#if you see typos...no you didn't

[theodoradevlin]

|Bathed & Bruised|

Summary: Sebastian Sallow x MC. Prefect Bathroom Shenanigans. Smutty Drabble at no particular point in time.  Hurt/Comfort because life’s been SHITE recently and I could probably use some of it myself. So please accept this one shot as a result of built up life angst. 

Also someone HALP …I fear I spend way too much time on the build up... but need to work on detail of the smut. So…maybe next time no build up and just smut LOL what a terrible excersice to try oh darn

Word Count: 3.4k

It had not taken Theo long to make quick work of those damned loyalists. There had been an irritating amount of them, but she had handled them all the same. 

She had killed them all. Death had stained her hands in increasing measures as the weeks went on. 

But it was to protect the school, she told herself.

She had to. 

She didn’t let herself consider that there was some other reason she had become comfortable with that elephant in the room. The murderous side of her. No.. she wouldn’t think of that long. She couldn’t. 

In the current moment, she didn’t know if it was late at night, or early in the morning by the time she got back to the castle. Luckily, she had managed to save enough Floo powder to travel from the coast back to Fig’s classroom, her battered body clumsily making immediate impact with the floor as she groaned. 

An irritated scoff echoed in the hall, which she had anticipated to be empty. 

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”  His voice was flat, and entirely unamused. 

She heaved herself up on to her legs, only to see Sebastian laying on the bench across from Fig’s class room. 

“Have you been sleeping here all night?!” Her incredulous whisper rang out in the hall, but not before Sebastian’s gaze snapped back to her. 

“Have I been sleeping here all night? No. Mostly I was pacing a damn hole in this floor since I figured this had something to do with Fig, or some genius plan you hatched on your own, while failing to tell me. So again, no. I haven’t been sleeping much at all since you keep deciding to run off on your own and come back looking like this.” His equally incredulous whisper shot back at her. 

Color rose to her cheeks in frustration as they regarded each other. As their eyes met, Sebastian paused to really look at her, his eyes turned hollow as they spotted a soft purple hue gracing her cheek. Blood smeared across those lips he had kissed only the night before. His exacting gaze took it all in, his jaw twitching. 

He wasted no time making his way over to her in a direct line. 

Instantly, his hands were on her.  Gentle. Surveying the damage he could see, sick at what he couldn’t. 

“Let’s go.” It wasn’t a question, but a demand.

Theo’s brows knitted together in annoyance. 

“Go where? It’s nearly-“ 

He cut her off. 

“Prefects bathroom is closest - and likely deserted at this time anyhow. So let’s go. You need cleaning up.” 

She opened her mouth to protest again, but when she did she felt the pang of pain from the bruise deepening on her cheek. Looking down, there was undoubtedly a multitude of blood stains crusting her clothes, some of it hers, some of it not. She had used quite a bit of Bombarda, and it had resulted in some rather explosive debris. Perhaps he was right. 

“Fine. I’ll go. But afterwards, promise to stop fretting like an old nursemaid, Sallow.” Theo consented as he gently grabbed her hand, leading them towards the staircase. He didn’t even look back at her as he growled, 

“I’ll do no such thing.” 

Then, another deep breath, and then most in a most confused voice:

“Nursemaid? Really?”

~

They stalked along the edges of the corridor, as fast as her battered body would allow, Sebastian giving gentle pulls on her hand as he led the way. Before breaking into the faculty tower, he essentially forced the wiggenweld down her throat…but despite her protests to not waste it, it thankfully allowed her to breathe a little easier, mending what must have been a broken rib. 

As they rounded up the staircase, he peeked his head up to see that there were no prefects around - the castle all still sound asleep, save the two of them. The absence of their sleep schedules, as torturous as it was during the day, seemed to open up an entirely new world at twilight. 

He ushered her into the prefect’s bathing room, before casting a lock spell on the door to ensure that no one else would find their way in. They had another few hours before the earliest of morning birds awoke.

Theo leaned against the wall, breathing in deep, her eyes taking in the extravagant room, with its multitude of golden faucets, and tiled mosaic lining every inch of the blue and white walls…she had only been in here once before, to nab a Demi-guise. She hadn’t had the time to appreciate the way the light from the stars gleamed through the stained glass windows, fleeting across the cerulean bath water like fairy lights. 

It was calming in here. She couldn’t be terribly angry that this is where he had brought her to.

Her head swiveled back to Sebastian as he slowly took his robe off, heedlessly letting it drop to the marble tiled floor as he rolled up his sleeves coming over to her. 

He moved aside her hair to see that the bruises continued to flower across her jaw, neck. He inhaled.

What did you do to yourself, Thee?” He said, his voice clipped, broken, as if he couldn’t bear the site of her battered body any longer. His breaths were ragged as his fretting and gentle touches brushed against her cheek, her arms, pausing on each purple bloom of the bruises on her skin. 

She noted the panic in his eyes. She had seen that need, the burn for him to protect. She saw it when he looked at Anne, during the painful bouts of her curse. She would not be another burden to him. 

“I’m fine, Sebastian. Nothing I haven’t done before… I’m absolutely fine.” 

It didn’t matter how many times she said it. He passed her a curt glare, and lowered himself to his knees to inspect closer. 

His breath passed along her abdomen as she stilled herself against the coolness of the wall, in contrast to the heat of him so near her.

“Fine? I think you’re lying to me.” He accused her gruffly, as his searching hands went to determine for himself, undoing her buttons of her blouse, gently parting the fabric to expose the trail of cuts and bruises that continued underneath. 

Her beautiful abdomen had been painted in an unforgiving litany of dark and angry colors.

“Dammit, Theodora.”

He hissed sharply, his eyes squeezing tight as he looked away, his hands gripping her on each side as if to hold himself up, but still careful to avoid the bruises. 

She breathed shakily. His reaction to her was startling. Startling enough for her to realize she had been pushing herself so hard, that she hadn’t even realized the state she had been in. Not until she watched as it crushed Sebastian in front of her. How could the destruction of her body not make her feel the same? She had been so focused…

“Seb…I..I’m really okay-“

He ignored her pleas, leaning his forehead against the plane of her thigh. Her beautiful body. She was fighting a war for everyone but herself, and yet the only one taking the hits. 

“You…You’re covered in more bruises each time I see you.”  His breath was pained as it skirted across her lower stomach. She could hear how angry he was, and she didn’t know if it was at her, or at himself.

“It’s an occupational hazard…” She tried to lift the tension with a half hearted jest. 

He gritted his teeth. 

“Of what occupation, Devlin? Hanging around me? Or doing Fig’s bidding? Or of putting fucking everyone before yourself? How about you explain that to me? ” He snapped.

She stilled at the emotion in his voice. Her hand came up to his jaw, lifting his gaze up to her. In some ways, it could be mistaken for supplication. But she knew that couldn’t be possible. Not for him. Not towards her. Yet here he was. Kneeling in front of her, with fervor in his eyes as he looked up towards her. 

She cleared her throat. 

“…It’s not like that. It’s nothing that I can handle. You would do the same.”

He grimaced again at her words. 

“Devlin - I swear you’re fucking wrong. Because this is something I can’t handle. I refuse to handle. You. Hurt. All the damn time….this is not something I can agree to handle. ” He breathed in admonition as his gaze reached upwards, she heard the strain in his voice, and saw the fear in those brown eyes that were near black in emotion as they gazed upwards. 

“Ominis has told me you’ve been limping in the halls. Clutching your side in class. He had to help you up the stairs the other day when I was gone in Feldcroft for Merlin’s sake.” 

He continued, breathless at the panic in his voice. 

They stood there, as he remained on his knees, trying to force air in through his lungs

“I…” Theo swallowed again. Ominis had even been worried about her? She …she had been so busy with everyone…Poppy..Natty…Fig…she hadn’t even seen it herself. She hadn’t had a moment to. She didn’t even realize anyone had noticed.

As if Sebastian read her shocked expression, he laughed darkly, just once.

“You and that damn Hufflepuff need to put everyone first.” His eyes burned into her as he pressed a fleeting kiss to her stomach. “… I told you once. I’ll tell you again. I can’t loose you. I won’t. So please. Please. If for no one’s sake but your own - put yourself first Devlin… I beg you. You’re going to tear my damn heart out if you don’t tear yours out first from letting it bleed for everyone else.”

His pleas were murmured against her skin, but reached into her core and had her burning.

Gruffly, he stood, and his face was flushed. He gently shrugged off her unbuttoned shirt until it joined his robe on the ground. 

“I’m going to take care of you, now.” He murmured. 

Theo didn’t trust her voice to speak. Didn’t find it in herself to remind him that he always had taken care of her, anyhow. 

His fingers unbuckled the buttons holding her skirt in place, then neither of them broke their gaze as the next piece of fabric hit the floor as well. 

She slid off his own shirt, then tugged on his belt loops in protest of the layers of his own clothes that still remained. 

As their last articles of clothing fell away, he led her slowly towards the bath, those doe eyes of his locked on her the entire way. 

She shivered at the feel of the water as they sank in deeper, walking until it met her shoulders. 

He brought her close to him, turning her as the warm water enveloped her muscles. She allowed her self to lean her back against his chest, his hands taking her arms, crossing his own over hers as he held her to his chest. 

 She shuddered at the weightless feel of the bath, of the blood and dirt slowly coming off her skin. Of the feel of his breathing against hers. 

“Don’t let go.” She murmured deliriously at the feel of it.

 He nuzzled her neck.

“Never.” 

He drew up water in his hands, as he let it gently fall down her hair, smoothing it softly as he washed away any traces of the battle that was left. Her hair was always so curly, he forgot how long it actually was as the red tendrils spread across the water like a water nymph. 

He held her like she was the most fragile thing, when he knew in reality she was the strongest thing he’d ever seen. 

She allowed him to continue to rub the dirt from her face, her arms, inspecting every inch of her until she felt it all fall away. 

He leaned in, pressing another kiss to her neck in reverence, and as the small moan slipped from her lips, there were multiple parts of his body that ached to take care of her. 

He turned her towards him then, lifting her slightly up out of the water, backing them both up until she was arching against the edge of the tub. He pressed more kisses. She was his anchor. He was hers. He pressed a kiss against the darkest bruise. Against the scar he had helped heal across her abdomen.

His lips continued almost of their own accord, as he placed more pressing kisses against her stomach so intently that pressing she found herself letting loose a sigh. 

“Ah..” She gasped softly, as he continued to press his doting lips on each mark, cut and bruise on her stomach and side, leaving no bruise untouched, shifting her up higher to grant himself access to her hip bones peaking over the surface of the water, just above the spot he loved most.

 Her hands tangled gently in his hair as she enjoyed his fretting touches, her red wildly hanging in wet locks around her vision, and his brown curls dripping with moisture into his hooded eyes as he watched her. 

“Mmmm…you know you make it hard to make promises to be careful when this is the welcome home I receive…” She murmured breezily as his fingers started to trail up her thigh, in tandem with his mouth trailing down her hips. Hoping to both meet somewhere in the middle…

“Mn.” At that most irresponsible comment from her, he gave her a gentle nip in warning against her thigh. “You’re missing the point, my dear Thee. This isn’t a reward. Don’t make me torture you instead - because I will.” 

She had no doubt about that. A smile broke across her lips despite herself.

“I thought you were under the impression I did enough of that myself…?”

His kisses turned more relentless, as all of a sudden a finger parted her folds, slipping into her with confident and deft hands. 

As she gasped against his palm, he chuckled darkly in agreement.

