#are about to frame this man for no good reason)

[no-144444]

the fuck up- o.piastri

꩜summary: the silence has become loud in the mclaren garage now they're back from their week-long break. what's making oscar so miserable? lando wants to get to the bottom of it...

꩜pairing: oscar piastri x ex! single mom! fem! reader

The sun began its descent over the flat city of Miami as Oscar and Lando sat to eat. Oscar did not want to eat with Lando. Lando very much wanted to eat with Oscar. Both of them had their reasons. Lando’s were; Oscar had been miserable since they got back from their week off, and he was too nosy not to ask. Oscar’s were; he’d had been miserable since they got back from their week off, and Lando was too nosy not to ask.

“How’s Magui?” Oscar asked, trying to make it seem casual. He’d never once asked about Lando’s dating life, mostly because he didn’t care. Lando smirked at him like he knew what was going on, and Oscar continued drinking his wine with a blank look on his face. 

Lando giggled lightly and sighed. “Oh Oscar… Oscar, Oscar, Oscar… sweet, young, naive Oscar,” Lando took a breath as Oscar rolled his eyes, this was getting repetitive already. “This is about Y/n!” He pointed a finger in his face and all he got back was that same blank expression, but inside Oscar felt that sting in his heart. “You’re missing her!” 

Try as he might, he couldn’t deny that. But that wasn’t the main issue. You’d been great. Mia was great. Oscar was the outlier. Well, Beth was the outlier. 

He huffed. “I miss my daughter,” he corrected. “And no, that’s not a crime.” 

“You’ve known your daughter for two months,” Lando scoffed. “You were in love with Y/n for years.”

“And I broke up with her,” Oscar shot back. 

Lando grimaced. “Don’t remind me. You were almost bearable for a moment there.” 

Oscar scoffed and crossed his arms, levelling Lando with his eyes. “I just don’t understand why you care so much.” 

Lando mirrored his position and realised how close he was to the answer, the true answer. Whatever was bugging him so much. “Because I was there for Y/n?” 

“And I wasn’t,” Oscar nodded, a self-deprecating smile on his face. “And everyone keeps reminding me of that.” 

Lando shook his head. “It’s your own failing-”

“I know that!” Oscar’s hand hit the table so hard it attracted the eyes of a few other tables. He cleared his throat as Lando did the same, offering apologetic looks to the other tables, then turned his attention back to the man in front of him. “I know that,” he repeated, like he was trying to convince himself of it too. “But I didn’t know,” he added. “I couldn’t have known-”

“You would’ve if you didn’t put your racing career before yourself,” Lando shrugged and it knocked the wind out of Oscar’s lungs. No one had ever framed it like that. That he’d sacrifice himself for his career. The story always was that he’d sacrificed his relationships, his schooling, his regular life- which was all true, sure. But no one had ever reminded him of the fact that he gave up the most important thing to him, because he thought it would make him quicker. Even with no way to prove it, he knew losing you had never been good for him, or his career. You had been the one thing he had for himself. The one thing that nothing in the paddock could touch, he wouldn’t let it. His racing brain switched off around you, and he gave that up for being an Alpine reserve driver. “Simple as, mate,” he added. 

Oscar was quiet for a moment. “What do you want me to say to that?” 

“I want you to tell me what happened last week because Y/n won’t,” Lando leaned in, almost putting his chin on the table, batting his eyelashes and trying to make Oscar tell him. Oscar rolled his eyes. 

“It wasn’t a big deal,” he shrugged. 

“Beth showed up, didn’t she?” Lando mused, biting his bottom lip in suspense. Oscar sighed and Lando’s jaw dropped, though his hands raised in victory, and quickly dropped back down again. “Holy shit. What happened?”

The early morning sun of Monaco was truly breathtaking, and Mia seemed to love it too. It was your first time in Oscar’s old place, the apartment he was lending to a friend while he set up base in London with you and Mia. He had offered to bring you both to Monaco so Mia could ‘see where he’d been all these years’, and so that you could get a break. 

“It’s beautiful,” Mia whispered, her tired voice small as she curled up into your side in front of the floor-length windows. You chuckled as she cuddled into your lap, falling back to sleep as you people-watched. You spotted the cars going past, the people walking their dogs, the people going for runs, the people going to work. You adored the just… watch the world pass by. You were so engrossed in it, you didn’t see Oscar come up beside you. 

“What do you think?” he whispered. You startled, but kept still enough to keep Mia asleep. He chuckled, as did you. His eyes fell to Mia in your lap, though you knew he was listening. 

“Struggling to understand why you left this place for London,” you answered, and he laughed. This was so… normal, but strange. It was all so domestic, and you’d trained yourself to not think that. You wanted him gone, out of your life and mind. You thought back to all those mornings and nights you spent with Mia as she grew, imagining Oscar beside you. Imagining him feeding Mia a bottle as the sun rose, when she was just new. Imagining him playing with her in the park. Imagining her cuddling into his side while you watched movies at night. Imagining him taking some of the load off your shoulders. You’d always pushed it to the back of your mind, reminding yourself that he wanted nothing to do with you. 

And here he was. Wanting everything to do with you. 

“London has you two,” he shrugged. “Monaco doesn’t.” 

“But it has nice weather and a pretty killer view,” you teased. 

“You two are a pretty nice view,” he said before he knew what he was saying, and the air changed. You shifted your position. He cleared his throat and did that thing he always did when he was nervous or made a mistake, that ‘resting his chin on his hand’ thing. “And London’s not bad. Cheaper than here.” 

You chuckled. “You’re a millionaire,” you reminded him. 

He nodded and turned his attention back to the view. It was pretty stellar. “It’s nice, but I’d miss her too much.”

“Course,” you nodded, threading a hand through her hair. “I understand.” 

“Thought you would,” he chuckled. 

Knock knock. 

“Who’s here so early?” you questioned. “Are you expecting someone?” 

He shook his head as he stood. “Shouldn’t be,” he walked over to the door and (stupidly) opened the door without checking the peephole. Bad choice. 

Beth. 

“Where the fuck have you been?!” she demanded, loud enough to wake Mia in your lap, and you were genuinely too panicked to really know what to do. Who the fuck was this strange woman? Were you safe? How did she know Oscar? “I have been calling and texting you for weeks! Are you alright? Have you fallen off the face of the earth for some unknown reason?!” 

“Beth,” he said, his voice hushed. “Can we talk another time?” 

“Fuck no!” she scoffed, pushing past him at the exact moment you chose to jump up, trying to remove yourself from the room. Bad timing. She gasped louder than you’d ever heard. She was a woman who looked kind of like you… it was freaky. She stared at you for a moment, then turned her attention to… Mia. In your arms. The kid. The kid that looked like Oscar. 

Her gasp was even louder that time. “YOU HAVE A FAMILY?!”

“No! It’s not what it looks like-” you started, then cut yourself off. “Well.. yes, it is. But not like that. Oscar and I broke up years ago and I only realised I was pregnant afterward, we’d blocked each other on everything, and he only found out about this a few months ago. I don’t know who you are, and I’m just going to head-”

“Y/n-” Oscar’s voice called out, but the look you gave him made him shut up. You collected up your and Mia’s things and went for the door as Beth paced around the apartment. “Y/n, at least tell me where you’re going?”

“Lando’s, probably,” you answered before hastily leaving the apartment, and leaving him with the problem he’d been ignoring for weeks. 

“Her name’s Y/n,” she stated, her jaw open. “And you said it didn’t mean anything.” 

Oscar cringed. Ok, maybe he’d said your name once (or twice) during sex. Maybe he’d pretended it wasn’t a big deal, and that he was just naming famous people in his head to stop himself from cumming prematurely. Maybe he’d lied. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I know I’m an asshole-”

“Understatement of the century,” she interrupted. “Go on. Just break up with me now.” 

