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#one do your companions is asexual
makingqueerhistory · 9 months
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I’m actually serious about this, if at all possible, right now is a very good time to request queer books from your local library. Whether they get them or not is not in your control, but it is so important to show that there is a desire for queer books. I will also say getting more queer books in libraries and supporting queer authors are pretty fantastic byproducts of any action.
This isn’t something everyone can do, but please do see if you are one of the people who has the privilege to engage in this form of activism, and if you are, leverage that privilege for all you’re worth.
For anyone who can’t think of a queer book to request, here is a little list of some queer books that I think are underrated and might not be in circulation even at larger libraries:
Refusing Compulsory Sexuality: A Black Asexual Lens on Our Sex-Obsessed Culture by Sherronda J. Brown
Silver Under Nightfall by Rin Chupeco     
Harvard's Secret Court: The Savage 1920 Purge of Campus Homosexuals by William Wright    
The Perks of Loving a Wallflower by Erica Ridley   
God Themselves by Jae Nichelle
IRL by Tommy Pico        
The Pink Line: Journeys Across the World's Queer Frontiers by Mark Gevisser
Passing Strange by Ellen Klages             
The New Queer Conscience by Adam Eli
Fierce Femmes and Notorious Liars: A Dangerous Trans Girl's Confabulous Memoir by Kai Cheng Thom          
Queering the Tarot by Cassandra Snow              
Wash Day Diaries by Jamila Rowser
Queer Magic: Lgbt+ Spirituality and Culture from Around the World by Tomás Prower            
Before We Were Trans: A New History of Gender by Kit Heyam   
Beyond the Pale by Elana Dykewomon 
Hi Honey, I'm Homo! by Matt Baume      
The Deep by Rivers Solomon
Homie: Poems by Danez Smith
The Secret Life of Church Ladies by Deesha Philyaw  
The Companion by E.E. Ottoman 
Kapaemahu by Dean Hamer, Joe Wilson, Hinaleimoana Wong-Kalu
Sacrament of Bodies by Romeo Oriogun     
Witching Moon by Poppy Woods 
Tell Me I'm Worthless by Alison Rumfitt    
Dead Collections by Isaac Fellman    
Disintegrate/Dissociate by Arielle Twist           
Dear Senthuran: A Black Spirit Memoir by Akwaeke Emezi             
Peaches and Honey by Imogen Markwell-Tweed      
Nepantla: An Anthology Dedicated to Queer Poets of Color by Christopher Soto
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indydonuts · 2 months
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A Sea of Favors Ch. 1 (Luffy x Fem!Reader)
Summary: After meeting the Strawhats on one of their adventures, you temporarily join the crew as you return to your home island further in the New World. You’ve decided to offer your services as a courtesan as payment for passage. Entertainment, companionship, sex — in your line of work, it’s not just about tending to clients’ desires but their needs as well.
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C/W: MDNI 18+, sex work, virgin Luffy, penetrative sex, oral m! receiving, fingering f! receiving, inexperienced partner, set post-timeskip.
A/N: Flipping the script and writing Luffy as some flavor of aromantic instead of asexual. I don't think Luffy is incapable of feeling love or romance; I do think he would hate the idea of one type of relationship being seen as more important than others.
I use Anata in place of y/n. It means "you" in Japanese.
“You really don’t have to do that,” Nami says at dinner on the first night of your journey. “We’re happy to give you a ride after you helped us out back there.”
“I don’t mind,” you tell her. “I enjoy my work, besides—”
You glance at the beaten and bruised forms of Sanji and Brook, whom Nami has reprimanded several times since you made your offer at the start of dinner.
“—it looks like you guys could use some release.”
“What is a courtesan anyway?” Luffy asks through a mouth full of food. 
"A beautiful lady of the night!" Sanji swoons.
"A hooker," Zoro deadpans.
Used to these kinds of misunderstandings, you're about to correct them, but Robin beats you to it.
"Actually, they’re much more than that,” the archeologist explains. “Unlike prostitutes, courtesans are highly educated and well-versed in art, politics, history and literature. Many of them can sing, dance, or play an instrument. People mainly hire them as entertainers and companions. Sex is only a small part of it."
She gives you a knowing smile, and you feel the slightest blush come to your cheeks.
“That’s correct,” you reply. “The purpose of my job is to help people enjoy themselves however they decide to do so. And it’s only an offer, not an obligation. I must say, I’m impressed, Robin. Most people don’t know that much about my profession.”
"I must admit, I've mostly read about them,” the archeologist replies. “Scyran courtesans in particular. You mentioned that’s where you’re from, correct?”
“Yes, it’s part of the Herclean Empire.”
“Weren’t their courtesans also trained as political spies and assassins?” Robin asks casually.
Dinner comes to a stuttering halt as everyone turns to look at you.
“You…certainly know your history,” you reply. “That practice died out centuries ago. I’m afraid the only thing we kill with these days is our looks and dance moves.”
“It’s too bad,” Robin says wistfully. “When I was little, I used to dream about becoming one.”
“You would,” Usopp and Nami say in unison.
“Aw man, an assassin sounds so much cooler than a courtesan,” Luffy adds, seeming genuinely put out.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Captain. I can try and make it up to you if you want,” you say with a playful wink.
Luffy cocks his head to the side, confused. “Huh? How?”
Before you can elaborate, there’s a loud thump as Sanji falls to the floor, twitching, nose bleeding profusely. 
Chopper sighs and jumps down from his seat. “I’ll go get my supplies.”
“Sanji has a delicate constitution when it comes to women,” Usopp explains to you as the rest of the crew continues their meal, seemingly unconcerned about the cook.
“Honestly, having you around might toughen him up a bit,” adds Franky.
Much to your surprise, it isn’t Sanji or Brook, but Luffy who first comes to your door. A few nights after Sanji’s brush with death, you answer a knock at your door, and there he is, all smiles and sunshine.
“Luffy? Is everything alright? Do you need something?” you ask. Honestly, you never expected to see him. He seemed more interested in food and partying than anything else.
“I’m here for you to make it up to me!” he says proudly.
“Huh?”
“Remember? You said you’d make it up to me for not being an assassin. So, I’m here!”  
Now you recall what he’s talking about, and you can’t help but laugh.
“I did say, in fact, say that. Come on in,” you say, standing aside. “I even have snacks.”
“You’re the best court-sand, ever!” Luffy cheers.
The makeshift room is small but well-appointed. A small velvet loveseat and coffee table sit at one end, while a large bed covered in pillows and throws dominates the other. 
"Whoa, Franky did a really good job in here! It used to be an empty pod," Luffy says, taking in the space. 
You’d also been impressed with the cyborg’s work. It also didn’t escape your notice that sound was much less likely to carry from this part of the Sunny.
"That's what he told me, but I still don't believe it," you reply, fishing some cookies from a nearby tin and handing the rest to the captain.
"Thanks!!" he says before stuffing half of them in his mouth.
You sit on the couch, and Luffy joins you as he stuffs another round of cookies into his face. You're glad you've got another tin hidden away. 
“So, since I’m the one making up for things, what would you like me to do?” you ask coyly, expecting a request for a game or music or something equally innocuous.
“Well, Usopp told me Sanji passed out because you’d actually made a sex joke. So, I thought, why not? Let’s have sex,” he replies.
His candor causes you to inhale several cookie pieces accidentally. 
“Luffy,” you say hoarsely, “do you even know what sex is?”
He laughs. “I grew up in a bar. Of course, I know what sex is!”
“Sorry, I’d just assumed…you don’t seem quite as interested as some of your crewmates when it comes to that kind of activity.”
He shrugs.
“I guess I’m not. But everyone else is always going on about it, so it must be fun, right? And if it’s your job, you must be good at it! So why not try it with you?”
“That is a surprisingly…pragmatic answer,” you reply. “Alright, I’ll have sex with you. But first, you’ve gotta hear the rules, okay?”
He nods eagerly, like a puppy who’s heard the word treat.
“Rule one: we have to communicate with each other openly. If you’re uncomfortable with something, you have to tell me. I can’t read your mind. I will do the same for you. Rule two: if either of us says stop at any time, we stop, no questions asked. Nobody has to do anything they don’t want to. If you can’t follow these rules, you can’t stay in my room. Do you understand?”
“This sounds like the easiest game ever,” he laughs.
“I need to hear you say it, Luffy,” you press. 
“I understand. Can I see your boobs now?”
Now it’s your turn to laugh.
“How about we start with a kiss first?”
“I guess that's almost as good.”
You lean in and kiss him softly. The captain simultaneously melts and crashes into you, humming with surprised delight. You slowly lean back on the couch, gently pulling him on top of you. You break away to ask him what he thinks of kissing, but he’s on you again in a second. He's a bit sloppy but surprisingly gentle, considering he's usually more like a bull in a china shop. You nibble on his bottom lip and slide your tongue into his mouth. He makes a sound between startled and confused but quickly adapts and returns the favor—a fast learner. 
Your kisses move down along his neck and jaw as you roll your hips against him, feeling his half-hard cock press up against your thigh.
He lets out a low groan and pushes back against you, rutting against your leg.
You slide your hands under his shirt, feeling the well-sculpted muscles beneath your fingertips.
“Can we take this off?” you ask.
He yanks his shirt off and throws it to the floor. 
“Now it’s your turn,” he says with a grin.
“You’re very eager for someone who says they aren’t very interested,” you tease, loosening the top of your robe so it falls open, leaving your tits on full display. 
Luffy shrugs absently, too busy staring at your newly revealed chest to answer. 
“Can I touch ‘em?” he asks, meeting your eyes for the briefest second.
You nod.
“Have at it. They’re yours for the evening.”
He quickly grabs one in each hand, squeezing experimentally.
“They’re so squishy,” he says to himself.
Without warning, he dives face-first into your cleavage. You let out a small shriek that quickly dissolves into giggles as he buries his nose between your breasts, nuzzling against your skin. 
“S'warm an’ soft,” he murmurs. “Like marshmallows.”
“Of course, you’d compare them to food,” you tease.
He looks up at you with wide eyes, a stroke of blush across his cheeks.
“Can I…put them in my mouth?” he asks. “I kinda want to.”
You nod. 
He's on you in an instant, sucking vigorously—a little too vigorously.
“Ack! Luffy, not so hard!! Gentle!!”
“Sawwy,” he says, mouth still full.
As he turns his enthusiasm down to a more acceptable level, you begin to feel ripples of pleasure roll down your spine. You give a soft moan to let him know you're enjoying yourself.
“You can use your hands to touch the other one,” you tell him.
He follows your instructions to the letter, rolling your other nipple between his fingers, coaxing a lazy groan from your throat.
“Does that feel good?” he asks, between kisses to your breasts.
“Mhmm.”
You lay back as he teases and explores your chest. It’s not often you get to let someone else do all the work. You can feel him getting harder as he continues to enjoy you.
“Hey, Luffy,” you say, gently lifting his chin to get his attention.
“Mmm?”
 He looks punchdrunk. His face is flushed, and his eyes are glazed over with lust.
“Want me to do something to make you feel good?” you ask. 
He nods vigorously and pulls off of you. You gently push him against the sofa and straddle his lap, grinding your hips against the growing bulge of his cock. Not wearing any underwear, the movement causes delicious friction right against your clit. 
Luffy grits his teeth, biting back a moan.
“Remember the rules,” you say, continuing the sinuous movement of your hips. “You don't like something, you tell me. We stop. Okay?”
“Uh-huh…” he groans, grinding back against you.
“I need to hear you say it, Luffy.”
“I understand.”
You kiss him again and begin making a slow trail down his neck, across his collarbone and down his chest as you slowly get to your knees between his legs.
You place your hands on the button of his pants and look up at him. He nods, transfixed by your movements and the sensation of your skin against his. You undo his fly, feeling for the prize beneath. 
Luffy lets out a stuttering sigh as you palm his cock through his boxers. A wet stain has already appeared where it strains against the fabric. You reach down and kiss it, the salty taste hitting your lips.
“A-anata,” Luffy murmurs.
You pull away and look up at him.
“Are you alright? Do you want me to stop?” 
He shakes his head vigorously.
“Nono! It just…feels really, really good. I’ve never…I didn't know people put their mouths down there is all.”
“Well, let me show you why we do that,” you say with a playful wink as you pull out his cock. 
It twitches at your touch, the swollen pink tip dripping with precum. He’s a little on the thin side but long with a slight curve. He looks delicious. 
You slowly swipe your tongue from base to tip. You can't help but smile to yourself as his breath hitches and his hips jerk in response. You give his head a few soft licks before putting the first few inches in your mouth.
Luffy practically sings as you start to suck him off. He babbles fragments of words and phrases punctuated by whines and moans as you take more of him into your mouth. 
He doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands. He places them on your hair, then your shoulders, then on the couch. You gently squeeze his thigh in reassurance, and he wraps his fingers around yours as if you're the only thing keeping him anchored to reality.
Relaxing the muscles of your throat, you take him down to the base. His length makes your eyes sting, but you can manage. You start to bob up and down, the obscene, wet sounds of throatfucking filling the air. His hand tightens around yours as you feel him shudder beneath you. 
“Anata…” he mumbles. 
You keep going.
“Oi, Anata—” he says, a bit clearer this time, shaking your shoulder with his other hand.
You pull away, wiping a string of drool away with your hand.
“Is something wrong? Do you want to stop?” you ask, confused.
“C-can we do something else?” he asks.
“Of course!” you reply. “I'm sorry—was that too much?”
“N-no, it's just…” He blushes a bit. “I want you to feel good, too. It feels weird that it's just me enjoying it.”
He really is too precious.
“Alright. Let me show you how to make me feel good,” you tease, getting back to your feet. You carefully remove the pin holding your robe around your waist and let it drop to the floor. 
He stares at you like you’re a plate of fresh meat.
“First time seeing a naked woman?” you ask, cocking your hip to the side. 
“That wasn't in one of Sanji's magazines,” he replies, eyes freely wandering over your hips, thighs, and everything in between. “Can I touch you?”
“You may.”
He gently reaches for your hips. 
“You’re so soft…” he murmurs again, hands wandering across your sides and down your thighs and around to your ass.
You straddle him again, wrapping your arms around his neck as you push your body against his. You feel his cock twitch against your belly, leaving a swipe of precum across your stomach.
“Kiss me again,” you plead quietly, resting your forehead against his.
He grabs you like a starved animal, all teeth and tongue. His hands find purchase on your ass, holding you in place as he forces his tongue into your mouth, determined to taste every inch of you. You have to physically pull him off you to get your next words in. 
“I'm going to show you where to touch me so it feels good, ok?”
You pry one of his hands from your hip and gently guide it between your legs.
“Everyone is a little different, but generally, you want to stay around here,” you explain, positioning him right over your clit. You push the tips of his fingers against the bundle of nerves, moving in small circles. “Be gentle. It's sensitive down here too much, and it can hurt. You try.”
He fumbles at first, but you patiently guide him back into place. Eventually, he finds a rhythm that has you sighing.
“Mmmm, just like that,” you murmur, your hips rocking with his pace. “You can slide them in if you want.”
“Holy shit,” he breathes, wondering at the heat and wetness of your cunt as he inserts two fingers. 
“Try moving your fingers like this,” you say, miming a come-hither motion. 
Again, he follows your instructions devoutly, and you feel his digits brush against your sweet spot. You whine, your walls fluttering around him. He prods the area again.
“I can feel you move around me,” he says, mesmerized by the sight of his fingers disappearing between your legs.
“Try touching me like I first showed you and combine it with what you’re doing now.”
Again, it takes a bit of trial and error to find the right rhythm, but he soon has you writhing and bouncing on his fingers.
“Mmm, just like that,” you moan, your fluids sliding down his hand.
He makes an animalistic sound.
“A-anata…can I—can we?” 
He can't even finish his sentence, but what he's asking is obvious.
“Mhmm, but first…”
You admit you're showing off a bit as you bend backward and reach for the box of condoms on the table, your angle offering a devastating view of, well, everything. You return with your prize and rip the package open with a well-practiced hand.
Usually, you might tease a client a bit as you put the condom on, but Luffy looks so close to the edge already you decide to take pity on him and quickly slide it on.
“Okay, ready?” you ask.
“Please,” he begs. 
You cup his face and kiss him softly, reaching down to position his cock with your entrance before sliding down onto his length. The captain groans desperately against your lips, the feeling of your body closing around him making him dizzy.
His cock pushes deep into you, the curve pushing his head pleasantly against your sweet spot.
You give him a few moments to adjust before saying, “I’m gonna start to move, ok?”
“Uh-huh…”
Bracing your hands on the back of the sofa, you start to ride him at a slow pace, watching as he sighs breathlessly with every downward motion.
“Anata…it feels, nngh, you feel…fuck-”
“That is what we're doing, yes,” you tease.
You roll your hips in a circle and watch as he nearly breaks, his fingers gripping you hard enough to bruise. He groans and buries his face in your neck, practically trembling. You weave your fingers through his hair and pick up your pace. He hisses into your neck, starting to rock his hips in time with yours. 
“Put your hand where I first showed you, ok?” you tell him.
He finds your clit again and starts to work it in time with your thrusts while his other hand finds one of your nipples again.
You dig your nails into his shoulders as you ride him harder, his cock ramming into your sweet spot with each thrust as his thumb works against your clit. 
“Fuck you’re a fast learner,” you groan, feeling your release slowly building in your core.