“You do..All heroes do it seems.” He nipped again against her hip, a demand for her to spread her legs slightly wider to allow him to continue his caress of her. His mouth trailed against her until it reached the bundle of nerves at her apex. His tongue flicked against it, but didn’t make another move until he murmured against her, “….And for whatever reason…You seem intent on being one.” 

Her eyes met his in confusion, but his gaze shifted until it glazed over at what he wanted to worship more. 

His breath skittered across the core of her, and she shivered at the feel of it. His tongue darted out to press against her, moved in circles at the center of her, while a second finger slipped in to press and curl in, parting, coaxing her, and making splashing noises as the water swirled around his movements. She shuddered at him undoing her. 

“Despite….how it tortures me. I think you enjoy doing that…” She barely croaked out as she leaned back further over the edge, arching dramatically at the angle and his touches. 

He  didn’t answer, just watched as he continued to work, appreciating her writhe as he continued to taste her. 

She keened at the feel of it. 

“I …I don’t - I don’t - I’m not a…” She huffed out in gasps, struggling to speak as a result of what he was doing with his mouth. 

His free hand left the grip he had on her upper thigh to silence her mouth, before he stood up. She whined at the absence of his mouth on her. 

He pressed against her, and their wet bodies slid together perfectly. The hardness of his thick length was already pressing deliciously against her. He hadn’t yet removed his hand from her mouth. 

“No talking.” His eyes watched her carefully, “…You haven’t listened to me-  ever - it seems. So now you’re going to make up for it…and not…talk..”

“Hah…” She threw her head back obliging,  as he continued to lean against her, his slick abdomen pressing against her own wet body, her breasts peaking at the trickle of water against air, against his chest as one of his hands stabilized her lower back, the other rubbing a thumb across her nipple gently. 

He leaned into her as her legs started wrapping around him, his kisses soft as a butterfly against the tenderness left on her neck,

His mouth pressed against hers, coaxing it open as his lower lip pressed her own down, allowing his tongue to snake into her mouth. Her own pressed into his, the gasps of breath barely there between the absence of space as everything closed between them in frantic movements. 

 She stumbled slightly off the ledge, but his other hand quickly ran up the back of her thigh to hold her against him, as he grabbed her other leg to lift her completely off the ledge. He lowered them both back into the water, as their kisses pressed together faster, yet gently, Sebastian careful in each way he held her to not hit the bruises in a way that wasn’t tender. They were both bruised, and battered. And yet not one scar had not been left un-worshipped. Not since the first day. Their scars are what had bound them together. And she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

She could drown in this. In him. If she wasn’t already. 

“Now…”He breathed against her mouth as he aligned his hips beneath her, pinning her against another edge. “How about I show you how well I can take care of you..?” He prodded at her entrance, the thick feel of him so enticing she was cursing the water for not letting her slide down sooner. She writhed towards him but he held her up. 

“Tsk…none of that. Not until you promise….that next time your reckless..you’re not reckless alone. You’re reckless with me.” 

His eyes met hers, and despite the lightness in his voice, she heard the serious question behind it. 

Do not do this alone. Let me help you. 

She nodded, pulling him back towards her. He gasped as her mouth answered in frantic movement. She would never be alone. Not as long as he was there. 

“Never. Only with you. Only you.” She breathed out as she guided him into her. He groaned as her hand allowed him to slip inside of her. His only response in his hand that snaked into her hair, pulling her head back towards him, as he pressed into her, filling her deeper. 

They both huffed gasping breaths at the feel of him inside her, moving together, letting the water ripple at the momentum of it all. Her legs wrapped around him as his arms gripped the sides of the bath for leverage. 

There was nothing but them in this twilight. There was no hurt, there were no obligations - no promise but to each other. 

She cried out as he hit her center, clenching around him. He responded in a grinding motion, groaning at the feel of her that enveloped him. 

“Thee- gods…you …” 

“Yes…”

“Ah..fuck.” His mouth captured hers again as he pumped harder, the water completely sloshing now, as he buried himself deeper and deeper. 

She broke away, her head tilting back and falling against him, screaming out. 

“Seb- You’re - ah - “ 

She moaned and cried out as her orgasm shuddered through her…her walls clenched around him, and he gave himself to her completely, sputtering and rolling until he completely spent himself inside of her, gasping into her ear.

Slowly, her legs unwrapped and his arms came around to her waist again, as they floated, her hands mindlessly twisted in his wet curls as he drew them both in the bubbly waters. He pressed a kiss to her neck, that he was currently nuzzled in as he held her against him.

“So…should we actually get clean now?” She murmured, blissfully. 

He chuckled.

“While I prefer the dirtier version of ourselves, perhaps not a bad idea.” His eyes squinted as the silver light peeking through the stained glass started to turn the room amber. “..Especially since I expect dawn is here….prefects will be barreling in soon dying to give us another detention.” 

She pouted, lamenting the fact they would have to hurry to get out and dried soon as to avoid being caught. 

“Well like I said - I’m only reckless with you Sallow. And if this bathroom routine is reckless…I’d vote to make it a habit.” 

He pulled her under the water, attacking her with aquatic kisses before coming up for air. Although he never felt like he could come up for air with her. 

[ayo-edebiri]

I know how much you love your son. That's why I know you are gonna do what is right for him. Don't drag him down with you, Eddie.

[theevilpickler]

My favorite dynamic

The arsonist

Scabby McStabface

(insert random weapon)

BONUS

The cannibal

[puppy-steve]

steve and eddie rough housing in the living room on christmas eve night. wayne only chuckles and shakes his head bc the trailer hasn't been this lively on christmas since eddie was a little boy.

however, he does eventually have to tell them to knock it off bc they've almost knocked the tree over twice and steve's got eddie in a headlock, demanding he say uncle, and eddie has a mouthful of steve's arm and growling like a rabid dog with no signs of letting go.

they are dating.

[rongzhi]

A look at a few mythological beings from 山海经, Classic of Mountain and Sea, compiled beginning around 500 BC with the earliest remaining finished version existing by 200 BC.

Right column graphics created by me, translating the left and adding a few more details.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

“Led Zeppelin? Never heard of them,” Steve lies, like a liar. Of course he’s heard of them, thinks maybe Hop’s mentioned them before. Doesn’t really know the band well, and probably definitely couldn’t name a song. But the comment serves its purpose, and the trap is set.

Eddie calls it the Zep Campaign. Every day they’ll listen to one album, and Steve will pick his favorite song from each. Eight days for eight albums. On the last day, they’ll narrow it down to one song to rule them all– because apparently even Led Zeppelin likes the Mordor books Dustin doesn’t shut up about. 

Each day, Steve struggles to pick a favorite. Day four isn’t bad– doesn’t mind a song that is actually called Rock and Roll, which is just a lazy title in his opinion– but they’re only half way through and the songs are all starting to sound the same. An endless stream of too-fast guitar melodies and weird, wobbly sounds he’s sure he’s never heard before. The vocals are his favorite part, but the lyrics are vague and confusing.

Long story short, he’s not a fan.

But this growing thing between him and this ridiculous metalhead is new, fragile. So if it’s important to Eddie, it’s important to Steve. 

“Stevie, we really don’t have to keep doing this,” Eddie concedes. It’s day eight, the final album, and he thinks even Eddie might be desperate to listen to something different. “You’ve listened to every other album and honestly this one is the worst. They were all on drugs, and this isn’t even their sound ya know? Like it’s not even real metal.”

And honestly, Steve does know. He’s been listening to this band for eight days and yeah, all the songs sound the same. But these ones are different. Softer. He’s made it this far, and he’s nothing if not persistent for the people he loves.

Sprawled out on the floor next to the boy he likes, passing a fading joint back and forth, he thinks he can suffer a bit longer. 

“No Eds come on, we’re halfway through anyways. Just flip it over and we’ll smoke while we finish.” Eddie huffs a sigh, but Steve can see the slight uptick of his lips, reminding him of why he’s doing this. He flips the record and crawls back, presses himself flush up against Steve’s side.

The next song is long, too long to keep his attention. They burn down their joint and Steve leans heavily onto Eddie’s open chest. He gets lost staring at the vinyl art. A guy dressed in a fancy white suit sits alone in a dive bar, the only splash of color against a dull background. The bartender looks gruff, like the rest of the bar, making the man stand out even more. He wonders if that’s how he looks posted up at the Hideout during Eddie’s shows. Wonders if he looks just as out of place in Eddie’s life as this man does, even though he looks comfortable there too. 

Eddie shifts his arms around Steve, bringing him back to the present. The song has changed and Steve feels the slow melody wash over him.

“Wait,” Steve cries out, flailing up and out of Eddie’s arms as he registers the new song. It’s soft with a steady beat. It’s got synth-- the sound Eddie told him he likes in pop music. This song isn’t loud and chaotic like the rest. The voice is soothing and the lyrics are mostly simple enough. It’s different, and he can’t believe it but–

All of my love, all of my love

all of my love to you, oh

“This one. I like this song. Like actually like it.”

Eddie sits up and stares at him. He can see the dramatic shock and annoyance on Eddie’s face. But it’s doing nothing to hide his broad smile and shining eyes. 

“Steven. Stevie. Baby, sweetheart, this absolutely cannot be your favorite Zeppelin song. Out of all the songs on all the albums and all the hours of poetic melodies I’ve forced upon you, you choose the most non-Zep Zeppelin song.” Steve laughs sweetly as he watches Eddie fail to keep the glee out of his supposedly annoyed voice.

The cup is raised, the toast is made yet again

One voice is clear above the din

“This song isn’t even metall!" Eddie screeches. He rants and raves, waiving his arms as he regales Steve with all of the reasons he should absolutely not like this one particular song. He's shining with happiness, dial turned up to a hundred and it's all aimed at Steve. He can't help but to gaze back fondly, enraptured in the adorably obnoxious spectacle.

"It’s all synth, almost no guitar because Page didn’t even write this one! He wrote all of them except two songs, Stevie, and of course that’s the one you chose. No one who knows good music even likes this album. It’s not even metal music and honestly I almost didn’t show it to you, that’s how bad it is!” They're both giggling, leaning falling slowly into the other's space. Facing one another, their feet tangled together, Steve twists and pulls on Eddie's rings. Just to touch.

“Well, maybe that’s why I like it,” Steve snarks, taking his hand. “Plus it’s a love song.” Daring to reach out.

All of my love, all of my love, yes

All of my love to you

Eddie’s smile dims a bit, softens at the edges as he grows serious. “It’s not a love song Stevie, not like that.” He’s looking at Steve but he isn’t. Looking past him into the back of his thoughts. “The lead singer, he wrote it for his son. His kid died of some kind of bad illness while he was on tour. Didn’t make it back in time.”

He pauses, and Steve waits. Knows Eddie has more to say, hoping his patience will pay off. Eddie’s sight refocuses and he heaves a heavy sigh. His eyes glisten as they lock onto Steve.  

“My mom used to sing it all the time. While she was cooking, or putting me to bed, or pulling weeds in the garden. She’d sing it constantly. Hell, she didn’t even know all the words, but she’d still try and sing the interludes– ya know, the music between the lyrics.” He laughs lightly, a stray tear just barely hanging on. Steve tightens his grip around Eddie’s hands and presses a kiss to his knuckles. A silent sign of gentle support and encouragement. 

“Sounds like a love song to me,” Steve whispers. Leaning forward, he presses a kiss to his forehead and pulls Eddie into a tight hug. 

All of my love, all of my love, to you now

“A love song just for you, from both of us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've always headcanoned that Eddie loves Led Zeppelin, because he plays guitar and loves metal and reads Lord of the Rings so of course he would.

[deboracabral]

'Oh, yes?' said Otto, still advancing. 'You think I am a it? Vell, let me act like an it?'