Oscar’s breath caught in his throat. “Do I really need to say it…?”

“Wow. So we literally meant nothing at all?” she asked, and he could see how upset she was. He didn’t deserve her, and he definitely didn’t deserve you, but if this wasn’t the universe giving him a chance at everything he’d ever wanted, he’d be damned if he didn’t take it, and Beth just wasn’t part of that. “I won’t let the door hit me on my way out, fuck,” she sighed as she pushed past him. “Y/n deserves better, you prick!” 

He knew she was right. He knew he should’ve just… he didn’t even know what he should’ve done. He just couldn’t stay done with you. 

“That bad, huh?” Lando nodded. “You really are a heartbreaker, holy shit,” he chuckled. Dinner had come and gone, and they were on their last sips of their drinks. 

“I’m a prick,” he nodded. “And Y/n has been so dry texting me, so I don’t even know if her and Mia are coming this weekend, or next.”

“They are,” Lando assured him. “Y/n might just… be a bit off. Shits happening at work and obviously not the best intro to your ex’s girlfriend.” 

“I broke up with Beth,” he corrected. Lando frowned. 

“Yeah, I know that. Y/n doesn’t. She thinks she’s medeled in your relationship and fucked it up for you, duh,” Lando shrugged. “Are you sure you know Y/n?” 

Oscar faked a laugh and flipped him off. “You’re so funny,” he added, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I know that. I just need to talk to her. And Mia. I mean, I know I’m not winning parent of the year, but all I did was fucking stand there, Y/n got her out of there. I couldn’t even stop Beth from coming in-”

“I hate to break your self-hatred rant, but we are in fact exiting my field of expertise,” Lando interrupted. “And dinner’s done. Call her tonight, see if she’s in Miami yet. If she is, go over there and hang out with your daughter. If she’s not, offer to pick them up whenever they get here. You’ll get through this, don’t worry mate.” 

Oscar wasn’t so sure.

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### . STARRING ⌢ p.sh ⋆ oneshot + 1.2k // kissing + reader has an ex + i need you guys to j trust me on this please ˖ ✧

[ 陰 🤍 ] ─── i have nawt read the manga before anyone asks; i found the name super funny & then a little lightbulb in my head went "!!" ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‹ FILE.ZIP 𝟹

park sunghoon usually prides himself on being a man of dignity and honor.

he’s heard people around him say this; multiple remarks of how his moral conduct seems totally unshakable. a pillar whose boundaries not one single temptation could consider breaking, they'd say.

but, he finds himself thinking, if all that were really true, he wouldn’t really be in this position—with heeseung's girlfriend all pretty in front of him, pinned up against a wall—would he?

not that he's complaining about the sight in front of him, of course. 

you are nothing less of a divine vision with slightly swollen and spit slicked lips, your delicately applied gloss now smudged from the earlier … activities.

his eyes take in the loose strands of hair framing your features, the way your eyes are delectably glazed over and the lightest sheen of sweat highlighting it all. it’s a wonder he’s able to resist diving right back in and claiming your lips in another kiss, really.

heeseung should've known better. 

he should've known that leaving you alone with sunghoon could not possibly lead to any good outcomes.

one doesn't harbour unrequited feelings for months and leave scott-free, with zero after effects. there’s bound to be some catches.

sunghoon blamed many other things too.

firstly, the sun. for subjecting him to its sweltering heat and for rendering him into a half-dazed stupor. for being the reason you were wearing that gorgeous sundress, casual but enough to catch the attention of all the others lazily roaming around the open shopping complex.

secondly, he blamed ni-ki. like, did the boy really have to drag heeseung away because he saw a michael jackson DVD (limited versions only) on display?

granted, that particular compilation was seemingly not available anywhere else without having to pay a price so scandalous that it hurt to think about. and the singer did happen to be ni-ki's favorite.

but gosh, how selfish could people be?

most importantly, though, he blamed your ex.

for? his mere existence.

it had been going just fine, peachy even, right until that person showed up, he recalls, absentmindedly tracing your lower lip—doing his best to ignore the expectant gaze you were directing towards him lest he end up doing something he'd regret.

well. regret more than he does already, that is.

when your previously cheery smile had suddenly been replaced by a pall of worry, he couldn’t help but immediately mirror your concern. you had anxiously clutched the edge of his sleeve, murmuring that you had just happened to see song eunseok. also known as your ex. 

“i just… i really don’t want to face him right now.”

that was understandable. sunghoon wouldn’t want to see the face of the man who had been such a horrible boyfriend to you (your words, not his; circa last july, pre-heeseung era) either, lest he end up lobbing a punch his way.

“do you think you could hide me?” he could practically see the unease wrapped in a sheath around you from the way you chewed on your lip, “please?...”

what was sunghoon supposed to reply to that? say no to your plea? as if he could ever.

so he did what any dutiful friend would do. he let you use him. 

an arm braced against the wall and another awkwardly fidgeting by his side—he wasn’t sure where it was considered appropriate to keep one’s hand while helping their friend’s girlfriend hide from an ex—he stood leaning towards you. 

his broader, taller frame could cover yours with laughable ease. should the ex boyfriend happen to glance your way, he wouldn’t even realize there was another person there.

it was fine even up until that point. it wasn’t like sunghoon couldn’t control himself and immediately took advantage of the situation. no matter how much he really, really wanted to.

he would never do that to heeseung or you. 

all he needed to do, he thought determinedly, was to not make eye contact and hope that this was over soon. 

but suddenly, you were tugging him closer, saying the position seemed way too odd, too awkward. and now he was closer to you than ever, and quite aware of the fact that he was sweating bullets. 

“hoon?... are you okay?” you had piped up, voice slightly muffled due to quite literally being pressed up against him, “you seem so flushed… is it because of the sun?”

no, it was most definitely not because of the sun.

he vaguely recalls replying back with some offhanded agreement to your words. you, bless your heart, had immediately brushed the back of your hand against his forehead, checking if he was truly okay.

sunghoon swore his breath hitched at the contact. noticeably.

only then did it sink in. the reduced proximity, the charged air brewing between your bodies. he really shouldn’t be getting any ideas.

"?..."

“i’m fine.” his voice was low, cautious. he ran his tongue across his lips, wetting them—a nervous tick of his. “you need to stop this.. a guy can get the wrong idea, you know?” 

you had only giggled at that airily, “no wrong ideas here, i promise.”

then, as if it was the most natural thing to do—it might as well have been, with how perfect it was—you had tipped your head upwards, placing a soft kiss right at the corner of his mouth.

“am i still being unclear?” your head was tilted at a 45° angle, playing off a cute innocence. 

... there was no way he could say no to that, rationality and morals be damned.

and so instead of gracing your teasing remark with a dignified comeback, he simply let you close the distance between your lips once again.

-

park sunghoon usually prides himself on being a man of dignity and honor, sure. but right now? right now, the only thing he’s sure of is that he’s fucked up. big time.

heeseung… one can only imagine how his friend would react to this information. none of the possible scenarios that run through his head are any good.

with a jolt, he jerks away; the hurt look on your face doing nothing to break his resolve. (mostly.) 

“this isn’t—this isn’t right. you have a boyfriend, heeseung… he—he’ll be devastated.”

“what?” confusion spreads across your face, genuine enough if he stopped to take it in. “sunghoon, no that’s not it—”

“we—it’s best we forget this happened. i, um,.. i won’t say anything to him.”

a blink. and you’re laughing. wait what?