“You feel good?” he asks.
“Mhmm, really good. Your cock feels so good, Luffy,” you murmur, kissing him again.
“Can we go faster?” he mumbles against your lips. “Wanna, nngh, feel you more.”
You nod wordlessly. 
His grip on your hips tightens as he holds you in place and fucks into you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. The sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room as Luffy sets a pace that has you seeing stars.
“So good, fuck, it’s so good,” you babble, your mind growing hazy under the intensity. His thumb keeps pace as well, rubbing against your clit in time with every thrust. You can feel your orgasm roiling inside you, burning away at the edges of your control.
“Anata, I’m gonna come,” he mumbles, kissing and biting your skin between words.
“Come inside me,” you urge, using your pelvic muscles to clench down on his cock.
With a final groan, he unravels, biting down on your shoulder as his hips stutter beneath you. The sudden shock and slice of pain are enough to push you over the edge after him, crying out his name as you cling to him as tight as you can. 
Several rounds later, the two of you are lying on the bed in a tangled pile of limbs. 
“So, what did you think?” you ask him, idly playing with his hair as he dozes on your chest.
He hums softly, thinking.
“It was a lot of fun. I definitely wanna do it again. But, I still don’t see the appeal of the other stuff.”
“What other stuff?” you ask.
“You know, like, the mushy stuff. Dating, marriage, getting big goofy heart eyes like Sanji does sometimes.”
“You don’t have to do any of that to have sex. We aren’t,” you point out.
“I know—that’s one reason I wanted to do it with you because I didn’t have to worry about that stuff. But everyone else acts like it’s so important, and I just don’t get it. Why should one relationship be more important than all the others? It’s like asking me to pick only one crewmate.” 
He’s quiet for a moment, absently tracing lines down your arm.
“Hey, Anatai…do you think I’m broken or something?” he asks.
“Because you don’t like the idea of romance?”
He nods, looking up at you. There’s a vulnerability there you haven’t seen before.
“If I said yes, would you try to change yourself?”
“Maybe? But I don’t think I could,” he says.
“Even more importantly—do you want to change?” you ask, stretching his face for emphasis.
“Mmmm, not really.”
“Then does the answer matter?”
“I guess not. But…it feels like I’m missing out on something! Like there’s a tasty piece of meat out there, and everyone has had a bite but me! I don’t want to miss out on something tasty!” 
“Again, with the food,” you laugh, playfully ruffling his hair. “You aren’t missing out on anything, Luffy. You just have different tastes. Romance isn’t a food you like, that’s all.”
“Oh, so it’s like cherry pie? I hate cherry pie.”
“Yes! And lots of people like to eat their cherry pie with ice cream. Do you like ice cream?”
“Of course! I’m not a monster!”
“Well, there you have it then—a lot of people like romance and a lot of people like cherry pie. And some people like to eat ice cream with their pie, just like they like to have sex with romance. But you can still have ice cream without pie, just like you can have sex without romance.”
At this, Luffy breaks into a huge grin. “You’re really good at this stuff! So, do you only like ice cream, too? You have lots of sex, but you don’t seem to be in love with anyone.”
You shrug.
“I like pie and ice cream, but I don’t need pie to enjoy the ice cream.”
“Anata?”
“Hmm?”
“Can we have some more ice cream now?”
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A/N pt 2: Dear God, this took me forever, and it used to be even longer before I edited it. Hopefully, I will get the next chapter up much sooner. The plan is to do a chapter for each character (not Chopper), but not all of them will be spicy content. So please pay attention to all content warnings and tags.
Anyway, thank you for reading!!
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bindeds · 5 days
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bite me part two? 🥺👉👈
BITE  ME ( PART 2. )   ALASTOR  (HEAVILY  FT.  LUCIFER)  X  READER. —  you  arrive  back  from  your  outing  with  charlie  and  find  a  familiar  face  at  the  bar.  it  was  unusual  to  find  him  there,  and  when  he  asks  you  what's  wrong,  it's  hard  to  turn  him  away  even  if  you  are  looking  for  someone  else.
tags.  explicit  consent,  but  you  don't  actually  fuck  alastor,  acknowledging  his  asexuality,  jealousy.  plot  contains.  ballroom  dancing  and flirting with  lucifer!  <3 wc.  3.3k
a/n. so sorry this took weeks! i hope you enjoy this anyhow <3
related links . . . part 1. bite me : lucifer’s ver.
masterlist. requests as of 0324 : open.
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“You smell delicious, mon cher.”
Your eyes widened at the mirror blurring right in front of you. The dull bathrooms of the hotel hadn’t gone through any paint jobs yet, so in this light, it was the palest, dullest blue that almost glorified the blaring red that your companion possessed. There was no running water and yet the edges fogged up, puffs of greedy heat threatening to reach the very center. You stared right back at your own puzzled complexion, a mix between restraint and twisted bewilderment.
Your hands were limp in Alastor’s slender ones as he held them by your sides, your right hand a little more extended than the other.
He lowered his chin and rested snugly on your shoulder. His eyes shut. His smile was persistent, mocking and as bright as ever.
“Is it truly what you desire?” Alastor asked, and like the moisture that infected the mirror, his bloodied velvet voice rang like a snake’s hiss in your head. “To be … undone by his frivolous charms.”
He spat the words out like it was venom threatening to poison the very tongue he used to keep you right where you were, conflicted with the thrill of your wrestling heart over what this man had been doing to you.
“Alastor …”
“Or would you prefer it to be by my own hand?”
Alastor’s left hand left yours in a quick motion as it went flush against your upper abdomen.
You bit your lip as his hand traveled further down the smooth fabric of your clothing, almost mirroring the movement of sweat rolling down your forehead and cheek.
“Well?” He refrained himself from laughing, but of course it was a very poor attempt.
You were slowly but surely crumpling in his ever tightening grasp.
His hand stopped dead at the very bottom of your stomach.
Your breath hitched. Liquid fire spread in between each strand of hair on your head as you gulped.
“May I?”
“Al, what are you doing? You wouldn’t do this. You’re playing with me,” you dared to speak out amidst the haze of speechlessness that had been cast upon you by this half-done bathroom—by the swell of Alastor’s chest on your shoulder blades, by his entire body that had been so perfect of a puzzle piece against the back of your own.
“Oh, but I would,” Alastor snickered in a low, sinister tone that only finished in a high. “You’ve already witnessed the measures I’d travel just to make myself happy. You and I are both unaware of what I’m capable of doing for the one I yearn for.”
“Al … that’s …”
This is all wrong. He’s going about it the completely wrong way.
Your eyes finally shoot up and away from the mirror that distorted your tunnel-vision view—but that could very well be your own mind overwhelming your body, making it jump hoops all for its own sick gain.
If you started all over again, you couldn’t have guessed you’d end up here. And even if you could … would you have avoided it?
The bar had been its usual glowing, droopy green as it always had, with Husk tending to it like he was its loyal servant—and in a way, he was. With being the hotel’s bartender, he was unspokenly tasked to help the poor souls that wander over to his bar to look for solace at the bottom of a whiskey bottle.
But today … had been slightly different.
Slightly different in the sense that Husk … couldn’t read the man before him. He looked … tired, with subtle bags forming below his once bright, wide eyes whenever he looked down, but he still smiled when he downed a shot and settled for red wine after the very first one.
When you and Charlie came bursting in with what would be the sun’s energy if it possessed the power to speak, your eyes matched the man at the bar’s. Husk saw it immediately.
Not just the dark circles under your eyes, or how your shoulders went limp the moment Charlie regrouped with her girlfriend.
Your neck.
It had been very slightly deformed, but he couldn’t explain in what way. In almost every angle, it was flawless skin that looked the same all across your hands, arms and face. But in just one angle in particular …
Husk flinched when Lucifer called your name from across the hotel lobby, waving at you to sit down next to him. The bags disappeared without a trace, with only that bright smile everyone knew so well to accompany his already cheery demeanor. You would have almost forgotten he was even sitting at the gloomy bar in the first place.
“How was your little outing with Charlie? Did you and my little girl have fun?” He asked as his smile persisted through his drinking.
“Yes, sir, we—”
“Oh, no need for that now, just call me Lucifer,” he chuckled as he waved you off.
“Okay,” you smiled, tucking some hair behind your ear. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, yes I’m fine! I’m perfectly fine, why do you ask my dear?” Lucifer raised a brow but his other hand was still wrapped around his half-finished glass of liquor.
“Well, it’s just that—”
You flinched as gentle fingers on your cheek had forced you to twist your neck at an awkward angle.
A whispering breeze blew past a sore spot you had forgotten.
You swatted Lucifer’s hand away and gasped at your own sharp reaction.
“Shit, I’m so sorry sir I—”
“Who did that to you?”
His voice crumbled unstable, being held up by only his will to know what happened. He glanced up at you, brows tensed and pulled together.
You covered your neck, rolling your lips into a crumpled line.
“Lucifer, it’s nothing, really,” you insisted.
Lucifer reached out again. “At least let me heal it—”
“You can’t,” you said, gently deflecting his hand once more.
He blinked a few times. His gaze briefly rested on your shoulder before resuming to his own glass as he sighed silently.
“Alright then.”
He snapped his fingers and summoned a soft scarf from a pume of red smoke. He presented it to you with two hands and you took it wearily, but wrapped it around your neck as soon as you had it in your grasp.
“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I’m only worried,” he said, and your name was exhaled from his lips like it was something he’d been keeping in.
“Could you at least … think about it? For me?”
“Think about what?”
“Letting me heal your wound. It looks painful,” Lucifer added as he squinted back at where your wound would have been had you not covered it up with the scarf.
“I’ll …” you paused as you looked away. The lobby had been rather empty tonight considering the evening was settling in, this was usually when people would be flooding either into the dining hall for dinner or out to catch their own meals.
Your gaze fell on Charlie who had been Vaggie’s headrest as they watched tv together in the lobby. They don’t usually do this, so you had a feeling it might have had something to do with the man right in front of you. After all, it wasn’t a usual sight to see him anywhere near the bar considering he clearly found it distasteful.
“I’ll think about it.”
Lucifer nodded. A warm smile overtook his cheeks. “Thank you.”
Husk glanced between you and Lucifer and set down the empty wine bottle he’d been wiping at the side.
He walked over to the back of the bar where the other bottles of liquor were on display and reached for a small radio with knobs on either side. He knew that this would come in handy someday, even if he hated to admit that the radio demon was right.
He turned the knob once, and a fast-talking demon barely got a word in before he turned it again. It took a few more turns before he settled on a song he was lucky to have stumbled upon.
The slow, swaying tune of trumpets began to play, the sound bouncing off the walls to create an ambience similar to that of an old film shot in a fancy hotel just like this one.
And like the corrupt angels heard Husk’s scattered prayers, Angel Dust appeared by the main stairs of the hotel.
“Hey, I’m just gonna head out for dinner,” he called to him before his eyes wandered the ceilings. “Hey, what’s this fancy tune?”
The radio had been magically routed throughout the hotel lobby, and it had been like this since Alastor had given him this radio to tuck away in case of ‘dire situations.’
Everyone looked around the walls of the hotel, amazement filled in the glimmers of their eyes at what they were hearing.
“Just a lil’ somethin’ to lighten up the mood. I haven’t been outside but I’m sure it’s a fine evening,” Husk says rather apathetically, considering the actual content of his words.
“Hey, wait I know this song!” Angel Dust perked up as his eyes widened just as much as his agape smile had. “Husk, c’mon!”
Charlie and Vaggie had already taken the floor and slow-danced in swirls.
Angel Dust rushed towards the bar and beckoned Husk once more.
“It … is a lovely night,” Lucifer uttered your name once more, catching your attention as you exchanged tired gazes with him. “Care to dance, love?”
Lucifer offered you his hand.
But all you saw were the memories of what had happened upstairs not too long ago. The striking pain, the oozing pleasure—Alastor’s gaze.
“Lucifer, it’s very sweet of you, but I can’t,” you refused again.
Lucifer’s already effete smile dissipated, but his hand remained persistent.
“It’s only a dance, my dear. With all the things that wear you down, I can’t think of a more perfect distraction,” Lucifer persisted as his hand remained extended out before you.
You considered Lucifer’s words for a minute. Alastor hasn’t appeared when he usually does whenever Charlie comes back from an errand, and you didn’t want to disturb him especially after the intimate moment you shared before leaving. It must have been a lot for him considering his sexual orientation, even if sex wasn’t involved.
And, Lucifer had been nothing but endearing since you came back. He didn’t pry into your business even if you knew he could tell that you were fatigued.
You hooked a finger in the scarf Lucifer had given you, as if to remind yourself of just how patient and kind Lucifer had been when even he seemed out of it tonight.
You nodded as you took his hand, and you yelped at the sudden pull of your entire body as he spun you around. Before you could reorient yourself, you were in the empty floors of the hotel lobby, with one hand clasped on Lucifer’s own, and the other on his shoulder. His other hand held your waist upright as you danced in tandem, you and Lucifer’s feet like two parts of the same mechanism. His one step forward was your one step back.
“Kiss me once and kiss me twice and kiss me once again, it’s been a long, long, time …”
His eyes remained on you, a gentle smile shone in the gold lighting of the hotel. Perhaps this was why he was named the Morningstar; the setting sun whispered over his cheeks and his gaze, even if it had now been tainted red, was still something to behold.
“Did I tell you you look lovely tonight?” Lucifer asked gingerly.
You held back a chuckle. “You might have mentioned it, yes.”
“Oh, you kid,” Lucifer grinned as he shook his head. “The answer is ‘no,’ dear.”
“Then what was the point of asking?”
Lucifer paused, and all you could do was search his features for an answer.
“It was so that I can tell you a million times over.”
You only had a second to react when he spun you a lot slower this time, and you were actually able to catch a glimpse of Husk and Angel dancing nearby and … was that a stain on the wall?
“You look lovely tonight,” Lucifer uttered in hushed tones, the low voice casting a fumes over your line of thought.
He pulled away from you for a moment, but had a firm grasp as your only link to him was both your hands, arms outstretched to each other. He pulled you back towards him again, your chest to be flush against his own as your hand instinctively found his again.
“You look lovely tonight,” he repeated in a more hopeful tone, and by this time you understood what he was doing and you finally let yourself laugh.
As the song slowed to an end, he dipped you delicately as his arm steeled under your lower back to hold the rest of you up.
“You look … lovely. Tonight,” Lucifer finished.
He helped you up as your eyes locked onto his, though, if you were being honest with yourself, it might have been locked there for just about the entire dance; you were just too busy exploring what laid beneath. You finally returned his solemn smile and he reached to the side of your face to tuck some stray hair behind your ear.
You tilted your head towards his touch, as if it was almost by instinct again.
“You know, I was looking to … loosen up tonight, if you catch my meaning,” Lucifer lifted his chin as hints of that signature grin peeked through his lips.
A raindrop string, a bird’s cry—what had been something so endearing had suddenly turned strangely bittersweet. The answer had been more than sparkling clear in your head.
“Lucifer, I—”
Your eyes instinctively fell on that dark spot on the wall again.
And your entire body shivered ice cold. You perked up and away from Lucifer’s hand as the stain on the wall sneered at you.
“What’s wrong?” Lucifer asked.
Except, it really wasn’t a stain on the wall. More of a shadow in the chair. Alastor materialized fully into a single seater by the tv, eyes squinted as his close-mouthed smile stretched from ear to ear.
Alastor’s high pitched cackle echoed in your head as he dissolved into black wisps again, his shadow stretching towards the half-done women’s public bathroom of the hotel.
“Did you hear that?”
“No … what’s—”
“I’m sorry, I have to go—um, to the bathroom.”
Lucifer called your name as you slipped away from him, but you ignored his call as you rushed into the bathroom like you said you would.
When you burst through the door, the bathroom sat humid and abandoned with the air conditioning of the hotel kept completely out from the stuffy room. The structure of it had really come together nicely, so it wouldn’t have looked nearly as creepy if the team had gotten the paint job done this week.
“Why have you come, dear?” That smooth yet high pitched voice echoed not just in your head this time, but it ricocheted off the walls and back at you to hear it ring a second, third, and fourth time.
Alastor was loudest over your shoulder. You felt his breath tickle your neck as his shoes clicked along the tiled floors. He walked around you, finally showing himself as he planted his cane on the floor between both of you.
“Lucifer and I were just talking and I was looking for you after we came back but you didn’t come to see us. Then music played and …”
Alasto waited a while before speaking up himself. “And what?”
“Oh c’mon Al, could you just—not do this for once? Please? You know what I’m trying to say. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … do that.”
“Do what? Dance with the very man that has me scratching layers of my own skin and flesh out?” Alastor looked up in thought, though knowing him, this remark had been smeared all over his lips since he’d first observed you with Lucifer. All he’d done was scrape the nastiest parts and flung it right at you.
“Alastor, I didn’t know if I should have disturbed you when I got back, alright? Don’t be like that. I really am sorry—and you’re being mean about it, I’m trying to be genuine here,” you protested as you folded your arms over your chest.
“Oh, darling,” Alastor sighed sympathetically. He approached you with just a step or two forward, and with your head still hung low, your eyes zipped at him as he laid a gentle hand on top of your own.
That hand grabbed yours and in a gush of wind, you were in front of the mirror with Alastor’s entire body glued to your back.
. . .