[hypewinter]

DP x DC idea

Y'all feel free to ignore this, I just gotta get this funky little idea out of my head.

So it's a reveal gone wrong....kinda. You see while Maddy is insistent that there's no way the ghost boy is her son, Jack is an emotional wreck. Apologizing to Danny for not noticing and for all the threats he hurled his way. He also promises to convince Maddy that Danny really is their son and not some ghost pretending to be him.

Maddy starts coming around and things are finally looking up for Danny, until Jack has to go somewhere and next thing he knows, he's strapped to a table.

Maddy is convinced that once she opens the ghost boy up, she'll be able to prove that he's just imitating life and isn't really alive. Then she'll show Jack and he'll believe her and they'll get back to proving how dangerous ghosts can be.

When Jack gets back, she excitedly rushes to him. Ready to show him her proof. Meanwhile a feel of dread builds up in the big man's chest as his wife's rant gets more and more maniac. They get down to the basement where there's Danny on the table. Except it's not the Danny he left, this Danny is a small baby with snow white hair and glowing green eyes.

Jack isn't even listening to his wife's explanation about how this proves this isn't their son, he just scoops the boy up and leaves.

Unsure of what to do and knowing both his wife and the giw will be after him, he goes to Vlad. Who despite his "hatred" for the two takes one look at Jack on the verge of a breakdown with baby Danny in his arms and immediately sets them up with a plan.

He sends them to Gotham with fake IDs because the ambient ectoplasm is enough to mask Danny's signature and it might even help him recover.

So they get there right and everyone around them is immediately like ???. Because where did this strangely energetic man and his giggly baby come from and why are they in Gotham of all places!?

Still, Jack's overall golden retriever energy wins them over and they think he's fine albeit a little eccentric. Until one night...

You see Danny is a baby, with the powers of a powerful half ghost, who doesn't understand that he has to hide his powers or the dangers of a baby wandering the streets at night. Cue the baby constantly turning intangible and just... slipping through the walls, leaving Jack to go running after him. Danny thinks it's a fun game. Jack thinks he won't be able to take anymore of this.

Unfortunately for poor Jack Fenton, one night during a Danny chase, he sees his boy heading right towards a fight. Between the bats and this weird guy dressed as a luchador with weird tubes sticking out of him. Then the luchador notices Danny, and Jack is brought back to that day a couple of months ago. The day he failed to protect his son. He's not going to let him down again so he does the only thing he can think of.

He absolutely bodies the luchador, scoops his son up, and runs. Not stopping until he's safely back in his rinky little apartment. Danny is giggling and making cooing noises, blissfully unaware.

Meanwhile the batfam is in shock about this huge man who came out of nowhere and just dealt with Bane like he was a nuisance more than anything. This definitely requires some investigation.

Link to the next addition!

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

okay so i finally finished it... allow me to present a comprehensive, chronological compilation of miles and alex singing *THAT* moment in standing next to me for the whole eycte tour 🌟

this video took me the better part of two months to make, and cost me a not insignificant part of my sanity (related: i may never want to hear this song again), so yeah... i hope you enjoy 😅

[verbenaa]

to bask in your warmth

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:

“I’m not the only one who would look lovely with ribbons around my wrists, you know.” Your eyes flick up to his own as you wet your lips at the thought—dear, sweet Astarion writhing below you with the same rosebud hue tracing his wrists to keep him pinned as he is able to do nothing but accept the love and pleasure you have to give him.

“Something you think about often, hm?” His lips quirk up in amusement, his eyes finding your own as he basks in the heat from your warm body tucked into his side, thinly veiled interest present in his gaze.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Astarion/F!Reader

𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut, fluff, slice of life!

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 7.5k

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: soft fem dom, light bdsm, switch Astarion, use of restraints, body worship, oral sex (male and female receiving), 69, lingerie, face sitting, anal play, anal fingering, double penetration (in two holes), p in v sex, multiple orgasms

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

𝑎/𝑛: hello hello, this is likely the filthiest thing I've written thus far? idk, but it sure feels like it! this is technically a sequel to another fic of mine (so that i may dream tonight), but you don't have to read it first to enjoy this! I always attempt to write these so that they can be enjoyed individually or as a little series <3. I hope you enjoy and let me know your thoughts! I appreciate and love you, dear readers!!!

ao3 here

masterlist

You peek out from between the small breaks in the painted wood of the partition screen, eyes on Astarion where he lays upon your shared bed—looking quite comfortable, all things considered.

“Darling, how much longer are you going to make me wait?” You can see the mercurial impatience building in the slight downwards tilt of his brows as they move low across expressive crimson eyes, his breath leaving him in an impatient huff as he shifts the tiniest bit on the blankets.

“Patience, Astarion.” You adjust the slip once more around your figure, making sure the rosy silk sits perfectly across your curves, the soft lace falling just above where the matching lace garter rests high on your thigh.

It was a delicate thing, the slip. Astarion had made it for you some weeks ago, every measurement perfectly tailored to caress your every curve as it falls to the tops of your thighs, delicate lace trim tickling the skin there with every move you make.

What lay underneath the dainty slip, though, was a surprise. You had tried so very hard to find the perfect set of lingerie, making sure the color matched as closely as possible to the same pink of the ribbon that had once wrapped around your wrists in bows, keeping you bound in place to the bed.

The words come back to you in a warm rush, the memory still fresh in your mind despite the weeks that have since passed.

Still in that delicate haze of your earlier lovemaking, the pink ribbons no longer tied to the bed but resting on the night table instead, your head laying on Astarion’s chest as your body is pressed in close to his own. 

“I’m not the only one who would look lovely with ribbons around my wrists, you know.” Your eyes flick up to his own as you wet your lips at the thought—dear, sweet Astarion writhing below you with the same rosebud hue tracing his wrists to keep him pinned as he is able to do nothing but accept the love and pleasure you have to give him.

“Something you think about often, hm?” His lips quirk up in amusement, his eyes finding your own as he basks in the heat from your warm body tucked into his side, thinly veiled interest present in his gaze.

“I think about everything when it comes to you.” You seal the words with a quick kiss to his lips as you brace yourself against his chest.

With one last breath you step out from behind the partition, eyes falling to Astarion as you take in the vision of him tied up with that same perfect, pink ribbon.

He reclines on the bed, the worn softness of the linen blankets brushing across the bare skin of his back as his arms flex against their bonds, testing them from where they extend to either side of the bed, each tied lovingly with perfect, pretty bows around his wrists. 

Astarion looks divine like this, his lean figure perfect as he lays there naked, his skin ethereal within the dim light of the room as the finest of silver moonbeams shine onto the floorboards.

“Like what you see?” His eyes rove your own figure as you speak to him from across the room, a hunger evident in his eyes as he looks you from head to toe, taking in the fine silk and lace of the slip that covers precious little of your form.

“How could I not?” You smile with painted lips at Astarion’s reply as you make your way to the bed with slow steps, letting Astarion’s eyes capture the sway of your hips as you near the foot of the bed.

With a smooth motion you glide onto the luxurious linens, moving on hands and knees as you kneel over Astarion’s form, the silken slip brushing over his uncovered skin as you slowly move over him.

You feel more than see the subtle twitch of him as the silk flutters against his length as you hover just above him, careful not to let your body touch his own as you make your way over him.

“If you can be good, maybe I’ll even let you see what I have on underneath.” You keep your words light, playful even as you give him a wink; you have no real intention of keeping much of anything from him tonight and you certainly have no punishments planned.

No, you would worship him as much as he was willing to let you. Prove your love and appreciation of his trust to allow you to bestow this pleasure upon him.

There’s another telltale twitch of his growing erection as you finally make your way to where his head lays on the pillow, your hands pressing into the bed on either side of silver curls as you hover there, looking down on him.

“I have to say, Astarion, you look so very beautiful like this.” You lean your head down towards his own, the tip of your nose brushing down the side of his cheek as you make to whisper into his ear, lips brushing absentmindedly against his skin, a small shiver making its way through his body at the tiniest semblance of touch from you.

It was tantalizing to be in control like this, to have Astarion tied up beneath you and at the mercy of your whims and desires. But it was a careful balance, one you were so deeply and intimately aware of—the many implications of Astarion’s trust in you, that you would never stray too far beyond his comfort level; the fact that Astarion has even given you a chance to have such power over him at all may be the most important detail of it all. 

You lower your body down to rest on his, silk against cool skin, as your hands move to run through his hair in soothing motions. Astarion’s eyes search the features of your face, waiting for further instruction as his legs widen beneath you, welcoming your weight between them as your stomach presses against his own.

“Astarion,” His name on your lips captures his attention, his eyes snapping to your own. “You have to promise me that you will use your word if you need to.”

You watch as the weight of your words fall upon him, Astarion nodding in agreement as a familiar affection fills his gaze. 

“You have my word, dearest.” Astarion gives you the smallest of smiles as you lean down to press your lips to his own, sealing the promise with a kiss.

Astarion’s lips press back against your own, your lashes fluttering shut as you bask in the feeling of it. You lean back only slightly, just enough for you to lick at his bottom lip, asking for entry. Astarion obliges, opening his mouth to you as you meet him, your tongue swirling with his own as you deepen the kiss.

With the slightest motion you move back to take his bottom lip between your teeth, nipping it lightly, enjoying the small sound he makes in response as you begin to move your lips down his elegant jaw, your kisses hot against the coolness of his skin as you head towards the line of his neck.

You settle back onto your knees, your weight pushing off of him as you nip at the skin below his ear, tiny little bites that serve to only make him shiver in response to the feeling of your teeth against his skin. 

With the tiniest of kisses, you make your way up the shell of his ear, careful to keep the touch light. He’s always so sensitive here, the delicate point an easy target for you to begin your little plan of worship.

You kiss up to the very tip, the warmth of your breath and the soothing touch of your lips has Astarion letting out a gasp underneath you as his body tenses, the ribbons pulling taut as you give him another soft nip. Astarion groans as you soothe a kiss to the bite, and you don’t have to look back to tell how hard he must be already, even with such little touch from you.

He always was so very susceptible to your attentions, once he let you in, once he trusted you enough to allow you to shower him with the affection. 

You smile against his skin as you kiss down the other side of his ear and onto his cheek once more before slowly moving lower, mouth dragging down his neck and onto the sharp collarbones of his chest.

“Your skin is so pretty, Astarion. So soft and smooth…” You nuzzle into the side of his throat as you bring your hands up to caress over the planes of chest, brushing over hardened nipples that have nothing to do with the cool air of the room.

Astarion gives you another one of those delectable little gasps as your lips continue downward, strands of your hair brushing against his bare skin as the heat from your mouth makes its way to his nipple.

“Everything about you is pretty though, isn’t it?” You look up at him under lowered lashes, letting your head rest on his chest as you pause your ministrations. 

“Well, I certainly like to think so.” Astarion says with his usual air of haughtiness, despite the hardness of his cock bobbing beneath you and those elegant hands of his still bound in pink ribbons.

“I’m quite tempted to agree.” You flash a devilish smile at him for only a moment, before turning your head back down to the open expanse of his chest to lick at his nipple with a flattened tongue.

Astarion moans at the unexpected sensation, his eyes closing in pleasure as his head tilts back against the pillow, the line of his throat exposed. The sight of him brings a flush to your cheeks that runs to the tip of your ears, your own arousal heightening at the obvious bliss that decorates his features.

You bury your face against his chest, kissing and nipping and licking at him while your other hand comes up to give his other nipple attention as well, just as you know he would to you.