“ah…” the way your head is thrown back as you struggle to keep a straight face almost distracts him. “heeseung is actually going to burst out laughing, oh my god.”

before he can even comprehend what that could mean, you show him your phone screen opened to a chat between you and your boyfriend (?).

fake boyfie hee ☝🤓 : dude if you’re planning on making out w/ hoon rn do NOT do it in front of me and niki i beg.

fake boyfie hee ☝🤓 : cause like it’s one thing having to hear ab how u bad u want him 24/7 (it gets to a point oh my god?)

fake boyfie hee ☝🤓 : go get ur man by all means but i do nawt need to be seeing allat !!!!!

“see? i only made him pretend we were together because eunseok was being a little bitch. it was super funny seeing his reaction, if that helps!”

sunghoon’s not sure if he wants to now laugh himself or instead cry. maybe both at the same time? he would rather not scare you off already though. hence, he does the next best thing. 

he kisses you once again. softer this time, as if he’s taking the time to savor the moment.

you part for air only when it becomes an absolute necessity. “what was that about?”

“i need to make up for lost time. all this while, i really thought i had no chance. and…” a pause that indicates he’s struggling to find the right words.

his tone is sheepish when he finally says what’s on his mind. 

“and... i could’ve been a better fake boyfriend, by the way. for the record.”

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[unsentimentaltranslator]

As someone who has been West 4B for decades, it's not the style; it's the thesis itself. My thesis, based on my decades of experience with politically motivated celibacy, is "male-attracted women are heavily socialised to always strive to be in a relationship with men and are looked down on if they're single for too long, which causes male-attracted women to pursue and stay in relationships with men who treat them badly and encourage other male-attracted women to do so. And while we in the West no longer live in a society where battered women's shelters have to be made covertly in defiance of laws that command cops to return victims to their abusers, there is still a shitload of mistreatment that is completely normalised and we get called prima donnas or feminazis if we complain about it. Based on that, it is important to heavily promote staying single as a life choice for male-attracted women, while being aware that the right, the left, and the centre all have their respective propaganda to dissuade male-attracted women from doing it."

Unfortunately, much of radblr's thesis is "if you date men, you're not a real feminist". It's a religion-like framing that presents staying single as a duty to The Cause rather than something that would be liberating and beneficial for many of the women who are currently suppressing themselves for the sake of entitled, disrespectful men just so that they can check the In A Relationship box. I have frequently seen people on here calling these women "comfortable" and "individualistic". There is nothing comfortable about a man ramming his dick down your throat, leaving you to do all the housework (don't get me started on the infuriating irony of Cinderella) and then asking you if you're on your period when you complain about it. And there is nothing individualistic about sacrificing yourself for a society that believes you exist only to serve. I abstained from dating men because I value my comfort and myself as an individual.

And all this also happens with other antifeminist behaviour from women. Yes, Sabrina Carpenter is 100% the kind of artist you should boycott if you want to be 6B4T but the real 6B4Ters know that the ringleaders of this shit are the studios, and in Carpenter's case it also very obviously stems from the normalisation of rape on tape. Our discussions about Sabrina Carpenter should be, like, 10% about her, 30% about her studio, and 60% about porn, but they're pretty much 100% about hating her.

Yes, makeup, body hair removal, diet culture, and cosmetic surgery are oppressive, but our discussions should be 10% about women who do it and 90% about beauty corporations + again porn + the men who ate up the messaging from those industries with a fucking spoon because they are accustomed to benefiting from the millennia-long legacy of men treating women like products for their consumption, but they're pretty much 100% about calling those women stupid.

Our discussions about Just A Girl girlies should be 10% about them and 90% about the fact that female adulthood under patriarchy is broodmare, fuck doll, work horse, or some combination of these and the punishment for complaining about this has increased in recent years, and many of the women who get mad about Just A Girl are Left Wing Good Girls who have personally endorsed the left's politics of subjugating women, but y'all work overtime to dunk on them.

Our discussions about internalised misogyny in left wing women should be 10% about them and 90% about how left wing men have actively weaponised progressive language to justify oppressing women, including FUCKING COMMERCIAL RAPE, RAPE ON TAPE, VIOLENT SEX, AND (in the case of the far left) REMOVING ALL CONSEQUENCES FOR MEN WHO COMMIT VIOLENCE AGAINST WOMEN, and I think we're better about this one but there's still too much "lol stupid nonbinary girlies" and too little substantive criticism of what the men are doing (there's a reason why I now often straight up say "fellow left-wing women, beware, this man is manipulating you" on left wing men's posts.)

The reason why I go hard for a lot of these groups of libfems isn't because I like what they're saying. It's because every libfem is afraid of being me, and they have a good reason to be because every part of the political spectrum fucking hates me. I don't think y'all can understand their fears without having empathy for me, and I don't think y'all can have empathy for me without having empathy for yourselves. And the way y'all valourise having zero empathy for yourselves (don't think I don't see the way y'all uncritically reblog "traumatised women need to hurry up and get over it" posts on the "but he's my emotional support rapist!" website) is, in itself, patriarchal. How's that for irony?

Being a radical feminist doesn’t mean you get to hate libfems or any other type of woman for that matter. Are libfems annoying? Do they have bad takes? Do I believe that their ideas are harmful? YES. But I’m not going to scream that they deserve death like I’ve seen other people do on here.

Maybe a girl isn’t ready to dissect the reasons why she feels the need to shave. I’m not going to call her a fucking idiot. I’m not going to call her worthless. Because she’s not. Why has it become common practice in radfem spaces to hate fellow women for falling into the beliefs that they’ve been groomed to have?

When a radfem talks overtly harshly about other women it tells me that they live within an online echo chamber. Women in real life have bad takes. They have internalized misogyny. Some radfems take for granted the knowledge and strength that they have. Not every woman has read feminist theory. Not every woman is confident enough to advocate for her rights. Women in real life are complicated and possess a mixture or both good and bad traits. No matter what, these women are worth defending and fighting for. They didn’t choose to be conditioned by the patriarchy.

I likely won’t get along with most women, but that’s fine. I’m not a radical feminist because i hate other women, I’m a feminist because to an extent i harbor a deep love for ALL women

[aspoonofsugar]

Adam's Design

Here comes an analysis of Adam's design! Just like with Vaggie, I am gonna reference some other metas, combine ideas together and see what the first man's design has to say!

THE FIRST MAN

The Hellaverse is famous for giving its characters animal motifs. Still, Adam is one of the few exceptions:

His only animal traits are his wings, which sport two stripes like the other exorcists'. However, the exorcists have white and black wings, which together with their gray outfits make them look like pigeons:

Adam's overall design is instead unique and does not fit this imagery. So, is that it? Does Adam really lack an animal motif?

Well, not exactly:

Adam is the first man, who is created after all the other animals. In other words, Adam's own animal motif is "the man", which is used to explore three ideas:

Masculinity

Authority (the patriarchy)

Humanity

These three themes are entangled in Adam's character and are conveyed by three different visual motifs, which can be found in his weapon of choice:

Adam fights with:

an axe - a very brute weapon, which ties into his hyper-masculine persona, rooted in physical prowess

a guitar - a rock instrument, which ties into his rock motif, used to explore authority

a harp - an instrument associated with angels, which ties into the first human's religious motif

THE DICKMASTER - TOXIC MASCULINITY

Adam's attire is a way to affirm his masculinity, starting with his tunic, which resembles a Letterman jacket:

Lettermen are students awarded for excelling in school activities, like sports. As a prize, they receive a jacket or another piece of cloth with the initial of their school on it. When it comes to Adam, he is wearing a "Letterman tunic" with a giant "A", aka his own initial. This choice highlights three things:

The letter on the jacket is usually that of the school or team, as these clothes are meant to represent school pride. However, Adam wears an "A" for Adam to highlight his narcissism. Deep down, the only team Adam plays for is his own.