And you’re back in the present. His hand was a clothing iron to your lower stomach, burning and sticking to you like you had to get it off.
“Alastor, do you think I’d choose Lucifer over you for sex?” You shrieked in disbelief.
Alastor’s lips pursed in thought. “It’s the one thing he acquired that i have not. It’s the only thing I can think of.”
“And you’d make yourself uncomfortable … just to keep me from leaving you?”
You feel Alastor slowly nod with his head still pressed against you.
“It’s an indulgence i find useless and quite incomprehensible however—”
You broke out of his grasp and turned around, your hands ending up around his nape.
“Al.”
His complexion relaxed from its previously shocked state. He blinked, and he pinned you against the sink when he leaned into you, his hands on either side of the sink’s edge.
“I think it’s very sweet that you would do that for me,” you began shakily. “But I also … I want you to want me.”
Alastor tilted his head.
“But I do want you, darling. Just earlier up in my quarters I was thinking how lovely it would be to read dracula to you while you drift off to sleep.”
You smiled sheepishly, finally breaking eye contact with him as you lower your head.
“Yes. I’d like that very much. But that’s not what I’m talking about, dear,” you reiterate with honey that Alastor could taste in your tone as you felt him ease up in your hands, he somehow grew warmer, softer—like he had been making himself easier to hold for you.
“I’m … I’m talking about sex.”
“Yes. If you’d like that then—”
“No, Al. I’ve accepted that you’re aromantic and asexual a long time ago. And I consider myself lucky to be in some sort of exclusive arrangement with you already.”
“‘an individual that rarely experiences romantic or sexual attraction.’”
Your eyes widened. “You know?”
“I asked Niffty to use voogle because I felt my skin crumple and bubble at the very thought of participating in that picture box head’s scheme. But yes, I am now aware of such terms. I find that it suits me quite well.”
“I’d like to respect that, Al. You’re who I want to spend all my time with. And if sex makes you uncomfortable then we don’t have to do it. I can always do it myself.”
Alastor continued to smile as if you hadn’t said anything. As if you hadn’t just handed him your heart—blood, arteries and all—on a silver platter. You bit your lip and it pulsated like a heartbeat, but maybe you were just getting lightheaded.
Alastor finally pressed his forehead to yours, closing his eyes as his grin shrunk down to a barely visible smile.
“Thank you, my treasure.”
That night, as Alastor had mentioned, you went to bed in matching pajamas as he read your own book to you, Dracula by Bram Stoker. You fell asleep quite a while after he’d begun reading, and even if Alastor barely gets any sleep at all, he still shifts next to you under the sheets to have you close.
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taglist : (comment if you’d like to be on it! tell me if there’s other characters you’d like to be tagged for as well <3) @whateverlololo @shunsuiken @rineptune
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brimleysbears · 27 days
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(Featured media: Burl Ives and Rock Hudson - from The Spiral Road, 1962)
"Fan" fiction erotica - "Hollywood Confessions: My Date With Big Daddy"
Post 4 of 4
Epilogue:
A Horny Old Bull
To conclude, I was in fact on the pill, after all, it was 1963; therefore no, I didn’t begat a cute little chubby Ives child, although sometimes I wish I had. Although that man could be a bit of a creep at times, like most men I suppose, I’ll never forget that night with Big Daddy. In fact, as much as it was embarrassing, there were other reasons why I kept that story to myself after all these years. I admit, that was the most fun I’ve ever had with a man. Sometimes I question whether I was head over heels in love with that big old brute.
As much as I wanted to see him again, I found out soon afterwards that he had actually scheduled all of those men to see him that night with the intention of not telling me, while planning on having sex with me, in order for the meetings to coincide with his coitus. I never found out exactly why he did that, and if it was his intention to use me or not. I was angry for a season and never wanted to see him again after that, but looking back, I regret not seeing him more times. I would have liked to get all of his seed in me and looked at him face to face the entire time that he had his climax. I would have liked to try other things with him, and maybe even be his mistress when he was working in Hollywood. The more I learned about what probably did happen, was that he was proud to seduce a young dancer like myself, and although I don’t like to be someone’s ‘bragging rights’, in a way I felt honored. One of the older ladies at the Manhattan cocktail party said, “sounds to me like he was just trying to get those businessmen off his back and find ways to taunt them.”
As I spoke to my girlfriends late that night, finishing my story, one of the women remarked that, perhaps that lonely old man being away from home needed a special companion, and not another ‘high-profile figure’ like himself? As we talked, one of the more educated ‘uptown’ ladies said, “if you ask me, like a lot of men in show business those days, he was desperate to try to prove that he was a heterosexual; in a similar way they constantly had to deliver proof they were not some kind of communist as well. After all, Mr. Ives worked closely with a lot of queers like Tennessee Williams and was even filmed naked along side a half-naked raging fag, Rock Hudson, just a year or so before your ‘encounter’. Although I might say there’s probably a little pink in his blanket, Big Daddy sounds like a man who was not ‘light on his feet’, in fact, quite heavy handed like your story implied, which I found to be most intriguing. I think you’ve not only made a believer out of all of us in the room, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of us are going to start chasing after men like Sebastian Cabot – you’ve certainly piqued my curiosity about a kind of man I would have not previously considered and for that, I am indeed charmed.”
But it was another lady who might have had the best explanation: “did you ever consider the fact that although Big Daddy was a bit of a sex symbol in the 50’s, that Burl Ives in the 60’s was starting to get typecast too much in children’s and family shows to the point where the public was referring to him as asexual? If I were him, I’d want to prove to my collogues that I was a fully functioning sexual person with sexual needs and abilities. After a while, no matter what he said, chances are, his peers didn’t believe him until he found a way to show proof that he had a thriving sex life.” Maybe they were all correct. Maybe he was just another creep. Maybe he was someone really special. I do cherish those memories, and I still keep his private calling card with me in my purse all these years.
The End.
Copyright 2024 BrimleysBears
Feel free to share posts, however please copy only with permission, thanks, BB
Part 1
https://www.tumblr.com/brimleysbears/743973229412106240/featured-media-burl-ives-from-the-spiral-road?source=share
Part 2
https://www.tumblr.com/brimleysbears/743962348439666688/featured-media-burl-ives-from-the-spiral-road?source=share
Part 3
https://www.tumblr.com/brimleysbears/743868840199536640/featured-media-burl-ives-from-the-spiral-road?source=share
Part 4
https://www.tumblr.com/brimleysbears/743867190420307968/featured-media-burl-ives-from-the-spiral-road?source=share
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saphirered · 6 months
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Hi! I have come to request an astarion x reader? How would astarion feel about a asexual reader? Maybe learning about it when the reader refuses to have sex with him? You can decide how it ends! Thank you! ❤️
This was an interesting one to write but I hope you like it! Angst with fluff of course. Hope you like it! 😘
Astarion has never struggled to find the right people to suit his needs one way or another. He also never struggled to wrap them around his finger. A little wink here, some charming words there, maybe even a brush of the hand or soft touch to sweeten the deal and he’d have anyone be putty in his hands to be shaped and sculpted for his every use. It’s easy. It’s always been easy. It’s been his way of survival, of safety and security. It’s been his weapon and his shield. He’s well aware he’s not exactly everybody’s favourite person right now. Especially not since he may or may not have tried to take a few drops of blood from his newfound companions and in doing so exposed his secret. Only the more reason to charm the de facto leader of this little group and keep you on his good side. Gods how he’s been trying and he’s sure he’s got you now! Just a tiny little push more and you’ll be in his arms and un able to let him go. He’ll gladly keep you there until you’ve served your purpose of course. 
He’s been having some of these pesky little feelings. Nothing he can’t cast aside. Nothing he can’t get over. It’s not like he truly cares you come to him when he’s hurt. It’s not like you really value his opinion or input even when you ask for it and consider it. You’re just that wrapped around his finger. Or so he keeps telling himself. He might be a good liar but he’s not that good. It’s the little things really. When you smile or praise him or simply offer him some form of comfort, he feels warm within when he’s only ever known the cold of the grave he crawled out of, or the dungeons he’d been confined in for so long. Were he an elf of theatrics, which he most definitely is, he would say you make him feel alive and that’s something no amount of gold can buy, yet more dangerous than any opponent he’s encountered. What has he gotten himself into? Nothing yet. He still needs you to comply, to remain on his side and for him to puppet you to his advantage. That’s your only use. That’s his only task, his only reason for getting involved with you; you are just like everybody else. He just needs to woo his way into your bed and you’ll be just like everybody else and he’ll just be his old self. He’ll use his body to achieve what he set out to achieve; your compliance. 
He got reckless. Astarion made the wrong call when he asked for but a few drops of your blood to deal with the hunger. You’d offered him your delicious neck and he almost lost himself in the closeness, almost forgot he had his teeth pierce your skin. It took every ounce of restraint to not kiss you right then and there, high on the taste of your blood and the energy- the life it gave him. He could feel every tremble, every skip of your heartbeat, every breath when he held you so close and in that moment he could imagine himself being with you. That very early morning he dreamt of being with you not because he had to for whatever reason but simply because he’d have you in his arms, you would hold him in return. For the first time in perhaps forever he desired to know what it felt like to be held, to be cared for and loved. For the first time he desired to be close to someone far beyond the false proclamations of love he had told so many right before he lead them to their doom. He couldn’t do that to you. He couldn’t let himself. Not anymore. He had to, if he wanted you to be his tool in taking down Cazador. 
You sat there in the glow of the fire basking in the warmth and glow. Astarion could only imagine what your skin would feel like right now, to hold that warmth, that soft and gentle touch but he couldn’t. He refuses to give into this petty little obsession of his, or so he’d tell himself. You sat alone, the others having gone to do their own thing before they too would retire. You simply kept watching the flames dance like a beautiful performance. You must have seen his shadow move from the corner of your eyes because when your gaze meets his and you smile he feels his feet push him forward involuntarily. You silently invite him to join you which of course he does. He sits down diagonally from you, far away enough from the fire but close enough to have you within reach. He gives you that look he’s trained so well, looks at you through his lashes, makes sure he looks as appealing as possible, not that he truly has to try because he knows he is magnificent. 
“Hello, Astarion. I hope you’re having a lovely evening.” You speak so gently, so unburdened. He heart clenches in his chest. A hand might as well have reached into his chest cavity and squeezed his slow beating heart. 
“Much improved through your simply radiant company, my darling.” You offer a smile and soft chuckle at his blatant flirt. He tries to once more school his features knowing the marks to hit just right, to make you make the first move, to catch onto the bait he’s been laying out. 
You slide into easy conversation. You enjoy Astarion’s company but you’ve caught onto things you’d hoped not to see. It’s no secret he is a massive flirt and will make use of that silver tongue with anyone who even shows the slightest interest. Rarely have you seen him be genuine about any attraction, about anything mutual. You don’t even know if you’ve ever seen him be genuine in his advances, to not have that wall separating himself from whoever stands on the other side. You’d dare argue that same wall separates his mind from his body. You’ve seen it break too. You’ve seen him ease into the need to be physically close to someone yet the moment he realises what’s happening he either removes himself from the situation or that wall goes back up again in the blink of an eye. You’d like to say you’ve caught on when he does. Whatever he puts forth, whatever act it is it never quite reaches his eyes. He’s far away when he furthers advances and the further in he goes, the more removed he becomes. You count you could ever reach him. 
You see it now too. He’s slipping and falling back and forth into this habit at this. It’s been happening with you before. What used to be playful flirts have turned into a bit more and he’s been making advances and when he does the life disappears from his eyes when you respond a certain way so you’ve taken to simply going along with the flow. You won’t play into his traps. You don’t pretend to know his reasonings. He is a complex individual that definitely has secrets wrapped in secrets and you know it’s a cruel world that closes off someone like he does. You know he has a reason for keeping these things close to his chest and that is his choice. You are not entitled to his life and neither is he to yours. The difference is that if he asks, you will share most if not all even if you know better than to fully trust him, even if you’d wish to know. 
He lays it on thick. You don’t bite. No matter what he does. Every time he thinks he has you, he can push you to where he needs you to be. He needs you to fall in love with him, to be addicted to him but you seem utterly oblivious to him, or maybe it’s wilful. Dammit you’re so difficult to read. He supposes he’ll be blatant then. 
“We’ve been dancing around for long enough. Let this unspoken thing finally be spoken.” He begins and the more guilt sets in his heart, the more difficult it becomes. He simply decides to squash the little pesky feeling until he can ignore it fully and continue. The way you look at him just makes that terribly difficult. Why do you have to be so difficult? He continues at your request. 
“I like you and you clearly like me too.” His cold heart skips a beat and the flush to your skin he manages to classify as that interest, that desire you must hold for him or so he tries to convince himself because when he looks into your eyes he sees a spark of concern and pity. “I could feel it when I got lost in your neck.” He reaches out, still far away enough not to touch you. A gesture to the faint identical puncture marks along the side of your neck. You subconsciously reach out to touch them. How he wishes those fingers were his. He could but not yet. Not if he wants to play his cards right. 
“Astarion…” His name from your lips. Were he not so far removed from himself he might have melted. He’s pushed away his pesky feelings and once more removed mind from body. He has an objective and so he must see his plan through. He can’t back down now. He presses a single sultry finger to his lips and shushes playfully. He’ll ignore the frown beginning to form and your downcast gaze for a second. 
“Shhh. You don’t have to say a thing. I already know how you feel. Because I feel it too.” He takes your hands in his. Your skin might as well have burned him like the sun for your touch truly does hurt and that pain pierces straight through the wall, right where it hits most true. He feels it crumble but he has to hold on. “We could take an evening to ourselves. Get away from camp. Get some privacy. I know somewhere quiet, somewhere intimate.”
You take a deep breath. You see what he’s doing. You see that desperation to hold on whatever he tries to keep together. You just feel bad for him. He’s not wrong. You truly do like him. Perhaps you could be something more but not in this way. That’s not how your mind, body or soul works. You’re not his usual audience. You don’t dissolve under his so called interests. You don’t desire to share a bed with him in that way, like so many others do. You’ve seen how they look at him and how he basks in it all. He wants to be desired, to be wanted but the moment it comes to reciprocating, something is lacking and that’s what you see here. He’s struggling. He’s conflicted between the way he’s known and what he finds within himself. 
“Somewhere we can indulge in each other. I promise you a night you’ll never forget.” Still holding onto your hands he rolls onto his knees so he is in front of you, in your space too and gives you the most charming look that would have anyone be begging for his attention in an instant, to be jumping at the opportunity. But not you. You pull your hands from his ever so gently it almost breaks him into pieces. He might have had further thoughts was he not appalled by the rejection. Rejected. Him? He’s the one who rejects. This is not part of the plan. His plans come falling down. What is he supposed to do now? 
“While I’m flattered- and you are a wonderful individual… Don’t take this the wrong way but I’m not interested in spending a lover’s night with you and no amount of convincing is going to change that.” There go his hopes. There goes his true protection and shot at killing Cazador. It slips between his fingers like ashes in the morning sun. He hasn’t even the mind to cover it up; the hopelessness and desperation, the pain and suffering and fear.  “I’ve never been sexually attracted to anyone.” 
“So you were all just playing a game?” There’s frustration in Astarion’s voice but it seems directed solely at himself. 
“No! Not at all. Astarion, I have loved our little flirts and banter and you’re not wrong. I truly do like you. You’re amazing and wonderful albeit a bit of an ass most of the time. I like you for you and not for what you have to offer or provide. You are so much more than you give yourself credit for and I would continue if I didn’t know this would inflate that ridiculous ego of yours beyond divine proportions.” 
He process your words. You’re not attracted to him? At least not in that way. You care about him, like him and you haven’t been playing him like he began playing you. It was genuine, same as he had found himself become more genuine in his advances. Every time he set out the bait for you to pursue him, for him to share your bed and you didn’t bite, it was because you truly had no interest in using him like that. Your feelings are not driven by desire and sex. You just care. He’s so caught in his mind he nearly jumps when he feels you take one of his hands. He’s pulled out of his mind and back to reality. For the first time someone cares about him for more than his body or what he has to offer. For the first time he might actually be loved truly. And to know he almost ruined that… And you knew all this time. You’d seen through him and his motives but you hadn’t called him out. You’d let him find this out on his own. 
“I-I don’t know what to say.” He speaks breathlessly. He doesn’t shy away from your touch instead he relishes in it. 
“The things I offer you are not some payment plan or a way to have you be indebted. I offer them because I see you suffer and if I have the means to make a difference then I will because you matter to me. It’s okay if you don’t feel that way about me. I’m not asking you to care about me at all. If I was just a means to an end, someone to help you find whatever you’re looking for, that’s okay. I want to make a difference and if you need my help my aid is yours. It is regardless of my own or your feelings. You fight demons far greater than your ego so let me help you.” 
Were he another man he might have cried. Instead he feels a shattering quiet right after the pieces hit the ground. In all his plotting he did not consider this outcome. All he had to do was not fall for you but he had. All you had to do was fall for him. You had, in your own way. Just not in the way he thought to be the only way you could fall for him. You’d figured it out without knowing the details and even still now you know, still without those details you offer to he his shield and weapon simply because he needs you. He feels horrible. Yet he feels elated. 
You didn’t expect a response. You don’t get a verbal one. Instead he just gently clasps his hand over yours and holds on like you might fade beneath his touch. You don’t and once that reassurance is there he deigns look you in the eye. His hand slides up your arm ever so carefully until it goes up your neck, over those bite marks and settles upon your cheek. You give him a reassuring smile. 