Astarion’s sharp little gasps and moans, the bucking of his hips into the space between where yours still rest elevated above him, the sight of his hands flexing against the ribbon binding his wrists is all such a sight—one that you burn into your mind, a memory to be kept and held for the rest of your life.

It was such a gift, to be able to give him the same attentions he so frequently showers your body with, to worship him in such a way beyond your usual loving and affectionate words or gestures. The feeling of the trust that you know stretches both ways giving you a high that is indescribable. 

Lips move, kissing their way to his other nipple to give it the same attentions, your hand tracing teasing lines along his abdomen—lower, but certainly not as low as Astarion would like.

His back arches off the bed ever so slightly, your fingers teasing on his hip as your mouth continues its work, his noises only fuel to the fire building between your thighs.

You move down his body with aching slowness, marking the lines of his body with kisses pressed to his skin—the expanse of his chest, the soft lines of definition of his muscles, the dip of hips as you make your way to a destination that waits eagerly for your attention.

You kneel between his open legs, careful to avoid any touch on his erection as it rests against his stomach, bobbing as your lips move closer and closer, your hands on his hips gently pushing him into the mattress.

With a motion to the side you avoid where he wants you most as your lips press against the skin of his hips instead, so near and yet so very far from where his cock waits for the promise of your warm mouth.

Kisses and licks press on either side of his body as you continue, reveling in the precome that leaks from the tip of him and the soft cries from his throat. You had always assumed Astarion would be vocalwhen being denied, though you never quite thought he would be so wordless and without clever retorts, instead reduced to these small little sounds. 

“Ah! darling…” Astarion’s voice is tight with unfulfilled pleasure as your tongue licks close and his hips buck against your grip on them, the sound of the slightest bit of desperation in his words enough to have you looking up.

Astarion’s head leans up off the pillow as he watches you, panting breaths escaping from his lips as he pulls the bonds tight, the expression on his face one of open yearning.

The silk of your slip brushes against his erection as you move back up his body with the intent of mercy, the smoothness of the fabric providing the slightest bit of friction that has Astarion bucking into your stomach in an attempt at relief, a sigh of relief leaving his lips as you feel tiny dots of his precome decorate your slip in a line.

“I thought I told you to be patient.” You flick his nipple lightly in response, his hips jumping into your own once more. With one last kiss to his chest, you rise atop him, your knees on either side of his hips, your bodies no long touching.

“Since you’ve been so good, I’ll give you a little treat. What do you say, love?” You run your hands down your front with little hurry, Astarion’s eyes following your every move as he watches your fingers finally curl around the lacy hem. 

Astarion looks positively wrecked as you look down on him, the duality of being touched and kissed and licked but never where he so desperately needs feels almost cruel, his length painfully hard despite it never once being touched.

With unhurried hands you drag the slip up your figure, baring yourself to him inch by inch as he watches before you move to pull it over your head and throw it onto the ground beside the bed where it pools onto the floorboards to be forgotten.

Astarion’s eyes make their way up and down your figure, taking in the flush of your nipples from underneath the light colored lace that ensconces your breasts, pushing them up just so.

You’re unable to help yourself as you lean over his torso, hand caressing his jaw as you press a firm kiss his plush lips, nipping at his bottom lip once before pulling back upright.

“You’ve truly outdone yourself, darling.” You let Astarion’s praise wash over you,  smile on your lips as you brush your hands over your breasts, fingers teasing above the lace as you luxuriate in the open wanting on his features below you.

What Astarion is not quite so prepared for, though, is your panties.

He doesn’t even notice them at first, simply passing the lacy undergarment over with his eyes once before returning up where your breasts sit high. The thought that your usually observant lover fails to recognize the fact that the small triangle of lace only conceals the very front of you while leaving your entire center bare only serves to send your confidence soaring ever higher. 

The underwear—if you could honestly even call them such a thing—was simply that tiny bit of pink lace at the front, the rest nothing but the satin of the waistband and then two matching strips curving around the plumpness of your rear, leaving the entirety of your core and behind exposed to the cool air of the room.

It’s not until his gaze makes its way further down your body once more, claret eyes caressing your skin without touch as he takes his time to truly admire, that he sees the slightest bit of your center peeking out from under where the lace ends, his eyes zeroing in on the space between your hips as you widen your knees to better clue him in.

“Dearest, are those…” His words run off as you smirk, letting a hand run down your body and over the front of the ouverts to run lower instead, fingers brushing over soft lace before disappearing to run through your uncovered slit.

“Open at the bottom? Yes, they are.” Astarion’s mouth dries out as those fingers of yours come back up, hints of dewy wet glistening on your fingertips. His eyes watch with interest as you extend your hand towards his mouth and you delicately press damp fingertips against his lips.

He opens his mouth, pink tongue darting out to lick greedily at your slick on them. His tongue on your fingers has heat surging down into your empty cunt, and you can feel the heat blooming on your cheeks, certain that your arousal must show on your face with the way Astarion’s lips curve up into a smirk.

“I can do so much more with my tongue if you’ll let me have a real taste, my love.” He speaks the words with your fingers still touching his lips, pressing a small kiss to the delicate pads of them.

“A taste of what, exactly?” You tilt your head in mock confusion as you purse your lips, moving your hand from his mouth to instead trace the curve of his jaw.

“Oh, I think you know, darling.” His smile is pure sin as his lashes lower over half-lidded eyes, the picture of seduction as he lays beneath you, ready and waiting.

“I’m not so sure I do. I think I need you to spell it out for me.” You move your knees further up his torso despite your playing coy, your empty core all the closer to his waiting mouth as you feel curls of anticipation at the mere thought.

“What I want, dear mistress, is for you to move up here and put that sweet cunt of yours on my face.” 

Astarion’s head leans up, mouth moving towards your thigh as his teeth grab at the garter resting there, pulling at it and letting it go. It snaps back against your skin, the slight sting making you jump as you narrow your eyes down at him. 

His smile is nothing but deviant in response.

“And here I thought I was the one in charge.” You raise a brow at him, a corner of your lips quirking up in amusement.

“Are you honestly saying that this wasn’t part of your plan when you picked those out? Darling.” Disbelief colors his every word as his own eyebrows raise in skepticism.

“A mistress never tells.” You move to kneel above where Astarion lays his head on the crochet-trimmed pillow, steadying yourself on the carved wood headboard beneath your fingers as you widen your knees around his face.

His head moves to the side, pressing light kisses against the skin of your upper thigh, though his eyes don’t leave your exposed core, the lace stopping right before the place your slit opens to him. He can see everything like this, your center spread above his face, all soft and wet for him.

“Are you sure, Astarion?” You look down at him, waiting for his confirmation before you lower yourself down despite the hypnotic kisses he places along your thighs.

“There could be no finer honor than that of your sweetness upon my lips. So do it.” Such dramatics from a man currently trussed up with nowhere to go. There’s an open ardor to his words despite his levity that has you lowering yourself down upon waiting lips with little ceremony, eager to give both of you a reward.

The first touch of his tongue on you is euphoric, your eyes rolling back as he laps at your waiting wetness in time with the soft moans that fall from your lips.

Astarion’s tongue dives deep into your center as he whorls around your walls before he exits to lick up to your clit instead. He continues like this, a little pattern designed to drive you wild as he alternates between deep passes inside your cunt to sweet little licks around your clit, your moans ringing out in time with his mouth on you.

He’s always been so talented at pleasuring you like this, though the feeling is seemingly more intimate with your thighs around his head, body lowered down onto his face as you ride his mouth, his tongue precise as he pleasures you.

He laves at your center, leaving no part of your most intimate place untouched by him as he worships you, just like this. It would be so easy to come for him, to feel him drink up your very essence as it spills from your body with the same vigor he does the blood that runs from your neck.

Your hips jump as he presses against the small pearl between your legs just right, a soft gasp falling from your open lips as tension begins to grow deep in your belly with the pleasure. Astarion moans against your pussy, the sound and vibration of it only bringing you that much closer to the inevitable end.

“Let me hear you, love.” Every word has his lips brushing against your sensitive skin before he flattens his tongue, licking a broad stripe up the center of you before his lips attach to your clit, sucking at it. 

You keen above him, letting him hear the soft moans and whines that fall from your lips as your lashes fall shut. It’s an effort to keep yourself up, knuckles turning white as you grasp onto the hard wood in front of you, Astarion’s pace intent to hurtle you towards completion far sooner than you would like, especially when you have other equally delicious ideas in mind as well.

You summon your will as you move your hips up and away from his mouth despite Astarion’s noise of protest, your own impeding orgasm ruined as you catch your breath.

“Oh, hush. I have a better idea.” You smile down at him between inhales and exhales of air, swiveling your body around to face your front towards the foot of the bed instead of the headboard. 

“You’re the one in charge, dearest.” Astarion makes a show of licking at his lips in a way that has your flush deepening, the pink of them glistening with your slick.

You lower yourself back down onto his waiting lips, letting his tongue get back to work flicking against your clit as you lean your body down over his own, lace covered breasts pressing into his the hard lines of his stomach as you find yourself face to face with the evidence of his arousal.  

Astarion’s ministrations pause as he feels you finally grab his aching cock between your hands, your lips finding the crown and placing a soft kiss, coating your lips in the precome beaded there.

Instinctively his hips buck into your waiting lips, the needy moan that falls from his throat music to your ears as you let your tongue peek out from behind your lips to lap at the head.

Astarion buries his head into the apex of your thighs, tongue lashing at your entrance as you lick down the length of him. Your tongue moves up and down his shaft as he licks into your core, each of your working towards the other’s release.

With plush lips you take him inside your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you work him in as far as you can without choking, a hand coming up to assist in the act as to stroke the length of him that doesn’t fit inside. Your head bobs up and down, hair soft as it brushes against his thighs. 

You pay your own pleasure no mind as you focus on the feeling of his cock in your mouth and on your lips, the taste of him mixing with your saliva with every pass up and down him.

You pop off his cock to lick, following a vein as you reach the base before swirling your tongue back up him again to suck on the head. Your let your weight rest on him as your other hand glides down his body and past where your mouth sucks at him to brush a teasing touch against his balls.

Astarion lets out a deep moan into your core, tongue pushing into your entrance as his nose brushes against your clit as he eats you out. With soft hands you squeeze lightly, cupping them in your palm as you take his length into your mouth once more.

You can see the tension in his thighs as your hands and mouth work in tandem, his mouth losing its cadence on you as you suck and lick and touch, eager to drive him to brink before you lose yourself to the cascade of pleasure heading towards you.

With a hard suck to his cock and a squeeze of the hand cupping his balls you feel Astarion tense beneath you, his hips bucking into your open mouth as his moans fill the air.

Astarion comes on your tongue in spurts of white that you drink down, swallowing his spend as you stroke him through his orgasm. His cum is warm as you swallow, the taste of him familiar as you let his hips thrust into your mouth.

He comes down from his high slowly and you finally lift off his softened cock, tongue licking off the remnants of his climax as you move your body to the side of his and look back at him. His head rests on the pillow, hair strewn as the ribbons sit slack, breaths leaving his chest in pants.

“You didn’t come.” Astarion annunciates each word as he cracks open his eyes to look at where you lounge beside him as you make a show of licking your lips.

“I had other pressing matters to attend to.” The completion of Astarion’s pleasure at your hands far overweighed your own desire, the point driven home by the sight of him, fully spent.

The raise of his brow is all the answer you receive as he recovers from his orgasm, his breathing evening out as he looks you up and down, gaze assessing.

“Would you do me the favor of freeing me, love?” Astarion makes a show of flexing his hands as he looks at you pointedly, tightening the bonds as he asks for release.

