looked like he was an hour and a half late for work –he heard movement in his suite. That definitely wasn't helping him not think about that one time, but it was probably just Kyoko or Hina or someone, coming to check on him.
It sounded like it was coming from his kitchen. Maybe Hiro, then. He often casually brought up how much money they could make if they sold off some of the Ultimate Hope's used cutlery. Or maybe Hina had peeked in while he was sleeping, seen that he was sick, and decided to bring him something to eat? It did sound like someone was using the stove.
Makoto dozed off again and woke to someone pulling a thermometer out of his mouth.
"101 Fahrenheit," an unexpected voice sighed. "You're usually a tenth of a degree above average, but still..."
"Komaeda?" Makoto said blearily. "What are you doing here?"
"Everyone was wondering where you were, so I took the initiative to come check before anyone more important could be forced to abandon their work," Komaeda said brightly. "I've let your friends know that you're sick. They were somewhat annoyed that you didn't call or email, so I unfortunately had to explain just how out-of-it you were when I arrived, which caused them to realize that you couldn't have gotten up to let me in. I think they're bothered about me picking your locks. Sorry about that. But I made breakfast!"
"Breakfast?"
"Here, open."
"Wait...My...locks?"
"Well, I had to make sure you were alright. I'd be a pretty bad intern if I let something bad happen. Now, here; you should eat something. Even if I made it."
Makoto ate a few bites of breakfast. A flush of pink filled Komaeda's cheeks, and he was smiling so much. A part of Makoto's fevered mind felt glad that Komaeda was this happy, but he could barely keep his eyes open to see it.
Nagito paused, setting the chopsticks down to brush back the hair that was plastered to Naegi's forehead. "Are you still awake?" he asked.
There was no answer, save for Naegi's soft breathing, accented by the quiet rasp of his congested nose.
Nagito took the unfinished food back to the kitchen. He gave into temptation and sucked the lingering traces of broth and the moisture from Naegi's lips off of the chopsticks, then pocketed them. He returned to the room and helped Naegi drink some juice. And he drank what remained in the glass after, then thoroughly scrubbed it clean with a light, giddy head and a chest full of shame.
He wiped the sweat from Naegi's brow and pulled up a chair beside the bed so he could sit there fanning him. Unfortunately, he couldn't switch hands when his wrist got sore, but he didn't mind it.
After all, Naegi needed him.
He was really lucky.
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abby118 · 3 months
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✨Having someone who is invested in your story and discusses it with you is like a solid half of the fun of writing. I'm not even kidding.✨
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usedtobecooler · 3 months
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eddie ‘monstercock’ munson, who is painfully unaware of the sheer size of his dick.
tw: sexual content 18+ minors dni, size kink, oral m receiving, piv sex, praise kink, dirty talk, general debauchery. for my love @raccoonboywrites
and, listen, you’re not a size queen at all. don’t care much for how big or small a cock is so long as whoever it’s attached to knows how to use it. but you gasp out loud once you get your fingers dig under eddie’s waistband, pulling the offending material down to let his length spring out.
it’s enough to shock you back into the room, watching as the thick weight of it slaps against eddie’s tummy, the way it curves into his navel. he’s wet, leaking at the head and matting down the pretty swirls of black hair that lead a trail down, down, down.
he’s rumpled against your bed frame, slumped down with his shirt rucked up his tummy. the prettiest pink flush spreading across his cheeks, tinging his ears and dipping as low as his collar. you’re willing to bet his chest is blotched with the lovely rosy colour, too. he grips aimlessly at your comforter, wide eyes watching your every move; tracing every hitch of your breath.
you wrap your hand around the base — purposely ignoring the pathetic little whine eddie makes, because jesus now isn’t the time to think too much about that — and you moan despite yourself when your hand doesn’t even wrap fully around the girth of it, dwarfing your fingers and palm.
“you— you’re so big, oh my god,” your voice catches at the end, desperate and dampened by your own desire for it. you lean forward, hot breath ghosting over him, tugging his foreskin back just enough for the head to pop out, shiny and reddening with need, “you could’ve at least warned me you were packing a python down there, fuck.”
“oh shit, really? i thought it was aver— holy fuck, you don’t have to—“ he’s bug eyed, eyebrows shooting under his fringe as you mouth at the head, determined and eager to get a taste of him. uncut, heavy on your tongue, the heady splash of precum blurting out to coat your tastebuds.
eddie’s knees kick up a little as you mouth greedily at his tip, pointing your tongue to run in circles around the glans on the underside. you smirk despite yourself, getting a kick out of it when eddie goes a little cross eyed, burying a ringed hand into your hair.
you indulge yourself, feeling the weight of him in your mouth as you sink lower, just far back enough as to not trigger your gag reflex. your lips wrapping around his hot flesh, suckling softly, reveling in each blurt of pearlescent release that drips onto your tongue.
“baby, sweetheart — fuck,” eddie gasps, breath shuddery, lightly pulling at your tresses to test the water. his mouth falling open into a quiet moan when your eyes flutter at the feeling, “y’can- y’can take more, right? s’not… s’not that big.”
your jaw cracks under what of him you’ve fit in, which truthfully isn’t much. despite your efforts, there’s still a good three inches of eddie’s cock left untouched by hand or mouth, and you really have to wonder if he’s that clueless of his size. you pull off with a wet pop, strings of saliva keeping you connected to him as you stare up with wet orbs.
“eddie, you’re huge.” your voice is wrecked, butterflies swirling in your tummy as you make eye contact with him once again. you flush under his debauched gaze, "i— shit. nobody's ever told you before?"
eddie shrugs, considers for a moment. you don't think he's aware of the fact he's holding you in place with his hand, gripping your hair just enough to keep you still, hovering over his dick just close enough that if he wanted to, he could push you back down, get your mouth back on him.
though, that’s clearly not what he wants. because, he’s slipping the hand from your hair, doing this kind of awkward dance as he lays you out where he wants you.
you end up on your back, thighs spread wide as eddie slots between them, mouthing hotly at your neck. his fingers graze along your flushed skin, dance on your hipbone, across your pelvis. dips those godforsaken fingers into your panties, carelessly fumbling over your sopping wet pussy.
“this is okay, right?”
“it’s all okay, eddie. anything you want.”
"not— not even touched you yet and you're already this wet?" eddie's voice is a low timbre against your skin, has you arching up into his touch with a soft little moan. he sounds shocked, no heat or teasing in his words.
"can't help it," you gasp, exhaling shakily when eddie swipes two fingers over your clit deftly, unable to hide his smile at how receptive you are, "feeling the size of you in my hand — my mouth, god. would've let you choke me with it, would've thanked you."
eddie buries his face into your cleavage, poorly concealing a choked whine. he's skillful with his fingers, working you over fast despite how much your words are clearly affecting him.
your hips rock in short little circles, fingers sinking into eddie's hair, tugging lightly at the nape of his neck. you whine, body set alight with the feeling of calloused fingers grazing the small bundle of nerves.
he's biting you, brandishing you with little blooming bruises, and with the noise he makes against your damp skin you'd think it was him getting touched like this, him hurtling towards the edge.
you're so wet that the slick noises of eddie's fingers on your pussy are deafening in your ears, causing your back to prickle with heat, tummy winding tight.
the hot, heavy flesh of his cock presses against your inner thigh, shocking loud moans from you both at the same time. you arch up into his touch, ears ringing as pleasure takes over your body.