To become a Letterman is a reward. It shows you are great at something. Similarly, Adam starts as a virtuous soul, but climbs up until he becomes the leader of the Exorcists.

Letterman jackets are associated with the archetype of the jock in teen movies. This type of character is strong and popular, but dumb and arrogant. This fits Adam, who also frames the exterminations as sports:

Adam: Lute, how many demons did you kill this year? Lute: Got a good 275 this year, sir. Adam: 275? Woah! Badass! 

In other words, Adam's Letterman tunic is Adam showing his status in Heaven. He is great and everybody needs to know it. Not only that, but his excellence is built on masculine traits:

Adam: So, I was playin' this gig, and for some fuckin' reason, this virtue chick was diggin' on the drummer, and it's like, "do you know who I am? I'm fuckin' Adam. I'm the original dick!" All dicks descend from me. You think you want drummer dick? No way! I'm the Dick-fuckin' master! So, anyway, then we fucked, and it was awesome.

He is strong, good at sports and sex. He is the man, right? So, of course he is also the Letter-man! He is more of a Letterman than anybody else to the point his own initial is THE only letter worth wearing :P Not only that, but his initial is also the Letter-Man par excellence since it is basically a stylized dick:

And yet, this design choice is used ironically. Adam wears a penis to look like a dickmaster, when he is really a dick. So, Adam highlights his masculinity so much that he becomes toxic.

Deep down this is a reaction to his two wives dumping him for the same guy:

Lucifer: Well, your first wife didn't seem to hate what I had to offer…or the second! Bowchicka pow pow!

This event consumes Adam so much that he ends up objectifying all women and lashing out at anything or anyone connected to his love rival. The end result is a character who waves his hyper-masculinity to hide how unsure he is about himself. This contradiction permeates Adam's looks with an example being his horns:

They look so metal rock, right? Then one remembers that cuckhold's horns are symbolic of a man whose wife is unfaithful... and we go back to the failure of Adam's marriage. Adam's inability to overcome this upset has progressively led him to find satisfaction in power and authority, rather than happiness and relationships.

STICK IT TO THE MAN - ROCK AND AUTHORITY

Adam's aesthetic makes him look like a rockstar:

Especially the spikes and horns give him metal vibes, which are emphasized by Adam's love for hard rock:

Adam: Guitar solo, fuck yeah!

What's interesting is that this motif ties with the theme of authority:

Vaggie: "Act selfless, don't steal, stick it to the man". Are you fucking serious? Adam: Uh, yeah. Sure got me here, didn't it?

This line is a reference to School of Rock, which tells the story of Dewey, a failed rockstar, who discovers himself a teacher. The movie musical explores how rock is about connection, community and self-expression. In short, it is about rebelling against an authority, which suffocates who you are:

Dewey: THE WORLD is run by the Man. Oh, you don't know the Man? He's everywhere. In the White House, down the hall, MISS MULLINS, she's the Man. And the Man ruined the ozone, and he's burning down the Amazon, and he kidnapped Shamu and put her in a chlorine tank! Okay? And there used to be a way to stick it to the Man, it was called rock 'n roll. But guess what? Oh no. The Man ruined that, too, with a little thing called MTV! So don't waste your time trying to make anything cool, or pure, or awesome, 'cause the Man is just gonna call you a fat washed up loser and crush your soul. So do yourselves a favor and just GIVE UP!

Well, the irony is obviously that Adam himself is "the man", so he is the authority the people of Hell need to rebel against. On a deeper level he takes an aesthetic about freedom and rebellion and turns it into a symbol of power and repression for both the people of Hell, who are oppressed, and the exorcists, who are forced to conform:

Adam transforms something born to challenge the system into the system. Just like he himself was born a human and progressively turned into a monster:

Adam: You really think you can take me on? A mortal soul is no match for me, edge-lord. Alastor: You should know better than anyone what a soul can accomplish when they take charge of their own fate.

Alastor and Adam are the same because both used their respective Kingdom's rules to grow stronger. Alastor collected souls and became an Overlord. Adam instead managed to rise to the rank of Archangel (Archangels are probably the Heaven's equivalent of Hell's Overlords). So, Adam is an example of a broken person, who tried to fill his existential void by amassing more and more power, until he completely lost himself. The end result of this process is an empty vessel, an "idol". This metaphor works in two ways:

1-Adam is a musical idol aka a rockstar, which is why his song alludes to a concert. Adam makes a bombastic exhibition with guitar solos and an enthusiastic group of fans cheering and clapping:

2-Adam is a religious idol, which means he is trying to present himself as more than what he is. He is a man, but wants others to perceive him as god.

JUST A MAN - RELIGION AND HUMANITY

In "Hell is Forever", Adam conjures a group of golden exorcists, who dance with him. In particular, three of them fly behind Adam, so that for a moment it seems as if he has eight wings. This moment references two sets of symbolism.

The first one is from the Bible- at one point the Israelites start adoring a golden calf instead of God and are punished for it.

The second one is from the series itself- here the Seraphims have 6 wings and they are the highest ranking angels.

So, Adam plays the part of the golden calf, as he imagines himself with 8 golden wings. He does so because he wants to be a God above the Seraphims. Or at least, he wants to be better than one specific Seraphim:

Adam is motivated by a sense of inferiority towards Lucifer, which results in the first man both negating the King of Hell and imitating him. Visually this contradiction is shown by Adam's religious motif. As a matter of fact the first man resembles both an angel and a devil.

Adam has all the attributes of an angel, like the halo and the wings. Moreover, he wears white, gold and celestial blue, which are all colors associated with Heaven. To be precise, "white" alludes to "goodness", "gold" brings to mind "precious" and "celestial" means "related to the sky". So, Adam himself is good, precious and heavenly. He is different from the sinners, who are punished in darkness. He is better than the other exorcists, who wear silver. He is definitely the opposite of the devil, who is red and is banished to Hell.

Adam chooses some accessories that make him look demonic. He breaks his color palette by adding black gloves, a black mask and black horns. Black is associated with Hell and so are horns. Why would Adam embrace such an aesthetic? Well, other than his obvious love for rock and metal, it is because deep down he envies Lucifer and wants to be like him. Adam's mask ties into this. It is noseless, harlequin-like and has pointy teeth. It is basically a loose imitation of Lucifer's clown-like face, but black. The difference is that Lucifer's face is naturally like that, whereas Adam wears a mask and refuses to take it away:

If you wear a mask 24h/24h when you do not need to, then you probably dislike your face. Well, Adam clearly does and he also dislikes himself, which is why he embraces a facade. He isn't just a fake god, but also a fake self. He doesn't really have 8 wings, he isn't heaven-born like the highest angels and he isn't a demon. He is just a man. Not even the man, but just one among many. He is a normal person and he can't stand it, so he tries to hide it. Still, the truth comes to light in the final fight. Starting with Adam's battle outfit.

UNMASKED

Adam's battle outfit superficially emphasizes his major motifs:

He wears more and bigger spikes because "he rocks" :P

He wears a fig leaf over his "jewels" to highlight them. This also works as an inversion of the biblical Adam, who covered his nudity using leaves out of shame. Hellaverse Adam instead wants people to notice his penis XD

And yet, some cracks start to appear. For example, the color scheme is slightly different from usual:

The white is mostly covered and almost disappears

The celestial blue is nowhere to be seen. In its place there is a color similar to purple, so a mix of blue (heaven) and red (hell)

The gold is the only color that stays unchanged

The end result is a character, who appears much darker and more ominous. So, Adam has given up any pretense of goodness and is showing his true colors. He is not a well-intentioned extremist, but a cruel and selfish prick, who likes hurting others. Still, this malice comes from insecurity. Adam's frail sense of self starts creeping out from those same motifs he uses to appear strong:

he wears a golden leaf to highlight his penis; still he does so to overcompensate his insecurity as a lover and appear more macho-like (deconstruction of masculinity)

he has so much gold because this color ties with his idol symbolism; he is the golden calf, after all (deconstruction of authority)

Finally, Adam's mask gets quickly cracked the moment Lucifer appears. This isn't by chance because Lucifer is who Adam deep down wants to be: the man Lilith fell in love with. At the same time, Adam is who Lucifer risks to become, if he does not overcome his flaws: a lonely and frustrated man who can't make any connections. In short, the fight between Adam and Lucifer is a fight between two sides of the self.