“Was this too much, Astarion?” There’s a slight worry in your tone, the pull of your lips the tiniest bit downwards as a crease between your eyebrows forms. You are quick to move over him, fingers grabbing onto the ends of the ribbons as you pull them undone, moving from one hand to the next.

“Oh, far from it, my dear.” Astarion’s hands dart out to connect with your waist, running up and down the skin he has yet to get to touch. His eyes follow his hands as they move up your ribs. 

“In fact,” Astarion continues, “I could have taken much, much more. But I find myself wanting something else you have to offer.” 

His hands tighten around your waist as he sits up faster than you could have expected, the hands bracketing your sides now giving you a gentle push onto your back as you give a small noise of surprise.

Astarion captures both your wrists in his hands and pins them above your head, newly freed fingers flexing as they circle your wrists. His nose brushes the skin of your neck, breathing in your scent as his tongue flicks out to taste your skin, his body hovering above your own as he pushes you harder into the linens.

He licks a line down the column of your neck that has you arching up into him, the coolness of his lips against the heat of your own skin always a sensation beyond description.

With slow kisses, he works his way across your collarbone and onto the swells of your chest, lips and tongue and nose brushing against the skin there as he caresses his cheek against the lace of a still covered breast.

With the turn of his head, he mouths at a nipple, the lace darkening with the wetness of his tongue against the now pebbled peak. 

He buries his face in the cleavage made from the lingerie as he makes his way to your other breast, a hand coming down from where he keeps your wrists above your head to thumb at the damp lace left from his mouth.

“This has been quite the reward.” He licks over your other nipple as his fingers play with its twin, your lashes fluttering shut as your hips jump into his own. 

“You deserve it. And more.” You whisper the words on a shaky exhale, Astarion’s cock already hardening once more as you roll your hips into his, pressing against his erection.

“Always such a sweetheart.” He punctuates his words with kisses up the line of your chest as he moves up a hand to cradle your cheek, his lips meeting your own with a tenderness he bestows upon no other being but you.

“On your knees, darling.” You hear that soft command in his voice, the sound of it kindling to the fire deep in your belly as you nod, his hands releasing you as he leans back to give you space to move. You turn over for him, pillowing your head onto the soft covers as you prop your knees up on the bed, spreading your legs for him.

You feel his hands caress the skin of your hips as they move up to your waist, his eyes glued to your dewy center exposed to him like this. He moves his hands up to your shoulders, fingertips briefly digging into the skin there as he rubs away any tension he feels before they trail back down the skin of your spine, fingertips moving vertebrae by vertebrae with impossible slowness.

“You had your fun, and it was absolutely delicious,” Astarion grips your hips as he leans forward to press a burning kiss to the base of your spine before leaning away once more, a hand moving lower to brush through your wet folds. “But now, I want to have mine.”

He gathers your arousal with slow, teasing passes of his fingers, moving up and down your slit from your entrance up to your clit and back again as he wets them in your slick, soft moans leaving your lips from his light touch. 

“What a good girl you’ve been, picking out such pretty things and pleasing me so. You are far too good to me.” Two of Astarion’s fingers dip into your entrance, pressing in lightly as they glide in ever so slowly until they are fully seated inside you to the knuckle before pumping them in and out. “But you are an absolute menace in these panties, darling.”

You whine at the sensation, though the pleasure ends far too quickly. Almost as soon as it starts, Astarion’s fingers leave your aching pussy, pulling out of you slowly to trace around your entrance instead as you let out a noise of discontent.

“Patience, sweet thing.” He repeats your earlier words back to you as he collects more of your slick before moving them once more, fingertips brushing past your entrance to somewhere else instead, your wetness leaving a streak of arousal up the cleft of your bottom.

You gasp as the tip of a finger brushes over your other hole, body reflexively tensing as he rubs over the puckered entrance, spreading your slick in a light circle around it. Astarion keeps his touch feather light, small and simple circles that trace around the entrance, not yet working to press his finger inside you.

Even just the barest of touches on such a sensitive area has you swallowing in anticipation, the fire deep inside your body raging as you wait for him to give you more. More pleasure, more pain, more anything.

Astarion leans down towards your raised hips to press kisses to the roundness of a cheek, dragging his lips across your skin closer to the place where his finger keeps up its exploration. 

You feel his fingertip move away only to be replaced by the wetness of his mouth. He licks at your hole, his tongue ringing circles around the sensitive entrance as his hands come up to spread your cheeks. The feeling of his tongue pressing onto such a place has you crying out, hips bucking into his face as he continues.

“Fuck, Astarion.” You pant, eyes closed against the pleasure as you breath out the words. 

You feel him hum against you in response, tongue pressing harder against you as your moans turn desperate. Astarion’s finger joins back in with his tongue, coming to massage you as his tongue still licks.

He presses a soft kiss before he leans away, his own breathing heavy as he sits up. Your eyes open at the sudden absence to look back at him, taking in the sight of him with pupils blown wide in lust as his cock sits erect between his legs. 

Astarion shifts slightly as he reaches over you and into his night table, fingers quickly finding his prize. He sits back upright, a hand brushing soothing fingertips across your lower back as he holds up the small vial of oil between his elegant fingers, the viscous liquid slowing moving from side to side before sliding down the glass.

You watch with bated breath as he uncorks the vial and dribbles the oil over his fingertips before moving it to dribble over your ass. The oil is cold as it drips, bringing a chill over your body as Astarion quickly corks it and lays it aside. 

His finger touches you once more, smoothing the oil over your entrance with slow, soft motions as he readies you. His other hand comes to rest upon your hip, thumb brushing soothing lines up and down into your skin as he finally presses the very tip of his finger into your ass.

The feeling is visceral as it sends a spike of heat straight to your empty cunt, your body parting for him easily with the help of the oil, the sensation one so unlike any other.

Astarion leans in, his lips caressing the skin of your lower back, pressing soothing kisses as he slides his finger deeper, drawing a low keen from your lips as the pleasure increases with every inch his finger slides.

His finger finally fills you to the knuckle, Astarion giving it an experimental wiggle inside you. Your moans fill the room, eyes squeezed shut as you exhale, pleasure striking deep inside with that singular motion. With a slow, delicate movement, Astarion begins to pull his finger out, carful to leave the tip still inside, before he pushes back in.

Astarion lets his finger move with slow, even thrusts as your voice echos off the walls of the room with his every motion. 

“Does that feel good, darling?” He keeps his voice quiet, but the undercurrent of heat you can hear in his words only adds to your building pleasure.

“Gods, yes.” Your words are a sob as you are unable to help the small noises leaving your lips as his finger moves, Astarion alternating between thrusting his finger and wiggling it deep inside, each action driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Your core squeezes empty as heat builds inside of you, your own denial of your pleasure earlier making it all burn all the hotter as Astarion lets his finger work you up higher and higher, edging you closer to your climax.

“Can you take another?” His words are soft, questioning, as his free hand grabs the vial on the bed, uncorking it with his mouth while he waits for your answer, drizzling more oil onto you. 

You nod, unsure of your ability to form coherent words as Astarion has you on the brink like this, so close but still so far from your orgasm. You feel his finger pull out only to be joined by another, and together his two fingers press in to your body. Astarion gives you time to acclimate, working in slowly and stopping to give you time, only moving deeper once he is confident your body is ready. 

“Are you alright, love?” Your heart could melt at the affection in his voice as you nod your head to him again, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks as your cheeks flush.

By the time both his digits are seated full inside, you feel lost to the pleasure, the slight stretch of pain only adding to the euphoria as Astarion pumps his fingers softly, your body writhing. 

“Should I fuck your pretty ass open with my fingers? Get it all nice and ready for my cock later?” You whine at his words as he scissors his fingers, stretching you ever so slightly more as he says the words.

He can see the evidence of his ministrations, a new gush of arousal leaking from your cunt with filmy strings sticking to your entrance. He leans his head down, pressing his tongue out as he circles your entrance, licking at the slick he sees as his fingers keep working inside your ass.

“I want you to come, dearest, can you do that for me?” His tongue finds its way to your clit, giving it the smallest little licks as he waits for your answer.

“Yes. Please.” The words are barely a whisper, desperate and needy. Astarion obliges you, though, licking faster as his fingers keep up their motions.

Astarion draws your pleasure out masterfully, though it doesn’t take long for you to hit the peak, the flat licks of his tongue on your pearl and fingers pressing deep inside bringing you to your climax within what feels like mere seconds.

You cry out as the heat crescendos, your hips bucking as you finally fall over the precipice of your pleasure, mouth opened in an almost silent moan as white hot heat fills your body.

Astarion licks at your clit softly as you ride the wave of completion, fingers slowing in your ass as you come hard, your knees weakening from the strength and overwhelm of it.

You collapse onto your stomach, a veil of tears lining the edges of your lashes as your body still writhes with the aftershock of your orgasm, Astarion’s fingers pausing as you come down from your high.

“For fuck’s sake, Astarion.” You breathe out on a soft laugh, eyes still closed as you feel the slightest bit of drool on your cheek you failed to notice.

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet.” Astarion’s smirk is incorrigible as you feel his hardened cock pressing at the entrance to your cunt, the fingers still inside you wiggling ever so slightly once more. 

“Do you think you can you take my cock, darling?” He leans over your back as he says the words, pressing his chest into your hot skin as he whispers them into your ear softly. The position has his fingers pressing harder, pleasure already beginning to build back up inside you.

“I think you already know the answer to that.” You buck your hips back into his waiting hardness, the tip of him breaching your walls has both of you sighing at the feeling.

“Always so insatiable, my love.” Astarion rocks his hips forward, pressing in slightly as he nips at your ear and his free hand grips your hip harder.

“It’s a wonder where I could have learned it from.” Your words are a gasp as he thrusts into your warmth with little warning, filling you in his entirety in a single stroke. 

The fullness of him nestled deep inside your core while his fingers fill your ass is sheer bliss, a sensation that you weren’t sure you would ever get used to no matter how many times you’ve had tastes of this particular type of pleasure.

“So tight, sweet thing.” Astarion groans into your ear, hips still as he lets you acclimate to him. He presses a soothing kiss to your temple as he slowly begins to move his fingers once more.

Every movement of his fingers feels multiplied with Astarion filling both your entrances, your cunt clenching on him as you moan. You move your hips with a subtle motion, wanting as much from him as he would give you.

“Fuck me, then.” You press back into him as much as you can with him inside you, both front and back filled to the brim with him.

“Impertinent little thing.” Astarion tsks as he swats at your bottom playfully, moving his hand up over the curve of your rear to rest on your hip. He squeezes his fingertips into the skin of your hip as he grants you your wish.

Astarion pulls his hips away from yours, his cock dragging against your walls before plunging back in with a hard thrust that has you practically singing before repeating the action once more.

Astarion fucks you hard, hips slapping into the skin of your ass as his fingers piston inside you simultaneously, drawing your pleasure from both entrances as he times his thrusts in and out of your body with near perfect rhythm.

“You look so lovely like this, taking me in both.” Astarion is breathless as he thrusts, his cock hitting deep inside your cunt.

“I know. And I know you love it.” You try to move your hips back into his own, meeting his thrusts as well as you can despite your prone form on the bed. It’s so tight like this, the dual feeling of his fingers and his hardness beyond amazing.

“Oh, I do, darling. I do.” Astarion breathes the words hard as he keeps his pace steady despite the growing pleasure in your belly building up higher once more.

A particularly hard thrust has you both moaning as he leans over, pressing his forehead into your shoulder blade, his panting breaths warm against your own heated skin.

“I want to feel you come around my cock.” The words have you clenching harder around him, body tightening as his fingers continue to move inside your other entrance.