"i— you're making me cum," you gasp breathily, a static feeling warming your body, eyes rolling into the back of your head. you grapple for eddie's hair once more, tugging with a ferocity as your release washes over you.
it's. something. you feel like you're fucking floating, and eddie keeps swirling his fingers perfectly, whispering little shocked praises and keening into your rough pulling as he wrings you out.
once eddie's sure you're done with the aftershocks of your orgasm, he hazards pushing two fingers into your soaked cunt, and you're practically shooting away with overstimulation. crying out, somehow swivelling your hips and pushing down onto his fingers further once the shock wears off.
"you're a shit," you gasp, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, "god, might've known your dick was gonna be big, fuckin' size of your fingers."
"was— was that good for you? can i, shit can i?" eddie's desperate, rutting the thick outline of his cock against your thigh. he's never stopped fucking leaking, soaking your leg in milky precum and allowing the slip and slide to feel good.
you nod, shaky hands tilting his head up so you can finally, finally, get your mouth on his. eddie's whole body presses flush against yours, his hand coming out to stabilise himself so he doesn't crush you, and fuck.
it's so charged, like he can't stilt his emotions as he snakes his tongue into your mouth, lapping at your own wetly. it's probably disgusting, doesn't feel like it though — you'd swallow his spit happily, whenever he wanted, if it meant he kept making you feel like this.
eddie's shaky hand fumbles for the base of his cock as you continue kissing, positioning himself so that he's nestled prettily between your legs. the kisses turn languid, and he almost sounds pained when he next speaks, "s-sorry. if it, if it hurts."
"let it hurt, i want it to," your demeanor falters a little, turning doe eyed and pleading as eddie slides the ruddy head of his cock up and down the seam of your cunt, flirts with the idea of pushing the tip in just to watch you gasp and keen.
"would never," eddie promises, finally — fucking, finally — pushing the first few inches into the sopping wet heat of your pussy. he cries out when you clench around him unwittingly, and you mumble out a small sorry as you adjust.
it's. not good. it's not bad, either, but fuck. you feel like you're being split from the inside, the thick tip pushing you wider than you anticipated. your fingers grapple for eddie's biceps, nails digging in tightly, "so fucking big, oh my god, you're gonna split me in half."
you're breathless and eddie catches on, panics a little, "you're okay? you're okay, right? i can sto—"
"if you stop, i swear to god," you seethe, looking at eddie with a fierce spark in your eyes, "keep going. fuck. keep going."
before long and with a little bit of resistance, eddie's buried deep inside of you. your bodies roll against one anothers, shallow, slow breaths
it starts slow, the catch and drag of eddie's cock shocking you both into silence. but, before long, your pussy catches up with the programme, gushing wet and allowing eddie to push in further with each thrust.
it's intimate, erotic.
"you're so tight," eddie all-out whimpers, head falling and shoulders shaking as he fucks you at a lazy pace, clearly trying his best to hold out for as long as he can.
"fuck, you’re so gentle,” you try, knees squeezing eddie’s narrow waist, thighs encapsulating him, “you can go quicker. not gonna break me.”
eddie shakes his head, almost like he’s bewildered. looks at you all fucking soft, clearly can’t help the rut of his hips as he buries in deep, biting his inner lips to muffle his noises.
you grasp a hold of eddie's hand with nimble fingers, guide his hand over the softness of your tummy, let him push down where his cock is buried deep inside of you. his whole body shudders, and you can feel where he kicks up.
"practically in my guts," you wheeze, unable to shake the full feeling despite how your pussy gushes for him, so full you swear you feel him in your throat with every deep thrust he can muster, "you're s-so big, eddie."
"oh— jesus, can't do shit like that. can't say shit like that," eddie grunts desperately, rutting into you and gripping for your waist tightly, other hand still pushed down on the pudge of your belly, "gonna make me cum so, so quick."
"can feel every ridge of you, you're splitting me apart," you keen, "i can't— god, you've ruined me f-for anyone else. yours, yours, m'yours."
eddie's forehead slumps against your own, and you're panting into each others mouths more than anything else, lips barely brushing, "mine, you're mine." he agrees, though he sounds pained and submissive as he says it.
your hand snakes around eddie's neck, holding him in place as he fucks you so desperately, so rough you're rattling the stupid bedframe, and you don't think you've ever felt anything like this before. it's all-consuming, the tug between sore and soul-crushingly sensual.
your second orgasm hits you like a freight train, the constant press against your spot causing a quicker build up than you could've anticipated. you both make eye contact as you come with a muted gasp, nails scraping harshly at the soft skin on eddie's neck as you rock it out.
"didn't think you could get any tighter, god," eddie whimpers, eyes squeezing shut, finger-shaped bruises sure to be left on your hips as he fucks you in some sort of reckless abandon, "fuck, i'm so close. i'm so sorry, fuck, fuck."
you nod, understanding, the wet clap of skin on skin deafening as your release allows an even smoother glide. he's fucking ethereal above you, covered in a light sheen of sweat, mouth open in a constant stream of steady moans.
you reach between where both of your bodies meet, where the final few inches don't quite fit, spreading your fingers either side of his cock to allow friction as he fucks in and out rapidly, chasing his high.
eddie looks at you with a wild expression, eyebrows shooting up into his fringe. he grunts like a fucking animal, eyes drifting down to where your hand is, "you— you— i'm cumming, holy fuck—!"
he's loud when he comes, full body wracked with it. you feel his cock pulse and kick inside of you, painting your insides deep. the moan you let out at the feeling is hardly voluntary, so pathetic you flush hot when you realise just how loud you are.
"thank you, thank you," eddie's mumbling against your skin, kissing the side of your neck softly as he comes down, "god, you're perfect. so perfect."
you shudder, overcome with this sappy fucking fond feeling, allowing eddie to collapse on top of you once he's done. it's soft, domestic, even.
you both end up in some sort of gross, body fluid covered cuddle as you calm down. blissed out in the post-orgasmic haze, and fuck.
maybe you're in love with him.
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yesokayiknow · 4 months
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they try, honestly they do, but the doctor isn't a stationary creature and never has been, especially not when they know there's something they could help with. which is to say, it takes a week of soft quiet life before he starts begging kate for a job. kate in turn withstands three weeks of the doctor's incessant begging and big puppy dog eyes while donna noble stands right behind him and mouths don't you fucking dare before she makes a counteroffer: he can work in a lab (the 'very far away from active duty' is implied) as long as he meets with unit's therapist.
and he refuses, of course, loudly and profusely, right up until donna very gently but very firmly tells him that it really could help, actually.
so. therapy. the doctor assumes it won't do anything. the unit therapist is no nonsense and unflinching and very very bright, and twenty minutes later the doctor sits outside the room hyperventilating while kate finishes paperwork and kindly doesn't mention the way he's all but curled into her.
the second session ends much like the first, and the third, and then the fourth he walks out with dry eyes and a tremulous smile. the fifth, kate calls donna and she takes him home and they drink hot chocolate and he doesn't start talking again until the next day. it takes him seven sessions to be able to stay in the room for the full hour; kate pats him on the back and then finally allows him to build a shield for her office as a reward. she sits outside the therapist's office every time he has a session, even though she has to have better things to do. they don't talk about it.
unit only has files on things the doctor's done on earth, and even then, only sometimes, which means that when the doctor talks about some things he just. edits, a little. talks about two weeks in a confession dial and a month in prison, because maybe then he doesn't have to think about the enormity of it all. and every single time he does this, the therapist looks at him and very kindly calls bullshit. it's weird, being known. it's different with donna. he is donna and donna is him, in ways they will probably never talk about. but he sits in that cluttered little office for an hour a week (sometimes two or three times, if he's doing particularly badly) and he feels seen.