“I truly don’t know what to say… Except-Except thank you.” 
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leikeliscomet · 4 months
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“But We Love Martha Jones!” - The Doctor Who Fandom’s Selective Memory of Racism
Be aware that this article contains explicit examples of anti-black racism and misogynoir.
Chapter 2 - Utopia-ish
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The constant nitpicking of Martha Jones for reasons white female companions could get away with was blatant anti-black racism. Let’s get that bit clear first and foremost. As a Black person in fandom, watching Black characters get torn apart while never being given the grace of their non-Black castmates is an experience that’s too common. Microaggressions are more subtle so the easiest way to shut down any mentions of racism is to accuse Black fans of making things up or telling us “Well it’s not like REAL racism”. Luckily Doctor Who Tumblr birthed the Martha Jones affirmative action and Aunt Jemima “memes” so I can cross both covert and overt racism off the list. As mentioned in extensive detail in the previous chapter, plus the various Martha Jones articles written before me, the treatment Martha experienced was racist. I don’t care if you personally didn’t like her. I don’t care that you missed Rose. I don’t care that Ten is your smol bean. Martha’s treatment was racist. Freema Agyeman’s treatment was racist. It might not have been everyone. It might not have been you personally. But it was there. The fandom can never be a safe space for POC, specifically Black people if this elephant in the room can’t be addressed over a decade after it arrived.
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On paper, you’d assume Martha’s rep was good because “at least she wasn’t a Black stereotype”. Some fans praised her for having a present father, not speaking MLE and not being from the ends. This goes into respectability politics but the fandom’s weirdness about Black Brits and class is not the point of this article. The point is the revisionist history of how Martha was really treated and to do that it helps to know what Black tropes are. The Mammy trope is a Black woman whose main purpose is to serve her white counterparts and during slavery, she mainly cared for the slave owners' children. She is usually fat, dark skin and asexual, not as a representation of those things but as a statement of how if she isn’t used for sexual exploitation like the Jezebel (the promiscuous, reckless, sexualised Black woman), she has no sexual value at all. Her value is serving the needs of others only. Martha doesn’t fit this trope in theory but in practice, she fulfils the sub-categories of this trope both in show and fandom: the disposable Black (girl)friend trope. She is used as Ten’s emotional punching bag before he’s ready for Donna and then Rose again. She had to endure edgy moody S3 Ten so no one else had to. She’s the excuse people use to deflect any critical analysis of how race was handled in RTD1. She’s the fandom’s excuse to deflect from their own racial biases. Racism? No way! Everybody loves Martha Jones! What do you mean?
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Some parts of the fandom have tried to mend things by suggesting Martha be paired with other doctors or romantically shipping her with other characters a bit better than Mickey Smith. But does this hold up? As much as I’m a big fan NineMartha as a concept and as someone who honestly saw one-off characters like Riley Vashtee from 42 or Tallulah from Daleks in Manhattan having way more romantic chemistry with Martha than Mickey ever did, simply re-shipping Martha isn’t enough. Doctor Who’s racism isn't exclusive to one doctor, one series or one era and new Martha pairings suggest the issue was “right person, wrong doctor” instead of what the issue actually was: racism. Moffat and Chibnall’s eras weren’t full of golden Black representation either so I doubt the Martha issue would’ve magically disappeared under those two. From Nine’s hostility to Mickey, to Twelve’s hostility to Danny Pink to Thirteen handing a South Asian Spymaster to the Nazis and Eleven only travelling with POC in comics most fans haven’t heard of and being besties with Churchill, simply putting Martha with another Doctor isn’t the serve fans think it is. Even RoseMartha seems like putting a bandaid on a bullet hole. If it's not enough for Martha to be compared to Rose, put down in favour of Rose, told she isn’t Rose and told she's worse than Rose in fandom and in show over and over and over, she has to be shipped with Rose too. Martha’s a great character… as long as you can tie her to Rose… again. Even in my own article I have to talk about Rose because Rose is centred in what was supposed to be Martha’s story. A doctor-to-be Black girl from London with a hectic family meets a Time Lord and gets abducted by space rhino police at work in one day. Her main conflict isn’t balancing work and time traveller life, or fighting to get her family back together, or seeing what’s out there in the universe - it's that she isn’t “Rose” enough. The Mammy and her sons’ main thing in common is simple; how well they serve and centre the white characters. In attempts to mend Martha’s treatment she is still only valued in relation to white characters. She should’ve been with Eleven because he would’ve fucked a Black woman. Or maybe Dilfy Twelve. Or a sapphic romance with another female companion who she saw twice or doesn’t actually know. Or maybe Ten in an alternate universe where he supports #nubianqueens. None of this is done to explore sexuality or romance with Black women and is definitely not to centre Black lesbianism and bisexuality. It’s Mammy with a dash of Jezebel. It's adding romantic and sexual value on top of physical and emotional value like a crappy meal deal.
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I’m tired of Black women being treated as extensions of white women both in media and in real life. I’m tired of our value being determined by how well we serve white people emotionally, physically, platonically and sexually. And I'm even more tired of white feminism especially in this fandom. It would be so easy to label this article as anti-Rose, anti-Ten or anti-Tenrose to invalidate my whole racial analysis because it's the easy way out. I’ll admit I like both characters individually but not the ship but this isn’t something I decided on since birth - it's my conclusion as a Black fan in a predominantly white fandom, watching a predominantly white show, watching the first companion of my race be told she isn’t good enough compared to the white characters, and that the hatred of her is justified for the greater good of its popular white ship. Black fans can never have this conversation without being told we’re “pitting women against each other” and that Martha and Rose hugged once in S4 so everything's hunky dory. Martha’s happy that Ten found Rose again so what’s the problem? It sends a clear message that Black women’s pain will never matter a much as white women’s feelings. “Rose is amazing! Martha’s amazing! Stop pitting women against women!” but who was pit against who in the first place? These faux girl power posts fail to acknowledge the overlap of race and gender which separates the treatment of Black and white women. It fails to acknowledge Martha’s hate was rooted in anti-black racism. It fails to acknowledge the anti-Rose pushback was in response to how the show and fandom convinced us Rose was the untouchable bar this Black woman failed to meet. It fails to acknowledge Freema Agyeman the actress was targeted not just her character. It fails because the female empowerment rhetoric that leaves the Black ones at the bottom of the pile only “empowers” women of a certain demographic.
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The harassment Martha experienced was swept under the rug of “stan wars” but it was so much deeper than that. I’m not saying Martha stans are angels but there was no “Great Stan War” because the sides were never even. At the end of the day no amount of “Martha’s better than Rose” tweets will ever compare to the fact that Martha hate was rooted in misogynoir. Rose was and still is considered the greatest companion of nuwho, whilst Martha is constantly erased and undervalued. Rose’s video views and hashtags have always been bigger than Martha’s. Amy and Clara came after Martha but still surpassed her in popularity and got plenty of fan edits of “The Girl Who Waited” and “The Impossible Girl” whilst Martha was conveniently skipped in the companion lineup. The fandom’s bias still shines clearly in favour of Rose over Martha. Rose’s jealousy towards other women is justifiable and just the ups and downs of a 19-year-old whilst Martha’s is entitled bitterness. Rose’s flaws are compelling character moments and depth, Martha’s are “holding her back from being a good companion”. Hell, even Donna calling out Ten’s BS was entertaining accountability whilst Martha was just the angry Black woman. Fans will weaponise Rose’s working-class roots to imply a pro-Martha bias, failing to acknowledge the working-class to poor background of the average Black Brit, the anti-blackness middle-class Black people are not spared from, the many working-class Black characters of the show like Mickey, Bill, Rigsy and Ryan or how most fans don’t consider Martha middle class because she doesn’t fit the white British cultural stereotypes. You can't be the most loved and hated at the same time. The hard truth is Billie Piper wasn’t racially abused by Martha stans but Freema was absolutely racially abused by Rose’s and the effects of this are still around. Go into Martha Jones tags today and you’ll see snarky posts of how Ten could never love another companion like Rose. Even when Freema bravely shared her experiences of literal racism, fans were quick to yell “But I wanted Ten and Rose though” as a justification for years of misogynoir. Again, we need to address the elephant in the room instead of covering our eyes and ears to act like it’s not there. A Black character and actress was collateral damage in order for a popular white ship to rise and whilst I’m not an anti, I as a Black Doctor Who fan, I’ll never be a supporter. At the end of the day, only one of these actresses is still carrying the burden of misogynoir over 10 years since RTD1 ended. A lonely walk across the Earth yet again.
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<- Chapter 1 Chapter 3 ->
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empressgeekt · 6 months
Text
batfam meets the justice league fic idea, where Nightwing convinces the JL that the batfam is the last of the race Gotham bat demons...
made on moble so sorry in advance.
Okay so it starts with Batwoman and Nightwing hanging around the watchtower. Eventually someone (most likely either hal or barry) asks how they are related to batman. Batwoman claims to be his sister, and Nightwing obviously says he's his son. When the question of who Nightwing's mom comes up (along with some of the league thinking that Nightwing was an accident, cause they can't see bats settling down), Batwoman simply says, "he doesn't have one."
The convo sudden shifts to the topic of the 'history' and 'biology' of the bat demon race. How they were nearly eradicated by a war with the Amazon's, and Atlantis, only a few really surviving and finding refuge in the caves below Gotham. Hwo they used ancient forgotten magic to remove all memories of this 'war' to keep themselves save. And finally how they reproduce asexually, by reviving the souls of children who were wrongfully killed. Taking the weak dead spirit and carrying them in their own soul until it could put itself back together.
When asked if this was how Nightwing was born, they confirm it.
BW: oh yeah. Actually 'wing was kind of a surprise you could say.
Hal: surprise?
N: YEP! You see I was kinda of dad's first so he really didn't know what he was doing...
BW: and it ended with bossy big brother screaming his head off in an emergence of a batling that he didn't know he was carrying.
Barry: screaming his head off?
N: oh...well the process of soul splitting, emergence, rebirth, whatever you want to call it, includes the host's soul breaking down enough to allow the younger newly revived soul to detach. It's very painful, So I've heard.
BW; so you've heard? Kid please I know you've heard your father when it came to your siblings rebirth.
Needless to say everyone (especially hal and barry), look at Batman the same way for the next few days.
when Bruce confronts his son and cousin, he honestly can't say he hates the idea. UT would throw off any suspicions sound hus true identity. Not mention give him a new way to mess with hal.
The rest of the batfam (let's say standard webcomic cast, with Terry and Matty McGinnis [time traveled/dimensionhopped], along with flashpoint!batman, because they deserve to be in the safe place rhay is the batfam too, for funies), also find this cover story hilarious, and spend all of dinner adding to the bat-demon mythos.
Thomas would've been the last surviving member of the demon army, who retreated and sought refuge in Gotham, along with his human turned immortal companion of Alfred. Bruce, Kate, and Luke (batwing) would his 'children'.
The normal children would all still be Bruce's. Inculding spoiler, as why she claims she isn't Bruce's daughter, she isn't passing up the chance to mess with the JL.
Eventually the idea gets suggested that they should trick the JL into believing that Batman is pregnant with a new batling. The prank idea slowly snowballs from there and Bruce is unable to stop it. So he agrees to join in, ans rhe prank planninf begins. Matty immediately volunteers to be the new batling, because he technically the youngest and doesn't have a vigilante alter ego yet.
The prank starts out slow. Batwoman and Nightwing increase their visits to the watchtower? Specially when batman is there and they are usually in the same room as him.
Bruce pretends to be more tired often, even pretending to take a nap, where the JL can find him. He also fakes head aches.
Eventually Clark asks him if he's alright. And Nightwing responds with
N: of course he's not. He's working too hard.
B: Nightwing...
N: there's a reason me and aunt BW following you, and it's so you don't over do it!
B: nightwing...
N: even grandfather is worried.
B: Nightwing. I have been through this 8 times already. I think I know my limits. Besides your grandfather has always been worried over the thought of a new spawn in the house.
Clark: !!!!
Once more things around batman grow awkward for the next few weeks.
The end of the fic would be the JL visiting the "bat domain" to meet Matty dressed up in a mask and brightly colored suit. And finding out about the literal small army that batman's been building. Not to mention cameo of Thomas in his bat suit scaring the living crap out if the justice league, and having the time of his life.
Edit: Alright its official, this is going to be my holiday special for this year. So, around Christmas time I'll post a link so yall can read this.
Edit 2: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51963331/chapters/131402920
Happy holidays! hears and early present!
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hard-core-super-star · 5 months
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Ngl, being able to edit things here is cool, other media don't have this option so all you have to do is delete or slowly die every time you remember that mistake🥲
WELL– in that case it would be really fun to see Yelena just being a big softie to reader and end up getting caught by her friends doing so, then everyone would make fun of her or something (it would probably be their last time making fun of something in their lives, poor souls.
I saw that you still have things to write, so no hurry (and good luck with all this-). Also, Your writing is really good so it will be good anyway, but I'm sure you'll get it!
passive-aggressive magic tricks [Y.Belova]
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pairing: yelena belova x reader
summary: a fun game night with your friends takes a turn when they realize how much of a soft dork the russian turns into when she's around you.
warnings: none, i think [except peter being verbally attacked every other paragraph lmao]; so much dialogue; a weirdly written game of uno; just...so much chaos; never written for yelena before so feel free to yell at me if she's too ooc in this one
wordcount: 1.2k
a/n: this gif makes me feel things gonna start this off by saying that this is meant to be romantic but you can read it as platonic if you want. i know everyone has an opinion on yelena's sexuality and not everyone will agree with mine and that's okay! [just don't be a jerk about it. i personally think yelena is a demiromantic asexual so do with that what you will] ALSO, this is so chaotic and borderline nonsensical and you can blame 🌟 for making me think about yelena playing uno that one time. ALSO ALSO, thank you for the vote of confidence, lovely anon, this was actually really fun to write and i hope you enjoy <3
* * * * * * *
“This sucks,” Kate declares with a pout.
“Don’t be such a crybaby, Kate Bishop.” Yelena’s words only make the archer’s pout deepen which makes the whole situation feel even more ridiculous.
“Yeah, Kate,” you jump in. “You’re the one who started talking shit in the first place.”
An offended gasp escapes her lips at your accusation. “I wasn’t talking shit! I was being honest about my skills.”
This time, Peter cuts in before the blonde gets a chance to make fun of the archer again. “Guys, I thought we decided against Monopoly so we wouldn’t fight.”
“Fighting is Yelena’s love language,” you reply with a shrug.
You pretend not to notice the way the Russian’s lips quirk up into a small smile and instead focus on Kate and her awful decision-making skills. It takes her a few extra seconds and she still manages to choose the most annoying card in her hand.
“It took you two minutes to throw in a plus-four?” Peter questions, clearly doing his best to not sound judgemental.
“Shut up and take the cards, Pete.”
The boy grumbles something you don’t quite catch but Kate is quick to punch him in the arm, earning herself a kick to the shin. Their dynamic is certainly…interesting and you can’t stop yourself from wondering how much of it comes from being two only children attempting to one-up each other.
Yelena leans in toward you, pretending to whisper. “Why are we hanging out with them again?”
The pair clearly overhears her considering both the glare and the pout that gets thrown your way. You merely shrug in response, attempting to shield your cards from her expert gaze. “It’s…entertaining, I guess.”
“You guys are jerks,” Kate says, speaking the thoughts Peter is far too nice to vocalize. (It’s definitely not because he’s terrified of getting on Yelena’s bad side.)
“And you suck at Uno.”
She rolls her eyes at you but decides not to reply. The small moment of silence allows Peter to take his turn and the game continues…until Yelena decides to betray you.
You’re not fully paying attention to the strategies each one of your companions is forming which means you don’t realize it when they decide to team up against you.
You’re only four cards away from winning and the blonde beside you can’t stop herself from sneaking a look at your deck. Kate somehow manages to catch her in the act and the two stare each other down until the archer raises an eyebrow, silently asking to be a part of the Russian’s plan.
A plan that quickly leads to Kate placing down another plus-four card and Peter being thrown one of Yelena’s under the table. 
“We can stack, right?” He asks, mainly in an attempt to keep you from noticing what they’re doing.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” you reply with a shrug. “Just don’t be surprised when Yelena pulls out a knife from her boot.”
The joke gets a few chuckles, and a slightly concerned look from the young Avenger. 
“Do not worry, Spider-Boy, I promised y/n I wouldn’t threaten you…again.”
“Right…” Peter’s clearly not convinced but he throws in his card anyway.
You turn to face Yelena with a smug smirk. “Sorry, babe, but it looks like I’m on my way to winning this round.”
“You sound like Kate Bishop.” She playfully rolls her eyes at you but the glint in her eyes shows off more amusement than annoyance. “I hope you handle losing better than she does, though.”
“Hey!” You and the archer both voice your protests, albeit for different reasons, as the blonde slams down the last plus-four card needed to ensure you won’t win any time soon.
This time around, she’s the one who looks at you with a smug grin but you’re too busy being dramatic to fully appreciate how good she looks when she’s being competitive. It’s genuinely just a stupid card game and yet you pull out all the tricks you’ve learned over the past few months to get the Russian to melt into the huge softie she is at heart.
“Oh, come on, that was mean.” You pull on your best impression of Kate’s wounded puppy dog look. A look that includes slightly wide eyes and an incredibly deep pout.