Adam fights his ideal self, which is why Lucifer is who he can't be. Adam tries to appear both angelic and demonic, but Lucifer is naturally so:

Lucifer fights his shadow self, which is why Adam wears a mask similar to Lucifer's face, but black:

Their fight marks Adam's progressive "unmasking".

First of all, Lucifer takes the form of many animals, which is interesting for two reasons:

Despite changing shapes, Lucifer always remains himself as shown by the little hat and bowtie all his animal forms have. He never hides or represses who he is.

Adam facing off against different animals makes his lack of animal traits even more obvious and prepares us for the reveal: his animal motif is humanity.

Secondly, Lucifer gives two huge blows to Adam's ego. On the one hand Lucifer mocks Adam for both his wives preferring him over Adam. On the other hand Lucifer shows his superior power and proves the difference in hierarchy is still there, despite Adam's struggles. In short, Lucifer deconstructs Adam's masculinity and undermines his authority to show his humanity:

Adam is just a normal dude. He is a man. He is human. He is so human he is actually designed after a real person: his voice actor, Alex Brightman. Brightman became successful by playing Dewey Finn in the musical version of School of Rock, so this choice emphasizes Adam as a negative version of Dewey. Even more importantly, though, it underlines Adam's normality. He has no fleshy design, nor monstrous attribute, nor animal parts. He is 100% human. He is a person. Not only that, but he is a person, who doesn't take care of himself. He is overweight, is not shaved and has eye-bags under his eyes. He could be very attractive, but has let himself go. Obviously this is meant to mirror Adam's interiority. He can't accept who he is, which only leads to frustration and unhappiness.

Adam's final moments bring this idea home by playing with his three themes of authority, masculinity and humanity.

Adam makes his idol-motif obvious by openly stating he wants to be a god (authority):

Adam: No... you don't get to end this! I'm fucking Adam! I'm the fucking man, and you're just some fucking clown or something! I started everything on Earth! All of mankind came from these fucking nuts! You all should be worshipping me, you ungrateful, disgusting, fucking losers-!

Adam is stabbed by Niffty, a masochist woman who loves bad boys. Not only that, but Niffty stabs him in his stylized penis and Lucifer's innuendo drives home Adam has been metaphorically stabbed in the balls (masculinity):

Lucifer: Hey, y-ya got somethin' stickin' outta your... your thing there.

Adam shows his humanity by smiling to a crying Lute before dying:

In the end, Adam had the potential to grow and to find happiness because he was a human. And yet, he despised his humanity, repressed it and died a humiliating and avoidable death, leaving behind the only person who truly cared about him.

THE DRAGON

So, we have analyzed Adam's design in the series. Still, according to the Pitch Bible for Hazbin Hotel, Adam was initially designed as a dragon:

Obviously the story was supposed to be very different back then. Still, it is fun to theorize about why a dragon-design was imagined for Adam. I can think of two reasons:

Adam was linked to dragons because they are often associated with the devil, so his design highlighted how he is a demon inside, despite being an angel. This same result is obtained in the series by his horns and idol motif.

Adam was a dragon because he is in fact someone else's "dragon", so a sidekick for a much more dangerous villain

Personally, I think this second point might still be valid. After all:

Lute: Adam is dead. Your deal is done and I'm in charge now.

He had enough authority in Heaven to make a deal with Lilith and to avoid punishment by Sera. So, I am expecting future seasons to reveal his link to a higher standing angel or to some other active force in the Hellaverse.

At the same time, it is interesting to notice that Adam's dragon design has been passed down to another character:

Satan, King of Wrath, is a giant dragon, who used to be Lucifer's "dragon" and is now trying to pass himself up as the real devil of the Hellaverse.

What's more, Satan isn't the only Deadly Sin whose design references Adam's. As a matter of fact Adam's final looks can be easily compared to that of another Helluva character:

Mammon, King of Greed, has diamonds all over his outfit, just like Adam. Moreover, they have a similar body-shape and they both try to emulate Lucifer. Adam tries to look demonic, whereas Mammon uses a cane similar to Lucifer's. Not only that, but the King of Greed steals Lucifer's ideas, so that he can steal the King of Hell's place in the entertainment industry.

In short, both Adam's previous and current designs are linked somehow to Sins, who envy Lucifer and are trying to take his place. This is an interesting motif, which confirms Adam's role as Lucifer's shadow in Hazbin Hotel. We don't know if Adam will come back to life. Still, I am sure he will keep being important for the story and future revelations will make his foiling with the Devil deeper.

These are all my thoughts on the Lead Exorcists's design! Overall, I think it is a simple and yet rich design that helps us explore the character and does a great job to characterize him in his short screen-time!

[ofswordsandpens]

listen I know there are a million and one interpretations of TSR and that's just going to be the nature of it when the subject matter is navigating the complex lines between justice, closure, and revenge (and when the episode is the perfect storm for shipping discourse), but the take that aang and zuko are symbols of Forgiveness and Revenge respectively, or that they function in the story solely as Positive Influence and Toxic Influence respectively, are forever my least favorite interpretations (right underneath the "zuko taking katara on this journey is actually just him being selfish" interpretation) because not only do I think it's unfairly putting zuko into a position he's not really taking, it also can very easily and quickly rob katara of her agency in the episode that is (or should be) about her.

And to be fair, on a very surface level, I do understand how some are (in good faith at least) arriving to this sort of conclusion because right before we kick off katara's journey, aang does take a firm stance of forgiveness and zuko does disparage aang's perspective. but the issue with then framing these scenes as "Aang encourages Katara to choose forgiveness while Zuko encourages Katara to choose revenge" is that zuko doesn't encourage katara to do anything. katara wasn't asking for anyone's opinion on what she should do. She said where she and zuko were going, aang tells her she should forgive, and zuko defends her. And sure, zuko doesn't dissuade her from anything either and maybe there's a conversation to be had there of active encouragement vs lack of discouragement, but when katara says "forgiveness is impossible and now that I know I can find my mother's killer I have to act" and the only alternative being pushed on her is to forgive.. well, where does that leave her then? zuko is the only one to recognize from the get go that katara is going on this journey despite anyone else's say, and is of the opinion that should she take revenge on her mother's killer, it's not going to be a mark he holds against her.

And the rest of zuko's actions throughout this episode only ever indicate he's doing everything based on Katara's decisions. If zuko is supposed to represent revenge, I'd imagine he would be egging her on. Or maybe even get frustrated that she didn't kill Yon Rha. But he never does. And it's sad to me that a number of people see zuko as the devil on her shoulder here, because while he clearly is not morally against killing in the way aang is, zuko also hasn't ever chosen lethal revenge when in similar situations by this point in time. He tried to save zhao in the North. And when given the perfect opportunity to take the life of the man who took his mother away, zuko also chose not to kill.

Like to be perfectly honest, I'm quite certain that if you took zuko out of this equation completely (imagine he told katara where to find the southern raiders then for whatever reason disappeared to the other side of the island with Toph and Suki for the rest of the episode and katara went off on her own) katara's actions would have remained the exact same, because while zuko supported whatever she chose to do, he wasn't influencing her to do anything she wouldn't have.