after four months, there are memories he can touch without flinching, and people he can talk about without crying. he starts spending a couple of hours just sitting in the vortex, not because he's hiding or running but just because he likes the way it feels against his skin. he cooks dinner every other night and washes up when he doesn't. he takes out the bin every week even though it's rose's job, because he loves her. and he can say that now, and he doesn't think about her short lifespan or about all the other people they've loved and lost. he can say that and just mean it.
part of his contract is an agreement to never offer a trip to a member of unit unless it's actual life or death (the small chemical leak in the lab doesn't count; he takes shirley to new mars anyway) but he finds himself toying with the idea of asking for a session in the tardis. just once, just to see. the therapist looks at him and sees him and it is monstrous and they keep looking anyway and now the doctor can sit through a family dinner without wanting to tear his skin off and he doesn't know any other way to say thank you.
it's funny, almost, how quickly he grows attached to this person who picks through his hurts and rifles through his traumas and holds direct eye contact while doing so. the doctor talks about their deaths and their crimes and their cowardice and the therapist nods and asks him how he feels and it's. it's terrifying. it's beautiful. it's the worst thing he's ever ever been through, and the best. he feels ripped apart and put back together in a way that few people have ever been able to— huh.
after his sixty eighth session (he's unable to not keep count) the doctor walks outside to where kate is annotating a schematic and says, thoughtfully, they're the master in disguise, aren't they. and kate says oh 100% and please don't let them know that you know because they will definitely go to the second stage of whatever long con they've been hatching and they're too good at this for us to let them go
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tragedybunny · 6 months
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Hot Take
Honestly I think if Astarion were in a relationship with a good aligned Tav he'd hate Halsin.
I don't think it's lost on Astarion that he's short tempered and selfish. And the person he cares the most for is entirely different. But they care for him and seem to overlook the worst parts of him, even if he doesn't want to save orphans or whatever.
But then here's Halsin, who despite his own trauma, is still a good person. He's kind and genial and he's out here trying to do the right thing.
And to top it all off, he wants to have sex with Tav. Sex, the one thing Astarion should be good at, the one thing he should be able to provide to Tav. He's not a good or nice person, he's a pile of burdens, in his own mind, but he should be able to give them sex. But he can't.
And now Halsin, who is the kind of person Astarion isn't, is trying to give his partner the only thing Astarion sees himself as being good at. What does he have left to give to Tav? How can Astarion hope to keep them in his life?
Fair or not, I think he'd hate him for it.
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imdumbhi · 5 months
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𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴,
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summary: You save her life and from there, it went all down hill.
pairings: Mizu x reader
warnings: angst, fluff, no nsfw
a/n: hellooo, this is long. i hope you enjoy!
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Red splatters upwards from your lips as you laid on your back on the snow. You can feel your back drench and cold. It’s not comfortable but who cares when you have a sword sticking out of your stomach.
“What did you do?!” It’s Mizu, she hovers above you, her hands shaking slightly at the sight of blood everywhere. You take notice, as you gaze up at her weakly, her orange lenses are no longer sitting on the bridge of her nose and you think, how beautiful her eyes are even as she’s crying.
Wait, why is she crying?
A pair of hands grab at your barley conscious face, forcing your body upwards into her arms and you feel yourself become limp. You hum softly in content knowing you will die in someone’s arms but Mizu isn’t just someone — you love her.
It’s a secret you kept from the samurai and you vowed to yourself to never reveal it once you realized. It was when you first spotted her walking the streets of your village and thinking to yourself, how odd. You remember watching her closely, her tall figure mysteriously hidden and guarded. What caught your eye was the sword hanging by her hip.
Taking the risk, you decided that it would be a great idea to approach her. Even if it meant putting yourself in danger. When you did, you can’t forget how her face looked baffled and confused.
She disliked you at first, it sucked because Mizu didn’t give you a chance of day. She kept her distance and made no sign of interest getting to know you. But you on the other hand did wonder about who she was. Who is Mizu? Where did she come from? Did she still have a father? Mother? Question after question, you almost got your hopes up. Then that completely changed when you first looked into those blue eyes and saw her naked body at the waterfall that one time.
You begin to see Mizu slowly lowering her guard around you, the woman even engaged in conversations between you and Ringo. Mizu could be mean, could be sarcastic, and a complete jerk but that sacred smile of hers always made up for it. Your favorite thing about her though, was when her blue eyes shined when she laughed at your stupid jokes.
Oh, how pretty she is.
Your tried eyes gaze up at her face again, you see those sad teary blue eyes staring right back at you, your fingers itch to smooth away the line between her brows.
You want to tell her not to be sad, to tell her this isn’t over and that all will be fine.
“…please, don’t you dare die on me…” Her voice sounds far away now.
Is this the end?
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***
The smell of tea wakes you up.
Eyes shoot open, quick to take in your surroundings and you see a dark sky. The crackling and popping comes from somewhere near you. You go to sit up but a loud groan escapes your lips instead, intense pain striking from your stomach.
“Don’t move,” the voice demanded coldly and you turn your head to look, finding Mizu cross legged on the ground beside you, her back facing towards you. “You’ll end up messing up your stitches.”
The fire in front of her dances quietly with the occasional popping.
You open your mouth to speak but your throat is dry and the taste of metal is on your tongue. Distracted by the pain from your stomach and a dry throat, a cup of hot steaming tea is presented in front of you. You don’t look Mizu’s way as it nears your lips helping you take small sips.
When you’ve had enough, feeling satisfied, you ask, “What happened?” Mizu scoffs, your confuse eyes move over to her when she does. You see that her back is facing towards you again. “Mizu?” Your tone is scratchy.
Mizu doesn’t answer. You huff in annoyance at her behavior and lay there silently. If she wants to play the quiet game then you’ll play the quiet game. Mizu did this anytime she was not in the mood but you spotted a difference. It was way too quiet and Mizu wasn’t moving an inch.
“Mizu.” You try again, concern lingering in your tone now. “What is it?” You should’ve known that was a stupid question to ask when Mizu stood up abruptly and turn around to face you.
“Are you stupid?” You flinch when she asks you. Her tone is harsh and she’s glaring daggers at you. You haven’t been in this position since you almost injured yourself by approaching a wild horse when you tried to impress Mizu. Not one of your proudest moments.
“Master.” Another voice cuts in, catching Mizu attention. Ringo appears from the right holding a bag of sorts and you watch as he sends his master a look that you can’t seem to understand. They stare at each other, almost like a staring contest. Eventually, Mizu huffs in defeat and excuses herself leaving off into the trees without another word.
“She’s upset with me.” You stated after a couple of minutes, staring at where Mizu has disappeared off to.
“Yes.” Ringo answered simply. He sets his bag down by his legs, his big hands fishing inside his bag. “You almost died.” Your breath hitch, what did he say?
That’s when everything came back. From jumping in front of Mizu to getting stabbed and ending it with you drifting off into the darkness. Your eyes stay on him, watching him move around the fire, prepping and humming softly to himself.
You still don’t understand. Still confused, you inform him, “Ringo, I saved her life. I really don’t understand-”
“You almost died.” Ringo repeats again like it means something. Like it’s supposed to mean something. Like its the most obvious thing in the world but when he looks up at you and catches you staring at him like an idiot, his lips curl up and he goes back to humming.
You groan at his antics and lay your head back down, staring up at the dark sky with a pout. You decide to shut your eyes and collect your thoughts. Even as the pain in your stomach is already distracting enough, you see a pair of sad blue eyes full of tears flash in your mind and you feel a different type of pain that didn’t come from your stomach injury.
It takes an hour for Mizu to come back.
“Master! Welcome back. The food is ready.”