A pout Yelena has never been good at resisting. (But only when it comes to you, much to the archer’s dismay)
She, literally and figuratively, keeps her cards close to her chest but you catch the way her free hand twitches slightly, almost as if she’s fighting to keep herself from touching you. It’s strange how affectionate she wants to be with you when she’s always been the first to pull away from a hug, the first one to scoot away when someone sits too close. 
Being guarded had always felt like second nature to her until you came along.
Her hand reaches out before she can stop it, landing on your knee and giving it a soft yet reassuring squeeze. It's a subtle reminder that underneath all her sarcasm and the rough edges, she cares about you. A lot more than she ever thought herself capable of.
“It’s just a game, sweetheart.” The words are a mere whisper but somehow the person with the worst attention span you’ve ever seen manages to overhear them.
“Did you just call y/n ‘sweetheart’?” Kate blurts out, clearly far too shocked to worry about her safety. “You actually have feelings?”
“Wait, did she really say that?” Peter’s slightly more cautious but there’s both awe in curiosity shining in his brown eyes.
“I heard her!”
“I think you hit your head too hard on your last mission, Bishop,” you reply, trying to steer the conversation away the second Yelena starts glaring at your friends.
Despite all her other skills, Kate is still awful at reading the room so instead of accepting the safety you’re offering, she decides to be stubborn like always. “Don’t lie to me, y/n, I know what I heard. Yelena’s just a big-”
“A big what?” The blonde cuts in with the most threatening glare she can manage. Which, considering she’s an ex-assassin, is quite effective at shutting the archer up.
“Um…” You can practically see the wheels spinning in the brunette’s head as she tries to come up with something different to say. She clearly fails based on the words that come out. “A big softie..?”
“Oh, Kate,” you sigh. “You’re never going to learn to stop poking the bear, huh?”
“What do you mean?” 
Her confusion lasts for about a second before Yelena shoots up from the couch and lunges toward her. The archer gets the message pretty quickly after that, expertly ducking out of the way and taking off running in the direction of the bathroom.
All you can do is laugh and shake your head as the Russian chases after her. “Go easy on her, babe!”
“Yeah, Yelena, listen to your girlfriend!”
“Kate!” You and the Russian yell out at the same time, leading to a fit of giggles belonging to the biggest instigator you've ever met.
"So much for a chill game night," Peter mumbles, placing his cards onto the coffee table. "You're gonna go help Kate out, right?"
You shrug. "I'll think about it."
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spacebarbarianweird · 23 days
Note
Hi! I love your headcanons and fics! Can I request Astarion and a Tav that is a follower of Bahamuth the platinum dragon? Could it be a Paladin, a Cleric or a Sorcerer?
Oh, this is a nice idea! I've already made Cleric of Selûne! Tav and Cleric of Latander!Tav - time to see rare gods!
Bahamut, the Platinum Dragon is the deity of good-aligned dragons and metallic dragons, being considered the first of their kind. He is a sworn enemy of Tiamat, the Scaled Tyrant, who is the queen of the chromatic dragons.
Masterlist
Headcanons
Astarion x Cleric of Bahamuth!Tav
You are forced into marriage when you were fifteen.
A common practice in your area but that doesn't make it any less awful.
Your husband, a man who has buried three wives before you, is eager to consummate the marriage.
You barely remember the first wedding night and the nights that follow.
Only pain, beatings, and humiliation.
So you decide to run.
Your husband's people have been hunting you like a doe until one day you met a monk.
The monk fight your husband's people with his bare hands.
You are free but for how long.
He is powerful. He is vindictive. He is unforgiving.
You beg the monk to take you with him and he agrees.
You spend a year learning under his training - he is a wise man, kind and intelligent.
He teaches you the ways of magic and secret knowledge of dragons.
You assist him in his travels and help the less fortunate.
One day, he reveals his true form to you.
He is Bahamuth, the god of good-aligned dragons, who prefers to live with mortals.
Оnce the initial shock wears off, you swear your allegiance to him.
The Dragon God makes you his priest, a cleric of the light domain.
Bahamut does not demand anything from you except that you be a good person - otherwise he receives his blessings from you. That is all. You are not obliged to obey him.
As your first mission, you are asked to go to Baldur's Gate and help people who suffer from the Absolute cult but on the way to the city you are kidnapped.
You manage to unite people around you - you strike hope in your companions.
Even in Astarion, though, he will never admit it.
He mocks your religion and your faith but you are patient and, with time, he becomes more accepting.
You don't how to react to his confession - the forced marriage and matrimonial rape made a mental block in your head.
You don't know how to love.
But you know how to care and, gods, Astarion needs a dragon to be saved from his misery.
Your relationship is rather asexual - you both aren't sure you ever want to have sex.
You destroy his master with Flamestrike and Daylight.
In the graveyard, you both forget all your traumas - and spend a night in each other's arms.
In the middle of the acts you almost get arrested for public misconduct but you make a fuss showing your cleric symbols.
It's not like the poor guardian knows Bahamut doesn't require having sex on the cemetery.
With the tadpole gone, you are adamant about finding Astarion a cure.
Not just an ability to walk in the sun, but the cure.
Bahamuth must know how to do that but you can't contact him though you feel his presence.
You and Astarion decide to travel through Faerun.
With time, Astarion accepts your faith. Sometimes he prays with you and he always listens to your theological lectures.
Unfortunately, when there is a vampire, there is a monster hunter.
Astarion is killed - and his body turns to ashes.
You are devastated.
It's unfair.
You deny Bahamuth and spend a year doing everything he despises.
Murders, debauchery, crimes.
One morning you wake in a dungeon cell with a very familiar monk as your cellmate.
Bahamuth listens to your cries and complaints and... ask to forgive him.
He is a god. A dragon. He doesn't understand mortals.
You ask him to return you Astarion and he agrees.
Besides, he's wanted to pay a visit to Hells a long time ago.
He keeps his promise - Astarion is back. Bahamuth says he is going to the Astral Sea and you will probably not meet again in your mortal life.
When Astarion opens his eyes, you are too busy cradling him in your arms to notice something is off.
His eyes are green and his skin isn't that pale.
There is a beating heart in his chest and he breathes.
A resurrected vampire is a mortal.
He needs time to get used to his mortal body but his vampiric years feel to him like a nightmare.
One day he confesses to you that as he was praying to gods to save him he never prayed to Bahamuth.
He just didn't know such a god existed.
--
Tag list
@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @queenofthespacesquids
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lovelybrooke · 8 months
Note
I’m going to be really honest, I’m the one who mentioned death note and I wanted to send a request for awhile but I kinda chickened out. I gained the courage so I hope this reaches you. I’m aroace and you believe L to be aroace. I’d like to know if the relationship between the reader and L would be just friendships or something deeper or more personal like queer platonic partner (qpp). In other words I’m asking for a L with an aroace reader headcanon a (no pressure of course)
Platonic Yandere L Lawliet x Aroace reader
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As someone who is asexual, I'm really happy agrees with me that L is Aroace. I am more than happy to write these headcanons. Also, sorry if you didn't want this to be yandere, but I think it's pretty soft for yandere headcanons.
Check out my other works here: Masterlist.
I personally believe L has known he was Aroace since he was young. He's known sex and romantic relationships were not something for him, but I see him as someone who still desires platonic friendships. See how he is with Watari; someone he views as a parent. I think that if given the chance, L can and would want to develop a strong bond with someone.
There's a strong possibility that L figures out your Aroace before you even tell him, he's very smart like that. He catches on to it when you're asked if your dating, about your sexual experience, about if you ever plan on getting married. It doesn't take a genius to tell you're uncomfortable by these questions, and so it doesn't take much to put two and two together. He never asks you himself, instead he waits until you tell him yourself, incase what he was seeing was incorrect. I think from there your relationship would bloom slowly into something more.
I 100% believe that if you were to enter a queer platonic relationship with L, you wouldn't know about it. Not that he necessarily manipulates you into one, he just doesn't ask you because your relationship doesn't change. You were already very close to L; nothing really changes once you enter into a q.p.r. So, whether or not you consider him your "partner" is really up to you. L doesn't care what you call him as long as you're with him.
L has always cared about you deeply, but he shows that care through actions more than words. Of course, if someone asks him, he'll tell them that you're his deepest friend, but his actions express that way more than words ever could. He uses all his resources to keep you safe, makes sure you are in good health both mentally and physically, and overall does everything to insure your happiness.
L doesn't believe anyone understands him like you do, not just because you're Aroace, but because you're able to notice things about him that others don't. You can tell when he's hungry before he calls for Watari, handing him a piece of cake. You're the only person who can tell when he's joking around, not feeling afraid to laugh at his dry sense of humor. You share your interests in him, knowing that he's listening even if he doesn't say anything.
L doesn't feel the need to explain your guy's relationship to anyone. If someone asks if you're dating, he says no, just because you two were holding hands, going on dates, sitting close together doesn't mean you're dating. If someone asks who you are to him, he says that you're his dearest companion. He doesn't care what other people think about your relationship, what he cares about is you.
L doesn't really get jealous, especially with a reader who is Aroace. He knows there is no likelihood you're leaving him to be in a relationship, so he never feels challenged by people trying to take you from him. In fact, he doesn't really do anything about it. He doesn't want to dignify the person with a reaction, knowing you're mature enough to tell them you're not interested.
However, he is possessive. If you live with him, he makes you stay home on days when he knows he's going to come across someone who is going to take up all your time. If you are with him at work, he makes you stay near him he can keep an eye on you. If you call him out on is possessive behavior, he'll say it's nothing more than him keeping you safe, whether or not that's a lie is hard to tell.
Speaking of moving in together, I can definitely image you two having separate rooms. He'd thinks it's important to have lives and interest separate from each other, and I personally don't see him ever being close enough with someone to share a bed with them. Though, even if you do have separate rooms, he spends most of his time in yours, even taking his work to your room just so he can be with you. He doesn't view himself as clingy, but his actions betray him.
L doesn't exactly know what that future looks like for him and you. For so long, marriage has been pushed on to the both of you as the ultimate end goal, so once L is done with the Kira case (in this he doesn't die), he fears that you'd leave him, and he'd be alone once again. But he's comforted by the fact that you don't plan on leaving him any time soon. Your relationship might not be conventional, but it's one he wouldn't trade for anything in the world.
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quitealotofsodapop · 2 months
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JTTW-era Stone Egg part 2:
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referencing this previous post about the Pilgrims reacting to the knowledge that au!Wukong is having a baby and has a missing mate.
Ao Lie is a real bro; he figured out Wukong was a having a kid based on his dragon/horse nose, and decides to support him 100% no matter his choice at the end of the day. The fact that he suspects its an asexually-produced Stone Egg that could kill his new buddy is something Ao Lie is keeping quiet about until Wukong himself is comfortable sharing it.
Ao Lie, after Bajie accuses him of having a crush on Wukong: "Ew no! He most certainly has a mate awaiting his return - I wouldn't dare dishonor a married demon!" Wukong, brightly playing along: "Yeah, piglet! Plus, no one will ever measure up to my Mihou!" Ao Lie, confused whinny: "Excuse me, what?" Wukong, tail curling into a heart: "The strongest, most clever monkey on Flower Fruit Mountain - my equal in all including on the battlefield. <3"
The rest of the gang are pleasantly surprised... and outraged to learn that their pregnant companion has a mate that up and left him while he was pregnant. Whomever this "Macaque" figure is, the Pilgrims gonna have a stern talk with him when they find him.
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Except maybe the two former-celestials;
Bajie is just like: "Wait, did you just say this Macaque guy was your equal in battle!?" Wukong, wistful sigh: "Yeah..." Zhu Bajie & Sha Wujing: *share equally terrified looks*
Maybe they'll need to devise an attack strategy before confronting this guy head on. Ao Lie loudly states that he's gonna kick the guy if he sees him first.
Tripitaka meanwhile has to mentally wrap his head around the idea of two men marrying before he can process that *Sun Wukong* is married. The Confuscist / Buddhist attitudes at the time said "Girls have Karma Cooties"; so it was considered normal for men to "prefer other men's company" but it was still super-illegal. Being raised in a sheltered, likely all-male, monastery also adds in extra confusion for the monk. Not to mention his own asexuality.
Tripitaka: "Is it... acceptable for a man to love another man like one would a woman?" Zhu Bajie: "Only if they're into it." Tripitaka: "Wha...?"
Eventually he ends up asking the boddhisattvas and different gods for their opinions;
Tripitaka: "Is it normal amongst those in the Celestial Realm for men to... have thoughts of romance for other men?" Erlang: "Oh diyu, yeah! It's totally normal! We even have Tu'er Shen - he's the rabbit god of homosexual love!" Tripitaka, pleasantly surprised: "Oh! That's interesting - but is it accepted?" Erlang & the Plum Hill Lads: *share a footballer's huddle, whispering intensely* Erlang: "Ehhh... just don't bring it up around my uncle. He's kinda weird about it." Triptiaka, a little heartbroken: "Oh..."
Best advice comes from Guanyin herself ofc;
Guanyin: "I'm am composed of multiple energies, Tang Monk. Although I do not experience romantic feelings like say, Chang'e and Hou Yi, I know for a fact that the buddha does not judge those for whom they love - even if their fellow man do so." Tripitaka: *delighted smile!* Tripitaka, remembering why he asked: *fatherly instincts activate* "I'm going to kill that Liu'er Mihou for breaking my student's heart!"
In the Jttw Stone Egged au where Macaque lives, Tripitaka is the only one to get a solid punch in before Wukong calls the gang off.
Angst and canonical death tw under Read More;
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Zhu Bajie ultimately starts out as a huge a-hole, and the Journey makes him a little less of a jerk. One huge change Wukong noticed in his bro's behavior was around the time... he lost Macaque.
Especially in the Slow Boiled au.
Bajie would walk up to Wukong like he did many time when he tried stealing his snacks or to poke fun at him... only to sit down next to the monkey watches the moon together. Both longing.
Zhu Bajie: "You know... I wasn't lying when I said I was cursed to suffer many heartbreaks... I know what it looks like from a mile away." Wukong: *says nothing, hiding face in his arms and knees* Zhu Bajie: "You really loved that guy, huh?" Wukong: *nods, face still hidden* Zhu Bajie, confidently: "...you'll see him again. Maybe not in this lifetime, but you will." Wukong, uncharacteristically quiet: "Thanks..." Zhu Bajie: "No problem."
The pig is noticeably easier on Wukong after that day. And maybe a little more appriciative of the time he had with Culian... he's experienced enough bad love-lifes to figure out how to make things work. Maybe after the Journey is over, he'll give her a call?
He does really hope his Eldest Brother and his mate reunite in the future... even if it means in the Diyu.
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animentality · 2 months
Note
Sorry people are being a bunch of weenies. I do not have the same interpolations of Whoretash however I do very much like yours and I think your incorrect quotes are immaculate
But I do think that if people are being rude then you don't need to feed them, so I don't blame you for putting BG3 in the corner.
You know what really annoys me, anon?
For MONTHS. these people have been reblogging my posts. chattering to me about Gortash and Durgetash.
And all this time... I have CAREFULLY. gone out of my way. painstakingly. meticulously.
referred to the dark urge as they/them. why???
because I never wanted people with female Durges to feel like my dark urge head canons didn't include them. I didn't want people with male Durges to feel like I wasn't including them.
I wanted enby and trans and g/n durges to be included in my silly ramblings.
and I might've joked about Gortash being gay or bi or whatever, but mostly I have been the most pro, whatever your Durge is, he is into that specifically. he could even be ace and he's still into Durge.
that's the beauty of the queer label. I never said he had to fuck men to be queer. he could be with a female Durge and still be queer.
and even though my durges are trans male or nonbinary, and gay as hell, I still liked anyone who liked Durge as an origin, AND who saw the beauty of durgetash.
but NOW.
these same people are bitching at me because... I said Gortash is bisexual. they're insisting I AM PROJECTING my sexuality on him and acting like I'm the non-inclusive one.
and it makes me really feel like...
your brain couldn't power a potato clock.
Gortash being bisexual is literally the MORE inclusive option. it's NOT saying he's gay, he's not into women, or he's straight, he's not into men.
it's saying no matter what your Durge is, he'd be into them. no matter who your tav is, he's into them.
and the fact that I'm bi- it's such a fucking joke that they're using that against me.
I say I'm bi because I don't care to explain that I'm asexual, but biromantic.
I hate extra labels, and bisexual is way easier for most people to understand.
so these people accusing me of forcing my sexuality on a character are baffling because if I was doing that, I would NOT be talking about the dark urge and gortash fucking nasty every night. I'd be talking about how they sit at home reading books together. I'd be talking about how they hug at night and don't let go, and don't even play grab ass once.
It's also further obnoxious because these fucking people.
They have... every single... video game, movie, TV show, goddamn cereal ad... dedicated to straight people.
Baldur's Gate... is like the most bisexual game in all of existence.
the tavs can be trans, they can be cis, they can be gay, bi, straight, ace. whatever you want.
there are gay gnomes and lesbian aasimars and all the companions are bisexual.
it's the most queer friendly game of this century.
but they can't let this one character go. they get confirmation that this one character "might be straight" and now they're using that same fucking language of "ew why does everyone have to be gay with you people?"
and it's a joke.
Anyway, though. Thanks for sticking around.