On the flip side, I also dislike the notion that aang was the angel on her shoulder - not because I think it's a gross distortion of his character in the way that zuko's "bad influence" label is to him, but because I think it aggrandizes aang's presence in the episode far beyond what it was. Aang did encourage forgiveness. Aang did want katara to get closure and to heal in a nonviolent way. But Aang did not go with her on this journey, and thus I find it odd he somehow gets roundabout credit for katara choosing to spare Yon Rha. I think some take Zuko's statement to aang at the end of the episode - "You were right about what Katara needed. Violence wasn't the answer." - as if it's a blanket statement that makes aang retroactively right the entire episode, but the only way for zuko to have come to this conclusion was going on the journey with katara in the first place... and even then katara's still conflicted about sparing Yon Rha and she still never forgave him.

And for me that's the main issue with viewing the episode as "aang: good influence on katara, zuko: bad influence on katara." It way too commonly strays into this weird (and misogynistic) territory where katara is oddly absolved of her choices - when she spares Yon rha, that was actually aang influencing the best in her. when Katara is mean or lashing out or vengeful or "scary", well that's not really her, it's actually toxic zuko making her that way. zuko is demonized for supporting her, aang gets far too much credit in a journey he didn't ultimately partake in, and katara gets to be beholden to the opinions of the men in her life instead of being credited for her actions and her decisions, as good or as ugly as they may be.

iswtg every time someone construes the Southern Raiders episode as if Aang was the angel on Katara's shoulders while Zuko was the devil a fairy loses its wings

[drpicklesart]

they are going to mehnahnaroo

[sciderman]

Pre-2000s comics are superior for being able to make their characters not be as clear-cut and stereotypical (classic Peter Parker and his personality, motivations and views on stuff, pre-2000s Wolverine for being more than just the wild berserker but a man with strong morals and hobbies/interest you wouldn't expect for a gruff berserker) AND for writing out their accents (reading 90s Wades accent can be a wild experience sometimes and i miss that) whitch helped with making them sound unique and recognizable

GOD i miss wade's accent SO much. i loved the way he talked.

it's something i try to write in when we're in flashbacks or when i'm writing the cablepool fics - wade talks a whole lot more like he did in the older comics.

BRING back wade's stupid accent i say. i miss when he talked like a looney tunes character.

[horsegirlhob]

I'm not an Angel hater by any means however I do think Spike should get to be as big of a dick to him as he wants to be and people shouldn't get to say shit about it.

[sskk-manifesto]

(´｡• ◡ •｡`)

[doux-amer]

Revenant is soooo mid which is disappointing because I was looking forward to it due to the actors and writer (this isn’t a flop like Jirisan, which I gave up on after 2–3 episodes, but it’s not really good). BUT. BUT!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m suffering from “poor little meow meow middle-aged man” deficiency and Professor Yeom Haesang suffers so much. I can’t believe I was like “Oh...okay” about his casting because I’m planting my palms against his windows, peering at him in his little cage and being fed because he’s had the worst life ever and it keeps getting worse. HAESANG *____*<3

[daydreamerdrew]

The Incredible Hulk (1968) Annual #10

[dyketennant]

been trying to get into this fucking writing conference for weeks only for them to let me know the night before it starts that oh actually we don’t need any more volunteers. and also our registration is closed. oh and by the way go fuck yourself

[nanamisgirly]

imagine nerd!Choso, you both are in the same degree. he didn't really noticed you at first but, for some unknown reasons, he kept bumping into you— wether in the hallway or you'd be few rows in front of him during lectures. And just like that, he developed an obsession toward you. and might god forgive him, but he couldn't help jerking off his cock at the thought of his length disappearing between your lips, eyes flickering up at him with a teasing glint. he was kind of sad you didn't even know he existed :/

but how lucky! in one of your lesson, the teacher assigned a partnered project. and fortunately, the duo were made with a randomized system!! Choso did not think twice, with some quick manipulation on his computer, he paired himself…with you! almost too easy

on your side tho, you had never heard the name Choso before. So when you reached out to set up a time for the project, you didn't expect much of it. But now…sitting across from him…his wide figure looming over the table, inked arms straining against the ridiculous tightness of his shirt…that was another story. How hadn't you noticed such a pretty face?? sharp eyes lined with kohl, two messy buns with some rebellious strands framing his beautiful features, and perfect dark purple painted nails tapping against the table. ‘am i blind or sum?’ you wondered. 

nerd!Choso was originally awkward with social interaction but more so when it came to you. He clears his throat "I- uh," he started, voice trembling "f-for the work, would you like t-t- to…" his cheeks flushed an adorable pink as you stared at him, giving him time to formule his thoughts ‘such a cute boy’ you mused.

"we can do it at my home!" he suddenly blurted out, words rushed, as if the poor man hadn’t said it now, he never would have :( "i- i mean, t-the assignment! o-of course..." he was so embarrassed of himself, his hands nervously cupping his warm milk chocolate "if— if you want to.." his eyes darted anywhere but yours, unable to hold your gaze. not when you were looking so intently, like you were seeing right through him. because what if you had some superpowers, the kind to read his horny thoughts, the kind to know exactly how many times he fucked his fist to the image of your pretty mouth stuffed full of his aching cock. catastrophe!!!!

nerd!Choso was blushing furiously, messier, stuttering over his words more than usual when you were unconditionally giving your best to give the man a gooood ride. “p-p-please” he whined, voice breaking. You leaned in, your breath warm against his ear “tell me, my pretty shy boy…what are you begging for, hmm? use your words, pretty". 

choso's hands gripped your thighs like a lifeline, fingers digging into your skin. “y-you— mngh, it's— it's too good. i can't last— i— please,” he choked out, eyes glossy as you slammed your hips down harder. His happy trail rubbed against your clit with every grind. the friction giving you as much pleasure as him.

“preeetty boy," you cooed, trying to maintain your composure despite having his fat dick stretching you enough to see stars. “is this what you've been thinking about the whole year? me riding you? or even better,” your mouth went for his neck, licking softly, contrasting with the pulsing grip of your cunt, milking his cock. "touching yourself to the thought of my glossy lips wrapped around your pathetically big dick ?" your voice was so sensual "tell me, tell me and i'll give you what you want” that man was moaning, the sluttiest moans escaping his throat. in response, your walls clenched harder, trying to suck him in even deeper at this point. “i— i was— i mean, i- fuckfuckfuck" choso were sure he lost the ability to form a simple sentence, his head falling back as he felt his tip kissing your cervix. but he tried his best to continue "i— i was…pumping my— my cock at the- mngh, thought o-of you..t-takin' me…d-d-deep,” poor boy was losing his mind. You've never seen a man being that pussy drunk, so openly lost into you, that was addicting.

your fingers trailed over his inked pecs, moving along the curves of his tattoos making their way to his nipples, and you pinched. not too rough to hurt but enough to send jolts of pleasure through his body. “look at this good boy," you sighed, feeling choso throbbing inside you. "earned the right to cum inside me… would you like that?”. 

you loved teasing him. he was a total whimpering, fucked out mess beneath you. ‘so cute’

nerd!Choso was as sure as the sky is blue that you had superpowers, somehow. and you both sure as well scored a beautiful A on the assignment.

(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

[sttoru]

 𝝑𝑒 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. nanami kento always hurries home towards his pregnant wife, you, to compensate for the time he spends at work.

tags. sheriff!kento nanami x pregnant wife!reader. fluff, sfw. wild west!au. girl dad kento lets go. reader gets called ‘sugar, darling, wife’. not proofread. wc around 1k

you’re comfortable laying on the couch, nibbling on a piece of bread, when you hear the familiar footsteps on the porch of your cozy home. the front door opens with a faint creak and reveals no one other than your husband, kento, in his work uniform. he’s home earlier than he normally would be.