Reopening your eyes, you pick up your head and see Mizu approaching Ringo who is already handing a bowl of noodles over to her. She accepts it and completely ignores you as she retakes her seat by the fire.
You feel hurt but you are distracted when Ringo approaches you with two bowls of noodles. He sets them aside and helps you sit up carefully so you are leaning back against a wall. You grunt quietly in pain and he then offers you a bowl with a pity smile.
You accept it with a quiet, ‘thank you.’
In silence, did you all eat.
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***
It takes one to two months for you to completely heal. That’s what Ringo tells you anyway. You try not to be too bothered by it and act like everything is fine, even if the pain can be unbearable sometimes. You don’t want anyone to assume you can’t continue on. But did it really matter when Mizu still continues to ignore you?
Yeah, she still upset. Two whole weeks of no words exchanged. Two whole weeks of Mizu being the biggest asshole. Two whole weeks of Mizu pretending you don’t exist. Two whole weeks and you feel yourself doubting that you ever had a chance to be with her to begin with.
You feel like you are waiting for something that’s not there. Everything you worked hard for to get a glimpse of Mizu has been thrown down a drain. You miss gazing into those blue eyes, it brought comfort in ways that you couldn’t explain. You miss the small touches and lingering looks, it felt like you lost her. There’s no hand offering you a chance anymore, it’s non existent.
Then Taigen comes back.
You don’t like him. You don’t like his personality or his attitude, or his appearance. There is nothing to like about him. Unfortunately, Mizu thinks otherwise. When he comes back you catch how Mizu lips form into a small smile, standing to her feet and greeting him in a soft tone. You have to force yourself to look away whenever his hand lingers in hers.
You and Taigen exchange a few greetings but nothing more. You figure Taigen knows about your feelings towards him whenever he tries to spike up a conversation and you leave him hanging. You won’t waste any time getting to know someone like him. Mizu might be okay with him being around but you aren’t.
“Are you hungry?” Ringo is offering you a rice ball as you both walk side by side while Taigen and Mizu walk ahead. You hear him yet your eyes are train on their hands, watching how they almost brush against each other’s and every time they might bump into one another, it leaves you grumbling underneath your breath.
“What are you saying?” You feel Ringo lean closer to you, his hand cupping his ear.
“Nothing.” You murmur, your lips formed in a frown. Ringo shrugs his shoulders and starts humming again, his feet waddling off ahead. You are left behind and you don’t mind.
You take the time to scan your surroundings, snow covered the ground like a blanket, animals hidden in hibernation and tall trees standing with a little sparkle of snow sprinkled on top. You think back when you were a little kid and how your uncle took you outside just to sit to admire what’s around you.
Speaking of your uncle, you thought back to how those summer nights ended with him drinking his sorrows away. You were young to see pass his harsh words and violent acts, you laid in bed at night wondering what could possibly turn him into that. What was it? Then you found out later as you grew, your uncle was in love but betrayed.
Would you end up drinking away your sorrows too? Get harsh and get violent because the one person you want is avoiding you like the plague? No, of course not. Your uncle took his last breath not knowing that true love came with a price.
“How’s that stab wound looking?” Taigen snaps you out of your day dreaming and you narrow your brows at him, irritated by him. “Mizu told me what happened,” He thinks to include which makes it worse because she can talk about you but won’t talk to you.
“It’s fine.” You give him little.
“Hm, you don’t look fine.” He points out.
You sigh again, turning your head away from him hoping he would leave you alone.
“Look, I know you don’t like me,” He starts making you groan. “I get if it’s because you care about Mizu feelings but she can handle herself.” You want to punch him. “Besides, she doesn’t need anyone by her side trying to defend her all the time. Like how you jump in front of-”
You don’t give him a chance to finish his sentence because you’re already excusing yourself to use the bathroom somewhere deep within the trees.
The snow beneath you crunches every step you take, you think angrily how he could so easily bring up something that meant everything to you. Even if Mizu did not see the incident as nothing, it still mattered to you. You risked your life for her. You would gladly do it again.
As you stop your feet, you glance around the forest and the color white is all that anyone could see standing here. Your hand comes down to the hem of your shirt, raising it and studying the healing wound. Your shaking fingers trace the outline, feeling its tender skin.
You don’t regret it. You remind yourself that you don’t care what anyone has to say about it. Yes, you were nearly killed but you’re alive, still breathing. Although, the pain in your stomach hurts terribly and the sight of it leaving you insecure, you can’t stop the tears from falling.
Are you crying about the injury or are you crying because you can’t stop seeing that flash of sad blue eyes peering down at you that day? You aren’t sure anymore.
You thought back to your uncle, is this how he felt? Did his mind flood with his lover? Did they fill up his mind until he couldn’t breathe anymore? It still hurts. Everything about this whole situation hurts and you aren’t sure if you can accept what’s happen, happened.
Then the sound of a branch snapping somewhere near by makes you jump and look around. You search around for the cause of the noise but find no one around. You take another long moment to collect yourself and made sure you aren’t red in the face when you arrive back with the others.
Unaware, a blue figure in the distant hides behind a tree, having watched everything unfold.
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***
A familiar grunt behind you makes you look over your shoulder away from the horses behind the gate and see Mizu standing there. She isn’t wearing her wide hat, her orange lenses or her cloak. Her sword however is still in its hilt wrapped around her hips.
“You should be resting.” Is the first thing that comes from her mouth. Internally, you are screaming because how dare she approach you after three and half weeks of not speaking to you.
You turn your body around, leaning your back comfortably against the gate and giving Mizu a dry look. You want to be the one to avoid her now and treat her how she’s been treating you but you aren’t childish. You won’t allow Mizu to make you fear from expressing how you feel. At least not about your love for her. Not yet.
“Now you talk to me.” Mizu makes a face, her eyes dangerously narrowing at you. You ignore it. “I mean, you really had me in a choke hold,” You laugh and it’s not a happy one. “You had me spinning around in circles trying to figure out why you were avoiding me and up onto now, I still have no fucking idea.” You sound harsh now. Your emotions are on sky rocket and you feel deep within yourself that you should probably keep quiet before your other feelings accidentally come out.
“What did I do?” Your voice broke when you ask and you didn’t intent to sound like that but you are tired and done. You need to know. You need to fix this. You need to keep Mizu by your side even if she doesn’t return your feelings. Having her as a friend is better than not having her at all. “Please, what did I do?”
The sounds of horses huffing and stomping behind the gate is all you can hear from behind you. Mizu seems to be choosing her words carefully, her eyes drawn to the ground and her fists at her sides, clenching and unclenching. You want to reach over and take her hand, squeeze it to reassure her that whatever it is, she can tell you. You can take it.
“You should go back home.” Her cold demeanor comes back and you are lost for words. “I don’t need you anymore. In fact, I don’t need you at all.” Mizu tells you, her eyes never meeting yours and looking right past you. “Go home, Y/N.” It’s the last thing Mizu says as she takes a step back, never once meeting your hurt expression.
Can you take it after all?
No. No, you can’t.
“You’re a fucking coward!” You spit out, hot tears streaming down your cheeks.
Mizu freezes in her steps.
“If you’re upset about what happened to me and you think it’s your fault, you’re even dumber than you look.” You continue on, your hands are shaking and your stomach hurts from trying to breathe through your tears. “I knew what I was getting into when I first met you. I knew,” You sniff, wiping at your eyes. “What I didn’t know was how you would treat me after saving your life-”
“I didn’t need you to do that!” Mizu cuts you off, spinning around and angrily walking up to you. You lean further back into the gate when Mizu is close enough that you can spot the tears forming in the corner of her eyes. “You nearly died in my arms! Can’t you get that?” You stare wide eyed, no thoughts in your head, only the feeling of shock. “I almost lost you and I can’t live with that. I can’t live in a world where there’s no you in it.”