I'm glad someone's enjoying my nonsense.
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bg3-npc · 5 months
Text
Asexual Awareness Week and BG3
Below the cut is 1,100+ words of interpreting Wyll Ravengard as demisexual. As an asexual person, I relate to many of Wyll's desires and experiences. That relation has lead me to this interpretation of him as a character. Interpretation is the key word here. This is simply another way view this character and gain insight. It's obviously extremely biased, which is why I put the word count first. So if your interested in analysis that is probably more projection than interpretation, I bring you this.
Wyll is portrayed as an almost incurable romantic. He constantly references stories, tales, fables, and myths when discussing his romantic desires. Romance heavily influences his sexual desires as well. It is practically inherent to his sexual attraction. While this can be viewed as idealism, I want to propose an alternative outlook. One where he hasn’t conflated romance and sexuality, but rather one where romance is vital to his sexuality.
Wyll talks little of his sexual habits outside of when romance is being discussed. These quotes are about dancing, but they happen while you’re romancing him.
“Don't worry! It's not really about the dance, it's about who's we're dancing with.”
“I had years of lessons but in truth it's all about your partner.”
Like when you’re romancing most companions, many things said have multiple meanings or implications. He’s telling you that while he does enjoy sex, it’s who you’re doing it with that makes it truly pleasurable. I think Wyll desires the intimacy that comes from sex more than the act itself. He’s drawn to the connection it brings rather than the pleasure.
At one point he describes his sexual history as “tight-laced” when he’s talking with Shadowheart.  He says, “I was never one to sew my wild oats.” Apparently Wyll hasn’t had to practice and exercise much sexual restraint in his life. It’s easy to control one’s sexual desires when you don’t really feel them to begin with.
While he can understand people’s various sexual habits, I don’t think he can relate. He doesn’t see the appeal to casual sex. Sex doesn’t feel satisfying to him without connection. He has impulses, and sometimes he wants to act on them, but they don’t seem worth it. He doesn’t derive enough pleasure from the act alone to pursue it. Romantic relationships already provide sex, and he values love above all else. Why would he want anything else?
“Eh-heh, well, give it some time! Develop a bond, and…maybe I'll show you a move or two.”
“Hm, think of love as a strong ale, or a warm fire. Is the clang of steel on steel not made more satisfying by the pleasures that come after?”
Doesn’t sex feel decidedly better when you’re having it with someone you care for? How satisfactory can it be without attachment? How truly enjoyable is it without a bond?
“I value affection, over fun. A lasting memory over a passing fancy.” 
“But I’ve always been a bit old-fashioned on these matters. I find more pleasure in a courtly dance, than a loveless fling.”
Isn’t it more fulfilling to love someone than lust for them? Do you not feel more fulfilled from loving someone than sleeping with them? Is sex even worth having without love?
“Gods I want you, but I can't take your body without taking your heart.”
Can Wyll even give you his body without giving you his heart? They seem to go hand in hand for him. Love is essential to his sexual enjoyment, he doesn’t seem to experience sexual desire without it. Love might be the only way he can desire it. Here is an interaction between him and Astarion.
Astarion: "You didn’t kiss anyone until you were fifteen?! Gods. What a tragic, sheltered life."
Wyll: "Sheltered? Not at all! I was exposed to all manner of riot and revelry. Hells, my father even urged me on once or twice."
His romantic tendencies don’t come from inexperience or prudishness. Wyll isn’t oblivious or naive when it comes to sex. He’s been exposed and even encouraged to have it. While he might call it “proper”, Wyll is aware his way of courting isn’t for everyone. Your sexual habits might not align with his personal wants, but he won’t respect you any less for yours. Wyll does not believe your sex life effects your worth. If anything, he feels his wants are regressive.
“But I still keep faith in the old tales of love. The ‘once upon a times’ and the ‘happily ever-afters’.”
“I'd, like to do this the proper way. The way of the old romances sung by the bards.”
“But I’ve always been a bit old-fashioned on these matters.”
He constantly uses the word “old” to describe his courting methods. He’s acknowledges these desires aren’t modern, and by referencing fairytales he’s aware they might even be fictious. He calls his sexual habits “tight-laced”, his romantic intentions as “old-fashioned”. They’re not exactly said negatively, but more with the acknowledgment that his wants come across as restrictive. When the habits of today hold no appeal to you, you feel stuck in the past. What are you supposed to do when fiction seems to be the only place where romance is done how you’d like?
If you have sex with Mizora, these are some of his responses.
“You shared your body with the fiend who holds my soul.”
“We danced! We made a connection…and you severed it for a single bite of the Hells?”
This next quote is how he responds if you say, ‘Can you blame me? It’s not like you’ve been putting out.’
“Is that what matters to you? Sex without union? Heat without heart? Did you not take joy in the dance?”
Now obviously the biggest issue is you slept with the being that holds his soul. However, he says these things because he thought you felt the same way about sex as he does. He thought sex was an act as precious to you as it was to him. He thought you also prioritized love over physicality. He thought you enjoyed the way things were going, clearly he was. Had he known you didn’t feel the same, he probably never would’ve pursued you.
Wyll doesn’t do casual, he doesn’t do “let’s see where this goes”. He seems like the type to pursue every romance with the intention of marriage. No, he won’t propose on the first date. He won’t even necessarily think either of you are compatible. However, that’s the whole point of courting! It’s to test the potential of forever. He likes agreements, he likes pacts. He wants certainty, reliability.
Yes, he probably hasn't had much firsthand experience with relationships. Yes, all these things can be seen as restraint. Yes, they can be seen as repression. They can also be seen as someone who knows himself and genuinely wants “happily ever after”. Someone who’s aware of what he’s asking and wants you to desire it as well. Maybe love is the only way he can connect to his sexual desires. Maybe love is important to him because it’s the only way he can truly enjoy sex. Love might be the only thing that lets him experience sex like everyone else. Maybe love is the only thing that let's him feel sex like it’s described in fantasy. Maybe he’s lost in that fantasy, or maybe he’s just demisexual.
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ambertrulife · 5 days
Text
Begging - Radioapple One-Shot - For Mature Audience
Warning ! This text is for mature people only ! It's containt some sexual interaction, even if they don't really describe !
First of all, I don't really know asexuality or aromantism. To be fair, even if I'm considering myself in this spectrum (for being ace, I'm not aro), I don't know if I illustrate good the people form this community. If I'm not, I'm sorry about that.
I don't pretend to understand the character of Alastor and Lucifer. Man, you can say they're a little OOC here, but I try to write something about them who satisfy myself and I want to share it with you ! I hope you enjoyed it !
Oh, and sorry, it's a big baby. I'd hestitated to do multipical post but, in the end, I'd decided to post all in one !
"You're nothing but a piece of shit," Lucifer growled as he staggered back.
"And yet, I smell better than you." replied Alastor, his steps assured despite the amount of alcohol in his blood.
It was around 4 a.m. and they had just returned to the hotel. The lobby was empty of life, the other residents probably asleep. The duo had spent a rather restless night. At Charlie's request, they followed Vox and Valentino throughout the evening to see if they had any contact with a demon who had breached the hotel's security. Alastor had insisted that he could simply use his magic to listen their conversation via the radios, and Lucifer had agreed. But the Princess of Hell had been adamant: no demonic or angelic power. The demon who had attacked the hotel was very powerful and could watch Vox and Valentino as well as them. So they had to be discreet, disguise ourselves and follow them. When Lucifer pointed out that Alastor could carry out the task alone, his daughter replied that she was afraid for him in case of trouble. The King of Hell relented under his daughter's pleading gaze, causing Alastor to roll his eyes.
So they left early in the evening incognito. Angel had dressed them so they wouldn't be recognized, which had been a challenge. It wasn't as if they looked like everyman. Alastor had ended up disguised as a fat, mismatched old cat man, and Lucifer as a chic old imp woman.
At first, they had carried out their mission in all seriousness, ignoring each other most of the time in order to concentrate on the two Overlords. Then, at some point during the evening, they found themselves in a bar. They ordered drinks and positioned themselves far away so they didn't risk to be spotted by Vox and Valentino. They drank in silence, then Lucifer ordered another drink. Alastor laughed at him and told him not to get drunk as they had a mission to finish. Lucifer gave him an angry look and retorted that it would take more than that to finish him off. One thing led to another and they ended up ordering far, far too much alcohol, which they finished. In a daze, they hadn't noticed that Vox and Valentino had left. They'd falled their mission.
In a pitiful state, both had returned to the hotel with difficulty, even if the Radio Demon hid his condition better than his companion.
"I smell because you pushed me into the garbage!" exclaimed Lucifer as he pointed an accusing finger at the man disguised as a cat.
"You wallowed on your own," Alastor retorted in a half-truth. Lucifer had staggered and fallen onto the Overlord, who had reflexively pushed him away. Lucifer had tipped over into the waste.
"You bastard!" shouted Lucifer. "That's not true, and you know it!"
"Listen." growled the Radio Demon, rubbing his forehead. "I've put up with you long enough and, for your own safety, it would be best if I returned to my room."
"My own safety!" sneered the King. "Come on, Albert, even in this state, you can't do anything against me."
The Overlord slowly turned his head towards the angel, who had a provocative sneer on his face.
"I could kill you with my own will," threatened the Demon. Lucifer laughed.
"Oh, how cute!" teased the latter, hands clasped and an adorable pout on his face, but those eyes were clearly defiant. "The little kitty hisses at me and gets the little claws out of his little paws! Don't be ridiculous, kid. You're too weak to do anything to me."
A ball of frustration and rage grew in his chest as his usual smile began to take on a destructive expression.
Whether Alastor liked it or not, Lucifer was right. He could never beat him, even if he made a contract with all the souls in Hell. The angel was on another level, even for Zestial. Adam himself, at the height of his power, had failed to inflict an injury on him when he'd knocked the Radio Demon out in one blow. He couldn't dominate him on a battlefield.
Even beating him over his daughter's affection was increasingly compromised. Lucifer and Charlie were growing closer. She hugged him more often, went to him for advice more, and spoke of him to Alastor with great enthusiasm. Of course, the Radio Demon remained an important friend to the Princess of Hell, but it was becoming complicated to win the competition for his affection. He was losing that battle.
"I'll make you beg my name if you say the word 'weak' again, little man," said the Radio Demon in his most menacing voice, the one he'd reserved for the Overlord he'd destroyed and annihilated.
Lucifer gave him the most provocative smile he could muster and staggered towards him. He placed his finger on his chest and, with just a tiny fraction of his power, pushed him. Alastor ended up on the ground several meters away. His back hit the marble with pain and he winced under the impact. He straightened up and looked at the angel.
"Weak." declared the latter with unmitigated contempt.
Alastor then stood up quickly and approached with a determined step. He couldn't beat him. He couldn't use his demonic powers. He had to surprise him as much as possible to gain the upper hand. When he reached the gate, an idea suddenly occurred to him that disgusted him to no end. There was one battle he hadn't fought yet before the armistice was sounded.
Without warning, he advanced even closer to Lucifer. Lucifer was prepared for a blow. Not when Alastor's hand reached behind his head and drew him to him. The Demon's lips touched the angel's with great force and determination. This surprised the King of the Hell so much that he let the Demon Radio take over the situation.
It wasn't the first time Alastor had kissed someone. When he was alive, he was used to this kind of behavior. Kissing, fucking, he had to do it to appear normal, to be like the others, to fit into a society he'd never wanted to be part of in the first place. He'd had girlfriends, mainly because he thought it would please his mother. I'm normal, Mom, look, I'm bringing girls home! One of them will probably be my wife, look how happy I am!
The truth was, all that romance and what went with it didn't appeal to him. Having to play the lover to a woman in whom he felt only the respect he had for all his kind was clearly not his thing. He wasn't romantically attracted to these women, nor sexually. The relationships he had always ended because of this. Because of his "impotence" when, in reality, it was just that he didn't have that desire in him. But then again, in his day, that wasn't something people understood.
When his mother had assured him that he didn't have to force himself to please her, to fit in, he'd felt an affection so great it would have brought tears to his eyes. He hugged her and silently thanked her for understanding him.
It had been a while since he'd played this role, but Lucifer didn't seem to mind. He had literally surrendered himself to his kiss, opening his mouth to allow him access to his oral cavity. Alastor deepened his kiss, dominatingly slipping his tongue into the angel's mouth to begin a frenzied dance. He brought the King's body closer, his hand behind his firm head and the other on those unyielding hips. As he squeezed, he could feel Lucifer's erection against his leg. Typical.
The Radio Demon made them melt into the shadows and they suddenly landed on a bed. Alastor hadn't calculated where he'd teleported to; he simply didn't want to soil his room. He just knew he was somewhere in the hotel.
He broke the kiss and began nibbling Lucifer's neck, his breathing ragged and his excitement clearly visible. With one firm hand, the Radio Demon imprisoned both of the angel's wrists above his head, while the other descended sensuously down the old woman's dress.
Alastor heard a slight hiccup from Lucifer as he sank his teeth into his flesh and felt his shudder as Alastor finally reached the skin of his legs. Then, suddenly, the King's body tensed.
"Oulah, wait, stop!" whispered the angel, softly. This made the Overlord stop." What are we doing here?"
The Radio Demon licked the bite mark on the King's skin.
"Foreplay." he replied simply, factually. He tried to move his hand up under his dress but was stopped.
"No, Alastor! Stop!" panicked Lucifer softly. Alastor stepped back slightly, one eyebrow raised. It was the first time he'd heard the King call him by his first name.
"What's the matter?" sighed this one. "Don't tell me you don't want it, I can feel it from here."
"That's not the problem!" exclaimed the angel, red-faced. "It's just that... Are you the one throwing that?"
"Throw what?" questioned the Demon.
"Well, that!" replied Lucifer in a low voice.
"That what? The sexual relationship?" tried to clarify Alastor.
"Yes!" exclaimed Lucifer softly.
"The answer seems pretty obvious to me," scoffed the Overlord, "Even to a backward person like you."
"But, you don't like it, do you?" asked the King.
The Demon in cat's clothing was startled before frowning dangerously.
"How do you know that?" he said dryly.
"Not hard to see, even for a backward person like me," Lucifer ironized. "You don't seem at all attracted to other people's charms and what's more, you're totally indifferent when you see this sort of thing on the street."
Alastor stared at him for a moment. Rather observant, for someone who didn't like him.
"Yeah, so what?" he finally says with a shrug. "It doesn't mean I can't have sex."
"Yes, but that just means you're not going to enjoy it," retorted the angel. "And then, frankly, do you really want to fuck me?"
"No." Alastor's answer came without thinking, instinctively.
"Ah!" sneered Lucifer. "So, the question is, what do you want from me?"
"That you beg me." continued the Demon. When he realized what he'd said, he fell silent. Lucifer, beneath him, wore an expression of pure surprise.
Alastor suddenly felt embarrassed by the situation. But what was he thinking? He realized that the alcohol had affected him far more than he had realized. He never acted on these impulses, usually. He'd spent his life controlling himself and others. He was the one in charge. How could he have fallen into this situation? He began to walk away, letting go of Lucifer's wrists and looking away.
"You're right," he admitted reluctantly. "This situation is ridiculous. Let's not talk about it anymore."
He was about to vanish into the shadows when suddenly he heard a voice that was irresistible to his ears.
"Please."
A ball of pure power formed in his chest, swelling under the effect of dopamine. He turned his head towards Lucifer, who bit his lower lip red. He was embarrassed, really uncomfortable, but his voice, the tone he'd used, was really pleading, as if he owed him something, as if it was a matter of life or death. It was everything the Radio Demon wanted. Eyes round with surprise, he let Lucifer straighten up.
"Okay, damn, oh this is awkward." this one stammered before taking a small breath. "Okay, so, here's how it's going to work. We're going to sit opposite each other and I'm going to... I'm going to beg you. You just look at me in the eye. Okay?"
Alastor was confused, his smile almost gone due to his psychological state. He shook his head and placed his hands in front of him, as if to regain control of the situation.
"Wait, I don't understand." he said finally "You're just going to beg me like that? With nothing in return?"
Lucifer bit his lips again and blushed profusely. Alastor frowned and thought before realizing. The angel had an erection.
"Listen!" exclaimed the King softly. "I'm not asking you to do anything. Hell, I don't even know how I'm going to react to what's about to happen!" He ran a hand through his hair, removing the wig he had from his old-woman disguise. "Let's test it, shall we? It doesn't work, it doesn't work, that's it!"
The Radio Demon had a question that immediately came to his mind, but he preferred not to ask it. The ball of pure power was already dissipating and he had an irresistible urge to feel it again. He finally nodded.
"Okay." he replied softly. He settled on the bed, sitting in front of Lucifer. The angel closed his eyes for a few seconds, then settled back comfortably. He then stared at him, and Alastor waited a few moments before hearing the King's imploring voice again.
"Please."
The sensation grew inside him again, and as Lucifer's pleas continued, it grew and devoured him. He felt so good, so powerful, so euphoric just hearing the angel pray to him. He'd felt this way before when his victims implored him, but never on this level. It was much more intense when it came from the mouth of a quasi-divine being.
As agreed, he looked into his eyes, observing him as the Demon glowered in satisfaction. He was so locked in his own state that he didn't notice the spark of desire in Lucifer's eyes until a few moments later. He then began to analyze his behavior. The King's face was taut with intense effort. He bit his lips repeatedly, as if holding something back. His breathing was erratic, even though his words seemed under control. Alastor slowly began to understand what was happening when he saw that only one hand was visible in his field of vision. He wanted to lower his gaze to where he thought the other was, but suddenly felt fingers tracing up his chin.