Astarion’s thrusts change their pace ever so slightly, the angle different as he finds the place deep inside that has you gasping in time with his cock. He hits your g-spot each time, the moans that fall from your lips nothing short of euphoric as you near completion once more.

All it takes is one more little quirk of his fingers inside your ass for your thighs to shake and your fingers to grasp at the blankets beneath you in balled fists as your orgasm hits just as hard as the first, eyes squeezed shut in bliss as your hips move against his own as you ride out your pleasure.

The feeling of your body squeezing around his length and fingers has Astation following right after, the warmth of his come filling you deep one you barely notice as his thrusts hit a fever pitch.

Your mind drifts as you come down from the high, Astarion’s thrusts slowing as he too works his way down from his pleasure. He gingerly pulls his fingers from you, moving the digits slowly despite his cock still thrusting lazily into your core, his come leaking from you and onto the linens below.

With one last kiss pressed to the back of your neck Astarion lets his cock leave your warmth, the mess of both of your spends decorating the blankets and your bodies.

Astarion walks over to where the washbasin sits in the corner, grabbing a soft cloth and wetting it before returning to where you still lay face down, catching your breath.

He kneels on the bed beside your body, reaching between your thighs with the cool cloth to clean the mess of cum and oil from your overheated skin.

“I think we made a mess,” You are quick to recover as you move to sit, reclining casually against the bed as Astarion comes to rest beside you.

His fingers dance over your skin in tiny patterns, the tips of them moving across your body as if tracing the lines of the many garments he now spends his time to make.

“Hardly, darling.” Astarion’s fingers dance up towards the clasp holding the lingerie across your chest, flicking it aside with clever feelings as he peels it off your body and throws it. “In fact, I think we can make an even bigger one.”

“Oh? Do tell.” Another raise of your brow, interest piqued.

Astarion climbs over where you lean against the pillows, now his turn to swing a leg across your hips as he straddles your form, eyes looking over the ever so tender skin of your neck as he licks his lips.

“Care for a snack, darling?” 

[slasherscream]

the crazy ass boys and that punisher scene *would* be kooky crazy and you absolutely should do it - the FLAVOR…

A/N: do i feel bad for reader? yeah, of course... but lowkey this shit kinda funny. TW: the kevin and josh parts of this feature attempted sexual assault of reader. if you get the urge to community label this block me and don't read it instead xoxo.

crazy ass boys gang + reader kills someone based on that one punisher scene

billy loomis:

He deserves it. The hands wrapped tightly around his throat, his mind going foggy from the lack of oxygen. Head pounding in pain from the several blows he’d taken to it. His vision swims as he stares up at the monster he himself had created: Ghostface.

One thing he’d never considered about making it so he and Stu were the sole survivors of the Woodsboro massacre was what tantalizing targets they’d become for any Ghostface copycats. He curses himself for it now. It was ridiculous to think that infamy like theirs wouldn’t inspire other bloodthirsty maniacs. 

To be murdered in his own home, the way so many of his own victims met their fate, is particularly insulting. 

‘What an ironic way to go,’ Billy thinks as he starts to black out. 

And that should be it. There shouldn’t be anything after the blackness. But suddenly he’s taking large, greedy gulps of air again and rolls to the side heaving. He finds himself face to face with the Ghostface copycat who sports a new accessory: a kitchen knife in the side of their neck. 

Senses coming back to him, he slowly begins to hear the miserable animal-like whimpering of another person in the room and rolls onto his back. Standing over him and his cheap knockoff is his partner, Y/N, blood splattered across their trembling hands. 

“Did I kill them? Are they dead?” Before you’ve even finished the sentence Billy is shaking his head no.

“No, baby, no you didn’t kill them. It’s okay.” The words hurt to get out but he forces them anyway. He has to reassure you that you aren’t like him. That you aren’t a killer. 

Believe it or not, he never wanted this for you. You aren’t like him or Stu. You aren’t built for this. But here you are, blood on your hands because it came down to Billy or a stranger and you’ll always choose Billy, no matter what the choice costs you. 

Billy forces himself to move when he notices the way the rise and fall of the Ghostface’s chest slow to the jerking heaves of the dying. 

He yanks the knife from their neck and they make a gurgling, wet noise of pain. It’s the sound people make while they drown in their own blood. Billy is more than used to it, and barely registers it. But as quiet as the room is, the noise is deafening for you, and you turn to retch.

“You didn’t kill anyone baby, I promise.” Billy slits their throat so quickly it’s done before you even turn back around. “I killed them, okay?” 

josh washington: 

Josh’s hearing these days is inhuman, which is only fair since Josh himself isn’t quite human these days. 

Also inhuman is his bond with you. He’s in tune with you, to put it lightly. His abnormally cold body forever seeks out the heat of your own. He relishes in your calming scent. He listens eagerly for the sound of your breathing, your heartbeat, your voice. 

That’s why, even with the music at this party turned up to deafening volumes, he registers the sound of your scream as if you were standing side by side. 

The noise awakens something animalistic in him. His mouth, already half split into a permanent, razor-toothed snarl, pulls back even further. He looks monstrous. He pushes and shoves violently through the crowd of mindlessly gyrating bodies in a panic. 

‘Where are you, Y/N?!’ He thinks, sick to his stomach. 

Even through the heavy smells of sweat, alcohol, and weed, he’s able to follow your scent outside. Here he’s in his element. The air is clear and damp, and it’s easy to track you. You’re in the woods just beyond the house, still screaming, when he finds you. 

Immediately he gathers you in his arms, snarling and growling into the open air at any potential threats. 

“I killed him. I killed him, Josh.” You shriek, voice high and sharp with panic. 

He nuzzles his cheek against yours comfortingly. It takes him a second to remember he’s human and can speak. That’s when he smells the blood. His pupils dilate at the sweet, metallic scent and he searches for the source, eyes seeing perfectly even in the darkness of the night. 

His eyes land on a man laying haphazardly on the ground, head bent at an odd angle on a rock. Blood oozes sluggishly over the stone and Josh’s heart stops at the sight. 

“I was just trying to get some air and this guy followed me out here and he wouldn’t leave me alone, so I ran, but he followed me. He followed me! And he tried to…” You sob on the words that won’t come and Josh knows instantly what happened. His mind paints the rest of the horrible picture. “... all I was doing was trying to get him off me. That’s all I was trying to do! I didn’t mean to kill him, Josh. Oh god, I didn’t mean to kill him.”

You’re not a killer. Josh isn’t one either… but if he has to choose which one of you will have to bear the weight of taking a life he knows he won’t let it be you. 

He crosses over to the man, who looks up at Josh with unseeing eyes. There’s only one thing to do. Josh bends down low and braces himself for the way your attacker's blood will taste when he rips out their throat with his teeth.

stu macher: 

text from babygirl/babyboy: [ stu there is someone in the house pls hurry im scared ]

He glanced down at the pocket of his jeans ready to roll his eyes when he heard your text notification. 

You were probably texting him because you’d checked the kitchen and realized you needed some spice or vegetable ‘desperately’ to be able to make dinner tonight. He almost felt like ignoring it and telling you he hadn’t seen the text until he pulled into the driveway of your home. 

But begrudgingly he paused, shifted the grocery bags around in his arms, and pulled out his phone. 

His heart stopped. 

Instantly, he knew you were serious. He might fuck with you like this but you’d never do the same to him. He dropped the groceries on the ground and ran to the car. 

He doesn’t text you to ask if you’re okay. He’s terrified of the answer he could get. More terrified of getting no answer at all, so he just drives. He focuses on the thought of you at home, needing him, and breaks every speeding law there is to get to you. 

He parks down the street so as to not tip off the intruder. He grabs the hunting knife he always keeps in his car even though Billy tells him not to and stalks like an animal toward the home you’ve built together. The rage he feels is indescribable. Someone is in his house terrorizing what’s his. 

He creeps in through the wide open back door of the house. He pauses and listens for a sound over the pounding of the blood in his ear. 

Nothing. For one soul crushing moment there’s nothing at all. 

Then he hears the sound of you crying from upstairs and it makes his heart stop. He runs up the stairs as quietly as he can and throws himself into the bedroom ready to do anything to save you.

But you’ve already saved yourself, it seems. 

You’ve curled yourself up in the corner closest to the door, watching as the man who attacked you bleeds out from the stab wounds you put in his stomach. 

Stu stops moving and watches as the man tries to stop himself from bleeding out, his own cries blending with yours. You were smart enough to keep the knife and you hold it towards the man, shaking with adrenaline and fear.

“Baby-” Stu’s voice breaks the spell you’re in and you turn to him and begin to cry in earnest. You were holding yourself together, waiting on him to save you and he came too late. 

“He’s dying Stu, I killed him. Oh god, I killed someone.” Blood from the knife you’re holding drips onto the hardwood floor of your bedroom. 

“No, baby, you didn’t kill him.” Stu already failed you tonight. He’s not going to let you become a killer because someone broke into your house and you had to survive. 

He crosses the room, kneels in front of the burglar, and stabs them twice in the neck. The warm blood hits his face and he doesn’t even relish in it. Just waits for the light in the burglar’s eyes to dim. When it does he turns back to you. 

“I killed them, honey.”

jd/jason dean: 

The sound of a gunshot rings through the basement loud and clear. 

JD freezes, mind racing as he thinks of what to do next. It’s not every day that you’re caught planting bombs in the building where the Dean’s office happens to be. This was his last stop. 

All the other bombs have already been carefully placed throughout campus. Even if he’s caught now, the detonator is only just out of reach. If he can reach it, the plan will still be a success. The only minor hiccup would be dying beneath a couple thousand piles of rubble. But that’s a small thing. It’d be worth it. For you, JD would do anything. 

This university had taken everything from you. He’d watched it happen. Had sat by, rage simmering just beneath the surface as he tried to let you handle your own problems. You’d insisted he’d let you handle the situation. You’d let yourself get walked all over, is what happened. But JD doesn’t blame you for how everything turned out. 

You’re too gentle. Too sweet. You don’t have that animal instinct to fight or go to war. It was one of the reasons you endeared yourself to JD so quickly. You were intensely vulnerable in a world so resolutely cruel that you were breathtaking just by existing. To watch you come to harm of any kind was painful. But it all ended today. Even if it killed him. 

“Oh no, oh please no.” Your voice makes JD turn in bewilderment. 

“What on Earth are you doing here-” JD’s eyes go wide at the scene before him. 

There’s a security guard on the ground, unconscious, a pool of blood seeping from them. He can see the entry wound on their back. He wonders if the bullet is lodged in them or if it went straight through. 

“I didn’t want to kill him. I was just- I was coming to stop you from doing this but I didn’t… I saw the guard coming up behind you with a gun, and… and his finger was on the trigger. He was gonna kill you. He was gonna-” 

JD steps gracefully around the puddle of blood the guard is making and takes you into his arms. You fall into them with a wet sob. 

He feels his heart go warm, the way it always does when he holds you. You came here to stop him from protecting you and wound up protecting him in turn. Whether you like it or not, the two of you are soulmates. You’ll always come first to one another. Damn the rest of the world entirely. 

But JD knows you’re too tender for this. Knows that killing will break your spirit, not free you the way it freed him. 

He gently pries the gun from your fingers (and almost laughs at the thought of you trying to confront him with his own gun), turns, and shoots the guard execution-style in the back of his head. 

“You didn’t kill anyone, darling. You don’t have it in you.” He pulls you back into his arms. “But don’t worry about that, you’ll never have to when I’m around.”

kevin khatchadourian: 

Kevin told you the guy was bad news. But generally, Kevin was an untrustworthy judge of character because he hated everyone, especially anyone who pulled any of your precious attention away from him. So, you decided to tutor the other man despite Kevin’s insistence you do no such thing. 