It’s a confession without saying so much.
Your heart races fast inside your rib cage at her choice of words. Mizu was scared. Of course, you thought. How stupid can you be? She was only upset because you couldn’t see that. You were too preoccupied by your own feelings, you never thought that once Mizu could feel the same way. You think you might cry some more because you can feel it building in your throat.
“So, go home. I’ll feel better knowing you are safe home.” Mizu says dryly, turning around and going to leave you again. Except, this time, you aren’t going to let her. You had to do something and fast. So, your hand reaches out grabbing Mizu by her wrist, stopping her.
Mizu breath hitches, you can see how her shoulders tense up at your touch. When she looks down at your hand wrapped around her wrist, Mizu takes a second and at that instant, her blue eyes look up to meet yours. No words are needed exchanged between the two of you as you tug on her wrist towards you.
Mizu lets herself be brought closer, her body brushing against your own. Swallowing roughly at how close she is, your hand on her wrist slides up her arm, to her shoulder and to the back of her neck. Not once does Mizu shrug you off or look the other way — her blue eyes are watching your every move carefully. And when you risk taking a step closer, your chest fully pressing against her own, you struggle to maintain eye contact.
What should you do next?
“Y/N?” Mizu questions you, her eyes flickering between your eyes and down at your mouth, her tone below a whisper.
“Please don’t make me go.” It’s a plead.
Mizu wordlessly leans down, her nose pressing against yours. You freeze completely, the outside world around you becoming still. Mizu eyes flutter closed as she pushes against your nose some more, almost like she’s silently asking permission to kiss you.
Wait, what?
Her hands are tightly at your hips, squeezing and tugging gently. You think you may faint. You know she’s even more impatient when she moves her hands from your hips and up to cradle your face. Your face flushes deeply feeling her rough skin holding your face, gently guiding your lips near her desperate ones.
“Please.” Mizu finally breaks the tension.
You run your tongue over your dry lips and leaned forward connecting your lips with Mizu’s. Soft at first, two mouths slowly moving together, hesitant but sort of needy. You can’t help the small noises you make when her mouth opens a little wider, her tongue meeting yours. The kiss intensifies when Mizu starts moaning and drops her hands to your hips, pulling you tightly against her.
Unfortunately, you pull back with a hiss breaking the kiss. You don’t see Mizu chasing after your lips until she realizes why you pulled away, her eyes growing worry. “I’m sorry. I forgot that you’re still hurt.” Mizu apologizes, going to take a step back from you but you don’t let her.
“It’s okay, really.” You reassure Mizu, your arms tightening around her neck, not wanting to ever let her go. The dark haired girl huffs, mumbling something under her breath and you chuckle at her.
“What?” She says sounding half annoyed. Her pupils are blown and her hooded blue eyes are no longer light but dark.
“Nothing,” You smile brightly, leaning close to kiss the corner of her mouth.
Mizu blinks, her cheeks turning pink.
“Whoa.” Another voice cuts in.
Both heads snap to their right and see Ringo beside Taigen, standing only a few feet away. The two men stand there with their mouths hung open in disbelief.
Mizu, annoyed by their interruption, scolds at them with a sneer. She takes a step back from you, her hands lingering at your waist, when the two turn around and run off.
“Fools.”
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inuhalfdemon · 16 hours
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No One Can Know... (4/?)
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Word Count: 2,270
Chapter 4
"Meet me on your best behavior, meet me at your worst…" - Death Cab for Cutie
Wondering who-the-fuck-in-Hell would be there knocking this late at night; Lucifer opened his door. Seeing that it was, in fact, Alastor standing at his threshold with a seemingly pleasant smile across his face; Lucifer immediately bristled.
“What in fuck’s – wait. Is that wine?” Lucifer peered behind Alastor’s waist; seeing his separated shadow clasping a large bottle of Riesling and a pair of wine glasses.
“Yes. I thought it might pair well with our…discussions. May I?” Alastor asked him, politely.
“…yeah, ok.” Lucifer stepped aside; letting him in.
Alastor stepped inside; his shadow following close behind. The shadow paused briefly beside Lucifer; offering him the bottle. Lucifer took it, and the shadow swept further inward to be closer to Alastor. Looking at the label; Lucifer closed the door.
“Where in Hell did you get this!?”
“I don’t just deal in souls; your grace.” Alastor told him. “And I’m rather partial to a rare vintage every now and again. This one has been made ready for us to enjoy.”
“No shit. Damn.” Lucifer led him to a small suite; directing him and his shadow to some plush chairs and an ornate table for them to recline by. There were less rubber ducks and circus trinkets scattered throughout here than were piled in his work-room. Alastor didn’t seem to pay much attention to the surrounding room though; his gaze never straying across items, walls, furniture, etc. He was very focused on his business here.
Alastor’s shadow; taking the bottle from Lucifer – opened it and began pouring wine into the two glasses. Alastor and Lucifer both sat down. Lucifer reached across for his wine glass; then leaning back he asked:
“So…what the fuck do you want to talk about?”
“I’m sure you are well aware of the subject matter that I wish to address with you tonight.” Alastor said; taking his own glass from the table and gently swirling the liquid. His shadow excused itself into a dark corner nearby.
“Hm…how forthright of you. You seem to be in a more…agreeable…mood tonight than you were yesterday.”
“The extermination is merely a couple months away…I had hoped that I might avoid having to address my…“rut” until sometime after, but I’m afraid that won’t be the case.” Alastor explained. “I’d like to discuss the best…approach to the problem; if you are so inclined.”
“Uh, huh.” Lucifer said dismissively. “So, what exactly are we discussing then?”
“I’m afraid that the effects of the cycle will greatly influence my duties in safeguarding Charlie and the hotel. During that time, I won’t be getting much sleep and –“
“Do you actually sleep?” Lucifer interrupted, prodding him.
“Yes.” Alastor answered him honestly. “Maybe not as much as most but I do require a reasonable amount.”    
 “I must have really taken the wind out of your sails.” Lucifer tipped his glass to his lips. “I didn’t anticipate you coming here and being so candid with me.”
“Yes, well, I can admit when I’ve made an ass of myself.” Alastor allowed.
Knowing this was as close to an apology as he was liable to get; Lucifer stated: “Well, I won’t say that I’m sorry. If anything, I think I should have gutted you sooner.”
Lucifer waited for Alastor to make a quip at that but then; he said nothing. Instead, he raised his own glass to sip from – offering no comment.
Interesting.
“Ok, so I assume you are wanting to formulate some plan going forward, is that it?” Lucifer clarified.
“Indeed. Initially, I preferred the idea of you safely displacing me from the hotel until I cycled out but, the timing is not ideal. There’s too much to be done and I don’t like the idea of leaving the hotel unguarded for any extended length of time.”
“Ah, lock you away in a tower just like you’re Rapunzel and I’m the dragon.” Lucifer japed; unable to help himself.
“I don’t recall a dragon in that particular fairy tale.” Alastor remarked.
Lucifer nearly choked on his wine. “The fuck do you know about fairy tales!?”
Alastor shrugged then waved him off; “Essentially…I suppose, but it’s not a good solution; not now.”
“Oh?” Lucifer absently traced a sharp claw around the rim of his wine glass. “How long do these things usually last for you, anyway?”