“evenin’, sugar,” kento steps into the house, his tall frame filling the doorway. he looks over at you, a small smile spreading across his exhausted face as he takes in the sight of you sprawled out on the couch.

his eyes soften when they land on the swell of your belly–reminding him of the life you’ve created. both you and the child growing in your stomach are the reason why he works so hard every day. to provide for you and make the pregnancy as easy as possible for your body.

“hi, honey,” you greet him back with a big smile, “how was work?”

it never fails to make you happy; seeing your husband back home after spending the first half of the day alone. knowing kento is out there making sure you and your baby have food on your table at the end of the day is heartwarming.

kento closes the door behind him and the latch clicks into place. “the usual. nothin’ out of the ordinary today. thank the lord,” he answers. he sets his stetson hat down on the hook near the entrance and starts unbuckling his gun belt, the weight of the revolver and ammunition clinking softly. he hangs it up carefully before taking a couple steps towards you.

“aht-aht, don’t ya go gettin’ up now, sweetheart,” kento chuckles as he notices your attempts to get up to greet him like you usually would do. before your belly got this heavy, that is.

he holds out a callused hand towards you, silently urging you to take it. the last thing he wants is for you to pull a muscle. “i’m right here,” he reassures you as he kneels down in front of the couch.

you lean in for a kiss and your husband instantly does the same. his lips linger on yours for a good few seconds before he pulls away. he cups your face with one hand while the other comes to rest on your rounded belly, palm molding to the gentle curve of it.

“y’re getting’ more beautiful every day,” kento praises in a low yet soft voice. he dips his head to press a kiss to your stomach and closes his eyes, “our little girl ‘s also growing well in there, hm?”

“of course,” you reply with a giggle. your hand comes to cover the one on your belly, your hand smaller than your husband’s. your wedding rings shine beneath the sunlight filtering through your windows and it reminds you of the love you share for each other. your eyes meet kento’s and you’re about to lean in for another kiss when you feel your child kick. 

kento’s eyes widen the second he feels a small but distinct movement beneath your belly, your child stirring within you. a slow smile spreads across his handsome face, his eyes crinkling at the corners before he glances up at you with pure adoration. “that–” the blonde man doesn’t finish his sentence, simply looking back at your stomach with pure love and wonder. his thumb gently rubs small circles over the spot where your child had just made her presence known.

“that was our little girl saying hi to her daddy,” you comment with a giggle. you said it half-jokingly, but kento seems to have taken it seriously.

you’re not sure if he’s fighting the tears or if he’s just blinking rapidly and turning his head sideways so you wouldn’t see the emotions playing out on his face. probably both.

kento clears his throat before nodding. he rests his head gently against your stomach, stubbled jaw tickling your bare skin. “hi there, baby girl. You recognised my voice there, didn’t ya?” he chuckles softly, his voice raw with emotion that he tries to suppress. you can’t see his face like this, only the top of his head, but you’re sure that he’s experiencing all kinds of things at the moment.

you run your fingers through his fluffy blonde strands, the hair gel he uses in the morning almost gone by now. a few seconds pass and another faint kick on the side of your belly makes your husband’s breath hitch. it never fails to fascinate him, to make him feel a great sense of joy. 

“i can’t wait to meet ya too,” kento continues, holding a conversation with your unborn daughter like she’s responding to him. in a way she is, with the occasional kick. he sighs in pure content as his muscular arms wrap around your middle, keeping you close to him while he kneels in front of you. 

what he’s feeling is indescribable. a couple moments pass before he tilts his head back to face you again. you cup his face and rub at his cheekbones, smiling at the loving way he’s staring at you. “you’re gonna be a great father, ken,” you whisper. you’re sure of it. he’s a great husband and will be the best father to your child.

kentk smiles back at you and nods. “thank you. I will try my best, for both of you,” he replies with a determined glint in his brown eyes. his large hands massage your belly before giving it a final kiss. “I promise,” he whispers against your sensitive skin.

it’s a promise he will keep no matter what, until he draws his last breath on this earth.

[manmuncher777]

Helping hand

Roommate Gojo x reader SMUT MDNI 18+

✧.* when you come home reeling from sexual frustration, your roommate is more than willing to offer some help

Roommate!Gojo who sends you off on your date with a pang of jealousy ripping its way through his body. Why couldn’t you be dressing up like that to spend the night with him. He knew you were excited, this was the most you’d dressed up in a long time, your hair sitting do perfect after the hours he watched you spend on it. The outfit you chose showing your figure in a way that had him clenching a fist, trying not to reach out and let his fingers dance over your exposed skin. That intoxicating perfume filling his nose as he stood so close, wishing you a good night before the door finally shut, and the only trace left behind was the small waves of your sweet scent still lingering in the air

Roommate!Gojo who is confused when he hears your keys in the door just 2 hours later, he wasnt even expecting you back tonight.

Roommate!Gojo rushing to your side when he sees your pretty face puffed up with tears, concern lacing his tone. Utter joy racing through him in reality, but he was still sad to see you so upset

Roommate!Gojo who listened to youn blubber and rant about how this was your first date in a long time and how you just wanted a nice night. He listened to you rant about how much an asshole the guy was all while stoking your hair and kissing your head as you sat wrapped up in his arms

Roommate!Gojo who almost died then and there when he heard you complain how men were shit and you “just wanted to get laid”

“that might be something I can help with gorgeous” he whispered before anything could stop him, His reaction basically automatic

Roommate!Gojo who had your crying for a nothing reason a few moment later as he was burying himself between heaven you thighs. Hot tears streamed down your face as the mans thick tongue worked his way through your folds, playing with your little bundle of nerves. Small whimpers leaving his throat as your taste made him rock hard. His hands gripping your thighs, keeping them spread wide for him so he could see you in all your glory “Pretty girl, if you were needing to cum all you had to do was ask me” his syrupy voice rang out in your fucked out head in between his vulgar licks of your dripping cunt “That asshole didnt deserve to see you so pretty” he whispered into your cunt. “I had half a mind to drag you back in a fuck you against the door seeing you dressed like that”

His words rippling over your, breaking you more and more. You had no choice but to listen to him as he teased and taunted you.

You couldn’t even bother yourself to respond, not after his fingers slid into your cunt so easily, the squelch of your wetness echoing in the room.

Roommate!Gojo who couldn’t wait to get his throbbing cock inside that needy little pussy of yours. He’d thought of this moment for months and he wasn’t quite sure how it was actually happening.

Roommate!Gojo who had you naked and spread over his bed right now, looking at your fucked out features. Your skin laced with sweat, your hair still beautifully framing face, those tits hed spent so many night imagining while he fucked his fist now open for him to see, all marked from his touch. That beautiful cunt of yours dripping from the orgasms he had already pulled out of it, and yet you were still begging him for more

“please Satoru, I need you” you whined so sweetly beneath him and he teased his red leaking tip through your folds, coating himself I your slick. He soothed you, kissing your head gently “It’s okay pretty girl, ill give you whatever you need” he promised before lining himself up with your fluttering entrance and sinking himself deep inside.

The moan that left him was sinful as he bottomed out inside of you, you felt amazing wrapped around his cock, even better then he imagined.