You should have listened to Kevin. 

Of course, your classmate didn’t actually need tutoring. He was just trying to get close to you. He said as much as he pinned you against your couch, rough hand sliding up up up your leg, to the juncture of your thighs. It quickly became clear that your classmate didn’t care whether or not you wanted to become close to him as well. 

You’d shoved him away from you as hard as you could once he started trying to remove your clothes. It was a good shove. He’d landed right on the corner of the coffee table. There’d been a sickening crunch as the back of his head hit the wood. Then there was nothing. And now he was making a low, animal noise from what seemed like the very pit of his stomach. He must’ve been in agony. 

You didn’t move a muscle. You were probably in shock. You just sat, holding your ripped shirt to your chest. All the while knowing that if you didn’t do something soon, this man that had tried to force himself on you would die. 

Kevin walked in through the front door of your apartment. You heard him take off his shoes. Throw his keys onto the table in your entryway. Heard him begin to shuffle his way toward the scene of the soon-to-be crime. 

“Y/N?” He’s suddenly kneeling in front of you, blocking the view of your attacker, who still keeps on with that miserable whining. 

“Kevin?” Numbly, you reach for him, place your hands on his shoulders and grip them tightly. You try to pull him towards you but he holds himself away, staring at you. 

“What happened?” 

You glance a little to the side and can see the other man still sprawled across the ground. “I should have listened to you.”

Kevin’s thumb gently drags along your freshly busted lip, smearing blood along the length of your mouth, “What happened?”

His voice is so unusually tender that the haze of confusion and fear breaks and you sob. You try again to pull him towards you and this time he comes willingly, enveloping you in his arms. For someone so distant, who adopts and discards emotions and feelings as easily as a mask, Kevin’s embraces are always tight and all-consuming. 

You stay like that for only a few minutes. When Kevin pulls back, he wipes away your tears with your own ripped shirt. You stare at one another. You never know what he’s thinking, now being no exception, but for once you let yourself get lost in the inky blackness of his eyes and feel comforted, not unnerved. 

“Go take a bath.” The command comes out of nowhere. 

“What? Kevin I-” A slightly louder moan than the rest cuts you off and the look on Kevin’s face fades from whatever was there when he was looking at you to his typical viciousness. 

“I’m going to put him out of his misery. He’s already dying. There’s no use calling an ambulance, and I wouldn’t let you anyway. So you’re going to let me do what I need to do, and you’re going to go take a bath while I do it. Then you’ll go to bed, and when you wake up, it will all be over. Understand?” 

He doesn’t give you the option to disobey. He helps you to your feet, guides you to the bathroom, and even starts the bath for you. Then he goes back into the living room to kill a man as if it means nothing to him. 

You sit in the bath with your knees to your chest, and listen to the sounds of running water instead of focusing on the fact that the man has finally gone quiet.

[daenerysies]

deep diving into the episode three line from rhaenyra, “no one is here for me,” and how if the takeaway from that scene is that rhaenyra is a selfish brat you aren’t proficient enough to do anything past surface-level reading.

in episode one rhaenyra expresses to alicent that she hopes her father gets his son, “for as long as i can recall it’s all he’s wanted.” which leads us (the audience) to understand that while rhaenyra loves both of her parents she feels ostracized from her father (and mayhaps even her mother, to some extent, because of her constant pregnancies) due to his ‘need’ for a son to continue the targaryen dynasty. she is a daughter, only seen as valuable for her womb, which is evidenced that she knows about when talking to her mother. rhaenyra wishes to be a knight and ride off to battle and glory, with aemma giving her a gentle reality check on her lot in life. she does not want to serve the same purpose as her mother.

aemma dies near the end of the episode, with viserys ordering her butchered for the chance that his long-awaited male heir might live. this is a violent and gruesome scene, followed by rhaenyra not even being given the privilege of hearing her mother’s death first. she is instead relegated to members of the small council being alerted, even corlys and rhaenys learning about this before her, she is a silent member on the sidelines. she does not know the extent of what has happened, but she knows that something is wrong.

we have to think about how she learns of her mother’s fate. did otto tell her? did rhaenys? did viserys? did she see her mother’s body ripped open? did she see the bloody sheets left at the scene? was she allowed to hold baby baelon, considering he didn’t die immediately? was she there when he took his last breath? maybe it would bring her some comfort, she didn’t get to say goodbye to her mom. maybe she held him until he passed. did her father offer any explanation? we’ll never know, but these are all such heavy questions in regards to what she experienced that day. she’s fourteen, has spent her entire life watching her mother grieve dead baby after dead baby, losing little bits of herself in the process. it’s no wonder this was a traumatizing period for her, fueling her want (her need) to not be shackled down by marriage and childbirth.

even at her mother and brother’s funeral she isn’t allowed to just grieve, to just be. she has to hold her head high, she has to comfort her father, she has to order their corpses burned. was her father happy for the few hours he had a son? she wouldn’t know, she never will be that for him. how long does he spend wallowing is his self pity? he reprimands daemon for not being there for his niece, but where was he, her father? he banishes daemon, takes comfort from his daughter’s best friend. he finally comes to her, tells her of a great danger rising from the north; from my blood comes the prince that was promised, his will be the song of ice and fire. she hasn’t heard from him in days, a targaryen must be seated on the iron throne to unite the realm against the cold and the dark. her mother is dead, and he has wasted the years since she was born wanting a son. she is now enough, her mother never was.

it has now been six months since her mother's death (murder), and she has been heir the *entire* time. her father won't talk to her, she is still the cupbearer for the small council. lord corlys is angry about a war he says has cost him, the crown will not help. she suggests they use dragons, a show of force against their enemies. her father admonishes her, "it isn't that simple, rhaenyra." he allows the lords at the table to belittle her efforts. the only one appreciative is corlys, "at least the princess has a plan." otto says there are better uses for her talents, she has been heir to the iron throne for six months. she's been given the chance to choose a future kingsguard, she wants one with actual combat experience. the hand is exacerbated, she is firm in her decision. ser criston cole will be the replacement for ser ryam redwyne.

alicent has been visiting her father in his private chambers secretly, corlys wants his daughter to be the next queen. viserys begins openly courting lady laena of house velaryon. rhaenyra and alicent visit the sept, she expresses her worry, her mother has only dead for half a year. the lords seek to replace her, alicent convinces her that she cannot worry about the plots of lords and men, she is the heir, however. why shouldn't she worry? she misses her mother.

she meets with her father, he reassures her, "i loved your mother very much." she apologizes for speaking out of turn at the small council meeting, he tells her she will learn (will he be the one to teach her, though?) daemon has taken a dragon's egg and seized dragonstone, bringing news of his future marriage to lady mysaria. the king means to go himself to stop him, otto will not let him. daemon took baelon's egg. rhaenyra is angry. she reaches dragonstone just after otto's party, she knows they were about to come to blows. she confronts daemon, she is the reason he was disinherited. if he kills her, he'd be done with all this bother. daemon scoffs, walking away from her. he throws the egg whilst still retreating. rhaenyra smiles and leaves. her father is mad once he learns what she's done. she left without his permission, but she retrieved the egg and prevented bloodshed, he should be pleased with her efforts. otto would never have been able to accomplish what she did, he relents.

rhaenys lectures her about the order of things. the realm will never accept a woman ascending the iron throne, but it's different for her. her father is the king, rhaenys' father dies as a prince. her father made the lords of the realm swear obeisance to her, rhaenys never had such a thing. the lords chose viserys over rhaenys at the great council, viserys has not given them a choice. rhaenys is the the queen who never was, rhaenyra is the queen to be. when she is queen she will create a new order, rhaenys warns there will be war (unfortunately she is right).

another meeting takes place between father and daughter. he must take a new wife, someone to help propagate the targaryen line. they are vulerable, to easily ended. rhaenyra understands, it is his duty as king. obviously he will marry laena, the daughter of one of the most powerful houses in the realm and of pure valyrian stock, it is a fine match. alicent is still visiting her father in secret.

her father calls a small council meeting, he means to announce his next wife. rhaenyra is ready, she gave him her blessing (why is alicent here? she never has been before.) her father starts speaking, "i intend to marry... the lady alicent hightower." corlys is enraged, otto is pleased, alicent is anxious. rhaenyra was ready, it has all fallen apart. alicent is her best friend, that friendship dies before her very eyes. she runs from the room.

it has been two years. viserys and alicent are married, and they have a son, with one more baby on the way. the boy's name is aegon, it is his second birthday. he has past his infancy, the lords believe it is only a matter of time until the king names him heir, rhaenyra is well aware of this. the queen visits the godswood where rhaenyra sits. she overrides rhaenyra's authority, commanding the singer to leave. she states the king wishes for her to join them, he wants them to have fun as a family. they do not need her to celebrate his long-awaited son. it is the king's command, she leaves unhappily. alicent wishes for things to be different, rhaenyra knows they never can be.

together they all sit, traveling towards the kingswood. rhaenyra asks after alicent's well-being, viserys reminds her that she will be in this position sooner than late (the same position that killed her mother). "it isn't so bad, the days are long but aegon came quickly and without fuss." the queen states. rhaenyra is hurt, she tries not to show it. the king reminds her she has duties, rhaenyra retorts sarcastically. how long will these duties last, once her father names alicent's son as heir over her? her life will be forfeit before long. no one is here for her.

"no one is here for me." translates to "no one has been here for me. i’ve been alone and angry and terrified for years. i am my father’s heir, but what does that mean? what will it cost? you put me here. daemon put me here. alicent put me here. you have a son now, he outlived baelon and my other siblings. how long until i am cast aside again? made to be some petty lord's wife, made to be a broodmare until it kills me? i don't want to end up like my mother. this heirship is all i have. it will soon no longer be mine. i'm only seventeen. no one is here for me."

rhaenyra is never shown the same amount of grace as alicent for her strifes and anguish in life, for the fact that she too was a child from episodes one through five. rhaenyra might not have been a child bride, but she still spent her life being told she was never enough. she was not a boy, she could not be the heir, her father needed an heir. he kills her mother for it, he ignores her unless she can benefit him. he makes her believe that he will marry laena, only to blindside her by marrying alicent. she realizes alicent has been lying to her for months. her father continues to undermine her throughout the years. he names her heir to spite daemon, which she admits she knows about in episode two. he allows the lords to ignore her. it takes him two years to reassure her he won't replace her. rhaenyra is an angsty teen who has seemingly lost everything and has no support to counter that. she is not upset that no one showed up to a two-year-olds birthday party with her in mind, she is upset that her father continuously overlooks her, that he takes and takes and takes everything from her. he took her mother, he took daemon, he took alicent, he had a son. she has not been able to catch a break due to her father's selfishness. in all honesty, she should have acted out worse, maybe burn everything to the ground. viserys would deserve it, she was far too lenient with him.

[vasiktomis]

Reverse Psychology (Reigen Arataka x GN!Reader, 18+)

Rating: Explicit (Minors do NOT interact). Word Count: ~2400. Tags/Warnings: No use of Reader pronouns. Negging. Office Sex. Pining. Service Submission. Confessions. Doggy-style. Creampie. (and it isn't a vasiktomis work without) Premature Ejaculation. Consensual Non-Consent. Read it on Ao3 Here!

“I’d had my suspicions, but I didn’t — ah — realise you were this into me.”

He’s such a loser, you think, gasping as he gracelessly gropes and grabs at your waist, your hips, your thighs. He’s such a scumbag. You want to bash his skull in. He’s adorable.