“You are somewhat familiar with Cervidae demons, yes? You’ve commented on it once before. We are commonly known for our deer-like tendencies. One very prominent one being that we experience fluctuating periods of cyclic mating periods or “the rut”. There’s a lot that gets rather muddled with it though; it’s confusing even for us demons that experience it because each and every individual is different in the timing, frequency or intensity of their own personal mating cycles.”
“Sounds frustrating.” Lucifer offered.
“It…is. I never know when a rut will happen or for how long. I can usually tell when one is approaching due to certain…changes. Even now though; I know one is coming I just don’t know when. I could start the cycle tomorrow or in a couple of weeks; it’s terribly inconvenient. Judging by personal experience; my cycles range anywhere from part of a day to several weeks. Unfortunately; avoidance is what lengthens the period. If I…sate, the need and rather quickly, the period tends to be much less.”
“So what if I contact Asmodeus? I’m sure we could find you some willing participant from the lust ring to fulfill whatever needs you need satiating.” Lucifer suggested. “He might even have another Cervidae in mind.”
Alastor shook his head. “I’m not comfortable with that. I assume when you offered and agreed to our deal that it was implied that you would be the actual one to…manage this. I’m afraid now it might have to be quite literal. Lilith wasn’t wrong in saying that I’ve killed other demons during my rutting. After your explicit demonstration yesterday; I am confident you would be well equipped in governing my actions.”
 “Honestly, I meant it in whatever way you wish to take it. I’m no prude.” Lucifer shrugged; tipping his glass. “While we’re on the subject though; I’d really like to know –“
“If you are referring to my moment of sexual homicidal infamy; I’d rather not discuss it.”
Lucifer very much wanted to prod more into it; but, he could see that Alastor was making a great effort here in being professionally courteous. Which led him to his next question;
“So, what exactly is your deal with all of this?” Lucifer asked him; setting his wine glass down now. “You’re here pitching off your plans to me like we’re discussing something terribly unpleasant. I get that you might think sex is beneath you; or rather you’d prefer you didn’t need it but, c’mon…if you have to go through it anyway, why not own it and enjoy it?”
“You misunderstand. It’s not my perception of sex that has anything to do with it.” Alastor told him. “I simply don’t…care for it.”
“What?”
“Apart from when I am in rut; it holds no interest to me.”   
“None? Whatsoever, just….nothing?” Lucifer gaped at him.
“Truly.”
“So, you just can’t get it up unless you are in one of your rut thingy’s?” Lucifer was trying to make sense of this.  
“Not exactly…” Alastor huffed. “With enough effort; stimulation and finding the right mindset – sure…but, it doesn’t just happen. It’s really and truly something I don’t care to think about or pursue, otherwise.”
“I can’t…I can’t wrap my head around that. I mean I-I could fuck anything that moves. Not that I really would but, well…you know.” Lucifer shrugged.
“No…actually, I don’t.” Alastor reaffirmed.
“So, do you – do you like know what you want to actually like…do?” Lucifer asked him.
“How do you mean?” Alastor’s ears slightly leant back; whether it was him being uncomfortable by the question or a display of true confusion; Lucifer couldn’t tell.
“Mutual masturbation? Oral? Anal? What have you?” Lucifer threw out.
Alastor’s ears stiffened; pressing further back. Definitely discomfort.   
“When I’m in in rut; I’m sure anything and everything will be open and on the table.” He sighed.
“So do you like, turn into an even bigger asshole when your rutting?”
“No, not quite…that more tends to happen to the time leading up to it.” Alastor was telling him; briefly remembering his friend Rosie dismissing him from a brunch they were having in Cannibal Town once telling him: “come back after your damn rut; honestly, you’re worse than a woman!” He couldn’t remember details; only that he was terribly aggravating to her that day.
Meanwhile; Lucifer was waging an internal battle. So, you were PMS-ing yesterday? He very badly wanted to say it…he very nearly did, but he reigned it in; feeling it prudent to continue with the good footing they had established here.
“It’s more that I’m…” Alastor was continuing with his answer. “I’m just – Well, I can be a lot in those moments.”
The Radio Demon promises a good time… Lucifer thought, then he asked:
“Ok, so circling back. When or where are we going to…hash this all out?”
“I’m naturally crepuscular; and I’m generally more nocturnal in my activities. I can easily manage myself during the day. If we spend too much time at the hotel; even in my radio tower – we run the risk of being found out or discovered. If I spend too much time here or elsewhere; it leaves the hotel vulnerable. I propose we go back and forth; it won’t be so different to my normal activities – no one would think to question it at this point – and I have Niffty and Husker established so that if anything were to happen while I’m away; I’d know and can be there almost immediately.”
“Hm…yes, that might be wise. We can always tell Charlie that you and I buried the hatchet, as it were, and are meeting to discuss ideas with how best to proceed with the upcoming exterminations. She’ll wish to be included – of course – but if I tell her it’s something you and I are bonding or getting to know each other over; she’ll let it be.”   
“How…very manipulative of you.” Alastor commented; ears perking up. He was…impressed.
“Yes, well…” Lucifer reached back for his wine; lost for a moment in his thoughts. Then leaning back in his chair again; he offered:
“You’ve been very…frank with everything tonight. Do you have any questions you wish to ask me?”
“This meeting Charlie has with Heaven…do you think it will accomplish anything?” Alastor had in fact; been holding onto some questions.
“No.” Lucifer told him bluntly. “I don’t but, Lilith foresaw Charlie asking me to arrange it. I’m not…comfortable with it but Lilith will be there – Charlie won’t know that, of course – but it’s the only reason why I’d allow my daughter to go up there without my being there with her.”
“Do you think Lilith will succeed with her plans?” Alastor asked him, wanting to know. “Do you think that she can actually overthrow Heaven?”  
“If anyone; it would be her.” Lucifer finished off his glass; Alastor’s shadow quickly slid out from the corner to refill it for him. Lucifer nodded to it, taking a sip as it shifted itself back away. “She’s been planning this for some time now, making sure everything falls into just the right place at just the right time. The only hiccup we’ve ran into was you slipping yourself between the cracks but maybe that was fortunate for us – it remains to be seen.” He gave Alastor a hard look.
“If I get what I want from this, I’ll be as beneficial to your cause as I possibly can.” Alastor told him. “But, why are you choosing to do this? Weren’t you amiable toward Heaven; even after everything?”
Lucifer sighed. “Lilith has been with me through all of it…since the beginning. I’ve tried to make the amends to my mistakes; tried to make Heaven see that what we did…it wasn’t for the intentions that they thought. I’ve been fighting a losing battle for thousands upon thousands of years…Lilith stood by me; supported me all that time. Now, it’s time I stood by hers. We got nowhere with my plans and ideas for our future; so it’s time I supported hers.”
“How disgustingly devoted of you.” Alastor made a face and movement of his tongue; like he had actually tasted something terrible.
Lucifer laughed. “That’s just who we are. We depend and rely on each other.”
“So…she really has no issues with…this? What you and I are going to be doing?” Alastor asked him; wondering. “Call me ‘old fashioned’; but I’d hate to come between a man and his wife.”
“Lilith never would have agreed to it if she had reservations.” Lucifer told him. “She wasn’t lying when she told you that our relationship has been…unconventional, at times.”
“Hm…” Alastor remembered his wine and sipped from the glass.
“How long has it been for you anyway?” Lucifer asked him. “I’ll be coming out of a bit of dry spell myself; Lilith tends to get focused on other things when they’ve claimed her interest and I haven’t found much motivation in seeking out an outlet.”
“Years?” Alastor though. “Very nearly a decade, maybe.”
“Fuck.” Lucifer blurted. “You’ve got me beat then. You weren’t kidding when you said these mating cycles of yours were unpredictable.”