Lucifer had straightened his head slightly to prevent him from seeing further down. His gaze had become imploring.
"I'm begging you," he whispered. The lump in Alastor's chest swelled even more when he realized that this request wasn't feigned.
With a small smile, he gave him an amused look as he saw Lucifer tense up and hold back another, more powerful sound from coming out of his mouth.
______________________________________________________________
It had been several weeks since what had happened that evening and, frankly, the situation between them hadn't changed. Alastor was sipping his tea and reading a book in the hotel lounge as he thought about what had happened next.
When Lucifer had finally ejaculated, they parted without a word, as if the situation didn't need to be discussed. The next day, they met up in the kitchen with the other residents and started arguing about how they hadn't succeeded in their mission the day before. Business as usual.
The Radio Demon didn't mind. It was only an interlude, a parenthesis caused by the alcohol they'd admittedly abused. In his mind, it was all but forgotten, although the feeling of power he'd felt hadn't really faded. Occasionally, he felt slightly nostalgic about it, but he quickly moved on. He had learned not to dwell on the past.
He heard footsteps and was not at all surprised to see Angel Dust and Lucifer enter the room. The big Pornstar and the little King got on quite well. At first, like everyone else he met, Angel had been very heavy-handed and suggestive, but that hadn't lasted. In the end, they acted more like nephew and uncle: not close enough to have a father-son relationship, but close enough for Lucifer to be a role model for Angel. The King felt affection for the Pornstar and it showed. In fact, he often called him "kiddo".
"Hey, Al!" called Angel cheerfully. Lucifer leaned against the edge of the door, looking much less cheerful.
"Angel," replied Alastor politely. He didn't look away from his book and continued sipping his tea.
"Charlie and Vaggie are suggesting we go see a show in town!" exclaimed the Spider Demon enthusiastically. "Are you coming?"
The Radio Demon raised an eyebrow and turned a page of his book.
"What kind of show?" he asked. "I don't think there's anything to see in Hell that could lead souls to redemption."
"Oh, Alastor!" gasped Angel, rolling his eyes. "It's nothing to do with that! It's just an outing between us! So, are you coming? Everyone's coming!"
Alastor finally looked up from his reading, intrigued.
"Everyone?" he asked, glancing at Lucifer. Lucifer winced.
"Not me, bellhop." he grunted in response. "Need someone to watch the hotel."
"Then, I can stay here." sighed the Radio Demon "Go have fun with these trivialities."
"Oh, come on, Al!" exclaimed Angel. "It's going to be fun! It's been a while since we've done this!"
"Because there had already been a first time?" asked Alastor.
"Touché." sneered the Pornstar. "But that makes the event even more important!"
"No," said the Radio Demon.
"Please?" asked Angel, in a pleading tone.
The Overlord looked up at the Spider Demon, who was making an adorable little boil, in an attempt to soften him up. He knew Angel often used this ploy to get what he wanted. He'd seen several residents succumb to this little trick. However, as much as he loved to be wanted, the fact that this insect was making this request left him indifferent.
"Sorry, Angel." he sighed again. "But begging doesn't make me hot or cold. The answer's still no."
Pornstar looked a little disappointed before pouting.
"Whatever you say, sour old man!" he said in a joking tone. "Stay locked up while we go have a blast without you!"
He left the room with a cheerful step. Alastor returned to his reading before realizing that Lucifer was no longer standing in the doorway when Angel had disappeared. Had he left before the discussion was over? Suddenly, he felt a presence close to his ear.
"Please." said a voice in a tone of absolute entreaty.
Alastor closed his eyes as the ball in his chest, which had begun to fade, reformed into a magnificent, burning sensation of power. He cast a dark look of satisfaction in the direction of the sound emission. He quickly met Lucifer's eyes, shining with defiance.
The King shrugged his shoulders and headed for the exit.
"Just to test your claims," he declared. He stopped in the doorway and turned a provocative expression toward him. "Not so indifferent, it would seem."
He left with a satisfied smile as Alastor glared at him.
That little prick.
______________________________________________________________
Alastor looked down the corridor with undisguised disgust. The decoration of the third floor was Lucifer's responsibility and the Radio Demon was adamant: it was hideous. He didn't know where to start: the shimmering blue tone? The circus imagery that didn't go with the color? Or was it those clown paintings that took up the vast majority of the space? He had the impression that every one of them was watching him, ready to devour him. He'd never been afraid of clowns, oh dear God, no, but he felt like throwing them all away for the affront of looking at him as if he were their breakfast.
He found the person responsible for this carnage a few yards away, as he added a new painting. His annoyance reached its peak.
"Can you stop putting clowns everywhere?!" he snarled. Lucifer ignored him completely. "You know the whole point is to get people to come and win Heaven, not to get them to commit suicide?"
"So, my dearest Alberto," began the King, his tone full of sarcasm. "Everyone loves circus. They're places that bring joy and happiness! When people get to this floor, they'll think: 'Wow! It's like walking into a dream!" "
"They'll mostly turn around and complain to management that we're trying to spy on them." growled Alastor and he tapped the angel's chest with his microphone. "And management is me. So, you're going to give me the pleasure of handing out an appropriate decoration."
"So, little guy." counter Lucifer, who slapped the microphone. "You may be the hotel manager, but my daughter's the boss! So, what she says goes above your orders. Now, she's asked me to manage the decoration of this floor. You can't argue with that."
Frustration was evident in the Radio Demon's features.
"Charlie and I are handling this together," he clarified. "I have the right to give my opinion on what goes on in this place. Your decoration is part of that. So take it down and put the old one back up."
"Oh yes!" ironized Lucifer. "I'm sure the Lovecraftian atmosphere was much more welcoming!"
"At least it had style," said Alastor.
"That's why Charlie asked me to change it," concluded the King with a smug look on his face.
The Radio Demon glared at him as the angel raised an eyebrow in provocation. God, he wanted to silence that laughable little being. Suddenly, Lucifer's face switched between two temporalities: that of the moment, with an expression of defiance, and another of a few months ago, tense and eager, holding back from cumming as he begged. Alastor felt the lump reform in his chest, this urge to make him swallow his smug air turning into an irresistible desire to see him again in a position of weakness. His gaze must have intensified, for Lucifer raised an eyebrow.
"What?" he asked. "Do I have something on my face?"
The Radio Demon regained his consistency. He mustn't give in to this impulse.
"Yes, indeed," he replied. The angel seemed surprised and began to touch his head.
"What? What is it?!" he exclaimed, searching for an impurity.
Alastor hummed a little tune before leaning forward, close to his interlocutor's face. The King raised an eyebrow as the Radio Demon detailed him in minute. Finally, he shrugged.
"Sorry, it's just your cake face," he replied sarcastically.
Lucifer grimaced.
"Ah, ah." he said without humor. "Fuck you."
"Oh, you'd love to." growled Alastor.
This led to a silence in the room that the Demon struggled to understand before realizing what he'd just said. He'd gone off the rails again. Hadn't he just said not to give in to this impulse? The situation was out of his control. He had to back down, and fast. Before he could make a move, he suddenly heard a voice speaking in a tone that had an effect on him he couldn't have foreseen.
"Pretty please."
Lucifer stared at him defiantly, though the words that came out of his mouth had nothing to do with his provocative expression. They stared at each other for a long moment, each burning with a vivid, destructive energy. Alastor was about to pounce on the little man in order to dominate him, to put him in his place, to give in to this impulse as he did to the one ordering him to kill, when he heard the elevator door open.
"Alastor?" called Vaggie, arriving quickly at the two companions. The Radio Demon had straightened up quickly to face the newcomer, his expression still as smiling and imperturbable as ever while his body was a veritable rollercoaster. What the hell would have happened if she hadn't appeared? What was wrong with him? This was the first time this had ever happened to him.
Was it sexual desire? No, it didn't seem to be. His body wasn't reacting as if it was. At least, it was as usual. There was only that burning desire in his chest, a desire he already knew from those hunts and murders, but more powerful, uncontrollable. He glanced at Lucifer, who had his back to Vaggie and himself. He had the feeling he didn't want to face them, to avoid showing the obvious signs of his discomfort.
"What is it, dear?" he asked. If the former exorcist found the situation strange, she didn't point it out.
"We need you downstairs," she said, simply. "Can you join us quickly?"
"I'll be right there!" he exclaimed. He readjusted his bow tie and watched Lucifer discreetly.
"Your Majesty." he said, with a slight tone of contempt that in reality was only feigned.
"Bellboy." replied Lucifer, with the same intonation. Alastor seemed to detect the confusion in his voice, but ignored it.
"I expect you to respect my directives," added the Radio Demon.
"Of course," agreed Lucifer. This set Alastor and Vaggie off, and they frowned.
So the Overlord walked away with the former exorcist down the corridor, towards the elevator. When they finally got within a few steps of the elevator, they heard a clicking sound. The two employees frowned, seeing nothing in particular happening. Finally, A1astor laid eyes on the portraits and almost broke his microphone in frustration.
All the clowns in the paintings had been replaced by the Radio Demon in gag-like positions. What all the pieces had in common was that, whatever the position, a middle finger was brandished.
The Overlord fulminated while the former exorcist laughed softly.
That fucking bastard.
______________________________________________________________
From that day on, Alastor's urges grew stronger and more irresistible. In response, he preferred to keep his distance from the angel. Not that he was running away, no, no, far from it. He was Demon Radio, after all, and it was in front of him that people ran for cover. No, he'd call it more of a strategic retreat. Cliche, but not far from the truth.
He didn't understand what was happening to him. He didn't know why that fireball in his chest reignited whenever Lucifer was around.
At first, he'd told himself it was just because he'd had a good time, weeks ago, soon to be months. So he told himself he'd go back to those old habits, in order to calm the devouring appetite for domination. He'd started hunting again, discreetly, so as not to alert the hotel to his activities. He had succeeded in catching and killing several preachers as well as Hell natives. He tortured them, forcing them to submit and implore him. But nothing worked. Even though it gave him immediate pleasure and relief from the burning, it always returned as a torch whenever he perceived the presence of the King of Hell. And boy, did this place stink of Lucifer. Wherever he was in this fucking city, he could feel the angelic presence ruling it by closing his eyes. He was so disgusted by it that he lived under its control.
He had refuted the sexual impulse for some time. He had looked at his body every time the emotion became intense and it didn't react. He wasn't getting hard, he wasn't feeling any pleasure from touching himself, even though he could feel Lucifer's presence close to him. No, there was nothing sexual about what he was feeling. Not for him. It gave him a similar sensation, perhaps, but it had nothing to do with it. But then, was it really just him who was having this effect on him? That was out of the question. But the more time passed, the less he could deny the possibility. The King of Hell had triggered something in him that he could control less and less.
One evening, a few weeks after their last altercation, they all gathered in the hotel lobby. After the success of their first outing, the hotel's residents had decided to go out more often. This evening was shaping up well for them. Everyone was keen to get out and about in the city of the pentagram. Alastor looked on with a sigh. He'd taken part in a few of these outings and, although he had to admit he'd enjoyed himself, he found them exhausting. Not that he didn't enjoy the action, far from it, but he was much in demand on these excursions and much preferred to drink tea with Rosie, in a calmer, more composed way.
The big absentee from these escapades was Lucifer, who had never taken part in any of them. The official reason was that someone needed to watch over the hotel. The unofficial reason was that the King of Hell was not at all comfortable with the souls he was supposed to govern. In itself, it was an open secret, but no one dared intervene. Give him time, Charlie concluded.
"Are you ready, everyone?" asked Charlie enthusiastically. Lucifer laughed at the situation.
"Sweetie," he said tenderly, "you say that like you know where you're going!"
The young woman laughed, which seemed to bring her father great joy.
"But that's what adventure is all about, Dad!" she exclaimed. "Every outing takes us somewhere unknown!"
"We often end up in the same bar, though." said Husk with a shrug. Angel gave him a playful punch on the shoulder.
"Yeah, but we never get there the same way!" he retorted, eliciting a knowing smile from the Cat Demon.
"You really should come with us, Dad." said Charlie, softly, as she took her father's hands. "I'm sure you'd like that."
Lucifer's smile grew tense and his expression slightly panicked. He forced a laugh.
"Oh, sweetie!" he said playfully, "I'm too old for this crap!"
"For being old, you're faded," Alastor growled softly into his beard.
He didn't think he'd be heard. It had been some time since he'd said so much as a word to the angel. He turned his gaze to him and raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, you're talking to me again?" blurted the King, which drew the Radio Demon's attention.
"I've had nothing to say to you until now," said the Overlord. He made a gesture as if to shake off some dust. "I wasn't going to keep wasting my breath talking to a senile man."
"Senile, eh?" sneered Lucifer. "Tell me, bellboy, how old did you die? Because judging by your constitution, I'd say around forty. You must not be in the best of physical shape, buddy."
He presented his body to him with a global hand gesture.
"Me, I'm still dashing and only a few millennia old. So no, I'm not faded."
"If that's true," continued Alastor, "then why don't you take your daughter and your friends for a walk? Unless the thousand-year-old being is afraid?"
Lucifer glared at him before smiling provocatively.
"Oh, please!" he said in a pleading but comical tone "Save me from those poor damned!" He gave a forced chuckle before finally declaring, "Don't be ridiculous."
The angel turned his attention to his daughter as the Radio Demon cursed him from the depths of his soul. That alone, that little joke, had broken something in Alastor. It was all over. He could resist no longer. He remained silent as the discussions between the other residents continued. Finally, they began to leave. Charlie looked at the Overlord.
"Are you coming?" she asked. He nodded in the negative.
"I'm sorry, dear," he said, "but tonight I have some business to attend to."
She looked at him for a moment before smiling shyly.
"Have a nice evening, then." she tossed him before exiting the hotel.
Only the two of them remained in the hall. Lucifer stretched with a yawn before turning back to the stairs. He had to be careful, he told himself. He had to wait. The others might retrace their steps. However, all his logical thoughts vanished when he realized that Lucifer was simply ignoring him. With a determined step, he came up behind the angel and put a firm grip on his waist. The King of Hell didn't even have time to let out a startled hiccup as Alastor sank his teeth into the flesh of his neck. A low moan escaped Lucifer's lips as the Radio Demon melted them into the shadows and moved them. When they reached the room the Overlord had chosen, he threw the angel onto the bed. The latter quickly turned to face the Demon, who fell on him with a fever he didn't know he had. He blocked the angel's arms and dominated him with his size and presence. The burning in his chest increased in size as he saw the lost expression of the King of Hell.
"Alastor?" he asked, confused.
"Beg me." ordered the Overlord, his gaze filled with uncontrolled desire. "Anything you want. Ask me to eat or go to the bathroom. Beg me to let you live or just stop. For God sake, if you have to fuck me for it, then do it. Anything, but beg me."
Lucifer was speechless as the Radio Demon thought himself ridiculous. He had literally just prayed to him. It was ironic, wasn't it?
He didn't move an inch, however, looking into the golden and red globes for a reaction from the King of Hell. The latter seemed to digest the information like a ping pong ball: with difficulty. Alastor was beginning to doubt what he'd just done, and a feeling of unease began to invade him. It must have shown in his expression, because suddenly Lucifer began to speak:
"Wait!" he said, as if to hold him back when the Demon hadn't moved. "It's just that... Wow, damn, that's hyper hot. I mean, in the sense that it's sexy, not in the sense that it's hot. After all, we're in Hell, so both are true in themselves, so you could say the situation is hot and I'm hot? And I'm hot because, damn it, it was hot and at the same time, it's hot? No, because it's hot, isn't it? Maybe we should add an air conditioner."
"Lucifer", Alastor reminded him. He could only notice the shiver that ran through the man's body beneath him.
"Sorry." apologized the angel. "It's just that... Fuck."
He bit his lower lip as the red rose to his cheeks.
"Uh." continued the King. "So, you... you want us to do what we did last time?"
The Overlord's ball began to consume him as he heard these words come from the angel's mouth. He lowered his eyes to his partner's crotch and easily noted his arousal. He returned to observing Lucifer's face, which was flushed and never leaving his eyeballs. Alastor then made a decision and moved back to the side of the King, lying on his side, his face level with the angel's, leaning forward to catch the slightest detail of his expression. He then lowered his hand to his partner's lower body, causing Lucifer's eyes to widen in surprise.
"Wait!" he exclaimed again. "You don't have to! I can..."
"No." interrupted Alastor. "I want to do it. Just... tell me how."
They looked at each other for a moment before Lucifer, flushed, grabbed his hand and guided it to his crotch.
"It's not complicated," he whispered. "All you have to do is move your hand up and down and watch my body react."
"Don't hesitate to guide me," ordered Alastor. He received a chuckle in reply.
"Begging, I get it," Lucifer sneered. The Demon looked at him intently.
They started slowly, letting them both get their bearings. It was the first time Alastor had done this with a man. He'd never felt attracted to the male gender until now, and the truth was, it wasn't the male gender that attracted him. It was him. Him specifically. The King played the game with far more experience than his partner. He seemed more used to this kind of situation and Alastor could easily understand why. He is a father, after all. However, he had a few things going for him. He was very observant and paid close attention to his partner. Because he could read him, he would slow down the pace when he saw it was going too fast for Alastor, or too intense. Sometimes he'd cut out moments to just let him breathe, gently encouraging him but never touching him, as if he knew he hated that. None of those previous relationships had ever thought of him like that. None of the women he'd shared a bed with had understood him like this.