You won’t lie; you know he’s overestimating your infatuation with him. You’re sure he doesn’t actually believe what he’s saying — it’d just be mighty convenient for him if you believed it. Even when he’s got you pinned to the wall, body flush against yours, panting into your neck while he tries to recover from getting too lost in feverish kisses, he can’t drop a con when the opportunity presents itself.

Lucky for you, you know him too well to feel hurt over it, let alone fall for it. It’s always been like this between the two of you; Reigen, in all his arrogance, negging the shit out of you for as long as you’ve known him. Baiting you into seeking his approval, his attraction, when all he does behind your back is stare. You’d been wise to it from week one, but you hadn’t realised how bad he had it until you’d paid him to house-sit while you were on vacation with friends last year. When you’d come home to respectfully watered houseplants and a hamper full of underwear that weren’t crusted with cum and shamefully shoved to the bottom of the basket when you’d left it.

You’ve known as long as he has that he’s wanted you, but its just too fun, watching him make a fool of himself while he’s trying to bait you into throwing yourself at him.

It’s the little things that beckon your attention, and he probably hates that. The sincerity and care that creep out of the cracks when his apprentices arrive in a less than stellar mood. The underlying consideration he puts into not giving a shit about you. He’d never buy you dinner, no fucking way, but he sure has a running list of all your favourite foods specifically so he can have you pressure him into sharing a cold mouthful after an unnecessarily long monologue about fending for yourself.

He broke first. You knew he would. Finally, after all this time gloating about girlfriends that don’t exist and shoving unwarranted dating advice at you, he gave in. At the most boring moment too — not even during a fight or while one of you were inconsolably crying. You’d just gotten too close on your way past when you were leaving the agency for the day, and he just broke.

It must be a blow, after all that work he put into the facade. You’d heard the resigned sound in his throat when he’d rounded on you, hands finding your shoulders, kissing you open-mouthed before you’d even had a chance to kiss back. It just wouldn’t be like him to let that image slide.

He’s bolstering his ego with all this dominance, and you’re happy to let him. If you’re honest, you kind of like it; letting him believe he’s fooling you. He’s taking charge, but the power’s all yours. It’s your decision to call him out whenever you like, and if he wants to spend the first shot he’s had at you lying, it feels only reasonable to make him work for it.

You give him nothing. A blank canvas to project onto and a tongue in his mouth in lieu of something he might be able to hold against you later.

It's perfect. He pulls back, delighted.

“God, I knew it. You don’t even try to hide it.” Reigen mutters, frantically tugging at buttons and fabric to shift his attention to your chest. The kisses he smears on your clavicle, your sternum, over the swell of your tits, are hurried and sloppy, already not quite living up to how cool he’s trying to play this. “I bet you’re already ready for it.”

Bad performer’s trick: rush you through to the sex so you never have to find out he’s terrible at foreplay. Or, maybe he’s concerned he can’t hold his nut long enough.

God, he must be terrified beneath that facade.

You just have to fuck him.

You reach down, fumbling with his belt, and he gasps, at least before he squashes the sound into an elated little laugh. “You don’t have to go so fast.”

And there’s the gaslighting.

You don’t slow, but he’s parted from you enough to give you the space to do what you need to do, unbuckling and unbuttoning and unzipping, all while keeping your eyes on his. You watch his expression cloud with something little less controlled. More sincere. Boyish. Then, you take your hands away, and his throat bobs. Nervous. He’s sweet, under it all. And so, so scared of showing it.

It’s a shame.

Maybe if you do this a few more times you could coax it out of him.

“You’re not gonna make me beg, are you Arataka?” You purr, watching a bead of sweat form and slip on his brow in the time it takes for you to be forward enough to call him by his first name. “After keeping me waiting this long?”

“H-how long?” Reigen chokes, barely audible. Then, he clears his throat. A second try, peppered with a cocky little smile. “How long.” He dips his face back into the crook of your neck, resuming his assault, picking a wise time to hide his face.

Your hand slips down the front of his pants, palming him through the fabric of his underwear, and his whole body jolts. “You tell me.”

It’s like he can’t get close enough, anchoring himself to you. He fumbles to reach you the same way, but the position is already awkward standing this close. Momentarily, he’s at your mercy. “I don’t know. A little above average? I’m not the kind of insecure guy who needs to brag about that kind of thing.”

He’s so full of shit.

You guide his cock out of his underwear. Nothing to be very impressed by. Below average, if you’re honest. Not particularly girthy, either, but there’s a pleasant upward bend you’re sure you could have fun with. A slick pearl of pre-cum forms on the slit when your thumb traces up his already tugging foreskin. He was ready to go before you even started touching him.

Who are you to deny yourself the enjoyment of watching him embarrass himself?

You take his hand, and he watches, transfixed as you spit into his palm before turning yourself to face the wall.

“That’s-...really gross. You should probably ask people before you do that sort of thing.” There’s a shudder in his voice as he chides you. A slick sound and a hollow inhale as he works your saliva over his cock. You ignore him. The quaver in his breath gives his excitement away, and you help shove down your pants just enough to grant him access.

Reigen struggles, of course he struggles to line himself up at first. He takes a moment to tilt his hips the right way, to tug at yours. When he sinks into you, it’s all the way, fingers bunching your shirt to push just a little further. Just to make a point of it.

He pauses like that, holding his breath, one hand cupped over his mouth as he cranes over your shoulder. Savouring the feeling as much as you are, you assume — at least before you feel his cock throb inside you, and his whole body goes stiff. A choked gasp almost makes it past Reigen’s palm, diaphragm quaking against your back.

He’s absolutely coming, and if you weren’t too proud you’d admit, the angle of his acceptable cock throbbing against one particular bundle of nerves almost has you dizzy yourself. Utter fluke. It has to be.

Reigen’s body slackens a little. The orgasm passes. In your periphery, just over your shoulder, he looks downright horrified.

“Did you just-“

“What? No.”

The mask is back on in an instant. Reigen’s hand joins the other at your hips. He pulls out halfway. Sinks back in. The slide is thick. Gathering around your entrance, smearing the crux of your thighs. God, even his balls are wet against your ass. Just how much did he nut?

It’s -…kind of hot.

“Are you used to your partners not lasting?” He asks. You look down, tempted to see if he’s managed to make a mess of your underwear, and the bastard’s fingers snap to your jaw, angling your face back up for a kiss. He’s desperate for you not to know. Fine. You’ll play along. “Eyes up.” He breathes against your lips, punctuating with a thrust before he settles into a rhythm in you. It’s adorable, the dominant act. You can’t wait to smush him like a bug. “I asked you a question.”

“Arataka.” You attempt, shocked to find yourself choking on the word as he keeps going, wise enough to know not to stray once he’s found a spot that you respond well to. “Fuck, I-“

“It’s okay, I know.”

Something awful and delicious shakes through you. That shouldn’t have had such an effect on you as it does. What’s this guy’s deal?

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t have a damn clue. But he really goes the extra mile to convince you otherwise.

“You should — touch yourself.” Reigen grunts into your hair. “I don’t plan on finishing until you do.”

You wonder if that’s Reigen-talk for ’oh fuck I’m gonna blow again’. You wonder if you should take your time, just so you can find out.

Oh, but why would you ruin his good time? It doesn’t help that the idea of coming with him in you is a pretty enough thought that you’re doing what he tells you.

With only one free arm to cushion you against the wall while Reigen ruts into you, you manage to find enough space for the other to see to your own needs.

It’s humiliating, the sound that escapes you when your touch compliments his own. He must feel the same way when his breath hitches in-kind, groaning at the feeling of your own pleasure clenching around his cock.

“Keep talking.” You manage, burying your own face into the back of your hand. He’s too close. He’ll hear how much you’re actually enjoying this. He’ll see it on your face. “Keep talking to me, Arataka.”

“Fuck—“

Oh, of course he liked hearing that.

“I — I can’t —“ His words diminish to a whisper you’re not even sure you were supposed to hear. “I can’t believe you’re letting me do  all this to you.”

You can’t, either. And yet, here you are. Raising onto your tippy-toes, rolling your hips back to angle him deeper as if his balls aren’t already swiping you with each thrust. Big mistake, you realise. His cock drags against something that has you shuddering, hurtling toward your own end. There’s no helping it. No helping you. Not when Reigen’s arm coils around your waist, pulling you so close that you can’t chase his movements anymore. The other locks over your chest in a desperate embrace. He’s barely pulling out before he’s ramming back into you now, nearly folded over you at this point. Something drapes against your shoulder, and god help you, you surrender your bracing arm to grab at it, letting your face squish against the wall without anything to cushion it.

Your fingers wrap tight around that stupid tie, keeping his chin hooked over your shoulder. A yelp slips out of him. A new pitch. Your core burns from the awkward posture, from exertion, from the delight of having him come so undone by you despite all his efforts.

It’s —

“I’m close.” You pant. “I’m close — I”m so close—“

His grip on you is suffocating. Fingers wrench at your shirt.

Reigen lets out something akin to a sob. “God, please — I’m so fucking crazy about you. Please, come, please, please—“

It hits you without mercy, tearing through you with a helpless whine. Were it not for being sandwiched right now, your trembling legs would give out beneath you. Instead, you’re held in place by Reigen’s desperate little ruts, unwittingly drawing your orgasm out each time his cock hits that spot again, muscles chasing the motions. Constricting around him, spurring him on.

You’re shaking when it passes, paled thoughts only brought back to coherency by the increasing pitch of Reigen’s breaths. Mouthed words evolve into a barely comprehensible muttering of ’oh shit, oh fuck, oh shit—‘ before he’s finally aware he has the green light.

“Where?” He pants, “Where do you want it? Can I finish inside?”

Is this guy for real?

You can’t even form a response. You’re too busy drooling against the wall, face smearing against the wet spot with every thrust.

Reigen seems to take no news as good news. As if he ever had a choice. The pitch in his breath reaches a crescendo, and with your last rational thought, your last ounce of strength, you yank his tie, hard. His posture curls around yours, clinging to you with a delectable sound. His cock throbs again, and your face squishes into the wall even more as Reigen’s own legs tremble, forcing him to brace his weight forward as he empties himself into you.

For a while, he catches his breath, still holding you to him. You feel his lips ghost over the back of your neck like he’s considering a kiss — but suddenly he finds it too bold a move. He shakily steps back, and all of a sudden he’s folded onto his knees with a tired grunt.

Left without your counterweight, you sink to the floor with him, leaving a snail-trail of saliva in your wake as you slide down the wall and settle down. Weakly, you flip onto your ass, still too dazed to bother with the clean-up just yet.

Across from you, Reigen gingerly feels through his jacket pocket. "Great. My pants are ruined. You wanna go halves at the coin laundry?" The sweat stains in his armpits almost reach his waist, and his business shirt is so damp it's near-translucent. He can’t take his eyes off the cum that seeps out of you, onto the floor.

“That was a lot.” He comments, clearing his throat. He finds that cigarette and tucks the box away without offering you one. “Wouldn’t be surprised if that was like, two loads worth.”

You squint at him. “Man, would you shut the fuck up?”

[theevilpickler]

Mike Wheeler would fight anyone who's mean to his friends. He would get the shit beaten out of him, but by god he would try.

[aro-and-ace-stuff]

Yes I'm very hot and beautiful and cool and sexy BUT in a distinctive aroace way. Do not ruin my vibe.

[pilferingapples]

this is just my opinion, just my personal onion, but I feel strongly I should be able to go outside for ten minutes and not be so Humidified that my clothes need to be wrung out when I come back inside