“Also part of the reason that I’m relying on you…specifically. I’m not sure just how…enthusiastic I might be.”
“So, how will I know that you are in rut?” Lucifer questioned him.
“Oh, don’t worry – my King.” Alastor fixed him with a sharp gaze. “You will know.”
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Scene inspired by: @applepartysins fanart/comic here
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bit-odd-innit · 11 months
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Eddie feels it, the moment things shift.
They’re goofing off when it happens. The week prior Eddie’d discovered Steve is ticklish, and he’s exploited that fact at every opportunity. Anything to appease his horrible, goblin impulse to touch Steve. Anything to hear him laugh. Anything to get his hands on him. They’re watching a rerun of Columbo. Eddie’s arm is draped over the back of the couch, Steve’s head resting against it. He can’t stop himself. His hand spiders over Steve’s shoulder, his thumb smoothing over the bone. Steve hums at the gesture, tilting so his cheek grazes the gnarled flesh on the underside of Eddie’s bicep. It’s a nice moment. Eddie can’t stop himself from ruining it. He pinches the fleshy ponch of skin beneath Steve’s armpit. Steve shrieks. Eddie cackles. “You DICK—“
Eddie tries to scramble but it’s no use, Steve’s always been stronger than him. He grapples him to the ground with no effort, has his wrists pinned above his head beneath one forearm. His knees push down on Eddie’s thighs. He grins crookedly, pushes the mop of Eddie’s curls out of his eyes, the backs of his fingers grazing the side of Eddie’s forehead. It’s seismic.
“Oh, Eddie thinks. “There’s no coming back from this for me. This is it.” Steve’s face cracks open with a boyish, apologetic grin.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“I’m. hah.” His breath is warm on Eddie’s mouth, “I’m nervous.”
“I make you nervous Stevie?”
Steve’s grin widens. “It’s been a while since…”
“Since what?”
“Since I liked someone.” Eddie feels his entire center of gravity fly out from under him. His grip tightens in Steve’s  shirt. He feels his body maneuvered to lay flat on the couch, feels Steve’s weight settle over him. “Oh,” Eddie breathes, and Steve laughs, the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. “Oh,” Steve replies, and leans in.
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minnow-doodle-doo · 7 months
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'Jason Todd is magic too.'
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joycieillustrations · 1 month
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Lady Jocelyn, even taller than her daughter, moves gracefully despite taking such long strides to make up the distance betwixt herself and her good mother. Cordially, Corlys relinquishes the Queen to her and steps back as if to excuse himself.
Queen Alysanne does not let him escape.
“Lord Corlys, do join Jocelyn and I in our carriage. The walk to the docks from here is most tiresome and, worst of all, dreadfully boring; I promise my good daughter and I are excellent entertainment.”
A doodle of two of my favourite ladies from waaaaaaaaaaay back in Chapter 4 of Ex libris ❤️ this era of Targaryens is by far my favourite
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𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠
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𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 (Perv!Eddie x Perv!Reader) Eddie is such a perv, constantly wanting to fuck you and do things to you that friends definitely didn’t do. Who knew that a storm was all it would take to change that? 
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭  Absolute filth (18+ only, MINORS DNI or I will fuck your dad into oblivion), pillow fucking, humping but no penetration, dirty talk, unprotected sexual activity (use protection please!!), squirting, mommy kink, voyeurism kink if you squint, Eddie and reader being pervs. 
𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 I have no excuse or explanation other than I am a stupidly horny fella and couldn’t stop thinking about this for a while. Perv!Eddie can do whatever he wants to me at this point, I don’t care. Might write more of perv!Eddie if enough people like this and I don’t get shadowbanned. I should really post my stuff on AO3 just to be safe lmao. 
If asked about it, Eddie would say that he definitely wasn’t a pervert thank you very much. That he’d never once thought about you as anything more than a friend.
However, that was as far from the truth as he could get.
It had started six months into your friendship. Up until that point, his dirty thoughts and filthy fantasies had never been related to you. The adult films and magazines he kept hidden under his bed had been inspiration for his perverted thoughts, the men and women in them his sole focus as he thought about every single thing he wanted them to do to him and vice versa, fisting his cock desperately to the over exaggerated sounds the actors in the videos made.
But then the focal point of these thoughts and fantasies and even his wet dreams changed when he accidentally walked in on you getting changed into some clean clothes. He hadn’t seen much, just the curve of your ass in your white cotton panties and a sliver of boob as you’d pulled on one of his shirts over your bare chest. He was out of the room just as quickly as he’d stepped in, embarrassed about walking in on you like that, but the image of your barely clothed body was tattooed permanently onto his brain.
From that point on, his fantasies had morphed so that you were all he was thinking about. His cock sliding leisurely in and out of you beneath your panties until he came on the fabric and made you continue to wear them so that his seed was pressed against your skin and cunt. You riding him on the teacher’s desk inside a locked classroom, your moans and cries loud and needy and alerting everyone outside to what you were doing and who was eliciting those sounds from you. Sliding his rock hard dick between your tits, your tongue flicking out against the tip before he came all over your chest and face. Pushing your head down into a pillow and making you cry from overstimulation as he thrusted in and out of you at a punishing pace, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room as his headboard banged against the wall.
Eddie had often excused himself when you hung out with him, desperate to find the nearest bathroom or rest room so that he could quickly rub one out, but it was never enough. The thoughts still remained, and he had to do it at least twice to satiate him until he was able to take care of himself properly in the privacy of his room when nobody else was around.
And then there were the times when he was at your house. He’d lost count of the number of times since that day that he’d stolen a pair of your panties and taken it home with him to wrap around his aching cock and fuck into a pillow while picturing it was your wet heat that he was burying himself into. He always made sure to wash them after he used them and snuck them back into your panty drawer whenever he was next in your bedroom. He thought he was being very discreet about it; you’d never confronted him about it after all. However, stealing panties just wasn’t enough for him after a couple of months. He wanted to touch you – to fuck you – so bad and no pair of panties in the world would ever feel as amazing as he knew your pussy would.
Then the storm hit.
You’d been hanging out with him for the day now that he’d finally graduated, watching movies with Wayne and eating takeout to celebrate. About an hour after Eddie’s uncle had gone to work, the rain had started falling a lot harder and faster until there were reports of flooding throughout Hawkins all over the news. There was no way you were going to get home until the storm stopped and flooding subsided, so Eddie insisted that you stay the night and sleep in his bed while he took the sofa. It had taken a lot of arguing and a game of rock paper scissors to convince you to take his bed, but now you were sound asleep in his room wearing nothing but one of Eddie’s Hellfire shirts and a pair of his boxers. The fact you were asleep and not doing anything that could be interpreted as even remotely sexual didn’t stop him from getting hard as he lay under a thin blanket on the sofa. He was picturing the way your chest was rising and falling as you rested, your nipples hard and showing through his shirt with an arm tossed back over your face while your other rested on your stomach with your legs slightly parted. And you were wearing his clothes, which made him even more hard. He couldn’t help but palm his crotch over his pyjama pants, the friction good but not enough. It was never enough.
Knowing he could get into a lot of trouble and probably permanently ruin his friendship with you, he threw the blanket aside and crept into his bedroom to grab one of his pillows. His eyes raked over your unconscious form as he did so, biting his lip at the thought of waking you up so he could fuck you into the mattress until you were screaming his name. If he didn’t leave now, he’d never stop thinking about it and that would lead to him feeling far too tempted to go through with it for his liking.