Roommate!Gojo who couldn’t hold himself back for long, soon he was pistoning himself in and out of your sopping pussy, moaning incoherently abut how good you felt. You were more then happy to lay there and take every inch, every thrust he was giving you. Your mind so far gone you couldn’t do much more then whimper and moan and every move he made, his thick cock hitting that delicious part of your velvety walls with every stroke. Your eyes rolling back as your nails dragged red lines down his back

“There she is, theres my pretty girl” “cant believe all you needed was a good fucking sweetheart, all you had to do was ask” “been thinking about this tight little pussy for ages” “come on baby, take it, this is what you where begging for” “such a good girl for me, taking it so well” “awh, you like this don’t you? filthy girl”

Roommate!Gojo who was a stuttering mess, his head falling into your shoulders as his hips never stopped their brutal pace, his balls slapping against you with each thrust. It wasnt long before he had you cumming again that night. Your wall squeezing him tight as you flooded his perfect skin with you juices. You could do nothing but moan his name, so sweetly in his ear that his orgasm hit him as well. His balls tightening as he fucked him cum deep into you. His pushing himself deeper with each finishing thrust. A deep groan coming from his chest as his hips faultered and finally stopped. Both of you lying there, panting.

“next time you need a good fuck princess, let me know” he whispered into you ear

You wouldve hit the smug bastard if you werent so sure that you would be taking him up on his offer again the next day

[heavenbarnes]

anyways, as i was saying about older bf!simon and his willingness to please learn

pt 2 to this

“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”

obviously, he hasn’t- far as he’s concerned, if you haven’t told him about it then it doesn’t exist to him.

no skin off your nose, you’d spend the rest of your life teaching him about the ‘latest trends’ if it meant he kept sending those filthy fucking videos to your phone.

(your favourites on tiktok were purely filled with ideas)

he’s holed up in a remote location, killing time till he can be home and actually do something to you rather than send you a bloody video about it.

your instructions come through clear and concise, just how he likes:

“it’s what’s written on the can, si- you can pick the setup but i just want to see you cum and, most importantly, i want to hear it”

you’re lucky simon is such a practical guy and maybe you could thank price one day for making him so good at following orders.

when he’s got his alone time he’s setting his phone up to record on the edge of the window sill, moonlight fighting through the curtain to illuminate him.

he’s lost the bulkiest of his gear, down to his tactical trousers and a compression t-shirt. the images in his tattoo sleeve almost move when the light catches them right.

balaclava on (the one that just shows his eyes above the painted image of a skull) and he’s standing up to undo his belt (that you think looks like an airplane seatbelt).

you can hear his boots against the floorboard as he steps back to give you the full view of him undoing his trousers, taking his sweet time because he knows it drives you fucking batty.

he’s so big that the phone is working overtime to get all of him in the frame but you see exactly what you need to- thick thighs at your eye line and massive hands drawing down his fly.

on (you assume) the other side of the globe, you’re at home in your shared bed and you’re propped up right in the middle with the smell of simon engulfing you as you watch the video play out before you.

(if you’d thought about it you should’ve cast it to the bedroom tv, hoping the neighbours didn’t mind)

simon sits back down with his legs spread wide, one hand gripping his thigh as the other rubs himself over his boxers. his eye contact with the camera was fucking intense, like you’d hoped, just like when he’s on top of you.

he’s dressed in all black and the moonlight is obscured but you can still see him firming up in his pants. his eyes flutter, an infinitesimal amount but you’ve been tuned into his every move since you met him.

your thumb leans hard on the volume up button and you can hear the diegetic sound of the building expanding and that usual technical hum that comes with a video. but at this pitch, you could hear him.

his breathing was chopped, chest expanding visibly as he pulled his cock out into clear view. jeeeeesus christ, it was never something you just got used to.

long, reasonably straight, fucking thick. even his hand struggled to make it look smaller as he wrapped around it, giving one dry tug.

as he closed his palm over the tip, you saw him make a swipe before he brought his hand back down considerably smoother than before. you’d had your hands down his pants enough times, man leaked like a fucking faucet.

simon’s head tipped back as he started to pull himself off, balaclava raising just enough to expose some of his throat. if you were there you would be perched in his lap, letting him do the work but running your tongue under the lip of the fabric.

one of the best things about the videos simon sent was, he didn’t really understand how sexy he was. he didn’t think any of the videos particularly watchable so he’d just send them on first take. if you liked them, you liked them- yours was the only opinion that mattered.

what that meant was, you never got b-roll. everything he sent you was unbridled perfection. captured exactly as it happens with no faffing about.

always whatever you’ve asked for, whenever you ask.

(simon’s nothing if not inexplicably obedient)

he brings his hand under his chin to spit into the wide span of his palm, wrapping back around his cock and tugging. his foreskin moved over the head, rolling back down and thick veins bulging under his grasp.

you’d almost forgotten the conditions of your request, totally fucking enamoured by the sight in front of you when it caught you off guard.

a guttural moan ripped out of simon’s chest as he twisted his wrist.

his free hand moved to cup his balls, big and heavy, he rolled them in his palm as another groan sounded out of him. what you wouldn’t give to be knelt between his thighs with the whole lot in your mouth.

you knew how much of an ask this was, you really had to work him up to making noise when it was just you two in bed. these days? you couldn’t shut the man up when he was balls deep and his face was buried in the crook of your neck.

but this was another step, this was him on his own with his crew just through the walls. he’d be a plain liar if he said there wasn’t that rumbling trepidation in his chest. he’d put it to bed though.

all he had to think of was you, one hand gripping your phone and the other between your thighs as you watched him through with a hazy smile- that kept him going.

with the thought still heavy on his mind, you didn’t have to strain to hear your name drift off his lips. his hips bucked into his hand as he did, speeding up the motion of his strokes.

you were going to black out, his tattoos flexing and his chest expanding with every stuttered breath. simon looked like a god among men and he fucking sounded like one too.

“fuck, sweetheart- you’re so fucking filthy giving me orders like this”

your cheeks were burning, he wasn’t wrong but you weren’t expecting him to call you out quite like this.

“what does that make me? always so fucking eager to do what you say? make a dirty old man, yeah?”

wheeeeeew that’ll do it, your thighs snapped together around your hand as your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. whenever you thought you couldn’t take any more, he was always there to do you one better.

“only for you, pet- you can always get whatever you fucking want from me”

and you knew he was serious, that’s what made it all the more debilitating. simon was unshakeable, you’d seen him go out of his way to defy orders if he didn’t think the person worth his time.

when it came to you? you could tell him to kill and he would.

(he probably had)

simon’s hips were twitching, back arching in a way he’d rather die than have anyone else know about. his mouth was hanging open beneath the balaclava, your name and a string of expletives falling off his tongue.

so quick you nearly missed it, the hand that was cradling his balls moved to grip the fabric of his shirt and push it up his toned front. you couldn’t call his abs cut and defined, there was aged layer to them, but they were undeniably there.

you’d rested your head on them, pressed your palms against them, even ridden them enough times to know they were there. regardless, he looked fucking perfect under the moon glow as he stroked himself hard and long.

eyes locked onto the camera, broken moans on his lips, you saw his hips lift one last time as thick spurts of cum began to paint his stomach and chest.

scars illuminated under the night sky, mirrored by shiny patches of hot cum splattered across the same stretch of skin. the hairs on his chest were matted with sweat and were now being splashed with how far he was shooting.

you could only watch with your mouth hung open as he tugged himself through his orgasm. soon it was only the sound of his laboured breathing, chest rising and falling as he tucked his soft cock back into his pants.

just when you thought that was it, you found one of his hands lifting up the edge of his balaclava till his lips were exposed. two fingers of his other hand swiped up some of his spend before he lay them on his tongue.

knuckles in your mouth, biting down to suppress a scream, simon readjusted his clothes as he stood and took a heavy step towards the camera.

one hand braced on the window sill, the other gently gripping himself through his trousers- his voice was so fucking gravely it could’ve reverberated round your room.

“what’s next sweet’art? you name it, it’s yours”