When the apotheosis finally came for Lucifer, he didn't even feel disgusted because he could see. Not that he was enjoying the sensation of the liquid on his fingers. But to be honest, he wasn't interested in what was happening below the belt. It was the angel's face that fascinated him. His reactions were a delight. He was the one who'd caused this. Alastor, the Radio Demon, the Overlord, the human, was able to give these expressions to Lucifer, King, Fallen Angel, most powerful Being in Hell, who could kill him with the snap of a finger. The lump in his chest had spread throughout his body and now the heat was bearable, almost pleasant.
Lucifer closed his eyes and tried to regain control of his breathing as Alastor lay entirely beside him. He continued to watch him as the angel regained his senses. The King finally opened his eyes and looked at him for a few seconds before frowning.
"Why do you look at me like that?" he asked "Do I have anything on my face?"
Alastor didn't know what he meant by this, but simply shrugged.
"Yes, you have" he says.
"My cake face, is it?" growled the King. Alastor's smile turned mocking.
"No." he replied. "Semen. Or anything that came out of your penis."
The red in Lucifer's cheeks became much more intense, and the Demon couldn't prevent a teasing little laugh from escaping his lips.
______________________________________________________________
Since then, their relationship had evolved and Alastor still wasn't sure what to make of it. From time to time, the two of them isolated themselves and enjoyed each other's company. Most of the time, they were just like each other. Always arguing, always provoking, but they had that little something extra that made the Radio Demon feel no more frustration. A warmth emanated from his body that became bearable and pleasant. When this heat became too strong, too intense, he would meet Lucifer in his apartments, who would bring him the relief he needed.
At first, it was awkward. Alastor's demands were brutal and impulsive. He didn't know how to handle the situation, and he was aware of it. But the angel was indulgent. He met his expectations, sometimes without even receiving anything in return, whispering pleas that soothed the Radio Demon's impulses, always respecting his limits. He didn't force him, he wasn't demanding. He was just patient, guiding him into a relationship the Overlord had never known before.
As they went along, Alastor began to take an interest in the King, in the sense that he could notice his wants and needs. He became less selfish in his pleasure and tried to do to Lucifer what he was doing to him. Now comes the discussion of penetration.
It was a normal weekday evening and the Radio Demon was watching the King smiling satiatedly, his eyes closed in satisfaction. Once again, Alastor had given him the pleasure he'd asked for, even if he was beginning to understand his partner's bodily signals. Occasionally, he took the initiative and was rewarded with erratic, spontaneous pleas. However, if the Overlord had learned from these previous partners, it was that it wasn't enough.
"You can penetrate me, you know?" said the Demon simply from start to finish.
Lucifer widened his eyes in surprise before turning his gaze to the bed's second occupant.
"Huh?" the King asked eloquently. Alastor rolled his eyes in frustration.
"During our lovemaking," the Demon clarified. "You can penetrate me. The reverse is not possible, at least not naturally. I can conjure a few things, if you want."
Lucifer propped himself up on his elbows and looked at the Overlord with confusion. The Demon didn't know what to make of his expression.
"What?" he finally says.
"Would you like that?" questioned the King.
"That's not the point," Alastor sighed. "I'm just saying..."
"No, no, no, no, no." cut in Lucifer. "Alastor, this is important to me. Would you like that?"
The Demon remained silent for a moment. He was pondering the situation.
"No." he finally said. It was the truth. He had absolutely no desire for this.
"Then we won't." the King continued with a shrug. "I'm satisfied with the way things are going."
"It never lasts, Lucifer." murmured Alastor, softly, in a breath, which caught the angel's attention.
There was a short silence before the King finally said:
"Look, I don't know what happened in your previous relationships. I don't know your story and I don't care. We..." he hesitated before saying in a much less assured voice, "We're building something. So we might as well make it pleasant for both of us, okay?"
"Are you telling me you've never wanted to fuck me?" questioned Alastor. He received a grunt of frustration.
"No!" he exclaimed, causing the Demon to raise an eyebrow. "I mean, yes, of course I do ! I've fantasized about it before! But that doesn't mean I want to do it."
He ran a hand through his hair.
"Relationships are all about compromise," he explains. "You adapt to the person in front of you, you discuss, you see what pleases him or her. Ecstasy comes with the other person's consent. There's nothing more satisfying than knowing your partner has the same desire as you."
He licked his lips before continuing:
"You took a step forward. You consented to bring me this pleasure. For my part, I did the same. In the end, even though it took effort on both our parts, we both came out ahead." He gave him a sidelong glance, "The day you really want to do this, when it comes from your willingness to consent to a new thing, then we'll give it a try. If it doesn't work, it's okay, we'll go back. There's time to experiment. But it has to be at everyone's discretion."
"So, if I understand correctly," teased Alastor, "it's that the quid pro quo for penetration will be proportional to the effort it requires of me?"
Lucifer laughed, a pure, angelic laugh. Alastor's heart sank.
"That's how deals work, isn't it?" sneered the angel.
Alastor felt a powerful emotion engulf his soul, and he was afraid to put a name to it. He'd only felt this way once before, in a different register, with a different person. The sensation was the same, but the substance was different. He straightened up and moved closer to Lucifer's face to place a long kiss on his lips. Surprised by the gesture, the King remained motionless as the Demon deepened the kiss, placing a warm hand on the nape of his neck. There was nothing lecherous in this exchange. The Overlord was just passing on his gratitude through this contact. When he broke it, they were both embarrassed by the situation. Lucifer gave a tense little laugh.
"On the other hand," he said, in a jovial tone. "You really need to mind your mouth. You've got the breath of a jackal."
Alastor grimaced mockingly.
"If you get those fucking clowns out of the third-floor hallway," he growled.
"Hey, that's not fair!" protested the King.
"What?" teased the Demon. "Proportional to the effort you're asking of me, right?"
Lucifer raised his eyes to heaven.
"Fuck you." he huffed.
"One day, maybe." replied Alastor, raising an eyebrow.
The King chuckled, which made the Demon smile sincerely.
______________________________________________________________
More time passed and the feeling in Alastor's chest only grew stronger. He was afraid of what it meant, but continued his relationship with Lucifer anyway.
The further they went, the more affectionate the Demon became towards the angel, through small, innocuous gestures. He prepared meals for him. He cleaned up after him when the headstrong King moved on. He listened quietly when he lost himself in his creative train of thought. In the evenings, he made a habit of going to his room to read, sitting in an armchair while Lucifer made those plastic ducks. At first, he could see that the angel was confused by his presence. Normally, Alastor only entered the King's private space to curry favor, not just to spend time in his company. But the Demon felt the need to be at his side. He hadn't known such a state of fulfillment since... since he was abruptly separated from his mother when she died. Overnight, the most important person in his life had disappeared, like a flash of smoke in a magic trick. He'd lived a few more years on Earth before being brutally killed, and he'd never known such a feeling of solitude. His mother was everything to him. She was the person who knew him best, who understood him, who accepted him despite the fact that he was a raging psychopath. She was also the only person who didn't fear him. Now there was this idiot who brought him the same relief.
Lucifer knew who he was. He knew every inch of his soul, for he was a quasi-divine being, the master of Hell. He knew every sin committed by every one of his subjects. He could read their souls as if he were reading a book. He had confessed to him one day when his depression had hit harder than usual. Alastor had asked him why he didn't go out with the others. Lucifer had told him this secret. He'd told him that he saw everything in every preacher he met. It was his curse.
"Everything?" asked the Demon.
"Everything," agreed the angel, looking at him sadly.
Instinctively, Alastor's hand went to his lips, as if to touch the invisible thread of his contract. The King had moved towards him and gently removed his hand to place a kiss on it. It was a new gesture, surely unthought-of, for Lucifer was in a state of powerful distress. He ignored the gesture, which had disturbed him. It was one more compromise in their relationship. It was all very well for him to indulge in this romantic mawkishness for the loneliness it filled within him.
Their relationship was beginning to permeate their daily lives and was increasingly noticed by the other residents. No one had said anything to Alastor, however. From what Lucifer was telling him, he hadn't had any feedback either. The Demon couldn't care less. In fact, their bond wasn't all that different. They were just more patient with each other than they had been at first. Arguments and provocations were common, but they happened less frequently.
______________________________________________________________
Alastor held his bloodied arm and swore at the deep wound. The demon that had already attacked the hotel had launched a new offensive, and there were many of them. Very many. The Radio Demon was standing at the hotel entrance, defending it against the onslaught of sinners and underworld natives. Suddenly, the demon, as powerful as an Overlord, had inflicted a cut on his arm, almost slicing him in two. Alastor then erected a shield between the enemies and the hotel, protecting the residents from the frontal assault. Charlie, Vaggie, Husk and Niffty stood beside him. Charlie looked with panic at the cut on his arm, but Alastor took no notice. He was already thinking about what to do next. His protection wasn't going to hold and, if the demon had wounded him, then he could easily overcome the others, who were far less powerful than him. Except for Charlie, but she was a special case. She couldn't master her powers. So she was useless right now. He'd tried to convince her to learn to use her strength, but to no avail. She was too afraid of herself to be able to control herself.
As Vaggie looked at his wound, he heard the rustle of wings coming towards them. He looked up at the same time as the rest of them and saw Lucifer coming down carrying Angel in his arms, like a princess. The situation was rather comical, the King being literally a third of the Spider Demon's size, which meant he was in a rather uncomfortable position. When they landed, Angel emerged from Lucifer's embrace, who was looking on in all seriousness as the attackers crowded against the wall.
"Guys, we're in deep shit!" he exclaimed as he approached them with great strides. "See those bastards?" he pointed at the wall. "There's twice as many of them on the other side! And they're coming fast!"
"Are you serious right now?!" exclaimed Husk as he looked at Angel. "How the hell did that clown manage to recruit so many people?!"
"I don't know!" exclaimed Angel, placing a hand on the Cat Demon's shoulder. "But I'll say it again, we're in deep shit!"
"No, we'll be fine," said Lucifer. He turned his attention back to the other residents of the hotel. He stared at Alastor: "Bellboy, you've got to take care of those coming up behind. We'll stay up front to contain the bulk of the assault. If I'm there, they'll concentrate on me. That'll give you time to take care of those bastards and come back to lend us a hand."
The other residents looked at the King as if he'd gone mad. Alastor, for his part, waited for what was to come, although a familiar sensation was growing in his chest.
"Wait, sir." asked Vaggie, stunned. "Are you sure about this?"
"Of what?" questioned Lucifer. He raised an eyebrow. "Why, do I look hesitant?"
"Luci!" exclaimed Angel. "We just saw thousands of demons charging at us! As powerful as he is, Alastor can't handle them all!"
"Of course he can, kiddo!" sighed the angel. "It's small fry, nothing out of the ordinary."
"Dad." said Charlie suddenly, his tone genuinely concerned. "Alastor's hurt."
A worried expression settled over Lucifer's features as he stepped towards the Radio Demon. He looked at the cut on his arm and suddenly seemed more relieved.
"Ah, this?" he said. "It's nothing!"
"His arm's almost cut in half," Vaggie added, eyebrows furrowed, clearly disapproving.
"Vaggie." said the King. "It's not an injury like that that's going to stop Bellboy."
"You could at least treat him!" exclaimed Charlie angrily.
"I might as well save my power for the fight," the angel defended. "He'll do just fine on his own."
He turned to the Radio Demon, an expression of pure confidence on his face.
"As soon as you're done, cover the rear with protection like this, we never know. And hurry back, we're going to need you."
The feeling in Alastor's chest swelled at these words and he felt like he was going to explode. Lucifer rolled up his sleeves and turned to face the attackers.
"Dad!" exclaimed Charlie. "You overestimate him!"
"On the contrary, sweetie," he replied firmly. "It's you who underestimates him."
That was the last straw. The Radio Demon straightened up, to the protests of the other residents. He paid them no mind, however. His target was right in front of him. So small and yet so imposing in its aura, in its presence, in the emotions it aroused in him. He took a determined step towards the angel.
"Lucifer", he called in a voice that had no radio echo. This surprised everyone present, including the main man, who turned to him, eyes wide.
"Alastor?" he asked, bewildered by the Overlord's tone and use of his first name.
The Demon moved swiftly towards his target and, with his able-bodied, blood-covered hand, grabbed the angel's neck. With one gesture, he bridged the gap between them and passionately embraced the King of Hell. With this gesture, he conveyed all the feelings he was experiencing at the moment: the exhilarating sensation of being considered powerful, the pride he felt at being treated as an equal, the gratitude of being understood by another to an extent he hadn't known for a long time. And then this affection. That damn affection that had been polluting him for some time now. When he broke contact, their lips were swollen from the intensity of the kiss they'd shared. Lucifer looked at him with many complex feelings. Finally, Alastor caressed his partner's cheek with his bloody hand, leaving a red trace on the angel's mother-of-pearl skin.
"As soon as we're done dealing with this shit, we're going to that damn room and you're going to take me in any position you want, as many times as you want." he ordered. Lucifer's cheeks quickly flushed and his expression, once complex, was now bemused, although Alastor could see excitement in his pupils.
The Demon moved away as he heard Angel exclaim, "I knew it! "
It wasn't a compromise. It was a gift that he gave him willingly. To thank him for making him fall in love.
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aziraphales-library · 9 months
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Hello, hello, First of all, thank you so much for your work! Your library has helped to find so many awesome fics! :D There is just one question/fic idea I haven't found yet, even though I am sure something similar has been done before: Do you know any fics where Aziraphale and Crowley have sex, not (only) because of desire, but simply because humans make it look like fun and they're curious, want to try it out and they do it with each other because it seems like, idk, the most logical thing to do, or because they're already in love or something? Again, thank you for your service and have a nice day! :)
Hi and you're welcome! You may be interested in our #inexperienced aziraphale and #inexperienced crowley tags for similar fics to this. Here are some when one or both are curious about the human experience of sex...
A Little While Longer by IneffableToreshi (E)
In the Garden of Eden, a demon fell hard for an angel. Later, the angel is upset, and the demon thinks he knows a way to cheer him up...
When a Demon and an Angel Make Love, They Forget They Aren't Human by boredom (E)
Aziraphale has realized that with Heaven no longer controlling his every move, he's now free to do what he wants. And he wants to do Crowley.
Crowley, of course, is ecstatic and more than willing to fuck Aziraphale into the bed. Perhaps they shouldn't have forgotten they're not human, which means human structures may not be strong enough to support them.
Earthly Pleasures by AstroGirl (E)
Aziraphale has always thought that human sex looks like a great deal of fun. Perhaps now it's something he and Crowley can enjoy together.
Five Times They Weren't Very Sexy and One Time They Aced It by ZehWulf (E)
“Have you ever wondered what it feels like?” Crowley asks while contemplating the dregs at the bottom of his wine glass. He’s aiming for philosophical but fears the faint wheeze at the end of the question might have given him away.
“Have I ever wondered what ‘what’ feels like,” Aziraphale asks finally.
“Sex,” he says, much louder than intended or reasonable. They both wince. 
“Oh, have you never…?” Aziraphale asks with polite disbelief.
“You have?” Crowley demands.
Look, when you're largely inexperienced sex-favorable asexual ineffables, it takes a bit of practice, a lot of communication, and some bull-headed persistence to get your sex life in commendable working order. Or, five times things got (hilariously) awkward during sex, and one time after they've got it mostly figured out. A companion fic to "Scratching That Itch." (Sex acts, such as they are, tagged per chapter in chapter notes!)
The ducks and the bees by Yoite (E)
"Um", the angel cleared his throat. "Well, as we know, when humans like each other, sometimes, they, er, give each other a.. special hug."
"Are you asking me to sleep with you?"
Aziraphale wants to investigate what this whole sex malarkey is all about, but nothing goes according to plan.
Chemistry by Twilightcitysky (E) (WIP)
Aziraphale and Crowley have been living among humans for 6000 years, but there have always been parts of the human experience they've chosen to avoid (like allergies, head colds, and having to use the loo).
They've also never let hormones get in the way of making rational decisions, because they didn't have any hormones to speak of.
That's all about to change.
- Mod D
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idrellegames · 5 months
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You've probably been told this before, but as an asexual person, THANK YOU for giving the option to make your character asexual, and have genuinely good representation. It's honestly really refreshing to see.
Of course! 🖤🤍💜
I'm asexual myself, so it was important for me to include it - especially in a way that gives players control over how they navigate asexuality in different circumstances. Asexuality covers a wide range of different experiences, so in terms of game design I don't think it's quite as simple as making a flag and forcing the player to stick to one presentation of it every time romance and sex come up in the narrative. That's why romance options have different icons for how sex is handled, and you can bounce between them regardless of what you have chosen before. (And also why Veyer's tryst is marked with a non-heart icon, since they are aromantic and are interested in a sexual fling with the MC - romance or romantic feelings has nothing to do with it).
It was also important for me to have a wide array of asexual characters in the game itself outside of the MC. Some of these are romances (Alexia and Ren), others are non-romanceable companions (Felix), who all have different perspectives they bring to the table. Even Aeran could theoretically be read as demisexual, though that wasn't intentional.
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