As he turned to make his way back to the living room, his bare foot got caught in some fabric and he bent down to move it, freezing when he saw the familiar white cotton of your panties. The same panties you’d worn when he’d walked in on you changing clothes. He knew he shouldn’t, but he picked them up and held the crotch up to his nose, inhaling the scent and having to bite back a moan at the smell while his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He was addicted to it, the scent never failing to make his cock even harder. He made sure you were still asleep then licked at the crotch of your panties, whimpering softly at the faint taste you’d left behind. It was at that point he realised that there was no turning back now. Even if he wanted to, he was never going to be able to think of anyone other than you when he touched himself. You were going to haunt him until the day he died.
Eddie quickly bent down again to pick up your discarded t-shirt and took both items and the pillow back to the living room with him. Wayne had called earlier to say he wouldn’t be back until noon the next day because of the flooding, meaning he had the living room to himself to do whatever he needed to in order to get his release. He listened out to make sure you were still sound asleep as he pulled your t-shirt over the pillow, his mouth dry. He could say that he couldn’t believe what he was about to do, but that was a lie. This was exactly the sort of thing a dirty pervert like him would do.
And he fucking loved every minute.
Pulling down his pyjama pants to his knees, he hissed when the air hit his leaking dick. The head was an angry red with a bead of pearlescent precum dripping out of it. He pulled up the sides of the pillow as he rested his cock on it, biting his lip as he began to rock his hips a little. The perfect friction against his sensitive cock made him toss his head back, gripping both sides of the pillow with one hand so that it encompassed him. It was nowhere near what he imagined your walls squeezing and milking him would feel like, but it was as close as he was going to get.
“Fuck, mm, yeah, you like that?” he murmured as he slid his cock in and out of the makeshift pussy he’d tried to create, thinking about you with your legs wrapped around his waist and your feet pushing against his ass to drive him deeper inside you. He brought your used panties up to his nose with his free hand and inhaled deeply. His moan was high pitched as he picked up his pace, already desperate to cum all over his pillow. He wondered if he came hard enough whether it would get on your t-shirt too. The image of you finding the clothing he’d soiled and putting it on, gathering some of his cum on your finger and sucking it into your mouth with a groan, made his hips stutter as he began to fuck the makeshift pillow pussy harder. He licked the crotch of your panties again, desperate to have your taste on his tongue as he got himself off.
“Somebody’s being a dirty boy, aren’t they?”
Your voice had him panicking, immediately stopping his movements as he tossed your panties away from his blushing face. He knew that being caught in the act was supposed to make him feel embarrassed and ashamed, but the thought of you seeing him fuck himself on a pillow clad in your shirt while he breathed in your panties made him want to keep going and show you just what a fucking mess you made him.
He watched as you moved closer to the sofa he was kneeling on, your hands making him drop the sides of the pillow. He almost came there and then when you bit your lip and moaned, his cock twitching as you gazed down at it. A shiver ran through his body when you teasingly trailed a finger from the base to the tip, dipping it into the slit to collect some of his precum. You stared into his eyes as you licked the digit agonisingly slowly.
“What’s wrong, Eds? Aren’t you gonna fuck that pillow for me? Or would you prefer something a little different?” you asked.
He shuddered and groaned quietly. “I didn’t –”
“Didn’t what?” you cooed, slowly pulling his boxers off your body and kicking them aside. “Didn’t think I’d catch you? Didn’t think I knew what you did with my panties every time you came over to my house? Didn’t think I’ve heard you getting off in the bathroom thinking about me?”
Whimpering, Eddie nodded his head and watched as you moved your hand to between your legs and pulled it back to show him your wet, sticky arousal all over your fingers. He obediently opened his mouth when your prodded them against his lips, sucking them and licking them as he fisted the pillow beneath him. He loved the way you’d tasted in your panties, but this? This was far better than he ever could have imagined.
“I’ve been waiting for months now for you to just take me,” you told him. “Wanted you to just grab me and fuck me until I’m cock-drunk and can’t think of anything other than how good you make me feel. Been touching myself every single night thinking about you. Had to buy a dildo and hide it in my closet so I could fuck myself on it thinking about you and that dick of yours, but it’s never enough. I’m constantly craving the real thing and I’m tired of waiting for you to bend me over and fuck me against the kitchen counter.”
He mewled and started to rock his hips against the pillow once more as you spoke. Never in a million years did he think that you were just as desperate for him as he was for you, nor that you were just as perverted as he was.
“Please,” he begged, your fingers dropping from his mouth. “Please touch me. Want you to make me cum so bad. Need you.”
You smirked as you took his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “Seeing as you asked so nicely…”
He could’ve climaxed there and then when you moved to straddle the pillow he was fucking, the lips of your cunt on top of his cock. You both sighed out a moan as he slid between your folds and the pillow slowly, your slick coating him. Eddie glanced down at where your bodies met and watched him move in and out of your slit. His focus was quickly torn away from the sight when your grabbed his hair and yanked it so that he was looking at the lust-filled expression on your face.
“Look at me when I’m helping you to cum. I could’ve just left you like this and made you watch me get off, rubbing my clit at the sight of you so desperate you’d fuck a pillow just to get some relief,” you demanded, making him release a choked out gasp.
“I’m sorry, mommy. You’re such a good mommy, letting me cum like this,” he replied, almost sobbing.
As you smashed your lips into his, tongues meeting as you pulled his head in the direction you wanted it to go, he began to roll his hips a little faster. His fingers flicked against your clothed nipples as he leaked more precum onto the pillow and he relished the way your hips bucked against him. He allowed one of his hands to stop playing with your nipples and started to rub your clit in hurried circles.
“Good boy.” You praised him while you pulled away from the kiss, a string of saliva remaining between your mouths. “You gonna make me cum, baby? Gonna make me soak your cock and pillow while you desperately fuck the pillow? Such a dirty boy.”
His hand that had been pinching your nipple moved to grab your waist as his movements became sloppy, his climax quickly approaching at the combination of your pussy on top of his dick, the friction of the pillow beneath you both, and your sinful words. You grabbed the hand that was touching your clit and guided his movements, moaning as he touched you exactly how you liked it. You were jerking into his touch and gliding back and forth over his hard cock as he started to whine and whimper. The moment he felt you clench on top of him as you cried out, squirting over his cock and hand, he threw his head back and groaned while he came. His hips continued to jolt forward as you kept grinding down on him until he finished cumming. Both of you panted and clung to one another as you slowly came down from your highs.
When you were ready, you climbed off the pillow and admired the mess the two of you had made. Your shirt was covered in your cum and his and the bottom of Eddie’s tank top was soaked, his cock glistening as he shakily stood up and pulled his pyjama pants back up. Your lips descended upon his before he could say anything, your hands cupping his face while he rested his on your hips.
“Mm,” you murmured as you backed away from his lips. “You were such a good boy for me, Eddie. Next time don’t make me wait six months. If you want to touch me, kiss me, fuck me, whatever, do it.”
He searched your face for any hint of teasing or joking. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
You laughed. “And say what? Oh Eddie, I want you balls deep inside of me while I bounce on your cock in the back of your van where anyone could catch us by looking through the windows?”
He groaned and felt his cock twitch in his pants. “Please tell me we get to keep fucking like this. I don’t think I can go back and pretend this never happened.”
“Sure. But on one condition.”
He nodded frantically. “Anything.”
You felt him shiver as you ran a finger down his chest. “Take me on a date next Friday. Pick me up at 8:30pm and take me out for a burger and milkshake. Then you can take me home and fuck me silly while you tell me all the dirty little things you wanna do to me. How’s that sound?”
He grinned excitedly and lightly pressed his lips against yours. “Yes, mommy.”
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